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pandorascripts · 10 months

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hi! i was wondering if i could make a request for a katniss x fem reader imagine to safe and sound by taylor swift

safe and sound

pairing: katniss everdeen/reader.

cw: death, angst, description of body mutilation, bombs, major character death, gale. LOL.

note: I wanted to make this a cute little fix where Katniss sings the reader to sleep and then heads off to fight Snow, but I was like fuck it let’s kill r. ALSO! MY FIRST KATNISS REQUEST! THANK U!!!

based on Safe & Sound (Taylor’s Version). some lyrics used.

—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-

As Katniss watches the explosions take lives and hope, her eyes catch something for a moment— a bright gleam in the dissipating dust.

Her feet drag her along the road, tears pricking her eyes. Dead bodies lay scattered across the ground, some missing arms or legs. Katniss stumbles upon a woman, her arms wrapped around a little girl in a yellow jacket— the girl she had seen just moments before, breathing and alive. She chokes back her sob, refusing to let herself be any more somber than she already is. Katniss has to be strong for the cameras and her so-called army. She has to show Snow he doesn’t have an affect on her.

As she walks around more; dodging bodies of all shapes and sizes— mainly smaller figures, she trips on something hard. A rough cough comes from where she had kicked and Katniss looks down. The idea of a probable survivor makes her fill with hope, but it’s quickly snatched away from her when she sees who it is.

“Hey, Kat,” you mumble out, exhaustion getting the better of you.

For a moment Katniss can only stand there, shakily breathing in horror at your fucked up state. There’s a large amount of blood coming from your torso, half of your head covered in it too. Dust sticks to your cracked lips, large, watery eyes looking up at her.

Katniss sits down, adjusting you off the floor and into her lap so she can hold you and apply pressure. She knows it won’t help, there’s too much damage, but the obvious knowledge doesn’t deter her.

“You were supposed to be farther back. Why?” she asks, taking a break every few seconds to control her shaky tone.

Your hand lifts from the ground, a hand that’s no doubt fractured or broken, and holds onto Katniss’ forearm. You give her a light squeeze, a rough cough breaking the silence.

“I wanted to—“ you hack up again, a little blood staining your lips red, “wanted to help.”

Katniss can’t say anything in the fear she’ll break down. She wants to be strong. Not for the cameras, not for Snow, not for her unwanted army— she wants to be strong for you. You’re dying, and Katniss can’t do anything about it.

“You did. You did help.”

You nod weakly in her arms, your eyes watching the sunset in front of you. You don’t wanna go, you don’t know what happens when you die. Is heaven really real? If so, did you make the requirements? What if you didn’t? Surely your sacrifice would make up for it? Maybe you’d go to Valhalla, or maybe there was just nothing. Maybe after death you were only greeted by nothingness. With that horrific thought you tighten your grip on Katniss and take a deep breath. It comes out a harsh wheeze and your lungs sting from the effort.

“Will you sing?” you ask her, a tight cough coming out after.

Katniss’ other hand has gone to stroking your hair, moving the dried-up pieces away from your sticky forehead. “Yeah.”

You eyes look back to the sunset, Katniss’ soft voice singing in the background.

“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I’ll never let you go.”

Her soft voice starts to put you at ease, no doubt with the help of her featherlight touch. The sunset looks beautiful from where you’re laying. If you took out the immense amount of pain you’re in and the conditions of which this is happening, you could almost pretend that it was a date. Like one of those dates way back when you were just two lowly girls in district twelve— fighting and hunting for meals. You didn’t have a family, both of your parents died in the mines, but Katniss took you in. She taught you how to trap, and kill, and skin— Katniss saved you.

“Thank you, Kat—Katniss,” you spitter out, coughs becoming more violent and frequent the longer you speak.

Her singing stops and you feel a light, hesitant kiss on your head.

Katniss goes back to singing, each word getting more cracked and breathy. “Just close your eyes,” she sings, “the sun is going down.”

You eyes flicker close, Katniss’ soothing voice fading in and out.

“Come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound.”

The pain has stopped now, replaced by a peace as your body begins to shut down.

“No one can hu—“

Katniss stops abruptly, you chest no longer moving up and down. Everything that she’s been withholding shatters, than dam of tears bursting through and clogging her vision. She presses her head against yours, gasping. “Please,” she whispers, barely coherent through her chocked sobs. “No, no, no.”

Now that you’re gone, Katniss tightens her hold on you, the watery squelch buried beneath her broken sobs. Her face is puffy and red by the time the rests of the troops make it to her, each and every one of them takes off their hat. Katniss doesn’t look up to see it, her eyes shut tight as they all stoop to one knee.

Katniss continues crying for God knows how long, despair and grief filling her body more than the blood that fuels it.

Katniss doesn’t start screaming until a rebel tries to pick her up, her kicks and shouts not deterring him. Even as she bangs against his chest, is heaved onto his shoulder, she doesn’t relent. Your lifeless body starts getting farther, and father, and farther, and farther until it’s no longer in Katniss’ sight.

Her voice is raw and husky from screaming, lungs crying out to get a proper breath. Katniss is only filled with rage when she’s set down, Gale’s face blurring into view.

“You fucker!” she hollers, smacking his cheek.

He turns slightly, wiping his face from where Katniss had angrily spat, still indifferent to her behavior.

“Go get some sleep, Katniss.” He walks off, leaving her in all of her thoughts.

Katniss won’t be able to sleep tonight. In fact, she doesn’t think she would call it exaggeration if she believed she’d never sleep another night.

#katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen #katniss x you #catching fire #mockingjay #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games #jennifer lawrence #imagine #fluff #oneshots #light angst #angst #character death #pandorascript

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Text

This All Day

Steve is excellent at love-making, but he needs encouragement to branch out. (Pure smut. Minors DNI. Also, this is ~5k, so enjoy...)

See where this Steve/Reader began here!

Slow and steady wins the race, but sometimes you just want to fucking lose. Like, you don’t know, pinned-down-on-the-battlefield-by-enemy-forces lose. Like conquer-your-body lose. Like he-actually-screamed-‘fuck’ lose.

You can’t tell him that, though, because he’s so sweet, so tender, so attentive that it’s just rude, right? Don’t fix what ain’t broke, ya know? He’s super! Cool. But super conservative and controlled in the sack…is just not cutting it for you tonight.

He’s spooning you after glorious, sensual love-making as happens pretty much every night you get to sleep together, but you’re wide awake and about to crawl out of your skin attack that guy every time his hot breath hits the back of your neck. You can’t wake him up, right? And even if you did, it’d be the same thing that got you so riled up in the first place. He’s a smart man. Variation keeps people on their toes, and it would keep curling your toes a lot more if he’d—

“I can hear your heart racing,” Steve mutters behind you. “What’s wrong?”

Another wave of heat hits you in just the wrong place. You’re starting to sweat, and it feels overly-stifling to be pressed so close to him. You wiggle beneath his lax arm over your waist.

He’s not hard, and he doesn’t move or acknowledge your ass rubbing against him because he’s so pristinely controlled that he won’t. He won’t get hard until you’re warmed up with his fingers—not your fingers, mind you, because he got very defensive that one time, so just his fingers—which is, again, so sweet because he is fairly large and that would absolutely hurt to not be prepared.

Still.

Let a lady know you are excited, damn it. Insert a little passion and abandon into the bedroom every now-and-then, okay. His palm moves from your stomach to your forehead.

“Do you feel sick? Fever?”

That’s so nice.

You kinda hate it. You’re sick of something, but you feel like an asshole for even thinking this way. Your fantasies of Steve branching out into various explorations got you this far, surely you can just…continue to ramp yourself up at the thought while he politely sits there and calls an ambulance, thinking you’re having a heart attack.

But you can’t say it. You can’t just turn around and say “fuck me.” He’ll get upset, not just at the language, but he’ll think you’re unhappy or unsatisfied. That’s not true, you’re just not…fully satisfied.

Steve’s breathing is pushing his gloriously broad chest against your back, and it’s part of one particular position you’ve been imagining, so of course, you whine involuntarily. That doesn’t help.

“Honey, are you in pain?”

Yeah, you’ve really done it now. He won’t go back to sleep until he gets a solid answer and it’s an explanation he believes, so you are fucked but not in the way you wanted.

“No,” you croak slightly because you’ve been salivating thinking of things for the past hour and didn’t intend to use your mouth to speak, “fine.” You can hear his perfect, concerned frown from all the way at the back of your head. What’s the worst that could happen? You sexually attack Captain America and he fights back? Great, you’re gonna die of embarrassment anyway. Crack that can of whoop-ass open and hope it lands on your left ass-cheek because—

Oh boy, you really do need to calm down.

He props himself up on an elbow.

You can do this. You’re a strong, modern woman, and you’re just asking for what you want. He’s a grown man. He can handle it. He can man-handle yo—Focus. Come on now—REALLY? That’s worse.

Every single thought you have is directing you back to that almost sore ache in your stomach. The few times you’ve tried to make light of sexual innuendo, Steve’s said you sound like Tony. Maybe you should get Tony to have this talk with him? No. Steve would never, ever speak to you again because Tony would never, ever stop talking about it.

You have no way out of this. It’s happening. He could do this all day. You wouldn’t starve; he’d bring you food and water. He’d probably even do all the physical therapy to keep your muscles from atrophying while he waits for the whole truth, but you’d still be disappointed because…he wouldn’t even tie you down.

You clear your throat and roll over. It’s dark, but you’ve both been sitting in the dark so long you can kinda see. You can see enough to be hyper-aware that you’re both naked still, which should help but does not help at all.

It’s go time, or as Tony said that once—as awful then as it is now—“clench them thighs and ride that bull, sweetie.” Oh man, you hate Tony, but you love Tony to death. What a fucking lunatic…

Steve lays down again so you are eye to eye. You can’t even see the blue of his eyes, and they’re still piercing you.

“So,” you start because maybe it’ll all fall out perfectly if you just say shit, “you’re great but—“

Steve immediately tenses all over. Great start, great plan, and you should keep your day job. Therapist isn’t for you.

“No, no, that didn’t—it’s not bad—I just can’t—“ Even though you don’t have super senses, you can tell Steve has stopped breathing. You need to fix it, and fix it fast. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so your hand goes straight to his dick, shifting you close enough to feel Steve inhale sharply. That’s enough to keep you going. “I…would like more…” You got this. You can do it. “…passion, or like, a show of passion, if you feel that way…”

Steve’s hand cups your face. “Honey, do you think I don’t love you? That’s ridiculous.”

“No, I just mean that—“ retracting your hand “—if you feel intensely…into me—“ you start talking with your hands because it fills the small space between you “—then I’d be very interested in that…sort of thing.” Awesome. You explained nothing.

He’s quiet, thinking. Then he’s thinking for too long, and that is not a good indicator. You still can’t think of any better words because he’ll take offense to “aggressive” or “rough.” In Steve’s mind, those things cannot equal love; they are demeaning and would trivialize what he values about you and what your value is as a woman and human being.

That is…so fucking nice, but would it kill him to pull your hair just a little? Hold you down just to keep an angle for—

Poor Steve’s wheels are still turning. At this rate, it’ll be morning before you ease him into your point, so you just have to do it.

“I want you to fuck me.” The whites of his eyes are definitely visible in the dark. How could they not be? There’s so much of them showing. “I understand—I know you love me, but I feel safe enough with you, and I know you won’t hurt me, so yeah…”

Oscar-worthy. Clearly. You can’t imagine why you stalled so long.

Steve says nothing, and all of the fight but none of the frustration drains from your body. Words are a minefield. You can’t say you’d like to experiment with him because duh. You can’t tell him to be more manly because also duh, and nothing is getting to the crux of what and how you want to feel except…

“I’d like us to explore,” you intone very slowly, “options…of pleasure.” The hesitation in your own voice is less than convincing, but at least none of the words should trigger an outright ‘no.’

“I’m…” Steve’s voice is extremely quiet, making it deeper and more sexual than he probably intends, so you press one knee over the other and brace for anything. “I’m not sharing you.”

You snort. Ok, so you’re not quite there, and in typical Cap-fashion, he’s hurtled right over the point and run off.

“Uh, no, babe,” you use his cheeky nickname because it’s cute that he’s so thick sometimes. “Wow, no. Okay, so—“ the hands are back flailing to help “—I was thinking more about how when I’m really excited to be with you that I feel like a powerful urgency—“

He places one broad hand against your naked hip with just a hint of grip and pressure.

You forget where the thought was going. You just had the words, or a least some words, but they’re gone now because his hand is very warm and you’re sweating again.

“Have you ever heard of the phrase—“ Het up? No, you can’t say that. He’ll be even more confused. “—wild abandon?”

There’s a rumble of recognition in Steve’s throat. You’re getting somewhere, you think. Maybe.

“And I’m not…wild enough?”

Nope. There’s clearly no way to not bruise his ego and get your point across. “Well,” your voice cracks an octave too high, “I’m tired, so this is done.” You start to roll back over, but his hand gets a lot heavier, a now distinctly firm grip anchoring your bones to the bed.

“No, this is important.” Steve almost never seems mad, but he seems…something. He shifts up again to hold his head close and over yours. “Show me.”

That’s not a request. He isn’t being polite or curious. Steve Rogers gave you an order, and damn, now you’re getting somewhere.

You’ve had the fantasies for long enough that it’s all basically muscle memory, even though you’ve never pulled Steve to you so fast, and you’ve never shoved your tongue in his mouth so quickly, and you’ve never bit his bottom lip so hard. You toss your leg up and over his and fling yourself on top of him (which basically he had to let you do because he is 100% strong and heavy enough to not have moved an inch). It almost makes you laugh when you grasp his wrists in both your hands; this wouldn’t hold him for a second, but you’re under orders now. Commit to the cause.

Show don’t tell, right? So you straddle his hips and center yourself over him before rocking back and forth in long strokes. After only a few, you can feel your wetness start to smooth over his skin, and as Steve hardens, his cock presses into your lips. You let your breath come out in hot gasps, mainly because you didn’t think to control that before the head of him is right there about to breach—

“Honey, we need a condom.”

You stop. Whatever little spell of confidence you’d been under breaks, and you release his hands before climbing off him and the side of the bed. It’s thoughtful. He’s totally right. You’re absolutely gonna hide in a corner and die of embarrassment because it’s out there now—your horny inner self has been seen. No amount of darkness can cover it back up.

You face the wall, psyching yourself up for getting back into bed, arms wrapped around your bare middle like the blanket you’re missing. Eyes shut, you try to hold your breathing steady while rustling continues behind you. It’s probably Steve just getting the blanket to cover you with. He probably doesn’t care about whether he’s turned on at all. He just wants your comfort. That’s all great, but it would also have been great to just fuck yourself on him.

And there he is, hand at the small of your back, gentle as always, cautious as ever—oh my. His hand slides down, pinky finger actually tucking into your crack before he palms the swell of your ass. That’s…that’s certainly a firmer grip than usual, and the dig of his fingers to spread you is magic. Very promising.

He leans into your ear, whole glorious body flush beside you, condom on and all, and he whispers, “anything at all you don’t like, you stop me.”

Yes, sir. “Uh huh,” you huff out instead of any coherent words. You relish the warmth on one side of you, skin chilled by the open air on the other, before Steve starts to slide down to his knees, pushing at your ass and hip till you face him.

You’re struggling to balance even until he’s holding you still, plunging his face into the nest of hair at your center, tasting the hints of slick you rubbed against him before—did he just moan?! The sound crumples your resolve to stay upright while these luxurious bursts of arousal shiver up your spine, but he’s there, super-strength and super-control coordinating to lift your legs over his shoulders and angle your descent onto the bed. It’s not a fall or a flop onto the mattress; you are flowing down to it like water, and the way Steve’s lapping at you now certainly gives the impression he’s thirsty.

Little convulsions force your hand up to your chest, useless while he’s pushing your legs apart, nuzzling to get just the angle he wants, and—oh, that moan was you that time.

Steve’s encouraged, and ‘enthusiastic’ might be too light a descriptor for the type of intent he has on your pleasure at the moment. He’s consuming every buck of your hips and shake of your muscles. He’s echoing every lost syllable from your drying mouth which pants cold air as jolts of electricity ricochet all over you, all returning to be sucked out by his ravaging attention.

This is where the trick comes: when Steve makes love to you, he wants to see you, to be face to face and ready to cradle you through your orgasm. Now you’re used to that. Now you want that closeness, but you can’t discourage this, right? This is great progress.

Doesn’t matter. You want what you want. Your hand latches onto the top of his head, fingers brutally pulling at his hair to get him up to your mouth in time. Steve stretches over you easily, curling down to meet you, and while his lips are attached to your neck for the briefest moment, your other hand grasps to line him up so he can fill you. As large as he is, you’re so aroused he practically falls in, and the all-at-once sensation has him open-mouth gasping against you before finishing his kiss. Rocking your hips drags your clit across him just enough to tip you over the edge, and you grip at his sides with weak arms.

Normally sweet and soothing with a soft touch and careful movements when you come, Steve hoists your ass up, keeping himself deep inside your fluttering walls, and bends to latch his mouth onto your nipple.

