#this was supposed to be a little angstier

[tklpilled]

here you are

(diluc, kaeya)

summary: repairing a broken relationship is not easy, but it's worth it.

a/n: this .. was supposed to be much shorter. but oh well. not a whole lot of tickling but pls enjoy nonetheless :] probably ooc but i'm too tired to fix it

[this is a tickle fic!! shippers dni]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Kaeya knows the things people say about them. Most of them were there when it happened, when Kaeya was left all alone and decided to drink his problems away. He knows they pity him. He's heard all the rumours.

"It has been a long time since he last called Diluc Ragnvindr 'brother'", they say, but the truth is quite the opposite.

It has been a long time since Diluc last called Kaeya Alberich "brother."

Their relationship is strained at best, but at the very least it's not as bad as it was. At least Diluc isn't avoiding him anymore. At least Diluc is there.

If one were to ask Kaeya what they were, he would answer by saying that they're siblings. If one were to ask Diluc, he'd say that it's complicated. That's the difference between the two.

But Kaeya is nothing but stubborn, and he has faith in the fact that Diluc, behind all the walls he's put up, has a rather soft heart. So he visits the Angel's Share when he knows Diluc is working, and he drinks and he talks and he drinks some more, and little by little he can tell that it's working. They've even managed to drop the formalities.

"Enough," Diluc says, sliding the glass back to his side of the counter. Kaeya whines like a little child, reaching after it. "You've had enough," Diluc repeats with a stern look.

"You underestimate me," Kaeya says with a crooked smile. "My tolerance for alcohol is high."

Diluc scoffs. "But my tolerance for you isn't. We're closing soon, anyway. You should be leaving."

Kaeya groans. "You're so cruel to me, making me walk all that way by myself in the dark. What if I'm kidnapped."

"They would get tired of you and release you soon enough," Diluc responds with a deadpan face. "Out."

This isn't the first time this has happened, where Kaeya has stayed late and Diluc ordered him to leave before closing. But Kaeya has obeyed every time, and the thought lingers now; if he refused to go, would Diluc just leave him?

His answer comes half an hour later, when Diluc is finished wiping down tables. He sighs as he looks at Kaeya, still slumped over the counter. Kaeya stares back, grinning, waiting.

Diluc looks away first. "Come on." He grabs Kaeya by the arm and begins to drag him towards the exit. Kaeya goes along with it. They make it to the city gates when he realises.

Anxiety creeps into the pit of his stomach. He hasn't been to the winery in ages.

"How kind of you to walk me home," he says, trying to distract himself. He doesn't linger on that last word.

Diluc doesn't answer. The walk is mostly silent, and the nervousness in Kaeya's chest only grows as they get closer. He wonders if it's changed. He wonders if he'll remember enough to notice if it has.

Adelinde greets them at the door, her eyes widening in surprise. "Master Kaeya!" she gasps, a mixture of shock and delight in her voice. "Is everything alright?"

She steps aside to let them in. "It's fine," Diluc assures her. Kaeya waves, making her smile. "He'll just be staying the night."

"Hey! You can't make these decisions for me!" Kaeya protests.

"You're perfectly capable of walking back, if you'd like," Diluc retorts, knowing damn well that Kaeya is too tired and too drunk to do anything even if he wanted to.

Kaeya shuts up.

His old room is still intact, but Adelinde insists that she hasn't cleaned it in a while, and it's too dusty for him to stay in.

So.

He ends up in Diluc's room.

"Why did you take me here?" Kaeya asks into the darkness, staring at the outline of the ceiling. It's a question he already knows the answer to.

Diluc is quiet for a long moment. "Did you not want me to?"

He doesn't reply.

"It's late. You were more intoxicated than usual," Diluc continues. "...I missed you."

Kaeya's heart nearly stops.

Surely he's dreaming. Surely this isn't real.

"Kaeya?"

"You missed me," he says, dumbfounded.

"Yes," Diluc says quietly.

There's a moment of silence before Kaeya laughs, rolling over to throw his arms around his brother. Diluc makes a strangled sort of sound, squirming. "I knew you had a soft spot for me!" he exclaims gleefully.

"G-get off!" Diluc demands, and though Kaeya can't see it, something tells him that he's blushing.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he teases. “I know you—oh?” The last bit is in response to the way Diluc suddenly jolts, his mouth clamping shut. “Still ticklish, are you?”

“Kaeya,” the man beside him warns, but it’s too late; Kaeya is already drumming his fingers over his skin, muscle memory from his childhood flooding back into his head. “K-Kahahaeya!”

“I forgot you were still capable of laughing,” Kaeya grins along with him. “Truly a miracle.”

Diluc kicks him lightly under the blankets, shoving at the knight’s hands without any real meaning behind it. Kaeya knows better than to say that he likes being tickled, but he’ll at least tolerate it if he trusts the person.

Which—

Oh.

Kaeya blinks tears out of his eye and focuses on Diluc.

He’s not being rough at all, just gentle in a way that he knows drives Diluc insane. “Y-yohou say I’m the mehehean one,” he giggles. “Yet hehehere you are, tohormenting mehe…” Archons, Kaeya forgot just how dramatic he is.

“Oh, hush.” Kaeya digs in a little harder, only for a second, enough to make Diluc yelp. “Torment?”

Diluc nods, his giggling sounding a little happier, more playful. “Betrahayed by my ohohown brohother,” he manages, and Kaeya is so distracted by their banter that he almost doesn’t notice that last word.

He never wants to wake up from this dream.

[mossmurdock]

forbidden fruit (g.suguru)

suguru used to share grapefruit with you after class.

it was a simple thing. you both would wait for at the same bus stop, him catching the first and you catching the second. one day your stomach happened to growl especially loudly and the rest was history.

he was popular enough to get at least a few gifted to him during the months where they were ripest, maybe from different people or maybe not. the details never mattered all that much to you whenever he offered you half of one.

the smell of april showers always mixed in with the aroma of the peels, zesting the air with citrus.

he always peeled them so delicately, even targeting the patchy white pith that latched itself to the meat of the fatty fruit. he said he wasn’t a fan of the texture. that the extra time it took to scratch and strip the extra skin off was worth it.

you never had the patience for it. it might have been why he offered to peel them so often. he made them look and feel like such a gentle fruit.

“i used to be able to eat these whole all on my own as a kid,” he said one afternoon. “now, if i eat more than half my stomach gets upset.”

he splits the fruit in two, his thumbs digging, forcing juice to pool into the crevices of his fingers and lines of his palms. a pool of it stains the laps of your uniforms by the time suguru’s bus arrives. he leaves you with the corners of your lips tangy and licked wet.

"i used to mistake them for oranges," you included internally.

it felt embarrassing to say aloud. the words would have left your mouth stupidly as each memory of him expertly dodging your friendly questions tainted the skin of your fingertips. keeping you at an arm's length, stretching just close enough to offer you something.

he would have laughed. you might have smiled naively, glancing down to the remaining slice pinched between your stained pointer and thumb before popping it into your mouth.

you huffed a breath out of your nose sharply, cheeks sapped by his contagious inclusivity. he had a way of making you feel part of something greater, even if it were for just a few moments at a time.

for weeks you watched him: the way he licked juice off his plump lips, the way he styled his hair, the way his legs spread whenever he sat down, and how he always perched his backpack on his lap; you felt included to view all these little antics.

you wondered if—during all that time—he noticed things about you too.

the last time the two of you share fruit is anticlimactic. your guard is down. you don't even find out that he'll be gone until the new school year starts and a week of you alone at that bench passes.

you suck at the nectar on your hands messily, turning your head towards the road after hearing the sound of tires rolling through gravel.

the last thing you remember is seeing the back of his head. your eyes drifting to the closed fist at his side, a grapefruit peel peeking out of the crevice of his palm.

[dj-wayback]

NS aint that smart, he doesnt even know what sugon is

bumps in the road

[yourdoorisunlocked]

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 1

🎙️【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽𝑰 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: This was originally supposed to be pretty dark, but my mind clearly had other plans since I ended up writing a fluffy little fic about our favorite radio man lmao. I’ll probably write up the angstier fic, too, if this one does well.

Also, the Reader is AFAB, since that’s what I’m comfortable writing for as a girl myself.

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟏𝟏𝟓 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

. . . 

The door to Alastor’s manor creaked open for you, and with a grin you took the spare key he gave you from the lock and swung the door fully open to push yourself inside in an attempt to escape from the late winter chill. 

It was a late January night, meaning the serene moonlight washed over the snowy landscape as early as 5:00 P.M., making it dangerous for a lady like yourself to be wandering the streets of New Orleans late at night. 

But it had been months since you really had to worry about anything like that, since you had Alastor by your side to look out for you. Such a sweetheart to you, and a bit of a mama’s boy, too, judging by the pictures set atop the mantle just above the unlit fireplace.

The mere thought of your ever-enthusiastic smiling companion made you especially giddy as you kicked off your winter boots and shrugged your coat off your shoulders, placing it upon the antler-adorned coat rack and skipping past the staircase into the living room. 

Flopping on the couch, you reached over for the radio while cuddling up with a blanket, excited to hear the well-awaited voice of the man who had altered the direction of your life – undoubtedly for the better – and you were practically kicking your feet like a flustered schoolgirl who had received your first confession as Alastor’s voice rang through the small device, loud and clear for you to hear. 

“Good evening, New Orleans!” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic announcer’s voice that he normally used for his radio show, and the first time the two of you had met.

Though, Alastor was more relaxed around you nowadays, seeing no need to keep up the too-cheery facade his listeners had renowned and adored him for. You cherished moments when he was simply relaxed, content with a close-lipped smile and sitting beside you, whether it be reading, playing the piano with you, occasionally even pulling you into a spontaneous dance.

As you listened practically through the entire thing, you began to silently fantasize about your unpredictable yet darling radio host.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have tonight, folks! I should be going, now. It's rather bad form to keep my doll waiting at home for me~,” He finished with a soft chuckle.

Blood rushed to your cheeks at that last little comment, practically cursing Alastor for his cheekiness, and he knew that you listened to his shows whenever you could.

"The au-diddly-dacity of that man..."

“Thank you for tuning in! See you next time~...” 

The radio returned to static for a few seconds, before a jaunty little tune began to play through the speakers, and it just so happened to be one of your personal favorites, one that you, no matter what mood, nor what you were doing, couldn't help but jump up and dance to.

And, of course, Alastor knew you loved it.

You sighed with content as you relaxed into his couch cushions, sinking into the blanket that Alastor had laid out for you since he'd found you constantly falling asleep to his voice on the radio when he returned home from work.

A pang of guilt thundered against your chest as your heart strained at the stinging reminder of how much of a burden you really were to Alastor. He was a good man, who helped you out when you were in a tough spot, you should at least repay the favor, right?

I should at least do something nice for him... He's been so good to me, even inviting me over for dinner more times than I can count.

He was the one who offered me that job at the radio station, hell, he even let me off early so I could listen to his show!

With a huff, and a newfound sense of energy, you got to work around the house, tidying up and lighting the fireplace, sparking a candle or two, and keeping the radio playing all throughout the thirty minutes you had spent cleaning, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when he returned.

You had even started on dinner, making a nice pot of venison soup, since it seemed to be his favorite. 

You pushed down the swell in your chest when you heard the doorbell ring, excitedly rushing over to a mirror and sweeping across your face and hair, making sure everything about you was in perfect shape. 

You opened the door, craning your neck a good amount to make eye contact with dark chocolate eyes staring down at you intently, almost illuminated in the moonlight, set against smooth caramel skin beneath a fluff of mocha brown hair.

“Hel-!” 

Alastor’s usual smile was smacked clean off his face at the sight of you standing before him, apron tied across your skirt with a few stains upon it, hair slightly amess but clearly put together.

"-Lo... My dear, what is the meaning of this?..." His tone seemed cheerful enough, if a bit bewildered as his eyes scanned your form once more, stopping upon the apron once again before returning his gaze to yours.

You looked so painfully, so heart throbbingly domestic that it nearly gave him a heart attack when he first opened the door. Such a submissive nature fed into other... primal desires of his that he wasn't fully prepared to delve into.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. "Why don't you come in? I've already started dinner," Alastor's trademark smile quirked his lips upward as he suddenly took your arm and headed inside, practically glowing as he headed straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, no, mister, you stay right there," you winked down at the radio host as you pulled him into a chair. "You've been working so late, let me handle dinner."

You truly piqued Alastor's interest when a familiar scent wafted past his nose, and he eyed you with surprise as you worked in the kitchen, pouring a hot, thick broth from the pot into a small bowl.

As you headed towards him, he tried his best not to absolutely melt in his seat as you served him with a smile, and he carefully took the steaming bowl from your hands. 

Venison, hm? Well don’t mind if I- 

AN: You know that one scene in Ratatouille where that critic takes a bite of his dish, and gets a flashback to when his mom used to cook for him? Imagine that but with Alastor. 

“Is it good?” Your soft, almost worried voice brought him back to reality, and as he met your hopeful, imploring gaze, Alastor nearly choked on his food as heat crept up to his cheeks, burning against his face and ears.

For just a moment, I thought I saw...

With wide eyes, you rushed over to him with a napkin, patting his back and looking over him with concern as his coughing ceased, and he took the cloth with a grateful, slightly wobbly smile. 

  “Was it really that bad...?” Your confidence wavered slightly as you stared down at Alastor, realizing the sudden proximity as electricity raced up your spine and lit your cheeks aflame.

Half-lidded cocoa-brown eyes searched the very depths of your soul, before he shook his head and murmured, "No, quite the opposite. I'm... I'm actually quite thankful for this, tonight." Though, it couldn't have come at a worse possible time, when he was finally squashing any sort of emotions he felt for you into the dirt, only for you to make them froth and rise to the surface yet again.

Why, he hadn't realized how long it had been since anyone had done anything like this for him!

Ah, his dear mama...

He recalled the last dish she ever made for him. Her house-famous Jambalaya that he had adored so much. It even managed to put his father in a good mood.

"A-Al? Alastor? Are you alright...?"

He hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down his slim cheeks until he felt small droplets falling upon his lap.

"Oh, nothing. This... This all just reminded me of someone..." He shook his head and took his circle-rimmed glasses off his pointed nose, rubbing the fogginess off the glass as the gears turned in your head.

You raised an eyebrow. "Who...?" You then caught a glimpse of the photos set above fireplace just past the couch that faced away from the kitchen. Of course!

Immediate regret washed over you as you fretted over Alastor, apologizing meekly as you attempted to clean up the soup in front of him, but you were stopped as he gripped your wrist.

"I'm so sorry! I never meant to be such a burden, I just really wanted to do something nice for you, s-since you're always-"

"No, please, this has been a delightful surprise, darling." You froze at the pet name, heat creeping over your cheeks and tinging your ears a bright pink as Alastor released his grip upon your hand.

"You have never, never felt like a burden to me. I promise you that," he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand in an act of comfort, but it only served to make your face glow even redder.

"Now I'd like to finish the dinner you made for me. If you don't mind, of course," his usual cheekiness had returned when he spotted your slightly flustered face, and you nodded and returned to your seat promptly.

Alastor, being ever the chatterbox, resurrected the flowing conversation between you two for a good hour, as he recalled stories from his childhood, keeping you entertained throughout your dinner. Your laughter filled the hallway, your smile both wounding and freeing his heart, while you sat, mesmerized at his captivating storytelling and how he spoke with his hands, practically alight as he drank in each expression you gave him.

"Would you care for a dance, darling?" Alastor spoke up suddenly, the contents of his bowl completely gone as you eyed it. You shyly agreed as he smiled gently and pulled you into the living room.

Soft caramel brown hands wrapped around yours as Alastor's slender fingers held you close in a surprisingly tight grip against him, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, along with his rapidly beating heart despite his suave demeanor as he slowly danced along with you to one of the songs that had begun playing on the radio beside the fireplace.

Nothing but your dear friend's soft humming along with the sounds of the radio filled the silence between you in the moment, and you began to relax in his grip as you lazily kept up with his slow steps.

Put your head on my shoulder~

A slow dance between you two, with an occasional twirl as Alastor nearly swept you off your feet swept the minutes away, until the moon was well past the horizon and twilight fell upon the sky.

As he spun you around once more, a sudden gust of air swept past the pair of you, nearly blowing out the candle beside you.

Hold me in your arms, baby...

Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of a petite, elderly woman standing beside the doorway into the kitchen, watching the two of you intently, until her form faded from the door with a shimmer of light and a gentle smile.

Squeeze me oh-so tight, show me...

