#trigger warnings for past childhood trauma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alyrasturnz · 3 months

Note

I need a angsty fan fic of matt with his gf that are in an argument and he raises his hand to maybe move hair out of his face but she fliches and he imedeately becomes worried that she though he would hit her but she just had trauma from her childhood and when she tries to explain she just breaks down or has a panick attack(maybe even flashback) and then a fluffy ending.

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

❐ summary » in the midst of a heated argument, a seemingly insignificant gesture from matt triggers a dramatic and heart-wrenching resurgence of y/n’s deeply buried childhood trauma, unraveling layers of pain and vulnerability that had long been hidden beneath her stoic exterior.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x reader

❐ warnings » arguing, abuse, daddy issues

❐ a/n && w/c » this is not for the weak. (weak = people with daddy issues) • 3.86k

in the dimly lit living room, shadows weave intricate patterns on the walls, casting an almost ethereal glow. you and matt stand facing each other, suspended in a moment thick with unspoken words and a tapestry of lingering emotions. the air itself seems to pulse with the weight of past memories and the silent exchange of unresolved feelings, creating an atmosphere that is both tense and poignant.

the flickering light from a lone candle dances across your faces, illuminating the raw vulnerability etched in your expressions. every breath, every slight movement, seems to carry the echoes of a thousand unsaid things, each one more profound than the last.

the room, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and dreams, now feels like a stage set for a poignant confrontation, where the ghosts of your past linger, watching and waiting for the resolution that may never come.

your voice quivers with a blend of frustration and sorrow as you speak, “you never listen to me, matt! it’s like you’re always somewhere else, lost in your own world.” your hands clench and unclench at your sides, a physical manifestation of the emotional storm brewing within you. your eyes search his face desperately, seeking a glimmer of understanding, but finding only the familiar, distant gaze.

matt’s eyes flash with frustration, his brows knitting together as he retorts, “that’s not fair, y/n! i’m trying my best, but you act like i’m not even here.” his hands gesture wildly, as if trying to grasp the elusive understanding that seems to slip through his fingers. his voice, tinged with a mix of anger and desperation, echoes in the room, amplifying the emotional chasm growing between you.

you cross your arms, a mix of hurt and anger flickering in your eyes. “trying your best? you barely even talk to me anymore. it’s like we’re strangers living under the same roof.” your voice trembles with the weight of unspoken pain, each word a sharp reminder of the emotional distance that has grown between you.

your shoulders tense, as if bracing against an invisible storm, while your gaze pierces through the thick fog of misunderstanding and neglect. the room around you seems to shrink, the walls closing in with the oppressive silence that follows your words, amplifying the chasm that has formed between your hearts.

matt takes a deep breath, his voice softer but filled with a quiet intensity. "do you think it's easy for me? i've been dealing with so much, and sometimes... sometimes i just need space." his words, though gentle, carry the weight of countless sleepless nights and unspoken fears.

his eyes, clouded with a mix of vulnerability and frustration, search for a glimmer of understanding. the room seems to hold its breath, the silence between you thickening as his confession hangs in the air, a fragile thread connecting the raw edges of your shared pain.

the room falls silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. matt steps closer, his expression softening. "i don't want to lose you, y/n. but we need to find a way to understand each other, to bridge this gap." his voice trembles slightly, a testament to the depth of his emotions.

the silence that envelops you both is thick, almost tangible, as if the very air is holding its breath. his eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and hope, search yours for a sign of reconciliation. the room, once a mere backdrop to your lives, now feels like a sacred space where every word, every gesture, carries the potential to heal or deepen the rift between you.

you look down, your voice barely above a whisper. "i just want to feel like i matter to you, like we're in this together." your words, fragile and laced with longing, hang in the air like a delicate thread, vulnerable to the slightest breeze. your gaze, fixed on the floor, reflects the weight of unspoken fears and desires.

the room around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you suspended in a moment of raw honesty. each syllable you utter is a plea, a quiet cry for connection, echoing through the silence that has settled between your hearts.

matt's frustration boils over, his voice rising. "it's not always about you, y/n! i have my own battles, my own demons. why can't you see that?" his words erupt like a storm, each one charged with the pent-up anguish of his inner struggles.

his eyes flash with a mix of anger and desperation, as if pleading for recognition of the silent wars he fights daily. the intensity of his outburst reverberates through the room, shaking the fragile equilibrium of your relationship. his voice, though loud, carries an undertone of vulnerability, revealing the deep scars etched into his soul by unseen adversaries.

your face hardens, hurt turning into anger. "i do see that, matt. but you shut me out. how am i supposed to help you if you won't let me in?" your voice, though laced with frustration, trembles with the weight of unspoken pain. each word is a carefully controlled explosion, a testament to the emotional battleground within you.

your eyes, once filled with empathy, now blaze with a mixture of sorrow and defiance, reflecting the depth of your yearning to be a part of his world. the air between you crackles with unresolved tension, each breath a struggle to bridge the chasm that his silence has carved into your shared existence.

matt lets out a heavy sigh, "you're so... insufferable!" he yells in anger, causing you to slightly flinch. his voice, raw and edged with exasperation, slices through the air like a blade. the intensity of his outburst reverberates within the confines of the room, each syllable a testament to the turbulent storm brewing within him.

your slight flinch, almost imperceptible, betrays the inner turmoil his words have ignited. the space between you seems to shrink and expand simultaneously, charged with the electric tension of unresolved emotions and unspoken grievances.

but then he angrily brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it with full force. his movements are sharp and deliberate, each strand of hair caught in the fervent grip of his frustration.

the act, though seemingly mundane, is laden with the weight of his inner turmoil, a physical manifestation of the chaos that rages within him. the tension in his muscles is palpable, the rigidity of his posture a stark contrast to the vulnerability that lies beneath his anger. the room seems to hold its breath, the atmosphere thick with the unspoken complexities of his emotions.

your mind morphs his face into your dad's face. every shape and every little contour morphing into his features. his eyes, once familiar, now carry the weight of past memories, each line and shadow a haunting echo of your father's visage.

the transformation is both surreal and unsettling, as if the ghosts of your past have come to life in the present moment. the contours of his face blur and shift, melding into the well-worn patterns of your father's expressions, each one a reminder of old wounds and unresolved emotions.

the room around you fades, leaving only the stark reality of this uncanny resemblance, a poignant reminder of the intricate tapestry of your emotional landscape.

the crease of his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the fury in his eyes, everything. each detail, from the furrowed brows to the deep lines etched into his skin, speaks volumes of the anger that simmers beneath the surface.

the intensity in his eyes burns with a ferocity that seems almost palpable, a tempest of emotions barely contained within their depths. the wrinkles on his forehead, like the rings of an ancient tree, tell stories of past struggles and unresolved conflicts, each one adding to the complexity of his expression. the entirety of his visage becomes a canvas painted with the raw, unfiltered fury that now defines this moment.

and most importantly, the way he raised his hand. the gesture, though seemingly simple, is laden with an almost unbearable weight. it is a movement filled with unspoken words and suppressed emotions, a silent testament to the turmoil that rages within him. the lift of his hand, deliberate and fraught with tension, carries the echoes of past grievances and unhealed wounds.

it is as if time slows, allowing the gravity of the moment to fully sink in, each second stretching into an eternity. the significance of this action is not lost on you, as it encapsulates the depth of his inner conflict and the intensity of his unvoiced anguish.

you immediately flinch, bringing your arms up to your head to shield you from what you thought he was about to do. the reaction is instinctive, a primal response born from past experiences and deep-seated fears.

your body moves on its own accord, muscles tensing and heart pounding as you brace for an impact that never comes. the air around you thickens, charged with the electricity of your sudden terror.

each second stretches into an agonizing eternity, your mind racing through memories of similar moments, each one leaving an indelible mark on your psyche. the vulnerability of your posture, arms raised in a futile attempt at protection, speaks volumes of the trauma that lingers, shaping your every reflex and reaction.

your body knew that it was just matt, but your mind played tricks on you. the familiarity of his presence should have been a comfort, yet your mind conjured specters from the past, blurring the lines between reality and memory.

the rational part of you recognized matt's touch, his voice, the essence of his being, yet the shadows of your past wove an intricate tapestry of fear and confusion. it was as if your mind, a master of deception, replayed old scenes with cruel precision, morphing matt's every gesture into a haunting echo of what once was. the dichotomy between your physical awareness and the mental labyrinth you navigated created a dissonance that left you teetering on the edge of sanity.

"please don't," you whispered, tears starting to stream down your face as your heart pounded in your chest. your voice, barely more than a breath, trembled with the weight of unshed sorrow and unspoken fears.

each tear that traced a path down your cheeks seemed to carry a fragment of your shattered soul, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. the plea hung in the air, fragile and desperate, a testament to the storm raging within you.

your heart, a wild drumbeat in your chest, echoed the tumultuous emotions that threatened to overwhelm you, each thud a reminder of the vulnerability and pain that had become your constant companions.

"what? oh my god, no—" matt said softly, though you couldn't hear it with your ringing ears. "no, no, no, baby, no." his voice, laden with a mixture of shock and desperation, barely pierced through the cacophony that filled your mind. the words, though gentle, carried the weight of his anguish, each syllable a plea for understanding and reassurance.

the softness of his tone, juxtaposed with the intensity of the moment, created a poignant contrast, underscoring the depth of his concern and the helplessness he felt in that instant. his repeated denials, like a mantra, sought to bridge the chasm of fear and pain that had suddenly yawned between you, a futile attempt to anchor you both in a reality that seemed to be slipping away.

his heart pounded against his chest, nibbling on his bottom lip as he pulled you closer, your trembling body against his. the rhythm of his heart, an insistent drumbeat, echoed within the confines of his chest, each pulse a testament to the turmoil within.

his teeth grazed his bottom lip, a subconscious attempt to quell the rising tide of emotion. as he drew you closer, your trembling form pressed against him, he sought to forge a connection amidst the swirling tempest.

the warmth of your quivering body, fragile and delicate, became his anchor, a fleeting sanctuary in the midst of chaos, offering a momentary respite from the storm that raged within and around you both.

"no—don't," you whisper, your voice trembling as matt kissed the top of your head, resting his chin atop it. your voice, barely more than a fragile breath, quivered with the weight of unshed tears.

matt's lips brushed the crown of your head, a tender gesture laden with unspoken emotions. as his chin settled gently atop your head, it was as if he sought to shield you from the encroaching darkness, to offer solace in the simplest of touches. the trembling in your voice mirrored the tremors in your heart, each word a plea, a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you both.

"i’m not. i won’t. i would never hit you," he whispered assuringly. though it was useless since you couldn’t hear anything with your labored breaths and ringing ears. his voice, a soft murmur of reassurance, carried a profound sincerity, each word a vow etched in the air.

despite his earnest whispers, they were swallowed by the cacophony of your labored breaths and the relentless ringing in your ears. his assurances, though spoken with the gentleness of a summer breeze, seemed to dissipate into the void, unable to pierce through the storm of your inner turmoil.

the disconnect between his soothing promises and your inability to perceive them underscored the chasm that had opened between your shared reality and the isolating grip of your distress.

your breaths, once steady, now came in rapid, uneven gasps, each inhale and exhale a testament to the mounting panic within you. your shoulders heaved with the force of your distress, rising and falling in a dramatic rhythm that mirrored the tempest in your heart.

tears, unrelenting and bitter, carved glistening paths down your cheeks, each droplet a silent witness to the depth of your sorrow. the physical manifestations of your anguish painted a poignant picture of a soul in turmoil, each breath and tear a cry for solace amidst the chaos.

matt, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in your demeanor. with a gentle yet firm resolve, he withdrew from the embrace, his hands finding their place on your shoulders. his eyes, deep pools of concern and determination, locked onto yours, seeking to bridge the chasm of despair that threatened to engulf you. the intensity of his gaze, laden with unspoken promises and a fervent desire to understand, became a lifeline in the swirling maelstrom of your emotions.

as your gaze met his, the storm within your eyes began to calm, the hardness melting away like frost under the morning sun. the realization dawned upon you, a gentle epiphany that the figure before you was not your father, but matt, steadfast and compassionate.

your eyes softened, the tension in your face easing as the shadows of past fears receded. in that moment of clarity, the lines between past and present blurred, and the warmth of matt's presence began to soothe the echoes of old wounds.

"hey, hey, it’s okay. i’m here. i would never hurt you," he whispered, each word a delicate thread woven with care. his tone, imbued with a profound gentleness, was a balm to your frayed nerves, a soft assurance that sought to anchor you amidst the tempest. the sincerity in his voice, tender and unwavering, was a promise, a vow that resonated deeply, striving to reach the core of your being and dispel the shadows of doubt and fear.

your lips quivered, a silent testament to the turmoil within, as your mind swam in a haze of confusion and distress. each breath you took became a laborious endeavor, the weight of your emotions pressing down upon your chest.

the clarity of thought that once guided you now seemed distant, replaced by a fog that clouded your senses and left you adrift in a sea of uncertainty. the physical manifestations of your inner chaos painted a poignant picture of a soul grappling with the depths of its own despair.

»--•--«

“you’re so useless!” your dad bellows, his voice a thunderous roar that reverberates through the room. with a furious swipe, he sends a flower pot crashing to the floor, shards scattering like the remnants of shattered dreams.

his eyes blaze with an intensity that speaks of deep-seated rage, each flicker of anger a dagger aimed at your already fragile heart. the raw, unfiltered fury in his gaze is a storm unto itself, leaving you to weather the tempest of his wrath.

ou flinch, your body instinctively recoiling as you take tentative steps backward, each movement a desperate bid for escape. the air grows thick with tension, your retreat a silent plea for safety.

yet, your dad's keen eyes catch the subtle shift, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that halts your retreat. the awareness of his scrutiny freezes you in place, the hope of slipping away unnoticed dissolving under the weight of his penetrating stare.

with each furious stomp, he closes the distance between you, his presence a looming shadow of anger. his hand darts out, seizing the back of your shirt with a vice-like grip. in a swift, forceful motion, he lifts you off the ground, your feet dangling helplessly in the air. the sensation of being suspended, caught in his unyielding grasp, sends a jolt of fear through your body, amplifying the already overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

“you’re so incompetent! you’re a disgrace to this family!” he bellows, his voice a tempest of fury that crashes over you. with a violent shove, he hurls you to the ground, your small frame colliding harshly with the cold, unforgiving marble floor.

the impact reverberates through your body, pain mingling with the flood of emotions that surge within you. tears stream down your face, each drop a testament to the deep-seated sorrow and helplessness that grips your heart.

“oh shut it, you’ll get over it!” he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. his dismissive words cut through the air like a blade, but they do nothing to stem the tide of your tears. you continue to cry, each sob a raw, unfiltered expression of the pain that his callousness only deepens. the tears flow freely, a silent rebellion against the indifference etched in his voice.

“did i say that you could cry more?” he demands, his voice a sharp edge that slices through the silence. he turns to you, his gaze piercing as you slowly shake your head, the movement almost imperceptible. “exactly! so stop crying, brat,” he snaps, his words laced with an unyielding authority that leaves no room for defiance.

you sniff, the sound barely audible as you quickly scramble to your feet. with a surge of adrenaline, you start running, each step fueled by a desperate need to escape. your feet falter occasionally, causing you to stumble, but you push onward, driven by the urgency of the moment.

“hey! where are you going!?” he yells, his voice echoing with a mix of anger and confusion. he begins to walk after you, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each one a reminder of the distance you’re trying to put between yourself and the source of your pain.

you try to open the front door, but it's locked, the handle refusing to give. panic surges within you, and your eyes widen as you slowly turn to face your father. his unforgiving gaze meets yours, a silent testament to the authority and control he wields.