He starts thrusting again. Ragged, choked screams escape your unguarded lips. He reaches for your ankle behind his back and stretches it out, each new exposure of flesh to fresh air a rush and shiver, until his palm lies flat, pushing just above the back of your knee. He repeats this for the other side, pinning you at the edge of the bed. It’s a lot, but it’s not too much when every few thrusts, Steve moves his mouth to a new spot. He’s grounding you in this very real fantasy of yours; he’s exquisitely amateur.

Because you know Steve and Steve knows you, the excitement of him exploring this with you is magnificent. The minor hesitations in each new position for him melt away when he feels your excitement and pleasure. His mouth lands on your throat, and your fingers find his hair again. He slows and stops, arms releasing your legs.

He whispers into the skin below your ear, “do you…want to be on top again?”

It’s Steve; he can’t do dirty talk. He’ll say you’re beautiful and you feel good and parts of your body are beautiful and feel good, but he might actually burst into flames if he ever uttered the words “ride me” or “fuck me.” Oh man, is it still exciting to hear him ask though…

You nod, realizing by the stiffness of your muscles that this exploration has gone on much longer than you thought, and it thrills you. Time still gets lost and you still feel connected even when Steve isn’t embracing you the whole time. You hope he feels that too.

Steve climbs onto the bed beside you, ignoring where the pillows are and how you’d normally sleep, a testament to how invested he is in this time and possibly his own pleasure. He lays there, heavy breaths lifting his broad chest, dick hard and strained in a slick condom, looking possibly the sexiest you’ve ever seen him.

Normally, Steve likes you to come together, and that’s it. The one-for-one ratio has been broken now, making you invested in keeping this worthwhile for you both. He’s just so fucking gorgeous, and you know from months of experience that he has no fucking idea how gorgeous. You get to savor him. He’s going to let you savor his body.

You straddle him again, confidence returning as your fingers graze over his barely sweating skin, pale and faint in the dark. Steve keeps his hands up, unsure whether to return them to their previous position without your instruction. Honestly, you don’t care, too enchanted by the possibilities, your hands tucking around the hard muscles encasing his waist, leaning to kiss his sternum. All the salty skin you cover up to his throat has you in a heady focus on his every move, and you slowly lower yourself back to feeling his taut erection against your expectant cunt. Using the word, even just in your head, sets off the automated reaction of ‘things-Steve-won’t-like,’ but that fuels your urge to try anything you want tonight. You have permission. Goodness knows, Steve isn’t going to magically talk dirty.

You stretch across him to reclaim that soft spot on his neck, noticing a rumble start in his throat and that his dick pulses up just the slightest bit. Now you’re curious, beginning a tentative sweep of your hips to then tuck lower when you feel his tip pass your apex. It takes a few strokes, but then you two are aligned just right, and you can sink down his length without having used your hands at all.

The rumble becomes a groan. Steve’s arms fall, tips of his fingers brushing your knees. You untuck your hands and crawl them up to perch on his chest. Steve is staring into your eyes when you finally meet his, but in the dark, it’s not immediately obvious to you how engrossed he is. Not until you start riding him in earnest, rolling your hips and letting your hands wander more. His broad palms slide up to either side of your ass, following, not leading, planted without pressure.

Well, by all means, if he’s staring, you may as well give him a show. You begin to shift back, slowly and steadily lifting up and sliding down him, moving your hands from his chest to guide his up to your breasts. That’s a tough sell; Steve abhors any type of objectification, but by your lead, he allows it, very softly rubbing his thumbs across your nipples. He’s rewarded with more moans. He’s a quick study once you tell him a subject exists to learn.

He takes the initiative to pinch at one nipple, and you’re downright proud of him and the sound you make to encourage him, falling backwards to prop yourself up against his thigh. You watch carefully as Steve’s eyes fall from your chest to where his cock disappears inside you. His hands stall, he’s so mesmerized. Your hands stroke at his thighs in time with your up and down movements, and that confidence combined with this growing lust for the man you already have inside you pushes you to take in every inch of him you can, reaching back beneath your own ass to massage his balls.

Steve makes a strangled noise, and his hands fall to your hips again. You release him immediately about to dismount in concern that you’ve gone too far until he wraps his arms around your waist. You fall to his chest, his length still buried inside you when his hips thrust up. Steve pants into your hair before plunging his fingers through the strands and wrenching you up to face him. His hips keep thrusting. From his expression, this is barely Steve. Steve is lost in you right now, and the man who can run a marathon without breaking a sweat is exhausting the air in the room to fuck into you. Somehow the hard hold in your hair is one of the most loving things he’s ever done to you because Steve is uncontrollably feeling you, letting himself feel you, enjoying himself feeling you.

His pumping becomes erratic and suddenly he’s sitting you both up while he firmly grinds your whole body down onto him, foreheads together, mouths open and desperate just inches apart. In all the times you’ve had sex, Steve has never kept his eyes closed when he comes. It’s a night of firsts all around.

“I’m sorry, love, I…” He slowly unknots his fist from your hair and slides his hand down your damp skin to your ass, lifting the weighty cheek so you can adjust in his lap. Your shifting makes him gasp in overstimulation. You wish you could see every micro expression cascading across his features, but it’s too dark. You just have to imagine his shock, awe, and satisfaction because Steve does not like to be dirty or stuck in a spent condom. You should let him clean up.

The start of your movement is cut short by the grip at your waist. Steve nuzzles at your cheek. “You’re still—“ he brings the other hand around from your ass to flatten it low across your belly “—wet.”

You’re too taken aback to laugh but a huff and smile will suffice, leaning against his forehead. “It’s fine.”

Steve shakes his head ‘no’ a few dragging times then kisses you, deep and serious, his ‘I love you’ kiss that lasts far longer than the words would if dropped from his lips into the air. His grip relaxes as he pulls away, making you keen forward for more.

“Touch yourself,” he says into your lips just before the distance is closed. Your thoughts muddle; you’re not sure you even heard right. He gives you a quick but tender kiss. “Touch yourself for me.” There’s a twinge of excitement in that order, a bit of a dare mixed with softening lust. You activate weak thighs to prop up, but Steve has to help lift you to crawl off and towards your pillow.

You lay out, cold without him near you, as he uses the baby wipes by the bed to clean himself off. You have to close your eyes for a bit of courage. The last time you tried this in front of Steve, he openly argued that he thought it meant he wasn’t enough for you. You won’t even mention that you masturbate, even if you’re always thinking about him, even if it’s when he’s on a mission and simply can’t be there to please you. Now you’ll have even more to miss when he’s away…

He wasn’t wrong; you are still wet, and the sensitivity you feel even grazing a finger across yourself is a testament to how fucking hot the whole encounter has been. You’ve barely inserted a finger when you feel the mattress dip beneath one bent knee. You think he’s coming to take over, that he simply meant to give him a moment until he returned, but Steve crawls towards your foot instead and rests a hand on your ankle. He makes no move to interfere.

As you add another finger and curl them up inside you, you open the heavy lids of your eyes to see him settling at your feet, head lowering to kiss your inner thigh just above your knee. He’s giving you space. He might even be taking notes, but who the fuck cares when you can still see him coming apart beneath you. When you first roll your slick fingers over your clit, it feels just like his tongue did, and you’re positive you will never not think about that from now on. You’ve got so many beautiful, desperately sexy mental images of him, and they’re all cramming together to build that wildly scorching pressure that Steve Rogers has ordered you to chase. It’s distracting how many different ways you can picture taking him now that the doors are wide open and you know he can enjoy it. It’s so distracting you can’t keep any semblance of rhythm.

Steve kisses a little higher on your thigh, and you feel his hand caressing lower and lower. He’s still just watching with a hungry fascination you never would have imagined. You feel like the first moving picture he’s ever seen, something incomprehensible and distinctly desirable with this intimately exhibitionist behavior. You can’t keep up for much longer. The fantasies are breeding with reality and spawning more things you can picture and things you want to do, but Steve is there to help.

He’s ready, painting some of the slick on your inner thigh onto his middle and ring fingers, gliding them past your own as you desperately rub at your clit again. He crooks them at just the perfect angle and matches little pulses with the circles you make above until that prickling strain inside you starts to implode moments before the dam of ecstasy breaks. Steve’s mouth pushes away your hand as he sucks your nerves gloriously raw, the tip of his tongue circling just as your muscles contract, and he follows your body as it shrinks away. You half-scream encouragement while Steve doesn’t relent, replacing his mouth with his thumb as he watches your cum squirt all over his hand. Two more waves of release roll through you before it’s over.

Once he withdraws his fingers, Steve rests his palm across your drenched sex, soothing and steady, while he shifts his body around so his other hand can cup the back of your neck. He’s gentle but you’re still muttering nonsense until Steve kisses your brow.

“I’ve got you. I’m with you, love.”

You blindly tilt and stretch searching for his mouth because the edges of your numb bliss are starting to singe in the remaining embers of desire. First, your lips connect to his sharp jaw but suction there anyway, latching hard enough to leave a mark even on the enhanced man above you. Then he finds you proper, smoothing his hand from your core to the small of your back to lift you close to him, chest to chest, fingers sliding into your hair. You’re sloppy, groping and grabbing at his sweaty back, intoxicated by the intensity of his attention. He’s doing it again, grounding you via deep, solid kisses. The smoldering edges calm, still melting against the heat of him in your arms.

Eventually, Steve breaks away, settling his forehead to yours before flipping you to the other side of the mattress and covering your limp form in the blanket. It’s only when he leaves the bed and returns with towels that you realize he gave you his spot to keep you dry. He asks before delicately moving the covers to wipe your body clean, whispering little praises and sweet nothings, until tucking himself under the blanket with you, wedged together on two-thirds of your whole mattress.

Steve nuzzles into your hair to kiss the crown of your head, behind your ear, and your temple, sliding his arm to replace the pillow at your neck. He snakes an arm around your waist and down your arm until he laces his fingers into yours. He settles, saying nothing for a whole minute while you both simply enjoy the comfort of being close.

Suddenly, you hear him let out a little laugh.

“There’s my best girl’s happy heartbeat,” he sighs, kissing your bare shoulder.

Now we are getting somewhere, you think. The rest of the night is the best sleep you think you’ve ever had.

(More on Steve's *thing* for stockings)

#steve x reader #fools rush in #steve x you #fluff and romance #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #fluff and feels #fanfic #series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #soft!steve rogers

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Relax

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Smut

Concept Helping to Relax

Smut BJ

I sat on the ottoman with my head in my copy of the Toronto primary tournament games last year, I glanced across the apartment seeing the familiar sight. Benny sat in his brown leather chair deep in his reading. He was aggravated. Barefoot, in his dark blue jeans and black shirt. His usual chains and rings across him as always. His hair was a little messy where he had been fixing it in his stress. I felt awful for him, my poor benny. He doesn't much like change, he likes to plan things out, probably part of his chess brain. But yesterday morning we received news from the chess federation that the championship tournament that was supposed to be being held Austin was now last minute being moved to Vegas. Meaning, travel, hotels, food, even laundry for packing needed to be changed in one week. On top of rent being due while Benny is in an all out battle with our landlord because he refused to fix the hot water for the last month. And just to add additional spice to the soup of this week the car got towed. I assume due to the parking tickets benny was refusing to pay don't the grounds that our landlord claims that's a parking space outside the apartment . So I can imagine he wasn't particularly happy and rather stressed but it's understandable. He sat his paperwork down and rubbed his eyes trying his best to get his head straight.

"You okay?"

"Umm? Oh. Fine" he grumbled "sorry hun I'm just a bit.."

"It's alright benny" I smiled putting my book down going over and crawling into his lap giving him a cuddle "is there anyway I can help?"

"No. I'll be fine. Sorry for being a dick"

"It's alright I know what your like when your stressed it's okay" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss "you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"I'm sure"

"Coffee?"

"No that'll just keep me up and I'm already tried hun"

"Soup?"

"Ummm not that hungry." He shurgs

"Would you like me to run you a hot bath?'

"Hot water still isn't working remember"

"Oh yeah. Would you like me to run you a cold bath?"

"No thank you y/n."

"Okay, does cuddle help or would you like me to go away?"

"The cuddle helps. You always help" he smiled wrapping his arms around me giving me a tight squeeze

"Ummm I love you" I smiled nuzzling into his chest

"Love you too" he says cracking a smile and giving my forehead a kiss

"I'm sorry your so stressed"

"Not your fault, is it?"

"I know but -"

"Trust me. You my sweet are far more help them you know" he says

"You sure there isn't anything I can do to help make you feel better?"

"No it's okay"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure"

"...what if I?" I smiled trying not to blush he pushed me back a little so he could see my face giving me a questionable look

"If you what?"

"If I?" I smirked glancing down at the belt on his jeans for a moment he had no reaction as he often didn't on the few times I did stuff like this he just sort of sat there vacantly I always called it Benny's reboot as it was as if his brain was buffering, before then giving me a confused but inquisitive look

"Really?"

I nodded

"Really?"

"If it would make you feel better?"

"Well… it might" he smirked

"Okay" I smiled moving off the chair grabbing one of my hair ties from the table and tying my hair up in a bun so it was all out of my face

And when I looked back he had already egarly tugged his jeans away enough to reveal his half hard erection in his boxers slowly getting harder. I giggled a little and moved a cushion from the makeshift sofa to the floor, kneeling on it between his legs. I seductively moved my hands up his legs to the waistband of his boxers tugging them down quickly exposing him making him hiss from the sudden temperature change I ran my hand slowly across his sharft feeling it harden against my hand

"Just relax. I'll take care of you" I smiled gently taking him into my mouth slowly starting to run my tongue across him, slowly moving my head, and slowly sucking all of which made him melot into the chair rolling his head back as he completely let himself go and relaxed utterly into what I was doing to him, the only sound to leave his lips quiet mutterings and groans he was unable to stop I made sure not to overwhelm him but slowly increasing my speed so the change was almost un noticeable

"fuck... your so good to me y/n" he groans

I continued slowly getting faster and more intense until he suddenly grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer finishing quickly I smirked and swallowed licking him clean and moving to my feet wiping my mouth and fixing his boxers and jeans

"That help?" I asked

"Umm very much y/n"

"relaxed?"

"yes, thank you very much" he smirked tugging me down to cuddle with him "I love you so much"

"I love you too"

"Don't I get a kiss?" he pouts

"I just sucked your dick?"

"Good point"

#benjamin #benny #benny watts #benny x reader #benny fanfic #benny smut #tqg benny watts #benny watts imagine #benny watts smut #benny imagine #tqgbennywatts #BENNYWATTS #bennywattssmut

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purple-babygirl · 3 years

Note

request if open; daddy!bucky had a bad day and little!reader is just trying to comfort him but he accidently lashes out and yells at her/pushes her and immediately feels guilty but she regresses even more into her little space and is scared of him, you can kinda play around w this and figure out how it ends! xx

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word Count: 3,423 (you know you love me)

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, yelling, harsh treatment, crying, angst turned fluff?

