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bigification · 1 month

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Giant

I drift away to sleep laying on the hot sand and bathing in the sunlight. I feel relaxed for a moment until I'm thrust into a nightmare. I find myself at my desk, wasting away for a job that I hate. The only reason I went on this vacation is to escape, but no matter what I do I end up back in the same place. This nightmare seems different to the rest, it's so loud. Usually all I can hear is keys tapping and clocks ticking, but now there is another noise. It's... screaming. It's getting louder and louder, the sound of people screaming.

I jolt awake. The screaming was coming from real life. I sit up and see dozens of people running away from the beach. What the hell is going on. Some part of me wants to just go back to sleep, but if this many people are running maybe I should too. I begin to grab some of my stuff and get up to leave, but I'm stopped by what feels like an earthquake. I turn to the shoreline and see a giant beast emerge from the water. It looks human, but unless my eyes deceive me, he must be at least 50 feet tall.

The beast approaches the beach, I know I should run but my body won't let me move. I also notice I'm the only one left on the beach, everyone else has run. He steps onto the beach, the closer he gets, the more I realize how massive he actually is. Soon he's standing right in front of me, and I have to look straight up just to see his face. He reaches down and grabs me, holding nearly my entire body in just one hand. I try to scream, but there's no use now, all my screams will be muffled in the beasts hand.

I can't see much, so I spend the next few minutes trashing about until I have no energy left. It doesn't seem to be making a difference anyway. After what feels like a couple of minutes, the beast stops moving. I get gently laid down on the floor, and get a chance to look around at the expansive room around me. It looks like a normal house, just massive. It makes me feel like a tiny ant. As I'm taking in the scenery, I bump into something soft. I turn to see a massive leg in front of me. My eyes drift upward to see a massive man standing in front of me, he must have been the height of the man that brought me here, just a lot fatter. I shield my eyes from the man's massive cock, and look past his round gut to see the man looking down at me.

"Watch where you're going pipsqueak!" The giant says in a deep voice. I lost my balance as his receding steps shook the ground below me.

"Don't mind him, he's always in a bad mood." The giant who brought me here kneeled down to talk to me.

"Does anyone wear clothes around here?" I ask in return.

"Were not savages, we try to if we can come across clothes large enough. I know this might seem frightening, but you and I are more similar than you think."

"Why did you even bring me here?" I say confused.

"Come, walk with me, I'll explain." He says as I start to follow him, though it takes me a few minutes to cover the ground he can in one step so he walks slow.

"My name is Yusef, by the way." The giant says.

"I'm Jack." I reply.

"A long time ago, a settlement of humans came across a forest while hunting. This forest contained food with mystical properties that provided the humans with far more energy than they needed. The humans obviously took advantage of this to prevent their people from starving. Over time, their bodies started to grow larger than that of normal humans due to the food. Eventually they became a whole new species called 'Giants'." Yusef monologues. "The only problem is that only the men of that settlement grew, the women remained normal humans. This meant that the Giants could not reproduce. So out of desperation, they would find other humans and turn them into giants to keep their species alive. We are what's left of those giants."

"So... You want to turn me into a giant?" I ask, still trying to process the entire story.

"Yes." He responds bluntly.

We both walk in silence for a moment as I process the situation.

"Ok, I want to be a giant." I say confidently.

"What? Humans usually aren't so eager." He questions.

"My life back home sucked, I have nothing , I have no one. At least here I'll have something."

He smiled before pointing to the room beside us. "This is the most recent giant before you, Antony." Yusef points to a man sleeping on the couch.

"He's been asleep for a while now. The last feast really took a toll on him." He states.

"Feast?" I ask.

"You need a lot of calories when your body is that big, so we fatten up the Giants as much as we can."

"Well what about you, you're not fat."

"I stay fit because I am the one who has to get new giants like you, I need to be a bit more nimble than the average giant. For the rest of us, it's better to keep a hefty store of energy. You should have seen Antony here when he was human. He was built like me, big shoulders and skinny waist, washboard abs. He's only been here three days and now look at him."

As he's talking, I look down at my own body. Now I'm no Yusef, but I've worked hard for my body. Maybe I could be like Yusef and stay skinny. As I'm thinking, I notice Antony's hand move. "Are you sure he's asleep, his hand is moving." I ask.

"Oh he's asleep, he's just getting used to having the sex drive of a giant." He responds.

I notice that his hand is moving back and forth over his dick. "That kinda sucks for a species that can't reproduce." I say.

"It's not so bad, we like to have fun with it." Yusef turns to another giant and winks at him. "Lookin good Pete!" He shouts at the giant. Pete looks back and smiles before going back to checking himself out in the mirror.

I fall silent again, coming to another realization. I didn't think about it before but, if there are only male giants, then who do they fuck. Well I just got my answer, they fuck eachother. What do I do if I'm not gay. I mean with the amount of men they turn into giants, there's no way I'm the first straight guy they get. Maybe they just get so bored that they fuck eachother because there's nothing else to do. It's no big deal, I could just not have sex, it's like I was having much sex back home either. Besides, I'm sure they still have porn here, I won't be completely out of luck.

"And we've made it." Yusef says as he stops and turns to me. "This is where you become a giant."

I look around the empty room. "Why this room?"

"It's empty because the transformation can be quite jarring, so it is safe to be in an empty room."

"Jarring?" I ask, concerned.

"Well we'll give you a concentrated version of the food from the mystical forest I mentioned earlier. It speeds up the transformation to happen in mere minutes rather than months. Not all parts of the body grow at the same pace."

Before I can even process, Yusef grabs me and shoves a large green pellet into my mouth. "Swallow." He states. I swallow it, trying to ignore the disgusting taste.

It doesn't take long for the food to take its effect, and it's not subtle. It starts with my arms. My biceps become massive, growing larger than my head. Next to transform was unfortunately my dick. The pressure in my pants builds until they burst open, leaving me naked. My dick quickly grows out of proportion with my body, growing to the point that it hits the ground. It is even thicker than my legs, making me look like I have a third leg.

"I told you it could be jarring." Yusef said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Don't fucking look." I yell out.

"Oh don't be so uptight, I'm just enjoying the show." He laughs.

I can feel myself growing tall as my perspective gets higher and higher. Soon I can feel my ass grow massive as my stomach grows into a muscle gut, making it hard to keep my balance. The next few minutes are completely insane as different parts of my body grow out of proportion. Soon enough, I see that my eyes are at about the same height as Yusefs, meaning the transformation must be over soon. I finally feel the transformation stop as I'm a few feet taller than Yusef. I'm completely naked, tired, and my body is covered in sweat.

"Here dry off." Yusef throws me a towel. "Oh, and I'm glad you're happy to see me." He winks at me before looking down at my crotch. I look down and see that my dick is fully hard, sticking straight out. I jump and cover my crotch, he just chuckles and walks away.

I dry up and walk out of the room where I find a pair of cargo pants. I slip them on and they fit surprisingly well, I try my best to tuck my boner into the waist of the shorts, but it's not doing much to hide it. I walk around, getting used to the way my body moves. It's much harder to move at the same pace I did before, everything is so heavy that it takes more effort to start and stop moving. And it feels like the air is holding me back, almost like walking in water.

I make my way to the balcony and sit down. The view is quite beautiful from here. In one direction there is a lush swamp and the other is a forest. It's weird that the trees look so small, the tallest ones look like they would barely reach my waist. As I'm enjoying the view, Yusef approaches me. As he's talking to me, it's going in one ear and going right out the other.

"My eyes are up here buddy." He says, snapping me back to reality where I notice I was staring at his chest. I look up and make eye contact with him.

"Have this." He hands me what looks like a phone. "It's a smart tv. Jerry's quite good with electronics and whipped up some phones made from old smart TV's."

"Thanks." I say as I hold the tiny tv in my hand.

"It can do basically anything a phone can other than texting, but we use WhatsApp anyway." He says before turning and walking away. I catch myself staring at him as he walks away, but quickly turn my focus to my new phone. It feels just like a phone, with a touch screen and everything. It has a few apps installed, including twitter and it gives me an idea. I log into my account and scroll through the porn I had saved on it. I scroll and scroll, but I feel nothing. Not until I get to a clip I had saved from pornhub. That got me going. My legs tensed and my dick pulsed. Within seconds I shot my load into my new cargo shorts. As I continue to watch, I notice something. I haven't looked at the woman in this clip once, I have been fixed on the man the entire time. But I've never been gay. I scroll through the many videos and images of women on my twitter and I still feel nothing. Out of curiosity I decide to search for pictures of men. Who's a guy everyone seems to like, oh Chris Evans. I search him up and go to photos. Oh my god. My stomach sinks and my dick rises the instant I look at the photo. What happened to me? I look at all the half naked Giants that walk past the balcony, and it confirms the way I feel. Even weirder is my fixation on their fat. I can't stop staring at their guts and they man tits, or their asses as they walk by. Suddenly the thought of growing like the rest of the Giants doesn't seem so bad.

"You okay?" I'm interrupted by Yusef.

"Ya I'm fine." I try to cover the stain in my shorts.

"Well that didn't take you long." He chuckles, "There is someone you need to meet.

"Oh ya sure." I say while paying no attention to what he is saying. The pecs on that man are unreal, how does a man get pecs that large.

I follow Yusef to what looks like the kitchen and he sits me down. "This is Saul." Yusef says as a man in a bathrobe approaches me. He leans over the table in front of me and gets a closer look at me. He looks older, with salt and pepper hair and wrinkled skin. His robe is loosely tied, letting his hairy gut spill out and allowing me to see his soft chest.

"You always bring me the skinniest ones." Saul says. His eyes drift up and down my body as he pokes and grabs me. "I know exactly what you could use." He says as he walks into the pantry.

"What is he doing." I ask Yusef.

"He's our cook. Just eat whatever he gives you, he has been cooking for us for hundreds of years, so he knows what he's doing." He responds.

"Hundreds of years!?" I yell out in shock.

"Oh ya, I forgot to mention that. We live for centuries, and the food he gives you is essential to that."

Saul comes back with a full platter of food and places it in front of me. "Eat." He tells me as he stands there and watches. I think back to when I was sitting on the balcony, watching all of the fatass giants walking by. I want that. I started stuffing my mouth with all the food on the platter he gave me. His food tasted amazing. You'd think I was starving with the way I was ravaging this food. Before I knew it, the platter was empty. I lean back and pat my bloated stomach with one hand and rub my crotch with the other.

"I like this one." Saul says before running off to the pantry again.

"That was so good." I turn to Yusef.

"Good, there's a lot more to come. You may think you're full, but you can fit a lot more food in you than you think." He responds.

Rounds and rounds of food go by, and I just keep going. I don't even know how long it's been, I just keep eating. I eventually lean back in my chair, defeated. My eyes start to close as I fall asleep.

"He's eaten the most out of any giant I have even seen." I hear Saul say as I'm passing out

"You think he's gonna be bigger than Grant?" Yusef responds.

"Much bigger." Is the last thing I hear before passing out.

- Many days later -

"This is the giant before you." Yusef says.

"Am I gonna be that fat." I hear from an unfamiliar voice.

"No he's the biggest we've ever seen."

I slowly open my eyes and try to lean up, but I feel like I'm being held down. I look down and see a massive mound of fat. Wait, that's me, that's my stomach. I reach out my hands and see the fat sagging in my arms. I cup my pecs in my thick hands, though I'm not sure you could call them pecs anymore. They're so fat that they sag onto my stomach. Speaking of my stomach, I grab it, sending ripples through my body. I can feel it spilling out onto my legs.

"Jack, you're finally awake." Yusef says. "This is our soon to be giant."

I sit up as far as I can and look down at the tiny human. I can't help but wonder what I look like from his perspective.

Once they leave, Antony approaches me.

"Damn you got fat." I say to him. Since the last time I saw him sleeping on the couch, he's gained a ton of weight. His modest belly turned into a full blown beer gut and his pecs are now soft man tits like mine.

"Coming from you fatass." He laughs at me. "You're the biggest slab of meat we've ever seen."

He continues to approach me, and I can see his bulge grow in his tight ass jeans.

"All the Giants here are so boring, they never want to fuck. But I know you feel different, don't you." He sits on my lap, spreading his legs around mine and resting our guts against each other. "Think about what we looked like just a week ago. Strong, with big biceps and washboard abs, now look what they've done to us." He almost moans while saying it. "Isn't it so hot." He pushes me into my back, making me feel the full weight of my own body pinning me down. He starts kissing my chest, sucking on my new fat. He kisses down my hulking gut, leaving a trail of hickies. He lifts up my belly and sticks his head underneath, he pushes my fat pad and wraps his lips around my dick. I let out a loud moan, slightly embarrassed when I realize everyone in the house could hear that. It doesn't matter, I turn my attention back to Antony. My knees buckle from the pleasure as I hold his head against my crotch. I let out another loud moan as I pump my load into his mouth. He looks up at me, "my turn." He says with his mouth dripping with cum. He spreads my legs and sticks his dick inside me. My body almost repels at the feeling, but I quickly accept it. I never thought something up my ass could feel so good. He starts to speed up, becoming more and more aggressive. I can see the ripples run through the fat in our bodies and I can hear the couch groan under our combined weight. It doesn't take long for a warm feeling to fill my insides. Antony lets out a satisfied sigh as he sits back onto the couch.

"You know I was kinda scared about this whole 'becoming a giant' thing, but now I'm a lot more excited." He says as he rests his hand on his gut. "You know being a fat ass is a lot better than I thought it would be."

I chuckle, "ya it ain't so bad is it." I lay back on the couch and relax, having no worries to stress me out.

#male tf #male transformation #masculine #fat tf #reality change #male wg #hairy

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senjuushi · 8 months

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Master who works themselves to the bone - only really getting sleep when they pass out - F, Marks, ninety, seig, like2, Gras.

The only way F can think to help is by offering his usual brand of "stress relief"— and likely making the situation worse in the process. It's really none of his business if you're pushing yourself too hard, and yet, there's some frustratingly desperate urge to make things better that refuses to go away. Maybe it's just a need to be useful, but F somehow can't make himself stop trying. At least you're not taking advantage of him for it.

Marks

As soon as he realizes that your workload is unhealthy, Marks becomes very annoying. He won't leave you alone, constantly trying to "be helpful" and assist with any tasks that he might be capable of. Though his attention borders on suffocating, he's so eager to be of use that it's hard to turn him away. At the very least, he'll be bringing you regular meals and all but dragging you off to bed when he's decided his precious Master is too tired.

Ninety

He understands that what you're doing isn't good for you, but also has no idea how he could help. Ninety wants to be a good dog, the kind that can help you relax and feel better after your work is done, but overcoming his reflexive anxiety enough to approach you is difficult. Chances are, he'll end up lying at your feet, sometimes nervously pawing at your ankle in a silent attempt to communicate that you should take a break from your work.

Siegblut

Admittedly, Siegblut tends to do the same thing. Still, it's different for weapons! He'll try to scold you for overworking yourself, but no amount of insistence that you'd be wasting the life force that he'll need to use up hides the fact that he's worried. Though he's furious with himself for caring so much, the lingering thought that he should be doing more (so you don't have to push yourself so hard) never leaves his mind. Maybe he could help...?

Like2

As much as he hates it, it's almost instinctive for Like2 to try to stop you from working yourself sick. He's so used to keeping an eye on his useless, broken brother that he's surprisingly good at knowing when you need to quit. Expressing honest concern has him red-faced and short-tempered, but the embarrassment is easily outweighed by the overwhelming need to keep his Master safe. He feels stupid, but maybe he could actually help.

Gras

He doesn't want to care. Your workload is your business— as a weapon, he has his own matters to attend to. And yet, every time he sees you passed out from exhaustion at your desk, Gras is hit with a stab of concern that he absolutely loathes. He ends up "coincidentally" finding reasons to tear you away from your work when you're overwhelmed, though they're always passed off as selfish whims rather than the all-too-vulnerable truth.

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #F #Marks #Ninety #Siegblut #Like2 #Gras #Headcanon #Reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

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🔥 = smut 🌈 = readers’ favorite (with more than 1k notes) 🌷 = author’s favorite

hello there! to avoid having my masterlists getting crashed, i am now starting a new one for oneshots written in 2022! the previous posts will be available of course, only my new works will be found here!