He gulped softly at the sight of the angel while you stared into his eyes, completely fixated upon his surprised open-mouthed stare as his gaze flickered from behind you to your lips.

You barely missed his darkening expression as you both began to sway slowly once again.

Show me, that you love me, too~...

"Would you like to stay the night, darling?" For the first time in his life, Alastor seemed unsure, maybe even nervous, as his dark brows creased together and his charming smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You smiled and reached up to smooth out the crease with your fingers.

You had no idea how he warred with himself, knowing that he'd be practically signing his soul away simply to be in your company.

Put your lips next to mine, dear~...

But... Perhaps this would be worth it.

Perhaps moments like these, when time slowed, where you both could block out the rest of the world and simply bask in each other's company would be worth the risk.

Won't you kiss me once, baby~?

Alastor had decided, right then and there as you stared up at him with nothing but adoration.

He'd have you. He had to. He was damned either way, but he'd storm the pearly gates themselves if he failed to drag you down with him.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe...?

But, with immense relief, Alastor realized wouldn't take much persuasion as your eyes seemed to twinkle beside the flickering candlelight, and a gentle yet teasing smile played at your lips.

You and I will fall in love...

"Yes, I'd like that very much, Alastor."

. . . 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Okay, I KNOW that 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' was released in the 50s, BUT LET'S PRETEND IT WAS THE 20s, OKAY???

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this first post, I might write a part two if the people want one. Maybe Alastor headcanons?? Who knows...

Let's just see how far this goes lmao.

[bakugoushotwife]

Hiiiiii coming to ask for some serotonin

Please a modern one with megumi and his s/o having a tense slightly smexy moment on a hang out with the group in a restaurant or something and his s/o being a bit funny under the table if you get what I mean heh quite the fluff one with the good old you decided it heh 😆

Broaden Your Horizons // Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: yeehaw this was fun!! i kinda latched onto a whole thing here with songs and the jukebox, and it was a little angstier than i intended but nothing too serious. anyway, let me know if you hate it and i'll try again lol

cw: MINORS DNI. MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. 69 oral (M + F receiving), penetrative vaginal sex, reader is fem, rough, creampie, maybe a slight foot fetish thing kinda but not really you'll see, car sex, doggy, some exhibitionism i suppose

wc: 5037

You were really starting to piss him off. He was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, you did drink a lot tonight. But he cut you off hours ago, so you were either pathetic with your liquor or you were trying to aggravate him. He’s been watching you hang all over one of your shared best friends, Yuji Itadori, all night long. It was a party for Itadori’s 23rd birthday, so he guesses it wasn’t completely out of line for you to give him some extra attention, but that hardly warrants the body shots and the dancing or the cup pong tournament. 

Normally, he was very secure in your relationship. He didn’t feel the need to flaunt you and he wasn’t comfortable with public affection. He knows you love him, right? I mean, sure it stings whenever people react with shock when you say that he’s your boyfriend, and maybe it bothers him that you make that same pouty face every time he turns you down for dancing or cup pong, because he knows he’s letting you down. Sometimes he wishes he could be more spontaneous and loose like the rest of his friends. Maybe if he was, his girlfriend wouldn’t grind on the birthday boy all night long and continue laying all over him and giggling in the Waffle House at 2AM.

He stared daggers at you. Surely, eventually, you would feel his death glare and cut it out. He even thought about returning the favor with Nobara, but he would feel too guilty knowingly manipulating your feelings. The booth was tight, and he hated that. You were practically sitting in Yuji’s lap and he was fuming. He’s finally reached his limit, extending his long legs to kick your shoe under the table. 

Your stupid giggling with Yuji stops. “Ow! Babe-uh!” You pout. “What was that for?” 

He’s actually going to explode. Yuji pouts too and asks if you’re okay. You nod and continue staring at your boyfriend. Your pout was immaculate, he has to give you that. Your pretty eyes are droopy and looking up at him like an abandoned puppy, sweet kissable lips puckered just to taunt him. The bright lights of the Waffle House serve as your drunken halo, and unfortunately you do look angelic. Megumi deflates, he can’t give you the silent treatment but he didn’t exactly want to admit his insecurities in front of the guy that was causing most of them. The trashy diner was tiny anyway, the other drunkards and addicts would listen in on the drama. So he just glances at your hands and then pointedly at Itadori. 

You get the message. Initially, you smirk. You find it funny that he’s so bothered by Itadori. Surely he knows you could never be with anyone but him, much less his best friend. But then you see the seriousness on his face, and you recall your attachedness to Itadori’s hip tonight. It was his birthday! You were only trying to party with your friends. Plus, you had asked Megumi to dance with you. He always turned red and turned his nose up at the offer. He wasn’t one for cup pong either, and you wouldn’t dare ask him to take a shot off you, he could hardly hold your hand in public. You’re sure you would hate to see Megumi do any of those things with anyone else…but it hurt that he wouldn’t do it with you either. He refused to leave his comfort zone, so maybe you just had to keep pushing him. 

You put your shoe over his in an effort to soothe him, giving Yuji less enthusiastic replies than before. This does improve Megumi’s attitude, though he can tell something’s still off with you. He looks around at his other two friends, casually scrolling on their phones while they wait for the food to come to the table. So he pulls out his phone and taps the ‘mrs.’ contact. 

“what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You reply seconds later.

“don’t be that way angel :(“

“Ur mad at me for doing things i would prefer to do with you..it just sucks i guess, you won’t broaden ur horizons but that means i can’t have fun either.”

He clenches his jaw when he reads your text. You were right, as much as it sucked to say. He can’t expect you to sit in the corner people-watching all night long. Part of the reason he loves you so much is because of your adventurous spirit, you’re willing to try anything once and you never have any fear. It embarrasses him and he’s stubborn. Instead of admitting his faults, he doubles down on yours. 

“so you throw your ass on itadori to have fun?”

“Wow…you’re impossible sometimes, Megu. It’s harmless dancing.”

“why not dance with nobara instead?”

“I did, all three of us danced together. It’s his birthday, everyone was trying to give him a good time.”

“rest assured, i’m sure he had a wonderful time with you all over him.”

“Are you being real right now? He’s my friend too. I thought you trusted me. I thought you know how much I love you. You’re the one who shuts down at these kinds of things.” 

“yeah well if you’re so miserable you can keep itadori.”

“Fine.” You pull your shoe off of his under the table. 

He sighs. He knows he’s being unreasonable. Your hands shake as you put your phone down to start eating after the server comes to the table, putting that fight on pause. You couldn’t believe he was that worked up. He hadn’t ever been the jealous type, and you definitely thought he would understand you teaming up with your other friends for an ultimate birthday party experience. Did he really want to break up over something like this, or was he just upset? You love him more than anything and it seems like two of you have been together forever. Did he really doubt you this badly?

You were praying for something else to think about, the only sound was the buzzing of the dingy light bulbs and the scrapes of silverware against ceramic plates. You nearly sigh in relief when someone drops some coins into the jukebox, playing ‘Swim’ by Chase Atlantic. 

Megumi notices the way you keep your eyes down on your plate, gently swaying subconsciously to the music. He regrets what he said. He regretted it the moment he pressed send, and he didn’t even have the fortune of blaming alcohol for his poor decisions. So he reaches out under the table again, gently tucking his shoe on the outside of yours. He watches you for a reaction, satisfied when your eyes meet his. He smiles shyly. You tighten your lips, showing your agitation. 

He pulls out his phone again. “i’m sorry..i just hated watching you move like that on someone else, you’re right, i’m lame and a coward and i promise i will do everything you ask me to next time we party…plz forgive.”

He thinks he’s really lost you when you pick up your phone to read the message and then put it back down. Really, you’re just thinking. You didn’t mean to make him feel lame or like you could ever be interested in someone else. At the end of the day, all you wanted was for him to try new things, and he said he would do that. Your hand slides to grab your phone again, to apologize back and accept his, but the song changes and catches your attention. 

“I don’t want a friend

I want my life in two

Waiting to get there

Waiting for you” 

You grin, the song a favorite of yours and Megumi’s. He was so romantic in private it was hard to believe, and you know that he loves you immensely. Normally this song pops up on your playlist during your intimate times and he always always always took the time to follow the lyrics. 

“When I’m around slow dancing in the dark

Don’t follow me you’ll end up in my arms

You done made up your mind

I don’t no more signs.”

You decide to slip your foot out of your heel completely, knowing you would have more accessibility this way. Megumi’s face turns pink as he recognizes the melody, his brain instantly going to the times spent in his dark bedroom, hugging your naked body close to his own while slowly swaying to the music. It was always goofy and sweet, both of your faces red from a heated makeout or bodies sweaty and gross from hours of being one. Yet he never hesitated to pull you out of bed to dance to this one, whispering the words in your ear. He yearned to do it now, but he didn’t even know if you were on speaking terms at the moment. He gasped when he felt your foot against his calf, covering up the noise with a non-subtle cough. He smirked at you a little, sliding down in the seat and spreading his legs a little more. He regretted not sitting next to you whenever you were falling over Itadori, but now maybe he didn’t mind so much. 

Though, it was getting harder to keep his composure as your foot slid higher, resting on the inside of his thigh. He could feel his cheeks grow warmer, and he kept side-eyeing Kugisaki and Yuji to make sure they were still distracted with their phone and food, respectively. He’s relieved that you’re not angry with him, and embarrassedly turned on by your flirty touches. He can feel the blood rush to his cock, and he knows he’s in trouble. The space is too tight, your friends are too close by—but he doesn’t mind. This is exactly the type of thing he needed to try. He just needed to get you out of here soon, or he’d end up trying a lot more in the Waffle House.

“Give me reasons we should be complete

You should be with him I can’t compete

You looked at me like I was someone else

Can’t you see?”

You smirk back at him, knowing if you moved your foot just to the left you would feel his growth. You wondered if he could handle such a bold move in public, so close to his other friends. You wanted so badly to push him out of that tiny comfort zone of his, and if you sensed a meltdown you could always back off. So you did, sliding your foot over his bulge and back again, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the way his eyes grow wider and his cheeks burn darker. 

You were so in for it, he was already wondering how he was going to make up for his jealousy while also punishing your brazenness. 

“Here’s the check, y’all have a good night now.” Your server hums politely as she sets down the bill. Fushiguro’s hands are on it instantly, and he doesn’t even care that they’ve put all four of you on the same tab. He digs in his wallet for the cash to cover it and more for her tip, hastily getting to his feet and extending his hand to you. 

“Let’s get going guys, it’s late!” He said with a nervous chuckle, clearing his throat right after. Nobara and Itadori looked at him with arched brows. You hummed and got to your feet, slinging your purse on your shoulder. Then you did an impressive fake yawn and stretch combination. 

“I could go to bed, that food really sobered me up ‘n I don’t wanna puke.” You sigh, and the others laugh and clap you on the shoulder as you move toward the exit. Megumi’s thankful for his choice of baggy sweats, just barely concealing why he’s in such a hurry tonight. 

Nobara and Itadori take the backseat, leaving the front for the loving couple. They’re still giggly and very tipsy. You’re moderately concerned about Itadori coming down with alcohol poisoning with all the shots he consumed tonight. Nonetheless, it’s easy to reach across the console and rest your hand as close to his clothed erection as you could. He sighs and adjusts his hips under your hand, making you smirk when his new positioning puts your hand over him. 

He’s not a reckless driver, especially with such precious cargo as his girlfriend and closest friends. However, his stomach was so tight and started to burn with anticipation. He wished Nobara lived closer, thankful that Yuji would sleep off his drunkenness at her place and he wouldn’t have to make two stops. However the drive was too long for his liking. You looked beautiful all night, like you usually did, and you drove him crazy putting all of that on his best friend. Oh, and when he watched Itadori lean over to take his shot of vodka out of your belly button, his fist tightened and he considered punching the man on his birthday. Then you’re gonna start messing with him in the restaurant, god he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with you, but he cannot wait any longer. 

“Have a good night guys! Drink lots of water!” You call after the tipsy pair, helping each other up the steps and through the door of Kugisaki’s residence. You giggle to yourself, sighing happily as Megumi wordlessly puts the car back into drive and heads toward your shared apartment. 

“Y’know, I really am sorry about tonight…” You say softly, letting your head roll on the headrest so you could admire his side profile. He hadn’t really aged much, though his features had always been mature looking, sharp jaw, sharp cheekbones, and a perfectly angular nose. His eyelashes were long and dark; the green of his eyes absorbing all the shine from the headlights as he drove along. 

He turned his head to peek at you momentarily. Surely you could feel the fact he wasn’t upset anymore, though he had a certain…payback in mind for your behavior tonight. “It’s okay, you’re gonna make it up to me.” He said smugly, pulling the suv onto the shoulder of the busy highway. 

Your eyes widened, convinced he was bluffing. Your heartbeat quickened at the thought of such a risky act, in a good way. You would try anything once after all, but you knew your logical and responsible boyfriend would probably change his mind. You hear him put the car in park, you hear his seat belt unbuckle, and the sound of the radio dial going up. A guitar is being plucked quickly, and you recognize the song from your normal sex playlist. He wasn’t faltering yet. 

“I summoned you, please come to me

Don’t bury thoughts that you really want

I fill you up, drink from my cup

Within me lies what you really want

Come, lay me down”

You turn to look at him, your surprise still pretty evident. He chuckles at this, it was pretty rare to see you looking shocked, especially by something he did. He was determined to not let that be the last time tonight that he saw it. He still seems smug, maybe overcome with a certain need to prove himself worthy of you, to be daring and push himself past his limits. It’s something he’s always struggled with, but the adrenaline swirling through his body was rewarding, he must admit. He leaned over and unbuckled your seatbelt as well, resting his elbow on the console when he was finished. You watched him do this curiously, but he didn’t leave you wondering for too long. He grabbed your jaw and made you look up into his eyes, they were almost black with how big his pupils had grown and the intensity of them as they skirted over your face made you tremble. He smashed his lips on yours. 

“ ‘Cause you know this

“Cause you know this sound

In the middle of the night

In the middle of the night

Just call my name, I’m yours to tame

In the middle of the night

In the middle of the night

I’m wide awake, I crave your taste

All night long, ‘til morning comes

I’m getting what is mine

You gon’ get yours”

You close your eyes, one hand reaching up to rest on his jaw and the other moving to his bicep as the kiss grew in ferocity. He tilts his head to the side to get more of your essence, deciding to sloppily shove his fat tongue in your mouth. He always tasted so good, like peppermint, you loved it, moaning as you sucked on the appendage lewdly. His eyes rollback a little, he loves watching you do that shit. He grunts, needing more of you and quickly, it was starting to hurt. All too quickly, he lets go of you. He sits back up in his seat, making you pout and whine at the loss of his touch. He chuckles at you, cute little lips glistening with a layer of his saliva. 

“Patience is a virtue, angel.” He hums, sliding the seat back as far as it will go before he’s leaning back over to pull you by your waist onto his lap, making you gasp at his length poking your middle once your thighs are straddling him. His hands slide possessively down to your hips, pulling you down on him, shamelessly grinding into you. Once you start returning the favor, he lets his long fingers slip under your shirt, peeling it off seamlessly. Then he’s grabbing the back of your neck to force another sloppy kiss. You smile against his mouth, your own hands tangled in his hair while your hips rocked steadily against his own. Maybe he wouldn’t grind with you in public, but you’d much rather have this private show all to yourself anyway. 

“These burning flames, these crashing waves

 Wash over me like a hurricane

I captivate, you’re hypnotized

Feel powerful, but it’s me again”

He’s indecisive with his hands, constantly moving them from cupping your cheeks to sliding down your curves and groping your chest. His neediness is clear, the pink on his cheeks and his half-lidded eyes tell you everything. You gasp for air, smiling down at him. He thinks you’re so gorgeous like this. No matter how you danced in front of others, only he got to see your swollen lips and the messy hair he gave you. Only he gets to see your hardened nipples under his fingers and the face you make when he pinches them. He grins as the song changes, leaning back to remove his own shirt for you after your constant tugging on it. 

“Climb on board

We’ll go slow and high tempo

Light and Dark 

Hold me hard and mellow

I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure

Nobody but you, ‘body but me

“Body but us, bodies together”

“I love you Megu.” You coo, sneakily dodging his lips in favor of placing yours all over his jawline, humming sweetly as you start down his neck. You know every sweet spot, where to bite and nibble and where to suck and place gentle kisses. He whimpers every time, and it’s a sound so sweet you can feel your panties dampen uncomfortably against your pussy, grinding against your own wetness with every collision of hips. He squeezes hard at your ass, kneading the fat in his hands like a stress toy. 