A/N: thank you so much for sending this in, nonnie. i took your request and ran with it to angst land. Hope you enjoy xx💜

~~~~~

signature needed

“Dada,”

She could see Bucky’s frown, the lines on his forehead wrinkling his handsome face up. She knew it meant he was upset and she never wanted Daddy to be upset. She knew he never left her upset.

Bucky’s been looking like that since he walked through the mansion door that morning, barely acknowledging her when she greeted him. He almost forgot to give her her welcome-home kiss even.

“Not now, angel,” Bucky murmured, proceeding to flip through the papers covering his desk, huffing and puffing every now and then at the mess he was stuck trying to fix.

“Wanna show you somethin’,” she whispered, biting back a smile.

“Later, angel. I’m busy right now.”

He regretted telling her to come in. He should’ve known she’d be nothing but a distraction.

“Dada, jus’ take one look,” she bounced on her feet before slipping a neat sheet of paper on top of Bucky’s desk, momentarily blocking his view of the contracts he was angrily staring at. Now that made Bucky mad.

“I said I was busy!” Bucky shouted as his head snapped to her, his hand slamming down on the paper without even seeing it, blindly crumpling it and throwing it on the floor at her feet. She flinched at the sudden outburst, taking a step back.

“Dada,” tears filled her eyes as she looked at her discarded paper. Bucky just broke her heart.

“Why don’t you ever listen!” Bucky grabbed her arm tighter than usual, pulling her back to him, “How many times do I need to repeat the words for you to understand! I said not now, didn’t I?!” He let go of her arm with more force than he’d intended, making her stumble a little.

She was terrified now. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Bucky with wide eyes. He has never lashed out on her like that, not even when she was big. She was scared. As her breath picked up, she wished she’d never left her playroom.

“Get out and don’t step into this office again until I tell you you can, you hear me?” Bucky growled, oblivious to the signs of regression and horror showing on her face.

Her quick nods set off no alarms in his head as he watched her run out of his office.

Bucky felt bad about taking his anger out on her the second she fled the room. He flopped back down with a huff, flipping through the contracts again and again with no focus. He threw them down carelessly, running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

Cracking his hurting neck, Bucky regretted raising his voice at her. He couldn’t see the words on the contracts; her teary eyes flashing through his mind every time he tried reading.

Why did he have to yell? He could’ve just looked at her paper. She was likely trying to show him a drawing. Why couldn’t he just go with it? He’s sworn he’d never let anybody hurt his angel and then he goes and does this?

Bucky was ashamed. What kind of Daddy was he if he treated his little like that? It was no excuse that he was still getting used to being a Daddy. Bucky knew that wasn’t how a man should treat his girl.

He bowed forward, picking up the balled paper by his desk. He carefully straightened it, deciding to fix his angel’s damaged drawing and make it up to her.

Only it wasn’t a drawing; the paper was a handwritten Daddy-Angel contract. It even had colourful flowers, bees and butterflies decorating the paper and everything.

She was probably trying to play office with him; probably just wanted Bucky to pretend he was signing her paper too.

A sad smile spread across Bucky’s lips as he read the paper. The contract stated that

- Dada will smile

- Dada will not be angry no more

- Dada will let me sit on his lap (will be quiet pp)

- Dada will play with me after work

Dada: ……………..

The paper ended with a free space for Bucky to sign in case of agreement to the ‘terms’.

There were a lot of moments where Bucky wished he could turn back time, but not being able to do so in this very moment seemed to torture him the most. He was an asshole.

She just wanted him to calm down. She respected that he was working and she wasn’t trying to interrupt, she merely wanted him to smile. She even pinky promised to sit quietly in his lap.

Bucky has messed up and it was for nothing because the damage to his work has already been done. He shouted at her like she was responsible when she was just trying to help him feel better.

Bucky got his pen out of his pocket, signing the empty place by his name, remorsefully sighing at his utter stupidity.

“Angel,” Bucky called, knocking on the door before opening it.

She wasn’t in her playroom, but Bucky could see her round table full of similar papers to the one he had folded in his pocket.

She’s made at least 6 of these ‘contracts’, some of them were written in different colours or had spelling mistakes.

She’d obviously worked hard until she settled on the paper to give him and he ended up throwing it on the floor.

Bucky’s hand rubbed his face, frustrated at himself and his lack of control. An asshole was what he was. An asshole.

“Angel, where are you, baby?” Bucky sighed, opening the bedroom door to see her sitting, hugging her knees on the large bed.

She looked too tiny bundled up like that and her muffled sniffles punched at Bucky’s heart.

“Angel.”

She only lifted her head up when she felt the bed dip under Bucky’s weight and panic flashed over her delicate features.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Bucky said, his hand instinctively moving to wipe her tears only to have her flinch back, squeezing her eyes shut as if she was awaiting a blow.

Bucky’s heart stopped beating for a second when he realized what had just happened.

She was scared of him. His angel had flinched away from his touch. A huge lump formed in Bucky’s throat as she opened her eyes again, “angel?”

“Please don’ hurt me. Won’ come to the office. Won’ leave the room.” She shook her head and sobbed, scurrying back on the bed and away from Bucky.

This pained Bucky more than any punishment he thought he deserved. The look on her face was enough for him to want the walls to open up and swallow him.

“Angel, I would never hurt you. You know that.” Bucky whispered, sniffing back the tears about to spill down his bearded cheeks.

He needed to hear her say she did. He needed to know she knew Bucky could never hurt her.

She looked from Bucky to her left arm where his metal hand had grabbed her earlier. His fingers had left a mark around her arm. The skin was still pulsing as if his hold on her never loosened.

It was too late and it didn’t matter what he said because he’d already hurt her and the evidence was on her body.

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed as he swallowed again. He didn’t know what to say. He was supposed to be the one protecting her, not the one hurting her. How could he do such a thing to his angel?

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, shaking his head regretfully before trying to get closer to her.

Her instant reaction was to crawl back further and Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. He felt his soul leaving his body when he looked her in the eyes and saw fear.

A tear betrayed him, falling down, gliding by his lips. Bucky wiped it away quickly, sniffing and clearing his throat.

“I signed your contract, angel.” Bucky got the paper out of his pocket, opening it and putting it on the bed for her to see.

Her eyes looked down and more tears left them at the sight of her once fine work now ruined.

“I’m so sorry, angel. Daddy was bad, baby. I’m sorry,” Bucky pleaded, his fingers reaching out for hers.

She pulled her hand away quickly, hiding it behind her back and Bucky knew he had really messed up. It was no use trying.

She was scared of him. His touch frightened her and was no longer a symbol of comfort to her.

He took his hand away, straightening his back and getting off the bed.

“I-I’ll see you at lunch then.” Bucky sniffed again.

“And angel?” he called from the door, getting her attention.

“Thank you for caring for daddy. I love you.” Bucky has never heard his voice as weak as he did in that moment and he felt even worse when she didn’t say it back.

When the table was set and Bucky came out of his office to find her chair empty, another lump was quick to form in his throat.

He wasn’t even hungry. He had no appetite to eat; he just wanted to see her but didn’t have the guts to peek into their bedroom again.

“Angel?” Bucky was ready to knock on the bedroom door but it was already open.

He carefully pushed it and took a look inside to find the bed empty. He tried not to freak out as he knocked the en suite bathroom door and got no answer. When he opened it, she wasn’t there either.

Bucky could hear his own blood pumping in his ears because she was no where to be found in her playroom as well.

She left. She left him and she had every right to. How could he lose her? How could he lose the one good thing in his life?

Tears distorted Bucky’s vision as his hand clutched the side of the door. His heart clenched at the thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her sweet voice call for him again; never getting to smell her on his pillow again.

The sound of her feet padding on the floor behind him pulled Bucky out of his head and he thought he’d imagined it for a second. He turned around and she froze when his eyes fell on her.

She shifted on her feet, hiding one behind the other and internally hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice she was roaming around with bare feet when he’d specifically asked her not to before.

That was the last of Bucky’s concerns at the moment though. He was just relieved she didn’t leave him even if he deserved it.

“Where were you, angel?” the tenderness of Bucky’s tone let her know he wasn’t mad at her for walking around shoeless.

“Couldn’ fin’ PinePine,” she replied softly, referring to the white feline, “’s lunch time.” Her eyes remained fixed on her feet as she avoided Bucky’s.

He was secretly thankful for that, not wanting her to see him in tears twice in the same day.

She was so pure; so caring and loving to everyone around. Bucky found himself slightly jealous of his own cat for a second there.

“Where did you find, PinePine?” He asked calmly, just wanting to hear her speak to him.

“Downstairs,” she answered shortly, leaving Bucky disappointed.

“Let’s go then. The table’s set.” Bucky smiled, hesitantly offering her his hand.

She stood unmoving for a few seconds, eyes still casted down, before she decided to hold onto Bucky’s pointer.

He sighed, knowing she was still scared but didn’t want to reject him. She was so sweet on him even when he least deserved it.

When lunch was over, Bucky let her know she could come to the office whenever she wanted, although he doubted she would. She gave a small nod before running back to the other room as Bucky shouted an “I’ll get back to work then.” behind her.

He didn’t actually get back to work. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think of anything but the way she pulled away from his touch every single time he tried to come near her, or the way she forced herself to hold one of his fingers as they walked less than 10 steps together to the dining room. She'd even begged him not to hurt her earlier.

How did he let himself fuck up so bad? When did they get there? What was he going to do now? How does one get forgiven after being this awful?

A lamp lit above the mafia boss’ head and he grabbed a clean sheet of paper before he could lose the idea.

Bucky was going to write his angel a contract. A pardon contract.

His Daddy-Angel 2.0 contract stated that:

- Angel will forgive Daddy

- Angel will not be sad with Daddy no more

- Angel will sit on Daddy’s lap (even if she doesn’t wanna be quiet)

- Angel will play with Daddy after work if she still wants to

Angel: …………….

Bucky sighed as he tried to draw anything other than sloppy hearts in the empty places around the words to decorate the paper but he was terrible at this. He was desperately in need of his angel’s forgiveness though so he scratched his beard and kept working.

Bucky needed to know she wasn’t actually scared of him; not her. Anyone but her. He wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t be able to ever tolerate himself if she didn’t forgive him.

Bucky’s tongue was hanging outside the side of his mouth as he drew another birdie on the bottom of the contract. It didn’t really look like a bird, unless of course that bird was struck by lightning a hundred times before, but Bucky thought it would do. After all, he was no artist. He didn’t draw. He didn’t deal with colours; he dealt with weapons. His hands were rough for a reason. But he would do anything for his angel. Anything to win her over again.

A knock on his door cut off his focus and Bucky groaned.

“Come in.”

He felt sorry for whoever had the bad luck of interrupting him during his contract-making, ready to yell at someone.

Bucky looked up from his desk when he didn’t hear anyone speaking, and his face has never softened so fast.

It was his girl who’d come into the office. She had her folded contract in her hand and her eyes were looking kind of puffy from crying.

Bucky just stared at her in remorse, pushing his chair back a bit as he watched her walk closer to his seat.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He was so sorry. He’s never been sorrier in his life. He wanted nothing more than to take every word and every harsh touch back.

She stood there for a second, waiting to see if Bucky was going to kick her out this time too. When he didn’t, she rounded the desk and stopped by Bucky’s chair.

Bucky remained speechless, not wanting to scare her away again. She came to him. She came on her own. Unless she came to throw the contract in his face and break up with him, that should be a good sign.

Her tongue peeked outside, wetting her lips nervously before she stretched an arm out, ever so carefully nearing it to Bucky’s thigh. Her gaze was glued to Bucky’s face, gauging his reaction. When Bucky’s frown didn’t show up she let her palm touch Bucky’s leg.

Bucky didn’t understand what she was doing but he wouldn’t dream of questioning her. He was just glad she was okay with touching him again at all after what he’d done, even if she was doing it so cautiously it broke his heart to a thousand pieces.

With her stare trained on Bucky, she stepped forward, slotting herself in the small space between Bucky’s chair and his desk, facing him. Her hands moved to grab on Bucky’s strong shoulders, still watching his face. She swallowed before effortlessly climbing on, cozily curling herself on his lap.

Bucky’s heart swelled as he felt her nose nuzzle his shirt. His own emotions overwhelmed him and tears gathered in his eyes.

“Angel?” his voice was barely a whisper as he looked down to her, careful not to startle her.

She looked up at him worriedly, thinking he didn’t want her where she was.

Her eyes showed fear for a short second before she unfolded the scrunched paper in her hand, a finger pointing to the third term.

“Dada signed,” she said, her eyes so innocent and Bucky couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“Oh, angel,” Bucky’s tears uncontrollably rolled down, wetting his beard.

He held her so close, she could hear his heartbeats drumming in his chest.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Bucky cried, wetly kissing her forehead over and over.

“I’m sorry, my angel. Forgive me,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her bruised shoulder before lifting both hands to his lips and kissing them, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Dada,” her smaller hands cupped Bucky’s cheeks as sadness covered her features.

She’s never seen Bucky like that. Not even at his father’s funeral did he sob like that.

She didn’t know it but to Bucky, the thought of losing her hurt more than the actual loss of a family member who never gave two shits about him.

She was Bucky’s everything. His love, his partner, his companion, his baby angel. She was the one who stole his heart and took good care of it. Bucky would give up anything and everything in life and choose her to forever keep, protect and love.

Her short thumbs wiped under Bucky’s eyes, pushing his tears away. She turned to straddle him and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder.

The smell of her hair calmed Bucky’s heart down as he turned his face to kiss her head, hands settling on her back, “I will never hurt you, angel. Please tell me you know that, my love.”

Bucky’s hoarse voice had her pulling away from the hug. She sat back and looked her man in the eyes, her thumb brushing his chin, “I know,” she whispered and Bucky could see it in her eyes. She did. She believed him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

She stroked Bucky’s cheeks as he sniffled, smiling gratefully at her reply. And his whole world lit up again when she smiled back, timidly pecking the corner of his pink lips.

Oh she was a real angel. No one’s ever been this kind to Bucky before, only her. Bucky kissed her hand one more time, quietly thanking her for forgiving him.

“I made you a contract too,” Bucky told her with a chuckle, pointing to the desk behind her as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, her smile reaching her wide eyes. She turned around in Bucky’s lap, planting her knees on the chair between Bucky’s open legs and stood on them to take a look.

She took her time reading the words and then she was off Bucky’s lap and bolting out of the room.

The man was about to lose it again, thinking she’d remembered his cruelty towards her and changed her mind when she came running back inside the office.

She climbed back on the chair between Bucky’s thighs, her glitter pen in hand.

Bucky sighed in relief, his lips spreading with an adoring smile as he watched her write her name letter by letter in glittery ink where her signature was needed. Bucky held her waist, kissing her back as he admired how focused she was.

She closed the cap on the pen, placing it on the desk before picking up the contract to show Bucky.

“Angel signed,” she beamed, plopping herself against Bucky’s chest and clinging to him, earning a hearty chuckle from him.

“I love you so much, angel. More than anything in the world.” Bucky gently held her face by the chin, giving her lips a short kiss.

“I love you too, dada.” She smiled, blushing as she hid her face in his chest again.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him and closing his eyes, just enjoying the feel of her body against his once more, silently promising his angel to never hurt her ever again.

Tags:

@harrysthiccthighss

@tinystudentfirepurse

@lavendercitizen

@tumblin-theworldaway

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turtle-steverogers · 2 years

Note

Steve wanting his ma while he needs to be operated on will be the absolute death of me. I can't stop thinking about that post you made about it. If we could see more, that would be so painful!

(based off of this post)

Hello, hi!! Another person asked for Steve whump, so I sort of smushed the two asks together-- I hope that's okay!

(Read on ao3 here or keep reading below)

As soon as the quinjet touches down, there are doctors crowding the hatch. Bucky helps Steve down the ramp, easing him up onto one of the gurneys where one of the doctors-- a stern looking woman in a bright white lab coat-- helps him lay down. Steve can’t straighten out. The bullet that’s now absorbed into his goddamn body is lodged right beneath his sternum, and he’s been hunched over since his skin healed over the wound.

The doctors begin to hustle him away, but before they get very far, Steve’s hand shoots out towards Bucky. Instinctively, Bucky takes it.

Steve opens his mouth, shallow breaths forcing their way out of his lungs. His throat works, and he looks at Bucky desperately. “Don’t--”

“I’m coming, pal,” Bucky assures him, taking his hand. The doctors begin to move again, and Bucky walks alongside them. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve nods-- a jerking movement that has him wincing around a gag. Bucky tightens his hold on his hand, grounding him. Trying to bleed strength and comfort through a touch that’s wholly insufficient. Steve’s eyes are open and wide, blood vessels burst from where he’s already vomited violently after realizing that his skin had trapped the bullet that had hit him inside his body instead of rejecting it like it normally should.

They get inside the Tower, heading towards the med bay, and Steve’s gaze snaps to Bucky’s, somehow more harried than it had been a moment before.

“It-- fuck,” he hisses, body contorting as a wave of pain seems to wash over him. The pallor of his skin turns a shade whiter, and the veins around his temples strain. “Bucky.”

Bucky closes his eyes and counts to five, trying not to be sick himself. His hand tightens around Steve’s.

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m right here, Steve.” Use his name. Keep him present. Keep him here.

Steve whimpers. “It hurts.” And fuck, the way his voice cracks slices like a knife through Bucky’s chest. Sharp and small and scared. Eerily similar to the way Steve would call out for someone after a particularly bad coughing fit.

“I know,” Bucky says as they round into the med bay’s operating room.

The lights are bright and harsh, and Steve winces. Fuck, it’s loud in here, too. Steve’s senses are probably screaming on top of the pain. Bucky can’t imagine it’s anything less than agony. He glances at Steve’s torso again, his uniform gaping open around where the wound previously had been. In its place is dried blood and a sickening lump, protruding out from between Steve’s ribs. The sight makes Bucky sway.