Find my other masterlists HERE !

No Regrets — You’ve been trying your best to avoid hollywood’s biggest charmer, Harry Styles. However, your longtime friend, Gemma Chan is working harder than the devil and has other plans for NYE.

Nervous 🔥🌈--- After a series of unfortunate events, you're stuck at your boss' place for an indefinite time. And things take an unexpected turn...

Saturday Night Live 🌈--- You’re in a PR relationship with your long time friend, Pete Davidson. Hosting SNL along with Harry as the musical guest, you are hoping your fake relationship will spark some jealousy in the british singer you’ve been crushing on forever. (collab with @harrysfolklore)

My Best Girl 🔥🌈--- Sequel to Good Girl. It’s been a year since your arrangement with Harry turned into a love story. Now you’re living happily with the man of your dreams, but something causes some trouble in your little paradise. Or maybe someone…

Intruder --- Harry, being the heroic boyfriend that he is, saves you from a vicious spider in the bedroom.

Violet --- Harry calls out the name of a woman in his sleep. But it’s not yours…

Growing Old 🌷--- Harry reflects on the passing of time on the morning of his 28th birthday. Growing old doesn’t sound too scary with you by his side.

Puzzle Pieces --- Harry loves a good party. But he loves spending his evening at home with you.

The Naked Truth🔥 --- Harry is a broke med student and Niall talks him into modeling for an art class. Naked.

Next Door 🔥🌈--- Your neighbor keeps getting on your nerves and you hate him for that but you hate how good-looking he is even more.

Language Course --- Doing promo interviews is tiring, especially when an asshole makes fun of your accent. Luckily Harry, your costar is quick to defend you.

Teamwork 🔥🌈 --- You're rather quiet in bed, but Harry is desperate to make you scream and he is not afraid to use toys in the process.

Sunkissed --- The warm spring weather brings out your obsession with Harry's neck and shoulders.

As It Was 🌈 --- You’re on a break, but Harry calls you drunk one night and you don’t even think twice before going over to check on him.

Wasted Time 🔥🌈 --- An unusually nice looking man wanders into the bar where you work at and an unexpected friendship forms along with a deal, but how long can it last when you start to fall for the man that’s out of your league?

Three Birthdays --- A glimpse of three of your birthdays in the past 2 decades, all of them somehow connected to Harry.

Proof --- People think your relationship with Harry is just a PR stunt, but you have a wild idea how you could prove them wrong.

Power Couple --- You’re an independent and strong woman and Harry loves that about you. He won’t let anyone belittle you by dropping your doctoral title.

Wet Dreams 🔥🌈--- Harry misses you. A lot… and he shares with you the wet dreams he’s been having about you.

Infatuation 🔥🌈— You’re about to start your business as an interior designer. Thanks to your best friend, your first client turns out to be none other than Harry Styles, the insanely handsome and stupidly rich business man.

Everyday Things - Harry loves the everyday things, especially when they include you. Like going to the supermarket in the night because you want ice-cream and then shagging in the car, because he can’t keep his hands to himself.

Ice Cold --- Harry goes swimming in the Irish Sea and he wants you to go with him.

My Queen 🌈--- Harry would do anything for his pregnant girlfriend, just minutes before he is expected to be on the stage he is still seeking ways to comfort her.

Exception 🌈--- Harry had a long day and enough of everyone. Everyone, except you.

The Feeling Is Mutual --- Your little Italian getaway with Harry is something you’ll probably remember forever, since it’s where Harry has decided to get on one knee.

Intimate And Public 🌈--- Being on your honeymoon in Italy, you make some realizations about your marriage.

Princess 🌈--- Harry has been relentless to get you to date him. At a frat party you finally have a conversation that overturns everything.

Cover Up 🔥🌈--- Harry gets a little too possessive when he sees your nipples peeking through your shirt.

In The Middle --- You have different beliefs about marriage, but you end up meeting in the middle.

Overprotective --- Harry takes being protective a bit too far and you snap.

Blind Eye 🔥🌷🌈--- Harry thought everything was going well in his marriage. Right until one day his wife left with no explanation and not he is stuck in the dark, waiting to find out how he can fight for what matters the most to him.

Big Boss 🌈--- Your boyfriend breaks up with you to focus on his career. So you start dating his boss.

Cozy Sunday --- Spending the day in bed with your boyfriend.

Snacks And Sex 🌈--- You’re three months pregnant, but the world doesn’t know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

Parent Trap 🔥🌈--- Harry has been crushing on the mother of her daughter’s classmate and now that she has divorced, a bake sale finally brings them together.

Golden Ticket --- You change your mind about your halloween costume last minute because you fear Harry might find it too revealing, but he thinks otherwise.

Childish 🌈--- It was supposed to be a perfect, cozy fall weekend. Right until you doubt whether you’re the perfect fit for your older, successful boyfriend.

Hopelessly Devoted To You --- You’re hopelessly devoted to Harry’s Danny costume.

Like Fine Wine 🌈--- Harry needs glasses, but he refuses to put them on and there’s a deeper meaning behind it than you thought.

Date Night 🌈--- You’re supposed to go on a date night, but when Harry comes home he finds you, his pregnant wife asleep, so he changes your plans for the evening.

Delicious 🔥🌈--- There’s just something incredibly delicious about seeing Harry sunbathing.

Subtle 🌈--- Harry’s not so subtle way of hinting that he is in the mood.

Midnight Crush 🌈--- Harry has had a crush on Sarah’s sister for a long time and this year, at the NYE party he can finally shoot his shot, because she’s freshly single.

No Heartbreak 🌈--- You planned to spend the holidays alone, just like you always do. However, your boss had other ideas.

Sauna Session 🔥🌈--- All you wanted was some relaxing time alone in the nude sauna cabin, but that one mysterious and ridiculously handsome man had to be there at the same time as you. Things get hot, but not just because of the sauna.

Twenty-Nine --- It’s Harry’s birthday, he is surrounded by love, but there is one person missing from beside him. You.

And The Grammy Goes To 🌈--- The moment Harry wins another Grammy.

The BRITs 🔥--- You and Harry are getting drunk at the BRITs and you can’t control your desires for each other.

Early Morning --- Early morning snuggles in bed.

Sneaky --- Everyone is into the hot TA that substitutes for your professor. One sneaky picture leads you to what every girl dreamed of in class.

Fascination --- Part 2 to Infatuation. Making your first official appearance as Harry’s girlfriend brings some struggles, but you realize that nothing really matters as long as you have his love.

Bulletproof 🌷🌈--- Being Eroda’s first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who’s been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

Decode --- You’re up for the promotion you’ve always dreamt about, but right when you need to prove everything goes downhill. Lucky for you the cute, quiet IT guy, Harry, is there to help you out.

Night Out 🌈--- You’re getting ready for a girls’ night out and Harry joins you in the bathroom in the process, mesmerized with everything you do.

Too Far 🌈--- Harry has been extremely clingy since you’ve found out you were pregnant and this morning is no exception either.

Dessert 🌈--- Harry gets hit on at an event, but the woman fails terribly, because he only has eyes for his pregnant girlfriend who is busy by the buffet table.

Cheesy --- It's your annual trip to Italy with your boyfriend, but he is planning to make it special by asking you one important question.

My Hero --- Some drunk guy gets dirty with you when you refuse to serve him. Luckily, Harry is there to stand up for you, even if he is not too good at it.

No More Games 🔥🌈--- Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it’s a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad’s barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father’s company.

Crush --- Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven’t given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy’s afterparty and you finally tell him why you’re so adamant about keeping your distance.

Puppy Love 🌷🌈--- Harry has been on his well deserved break, but has run out of activities faster than he expected. Killing time he’s been going to the same café and park for a walk pretty often, but it might have something to do with the pretty woman with the cute dog he’s been seeing on these walks.

Wardrobe Malfunction 🌈--- You’re dealing with a bit of a wardrobe malfunction upon arriving to a wedding. At first your boyfriend is no help, but then he saves the day as always.

My Husband 🌈--- It’s been days since your wedding, but it is just now sinking in. Harry is your husband.

On Repeat 🔥🌈--- As his personal assistant, you definitely shouldn’t be havin dirty thoughts of Harry, especially not about the way his tongue on his guitar. But it’s hard to resist and you need relief, but you never thought your boss would be more than willing to help you out.

Just Hands 🔥--- Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

Unspoken --- Your college roommate wants to get you out of your shell and brings you to your first frat party. It’s not quite your setting, but when you meet a nice boy in the bathroom it gets better. Right until he catches your roommate’s eyes as well.

The Final Show 🌈--- You made a promise in the beginning of Love On Tour and now it’s catching up with you and though your heart wants you to keep your word, you know it’s not that easy, because it’s about your boss, the person who matters the most to you.

Home --- You knew the emotions would catch up with Harry once more after the show. And you’re there to guide him through these overwhelming feelings.

Illicit Thoughts 🔥🌈--- Harry has been nothing but professional when it came to you, but the short skirt you wore to the office seems to crumble his whole act finally.

Illicit Temptation 🔥🌈--- Part II. to Illicit Thoughts. A business trip to Italy brings more than just professional success. One hot afternoon, deliciously cold water and a series of unfortunate events bring out the illicit temptation you both have been fighting.

Illicit Acts 🔥🌈--- Part III. to Illicit Thoughts and Illicit Temptation. The temptation is higher than ever, especially when Harry has to watch you dance with his possible future business partner.

Fruity --- Italy, Harry, pregnancy cravings and an ice-cream crisis solved by your wonderful husband.

Siren --- It was supposed to be a little lonely getaway in your dad’s Italian villa, but plans get a little messed up and you end up having to share the villa with your dad’s friend, Harry.

Trophy Wife 🌈--- You’re not what one would expect a CEO’s girlfriend to be like. You’re not like all those trophy wives. But does it bother Harry? That with you it’s not yachts and fancy drinks and modern luxury, just wildflowers, mismatched furniture and shared finances.

Unofficial --- You and Harry are in a temporary phase of bein unofficial, but you don’t mind it, especially the tiny moments you share when no one is looking.

Mistletoe --- Everyone knows Harry is crushing on Y/N, but he hasn’t made any major moves. Maybe tonight, when they find themselves under the mistletoe…

One Year --- On the day before Christmas you realize just how much has changed in one year.

Mistaken hatred --- Things don’t go as smooth as you planned with your bakery’s opening, but you’re doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred…

The Usual --- It’s a slow day at the diner, everyone is in a post-Christmas haze. However yours clears up when your favorite stranger shows up, smug as always but this time some nasty bruises are all over his handsome face.

Forever --- Bucky feels like the luckiest man alive to call you his and he is ready to call you by another name: his wife. But for that he needs to make you his fiancé first.

Hot And Nice --- Sebastian accidentally goes live.

Monster --- Frank shows up at your place again but this time you’ll not let him belittle your feelings for him.

Avenge You 🌈--- When Steve is pulled into the Upside Down through watergate, you do not hesitate before jumping after him.

Back Together 🌈--- You and Steve broke up not long ago, but watching over Max in the night brings the two of you back together.

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #masterlist #watchmegetobsessed #watchmegetobsessed masterlist #harry styles oneshot #harry styles masterlist #masterlist 2022

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scaramoon · 3 years

Text

he accidentally hurts you while sparring

DILUC, KAEYA, XIAO, CHILDE — gn!reader

warnings/genre: kinda hurt/comfort? idk it’s mostly fluffy, mentions of blood and (very) minor injuries, swearing in childe’s

notes: rbs are v much appreciated, please and ty !! also pls ignore that i got carried away w xiao’s </3

━━ diluc;

you’ll have to be insistent if you even want him to spar with you; he knows you’re fully capable of standing your ground but... he’s worried

he’ll act like he doesn’t, but it’s obvious that he keeps close by whenever you’re sparring with someone

but if you wear him down enough or you’re good with your words, you can convince him to be your sparring partner

lmao just tell him you’ll get kaeya to do it 💀

“don’t- don’t hold your sword like that.” he said, his tone was flat but you’d known him long enough to be able to find the concern in it.

“i know how to hold a sword, diluc,” you responded. “i asked for a partner, not a teacher, remember?”

red eyes flashed towards you and something like a smile appeared on your lover’s lips. you mirrored it, letting your lips curl into a grin.

“of course,” he said, smallest hint of a playful tone in his voice.

but he was quick, and you may have underestimated just how well trained he was. normally, you could have blocked him. this time, however, you weren’t expecting it and you’d already began to drop your dominant hand to your side.

he noticed that, but he was just a little too late. diluc was used to the momentum of his weapon, but it wasn’t often that he had to stop it. he tried to step back before he hurt you, your name falling from his lips, desperation and worry coating his voice.

and then, just as soon as he’s processed it, his claymore was on the ground and he was watching you crouch and hold your upper arm. your seethe of pain sent guilt rushing through him.

it took him a moment to decide whether or not to go over to you; he wanted to, he really wanted to, but a part of him feared that you didn’t want him near you.

he couldn’t help it though.

“y/n?” diluc’s tone was almost a command, loud but desperate, wanting you to look at him and tell him that you were perfectly fine — wanting that to be the truth.

tears pricked in the corners of your eyes but you looked at him nonetheless. he hated that look in your eyes. seeing you in pain was one thing, but the knowledge that he was the cause of it twisted his heart in unbearable ways.

“i’m ok, diluc,” you said, quieter than you normally would. “just a little scratch, see?”

you moved your hand from where it was holding onto your arm. blood coated your fingers and the clothing surrounding the new wound, but it was clear that the cut wasn’t deep.

he didn’t say anything. his lips were pressed into a thin line as he kneeled beside you. eyebrows pinned in worry and concentration evident in his eyes, he started ripping at your sleeve to get a better look.

“diluc.” you said. your voice was more commanding this time as you moved away from him. why couldn’t he see it really wasn’t so bad?

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.” this time you could see clearly just how distressed he was.

he looked like he was about to cry and he wasn’t the one that’d been hurt. not physically, anyway; you had no idea how his chest hurt, how he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

you stared at him for a little longer. “i said i’m fine. but if it will help you sleep at night, you can come help me clean it, deal?”

“of course, dove.”

━━ kaeya;

he actually likes sparring with you

he doesn’t often get the chance, but whenever both of you are able to, he sees it as time he gets to spend with you

and any time spent with you is never time wasted in his eyes

plus he gets to do the sword under your chin thing and tease you </3

“dead.” you said proudly, standing over your lover, your sword under his chin.

a playful grin spread across his lips as he let you enjoy your win. you backed away and allowed him to stand up, dust himself off. a stretch of his arms, and then he was picking up his sword to go again.

“ready?” kaeya asked, smirk stretching his lips.

“yeah,” you said, smiling back. your gloved hand tightened around your sword’s hilt; the gloves were making your hands sweaty, your grip loosening. “actually, w-”

“y/n!”

the next thing you realized was a stinging at you side. your hand immediately came to the cut, taking an instinctive step back. the sound of kaeya’s sword hitting the ground met your ears, his hands were on your arms a second later.

“hey, hey, you’re okay.” he tried to sound calm but if was a bad attempt. he crouched down onto the ground, guiding you to sit in front of him. cautious hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, kaeya looking up at you. “can I look, love?”

“yeah, but I’m fine.” you said, though your face was twisted in pain.

his eyes were full of pity when he looked at you, jaw clenching before he lifted your shirt enough to see the wound. on first appearance, it looked worse than it really was.

“see?” you spoke again. “all good.”

he didn’t say anything at first. he just pulled you closer to him, chin hooked over your shoulder, though he was careful not to agitate your cut.

“not really. but it’s okay, we’re gonna get you all better, yeah?”

“kaeya, seriously, i’m fine. you don’t need-”

“y/n.” his voice was still sweet and concerned, but more stern when he spoke this time. “let me take care of you.”

“...fine.”

━━ xiao;

good luck getting him to spar with you in the first place

it doesn’t matter how much you tell him you want to, he’ll keep turning you down

needless to say, you’ll have to play your cards right to get him to agree to it

“what if i hurt you, y/n?”