“Love you too baby girl..wanna get in the back?” He asks hopefully, extending his right arm to fold your passenger seat over so you each could easily slip into the spacious back, where the seats had already been conveniently folded down thanks to the useful button on the dash. 

You nod eagerly, sliding off of him and crawling on the back of his seats, towards the trunk to give him the most room. You slide out of your jeans and underwear for your own sake, the mess of yourself too much to bear. You watch him as he gets an idea, his normally neutral expression gleaming with mischief as he looks at you so prettily sitting on your knees. 

“I love to hold you close, tonight and always

I love to wake up next to you

I love to hold you close, tonight and always

I love to wake up next to you

So we’ll piss off the neighbors

In the place that feels the tears

The place to lose your fears

Yeah, reckless behavior 

A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw

In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day

Fuckin in and fighting on 

It’s our paradise and it’s our warzone” 

He slides back to join you, sitting on the very edge of the seats and hastily taking off his sweatpants. He then lies flat on his back, scooting back and positioning himself right beneath your weeping pussy. You gasp at his move, giggling shortly after. He was full of surprises after all. You could hear other cars pass at high speeds, making your blood rush at the thrill of it all. His windows were tinted and it was 3AM, so there wasn’t much to worry about. His big hands grab what they can of your thighs, plunging your core on his waiting mouth. 

You moan out immediately at the sensation. He knows all of your spots too, licking up your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive before he sucked harshly on your clit. Your stomach lurches immediately, and you have to brace yourself on his chest, high pitched whimpers pairing with the next song on the playlist beautifully. 

“Sex ain’t the only thing that’s on my mind

But you get me so excited

Woah-oh-oh-oh

Irreplaceable, tattoos from your neck that drop down to your ankle

Drop top in the Range, shawty you wanna feel good

I wanna feel good too

Don’t I make you feel good?

You get me so excited

Shawty wanna roll with a rockstar”

He loves the taste of you, his favorite flavor in the world. You’re always so sweet, he thinks, like honey or candy of some kind. He didn’t consume any alcohol tonight so he allows himself to get drunk on you instead, teeth slightly nibbling on your sensitive bud before he resumes his lewd slurps of your center, plunging his tongue inside your tight hole. He groans in a mix of pleasure and surprise when he feels your hand wrap around his length. You couldn’t just keep staring at it, his painfully hard dick with an angry red tip weeping pre from the slit. His balls were so tight, too. You knew he needed some kind of relief, he just wasn’t really the type to ask. So you lean over him slightly, still whining intermittently at the sensation of your boyfriend eating you out like this, so ravenous in nature. You grab his pretty length in your small hand, just enjoying the weight of him. He was perfectly trimmed for your convenience and his cock was the best you’ve ever seen. Cute veins running all over his shaft, a mix of purple and blue that add extra sensation to him inside you. All this led to his fat and needy tip. You slap it on your tongue a few times, giggling at the pauses in his movements as you did so. 

“Baby let’s go we can go far

Yeah, watch the stars

And go far

Shawty your body is so exciting 

I love when you get on top and you ride it

Only in your ocean, you call me Poseidon

In control of your water, you loving my trident.”

You take all of him down your throat, loving the way he speeds up in competition with you, wanting to make you feel even better. You hum, the vibrations giving him goosebumps. You wiggle your head a little to try and push his length a little further, but you gag and you can feel the tears prickle your eyes. You come back up for air for a second, sniffling and repeating your actions, slamming him to the back of your throat and bobbing along what you can swallow up. Your hand aids you in the rest, and you can feel your hips getting sloppier in their movements, the coil in your stomach burning and cracking. He’s truly relentless, fucking into your mouth without care. He continues his assault on your pussy, flicking his tongue in just the right way to make you snap. Your cry is muffled on his dick, but the way your hips stutter and your weight falls around him, he knows you’ve come. 

He knows he’ll do the same if he lets you do this much longer, making those cute noises and taking him so well. So he gently pushes your hips up so that you let him change the position.You’re compliant as always, your body is hard to resist even as he moves you gently out of his way. He smirks up at you again, petting your wild hair down as he gets back up to sitting on his own knees. He opens the door. 

“Get out and bend over the seat for me.” He says, eyes glowing with that mischievousness you noticed earlier. He really was being bold. 

You were still panting from the violent orgasm, looking up at him in disbelief. There’s that face he was hoping to see again. 

“What? I’m trying to broaden my horizons. It’s dark and there’s hardly anyone on the roads right now, beloved.” He coaxes you convincingly, extending his hand to help you step onto the street and everything. Plus, he knows the open door will serve as extra coverage. He just couldn’t let you walk around thinking he was lame or dull. He just could not get all the way back to your place after you’ve been taunting him all night long, no. No. You were going to get exactly what you wanted. 

So you take his hand and step onto the grass, nothing but the treeline behind you. You could still hear the occasional car cruise by the drivers side, but you knew they couldn’t see. He gives you another needy kiss when your face passes by his own, surprisingly excited by the prospect of fucking his girlfriend on the side of the highway. He smiles against your lips this time, his hand sliding down your back and the other on your hip. He gently turns you around with this grip, hand sliding all the way back up your spine, leaning palm laying flat in between your shoulder blades. He could never quite pick a favorite position with you, you always felt and looked amazing no matter which way he had you, but he nearly shudders at the way your hot skin feels beneath his fingers. You arch your back so perfectly for him and the moon shines on your ass like a spotlight. He can’t help but palm it and gently slap, making you squeal and giggle from inside the car. 

“Work it out, up and down 

Sweat it out, make up sex

Twerk it out, up and down

Sweat it out, make up sex

I’m tired, you’re wired

Why fight? 

It’s just the same thing

Tonight is my final love battle

Cause girl I’m hungover

Let’s just start over 

Gotta be more to love than this

We should be naughty, connect our bodies

You know I’m on it, I’m on my knee”

The cool night air slightly relieves Megumi’s searing skin, but he knows the only thing that can help is you. He pulls you to him, positioning you exactly where he needs you. You spread your legs wider to be compliant, and he rewards you with his length prodding against your gummy spot in one plunging move. You cry out and start struggling to hold yourself up already, nothing to grab onto other than the seats of his suv. 

God he wishes you knew what that did to him. Other than the noticeable twitch of his dick, he can only growl his satisfaction. “Look at you, taking it all at once, angel.” He remarks, and you can hear the smirk in his deep voice. 

If this were any other time, you would throw something snarky back, but he is in complete control of you. You couldn’t speak if you tried, the assault on your womb beginning right after his taunt. He’s not gentle or sweet tonight, but you don’t mind at all. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you down his shaft just as hard as he was shoving in. You can’t quiet yourself, screaming shamelessly and writhing in his hold. He can feel you clench down on him, and he knows you're close to cumming for him again. 

“That’s my girl, go ahead and give me another one. Show me how much you love me.” He commands, voice low and breathy. It was hard to stay strong with you bouncing on his cock like this, sucking him into choking walls and screaming his name like it was the only word you know. 

You let out a strangled moan, following his orders to a tee. Your knees buckled and he had to support you with the hold he had on your hips, but he felt the rush of warmth and heard the increased lubrication start to squeak and squelch between you. He shuddered, you absolutely were the death of him, your whines of sensitivity making him lightheaded. His balls ached once more before he emptied them into you, moaning brokenly at the way you felt with all of his seed coating your walls. You squeezed down on him again, humming in satisfaction. You were nearly delirious, feeling an entirely different kind of drunk. You lay against the fabric of the seat, shivering when he withdraws from you. He tugs his sweatpants on, using his underwear in an attempt to wipe you up as his load seeps down your legs. He’s satiated by the sight. He crouches down to clean you, giving you his praises as he does so. 

“Did perfect, lover. I hope you had a good time.” He says, getting back to his feet and helping you back into your clothes. You nod sleepily. It was nearing 4AM at this point and what energy you had left was consumed by this romp. 

He kisses your forehead and smiles, opening your passenger side door and closing it once you are comfortably inside. His hand is on your thigh for the drive home, the touch light and loving in contrast to his earlier possessive dominance.

He hopes he got his message across. You are all his, as always, and he’ll do whatever it takes to prove that every single time. 

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

All My Scars

The stories behind one of the scars each of the twst cast has SOME ARE WAY ANGSTIER THAN OTHERS OKAY please read the tw and the tags, and like the stuff in brackets under characters names that have them for a heads up...what Specifically their section covers

TW: SH, abuse, Bad Parents (specified in the reading), references to alcoholism, implied SA survivor, and some OOC stuff bc I like making Cater cry sorry PROCEED WITH CAUTION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, apologies for inconsistencies

IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. Here's my masterlist to some fluffier stuff if you still want to check out my writing. Thank you!

I'll be doing a fluffier version of this some other time, like dumbest childhood injuries they had or something, so if this ain't for you, please hold! --------------------------------------------------------------------

"How did you get your scar(s)?"

Heartslaybul

Riddle The question caught him off guard. He glanced down at his hand where your thumb ran over the small indentations on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, a small smile kicking up the corner of his mouth.

"That was Che'nya. When we were kids." You looked at him, your silence prompting him to continue.

He smiled a little more, gently pulling his hand from yours to look at the scars left there, laughing softly, though a bit pained.

"I wasn't prepared to receive very much physical affection, but Che'nya couldn't really help himself. He said if hugs were off the table, he just wanted to nibble." He chuckles softly "Of course he didn't give me much of a warning, though Trey tried to stop him before he bit me. It was a shock at the time, but both of them explained it was an expression of affection...I confirmed it later on in an article on the behaviours of beastmen. Trey was used to getting bites from Che'nya, but usually with less pent up energy. Nonetheless, he helped me take care of it before I had to return home."

His brow furrowed a bit as he sighed.

"Of course, my mother noticed eventually, the divots on my hand. It was the first and only time I ever outright lied to her - lies of omission aside. I know she didn't believe me when I told her it was just me being clumsy with my pencil, but I suppose it was a tender mercy she didn't have time to deal with me that day." He looked at the divots a little longer, a particular softness in his expression.

"They're the only scars I have. I find it rather ironic that the only imperfection I carry in my mother's eyes...is the lasting impression that there is at least one person who cares for me more than she has ever been capable of."

His smile was sad, but he tried to keep things light as he looked at you. "That is not an invitation to try and bite me as well. I know full well you care for me...because you've helped the scars nobody can see, fade."

Trey

"Which ones?" He chuckles softly, pausing his kneading as he held out his arms for you to look over the various marks he had, before he pointed at one, taking matters into his own hand. "My youngest brother likes this one for some reason. He thinks the texture is different and kinda just rubs my arm when he's calming himself down."

He turned his arm so his elbow was pointing out a little bit so he could look at his forearm, pointing to a bigger scar. "This was a burn from bumping against the edge of the oven while trying to take out a tray of cookies in a rush."

He turned his arm yet again, showing off another one. "This one was from me trying to reheat baked potato leftovers. I put butter on it and threw it in the microwave, but I almost dropped the bowl when I took it out and had the bright idea to try and catch it. Splashed hot butter up my arm." He chuckled again, using his shoulder to bump up his glasses. "I have a few from Che'nya as well. Some from my siblings. Some from baking. But they make for good stories should I ever need something to share."

Cater (Heads up for the abusive parent HC's regarding using kids for media Clout) <- you can read by clicking the link

He looks startled, like he's just seen a ghost before trying to laugh it off.

"I uh...oooh sevens don't tell me you saw me eat dirt like two days ago while I was skateboarding! I swear normally I'm better than that, I just- I didn't scar, just a scrape and nothing more, swear! It's sweet you're concerned though."

You gave him a bit of a sad look, before sighing, looking away awkwardly, knowing there was no...delicate way to tell him what you wanted to.

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but the last time I was babysitting Cheka I...saw what he was watching on his tablet and um...well I unsubscribed him from the channel but there were some videos on there that-"

"Stop."

Cater was hugging himself, balled up as tightly as he could get on the opposite side of the couch, his hair shrouding his face somewhat. He was taking shallow, rapid breaths, and while you wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, you didn't think he would respond well to touch at the moment.

"How much did you see?" His voice was as demanding as he could get it from inside of his little shell.

You cleared your throat a bit. "I didn't go digging into any of the videos, won't watch any if you don't want me to...it was just some of the thumbnails that...worried me that you...might have more than emotional scars to work through..."

You moved slowly to kneel on the floor next to Cater, offering your hand should he want to take it. "I'm sorry, there were better ways for me t-"

"You're right." He sobbed softly, looking out at you, nothing but pain on his face as he tried to hold in another sob, taking your hand in his, and moving it to gently run over his outer forearm.

"I c-cover them up um...a-all the time, it's second nature now but.." he takes a few moments to try and catch his breath.

"These ones were all from the same damned prank video...mom..covered the floor in dish soap in the kitchen...I was like...four, I still loved cookies, so when she said there were some, I came running in...slid and crashed into the oven...."

He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with his free arm. "I remember watching the doctor pluck glass out from me and my mom was outside the room....just...yelling at my dad..."

He waved his hand over his forearm, letting the faded scars come to light beneath his concealer, trusting you to keep this a secret. His eyes still held unshed tears as he looked away from his arms, and from you.

"And the worst part? That video went viral. People thought it was funny. So of course mom went and did more and more prank videos, even if some people made it popular for the wrong reasons, there was still attention and validation there for her efforts, so it didn't matter. If I was crying, it was cute for me to...fuss, because I was- am the youngest, and nothing I felt really mattered. It was- I just-....I like being who I am now...most of the time...because nobody...nobody sees beyond what I want them to see...er...most people now I guess..." He gave you a bit of a bashful smile, clearly upset and conflicted still, before his face fell again and he gently tugged his hand from yours.

"Just give me a few minutes and everything will be okay again. Promise."

Deuce (with the HC he's deaf/HoH)

He kinda just sighed deeply at your question, shooting you a bit of an unimpressed look.

"I mean you could take a guess where I got most of'm and probably hit the nail on the head." He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck a bit, his eyes drifting to the side awkwardly as he wracked his brain for a scar story that wouldn't dredge up memories he'd rather forget.

"I mean the scar story my mom tells her coworkers about..." He cringes a tiny bit at the idea of relaying the story the same way his mother does, but sighed anyways.

"I was young, like really young, maybe two or three. It was before I was used to my hearing aids, so I didn't have them in at the time. She had just turned a little to greet one of our neighbours who had come out to say hello, only to hear ungodly squawking, followed by giggles...I didn't know the bird I'd managed to grab was giving me a heads up it didn't like being grabbed, besides it's struggling...long story short, it bit me pretty good." He blushed a bit and pointed to a relatively small scar on his cheek. "I don't even know what kind of bird it was. I just know what happened because it was something my mom talked about a lot."

Ace (TW for alcoholic father/abuse/manipulation)

"Mmh?" he sounded rather uninterested. It was a fair question, given the amount of time the two of you hung out, it wasn't like you wouldn't notice the jagged scar on his neck to his collarbone.

He shrugged, trying to play off how uncomfortable the memory was. "Just somethin' that happened when I was a kid."

Your unspoken questions bothered him more than he thought they would, rocking to sit up properly and look at you a little pissy.

"Look, I'm over it, so I'll tell you but I don't want a damn reaction or pity, okay? I was nine, my brother had just gotten his admission letter into NRC, and my dad was drunk off his ass. Threatened my brother with the cost of my life if he quit his job and stopped being his beer fund- not that it was much of a threat, it was a glass bottle or some shit he'd shattered and held to my neck. That was the night my brother made arrangements for me to live with his friends families so he could still come here without making me walk on eggshells around my dad. He still won't tell me if he kept paying the bastard's beer money or not, but my dad's in rehab now, and I don't ever gotta go back to him by myself again. I can just visit my brother now he's got his own place, even if he's got a roommate. So now you know." He got up from the couch, shaking out his hands a bit.

"Now, I'm gonna make some breakfast and I'm using your materials. Ain't no way I'm trekking back to Heartslaybul just for breakfast."

Savanaclaw

Leona

"Don't remember" He stretched on his bed, yawning. "Same shit I told Ruggie. It doesn't affect me now, so what's the point in remembering it? Can't hold on to every dusty memory."

"Aren't scars a symbol of nobility to those from Sunset Savannah?"

You could practically feel the discomfort rolling off of Leona in waves as he turned his back to you more.

"....yeah, they can be..." he sighed, feeling the weight of your next question mounting. "Just chalk it up to some stupid royal tradition that should have been abolished years ago. You don't have to believe it, but I'm done talking now."

Ruggie (Hyena Hierarchy shit ig?)