“oh, so you want to escape now?” he asks, his voice dripping with a mix of incredulity and mockery. a soft, derisive scoff escapes his lips, echoing in the tense silence between you. his eyes narrow, filled with a cold, unyielding intensity, as he slowly draws his fist back. the motion is deliberate, almost methodical, as if he’s savoring the moment, before he aims it directly towards your face, the threat hanging heavily in the air.

»--•--«

the sudden jolt of his words snapped you back to reality, pulling you from the depths of your swirling thoughts. matt’s eyes, unwavering and intense, continued to bore into yours, as if searching for something hidden deep within your soul.

“hey, it’s okay. I’m here with you. let’s take some slow, deep breaths together. breathe in... and out. focus on my voice and just keep breathing. you’re safe right now,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos in your mind. you nod softly, trying to follow his instructions and take slow, deep breaths, but the anxiety grips you tightly, making it difficult to find the calm he’s trying to guide you towards.

matt nods thoughtfully, his gaze shifting as he surveys the surroundings. “alright, let’s try something together,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

“first, look around and tell me three things you can see,” he says, his voice steady and grounding, as he encourages you to anchor yourself in the present.

“y-you, the couch, a-and the tv,” you stammer, each word a struggle, your voice a mere whisper, trembling with the weight of your emotions. the effort to speak seems monumental, as if the simple act of naming these objects is a lifeline to the present moment amidst the chaos of your mind.

“now, listen carefully and tell me three sounds you can hear,” matt said, his voice calm and steady, guiding you to focus on the auditory tapestry of your surroundings.

“i hear- you, th-the clock, and the rain outside,” your voice barely audible, you whisper, each word a delicate thread of sound in the stillness.

you feel the panic slowly ebbing away, like the receding tide, leaving a sense of calm gradually washing over your body.

“you’re doing amazing baby. now, move three parts of your body, like wiggling your fingers or toes. you're doing great, just keep focusing on these steps." matt murmurs softly, his voice a gentle caress against the storm of emotions swirling within you.

you nod, eyelids fluttering shut as your fingers dance with a nervous energy, guiding your trembling hand to your locks, gently tucking them behind your ear in a gesture of fragile composure. you incline your head, eyelids descending as your digits quiver with an anxious fervor, maneuvering your tremulous hand to your tresses, meticulously securing them behind your ear in a gesture of delicate poise.

you exhale a gentle sigh, the tempest within you gradually subsiding as your eyelids flutter open, revealing eyes tinged with a bloodshot hue, remnants of your emotional tempest.

“oh baby,” he murmured soothingly, extending his arms in a welcoming embrace. “c’mere, sweet gir.l”

you offered a gentle smile, advancing towards him with measured steps, encircling him with your arms and surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

you allowed the silence to envelop you, feeling the tender press of his lips upon your head, as he gently rested his chin atop, creating a sanctuary of tranquility.

“m’sorry about earlier,” he whispers, his voice a soft murmur. “i’ll be around more, i promise, baby.”

“thank you,” you mumble, your words muffled against the warmth of his chest.

562 notes · View notes

loveundrwrld · 9 months

Text

yan bully (past) x gn reader

kinda angsty, wanted to do something different with the concept of a yan bully. do make sure to heed the content warnings on this one as this is a little more dark/potentially triggering than what i typically post.

(cws: bullying, trauma from said bullying, implied childhood trauma, stalking, yandere is kinda self-destructive(?) for lack of a better word, general yandere shenanigans)

- yandere bully who taunted and tormented you in childhood . . . though, he doesn't initially remember it that way

- when it started, he was just ‘playing’ with you. and as time went on, he started to unconsciously project his complicated feelings onto you. just ‘pranks’ and ‘playing around’ to release some of his stress. and when his friends join in, he sees nothing wrong with it.

- your reactions are funny- and he wants to share that with his friends. why would that be wrong?

- he’s been treated the same way- and to him, he thinks he ‘turned out just fine.’ so it’s ok, isn’t it?

- after all, when you try to get teachers involved . . . they don’t think it’s an issue either. just kids playing around. so why should he feel bad?

- the reader, after a while of being bullied nearly daily, becomes apathetic to it. this irritates him. he wants to be in the forefront of your mind, for better or for worse . . . though, he doesn’t quite know why.

- he becomes more focused after that, more obsessive. he doesn’t really let his friends tease you as much anymore- though, that mercy is short-lived as he solely focuses on you instead.

- after a bit, you graduate from school and go to college, seemingly now only focused on your studies. you don’t reach out to him, or any of his friends for that matter. from what he hears about you, you aren’t interested in getting in touch with anyone from your old school at all.

- this agitates him. he needs, he realizes, to be in your life somehow. perhaps he was a little too mean, he realizes, but surely you’ve gotten over it, right?

- he begins to stalk you, trying to figure out more about what you’re like now, needing to see more about you. he sees, with a sinking pit in his stomach of realization, how paranoid you are now. how scared you are of new people, how jumpy you are when other people surprise you. how resistant you are to make new friends.

- at first he’s in denial. it couldn’t have been him who made you that way, could it? something must have happened.

- but he realizes, over time, that how he treated you was very wrong. he thinks now about treating you like the way he once did . . . and he feels sick. how could he have taken his anger out, on someone like you?

- but despite that, he finds that he absolutely needs to know everything about you now. he can’t let you out of his sight, he has a desperate hunger to see everything he can about you.

- eventually he starts trying to contact you . . . to let you know just how sorry he is. he’ll make it known to you how much he desires your forgiveness, how much of a painful need it is for him. how much he’s changed, and how much he regrets hurting you.

- he lets you know that, if you what you want is revenge? he’s perfectly happy doing anything you want to any of his former “friends.” he can help you . . . and even help you hurt him, if that’s what you want. just so long as he can see you.

- you ignore his letters, dumping them in the trash without reading them. and a part of himself that he doesn’t want to admit still exists . . . is angry. can’t you see how much he needs your forgiveness now?

- despite knowing better, and knowing he’s only going further towards upsetting you once again . . . he still needs to see you, to write to you.

- he just can’t live without you.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #gender neutral reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere bully #i was going to let this sit and post it tommorrow but i forgot that tommorrow is a holiday LOL so here’s my gift. i’m posting this early

598 notes · View notes

animehideout · 9 months

Note

Hii! Its my first time requesting something like this but...

I think that it would really be a good idea tho

Insecure Reader x Jjk Men Finding Out

Soo.. Lets say(for the concept) Reader has really been insecure about their body because of childhood trauma.. Thinking that no one would love them or give time to love them they tried to "sewerslide" but.. they fail and after some convincing from there family reader feels a bit better about there body not completely but its better..

Fast Forward A Few Years Later

Reader meets (jjk men) and both of there relationship goes very well (jjk men) were very touchy and clingy to reader... One day (jjk men) convince reader they should go clothe shopping.. while there at the store(can be any store).(jjk men) finds a dress .. they asked reader if they would like to try it.. reader at first says no thinking its way to revealing and memories come back from the past.. but still agreed she went to the changing room and went out to look for (jjk men)/ there bf but they dont find them?.. she searchs and finds there bf with a girl the girl is touchy.. and clingy to there bf/(jjk men) reader sees this and immediately thinks of the worst i mean the girl looked drop dead gorgeous.. there bf (jjk men) notices reader and goes to them ignoring the girl.. they then realized something not right.. reader isn't as clingy or Happy like she was earlier (There bf being there lover notices this and ask) "Reader/N/N.. are you feeling.." but stops mid way sentence they realize that reader keeps adjust the dress and squeezes parts of her body..

(Its up to you if its SFW or NSFW and if you want to Shorten it)

Insecure Reader X JJK Men Finding Out.

check out part 2 here

a/n: Thank you anon for submitting your request. I hope you like it, if you want part 2, or if your fav characters aren't mentioned here please let me know I'll make part 2.

Warnings: Mention of Suic*de / Negative feelings / Negative body image / Depression/ Slight smut.

Nanami Kento:

It's like Nanami was sent from above to heal all of your traumas. Your relationship was smooth he treated you with pure love and care. You already told him about some of your insecurities but didn't go deep into details, leaving your attempts to unalive yourself unspoken of, and hidden within you. To celebrate one of your close friend's bday, he took you out shopping to pick a dress for you.

“Try this one love, I'll wait here for you” .

You took the dress and rushed to the changing cabinet, for the first time you felt beautiful in something revealing, but that soon collapsed to the ground when you found him talking with a drop dead gorgeous lady, with a beautiful body and soft facial features. You observed how both of them spoke, how she was blinking slowly as she extended her hand to touch his forearm. It's like your world stopped. Nanami was the one who helped you temporarily forget about the shit you dealt with in the past but now the same man triggered it again, crashing the efforts you put in order to heal.

Visions of your dark times started showing it's like they were in full display, making you swallow hard, remembering how you used to stand in front if your mirror scolding yourself, attacking your innocent reflection with hate words as if you were your own enemy. You looked down checking your body, regretting that you agreed to go shopping in the first place.

“Excuse me” said Nanami to the woman the moment he noticed you. “Sweetheart, the dress suits you perfectly” he complimented you with a soft smile.

You hummed in return, your eyes still fixated on your own body, awkwardly trying to fix your dress with trembling hands.

“hm? everything is fine?” he asked with a frown.

“y-yeah totally” you lied.

But he picked up to you, noticing that you were feeling down and something changed your mood to the worst.

“Wanna go somewhere less crowded?” he suggested knowing that prolly need some alone time, out of sight.

You nodded slowly, putting back your outfit of the day, exiting the shop. You sat in a empty park, the whole time you were silent, too overwhelmed to find the right words that could express what you've felt. He observed you, giving you some time to compose yourself but he couldn't wait too long so he took the initiative and said,

“I understand how you feel, I-”,

but you cut him off, and he was faced with a side he never thought you had.

“NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS FEELING, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU WAKE UP EVERYDAY AND FIGHT THE URGE TO KILL YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU CAN'T ACCEPT YOURSELF” you yelled as tears started streaming down your cheeks.

His eyes widened, taken aback by what you blurted out. “killing yourself?” these words lingered in his mind, he thought that your insecurity was something normal that anyone experiences but not to the point to make you hate your own existence. Before he could say anything you stood up and started walking away, but he stopped you grabbing your waist,

“you'te not going anywhere love, we need to talk”.

You struggled to break free but he trapped you between his arms making you sit back down on the bench with him.

“Tell me everything, I don't want you to carry any weight alone, I want to share it with you”.

You spent the whole evening venting, expressing yourself.. The more you talked about your attempts the more he held you close, scared of the thought of losing you. Once you finished talking, he spoke with his honey-like voice,

“I'm sorry you had to face all of that, you are beautiful, you are worth it, you are amazing the way you are! But we, humans tend to be harsh on ourselves, we tend to physically hurt ourselves to take our mind off of what we're feeling. But I don't want you to do that again, I don't want you to lose yourself to self hatred. I'm here to unburden you, to take your pain away, that's what lovers do.. I love you so fucking much and I'll always choose you, cuz my mind, body and soul crave you alone”

It's like you've been waiting to hear these words for ages, despite the comfort of your family and friends you've always took it as a flattery but Nanami succeeded in making you try to give yourself a chance to love yourself again.

“And about that woman, she was just trying to make me buy more dresses.. all what I want is you”

He made your heart flutter, he made you feel that it's okay to not be okay. He indeed took that weight that was burdening you for years. He promised to help you in the process of making you feel better again to completely heal.

“Nanami what if someone sees us” you chuckled when he started kissing your jaw,

“I don't care, I just want to show you how much I love you” he said between kisses as his strong arms tightened around you, pulling you to sit on his lap, making out till the sun went down.

Gojo Satoru:

It left you speechless when Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer who could pull anyone he wanted, asked you to be his partner. Who would say no to Satoru, so you agreed despite the growing feeling inside you that you don't deserve him.

For the first couple of months everything went good, a lot of flirting, a lot of touching, but deep down you couldn't brush away the idea that he was dating you because of a bet, you were too insecure to believe that he actually had a real interest in you. You succeeded in hiding the dark thoughts that crept inside you, scared that sharing such stuff would make him see you as weak and non deserving of his time, so you kept it all to yourself.

But he proved you wrong when he confessed that his feelings towards you grew; he loves you, also you shared your first kiss together. He's a confident man, both in his looks and personality, and the fact that you're his partner boosted your confidence, making you try to put aside all of your past traumas.

Both of you were attending a very important party, so him being a good, rich boyfriend took you out to go shopping and spend his money on his one and only; you. You were too anxious to do so, cuz you knew he'll end up forcing you to try clothes on for him and make you swirl around. But you tried to stay calm and put on a smile on your face. He was extremely happy and hyped so you didn't want to ruin it for him.

“This is the one” he said his blue eyes glistening with excitement.

You would hesitantly grab the dress.

“Come on baby, try it on, let me see you”.

You rushed to the changing room mentally preparing yourself for any possible criticism. You tentatively walked out trying to adjust your dress, but no sight of Gojo. You frowned in confusion as you started looking for your boyfriend, only to find him talking to one of the boutique staff. Your eyes widened and you felt a sting in your chest. The fact that he didn't turn his infinity on and casually let her touch him made your self esteem drop instantly. Your mind became hazy with negative thoughts, making you doubt yourself and doubt his love for you. You felt completely overshadowed by her. She was so damn gorgeous and with Gojo being handsome, the thought of her being a better match for him took over your mind. It's like one of your nightmares came to life.

You cleared your throat, trying to get Gojo's attention, you were planning to tell him that you were tired and wanna go home, just so you can be alone with your thoughts. The moment Gojo looked at you, he quickly ran your way, completely ignoring the girl even though she was still talking.

“Damn you look hot, babes” he exclaimed scanning each inch of you.

You hummed looking everywhere but his eyes trying to avoid his gaze.

“I think this one suits you wel-..huh? baby?”

He was so quick to catch up with your mood swing. Immediately noticing the change in your energy and vibe.

“ just tired, can we go home?”

“Baby what's wrong you were all happy and excited, did I do anything wro-”

but he stopped mid way when he saw your hands restlessly adjusting the dress, and couldn't stop tugging on the cloth, clearly uncomfortable.

“I just wanna go home Satoru”,

you stuttered as you quickly rushed back to the changing room leaving him awkwardly standing there like a statue. You put your clothes on and left the shop, you could feel your panic attack building up and hell no you weren't ready to let anyone witness your break down in public, especially your boyfriend.

“WAIT BABE!”,

he quickly paid for the dress; he genuinely liked how it suited you, and he rushed outside catching up on you. He grabbed your arm and turned you around.

“Oh my..”,

he said when he noticed your glassy teary eyes. You sniffled and mumbled a little,“Im fine”

“No you're not! talk to me please.. you know you can trust me right?”

You swallowed hard, realizing maybe it's the time to let it out and make him face the real you, it was choking you so bad.

“I think we should break up Satoru” you started.

His heart started racing, his hands shaking.. “no..what did I do? I'll make it up for you I promi-”

“Its not your fault Satoru, it's mine. I'm not healed yet and I don't wanna burden you”

“heal from what? you're scaring me! tell me evey single thing, I wanna listen to you”,

he said seriously, taking your hands in his gently kissing it. You took a deep breath, he deserves an explanation.

“seeing you with that girl, it- it made me uncomfortable, you didn't even try to stop her when she touched you, I mean I know she's way prettier than me and you deserve someone who's on the same level as yo-..”

“Hey hey wait, where did all of this come from?” he would ask in utter shock. “First of all, she took me by surprise when she touched me, because I never activate my infinity when I'm around you or out on a date with date. Second of all, she's not prettier than you and no one is.”