“i’ll be under-trained and get hurt if you don’t help me.”

“you know i’ll always be there if you call for me.”

“and if you can’t come?”

“...”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” he stated simply, eyes narrowing at you. you only threw him a smile.

“what’s the worst that can happen? you won’t even use your real pole arm, you have a stick. you can’t stab me with it, xiao.”

“I would rather not think about ‘stabbing’ you in the first place.” he huffed. “but... you need to be safe, in case one day I can’t keep you safe myself.”

a smile crossed your face as you gripped your weapon, ready for him to start.

you may have miscalculated the power and ability of an adeptus though. you quickly found yourself tired and overwhelmed, just blocking and dodging was almost too much. he could sense your fatigue already, and he was listening for you to call him to stop. xiao was ready to stop on a dime, but he knew that you were stubborn and insistent.

his “pole arm” came close to your side, and he really thought you would dodge this one. you’d done it before. but he felt the wood hit you, you falling to the ground, holding your side soon after.

his make-shift weapon was long forgotten now. he was kneeling beside you in seconds, gentle fingers running along what he was sure was a broken rib. he didn’t find one, but the guilt was already eating him and that knowledge did nothing to stop it.

“ow! that hurts, don’t touch me.” you said, seething in pain and making a pitiful attempt to move away from him.

xiao did not cry.

he didn’t, it just wasn’t something he was accustomed to, and quite honestly he wasn’t sure if adepti could cry. but the idea of you being scared of him started tears to fill his eyes; his chest was tight, and he had this uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“no, no,” you started, propping yourself on your elbows and then sitting all the way up.

you tried to reach and hold his face, to wipe the tears off, but he turned away from you; he kept kneeling, but shifted to a position a little farther away from you. the adeptus made a noise something like a squeak, and it seemed to surprise him. he didn’t wait for you to finish talking, he turned away and looked anywhere except you.

“xiao, baby, that’s not what I meant. you can- I just meant don’t put your hands directly where I got hurt... xiao? can you look at me?”

it took him a few more moments before he turned his head back to you. you knew he wasn’t always the most emotional, but you didn’t think you’d seen him like this before. he hummed, not trusting his voice. still, he wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me. its just a little bruise, there’s not even blood... I’m not scared of you, xiao, it’s not your fault.”

he stared at you for another moment before he cleared his throat and stood up. “can we at least have someone make sure you’re okay?”

“yeah.”

“...and you won’t ask me to do that again?”

“of course not.”

━━ childe;

he has mixed feelings about sparring with you

of course, it’s an odd form of quality time, but he likes it

plus that means he won’t have to watch you spar with anyone else

but there’s always the risk that you could get hurt

he’s an archer though, so he only “attacks” you with his melee — he thought he was being a lot more careful

“ready?” childe smiled, twirling one of his weapons around his finger.

“as always.” you said, gripping your own weapon.

“mhm, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re ‘always ready’,” childe said dropped his hands to his sides and stepping closer to you.

you knew what he was trying to do — he attempted to pull this off every time you sparred with him, and you never failed to catch him. seem relaxed, and whenever you thought he wouldn’t, he’d attempt to get the better of you.

this time, however, you were not as quick as you usually were. childe knew that you always saw through this; not once had you’d failed to block him, so maybe he put his trust in his weapons more than he should have.

he stopped when both of you look at the clean, but bloody, cut he’d made. his eyes widened as it sinked in, coming to the realization that he’d hurt you

“y/n- shit, I’m sorry,” he said, panic clear in his voice, though he tried to hide it. his hand was on your shoulder, guiding you to sit on the ground. “are you- you’re okay, it’s not that deep. we’re gonna get that healed and you’ll be fine, yeah?”

for words so reassuring, his panicked tone was saying something along the lines of ‘shit shit fuck dammit, i accidentally hurt my own partner, what the fuck-’

“yeah, it’s no biggie,” you said, smiling a little at him. “it’s just a little cut, I get worse on commissions.”

you knew that later he would claim he was totally calm. in reality, he was trying his best to clean the wound with his vision, and he’d get better help whenever he could get to bubu pharmacy.

“you owe me kisses though, y’know,” you teased.

‘good,’ he thought. ‘they aren’t mad at me.’

“whatever ya want, love.”

“oh? maybe I’ll take cuddles too.”

3K notes · View notes

enchantestuff · 3 years

Text

miscommunication - charles leclerc

in which your Pierres little sister and reap the consequences after an eventful night in Monaco with his best friend

I think I'm going to make this into a series, like 3 more parts maybe??

part two

GIF NOT MINE!!!

warnings: smut, my failed attempt at angst (I tried), language, em yeah

3k words (I have no idea how that happened)

You had known Charles for years, which wasn't particularly surprising considering you were Pierres little sister.

When you were little you envied their friendship, constantly trying to insert yourself in their games and conversations. You had lost count of the amount of times they slammed a door in your face, demanding you to leave them alone. You hadn’t realised how annoying you were being as you followed them around everywhere, even if Pierre had scolded you for it each day.

When you were a teenager, Pierre purposely kept Charles away from you, telling him that if he even looked in your direction he wouldn't hesitate to end their friendship. You, of course, had no idea of the threat not that it mattered as you didn't paid any attention to the infamous duo during those few years, living in your own little world full of clothes , friends and different boys.

Now, however, you were an adult and all you wanted to do was support your brother throughout his career. In recent years you had gone to as many races as you physically could, but of course you had your own job and unfortunately didn’t have the time to attend any race this season.

Pierre was disappointed, he loved having you there to support him, but he understood that you had your own life and never placed any blame on you. After years of the two of you constantly ignoring each other and bickering, you had finally begun to act like siblings and all he wanted to do was make up for lost time.

You had thankfully gotten three weeks off work - well they weren’t necessarily weeks off as you still had to do your job, but your boss insisted that there was no need for you to trek to the office everyday when you were perfectly capable of doing the work at home on your laptop. The timing couldn't have been better with the triple header just around the corner, it almost seemed like a miracle and you were gonna enjoy every minute of it.

You grinned as you texted your brother.

Any spare tickets to the race :)

He replied almost immediately.

You're kidding, which one?

All of them?

Your texting was cut off by Pierres contact photo appearing on your phone. You answered instantly only to hear Pierre screaming through your speakers, he also slipped in a few delighted curse words before finally letting you talk.

“My boss gave me the next three weeks off so I’m going to go support my favourite brother” you grinned.

“Your only brother” he remarked and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

You spent the next few hours catching up and retelling pointless stories. You had gone to sleep with a lazy smile on your face and woke up the next morning to a text from Pierre, telling you that he had organized your passes for the three weekends as well as the flights, all you had to do was find a hotel. He slipped in the name of the hotel that he was staying at, and to your luck there was still room available. Now all that was left to do was wait.

You grinned giddy as you stepped off the plane and walked toward the baggage collection area, excited to finally get back to watching races in person. You rubbed your eyes in surprise when you spotted your brother waiting for you. “Pierre?” you screamed delightly, running up to him and pushing his body into a bone crushing hug. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever even if it was only a few months.

“Bonjour,” he laughed as he hugged you back.

“I thought you were busy all day today” you exclaimed once you pulled away from him.

He sheepishly shrugged at you with a lazy grin on his face. “I may have lied, are you ready to go?”

You nodded your head at him and for the first time in a long time your mind drifted towards your brother's best friend, Charles, who you hadn’t spoken to since an eventful night in Monaco a few months ago.

You cursed yourself as you thought back to that very moment.

Charles was having a party at his lovely home, you can't remember now what you were celebrating but everyone was ecstatic. You could hear the music from across the street and you knew before you even entered the house that it was going to be a night to remember.

The moment you stepped foot inside you were surrounded by multiple drunk people, all with large grins and hooded eyes plastered on them and you laughed as almost everyone stumbled around the house.

You spotted your brother in the middle of the room dancing with a pretty blonde, he had a goofy smile on his face and you knew from that sight of him alone that he was wasted. You were the only sober person there, at least that's what you thought until Charles had made his way to you with two cups in his hand, alcohol for you and water for him.

“I thought you were celebrating,” you mused as you took a sip of the dark liquor.

“Someone needs to keep these drunk idiots in check,” he joked.

“Well in that case” you said as you handed your drink to a stranger and took a sip of his water instead. You laughed at the bewildered look he threw your way before continuing, “I'm not going to let you tackle this party alone.” The smile that formed on Charles was genuine and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight.

You surprisingly enjoyed yourself the whole night, maybe that was because you knew everyone there, but most likely it was because you spent the whole night with Charles.

A few hours into the party he turned to you asking to dance, you didn't even hesitate to say yes, nerves surrounded you immediately and they only got worse when his hands dipped dangerously low on your hips. Your eyes automatically searched for Pierre and you left out a sigh of relief when you couldn't find him anywhere.

The thought of getting caught fueled both you and Charles, so when he spun you around to face him neither of you hesitated to connect your lips. You considered yourself lucky that everyone around you was too drunk to notice your heated make out and used it to your advantage. You pulled him even closer to you, moaning in his ear when he grabbed your bum and giggling at the whimper he let out.

You felt dizzy. The fact that you were both sober made your first kiss even more real.

You were anxious when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere more private but agreed nevertheless, hoping that maybe he had wanted you for as long as you had wanted him.

He had tenderly kissed you again once he closed the door behind him.

“God, you have no idea how long i've waited to do this,” he moaned in your ear and although you knew that was just something people said in the heat of the moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe every single word that left his lips and got even more attached to the moment.

You revealed a piece of yourself to him that night, not only a physical part, but a part of your heart as you admitted your deepest secrets to him. “Fuck, Charles, I’ve always wanted you,” you moaned when he gently placed you on the bed.

You attached yourself to the kisses he placed all over your body, you paid attention to every bit of affection that he showed you, never once wanting him to stop. When he positioned himself next to you and asked if you were sure you told him there was nothing you've ever been more sure about.

You had both simultaneously moaned when he entered you, laughing at each other afterwards, which made your heart flutter. He was Charles, your brothers best friend and yet sex with him felt so natural.

He placed a tender kiss to your chest before he started moving and you couldn't help but hold him close to you, he didn't seem to mind however as he nested his head in the crook of your neck, letting you hear all the soft gasps and grunts that left his mouth.

You arched your back in pleasure when he reached the deepest parts inside you, your toes curled and your eyes rolled back and all you could think was God why didn't we do this sooner?

“Don't stop, please Charles, don't stop” you moaned in his ear, and if you weren't in a completely different world you would have noticed the shiver than ran down his entire body at your words.

“Trust me, mon amour, i never want to stop”

You weren't even aware of the moans the left your lips until Charles had grabbed your chin and looked at you with desperation written all over his face, “Merde, Y/N, i want more than anything to make this moment last but If you keep making those pretty little sounds you're gonna make me cum”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words “Shut me up then”

And he did, he grunted as he reconnected your lips, swallowing your moans and letting out his own in the process. From the kissing, to Charles’ moans and the rolling of his hips it didn't take you long to release the knot in your stomach.

You regretted it now, thinking back on it, it had completely ruined your friendship with Charles. Your daily silly texts to each other had ceased to exist, your weekly facetime calls had died and a piece of you had broken.

You didn’t expect any less, he was your brother's best friend and even though you always found him insanely attractive, you knew deep down he would have found your little crush on him weird. You always had the suspicion that he saw you as a little sister, and the way he completely ignored you after your hookup had proven them to be true.

You couldn't hate him, or even place the blame of your failed friendship on him as you also went out of your way to ignore him, something that you really regretted but couldn’t change.

“You alright?” Pierre asked as he grabbed your suitcase in his hand.

“Yeah sorry i - i don't know what happened to me there,” you choked out, walking alongside Pierre to his car.

“It's free practice tomorrow, you coming?” he asked once you were both sitting comfortably in his car.

“Yeah, of course” you nodded as you watched the tall buildings pass by in the window.

“Everyones misses you, you know?” he quickly glanced over at you while he drove, wondering what the hell you were thinking so hard about.

“Yep” you sighed, “Me too,” but all you could think about was the Ferrari driver and how awkward it would be to see him again

You had shut yourself in your hotel room for the rest of the night, the flight and overly long check in had taken all the remaining energy out of you and all you wanted to do was curl into the hotel bed and sleep for as long as you possibly could. So that's what you did, until Pierre rang your phone, telling you that he was leaving for free practice in half an hour, wondering if you needed lift, which of course you did you had mumbled to him while scrabbling out of the bed and running to your bathroom to take the quickest shower of your life.

You had somehow gotten ready in time and before you knew it you were walking around the paddock with Pierre next to you, basking in the glorious sun.

Pierre whistled in excitement when he spotted Charles walking out of the Ferrari motorhome. The brunette quickly turned at the sound, a smile forming on his face when he spotted Pierre, his eyebrows raising soon after as he finally noticed you next to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as he got closer and closer to you.

You stood firmly in your spot, uncertain if a hug would be too big of an action after months of silence between you both, quite frankly you didn’t even want to touch him, the pain that he had caused you cutting too deep. Unfortunately, he beamed at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you into his chest and rocking you both side to side.

“Hi,” you laughed, unwilling to cause a scene in front of your brother, you moved your arms to wrap around his neck.

“It's great to see you” he admitted when he pulled away and you felt your throat close up at his words. “I’ve missed you”

“I missed you too,” you smiled and although it wasn’t a lie, the words felt dirty leaving your lips. You shouldnt have missed him, not when he left you lying alone in his bed after you both had sex.

“God, you're acting like you haven't spoken to each other in months,” Pierre laughed, and you and Charles shared an awkward look with each other. The silence that followed was unbearable.

You cleared your throat as you looked around the paddock. “I'm going to get some water” you quickly spilled out and abruptly turned in the other direction, ignoring the confused look that Pierre shot in your direction. You had only taken a few steps when Charles grabbed your arm and pulled you behind a random building.

“Shh it's me” he flinched as you pushed yourself away from him, “it's me” he repeated looking at the bewildered expression on your face.

“You couldn’t have just talked to me like a normal human being?” you argued, “Did you really have to drag me behind a building?”

“I couldn't talk about you know what around you know who” he threw back and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh! You dont want to talk about us having sex infronf of Pierre” you snapped and he covered your mouth with his hand. You bit his hand and he gasped in response.

“You bit me!” he half shouted.

“You didn’t seem to mind last time” you commented , relishing in how flustered Charles had gotten.

“We need to talk about that” he choked out, looking absolutely anywhere except your eyes.

“Oh so now you want to talk about it?” you asked with an accusing tone to your voice, surpringing not only Charles but also yourself.

“I know it was a dick move, I just” he sighed “I didn’t know how to bring it up”

“How about maybe not leaving straight away? How about sending me a text explaining how you felt instead of leaving me in the dark for months? If you thought it was a mistake you could have just-”

“I didn't think it was a mistake”

You couldn't help the effect those words had on your heart, but suddenly you were even more furious, he was unintentionally playing with your heart and you didn't know how much more of it you could take.

“Then why didn't you tell me!”

You were frustrated and he wasn’t helping one bit. He had left it too late, the damage was done, you had spent months regretting your decision to climb into bed with him and a few words lazily strung together to form a sentence wasn't going to erase the emotional damage he caused you. It didn't matter anymore whether it was intentional or not

“I didn't want to ruin our friendship”

“That is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard!”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes and all you wanted to do was sob your heart out, but you refused to cry in front of him, you didn't want him to know the effect he had on you. “Look your late and i - i need to breathe”

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you ran away, unable to face the boy who broke your heart: the boy who had given you everything you could possibly want, only to snatch it out of your grasp.

You cursed yourself for getting attached to that moment because now, every time you closed your eyes, all you see was him panting on top of you and all you could feel was his lips on your skin. It was a memory that used to delight you but now all it brought was sadness and pain.

You knew your attachment issues would bring you pain one day, but only now as you crouched down next to some random building, did you realise it would be physical pain. You clawed at your neck in desperation. You couldn't breathe. Your tears were practically suffocating you and you couldn't help but think Charles' hands ripping your heart from your chest was the cause.