"Eh?" His ears flick playfully as he snickers. "They ain't a big deal. Growin' up some of the girls would play a little rough, 'nd now I mainly take care of the rugrats they like to chew and bite on anything they can get their little teeth into, not limited to ears and tail."

His ear flicks again and he holds his hands out. "And I mean, my hands ain't scarred but I don't have fingerprints cuz my grandma taught me how to do the hot food flip, you know what I mean." He snickers. "But y'know, just cuz they don't hurt anymore, doesn't mean I won't take a little extra cuddles or pets if you're gonna offer."

Jack

He scratched the back of his head a bit. "You noticed it??" He seemed a little awkward, and now that the fact had fully settled that the only scar he had was the small one on his upper lip, you could kind of understand why.

You nod a bit and he sighs, his hand dropping from behind his head and looking off to the side, a little bit embarrassed.

"It was a frog." He cringed a bit at his wording and at the eyes he felt from you, and he knew you were trying to hold back laughter.

"I- my bigger cousin was showing me a frog he caught and it jumped on my face. I didn't have full awareness of ah...my capabilities and...where my claws were in relation to my face... ended up hurting myself in the process of getting it off of me. I don't remember much else after that....just that I don't...love frogs..." He admitted a little shyly, tail tucked slightly, and clearly embarrassed.

Octavinelle

Azul

He looks at you rather unimpressed, then gestures to the tweels.

"They think I'm a chew toy. They would be the reason for any and ALL of my scars, as I've never been in any other danger where scarring would be an issue."

Jade

The question seems to hit him harder than you expected. Jade was normally hard to read, but his discomfort was apparent with your question. He gave you a practiced, but strained smile.

"The story behind my scars are not something I share willingly with anyone. I will be taking my leave." (but you can read the story here >:D)

Floyd (partial nudity?? but it's just Floyd showing off the scars he has all along his legs enthusiastically)

"Aha! I got a whole buncha scars shrimpy, which ones are ya curious 'bout?" He flopped down next to to you, and took his shirt off, showing off scars on his back.

"Oh didya see the ones on my legs durin' basketball practice?" He tried to pull up his school uniform pant leg, to no avail. He huffed and just slid his pants off, leaving him in his boxers as he showed off the scars all along his legs.

He beamed "It's a helluva lot harder t'see em when I'm in my mer form, blend right in with my scales, but my human body?? I look sick!! And there ain't too many humans who can boast 'bout havin' scars from a shark attack or a tussle with a barracuda! I got a whole buncha stories I could tellya if ya think you can stomach'em-" He snickers.

Scarabia

Kalim

"Ahah....I..I've got a scar?? Where?" For some reason he seemed a little panicked, looking over his arms anxiously. "No, no I shouldn't have any scars I um- I- just-"

His behaviour made you a little worried, so you moved to take his hands in yours, trying to steady him, but he pulled away from you, looking at you rather frantically.

"Just tell me where! I....I can- I'm alright, promise, but I don't have any scars!"

I'm realizing I have an obsession, here's another story

Jamil

"I mean I have a few minor scars on my hands from when I first started learning to cook." You watched his practiced movements as he chopped vegetables at a quick pace, sliding them off the cutting board as necessary to make more room for himself.

"Though I suppose with how intently you watch me work it's not a stretch to assume you noticed them." He gives you a bit of a knowing smirk, before pausing for a moment, and flexing his wrist to show a small scar on the back of his hand.

"That one was from taking care of Najma. She was just learning how to walk and wandered out of my fathers sight. My mother was taking care of something inside the palace, so as soon as I noticed she wasn't toddling around us, my father and I began searching for her. She ended up somehow getting herself wedged between....seven, I can't even remember. I remember putting both hands in, and pulling one one out with a cockroach on it, and the other struggling to pull Najma out until my dad was able to assist." He shook his head and sighed. "I cut myself on the wood around her, needed a couple stitches after....but she was all good, save for a mouthful of sand she had stuffed into her mouth." he chuckled softly.

"But if I have any other scars...you'll have to wait longer for those stories."

Pomefiore

Vil (SA Survivor vaguely implied)

"I do not know what you are referring to potato. I don't have so much as single blemish on my skin."

You met his eyes in the mirror, a silent questioning match ensuing between the two of you. You broke eye contact first, leaving him satisfied as he took a deep breath.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with scars. But the ones I have don't deserve any more thought, the person who inflicted them are no longer a part of my life, and never will be again. It's been over seven years, I know that there isn't a cell on me that has not been replaced by a new one."

He met your eyes back in the mirror. "Never bring this topic up again, unless you require assistance with your own scars."

Rook

"Hm? I've taken great care to cover them all up, mon trickster. Since coming to Pomefiore and being under Vil's supervision, most of my scars have faded to a point they are barely identifiable." He smiled softly at you.

"Though if you've noticed one or two, I assure you the story is lackluster." Despite his casual appearance, Rook seemed to be on..even higher alert than usual, as in you could actually pick up on the tension coming off of him. Despite this, your curiousity got the better of you.

"How can they be lackluster? Aren't most of them from archery or animals?"

Rook met your eyes with a rather cold expression, and regardless of stature, made it feel like he was looking down on you.

"No."

His glare lasted a beat longer, before he beamed, "Ah, it's best I get going. I bid you good day."

Epel (got top surgery over the summer)

"WHATCHYA MEAN HOW'D I GET MA SCARS?!" He has a wide grin on his face, hiking his shirt up.

"I AIN'T GOT NO TITS NO MORE!" He sets his shirt back down, a shit-eating smile on his face. "It was about damn time y'know! Lookit how flat ma ches- look at the scars!! Ain't they cool lookin?? Make me look MANLY an' strong, earlier Sebek done asked who I fought nd I just told'm it was my femin-feminini-.....it ain't funny now, but his face sure was!"

Ignihyde

Idia (TW for SH scars)

The ends of his hair went almost clear, and he looked rather deflated. "....cats. Stray cats. Used to pick them up without trying to bribe them first..." he mumbled, pulling at his sleeve a little more to try and cover them up, before trying to flash you a smile, though he was clearly uncomfortable and upset, so it only lasted a moment before he turned completely away from you.

The silence was heavy between the two of you, knowing the truth was more than the consequences of an angry cat.

He hugged himself more, still away from you.

"I don't do it anymore...Ortho is here now..to ah...remind me to do better...even if he doesn't know about it, his presence is enough."

Ortho

"Scar??" He tilted his head and giggled a little bit. "I don't really get those. When I get scratches Idia helps me buff them out. Why, do you see one?"

He ran a diagnostics test, trying to answer his own question, but came up empty, now trying to look over himself manually for any sort of disfiguration, only to look at you more confused and a little amused.

"What are you talking about?"

Diasomnia

Malleus

He had to hide a slight pout at your question. "Fae do not scar, not easily..."

He could see the way your eyes shifted between his face and his ear, before he sighed. "However...when I was much younger, I was prone to fits of anger, often scaring and sometimes harming the guards that were too slow to react around me." A tiny smile started to form as he thought about it more.

"Besides the initial pain when his weapon brushed past me, the guards face of terror was enough to make me giggle, despite the blood that dripped from the tiny incision." His hand came up to gently hold his ear between two of his fingers, rubbing over the small scar along the edge of it.

"I told him if he agreed to play with me I wouldn't tell my grandmother what he'd done. In a way, he was one of my first friends..but the news inevitably made it's way through the chain of command, and he was soon replaced by another heartless, soulless guard...they were all like that you know....so afraid of me, as a Draconia, to even extend the hand of friendship to a child."

Lilia

"Kheeheehee I've not got a single one, not anymore! I've had more than enough time for all the memories of my glory days fade like the scars that would have told the stories. Besides, having any visible scars would put a damper on my absolutely adorable face!" He batted his eyelashes, resting his cheeks on the 'v' shape his hands made.

Silver

"How did I get my scars?" He repeated, then looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many...ah." He pulled his pant leg up gently and revealed a somewhat...suspicious looking scar on his calf.

"When I was younger, Sebek's yelling wasn't always enough to wake me up. He got fed up and bit me. He was successful in waking me up, so I have a few other scars similar to that one from when we were kids, but when he was about ten he had to stop. It was too much and he had poor control over his bite force."

He touched the side of his face pensively. "Though I was outside a lot as a child too. I'm sure I've got more scars and marks than I've cared to count. But Fa- Lilia was always attentive during our sparing sessions, so I've never received a scar from a blade."

Sebek

He huffed, an annoyed sounding bellow leaving him as he crossed his arms and turned his face away from you.

"I have not had the opportunity to receive a scar but-"

"The opportunity?"

His face flushed a bit, and he looked a little grumpy, "SILENCE, do not interrupt me human. Of course you wouldn't understand! My grandfather has battle scars still, they're a symbol of his bravery and valiance in Briar Valley! If I should ever have the OPPORTUNITY to receive a scar by blade, I would like to have one that matches his."

Extra

Che'nya

"Eh?? Well why'dya wanna knyow?" He chuckles, sitting crisscross against nothing, upside down in front of you.

"I was just curious- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He just giggles more, wiping one hand over half his face, evidently using magic to get rid of concealer on that side of his face.

"It's nyat a big deal, all I've got are acne scars and the result of me just pickin' at myah skin." He grinned, pouting playfully and making a peace sign. "'m still absolutely adorrrrrrrrrrrrable though, makeup just is more tolerable than putting lotion on and reminds me not to pick at it." He purred through his own compliment, before using his hand to use magic and put the concealer back on.

Jack Hearts-Trappola (same TW as Ace, only it's implied here, not outright)

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't ask Ace that question, kay? It'll put'm in a funk for the rest of the day even if he denies it." He moved to pour himself a glass off coffee, aware you were still waiting for an answer. He took a sip before looking back to you, and answering best he could.

"The scars I have were mostly caused by glass. Once I got into the entertainment industry, I took up soldering and welding so I've got a few pretty bad burns myself from slag or poor PPE, but I had fun doin' it. So no harm no foul." He grinned, the same wide, shit-eating grin that matched his younger brother's expression so closely, it was uncanny.

Falena

His laugh filled the room, boisterous and light. "Ah, you noticed them?" He had all sorts of scars along his arms, in sets of two or three, headed in the same direction.

"Thank you. Here, scars are a testament to one's nobility, strength and perseverance. I received many from Leona when we used to spar, he was always quick on his feet and caught me off guard many times." He chuckled again. "I was never the best at fighting, but it was an important skill to develop should I ever need to defend my son...and if my wife isn't around to exact her fury." His wife gave him a light, playful shove, making him laugh in response as well.

Najma

"Okay if I tell you, you can't tell Jamil or my parents okay?? Don't go snitching me out." She pulled you up to her room, and to her window, sliding it open to a palm tree just outside.

She pointed down at a ridge on the tree, and then pulled up the cuff of her pants and pointed to a scar from the middle of her calf up to her knee. "That fucking tree bit me when I was just trying to go meet up with some of my girls. Do you know how quiet I had to be so my mom and dad didn't catch on??"

Neige (HC he uses mobility aids (forearm crutches + wheelchair when necessary) when not in public eye)

He laughed softly, settling back into his wheelchair and pulling his leg up across the other one, pointing to a small scar over the front of his ankle.

"I got it when I was really young. I was trying to run away from someone who was chasing me, I don't remember if it was tag or not, but probably! I ended up getting a deeper cut than I thought I did when I tripped over one of those concrete barriers they use for cars. It was already falling apart, so the I guess it was moreso the mix inside the concrete that got me?? I don't remember. I do remember getting ice cream after though." He giggled. "I think I was on my way to a photoshoot. I'll have to see if Vil remembers."

Rollo (vague religious themes, SH, never ask me to write for this man again)

He had a band around his wrist, as if he had a bracelet that had turned into one massive scar. It wasn't entirely unreasonable for you to ask, and now that you knew of his brother, there was no reason to really keep it to himself now.

He sighed, holding his wrist out to you rather disdainfully.

"It's a reminder. Every time I look at it, I can imagine the pain my dear brother was in as fire and magic consumed him. I burnt myself for weeks in the same place so as to remind myself repeatedly what my failure has caused. It serves as a reminder what hell will feel like should I never repent of my sins, or fail in correcting the path so many have fallen to. Magic is no god of mine. I will not let it dictate when life is lost or gained. Not in my life. Not in anyone's if things were to go my way...but I'll show them the right way eventually."

His eyes slid over to you.

"You agree, don't you? You'll walk down the righteous path with me and preach the truth to everyone until they join us too."

--------------------------------------------------------

Free me from my mental prison dear god why do I do this to myself at the worst times of day/night.

[levmada]

hello! how r u doing?

can u write something angsty with either no comfort or comfort at the end (whatever u want). basically, reader has been having a pretty shitty week and has been working nonstop, and is the type to not about what's bothering them until they can't contain it anymore or they're calm enough to talk about it because they know they can get snappy and say some very sharp words that can be very hurtful. levi of course knows that, because he is our observant pookie, and leaves the reader alone, just acts normal. one night, let's say levi maybe says something snarky or whatever, that the reader has been some pretty bad attitude which is unlike them, and usually reader wouldn't take his words seriously and know that he's perhaps trying to help them open up. this time, it doesn't go the wau it's supposed to, and reader just fully snaps at levi and say some very harsh, petty and hurtful words to him. the rest is up to u!

and thank u btw, i love ur content❤️

yes, yes i can. ty for such a detailed rq :) this became angstier than intended😭but it's ok bc it was 10x more painful to write being mean to levi.

reader/us also has a distinct personality kind of built off the way you described, so i hope it's what you expect😅

➥ pairing: Levi x gn!reader

➥ c/w: college!au, Levi pov, Levi not realizing he has trauma for 1400 words, apologizing, selective mutism...?, heavy hurt and some comfort

➥ wc: 1.4k

If ever he ranked cleaning activities in his mind (which he has), organizing isn’t very high, but it doesn’t occur to him not to help you out with the little things when your week has been poisoned with the dual evils, shitty and exhausting.

Ever since you got back from class, you’ve sat there at your desk. He’s kept you in the corner of his eye, and that same scowl from an hour ago is still there, illuminated by the light of your laptop. You’ve paid it more attention than to anything else—which is not at all, even to your basic needs. 

It’s best to give you space when that look is on your face, and has and will continue to, but not when it comes to eating and-or sleeping. Other than that, he’s content in the background. Whatever he does to help out, you always notice, and tell him thank you with a weak smile, but not today—today when you look particularly like you’re at your wit’s end.

When he finished organizing the apartment (including the fridge), he bypassed your desk and sat on his computer playing solitaire for a solid half-hour. Inevitably, he gets bored, and he’s giving you as much time as he’s willing to before he drags you out to eat something.

Unsatisfied without the job completely done, he rolls up his sleeves and starts at the end of your desk by emptying your pencil sharpener, making a face at how full it is.

To his satisfaction, your focus hardly wanes. Which is good, but he knows how you like everything anyway. With an undistinguishable but distinct fondness, he notes your quirks; even the way you hold your pen melds with your existence in his mind. 

Or no, maybe that’s wrong. You’re a part of him; not a visitor, or even a resident, of his heart and mind.

“Levi, I need those pencils; leave them there.”

You’re referring to the plastic tin of a few colored pencils in his hand, which sat near the middle beside your computer. He looks at you, but you’re definitely serious about it, so he sets it back down.

“If you say so.”

You say nothing and go back to your work. Skipping the tin (which he wants to wash because of all the gross graphite smears and shavings at the bottom), he takes the pencil case beside that, and pops it open. An eraser found its way into a sea of colored pencils somehow somehow, as well as crayons—probably Hange. Not too long ago you had them over working on a class project. He starts picking out these imposters.

“Levi,” you huff, your expression severe as you look daggers at him. “Just leave it alone.”

“Tch, you’re kidding. You’d rather I waste my time sorting the bookshelf in reverse alphabetical order instead? That’s stupid, so why?”

He always gets ‘Are you okay?’ wrong, but this time you turn towards him with your fist tightly curled over your notebook. He doesn’t look startled, but he barely catches the beginning of your revile.

“Stop messing around!—I just told you to stop fucking with it, so quit being a fucking idiot and get out of my space!! This is so stupid, do you not see I’m busy!? ‘Cuz you clearly can’t listen!”

Ironically the angrier you sound, the less emotion shows on his face. Only at the end—you already look guilty—amidst silence like a bomb’s fallout, he wears the scowl of a frightened animal.

He waits until your lips start moving to turn around and leave. 