You shook your head, refusing to buy into his words even though he was genuinely telling the truth. He would grab your face and force you to look up at him.

“Where did all of this come from?” he would ask again.

He finally succeeded in breaking through your exterior and learned about your past trauma and how you attempted multiple times to end it all. He would carefully listen to you speaking your heart out. His heart shattering into pieces, imagining how you dealt with that all alone and worse that's he's the one who stirred them back today.

“I understand if you don't wanna be with me anymore, I've always thought that you deserve much better than settling dor me”

He didn't say anything, instead his lips crushed on yours. Taking you by surprise. Pouring all of his love for you into that kiss, hia lips moving passionately and in sync with yours..

“My world is nothing without you, even in ultrnate universes I'll choose you over and over again”

He spent the rest of the day holding you close to his chest while cuddling in your shared bedroom. Literally doing everything to cheer you up again. Would constantly blame himself, apologizing on repeat

“I'm sorry, I wish I met you years ago, but I'm here now and I'll make sure you never feel that way ever again”

You'll end up comforting him instead, while he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Toji Fushiguro:

Toji is an extremely handsome man with a ripped body, any human walking on this earth would be attracted to him from the first glimpse and that was the case for you. You tried to stop yourself from loving him, thinking that he wouldn't even notice your existence and might make fun of you for thinking that you stood a chance to be with him. But you were left dumbfounded when he confessed that he wants you. You couldn't help your feelings and felt weak in front of him so you accepted his feelings, and started dating. But doubt and self consciousness always had to kick in especially when both of you are in public and women can't keep their eyes off of him totally ignoring that you're standing next to him.

You stood there in the middle of the changing room tightly tugging on the dress that Toji picked out for you. You didn't feel yourself in it, it was too revealing for your liking. As if everything you were trying to hide for the past years is now exposed.

With caution you stepped out, you had to show Tojo after all. But to your surprise you found him talking with a girl, who had her hand on his chest, but he stepped back the moment she touched him; he's always been so loyal to you. But you couldn't help the heart break, and now memories from your past started overflowing your mind, making you feel so small in that dress, so ashamed for even trying it on. A lump formed in your throat, as you felt the room narrowing around you, leaving you completely suffocated.

When he caught you standing there while staring at him, he figured out that something was off. He always sensed your discomfort in public especially when someone tries to hit on him, he thought it was only jealousy where in fact it was way bigger and complicated than that, it was a past trauma that been haunting you. He walked towards you with a smile, circling his strong arms around your figure as he started praising you, trying to calm down what he thought ' jealousy '

“Damn you look stunning”.

But his words fell on a deaf ear, all what your mind thought about is how you used to isolate yourself and torture yourself with your negative self assumptions. He noticed how sadness was drawn on your face and how your hands couldn't stay still, continuously touching your body and dress.

“Are you okay? what's the matter?”

“Nah nothing Toji,”,you said voice cracking giving you out.

“Is it because of that girl? you know I've got eyes only on you right?”

“No it's not the case” you simply answered “Can we just go home now?”.

He nodded paid for the dress then both of you went home. You thought you'd isolate yourself in your room like what you used to do, break down in pieces alone while you feed on your dark thoughts for long hours. But this time Toji didn't allow it, your silence was hiding something knotted and he had to crack it. So he started bombarding you with questions,

“What's wrong?” “Come on tell me!”,

but the more you ignored his questions afraid of opening up the more you made him furious, and it quickly escalated into a heated argument. It's like rubbing salt on a freshly wound.

“why do you keep on fucking pushing me away? I'm so done with this kind of behavior”.

You couldn't take it anymore, so you blurted out all of your accumulated emotions, all the pain that had been smothering you for years.

“BECAUSE U DON'T DESERVE TO BE WITH YOU TOJI, I DON'T DESERVE ONE BIT OF YOUR LOVE.. look at you and look at me! you're just wasting your time with someone who is insecure and too broken to be fixed”.

He froze in place, it's like getting stabbed in the heart with the sharpest blade. It broke him to hear you confess this to him. He's always seen you as the most beautiful person that he ever laid eyes on, and was left stunned when he knew that you think the complete opposite of yourself.

“For how long have you been feeling this way?” he would ask taking a step closer to you, his strong features softening.

“Years..” .

“I just hope you can see yourself through my eyes..”,

without any further words, he would carry you to your bedroom, completely strip you of your clothes. You were too drained to stop him so you just let him do his thing. He climbed on top of you while taking off his clothes as well.

“My words might not convince you, but my actions will”.

He would make love to you for the whole night, making sure to kiss and caress all of your insecurities. Sensually whispering that's you're more than perfect for him,

“You're everything to me.. I live to worship your body..”

He would be so gentle making you feel good, making you feel loved and desired. Taking your mind off of your past issues. Proving to you that you are beautiful in your own way, boosting your self esteem.

“I love you, for you. Don't let these thoughts ruin us, I'll make sure to delete these insecurities forever.. you'll only be filled with me and my love for you”

.....

✨ 💌 I just wanted to say that it's okay to feel insecure or sad.. Feelings whether if they're positive or negative are what make us humans. But always remember that every person is beautiful in their own way.. you don't have to wait for anyone's approvement of you, be who you are, we only live once so let's make the best out of it, let's work on ourselves to satisfy ourselves and not others. You are perfect just because it is you!! You have your own sparks that no one else have, you're unique and special. Let's all of us do our best to be happy and to fully live our lives embracing the ups and downs. Wishing all of you a blessed life 💌✨

774 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details.

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost.

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch.

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter.

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow.

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace.

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better.

It had been a long few months.

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days.

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth.

Hell, he really must be tired.

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough.

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home.

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks.

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before.

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face.

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly?

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful.

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one.

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.”

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow.

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech.

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?”

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office.

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer.

All of it is uneventful.

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three.

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.”

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top.

‘Save for Simon.’

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly.

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet.

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine.

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen.

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.”

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.”

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home.

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily.

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second.

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.”

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper.

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points.

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened.

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?”

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression.

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…”

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception.

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two.

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it.

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision.

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?”

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?”

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe?

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul.

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away.

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up.

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt.

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life.

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @john-pricee, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce

1K notes · View notes

weird-obsessed-girl · 6 months

Text

Harry dealing with abuse trauma/people finding out about Dursley’s treatment

Ok so I didn’t know exactly how to word this particular genre of Harry Potter fanfiction, but I have been reading some fanfics where either the teachers, Sirius or the golden trio find out that Harry has been abused by the Dursley’s and how Harry deals or heals from that trauma. #cupboardreveal

so therefore below is a list of fanfics that deal with this topic, this is pretty obvious but TW for child abuse, some of these I haven’t read yet so i don’t think any of them feature active abuse, more so past abuse.

All of these will be angst but many with a hopeful/happy ending. Organised by word count. If you would like some fic recs that don’t focus on Harrys abuse here’s the link to my master list Harry Potter Fic Rec (mostly Drarry)

How Each Weasley Found Out About The Dursleys - burnthebodiesandbedonewithit

What it says on the tin, Harry/Ginny (very light tho), protective Weasleys | G | 1k

Food For Thought - LoveHP

Snape notices some things throughout the years, have not read yet so IDK | T | 1.2k

Bottle It Up - mallfacee

Disabled Harry, Severitus, hurt/comfort, hiding medical issues, apart of a series | T | 2.1k

Aftermath - CreateImagineWrite

Post-final battle, Harry is dealing with trauma, Ron helps him and finds out, Trigger Warning for food issues and trauma responses | G | 3.1k

Disguised as something else - aloneintherain

Everybody lives, au war ends early, Wolfstar custody of Harry, hurt/comfort, THIS IS SO GOOD #cupboard reveal | T | 3.1k

Muggle Management - LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat

Hermione recognises the signs of abuse, part of a series, Hermione finessing the muggle system | G | 3.4K

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell - IamShadow21

Not focused on past abuse but is mentioned, Ron and Harry friendship through the years | T | 3.7K

The Cupboard - GreenEyesGreySkies

Drarry, panic attack, harmless prank that turns out to not be so | T | 4K

Bruised Hearts and Painted Skin - mikimouze16

Lupin, McGonagall and Snape find out, therapy, depression | G | 4.4K

Cascade - taradiane

Drarry, post-Hogwarts, Harry has nightmares, discussion about the Dursleys | PG | 4.7k

Claustrophobic- Annie1025

Summer at Spinner’s End, sevitus, 5th year, hurt/comfort, panic attacks | T | 4.8k

Where the Sunbeams Start - zedpm

Sirius/Severus, Soulmate au which leads to Severus getting Sirius freed, then they adopt Harry! T | 7.1k

Locked Cupboards - Lomonaaeren

Redemption, Draco is assigned to guard Dudley, Dudley talks about their childhood | T | 7.2k

Darker Than You Think - Lomonaaeren

Drarry, Draco is very much a psycho, bent on revenge, dubious consent | M (definitely should be E) | 7.8k

Fac Mihi Viam - MistressKat

Canon divergence, Harry stays at Grimmauld Plac, abuse not necessarily discussed but implied, Wolfstar | T | 7.9k

The Uncle - copprbadge

Wolfstar, gangsters au, Remus saves Harry from Dursley’s | T | 7.9k

Tugging Sleeves - Windschild178

Harry isn’t responding to Rons letters, POV Ron, Ron to the rescue | G | 8.1k

Harry Potter And The Summer At Grimmauld Place - Silver_Queen_DoS

What it says on the tin, Sirius is free, home renovation, book 3 | G | 8.6k

Listen - Marchling

Need to sign into Ao3, Sirius spies on Dursleys, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, reconciliation | T | 10.9k

Finite Incantatem - skullcandy11

Rogue spell hits Harry and reveals some truths, manipulative Dumbledore, Harry joins the dark side | T | 12.3k currently, ongoing

Scars - pheonixgirl26

Some Gryffindor’s see some of Harry’s scar, and decide to help | M | 12.5k

Timeshare - astolat

Honestly i have not read this yet but it looks promising, Harry is spending summer at the Dursleys and then the Malfoy’s | M | 14.1k

Seven Plus One - ABlackRaven

Sirius adopts Harry, 7 times Sirius is called uncle and 1 time he’s called dad, Peter caught, hurt/comfort | T | 15.4K

What’s Left Unsaid - angel74

Post-Order of the Phoenix, Hermione and Ron look into Harry’s life at the Dursley’s, angst, hurt/comfort | T | 16.1k

A Hero - Celebony

Dudley begins to see his family in a different light | T | 18.1k

The Lioness - Aya_Diefair

Molly becomes suspicious of Harry’s relatives, she visits them, BAMF Molly, Sirius is freed | G | 18.3k

That’s Your Punishment? - slytherclaw7

Molly actually asks Harry questions, this is definitely a fix-it fic, Sirius is freed, Peter is caught, Dumbledore bashing, Tonks family taking Harry in | IDK how fanfiction.net ratings work | 19k

Pinky Promise - etymolodrarry, huffinglepuff

Remus is observant, angst with happy ending, Dumbledore bashing, implied self harm, Wolfstar | T | 19.5k

Listen Now - mrsfizzle

Harry confides in Remus, hurt/comfort, Wolfstar adopts Harry, moving into Grimmauld | G | 21.2k

Conquering the Dark - noeon (noe)

Healer!Harry and neuromagic!Draco, both work together, unearths trauma | E | 23.7k

The Chamber of Secrets and Half the Adults are Idiots - Des98

Apart of a series, Drarry, Harry recognises Lucius’ treatment of Draco, fix-it, inter-house friendships | M | 42.8k

The Article - LeeASherlook

outed by the Daily Prophet (not in the gay sense), 6th year, Drarry friendship | T | 43k ongoing

Burnt - lastcrazyhorn

Disabled Harry, Slytherin!Harry, have not read so refer to tags | T | 104.9k

Memories and Dreams - paganaidd

Series, one part Dudley’s POV | T | 140.3k

Malfoy Family Values - belana, Merry1978

This only really mentions Harry’s mistreatment but i thought it is an interesting fic to possibly explore, Malfoys adopt little Harry | G | 141.7k

Stronger At the Broken Places - enigmaticblue

More so focus’ on Sirius’ trauma, but it’s a whole Wolfstar family affair | T | 174.9k

Digging for the Bones - paganaidd

Hogwarts starts screening students for abuse, Snape conducts Harry’s screening, Snape is Harry’s bio dad, Severitus | M | 212.2k

The secret language of plants - Endrina

Severus/Remus, Sev rescues toddler Harry, this is a series of Severus/Remus being Harry’s parents, pre-Hogwarts to post, future Drarry | rating varies | 373k

Innocent - MarauderLover7

Ok so this does not focus on Harry’s abuse but Sirius gets freed and raises Harry when he’s 8 | M | 487.5k

A Year Like None Other - aspeninthesunlight

Disability, slightly Severitus, 6th year, canon divergence, Snape forces Harry to read letter from Dursleys | T | 789.5k

#remus lupin #wolfstar #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius raising harry #severus snape #harry potter fic rec #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #Harry Potter abuse #the dursleys #protective wealseys #drarry #drarry fic rec #bamf molly Weasley #bamf Ron Weasley #dumbledore bashing #severitus #the daily prophet

342 notes · View notes

azukiel · 10 months

Text

Nightfall Heir Chapter 1

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

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

As you lay in Astarion’s arms, you relished in the bliss that coddled your heart.

Alas, your mind wandered. It had not always been like this.

Blissful.

Your memories vividly recalled the time you had first laid with him, the time where the soft glow of fireflies had danced in the air, casting shadows that whispered secrets into the grass beneath you. The subsequent times thereafter had also been a symphony of sensations - feverish rustling of bedsheets, and the intoxicating scents of his cologne mingled with the musky aromas of passion. Back then, Astarion had always assured you that your very essence would be enveloped in a euphoric blend of pleasure and ecstasy. However, beneath the surface of those passionate encounters lay a web of deception. Your trysts had been nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask to conceal the collective traumas that haunted you both. Astarion had sought protection and trust from you, while you had yearned for a semblance of true companionship and belonging from him.

Still, the scars you both carried were etched into your souls, impossible to conceal. They were etched into the very fabric of your beings, leaving invisible wounds that refused to heal.

You flinched at the painful recollections as you looked up again at his peaceful, sleeping face. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a deep breath. His scents of bergamot, rosemary and aged brandy eloped you with a warmth like a midsummer’s kiss. His enchanting perfume restored a sense of peace. Yet, the darkness that still lingered in the back of your mind clawed its way into your consciousness once more.

Shuddering, you pressed yourself harder against his body to shield yourself, and though, in his sleep, he tightened his arms around you, you felt your walls again crumble. As the salt of your tears stung at the corners of your eyes, your unscrupulous mind continued to ravish your heart…

You were flung back to your childhood, vividly recalling the relentless barrage of blows, the sound of bones cracking, the scathing verbal assaults, and the relentless condemnations. The overpowering stench of sweat and blood used to fill your nostrils as you were forced to confront opponents far stronger than yourself, all for the perverse amusement of the masses... enduring unspeakable torment that had assaulted your body and mind alike. Such was the brutal reality of the Drow society that had shaped your upbringing. And yet, your tortures were not so different to that of which your lover had suffered at the hands of his old tormentor, Cazador.

The torment you had both endured had left deep scars, which had resulted in your eventual separation. The memory of it lingered, triggering a silent sob from you. In the past, you and Astarion had made the mutual decision to remain ‘just companions,’ driven by guilt over having used each other as shields for your sufferings. It had seemed like the ideal solution, a way to aid in healing. But unbeknownst to either of you, it had only exacerbated the anguish, a truth you both refused to acknowledge, even to yourselves.