Already, the doctors are preparing for surgery, a bustle of movement as they gather varying tools and layer into sanitary caps and gloves. It’s a blur, but Bucky stays still. By Steve’s side. Letting the world move around them for just a moment as he brushes the sweat soaked hair off Steve’s forehead.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Steve cracks his eyes open, and they’re wet with unshed tears. He’s trembling now, hard enough to shake the gurney, and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s shock or fear. Both, probably.

Two of the doctors approach to move Steve onto the operating bed, and Bucky has to let go while they do so. Steve grits his teeth, eyes fixed on the ceiling while he’s moved, and really, he should be screaming in agony. Writhing in pain. But he stays silent, save for a quiet hiss as he’s settled, and Bucky wants to punch something.

There’s more bustling as the doctors start to cut Steve’s uniform off of him, and Bucky watches, feeling helpless as Steve clenches and unclenches his jaw. A tear runs down the side of his face, and Bucky notices dried vomit on the corner of his mouth. Some distant instinct inside of him wants to reach out and wipe it away. Make sure he’s clean and comfortable before they have to put him through another round of hell to get the bullet out.

“Sergeant Barnes,” one of the doctors says, stepping into his view. Her arm is extended towards the door, motioning and-- “I’m going to have to ask you to--” No.

“No,” Bucky says, his voice as close to assertive as he lets it get with anyone when he’s not in the field. “Please, I can’t leave him like this. I’ll stay out of the way, just--”

“Please,” Steve pants from the bed. “I can’t-- just let him--”

“He can stay,” another doctor says, frantically moving to sterilize the equipment. “We need to get started. Now.”

The doctor in front of Bucky looks around at the other doctor and gives a nod, hurrying towards the bedside. Steve’s hands are clenched in the light blue sheets of the operating bed, eyes shut again as the surgeon prepares a scalpel and--

“Wait,” Bucky says, spine straightening. “What are you doing, he’s-- you haven’t put him under yet. He hasn’t been put on anesthesia.”

“Doesn’t work on me,” Steve grits out before one of the doctors can answer and, oh fuck. Bucky’s world tilts a few degrees left, and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t get sick.

“What the fuck?”

“Bucky, don’t--”

“No, just-- you’re not even going to try? There’s nothing you can give him?” Anger is boiling up in his chest. There’s no way they haven’t-- they can’t have-- “He’s been under your care for how long and you still haven’t figured out some goddamn way to--”

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice jars Bucky into silence, and he looks over to see Steve glaring at him with every ounce of severity his weak body can muster. But there’s fear there, too. Underlying terror as his jaw clenches and unclenches again. “It doesn’t work on me. It’s fine. They’ve done this before.”

And Bucky feels like the lowest dirt, making Steve feel like he needs to comfort him while he’s about to be cut open, but he’s fuming now. His right hand is shaking where it hangs at his side, and he clenches it into a fist.

“Why don’t you just-- I don’t know, give him some morphine. Blast him full of it until--”

“His body processes it too quickly,” the surgeon says, and Bucky notices the tightness in her eyes. She doesn’t like this either. “And if we keep pumping it into his system, and it continues to process it without actually aiding him in any way, we’ve found that it has adverse effects on things like his ability to clot blood and regulate nausea.”

Bucky closes his eyes, letting the anger settle in his gut. Another doctor clears his throat.

“Sergeant, if you can’t be present while this procedure happens, then I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside.”

“No,” Bucky says. He takes a moment to center himself; brooding will do nothing to help Steve here. He can show up. He can do this for him, like Steve has done so many times since Bucky came in from the cold. “It’s fine.” He opens his eyes, and finds Steve’s head turned towards him. He softens, shoulders dropping. “I’m staying.”

Steve studies his face as the doctors begin to move again, the surgeon pressing the scalpel to his skin. Bucky stares back, trying his damndest to be a rock for him. Not daring to look away first-- being a tether as long as Steve needs him to. Steve nods once, and doesn’t look away.

The surgeon slices into Steve’s skin just over where the bullet is lodged into his body, and Steve’s face contorts in pain as he gasps, a sharp inhale that turns into a gag. Two other doctors reach out to hold his shoulders steady, and Steve writhes away from them. The surgeon stops. Fuck.

“Shit,” Steve gasps. “Fuck, can Bucky-- let Bucky--”

Bucky is already moving to his side. The doctors must see no point in fighting, because they move out of the way, pressing down on his legs to keep him stable. Moving so he’s at the head of the bed instead, Bucky puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, staring at him upside down.

“Hey,” he murmurs as the surgeon goes to cut into his skin again. He makes the incision this time, and Bucky only watches for a second as Steve’s skin slices apart. “Look at me.”

Steve’s eyes snap from the ceiling to Bucky’s eyes. His pupils are dilated, and his lips are parted. There’s blood on his teeth from where he’s bitten his lip. Bucky starts to rub soothing circles with his thumbs as the surgeon continues to work.

Steve’s breaths are punching out of him again, but he manages to say, “I need you to— distraction. Please.”

“Yeah, pal,” Bucky soothes, casting around for something-- anything to offer. “Do you remember the time my dad brought home cotton candy and you threw it up everywhere?”

Steve’s eyes glaze over further for a moment, before lighting up just enough for Bucky to catch it.

“Oh god,” he says, laughing breathlessly. “Fuck, didn’t I vomit bright blue?”

Bucky smiles, casual like they’re talking in the dead of night. Facing each other in bed, legs tangled together. Trading memories like gossip at a sleepover. Like it’s some thrilling secret to be told-- something only they can own.

“Bright fucking blue,” he confirms. “Freaked me the fuck out.”

Steve’s nodding now, eyes flitting back and forth. Latching onto Bucky’s gaze. The surgeon has made a big enough incision now to access the bullet, and fuck, at least it was quick. Bucky watches Steve shudder through another wave of pain, lip caught between his teeth.

“Yeah,” Steve manages. “You started screaming, then you were crying and--”

“--And you hid in the closet,” Bucky says, leaning further over Steve, squeezing his shoulders more firmly as Steve jerks with the sensation of the surgeon easing the bullet out. He begins to cry. Small hitching breaths. Bucky keeps talking. “I think you were afraid my parents woulda gotten mad, but my dad just brought you one of my shirts and my ma scooped you out of the closet.”

Steve nods, voice strained. “Let me-- let me sit on the counter and peel potatoes while she cooked dinner.”

“And me and Becs played pirates in the other room. I was so worried.” Fuck, would there ever be a day he didn’t worry over Steve Rogers?

“Still don’t like-- fuck--” The surgeon finishes extracting the bullet and Steve’s hand tears the sheet beneath him, eyes screwed shut. He lets out a small sob, and sucks in a breath. “Still don’t like cotton candy.”

Bucky smiles, his heart aching for his brave guy. That sweet boy who never liked the hospital, and still is so secretly terrified of the sterile, white walls and the smell of cleansing bleach.

“I don’t like it much either,” Bucky murmurs, crowding closer as Steve starts to cry harder. The surgeon is working now to stitch him back shut through a skin grafting machine, and Steve reaches up to grasp Bucky’s hand where it’s still clamped around his shoulder. Bucky immediately laces their fingers together. Steve opens his eyes, stares at Bucky with sheer, naked fear. Pain that’s bone deep. An old nightmare bubbling to the surface.

“I want my ma,” he chokes out, and Bucky’s heart drops to his knees.

His face screws up as he squeezes Steve’s hand as tight as he dares. His free hand comes up to cup the side of Steve’s face upside down, brushing away a tear that’s rolling down his temple.

“I know,” he whispers harshly. “I know, pal. I know you’re scared.”

“Almost done, Captain,” the surgeon murmurs.

Steve trembles around another sob, sucking in a sharp breath when the machine doubles back to fuse together more skin.

“Shh, shh,” Bucky soothes. “Almost there, yeah? Almost done.”

Despite the surgeon's assurances, it feels like another eternity before Steve’s skin is knit back together completely. The obnoxious whirring of the machine comes to a halt, and Steve sags, exhausted and breathless. Tension still tightens his shoulders, and the pained lines of his face are still sharp, but he seems to be coming down. Bucky lets out a quiet sigh of release.

“We’re going to keep you for a couple hours for observation,” the surgeon says, stripping off her bloody gloves. “Then you can head home to your floor. I want you to pop back here tomorrow, though, so we can see why your body absorbed the bullet rather than rejecting it.”

Steve doesn’t answer, so Bucky gives her a nod, and the doctors begin to bustle around. Giving them some semblance of privacy while they begin to clean up.

“You with me?” Bucky asks, squeezing Steve’s hand again. Steve cracks open his eyes, his gaze distant and foggy. He nods, barely. Bucky catches it anyway. “You did so well, Steve. So good.”

“Don’t feel well,” Steve slurs. Bucky nods.

“I know. It’s okay, we’re just gonna take it easy for a couple hours, okay? Then we can go home.”

Steve nods, head lolling to the side, pressing close to Bucky’s touch.

“And you’ll stay?”

Bucky tilts his head back towards him, catching his eye. Leaning down, he gently kisses his forehead, the skin tacky with sweat and dust from the mission.

“I’m staying,” he promises. “Ain’t going nowhere.”

Steve nods, eyes drooping like he’s going to fall asleep. In a moment, they’ll have to move him again. Get him out of his uniform and into a proper hospital gown. But for now, Bucky lets him go weightless-- exist in the haze of comfort he seems to have found.

Thanks for reading!

#was that medically inaccurate? almost certainly #but oh well #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky fic #mikey scrawls #mikey answers

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

The Zeppelin Shirt

A/N: I really wanted to do this in a Hogwarts scene but I don't know why I made it in another. Well... I felt like it, LMAO. Well, we can always do another ton of them in Hogwarts.

REQUEST: I love your writing! Can you please do a marauders fic where the reader and sirius are in love with each other and they date but something happens and they break up and sirius starts dating the readers friend and the reader starts spending more time with james and then it becomes a sort of love triangle with sirius james and the reader? Does that make sense? ❤️❤️

SONG INSPO: Ghost of you - Five Seconds of Summer

There is this moment in a wizards life. A moment, where you finally row the boat from the school where you spent your whole childhood in. The moment where it disappears from your sight to the moment when you turn your head into the world unknown. And the world that was once so full of dreams was now full of fright.

Why?

You turned your head to the boy in the boat next to you and he was so happy with his group of friends, so busy with them that he did not notice you looking at him. His laugh echoed among all boats, a laugh you knew far too well, even if it echoed from the other side of the world.

Him. You. Together.

Him. You. Apart.

You wished you didn't end up in the apartment that the two of you decided on together. You wished so hard that you weren't standing on the floor of something that was once the floor of everything.

' ----- You both unlocked the door and stepped inside. No, not stepped, jumped inside. You pulled him in by his hand and starting to laugh, pointing at the little cracks on the wall and gasping. "Oh! We will fix this! By our own hands!" you turned to him with a beam. "And we will argue over the colour of the walls and where the sofa will be." you brought him in the middle of the living room that was connected to the kitchen. "And there, right there." you pointed to the empty space next to the balcony door. "Will be a small dinning table because we won't be able to afford a larger one."

"Because we will spend all our money on those cracks." he pulled you close until you crashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist as slid around his neck, brushing away his hair. "And over here..." he started walking backwards, pulling you with him in a tight embrace. "Here we will dance to Joe Cocker's old records." he pressed his forehead on yours and started to slow dancing with you.-----'

You walked to that same place, to the old record player with most of his music taste such as Joe Cocker (his favorite), Led Zepplin, AC/DC , Chris Isaak, Prince, James Brown, Eric Clapton, Scorpions... all the classics. You spent a fortune on it but it didn't matter. It was better to sell it... all of it and get your fortune back, spend it on your own vision of this apartment. Though that would be done harder than imagined since the whole apartment you created with Sirius in your own little heads was so perfect for the both of you.

After everything he has done to you... you don't deserve a single sign of him in your life. You will erase everything of him in here and create something new. This apartment is up for a rebirth, just like you.

There was a knock on your door all of sudden, causing your eyebrows to furrow as you were just about to go to the bedroom but before you could open the door, the person already apparated inside.

His grin as cocky as always, his manners non-existent as always...

"James..." you smiled, leaning on the wardrobe next to you.

"(Y/N)." he mirrored you.

"Why are you here?"

"Came to get some of the stuff you told me to get." he pushed himself off and started to look around. "You actually bought this dump?" he turned back to you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Some of us don't have mommies and daddies to buy us things, James." you said as you grabbed the large box from the bedroom and saw him laying on the dusty sofa, staring at the ceiling. "What are you doing?"

"For a record, my parents aren't that rich." he jumped from the sofa, causing the dust to rise with him and following him to the record player. "They're just not poor either. They're sort of in the middle class." he turned back to you with a grin and taking a record in your head. "That his too?" he marvelled. "Blimey, they're brand new!"

"They're not his." you placed the box down on the sofa and grabbed the record from his hands. "I bought them but I might sell them... all of it..." you said, almost in a whisper as the record in your hand started to send you nostalgic memories.

"Let me guess, they were meant to be a surprise?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Guess, we have different meaning on the word surprise..." you mused a bit as James' smile faltered a bit.

"If I'm frank, (y/n)... I didn't think he'd break up with you... at all..."

"Well, he did." you said and walked back to the box, staring at an old Zepplin shirt. "I really thought we were doing good..." you said in the matter of facT, turning around and crossing your arms over your chest. Your face was completely empty to James. You drowned everything you felt deep inside and it almost hurt him to see you like that.

He walked next to you and looked inside the box. He looked down on the memories and then up at you. "I don't know the inside of his head or why he did what he did but if I learnt anything from being his best friend over all these years is that it's better to not figure it out." he placed his hand on top of yours and you immediately looked up into his comforting, hazel eyes. "You're strong and ambitious. You handle things far better than anybody else does, so if I put my friendship with Sirius aside, I say forget about him and move on because you have the whole world at your feet."

Your eyes started to shimmer from tears and you pulled James' hand to you until you collapsed into his embrace. You hugged him tightly, stepping on your toes as he seemed to be far more taller than Sirius. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tighter.

"Thank you." was what you whispered in the crook of your neck.

---

James did what you asked. He put everything from the box into places Sirius would usually keep them. He placed the shirt in the back of the wardrobe, the little wooden horse in the back of the drawer and the pictures of the two of of you in Sirius' secret box he kept hidden in the foot of the bed.

Sirius didn't notice a thing. Actually, Sirius was carrying himself pretty well the next few months. He got a job, he started going out, started jogging and working out, even dated a new girl- a girl, who appeared to be a close friend of yours from Hogwarts.

Now, James was sitting comfortably on the sofa, staring at Sirius on the other side watching the Quidditch game and he wondered. "Hey, mate?" he asked.

"Hm?" Sirius hummed in return, intensely invested into the game.

"I gotta tell you something."

"Shoot." Sirius said, still unbothered and watching the game. "I'm listening."

"Well... you know all those times you've been spending with Monnie?"

Sirius laughed. "Yeah- oh shit. Are you mad because I had to cancel our game for the date?" he became quickly aware of his past few actions. "I swear, I'll make it up to you. I know how hard you tried to get us those tickets-"

"No- I'm not mad, Pads. It's just..." he started to have some trouble in creating a sentence. "I sort of ran... into your ex on my way there and well... I asked her to go with me and she did and then we sort of started hanging out with each other a bit more... and I just wanted to see if YOU are not mad about it?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows and then softened them a bit. "Which ex?" he asked but it took a really guilty look from James to realise which ex he was talking about. The food in his stomach started to boil and come back up to Sirius' throat but he swallowed it back thickly. "Oh..." he said and tried so hard to smile. "(Y/N)..."

"We're just hanging out, mate. I swear, there's nothing going on between us. I just didn't want to keep it from you."

"That's alright, Prongy." Sirius laughed carelessly. "I don't care. We're broken up and she's a great gal." he winked at James and leaned back on the sofa.

"Really?" James raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Prongs. I'm dating Monica and I (Y/N) can do whatever she wants." he smiled at him and James exhaled in relief.

"Alright then."

"That was what was bugging you?"

"Yeah."

"You're crazy to think I'd ever be mad at you." Sirius laughed.

Though Sirius could feel a lot behind that mask he wore. Those unpleasant feelings bubbling inside of him, trying to crawl out.

' So she's spending time with my best friend. It could be some sort of revenge because I'm dating her friend but James said nothing was going on between them... I wonder though, was she always into him instead of me?' - he started to think, causing those unpleasant feelings inside of him screaming to get out. - 'She couldn't have moved on that fast, could she? Fuck it Sirius, even if she did, she's not your problem anymore. You dumped her, remember? - Yes, I do remember and it was...' - he started to fade from his inner monologue to the memories of you, a rush of them to be specific. The first kiss with you, first time with you, first walk with you, first apartment with you, first dance with you, first time you held hands, your laughter, your smile, your nose, your-

'Stop it, Sirius. Just drown it out, like you always do...'

---

Sirius was tying his shoelaces when he heard Monica's shout from upstairs. "I don't know what to wear!"

"Wear anything! We're just going to a bar!" he shouted back, starting to wander off in the hallway and it didn't take her a minute longer to come rushing down the stairs.

What Sirius didn't expect when she turned around to see her was that she wore one of his jackets. "What are you wearing?" he pointed at the jacket.

"Your clothes. You said I can wear whatever." she raised her eyebrow and smiled coyly.

"I don't like you wearing my clothes, Monnie." he said, going after her.

"Like you didn't let (y/n) wear your clothes constantly." she rolled her eyes and continued to walk down the street.

Sirius didn't know what to say so he just blurted out the first few words that came in his head. "Well, you're not (y/n), are you Monnie?" he took a hold of her arm and turned her around.

She glared at him. "No, I'm not. I'm better than her." she snarked back. "Now, stop being-"

"I don't care Monica. I don't like you wearing my jacket."

"Afraid to hurt her little heart when we meet her?" she started to goad. "Because you still have feelings for your ex or something?"

Sirius started to boil inside and he didn't really point out the reason of why but there seemed to be plenty of those.

"We're already late. Do you want me to go back and change now?" she inquired but Sirius just stood there, glaring. "If you're so afraid of hurting her feelings, don't be. She's dating your best friend. She'll be fine." she rolled her eyes yet again and started walking down the street again, leaving him behind.