At the door, he stops again with his hand clutching the knob, and glares at you over his shoulder. When your lips go to form his name, he slams it harder than necessary.

This is so stupid.

That was far from the first time someone has yelled at him in his life, and besides, is getting yelled at not an experience absolutely everyone’s had?

Even so, he can’t seem to make himself do fuck-all besides quietly sit, sit in your dark kitchen at the dining table, his legs folded to his chest. He feels like a gargoyle—odd, ancient, and unthinking. 

Maybe he just never expected you would ever lose your temper, which is naive of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, until, your voice speaking softly makes him bolt up straight. 

“I’m sorry, can I turn this on…?” you ask softly.

For now, your profile is merely a black shadow in the doorway, with your back illuminated by the one in the tiny hall. The switch you’re gesturing to would light up above the oven, rather than the whole room.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. But it’s not a no. 

Despite the nature of turning on a light, it feels so slow.

He must’ve sat a while, because he even cringes, blinking feverishly. Before his vision even adjusts, the guilt etched into your expression is almost painful for him to look at, like a cavernous gorge shoveled into the earth miles wide and deep. You’re holding something to your chest.

“I’m so sorry for snapping like that. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. I’m so sorry, Levi. I’m never, ever too busy—fuck, I was frustrated and I never should take it out on you, not in any way, ever. I’m the one who’s an idiot.”

As you speak, you come until you’re by the table, standing like a magnet constantly being repelled from it. 

Then you set what you were holding down in front of him—one, an expensive piece of paper (the kind that bends, not tears) with a drawing of some sort he doesn’t want to look at right now, and a rice cake wrapped in clingy wrap. 

His favorite. 

“I’m so so sorry,” you continue apologizing profusely. At this point your eyes are wet, but they keep darting away, with your nails surely leaving half-moon-shaped indents in your knuckles. You pray very quietly, “I’ll do anything ‘cuz you’re everything.”

Wide-eyed, he can’t seem to respond except for a raw sound in his throat after you say that. An instinct seems primal, as much as pumping blood is, that if he says anything, the likelihood that you’ll leave him will increase an unknown amount. 

Normally he’s so calm under pressure, and he didn’t say anything before either—you’ll get the wrong idea. The best thing he can think of is to robotically slide the offerings closer.

You’re still trying not to cry when you go. 

He stays there, just as he was, for another little while. He’s not really feeling anything, but at the same time, he’s running out of breath from the effort to calm down. 

Ugh…

The way you clearly felt is probably what you get, but he doesn’t want that for you anyway. Even if you did mean any of it.

But you didn’t.

It’s midnight or so—too early for Levi to usually be asleep but very late for him to be coming to bed—when he taps the bedroom door open with a few fingers and slinks inside. To prevent from waking you up, he did most of his business in the bathroom in the dark. 

It now helps him make out the shape of you under the covers on your side of the bed. He comes like a wraith, so much that he’s near-silent crawling into bed beside you, and using the edge of the covers to slip under.

Your back is in front of him. He wants to make sure you know it’s okay… but he doesn’t know how. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead right between your shoulder blades and the thin material of your tank top, the only place you’re touching. You’re warm, you smell good. 

By the slight hitch in your breathing then, you know he’s here. 

After a while, he brings his hand up to your waist, or rather a bit before it. It’s not long before you gently rest your fingers on top of his. He lets them slot in-between.

His eyes are heavy. He doesn’t bother opening them as he reaches around, bringing you his way, with your head nestled in his chest. That’s the only time you make a move, since he made it clear it’s okay for you to.

He holds you tightly and breathes you in. You both relax.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

[buckyalpine]

Pieces

18+ Minors DNI Bucky x pregnant reader 

Edited this, lets pretend I never deleted this part of the story when I posted it cause I’m a dumb ass, thanks. Also the ***** indicates a time jump. 

PLEASE READ WARNINGS, I really loved this prompt and I might do an angstier one, separate from this...stay tuned if that’s your thing. 

Warnings: Still birth, child loss, drinking, swearing, bit of violence, thoughts of suicide, bit of fluff 

Word count: 5.4k

“I’m sorry”

Two words. The weight those two words carried, no one would understand. You knew pain. You’d loved and lost. You’d been nearly ripped into pieces and sewn back together. You’d lost countless battles. Yet nothing prepared you for this. Where your heart was being seared. Where death made sense because living was too painful. 

“I’m so sorry”       

You cried. Wailed. Screamed. Nothing brought him back. You curled up in the hospital bed, desperately sobbing, hoping to wake up from the nightmare but it never happened, the little bundle of hopes and dreams you wanted in your arms, he was never coming. You cried for him, screamed, pushed, nearly tore your body apart but it didn’t matter. You were met with silence. You were met with panicked nurses. You were met with your scared husband, who didn’t understand what was happening. Why did they take his baby son away before he got a chance to hold him, he’d waited so long. You were met with the solemn face of your doctor, hardly able to look at you. Your little baby boy, your tiny angel. Your whole world, his entire being summarized in two words. 

I’m sorry. 

Bucky didn’t say a word. He sat motionless. He didn’t look at you. He placed a hand on yours, devoid of any love or comfort. He stared blankly, watching his son disappear before his eyes. The names he picked out, the hours he spent talking to his baby, the clothes, the nursery he decorated. His little one would never know how excited he was to meet him. He’d never know how badly he wanted to hug and kiss and hold him. Read him stories. Hear his first words. See his first steps. Have a family. The new found purpose he had to nurture a life instead of take one. It was all gone. His little baby boy was gone. 

*****

You couldn’t take the sympathy cards. The flowers. All reminders of how your baby wasn’t there. He wasn’t coming back. Ever. You wanted to burn them. Destroy them, the same way every passing minute was destroying you. You’re mind sucked you into hell, the silence of your home reminding you of how your body had failed. No tiny babbles or coos. No hungry little cries. No warm cuddles. You had failed. You were supposed to have a healthy baby and you couldn’t do it. The worst part was you knew Bucky felt the same way. 

Bucky ran through the motions while remaining cold and distant. He brought you food. Made sure you rested. Checked on you. All without meeting your eyes. Without touching you. The gap between you grew; sleeping with his back to you. Sleeping at opposite ends of the beds. Till he didn’t sleep in the same bed any more. Hollow empty words. You tried so hard to be understanding, yes you were suffering but so was he. But you needed him; you needed him to hold you, to talk to you, comfort you. The same sweet husband who kissed your belly each night, promising to love you no matter what happened. The man who promised he’d take care of you till his last breath. You needed your Bucky. You found him sitting on the couch of your shared room, staring blankly at his hands, the hands you wanted to hold you so badly. 

“Bucky, I- please talk to me, I feel like I’m drowning, I feel like I’m alone, I need you-

“What’s there to talk about” He scoffed, crumpling the list of baby names he’d kept in his pocket. You felt your heart break, standing in front of him, reaching for his hands, your eyes pleading for him to at least look at you. 

“Bucky?” 

“I-I can’t even look at you right now” He yanked his hands away before you could touch him, walking away from you. You felt your blood turn into ice as Bucky got up, making his way to the door.

“What does that mean” You whispered, rooted in place as he shoved his boots on, refusing to look at you. Bucky glared at you with cold eyes, his lip twitching, he’d kept everything inside and he knew it was wrong. It was wrong. It was wrong. It was so fucking wrong but he couldn’t stop once he started. 

“IT MEANS I CAN’T FUCKING LOOK AT YOU. I DON’T WANT TO BE NEAR YOU. I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM AS YOU. YOU TOOK AWAY THE ONE THING THAT GAVE ME HOPE” 

“Y-you think I did this?”

The earth beneath you cracked open, swallowing the fragments left of your soul. You thought you felt broken before but this was unbearable. You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat, staring at the broken man that stood before you. 

“You think I hurt our baby?”

“Well he’s not here, is he?! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SON?! He’s not fucking here. He never will be” 

Your mouth went dry, unable to respond as Bucky’s metal arm whirred, his jaw clenching. The spiral started and he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop the venom that laced his words, the small sense of hope he had for a better future was gone. 

“I can’t take this. I told you over and over again to just fucking rest, stop being reckless, no more missions,  BUT YOU DON’T FUCKING LISTEN. NOW FUCKING LOOK. I JUST WANT MY SON” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, covering your ears as glass shattered against the wall, Bucky’s chest heaving, glaring at you. It wasn’t your fault. Deep down he knew. He fucking knew. But he couldn’t climb out of the darkness that sucked him in, clouding any ability he had to think rationally. He stalked over to you, his hands gripping your arms, his hot breath fanning over your face. 

“I just. Want. My son. And all you do is remind me of the fact that I’ll never get to hold him. I can’t stand being in the same place as you. This wouldn’t have happened if it was someone else” 

He regretted his words as soon as they came out, but it was too late. 

He’d never dare think about being with someone else but the pain was too much, he wanted to hurt you, why the fuck did he want to hurt you. Why did he want you to feel more pain when you were suffering already. He pulled his hands away, desperately needing to leave before he did or said something worse that he’d regret. 

“What the hell’s going on here- 

Tony raced down the hall with Steve and Sam to find Bucky standing by the door, broken glass across the room. You stood motionless, trembling on the inside as Bucky shoved Steve out of the way, slamming the door shut, the roar of his bike engine screeching away.

You blinked at the three men, hardly registering Steve catching you as you fell to the ground, sobs wracking your body making it difficult for you to breathe. You felt empty, limp in his arms, unsure what hurt you more; the loss of your little one or the loss of your loving husband because this wasn’t the man you married. 

“Come here sweetheart, it’s okay” He held you tightly to his chest, rubbing your back, holding your hands gently in his to keep you from tugging your hair and digging your nails into your skin. 

“M-my-my b-baby” You cried harder, clutching onto Steve’s shirt.  “He’s gone; I’ll never get to see him” 

“And now J-James thinks…” You couldn’t even get the words out. You already blamed yourself but to hear Bucky tell you to your face that it was your fault was worse than the actual loss. 

“Shhhh, let it out, we got you, it’s okay” Sam sat with Steve, softly stroking your hair. It pained him. Pained him to see you so broken. To see Bucky hardly a shell of the person he once was. He thought about all the time you spent with his sister, finding out what you’d need, what to expect, what not to worry about. This wasn’t one of the things you talked about.

Tony walked out, waiting in the hallway, unable to see you so broken. While he didn’t agree with how Bucky was handling things, he also didn’t blame him. He remembered the day Morgan was born. The joy he felt when she was placed in his arms. Bringing her home. He didn’t even want to imagine a situation in which that didn’t happen. He didn’t want to imagine what if felt like to be told the little one you thought was going to come home with you would never see you. Would never open their eyes. Smile up at you. Grab onto your finger. Your baby wouldn’t be coming home with you. 

*****

“Shit” 

Bucky staggered back in the compound, his eyes bloodshot, unable to walk straight. He crashed onto the couch, not noticing the team sitting in the living room, waiting for him to get back home. Steve stayed with you until you fell asleep, before waiting for his Bucky to return.  

“I thought he couldn’t get drunk, how much did he drink?” Sam ran over to the nearly blacked out super soldier, with Steve by his side, throwing Bucky’s arms over their shoulders to lift him up. 

“I-I don’t want to know” Steve shook his head. Steve’s eyes brimmed with tears, biting on his lips to keep from shaking. There wasn’t a moment Bucky’ didn’t talk about how excited he was to be a father. Asking for help to order little Avenger onesies online. Spending hours picking out the perfect crib. Practicing how to hold a baby. Getting his arm modified so the plates were smoother and more comfortable to the touch. Bucky’s head lulled to the side, groaning as they got into the elevator, pressing the button to your shared floor with Steve. 

“Let him crash in my room, y/n doesn’t need this right now” Steve walked passed your room, letting Bucky fall on his bead, pulling his boots off, before switching the light off and moving some sheets to sleep on the couch. 

*****

Steve’s eyes shot open when he heard a pained groaned from the bathroom, looking up to see Bucky sitting on the floor. He’d had managed to drink enough to the point he stumbled into the bathroom,  throwing up most of his insides, his head between his knees before throwing up again. Steve managed to clean Bucky up, helping him get back into bed, his heart breaking further seeing Bucky clutch onto the picture of an ultrasound from when you first found out you were pregnant. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah pal”

“W-what did I do wrong?” 

Steve swallowed thickly, looking at his best friend stare at the ceiling, tears streaming from the corner of his eyes, spilling onto the pillow. Bucky’s fingers twitched, careful not to crumple the picture, holding onto it for dear life, the pain was too much for him. He thought he did everything right. He took care of you. He read up on everything he could. 

Nothing mattered. 

“He was supposed to be named after you and Sam” Bucky slurred, remembering the way you giggled at his ridiculously long list he added to every day, knowing damn well he already had the perfect name in mind. 

“I read to him every night” Bucky cradled your belly, reading books, whispering to your tummy, his hand soothing the little kicks he’d feel inside. The little flutters would settle as soon as Bucky started talking, his voice lulling both you and the baby to sleep. 

“I-just wanted to hold him and tell him I loved him at least o-once. He was so small. He’ll never know h-how l-long I waited for him” 

Bucky sobbed, curling into a ball, the picture clutched to this chest. He could hardly feel Steve sit by his side, wrapping his friend in a hug, he could only register pain. Your pained screams while you lay on the hospital bed. The tiny bundle that looked sound asleep, never meeting his eyes. All the nights you softly cried beside him, waiting for him to hold you but he couldn’t. The way you pleaded with him today and all the anger he had kept inside crashed onto you when you were the last person who deserved it. 

Guilt sucked him deeper into darkness, he didn’t want anyone anymore. He deserved this. For all the pain he’d caused people. He was stupid to think he deserved to be happy. How many families had he broken. Destroyed. Innocent lives that never got to go home because of him. And he really thought he’d have a chance. He didn’t deserve to be called dad. To feel the warmth of his son sleeping in his arms. Crying out for him. Wanting his daddy to carry him and comfort him. He didn’t deserve any of it. 

Then there was you. 

Bucky pulled at his hair, his voice hoarse as he continued to break down, his mind fighting against him. It wasn’t your fault. You took away his baby. You gave him a family. You destroyed his happiness. He loved you so much. He resented you. You were his angel. You reminded him of what could have been. You were suffering more than he was. He couldn’t do this anymore. He just wanted to hold you and cry with you in his arms. He was done.

***** You sat up slightly when you heard the door open, rubbing your eyes to see a disheveled Bucky walk in, going straight to the closet, grabbing his duffle bag. He spoke before you could say anything, still not looking at you, grabbing his clothes from the shelves.  

“I’m moving out” He murmured, zipping up whatever he could stuff in his bag, deciding he’d come back for the rest of his stuff later. 

“Why” You had no tears left to cry, no more pieces left to break further. You looked at him blankly, your voice was emotionless. You didn’t even care for the answer but you let him answer anyway. 

“I can’t do this. I just-I can’t y/n” 

You nodded, lying back down, pulling the sheets over you. Bucky felt pain seep deeper into his bones as you turned away, curling up and going back to sleep.

He didn’t know what he expected. You had no reason to fight for him to stay. He failed as a husband to care of you, to hold you through your pain, to protect you from the demons that were eating away at you. And now he was leaving like a coward because he was angry at the world and didn’t know who to blame.

He temporarily stayed with Steve, before moving to the spare room, sleeping on the couch when he wasn’t spending hours in the training room. Each time he thought he could take a step forward; he’d remember something and spiral further down. No one could look at either of you go down your paths of self destruction. Bucky continued to drink himself into oblivion. He was more reckless on missions, putting himself in harm’s way, his temper uncontrollable. You were holed up in your room, skipping meals, isolating yourself from the world. It was clearer than ever you need each other and yet…

Bucky had managed to avoid seeing you, but it wasn’t difficult, seeing as you hardly left your room. Of course, it’d only be a matter of time before you crossed paths.

*****

At first, Bucky felt numb. No feeling at all. He felt like he’d been thrown back to hell when he escaped from Hydra, with no sense of purpose, no identity, no will to live. Your pained screams never left him. The things he said to you were seared in his brain. He’d managed to escape everything but not this. His own words haunted him the most. He drank more. Avoided sleep. Trained. Nothing. All he could hear were your cries for him to hold you and his venom of blaming you.

Numbness turned into a different pain. The longing for his wife. His doll. His baby. His sweet angel who cradled him, kissed him, held him when he was broken. When he wasn’t enough. When he was nothing but a hollow shell of the person he once was. When he had nothing to give.

