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entitled-fangirl · 4 months

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Are you scared of me, Princess?

Jasper Hale x human!reader

Summary: The reader sees the scars on Jasper's arms, prompting him to tell her the truth.

Words: 1,646

Warnings: talk of murder, vampire stuff idk, scars, cursing

Author's note: God this is angsty. Someone get 8th-grade me in here right now because this is what she thought she was reading at her age.

Masterlist <3

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Jasper sat in the bed placed in his room, his mate resting her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his face found its way into her hair. Her hands were placed on top of his on her waist, relishing in the feeling of comfort he gave her.

They were a strange pair, the two. The bloodthirsty vampire fighting his instincts to feed and the helpless human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight him if she tried.

But she trusted him with her whole heart. It had been hard at first. She had to marinate in the knowledge of the existence of vampires, and he suffered the constant smell of her sweet scent, calling out to him every second.

It was so hard for him, even on a good day. Her smell of her blood always drew him in.

The only thing holding him back from draining her was the feeling he knew he wouldn’t fight the minute her body became lifeless: dread.

But now, they laid in each other’s arms in complete trust.

Her hand wandered up his forearm, stopping at the unevenness of his skin. She looked down, pulling his sleeve up briefly.

Bite marks and scratches laid all up and down his forearm. She didn��t want to know how far up his arm it went, thankful for the sleeve.

She felt him shift. He felt uncomfortable. Scared of her reaction. But above all else, he cared for her. She could practically feel his gift poking at her emotions, intertwining them with his. A sense of calmness fell over the two of them before words could form.

Her hand still laid against his arm gently, her thumb brushing one of the bites to comfort him in her own way.

She felt his head move away from hers, leaning back against the bed frame. She used this opportunity to turn in his grip, now facing him. Once there, she pulled his arm into her lap, her eyes inspecting the scars in front of her.

He simply watched. He couldn’t hide them, and he would never lie. Not to her. So, he simply sat there to let her ask him or draw her own conclusions.

She finally looked up, her eyes locking on his. She’s thankful of his gift, because otherwise, she may have been teary-eyed. “T….Tell me, Jasper?”

His eyes softened. God, she was so good to him. So perfect. So innocent and pure. Everything he knew he wasn’t.

Her blood would be so easy to take. The feeling of adrenaline would be worth the-

“It’s… a long story, Princess. I don’t think you wanna hear it.”

She was visibly hurt by his answer, her hand retreating from his. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry… I just… just thought…”

He chuckles to himself, teasing her, “Thought what, Princess? You really wanna know?”

She nods, her eyes glossy, holding an unreadable expression.

He sighs. He wanted to hold off from telling her this. That was his plan. But now, she had ruined the perfect plan in his head. Not that he could be mad at her. His heart couldn’t do that.

He pulls his sleeve up his other arm, showing her the scarring. “D’you know much about the Civil War, Darlin’?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving his forearm.

He smiles, “Good girl. Knew you would.” He took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but it allowed him to collect himself and decide what to say. “I was turned during the Civil War. A woman named Maria convinced me to help her train a vampire army. I was foolish and naive. I thought she was doing the right thing.”

He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She simply stared at the scars, her head low in thought. He took this as a sign to continue.

“You know.. I was, uh, a major, in the war?”

Her head perked up at that, her eyes meeting his. “A..a major?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Major Jasper Whitlock.” As he said so, she felt a wave of pride come from his body. She didn’t need Jasper’s gifts to sense it, for it had come so plain.

He continued, “I trained them myself. Her army, I mean. I know you don’t know much about us, but newborn vampires are more dangerous. More deadly. They’re stronger than most.” As he said this, she could feel his tone becoming sharper.

“Stronger than Emmett?”

He nods, “Yes, Princess. Much stronger. You stay away from a newborn.” It had meant to be advice, but it came out a demand. “They’re more deadly than you can imagine. I’ve watched them do…” his eyes look off in thought, “…unspeakable things…”

A small silence overtakes them before she breaks it. “And you trained them?”

His eyes quickly move back to hers, the amber color glowing, “Yes, ma’am.”

“How?”

“Not easily. They don’t take too well, as you can see,” he said, his head motioning forward at his arms. “I punished them, too. Killed them when they got out of hand or weren’t what we needed.”

He feared to look up at her, but he couldn’t resist. Her gaze was on the window. He didn’t often wish for a gift different than his, but at this moment, he wished he could read her mind. See what was going on in that lovely little human brain of hers. But he couldn’t. He sensed she wasn’t distressed. He had to see her eyes to be sure. Not for his gift’s sake, but for his own. His hand outstretched to grab her jaw gently, pulling it towards his own. “Are you scared of me?”

Her eyes catch his, their faces a foot apart. “…Sh…should I be, Jasper?”

He considers her question quickly with a nod, his voice low. “Really fucking scared.”

She blinks at his wording, her brain struggling to comprehend everything in front of her.

He wanted to joke, take the dark mood away, but he knew this was serious. “I killed before this,” he gestured to himself, “I killed during this…. I’ll probably have to kill sometime after this. I’ve murdered many with no remorse, their bodies laying at my feet. Innocent lives and murders, too. I overpowered the strongest vampires with ease, ending them mercilessly. My heart holds no mercy. So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared of me?”

She wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t put it into words. Was she scared? She supposed so. Any sane person would be. But she trusted him. She trusted him. She trusted him. “You… You won’t hurt me, Jasper.”

He wanted to laugh at her sweet response. How naive of his little lamb. She said it so sure of herself. Of him. She didn’t know of the constant, deep thirst of blood he fought back every time their eyes met. She didn’t know of the pain he felt when she parted from him. She didn’t know of the horrors he had endured. And most importantly, she would never understand the terrors he had caused.

“You don’t know that, Princess.”

She took a quick breath in at his response. Every reasonable thought she ever had was gone. She should run. She should hide. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Her body remained here, on the vampire’s bed, his hand gripping her jaw while staring at her like she was prey. Every reasonable thought was gone.

She reached her hand up to place on top of his on her jaw, flinching at the cold feeling of his skin on hers. “You won’t, Jasper.” She began to even sound confident.

He smiled at her, his sharp teeth peeking out. This girl believes in him that much. What a stupid girl. Too trusting. Too hopeful. Too pretty. Too good. Too perfect. He could absolutely ruin her. But he wouldn’t. “C’mon, Princess. Admit you’re a little afraid.” He needed to hear her say it.

Her hand gripped his, pushing it down her jaw lightly until it rested over her throat. His hand now wrapped around her neck, her hand lightly resting on his.

He was speechless at her touches. Her movements. Her willingness. Her loyalty to him. His eyes stare at his own hand, admiring the view in front of him. Her hopeful eyes staring into his while his hand rested above her only source of oxygen. It was intimate. It was scary. It was perfect. She was perfect.

His thumb brushed her throat lightly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his touch. He could practically feel the blood running through her veins. And she trusted him still.

They sat there in silence for a while, simply admiring the other.

She was perfect. Too innocent for her own good, but so loyal and willing for him. Her pretty face was the perfect view for him. He could stare at it until the end of his days. And she trusted him with her life.

She trusted him with the one thing his body thirst to destroy. And he loved her all the more for it.

He was strong. Resilient. An open book for her to read at her leisure. Protective was a word she was familiar with. She felt like his arms were the only thing she needed to live in the world. She trusted him with her life.

His other arm moved up her body, his hand getting lost in the hair on the back of her head. He pushes her forward, capturing her lips in his.

The hand on her neck stayed. But it never twitched.

They pulled away from each other to let her catch her breath. Their faces were close as they tried to think of the right words to say.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She wasn’t afraid of him.

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houpss · 2 months

Note

I urgently need you to write about what if SKZ are upset/crying

you write so well that I cry every time from your works, they break my heart :( You're born for angst ❤️‍🔥🫶🏻

SKZ feeling upset/crying

angst, fluff, consolation, tears

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

Chan cries often, but he does it alone.

Because...he shouldn't cry. That's what he thought.

Chan helps everyone, he gives advice to everyone... but he is not able to help himself.

He looks like a drowning man, but he is drowning in his problems, he is drowning in self-hatred.

Oh...he thinks that he is absolutely ugly, that he is always behind and that he is always bad.

Tears of desperate pain choke him as he covers his mouth with his hand and hugs his knees to his chest as he sits on his bed in his room.

He knew he wasn't worthy of the fans' love or your love. What did he do to deserve you?

He slowly and surely destroyed himself from the inside.

It will be late Friday evening, Chan has had a terrible day today. He made a few mistakes, he's very absent-minded

He came home and immediately burst into tears. He collapsed exhaustedly on the bed, his body trembling with shame and tears.

He lay down in a ball and covered himself with a blanket, he wants to hide from the whole world.

You arrived a little later than Chan. you tensed up because the apartment was quiet and dark.

You went through all the rooms, but didn’t find Chan there, although his shoes and bag were in the hallway.

Your heart sank when you saw him in the bedroom, you felt his pain on you.

You entered the room and sat down on Chan’s bed, Chan was lying on his side, covered with a blanket up to his head, he was breathing heavily and sobbing. You saw several drunk bottles of whiskey on the table, it seems things are bad. You stroked Chan’s head and back as he lay under the blanket. You rubbed his back again and again. Your heart ached with every tear he shed, it hurt too much. Chan feels your gentle touch and sobs loudly. Tears dampen the pillow, his body tenses for a moment, but then he slowly turns to you and looks at you with wet brown eyes, full of pain and regret. “Y/n...you shouldn't have seen this... I'm sorry...” his voice trembles, he tries his best to stop himself from screaming, “I don't want anything to happen in our relationship because of me- that’s bad... please forgive me" ..."Channie..please tell me everything that bothers you...I will help you" Tears flowed from his eyes, he sobbed loudly and squinted. Y/n ran thumb over his cheek, wiping away large tears, they looked like pearls. Chan felt disgusted with himself, he was disgusted by his appearance and existence. The sobs slowly subside under your touch, and Bang Chan looks at you with sad eyes, they beg for help, shining under the light. * “I can’t stand it anymore... I want to stop... please help me...” Chan's voice cracks. as he speaks quietly, not daring to look away. Y/n smiles at him tenderly, but doesn’t promise anything yet.

"I know how hard it is for you and how hard you try...you are such a wonderful person, Channie...my beloved wonderful man. Why don't you take a rest?" You spoke quietly, stroking Chan’s hair. Chan wanted to protest because there was too much work, but he felt like he was breaking down inside. Chan sighed and laid his head on Y/n’s chest, he didn’t want to say anything, they understood each other without words. They are connected at the soulmate level. He didn't want to think about work right now. They lay there for a while, and Y/n gently stroked her lover's hair. Chan felt warmth spread throughout his body as you whispered soft words of comfort, “Go to sleep, my love... We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Eventually, Chan's sobs subsided and he fell asleep in your arms. Your love will heal him, it will give him redemption. You are his sin, but at the same time his protector, you are his eternal love. Thank you.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

He is always strict with himself, he strives for an ideal that does not exist.

He literally wants to be the best everywhere and in everything.

He may be on strict diets, exhaust himself with dancing, or spend a lot of time in the gym. This all indicates that he feels bad in his soul.

He won't ask for help, he's not a weakling.

It will be evening, late evening in the dance studio, he is sitting on the floor and breathing heavily.

He worked out so much again for so long. His bones ached, his heart beat wildly, just a little more and he would collapse, but he wouldn’t stop.

Why do so many people underestimate him? Minho wants to be the best.

You will go into the studio and sit quietly next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He won't notice you at first.

His mood will improve slightly when he sees you and rests his head on yours.

Y/n took his hand, squeezing it a little. You felt how tired Minho was, you felt that he was being destroyed from the inside, he needed help. Minho intertwined his fingers with yours and his breathing calmed down a little “Y/n, it’s late, go home” He said, straightening his wet hair from sweat. "I was expecting you, you've been training all day." "You know the comeback is coming soon and I can't—"

You stop him and stroke his face, he looks like an upset cat. You straighten the strands of hair that fell on his forehead, “I know, but if you go on stage like this, STAY won’t be happy...take care of yourself first.”

He wants to argue with you, he doesn’t want to seem weak. He would never be weak, “Y/n, it’s really okay,” but when he tried to stand up, his legs gave way and the pain in his hip intensified. You jumped up after him so he could lean on you. "Don’t be a hero, Min, we’ll BOTH go home now,” he wants to object again, but the pain in his thigh intensifies and he makes a face, allowing him to be led to the sofa. You ran for the first aid kit, giving him painkillers.

"I will remind you of this, Y/n" he grins through the pain, but allows himself to lean on you and lead him to the manager's car. He is grateful to you, maybe he will start to feel better about himself. In the car, he takes you to his side and kisses you on the the top of the head.

𝐒𝐞𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

Changbin is rarely sad, he is always positive

Perhaps...he will be sad because some STAY don't like his appearance.

He will be quiet and taciturn, always looking at the phone screen.

One evening he comes up to you while you are preparing dinner and asks “Y/n...am I really that scary?”

You frown and don’t understand why he says that.

"Binnie, is something bothering you? You're handsome, baby."

He frowns and hands you the phone. He read the bad comments again.

You go up to him and pat him on the head, his head was at the level of your chest when he sat.

"Honey, antistay no one and you should ignore their words."

Before continuing, you handed Changbin his phone number, but with a post where there was a post where Changbin was considered the best. He is the best.

He will smile and lean towards you for a kiss.

He will shine all evening, he will be like the sun.

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

"Leave me the fuck alone for once"

Hyunjin will be furious, he was extremely annoyed by everything and everyone

As soon as he says this phrase, then you really should leave him alone.

He will pour out his sadness and melancholy in his paintings, he will completely throw all his emotions onto the canvas.

But

He will come to you later, but he will still be upset.

He will constantly talk about how terrible he is, how unworthy he is of your love, and may even question your relationship itself.

But he wasn't really asking you questions, he was just insecure and needed you to repeatedly tell him it was all bullshit.

You will run through his hair, stroking his cheeks and wiping away the tears from them.

Oh...it seems prince is a whiny boy.

Although fans believed that Hyunjin was perfect in everything, Hyunjin himself did not think so. He was absolutely afraid, he is afraid of everything.

He will wrap his long arms around your body while his head is on your chest, he quietly sobs and mutters something like: “please... don’t leave... don’t be disappointed in me.”

Give him love and care. Gentle kisses and long hugs will suit him.

He will cry for a long time, but because of his love for you.

Hyunjin is the sweetest person you've ever met. On the outside he is cold and inaccessible, but in reality he is vulnerable and soft.

Will fall asleep on you while you play with his hair.

"Sleep sweetly, my angel"

𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

Jisung wasn't as extroverted as everyone says

He is actually sad a lot, there are too many doubts in his head.

He may get upset over little things.

At one point it all resulted in tears.

You found him in tears in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and crying. He cried so hard and a lot.

His soul seems to be rotting from the inside.

“There is no loneliness worse than loneliness in society. Everyone laughs, but you want to cry.” This describes his life

You will hug him tightly while his limp arms cling to you.

He cries quietly in your arms, but does not explain the reasons. But you don’t ask him to tell you.

Even the funniest person can be broken at heart.

Jisung has lost his way out of his darkness.

He had not seen a way out for a long time. He was lost in the dark forest of his own thoughts.

need to live, not exist.

Will you be his light in this pain?