At least, not until the events in Cazador's gloomy prison had unfolded.

Your mind, shrouded in darkness, conjured up a vivid and haunting replay of the events...

Your heart had been torn asunder as you had watched Astarion confront his old, wicked master. The anguish inflicted upon Astarion had been unbearable, a raw wound visible in your eyes. Alas, the hunger for power had consumed him, a voracious appetite for ascension that had wrapped around him like a suffocating web. In a mere breath, the Astarion you had known and loved had vanished. The vibrant essence of the witty, sassy, and flamboyant Elven vampire you cherished had been replaced by a feral beast. The sight of his former slaver, now succumbed, bloodied and kneeling, blurred the line between captor and captive.

You recall having exerted every ounce of your strength, having plead with Astarion to resist the seductive pull of power, to spare the lives of the countless thralls and spawn. The weight of this decision had threatened to consume his true self, which would have rendered him unrecognizable. Unimaginable sorrow had consumed you as you had contemplated the magnitude of such a loss.

The anguished cries that had escaped him as he struck down Cazador had reverberated through your being, threatening to shatter your very core. Even though Astarion had eventually yielded to your pleas, a deep resentment had grown within him towards you.

Your mind then shifted to when you and your companions had returned to the Elvensong Tavern nigh your vampiric companion. Your body had trembled uncontrollably, with tears streaming down your face, your sobs wracking your entire being. The weight of your despair had felt like an unbearable burden, threatening to consume you entirely. You remember the painful pounding of your heart in your chest, the rhythm deafening in your ears, and your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain control. Halsin’s sudden powerful embrace had provided a sense of stability, and his firm hold had offered a sense of security that you had desperately needed in that moment. He was, in fact, the only companion strong enough to hold your arms to prevent you from burning down the place in your despair. You recalled the surrounding room blurring as your vision had become clouded by tears; the world reduced to a haze of pain and anguish.

The others, your companions, had surrounded you, and eventually their presence had become a comfort amidst the chaos. Their words of reassurance and support had washed over you, their soothing voices attempting to ease the torment that had consumed your mind. Though their words had been barely audible through the fog of your despair, their presence alone provided a sense of unity and shared strength.

Sighing inwardly as you nestled yourself in the crook of Astarion’s shoulder, you remembered that back in that tavern on that night, time had seemed to lose all meaning to you. You had continued to tightly cling to Halsin as he cradled you, and your body had gradually succumbed to exhaustion.

After what had felt like an endless stretch of time, Astarion had finally returned. You recall that the room had been dimly lit by then, and the dancing candle light had cast long shadows on the worn wooden floor. You had heard the faint echoes of his fervent apologies, his voice trembling with remorse. The weight of his rage, which had been directed solely at you, had torn through your heart like a sharp knife. Truly, you hadn’t blamed him. It had been a battle within himself, a struggle to maintain control. Nevertheless, it had still shattered your already delicate heart and mind.

And then you recollected, amidst the heaviness of the situation, he having expressed his gratitude. The words had hung in the air as he had thanked you for rescuing him from the brink of losing his very self. You had saved him from becoming a reflection of the one he despised most in the world. Cazador Szarr.

Late that same night, under the glowing moonlight, he had guided you through the calm silence of the local cemetery. After having reached a secluded plot, he had unveiled a tombstone that had been crafted for him upon his ‘death’ as a mortal elf. The tombstone had stood there, adorned with weathered vines, a testament to the passaging of two long centuries. The air surrounding you both had carried a hint of mustiness and an earthy scent, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves. A chilling breeze had whispered through the graveyard, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Astarion’s voice had broken the silence then, and he described how this tombstone represented not only the end of his previous life in Cazador’s clutches, but also the death of the creature he could have become had he ascended. In that moment, he had realised he was no longer a mere spawn, but finally, truly free.

And as he often reminded you, even now, it had all been because of your unwavering perseverance, infinite patience, and resolute devotion. Your enduring devotion to him. For that, he had fallen profoundly for you and had not hesitated to confess his adoration right in front of his grave. He had not hesitated to guide you down onto the mound of earth, where your bodies soon intertwined with an intense fervour, either.

You remembered the fierce emotions that had flooded your body. Every touch and every caress from Astarion had sent shivers down your spine, electrifying your skin and loins with an unbearable ecstasy. The air around you had seemed to crackle with an intoxicating energy, as if the gods themselves had acknowledged the depth of your connection.

Your breath had hitched with each movement, the anticipation coursing through your veins. The taste of passion had lingered on your lips as a mix of desire and a hint of rebellion. The gritty texture of the earth beneath you had only heightened the rawness of the moment, grounding you in the physicality of your love.

You bit your bottom lip with the memories which now overwhelmed your senses. You felt it all again. With each feverish thrust, the passion had intensified. The heat between your bodies had grown to burning new heights and had wrapped you both in a cocoon of shared desire. Astarion’s touch had ignited a fire within you as his hands had explored every inch of your body with a frenzied hunger. The world around you then had faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of unbridled passion.

In that moment, the boundaries of time and place had ceased to exist. Moans and gasps had mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure and longing as you had moved together with an unspoken understanding.

It had been just you and him in that graveyard, your souls entwined as one. The world could have crumbled around you once again, yet you would have remained oblivious, lost in the sheer intensity of your love.

You trembled at the memory of the last echoes of ecstasy fading away, and the intense heat between your thighs after he had filled you. You had found solace in the knowledge that your devotion had been reciprocated with equal fervor.

As your mind floated back to your present time, you shivered again at the sudden delicious tingle at your junction, a soft moan escaping your lips. You froze, glancing up at your sleeping lover, hoping you had not been loud enough to stir him, but he was as still as the tombstone that adorned his grave. Which brought your salacious thoughts back to that night. That night had cemented your relationship once and for all. He was now yours and you were now his and the both of you had been inseparable since that night two years ago.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion daddy #Astarion as a daddy #Astarion and Tav have a child #Nightfall heir #bg3 #dadstarion #astarion x halsin x tav #astarion x dark urge #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

325 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 6 months

Text

Misty Eyes ~ Part 3

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. *This part contains two Doffy flashbacks with a graphic depiction of violence including blood, murder of an unnamed character, and the reader being sick, as well as implied sexual encounters. Doffy flashback sections are marked between these symbols ~🦩🦩🦩~ so you can skip past them if you'd like. The chapter begins with one of these graphic memories, but ends with some Hurt/Comfort & sweet fluff!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5768

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: You try to acclimate to life aboard this yellow submarine, but your past keeps tearing you apart. All that Doffy made you do feels like a stain on your soul, and you're afraid you'll never be clean.

Author's Note: This one gets really fucked up, but I hope the sweet ending makes up for it! 🖤 I have added the dead dove do not eat tag, so please heed the warnings, and do not read if they might be triggering for you.

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Another simple mission too much for you, Y/N?”

Doffy ducked a bit as he sauntered into the room, his voice making your enemy freeze with her sea prism stone blade to your throat.

“Young mast–”

Your target smirked at you, pressing the tip of the blade into your flesh, just enough to cut your words.

“Are you good and scared,” she taunted, ignoring the powerful man at her back.

Is she fucking stupid? She has to know who he is.

Doffy grinned as he moved closer, until you saw yourself reflected in his sunglasses over your enemy’s head. Neither of the menacing figures before you moved or spoke for a moment, leaving your mind in chaos.

I failed him again. He’s not helping me. Why would he? I’m worthless.

The woman chuckled, showing no fear as the future king of the pirates towered over her. Until his large hand fisted her hair, lifting her until her toes barely touched the ground. A shocked cry left her lips, her satisfied smirk torn away as she struggled to free herself.

“You really can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

Humiliation poured over you, making you wish that the blade had cut you deeper. The prick of blood on your throat wasn’t nearly enough to drown your shame.

The woman laughed, even as she struggled in Doffy’s grasp. She choked on that laughter as the blade in her hand flew toward her own neck, tugged by invisible strings.

“Wait, you said–”

Those frantic eyes had tried to look toward the young master, but her words ended as a flood of red left her throat. Doffy laughed, watching your wide eyes while the woman thrashed. The blade clattered to the floor as a rain of bright, hot blood fell upon it. He took a step toward you, letting all that cherry red cascade down your chest as you stared into the woman’s dying eyes.

She reached for you, dragging her nails across your throat.

“You’re really gonna let this trash disrespect our family? Disrespect me,” Doffy questioned, as bile rose in your throat.

“N-No, I’m sorry young–”

“Finish it. Pick up the knife, and gut her.”

The woman was still struggling, still fighting, but you knew it wouldn’t be long.

I have to prove myself.

You couldn’t move.

“Do it, Y/N,” Doffy threatened, his voice low as he shoved her closer. That hot blood poured over your face as he lifted her higher.

You fell to your knees, somehow finding the blade through the red that had covered your eyes, spitting it out of your mouth as you used the wall to stand back up.

“There you go. Prove you can do something right, Y/N.”

Blinking through the blood, you held the blade to the woman’s stomach, throwing up before you could pierce her flesh.

Doffy dropped that lightly twitching body as you started to retch, stepping back to watch you cover your enemy in your own pathetic disgrace.

Choking on sobs as your stomach emptied over the nearly dead form, you tried to wipe and hide your face. There was no way to hide from Doffy, his manic grin looming near as he crouched beside you.

“Such a pathetic sight. To think that a member of my family could fail me like this,” he tutted, ripping your heart to shreds.

“I’m so sorry, young master, I–”

Your fingers slipped in the blood and sick on the floor as you tried to push yourself up, until your body moved on its own.

No. Not on its own.

Doffy moved it, his fingers extending as he controlled you. A disgusting marionette, dripping with the evidence of shame.

“So disappointing.”

The young master’s voice weighed you down, even as he held your body up. He directed your movements, forcing you to walk as though you were proud of the sticky failure on your skin.

I’m nothing. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve his love.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N, hey, you’re okay–”

“I couldn’t do it, I’m too weak. I’m so sorry, young–”

Nausea tore through you, the fight to keep from being sick bringing you into the present. Into the mist. Law’s soothing voice was too full of concern, and you hated taking down your camouflage. Hated letting him see how weak you were.

“Y/N, can I check your–”

Law’s fingers were on you as soon as you nodded, slipping along the cold sweat that coated your skin as he checked your temperature and pulse.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hoarse as if you had been sick.

His hands guided your trembling body as you sat up, your eyes caught on your own misty fingers.

Pathetic.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

A sharp laugh escaped you, flooding you with guilt. An apology died in your throat as you rubbed your hands over your arms, sliding through that layer of sweat.

“Can I take a shower?”

The “Surgeon of Death” waited outside the bathroom for you. You thought he was trying to help you feel safe by not letting anyone else in, until you remembered the concern, the pity on his face.

He’s making sure I don’t hurt myself.

You couldn’t meet his eyes as he tried to speak to you on the way to the galley, but a tiny smile broke through your heavy shame from Law’s poor attempt at small talk.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Penguin’s voice was too loud as he leaned close to grab breakfast at the counter. The stuffed penguin on his hat bobbed toward you while he spoke.

“Morning,” you greeted, with far less enthusiasm, only to be met with a small orchestra of cheerful voices calling to you, and their captain.

“Hope you didn’t mind the captain on your floor last night. He used to snore like a–”

“Penguin,” Law commanded, voice low as he gripped his crew mate’s wrist.

The man's friendly clap on your back had made your shoulders tense up, your jaw clenching as Doffy’s voice boomed through your mind.

‘Only I’m allowed to touch my little doll,’ Doffy rasped, pinching your thighs almost too hard as you sat in his lap. You tried not to stare at the blood spreading across the marble floor. ‘I don’t like to share.’

“Sure, sorry captain, sorry Y/N…” Penguin took a step back, dipping his head at Law’s frown.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, your lying smile forming so easily on your face before he led you to a table in the corner, away from his happy crew.

I’m like mist, sucking the joy and beauty out of a sunny place.

“Why don’t we skip the interview today,” Law suggested, tapping his pretty fingers on the table.

“But, don’t you nee–”

“I need you to be okay,” he interrupted, reaching those fingers to touch your wrist gently, barely, before pulling away. “Besides, I have something else in mind.”

Moving through the metal halls felt like a dream, like you’d get lost, and keep walking for years before you woke up. Until he spun the wheel to open a heavy door, leading you into the largest room you’d seen on this underwater ship.

“How nostalgic,” you teased, nodding your head toward the wall of weapons in what was clearly a training room.

“It’s been a while since you kicked my ass,” he said with a laugh, and you chewed your lip to fight your cheesy smile. He moved down the wall, pulling two daggers free before facing you. “Catch.”

“Wait,” you cried out, ready to move or mist away, but your body acted on its own. You caught the blade he’d thrown your way, gripping it as you smiled to yourself.

“I see you haven’t lost your reflexes,” he hummed, facing off with you.

“What if I had,” you scolded, your free hand on your hip.

“I knew it couldn’t hurt you. But your enemies might not,” he mused. “Why didn’t you strike? I gave you an opening.”

“What are you–” you laughed, shaking your head at him. “I’m not a fighter anymore. Besides, I don’t want to be mauled by a bear when your crew finds out I tried to attack you.”

His scowl was so sharp, you almost missed his movement. The second blade flew toward you, spinning clear with the ringing of metal as you blocked it with the first dagger.

“What the fuck, Law?”

He ignored you as he pulled a sword from the wall, striding your way with death in his eyes. Your body slid into a stance it hadn’t felt in years, and you gritted your teeth. Barely escaping Law’s attack, you used the dagger to deflect his blade as you rolled away.

“Why are–”

His sword came down over your head, and you misted out of reach, your breath heavy as anger and fear started to build.

“Law! Why–”

“Why do you keep saying you’re weak?”

You froze, unable to move as he plunged his sword through your chest, meeting nothing but mist.

“What happened to the girl that could kick my ass? Until I’d get her back, of course,” he grinned, offering his hand to help you up. Still frozen, you watched him sigh, dropping the sword as he sat down beside you.

“Why do you keep saying that you’re weak,” he repeated softly, his gaze stripping you to the bone.

“Because I am weak.”

The words held nothing but truth, a truth you’d long since accepted.

“Don’t be stupid,” he reprimanded, the insult bringing your eyes to his with a bit of shock and annoyance.

“Is that my doctor’s orders,” you growled, anger showing through your mask for the first time in ages. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you dug your nails into your shins, the comfort of the mild pain helping you stay grounded.

“Yes,” he deadpanned, your lips parting as you glared. He didn’t drop that judgemental look on his face, and it was too fucking much.

You hid the need to squirm by standing, picking up the weapons to hang back on the wall. The weight of a useless life pushed your shoulders down, until a tattooed hand touched yours, taking one of the daggers from you while you stared at the floor.

“When we were kids, you were just as strong of a fighter as I was. I don’t understand how that could change, Y/N,” he recalled, voice soft as he touched your chin. His eyes searched yours, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“I know you’re fierce. Pretty sure I’ve still got a few scars from you,” he laughed, that gentle sound making your eyes drift closed, a bittersweet smile on your lips.

“I’m not fierce,” you confessed, shivering as your skin burned where his fingers still held your chin. “I couldn’t keep up. My powers are so... I kept failing, just like they said I would.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

You almost gaped at him again, but his hand on your chin kept your jaw from dropping. Pulling away, you crossed your arms, that irritation growing.

“Your bedside manner is shit, you know that?”