"I don't have feelings for her." he grumbled and walked after her. When he caught up, he repeated the sentence and added. "This time you get to wear it but as soon as we come home, you take it off because we're not dating long enough for you to be thinking you have the right to own my things." he stopped in front of her, glaring. "And for all I care, she can date whoever she wants to." he said and disapparated.

----

Their entrance and the first few moments with Sirius and Monica, who you haven't talked to since they started dating was a bit awkward. You could sense it in the air that something else was off but you didn't want to put your attention to it.

James had told you that everything will be fine. Sirius doesn't like drama and he wouldn't do anything to embarrass him or you.

You noticed Monica was wearing your favorite jacket of his. You got him for his 16th birthday but you tried not to show how much the sight of his jacket on her affected you. Even though, it did quite a number on your jealousy.

"So, (y/n). How is your life after Hogwarts?" asked Monnie, leaning on her hands and looking at you.

You knew that tone and face way too well to see where this was going. She was looking a way to embarrass you, just as she always did.

"Great, actually. I got quite a few job offers on my table. For one is journaling for the Daily Propher, then at the Administration Registration Department and Spirit Devision at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." you could see the smile on her face fade away as soon as you had mentioned that. "But I'm not considering any of those. I'd rather take a few years off and go visit other countries. The Department for International Magic Cooperation is looking for a corresponding author and I had submitted my documentation and CV and they had already sent me a letter for all of the further information of the job application process." you finished and everybody continued to stare.

"A correspondent..." Sirius finally spoke in a heavy tone. "Isn't that dangerous?" he said, trying not to show that he might be worried for you.

Everybody could sense it. When it came to you personally, his feelings were hard to hide, his worry even harder, since he had always been so protective of you.

"It has it's risks but doesn't every occupation?"

"I know but-"

"Yeah but frankly, I don't think that's really your field. I always imagined you to be a librarian or something with books or something." Monnie said in a more petty, degrading tone, causing you to scoff of laughter.

"Unfortunately, all the librarian posts had been taken, so I decided to be more ambitious and get for the jobs I am more capable of doing."

"I'm just saying... you were always more of a..."

"Of a?" you started to feel amused. "What? Should I have just gone for the waitress job in the Muggle world?"

"I just didn't think you had it in you, going for those high jobs."

"Me neither." you said sarcastically. "It's the high positioned jobs that are going for me. " you leaned back on your chair and crossed your arms over your chest. "Enough about me though, what about you? What jobs are chasing you?"

Monica closed her mouth sharply when both Sirius and James started to snicker.

"You know... a job here and there. I'm not focusing on that much- oh, blimey is it hot in this jacket." she said and started to smile maliciously as she was putting the jacket away.

Your smile fell as soon as she had put the jacket away. James sunk in his chair as Sirius shared a smilar facial expression as you did.

"Oh boy..." James muttered under his breath.

You saw the pleased smile on Monica's lips. God knows she saw you wear this shirt a hundred of times, knowing damn well how attached you were to it.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Sirius gritted his teeth, pointing at the shirt. "Where did you get this shirt?" he started to get a bit more frustrated, it shocked you for him to even remember this shirt.

"I found it in the back of your closet, silly."

"No, that's not possible." Sirius let an annoyed laugh, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Well, it was there."

"No, it wasn't." Sirius kept denying, shaking his head. "It's not your shirt, Monnie."

"Relax, Sirius. It's just a shirt."

"I won't relax. You stole her shirt!" he spat out and all the three of you were taken a back.

"I didn't steal anything! It was in the back of your wardrobe."

"There is no possible way that this shirt was in my wardrobe. She had always had it- it's her favorite and she had it on when we broke up, so she practically ran away with it. So no, it's not possible that shirt was in my wardrobe, when I would remember unpacking it in my brand new wardrobe."

He remembers... - you thought to yourself when you had seen just as much that Zeppelin shirt meant, not only to you but to him as well.

"It's just a stupid shirt." Monica started to get angry, standing up.

"It's not stupid." both you and Sirius said at the same time.

"Well, it's stupid to me and and so are you- we're done!" she told Sirius and he could care less.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Monnie." he let out a laugh as she had left, than turned to you, angry still. "What the hell, (y/n)?"

"I think I should go get... a beer..." James excused himself, clearly knowing he wasn't supposed to be a part of the conversation taking place.

"What the hell what?" you shrugged.

"How in the bloody hell did that shirt get back in my wardrobe?" he stood up, glaring. "God, I knew that horse was not supposed to be with me- did you put James up to it?" he asked but he didn't need an answer from you to know it. " Of course, he did. Did you erase everything? Did you sell the apartment too?"

"Why do you care, Sirius?"

"Because you shouldn't be moving on!" he shouted, both of you seeing how head turned to the two of you.

"Don't do this here." you said disappointed and left the bar, him at your heel.

"Don't walk away from me!"

"What did you expect Sirius?! That I'd stay stuck on you forever? That I'd wear that stupid shirt and cry into my pillow? Well, newsflash Black. I did that. I'm done with that. I'm done with you, I am beginning a new life without you." you started to walk away but just as you wanted to apparate in your apartment, you stopped and walked back to him. "You broke up with me!" you pushed your finger at his chest and feeling your eyes tear up. "Without any explanation, one day you love me the next day you don't. You moved on and what? I'm not supposed to? I fixed the cracks- all of them. I changed the floors and made that apartment mine and I'm going to bring there anybody I want to and fuck anybody I want to but I am done with the memories of you. I am done with you period. I am done with your games and your lies and your mysterious feelings or your problems." you spat out. "I'm just done."

"You don't mean that." his voice started to shake.

"I gave up on us months ago. The moment you ghosted me was the moment I started to move on from you. Who disappears on a person?!"

"I was scared!" he blurted out. "Alright! I'm sorry but I was scared of you and your happiness and I... no, I couldn't have that. I didn't."

"What a bullshit excuse." you scoffed.

"You don't understand, (y/n). I do love you."

"You don't treat people you love like this." you furrowed your eyebrows.

"But you're everything to me."

"Am I?" you scoffed. "Because right now I don't feel like a single pebble to you."

"I wasn't ready back then okay?! But now I am. You and me. Us."

"Those are just words to me, Sirius. They don't mean anything to me." you shook your head. "Maybe... just maybe I wanted to hear those words from you such a long time ago but it's too late... too late now, Sirius."

"But you always said that nothing is ever too late." his voice broke and you felt as if you should have reconsidered everything but something changed in you. When you looked at him, there was no more love for him. Of course, you'll always love him but the hope and the idea of the two of you evaporated and all you could see was a person you used to love.

"I was wrong." you said, backing away. "I'm already in love with somebody else."

#Sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #maruaders x reader #remus lupin

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Note

How about Jake Jensen meeting the reader's parents for the first time and since he's an adorkable idiot, chaos ensues?

Title: At the Dinner Table

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Only language I think.

+++++

Jake’s nipples were beautiful, and you would love to show them the appreciation due to them, but not in front of your parents.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, shaking your head at his bare upper body.

“You’re the one who said ‘shirt up’!” He defended and you hid your face in your hands, groaning in mortification.

“I said shut up you absolute walking disaster!” You said, peeking at your father who shot you an incredulous look. His eyes were asking you for confirmation that this is the man you’re planning on spending the rest of your life with and you scrunched your nose.

Jake blushed, scratching his goatee bashfully before pulling his shirt on again. Your mother was clearly trying hard not to laugh, suppressing her giggles by pursing her lips. Your brother, however, had no chill because he kept munching on his snacks, watching your fiancé with a fascinated gaze that shifted to you after he was clothed again.

“Now I know why you stay with him. He’s ripped.” He said, nodding as if in approval. You threw a piece of salad at him, sitting down in silence until your father cleared his throat. The argument before Jake suddenly decided to flash everyone was almost forgotten, an uncomfortable silence descending on the dinner table.

“Right,” Your father said, “as I was saying earlier, I would have liked it had you asked for my daughter’s hand like a gentleman.”

You grabbed your fork tightly in your hand, shooting your father a glare. Seriously, what time was he living in?

“And like I said, I don’t need your permission to marry her. Only hers. And she said yes.” Jake grumbled, chewing on his food as he sulked, still a little red around his ears.

“And like I said, will you both please shut up?” You said, voice slightly raised. “I am not some object you’ll talk about as if I am not here. Dad, I made my choice when I said yes. And you, Jake, don’t you ever talk to my father like that again.”

Your brother looked between you three, very entertained. He was smirking, exchanging amused looks with your mother who didn’t look like in any hurry to interrupt this argument.

“You just told him to shut up yourself.” Jake said.

“He’s my daddy, I can talk to him how I want. But I’ll be damned if you raise your voice at him.” You huff, earning a very approving nod from your father.

“That’s my girl!” He cheered, reaching over to pat your back with a huge smile. You gave him a sarcastic one back, fixing him with a withering look.

“You can’t talk to my fiancé that way either. He’s gonna be your son in law soon, so treat him like family.”

At your father’s bewildered look, your mother wheezed out a laugh that she quickly stifled, stuffing her mouth with food. This isn’t how you expected this dinner to go at all. Not only had your father and fiancé got into an argument that ended up with one of them shirtless, but you were sure your brother had the hots for Jake.

“Who wants ice-cream?” Your mother asked, smiling sweetly and pointedly at you. You raised an eyebrow at her before getting up to follow her into the kitchen. She had no subtle bone in her body. On reaching the kitchen, she excitedly pulled you in and squealed.

“Oh god love, where did you find this guy?” She asked, bursting with curiosity. You cracked a smile at her enthusiasm, leaning against the counter as you shyly bit your lip.

“Half dead in the desert.” You told her, chuckling when her mouth dropped open. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad guy. He’s got a complicated history.”

Your mother nodded, taking your hands in hers and squeezing gently. She knows Jake used to be in the military and didn’t ask for more information. There was much that happened to soldiers behind the scenes, things that were hard to put into words. She didn’t need to know what happened.

“He’s good to you, right?” She asked, eyes sparking when you nodded. “Oh my child, I am so happy for you. I’ve never seen you stand up for someone as you did today. I have high hopes for you both.”

With a soft smile you hugged her, taking in her natural musk and feeling like a little girl again who would plan her dream wedding with her. You’d always had trouble feeling feminine enough with two guns strapped to your thighs and hands roughed on the battlefield. But Jake made you feel like the softest, most beautiful woman in the world.

“I love him ma, I really do. I can’t imagine living without him.” You confessed. Your mother cupped your face and kissed your forehead, a lot like your grandma used to do.

“You won’t lose him” She promised, then looked out into the dining room and giggled. “Well, we better hurry out there. Your brother is trying to steal your man.”

You looked over your shoulder and screeched, stomping out and smacking your brother on the back of his head. You stood protectively in front of a very confused Jake, shielding him from your brother who was trying hard to look nonchalant.

“What?” He grumbled, rubbing his head where you hit him.

“Don’t even think about it. You’re not getting my man again.” You warned, wagging a threatening finger in his face. Jake lightly touched your back, pushing you aside to look questioningly at your brother with furrowed brows.

“You stole her boyfriend?” He asked in shock, looking a little impressed. You rolled your eyes as your brother smirked proudly, looking every bit like the man slut he was.

“Twice. I only did it to test their loyalty. Suffice it to say, they failed terribly. And they were horrible in bed. I did sis here a favor.”

You grit your teeth, fighting the urge to punch your brother. He meant well, but if he thought of putting one sleazy hand on your Jake, you’ll hit him in the balls.

“Did I fail too?” Jake asked nervously, looking at you with so much worry that you wanted to kiss his frown away. You looked at your brother with narrowed eyes, sending him a warning that he promptly ignored. He leaned his chair back on the hindlegs, swinging slowly as he regarded Jake with thoughtful eyes.

“You are the only one who has ever passed. You must really love my sis if you’re willing to overlook the more beautiful sibling.”

Jake sighed in relief, hugging you from behind as your smiled softly. Your father, very much done with the antics left without a word, talking about shameless children with no respect for elders. Your mother went after him after shooting you a wink, pleased with your choice.

“So, are you guys gonna have sex in your childhood bedroom?” Your brother asked. “If yes, Jake beware the posters on the wall. Sis was a freak.”

You would have lunged on the little shit had Jake not held you back, his breath washing over your skin as he laughed silently. Pulling you away, he pressed sweet kisses behind you ear, gently soothing you and preventing you from murdering your brother.

“Let’s go see those posters in your room baby. If you’re good, I’ll show you something better too.” He promised.

+++++

#jake jensen x reader #jake x reader #jake jensen #chris evans x reader #chris x reader #the losers

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Childe: First Kiss HCs

I tend to make things gender neutral by not putting in pronouns and just using “you” but you can definitely read this as female^^ But I completely agree, I love this boy so much. He’s my favourite character to play (im so sorry razor) until Xiao comes out. I literally have a genshin team named “waiting for xiao” and it’s just Childe and Zhongli haha.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to childes-starconch. Fitting that this is a Childe fic but ty for your support^^ I always notice you pop up as soon as I post a fic and I really enjoy seeing you. Hopefully you read this since tumblr won’t let me tag people, for whatever reason I don’t know anymore, but just saying hey, I see you 💕💕

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I’m just gonna piggy back off my last Childe fic. I’m sorry.

Semi Part 1: Fiance HCs [honestly, one of my favourites haha]

Xiao Ver: First Kiss HCs

Venti & Kaeya: Mistletoe HCs

Venti, Xingqiu, and Razor: Kissing HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover@youaskedfurret @snowy224

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess

For some reason I can’t @ certain people. I’m talking to tumblr about it.

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Childe: First Kiss HCs

Childe was never one to shy away from affection, be it holding your hand in his or wrapping an arm around you, he was always happy to be close to you. He was always a bit territorial which lead to some embarrassing situations for you but it was from a good place in his heart. But when it came to public kisses, he preferred to keep it between you two. It felt too private of a moment that he didn’t want to broadcast to the rest of the Fatui, especially to the other Harbingers. That is to say, if he actually kissed you in the first place. For all the two braincells Childe had, one was fighting and the other was protecting his loved ones, just imagining kissing you was too much for him and he needed to go find some poor recruit and beat his inner problems out. The Fatui recruitment process would always dwindled down during his inner turmoil sessions that Scaramouche himself, had to throw his goddamn hat at Tartaglia, and yell at him to hurry up and fix his problem. It was clogging up the air.

When he tried to think about it, it shouldn’t be this hard to simply lean in for a kiss. But it was his first and while Childe might run into whatever danger or prospect of a fight without a second thought, he didn’t want to ruin it. What if he accidently bonked his forehead with yours? He should remove his mask then right? Just in case? He’s only given forehead and cheek kisses to his younger siblings so it should be the same right? Yeah he could do this, this was just another battle for Tartaglia to conquer!

But whenever he would see you or you would both sit and bask in each other’s presences. He couldn’t bring himself to initiate something or heck, even looking at your face made him a bit hot under the collar in sub-zero temperatures. He can almost hear Scaramouche and Signora laughing maniacally at him behind their hands. He’s the youngest of the Harbingers, he should get a “get out of jail for free” card that all youngest children have whenever they get into trouble. But in this case it’s murder. He quickly slaps his cheeks to get his mind off fighting for one second which startles you beside him.

The first time you’ve seen Childe shy was when he first confessed to you, stuttering that he liked you and just really badly wanted to hold your hand without using the frost of Sneznaya as an excuse. You flushed pink but nodded that you returned his feeling and slipped your hand in his. Whatever shyness Childe had was quickly wiped off his face and he cheered and brought you in for an eskimo kiss. Rubbing your nose with his as he laughed in joy, the tips of his ears and cheeks still coloured pink. You always hold that memory dear to your heart because not only was it the start of your relationship, it was the first time you felt you were staring at Ajax. Not Childe. Not Tartaglia. Just Ajax.

But now, you’re not to sure what to call this. Lately he seemed to be out of it, always staring off into space or frowning at some poor poor snowmen that did not deserve that much pressure. Was being a harbinger starting to take it’s toll on him? Did something terrible happen to his family or was the Tsaritsa being too hard on him? You were beginning to get concerned because you’ve never seen this much mental turmoil in him. This never really happened before and he usually bounced back pretty fast. Would it be better if you left him be and he sorted it out himself? Would it be better if you asked?

Childe is startled out of his thoughts of possible committed murder because he’s too scared to ask his own partner if kissing was something they could do, when he felt your hand slowly nudge his. No matter how many times he holds your hand, you’re always warm. It could be snow storming outside and the only heater he would need would be you. He offers a small but warm smile as he laces his fingers with yours. He remembers when you first started going out he was so scared about boundaries and what was okay. Brushing your fingers together and overall, not doing a good job at saying he wanted to hold hands that even he cringes slightly at his younger self - even though it wasn’t that long ago and he’s doing it again just with kisses - but now he borderline clings to you like some overgrown animal. Scaramouche’s words, not his.

It’s still evening in Snezhnaya and the Tsaritsa herself seems to be taking a vacation because there’s only a light snow falling down between the two of you. You’re both sitting outside his house while his family is inside, warm and having fun playing games. He breathes in, closes his eyes, and let’s the world fade away just a second. He slowly brings his other hand to cup your cheek, his hands are always numb and the tiny pin pricks are dancing on his fingers again before they fade away too, and guides you towards him so he can place a small kiss on your fore head. Then tilts your face to the side so he can kiss your cheek. Brings his nose near yours to nuzzle against. Then hesitates when his lips hover above yours.