Then, Jisung will say for the first time that he appreciates you. Cherish these words until the last moment.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

He tries not to be upset, because the sun is never sad.

Felix hides his upset under a smile.

But... he won't deceive you.

He is too open and soft with you

He will cuddle up to you and tell you everything, he will be open with you and tell you about all his experiences.

"You came and everything became better"

He feels good and calm with you. You are his sedative.

He is like a kitten that needs all the love and affection.

He will sob and talk about all the problems.

You gently stroke his back, sometimes stroke his head. Throughout his story, you give him tactility and kisses.

The sadness will soon go away and you will go bake brownies or some other sweet together.

After crying, his face is little reddish, his eyelashes are pinched and his lips are swollen...he is a crying angel.

You will fulfill his every wish in order to prevent his tears! You have to tell him a lot of exciting stories to make him smile.

He must love flowers. Give him a bouquet)

If one kiss was not enough, then ten, if ten were not enough, then a hundred and even more.

The sun is shining again, and your sun happily moves around the kitchen and cooks with you.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

You didn’t know the last time you saw Seungmin sad, he didn’t care about anything at all.

He is sad alone, but he often remembers you. Thinking about you gives him peace.

He listens to any music and looks at your photos. He thinks a lot

You never touch him when he's sad. You just give him your soft toy and a glass of water.

It will take him a few hours, but he will be completely back to normal.

Seungmin never shares his experiences, but you know everything that happens on a subconscious level.

Perhaps he likes to go for a walk when bad thoughts come over him.

Only then will he call you and ask you to come.

You will walk in silence, only his cold hand gave him away.

Surrounded by your scent and beautiful views, he felt better.

When you get home, help him change and lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He will feel better.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

He hides his emotions.

No one needs to know how he feel.

Jeongin didn’t like unnecessary attention and didn’t talk much about his feelings.

But you know Jeongin from bones to toe.

He seems angry, but he is only upset in his heart.

Jeongin will be clingier than usual and won't talk much.

You ask what happened, and he will exhale heavily and try to tell you.

Jeongin's story will be a little incoherent, but he put his soul into his experiences.

You will help him solve his problems, because nuna/hyung always loves him!

He will feel better with your presence, as if you transferred your positive energy to him!

You will go for a walk, and then go shopping, because Jongin feels better when he buys new beautiful clothes.

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ashsolar · 17 days

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so long, londonᯓ★ln4

inspired by so, long london by taylor swift.

You both sat in silence, the living room dark just lit by fairy lights that were stuck to the wall by cheap cello tape. You knew your relationship was hanging from a thread. You two hadn't even gone on a date since months. You both knew that your relationship had come to an end months ago, you had grown apart. You knew Lando was done, done with the commitment. Your back hurt from carrying the pieces of your once blossoming relationship on your back. You missed pulling him into your embrace. While the stars lit the night sky, you two quietly swaying to a non-existent beat. It was none of yours fault, the only problem was that you both stopped trying, at least he did. You got tired of trying to make him laugh when he was down, you got sick and tired of waiting for him dressed in silk dresses, hair done, wearing the earrings he bought you for your birthday. Only for him to not even look at you and go to your shared bedroom. His back turned to you while you craved for warmth, warmth that only he could provide. You would pull him in tighter whenever he went for races. Your arms wrapped around him while he tried not not to touch you. Your heart would break whenever he rejected your hugs. He was drifting away. He left you alone at home. You would sit on your shared bed, your head cradled in your hands, crying softly. Your spine had split from carrying your relationship up the hill.

You both had another argument, about him never being there about him not trying anymore. You stood in the shower, hot water burning your skin but you couldn't care. Your head rested against the marble wall, mascara running down your face, your white silk dress stuck to your body like skin. You shivered, your bones caught the chill. You stopped, you stopped trying to make him happy, you stopped trying to fix the broken pieces of your relationship because he never tried.

You didn't know much sad he thought you had in you. You used to look at him with love and happiness in your eyes but now when you looked at him all that was there was sadness. This relationship was a tragedy. A tragedy you still wanted to work through.

You hadn't opted to be his punching bag, the one he would scream at when he was stressed, the one he would look at with hate. You found his phone once, text messages from some Portuguese model asking him to meet up. You looked her up found out she was a huge fan of the clothes you would spend hours designing, clothes you designed when you were waiting for Lando to come home. Isn't it funny the girl he was cheating on you with was a huge fan of your clothing brand. It was as if your relationship was a dying person, a person who was so far gone that even CPR couldn't bring your relationship back to life. The relationship wasn't even worth trying. Your relationship would never be the same again.

He took your youth away, he took memorable years of your life away from you, with broken promises, he manipulated you into staying in this dying relationship while he was out and about with a fake blonde.

The wounds he gave you, the wounds you tried to stitch back up by doing things you loved. They all had come undone and now you were lying on the floor, your heart hurting from all the pain you had experienced. You knew you would find someone who would love you like the way Lando used to, soon. At least you hoped.

You were done with him, you had your suitcases in hand. You walked out of your shared bedroom and saw Lando sitting on the couch, on his phone. Smiling. His smile faded away as soon as he laid his eyes on you. His usually cold eyes softened when he saw your eyes puffy, swollen, "Baby where are you going"

"I am leaving Lando, I can't do this anymore"

"You can't abandon me like this". He spoke, his harsh tone back.

"I never abandoned you, I went down with this stupid relationship, that I tried so hard to fix". You scoffed

"Don't do this".

You didn't look at him, you knew once you looked at him, you wouldn't leave. You would stay back with him and let yourself fall into oblivion again. You knew the resentment he now had for you but you couldn't care anymore. This relationship took your breath away, it felt rare for you to even be able to breathe.

You didn't think he'd move on so quickly, it had been a month since you both broke up and he was already going around with that blonde. You didn't have any sad left in you, your eyes couldn't even cry you a river anymore. You used up all your tears. You had no sad left in you.

Old photos of you and Lando surfaced on the internet. Your eyes were filled with tears, you finally had tears to cry. So you broke down. You bought your legs closer to your chest, gripping at your heart. He swore that he loved you but where were the clues. You died at the altar waiting for the proof.

𐙚

It had been years, since you and Lando had last seen each other. You never thought you would find someone who would love you. You almost lost hope but you were right to leave him and have a fresh start. All your hard work all the effort you put into your relationship paid off. You walked down the aisle, spotting your soon to be husband Carlos on the altar. You weren't standing on the altar alone, there was proof that the man you were now madly in love with was in love with you and that he would always love you. You never thought you'd be okay again but time and perseverance really does stitch your wounds back up. Even the wounds that once hurt us the most.

#lando norris #lando norris f1 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 x oc #ln4 #f1 #lando norris angst #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x y/n

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justlemmeadoreyou · 4 days

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curves*

a plus-size!y/n fic

words: 3k

warnings: mentions of insecurities and bullying, smut, p in v sex, daddy-kink, creampie, kissing, dirty talk.

The mirror taunts you as you stand before it, clad in just your underwear. Your eyes trace the soft curves that spill over your bra, the swell of your belly, the fullness of your thighs. A familiar lump forms in your throat as those old insecurities threaten to resurface.

You can still hear the echoes of cruel laughter from your school days. The harsh whispers of "fatty" and "whale" bounce around in your mind like shards of broken glass. For so long, you believed those hurtful words, letting them shape your self-perception.

But then Harry came into your life, like a soothing balm on those deep-seeded wounds.

"Y/N? Baby, you in here?"

His warm voice summons you back to the present, and you quickly grab your robe, wrapping it around your body as a shield. "Y-Yeah, just getting ready," you call back, averting your eyes from the judgmental mirror.

The bathroom door opens, and Harry steps in, his brows furrowed with concern. "Hey, what's wrong? You've been in here a while."

You open your mouth, but the words get tangled in your throat. How can you explain this recurring battle, the one you thought you'd won long ago? The feelings of inadequacy still linger like a parasite.

But then Harry's arms encircle you from behind, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, emerald eyes finding yours in the mirror. "Talk to me, love."

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you instinctively lean back into his solid embrace. "I was just...thinking about the past. The names I got called, the way I got treated because of my body."

Harry's reflection tightens his jaw, and you know he's picturing all the ignorant arseholes who ever made you feel less-than. His large hand settles on your stomach, warm and reassuring.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N. Every delicious curve of you." His voice is a deep, gravelly rumble against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "And anyone who couldn't see that can fuck right off."

A watery laugh bubbles up from your chest at his blunt words. Only Harry can make you feel so cherished and Protected one moment, and turn around and cuss like a sailor the next. You turn in his arms to face him properly, looping your own around his neck.

"I know, babe. You've helped me see myself differently, to appreciate this body instead of hating it. I've come so far in loving myself." You shake your head minutely, chasing away those last tendrils of doubt. "Most days, I do feel confident and sexy as hell. But sometimes..."

"...sometimes those shitty voices from the past still echo a little too loudly," Harry finishes for you with a sad, knowing smile.

You nod, fresh tears pricking the corners or your eyes. "Yeah...Exactly."

His large hands come up to cradle your face, calloused thumbs brushing away the stray tears. "Oh, my sweet, radiant girl. You're the most gorgeous, vibrant woman I've ever laid eyes on." His intense gaze bores into you, willing you to believe his words.

"You say that now, but what if -?"

"Stop," Harry cuts you off firmly. "Don't even go there, yeah? My feelings for you, the way I look at you and desire you, that's not gonna change. Whether you gain weight, lose weight, stay exactly the same. I don't give a fuck, because you'll always be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

His passionate declaration sends a fresh wave of affection swirling through your veins. You tilt your face up, seeking the solace of his lips in a slow, smoldering kiss.

Harry groans into your mouth, big hands skimming down your sides to pull you flush against his body. The hard planes of his chest press against the soft swell of your breasts through the thin robe.

"Feel that?" He husks out in a gravelly tone as he grinds his rapidly growing arousal against your lower belly. "That's what you do to me, baby. Just existing in all your glory does that."

You whimper at the heated promise in his words, at the undisguised lust simmering in those bright emerald irises. Harry loves and worships every lush inch of you, and you bask in the affirmation.

Looping your fingers through his lustrous chestnut locks, you angle your head for another drugging kiss. Maybe later you'll be able to see your beauty and sexiness reflected in the mirror, too. But for now, Harry's adoring gaze is more than enough.

***

A few nights later, you wake up in a tangle of sheets, your nude form deliciously intertwined with Harry's. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm, hazy glow.

Even in sleep, Harry's arm is curled protectively around your waist, fingertips splayed possessively over the dip of your lower back. His handsome face is smoothed in peaceful slumber, those pink lips parted around quiet snores.

Unable to resist, you nuzzle closer and brush a feather-light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw.

Harry stirs at the gentle caress, emerald eyes fluttering open in a sleepy squint as a lazy grin tugs at his lips. "Mmm, good morning to you too, beautiful."

"Hi," you murmur, ducking your head shyly as your cheeks warm.

Even after all this time together, after all the layers of yourself you've peeled back for this man, his open adoration and unguarded desire still manage to fluster you. One look from those searing green eyes has your heart racing like a smitten teenager.

With a quiet chuckle, Harry hooks a finger under your chin to tilt your face up towards his own. His smile softens into something so tender, so reverent, it makes your chest ache sweetly.

"Why're you blushin' so pretty, my girl?"

You nibble on your lower lip, suddenly bashful under his intense yet worshipful scrutiny. Your eyes rake over the cut lines of Harry's face, tracing the barely-there sprinkling of chest hair that tapers down his toned abdomen. Even sleep-rumpled and unguarded, he looks like some kind of mythic forest god come to life.

"Just admiring the view, I s'pose." Somehow, your self-consciousness evaporates the longer Harry gazes at you with open longing and love. You feel powerful and whole and sexy while naked beneath his stare.

Harry exhales a low noise of approval, skimming his knuckles along the soft curve of your cheek. "Is that so? Well, don't let me stop you then, princess."

He stretches languidly beside you, all lean muscle and sun-kissed skin and tousled bedroom hair. Like a lion awakening from an afternoon nap - regal and rugged and irresistible.

You swallow thickly against a spike of renewed arousal watching those lithe muscles flex and bunch under his tanned skin. Emboldened, you take your time visually drinking in every hard line and sinuous dip of his bare form, from broad shoulders to narrow hips and muscular thighs you love having clamped around your own.

But soon your own curves demand equal ogling rights.

Harry's heated viridian stare tracks hungrily down to your full breasts, sides spilling over ever so slightly as you stretch back against the pillows. His tongue instinctively swipes out to wet his lips at the sight of you.

Your hand drifts down to palm over one shapely globe, squeezing lightly while holding Harry's rapt gaze. You watch his pupils dilate further as you pluck at the tight bud, rolling the pert nipple between your fingertips until it furls into a stiff peak.

"Like what you see, daddy?"

A guttural rumble vibrates from deep in Harry's chest at your mewled words, like he's a big cat about to pounce. His broad hand suddenly cups around the side of your other breast, kneading and plumping the heavy weight of it.

"Fuckin' love what I see," he rumbles, gravelly tone dripping with pure sin. "Such a gorgeous girl you are, princess. Plump and soft and perfect for your daddy."

Your breath hitches sharply at his praise, arousal thrumming through your veins. Harry's hand maps an exploratory path across your ribs and lower, caressing over the gentle swell of your tummy before spanning wide over the curve of your hips.

"Built so sweet for me, hmm?" Harry croons, rutting his rapidly stiffening length against the plush swell of your outer thigh. "Such lush curves to grab onto while I fuck up into that greedy little cunt."

You whine high in your throat at his filthy words, legs instinctively falling open in silent invitation. Harry takes the hint, shifting to blanket your body with his solid weight as he settles in the cradle of your hips. His prominent arousal now notches snugly against your clothed core, providing a delicious tease of friction.

"You see what you do to me, baby girl?" he growls against the heated skin of your neck. "Get me so fuckin' hard just existing in all your glory."

Another whimpery plea spills past your parted lips as Harry grinds down with purpose. You can already feel the insistent ridge of his cock leaving a damp smear through the thin lace of your knickers.

Tangling your fingers into his wild chestnut tresses, you yank Harry's mouth up to crash against your own in a messy, desperate kiss. He groans deep in his chest, hips picking up a heavy circling rhythm to rut his thick length between your molten folds.

"Jesus, you're so wet already," Harry hisses out in approval as his hand trails down to cup your mound. "Such a messy girl for daddy."

Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, you hook one leg high over his powerful thighs to grant him better access. Harry doesn't hesitate before plunging two thick digits into your drenched entrance with one smooth stroke.

"Oh fuck!" The broken cry tears from your throat as he immediately sets a punishing pace, calloused fingertips expertly massaging your striated inner walls.

"That's it, let daddy hear how good he makes you feel," Harry groans against the swell of your parted lips, kissing you hungrily. His palm grinds perfectly against your neglected clit with each measured pump into your fluttering channel.

You whine into his mouth, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each inward glide of his fingers in a filthy grind. This is Harry's favorite way to make love to you - lavishing attention on every soft, lush inch with his hands and mouth and reverent words until you're a boneless, whimpering mess in his arms.

You cry out sharply when his thumb grazes your throbbing bundle of nerves, thighs tensing around Harry's pumping fist. But he slows his strokes to just short teasing thrusts, barely breaching your entrance now.