Unknowingly to you, Charles watched your retreating figure with tears forming behind his eyes. It had finally hit him how much he fucked things up. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought maybe you needed space, maybe you would have regretted it.

He wore his heart on his sleeve that day, everything that he told you was true, he was just so scared. So scared that he would be left heartbroken, that his feelings were unrequited, that maybe, just maybe, you would be disgusted with yourself for what you two did.

He left early the next morning to hype himself up, to finally tell you about his feelings for you that had been bubbling around in his stomach for years, but when he returned to his bedroom you were gone.

He didn't realise how much waking up to an empty bed would affect you, just as much as you didnt realise how much leaving would affect him.

He was never good at communication, but it was so easy with you, so why didn't he pick up the phone? He had no excuse except that he was scared.

It was his fear that hurt him the most. It was his fear that broke your heart and that had hurt him so much more than he thought was possible.

#Charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #forumla 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #angst #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #Charles Leclerc smut #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 smut

931 notes · View notes

peachiimilquetea · 3 years

Note

something angsty with tenya leaving fem reader for the event? ty! prompt: “you can’t leave me. i don’t know how to survive without you.”

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” + tenya iida

a/n: bro… i don’t really like angst without the potential for a somewhat happy ending so i hope you’re ok with the fact that it’s not completely sad. i did pull on the heartstrings quite a bit tho, i hope you enjoy! check out the event here

contains: angst (obviously), iida being heavily influenced by his family, tensei to the rescue lowkey, crying, insecurities, mentions of alcohol, ambiguous ending, miscommunication

length: 2.0k

at first things had started off small.

iida worked long hours as the work of his brother’s hero agency fell on his shoulders. he tried his best to make time for you, but it always felt like your schedules could never line up just right.

you tried to work something out, quick calls on break times and cute messages around the house to remind you of one another, but most efforts fell flat.

then things started to get worse.

long and empty nights were spent building up resentment towards the man you had married. he was always doing something, something that took precedence over the vows you made when you walked down the isle no more than three years ago.

you knew his family didn’t like you that much, feeling that a marriage for love was a waste of such a powerful commitment. a commitment that could built them an empire, and boost the rank of their hero agency, solidifying a legacy for them.

tenya defied them for you, boldly declaring that he would marry whoever he wanted and that you were in it for the long haul. you were the girl of his dreams, he said, and anything that got in the way of his happiness was not something he would subscribe to. that only made them hate you more.

so when his texts of encouragement grew shorter and more sparse, and he began to have more special responsibilities bestowed upon him by none other than his father, you knew it was on purpose.

unfortunately, it was an effective strategy to chip away at a young and unseasoned marriage.

“tenya can you please just check your schedule? i really want to spend more time with you.”

he sighed and rubbed his temples as he sat in his office. why were you bothering him with something so insignificant? you knew how important this transition of power was for the iida family, for the legacy of ingenium, but you still persisted.

he could feel the anger beginning to build until he looked in your eyes and saw the sadness brimming in them. his heart squeezed in his chest as he watched you, his wife, plead with him to spend time together. when had things come to this?

“i’ll try my best, but i cant promise anything.”

at this point, that was better than anything you could’ve hoped for.

with a kiss to his forehead you left him alone to get the heaps of paperwork he had to do, spirits lifted at the prospect of spending time with him again. just like the way it used to be.

you checked the time on the microwave for the 9th time. fifty-seven minutes had passed and your husband was officially late.

you should have seen it coming really, empty promises were becoming more and more common amongst the two of you. he would promise to try harder and you would promise to cut him more slack, the constant push and pull never being enough for either party.

getting up from the barstool at your kitchen island you made your way to the wine cooler to get a drink. not even bothering to pick up a glass you slumped on the couch, kicking off your shoes and splaying yourself out, just wanting the cushions to swallow you whole and dull the aching in your heart.

he wasn’t coming.

he was never coming.

you laid passed out on the couch when iida finally came home 2 hours later. he was only stopping by for a quick break, then going back out on patrol and he completely forgot about the things he said, smiling through tired eyes as he thought, this time i’ll make it up to her.

at the very least he could clean you up and tuck you in. he could brace himself for the impending fight later, but he was concerned about you. you never drank, not unless there was something wrong.

iida easily hoisted you up over his shoulder, discarding the various wine bottles and taking you to your shared room, although he wasn't sure if it was still considered shared anymore.

he laid you on the bed softly, changing you into one of his old shirts. his fingers ghosted over your cheek as he watched you sleep, the reality of where he was sitting heavy on his heart.

he loved you and yet there was nothing he could do to help at this moment. he had to leave for night patrol. he had to leave you.

his gentle touches roused you from your sleep and your eyes felt heavy as you tried to blink them open.

“you came?” you breathed, voice sounding foreign even to yourself.

iida gave you a small smile, “im sorry.”

your demeanor did a 180 at his apology. he was sorry. he was always sorry. but sorry couldn’t fix this. not when it had been so broken.

you winced and sat up, “sorry for what? sorry that you broke your promise for the thousandth time or sorry that you’ve been such a shit husband for the past few months?!”

“______-”

“no tenya. you do this every single time! every time i want to spend time with you theres always something more important! what could be more important than your wife?!”

“______ you know my father-”

you laughed bitterly at the mention of his dad. he always had to be such a good little iida child, always on daddy’s beck and call. it made you sick.

“your father doesn’t even want us to be together! cant you see that he’s doing this on purpose! youre a grown man! not a child permanently tied to his mommy and daddy!” you spat

“hes giving more responsibility for the sake of the agency! for the ingenium legacy! why are you always so selfish when it comes to these things?”

“selfish? selfish?” you asked, incredulous. you couldn’t believe your ears.

“yes selfish. do you know how much i sacrificed to be with you? how much i already have on my plate on top of trying my best to make time for you?”

you stared in astonishment.

sacrifice?

what had he sacrificed for this relationship? he got to do what he wanted, come and go as he pleased with virtually no regard for how you felt or what you did. what sacrifice was there in that way of living?

“fuck you, tenya.”

tenya took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. he chose his words carefully before finally saying, “i cant do this. im leaving.”

you could hear a pin drop in the room. you felt your blood pound in your ears as you stood up quickly, dizzy from the alcohol but still trying to process the words you had just heard.

leaving?

“youre leaving?”

“yes, i have to go. im not doing this with you, not now.”

your heart felt like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer, as you tried to regulate your breathing. leaving. he was leaving.

“w-wait,” you feebly attempted to cling onto him as he gathered a few of his things.

“tenya you cant leave me.”

“_____ i do not want to do this right now,” he sighed, easily shaking you off and moving to collect more things. his words were buzzing around on the inside of your skull. he was leaving.

leaving without so much of a second thought. he had been planning this. still unsteady on your feet you hobbled after him as quickly as possible, desperation taking over every fiber of your body. you didn't want to lose him, you just wanted your husband back, you happiness back.

“y-you cant do that! you cant leave me! i dont know how to survive without you, tenya, please-”

“_____, just go to bed. you’re drunk.”

you trailed him around the house,“no, you don’t get to decide when this is over. i'm the one whos been hurting for months you cannot just leave me by myself.”

iida spared you one last glance before grabbing his bag, “goodbye, _____”

crushed, you sank to your knees, leaning on the couch for support. you felt like you were dying., hell, you probably were dying. you had never had so much to drink in your life, and you were desperate to make the pounding pain in your chest stop.

you cried yourself to sleep that night, waking up to the sunlight coming through the window with a splitting headache. you felt like your skull was trying to crack itself open from the inside but you shakily got to your feet, remembering bits and pieces from your fight with iida.

you could tell he didn't come home last night; everything was exactly the way you had left it last night. the house alarm was still on, and his shoes were gone.

he actually left.

anger bubbled in your chest as you thought about what had actually happened. you would not let him get the last laugh, or be the last one left, the one waiting on him patiently to pick up the pieces after trying to keep it together. you would leave too, as much as it hurt, and show him just how selfish you could be.

in a flash, you haphazardly packed a bag with essentials and had texted your friends that you needed a place to stay for a few days. you didn’t get into specifics- your heart ached too much to relive the events of the previous night- but you told them you had reached your limit and you needed to take some time to cool off.

alternatively, iida did not sleep that night. after finishing patrols, he stayed at his brother’s apartment out of pure convenience, not feeling prepared to face you after everything that had transpired between the two of you.

the dark-haired man laid staring at the ceiling of tensei’s guest bedroom, wracking his brain and trying to pinpoint how things had gone south so fast. he wanted to fix things, but really didn’t know how. he couldn’t even tell you what was broken, let alone how to begin to fix them.

his brother had tried to give him advice after listening to the entire story, but there was only so much he could do. he knew that you were right, their father was keeping him from you on purpose, slowly making tenya think that he was in the right in an attempt to break you up, but he couldn't be the one to tell him.

tenya had to come to that conclusion himself. he needed to be the one to set boundaries and save your relationship, but from the looks of it, soon any attempts would be futile.

“_____? darling?” iida called as he came into your home. immediately noticing your missing shoes, he moved to the bedroom in a flash, checking to see if you had just moved them or something.

the room was a mess, drawers left open and clothing strewn across the bed and floor. the bathroom had been cleared of almost all your essentials, and a note was left on the dresser. gingerly, iida picked it up and read it, offering up a silent prayer that it didn't say what he thought it did.

i don't know when you'll see this, or if you ever will. if you're reading it, that means you came back home but you will not find me there.

im tired, tenya.

im tired of always being the one to extend the olive branch or bend over backwards for you.

i refuse to be in that position any longer. i love you… i love you so much it hurts sometimes because i know this isn't the way things were supposed to be. but you left, and so i decided to leave too.

if a way to fix things exists, i want us to find it, but right now i need some time to reevaluate us and what that means. i hope you understand, i know you will.

if you want to reach out, im open to talking about this further, but for right now i need to think.

goodbye.

--------

#peachiileaf50!#[🍑]peachiimilquetea #[🍑]peachiiwrites #scenario #tenya iida #mha iida #iida angst #angst #tenya iida x reader #iida x female reader #peachiileafsfw

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smellslikemultifandomimagines · 4 years

Text

sex dreams (smut) || jason todd (titans)

Summary: you woke up from a sex dream about jason. unable to fall back asleep, you go to him for help.

warning / additional tags: fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), teasing, penetrative sex, rough sex, light choking, kind of a sir kink??, asking permission to cum.

word count: 2,537

(gif credit)

I wake up suddenly; panting with hair sticking to my forehead and neck from sweat. A dull and needy ache can be felt between my legs and my underwear is soaked. Sitting up, I reach for my drink bottle and take a massive gulp, still processing the events of my dream. It was of Jason. Arrogant, impulsive Jason Todd.

My hands fist around the sheets in front of me as he held my hips up. Jason’s slamming into me from behind, grunting with each rough thrust. His hand snuck around my hips and his fingers circled my clit in such a way that made my pussy clench tightly around his cock. god, he felt so good.

“Jason, fuck! Yes!” I whimper, feeling him thrust harder.

I change out of my pj's, which had become wet from the sweat that is still dripping off my body, into an oversized shirt. I change into fresh underwear and scroll through the apps on my phone, hoping it’ll coax me back to sleep.

It didn’t.

Locking my phone, I place it back on the bedside table and close my eyes, using the ‘counting sheep’ trick. nope. didn’t work either. My mind wanders back to Jason and the dream. The way his hands gripped harshly at my hips. The way he drove his cock so deep and good into my pussy. God. My pussy throbs at a needy pace; desperate for someone - him - to touch it. I need to see him.

Hesitantly, I crawl out of bed. Legs trembling as I reached my bedroom door. why is he making me nervous? I’ve never felt like this about Jason before. Shaking my head as I rid the ridiculousness off me, I tiptoe down to his room. I knock on the door and a soft ‘come in’ could be heard. Jason’s lamp that is on his bedside table is the only thing illuminating the room. His back is resting against the headboard, with one ankle crossed over the other. the record player is spinning a Hozier record. Never would’ve pegged him as the Hozier type - but here we are.

“can’t sleep either?” he chuckles, closing the comic book he was reading. I nod in response, hoping to god he can’t sense my nervousness - or desperation.

“Come sit,” he nods to his bed. I squint my eyes at him cautiously.

“what?” he chuckles again, crossing his arms over his chest in slight amusement.

“I'm surprised you haven’t made a snarky comment about me visiting you late at night,” I said.

Jason laughs a breathy laugh, an eyebrow cocking up at me in further entertainment. He always found entertainment in teasing me. “no, I was waiting until you at least sat on the bed first.”

I roll my eyes and sat cross-legged on his bed a few inches from him. Jason shuffles in his spot, uncrossing his arms and placing them on his lap. He keeps eye contact with me, watching as my fingers twiddle with the hem of my shirt.

“So why’re you visiting me? you never just ‘visit me’, let alone late at night.”

“I-” I pause, trying to come up with a plausible answer. Obviously, I wasn’t going to tell him a had a fucking sex dream about him. “You make me bored enough to fall asleep.” I tease.

“Damn ouch,” Jason places a hand over his chest, pretending to be offended. We both laugh. This is probably one of the most sentimental moments I think I’ve ever had with Jason ever since I joined the titans.

“Can I tell you something?” Jason says after a moment of silence between us. I nod cautiously, unsure of what he’s gonna say. That’s the thing with Jason; you don’t know what he’s gonna say. “I don’t actually hate you, you know that right?”

“I don’t hate you either; you’re just fun to tease,” I giggle. Jason’s lips twitch into a sheepish smile as he rolls his head to the side. A cute chuckle slips from his lips again.

“Same could be said about you,” the glimmer in his eyes makes my heart beat faster, and suddenly, I’m nervous again. He leans over to place his comic book on his bedside table before he shuffles closer to me. Our knees are touching and the air just got hotter.

“Can I?” he whispers, eyes flickering down to my lips. Without wasting another moment, my hand comes up to cup his cheek and pull him forward to close the gap between us. He’s shocked at first, but after a few seconds, his lips moves in sync with mine.

“Wait,” Jason mumbles, pulling away. “this isn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not. let’s just see where this goes first,” I respond, leaning in to kiss his soft lips again. He kisses me hungrily, pulling me into his lap.

“Wait, wait I’m confused,” Jason pants, pulling his lips away from mine again. His eyebrows knit together, but his hands snake up my thighs and grip at my hips. “you’ve never shown even an ounce of interest towards me, why now?”

“I guess sex dreams really change your perception of someone,” I shrug, feeling my toes and spine tingle as he slides his hands up my shirt slightly.

“oh, so this is what this is?” Jason’s all-too-familiar cocky and arrogant ego is back. “you, miss [y/n]: the ‘i hate Jason because he’s such an asshole and I’m so much better than him’ [y/n] had a sex dream about me? and now you want me to fuck you like I fucked you in that dream of yours?”

“well are you going to or not?” I challenge, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck.

“Not until you admit that you wanted me all along.” Jason's hands work to take my shirt off, an audible gasp leaves his lips as he notices I’m not wearing a bra. His dark eyes stare longingly into mine, waiting for me to say the words.

“fine, I wanted you all along, happy?” I roll my eyes, feeling the ache in between my legs growing needier. Jason grips my waist and flips me over, his hands sliding up to pin my hands over my head.

“say it like you mean it or I’m leaving,” his hot breath fans across my face. Leaning up, I manage to capture his lips with mine.

“fuck, I’ve always wanted you, Jason Todd,” I mumble against his lips. Jason lets go of my wrists, letting one hand drop to my hips and the other to the side of my head to hold himself up. His lips detach from mine once again but kiss a path down to my neck. A whine slips from my lips as I buck my hips against his sweatpants-covered crotch. He chuckles against my skin before sucking gently on the mellowness of my neck. Reaching my hand down to grab his hand, I place it on my breast. His groans out a ‘fuck’ and squeezes my breast gently, his breathing becoming heavier as he hears the gasp escape from my lips. My head rolls back further into the pillows and my hips grind up against him once again. J trails kisses down from my neck to the other breast, taking my nipple into his mouth before sucking on it in the most pleasurable way.