The woman who trust him. Trusted him enough to carry his child. Who endured pain for months. Who cradled her belly, telling her baby their daddy was a hero. Whispering to her baby in the middle of the night about how excited she was for them to come. How excited she was to have a family. With him. In return, he betrayed her without a second thought. He took his moment of sorrow and tore you apart further when you were already tattered and torn beyond repair. What the hell did he do to you.

His sobs could be heard down the hall, the sounds of destruction echoing from inside the room; absolutely no one dared to see how Bucky was doing. You covered your ears; you heart only breaking more when he repeatedly wept your name every night, continuing to call for you in his sleep. You wanted to feel his arms. Feel his love again. And then you remembered the way he looked at you with such disgust and the numbness would return.

He passed by your door 100 times, hesitating to knock. How could he ask doe forgiveness, he didn’t deserve to even see you. Though he was desperate. He had to see your face, even if you threw him right back out, he just wanted to see his sweet doll again. He knocked quietly, squeezing his hands when you opened the door, holding himself back from wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/n I’m sorry-

You shut the door on his face, the coldness of your eyes unwavering. Until you no longer had to look at him, falling to your knees as soon as the door clicked.

“Baby, please, I’m so fucking sorry” His voice was muffled from the other side. You slapped your hand over your mouth, refusing to let him hear you cry, though it was a futile attempt. He heard you, sitting by the door, just like you, desperately wanting to just break it down so he could hold you. He could have broken the door. Easily. But it was unfair to you. He walked out without giving you a choice. He couldn’t walk back in again and demand you take him back.

It went on for weeks. Bucky was practically on his knees every morning, every night, pleading with you to at least look at him. Funny how things turn out. He cried by the door, falling asleep against it most nights, unaware that you’d fallen asleep on the other side, a part of you desperately missing him. But it was too late. There were something’s that just couldn’t be forgotten.

*****

“I can’t forgive you James” You refused to meet his eyes knowing you’d break if you looked at him. You stared at your feet, shaking your head when he tried to touch you.

“Baby?”  Bucky’s voice was a pained whisper, he knew you were right. He didn’t deserve an ounce of the love you’d given him, let alone any type of forgiveness.

“You can’t call me that anymore” You whispered, digging through your bag, finding the folder. “Just sign them. That’s all I want from you”

“Please baby, no” Bucky shook his head, not even wanting to look at the papers you handed to him where you’d already signed. You had every right, every fucking right, and he was being selfish again, begging, pleading, “You’re my angel baby, I can’t, please y/n, can’t you at least think about it?”

“It’s for the best” You held the door open for him to leave, quietly locking it after he left, feeling more empty than before. Bucky considered just ending it all because the pain he caused you was already killing him; the world would have been better without him anyway.

*****

“You can’t keep fucking trying to get yourself killed on missions, you need to get it together” Sam glared at Bucky, while he hissed in pain, sewing a gash on his side.

“I need her back” Bucky had his head in his hands, his torso bandaged from throwing himself in danger on yet another mission, punishing himself in every way he saw fit. “She wants a divorce”

Sam and Steve looked at each other, before looking at the broken super solider.

“Look. I’ll be honest with you. I know you’re hurting and I can’t comment on the pain you’re feeling from losing a child. But you need to realize what you did was beyond fucked up, that’s your wife man. You’ve been through hell, I get that. But she. Is. Your. Wife. She was carrying your baby, she needed you more than ever. You blamed her Bucky, it wasn’t just you not being there for her. You fucking blamed her”

“I just-

“You left her when she needed you. She needed you more than anyone else, you realize she carried your son in her for months. Did you account for how much pain her body went through, just for the doctor to look her in the eyes and say I’m sorry? For her husband to not look at her, not touch her, accuse her of losing the baby. I can’t even being to imagine what type of hell she’s going through because of you. The pain she’s in now? Its not from the loss. This is all you”

Bucky’s lip trembled, the pain he felt in his chest was unbearable and he’d caused you misery worse than this.

“She hates me”

“And I don’t blame her” Steve scoffed, shaking his head while Bucky closed his eyes, tears streaking his face. “Can you? She lost the baby, you blamed her for losing the baby and then she lost you. It hurts. I get it. Not entirely, but I get it. I don’t get what you did to her. Did you hear her cry the day you left?”

Bucky shook his head, he didn’t want to know. The broken screams you cried at the hospital haunted him. He couldn’t take more. He didn’t stop Steve from speaking, but God he wished the earth would swallow him on the spot.

“You have any idea how long she cried for? How badly she wanted you to come back even after you blamed her for everything? This poor girl sobbing on the fucking floor because she lost a child and then her husband decides to leave because he can’t even look at her. You know you bruised her arms!?” Steve’s voice turned into a growl, Sam squeezing his shoulder before anything escalated in the jet. “I can’t even sleep properly because I can hear her when I close my eyes, so how the fuck you stayed in the same room with her, without even looking at her, not comforting her once, is beyond me”

Bucky’s arm whirred, his ears red from anger but it wasn’t toward Steve; it was towards himself. Every impulsive word he let slip from his lips because he felt like he was in pain destroyed a piece of you instead.

“Took a lot of self-control for me to not kick your ass” Steve stared at the floor, still heavily debating on punching Bucky at least once.

“I think you should give her space. You did your thing. Now its her turn, just let her do what she needs” Sam sighed, he did feel for Bucky. He felt for you more.

*****

Bucky stood at your door, his hands trembling when he gave you the papers, his named scribbled on the line, tear stains littering the document.

“Y/n….please sweetheart…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I loved you. So much. So fucking James”

“I love you doll-

“No” You cut him off, glaring at him, ignoring his pleading eyes. You anger steadily rose, all the rage you’d managed to keep in control erupting all at once. “NO, FUCK YOU”

“You-you don’t- you will never fucking understand. I- You read to him each night. But I-I felt him James, do you understand? I could feel every kick, every flutter, documenting every single movement. I counted down each day, waiting for him to come, I waited for the day I’d get to see you hold him”

“Did you consider I’ll never get to feed my baby? How much pain my body was in, having to pump fucking bottles of breast milk FOR WHAT?! TO THROW DOWN THE FUCKING DRAIN BECAUSE THE ALL DOCTOR COULD SAY WAS I’M SORRY”

Your chest heaved, eyes wild with fury. He wanted to hug you so fucking badly but he didn’t dare move, silently standing in front of you while tears dampened his shirt.

“I won’t hear him call me mommy. All I have are empty reminders. You were supposed to love me. So why didn’t you, why wasn’t I enough? Am I not part of a family? If it was just me and you, I would have still said we were a family, but that isn’t how you feel is it-

“No baby, please, you are my family angel, you’re my absolute everything, I’m so sorry y/n-

“You’ll never fucking understand. Because you’re selfish. I don’t understand why you married me, just-just go”

Everything was over.

“GO”

***** Bucky finished another late night workout, the easiest way to numb his feelings, anxiously fidgeting with empty space of where his wedding ring used to sit. He stepped out of the elevator, freezing when saw you. He swallowed thickly, his heart dropping to his stomach; you were hardly able to stand, holding onto the wall as you made your way to your room. You had bags under your eyes from never sleeping. Your lips were chapped, hair in a loose pony tail, wearing just your (his) oversized t-shirt. You stumbled, trying to open the door, shrugging his hand off when he tried to keep you from falling. 

“Don’t touch me” Your voice was nearly a growl, white hot anger surging through you when he didn’t let go of your arm. You yanked your shoulder away, stepping into the room, hoping to close the door on him, only to have Bucky follow you inside. 

“Let me help you” Fresh tears stung his eyes watching you shrink away from him, fear and anger in your eyes when he reached for you again.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME” I need you to hold me. You voice echoed through the room, your chest heaving when he took another step towards you, he hated himself, he hated himself so fucking much for making you suffer alone when you needed him the most. He wrapped his arms around you, refusing to let you go while you cried and screamed trying to get out of his hold. You pushed against his chest, weakly hitting him, angry at the way he softly cradled your head, hating the way he rubbed your back, you couldn’t stand how his strong arms felt when he was hugging you, refusing to let you escape. 

“L-LET ME GO” Don’t ever leave me again. Your words were broken between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut, you need this for so long, to feel his touch, to be held by him, but not like this. 

“Let me go” Hold me tighter. You nails dug into your palms, refusing to melt into his embrace. Bucky felt his throat tighten, he couldn’t understand how he’d left you, how he blindly blamed you, he failed you after promising he’d never hurt you. 

“You-you don’t have the fucking right-” No one else can take the pain away. You tried to pull away again, only to have Bucky shake his head, sniffling and holding you tighter. 

“You don’t get to fucking touch me after you left me” His lip trembled, tears spilling down his cheeks. The sounds of his sniffles broke you from your rage; you looked up at him, meeting his tried eyes. His beard had grown, cheeks more hollow, eyes puffy and nose red from crying each night. 

“Y/n I- I’m so sorry angel-

“NO, you fucking left me, do you have any idea how much pain I was in?!” I needed you so badly. Your body was fighting to escape but your heart needed him to hold you tighter and cradle the broken pieces left inside you. Bucky felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest, his heart racing when he realized the weight of his actions.  

“Baby no-

“THEN WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK?!” I just wanted you to hold me while I held you. 

“You think I hurt our baby?” You voice as a pained whisper as Bucky sobbed, holding onto you tighter, dropping to his knees, his face buried in your tummy, shaking his head.

“No no no, you didn’t, I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry” His voice as muffled, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips as he cried clinging onto you. “I’m sorry y/n, I’m sorry sweet heart, I’m sorry I hurt you baby” 

“I just-” Your legs felt weak, falling into Bucky’s lap; he carefully held you to his chest, laying down with you on the bed, cuddling you close to him “I carried him, I lost him, you’re right it’s my faul-

“NO” He slapped his hand over mouth; he’d never forgive himself for this. 

“Please, no. I didn’t mean a fucking thing I said, you didn’t do anything my angel, you didn’t do anything. Please don’t ever say that, I- I was just so upset baby, I took it out on you when you needed me, I’m so sorry angel” Bucky wept, clutching into you, you were his life line.

“You left me when I needed you” You whimpered, the ice in your heart melting, “I needed you and you left” 

“I’m so sorry baby, I love you y/n, I love you so much angel, I’m never leaving you again, never, I’m here baby” He kissed every inch of your face, his hand gently wrapping around your tummy, rubbing soft circles on your skin, soothing you. 

“I want our baby” You whispered, curling up in a ball on Bucky’s lap as he cradled you to his chest, his tears dampening your hair. “Me too, sweetheart, me too”

*****

You felt panic rise in your chest, flashes of the last time you felt this type of pain plaguing your mind. 

“Bucky what if…” You screamed as another contraction tore through you, unable to get the words out, you didn’t want to even think about such a thing ever happening again, you wouldn’t get through it. Still, it ate at the back of your mind, draining the little energy you had left. 

“What if….w-will you leave?” 

Bucky shook his head frantically, gripping onto your hand as you cried in pain, his metal hand resting on your forehead to cool your heated skin. It wouldn’t happen again, but even if it did, he’d be there with you through everything. 

“Never baby, never, I’ll never hurt you like that again, I promise, no matter what happens angel, I’m here” 

Your body felt like it was being torn in half, squeezing Bucky’s hand, searing pressure radiating through your lower half. 

“Come on mama, push, you can do it, almost there baby” 

“I’m here doll, breathe y/n, keep pushing”

“One more sweetheart, you’re doing so good, my strong little mama, I love you, just a bit more”

You screamed. Cries filled the room. You could hardly see, tears clouding your vision, holding your healthy, crying, baby in your arms, his tiny hands grasping out, trying to find you. 

“It’s a boy!” 

You were met with smiling nurses, whisking your baby away to clean him up. You were met with your crying husband, kissing you endlessly, refusing to let you go. You were met with your team mates, waiting with gifts by the door.

It didn’t erase the little angel you’d lost

It didn’t erase the pain.

But the pieces were put back together.

When you both held your baby in your arms, you felt whole again.

Not perfect. 

Whole. 

- Bonus dedicated to @xcaptain-winterx

Your feet never touch the floor once during the entire second pregnancy because he carries you EVERYWHERE. 

He still hasn’t forgive himself. Sometimes you find him softly sniffling in bed, he can’t answer when you ask him what’s wrong. 

“I’m sorry” He clings onto you, whimpering, repeatedly telling you he’s sorry, he can’t believe he’d hurt his beautiful angel. 

He definitely wants more babies. 

The first time his son babbles out dada he’s nearly inconsolable.

 He has a small pair of angel wings engraved onto the wrist of his metal arm. He still loves his little angel. 

When you have triplets, he’s full on dad mode, a baby in each arm, one on his shoulders, your older song happily clinging to his leg while he warms up milk, letting you rest.  He’s not sure what to do when your third pregnancy is twins but his heart is full (so are his arms) 

  Please let me know if you want to be added or removed! (also this is an 18+ blog, I can’t tag nameless/ageless blogs)  

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @needybabygirlstuff @goldylions @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @high-functioning-lokipath @elle14-blog1 @littlelightnings @psychomann @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth   @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen 

[rqgnarok]

request: jamie x actress reader!

love your writing 💚

this turned out to be more a lil angstier that i expected but y'all KNOW ME

"You're nervous."

Jamie jumps, bow tie unmade and tangled in his fingers. "I- no. No, what? 'm not."

"Jay," your voice drips with sympathy, tilting your head to the side as you put on your earring. "I told you, you don't have to come if you don't want to. We don't have to do this if we're not ready."

This being announcing your relationship to the world. Somehow you'd managed to keep it lowkey, this thing between you, only your families and closest friends (and the entirety of AFC Richmond, of course) aware of how happy you and Jamie were in a relationship with each other.

But now both your publicists have given you the green light and you've been sitting on the announcement for weeks, figuring out the best way to do it. It was a matter of luck, or maybe a little nudge from the universe, that the Emmys came around just before Jamie had to be back in England for preseason. It was all perfect, a little too good to be true.

Which is why you're threading lightly.

You still his shaking hands by taking them in yours, leaving the bowtie on the table, and kissing his knuckles. "You know, I still think an Instagram post isn't the worst idea. Have you gotten your password back from Keeley?"

"No," Jamie shakes his head firmly, expression determined even if some nervousness lingers underneath it. "No, angel, 'm ready. Promise. I wanna be there to snog your pants off when you win."

"If I win," you smile at his relentless faith in you and the picture he paints. You can't say you don't like the sound of that. "And I'm not wearing pants. And you haven't looked me in the eye since we started getting ready."

Jamie's jaw tightens in frustration, meeting your stare just to show you he can, even if he looks away too quickly. You say softly, "Baby, I'm serious. I know you support me whether you're there or not. Whatever you chose, we've got each other's backs. A hundred percent."

"'s not that," Jamie mutters, slipping closer so he can press a kiss to your forehead without disrupting your hair or your clothes. Your stylist would kill him if she saw anything out of place after it took hours to doll you up. "I want to, angel, 'course I want to. I just- you have to be sure."

"You frown, reaching for him when he goes to take a step back, keeping him close. "What, about coming out together?"

Jamie shrugs, small and dejected. "'bout us, more like."

Realization dawns on you like a horrible, cold splash of water to the face. "I am," you say slowly, hesitating. "...Aren't you?"

Jamie looks at you like you're insane. "Of course I am, that's not what I mean. But if- after we do this there's no going back for you. No more secrets. No more take backsies. Everyone'll know."

"Take backsies," you scoff, glam be damned you cup his face in your hands and get real close.

"Honey," you say, soft and fierce all the same. "Look at me. Are you looking at me?"

"Yes, coach," he teases, and you barely refrain from flicking him on the forehead.

"I'm sure," you say and mean it. Falling in love with Jamie happened effortlessly but it was every day that you chose to be with him, a decision you haven't even thought of regretting. "You were never meant to be a secret, Jamie. And if I did something to make you think that was my intention-"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his previous restraint gone. Some things are more important than composure, you suppose.

He draws back, breathless, holding your chin in his hand and thumbing at the corner of your mouth where your lipstick is probably smudged. "You're perfect. 'm just being dumb, baby, I know you love me. I want you to be happy, 's all."

You frown. "It's not dumb if it upsets you."

"And I promise to talk about it tomorrow," he says as solemnly as you know Jamie's capable of being before he surges to kiss you again with the energy you usually associate with him.

"But tonight we're celebrating you. And every single one of those statue things we're taking home with us. Let's go knock 'em dead, sweetheart."

[artiststarme]

Burning Down The House

Well, this turned out to be a little angstier than I anticipated but I hope you guys like it! I'm thinking there will probably be a part 2, maybe a part 3 as well. As always, please leave your thoughts in the comments and if you have any title ideas, send them my way!