"Nu-uh, none of that just yet, princess." He tutts with a devilish grin. Harry loves to take you right to the brink before pulling you back onto sweet, delicious simmer. "Not until I'm buried so deep inside that perfect pussy."

Your heavy-lidded gaze meets his, all dark lust and wanton need. With a strained whine, you snake one hand down between your bodies to curl around the velvet steel of his achingly hard prick. Harry groans brokenly, pumping into your tight fist in tandem with his shallow thrusts into your core.

"Want you inside me so bad, daddy," you whimper, hooking your ankles high around his flexing backside to urge him closer. You can feel the slick, swollen tip of him catching against your entrance on each tortuously brief inward glide. "Need your big cock splitting me open."

A ragged growl rumbles in Harry's throat, fingers stilling inside your dripping channel. His large frame tenses above you, emerald eyes blazing down at where your smaller hand works his straining shaft with languorous pulls.

"Such a filthy little mouth, princess. Gonna make daddy fuck it so good..."

With one deft tug, he rips away the tiny scrap of lace barely clinging between your thighs, leaving you completely nude and splayed open for his hungry perusal. Harry pumps his glistening fingers in and out a few times more, drinking in the way your body arches and whimpers at the welcome intrusion.

Then, with an obscene squelch, he pulls his digits free of your clutching heat, leaving you clenching around empty air. You keen softly at the loss, thighs squeezing around his hips in silent pleading.

But Harry just smirks wickedly and brings his drenched fingers up to circle your puffy lower lip. When you automatically part your mouth with a wrecked groan, he presses the thick digits inside, letting you suckle your own tangy essence from his calloused skin

"There's a good girl," he praises in a thick, husky rasp. "Get that clever little mouth all warmed up for me, hmm?"

You swirl your tongue enthusiastically around the welcome intrusion, eyelashes fluttering as you savor your musky tart taste clinging to Harry's fingers. He watches you with ravenous dark eyes, hips twitching unconsciously like he's battling the urge to sink into your drenched heat.

Finally though, Harry drags his digits free with a slick pop, leaving your lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Without preamble, he palms his impressive length, giving himself a few firm tugs before notching the swollen head right against your fluttering entrance.

The thick blunt pressure makes you gasp out a broken moan, all thoughts fleeing as your eyes roll back. Harry rocks his powerful hips forward in one sinuous grind until he's fully sheathed inside your velvet depths. You both groan in unison, bodies flushed skin-to-skin as he sinks deeper and deeper until he's bottomed out completely.

"Fuck, always so fucking tight 'round me," Harry grits out through a clenched jaw.

You shift your hips restlessly, inner muscles fluttering around the ribbed intrusion spearing you open so exquisitely. A sense of completeness settles over you, every nerve ending thrumming with euphoric fullness.

"Move, please...need you to move," you beg breathily, fingertips digging into the taut muscles of Harry's lower back.

He growls in compliance, pulling almost all the way out with one long torturous glide before slamming back home. The brutal stroke punches the air from your lungs in one harsh gasp. Above you, Harry plants his palms on either side of your head, framed by bulging biceps as he sets a piston-rhythm sure to have you crying out his name soon enough.

Your hands find purchase gripping the globes of his arse, fingertips digging divots in the muscular flesh as you urge his thick cock even deeper inside with every frantic snap of his hips.

"So good, so good, please don't stop..." The litany spills unheeded from your slick lips, words tangling together along with broken moans and whines. Your world narrows to just the unbearably sinuous glide of his thick shaft as it splits you open over and over, your soft body jolting with the force of each collision.

Sweat soon sheens both your bodies as you strain and cling to one another, the steady creaking of the bedframe echoing through the room. Harry's forehead slams against your own, panted breaths mingling hotly in the scant space between you.

"Look at me, baby girl." His grit-rough tone commands your heavy-lidded gaze back to his searing emerald stare. "Look how fuckin' perfect and delicious you are, taking every inch like a sweet lil' angel."

His words alone are enough to send your vision whiting out for a dizzying moment, every muscle convulsing around the penetrating shaft buried so deeply inside. A wild keening punches out of your throat, your orgasm cresting and shattering over you sudden and explosive. Harry snarls like a savage beast, hips jackhammering harder and faster as your convulsing inner walls clasp around him in fluttering waves of ecstasy.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Harry tenses fully above you, powerful frame locking up as his own rapture overtakes him. You cry out again at the feeling of his essence flooding your spasming depths, scalding heat spreading through your very core.

It's always like this with Harry, your passion igniting a wildfire that consumes every rational thought until you're both rendered to pure id and physicality. Dimly, you're aware of his arms trembling violently to keep from crushing you beneath his solid weight as you both slowly float back down to earth, one quivering boned creature.

Eventually, Harry's hips still against the cradle of your thighs, buried balls-deep as you milk the very last pulses of heat from his spurting cock, hips twitching in the aftershocks as he released his load inside you. He sighs against your damp neck, his curls sticking to his own forehead as his lips leave a trail of kisses over your steadying pulse.

***

Y/N's gaze drifted over to the mirror, once again, but this time no self-doubt or criticism was clouding her vision. Cocooned in Harry's strong arms, she felt powerful, beautiful, and truly at peace with herself. His love was like a radiant force protecting her from lingering insecurities.

She turned her face up towards Harry's, drinking in the open adoration shining in his bright eyes. A contented smile tugged at her lips as she traced the line of his chiseled jaw. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "For always seeing the real me."

Harry's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer until their foreheads pressed together. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you, baby." His deep voice was thick with emotion. "You help me find peace too, y'know."

They stayed that way for long, quiet moments, simply basking in the profound intimacy and deep love surrounding them like a warm blanket. The outside world seemed to fade away as Y/N melted further into Harry's embrace.

Eventually, he brushed a feather-light kiss to the tip of her nose, emerald eyes sparkling with pure joy. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up and I'll make us some breakfast, gorgeous."

As they moved around the bedroom, trading gentle caresses and soft laughter, Y/N felt lighter than she had in years. Harry's unwavering love acted as a beacon, guiding her out of the shadows of her past. She knew there might still be difficult days ahead, but she also knew Harry would be by her side through all of it.

Pulling on one of his oversized shirts, she sent him a radiant smile. "I love you, Har. More than I can ever say."

Harry's answering grin was blindingly bright as he gathered her into his arms once more, holding her like something infinitely precious. "I love you too, my radiant girl. Always and forever."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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yourheart-inmyhands · 6 months

Note

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

---------

Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet.

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you.

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor.

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore x male reader #yandere zhongli #yandere dottore #yandere genshin

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slowbison · 10 months

Text

File: Gabriella and Y/n, State Champs! 046

(first part here: State Champs!)

The rain began to pour as a man laid on top of a car, slowly bleeding out into the seats after getting stabbed from a fight a few stories up. Groaning softly every time he moved, placing a hand on his side.

The wound wasn’t fatal, but it was still painful enough that he didn’t feel like moving and stared out into the sky. A thought came to mind.

“Lyla.. play file 046…”

“Miguel you’re hurt, watching that isn’t going to help lessen the pain, just hang on till backup arrives” Lyla said, hoping to persuade the broken man.

“Please… play it for me.” Miguel softly murmured, not wanting to look at her worried expression. She sighed before disappearing and in front of Miguel played the start of a video, one that he’s watched numerous times now. It started off the same, y/n greeting the camera with Gabriella smiling besides him. It then moved to show Miguel shooing them out the door, carrying numerous items to load into the car.

Y/n and Gabriella come up to the camera, promising to return and ending the film there. The next cut was at the game, Miguel concentrating on tying Gabriella’s hair while Y/n spoke encouraging words, the pair getting excited. It changed to Miguel worrying over her before letting her go and join her team, Y/n soft voice speaking to him.

The rest of the file was a few clips of the games, with the majority being Gabriella’s plays. It came to an end with loud cheering and Miguel and Gabriella hugging, alongside with y/n who was pulled into it, file ending with a picture that was taken in front of an ice cream shop with others. Miguel, Gabriella and Y/n huddled close together smiling.

Pausing it at the last frame, the man bleeding out reached out as if he could touch it, only to phase through his hand. The man gnashed his teeth and slammed his hand down onto the car, not caring for the pain spreading through his body.

He had been there when everything came to an end, watching as Gabriella disappeared from his arms and Y/n calling for his name at his side before he glitched from existence. Miguel could feel Peter's desperate tugging and allowed himself to be dragged back to headquarters. He locked himself away for some time.

Miguel stood there, brain barely processing the fact that the people he loved so dearly disappeared from his life… again. Had he known this would’ve happened, from that very night he walked into that alley and dragged away his alternate reality’s body, that the price to pay was losing you both once more. He’d never set foot into their world. Content with watching from a distance instead, that way he could at least see them again — even if it was through a screen.

But it felt great to be loved, having someone that cares for him, waking up next to someone he treasured and relishing in the time they spent together.

Miguel curled himself into a ball, tears mixing with the rain as he quietly sobbed.

“Lyla…

Tell me…

…a story…

…make hurting… stop…”

(inspo)

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notthefirstfallenangel · 7 months

Text

Memories II

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury, amnesia, alcohol mixed with meds

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 1.8k

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Hope you like it🤍

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

It was close to 8 o’clock when Simon lit a cigarette, the red end glowing in the darkness. The smoke curled up above him into the starless night, forming swirling patterns as it dissipated. He sat on the cold roof of the barracks, his legs stretched out before him and his back resting against the wall. His mask was rolled up to just below his nose, exposing his full lips set in a stoic expression.

The back of his head hurt, his muscles ached, and his stomach rumbled. He had a crick in his neck, and his butt was numb. He had been up there for almost an hour now, and the pack of cigarettes laid empty next to him. It had become a habit for him to go up there after visiting you in the hospital, a temporary escape from reality and a way to manage his worries.

His hands were rough and callused, strong, sturdy, and dependable. His hands cradled the cigarette. The tip of the cigarette glowed red hot in the night air; the paper began to burn his fingers. The heat felt good, the only sensation on his body that told him he was alive. The smoke rose slowly and smelled good, almost relaxing.

His expression was grim as he gazed into the distance. There, in the darkening sky, he saw a streak of lightning in the distance, and he thought of you, lying alone in that sterile hospital room, unable to remember him.

The only rule he had up there on that roof was not to think about anything about your condition — it was like a game of Taboo, and he had lost again.

He mumbled a curse under his breath.

When the doctors told him that you had suffered a traumatic injury to the hippocampus, he felt like the worst kind of monster was released from his cage. His heart sank and did not stop falling. He blamed himself for not being there when it happened.

Your childhood memories were still intact, but everything else seemed blurry and disjointed. Even some of your teenage years and early adulthood felt like a fog, leaving only fragmentary recollections in their wake.

The only tangible proof that the love you two shared for each other existed was the band of gold around your finger. He had stored it away carefully like a hidden treasure after you handed it back to him with tears in your eyes, telling him that you didn’t know who he was.

“Mind if I join you?”

He turned to see Price standing behind him, a cigar between his fingers, igniting the end with a few flicks of a match.

“Be my guest.”

Price sat beside him; their two forms a perfect contrast in the dark. While Simon appeared troubled, Price was relaxed, his expression peaceful despite the gloomy surroundings.

“The storm’s almost here,” Price blew a plume of smoke. “But it won’t last for long.”

“But until it does, it’ll be a bloody mess.”

“How’s she holdin’ up?”

“It ain’t good.”They sat silently for a while, the only sounds being the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind and the quiet but steady pattern of raindrops hitting the pavement.

Price took another drag from his cigar, sending a cloud of smoke into the air. “You want my opinion?”

“Sure”

“You’re pushing too hard.”

Simon stared at him in silence. He couldn’t deny that Price was right — but he was struggling to accept it.

“She doesn’t remember a bloody thing,” he said. “At times, she acts as if she’s trying like there’s something in the back of her mind. But then nothing.” He tossed the cigarette over the edge of the roof and continued. “I try so bloody damned hard, but no matter what I do, it doesn’t work. And then she gets pissed off at me.”

“I know... but giving up isn’t an option, is it? I know you’re not like that.”

Simon rested his hands in his pockets and stared at the distance, contemplating. The rain kept dropping lazily around them while the storm threw its wrath over the city.

Then, finally, he spoke. “No... no, I don’t want to give up. But it’s so hard, Price. Got nothin’ to cling on to,” He muttered under his breath. “I... I jus’ wish I could do much more.”

Price’s voice was low and soothing, as if he were carefully measuring each word before speaking. “You can’t make her mind rush to remember. It’s gotta sort itself out in its own time.”

Simon fell silent. He wanted to believe Price’s soothing words—he really did—but his own anxiety and frustration made it difficult, if not impossible.

Price crushed his cigar under his foot.” C’mon. Let’s go back inside. Come on, mate.”

As he stood, an unspoken understanding passed between them. He extended his arm in a silent offer of assistance; Simon hesitated, then leaned forward and clasped Price’s hand, letting the other man haul him to his feet.

They headed back inside; the barrack’s warm lights and dry air were a welcome contrast to the cold outside.

“You okay?” he asked again as Simon shook off the rain.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Go home, get an early night.”

Simon knew he should argue and tell Price he didn’t need special treatment. But he couldn’t. He was too tired.

“You’re right. I’ll head home.”

—

Coming home was particularly hard for him. The silence was deafening; it felt like it was drowning him, just as the memory loss was drowning you.

As he opened the door to his house, a wave of cold emptiness washed over him. The home that was once filled with laughter and love seemed empty without you there. He missed the familiar sound of your voice as it echoed through the halls, mocking him in its absence while coming back from yet another hospital visit. All of your memories were tainted by your illness; your happiness had been swallowed up by the silence of your lack of speech and his inability to bring you back to yourself. His heart ached as he remembered the woman you'd been before the terrible accident and wished that he could bring back the person you used to be.

To make the atmosphere more bearable, he adopted some strategies that helped to create a better atmosphere in his house. One of them was to keep the TV always on with an old show like Buffy or some other show playing. You’d never go to bed until you had watched at least one episode.

He tossed his clothes onto a chair, the mask on the floor and climbed into bed wearing just his boxer shorts. His body ached from the long day, but it was the throbbing in his head that gave him the most problems. He sighed heavily as he lay down, trying to will away the pain.

The bed creaks and groans as he moves in it.

The sound of the TV fell on deaf ears. He couldn't hear anything but the echo of your voice in his head. It haunted him.

Lying there, he remembered the feeling of being close to you. He could feel your body against his, the curves of your shoulder and hip pressing into him, and the softness of your skin as he traced his fingers down your arm or ran them lightly through your hair. He longed to feel that closeness again, to be enveloped in the scent of you. He missed the sweet smell of your hair filled his nose as he buried his face in your neck.

Your perfume lingers in the sheets, like a ghost clinging to the pillows.

He reached out and ran his hand along the empty space beside him, imagining that you were there. His heart ached for you, and he felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever. The realisation that he might never have you back brought tears to his eyes, and he struggled to hold them back.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. He couldn't force you to remember, no matter how hard he tried. As he drifted off to sleep, he knew that the only thing he could do was to love you, always and forever, no matter what.

It took some time for him to drift off, and even then, he would wake up. Because there was no escape, he was forced to relive the mission that left him broken every night.

The sound of your crying and screaming, begging for your life.

He heard them every night. He heard them over the gunshots and the sound of grenades. He heard the sounds of your yelling at him to let go of your hand and save himself. Then, the screams went silent. He woke up like every night, drenched in sweat, the sheets wrapped around his legs.