“shit,” I moan out, tangling my hands in his hair. Jason’s hand travels down my body, his fingertips grazing over my skin so delicately, it makes me want to melt. They rest on my underwear, twisting the fabric between his fingers as he laps his tongue over my nipple.

“please, J,” I whimper, rolling my hips against his crotch again. Getting the message, he pulls my underwear down my legs at such an insufferable slow rate, I was so tempted to just take them off myself. “fuck, baby,” Jason whispers as he sits back on his knees in between my legs. “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“what, get in my pants?” I tease, propping myself up on my elbows.

“no, stupid,” J laughs, arms planting on either side of my body so he could lean on them as he kisses me. This kiss is different. More passionate. More delicate. “I meant what I said before. I’ve always liked you.”

“Then why be mean if-”

“because this stuff scares me,” he cuts me off. I capture his lips with mine again.

“It scares me too,” I whisper against him. He kisses me again, and I take this as an opportunity to lift his shirt up. J rests on his knees as he takes his shirt off, his eyes trailing down to my exposed pussy.

“can I?” he asks. I nod and watch closely as he shuffles down the bed before laying in between my legs. His warm hands push my thighs apart and he flicks a finger up my folds, watching as I bite my lip and close my eyes. Jason presses his tongue against my clit, swirling it around and gaining more confidence as he hears my soft moans. He begins sucking at my clit, alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue around; completely indulging himself in the taste of me.

“Jace,” I moan, rolling my hips against his face as my hands tangle in his hair. He lets out a grunt as I pull at the strands, the vibrations running over my clit making me moan loudly. Clasping a hand over my mouth, I muffle my moans in case anyone could hear. Jason chuckles at me, pulling away to kiss my inner thighs before toying with my entrance.

“Jace, please,” I beg, my other hand moving from his hair to the sheets. I gasp as his finger slides in with ease. He thrusts it slowly at first, but as he adds another finger, the pace grew faster and harder. His tongue goes back to work on my clit; circling and sucking at my clit, which only made me whimper and moan into my hand in pleasure.

“shit, Jason, I-”

“gonna cum for me?” he groans, fingers curling at the spot that made me clench around him.

“mhm,” I moan, biting my bottom lip to muffle my moans even more. Jason groans against my clit, the vibrations sending me into complete overdrive. My vision goes white as I cum on his fingers, an audible moan can be heard from him too as he feels my walls pulse around his fingers.

“Oh my god,” I whimper as I come down from my high. Jason carefully took his fingers out and began sucking on them, moaning at the sweetness of my taste. It doesn’t take long for us to discard his sweatpants and boxers, our lips crashing together in messy kisses. I flip him over and straddle his hips, leaning down to kiss his neck.

“baby,” he breathes, hands gripping tightly on my hips. I hum against his neck as I suck on the skin, a mark I’m sure will be visible tomorrow. His hard cock can be felt again my thigh, a whine passes his lips as I graze my pussy over it.

“don’t tease me,” Jason groans. I ignore him and teasingly grind my wet pussy against him, feeling his cock twitch underneath me. Fed up with my teasing, J flips me over and reaches over to his bedside table. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom.

“damn, aren’t you prepared,” I chuckle in amusement.

“Yeah, well you never know,” J winks. Lining himself up at my entrance, he pushes in slowly. I gasp and claw at his back. Jason groans against the crook of my neck before kissing the delicate skin. His thrusts are slow, and he’s careful not to hurt me.

“Jason,” I whine, rolling my head back against the pillows. He thrusts faster and become needier with each roll of his hips. A hand snakes down and grips at my hips as he rocks into me. He moans quietly, pressing his forehead to mine as he looks down. J watches as his cock disappears deep into my pussy and it makes him moan even louder.

“Shh, pretty boy. Don’t want the others to hear, don’t we?” I moan quietly, raking my nails down his back as he thrusts harder. He sits upon his knees and fucks me faster. Jason’s hand tightens on my hips while the other comes down to wrap around my neck.

“Oh my god,” I whimper as quietly as I could. The bed squeaks with each rock of his hips, and neither of us cared anymore.

“you like that? you like being choked?” Jason grunts, hips slowing into hard, but agonisingly slow, thrusts.

“fuck yes,” I moan. “faster, please, J.”

Jason complies and starts fucking into me again; so hard that the headboard started to bang against the wall. My hand snakes down from my hold on my breasts to my clit and just as I start to rub circles, the hand that was previously on my hips swipes my hand away.

“This pussy is mine, do you understand me?”

“yes sir,” I whimper out.

“Sir? fuck that’s hot,” Jason moans. His hand rubs rapid circles around my clit, making my back arch and fists ball into the sheets. His cock is hitting all the right places in my pussy, and he just makes me want to scream his name in pleasure.

“[y/n], oh my god,” he moans out, moving both hands to my hips. The new angle causes me to clasp a hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming. Jason could sense this, so he removes my hand crashes his lips onto mine. His thrusts slow as we kiss, and a whine leaves my lips as he pulls away.

“look at you, so needy for me,” Jason grunts as he feels himself twitch inside me. His fingers begin to circle my clit again, and the knot that has been building in my stomach feels like it could snap at any moment.

“fuck, Jace, can I come? please can I come?” I plead. Jason hovers over me again and presses light kisses on my neck.

“cum for me, baby girl,” he moans into the crook of my neck. he fucks into me faster and harder; the wall taking it harder from the bed frame again.

“I- fuck!” I whimper as I cum around his cock.

“oh my god, [y/n],” Jason groans, his fingernails digging harshly into the skin of my hips as he sloppily thrusts into me while he chases his own high.

“come on, pretty boy. You gonna cum for me?” I moan, scratching my nails down his back. J lets out a loud groan into the crook of my neck as he rocks his hips into me.

“fuck, oh- fuck,” he moans as he cums, his breathing becomes uneven as he releases into me. He pulls out and disposes of the condom before collapsing next to me.

“fuck me that was so much better than the dream,” I chuckle as he pulls the sheets up over our naked and exhausted bodies.

“damn hope so,” he laughs in response.

━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━

Jason todd sleepover!

#jason todd #jason todd titans #titans #titans imagine #titans smut #jason todd sleepover #fuck this even got me wet just writing this damn #also sorry if this sucks a bit im literally so sleep deprived lmao #also i dont proof read so if theres any mistakes just ignore them aha #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine

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rosepetalmark · 3 years

Text

it was good until it wasn’t

↬ pairing: kim doyoung x reader ↬word count: 3k ↬ genre: angst, mentions of fluff ↬warnings: mentions of sex, it’s pretty sad (you may shed a tear or two i’m v sorry) ↬ synopsis: breakups suck, especially when you’re still in-love and don’t understand where you both went wrong.

he makes it look so easy.

ignoring your texts, coming home late, barely saying a word to you when you’re together. you can’t hate him for it though, you’re the exact same.

you wonder why he doesn’t break up with you already. your relationship was basically hopeless at this point and you both know it isn’t going anywhere- it hasn’t been going anywhere for months now.

it pains you seeing him not stare at you lovingly anymore. you grew so fond of the idea of spending hours on the phone talking about the dumbest things, staying up late watching reruns of your favourite shows, even making him do face masks with you when you wanted to do self care days. you knew he loved it of course, but he always played it off as something he detested because seeing you pout over his lack of interest in a sheet mask always made him love you ten times more.

you haven’t felt his touch in two months. it was like you were living with a ghost, the feeling of his presence ever so prominent, but the actual feeling and embracement of him completely diminished. every morning he’d wake you up by kissing both your cheeks, quiet laughter humming from his chest as he admired your sleepy presence in his quest to get you to start your day.

now you wake up to the sound of him sighing as he leaves your shared bed, his empty presence filling the quiet room, causing you to feel lonely.

never in the several years of knowing doyoung did you ever imagine that his presence would become something that no longer brought you happiness.

you’ve both drifted, but you’re still together- too stubborn to admit to yourselves and each other that this relationship has run its course, forming a cohabitation with one another rather than maintaining a loving, healthy relationship.

it’s complicated, you like to believe. trying to puzzle together when everything went wrong. but you can’t because all you remember is that one day you were both madly in love with one another and the next you acted as if you were strangers.

deep down you’re scared. you’ve spent so many years and time and effort in your relationship with doyoung that you don’t truly know what life outside of him is like.

you may not have long talks anymore or stay up late watching movies or even have sex- damn you missed the days where you both would divulge in sex multiple times a week, but gosh did you find solace in his presence.

when he’s not there in bed beside you when you wake up each morning you feel empty, like a piece of your heart has been ripped out of your body and hidden halfway across the world for you to find.

he’s all you’ve touched and laughed and connected with in years and to have that ripped away from you is beyond frightening.

he’s all you know.

you yearn for the days when you were fresh in love and could never keep your hands off each other, wanting to be in each other’s presence 24/7. sadly the days of two twenty years olds having quickies in the backseat of a car and drunkenly singing karaoke at three in the morning on friday nights at the local bar were long gone. you’re not two college kids in love anymore, just two completely different adults who fell out of it.

it hurts reminiscing about the way his hands would find your waist and how his chin dipped into your neck when he found you speaking with your friends at parties; the way he would sing to you when you had trouble falling asleep, bringing you to his piano to play you whatever melody he created earlier in the day just to bring you comfort, even if it meant he was losing sleep in the process.

you especially miss his attempts at making you iced coffee in the morning. it was such a mundane act, but no matter how hard he tried and how closely he followed the instructions you gave him (not as if making iced coffee was hard anyways), he’d always make it too bitter. but you still drank it anyway, because you loved doyoung with every fibre in your being, and anything he did for you made you appreciate and fall in love with him even more. everything he did for you showed how deeply he loved and cared for you.

now you don’t get any of it. no obnoxious flirting when out in public. no beautiful nights falling asleep to his soft, angelic voice, wrapped up warmly in his tender arms. and especially no bitter, watered down iced coffee.

you’re lucky enough if he holds your hand when out in public with friends, not wanting anyone to clue in on the lack of intimacy and love that ceases to exist between the two of you.

you used to be that annoying couple who couldn’t get enough of one another, always finding ways to be in each other’s presence whenever you went out together, wanting to show the world that you were his and he was yours. now you can barely look each other in the eyes for more than five minutes without an unnecessary argument beginning to brew.

you wish you could have that all back. the routine. the peace. the love you both shared. you’re just two adults who can’t even be mature enough to break off a six year relationship because you’re both too comfortable with the thought of one another; too scared to leave what you’ve built as a couple to realize that this once great love affair has turned into something so sad and toxic, pulling you back from what you both deserve in life.

your friends have been telling you to sit down and speak to him about your feelings, his urging you both to call it quits for months now, claiming you’re making your friendship dynamic awkward, and in the end only harming yourselves. but they don’t understand what it’s like to have something so beautiful ripped from your hands without a warning, because that’s what this all felt like. as if someone swooped in and stole your bond with doyoung, when in actuality it was just the two of you growing apart-one thing you never thought would ever occur.

those four dry months eventually turned into a fifth, and that’s when you knew you had to pull the plug. you couldn’t keep living like this- wasting your life and heart and energy on a relationship that ended so long ago. it was draining the life out of you both and it was painfully evident in your faces.

the days of crying over him have long passed, making it much easier to process that you won’t ever be with him again, mentally checking out after the first two months this distance became a regular occurrence. that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt ending a love that once was your everything.

you remember so clearly the day doyoung asked you out. it was a monday after a lecture you both shared, the both of you walking alongside campus, too invested in your conversations with one another to say goodbye. you both knew you had feelings for one another, every interaction between the two of you held an abundance of smiles and rosy red cheeks.

he bit the bullet and asked if you wanted to grab dinner some time, just the two of you and away from your chaotic friend group, wanting it to be an actual date and not a group outing.

that was six years ago, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach the moment he said he wanted to date you still linger when you think back to such heartfelt innocence.

when you finally decided enough was enough and the words eventually left your mouth, he wasn’t even upset. he showed no sign of emotion, a stoic expression stuck on his tender face, only a nod of agreement following your difficult confession.

he knew he didn’t have to say anything and you didn’t expect him to. there was no fighting for something that didn’t exist anymore. doyoung may have been your boyfriend by title, but these last few months he was just doyoung. not your lover. not your best friend. just doyoung.

a stranger you know who’s smile and laugh and kisses you’ll forever have ingrained in your brain, but have not come into pure contact with for an unreasonable amount of time.

and you can’t even hate him for this breakup because he hasn’t done anything wrong. you simply grew apart, and you hate how you drug it out for so long where it got to the point where you can’t even look him into the eyes without feeling some sort of pain and resentment. the only thing you wish you could go back and change was to talk about it, because who knows, the both of you could have either resolved whatever underlying issues you had, or you would’ve been broken up by now- not stranded and confused as to where your life and relationship is going.

you never pictured you’d end up like this, assuming by the time you were in your late twenties you’d be engaged, with a dog, constantly looking at homes online for you and doyoung to one day grow your future family in. you so desperately wanted to be his forever, the one he turned to for everything. the father of your children, the greatest love of your life the entire world had to offer.

that was all in the past now.

the entire “official” breakup didn’t even hit you until doyoung was moving his stuff out of your shared apartment, little pieces of him vanishing as each minute passed.

the picture of your two year anniversary is no longer on display in the living room, the frame facing the table to signal that the once happy couple in that old photograph are no longer together and madly in love.

the pastel flower magnets doyoung loved to collect and place on the fridge ceased to exist, leaving your kitchen slightly less colourful and fun as they were tossed away in one of the many random boxes he got from the hardware store earlier.

even the ugly rustic coffee table you hated but he adored- something that totally clashed with the aesthetic of the apartment but reminded doyoung of his childhood, all removed from your shared space and never to be seen in your presence again. you begged doyoung for a new one years ago but he always managed to convince you it had charm, always flashing you a wide grin in his process to win your heart over. you never thought the day would come where you’d miss seeing it in your living room.

everything was so clean and spacious. everything was gone.

it was weird seeing your once cluttered home look so different. yet despite all the space, every single memory and experience you shared with doyoung was ever present in your mind, overwhelming you all at once as no future memories between the two of you will be made.

it felt like just yesterday you both signed the lease, accidentally spilling red wine on the brand new white rug doyoung bought an hour after you got the keys, knowing you were eyeing it for months online, refusing to buy it until you officially had a place together. you were both so excited to start your lives here. to be young and to evolve and to explore your relationship in a manner more romantic and mature than you had the last few years.

all his instruments and songbooks that were once scattered in the corner of your living room are gone, packed in their cases and in doyoung’s car, awaiting their new home once he takes his remaining items and leaves.

it hurts the most when thinking about the bedroom. you haven’t slept there since he started packing his things four days ago, not wanting to get emotional over half the room and its belongings disappearing with what felt like a snap of the fingers.

but you had to make your way in there now, because all you could hear coming from the thin white wall down the hallway were soft, hiccupped sobs- such emotion you weren’t familiar with in months.

part of you wants to let him be and pretend like you hear nothing just so he can gather his thoughts and belongings and be on his way.

but you can’t. because despite how much you tell yourself that this is for the best and you’re past everything, you’re not. there’s a huge part of you that still cares so deeply for doyoung and you wouldn’t ever wish pain on him.

quietly walking into your bedroom towards your once shared bed, you sit beside him. grabbing his hand, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reminding you of the days you’d go on long walks, him never letting go of you because he never wanted to break physical contact.

“hi.” you whisper, not entirely sure how to spark a conversation with him. you haven’t been this vulnerable with him in what feels like forever, the last time you saw him cry was over two years ago when your relationship was seemingly at its best. he hasn’t been this upset was when he thought he lost taeyong’s dog, but it turned out that it was yuta’s day to watch him while he went to work.

“hey.” he says, his voice raspy and shaky due to the tears, his face red with anxiety.

“so we’re really doing this, huh?” you ask, your voice beginning to shake as well. seeing doyoung cry always breaks your heart, and the fact that he’s doing so after you both ended things makes you want to crawl in a hole and never leave.

this was hitting you too hard. so much harder than you could’ve ever imagined. you thought that because you both just fell apart and seemed unbothered by such a drastic change in your lives and relationship that he’d pack his things and you’d both be on with your lives. but now that you’re both separating from one another for good when all you’ve known was each other for years, it’s soul crushing.

doyoung is here in your once shared bedroom holding your hand and crying with you because you both failed to make your relationship work despite having such strong feelings for one another.

you love this man so much, yet you know there’s nothing you can do to bring you both back to the state you were once in. you’re different people now, and you can’t mold back into the two young, horny, and madly in love college sophomores anymore thinking you’re going to be together forever.