“We’re not in bed right now,” he countered, his confident voice cut short by his own awkward cough as he continued. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not a fighter anymore, Law. I can help you with my memories, you don’t need to do all of this.” He ignored your movements as you gestured to the wall of weapons, falling back into that frown he’s so good at.

“Get over it.”

“Excuse me?”

He thrust the handle of the dagger into your palm, leaning close.

“Everyone has to pull their weight on this ship. You’re gonna shadow the crew until we find a job that suits you. You’re gonna sit with me for interviews. And you’re gonna train, just like everyone else,” he commanded, your breath catching as you felt the authority pouring off of him. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, pressing the handle of the blade into your skin.

“Do you under–”

Law grunted with more surprise than pain as your other fist connected with his face. He took a step back, scalding eyes raking over you while he rubbed his jaw, but you cut him off before he could speak.

“Gotcha, with a capital ‘G,” you declared, moving your arms with the dagger to create a poor image of the letter ‘G.’

Everything else faded from your mind as Law started to laugh, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. You couldn’t help but join him, some good childhood memories finally filling the air between you.

“Does he still do that,” he asked, still breathless as he fought the laughter.

“Lau G won’t stop doing that until he’s dead and gone.”

He leaned against the wall of weapons, shaking his head as he pulled up ancient memories.

“That old man trained both of us, Y/N. You were neck and neck with me, even though I’d never admit it back then.”

Your face grew hot, hopefully masked by the wheezing laughter you were still recovering from. But shame quickly followed the pride from his praise, so you turned away to stretch, avoiding his discerning eyes.

“Let’s start with hand to hand,” he ordered softly. You let him take the blade from you, meeting him on the mats in the center of the large, echoey room. Bouncing on your heels, you fought to keep yourself in the present.

‘Can’t take care of a single mission. I’ve never had such a failure in my family before. What should I do with you?’

‘So misty, so flimsy! You’ll never be as strong as us. I bet the young master will throw you out soon.’

‘Why don’t you just focus on being pretty, dear. I heard the young master say that’s all you’re good for.’

“I won’t go easy on you," Law's threat broke through your foggy mind. He smirked, taunting you with a tilt to his head. “Kick my ass.”

Falling into a stance without a thought, you tried to be here, to be nothing but this. You couldn’t make the first move, getting annoyed as Law feinted, tapping you here or there until you finally fought back.

There he was. That silly, angry boy with that wicked smirk. The smirk that you needed to kick off that pretty face. Two years of rivalry, two years of tiny, vicious preteens sparring daily, came flooding back as the sounds filled the training room. The sounds of fists and shins connecting with bodies, breaths and grunts, snarky remarks and laughter.

It felt like no time had passed.

Until you noticed that thought, and shame hit you just before Law tackled you, taking your breath as he rode your body to the ground.

Coming back to yourself too late, he had you pinned, unable to work your arms or legs to get out of his grasp.

“I know you can do better than that,” he teased, his black hair caught in the sweat on his forehead as he stared down at you.

“Go fuck yourself,” you breathed, still winded with his weight on your body.

“With a capital ‘G,” he smirked, too much satisfaction on his face. He laughed as you squirmed harder, trying to free a hand to punch him with.

Now you were satisfied, hearing him grunt as he struggled to keep you in place. You freed one arm, but before you could make contact, Law changed position. He caught your wrist, his breathing ragged as his face hovered even closer to yours.

The air was different, shivers running through you as your bodies relaxed into each other. The struggle halted as you felt his breath on your lips.

His eyes were wide as he took you in, his brows creasing just a bit. Your chest warmed at the memory of a childhood crush, and a quick peck of a kiss before he disappeared. That sweet memory fell apart when he pulled himself off of you, a slight frown on his lips before he turned away.

Oh.

“That’s, uh,” he started, walking away as he avoided your gaze, “that’s enough for today. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll get your schedule for tomorrow. Good work, today.”

You held up a polite smile as sharp blades of ice seemed to carve into your empty chest. Wanting Law to kiss you seemed ridiculous. Selfish. You hadn’t realized that your stupid, absent heart was so delusional. And now you knew exactly why you shouldn’t think about him that way.

He’s disgusted by me. I’ll always be tainted. Ruined. I’m lucky he hasn’t put me out of my misery yet. Why would Law want to touch trash like me?

The thoughts crashed into you, and the moment wouldn’t stop replaying. The press of him, his amber eyes, the sweat and breath mixing between you.

And that frown as he pulled away.

It played on a loop as you walked through the submarine, repeating through another shower, a nearly silent lunch in the galley, and the tour. Law guided you with a hand drawn map, labeled with the various stations, and the crew members you’d be shadowing. A detailed weekly schedule filled the back of the paper, and you let out a quiet laugh at his attention to detail.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, teacher,” you teased, breathing deep when he finally looked at you again.

“It’s captain,” he corrected as he pointed to the schedule. “You’ll be with Ikkaku tomorrow morning, then if you’re up for it, I'd like to do another interview.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just a twitch of his lips this time, but it was a relief. Until he left you in the galley with the crew, excusing himself to complete some “captain’s duties.”

He doesn’t even want to eat with me now. I probably make him sick.

“Hi, Y/N, you can sit with me! You know, if you want to…” Bepo trailed off, flipping from excited to glum in seconds.

“Thank you, Bepo,” you agreed, donning your cheerful voice as you sat across from him.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Penguin said as he sat beside you, still too close for comfort after years of Doffy’s rules. “The captain’s the only one that taught us any manners, but I guess I still need some practice.”

“It’s al–”

“Give her some space, you’re being a creep,” Shachi cut in, sitting across from Penguin as he pointed a fork his way.

“I’m not a creep, you jerk–”

“The captain said to behave ourselves,” Bepo scolded, and you found a real smile on your lips as you saw the concern on his cute, furry face.

“Hey, you’re with me tomorrow, right?”

Ikkaku waved over the bear's shoulder, her dark brown curls making her instantly recognizable. You confirmed with a nod while the three boys at the table kept bickering.

“Let’s go talk about it.”

Arguments and insults floated through the air, and you were grateful for the rescue as you joined the only other non-man on the ship. She smirked as she nodded her head toward her crew mates.

“Don’t mind the dumbasses, they’re harmless.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, your appetite returning as you watched Ikkaku take a large bite, rolling her eyes at Bepo’s table.

Comfortable quiet sat with you, and you finally felt a moment of ease in your new world. Even with Law, you felt this energy of holding yourself up, of presenting yourself how you wanted him to see you. But this relaxed woman seemed friendly as she dug into her meal, without the pressure of a smile. She didn’t watch you, or force you into small talk, even when you followed her out of the galley to point out where you’d be working in the morning.

“I’m ‘Weps,’ so I’ll be showing you how to spot and kill enemies. Hopefully we’ll always be bored,” she huffed, pointing vaguely toward her station before guiding you back to the barracks.

“That’s you, right,” she asked, tapping on your door. “I’ll yell when it’s time to go.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, staring for a moment as she turned away.

That small metal room seemed to amplify your worst thoughts, your loneliness echoing through the air like some torturous bell. You wished you had some sort of drug to knock yourself out. Instead, you curled on your side, trying not to think about how Law had cared enough to sleep on your floor last night, but could barely look at you after your near touch earlier.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Don’t get all misty-eyed. That man should have known better than to touch my pretty doll,” Doffy declared, crouching down to press his palm into the sticky red puddle.

The blood of an unlucky man. A friendly man that tried to help you stay balanced while you walked down a flight of stairs in too-high heels.

“No one else will ever touch you,” Doffy breathed, pressing his bloody palm to your chest. He licked his lips as he dragged his fingers higher, painting your skin.

Doffy loves me. He’ll be King. Kings have to do this. They have to enforce their–

Your deep breaths and calming thoughts halted as his sticky hand gripped your face, digging into your cheeks to tilt your face up to his.

No more misty eyes.

You felt pride for your lack of tears, and for the smile he gave before he smoothed the hair from your face.

“You’re so pretty when you listen to me,” he praised, his grin deepening when he heard your pleased hum. “You know I’ll have to kill you too, right? You're my doll now. Letting someone touch you with their grubby fingers, and defile my toy sounds like another failure, huh, misty eyes?”

A soft noise escaped your lips as you struggled to be strong for him.

“Well,” he seethed, the veins in his forehead bulging as he shook your face in his bloody grip, “does my pretty doll have anything to say?”

“I-I’m yours, Doffy,” you promised, keeping your eyes dry as your body went loose, leaning into his hold.

“My body belongs to you, young mast– Doffy. I’d rather die than let someone defile your property.”

A bruising kiss took your breath, and you whined for him as he laid you on the marble floor. That spill of red beside you had finally stopped flowing.

“Don’t forget that, Y/N. I’m the only one that gets to defile my pretty doll. My disgusting, little toy. No one would want to touch you anyway. Not if they knew what you let me do to you.”

Doffy laughed as he proved it to you.

And you kept your eyes dry.

~🦩🦩🦩~

Last night, your mind had chosen memories over dreams. The lights and sounds of the sonar were lovely, yet too soothing, and Ikkaku caught you shaking yourself as you held in a yawn.

“Come on,” she ordered as she pushed you out of the weapons room, leading you through the halls. You pressed your fingers into your brow, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, not realizing where she was taking you until she called through a familiar door.

“Captain, I need to report a crew member who’s unfit for duty.”

“Wait, what,” you cried out, cutting off your own yawn as she rolled her eyes at you.

Law opened the door, his eyes narrowing on you before he looked at her.

“What’s your report?”

“Y/N was doing well with sonar, but she's clearly sleep deprived. There's no yawning at my weapons station, Captain.”

Ikkaku softened her report by flashing you a tiny smile, but your shoulders slumped in embarrassment.

“Thank you for the report,” Law cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes as he focused on her. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Ikkaku.”

She patted your back as she passed, her gesture of comfort lost as your body tensed at the touch.

With a shaky breath, you turned to him, staring at his tattooed arms that flexed as they crossed below his chest.

I didn’t mind when he touched me.

That thought was bittersweet, the bitter turning to bile when you remembered him pulling away.

“Come in,” he gestured into the office, and you stepped back into your memories. A shrine to Doffy, even if it was built of hate.

“How much sleep did you get last night,” he spoke like a doctor, scrutinizing every movement as you sat down across his desk.

“How would I know? There’s no clock in there.”

Somehow, his frown deepened, and you let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you sleep at all?”

The touch of warmth in his voice filled the cold room, but you didn’t want it. You couldn’t truly have it. So you let the truth ring through your mind as you lied again.

All I am is the broken toy of the man he despises.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes slid away, seeing nothing as you pretended to be fine. Yet, you blinked slowly when he stood, his chair scraping along the floor before he came to kneel beside you.

Time seemed fuzzy, but after a while you heard his voice, low and steady.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Too tired and stuck for anything except for the faint quivering of your bottom lip, you stayed silent.

“Is it…” he cleared his throat, flexing his hands before he went on. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to cover his worry in a soothing tone as tears and small choked sounds left your throat. “We don’t need to–”

“Please.”

That tiny, pathetic word left your lips, and you felt sick for asking for anything. Sick for forcing him to take care of you.

But you didn’t fight as he pulled the chair out, as he knelt to the side of your knees, as he touched long fingers to your cheek.

“Is it alright if I hug you,” he asked again in a whisper. You were too weak to protect him from you, nodding slowly until you felt more of his touch.

He pulled you gently forward, your arms limp as he wrapped his around your waist, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” he soothed, sliding a palm between your shoulder blades. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Denials and arguments struggled to leave your lips, anger and fear fighting for control.

But you were so tired.

And Law felt so warm, so solid, his smell familiar, yet new. He squeezed you tighter as your breath sped up, holding you still, until you held him too.

He didn’t let go as you dripped hot tears onto his neck. He didn’t let go when you clung to him, digging your fingers into his arms and shoulders. He didn’t let go as your cries flipped from silent to pleading, as you begged for his forgiveness, or choked over the fears and shame you carried.

Through every round of emotions, you would return to guilt and disgust.

“I’m sorry, Law, I’m sick. You shouldn't be... I’m sorry you have to touch me.”

“Why are you saying that,” he nearly growled, holding your head against him to keep you from leaving his grasp.

You had no idea how long you’d made him care for you, how many tears you’d let stain his shirt. But however long it had been, you were finally able to speak some of it clearly.

“You hate him,” you said, your feeble voice breaking between your haggard breaths, “and I’m his… I’m broken. I’m disgust–”

“Shut up.”

A surprised yelp stopped your words, the force of his grip catching your breath.

Law’s fingers dug into your skin as he pressed you against him, almost to the point of pain, and your mind froze as you waited for him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he declared, forcing the words through his teeth. “I don’t give a shit about what he did to you. I don’t care what he made you do. It wasn’t your fault, you hear me?”

There was anger in his words, but you knew it wasn’t for you. Still, you were stunned, feeling his heavy breaths beating against your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck before pulling away. It was almost painful losing his warmth against you, but he took your hands in his. He seemed to be having more trouble meeting eyes than you were, and you started sinking into the chair while he cleared his throat a few times.

“When I found out that you’d… That he’d… I should have saved you, Y/N. But I decided not to care about you so I could focus on my mission. I let him–”

“Stop,” you cried out, shaking your head against the guilt in his voice. “I wouldn’t have come with you before. I don’t even know when things started to change. But I would have betrayed you. I wanted to be… I’m glad you didn’t find me sooner, Law. I just wish–”

You cut yourself off, melting into his golden eyes. A stolen moment of peace amidst the guilt and pain.

“What do you wish,” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“... I don't think broken people get wishes.”

He gave a jaded laugh before standing, leaning against the desk while he rubbed his knees.

“Will it help you sleep if I stay on your floor tonight?”

You smirked at his soft words, looking from his knees up to his face before responding.

“I don’t know, old man. I don’t think it’ll be good for your joints.” The look on his face was perfect, and a real laugh left your raw throat, shaking your tired body.

“We’re the same age,” he countered, eyes wide with that manic grin, “and disrespecting your captain is a punishable offense.”

“I see how it is,” you teased, lightly poking his side. “Still can’t come up with a good comeback, so you threaten me with violence? Looks like you haven’t changed a bit, you– Law!”

He’d grabbed your wrist before going to his knees again, those pretty fingers searching your ribs for the perfect spot. You writhed and laughed, and failed to fight him off as he tickled you, the way he used to when he couldn’t outsmart you.

“Law, you–”

“Fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Law pressed himself against the desk, still on his knees with his hands held up, his eyes wide and worried as he looked at you.

You cracked up, true, heavy laughter, until his lips curled into that evil little smirk. But you beat him to it, sliding to the ground to get him back, tickling and getting a good squirm out of him before you both attacked.

He growled as he laughed, grappling you to the side of the chair until he had you pinned to the ground again. Neither of you could tickle the other as you fought for control or freedom. His cheeks were flushed as he laughed in your face, giving you a snarky, “nuh uh,” when you failed to break loose.

His tongue pressed between his teeth as he gloated, that cocky grin fading as you melted into each other again.

“I–I’m sorry,” he sighed, shifting his weight to leave.

“Don’t be sorry,” you demanded, breathless, and aching for him to stay. “I want…”

You closed your eyes, guilt and shame sliding into your lungs again.

His weight shifted, settling back where he was before. You bit your lip when you saw him staring at your mouth, and heat filled your body as you became hyper aware of every detail of his gorgeous face.

“You want,” he rasped as he met your eyes, concern still pouring from his own.

Your words were choked by all those shitty feelings and doubts.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

His gentle voice eased the tension in your body, and you were grateful that he hadn’t moved. That he still touched you.

He was still touching you even though you were broken.

“I want you to kiss me.”