The TV was loud, and Sarah Gellar was battling some vampires. Simon shook his head, wiping the sweat away from his forehead before shutting off the TV.

“Bloody hell...” he muttered.

He ran his hand harshly across his face, desperately trying to erase the image of you being thrown backwards from a powerful explosion and your body lying motionless on the cold ground. He could smell the scent of burnt skin and matted hair. He shivered in horror, reached for the small bottle of whiskey kept on the bedside table, and took a swig directly from the bottle.

It doesn’t help, he told himself; it never does.

The bottle was nearly depleted, having been his faithful companion during the weeks of solitude.

His head was spinning painfully, and his body was cold.

You’re a mess.

He grunted as he stood and stumbled towards the bathroom; the hardwood flooring felt cool against his bare feet.

He opened the cabinet, deliberately not looking into the mirror. His fingers found a bottle of Nembutal, and he grabbed it, his palm slick from the whiskey bottle. He tossed two pills down his throat, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

—

He jolted awake some hours later to the buzz of his phone and immediately regretted it. A throbbing ache exploded behind his eyes and spread throughout his head and neck. He groggily fumbled for the device, holding it up to his ear without shielding his eyes from the harsh light of morning streaming through the window.

“Who’s this?” he croaked.

“Mr Riley, it’s Doctor Badel...” The tone in his voice was tired, exasperated. “She’s not cooperating with their prescribed treatment plan.”

The words felt heavy in the air, and the silence that followed was thick with tension. It was as if the entire room was holding its breath.

Simon cursed under his breath, muscles clenching and his jaw tightening.

“ I’m on my way.”

Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley angst

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lightlycareless · 4 months

Note

Ok but like… virgin!naoya 👀👀👀👀👀 thoughts?

😏 hello. what an interesting topic...

I initially wanted to write something short, like hc's or such, but you know me I just gotta go the whole way hahahah. Anyways, this is very... idk how to say it, I feel kinda bad for Naoya, but I had to exagerate some things because honestly I do not feel a man like him would be a virgin for too long, you know?

anyways, here are the warnings: smut. naoya being weird, a dork tbh (but a perverted one too) and something tells me this is lowkey bottom!naoya too... anyways; MINORS DNI. happy reading!!

Virgin!naoya where all of his thoughts are, of course, having his first time.

He wholeheartedly believes the reason why he hasn't been able to do it is because everyone around him doesn't have good taste. Like, they can't see all that he offers, what a great deal he is:

He has money, prestige, a good education (he’s attending one of the best colleges in the country!) and literally no worry in the world ‘cause the rest of his life is set thanks to his family.

But at the same time, he doesn’t want people to just want him for that.

Unbelievably, he desires someone that will make him feel like the amazing, accomplished, talented, one of a kind, never seen before, man he considers himself to be, even if he didn’t have anything under his name.

If he just wanted sex, he could pay someone for that!

And yet, he still waits for the right one.

Naturally, Naoya isn’t any proud of the fact that he hasn’t been able to get it on with anyone, so he goes to the extent of making things up to compensate for that.

Whenever people around him start talking about their flings, one-night stands amongst other things, Naoya always has something to say:

“Experiences” of course, that he made up from watching porn. And apparently no one has been able to catch him in the lie, either because he turned very aggressive when confronted, or because they didn’t care tbh.

Until someone dared confront him.

“But you didn’t go out that night.”

“I saw you somewhere else though.”

“I thought you said you stayed home all day that time…?”

To say a few.

And when the pieces began to fall into place, alongside the fact how “nervous” he got when asked to elaborate, the earth-shattering truth comes out:

“Wait—Naoya, don’t tell me you… you’re a virgin?”

It’s safe to say that Naoya hides himself from the goddamn world for the following days, right after making the curious asker regret their existence.

But now that the truth was out there, he was on a mission to prove everyone wrong; he was going to lose his virginity, no matter what it took, and stop being the laughingstock of his friends.

He’d start by going date, after date, after date with any girl he thought attractive in hopes of finally getting laid.

But somehow, it just never went through; not even the most desperate woman would accept him, because of course, he just had to open his mouth and that’d be enough for everyone to run away.

Naoya is now, for all intents and purposes, desperate. Wasn’t sex supposed to be the easiest thing to find in the world??

Like, even his dad got laid! He exists for a reason! Why can’t he have the same luck??? He’s even better looking than him!! So why is it so goddamn hard???

…

Naoya really, really doesn’t want to pay someone to do it; doesn’t want to hurt his pride, make everyone believe that he wasn’t able to get it out of his pure charm…

But his delusions don’t get bad until he meets the new girl at school; a transfer student from Tokyo that wanted to know what Kyoto was all about.

Naoya usually didn’t care about these situations, unless he could get use them to his advantage.

But that quickly changes when he sees her—you.

Not that he had any choice, because you had an alluring aura that attracted everyone to you, whether because of your status as a new student, or your surprisingly fun personality.

He got to experience this last part after discovering you had a class with him, eventually assigned to do a group project for the end of the semester.

It all started by meeting at the library after school to work on it, before exchanging numbers, social media, and eventually, hanging out outside of campus to talk not only about the project, but other things as well.

Naoya tries his hardest to not socialize beyond necessary means, share nothing that pertains to personal matters.

But he couldn’t, because the more he spends time with you, the more he learns how much in common the two have. Things he didn’t think a girl like you would like, enjoy talking about, or even wanted to know more of.

It also helped that he found you very attractive. Perhaps the prettiest woman he’s seen in his life—but he sure liked being admired by you more.

However, let’s not forget this is a man that has been “deprived” of sex, so it doesn’t take long for him before he starts fantasizing about you: starting by notion of how your skin would feel against him—it’s warm, it’s scent.

To how you’d look underneath your clothes, how you’d squirm beneath him, begging him to take you and mark you as solely his with those desperate moans he can already hear through your lovely voice.

By that point, Naoya is already getting off at the thought of you about… daily, really. Getting hard the moment he sees you do anything remotely provocative, although unintentionally, or just because you’re there.

Porn is now with actresses that resemble you, immediately getting angry when he doesn’t find any that suits his preference, resorting to stalking your social media afterwards.

He’s highly grateful that you’ve trusted him to add you online, thinks you foolish for having done so. However, it came with a price:

Whenever he sees a glimpse, the faintest hint of another man alongside you, (or worse, in a relationship) makes him highly jealous, to the point of wanting to directly confront you and demand who was that?! And how dare you talk to him while seeing someone else!

Only to stop when (what little) his common sense tells him that if he does so, he might lose you permanently; and he doesn’t want to do that with the only person that has made him feel this way.

Besides, you once (seemingly unprovokedly) told him you were single. So there's that.

Yet, as much as he was obsessed with you, finished to the thought of you, hallucinates of you—he doesn’t go beyond that. Doesn’t do anything to make his dreams a reality.

Or more like you win him to it, one day asking him if “he’d like to get something to eat with you one day” and not precisely to work on that tedious group project, but as a…

“What—like… a date?” he asks bluntly, you look away for a brief second, flustered, before nodding.

So, he accepts, even when he thought he should’ve been the first one to ask but whatever, this is something he can still use to his advantage, precisely for his little setback.

The two end up going to a nearby mall, walking around to see the stores before getting something to eat and watching a movie.

Nothing happens there, as much as he would’ve liked to; however, you do lean into him, rest your head over your shoulder before grabbing his hand and remaining that way until the movie ended.

“I had fun, Naoya.” You’d say as he dropped you off at home. “I hope we can go out again.”

Let’s say Naoya didn’t sleep that night at all.

The two would continue to hang out, both inside and outside the campus, to the point everyone believed Naoya and you were now dating.

Neither denied nor confirmed the rumors for the question had yet to be asked, but even when Naoya had to admit that this was the most time he had invested to getting into a girl’s pants—he'd almost forgotten why he started all this in the first place.

Naoya was genuinely enjoying spending time with you, mostly because you didn’t run away when he began to grow more comfortable with you—although you would tell him to not say certain things (and he’d try, keyword: try)—and as stated before, you were... different.

But he still wanted it, of course. So it shouldn’t come to anyone’s surprise that after a few dates, long nights calling and texting one another, as well as insinuating wanting more, it finally happens.

The two agree to spend the night at Naoya’s apartment after spending the whole day together. How he managed to take you there in the first place, after being unable to keep hands off one another, is to be commended.

Naoya hastily takes you to his bedroom as soon as both walk through the door, where you’d get undressed before moving to the bed.

It’s apparent to you that he wants to get to the main course as soon as possible, yet there’s still hesitation behind his actions, starting from the bruteness behind his kisses, to the tremble in his fingers; almost as if he didn’t know what to do or how to touch you.

But your desire didn’t allow you to worry much about those trivial things, moving forward to the moment Naoya had been daydreaming of.

“Put the condom on, Naoya…” you whined as you laid back on the bed. Naoya, now on top of you, scoffs.

“Why? You’re the only one I’m seeing.” There’s the slightest tremble in his voice, but he means his words either way.

Besides, it’s his first time, he doesn’t want some stupid rubber getting in the way.

“Because I don’t want to get pregnant—we’re not even dating yet!” You jest with a giggle; and the thought of you begetting his child after your first night with him only makes him feel hotter. He wouldn’t mind marrying you, but one step at a time. “Just pull out, ok?”

Naoya was already near his limit when you said those words, but he’s pushed past the edge when hearing the sharp gasp you make upon seeing his cock.

He always knew he packed something good, but he was never sure until hearing your reaction, which certainly urged him to become more arrogant (incredibly) and eager.

And after some quick preparations, as well as mental encouragement from his side, it was finally time for the main event.

He’d had his fair share of reimaginations of what his first time would be like, the kind of pussy he’d like to see, and the beautiful girl he’d get as well.

But none of them compared to the real thing: it’s safe to say that you surpassed all expectations, and he couldn’t wait to have a taste of the pleasure he had been unfairly deprived fro—

“It’s a bit lower, Naoya.” You gently murmur, swiftly cutting through his thoughts, upon feeling his cock prod at… well, anywhere but your entrance.

“…Right.” He frowns, slightly embarrassed before swallowing, refocusing on the prize at hand, adjusting the tip a bit lower and onto your entrance.

He feels the warmth radiating of it as he coats on your glistening sick, before pushing past your tight rim in one swift, yet agonizingly pleasurable, movement.

Naoya never liked exaggeration; thought it to be immature, if not incredulous, but he can’t resort to anything else when describing the sensations he’s immediately engulfed with when entering your cunt.

The tightness, the warmth, it’s gumminess—it was all of his fantasies + more merging into his reality. Ones that just grew hotter and hotter the deeper he moved, making his plans of plummeting into you falter, lowly whimpering as he acknowledged what is happening.

He’s finally having sex—losing his virginity.

And it was so, so much better than he imagined.

It’s like getting high; with the world around him starting to spin as he could only think about staying inside you, relishing on the pleasure he should’ve gotten ages ago, but now it’s here and he—he…!

Naoya wants to move, wants to experience more of the vice grip of your walls on his cock, the softness of your breasts, or the warmth of your kisses.

All while making you scream, call out the name of the one making you feel this way!

But he can’t.

He just... can’t move; he doesn’t—he doesn’t know how to.

As much as he wants to, longed to do so, he’s forced instead to remain there while your body completely overtakes his senses: eyes blurry, jaw tightly clenched, alongside his desperate whines are just a few examples of this.

“Naoya, please…” you beg, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and moving him closer to you, enough to whisper against his ear, as your walls squeeze his cock, as to accentuating your neediness. “Fuck me”

He really, really wished you hadn’t done that.

“Y/N!” He gasps, finally moving his hips back before snapping them against you, mentally preparing for the long night ahead—

Only that he doesn’t move again as soon as he hits your cervix; instead, he keeps still yet again, deep inside you, while letting out a light groan before resting his head against the crook of your neck.

It doesn’t compute at first for you, believing something wrong had occurred, maybe he didn’t want to spend the night with you anymore—

Until a warm, sticky sensation begins to invade your walls; it’s then that everything falls into place, making your eyes snap to him, more than ready to scold him for going against your request—

Only to see that this hadn’t been voluntary; his tightly shut eyes and flustered face proving you other wise as he continued to indulge in this happening, a sensation he undeniably wishes to persevere…

Unless you were to pull him back to reality.

“Naoya—did you… did you just cum?”

“Wha—what?” he breathes, still capable of acknowledging you through the drowning sensation of his orgasm.

“Did you just cum?” you repeat. “Inside me—Naoya, did you—"

“What? No—I—” he says, wishing to refute your incredulous claim, excuse it had been nothing but your imagination, because he couldn’t be one of those!

But one quick look at your entrance was enough to prove him wrong, pulling his cock out and allowing his seed to drip down your pussy and to the sheets; proving that truly, he had finished as soon as he entered you.

“I didn’t—"

And this made him highly embarrassed, if not disappointed.

“Then what happened? You just moved and then—"

“Get out.” He inadvertently says, you blink.

“Excuse me?”

“I said—get out.”

"Naoya, I didn't—I don't think that's— let's talk fir—"

“Leave before I fucking drag out you myself!”

He doesn’t want to deal with this situation anymore, doesn’t want to feel further humiliated by his blatantly obvious inexperience, nor hear anything from you that might highlight this fact—that much is clear by his tone, which swiftly prompts you pick up your things, dress up, and leave him, alongside the notion that his life will be ruined from this point forward.

Because more than shame of the present, he fears the future:

He knows you’re going to tell others of his mishap, spread his disgrace as your life depended on it, further tarnishing his already soiled image for the rest of his life.

All that Naoya could think of from that moment forward was the lengths he’ll have to go to avoid facing the consequences of his ruined reputation: he’ll have to switch cities, change his number, perhaps even his name!

And not only that, but he’ll also have to live in isolation to avoid the jests that will undoubtedly come from his family once they hear of his mistake.

The rest he could tolerate; but this... this he cannot.

But when he returns to campus, expecting to be bombarded by his group of “friends” mocking him for acting like a horny teenager, alongside some other lies you created to further humiliate him…

Nothing seems to have changed.

In fact, everyone continued to act as they always did; his friends greeting him, the rest avoiding him… essentially allowing him to continue his daily routine like it was any other day.

Including meeting you in class.

Naoya does his best to avoid you, having arrived to the conclusion that you’re instead holding his misadventure as blackmail to use when it better suits your needs.

But he can’t, not when you insist on talking to him through class, almost enough to be reprimanded by the teacher.

“What do you want?!” he scowls as soon as the two are alone, in a far away classroom rarely anyone uses.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” You admit. “Why hadn’t you responded my—"

“For what? To make fun of me again??”

“What? No! I wasn’t—I didn’t make fun of you. Why would you even suggest—"

“Then what is it, Y/N? What other reason would you have for this, then?” you don’t respond, this makes him angrier. “Why haven’t you told anyone of what happened that night, hm? Waiting for the perfect moment?”

“What are you even saying?” you ask back, genuinely confused by his accusations. “I get it, it was… surprising, not exactly what anyone would want, but I’d never do that!”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Naoya goaded. “Certainly, you must know my reputation by now, all you could get by spreading something like that!”

“…Because that’s—that’s not what I want to do with someone I like!” You cry.

“What?” he asks, perplexed. Not an answer that aligned to his predispositions. “What do you mean you—you like me?”