“god i hate this!” he yells in between sobs, his face getting more and more red as the tears stream down his face. and you hate this too, because you didn’t think this whole process would cause each of you to bawl your eyes out because you don’t want to leave a love and comfort you’ve both outgrown.

you wiped his tears with your fingers, caressing his cheeks to reassure him that none of this is his fault. you needed to be strong for him and yourself, because unfortunately this is life and even the shittiest things happen to good people.

falling out of love unfortunately falls into that category.

he places a kiss on your forehead and wraps his arms tightly around your frame as a final goodbye, embracing all of you within these last few moments as a reminder of how much love and respect he has for you.

“so this is it.” he whispers softly, slowly getting up from the bed and untangling himself from his previous hold on you, acting as if his emotional outburst didn’t even happen, composing himself to make this already hard process the slightest bit easier.

matching his actions, you get up as well and follow him out of the bedroom, glancing back at your half empty room and feeling your heart shatter.

no more stealing his sweaters when you’re cold and want to be comfy. no more late nights of talking or making love. no more doyoung.

“this is it.” you whisper back, not having much to say, the tightness in your chest growing further as you continue to relish in such heartbreak together. you were each other’s first serious loves, and not having that constant in your lives will be such a heart wrenching adjustment.

“i love you, doyoung.” you say, needing to remind him that there will always be a part of him in your heart and that you’re sorry things ended this way.

“i know, love. i’ll always love you. i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“i’d like that.” you nod, the emotions filling up your chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe knowing this is all happening now. “be safe getting to your apartment.”

“always.” he winked, tears evident in his eyes as he began to turn his body away from yours and towards the final box beside the front door, turning the knob and leaving for good- gone from the love and home you’ve both invested so much time and warmth into.

you’ve spent so much of your life with this man, planned so much and anticipated such a beautiful future just for it to end and for you both not to know how to fix the broken pieces you left each other in.

maybe someday in the future you and doyoung will get back together and plan that beautiful wedding and have those three beautiful kids in a big house with a pool and a baby french bulldog.

but as for now you are letting go.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #kim doyung #nct #nct 127 #nct angst #kim doyoung scenarios

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comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

A Missionary Mission - S.B

Masterlist, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Requesting Rules

Prompt 111: His hands clamped over your mouth, pressing against your sore lips, trying his best to silence your moans so no one else could hear.

About/Requested: Sirius and Y/N are friends with benefits, both in the first OOTP, they are called into a meeting in Moody’s office to discuss an upcoming mission. Unable to wait until they get home, and with arriving early, the two of them say fuck it and have some fun in his office.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), mention of death, mention of blood.

Knowing you were part of The Order brought you pride, joy, and confidence to push forward, to fight for your life against Voldemort and the many Death Eaters that took so many lives, leaving you and The Order largely outnumbered.

You swore to your mother and father, your siblings, and your best friend Sirius that you would do everything you could to ensure that Voldemort's campaign to take over would fail - even if it meant losing your life in the process.

Working alongside the Ministry to oppose Voldemort definitely helped you sleep a little better at night, but you still had the same deep pit in your stomach that would often swallow you whole - you could die at any moment, and you didn't want to live in regret - you wanted to make every single moment last; you wanted to create memories with those that mattered most to you. The Death Eaters weren't just attacking muggles, they started to attack Members of The Order too.

With these aimed attacks, Alastor Moody - who everyone called Mad-Eye, called for an urgent meeting to discuss and set in place a plan to better protect yourselves and one another, especially with James and Lily desperate to shield their baby, Harry from this chaos; the thought of Harry being parentless made your stomach turn, it couldn't happen, not now, not ever.

You'd be stupid not to take Mad-Eye seriously, he gaining a reputation as a skilful battler and sacrificing an eye, a leg, and part of his nose - you thought it was an honour to have the chance to learn from him and work alongside him.

Knocking at the door of Mad-Eyes office you waited for him to cautiously answer, or ask for you to prove yourself - but you got no answer.

"Nice to know I'm not the only one who decided to turn up early," Sirius spoke out from behind you, making you jump.

You slapped his chest playfully, his grey eyes and messy black hair that you loved to run your fingers through made you blush.

"I knocked but he hasn't answered," you sighed "not like him to be so silent."

Sirius laughed and knocked again "Moody, are you in there?!"

The two of you waited for him to hurry over and tell you off for being so loud and for letting your guard down, but again, nothing.

Sirius pulled out his wand, swishing it and pointing it at the door handle and keyhole, making it slowly creak open. Taking your hand, he walked you into Mad-Eyes office, once closing the door behind him the both of you looked around but no red flags or alarm bells came up.

"He must be busy with something," you sighed, sitting down on the table, you cheekily spread your legs and watched Sirius walk across the room, your skirt now riding up your upper thighs.

You and Sirius weren't in love, love at a time like this was out of the question - but that didn't mean you couldn't have any fun. The two of you drank a little bit too much after losing a member of The Order, you shared your messy thoughts and feelings and literally said 'fuck it'. That one night lead to many nights of sex, sex that you always enjoyed and never regretted.

"Naughty," The corner of his lips curled up at the sight of your inner thighs, he walked over to you "We agreed to wait until tonight."

You frowned and leaned back on the desk, "I know but that's hours away," you pouted "and I've waited for so long with my period finally going away."

Sirius stood in between your legs and cupped your face into his gentle, skillful hands.

"I know, I've been waiting too." His eyes were drinking you up.

"Well," you huffed "No one's here yet, and we could be in for a long night if the mission is serious." Your hand slowly went between your legs towards your crotch.

Sirius's eyes twitched as he pursed his lips, looking behind him at the door, he pulled out his wand - with a point and a swish he locked it.

"Let's make this quick then and make the most of it." He growled.

Pushing your back against the cold wooden desk, he pulled up your skirt and pulled your G-String down your soft legs. Spreading them even more, he looked into your eyes for approval - you nodded - Sirius quickly leaned down and teased your desperate sex with his hot breath and silky tongue.

You moaned out softly and your hand found its way onto his head, your fingers getting lost in his black messy hair that was always surprisingly soft. Sirius kitten-licked your clit, planting soft kisses here and there before he started to drag his tongue between your folds and suck gently on your sensitive clit.

You were truly touch-starved - you were more sensitive and each bit of pleasure you experienced sent shocks through your body - down your spine, legs, fingertips, and through your tummy.

"Oh Sirius," you moaned out quietly "I've missed this so much."

Sirius looked up at you between your legs, planting a teasingly long, wet kiss.

"Me too, Y/N."

Sirius stood up, his erection trying to break through his tight-fitting corduroy trousers, he unbuckled his belt, sitting it beside you on the desk, before undoing his button and pulling down his zipper. Kicking off his trousers, you reached out and pulled down his boxers, his length springing out and slapping against his lower stomach.

Holding the base of his cock you started to pump it, Sirius looked down at you and attacked your lips with his, you moaned against his lips, the taste of your own juices spreading across your lips and into your mouth as you and Sirius explored each other's tongues.

Sirius broke away from the kiss and took his cock in his hand "Legs up sweetheart."

Doing as you were told, you placed your legs up on his shoulders, he lined his erect cock against your entrance, staring into your hungry eyes.

"Oh shit," he huffed "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I forgot the lube."

You rolled your eyes "typical," and pulled out your wand.

Now that his length and your entrance hole were coated in silky lube, he held onto your waist and slowly pushed himself deep inside of you, stretching you out and filling you up. You missed this feeling, you missed feeling full and hated feeling empty.

Sirius started to buck his hips, at a faster pace and got quite rough, but you liked this anyway. You didn't have much time and the two of you realised that waiting until tonight would have been a disaster.

Your eyes scrunched shut, your back rubbing up and down against the desk which started to warm up, you could feel Sirius deep inside of you, reaching your most sensitive spot that made you cry out for more each time he pulled away. His black hair got in his face, he had to keep pushing it back so he could see which made him look even sexier to you.

"Y-You're so beautiful," you moaned out.

Sirius grunted "Don't start getting attached Y/N, not now." he winked.

Hearing loud chatter, footsteps, and doors opening and closing beneath you made you realise now wasn't the time for little comments, little pecks, or anything nurturing of the sort.

"Hold on," Sirius grunted again, his hands holding you close to him as he lifted you up, you gripped onto him as he sat down on the desk, you on top of him with your legs still propped on his shoulders. "I won't drop you I promise, but we need to hurry up."

Nodding your head, Sirius pounded into you faster, this position making it easier for him to continuously hit your G-Spot over, and over, and over again, making you moan out so much you had to bite your lips to keep them in, making your lips go red, bloody and plump.

With each thrust, your walls tightened around Sirius even more, causing him to throb inside of you, your tummy started to harden and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer.

How could you contain your moans when he's making you feel this good? It was impossible.

His hands clamped over your mouth, pressing against your sore lips, trying his best to silence your moans so no one else could hear.

The footsteps and chatter grew closer and closer, whoever was here was mounting the stairs.

Feeling the pressure build up and suddenly burst, you opened your mouth wide, your eyes rolling back as Sirius silenced one of your moans that made him twitch. You rode your orgasm out, your cum flowing down his length, your legs shaking and the blood rush going to your head.

The feeling of you, the sight of you sent Sirius over the edge, he couldn't take it anymore and was about to cum until -

"Now, we need to be ready for the attack-"

Moody stopped in his tracks, the door now wide open, the sight of you and Sirius enraging him, Remus's eyes widened.

"Sirius! Y/N! What in Merlin's Beard do you think you're doing!"

You and Sirius went bright red and didn't waste a single second getting dressed and hurrying away in shame, hearing Moody scold you for being irresponsible and for being stupid enough to let your guards down even for one moment!

Sirius felt cheated, he was so close to release before it was taken from him, making him even more desperate than the week before.

But after all, What's life without a little risk?

taglist: @amourtentiaa @horrorxweasley @reeophidian @alwaysnforeverfangirl @sebby-staan @inglourious-imagines @livvysnaps

#the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #Sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #Remus Lupin x reader #remus lupin #james potter #James Potter x reader #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #fred weasley #george weasley #order of the phoenix

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Could you do Malleus married life headcanons please? Or alternatively, whats gonna happen if his darling actually managed to get away?

This is more of a drabble than anything else, but I just wanted to write something that goes over what a day with Malleus would be like, when he’s whisked his poor little Darling onto a throne they never asked for. He’s considerate, like that.

Title: Routine.

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Abuse of Power, Implied Non-Con, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, and Delusional Mindsets.

Every morning, Malleus wakes you up with a kiss.

You suppose it’s his way of trying to be romantic. With Malleus, there’d never been a period between friendship and intimacy, between fleeting touches and flushed cheeks and cuffs around your wrists and pain, whenever you reject him. He’s passionate, anyone who didn’t feel as strongly as he felt about you would’ve given up the tenth time you refused to eat, but he’s never been romantic, and you’ve never been willing to bridge the gap between captor and captive, between the current King of the Valley of Thorns and his shaking, trembling human companion. Still, there’d always been kisses - forceful, desperate appeals for attention, even if they weren’t nearly as bad as they used to be. Whereas he’d used to draw blood before you’d even had the chance to open your eyes, he was more patient, now, and more often than not, you’d be allowed to sit up and gather your bearings before he pulled you into a gesture so so sweet and so forced, it usually left you feeling more sick than the alternative would.

If Malleus has time to time to stay, he does. You think that’s his favorite part of the day, or… the night, rather, considering the nocturnal schedule most fae choose to maintain. It’s when he’s the most relaxed, whether he’s watching you get dressed in whatever outfit he laid out or taking a more proactive role in the process. It’s the only time of day he’s all careless smiles, all playful nips to the edge of your jaw and idle reminders that he still believes you can love him, even if you don’t. Occasionally, he’ll allow himself to waste a few minutes by drawing you close, his cold breath ghosting over your skin as he kisses the dip of your shoulder or whispers about how glad he is to finally have you, how happy he is that you’re finally beginning to come around. He might go on, but he usually stops when you start crying.

Usually.

From there, your day is spent in ideal, cautious boredom. Only a handful of Malleus’ courtiers recognize you as his lover, but it’s clear to even the most casual observer that he’s fond of you, so while no one embraces you with open arms, their scorn is distant, quiet enough to be missed. It isn’t a comfort, though - hell, it might’ve been better if you were hated openly. Malleus had tried to keep you entertained, before, to give you something to do while he attended to his responsibilities, but you’d been short-sighted, too foolish to realize that burning his books and breaking his gifts would only make him view you as stubborn, rather than miserable. After you’d threw the last of his presents into the hearth, it hadn’t been replaced, and you’d been assigned three or four faceless guards to keep you out of trouble. You’re starting to think he preferred it this way, honestly. If you’re bored, it means you aren’t distracted, and if you aren’t distracted, it means the only thing your mind has to drift to is him. It makes you loathe him more than it makes you miss his company, but he’s never been very good at telling the difference.

Early on in your captivity, you’d try to stow yourself away in lesser-used parts of Malleus’ castle. Hours were spent inside of empty pantries, evenings in long-forgotten cellars, and you’d managed to spend a solid week’s worth of free time inside a dusty, abandoned corner of his library, the room such an unmappable labyrinth, any passing visitors would be lucky to make it past the first bundle of shelves before getting lost. He hadn’t been mad when he found you laid across the length of a love-seat, nose-deep in a novel on fae culture as you ignored the calls of your well-armed babysitters, but you almost wished he had been. Having to be alone with him, completely alone, was more unbearable than any method of punishment he could’ve come up with. You’d been used to the feeling of his teeth digging into your neck, by then, of the weight of his chest as it pressed against yours, but it was all so much worse with his palm clamped over your mouth, with the awareness that even if someone caught him, they’d be the one to apologize.

He’d caught you two more times, after that, once in an empty ballroom, and once in an unoccupied tower that overlooked the courtyard. The view was so lovely from that tower, and if you found your way up that spiraling staircase at just the right time, you’d be able to watch the sunset and listen to the birdcalls for just a few minutes, before the world around you went dark, again. If you concentrated, you could still hear those melodies, those uneven pitches, and you could still feel cold stone against your bare back, you could still remember how many times you’d asked him to stop, how many times you’d told him it hurt, how many times you’d begged him to take you somewhere else. He hadn’t, though, and you never went back to that tower.

Your bodyguards seemed so relieved, when you stopped trying to slip away.

Sometimes, if he’s more reluctant to part with you than he usually is, he’ll ask you to keep him company while he tends to his obligations. He doesn’t ask much of you, not while he has legislation to review and events to plan and matters to attend to that you couldn’t understand if you wanted to. Rather, you’re placed on the edge of his desk or pulled into his lap, made to mumble agreeable things and nod along as Malleus makes a half-hearted effort to explain the effect this law will have or the benefits of approving this project. When he tries, it usually means he just wants to reassure you that he’s the reliable one, out of the two of you, that everything he does, he does because truly, genuinely believes he has to. On good days, he’ll give up when you stop responding. On bad days, he’ll take you by the shoulders and only let you go after you’ve repeated all the many generous, loving things he’s done for the sake of your comfort.

It feels like a mercy to be carried to bed, when he’s finished. For fae, sleeping is more of a past time than a necessity, so when you feel like you’ve tolerated consciousness long enough, you’re forced to tug at his shirt or pull at his sleeves or plead so prettily for a chance to rest. Malleus takes pride in taking care of his exhausted, weakened mortal, and while you’ve explained that you’re perfectly capable of bathing and undressing yourself a hundred different times, there’s little you can do to stop him from taking the task on. Surprisingly, that’s when he’s the most kind, when he never tries to do anything you might put up a fight to. Why would he? You’re already exposed, all the bruises and cuts you’ve accumulated over the day already on display, he doesn’t need to do anything more. It’s easy to fall into it, too. It’s easy to close your eyes and lean into his cool palm and pretend that you could want this, that you do want this, if only because you’re too tired to imagine anything else. You can let yourself go limp as he carries you to his bed, and you can let yourself stop struggling as he leans over you, one arm around your waist as he watches you bury yourself in the satin sheets he hasn’t had a need for in years. You know he’s watching you, but you don’t mind. You know he’s there, but for a few minutes, you don’t care.