“Ajax is there something bothering you?” you ask softly, you’re so close to each other that all you can see is him. The small puffs of breathe you both take bounce off each other’s face before evaporating into the air. You never really took the time to appreciate Ajax’s bright blue eyes. His pupil from this distance seems to be slitted too.

“Hm? Ah no, of course not. Where did you get that idea?” he tries to laugh it off and tries to move back before you quickly bring your hand to the back of his head and nudge him forward so he stays in place. It wasn’t like him to run away from something, it was really starting to bother you what could get Ajax of all people to retreat from something.

“You know if there’s anything that’s bothering you, you can talk to me right?” you asked as you brought both your hands to cup his face as you softly rubbed circles just under his ear. He closed his eyes and hmmed happily at your actions and nuzzled further into your hand before turning his head inward to kiss your palm. Before relaxing and parting his eyelids half way as he seemed to be back in concentration mode. Before awkwardly saying what was troubling him these past few days.

“So wait, you mean to tell me that this entire time I was worried about you. How out of it you were and how many fights you’ve been getting into. Was because you wanted a kiss?” you asked dumfounded as he pouted but nodded. You sighed but bonked your foreheads together softly, “You’re such an idiot....C’mere.”

“Wha-”

You grab the scarf on his harbinger uniform and tug him forward as your lips slot over his. You kiss him hard and for a few seconds as Ajax just stares at you as his brain tries to catch up, before his eyes seem to dilate and he kisses you back just as hard. All his past worries are quickly thrown out the window as slowly pushes you on your back, cushioned by the soft snow, as he basks in the feeling. It’s a bit sloppy given this is both your first kisses but that’s what adds to the charm. You both have to separate at some point for oxygen but Childe looks like he’s ready to dive in again.

“One more,” he pants as he goes in for another but you quickly place your hand in the way so he ends up kissing your palm. He whines but you chuckle at him, place a small kiss on the back of your palm of where his lips would be, and push him off you. You’re both still outside his families home and you aren’t in the mood to be caught in this kind of position. Especially not in front of his younger siblings. He rests his cheek on your shoulder and looks at you, trying to make his eyes bigger and look like a kicked puppy. You sigh as you give a small pet on his head, running your fingers through your hair. What a troublesome partner you’ve gotten.

“Alright, one more.”

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My entire taglist was just made for the “Enemies” to “Lovers” post and I still haven’t started hehe. Trust me, it’s coming. I’ve got requests for it and we’re slowly getting there. The entire time I’m writing this I’m just thinking “honey..no, that’s not how this works.” God you’re so dumb. I hate you. You’re my favourite character. Pour one out for Xiao, I was going to make this a crack fic too but ended up making it somewhat serious.

So yeah, xiao is a cat and childe is a fox. In other news, water is wet. But I did actually google fox behaviors just for this shitpost. ALRIGHT TIME TO SPIN THE WHEEL OF “WILL TUMBLR BE NICE TO ME?” OR DO I NEED TO DOUBLE REPOST AGAIN.

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Injury

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Blood, injury, slight violence, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Week 3 of keeping up my writing schedule let’s go! This week is a bit angsty, my forte (I think?) As usual part one – with Albedo, Childe, and Diluc – will be posted tonight and part two – Kaeya, Xiao and Zhongli – tomorrow.

At first this was going to be both your injury and your recovery but then the first character hit over 1.5k words so I guess this is going to be a pseudo-series. I really don’t know the definition of concise lol.

In the first part of my last fic I realize I gendered a word. I’m super sorry about that, and I promise to fix it and tag properly next time. Childe gets to go into the stone forest cause I say he can. I’m not sure if waypoints are diegetic or nondiegetic. I decided to make them so. Also the first hospital in China was opened in the early 1800s, and I know hospitals aren’t very “fantasy” but Teyvat has good medical science in my book.

Albedo

Throughout his life the one thing that Albedo never truly understood was peoples’ obsession with modesty, even when it was false.

There was a lot that Albedo was proud of in regards to himself; his intellect for one, his curiosity, his abilities as an alchemist, the fact that he feared little in the world. Above all perhaps was the pride he held in carrying himself without falling into hysteria, his grip on his emotions was impeccable and whenever he was unfortunate enough to see others gripped with a heavy emotion he was always left with a sour feeling in his mouth – a disgust for someone who had so little sense they couldn’t even control themselves.

This was a pride that left him quickly enough upon seeing you injured.

It wasn’t meant to be a dangerous expedition. It’d merely been a check of the vast network of caves and tunnels that could be found in Dragonspine. A route affair, mundane even in how simple it supposedly was. There was nothing to be afraid of. Albedo had told you that back at home and you’d smiled in agreement. Yes, there was nothing to be worried of, a few hilichurls at most and a temperature that could be easily kept in check with the right preparation. You’d be there and back in less than a day, no problem.

Everything, however, had gone horribly wrong. The cave that you two intended to explore turned out to be a vast network, full of tight tunnels and half submerged under freezing water. You two had managed that well enough, although once Albedo had almost slipped and fallen into the underground river, the whole outlook of the expedition was looking drearier and drearier.

Eventually you’d reached what had seemed to be the heart of the cave, floor after floor of ice with a hole in the middle, all lit up by crystal and scarlet quartz. It was an impressive sight to be sure and you’d stood a little ways away from the edge, observing the way the light refracted off the ice coated walls, waiting for Albedo to be finished with his sampling, enjoying the awesome sight in front of you.

Albedo had just finished when you’d let out a yelp. Whirling around he saw what had captured your attention – a wild snowboar who’d managed to wander in. The two of you watched the very confused creature in awe, only staring as it stomped the ground and charged right into the wall.

That was a mistake.

All of the sudden the cavern started shaking violently. Cursing the boar for its terrible – or maybe impeccable – aim the two of you sprinted towards the exit. You’d managed to gain the lead, not bogged down by Albedo’s extensive equipment, and had turned around near the beginning of the tunnel in order to help him. Just as you were heading back one of the many icicles that lined the roof of the cave came undone, landing with a sickening thud right where your collarbone met your spine.

You’d dropped like a rock, and Albedo felt his stomach to turn water and his mind turn to static, as suddenly all logic seemed to leave him, instead replaced by dread so overpowering he seemed to lose track of his surroundings, chained to the ground by something greater than himself.

You groaned and time seemed to unfreeze itself, instead accelerating at a breakneck pace. Leaping into action Albedo immediately dropped all of his equipment, the sound of glass vials shattering muffled by the cases that held them and the panic that was gripping him. Hauling you over his back he ran through the tunnels, wincing every time you made a sound and biting his tongue every time he shimmied through a particularly tight spot and it seemed it might not let the two of you pass as you were.

He could feel the blood seeping through his gloves. Your blood. Only a few minutes ago he wasn’t even sure that icicles could make one bleed. Now he wished he’d never found out, wished that he’d never asked to explore the caves of Dragonspine, wished that you’d never agreed to it. How could he have been so foolish, so blind to the dangers that waited in vast caverns of ice and snow, where the slightest wrong movement could spell your death.

Albedo could’ve cried when he sighted the camp. Indeed he might’ve, realizing that there were frozen tears on his cheeks only after you’d been taking to the medical tent. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed anything really in those terrifying moments between when you’d gotten hurt and when he’d made it to the camp. It all seemed not to exist in his mind, washed away by the emotions that had wracked his mind and body. Even now he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the tide of emotions that was crashing into him like a wave, utterly helpless as he was thrown this way and that.

The pride that he’d clung to was in tatters, and Albedo looked upon it now in disgust. He’d been so innocent, so foolish, perhaps mercifully so. But all that was gone, and his certainty had gone with it. There was nothing left of him almost; nothing except fear and anger and worry, and Albedo wondered when he might ever feel sure of everything again.

It was cloudy when you were released, arm in a sling, brace around your shoulders. Albedo wasn’t sure how much time had passed, it had seemed like an eternity. The urge to run up to you and wrap you in the tightest hug imaginable was intense, but the sight of the brace held him back. Instead he brought you hand up to his face, kissing your palm before holding it against his cheek. You smiled at that, but there was fatigue in your eyes and you said nothing. Albedo couldn’t blame you. He moved to let go and turn towards the path, somehow feeling unworthy of holding your hand after being the cause of your predicament, but you quickly grasped his hand once more. He smiled a slightly shocked smile, but made no move to let go.

As you two walked back to Mondstadt Albedo felt himself once more flooded by negative thoughts. Lowering his gaze so he was looking at the ground he paused for a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Albedo found his voice cracking, tears welling his eyes even as he chastised himself for how stupid he must’ve looked. You were safe, you were going to be alright, the head of the clinic had said so himself. Why then did he still feel like he might crumble any minute? Shaking his head he moved to cover his face with his hand.

“Hey.” There was still fatigue in your voice, but there was also an urgency in it. You squeezed the hand you were holding, moving so you were facing him. “Hey, is it okay if you look at me?”

Albedo moved his head up slowly. He was truly crying by now, having given up all efforts to do so otherwise. You smiled softly as his eyes met yours.

“I’m alright, okay? And you shouldn’t blame yourself for this. I doubt that even the drunkest man in Monstadt could’ve guessed a wild boar would wander in a cavern and start a cave in. You can’t control fate you know.”

“I know.” Albedo forced the words out, although more and more it seemed impossible, his throat was too constricted to be anything more than barely coherent. “Still. I should’ve known. And I should’ve kept it together. I, why am I crying? Why wasn’t I in control? Why, why am I still not in control?”

“Because you’re human Albedo.” You replied, shaking your head slightly. “You’re the most wonderful human alive, but you’re still human. You mustn’t beat yourself up for what you are. I’d rather you cry anyways. There’s nothing noble in hiding your emotions, they must come out one way or another. So please, please cry all you want, long and hard. And tomorrow you can start your penance, alright?”

“Penance?” Albedo mumbled, still crying. You nodded, smile still nothing but fondness and understanding.

“Well someone’s going to have to help me for the next two months. And I know you’re too much a gentleman to make me stumble along myself.”

“Of course.” Albedo’s answer came fast and sure. He paused then, realizing that, by distracting him with the weeks to come, you’d managed to give him a pocket of time to calm himself, to feel himself once more firmly planted on the ground. Love mixed with anger and sadness in his mind, and for a moment he could only marvel at you.

Albedo leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. He’d do whatever he could to help you, this he promised himself. And this too he promised himself; you’d never ever be hurt on his watch again.

Childe

If there was anything that Childe hated it was a lack of control. The feeling of everything slipping through his fingers was something he’d felt often as a child, and that feeling had haunted him. When he’d signed up as a member of the Fatui he’d promised himself that he’d never feel that way again. He’d protect those he loved and he’d keep his life from falling apart. It was a promise he was determined to keep, no matter what.

You two had decided to go hiking. Or rather it was less of a hike and more of a rock climb. Childe had long bragged that the Huaguang Stone Forest was the most beautiful place to watch the sunset, and you’d finally gotten a free weekend. Waypointing your way there initially, your partner had taken an almost childlike joy from choosing which mountain was the highest.

“Childe have you decided yet? The sun is almost at the horizon.” You called out at the Harbinger. Childe was, much to your dismay, the stronger climber, and had taken to scouting ahead of time to see if the spot you were climbing to was any good. Now he glanced down at you, mischief written all over his face, his smirk flashier than usual. He put his hand on his chin and looked outward once more.

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

“Childe!” You exclaimed, your arms slightly killing you. You really wish that you’d convinced Childe to bring a roped and belay. Unfortunately that request had been met with a whine and an accusation of “that’s cheating!” You’d laughed it off at the time, but now you were starting to regret your partner’s recklessness. As much as you were enjoying your time – being alone with Childe always felt intensely special and you cherished every moment of it – you were also impatient to actually watch the sunset, and in your hurry you wondered if it might not be faster to climb back down and watch from the bridge.

“I do believe that we’ve found the tallest one!”

“Thank the Seven.” You groaned, hurrying to get to the top. Childe chuckled, watching you scale up the mountain.

“Oh come now, I had to make sure it was perfect! Besides you looked so comfortable perched there, it almost hurt to disrupt you.”

“When I get up there I’m killing you.” You shot back, reaching towards the ledge. Still laughing Childe stuck out his hand and you moved to grab it, pushing off with your feet as much as possible, determined to make it up the mountain in the next move.

The laughter died from Childe’s lips the moment your hand missed. Instead it was replaced by fear, cold and sharp as a knife, plunging straight through his heart. Time seemed to slow down, but you were falling so fast, falling, falling, falling. Catapulting himself off the top of the mountain Childe reached out for you. In his mind he was screaming. Glide. Oh please, for the love of the Seven glide. Please, don’t fall, it’s so high up. I couldn’t bear it. Please.

Still the words were stuck in his mouth, and his throat only constricted more when you hit the bridge with a sickening thud. Releasing his own wings at the last moment he landed on the bridge too, only a few meters away from where you were now crumpled up. Running over he scooped you up. You’d managed to right yourself at the last moment in the air so that you were landing feet first, but though you’d managed to protect your head your legs dragged limply, and one was bent at an awkward angle. Looking at your mangled form, listening to you as you screamed and whimpered in pain, Child felt overwhelmed by his vast helplessness. There was nothing he could do. Burying his head in your neck he sobbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The journey to Liyue was excruciating, both for you and for Childe. Although there was no external bleeding the initial adrenaline of falling had no worn off and you felt every jolt and movement as Childe slung you on his back, wrapping his arms around your thighs and carrying you to the nearest waypoint and then to the Liyue doctor. Even when Childe was standing still you thought you might die from the sheer pain. So intense it was that sometimes you gave up, blacking out only to wake up feeling like you were drowning, the burning air around you almost too hot and too heavy to breathe.

Childe willed himself to numbness throughout the journey, only allowing him to collapse once you’d reached the hospital, practically ramming into the nearest chair in the waiting room, the situation washing over him.

How could he have let this happen? Hadn’t he made a promise? A promise that he’d protect those he’d love, that he’d never lose control of a situation again, that he’d never let those he cared about suffer? Where was that promise now? His whole world seemed to collapse in on itself now. He hadn’t been able to protect you. Despite his training, his reflexes, his vision, his everything. You’d still fallen. And as powerful as Childe liked to think he was, he still couldn’t turn back time and stop your suffering.

Finally the doctor opened the door and Childe was let in to see you. After informing him that you were on painkillers the doctor left you two alone. Faced with you laying on the hospital bed Childe sank into the nearest chair. Lacing his fingers through yours he drew circles on your hand over and over. For a moment you two said nothing, then Childe let his head rest on your hands. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice raw.

“I know.” You replied, mind a bit hazy from the painkillers, the magic infused herbs luring you to sleep. Still you pushed forward, needing to say something before Childe let himself be carried away. “I know, but it’s not your fault. And it’s not irreversible. The doctor says in 8 weeks I’ll be fine. Until then, we’ll just have to improvise.”

“But what about your adventuring? Your commissions? How can you do those if you can’t –”

“I’ll figure it out. Adventuring isn’t just monster slaying you know. And there’s no catastrophe in being in a wheelchair or on crutches.” You shook your head. Childe was still crying, and you could feel his tears running down your linked hands.

“Ajax.” Childe’s head shot up, surprised. He loved when you called him by his true name, it always seemed like a song falling from your lips. And now that song was filled with understanding, if not a bit of sadness. “I want you to not blame yourself.” You continued. “I know it’ll be hard, I know that these feelings won’t go away. And I’m not blaming you for them. I’m not happy about this either, of course I’m not, I just went through a world of pain. But I won’t be able to stand watching you beat yourself up for 8 weeks, I won’t be able to stand that look in your eyes every time you look at me. So please, please stop. If not for yourself then for me.”

Childe stared at your for a while. You waited, not wanting to rush his thought process. Eventually though he shook his head, a small smile finally breaking his expression.

“You’re too good for me you know. Alright. I promise to try. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. Childe smiled back. He didn’t know how you managed to do it, how you managed to take his fears and look them in the face. All he knew at that moment was that he loved you. And for now, that was enough.

Diluc

Diluc stared in horror as the Fatui Bracer aimed a Geo projectile right at you, his horror multiplying into rage and terror as the concentrated energy flew through the air and landed right at the base of your ribcage. You crumpled at the impact, wheezing heavily, apparently stunned from the power and speed of the attack.

How could this have happened? Diluc knew that the Fatui were gathering in Mondstadt, something that the winery owner turned Darknight Hero couldn’t stand. But never did he think to see Fatui skirmishers right outside the walls of Monstadt, strolling along the beach of Cider Lake as if it were Snezhnaya. Never did he think he’d have to see another loved one felled by a member of the Fatui, and never did he think that he could bear the emotions coursing through him now.

He made quick work of the Bracer, hacking and swinging without rhyme or reason, barely able to comprehend what was going on. Everything felt oddly separated from him, as if he were watching through someone else’s eyes, watching as he burned through the Bracer’s shields as easily as if it were made of wax, leaving the man groaning and screaming in pain before silencing him altogether.

The feeling of separation only grew more powerful as he ran over to you. You seemed to be conscious, but your breathing was shallow and ragged, and the place where the Fatui’s attack had hit seemed mangled, one of your ribs having seemingly been broken. You were screaming, though it was hoarse and low and tired. Still if you were screaming you were alive, and at least Diluc could hold onto that.