~*~*~*~

Eddie was used to people hating him. He was long accustomed to the insults, points, and glares that came from being different in a small town. As sad as it was, it was a constant in Eddie’s life. No matter what, he could always count on people to despise him for being himself. It didn’t matter if he was a scared little kid moving in with his uncle to escape his father’s abuse or if he was a grown man trying to move on after a traumatizing experience, the people of Hawkins were never going to show him any respect.

Every time he left his house after the Spring Break from hell and his subsequent recovery period in the hospital, the fellow people of Hawkins made sure to show him how much they didn’t want him there. Andy and his other jockey goons would corner him to give him flurries of punches that would leave his ears ringing for days. Principal Higgins had gifted him his high school diploma through the mail on the condition that ‘he just stay away’. Even the little old ladies that were once enamored by his politeness glared at him now on the street. 

But Eddie could handle it, he’d long given up on winning everyone over. Years ago, he’d built his armor into impenetrable walls of steel that hadn’t failed him yet. He’d grown his hair out into a dark curtain to use as a shroud, he’d wrestled into a battle jacket, and covered his vulnerabilities with patches for metal bands. The people of Hawkins couldn’t get to him now. 

They could get to Wayne though, and they did. Eddie came home one too many times to Wayne scrubbing spray paint off the sides of the trailer, arthritic fingers cramping as he tried to spare Eddie’s feelings from the harsh words scrawled in paint. He’d see Wayne’s old friends avoiding him downtown, not wanting to associate with the guy related to a murderer. But Eddie’s breaking point was when he stumbled upon Steve helping Wayne into the trailer one day. 

Steve wasn’t supposed to come over that day so Eddie had taken a nap instead. But when he heard loud voices coming from the kitchen, Eddie climbed out of bed to investigate. What he saw though was something he wished he’d never seen. Steve was holding one of Wayne’s arms, guiding him to the couch in the living room while Wayne held a bag of frozen peas against his eye. His face was bruised and he was limping as if his body was battered.

“What the fuck? What’s going on? Uncle Wayne, are you okay?” Eddie asked them frantically. Uncle Wayne just eased back onto the couch with one hand on his ribs and the other still holding the frozen peas. 

“I’m alright, kid. It ain’t nothing I can’t handle,” Wayne comforted him. 

“‘Nothing you can’t handle?’ What the fuck was it that you had to handle, Uncle Wayne?” Eddie desperately asked again. 

“Look Eds-”

“I caught some of the old basketball team beating on him. I managed to chase them off but not before they got in a few punches. Nothing too serious though, I’m almost positive he just has a shiner and some bruised ribs. No concussion,” Steve assured him. 

“You didn’t have to tell him that. Snitches get stitches, Harrington,” Wayne hissed at him.

Eddie couldn’t get over the fact that Wayne had gotten hurt at all. Hawkins was his home, Wayne had lived there his entire life and now the community that he’d grown up with was turning on him? Just because Eddie was accused of some murders that he didn’t even commit? It was such… bullshit. 

“Uncle Wayne, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault. You don’t deserve this, I should- I’m just so sorry.” Eddie felt tears build up in his eyes. There was no one less deserving of a beating than Wayne. He was the saint that took Eddie in when no one else wanted him so for him to take the brunt of Eddie’s actions, it made him feel terrible. 

“Boy, this ain’t yer fault. You didn’t do nothing and you don’t deserve this either. I’m fine, everything’s gonna be alright. We just gotta wait for this to blow over,” Wayne told him calmly. He could tell that Eddie was on the verge of a panic attack but he knew that words always calmed him down. 

Steve just shook his head at them both and handed Wayne some more ice. “I don’t think this is going to blow over. I heard some of my neighbors are trying to get the cops to arrest Eddie again even though we already got his name cleared. And I guess some of the guys on the basketball team with Lucas are trying to scare you guys off. It might be time for you guys to move somewhere else.”

Eddie just looked at him blankly. “And go where? With what money? We can’t afford to leave.”

Wayne hummed, “Nah, I don’t want to leave here. Hawkins is home whether they like us here or not. We’re staying until we can’t no more.”

Steve and Eddie made eye contact over Wayne’s head and shared a heavy look. That day was approaching faster than anyone was comfortable with. The town had always hated Eddie but Wayne now too? Things were escalating and it would only be a matter of time before the choice was taken from them. 

Later that night, Eddie was wrapped like an octopus around Steve in his bedroom when he heard glass breaking. His head shot up in tandem with Steve’s and they both hurried to get out of bed. Steve grabbed his nail studded bat that he’d taken to storing next to the bed and made his way down the hallway. They didn’t see an intruder but what they found was so much worse. 

The entire kitchen was engulfed in flames. The fire was creeping along the walls of the living room and the charring was reminiscent of that of the Upside Down. Thick, black smoke threatened to suffocate anyone that tried to combat it.

“Fuck Eddie, get Wayne! Get as much shit as you can and get out!” Steve yelled at him as he dropped the bat and hurried to fill a mixing bowl with water. “Eddie, go!”

Eddie spun around and bolted to Wayne’s room. His uncle was sleeping soundly on the bed, the bruising along his face darkened further with the light of the fire illuminating it. 

“Wayne! Get up, the trailer is on fire!” He shook his uncle’s shoulders until his eyes squinted open. “Uncle Wayne, the house is on fire, we have to go!”

They made it outside before any real damage could be done. Wayne and Eddie were fine, no burns or smoke inhalation. Steve, the glorious and idiotic bastard that he was, contained the fire to the kitchen until the fire department got there and refused to leave the trailer until he’d secured Wayne’s favorite Garfield coffee mug. Wayne couldn’t even yell at him when he showed him, just pulled him into a long hug and nestled the mug close to his chest. 

It seemed that their prior conversation had tempted the universe because they couldn’t stay in Hawkins after that. Even with little damage occurring to the bedrooms, the fire damage to the kitchen and living room areas made the trailer uninhabitable. 

After packing what they could into the cars, they made their way to the Harrington’s house to spend the night. Eddie couldn’t stop shaking during the drive and long after Steve had pulled him into his own bedroom. 

“Eds, it’s okay. Everything is fine, we all got out safe and Wayne got to keep his favorite mugs and caps. Win-win, everything will be okay.”

Eddie just looked at him in shock. “Everything is not okay, Steve! Someone tried to murder us in our sleep and then ruined our trailer by setting it on fire. That’s not okay! And now we have to find a new place to live and after this, it’s definitely not going to be in Hawkins which means I’ll have to leave you and the kids. Nothing about this is okay!”

Steve pulled Eddie into his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Eddie, we’ll find a new place for you guys and we’ll make sure you’re safe. And you don’t need to worry about me. I love you so I’m going to follow you wherever you go.”

“What about Wayne?”

“He’s probably going to throw more of a fit if I don’t go. I’ve heard him telling you to buy me a ring, I don’t think he’ll let you leave me here if you tried,” Steve chuckled. 

That was true, Wayne had been threatening to propose on his behalf if he didn’t get a move on even though gay marriage wasn’t legal yet in the first place. Regardless, Steve wasn’t getting away from the Munsons anytime soon. 

Steve brushed his hair off his face as he thought and whispered, “get some sleep, Eds. We’ll worry about it in the morning. You’re safe here, I got you.”

And with that, Eddie fell asleep feeling safer and more secure than he had in months, maybe ever. Nothing was alright right now but they would be eventually. Especially if he had Wayne and Steve to count on, which he would for a long time coming.

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[penvisions]

from grief to grace {javi g x reader drabble}

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Determined to work through your heartbreak, you end up spacing out until your boss comes to check on you.

Warnings: hurt and comfort, break up, heartbreak, asshole boyfriend, negative language, degrading language, disrespect, um idk if there's anything else?

A/N: written for @iamasaddie as part of their writing challenge 2.0! decided to go literal with the prompt of 'javi's blue jacket' and pick javi g since i've never written for him before. the genre i was given was hurt/comfort and the prompt was 'will you tell me about it?' i had so much fun with this even if i took an angstier route (apparently that's my thing lol)

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

You were trying to concentrate on threading the needle, but your hands were trembling, and tears were brimming. Sighing, you set the needle’s pointed end back into the pin cushion atop the desk, beside the jacket you had been attempting to fix.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you quickly picked up the notebook you had scribbled Javi’s measurements on, double checking them against the thin white lines you had drawn onto the fabric as you heard him enter the room.

“Okay, my apologies, that meeting ran a little longer. It was unexpected.” He clapped his hands together, seemingly done with that part of the day and more than willing to move onto the nest.

“Th-that’s okay, senior.” You tried to sound normal, but your heart sank when you realized it hadn’t been convincing enough.

“Is everything okay, you do not seem like yourself.” Javi’s cheerful tone had dampened, worry creeping into him as you could feel his eyes look you over completely as you sat frozen at your desk. No doubt taking in the way the jacket that was supposed to be ready for him to try on was sitting in front of you in pieces.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been too slow on this jacket, senior, please accept my apologies.”

“I am not worried about the jacket, I am worried about you. You’re crying, querida.” He intoned softly.

Quickly raising a hand to wipe at your cheeks, you were startled to discover that you were crying. The tears having fallen to the fabric you were supposed to be working on. Damp spots decorating the bright fabric. It was a mustard yellow, the color deeper where you tears had landed. You frantically tried to rub the wet spots off, patting at them with a tissue from the box near the edge of your desk.

“Oh shoot! No, no, no, I will fix it, I swear.”

“No need,” Javi strode further into the room, kneeling beside you to take your hands in his. They looked so small in his, the freckled tan of his feeling warm. “I worry for you, tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, aware of a few errant tears flying away at the motion. You wanted to keep it inside, to not ruin the day or be the cry baby that vented to their sweet, understanding employer.

“I’m okay, I swear.” You wouldn’t look directly at him, knowing his wide brown eyes that glittered in the sunlight would make you spill the news far too quickly if you were to gaze into them. You always had a soft spot for him, for the way he was endlessly kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. Something that had been a thing to tease you over, from both your friends and your – well now ex – boyfriend.

“Will you tell me about it, querida, please? I will do my best to make it better, whatever it is.” He beseeched in that deep baritone he had, his hands squeezing yours reassuringly.

“My-my boyfriend, h-he broke up with me. He said he was embarrassed to tell his friends I was a seamstress.” You sputtered, the ache in your heart making the words flow from you to your boss. He was always so kind, so thoughtful. You hadn’t wanted to tamp down on his sunny and excitable demeanor today of all days. He was preparing to host a viewing festival, indie film makers from all over the world would be there and he had requested you to work overtime if you wanted to. You had taken him up on it, even in the wake of the breakup. You needed to save as much as you could to cover the down payment for a new place, your ex not too prideful to kick you out of the one in your name that he had moved into. “He ki-kicked me out of our apartment, I have nowhere to go.”

You felt a tug on your arms and you leaned into it, your bottom thudding on a plush pillow Javi had pulled from the nearby couch. He took you into his arms carefully, on the watch for any signs that this was not the way to go about this. But you went willingly, your arms going around his neck and your cheek going to his chest. You breathed in deeply, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor. Why don’t you let me cook for you or take you out to a lovely dinner, mi amor. To help get your mind off of things. You can stay here in the meantime, there are countless rooms here for you to have.” His voice vibrated through you, comforting in how it caressing your ears at the same time. You could only nod, not trusting your voice to be more than a warble of nonsensible words. You tightened your on hold on him, feeling safe for the first time all week.

-

The next morning you woke naturally, the sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains over the windows. You had opted to stay in, too nervous to be out in public lest you run into your ex. Javi had understood completely, whisking you toward the kitchen after he had dried you tears. Glasses of wine were shared over the course of making dinner and during. Two led to three led to four and you found yourself slow dancing with the graceful man in the kitchen once you had finished. The soft sounds of the distant ocean paired with the oldies flowing low from the radio too tempting. He whispered how he would never treat you in such a bad way, how he would always take care of you, make sure you were happy and healthy.

When he offered you a room again, you had been emboldened by the wine and casual touches. It urged you to lean up close to him, hands still around his neck from dancing to ask if his room was available. He had answered you with a deep kiss, his hands wide on your back as he licked into your mouth. He had assured you he was a man of honor before offering you a pair of pajamas and settled into his plush bed beside you. He hadn’t done anything more than tangle his fingers with your underneath the covers before you both drifted off to sleep.

Smiling to yourself, you stretched out. A moan bubbling up as you felt a few kinks work themselves out in your back. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, the sound so dirty in the warm bedroom. But when you looked over to the other side, you were the only one in the bed. Your eyes flashed to the pop of neon color on the bedside table.  

There was a post it note atop the alarm clock, blocking the display of numbers from view. Javi’s script penned in ink, a message for you.

‘Mi amor, I had to leave early but did not want to wake you.

Please join me for the festival if you’re feeling up to it. Just ask my assistant for a VIP pass.

I will bring home something for dinner. I hope you got some rest last night, please take it easy today.

Yours, Javi’

You liked the sound of that. Home.

[the-s1lly-corner]

can i req jax x reader angst? o-(-( been brainrotting on this idea for so long now; jax goes a little overboard with his joke or prank and reader gets upset by it.. but he doesnt really approach reader to say sorry for a while because he doesnt really know how to? so it worsens the situation? thank uuu!!!!

Severed ties (jax x reader)

There will be NO!!!! Comfort here!!! I want pain!!

Written this as platonic !!

Not proof read and written on mobile!! Yahoo!!

Honestly I love writing angstier stuff, like

Idk I like exploring the topic and the feelings

Jac in general does not seem like the type of person to apologize. It hurts his pride and ego, and really in his eyes everything he does is "all in good fun", or as a means to entertain... himself, mostly

What, is he supposed to apologize because his little joke made someone upset? That's his thought process, I think. Like unless there are huge consequences or he is actively trying to better himself I really don't think he would give a sincere apology, you know?

Like imma be so real here, I know I usually portray jax as a prankster but so far he's worse than that. He has pushed gangle at least twice (in the pilot, and in her tailer), he stepped on her mask and knowing him I wouldnt be surprised if it was on purpose. He just. Ripped zoobles arm off (like yeah sure it doesnt look like it hurts and it can be reattached, but its the idea that he just disrespects them like that), throwing a bowling ball at kinger, ect ect ect

Like I think I down play how mean jax can be

I think a lot of this is caused by the digital world; given that hes probably gotten way too comfortable with the fact you cant get severely injured in the digital world or hahe any long lasting physical damage, you know?

Anyways onto the actual request

I think it's less likely to happen if this is a romantic relationship because I think at that point in time you guys respect each other enough to not be goofy and communicate stuff. As well as this, this prompts jax to try to tone it down.. can also see this happening if you guys are close friends

So really this can only happen if you guys are only like. Normal level friends, because otherwise jax at least learns remorse and tries to be less. Uehdjcf.. you know?

Like I love jax as a character and I enjoy writing him but I'm realizing just how assholish he is based on the pilot

Honestly to be friends with jax you're going to have to be able to have some kind of tolerance to his more tame everyday stuff... imma be nice and assuming the stuff he does above isnt in his usual league of asshole-ness... or maybe it is? I dunno

But some prank he pulls goes too far, and he laughs at you. Probably takes to down play it if you're actually upset, trying to dismiss it as a good ol fashion joke

If he gives an apology it's a half assed one

This leads to you not talking to him as much anymore, if at all

In fact, you may even go as far as to avoiding him during IHAs

And you know what

At first he thinks you're just being sour over his little practical joke

But overtime as you continue to bold your ground he starts to... actually feel bad

And if he does ever sincerely apologize, its likely two late

That's also assuming you dont abstract before then

God can you imagine that, I mean what's worse? Never being able to apologize because the person is effectively dead, or apologizing and not being forgiven?

I think this would push jax to try to tone down his antics

Like he wont totally stop, but it will definitely go back to the light hearted fun I like to headcannon it being when he first joined the circus.. before it got all.. meaner..

Boredom does terrible things to someone and given that the consequences of losing your mind in this place are huge.. I can't help but understand jax a little, assuming my headcannon is correct

Though again he might just be an asshole

While your friendship may be dead and buried now, at least jax learned a lesson that actions do in fact have consequences

And hopefully it sticks

[theboywithburninghands]

Another FunnyBunny tidbit, this one on the angstier side. I imagine the preamble here is that Jax pulled some kind of joke that sent Pomni over the edge.

Why Are You Like This?

Pomni: JAX! What the F@#%?! Is that supposed to be funny?!