It’s for the best, honestly. Even if you managed to, it wouldn’t really make a difference. It wouldn’t make you any less helpless, and it wouldn't make him any less obsessed.

All you can do is hope the next day will be a little easier, as you fall asleep.

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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

Text

For You Became My Lighthouse (Part 2)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: argument, crying, a decent dose of awkward but it gets resolved!

Word count: 4.1k

Comment: This is the fourth time I’ve tried to post this--- Part 1 HERE!

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

Roman ran a hand through his hair at the message, checking the time at the top of the screen. It was late, far too late, so it was safe to assume that Logan had heard about the spat from Virgil. He should have been home by now. It was just… impossible to convince himself to actually leave the rehearsal studio. He had a younger acting class tomorrow and was perfecting his lesson plan- even though he already knew it was perfect, and his director had already approved it. Just, anything to keep him from going home.

He’d been a dick. Such was obvious; from the second his finger had hit send, he regretted approximately everything in his life that had led to this moment. That day had been particularly bad, overrun with rehearsals he was either taking part in or directing, and gearing up for tech week of a large production. Who knew trying to block a scene with a flurry of pre-teens could take so much out of you? Rinse and repeat the cycle with two more classes to teach back to back and an achingly long dance rehearsal, add in a desperate and fruitless search for a replacement lead in his upcoming directorial debut, and you’d have what Roman would categorize as a “shit show of a day”.

All he wanted to do at the end of it was spend some time with his boyfriend, without having to talk about his day, so he’d suggested the most basic date his fried brain could conjur. Then his work desk was unceremoniously reacquainted with his forehead as he smacked it into the wood, letting out a groan that bordered on a yell. Luckily, minutes ago everyone had abandoned the theatre, and he’d been trusted with the keys to lock up from a stagehand. He just had a couple more things to do, and then he could drive home.

Getting a reply of denial from Virgil was nothing new. In fact, he’d been warned in the transition from reluctant acquaintanceship to inevitable friendship, that he tended to veto ideas if they were sudden, or too daunting, or if he was just feeling shitty. It was something that Roman never considered a deal breaker, and he’d slowly come to much rather enjoy a night of cuddling and watching television than going out anyways. Call it ‘getting old’, call it ‘Virgil’s homebody ways creeping into his psyche’. So usually, getting his plans rejected was no big deal.

Except for today, when he was well and past his limit of frustration, and things not going to plan. He’d typed out and sent the snarky reply far before he’d thought it out whatsoever, and ranted out complaints that hadn’t ever crossed his mind before, which he immediately regretted. In a moment of shame so great it caused physical nausea, he tossed his phone into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut.

It buzzed once, twice, and then went silent.

Until, of course, it began to go berserk an indecipherable amount of time later, and Roman couldn’t ignore it. Seeing Logan’s text, along with about a million missed calls from him and Patton, broke the fragile sense of calm he’d tried to achieve while working.

He didn’t want to go home and face his consequences. Childish, yes. Well deserved, also yes, but he was afraid of Virgil’s inevitable anger. If this led to a breakup, a fight that wasn’t recoverable, he’d never forgive himself.

And now…

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

I can see you’ve read my text message.

-Logan

I’m at work.

You’re inconceivably moronic. Get home. Now.

-Logan

Roman sighed heavily through his nose, clenching his jaw. He began typing out another snarky response- because apparently he never learned- when another text came through.

Virgil was in significant distress last I spoke to him and he has stopped answering me and Patton. Go. Home.

-Logan

Please. If not for my sake, then for Virgil’s.

-Logan

Fuck.

Roman barely had the sense to lock the doors of the building in his rush, throwing the spare key back in through the mail slot and booking it to his car. He sent some sort of confirmation that he was going and tossed the phone to his back seat. Virgil hated when he used it while driving.

It was only on the drive back, on unusually empty roads, did he realize it was well past nine. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing by.

Most of the lights in the apartment complex were still on when he pulled into the car park, but their window visible on this side showed only darkness. He wasn’t used to entering a dark apartment.

Their flat was silent, the living room only illuminated by the oven clock and the dim city lights from the balcony. He toed off his shoes as silently as he could, wincing when he kicked their shoe rack, and decided he’d risk turning on the light. When he finally found the switch and flicked it on, he couldn’t help his gasp.

The room had once been a pristine display, he could tell. A white table cloth adorned their usually bare dining room table and a half burned candle stood as its centrepiece. He approached it in a daze, cautiously resting a hand on the plate of ravioli nearest to him. Cold. Long cold; the pasta was starting to get crusty.

He picked up the two plates, intent on throwing out the food. It definitely wasn’t safe to eat anymore, and he didn’t feel like warding off an attack of ants in the morning. One of the towels hanging off the oven handle was drenched in what looked like marinara sauce, and it looked like there was some more spilled in the crack between the stove and the counter. That would be fun to clean.

Both hands full, he opened the cupboard containing the garbage bin with a socked foot, and promptly froze.

Part of him cringed at the clang the dropped plates made on the counter, but the louder part of him was just repeating a mantra of ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit’ and it was considerably out-screaming the other. Hands now shaking, Roman picked up the small box from the sink edge, ignoring the dried, crunchy texture of more tomato sauce on the outside, and opened it.

It took every ounce of strength for Roman not to collapse to his knees, guilt instantly crushing the air from his lungs, a thousand times heavier than it had been before. An elaborate dinner, a ring… there had been a plan. That’s why Virgil had rejected his offer to go out.

And he’d been such a dick to him.

Speaking of which, where was he?

Roman closed the box and set it back where it had been. Their bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the most obvious place Virgil would be, so he padded over and creaked it open just a bit more. The light from the hallway cast a beam onto the bed, illuminating first a mess of hastily thrown clothes; his button up shirt he only used for fancy occasions on top of the pile.

Virgil’s huddled form was easy to make out, curled away from the door, his only movement being the steady rise and fall of the blanket as he breathed. Figaro lifted his head from where he was settled in the crook of Virgil’s knees and gave Roman an indifferent mrow.

He couldn’t get into bed with him. There was no scenario where that was the right move. It wasn’t the right time to talk about what had happened, not so late and when they were both riding high on emotions and tiredness, so accidentally waking Virgil was not the way to go. And even if he was sneaky enough to not wake him… a part of him just felt it was wrong. Not when he didn’t know Virgil’s stance on him at the moment.

Or his stance on the relationship.

Well, couch it was. He acknowledged the crumpled weighted blanket and sound blocking headphones- clear aftermath of a bad panic attack- with a quiet curse. Somehow that pit in his stomach got even bigger, making him nauseous as his shame took a physical form.

He could only pray that they would come back from this.

Roman’s sleep was fitful, to say the least. At best, he drifted into a state of half-consciousness, where his thoughts could be somewhat quieted down, but the discomfort of the couch and the heavy weight in his heart were still palpable. Inevitably, one of their neighbors would make a noise or the building would make a settling creak or a distant dog would bark, and the state would be broken, leaving Roman wide awake and wracked with guilt once more. He’d never noticed how loud the world was until he wanted nothing more than for the noise to stop.

The sun was just peaking into the window when their bedroom door widened and Roman flew up, using the back of the couch to steady his sudden sitting position. When their eyes met from across the room, Virgil in his pajamas and face hidden in shadow, a tenseness settled over the room that neither had experienced in their relationship thus far. Virgil froze in the doorway, wavering slightly. It didn’t appear he wanted to be the one to break the silence.

Roman stood slowly, as though not to spook him.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Virgil whispered with a sniff, and even in that one word Roman could hear the scratchiness of his voice. “I just...uhm,” He cleared his throat, “I just wanted to get some water. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. No… no worries.”

Virgil looked down to his feet. “When did you come back?”

“I think just before ten.”

“‘Kay.”

For an all too long moment, both of them seemed to find interest in every part of the room that wasn’t the other’s eyes. It wasn’t until Roman looked towards the kitchen in his awkwardness did he process what Virgil had come out for.

“I’ll, um…” He pointed weakly to the kitchen and finally convinced his feet to move, filling up a glass from the sink while making a conscious effort to not look at the dishes or wasted food from the evening before. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop the way his gaze drifted towards the box sitting next to the tap, and judging by Virgil’s sharp inhale, the look hadn’t been subtle.

He took the glass back to the other, watching him take it with an uncomfortable, “Thanks.”

Virgil downed the glass in one go, his shaking hands almost causing him to spill. He barely had time to take a breath before Roman had zipped the empty glass back onto the counter.

“Do you want more?” He asked, already refilling the glass.

“No, I’m… it’s okay.”

Roman placed the full glass on the counter quietly and the two were swallowed by heavy silence once again. The clock ticked impossibly loud as they stood, fidgeting, wanting this moment to be over but not wanting to be the one to start it.

Virgil took a shuddering breath and wrung his hands together.

Roman stared resolutely at a single water drop making its way down the glass.

This was his fault. He’d started it. It seemed only right that he break the tension that almost suffocated him, so even as his mind screamed for him to shut up and every muscle in his body turned to liquid, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Virgil, I-”

“I’m sorry.”

That effectively stopped Roman in his tracks. All night, he’d crafted a collection of apologies, from eloquent monologues to stumbling pleas for forgiveness, but in not one of his countless scenarios had Virgil apologized.

“I know… I know I can be a lot to handle, I know, I swear. And I was more outgoing when we first met, because I thought I had something to prove and it always exhausted me and I hated it but then we became… I don’t know, official? And closer and… and more comfortable and I didn’t think I had to do that anymore, I didn’t have to keep pushing myself so far!”

“V, stop-”

“The panic attacks and the anxiety and all that shit are a lot for other people and I know that but I didn’t know it was too much for you, I didn’t know you were tired of that and I can be better, I swear, I swear I can go back to how I was in the beginning, just please don’t leave.”

Virgil let out a choked sob and Roman couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward, intent on holding his stupid, stupid boyfriend until he realized this was in no way his fault, only for Virgil to back up before he could do so.

“I’m- I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m sorry, I just, I love you, and I can be better, I can, just give me a chance, please-”

“Virgil, baby, come here.”

This time when he reached forward, Virgil allowed himself to be pulled into his boyfriend’s chest, basically collapsing against him as soon as Roman’s arms tightened around him. The dam broke moments later and Virgil finally let go of his own hands to grab the back of Roman’s shirt with a sense of urgency.

“Please don’t leave, I’m so sorry,” he begged raspily into Roman’s shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Roman hung onto him almost as tightly in return, rocking them back and forth, finally allowing himself to cry. He shoved his face into Virgil’s hair, peppering small kisses and apologies to the crown of his head in between sobs.

Virgil whined when Roman finally pulled away, but he didn’t go far, cradling his boyfriend’s face in his hands and wiping his tacky cheeks with his thumbs.

“Virgil, I cannot apologize enough for yesterday.”

“What are-” he hiccuped, “What are you talking about? It was my fault.”

“No, no, no no no no no,” Roman whispered, fighting that damn lump in his throat once more. “I had a spectacularly shitty day, and I took it out on you. I was leagues out of line. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m so, so unbelievably sorry.”

As if the strings were cut on a marionette, all the tenseness dissolved from Virgil’s shoulders and he slumped forward, bumping his head weakly into Roman’s chest. “Can we sit down?”

“Yeah, of course.” Roman clumsily led him to the couch and sat on the adjacent cushion, assuming that if Virgil wanted to talk, he’d want his own space. His assumption was incorrect, however, judging by how Virgil crossed the space almost instantly and buried himself in Roman’s side like a koala. He shifted them both until he was laying on his back, Virgil splayed across him .

“I thought you’d be more upset with me,” He muttered, freeing his hand to run it through Virgil’s hair. His fingers raked through his own tears trapped in the locks and he grimaced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” responded Virgil, accompanied by a shuddering breath, “I just need to know that you’re really here. And I need you.”

They were quiet for a moment, watching the sun begin to peek through their window, until Virgil spoke again sardonically.

“If this is a dream, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Roman snorted despite himself and felt Virgil’s responding half-laugh from where he was tucked against him.

“I agree. I thought I’d fucked up for good this time.”

A disgruntled meow made Roman crane his neck over the couch, watching Figaro stretch languidly in their bedroom doorway. The cat sidled over to his food bowl and sat pointedly next to it. Feed me.

“Later, Figaro,” Roman groaned, all too comfortable with Virgil as his blanket. A small part of him was worried that if he moved them at all, the spell would be broken, and they’d lose whatever peace they’d settled into.

Well, that wouldn’t do at all, not by Figaro’s standards. The cat gave an upset mewl and trotted over to the couch, leaping up with grace and batting Virgil’s legs. It was that pettish action that made Roman realize that Virgil had turned stone still on his lap. Figaro changed his approach to headbutting at his arm in a clear attempt to get pets, but Virgil’s hand stayed still by their sides.

“What’s going through your head?” Roman murmured.

“That stuff you said, about me… not contributing to the relationship…” Virgil croaked, and Roman stilled, “What can I do to-… to fix that? Because I wanna fix it.”

“Baby, no,” Roman whispered, that shame-nausea returning, “I-” He groaned, dropping his head onto the arm of the couch behind him, “I was being an asshole. I didn’t mean that.”

Virgil didn’t budge, still deliberately ignoring Figaro’s futile begging for attention. “Then where did it come from?”

He took a breath deep enough that Virgil rose and fell with his chest, and Roman was struck with the profound urge to pull him closer and never let him go. But that would likely make him feel trapped, and that wasn’t productive. “You remember when I dragged you to that improv show my students put on last year?”

“You introduced me as your boyfriend and we found out the class had placed bets on whether you were gay or not. I don’t know how it wasn’t obvious.”

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Maybe they just were trying not to stereotype!”

“Your phone case is a rainbow-”

“Anyways!” He interrupted, resuming his gentle threading through Virgil’s hair, who snorted but otherwise gave in to the affection. “Remember what happened after?”

“Mmhm.”

It had been a fantastic show, and Roman had been exceedingly proud of his little students, especially since it was his first time ever teaching a class. After the night, when the betting chaos had settled and everyone quickly adopted Virgil as theirs now, they’d pleaded to play a few more improv games before the theatre closed. Seeing as it was their last class, hence the performance in the first place, Roman had acquiesced. But neither of the men had expected for the gang of pre-teens to latch onto Virgil and beg him to play too, despite him having zero theatre experience.

“Remember what they said?”

“They tried to pack all your lectures into five minutes of information.”

“I don’t lecture, I dazzle.”

“They thought you were straight.”

“Only some, and that’s not the point!”

Virgil finally lifted his head, pulling his hands up so he could lay his chin on top of them. He smiled weakly. “Then what is the point?”

“The most important rule of improv is to keep the scene going. No matter what nonsense you have to pull out, just never leave a scene flat.”

There was a quiet moment while the other processed that before, once again, that layer of hurt reappeared on his face. He pushed himself off Roman’s chest in preparation to get up. “So… you’re saying you saw that argument as another scene you had to keep up.”

“No, shit, that came out wrong,” Roman insisted, and Virgil paused suspiciously, “I’m saying, that in a moment of panic, I fell back on bullshitting my way through it! That’s literally what I do for a living!”

The distrust gave way to resignment and Virgil chewed on his cheek, turning his attention to the window. He sat all the way up on Roman’s legs, leaning back on his shins. “How do I know you’re not bullshitting me right now?” He said.

“Because,” Roman followed him up, careful not to move his legs and dislodge his boyfriend, “You know I like when the bed is made, and even though you hate making it, you always do when I’m out of the house before you.”

Virgil looked down at his thumb.

“Because you let me choose the music in the car.”

“... you don’t like loud music,” He muttered, picking at the skin around his cuticle.

“You adjust your work schedule to come to every single one of my shows.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but you hate working mornings. You let me rant about all my theatre stuff, even if you don’t get any of it.”