Carrying you in his arms Diluc winced as you let out another shriek of pain. You two weren’t far from the gates of Monstadt, but every step seemed to be a thousand steps and what was surely only a few hundred meters instead felt like tens of thousands of miles.

You were going to be alright. At least the doctor had said you were going to be alright. Surely Diluc could be grateful for that? But he didn’t feel grateful, instead he felt anger and hatred welling up inside of him. He’d told himself it was no good to be an angry or hateful person, that doing so would only push you away, would only destroy the fragile bonds he’d managed to build between you and a selection of others. But still the anger and the hatred lingered, refusing to be quelled or stuffed away.

He wanted revenge. Revenge on the Fatui, on the Tsaritsa, on the uncaring world that let him be so tormented, and that so tormented the ones he loved. How could this have happened to you? You who were made of goodness, more goodness than he’d found in the world beforehand. How was this a fitting reward?

It was decided that you could stay at the Winery during the 6 grueling weeks that was to be your convalescence. Diluc said nothing on the way there. He was afraid what would happened if he opened his mouth. Already he knew his face was betraying the feelings welling within him. He didn’t need to make it worse, not now.

Arriving at the Winery Diluc carried you to his room, the nicest room there was. Up to this point you’d said nothing, and Diluc wondered if you weren’t too groggy to do so. However when you spoke up there was an urgency in your voice, one he simply couldn’t ignore.

“You’re angry. You’re trying to hide it but I know it.”

“I’m not the one in pain right now.” Came a curt reply. Diluc was looking at you with what others might’ve mistaken as a glare. Perhaps it was even that, but there was something beneath it, and you knew it ultimately wasn’t directed at you.

“I am. And I’m upset too. But I’ve accepted it. You need to accept that you’re angry too. Burying it won’t help, it’ll only make it worse you know. You have to acknowledge your emotions. You don’t have to hide them. At least not in front of me.”

The expression on Diluc’s face finally broke. The anger there was raw and palapable, but there was also something else, something he’d also buried.

“I was… terrified.” Diluc finally let out. “I was so terrified it frightened me. I… I thought I was going to lose you.”

“And you shouldn’t have to hide that either.” You prodded softly. “But I’ll be alright, I promise. So please, just be open with me and then we’ll go from there.”

Diluc nodded, finding himself unable to speak. Walking over to where you were laying down he peppered kisses all over your face, light and ethereal as butterflies.

He’d do right by you. That’s what he promised himself, after all the hiding and the pain. He’d do right by you. But he’d also not forgive the Fatui for what they’d done, and tonight when Monstadt was asleep the Darknight would be watching. And for any Snezhnayan roaming the streets and lurking in the shadows, there’d be no forgiveness.

#this is being posted later in the night than wanted so sorry about the typos #I'll reedit tomrrow morning I promise!#okay wow my computer almost crashed right now okay #albedo #childe #diluc #albedo x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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hakasims · 3 years

Text

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

#marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #the old guard #and other movies #i'm lazy #immortal husbands #and their parallel versions i guess #crossover ships galore

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critical-thinking-is-mandatory · 3 years

Note

I'm still feelings a lot of Emotions™ over the beginning of Weredad, so how about something where Marinette sees /exactly/ what her so-called "Partner" is doing, actively sabotaging her attempts to save civilians (her parents) and actively letting a teenage girl (her) die horribly when her home is destroyed, because Adrien would rather force a kiss on her lips rather than do his job and help her defeat the villain that is about to brutally kill two more civilians? We saw Gigantitan literally crush a car into nothing carelessly underfoot; now imagine what Tom and Sabine would look like, or what shape Marinette would have been in if she had been in her bedroom, untransformed while Adrien doesn't even bat an eye.

i had so much fun writing this one honestly >:)

“Marinette!” Marinette jumped at the cry of her name, a broken cry still audible over the crumbling of brick and wood. Her mum and dad stood on the front step of the bakery, frozen and staring upward at the crumbling wreck of Marinette’s room.

“That’s Marinette’s bedroom!” Tom cried, turning away from the street and disappearing inside the bakery. Marinette could hear him shouting her name from inside the building, voice full of pain and fear. Her mum still stood frozen on the bakery’s step, hands clasped over her mouth, trembling all over. Chat Noir lurked in her personal space, grinning that smug grin she’d come to loathe. He was too close, eyes solely on her, back to Gigantitan and to the terror on her mum’s face. Deaf to her dad’s shouts from inside the house.

Fine. Fine. She’ll finish this, but Chat Noir is not getting away with this act any longer.

The fight took longer than it should, with Marinette constantly having to direct Chat Noir, fight Gigantitan, and keep her shocked mum from rushing into the bakery in search of Marinette, the very same building Gigantitan was bringing down in his search for sweets.

August was finally, finally released from the akuma, Marinette couldn’t really hold it against him, he was a baby, but Hawkmoth had some nerve akumatising a baby after 9pm.

“Hold August,” Marinette said, pressing August gently as she could into Chat’s arms.

“But-” Chat protested, holding August as if he were about to turn into Gigantitan again at a moment’s notice.

“I need to talk to you, wait here.” Chat perked up immediately, ears pricked up and an eager little smile lifting his face. It’d almost be cute, but it was late, she was tired, and this was the umpteenth time Chat had ignored an akuma just to flirt with her.

She threw her yoyo out, dragging herself away to her balcony in the nick of time, detransforming just as she was out of sight. She settled into a ball on the ground, resting her forehead on her knees to watch Tikki quietly eat a biscuit.

“Marinette!” Her dad burst out onto the balcony, desperation on his face and tears in his eyes. “Sweetheart are you okay?” He clambered up, not noticing Tikki as she hid away behind some flowers. The tears in his eyes finally broke Marinette. She let out a broken sob and her dad immediately moved forward, scooping her into his arms with all the delicacy he’s mastered with delicate pastries.

“Are you hurt? Marinette?” Marinette buried her face in her dad’s shirt, clinging to it and wetting it with her tears.

“I’m not hurt.” She sniffled. “I’m not hurt.”

“Oh Marinette,” her dad whispered. He stroked the top of her head softly. “Shh, shh. It’s okay.”

Metal boots clinked against the metal railing of Marinette’s balcony and she stiffened, waiting for Chat to speak. To notice, to care, to apologise.

“Hi Mr Dupain!” Chat Noir said cheerfully. “Have you seen Ladybug anywhere?”

“Not since she saved my daughter’s life,” Marinette’s dad rumbled.

“Huh?” Chat said.

“Listen, young man-”

“I’ll handle this, Dad,” Marinette said. She slipped out of his hold, rubbing her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

Her dad seemed torn, but sighed. “Just call if you need me, Marinette.” He left, but not without turning a fiercely disapproving look on Chat Noir.

Chat Noir tsked and leaned against the balcony railing, holding August in one arm, grinning carelessly back at Marinette.

“What was that all about? Why are you upset, Princess?”

Marinette ground her teeth, taking a slow, deep breath through her nose. Her face was still sticky from tears.

“Do you even care?” Marinette finally asked.

“About what?” Chat Noir asked, he shifted baby August on his hip and flexed his free arm. “About my awesome muscles?”

“About being a hero!” Marinette shouted, she stamped her foot, finally allowing herself release. “I thought we were friends! My room, was destroyed, I-” she gasped in a breath, tearing up again, “-I died Chat Noir, and all you care about is finding Ladybug to try and get a date!” Marinette was trembling in her rage now, distantly she knew she should try and calm down, she was vulnerable to Hawkmoth in this state, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Maybe she should just let it happen. Let Chat Noir own up to his duties as a hero for once in his damn life.

“And it’s no wonder Ladybug won’t date you! I was watching you, until...until. You were standing around trying to kiss her like some kind of creep! You didn’t give a damn about anyone else.”

“Hey!” Chat interrupted her, cat ears pinning back. “You don’t get to say that! I work so hard for Ladybug, I deserve Ladybug. We’re meant to be. And if you don’t think that, well, maybe Ladybug shouldn’t have saved you.”

The harsh crack of skin on skin broke the otherwise quiet night. Marinette’s hand stung. Chat Noir’s cheek was unmarked except for the stunned fish gape he’d now adopted.

“How dare you,” Marinette hissed. “How dare you wear that ring, call yourself a hero. How dare you act like that. Don’t come back. Don’t show your face here, ever again. Leave.”

Chat Noir stood frozen, his fish-gape expression slowly turning mean and sour. “What did you just say?”

“Leave!” Marinette shrieked. Her voice broke and her eyes stung with fresh tears. “Go away!”

“Marinette?” Her dad called from inside. Chat Noir finally moved, hesitantly turning away. Of course. Of course. “Is everything alright?”

Chat Noir leapt away, but not without turning his kicked puppy look on Marinette, as if she was responsible for all the world’s evils. She breathed out hard.

“I’m fine, Dad.” She looked out to where she’d seen Chat Noir disappear to, taking another meditative breath. She’ll talk to Fu tomorrow. He put the ring in Chat’s hands, he can fix that mistake.

#ml #asks #my writing #adrien salt #chat noir salt #ml salt #ml salt fic #walks-the-ages #this took a while but i liked writing it so much i didn't want to part with it

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smellslikemultifandomimagines · 3 years

Note

Hii<3 Can i request a NSFW alphabet for aged up Leo Valdez?

pairing: leo valdez (18+) x fem!reader

warnings: smut → NSFW alphabet

headcanon

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

smut night has finished for the week - thanks for participating!

requests are open🖤!

request guidelines here✨!

🌻masterlist🌻 (includes both smut masterlists)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

omg leo is very big on aftercare

he'd run you a bath, clean you up, make you tea - literally will anything to make sure you're feeling okay (especially if the sex was super rough too lol)

he loves pleasing you in every which way and of course this includes looking after you before, during and after sex

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

thighs!!!!

Leo loves being between them

whether you're laying on your back or on a chair and he's eating you out

or you're sitting on his face (a big turn on for him btw)

he loves when you wrap your legs around his waist when he fucks you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i've spoken about this before (here), but leo loves denying your orgasm

why? because the way you scream, beg and fall to his utter mercy to let you cum - the way your legs, and whole body for that matter, completely shake as you cum

i feel like he'd try and get you to squirt??

like he wouldn't be mad if you couldn't - but that can't stop him from at least trying, right?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

omg so idk if you guys will agree, but i feel like he might have a thing for seeing you in the camp half-blood shirt lol

but i can definitely imagine him having a thing for seeing you in his clothing though lol

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i would not not very before he met you

like the most he'd probably have done would be making out with someone

and then when you and him go together, y'all just really went out and tried everything

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

okay so i'd say a few:

classic missonary

doggy

face riding!

maybe even reverse cowgirl too omg

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i've also mentioned this before, but leo would have such a sultry sense of humour (here's what i wrote in "what sex would like with leo"):

"he doesn’t take things too seriously, and would crack a joke in between to lighten the mood if things got too nerve wrecking - especially throughout the first few times of the two of you having sex

he’d have a sultry sense of humour too - one that is shown throughout the books too (though to a lesser extend given it’s a children’s novel lmao - imagine how he’d be if it was a ya book ahah)"

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

idk i'd say pretty groomed

leo looks like the type of person to care for his looks lol

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i've also mentioned this before, where sex with leo is not always rough and kinky

sometimes, it's slow and sensual

moments where you're holding each other close, whispering praises and sweet things in each other's ears

nothing but love

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

idk i feel like he doesn't feel the need since he has you??

but it's when you're out of town or swamped with college stuff and neither of you can see each other will he jack off

haha omg of course he'd send a sneaky video to you lmao

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

hair pulling

semi-public sex

leo's both a giver and a receiver lol

i can imagine he'd like cockwarming too

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

in either of you cabins!!

the couch of your apartment (especially when you're supposed to be doing a college assignment)

restaurant restroom (i mean who can blame him when you look so damn gorgeous?!)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when you win a fight (especially against clarisse lol)

sparring with him

when you lift your arms up to fix your hair and the bottom of your shift rises so he can see your stomach

literally anything you do lmao

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

definitely anything you're not comfortable with lol

idk really because i feel like he's openminded and up for trying anything at least once

but i mean if it had to be at least one thing he would not try i'd probs be anal idk?

or maybe degrading idk - depends how you feel about that

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

homeboy would eat you out as if his life depended on it

he'd suck, lick, kiss your clit - he'd do anything to get to taste you

but i mean as much as leo loves eating you out, he loves when you go down on him

my god, he'd have his head tilted back as little pants and moans escape his lips

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

i think usual sex with leo would be rough and hard, incorporating some kinks here and there

idk i feel like it'll be unpredictable and depending on mood

if you've been on a date, leo would love to spend the time to worship your body for all its glory

he'd be slow, sensual, extra loving

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

hahah omg yes always lol

before training, after training

if you're on a quest with him and the others, being in your own hotel room with him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

um yes!

leo would at least like to try anything at least once

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

oh girl, leo would go until you're completely fucked out lol

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

vibrators, cuffs, maybe even gags are what i'd imagine him to be into

he'd introduce them to you slowly, asking your general opinion on them before even consider buying one

and then one day he bought a cute wand vibrator and when he showed it to you, you were so excited to try it

"but babe, we're gonna have to charge it first," he chuckled at your eagerness

"ugh fine, just eat me out then."

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

leo is such a tease.

i've spoken about this before, but with his sultry humour and kink for begging, the bitch would love to tease the shit out of you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i'd imagine grunts in your ear, gradually growing louder the closer the got to his orgasm

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

leo can be really nervous at times

especially when trying out new things

i feel like he's scared that he'll break you or something

or maybe do something that'll really hurt you

so he's sometimes a little too cautious

and it's not until you reassure him again and again that you're okay, that he'll calm down a little lol

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

leo is one toned boy okay

and idk i feel like he'd love when you rub your hands over his stomach (especially when you ride him lol)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

idk i'd say pretty high but he's always patient with you

if you weren't in the mood, he'd respect that and not try and do anything

though i can imagine him being pretty needy though

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like it depends on what the sex was like

if it was slow and sensual, probably pretty quickly as he'd spoon you

but if it was rough, he'd probably wait for you to fall asleep first so he can get some reassurance that you're definitely okay and not uncomfortable from how rough he was

i can imagine lots of forehead kisses and playing of hair here too

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#leo valdez #leo valdez smut #leo valdez x reader smut #leo valdez x reader #smut night

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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imagine: Chris’s survival instincts kick in and he fuckin shoves Nova onto the floor and runs. Nova may or may not get injured from this. Chris then feels guilty about it and doesn’t explain to anyone what really happened because he knows she’ll get in serious trouble for that, possibly removed from the house even

(follows directly on this post)

CW; Noncon touching, noncon kissing, very brief emeto ref, Nova's fucked-up whumper discussed, past noncon reference, conditioned response, trauma response

"It'll help you feel better," She coos against his ear, and Chris's stomach does backflips around inside of him. It feels like his panic knocks against his rib cage like wings beating desperately to escape, but he can't do anything more than pant, mouth open, pulling in air that smells like Nova's shampoo and skin.

"It, it, it d-doesn't-" He can barely force out the words, his tongue nearly as frozen as the tips of his fingers, hands down gripped into his sheets, fabric twisted until the fitted sheet is pulling off one end of the bed. "Please, it's, it's not, please-"

"You don't have to be shy," Nova whispers, kisses his cheek, his jaw, back to his neck. She's already sucked a red mark there, right where a collar used to be, once upon a time.

When Chris swallows, he can feel the leather he hasn't worn in years, tight around his throat. He can very nearly hear the clinking of the metal tag at the front.

Her hand is untucking his compression shirt, baring skin to the air, to the heat of her hand. She's sucking on his neck again, biting down hard with her teeth, a flash of pain and then the heat and wet of her tongue, and he groans, disgusted and shivering.

Her other hand is hard at work, and he hates it, he always hated it, he never wanted hands there. Or anything. His wrists jerk, he wants to push her away or tap or hit or do something, but his body is still, only shifting his hips into the rhythm of her hands on sheer instinct from training that his body hasn't forgotten, no matter how badly he wants to.

"I'll make you feel better," She says. Her voice is so soft and sweet, higher-pitched, entirely unlike Laken's deeper husky almost-growl. There's no maliciousness in her face when she pulls back to meet his eyes, no sparkle of joy at how helpless he is.

There's something else there.

Genuine, open desire.

Is that better? Or worse?

"Nova," He says, voice strangled and barely-there, nearly a whimper, "You h-have to stop to, touch-... stop, stop, touching m-me, I can't, I can't do, I I I I-"

"But you were crying," She replies, rubbing her thumb over him between his legs in a way that makes his legs jerk under her weight, his breath catch in his throat. "Because of your fight. I can fix that. You had a bad day, and I'm here. I'll make it better, Chris."

Something filters into Chris's thoughts, cracks through the ice of his fear.

Don't be shy, sweetheart, I've had a hard day and I want something pretty to fix it.

She tucks her chin just a little, head tilted to the side. Her top teeth press, just a little, into her lower lip.

Tell me how much you want it, darlin'. You know that always cheers me right up.

"I want to do this with you," She whispers.

It breaks the spell.

Chris lets go of the sheets, puts his hands up, and shoves.

Nova falls backwards off of his legs, tries to twist and catch herself, loses her balance and goes off the bed, smacking hard on one side into the rug on the floor. She looks up at him, long hair hanging in her face, nearly covering up one eye.