He had some notion of that, blatantly obvious by the way you'd following him around like a lost puppy, or the whispers coming from those around you.

In other words, his shock came from the fact that he never believed it was genuine; maybe because deep inside him, he thought everyone always wanted something from him. Seemed to be like that, even up to this point, thinking one of his friends had maybe set you up for this, him willingly naive...

Yet, the evidence was outstandingly contrary.

“Why would I ask you out if I didn’t?” you insist; he shrugs. “…Is this common for you, Naoya? To have people talk behind your back and such?”

“A bit.”

“You need better friends.” You attempt to jest. He sighs.

“… So what? What do you want to talk about?” Naoya begins anew. You press your lips together.

“… I just wanted to tell you that I didn't care that... that happened. And that I didn't mean to do things to make you feel embarrassed, of course.” You explain. “Although I have to admit that it did startle me, thought you had done it in purpose… but then, I saw it was something else, and...”

“I’m assuming you already now that was my first—"

“It was my first time too.” You admit, he blinks, not believing your words. “At least… getting to that part.”

“You? Your first time?”

“I don’t know how to take that.” You frown.

“I was referring to what others think of you. You must’ve heard that by now." he says.

“Yeah; I have.” you admit. "But I'm not interested in that."

“Then why me? Why are even you doing all of this, even after that?”

“Because you don’t treat me like they do; to you, I’m just another student coming for class, not some shiny new toy some can’t wait to get their hands on..." you murmur, before chuckling. "And because you’re the most handsome one here!"

"Really?" he raises an eyebrow, doing his best to avoid his fluster from showing on his face.

You chuckle, Naoya smirks.

“… I thought it was cute.”

“What was?”

“…you know, that.” You silently admit, Naoya finally blushes. “I mean, I didn’t like you finishing inside me, but I... I never had anyone like me that much, you know? If anything... I’m surprised you haven’t done this with anyone else.”

“It’s simply my reality.” he says; some things are just incapable of being explained.

“Well then, I’m flattered I was the first one.” You grin. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

“I’m the one supposed to say that.” He frowns, you giggle. “… so… what does this mean?”

“…That we can try it again, everything I mean. I still like you, after all...” you chuckle nervously, before looking away. “But only if you still want to, of course, I don't want to sound like I'm—”

“Dinner; tonight, in my apartment.” He says immediately. “After 7, once I’m done working out, I'll go pick you up.”

“I’d like that.” You smile, taking a step closer. “But first we have to finish our group assignment! Also, don’t kick me out again! Or I won’t take it nicely this time…”

“Then my girlfriend shouldn’t tease me.” Naoya smirks, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him, hands resting on your waist. You pout, flustered.

“Don’t make it too easy.” You respond, tiptoeing to kiss him. “…my dear boyfriend.”

it's like all universes will have me writing naoya and y/n ending up together; you'll have to specify otherwise if you don't want to i'm sorry that's just how it is here.

also I recently saw american psycho and idk why (I guess it makes sense) but the whole dynamic of patrick bateman and his colleagues makes me think of Naoya; like they'll always be competition, seeing who is better in what—but even then, no one really likes Naoya HAHAHAH

anyways, i had fun humiliating Naoya a bit :) y/n really committed to the unconditional love thing here—but now that I'm done with this, I can certainly say this is more of a bottom!naoya kind of thing. It truly feels like it, doesn't it? hehe.

Hope you enjoyed it either way!! Thank you for sending in this ask ❤️ Take care and hope to see you soon!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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slashersteve · 2 years

Note

Hi, can I request a Steve Harrington x girlfriend reader where they get into a car wreck and Steve freaks out. At first the reader thinks it's about the car but it's really about them.

This request actually reminded me of a part of an old, unpublished series I wrote a few years ago a little after s3, so I revamped it for this. Also, I'm trying a new format for writing more shorter requests! Thank you lovely <3

warnings/extra tags: cursing, mentions of blood, car accident, st2 steve because meooow

✧ ✧ ✧

The car was a wreck.

The frame of it looked like it was completely demolished, the red paint scratched off in various places, and the headlights were practically non-existent. The windshield too was one tap away from being completely shattered.

It certainly looked like it belonged in this junkyard you recklessly drove it through in order to save your boyfriend and the kids he found himself babysitting and monster hunting with.

You might say the cherry on top was the demodog blood that stained the scrapped pieces of the car, or the actual demodog that was pinned against the destroyed hood.

"What-what the hell just happened!?" Steve was shouting from where he had laid on the ground after he jumped out of your way, "Oh my god!"

You were stumbling out of the car, your head feeling incredibly disoriented before you nearly collapsed. Your hand had found a metal bin filled with various junk, and you leaned on it as to not fall to the ground.

The sound of Steve calling your name made you lift your head up to see a panicked expression written on your boyfriend's face as he was running toward you. You stared at him for a second, before you remembered what you had just done.

Your heart sank, realizing that the car you just crashed into a couple of demodogs wasn't yours. It was Steve's, and you probably just totaled it right in front of him. When you turned your head and saw the damage, guilt had already settled in you, and you very quickly began to apologize.

"I'm so sorry," you told him, your voice still quite winded from the crash, "I just saw a bunch of them surround you and I didn't know what else to do, so I just-"

Steve was in front of you now, his soft brown eyes frantically moving over your face before resting on a cut on your forehead that was protruding blood.

You didn't even realize you were injured, too focused on the fact that you destroyed Steve's car.

"I can't believe this," Steve said to you, and you almost wanted to cry, "Are you crazy? God dammit, you really just did that-"

At the sight of your eyes welling up with tears, Steve felt his heart stop and he thought the worst.

"I swear Steve, I will help you fix it, or hell I'll give you my car until I can get you a new one, god I am such an asshole, I didn't even think about it-"

Steve had barely started to listen what you were talking about, as his attention was on your wound and he was about to ask you if you were hurt bad anywhere else because you were about to cry.

"Wait what?" Steve asked you, his eyes resting back on yours.

You were frowning deeply, and replied in a quiet voice, "I destroyed your car, Steve."

His eyebrows drew inward, and his eyes flashed toward the smoking, hunk of metal that was currently pinning a twitching demodog against another, much older and abandoned car.

Steve blinked for a moment, clearly seeing the damage then turned back to you, "What? That's what you're worried about?"

You nodded weakly, "Yeah, it's your car Steve-"

"Screw the damn car," he interrupted, looking at you as if you had grown two heads when you really only assumed he cared about that hunk of metal rather than the well-being and safety of his girlfriend.

You still weren’t getting it though, “But I totally ruined it-“

Steve interrupted you again, “I’m more concerned about you, shit, you’re bleeding pretty bad. Henderson! I hope you have bandages in that backpack of yours or something!” His hand reached upward to the top of your forehead, his hand carefully touching around the wound. You winced when he did, and he apologized.

You didn’t know why you were so concerned with the car rather than yourself too, or why you would think for a moment that Steve, your loving boyfriend, would care more about it than you.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head when your eyes met each others and he saw your still confused gaze.

"Did you seriously think I cared more about a car?" he asked you, still baffled by the fact that you probably did.

"....no," you lied, and he shook his head and laughed quietly. He grasped your hand then and began to lead you toward the bus with the kids and where Dustin was pulling out a bandage from a medkit he was smart enough to bring.

"The car can be replaced, you cannot be, now come on before more of those...bastards show up," Steve told you, "Don't do that again though, god you scared me."

It was touching to realize that it was you Steve was concerned about, even with the pulsing pain in your head, and your half-foggy mind. It served as a reminder to you that Steve loved and cared for you as much as you loved and cared for him.

#brought to you by me someone who drank a whole iced coffee at 3 am and got this written #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #reader insert #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #asks #ily anon #anonymous #requests

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actiniumwrites · 8 months

Note

(scenario, if it’s alright ?) diluc and kaeya with an s/o singing them to sleep :’0 or just softly singing to them for comfort/in general (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) i’ve been listening to rises the moon by liana flores n i can’t help but imagine how soothing n healing it must be for their s/o to sing to them that way hhngghfnsdjnxjsn . . . their chest would swell in affection and look at them with hearts in their eyes while s/o sweetly holds them in their arms n stroke their hair tenderly . . . (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♡

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

synopsis: in which you sing your restless lover to sleep

characters: kaeya, diluc x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, nightmares, vague mentioning of diluc’s past, i accidentally made diluc’s kinda angsty (sorry)

notes: anon, this is so cute!! i used to be obsessed with rises the moon for such a long time, coincidentally i would also use it to fall asleep sometimes. thank you for the request!

Kaeya:

It was close to two in the morning when you awoke from your sleep suddenly. The room around you was cold and silent, haunted by the evening shadows that enveloped everything around it aside from the gentle candlelight that flickered from the other side of the room.

You laid back down for a few moments, falling aimlessly against the warm sheets below you. Your eyes focused on the white ceiling above you as they shifted between squinting and widening to adjust from just previously being asleep. A quiet sigh fell from your lips as you relaxed for a moment. Instinctively, your hand inched toward the other side of the bed where your boyfriend normally slept. When all you could feel was the cold sheets where he should have been laying, your eyes snapped back open.

Somehow, you hadn’t even noticed his presence had not existed within your bed, but was instead sat in a chair at the desk tirelessly scribbling away at a piece of paper. Originally, you had just assumed the flicker of the candle was due to carelessness on your part. That, perhaps, you had just forgotten to put it out before allowing yourself to fall into a warm slumber for the night. But alas, that was not the case.

Sitting upright, you hung your feet over the bed. You shivered at the touch of the freezing wooden floors when you arose from your spot. Wrapping your hands around your waist in a desperate attempt to keep warm, you quietly walked toward the desk where he was sitting.

You stopped right before him, tenderly placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to peer at what he had been writing. He hardly gave a reaction, but didn’t stop you from gently massaging his shoulders.

“Kaeya,” you softly murmured, not wanting to disturb the silence of the night. His hand rushed to finish one final sentence before he placed the pen against the desk where it should have been the entire time.

“I’m done. I swear,” he assured you, turning around as he stood up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he pulled you closer to him. Resting your head against his shoulder, you begun to sway back and forth with him.

After a few more wordless seconds together, you pulled back from him but kept his hands in yours, “Come to bed…please.”

Sleep seemed to have been evading Kaeya for the past two weeks. You were well aware it was because of his upcoming expedition and all the hard work and preparation that came alongside it, but that didn’t mean you could excuse the way he was neglecting his health.

He nodded silently, giving into you just as he always did.

When you got into bed, you tucked the covers over the both of you. Scooting closer to him, you propped your arm up a bit so you could lean over him. Brushing his hair softly with your fingers, you whispered to him, “Are you having a hard time sleeping again?”

Kaeya mumbled something softly as he nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, “Sing to me? Please?”

A tender smile pulled at your lips and a hushed laugh escaped you, “Of course.”

And so, you quietly began to sing him his favorite song. Your voice was quiet and soft, and it was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard in his entire life. It didn’t overtake the rustling of the trees outside the window or the calm crackling of the wick candle you had decided to let burn a little while longer. It had only taken a minute or two before Kaeya had entered a peaceful sleep. Thanks to you, it was the first one he had gotten in weeks.

And when his breath evened and his eyes were firmly shut, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Sleep well, love.”

Diluc:

It was the middle of the night when you awoke suddenly, a feeling as though something was wrong shook within your chest. The soft pitter patter of rain made its way to your ears as you glanced at the window next to your side of the bed, thunder following suit in big booms. You almost shook the feeling off all together had it not been for the bright flash of lightning revealing your boyfriend sitting upright in bed, head within his hands.

The room had been so dark, and with the thunder and rain occupying what normally was filled with silence, you hadn’t even noticed him.

“Diluc?” you called out to him hesitantly, not used to him being up at such hours of the night. Not unless he was off doing work as the Dark Knight. When your hand made contact with his shoulder that was left bare by the white tank top he had worn to bed, he jolted softly away from your touch. You pulled your hand away instantly, like you had just been burned.

There was a moment where anxiousness began to boil in your stomach, whispering that you had done something to hurt him. Your eyes darted across his form as they began to adjust to the darkness of the room, starting to give into those worries. Maybe you had said something wrong at dinner? Or maybe he finally had gotten sick of you like you always worried he would?

A gentle sob stole you right from out of your mind before you began spiraling yourself, placing your attention back on him. It was a small action, but one that made you realize just how absurd those possibilities were. Diluc loved you, and had reassured you countless times there was nothing you could do to change that. You felt your heart ache when another sob left his mouth. Instantly, you moved closer to him, placing your hand against his back to rub gentle circles against it. “I’m here, okay? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered softly, careful to not make things worse, especially when you were unaware of what was going on with him.

Finally, his head raised from his hands and his big ruby eyes met yours, a pool of tears filled within them. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before he just shook his head and fell into your open arms, head against your shoulder and arms slung lazily around your waist. His sobs were barely audible over the rain as he mumbled things about his father, Kaeya, and all the trauma he had built up over the years against your chest. Finally things clicked.

You stared down at him with knowing eyes, a pitiful but comforting look within them. It wasn’t often that nights like those would occur, but they did happen nonetheless. It had been so long since the last one that you forgot about them all together.

He’d told you about them when you first began dating, but it was not a subject Diluc often enjoyed conversing about. Honoring his wishes, you opted to never bring it up unless he did first. His mind would plague itself with nightmares filled with horrid details from the darkest depths of his memories. So dark that he’d wake up in a cold sweat, eyes welled with hot tears, and unable to control his spiral of emotions. The only thing that could reassure him on those nights was you. You were the only thing keeping him from crumbling in on himself from how much he had held in his pain over the years.

Keeping him within your arms, you gently laid backwards until you were leaned up against the frame of the bed you both shared. Diluc shut his eyes tightly, a frown grew deep across his features. An expression you hated to see painted on his face, too beautiful to be tortured by such treacherous emotions.

“Please,” he mumbled out so quietly you almost missed it, “sing to me.”

You nodded with a gentle hum, running your fingers through his hair as you shut your own eyes. A soft melody left your mouth, a song that was well known across Mondstadt that you knew he loved. You didn’t sing loudly at all, but somehow it was enough for Diluc to drown out the sound of the rain and the painful memories flowing within his mind.

Eventually, his arms grew limp around your waist and his breath evened out. Peacefulness took hold of the features that the frown once desperately clung to. The tune that echoes from your mouth sung him carefully to sleep.

You slumped down into the bed next to him, eyes blinking a few times before they shut for the night. And before you could fall asleep, you hugged him tighter, reassuring him of your presence, even in his sleep. Nothing could ever hurt him, not for as long as you were there to protect him.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #kaeya #diluc #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n

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sunrayram · 2 months

Note

You mentioned Angel Dust becoming friends (?) with Alastor in your AU, so what is their relationship like? Did being humbled by Husk soften Alastor's rough edges?

So Angel Dust and Alastor have a very ... interesting relationship. In the beginning, Alastor cannot stand Angel Dust. The flirting gets on his nerves, and he's already on a short fuse. In turn, Angel just thinks Alastor is an angry asshole, always two seconds away from snapping. He reminds Angel a lot of the guys he'd met in the mafia, honestly. So yeah, they really don't get along, until episode 4.