~🖤🖤🖤~

You’d ordered the stupid boy to kiss you, your arms crossed as you tried to act like you didn’t care. He’d lost the bet, and had to do whatever you asked.

“Ew, gross! I’m not doing that.”

Law stuck his tongue out, pretending to be sick.

“You lost the bet,” you scolded, punching his shoulder. “Want me to tell everyone you’re an oathbreaker?”

“Why do you wanna kiss me anyway? I’m sick,” he questioned, a hint of hurt in his voice as he gestured to the pale spots on his face.

“I don’t care if you’re sick. I like you how you are.” The confession slipped out, and heat rushed to your face as you clamped your hands over your mouth.

“You like me,” he taunted, smirking as he poked your burning cheek. “Ha, you’re such a girl.”

“Am not,” you yelled, your hands going misty with embarrassment.

“So, all I gotta do is kiss you, and we’ll be square?”

You nodded quickly, not sure if you should trust him.

“Fine,” he complained, leaning in.

You didn’t know what the big deal was about kissing. His lips were cold and scratchy when he pressed them against yours for a few seconds, then he scowled at you as he pulled away.

“That was dumb,” he deadpanned, poking your side.

“You’re dumb!”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you chased Law down until he swore to never tell a soul.

~🖤🖤🖤~

“Ew, gross,” Law grinned, your mouth falling open in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he teased, moving his smug face closer to yours. “Kissing you sounds gross.”

“You fucking ass,” you seethed, struggling to get out of his grapple so you could punch him. “I can’t believe–”

He let out a needy sound as he crashed his lips onto yours, and you moaned against him. Your back arched when he released his hold on your arms to cradle your face.

A sob of relief escaped you, and you felt like you’d lost your mind, your hands clawing at his back to pull him closer.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. “I should–”

“No more ‘sorry's,” you ordered, “I just want you to kiss me.”

Law chuckled, his voice coming back in a wicked rasp.

“Ew, gross.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Sorry about the gruesome, but I hope you enjoyed the wholesome Law with his childhood sweetheart. I adore this man 🥰

Note for the timeline: The childhood flashback occurred shortly before Cora took Law away, so both the reader and Law had known each other over 2 years, and were both between 12-13 yrs old. At the present time in the story, both the reader and Law are around 25 years old.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 4

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

209 notes · View notes

james-is-here · 7 months

Text

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭...

Waah!: The boys reaction to realizing they yelled at you when you have past trauma with yelling.

Ya-hoo!: Mn in this had a "Military" childhood, Dad treated him like a soldier and was always yelling at him whether it be commands or verbal abuse.

Yay!: Is it obvious what I'm using to label the start of my fics? lol. Anyway, Waah! is the summary. Ya-hoo! is a brief explanation or backstory, and Yay! is authors note. I need a fourth character noise for Warnings...Oh yeah! will by warnings. (Also, if you haven't got it yet, Waluigi, Mario, Peach, Luigi)

Oh Yeah!: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Trauma Triggers, The boys are unintentional dicks, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, mentions of Blood, British Cigarette slur in Changbin's,

𝓑𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 (598 Words)

The door of your apartment slammed shut, making you jump. He knows to not slam doors but you put aside your slight annoyance for him forgetting when you hear him muttering. You shuffle out of your room and head to the living room where you can hear the mutters more clearly. Something about a missing track and being behind a day since they had to re-record some lines.

"Hey, Channie..." You said softly as you gently crossed your arms. You may be a strong tall boy (tm) now but Chan was starting to scare you a bit. "I-I got us food...Wasn't sure what your wanted but I got your fav-" "Mn, Just shut the fuck up!" He yelled, turning towards you. "I saw the damn food but if you payed attention to your damn phone, you would've known that I ate with the boys." "Ch-Chan...Stop. Now." Your voice wavered as your eyes began to water. "Who are you to tell me to stop?!"

The phrase made you flinch, the flash of your father about to hit you after you told him to stop yelling at your siblings made you stumble back into the wall, bumping into the side table, knocking over a vase that shatters as you slid down the wall, your hands coming up to cover your head as you beg your father to not hurt you.

The moment "Appa, No, please!" left your mouth, Chan's anger and stress from the day immediately went out the window when he realized what just happened. "Shit, Shit, Mn, I'm sorry." He swore he'd never raise his voice and seeing you like this, curled against the wall shaking, crushed his heart. "Mn, hey, jagi, can you hear me?" A sob is all he gets in reply and he sighs as tears build up in his eyes. His eyes catch the glass around your leg and he notices that you landed on some of the pieces, a few small blood patches on your sweats. He knows he needs to be gentle but he can't let them get worse as he kneels in front of you to try and move you off and away from the glass. You fight against him, your hands trying to help you crawl away but your right ends up in the glass and you cry in pain this time. "Ah, shit." Your eyes snap open to first see your hand, then the glass around you. "I-I'm sorry, I-I'll clean this up." You go to stand but Chan stops you. "No, No, N/n, let's patch you up first." "B-But I-I have to clean with the wounds...t-to be tougher." "Mn, babe, look at me." You do so slowly and finally meet his teary gaze. "Ch-Channie..." A new set of tears fall and Chan scoops you up the best he can to get you away from the mess.

"I'm so sorry, N/n. I didn't mean to yell at you, I know better, I shouldn't have taken my stress of the day out on you, I am unbelievably sorry." His hug was tight as he cried into your shoulder. "I promise I won't do that again, I promise to be more aware of how I'm feeling. I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry." You shake in his hold but slowly you melt into him, his faint cologne and tight grip calming you down as you wrap your arms around him as well. Although your leg and palm stung, you were grounded enough to know that both of you were comforting one another in that moment.

𝓛𝓮𝓮 𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔀 (950 Words)

Minho asked you a few days ago if you could meet him at his place so the two of you could finally spend time together after what felt like an eternity since the last time you saw each other.

You arrived a few minutes before him and hastily set out the food you brought, homemade from your sibling you visited a day prior. His cats surrounded you, watching you curiously as you get the food out. When you were done, you smiled at the cats before making your way into the living room and sat on the floor, Soonie crawled into your lap as Dori sat in front of you and Doongi was happily purring next to Dori as you pat his head and scratch his chin. Pausing your pets on the cat in your lap, you pull your phone out of your pocket to see if there's any updates from Minho. Five minutes ago is a message saying he's almost there and Fifteen minutes ago is a message asking if you could feed the babies for him. You're quick to remove Soonie from your lap and stand up, gathering their dishes and food when the door opens but you jump when it slams shut.

"Mn?" His tone was firm and you felt a little scared but kept in mind that he just came from either the studio or the dorms, he must've not had a good day. "In here!" You call out. "I brought my siblings home made Kimbap and Pajeon for dinner. I also picked up-" "Where's their food?" "O-Oh, it's right here." You smile gently when he reaches your line of sight. "I'm just filling Dori's-" "I sent that twenty minutes ago." "I-I know, and I have the bowls right here, just give me-" "Why didn't you do it when I texted you?" "M-Min, it's not a big deal. Look, I have their bowls." "Not a big deal? You're starving them." "Oh come on, Minnie, you're being overdramatic."

You kneel down and set the bowls near the cats before standing up and turning towards your boyfriend. "See? Now they're fed." You sassed, going to walk past him to go to your food when he blocked your path. "Minho, what is wrong with you?" You snapped. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and you whimpered at the tightness. The backbone you gained over time from your childhood was suddenly out the window as fear crept up your spine. "O-Ow, Min, you're hurting me." "I don't care. I asked you to do one simple task and you blew it off."

Tears gathered in your eyes as your thrown back to the one night you didn't do the dishes, too busy trying to finish an important, grade-on-the-line school project, and your dad came home to see the half filled sink. He had grabbed you, dragging you into the kitchen. You complained that he was hurting you and that phrase was uttered before he threw you in front of the sink, you had a bruise on your side for a week.

The tears finally fell as you squeezed your eyes shut. "M-Minho, please stop, I'm sorry I didn't feed them earlier." "Why are you crying? There's no need to be crying, you don't have a reason to cry." He shoved you backwards and you stumble into Soonie's food bowl, spilling his food as he jumps away as another memory flashes, your father said the same thing when you cried after seeing him shove your mother to the ground. You whimper quietly, stuttering as you shrink in on yourself. "I'm sorry, Appa, I'll do better, I'm sorry." Your eyes open to see the food at your feet and you silently kneel down onto both of your knees to clean your mess.

Minho was frozen, mulling over his thoughts before he sighs. He realized what happened, the night prior he slept at the dorms and was so happy he'll get to see you the next day but he had woken up with a nasty headache, fighting through the slight throb in his temples at practice and at the studio. This was his fault, twenty minutes really wasn't a big deal to get mad over but he was tired, annoyed, and in pain, he just wanted you and his babies and when he saw them without food, he just broke. He sighs as he gets on the floor with you, picking up the food with you. When all of it was back in the bowl, you suddenly picked it up and hastily walked back to the kitchen.

Minho's eyes followed you, watching you dump the bowl before pouring new food back into it. "Mn-ie..." He stood when you came back in. A gentle hand on your bicep, he takes the bowl, setting it down for the mewling cat at his feet before placing his other hand on your other arm to turn you towards him. "Jagiya, I'm sorry." He bends his knees to try and look at your eyes, tears gathering but not falling. He sighs again, standing up straight and wrapping his arms around you. He didn't say anything, he just cradled you, rubbing your back as you let the tears fall and soak his hoodie. You could tell he felt bad, gentle kisses placed on the top of your head and a couple on your cheek or hoodie-clad shoulder while he swayed the both of you gently. You take a step to try and push yourself further into his hold, wrapping your arms around his middle and his arms tighten around you. "I love you, Mn...I'm sorry." You sob into his shoulder, burying your face further into his shoulder. "L-Love you, M-Min..."

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷 (635 Words)

You knew Changbin had a bad gym day and you did everything to cheer him up and make him feel better. You made him your noodle recipe from your mom that he absolutely loves, you drew him a warm bath when he texted a small ‘Almost home’. You sent him a quick message saying you love him and can't wait to see him but he didn't reply. Today must've been really bad, hopefully your little set up in your dining room will make him happy.

When Changbin came home, you smiled, finishing up dinner before walking out of the kitchen to greet your boyfriend, but as soon as you reached the entryway of your home, the air shifted and you realized that your Binnie was in a really bad mood as you made your way to the front door. “Hey, Bin.” “Hey.” “I, um, I drew you a bath…a-and I made your favorite recipe from my mom for dinner. It's ready when you finish your bath.” “Thanks.”

You wring your hands together before taking a stuttery inhale. “Y-You okay, Bin? I-Is there anything I can do…for you?” “No, you can't do anything.” “Excuse me?” “You can't do anything.” “Binnie, you don't mean that.” You give a weary smile and hesitant chuckle. “You just might be stressed and tired-” “Now you're suddenly aware of how I’m feeling? How would you know how I’m feeling?” “Bin-” “Stop, just stop.”

He shoves past you, his built shoulder shoving you into the wall and your left hand lands on the wall to stop yourself from colliding with the wall as you turn and watch Changbin walk away. “Bin, hey-” “I just told you to stop! Like I said, you can't do anything, you can't even listen properly.” His voice was rising the more he spoke and he turned back to you, taking slow steps towards you.

“Changbin, stop taking to me like that.” Your eyes grew glossy as you tried to hold in your tears. “Why are you crying? You're so pathetic.” “Changbin!” “Don't yell at me, you don't have a reason to yell at me!” Suddenly he's grabbing your arm and pulling you from the front door entryway to push you into the livingroom. Unfortunately, you managed to trip over the corner of your rug and you landed on your side at the same time your head connected to the side of the coffee table. You yelp in pain, feeling as if you were fifteen again when your dad found out you had a boyfriend, furious that his son was a ‘Weak Fag’ and ‘pathetic’ as you collided with the wall next to the television.

The tears fell and you let out a sob as your head pounded. You reach up to your temple and pull your hand back to find some blood, looking back up to see Changbin still standing there, staring, still angry as if he didn't realize what he just did.

You got up with shaky legs and ran to the bathroom, aiming to patch your wound but the first thing you do is slide down the door with a sob and pull your phone out, calling the first contact that you manage to navigate to. Meanwhile, Changbin tossed his hands up when you ran to the bathroom, amused that you ran away from him, still not aware of what just happened.

A few minutes later, the still unlocked front door was pushed open and he got a small glimpse of Felix rushing to the bathroom before Chan was slamming the door closed and pushing Changbin against the wall. “What the fuck-” “What is wrong with you?!” “What?” “You know he has abuse trauma, why the fuck did you do it?” “What do you mean?” Suddenly, Chan slaps him, and gestures to the room. “Look around, Changbin.” There's a few blood droplets next to the coffee table, staining your messed up rug from when you tripped, Felix trying to get you to open the bathroom door, and on the dining table were dishes ready for dinner. What really brought Changbin to reality was the number two balloon and what looked like a custom banner saying “I love you, Binnie, Happy Two Years.”

Fuck

Your guy's anniversary…

(I'm ending his here but if a pt.2/continuation is wanted, I'll get it to you :)...)

𝓗𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷 (1083 words)

With the couple years you guys have been together, you had finally gained courage to suggest that Hyunjin moved in with you. Not like move in physically, he still lives with the boys at the dorm, I mean you let him claim your guest room to be another art studio for him. It was already your own little work space but you donated the bed, cleaned it up, reorganized, and got new furniture to surprise him with it for your one year anniversary.

Now, most of your home is covered in paintings that he's made. Either permanently or just to get it out of the room. He was with the boys when you were cleaning around, your last room of the day being the studio. You didn't do much, knowing how Hyunjin likes his things where he puts them, the most you did was put blank canvases together in the corner and put things back where you knew they belonged and knew your boy wasn't using the item anymore.

You were moving to your side of the studio when your foot slips slightly and you notice a brush of his. It was still usable but the handle was messy and slight warn and the bristles were beginning to fray. Looking at his desk, you see the other brushes which seem to be in the same state. You didn't think about it to much before smiling, biting your lip to keep the grin from spreading too wide before making your way to a set of drawers next to your desk, a collective catch all and your lucky that he's never opened the bottom drawer which contains new brushes. Black handles with a gold metal holding clean brown bristles, custom made with a little engravings on them. "Forever my prince" and "Hwang No.1". You've had them for a while, waiting for the right moment to give them since whenever you brought up the topic, he'd say the ones he has are still useful but it wasn't about just replacing his brushes, one of the brushes engravings was "Ln Hyunjin." You finally were going to propose.

You collected the old brushes and moved them to the long drawer on your desk to hide them, throw them away later. You then got an unoccupied small white vase and placed the brushes in like a bouquet before writing and small note, a simple 'Just because gift ~Mn <3' that you place next to the vase. You would've given them physically but you had some errands to run with your sibling, that's why you were cleaning, killing time.

After running errands, you came back and heard small muttering in the studio, smiling when you see his shoes before it falls when you see the slight disarray your living room was in. "Damn it, Mn, what did you do with them?" You heard him huff. What did you do? Walking down the hall, you see a few of your new brushes for him and your chest grows tight. "Jinnie?" "Mn! Where are my brushes?" "D-Didn't you see I got you new ones?" "I didn't need new ones, Mn! The ones I had are ones I'm use to." "So because you didn't want to try out the ones I bought you, you throw them on the floor?" "Mn, I didn't need new ones to begin with! If you listened to me, I wouldn't be yelling at you!"

"If you listened to me, I wouldn't have to punish you!" Your dad yelled a day after he said "Listen closely, you don't say a word about what I did to mom, I won't punish you for not cleaning the truck like I told you to do." The same day you gave in and begged your teacher that day at school to help save your family. You just wanted away from that man, you didn't want to be near him anymore but when the cops showed up, he lied, and when they left, let's just say you missed a week of school due to some bruises and your father didn't want to get caught. That's when you realized he only cared about himself and how people see him.