He stares back at the shock, the lack of comprehension. His heart is pounding in his ears, the unwanted awful warmth in the pit of his stomach is still there demanding attention, release he doesn't want. He looks down at himself, face red with shame, and back up to meet her eyes as they fill with tears.

"I'm trying to help," She says, and he has to force himself not to apologize at how hurt she sounds.

"I-I... I, um, I know you are," He manages, with difficulty. Words are getting harder. There's a noise inside of him, more feeling than sound, buzzing against his fingers and toes, pushing against the inside of his skin. It makes the words he needs to say harder to find. "But, but, but, but this-... this, this doesn't, um, this-... doesn't... it, it, it it it doesn't, doesn't, doesn't... help me."

"Yes, it does." Nova sits slowly up. One of her shoulder straps is falling down her arm. "It's what makes us feel better, because we're-"

"Not," Chris interrupts, putting a hand up to stop her before she can finish. He knows what comes next. He knows.

Don't cry, Handler Petrus whispers in the back of his mind. Not my fault you had second thoughts about this, slut. Should've had them before you signed up to get on your back for me.

"I tried-... I tried to, to say no." He pushes himself further back into the corner where the headboard of his bed meets the wall. Pulls his knees up to his chest, hands up over his face. One thumb rubs over the healing scar on his forehead, the other hand runs back and forth over his hair, feeling the softness of it, soothing himself with the motion.

"That's how you do it," Nova says, sounding puzzled. He doesn't look up at her again. "One person says don't do it, stop, please, and the other person does anyway, and then everything is better after."

"Better for-... who?"

He doesn't really need the answer to the question. He knows.

"You," She says, pulling herself to her feet. He sees her as a blur in the corner of his eyes and he doesn't look. He feels himself rocking, forward and back - tries to still himself - then starts rocking again. "And my Miss. Her friends. Everyone feels better, after."

"Not me. Please, please, please go."

"But-"

"Nova." He looks up at her, tears building, and she looks back, wide-eyed and startled by the expression on his face. "Please. Please."

"You really didn't like it?" She tucks her hair back behind her ear. "But... you didn't?"

He shakes his head, slowly, digs his hands into his own stomach, starts to tap, desperate to soothe the disgust slithering around underneath his skin.

"Was I not doing it right?"

"I don't-... I, I, I don't, um. I don't like... being, being t-touched... there." He can barely force out the words, they're spat out like disgust and not the fear he really feels. "I, I-I don't want y-you to, to, to to to to... touch me. At all."

For a second, he thinks she'll hit him.

Her face goes very pale and then suddenly bright red in the cheeks, and she turns away from him, races from his room, slams the door shut behind herself. He hears the sound of her footsteps down the hall, another door slamming - probably the room she shares with Sarita.

His phone, long-ago forgotten on the bed, vibrates with a text. He looks over, but the words swim and don't come together. He can tell the text is from Laken, but he can't read what it says.

He can't read.

Chris slowly slumps sideways, against the wall, lets his head thump there once.

What now?

FIRST | SECOND | THIRD

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Words: 3,324 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 6 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl worries about Y/N after the traumatic incident outside the wall.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl didn’t see you that whole day after he had talked with Rick, or the next morning so he decided to pay you a visit and make sure you were okay. He wiped his hands on the rag he always kept in his back pocket and put away the tools he had been using to work on his bike. Just as he was getting ready to leave, Aaron stepped out into the garage and Daryl greeted him with a nod.

“Done for the day?”

Daryl shrugged. “For now at least.” He thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Hey, uhh, ya seen Y/N since that night we got back?”

Aaron’s face fell a bit but he nodded. “I stopped by her place yesterday.”

Daryl leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’d she seem?”

Aaron shrugged and sighed heavily. “She seemed… okay. I don’t think she’s been sleeping,” he said a little hesitantly. He shook his head, frowning. “The bruising on her neck… it’s bad. Thank God you were there.”

Daryl’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Ya… Well, the whole thing was bad. Those people? Seemed like—” he hesitated to say what was on his mind, to confide in Aaron, but he also felt like it was eating him alive. Maybe if he spoke it, he would feel less consumed by it. “It seemed like they knew her.”

Aaron’s brow drew down low over his eyes. “Hmm. What do you mean?”

“I heard ‘em say she was comin’ ‘back where she belongs.’ And more than that—if they had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. They both had guns and knives on ‘em. But they didn’t. They were tryin’ ta take her.”

The shadow on Aaron’s face deepened and he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his chin and mouth. “Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that the intentions of some men out there in this world are even more emboldened now,” he said with disgust.

“Yeah… But ain’t the first time neither. That night I stitched up that gash in her arm she said the same thing. She said ‘if they had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.’”

Aaron gulped and shook his head. “I don’t know what—I just—I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “She hasn’t told me much about before.”

Daryl turned back to the table and fiddled with some of the parts. “Seems like she’s got a target painted on her. Maybe she shouldn’t be out,” he thought aloud.

Aaron shook his head. “Yeah, well that will never happen. Trying to keep her inside Alexandria is like trying to hold water in your hands. We’d probably have to lock her up.” He sighed heavily again and rested his hands on his hips. “Whatever is out there, whatever her past is… she knows the risks of going out. There isn’t going to be any convincing her to stay inside.”

Daryl nodded and chewed the side of his thumbnail. “Ya…”

Aaron let out a wry laugh. “I mean, can you imagine if someone told you that you needed to stay inside?”

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched upwards. “Ya. I know. Ain’t happenin’.” Daryl sighed. “Well, I guess the only thing for it is to try to convince her not to go alone.”

Aaron smiled at the archer. “Sounds reasonable. Know anyone for the job?” he joked. Daryl shot him a look and Aaron laughed and held his hands up. “See you later, Daryl.”

Daryl hummed an acknowledgement, set down the part he’d been anxiously fiddling with, and headed out of the garage in the direction of your house.

He felt a bit nervous as he climbed the stairs on your front porch, noticing how clammy his palms suddenly felt, and when first he knocked there was a long silence. He wondered if you were going to answer the door at all and a distinct worry seized him—that you really weren’t okay. But, finally, he could hear some soft footsteps approaching the other side of the door and then it opened a crack.

You peeked out hesitantly but as soon as you saw it was Daryl you opened the door wide. “Daryl. Hi.”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

Aaron was right. You looked exhausted. There were dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders were somewhat slumped.

You continued to peer at him, waiting for some explanation for why he was standing there at your door.

“I, uhh—I hadn’t seen ya since we got back. Just wanted to see if ya needed anything. Ya know, and see how you’re healin’ up.”

“Oh. That’s—you want to come in?” you offered stepping back to make way for his broad-shouldered frame.

“Thanks,” Daryl murmured as he crossed the threshold. You shut the door behind him and he followed you up the hall and into the kitchen. He could see a pillow and blanket laid out on the couch in the living room. It looked like you’d been camping out there. He gave you a questioning glance. “So, how ya feelin’?” Daryl’s eyes found the dark bruising around your neck.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” you said a little quietly.

He considered you thoughtfully for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Ya sure?”

You sighed heavily and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Yeah. I just—haven’t slept really,” you admitted.

Daryl nodded, looking again at the makeshift bed in your living room. “Ya camping out down here?”

You followed him as he trailed over to peer at the blankets spilling off the couch and onto the floor. “Uhh… sort of. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help.” And you had the thought that if you were on the ground floor, you’d hear someone trying to break into your house…

“Did it?” he asked, his blue eyes finding yours.

“Not really.”

The archer’s brow drew down, veiling his eyes in shadow, and he let out a hum of acknowledgement. “Ya know if having other people around would help, ya could—” he cleared his throat again, his heart racing, “ya could come stay over at our place. We’ve got a full house. Ya know, if—if it’d feel safer. Ya could take my bed. It’s in the basement away from everybody.” He watched your eyelashes flutter as you looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh. I can’t—that—that’s okay,” you said, averting your eyes back down toward your feet.

Daryl’s heart was pounding as he offered up his second idea, nervously rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I—I could stay over here. Just to, ya know, keep an eye on things. If it’d help.” Your eyes lifted back up to his face again and there was that vulnerability in your eyes again that always surprised him. He watched as your lips parted slightly as you prepared to speak.

“I can’t—I can’t ask you to do that,” you said softly, quickly averting your eyes from the sudden softness in his and fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

“Ya ain’t askin’. I offered,” he said. “If ya think it’d help ya get some sleep. You’re healin’ up. Ya need it.”

You glanced up at him again, now your expression was somewhat guarded as you took him in. You gulped at the nervous lump in your throat. “They aren’t gonna miss you over there?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nah,” he said.

You watched him for a long moment, considering his offer, but at length you nodded, remembering how well you had slept with him nearby even outside of Alexandria’s walls. Since you’d gotten back the nightmares had returned and gotten worse, likely a result of your latest encounter. “Okay. If—if you don’t mind.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered at the grateful look you gave him, your eyes fixed on him and only him. He nodded. “I dun mind.” He nudged his nose up at you twice in a nod. “I’ll come by later.” You watched as he stalked into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You watched him pull it open and look inside before glancing back over his shoulder at you.

He closed the door pointedly. “Just what I thought. Ain’t got no damn food in here either. Ya been eatin’?”

You gulped and shrugged vaguely.

“Ya, uh huh. I’ll bring somethin’ later. Ya need to eat,” he rumbled. He started to stride quickly to the front door and you trailed a little behind him. He stopped on the threshold and looked back at you. There was that softness in his eyes again that always made your heart jump. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

You avoided his eyes, feeling suddenly silly and ashamed of what you were asking him to do, that you needed someone else when you tried so hard not to need anyone or anything. His deep voice, rough with gravel called your eyes back to his.

“Hey. It ain’t no big deal. Alright?” he said, trying to reassure you, reading the shame on your face as clearly as if the word had been tattooed on your forehead.

You nodded a little, giving in to his reassurance. “Okay.”

“’Kay,” he agreed. You watched him cross the porch and go down your stairs, headed back home. That’s what he had. A home. It hit you that all you really had was an empty house and your heart ached. It was the price you paid for trying to keep almost everyone at arm’s length. You sighed heavily and shut the door.

Several hours later, there was another knock on the front door. You got up from your spot on the couch, still carrying your book and went to the door. Daryl was standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a small container in his hands. Night had fallen outside and the porchlights illuminated the strong angles of his jaw. You felt a flush in your cheeks and hoped he couldn’t see it.

You stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

“Brought ya some stew. Venison. We’ve still got a bunch of it,” he said, heading immediately for the kitchen and starting to open cabinets, looking for a pot to dump it in so he could heat it up. “And you’re eatin’ some of this now.” He paused and looked up at you over the counter. “When is the last time ya ate?”

“Uhh…”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. “Too damn long, then.” He resumed his searching and eventually succeeded. He set it on the stove to heat up. You sank down onto one of the kitchen stools at the island, watching him as he stirred the hearty meal. Daryl turned around and took in your expression from across the kitchen, slinging his crossbow off his shoulder and letting it hang at his side.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked.

Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. “Oh, uhh… it’s just this classic novel. The Brothers Karamazov.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “The what?”

You actually smiled at him, your whole face lighting up. Daryl felt his heart flutter and he was relieved to see that some of the weight that seemed to be on you was lifted, even if just for a moment. “Yeah, it’s a mouthful,” you said. “I’ve got this thing for the great Russian writers so…”

“Russian, huh? What’s so special about ‘em?”

“They just—I don’t know. They write these beautiful, insane, touching, tragic stories. I just—” you shrugged. “The writing is incredible, even in translation.” You paused thoughtfully and Daryl felt a warmth in his chest as you looked down at the novel in your hand and smoothed your hand over the cover, staring at it like it was something precious. “And I suppose now, since the world changed, the tragedy in the stories is even more relatable,” you said softly.

Daryl felt a pang in his heart at your words. Your eyes flitted back up to meet his and he felt a spark of electricity jump up his spine.

Daryl rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and hoisted his crossbow up onto the counter, using it as an excuse to break eye contact with you as he felt suddenly terrified of the magnetic pull he was feeling.

“What’d you tell everybody?” you asked quietly.

Daryl didn’t look up from the bolt he was examining closely. “Didn’t tell ‘em nothin’.”

“Won’t they worry about where you are?”

He shrugged. “Nah. S’fine.” He quickly turned back to the stew on the stove which now had curls of steam rising from the surface of it. He pulled open some more cabinets until he found a bowl and quickly poured stew from the pan into it before setting it in front of you. He opened drawers until he found a spoon, which he slid over to you with a metallic clinking against the granite of the countertop. You were giving him a queer look. “What?”

You shook your head, one corner of your mouth twitching up. “Nothing.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed. “Eat,” he drawled.

The corners of your eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’re awfully bossy today,” you joked, picking up the spoon. You stared down into the stew, not feeling the least bit hungry despite not eating anything all day.

He let out a scoff and leaned on his forearms on the counter, his curtain of brown hair falling forward around his face. “I’m bossy when someone needs bossin’,” he quipped.

You took a bite of the stew, holding the spoon a bit awkwardly with the brace on your wrist, and chewed it slowly. Daryl watched you carefully. The smile on your face had disappeared again and he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the bruises on your neck. He felt a renewed flush of hot anger every time. He sighed and straightened up, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit.

“How’re your ribs feelin’?” he drawled.

You dipped your spoon back into the bowl of stew and shrugged. “Fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Daryl nodded, but you could tell he was a little skeptical. He moved around the counter and into the living room, sinking into a chair and kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. You dutifully sat and ate your stew until it was gone before going to join him with your book. You pushed the blankets on the couch out of the way and allowed yourself to watch the nimble workings of his strong fingers as he fiddled with his bow and the narrowing of his blue eyes in concentration. Your heart increased its pace. Finally, you broke the silence again. “Thanks for doing this,” you said. You hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper but it had, the tightness in your throat from shame and nerves strangling your voice a little.

The workings of Daryl’s fingers ceased for a moment and he looked like he was frozen, turned to stone. “I dun mind,” he finally said. His blue eyes lifted and met yours and briefly he thought he saw some glistening light there, but in a moment he had blinked and it was gone. You were simply pulling the blanket over your lap and running your fingers along the spine of your book. Daryl pulled out a sharpening stone and went about carefully sharpening some of his bolts. You settled back against the couch and opened your book, curled up beneath the blanket. It was strange how usual, how comfortable this felt. Each passing moment of silence, each murmur to one another, each question and response all felt so easy, and that was something Daryl kept turning over and over in his mind. He wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to feeling so at home around another person and it was becoming a habit with you. The thought made him bounce his knee nervously.

Daryl wasn’t sure when, but at some point as he sat across from you sharpening his bolts you had drifted off to sleep. Your book was still open but had dropped down onto your chest, your left hand resting on it. Your breathing was slow and deep and Daryl felt a wave of warmth and gladness wash over him that you were actually asleep. And he wondered at the fact that not only were your comfortable enough with him around to fall asleep, but he was what enabled you to when you otherwise couldn’t. Did you think of him as safety? God, he hoped so… He was puzzling over this, smoothing his thumb across his lower lip as he took in your soft expression and the way your hair was falling around your face.

He felt his heart speed up as his eyes traced the gentle pout of your mouth and the slope of your nose in profile. He rubbed a hand at the warm and achy feeling in his chest that was becoming common, annoyed at how his mind was running away on him...

The archer stood and silently crossed the room to you. He grasped one corner of your open book and slipped it gently from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket up over you before retreating back to his chair and his bow.

You awoke as the sun was coming up, lighting the living room slowly, drenching everything in warm light. You blinked a few times, getting your bearings, and then gingerly pulled yourself up into a sitting position. Your eyes landed on the archer, asleep in his chair with his head cocked to one side, his bow leaning up against the armrest next to him. He must have heard you stirring because he was awake the next instant, taking in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes meeting yours. “Hey.” The gravel in his voice was thick, heavy with sleep still.

“Hey,” you replied. Daryl was relieved to see how much brighter your eyes looked. The dark circles beneath them were also diminished.

“I didn’t—I slept,” you said with gentle surprise.

He nodded. “Ya. Ya were exhausted. Ya fell asleep early. Ya needed it,” he said, grabbing his crossbow and pulling it onto his lap, his heart rushing at the sight of your somewhat tousled hair and the rosy glow in your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He nodded and stood, throwing his bow over his shoulder again. “S’nothin’. Glad ya got some sleep.”

You pulled yourself up, subconsciously wrapping an arm around your ribs as they panged with the movement. Daryl was already heading through the kitchen and toward the front door. He stopped and his blue eyes fixed on your face. “Ya know, I get ‘em too sometimes,” he said quietly.

You heart raced. Had he guessed why you weren’t sleeping so easily? “What?”

“Nightmares,” he said. “About the people we’ve lost. About losing more.”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yeah…”

“I’ll see ya later, Y/N,” he drawled. He pointed at you sharply. “Eat some more of that damn stew.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You got it.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon series #sacrifice

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