Husk doesn't call out Angel for being fake this time, because Angel just isn't his focus at this point. Instead, this episode opens with Alastor finally really snapping at Angel, genuinely scaring the other man after a sex joke goes to far. Shaken up, Angel gets called in by Valentino. The incident with Charlie and Val in the studio happens as it does in canon, and Angel returns to the hotel bruised and battered. Angel's looking for a sharp edge to self-destruct against, so when he runs into Alastor that night, he pushes against his boundaries again. Alastor flies off the handle. He threatens to kill Angel, to make it hurt, but Angel's so upset that he doesn't take any of Alastor's threats seriously. Or, well, he's taking them seriously, he just doesn't care.

But Alastor's biggest trigger right now is not being heard/people steamrolling over his wants, so Angel is fucking with him like nobody's business. The fight ramps up higher and higher until Husk comes down and pulls them apart. Husk tears into Alastor, and it makes him so upset that he almost destroys the parlor and rushes away to his room. Husk, having only seen Alastor looming over Angel and genuinely thinking that Alastor was going to maim him, tries to apologize to Angel for Alastor's behavior. But in that moment, having watched Husk pull Alastor back by the throat mere minutes before, Angel can't really respond.

Exhausted by this whole awful day, Angel goes to his room to pass out. He wakes up in the middle of the night (I hc Angel Dust has trauma-induced insomnia and it is a bitch) and goes to get a drink. There, he finds Alastor again. He's locked himself up in the kitchen (an area Alastor had firmly claimed as his own as soon as he came to the hotel) Angel sits against the locked door in silence for awhile, and then, hesitantly, he apologizes. He says that he didn't want to be the kind of person that pushed someone that far. He says that in the moment, he was just looking for a way to take control of the pain he was feeling. He felt like if he was the one causing the pain to himself, it wasn't that bad.

There's a moment of silence, and then the radio on the lounge table crackles to life. Alastor quietly says that he doesn't want to open the door. Angel gets up to leave, but Alastor clarifies that he didn't mean Angel should go. Alastor says that he knows what it feels like to have no control. He confesses that he can't remember the last time he had control over anything. Angel tells Alastor that he has control here. Unlike earlier, Angel was listening, and he wasn't going to open the door. The two of them spend the rest of the night there. Not really talking, not really performing, just ... existing. Angel eventually falls asleep, and Alastor leaves the meal he made laid out for Angel when he wakes up.

There's a companionship, after this. Both of them can be too much for the other sometimes, but they know when to stop now. If there was a phrase I'd use to describe their relationship after this point, well, the first one would be trauma-bond, but the second would be casual ride-or-die. Like, "This guys pretty cool, I guess you could call us acquaintances, I can tolerate him I suppose - touch him and I'll tear you apart limb from limb :)"

Also, just to clarify, neither of them are "better" bc of this. Angel still put on his heavy front, and Alastor still spends most days feeling like a ticking time bomb. But it's a first step that will lead to better things eventually. Hopefully.

#ask #hazbin hotel #bad beat au #hazbin hotel au #au #alastor #hazbin alastor #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #this feels kind've rambly but idk I got a lot of ideas about the two.

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colemorrison · 7 months

Text

You belong with me

His head was cold, laying against your chest with his arms looped around you. This is what you said you wanted, what he wanted, he wanted to be soft with you, Ramattra wanted to learn how to accept love like this.

“Are you comfortable?”

Your words were gentle, they made him move but your arm held him down, he was going no where after finally being this close to you.

“Yes, I am.. Comfortable.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been uncomfortable with you, this is just new. I do not wish to hurt you.”

His arms squeezed you tighter, it was true, he loved being this close but he was worried his hold would hurt you, break you.

“Ramattra, look at me.”

It took the omnic a moment, before he looked at you.

“Stop worrying if you’ll break me, break us.”

“I love you.”

The genuineness in his voice caught you off guard, you both had said this a dozen times but in this moment it meant more.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have built between us.”

“I know. You won’t, I promise. I love you.”

Ramattra laid back down, feeling your heartbeat, it was comforting, knowing you were alive and well underneath him. Maybe he could rest here awhile, forget about all of his problems, because none of them existed in this room. With you.

————

You are wonderful. @ya-zz <3

#overwatch #overwatch2 #overwatch imagines #ramattra #ramattra drabble #ow2 ramattra #ramattra x you #ramattra x reader #ramattra ow #ramattra overwatch #for ya zz!!

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byullielle · 8 months

Text

Walls Could Talk // Bang Chan x Mafia!Reader

Part 2/3

Trilogy Playlist, Till Death Do Us Part, is what the vows contain. Hitched off to notorious mafia boss Christopher Bahng, and despite her volatile and bratty attitude–it'll be only through her that anyone gets to kill her husband.

Tags: Yakuza/Mafia AU, Est. Marriage, Marriage for Convenience, Eventual Lovers, Smut, Manhandling, Resolved Sexual Tension, Angry Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: how chan looks in the freeze mv is exactly how he looks in this fic. SEX SCENE IS CONSENSUAL. MINORS DNI. NSFW Content.

Part 1 | Part 3

Guide: F/N - Father's Name

6.1k Words

You lean against the pillar of the infirmary of your manor, watching while Soyeon, your family physician, patches Christopher up. He winces while she gently prods at his bare torso, feeling for any more fractured ribs in the collision.

Minho is laid unconscious to be tended by Joshua, another physician who works under Soyeon. He did hit his head but was conscious enough to make it back to the estate awake. It was a disastrous crash, leaving Jisung and Changbin to clean up the mess left behind while Chris looked at you with mirth laden in his eyes.

You couldn't care less.

The moment you got home with the two injured men in tow, Felix came rushing to you with Jung Hyeon's file, finding out that she had the exact tattoo you found on the assailants the day before on her shoulder. All of them were piece by piece coming together—all your husband had to do was listen.

"We just have to wait for his X-ray results but he'll be alright with a few days of rest and to keep the wrist brace on at all times," Soyeon speaks up after hushed voices directed to Chris.

"Y/N-ah make sure he doesn't go out of the estate his broken ribs aren't fatal, thankfully they're only the floating ribs are affected,"

"Noted, Soyeon-ah," you nod, a bit frigid now that the adrenaline isn't needed yet still flowing through your veins. You nearly feel like your heart could stop in all honesty, a sharp pain stabbing through your chest that you simply take like it wasn't anything.

"Now you," Soyeon approaches before you hold your hand up apprehensively, "I'm not injured, Soyeon-ah,"

"I know," she sighs before taking your hand and pulling you into the doctor's office you set up for her team.

Jeon Soyeon has worked for your family ever since it was her grandmother running the medical field of the Jinyoung group. You were one of the few families who had well-equipped and strictly confidential doctors, making you less susceptible to hospital arrests.

"How are you doing," she asks before you sigh and lean back against the wall.

"The thigh wound isn't that deep, it'll heal in three days,"

She lifts her gaze from your file to you, "You know what I mean,"

"Do we have to do this?"

"The more you repress it, the worse it gets,"

You look down at your feet, hesitating before taking a stressed breath, "Yesterday. Happened while I was taking a bath, I think the attack on me the other day triggered it,"

You look up to see Soyeon's concerned face looking at you, "I dunno, kinda just remembered mom and stuff," you shrug, pulling your hands up against your arms.

She hums, jotting something down on a piece of paper before pocketing it, "Any more?"

"That's it for this week, I don't know if there'll be more,"

"And you still don't want to get medicated?"

"I think therapy is working just fine,"

She cocks a brow up, crossing her arms before leaning against her desk, "Really now?"

"I'm serious, Soyeon," you press your lips together, "I'm getting better, you said it yourself I'm just having some bad days,"

She shakes her head and pulls off from the desk, "Given your current situation with Bahng, those bad days would probably stretch on," she approaches you before placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, a flinch non-existent anymore.

"If you need someone, I'm a call away, okay?"

"Yes,"

Closing the door behind you, you head to Christopher's bedside.

"I'm sorry I nearly killed you," you sit down by the corner with a sheepish look on your face. The bandage on his forehead was definitely standing out, added to his already prominent collection of scars on his face, 'Continuously added by you, always,' your mind so helpfully supplies.

"Your unorthodox ways always seem to help," he sarcastically replies, making you frown a bit.

"You rest, and then I'll let you know what's going on,"

"No," he shakes his head, “You tell me now. You're still gonna help nurse me too aren't you?" he cocks a brow up and you can't help but scoff, "Aren't you a demanding one,"

"You nearly ended my life, Y/N, I don't know what that says about you,"

Somewhat miffed, you can't help but ball up your slightly trembling hands, "I wasn't planning on killing you! I was saving your life,"

"And how sure are you that it was for saving me?" he counters. You couldn't help but be frustrated with him, standing up from the bed while looking down at his sorry state.

"Oh please your injuries aren't even enough to kill you,"

"Maybe if you didn't act on impulse I wouldn't be on an infirmary bed with a gaping wound on my forehead!"

"I don't act on impulse!" you spit out bitterly, "It was a quick decision but I didn't do it without reason," you frown, voice getting higher and higher, more charged and agitated. He sighs and takes your wrist gently, making you jolt up slightly before he pulls you to his side.

"The Jungs aren't easy to lock down, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do,"

"Then you better make this worth it,"

You didn't know if it was him trying to get on your nerves or general mistrust but your hot temper was already on it's full throttle, you weren't about to hear anyone out because fuck that.

"You're so…" you trail off, closing your eyes before rubbing the spot between your brows, taking a sharp intake of breath.

"We won't get anything done here. Rest up," you mumble before walking away. If walking was stomping out of the infirmary then yes, you walk away there with a scowl on your face.

You saved his fucking life, not even a thanks.

'But then again, did you thank him for saving yours?' your brain nags and you stop in your tracks. Shaking your head away and letting out a fed-up groan, you carry on with the journey to your bedroom.

“Yeah well, she asked about where you were. She hung up on me,” Hyunjin recalls in Chan’s office, while his boss turns to Changbin with a cocked brow.

“She didn’t say anything when we left. Jisung did say she’s expecting either of us to follow,” the other guard explains while nursing a glass of whiskey, smoke puffed out of his lips minutes after.

“But Chan…do you mind?” Bin raises his head as he simply nods, “Go ahead Bin,”

“I don’t think she was planning to kill you,” he confesses, “Why go through all that trouble? She could’ve done it a long time ago if she really hated your guts,”

“Yeah but hyung that could be just her plausible deniability so that she doesn’t go suspect if the boss dies,”

“So you’re suggesting she’s pinning this on the Jungs,” Chan speaks up before reaching out to pour himself a glass.

“A little bit like that,” he meekly states, looking down at his glass. Changbin presses his lips together, “Although, I really think Jung is suspect, at least Jung Kwang-ho,”

Chan licks up his lips before sighing, “Clearly Y/N knows something. I might have to even talk to F/N-nim, he knows something about the Jungs,”

Changbin scoffs, “She did seem mad at you boss,” he shrugs, “Maybe apologize first before heading to her? And especially her father?”

Chan furrows his brows at him, simply receiving a shrug before Changbin stands up and grabs the holster harness off Chan’s table, “I’m on night duty today, I will see you two tomorrow,” he nods to Chan who simply nods back. “Good night, boss, Jinnie-ah”

“Good night Bin,”

“Night hyung,”

The door quietly shuts before Chan places his glass down the table, crossing his hands together before leaning against the oak desk, “Do you really think she’s trying to kill me?” he directly addresses Hyunjin, “I’m trying to be objective boss,” he sits up straight, setting his drink down as well, “Although a huge part of me agrees with Changbin-hyungnim, we can’t ever be so sure with her motivations,” he starts explaining.

“Y/N-nim seems so mysterious and closed-off after all, especially after getting married to you,”

Seemingly placated with his response, he leans back against his chair again, pondering the possibilities of what the fuck was happening to his territory. He knew a lot of people wanted him dead, in this world, there were more detractors than support, his head a constant prize amongst the pedestal of drug lords and mafia capos especially when branching out his reach in Asia or his bastardized status of being hailed as heir. If you have the world within your grip, its prickly sides would want you to let go.

He just won’t.

Sighing, he rubs the space between his brows with his fingers. “I’ll apologize to her,” he resolves. "Make sure I don't have any appointments tomorrow,”

“Yes boss,” Hyunjin’s gentle demeanor changes along with Chan’s.

The heavy weight on your chest makes you unable to breathe, the struggle in your lungs heavily impeding your airflow. You crack your eyes open, a heavy gasp escaping you while you claw at the front of your gown, making Seungmin jolt up from his sleep as he rushes to your side.

“Boss,” he helps you up, concerned and worrying as you can feel the sweat on your back–sickly sticky and cold while the strands of your hair stick to your forehead.

Seungmin squeezes your hands once, looking directly into your eyes as you look around still shaken up by the feeling. “Remember anything? Where are you right now,”

“Bahng estate,” you answer breathlessly, “What time is it?” you turn to him as he checks on his wrist.

“2:30 in the morning,”

“Fuck,” you’ve barely been asleep, 3 hours in. “I– I don’t remember the dream, you frustratedly bunch your hair and rest your elbows on your knees, “But it felt…” you trail off, words dying on your tongue.

“Here, have some water,” he calmly hands it to you.

There’s a tremble to your hands, a little bit shaken as you take a big gulp, downing it in one go as a tired sigh escapes you. Night terrors–never one to quickly leave yet so fleetingly easy to overlook, to suddenly forget about what was so terrifying you felt as if your lungs were taken, left your chest bare and barren.

“I think I need to take a walk,” you shake your head and swing your legs over the bed, your bare feet touching the carpeted floor, “Go get some sleep. If something happens, Felix’ll be there,” you direct to Seungmin. You could see him hesitate, but ultimately take your order to rest up.

Wanting to feel the sensation of the cool floors of the manor you lived in, you forgo slippers, making it out of your room quietly as the patters of bare feet barely echo around.

Unbeknownst to you, Christopher sees your retreating figure, getting up to relieve some of the tensions of a sleepless night himself. Not wanting to impede on your time, he curiously follows behind right after, making sure his footfalls are light.

You feel comfort around the tall walls and wide ceilings of the house, it makes you feel smaller and a little bit more free, compared to the dark hellscape of a nightmare.

You take a few flights of stairs up, the faint crashing of the ocean audible to you from a distance as you hike up, carpeted floors further muting your presence as the textile presents a comforting roughness to it, like overgrown grass or stepping onto smooth gravel.

You could see the balcony doors, making a small skip towards it before opening it, the warm and humid ocean air pouring in contrast to the crisp air conditioning in the house.

With the deepest breath you can intake, you step out to the cool night breeze flowing against your body, barely covered by the silk nightgown and robe slightly damp with sweat.

Letting a shaky breath out, you let the door knobs go, leaving the doors open before heading forward to the ledge, arms placed atop the porcelain balustrade overlooking the moon shining brightly against the pitch-black ocean.

The silence of the night, crashing waves filling your senses vaguely while you let your nightgown brush and flow against your legs, and your bare feet resting against the cool marble, you could finally feel yourself breathe easy again.

Days of high adrenaline never came easy, the thrill of it all addicting to you yet the crash just as terrifying. You get used to it, but it always feels just as suffocating as the first time—it changes but it never tames down.

Pressing your lips together, you couldn't help but start humming a familiar song, letting the melody vibrate past your sealed lips before you could sense someone behind you. Abruptly stopping you turn and gasp to see Christopher leaning by the pillar of the doors. "What are you doing out here so late at night," he questions.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be on bed rest?"

"I'm not invalid, it was a few broken ribs, a wound on the forehead and a sprained wrist," he scoffs, not leaving his post as you simply stand there observing him.