"I-I'm sorry...Y-You always get m-me gifts, I-I was just returning th-the favor..." "Well, you didn't have to. Now where are they?" "I-In m-my desk..." You suddenly felt like a little boy again, you felt small, confined, trapped. You wipe at your eyes with the bottom of your palm, sniffing as you watch him kick the other brushes away. "J-Jin?" "What?" He snapped. "I-I'm sorry, J-Jin-nim, I'm sorry." Chocking back a sob, you step back and run out of the room. "Jin-nim?" Hyunjin mutters to himself confused before his eyes widen, looking at the brushes before the ones in his hands clatter to the floor and he's chasing after you. You were forced to call your father Mister Jin.

Your shoes were missing and your front door was open. "Shit." He quickly slid his shoes on before running out the door. He could see you not that far away as he was quick to catch up to you, wrapping his arms around you to stop you from walking farther. "Mn, Muse, hold on." He turned you around to face him, a hand on the side of your face to gently guide your gaze up to him. "Mn, I'm sorry." "What?" You blinked a couple times before you realized it was Jin. Your Jin. "Hyunjin?" "Yeah, it's okay. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I didn't mean to get rational, I-I don't know what came over me, I should've just asked." "Y-You didn't even see the brushes...Did you?" "N-Not really...I-I really am sorry."

You reach a hand up to his, leaning into his touch before you remove his hand and walk back home. When you return, to pull him to the studio, picking up the fan brush with his name. "This is your last name." "I know." You pull him further into the studio but he stops to look at the other brushes as you move to your desk drawer, reaching to the back to pull out a ring.

You turn around, admiring Hyunjin for a moment before walking over to him, placing a gentle hand on his elbow to get him to look at you before smiling when his eye catches the ring instead. "Mn..." "I know you...just yelled at me and I have so many problems but...be mine?"

Got carried away with Hyunjin's but I'm a writer who loves details but sorry this took so long. Ended up making this two parts cause I didn't know what to do for the maknae's cause my brain thinks they're too precious to hurt someone but I will think of something. For now, I hope you...enjoyed? It's kinda weird to say I hope you enjoyed this since it's a trauma fic 😬 N E WAYS, I just hope it's okay.

Tagging @lakee-jakee and @belladonna6-6-6 who commented on the original post of me asking if anyone wanted this. It do finally be done :)

#straykids x male #stray kids x male reader #male reader #stray kids #stray kids hyung line #bang chan x male reader #lee know x male reader #changbin x male reader #hyunjin x male reader

182 notes · View notes

neat-soda-enjoyer · 7 months

Text

Looking Out For You

Your childhood crush came back! Except he wears a red helmet and goes around either killing criminals or pulling some underground scheme you’ll hear about on the news. And he has beef with the Batman so why is he still adamant on looking out for you?

Please do not steal or repost any of my writing

Context: You, a secretary working for Detective Cash Tankinson’s Investigations, get mixed up in the kerfuffle between Red Hood and Batman. After a series of misunderstandings and mistakes, you find out that the criminal (?) is the Robin who had your preteen heart in a vice gripe years ago. That nice boy who you remembered that went out of his way to make you feel special, even if you never knew his true identity. You eventually moved on when he stopped showing up and Batman was paroling around with a new, younger sidekick. But now it seems that he remembers you, too, so now you have the Red Hood take up the unneeded position of your guardian angel.

Also, you’re an artist/sculptor whose projects centers around the subject of violence against women/girls because you’re an abuse survivor. Still, you decided to prioritize your day job wonder how that'll turn out

Trigger warnings: Past abuse/molestation (no rape) of reader, violence, drugs, trauma related to past abuse, Gotham being Gotham at its best (crimes being a normality), Jason’s torture and death, assault, attempted assault

No smut (yet), but ofc there’s gonna be mentions of sex and nudity

Side note: The fic does not take place in any canon timeline. Aside from following the main canon plots, everything else is going by my version (Reader’s timeline :] ).

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with DC comics or its franchises.

Tag: #Looking Out For You in Gotham

୨ৎ . ׂ 𝒩𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ִ 𓂃 ࣪ ⟡

Chapter 1: That Night (Not yet posted)

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

#first fic lets go #yes its inspired by that one song from Joy Again can you really blame me?#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc comics #dc x reader #batman #batfam x reader #my writing #Looking Out For You in Gotham

150 notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

Text

to mend what’s broken (m) | pjm

struggling with childhood trauma, you believe you’re worthless and undeserving of love, but your fiancé showers you in love and lets you know otherwise.

→ Pairing: Jimin x reader (gender neutral) → Genres/AUs: slice of life, romance, fluff with a hint of small angst. → Tropes: established relationship → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 1.3k → Warnings + triggers: mention of past childhood trauma (not in detail), low self esteem, technically reader suffers from depression but it’s not mentioned, self hatred and doubt, hurtful thoughts, reassurance, love, kisses, gentle touches and loving words— it’s full of love okay 😭 It’s just FLUFFY. → Author’s note(1): this is just something really short and sweet (and more poetic than I normally write), because I’m struggling with writing and I feel sad. I hope this can cheer someone up… please know you’re worth so much and you’re so loved 🥰 → Read on AO3? [link]

You feel fragile, like a solitary flower in a vast field, bravely battling for survival.

This fragility is not new; it has been a constant companion, leaving you feeling shattered and alone. You have weathered life’s storms and trials in solitude, and it has been a struggle to allow your fiancé to support you. Your fierce independence has always been your shield, a testament to your resilience, but beneath that strength lies a yearning. A yearning for the support, love, and gentle embraces you were denied as a child. You long for the reassurance that, despite your actions, everything will be alright.

The bed is warm, as is the honeyed skin of your fiancé, Jimin, peacefully sleeping beside you. You listen to his breathing—the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest grounding you. It reminds you that your mind, a tempestuous sea, is just a canvas for passing thoughts and feelings. You sniffle, for the night has not been kind; your mind whispering that you aren’t good enough, that you never will be, and that you don’t deserve what you have. Tears well up, but you don’t want to wake Jimin, so you bottle your emotions, a habit too familiar. Jimin knows this, yet he always strives to help you, to keep you from shutting down like a clam, encouraging you to open up and blossom like a rosebud.

You try, you really do. But it’s hard.

Though time has offered its healing touch, the process is long and winding. Even after all these years together, with Jimin knowing you since your tumultuous teenage days, bearing witness to your painful childhood, the crushing expectations of your parents, and the mental and emotional toll it took—he knows it all, and he’s still here. Sometimes you feel burdened by your scars, thinking them too deep to ever deserve love, but Jimin loves you; always has and always will.

You love him too, so profoundly that words falter. Yet, you know he understands.

You feel him turn beside you, letting out soft sighs in his sleep, and you smile, your heart swelling with love for him, for his unwavering support, his tireless efforts to help you heal.

He groans your name, his voice heavy with sleep, and you hide your teary eyes behind your hands, not wanting him to see you’ve been crying. He stirs again, his warm fingers finding yours, gently calling out to you.

“Are you crying?” he asks, gently trying to part the shield you’ve made with your hands. You long to be mended, to be healed, yet doubt lingers, whispering that you are unworthy. You crave him—his love, his soul, everything he offers and more—but fear holds you back, telling you that you don’t deserve him. At least, that’s what your mind insists.

“Yes… but I didn’t want to wake you,” you whisper, your voice trembling. You didn’t want to disturb him. You’ve always managed your emotions alone, even though he has assured you, time and time again, that you are not alone, that you can always lean on him. He will always be there for you.

“Oh, babe,” his voice, still rough and thick with sleep, sends shivers down your spine. His fingers caress yours, his love palpable. “You can always wake me up. Why are you crying?” His soft fingers trail along your skin, your cheeks, chasing the tears away. His touch grounds you, heals you. The depth of his love makes you soar.

“I’m not good enough for you. I’m damaged and broken. I don’t deserve you,” you murmur, your throat tight with emotion. Saying the words out loud makes them feel more real than when they stay trapped in your mind, and the pain they bring is sharper, but you know that voicing them is a step towards healing, towards making them matter less. You sniffle again as more tears cascade down your cheeks, but Jimin is quick to brush them away with his warm, soft fingers.

He’s always there for you, always.

“Babe,” he groans. You know what he means, what he wants to say; he has told you countless times, and he’ll tell you again and again because he knows you need to hear it, need the reassurance. “You are good enough. You’ve endured childhood trauma, but that doesn’t define you, it doesn’t make you damaged or broken,” his voice is soft, tinged with a gentle scolding meant only in love.

“Of course you deserve me,” he moves closer, pressing his body against yours, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. The soothing warmth of his breath sends calming tingles through your body, quieting the hurtful thoughts. Your self-esteem, battered and bruised since childhood, still carries the weight of emotional scars that feel fresh. But his breath fans your ear, steadying your mind and heart. It’s healing. He’s always been that. Your rock. Your anchor. He’s always been there for you, and you for him.

You don’t think you deserve it. You don’t deserve his love, all he has done for you. Sometimes your mind sinks into this abyss—believing you’re not good enough, unworthy of love, even of life. Yet, Jimin excels at reminding you; always ensuring you know just how deeply he loves you, how profoundly he adores you, and how much he treasures you. And you feel it, undeniably, his love washing over you like a gentle tide, and you allow yourself to bask in his adoration. You know you should love yourself first, and you do, but sometimes, it’s easier to borrow his love, let it fill you up, and let your soul believe and feel his words. With his help, you heal faster. You remain strong, still independent. You are not less because you let him help you.

“You are the best person I know,” he murmurs, his plush, soft Bratz doll lips brushing your forehead, infusing you with his love. He breathes in the scent of your shampoo and moans, deep and longing. His nose nuzzles your forehead, “You’re worth so much, and I love you so much.”

You hum softly, closing your eyes, letting his words wash over you and fill you, for you need them desperately. You need reassurance because, far too often, you’ve heard the opposite—not from Jimin, but from others. Parents, partners, all too eager to remind you of your supposed worthlessness. Throughout life, you’ve been dragged down, repeatedly told you were nothing, undeserving of anything, until their words seeped into your soul, and you retreated into your shell, shutting down like a clam. Jimin has always strived to show you otherwise, to lift you up, to tell you how much you matter, how much you deserve. The day your friendship blossomed into something more, he vowed to shower you with love and praise, to remind you of your worth. And he has kept that vow, and you adore him even more for his unwavering commitment.

And you believe him—every word he whispers in your ear. Words of love, worth, acceptance, and care. You let his words heal you, give you wings to soar, to become a better person, because you need it. Goosebumps prickle your skin as he whispers words of love in your ear, his warm fingers tracing the line of your jaw, and you shiver, basking in his love, enveloped by it.

As his fingers trace delicate patterns on the shell of your ear, you realize the tears have stopped. It’s soothing, lying here, feeling his touch on your skin. His lips travel from your forehead, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose, making you chuckle and smile. He’s just too adorable. He moves lower, his lips grazing the curve of your mouth, and when they finally meet yours, you release an airy moan.

You feel his love envelop you, just as his arms do now, reminding you of your worth. Your mind and feelings are fleeting, but you are so much more. Your hands travel to the firm expanse of his chest, resting against his warm flesh, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You love him, and he loves you.

You cherish how he always lifts you up, reminding you that you are more than your past traumas. That you are deserving and capable of love, of greatness, ready to bloom like never before, and he wants to share it all with you.

→ Author’s note(2): what do you think? This is just something short, hopefully to help me out of my writer’s block, because I really need it 🥹 I’m still working on the spin-off for ‘End of the World’ and the sequel for it is done, just waiting to post until the spin-off is done too. To be honest, I’ve had trouble writing— mainly with feeling motivated for it. Like the desire is there, but I don’t want to sit down and right. I think maybe it’s because I’m struggling with writing smut. I feel like it’s all the same, like I write the same shit again and again (smut wise), and I’m just tired of it. So now, I want to focus on something else than smut— the fluff. I actually wanted this to be even fluffier, but at least it’s something, right? And I really need to write this for me, because this is something that I actually struggle with. I like to heal myself with my writing, lol. I do hope you enjoyed it, even though there wasn’t any smut, and that it was so short 🫶

116 notes · View notes

veronicaphoenix · 3 days

Text

zutto — chapter six | wc: 2.7k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Lia and Noah go out for brunch and Noah tries to convince her to cancel the tour in Japan.

Tags and trigger warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, noah and lia go shopping, noah and lia visit a sex shop, implied interest in bondage, mentions of previous sexual activity, mentions of lia being tied up, brief mention of parents' neglect and japanese folklore (noah being ill with a flower-coughing disease).

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Author's note: This chapter was supposed to be around 10k words, but it felt too long so I split it. Chapter 7 will be up this weekend with the remaining 7k words 🤭

There is a quote in this chapter that belongs to the poetry book Questions for Ada written by Ijeoma Umebinyuo. It's marked with an *

Sunlight was streaming brightly through the curtains by the time Lia awoke, indicating that it must be late.

Getting used to the golden light that flooded the room, she brushed aside the long strands of hair that had fallen across her face. Noah’s shoulder and bicep were almost pressed against her, his head resting higher on the pillow and tilted toward her, as though he didn’t want to stop breathing on her. She couldn’t remember when she had fallen asleep—whether it had been on Noah’s chest or just clutching the pillow under her head after he’d given her another orgasm positioned behind her. She did remember him cleaning her up and her mind feeling all fuzzy and cotton-like.

She hadn’t slept this well in a long time.

Smiling at the sight of him, she decided to spend the rest of the time while Noah was still asleep just watching him. At least, that’s what she intended—until her fingers couldn’t resist wandering over to him.

Noah lips were half-open, revealing a tiny bit of those bunny teeth she adored so much. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was disheveled. Beneath the sheets, both of them were naked, their scents lingering in the fabric, though the heavy scent of sex was more prominent.

Lia brushed aside a lock of Noah’s hair that threatened to fall over his eyes, and a memory from her teenage years suddenly flooded back. It was one of those weekends when Cristina had abandoned her, leaving her alone. Hana had obviously let Lia stay over, but against her orders, Lia had sneaked into Noah’s room after midnight instead of sleeping in the guest room. Back then, Noah slept like a log. At seventeen, his passion for music already coursed through his veins relentlessly, and many nights were spent working, only remembering to sleep when he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. The nights he spent with Lia were no different—they would stay up watching movies or talking. That particular night, she had fallen asleep first, but woke up earlier, and took a quiet moment to brush his hair while he slept, softly snoring.

Now, eleven years later, the scene felt almost surreal, like a replay of the past. Lia was sure he had the same peaceful expression, the same boyish features. Even in sleep, he looked like a child, lost in his dreams. The urge to protect him was as strong as ever, just as he had done for her all these years. It felt like the least she could do—besides loving him.

Noah’s chest rose as Lia made a futile attempt to tuck the lock of hair behind his ear. He stirred, and two more strands slipped down to join the first, falling across his eyes and making him blink awake.

The moment he saw her wide eyes looking up at him, paired with that smile that always seemed to cure his every ill, he couldn’t help but smile back. He felt fucking happy to wake up next to the girl he loved—especially with her naked under the sheets.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” she replied, trying to ignore the tingling in her toes and the warmth spreading through her body at the sound of Noah’s deep, sleepy voice. His eyes, with their distinct Asian shape, looked even more beautiful in the morning—smaller, almost like thin slits.