Jax: Re-laaax, it’ll be fine-

Pomni: *mockingly* ReLaAaAx-! *normal voice* How about I don’t?! I hate you! EVERYONE hates you! You haven’t done a single good thing for anyone here! What, you think because you’re sad that you can treat the rest of us like… like TOYS?! Guess what?! We’re all sad! We all want to get out of here! You don’t get to push the rest of us around with that stupid— FACE on your face!

Jax: Pom-

Pomni: NO! I don’t want to hear whatever snide clapback you have! I am DONE! I hope you abstract and I hope it hurts!

*Pomni rushes out of the room, tears of rage in her eyes. Jax watches her go before rolling his eyes*

Jax: Pfft. Some people.

*Later, Pomni has been in her room trying to calm herself down. There’s a knock on her door*

Pomni: Not right now…

*more pronounced knocking*

Pomni: Not right now!

*The door unlocks and Jax enters, twirling the key on his finger*

Pomni: Get the #%@& out of here, Jax.

*He shuts the door behind him*

Jax: So you had your first meltdown. Congrats.

Pomni: Get, out, Jax.

Jax: Looook, I’m sorry. If you wanna yell at me some more, I’m here.

Pomni: …No.

Jax: Huh?

Pomni: I…

Jax: You’re allowed to be cheesed off, newbie. I went too far. I get it.

Pomni: If you get it, why do you keep doing it..? You know it hurts. We don’t do a thing to you…

Jax: *he sits on the floor, arm over his knee* Yeah, I guess it’s like you said. I hate it here, so I lash out. But… I guess there is another reason.

Pomni: I don’t care.

Jax: *puts up hands* Okay. *he stands up and goes to the door* Dinner’s ready.

Pomni: *sigh* Jax, wait…

Jax: You said you don’t care.

Pomni: Jax. I didn’t… I guess whatever reason you have, it doesn’t make it hurt any less, that’s all.

Jax: Hm. So… You wanna know or not?

Pomni: Sure.

Jax: *he turns around, leaning against the door, crossing his arms* If I’m an @$$#@&€. Maybe people will be angry at me and not about… being stuck here.

Pomni: …That’s a terrible excuse. You’re just making them miserable faster.

Jax: …Yeah. It is. Maybe I’m just trying to justify being an irredeemable jerk.

Pomni: Don’t. Just be honest and say you’re a jerk.

Jax: Hmm. .*he opens the door*

Pomni: But I don’t think you’re irredeemable.


*Jax stops opening the door, looking around at her*

Pomni: If you were actually a heartless bully, you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to apologize… I know you only did it because you felt bad, but… that proves you still have a conscience.

Jax: Hm. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pompom.

Pomni: Quit calling me that. …I know you must care at least a little… Unless you’re setting me up for something worse later.

Jax: ……….Nah. Think you’ve had enough for now.

Pomni: I… don’t want you to abstract.

Jax: You’d miss me? *smarmy grin*

*Pomni only glares at him. Jax blows a raspberry and closes the door*

Pomni: …Maybe I would. Creep.

[light-lanterne]

you know how will haters constantly try to invalidate his suffering by claiming that el's got it worse (hence deserves mike because apparently he's just a nice little prize -_- ), and how we keep telling them that suffering is not a competition and what matters is the impact it's all had on the characters ?

(and boy, have all the characters suffered a lot and show a wide variety of responses to their respective trauma)

,,,yeah, maybe let's not do that to mike. compare his suffering to that of other characters with the purpose of invalidating it, that is.

please go ahead and call out people that make up stuff about mike to make him angstier, like claim he's grown up in a directly abusive household or exaggerations / lies like that. and please, do make general requests for fics that explore the canon characteristics of certain characters and their journeys (do not bother specific authors, though >:\ )

but do not completely brush off dysfunctional dynamics and character struggles just because other characters have it worse :\

forget about the very fictional mike wheeler and his fictional feelings (which analysts and writers explore because this is a fandom and that's part of what we do, i suppose). there are real people who can relate to the emotional neglect we've seen mike go through on screen, which has been emphasised by the showrunners aplenty as something that we're meant to take note of, and invalidating this struggle only hurts those who see that part of themselves on mike :(

(which is why we don't make struggles and pain into a competition,,, which is what we've been telling will haters for a year,,, which is what some of you are making under a post that was making a completely different point x.x )

[sharkjana]

Hi ♡ my name is rin :) I just found your blog and was wondering if I could ask you to write a silly little thing for the angst prompt: "There's... there's so much blood..." for nanamin and a female reader pls (#>_<#) And english is also not my first or even second language so I feel you so much ×.× your english is very clean though ♡ thank you so much if you're doing this but no pressure^^ you don't have to write this ♡ thanks again and gave a great day (^.^)/

🖤"There's... there's so much blood..."🖤

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting Angst. T.T I live for it, really. The angstier the better! I hope you like what I'm going to do with this Prompt! And thank you once more for saying that my English is quite clean. I try my best and absolutely love the language. I also see we have the same tastes in men ;D But without any further ado, let's begin, hehe...

Warnings: Blood, gore and pure angst! Is there going to be a happy ending? Who knows! >:D

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it, Ken! I'll be home before you know it!"

You didn't. In fact, this little mission took a lot longer than anyone had ever anticipated. It was supposed to take you a week at most, maybe two. You were now nearing the end of the third week. And there was no end in sight...

Rushed footsteps echoed through the darkness of Tsushima's thick and tall forest. A small island city hidden away in the middle of the sea between the borders of South Korea and Japan. 

The moon stood as high as ever. Full and ripe and dunking everything in its tranquil approach. Casting eery and long shadows of different shapes and sizes onto the dirty soil below, as though thin and long, scarred arms were trying to burry you into their suffocating hold. Forever hanging on to a poor soul that had wandered off a little bit too far from the right path.  

But you weren't just any poor soul. No. You were (Y/N) (L/N), a damn good second grade sorcerer who was on a mission to find some rumoured, cursed tool that might relate to Sukuna, the King of Curses, in some way. In any way, really.  

But it wasn't the fact that no one really knew anything about this supposed cursed tool, what it did or where it was, that grinded at your nerves. No. It was the fact that, apparently, it seemed to be more than just important to Sukuna, seeing that it wasn't just hidden from plain sight. It was also sealed, protected and guarded by five fucked up cursed spirits.  

(The type that were far too dangerous to take on alone.)  

And you were running away from them because that was the only thing left to do.  

(Anything else wasn't an option for you anymore.)  

You tried to engage in a fight, to exorcise them one by one. Or all at once. It didn't work. They were far to strong and seemed far too smart for just some mere cursed spirits.  

(Your first mistake. Underestimation.)  

You didn't even know what that cursed tool looked like because of those fuckers hindering you from catching even the slightest of glimpses.  

(You could have called for back-up. But you lost your phone somewhere along the way. Your second mistake.) 

And so, you chose to retreat. Re-collect yourself and your thoughts, find a way to contact headquarters, waiting for further orders or ask for back-up. Hide and plan your next steps to hopefully come out of this alive and in one piece.  

That was days ago. 

You were still running. As were they. You might think that being inside such a big and vast forest, there must be at least one place where you could hide away.  

(There wasn't. The trees never stopped. The darkness never receded.)

You didn't even know how you survived until now. Your mind was scrambled into nothing more but bits and pieces. Your clothes tattered and ripped by the massive orbs of scarlet cursed energy they were throwing your way. Burning everything down in their treacherous paths of destruction.  

Were you even alive anymore? Were you dreaming? Was this even real? You didn't know. Your eyes were bloodshot. Your lungs were aching, and your limbs felt just as numb as they did hot.  

(When was the last time you saw any light? The sun never shone once after you entered this forsaken forest.)  

(Another mistake.)  

The only thing that was running through your mind was how to get the hell away from them. Those things. Those nightmarish creatures that were trying to catch you into their venomous grasps. Their manic screeches reaching the deepest parts of yourself. Your bones rattled with the sound of their laughter all the way down to your very core. 

What were you? Why were you here in the first place? What happened? Why is everything so dark?!  

(It was as if you were running around in circles. Never ending. Lost and never to be found.)  

But wasn't someone waiting for you to come back? Wasn't there at least someone looking for you? Were you really all alone? Wasn't there-  

"Promise me you will come back to me, (Y/N)."  

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it, Ken! I'll be home before you know it!"  

It was those words, the memory of them leaving your lips, an exchange of worry and love for one another that made you falter in your steps.  

(Your fourth and last mistake.)  

You tripped. The wet and soggy ground below drenched you in its dirty juices as you lay there. Everything seemed to have caught up to you at once. Breathing became difficult. Your vision turned hazy. Your limbs, numb. Your body, rigid and frozen in time.  

And as your glassy gaze met the sparkles high above, you stared. Because it was the only thing you were able to do. You couldn't move.

(But did you even want to?)  

All sound around you grew fuzzy. Blurred.  

Until there was nothing but silence.  

(Is it done now?)  

Finally, even your eyelids grew heavy.  

And all at once, there they were again. Their screeches. Their laughter. Their bloodthirsty wails of pure malice. Nearer. Far nearer than they ever were.  

(Please...)  

And finally, they fell upon you with nothing but vicious hunger that seeped through the cracks of their decaying skin.  

(T- Tasukete...) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LiNe BrEaK ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three and a half weeks. Twenty-four and a half days went by where Gojo had tried to find you, and he finally did. 

(He cursed the higher-ups the moment his brilliant, all-seeing eyes landed on you.)  

(And for once, he wished he didn’t see.) 

Thirty-five-thousand and two-hundred-eighty minutes where Nanami did nothing but worry. He didn't sleep. He couldn't eat. The only thing that he cared about was finding you. You were already gone for much longer than he had anticipated. Than anyone, really.  

Did something happen? Were you kidnapped? Were you hurt? Why didn't you call for back up? For him? Did you fight? Did you make it? Where were you? Why weren't you home yet?!  

You promised, (Y/N)! You fucking promised!  

(He stood frozen in place as Gojo tried to talk to him, stopping him from taking any further steps towards your body. But Nanami didn't listen. He couldn't. The voice of his long-time friend nothing more but some background noise.)  

The first thing that he took notice of was the soggy ground below him as he arrived by Gojo's side. Why was it wet? It didn't rain. The second thing he noticed was Gojo's rigid and pale face. Confused, Nanami let his eyes roam over the dark clearing, trying to make out anything that might have looked like you.  

"I though you said you foun-"  

It was when the wind picked up, softly, and the clouds above that concealed the night-sky made room for the rays of the moon to shine down upon them. It was when the stench of pure iron, burned flesh and scorched hair that creeped up his nose and overwhelmed his senses. It was when his eyes moved from bush to bush, from tree to tree and from branch to branch. It was when pieces of dark fabric glistened with the moon, hanging in shredded nothings beside what looked like to be-  

"Kento-" tried Gojo. 

It was when the moon had finally cleared Nanami from his confusion that it dawned on him.  

"There's- there's so much blood..." 

And you. A lot of you. Pieces of you. Broken. Burned. Ripped apart. Gaping holes that showed the unpleasant insides of your body.  

It was when the blood of the one he held dear to him the most seeped into his clothes, the moment he fell to his knees, that Nanami knew.  

You weren't coming home.  

Not this time.  

Not ever. 

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Jean d'Arc x Vincent van Gogh x Reader

Words: 1,132

Summary: Jean can't help but still question his feelings for these two little lights that kept coming back to illuminate his life, but he also can't help but be drawn to them

Notes: this first chapter is a little angstier than my usual due to Jean's internal conflict. I don't know what possessed me while writing this one or to even have the idea to start this in this way...

Written for Polyam Shipping Day Prompt: Conflict from @polyamships

The Jean/Vincent pairing was inspired by @koco-coko (although I vaguely remember reading something with them on AO3, back before I was even a writer for this fandom) and I've been meaning to write it for a while, hope you don't mind me going along with the idea and that I went along with a xReader triad (is it a surprise to anyone at this point?)

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Jean had never been in love; he wasn’t sure what it felt like. But if he had to guess, that was exactly what he was feeling. He could give no other name to this.

Except that this couldn’t be love. Love was supposed to be such a pure feeling. This? This was temptation. Sin.

First sin was to fall in love with someone else’s woman.

You had been forced back through an incident; he didn’t expect you to return to what you had before, as if you had never left, but you did. What changed was for him when, by a twist of fate, Jean found himself spending a lot of time with you as you tried to teach him to write.

Vincent didn’t seem to mind so much. Although it wasn’t unusual for him to bring his sketchbook, sit at a distance and stay around until you were done. Jean felt a little guilty for taking so much of your time, but both of you were very reassuring whenever he voiced said guilt.

Then he found out what Vincent was so intently sketching. Most of his drawings were of you, but there were some of Jean himself.

Second sin was to fall in love with another man.

Vincent had already asked to paint Jean before, a little after Jean arrived at the mansion. He’d been a little insistent, until Theo got angry at Jean for continuously refusing his brother.

After the sketches, Vincent asked again, with you supporting him. And Jean couldn’t deny the two of you. Although you would say he didn’t need to, he thought it was a way he could repay you for all you were doing for him.

And that led to more time spent with both of you. And all the time spent with either of you was conflicting for Jean. You kept telling him how beautiful he was, or kind, or that he deserved forgiveness, deserved to live, and sometimes Jean caught himself wanting to believe.

Then he would realize his feelings once more, and how could he?

But was it still wrong when he wasn’t exclusively interested in him? When they would share a woman?

Probably.

Third sin was probably to fall in love with two people at the same time.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure if that was a sin, but it had to be wrong somehow. There was no way it was normal, and he would have judged it impossible had it not happened to him.

Was it so wrong, though? How could love be wrong?

Was it even love? How could a monster like him love someone?

He tried to run away then. From these questions. From your light and all its - in his mind, false - hope. He tried. But he was attracted to your light like a moth, and you reached back for him.

How could loving you be a sin, when you were so close to angels? That was how anyone would describe Vincent. And although that wasn’t attributed to you in words, they all loved you, and you were a light in everyone’s lives, helping each one of them heal from their own darkness.

But he was the one both of you chose to give your love to.

So, how could it be wrong? Would you make that choice even if it was wrong?

“Love is not a choice. Neither is it right nor wrong.” You spoke up, and Jean realized he’d asked it aloud.

“Is it another difference from your time?”

“My time is more accepting, but I won’t say it’s considered right. And maybe they’re right. Maybe it is wrong. But, as I said, it’s not a choice. Neither is it enough to condemn us.”

“I was conflicted too, when I started noticing these feelings. We’re not trying to say your views are wrong.” Vincent added. “We will understand if you don’t want to do this. But love is love, and our love is true. Never doubt that.”

Jean looked away from the two of you, with your bright, hopeful eyes and your all encompassing light, which was always too bright for him, but he couldn’t escape this time.

His gaze landed, unfortunately - or maybe fortunately, he would find out - on the painting Vincent had just presented him. The picture Jean thought looked nothing like him. Too bright. Too happy.

But Vincent said that was how he saw Jean, and doubting that would be doubting everything Vincent lived for. Because that was how Vincent painted; with that light he saw in everything.

“How do you know?”

“Because it is the same love we have for each other. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but this is the truth, and it will never change. But we’ll pretend this didn’t happen if you want to.”

“We just want to see you happy.” Vincent took one of his hands; his grip light enough for Jean to pull away if he wanted to.  “But we had to let you know. To see our side of the story.”He motioned at the painting with his other hand. “And I wanted you to see the you that we see. Beautiful, body and soul.”

This time you reached out, hand resting on his cheek, thumb wiping away a tear.

“And even if you step away now, we’ll still be your friends.” Your hand aliped down slowly, coming to rest on his chest. “We’ll protect your heart. Your light. For as long as you live. Because we’ll always love you, at the distance you deem appropriate.”

You always said such hopeful things to him, which made him feel happier every time. But now, his heart felt so full, almost overflowing with love for you.

A part of him still wanted to run and hide from all your light. All the hope. All the love he didn’t deserve, and that he wasn’t so sure it was right. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, his hold on Vincent’s hand tightened, and he pulled both of you to him, then hugged you.

Maybe he was a fool for it, but he wanted to accept your love and tell you how he felt. He wanted to hope for the future by your side.

He couldn’t formulate the words right now. Maybe it would take some time before he could. But here, with you, he believed both of you had been sent into his life to give him a second chance.

Could he believe that? Could he dare hope for tomorrow? Would he really be forgiven?

Maybe he would always be conflicted like that, but you would always be there for him to reach out to whenever he had doubts. Whenever the darkness wanted to consume him again. The two people he loved more than anything.

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