Illuminated by nothing but the moonlight, his features are shaped out by shadows, sharp and chiseled but there was a certain moodiness to his eyes as it stared back at your very soul. You weren't in the mood for it. Y/N L/N loved holding grudges after all. "I'll leave your frolicking to it then," you sigh and detach your body from the balustrade, walking past him before he sighs out.

"I'm sorry for a while ago," his voice permeates throughout the empty hall.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, back turned against him. You walk away, unsatisfied with the flimsy apology. First he implies disloyalty and rebellion, next he disturb your midnight break? Unacceptable.

You knew Christopher could do better than that.

A knock permeates on the door of your father's den. Breathing out a puff of smoke, he signals one of the men to open it.

You walk in, your four guards following right behind as your father breaks out in a grin. “Well, well, if it isn’t my baby witch of the westside,”

“Enough of this, I have things to ask you,” you sigh before signaling one of the rookies to give you a chair. They immediately comply, scrambling to move as you take a seat in front of your father, spreading the collected pictures in front of him before raising your brows.

“Well?”

“Ah…” he sighs and plucks one of the pictures off the table, “The Jungs, I know this tattoo well enough,” he grunts while leaning back against his chair, taking the cigar between his fingers before inhaling and blowing.

“What do you want to know, little flower?”

“What is the Jung family’s association with the Jinyoung group?” you ask.

He hums, “Trouble in paradise?”

You scoff a bit, rolling your eyes before crossing your arms, “Tough shit. Not a chance,”

A humored laugh boisterously bursts from your father, making him shake his head, “You’ve gotten smarter when you got married,” he side-comments, “Let’s see… Jung and Jinyoung group,” he tries to recall before almost automatically his head guard hands him a file.

“Oh right,” he flips through the papers, “Remember when rumors of Chan’s induction as head of the Bahng household started to transpire?” he raises your brows at you as you nod.

You were there after all.

“Eugene Bahng, the supposed heir was scrambling to get his hands on the position,” he looks down at the file, “Started pawning off promises to each family he could reach, one of them was the Jungs,”

You attentively listen. Christopher’s climb to the heir position was deeply muddled in objection and rejection. Your father was one of the men who sided with him rather than Eugene, the supposed “full-blooded” heir of the capo seat in the family.

He was the one you were supposed to marry, but you decided you wanted to side with Christopher as well. Your marriage fortified his chain to the position, the smallest push to completely desolate the rest of the family to avoid mutiny.

Which was happening now, so it seems.

“Plain and simple, the Jungs want Chan gone so that they could usurp the promised territories for themselves,” your father finishes his wistful little recollection of events. “I was there when Eugene Bahng called the meeting, did you know he promised off Jongseon-do to me?”

“Did you get it?”

He laughs, shaking his head, “That boy was as stupid as his mother. Anyone with a brain knew his propositions fell flack,” he lights up another cigar, “Do you know why I backed Christopher up?”

You look at him with uncertainty. It wasn’t something you questioned, nor something he openly expressed. “Because he was the wiser son,” you try answering with confidence but your father shakes his head.

“I was too much of a coward to put you out there,” he admits, rendering you confused as to just where was this confession coming from, “You are your mother’s daughter, to have you killed because you meddled too much wasn’t in the itinerary,”

You lean back, a small yet steady lump growing in your throat. This was the most empathy your father has shown you in years. “Christopher Bahng. He saw your potential and took you away from my arsenal,” he chuckles before glancing at you.

“To each your own. Now look at you,” he juts the cigar towards your direction.

“Hunting down those who threaten your family,” he digs the ashen tip into the glass ashtray, “Atta girl,”

Ever since you woke up, you’ve been avoiding Chris. And now that you’ve gotten back home from your father’s estate it seems like your own stubbornness didn’t want to let up. ‘Trouble in paradise,’ you scoff while Jeongin opens the doors for you, ‘If paradise was nowhere in the first place then yes it is trouble,’

It was a little bit petty of you, you were aware of that. In a normal situation, you too would act the way your husband did—you just wanted to get on his nerves. And wanted him to get on your nerves too.

Dangling a bait too delicious to not take was a waste for you, so why make up and apologize properly when you can constantly avoid his attempts to make peace in a civilized and normal manner.

Time was still running through the hourglass, god knows what the opposing family is up to now but you can go out and play for a little bit more. Chris was still inside the house breathing and alive.

"Miss boss you're home," Hyunjin welcomes you by the foyer before Jeongin takes your bag and holster away, "I'm home," you tiredly announce before stripping your shoes off, handing them to a maid nearby.

"The boss would like to have a word,"

You cock your brow up at him, turning to his direction, "Suddenly I'm the one adjusting? Tell him this," you take a few steps toward the guard, "I thought he wasn't invalid,"

You walk off with a snotty stride to you, absolutely biting back the smile off your lips when you hear his footsteps retreat back into the house.

Christopher was normally the more patient one out of the two of you; never impulsive, ultimately pragmatic and a thorough planner. Dream guy, you're sure.

But there was a little bit of fun of him blowing a fuse. You just had to be patient and wait in turn. Heading to the living room of the huge house, you tiredly slump down on the velvet couch, reaching out for the book you were previously reading.

Propping your legs up the couch you comfortably lounge on the couch. It doesn't take you 10 pages until the familiar footfalls prick your ears, Chris' heavy footsteps making itself known once he enters the threshold of the living room.

"You're home," he comments, only receiving a noncommittal hum from you. You can almost feel his heavy breath against your nape, picturing him with his hands on his hips, "Are you really doing this, Y/N?"

A response isn't pulled from you, simply flipping the next page of the book before it gets yanked out of your hands, making you look back with a scandalized look.

"What the fuck is your problem Christopher?!" you shriek, intentionally sharp.

"My problem is that I'm trying to fucking apologize!" he answers back, breaking patience as you nearly quirk your lips up in a victorious smile. Just a little bit more—if it seemed too serious you'd stop.

Rolling your eyes at him, you let out an exaggerated groan of irritation, swerving around the couch to try and overtake him, "It's fucking useless to talk to you," you mutter before stomping off towards the stairs.

"You fucking get back here Y/N L/N," his voice booms throughout the stairwells.

"Or fucking what, Christopher Bahng," you snap, sharply turning towards him, "Why the fuck are you even apologizing,"

"Because clearly we need to keep moving,"

You let out a snide laugh, crossing your arms, "And? I had the impression you could clearly work without me. Save it," you bitterly spit out, stomping your way up the stairs like a toddler.

Chris follows you, almost giving you a small pave of way before nearly pouncing on his prey, speeding up because once you get to the top your back is roughly pressed against the wall with his hands gripping your arms tightly.

"Don't act like a fucking child," he growls, face merely inches away from yours.

Your eyes flit down to his lips, then to his eyes, a silent message delivered.

Placing your hands into fists you push him away to the best of your abilities, getting him off you before further shoving him until he stumbles back a bit, "You're the child here! Go and wallow in the fact you thought I wanted to fucking kill you," you brashly answer back, with your own snarl against him.

"Should I have known my efforts would be met with such disrespect I would've left you for dead!" you deliver the final blow before something snaps.

Before you know it, his hand is wrapped around your neck, making your head tingle and breath hitch as he forces you to look into his eyes. If he really wanted to kill you, he would've done so by now—easily being able to snap your neck in half with just his right hand.

Instead his thumbs press down your carotid, punching out a gasp from you. Your eyes meet, and despite the anger and passion burning in his eyes there was a silent question to everything. And you do everything in your power to relay the fact that he's forgiven, that he's free to apologize again and again along with doing as he pleases.

And what he pleases he does.

With irritation still flaring in your bones, you press your clenched fists against his chest but never truly pushing him away.

"You're a fucking brat," he spits out bitterly, breath fanning against your face.

"Not like you could do anything about it," you spit out with harshly.

"Watch me," he lets go of your neck only to grab your wrists harshly before throwing you on his shoulder.

A shriek is punched out of you, gripping and clawing at his back in a poor attempt to break free. "Christopher!" you yell, wiggling out before a harsh slap lands against your ass, groaning at the sting before your worldview changes, immediately facing the unfamiliar ceiling of his room while landing on his mattress with a thud.

He immediately gets to it, pulling your pants off with a rough tug. You bite your lip in order to hone in any noises you're threatening to make, gripping the sheets for stabilization before he strips his own clothing off. His half-hard member springs out of his pants and boxers, precum at the tip but not enough to make him wet.

You were salivating over the view before your ankles are pulled towards him as he stands by the edge of the bed, the pits of your knees now hanging off.

"What, your brain got jogged in there somewhere?" he smirks cockily while pumping his cock with lazy strokes over your bare lower body. You want to close your legs together, feeling your slick leak out of your folds but with the position you were in his legs were lodged between your legs.

"Look at you," his eyes zero in your leaking pussy, "What a fucking degenerate you are,"

You glare at him, leaning against your elbows before tugging at his dick a bit roughly, precum flowing out upon the contact, "Speak for yourself,"

Without warning, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out before taking his throbbing cock in one go, punching a groan out of him before you graze your teeth against his member, feeling him tense up a bit before easing it into your throat.

Holding back a gag, your throat contracts and mouth tightens, tongue feeling the veins on him.

"Fuck," he curses, reaching out to grip your hair but you smack his hand away, digging your long nails into his hips while bobbing your head up and down.

Spit flows from the sides of your mouth, slobbering about his long member. You knew it wasn't the best head you were giving but the way the oxygen was taken away from you by his huge dick obstructing your throat was sending sparks in your brain.

"You're so fucking shitty at this," he mutters before bunching your hair in his hands before bucking his hips.

A whimper escapes you, unable to pry his hands off this time while being forced to take his cock over and over again, the gagging sounds from you music to his ears. "You like that huh? You fucking slut, this is all it needs to shut you up," he sardonically laughs at you before pulling your head away.

You cough out, a mixture of his precum and your slobber accidentally getting out a bit while he gives you time to catch your breath.

"Fuck you," you mutter through tear-muddled eyes and spite.

"Try," he pushes you down the bed before placing a bruising grip on your hips and lifting before his thumb pads around your clit. A stuttered gasp escapes you, clawing at the sheets below your hands.

"So wet," he whispers almost to himself while running a finger from your clit down to the shallow part of your pussy.

He takes his member with one hand before slapping the head against your clit, making you bite down on your wrist to hold back a mewl at the stimulation. He starts pushing down, tip catching in between your lips while your hips tremble under his hands.

Eyes screwed shut, a shudder shakes you to your very core. And you know he isn’t faring well either, one of you ready to break the barrier of hate just so that you could move. Giving in, Chris suddenly slams into you, punching a shout from you before you reach out to claw down at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck- fuck, Christopher,” you mewl out, helpless under his grip as he chuckles at your wrecked state.

“God, already?” he shakes his head, “I’ve barely fucked you,”

“Too– Ngh– Too much! ” you whimper, hands snaking your way up to your chest to press and tug on your pebbled nipples against the silk shirt that you just realize was still on you–wanting to redirect the concentrated pleasure on your pussy somewhere else.

You were going to explode, his dick continuously assaulting the spongy spot right inside as the nerves jolt your body alight with electricity you couldn’t contain, cries and sobs punched out of you in sheer pleasure. The smacking of his hips against your ass was sticky, juices flowing down and spread out you didn’t know which one was yours and which was his.

“You’re–so rough,” you weep.

“You like rough,” he says through spent grunts, slamming into you full force as if he’s simply using you.

His’ to use, your own pleasure to neglect. Like he didn’t give a shit if he hit the right spots as long as his dick was rubbed raw along your warm walls.

He grits his teeth, thumb catching on your clit once again as a shuddering gasp is torn off your lungs for the nth time followed by a litany of moans.

“You wouldn’t…Fuck…act like such a fucking brat…’f y’didn’t enjoy this,” he slurs through the pleasure. Your back arches back against the tandem of his thrusts and the circling of your clit.

“Shit! Christopher, fuck!” is what’s left of your vocabulary, thighs trembling against his hold as the knot in your stomach painfully tightens, body going rigid for a bit as the squelching sounds of your juices mixed around by his glorious cock echo around the room.

“That feel good huh? Are you gonna cum for me?” he leans down a bit, flames alight behind his eyes, hair plastered to his temple while he runs a hand over his curly hair, moving it out of the way.

You respond with nothing but a high pitched moan, pornographic at best once he slows down his thrusting to a grind.

"What happened to the big bad wolf that regrets keeping me alive?" he sardonically laughs, making you tear up at the sheer humiliation of it all. He stops his grinding, making you squirm around his dick while the walls of your core flutter around his member in anticipation.

"If you didn't keep me alive nobody would fuck you like this,"

Torn between wanting to keep your pride up and just wanting to cum, you sigh out in neediness, coming out as a pathetic and begging moan.

"Please, it escapes you in barely a whisper, "I'm sorry I said that Christopher. Please, just move again," you plead.

"You like begging don't you?" he mocks before starting his reckless and deliciously fast pace again.

He cocks a brow up, making you clench harder around him, his eyes flitting down from where he was sheathed in to your wrecked face, red and blotchy with tears, mouth with a trail of spit.

Your back arches, hands squeezing on your tits as they jiggle underneath your grip due to his ministrations, body slightly jogged around by his sheer force. His thumb is back rubbing circles on your clit, lifting your hips and thigh up before spitting on your swollen bud, picking up the pace.

You're nothing but a moaning mess on the bed, back arched, head thrown back and hips lifted up. The shocks course through your body like live wire as your clit is continuously abused the way your hole was.

"I wanna cum! Christopher fuck, I'm gonna cum!" you hiccup out.

“Then cum,” he lets go of your thighs while still grinding into the walls of your throbbing pussy. “For all I fucking care,” he takes your jaw into his free hand, letting go of your clit making you wail at the abrupt denial of your orgasm.

“No, no, no,” you try to tug his hand back but he moves it to your neck, squeezing with precision making your eyes roll back.

Squeezing his dick around you, it twitches against his member–making you shake and tremble under him as he doesn’t relent with his thrusts. His hands are still on your neck and you can feel the overstimulation rub you raw, making you arch your back and writhe around his hold which garners him to chuckle darkly, letting go of your neck before pushing you further into the bed.

“You came huh?” he mocks you, making you sob against the sheets as you move your head to the side, body shaken up by his thrusts.

The pain steadily turns into pleasure as another tremor shakes you to your core, unable to speak, only drooling into the sheets with your eyes half-lidded and directed towards Chris. His grunting and moans start to spill out more frequently, thrusts getting more and more erratic.

And you couldn’t keep up the cruel facade, reaching out for his arm before he looks up at you. “Cum already…inside, inside please,” you manage to mutter out and he lets out a laugh of disbelief.

“Shit, Y/N,” his breath hitches. “Ask nicely,”

You whine, high and needy as the tears further spill from your eyes, cock still assaulting your spent pussy, “Chris!” you further keen, almost into a shriek as he hits a deeper spot than normal.

“Please please, cum already Christopher,” you sniffle. “I forgive you already! Please just cum! I can't take it anymore!” it comes out high and wrecked.

He clicks his tongue, "Yes you can," his thrusts become a staccato of shallow ones that did nothing but hit your g-spot.

It was getting too much, the coil breaking only to be tugged and tied back together. Your back constantly arched and legs trying to squeeze shut only to be blocked by Christopher's body.