“You look wide awake. How long have you been staring at me?” he asked, his playful arrogance showing the familiar self-assuredness that Lia was all too familiar with.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got some nerve,” she shot back, equally accustomed to his confident, slightly egotistical humor.

With a burst of energy, he grabbed Lia by the waist and tried to tickle her. She squealed, rolling onto her side, giggling, until they lay chest to chest, both facing each other on the bed.

“No more than ten minutes,” Lia said, catching her breath as his warm brown eyes twinkled. “How did you sleep?”

“I had this dream...,” he started, “where I had sex with my favorite girl on the couch, and then in this very bed...”

Oh, he loved seeing her blush and smile like that at his words. He pulled her tighter against him, brushing the hollow between her neck and shoulder with his lips.

“I haven’t slept this well in a long time,” Noah added, “even though I was awake around seven.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s routine. I went to the bathroom, grabbed some water, and then… well, I spent some time looking at you until I fell asleep again.”

“How long were you watching me?”

“Oh, you’ve got some nerve,” he echoed her earlier words with a grin, dropping onto his back and pulling Lia with him. She landed on top of him as he continued, his tone calm and tender. “I didn’t plan on going back to sleep, but you looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to leave or wake you, so I just watched for a while. Are you okay?”

Lia, now resting her chin in her hands on his chest, nodded.

“I’m a little sore, but it’ll pass.”

Noah sighed, content, engrossed in holding Lia like this, in his arms.

Lia reached up to his chin and gave him a ghost kiss where his stubble was starting to grow.

“I’m sorry I was in the way of us,” she whispered.

“You were scared, and you had every reason to be. But that’s all behind us now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, Lia. And believe me, I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it. I just need you to be honest with me. You know I’ll never hurt you. But if I have to get angry, I will. I’m not letting you walk away from me again.”

She climbed on top of him, pressing her chest and stomach to his, and touched his cheeks.

“I love you.”

“That sounds wonderful. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Noah kissed her, long and hard.

After a while, when they bothered to look at their phones to check the time, they realized it was already past eleven.

“I guess we missed breakfast. How about I take you out for brunch?” Noah suggested, his hands resting on her hips, savoring the weight of her body against his.

“Sounds great.”

“And we can talk about Japan.”

Lia’s eyes widened instantly.

“Yes, please.”

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay here, am I?”

“Nope. There’s nothing you can do,” she concluded.

“Nothing?” he insisted.

“Nothing. Don’t even try using sex as leverage. I want to go to Japan. I want to go back to work. I’m feeling fine. I’ll be with you and with the crew.”

“Stubborn since you were six...” he sighed. “All right. Let’s go take a shower and get some air. Looks like the storm has passed.”

After showering and getting dressed, Noah and Lia headed out to Santa Monica Place, looking for a restaurant that served a healthy and affordable brunch.

Once seated, they browsed the menu, deciding on an avocado bagel with poached eggs for Lia and a bacon-loaded toast with eggs for Noah. As they waited for their food, Noah’s phone buzzed with a call from Matt. It was well-timed, since if they decided the Japan tour was still on, Matt would need to come by that afternoon to catch Noah and Lia up on the logistics.

Ten minutes later, their food arrived, along with a strawberry smoothie for Lia and a green one for Noah.

“I know I just told Matt to meet us this afternoon to talk about the tour,” Noah began, cutting into his toast. “And I know you said there’s no convincing you, but I’m going to try anyway. I’d rather postpone it, stay home a little longer, and give you more time to recover. It feels rushed to put you on a plane and keep you away from home for a month and a half right now.”

“You’re being overprotective,” Lia replied with a smile, “and I love that, but I need to work. Staying home won’t help me. As lovely as the last few days have been, I’m sure you’re starting to get tired of being cooped up at home with me, too. We haven’t gone out except for groceries and therapy appointments. You haven’t been to the gym, or out for a run, and you’ve ignored most of your work calls.”

“I was focused on what matters to me,” Noah replied, his voice quiet but firm.

Lia reached out, taking his hand. “You’ve always been good at looking out for me while managing everything else.”

“That’s not true,” Noah said, his tone darkening. “If that were the case, Mitch wouldn’t have touched you.”

A heavy silence fell between them.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly added, regret filling his eyes. “You’re still not comfortable talking about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Maybe I never will be,” Lia said, her voice steady but raw. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him control my life. I’d rather not hear his name now, but one day, I won’t care.”

“I’m proud of you, Lia. For everything you’ve accomplished on your own. You built a life for yourself from nothing.”

“It wouldn’t have been so easy without a best friend who picked me up every time I fell.”

“I just offered my hand. It was always you who chose to take it.”

The weight of Noah’s words lingered in the air. Lia felt the echoes of her past ripple through her—the weight she had carried for so long, the trauma she had inherited from her mother, the silent strength she’d summoned to survive. She thought of all the daughters like her—those who had to raise themselves, who had learned to build their own light in the darkness.

Bless them; those girls who, despite the odds, managed to build themselves a future from the fragments of their past. Bless those daughters who sat carrying the trauma of mothers. Who sat asking for more love and not getting any, who carried themselves to light. Bless the daughters who raised themselves. *

Lia stroked the back of Noah’s hand with her thumb. With a sigh, she returned to her plate, taking a bite as they both sat in a shared, contemplative silence.

“As I was saying, we can’t keep this routine up much longer,” she said. “You’re going to start climbing the walls and...”

“No. I can go back to work but without having to travel. We cancel the tour and focus on the new album,” Noah countered.

Lia shot him a tired look.

“The only thing you’ll do if you cancel the tour is keep getting distracted—because of me.”

“What about your plants?” Noah shot back. “What if they don’t survive while we’re in Japan?”

“I’ll ask Emery to come water them every now and then,” Lia replied, unfazed.

“And what if you get overwhelmed with work?”

“Work has never overwhelmed me. In fact, if I don’t start sketching something soon, I’m going to go mad. Stop finding excuses, Noah. Canceling an entire overseas tour because of me would be worse. Imagine the guilt I’d be carrying around.”

Noah hesitated. She was right.

“Besides,” Lia added, “we haven’t seen Grandma in over a year.”

“Grandma said the other day that your health was more important. The trip could wait.”

“I’m well enough to travel, Noah. Or didn’t you notice that last night?”

Noah blinked. “Are you comparing sex to a trip to Japan?”

She shrugged casually. “You compared it to your performance on stage.”

For a second, Noah didn’t know whether to raise his eyebrows or burst out laughing. The girl was impossible.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he asked, half amused. “You getting me to do whatever you want because you know I can’t say no to you?”

Lia smiled and gave a playful shrug. “Maybe you need to set some boundaries, then.”

Noah shook his head, defeated but grinning.

“Well, at least the trip will help Grandma clear up all those mysteries she’s been holding onto for months.”

“What mysteries? About your flower-coughing fits?” Lia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly. Didn’t she talk cryptically the last few times you spoke to her? She had me in stitches.”

“About her theory that it had something to do with me?” Lia sighed. “No. I changed the subject every time she brought it up. I think she got the hint that I didn’t want to discuss it—and definitely didn’t like her linking me to you in that way.”

“That’s strange.”

“What is, exactly?”

“That out of everyone around us, Grandma was the only one who didn’t hammer us with comments about getting together. Together this way, I mean.”

“Whatever’s been going through her head all these years,” Lia said thoughtfully, “I plan to get it out of her the minute we step into her house at the end of the tour.”

The outing was intended as a distraction and a small boost for Lia’s mental health, with plans to do some light shopping after filling their stomachs.

They wandered through a few stores, starting with one that offered items they might need for their upcoming trip. Next, they visited a flower shop where Lia carefully selected seeds to plant at home, hoping they would blossom in her absence and greet her with vibrant blooms upon her return, and a special set of seeds to spill in Grandma’s little garden in her house in Japan. Their final stop was a stationery store, where Lia restocked her supplies. She grabbed some high-quality paper and a couple of her favorite mechanical pencils, a couple of sketchbooks of different size, a set of fine-tipped markers, and a travel-sized watercolor kit, knowing these would be perfect for capturing inspiration on the go.

As they left the stationery store, Lia glanced at their shopping bags, wondering if they had everything they needed. Her mind buzzed with ideas that she desperately needed to either voice or transfer to paper, but before she could share them with Noah, he casually mentioned, “We’re still missing condoms.”

Lia lifted her eyes to him only to find him motioning towards a sex shop located between a Zara and a Hollister Co. She followed him, feeling a strange comfort in the idea of buying condoms with him.

Inside, Noah’s initial confidence wavered as he looked around the adult store, but Lia seemed more at ease. She browsed through the various options with a calm curiosity, which made Noah’s unease more pronounced.

After a couple of minutes, he picked up a box of size L condoms to examine. With a bemused look, Lia took the box from his hand and replaced it with a medium size, her expression clearly saying, “seriously, Noah?”

Now holding two boxes of medium condoms, Noah continued to explore the options, engrossed in comparing brands and types. He studied the packaging and ingredients, curious for the first time, lost in thought, and didn’t immediately notice when Lia wandered off. When he finally did, he assumed she was simply exploring the store’s offerings. Raising his voice slightly, he called out, “Hey, I’m heading to the checkout!”

He paid for their items, swiping his card before glancing around for Lia to let her know it was time to leave. His eyes froze as he spotted her standing in front of a section dedicated to ropes, where various types hung from a bar, inviting examination. Lia’s hands delicately held a velvety red rope, her fingers gliding over its soft texture as if savoring the sensation.

Noah watched her; the way she studied the rope, her brows slightly furrowed in contemplation… The velvety material slipped smoothly through her fingers. And suddenly he was imagining her naked on his bed, wrapped in that soft rope.

Swallowing hard, he called out her name.

She turned around quickly, the rope slipping from her grasp and landing softly on the display. Noah gestured toward the exit with a slight nod. Lia, with a hint of color blooming on her cheeks, hurried after him.

As they walked out of the store and made their way back to Noah’s car, Lia glanced down at their intertwined fingers. Noah would occasionally tighten his grip around her, relishing in the sensation of how perfect her hand fit in his.

A smile tugged at Lia’s lips.

— prev. chapter | chapter seven ➡️ coming this weekend.

Taglist:

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @xcllnt | @bluestdai | @lma1986

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 😊

#noah sebastian #lia x noah #noah x lia #the inevitability of love at second sight #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

57 notes · View notes

da-rulah · 1 year

Text

Welcome to my masterlist!

All fics are tagged by main characters involved and rated either sfw or nsfw 18+.

Under 18’s please respect these ratings.

Trigger warnings are tagged in the posts.

Full Length Fics

Confessional. [NSFW 18+] As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having..

> Read on Tumblr (3 Parts) > Archive of Our Own

Rituale Septem. [NSFW 18+] Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You’d never even heard the Dark One’s voice like your Siblings… But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work… Terzo centric fic, but smut pairings include Copia in the *bold* chapter highlighted below.

> Read on Tumblr (8 Parts, Part 6 for Copia) > Archive of Our Own

Heads Will Roll. [SFW] Copia is waiting on the new Papa V, anxiously awaiting their arrival. He's not sure what he expected, but... It certainly wasn't him. > Read on Tumblr > Read on AO3

Headcanons/Drabbles

Copia teases reader with dirty talk... [NSFW 18+]

Copia stress relief [SFW]

A plus-sized reader's first time with Copia [NSFW 18+]

Copia's rats interrupting your night together... [NSFW 18+]

Copia receives a love letter from his crush... [SFW]

Surprising Papa on tour... [NSFW 18+]

Copia comforts you after a traumatic nightmare... [SFW]

Reader is suffering with the memories of past trauma... [SFW]

Reader finds out they're unexpectedly pregnant... [SFW]

Copia gets jealous... [NSFW 18+]

Reader tells Copia about their childhood trauma... [SFW]

Copia's s/o loves writing, and Copia loves them. [SFW]

Reader falls asleep in Copia's Latin class... [NSFW 18+]

Copia gets jealous... [NSFW 18+]

Reader gets harassed when out with Copia... [NSFW 18+]

Copia is bullied by a Brother of Sin. You stand up for him... [NSFW 18+]

Copia gets jealous when your Christian ex-boyfriend shows up... [NSFW 18+]

Copia gets possessive when a rumour about him spreads while he's on tour... [NSFW 18+]

Full Length Fics

Rituale Septem. [NSFW 18+] Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings... But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work... > Read on Tumblr > Archive of Our Own

Creatures of Habit. [NSFW 18+] Every week was the same; the same Sunday routine you'd had for as long as you could remember, lost in the pages of books that sported characters of women like yourself, finding that perfect balance between acquired and self love. But soon come the winter months, and along with it, a strange new face that became a part of your routine. A man, whose self-worth reflected that of your own, forced into seclusion, hiding from the humiliation of forced retirement. You find yourself enraptured by the mysterious man, and somehow, allowing him to become a part of your very own weekly ritual... > Read on Tumblr > Archive of Our Own

In Cold Blood. [NSFW 18+] Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with. After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home. Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary? > Read on Tumblr > Read on AO3

Headcanons/Drabbles

Terzo HCs (in the style of Confessional)

Full Length Fics

Rubenesque. [NSFW 18+] Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same. So how would he react when he learns that your peers are mocking your sinfully gorgeous body, and you're struggling to love yourself? > Read on Tumblr > Archive of Our Own

Come Home to Me. [NSFW 18+] No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with... > Read on Tumblr > Archive of Our Own

Learn the Ropes. [NSFW 18+] Secondo likes to be in charge. He likes to be in control. But you'd always wondered what he might do if one day, you decided to flip the script, and take charge for him... > Read on Tumblr > Archive of Our Own

Terzo centric fic, but smut pairings include Secondo in the *bold* chapter highlighted below. > Read on Tumblr (8 Parts, Part 5 for Secondo) > Archive of Our Own

Headcanons/Drabbles

Secondo cuddles after a hard day... [SFW]

Secondo gets jealous... [NSFW 18+]

Full Length Fics

None. Yet...

Headcanons/Drabbles

Bishop Primo decides to pick some red roses... [SFW]

Full Length Fics

None. Yet...

Headcanons/Drabbles

The Papa's Kinks [NSFW 18+]

Papas holding their newborn for the first time... [SFW]

Papas reacting you reader crying during/after sex [NSFW 18+]

The Papas and their technology skills... [NSFW 18+]

The Papas and the Halloween costumes their s/o makes them wear [SFW]

Reader asks Papa to keep his robes on... [NSFW 18+]

Papa's comforting a reader on their period [SFW]

Papa's catch reader sneaking out to go to a party... [Hints at NSFW 18+]

Papa's comfort reader who's losing her faith... [Hints at NSFW 18+ in the overall post]

How the Papa's dominate you [NSFW 18+]

Papa's and their thick-thighs S/O [NSFW 18+]

The Papa's make their S/O squirt for the first time... [NSFW 18+]

Full Length Fics

Terzo centric fic, but smut pairings include Ghouls in the *bold* chapters highlighted below. > Read on Tumblr (8 Parts, Parts 3 & 7 for Ghouls) > Archive of Our Own

Headcanons/Drabbles

Swiss wanted to try Papa's batwings... [SFW]

The Ghouls catch a cold... [SFW]

The Ghouls go to an escape room... [SFW]

Ghouls holding their newborn for the first time... [SFW]

The Ghouls and their technology skills... [NSFW 18+]

The Ghouls reactions to an easily flustered reader... [NSFW 18+]

Full Length Fics

The Mayor's Daughter. [NSFW 18+] Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

Headcanons/Drabbles

Sexting with Mary [NSFW 18+]

Jealous Mary headcanons [NSFW 18+]

BDSM Activities with Mary [NSFW 18+]

296 notes · View notes