“Channie!” the last of your brain cells fight, attacking the soft spot you knew he had, making him hiss. “Holy shit,” he huffs before three more erratic thrusts wreck your walls.

Warmth spills inside your hole, a soft sob wrecking your body while Chris cages you in between his arms, watching you as you tremble underneath him, chest fluttering up against the material of your now sweat-riddled shirt.

Then you feel it, while he pulls out, the obscene sound of your juices together coming from your pussy is heard and after a few seconds you can feel fluid flowing down between your folds.

Chris shudders and chuckles in disbelief, “Look at you,” he whispers.

You couldn’t do anything but let out a sigh, tired and definitely exhausted. “F-Feels…so fucking sensitive,” you whimper softly.

“Wait here,” he mutters, landing two comforting pats against your thigh.

You don’t know how many minutes it was, but you could feel a damp towel wipe you all over your body, sticky and soiled shirt now removed. He gently lifts you up a bit, deciding that the small yet damp spot by the foot of the bed could be taken care of tomorrow.

Opening one eye open, you could feel the bed dip before coming face to face with his bare body. You look up, and then your eyes meet. “Sleep,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair, then on your cheek.

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss on the soft skin, before detaching.

Kisses were foreign to you and Chris. And although you wanted to ask, there was a nagging fear that pulled you back down as to where your place truly stood.

He pulls the blanket up your body, a gentle caress on your shoulder garnering a soft and satisfied sigh. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, reaching out for your hand before pressing a gentle and chaste kiss on a healing scab on your knuckles, “And thank you,”

Through closed eyes, you savor his scent through the pillows plush against your head, a hum escaping you. “It’s okay,” you whisper, a hand landing on his bare knee as reassurance, “And I got you,” you spend the last ounce of your strength looking up at him, eyes meeting again. “Always,”

The light shines against your eyes, making you groan before feeling the throbbing soreness of your legs and hips.

Cracking one eye open, you notice the black cashmere covering your body contrasting the sheets you were accustomed to. The smell is also highly reminiscent of Chris' perfume and detergent, the pleasant familiarity helping rouse you out of the sleepy state you were in.

Looking around with a sleepy daze, nobody is found around the room but there is one thing you did come to the realization with. In over 6 months, it was one of the best rest you’ve ever gotten–no nightmares, night terrors, or panic attacks.

Sighing, you get up with a grunt before the door suddenly opens, making you pull the sheets up your bare body before Christopher walks in with a breakfast tray.

“Why were your guards so adamant about asking me how you slept?” he immediately asks while you rub your eyes and let go of the sheets.

“I get a bit restless when I sleep,” you mumble out before running a hand through your toussled hair, “Did something happen while I was sleeping?” you look to him before he shakes his head, handing you a platter of food.

“A few murmurs but nothing alarming,”

“Good,” you hum before taking the utensils with a small thanks.

He hums. “Meet me in my office later,” he orders, and you nod towards him. “Don’t let it wait until tomorrow,”

“I know,”

next chapter would be filled with plot, context, and flashbacks so please brace yourselves for the longest chapter in this series. :)

< previous next >

> moodboard; sampler 3

#skz #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #mafia bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids bang chan #skz chan #stray kids #skz chan imagines #chan x reader #bang chan x you #mafia au #elle☆walls could talk

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creative-frequency · 2 months

Note

Peel me an orange trend with

Raphael/ his favorite client 👀

Would you peel the devil an orange? 🍊👀 I wouldn't lol

Raphael x GN!Reader: Oranges

You woke up with a jolt and a raspy breath. Snugly covered in silken sheets, you made an effort to move your sore limbs. The bed carried the easily recognizable scent of palmarosa and pepper, but there was something else too. Something citrusy, maybe oranges?

As per usual, when your memories of the events leading up to your current disposition were hazy at best, you found yourself in the House of Hope. It was probably the eighteenth time. Or the twentieth. You weren’t exactly counting anymore.

“Still drawing breath, I see. How fortunate.”

It hurt to direct your eyes to the devil sitting in an armchair by the bed. No horns or wings today. His fingertips were pressed together and – well, fuck – did he look pissed.

“H-hey,” you greeted him in a hoarse voice. How long had you been out this time? Hours? Days? A week? You felt as if you had been wrestling with a pit fiend and lost.

Raphael’s frown deepened and his brows knitted together. He leaned forward in his seat and you could feel the aura of strong… displeasure radiating from him. It might not take many more times like this for him to finish you off himself, any contract be damned.

“Consider this the first and last time I will dig you from under a pile of bodies,” Raphael said in a tone as smooth as the sheets wrapped around your undeniably naked body.

This tone was worse than the times you had seen him lose his composure; it implied you had really been within an inch of your life – and so had his existence, by extension. You swallowed. Some pieces of distressing and gory memories surfaced and you felt sick. You had to pull at every bit of your willpower to not puke. What in the sweet Hells had happened?

Raphael stood up promptly, no doubt having only waited to see your eyes open and declare you alive. It was a habit he had formed during the previous seventeen times you had woken up in his house.

“Here, eat. You’ll need your strength to recover,” he said, motioning to the side table.

You turned to see pieces of a colourful fruit, neatly laid on a silver plate. That was why you had smelled oranges. The sweet scent was mouth-watering.

You cleared your throat and said: “Um, hey Raph?”

The devil stopped in his tracks, glaring at you over his shoulder. He absolutely hated the nickname, but it had never stopped you from using it. Annoying him was the greatest pastime House of Hope could offer.

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back for this one,” you continued, voice still a bit shaky and hoarse.

One side of Raphael’s mouth curled up and he nodded. “Rest now.”

And rest you did. And ate oranges. For three days you barely left the bed after initially going for a hunt for clothes. Raphael showed up only once a day to check that you were recovering. Haarlep kept you company and you accelerated the Archivist’s descent into madness by making him fetch you books from the library at least fifteen times a day. Raphael didn’t want you to socialise with his indebted souls, so besides the devil, you only talked to the incubus and the unlucky tiefling.

On the fifth day, Haarlep had trusted you with a knife and you were just digging into the second orange when Raphael walked in.

Once again in his human guise, his head tilted at the sight of you sitting up on the bed, a book splayed open across your lap and a knife and an orange in hand. Disapproval settled onto his features. You didn’t really care if you made a mess. He could always undo it with a snap of his fingers.

“Peel one for me?” Raphael asked and paced closer.

“I most certainly will not,” you replied instantly and plopped a piece of the juicy fruit into your mouth.

He sat down in the armchair and hummed. “A pity.”

“Can I leave today? I’m feeling fine now,” you said casually and chewed the fruit without any regard for table manners. Though, technically you were eating in bed.

“If you so insist,” Raphael nodded, “Although, there is one more matter I would raise.”

“What’s that?” you asked and munched on the last piece. Before leaving, you would have to ask Haarlep where Raphael got the fruits. They were delicious.

“As this was not a transaction, you’re not obliged to ‘pay me back’ as you so aptly put it, but I would request a small favour,” Raphael said and rested his ankle on his knee, fingertips once more pressed together as if he was negotiating a contract.

You groaned. Of course he wanted something. “And that would be?”

Raphael’s lips curled into a foreboding smile and he said:

“Peel me an orange.”

Any hint of amusement died from your face. “You’re truly the pettiest person I’ve ever met.”

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x you #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #asks #requests #oranges 🍊

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footprintsinthesxnd · 2 months

Text

Thank God for Eugene Roe

This request was from a lovely anon. It’s been sat in my inbox for a little while so I’m sorry it’s taken so long but it’s finally here now. Hope you enjoy. Warnings: mentions of injury, swearing, death, themes of war.

Eugene wasn’t sure what order the events of the day went in. Everything became a blur after a while and all he could see was the crimson blood covering his pale hands. It all began when Skinny Sisk had been hit earlier that morning and Eugene accompanied him to the aid station in Bastogne. The aid station had been crowded and he spent a good portion of the morning there, not returning until later that day, and leaving Spinna in charge. Easy Company. They were in good hands, no patrols were scheduled, and the bombardment from the morning had died down. It was a relatively quiet day, maybe too quiet.

No one looked up at Eugene as he hopped off the jeep, trudging his way through the snow to where Spinna was standing, arms crossed, his chin buried deep into his scarf, moving from foot to foot to stay warm. The priest had just finished his blessing and began gathering up the white sheet he’d laid across the bonnet of the jeep.

“What’s the word?” Eugene balanced the boots he’d collected for Joe Toye on top of the box of supplies Renée had kindly found for him.

Spinna glanced at him, “Battalion wants a reconnaissance patrol. Kraut hunting”

“Alright, I'll go. Take these,” Eugene passed the box over to Spinna, who accepted them thankfully, glad he didn’t have to go on the patrol after all. “Give the boots to Joe Toye, tell him they’re a nine.” Spinna nodded at Eugene as he began to jog over toward the other paratroopers who had gathered, waiting for orders.

Eugene hurried towards Sergeant Martin who was talking quietly to Lieutenant Peacock. Johnny’s hand shot out, stopping Eugene in his tracks, “Doc Doc, it’s a combat patrol. Why don’t you stay back and keep your ass out of trouble? Huh?”

Eugene looked a little forlorn, and nodded slowly “Yes Sergeant.” He was surprised they didn’t want a medic on the patrol. Ever since they arrived in Bastogne and the Krauts started their artillery barrages, everyone was crying out for a goddamn medic, day or night.

Stepping back Eugene caught Y/n's eye, she smiled at him softly, giving him a small wave before continuing her conversation with George and Babe. Eugene felt the familiar ache in his chest beginning to grow as it did every time she smiled at him.

His heart always ached when he wasn’t on patrols with her, fearing that the worst would happen before he’d even told her how he truly felt. She was his friend but that’s all he was ever going to be to her, and it hurt, but at least he could help keep her alive.

He crouched down by a tree, ignoring the snow that brushed against his trousers, leaving damp patches where he sat. The cold seemed to keep him awake, alert, and ready for anything that could go wrong. He’d been that way since they came into the Bulge. On edge, waiting for the next move to go wrong. That was the part he hated about being a medic, everyone always needed him in the most dire situations. The rest of the time he merely existed, never getting close to them because, in the next moment, he’d be covered in their blood.

He lit a cigarette, embracing the warm air that filled his lungs, exhaling in a long puff of smoke that drifted upwards towards the light that peaked through the dense tree cover. The snow blew through it extinguishing any heat before it had the chance to warm the air. Bastogne was a place of cold and despair, any hope was soon extinguished, if not by the Krauts then by the weather.

The gunfire signalled the action that Eugene was waiting for.

“Doc, it’s Y/n!”

Eugene found himself frozen in time, his eyes watching his fellow paratroopers rush past him in a blur. George’s mouth was moving as he continued to shout but all Eugene could hear was her name, a silent prayer on his lips. It couldn’t be her, not Y/n.

“Doc! Help her! She’s been shot!” That was all it took for him to be at George’s side, pushing the radioman out of the way and falling beside Y/n, who gave him the same soft smile she had sent him earlier.

“Y/n, ya stay with me now. Dontcha’ even think about dying.” He pressed the bandage firmly against the wound on her side, cursing as the blood flowed straight through his fingers.

“E-Eugene… Gene I…” Y/n gasped, blood spilling out the corner of her mouth as she spluttered helplessly on the ground. Eugene ripped open the syrrette of Morphine, pressing it firmly into the fresh over her collar bone.

“Y/n, don’t say nothin’, ‘kay. Save ya strength. I need ya to stay with me,” Eugene pleaded, his hand shaking as he placed the cannula, securing it with tape quickly and allowing the plasma to flow down the line and into her veins. The morphine was taking effect now too and her speech became slurred as she tried to reach out for Eugene’s hand.

“Eu-gene?” He gripped her hand tightly, placing his lips on her skin. He could feel her shaking beneath his touch, and he couldn’t help the tears that spilt down his frozen cheeks.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Y/n.” Eugene knew deep down he was trying to reassure himself but he was glad when Y/n smiled up at him.

“I’m gonna getcha’ outta here.” With George’s help, they began to drag Y/n along the snow-covered ground, trying to ignore her complaints of pain as the German bullets whipped past their heads. Captain Nixon appeared, shouting over the commotion for them to retreat, but Eugene and George kept on moving, pulling Y/n to safety before they stopped.

Eugene was back at her side in an instant, applying a fresh dressing over the already soiled one, praying that this one would hold.

“Eugene, I need to tell you s…mthing imp-portant. I-I love you, Gene. I-I’ve always l-loved you but I was too s-scared to tell you.”

Eugene’s heart skipped in his chest, feeling lightheaded as he fell over his words. He wanted to tell her he loved her too, to kiss her, to hold her close to his chest and promise her that everything was going to be okay. How could he promise her that? He could only watch as she grew ever paler and the blood seeped through the bandages, turning the snow around them bright red.

“I know,” he replied, brushing his hand over her sweaty forehead, watching as her glazed eyes followed his movements. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/n.” The roar of the jeep pulling up accompanied his words and he made quick work of flagging it down, carrying Y/n over and laying her limp body over the stretcher as she passed out.

The first thing Y/n remembered was the pain, it spread through her body like a searing fire, causing her to cry out. She sat upright in bed with a start, hissing as the sutures pulled at the wound on her abdomen. A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, easing her back down in the bed.

Her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, noticing the stone walls and high blue-painted ceiling. She wasn’t in a hospital but beds with wounded men lay all across the room. Women in nurses' uniforms hurried back and forth while medics helped work on the injured men.

There was still a hand resting on her shoulder and she glanced over to see the very worried, Cajun medic starting back at her.

“You gave me quite a scare back there you know. Damn Y/n, do n'tcha do that again,” he leant across, pulling her carefully into a hug which she quickly reciprocated.

“I’m sorry, Gene. I’ll try and be more careful next time,” she assured him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Eugene gave her a weak smile and opened his mouth to speak before snapping it closed. She cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this. I don’t even know if you meant all that you said back there but I just… I just gotta tell you that I feel the same,” he took a deep breath, “I love you too.”

Y/n swallowed hard, had she confessed her feelings to him? She’d managed to hide her feelings for him ever since Toccoa and yet in a moment of weakness she spilled the beans. How many people heard her? Her mind raced with unanswered questions but Eugene’s face only grew more grave.

“I did wonder if you only said it cause you was dying,” he stood up from his chair, collecting his musette bag from the floor. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/n. I’ll see you when you’re better, yeah?”

“Gene, wait! Do you really mean it? Do you really love me?” Her little outburst had caught the eye of a few of the wounded men around her, all watching with bated breath for the outcome.

“Course I do. I wouldn’t have told to if it won’t true,” he moved closer to her bed once more, moving to cup her cheek but only touching her when she nodded in response to his unasked question. “I love you, Y/n, ever since Toccoa.”

Y/n chuckled, “We’re such fools. We’ve both loved each other since Toccoa but we were too damn scared to say anything. I should have told you sooner.”

“And I shoudda told you sooner too. Guess at least we know now,” Gene reassured her, sitting down again beside her bed.

“That’s true,” she mused, shuffling so she could lean closer to him. “Gene?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Kiss me.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Eugene sealed his lips to Y/n’s as if they had been kissing each other their whole lives. At least one good thing came from that Kraut bullet and that was Eugene Roe.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @1waveshortofashipwreck

#band of brothers #eugene roe x reader #Eugene roe #band of brothers fic #hbo war

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