“I’m learning.” A faint smile was breaking through.

“You tell me when there’s spinach in my teeth, or my hair is messy, or if I’m acting like an asshole.”

“Well, that’s easy enough.”

Roman reciprocated the smile at that, taking Virgil’s hands in his own to stop the attack at his nail. “I’ve been watching you better yourself for years, even if it’s been really, really hard.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Virgil asked with a small blush, switching his fidgeting tactic to fiddling with Roman’s fingers.

“Every time you do something that betters yourself, you help us, Virgil.” He leaned forward slowly, giving Virgil the time to move away if he wanted to, and rested their foreheads together. “Yesterday, I fucked up. Badly. You said you were anxious and I still acted like a dick. I kinda thought you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Virgil whispered, seemingly before he had a chance to process it, because his blush multiplied tenfold. Roman grinned.

“Aw, is someone feeling sappy?”

“Shut up, jackass,” He retorted, bonking their heads together ever so gently.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil,” Roman said after their giggles and blushes had faded, “It won’t happen again, I swear.”

In lieu of answering, Virgil closed the already scant distance between their lips, and despite Roman using all of his self control to not sigh into it, he found himself doing so anyways. All the tension bled out of his shoulders at once as Virgil pulled away, pressing one more peck to the tip of his nose, and then leaning back with a small smile.

“So… that means we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Thank god,” Roman groaned, flopping back and dropping his arm over his eyes dramatically. He heard Virgil’s quiet snicker before he resumed his job as a blanket. Except this time, instead of nuzzling his head into Roman’s neck, he could feel the distinct edge of a chin digging into his sternum.

The hand lifted from his eyes to see Virgil staring at him, that goofy little smirk on his face.

“What?”

“I love you, idiot.”

Well, now they were wearing matching goofy little smirks.

“I love you too.”

That seemed to satiate him, because he gave a little nod and laid his head more comfortably on the other’s chest. He could have left the conversation there, content to just let them lay there in peace until the world fell away- or Figaro grew more insistent on being fed- but Roman just couldn’t banish the one persistent thought in the back of his mind.

“Were you actually going to propose?” He blurted.

Virgil tensed for a moment, and then gave a resigned sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, desperately hoping he sounded casual, though his heart was pounding far too loudly to not be heard, “I would have said yes. If you did.”

“Oh?” Virgil lifted his head. “You’re blushing, Princey.” He could hear the smug grin.

“Nooo…” Roman whined. His arm draped once more over his eyes in a weak attempt to hide the redness, but he drew it away only moments later when Virgil didn’t retort.

The man was staring at him with an odd mix of disappointment and amusement, huffing out a breath as he watched Roman’s eyes.

“This wasn’t how I was planning to propose,” He sighed, “It was supposed to be all perfect, and romantic, and stuff. And the surprise is ruined now.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Roman, continuing before Virgil could cut him off, “If it’s any consolation, I think a proposal in our pajamas, on the couch, would be very us.”

“You’re not in pajamas.”

“I slept in these clothes, they count as pajamas.”

Virgil snickered. Roman counted five breaths as the other’s face melted from a smile to anxiously knit brows, worrying his lip between his teeth as he looked down at him. It took another three for him to speak.

“So…uh... will you…?”

Roman’s face split into a grin, “Yes, Virgil. Obviously.”

Virgil’s expression morphed to match his and he swooped down to kiss him again, though they barely could with how much they were smiling. They both devolved into giggles, happy to just stay wrapped in each other’s arms, until Virgil broke away with a gasp.

“Let me grab the ring!”

“Ring can wait,” Roman argued, tightening his grip around his waist to keep him in place, “I want cuddles.”

And so they did.

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

@larkiaquail

@noemiescuriosity

@mycatshuman

@cirishere

@vpow

@ray-does-stuff

@sirprplsnail

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #roman sanders

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detectivereyes · 3 years

Text

Nothing’s Ever Built to Last

Summary: When Carlos and TK’s home catches on fire, the trauma lasts longer than just that one night.

Notes: The 2x12 spec - turned - fix-it fic... or what I wish would have happened in the episode(s) based on the hints we were given about it and tk’s addiction (not a relapse fic)

Word count: 4.4k

read on ao3

“TK, wake up. The house is on fire.”

Carlos’ rushed voice reaches TK’s ears first, pulling him out of his peaceful sleep. At first he’s not even sure he heard right. Though the statement came across as urgent and quite alarming, Carlos’ tone sounded firm and eerily calm.

However, when he opens his eyes and inhales through his nose, with the all-too familiar scent of smoke registering in his brain, he knows he did in fact hear Carlos correctly.

Their house, their home is on fire.

He bolts upright in bed, trying to remain calm and remember all the skills he had picked up on in his career as a first responder. Though he finds that hard to do when it’s his house that’s on fire, and he and Carlos are the ones trapped inside. Not to mention, he has no gear that would be helpful in getting them out of here alive.

“Okay, it’s going to be okay,” he repeats, meeting Carlos with panicked eyes. He’s not sure who he’s trying to reassure more, but he knows it’s not working. “If we can make it to the front door-”

“We can’t,” Carlos quickly cuts him off, shaking his head. “The fire has completely engulfed the downstairs.”

The words settle in TK’s head. If the fire has spread that quickly downstairs, it’s only a matter of time before it travels up. And if the thickening smoke is any indication, they are quickly running out of time.

He needs to make a decision.

“Okay, I’m going to open a window. Do you think you can make it to the bathroom and wet some towels?”

Carlos nods, heading towards the ensuite bathroom while TK climbs out of bed to head in the other direction towards one of the larger windows in the bedroom. As soon as his socked feet meet the floor, he can feel the heat burning below him and he tries to block out the weight of the situation laying heavy in his chest.

He can’t afford to think about how the home they were just beginning to build together is currently being destroyed by flames. Not when their own lives are still in danger.

He quickly pads his way to the window, welcoming the sensation of fresh oxygen as he opens it. The smoke in the bedroom is only getting more dense and while the window provides some relief, it isn’t enough. His chest aches as he lurches into a coughing fit.

The structure creaks below his feet, and he really starts to panic. He knows they are running on borrowed time.

“Are you okay?” he hears Carlos shout through the smoke appearing out of the bathroom with damp towels in hand.

“Yeah, are you?”

Carlos doesn’t get a chance to answer before the home begins to creek again, this time more intense. And before TK even realizes what is happening, Carlos is gone, leaving only a hole in the floor where he stood just a few seconds ago.

“Carlos!” he shouts, trying to settle the panic in his chest when he doesn’t get a reply. “Carlos!” he tries again, his lungs spasming as he uses all the oxygen to project his voice, hoping to elicit some response from his boyfriend whom he can’t even see.

But he knows better than to try and get close to the hole in the floor. The entire floor is unstable now and one wrong move and could be down there with him. He quickly tries to weigh the pros and cons of that decision, getting close enough to see how badly Carlos is hurt while also risking getting hurt himself in the process.

He tries to take a few deep breaths to calm his racing thoughts but to no avail. He knows he’s only inhaling more smoke and depriving his lungs of what it really needs. His thoughts only become more fuzzy as the room gets hotter. And before he can make any decision, his vision is swallowed by blackness.

TK wakes up to bright lights and the sensation of not being able to breathe properly. He’s aware enough to know that it’s because he is currently intubated, but his brain doesn’t appear to get the message as he still tries to breathe on his own and panicking when he can’t.

His eyes wide and alert, there’s a flurry of activity around him and hushed voices telling him to remain calm. He can’t make out who is there with him, but the familiar voices do provide a sense of reassurance. And before he knows it, the darkness overtakes him again.

The next time he comes to, he finds it much easier to breathe. The lights don’t seem to be as bright, and with the help of a nasal cannula looped around his nose he doesn’t feel like he’s gasping for oxygen that isn’t there.

As his eyes adjust to the hospital room, he spots his father sitting in the chair next to his bed reading something on his phone. He startles when he glances up and notices TK staring at him but quickly composes himself. “Hey, how do you feel, son?”

“Tired,” he croaks out, voice still raw from the tube that had been taken out not too long ago. In the silence that follows, the memories flood back into his brain of the moments that led to this. Images of flames flickering in their home and dense smoke filling their bedroom, and of - “Where’s Carlos?” he meets Owen’s eye, his heart pounding in his chest as he tries not to assume the worst.

“He’s okay,” Owen is quick to answer and TK finally lets out a sigh of relief. “The firefighters that responded were able to get to him, and to you quite quickly. You’re lucky you’re only dealing with smoke inhalation, not too serious but the doctors will probably want to keep you another night for observation.”

TK absentmindedly nods, though he can’t help but notice his father isn’t going into detail on Carlos’ condition. “And Carlos?” he asks, unable to stand another moment of not knowing how his boyfriend is doing.

“Hanging in there,” Owen says carefully. “He took quite a hit from the fall. Shattered his right leg and broke his back.”

TK stiffens. “Is he-?”

“There wasn’t any damage to the spinal cord, thankfully,” Owen answers, and TK relaxes at that.

“Is he awake?”

“Last I heard he was in and out of consciousness. His parents are with him now and have been keeping me updated.”

“Okay, that’s good,” TK nods. “Do they know what caused the fire?”

TK doesn’t miss the way Owen stiffens at the question. He braces himself, not knowing if it’s just because he’s bringing up why they are both in the hospital in the first place or if there’s something more to it.

“OFI originally had reason to believe it was arson,” Owen says, and TK now realizes why his dad reacted the way he did. Just a few days ago he had listened as Owen recounted what he believed to be a serial arsonist targeting different locations around the city. And at the time TK didn’t think much of it beyond urging his dad that he should be taking it easy during his recovery from the tumor removal.

Now hearing Owen reveal that the fire in their home could have been related to that, his heart begins to beat just a little faster as his brain takes off with thoughts of why this could have happened and if it only did because his dad got involved.

“However, the investigation wrapped up this morning and concluded that that was not the case,” Owen continues, preventing any more negative thoughts from forming in TK’s head.

“What?” TK asks, unsure if he even heard correctly. “Then what did cause it?”

“Electrical,” Owen says, looking down nervously at his hands. “Probably caused by an appliance being left plugged in in the kitchen.”

Marlon Blendo.

“Oh, dad. I-“

Owen cuts him off with a wave. “It’s okay, TK. I’m just glad you two made it out alive.”

“Yeah, but I know that blender was important to you.”

“You and Carlos are important to me. Marlon Blendo was an appliance,” Owen says with a genuine smile. “An appliance that made very good smoothies, I will say. But an appliance that can be replaced, nonetheless.”

TK returns the smile, not missing how his dad mentioned Carlos is just as important to him. In the past, Owen’s relationships with TK’s boyfriends have never been great. But it didn’t take long at all to see the difference in how he got along with Carlos, his dad essentially seeing him as another son.

“I want to see Carlos,” he says after a few beats of silence.

“If the doctor’s discharge you tomorrow, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“No, I need to see him now.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, TK. You need to be resting” Owen says, trying to lay him down gently but TK does not want to hear it.

“We can ask the nurse to get a wheelchair,” TK looks at him with pleading eyes. “Please, dad.”

Owen looks like he wants to argue more but his face soon softens and he nods. Soon enough, he is wheeled up to Carlos’ room and told he has an hour before a nurse will return to take him back to his own room, citing some reason about his doctors not wanting him to be off oxygen for too long.

Carlos is asleep when he enters the room, unnaturally still with his casted leg propped up on a pillow. TK hates that even with Carlos’ eyes closed, he can tell how much pain the other man is in.

He doesn’t waste much time before reaching for his boyfriend's hand, gently rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of Carlos’ palm. The action is enough to rouse the sleeping man, who blinks at TK a few times before smiling.

“Hey,” Carlos says sleepily, letting his eyes roam over TK’s body, searching for any visible injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Better than you, pretty sure,” TK attempts to likely joke but even his own words bring an ache to his chest. The weight of the situation starts to settle in, now seeing Carlos laid up in his hospital bed. “Carlos, I’m so sorry,” he starts to say but Carlos cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want you to apologize, TK. None of this is your fault. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” TK’s voice cracks with desperation. “I was the one who told you to head to the bathroom, and I should have-”

“No,” Carlos cuts him off again. “We both made it out alive, and that’s all that matters.”

TK shakily nods, agreeing with Carlos on the outside but unable to stop the guilt from blooming inside his chest. Carlos is hurt, more than TK is, and as much as Carlos tries to deny it, TK knows it’s his fault.

For the fourth night in a row, TK lies wide awake as Carlos peacefully sleeps beside him.

At first it had been easy to hide after they were released from the hospital and settled into their temporary home back at his father’s house. With the adrenaline still coursing through his veins he didn’t feel like he could sleep even if he wanted to. But as the days passed, he found it harder to explain the dark circles forming under his eyes and low energy throughout the day.

And still he continues to lay awake, waiting for sleep to take pity on him.

Part of him is jealous that sleep appears to come easier to Carlos. He knows that the other man is just as affected, if not more than he is. With his broken leg and back injury, it has been hard for Carlos to find comfortable positions after being discharged from the hospital.

But Carlos also had the luxury of being prescribed medication to help manage the pain. And while he was hesitant to accept it at first, TK had encouraged it, saying that he would be fine because Carlos needed it.

And he would be fine.

Except there’s still a part of him that envied Carlos for being able to easily mask the pain with one small pill.

Because while Carlos peacefully sleeps, TK is plagued with memories of the fire that took their home not even a week ago.

Sometimes it plays out exactly how it happened, which only serves the guilt to settle more in his chest. Other times it happens with slight variations. Visions of him being the one to fall through the floor instead, or them both making it out unscathed.

The last one hurts the most. The idea that there could have been a way for both of them to walk out of it without injury. But the pained wimpers coming from beside him serve as an aching reminder of what did happen.

It hurt TK more than he was willing to admit seeing Carlos in so much pain and knowing it’s his fault. Not that Carlos would ever admit it, brushing it off every time TK would try to bring it up. But TK knows the truth. Even with all of his firefighter training, he wasn’t able to get them out unharmed. Not to mention he was the reason why Carlos fell through the floor.

He should have been the one to go to the bathroom and wet the towels. Or he should have forgotten the towels altogether, considering it probably would have only bought them a few seconds anyway.

Night after night he gets stuck in this spiral of “what-if’s,” unable to shut off his brain enough to get the rest he so badly needs.

Another louder whimper comes from beside him, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Baby?” he calls softly, not wanting to wake Carlos if he wasn’t already, but also wanting to make sure he was okay if he is awake.

“Sorry,” Carlos whispers back. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

TK doesn’t have to see his face to sense the wince on Carlos’ face, pain clearly evident in his voice. “It’s okay, I was already awake. I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

“We’ve talked about this, babe. You having nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do. It was my fault that you got hurt and maybe if I-“

“TK, stop,” Carlos cuts him off. He tries to say it gently, but TK can sense the annoyance in his voice.

It’s the same conversation they have had a few times now and it always ended the same way; with TK trying to apologize and Carlos calmly explaining why the apology wasn’t necessary. It was no wonder his patience was running out and TK knew it was only a matter of time before Carlos snapped.

And by the sound of it, that’s exactly what was happening.

“Can we not do this now? In the middle of the night? I just need the pain to stop and to go back to sleep.”

TK nods, even though he’s well aware Carlos can’t see the motion in the darkness of their bedroom (well, their temporary bedroom at Owen’s house). It’s a good thing, considering that means the other man also can’t see the tears welling in TK’s eyes. “I’ll go get your meds.”

He hears Carlos sigh and takes that an okay, pushing himself out of bed and making his way down the hall to the bathroom.

He rifles through the medicine cabinet before pulling out Carlos’ prescription and shaking two capsules out of the bottle. The bright white pills contrast against his palm and he can’t bring himself to look away.

TK once again finds himself envious of Carlos’ ability to take these pills to begin with; To have the power to soften the pain in two tiny capsules.

Without a second thought, he slides the pills into his pajama bottoms before shaking out another two replacement pills into his palm. He then fills up a disposable cup of water and turns off the light.

The next hours pass by in a haze, tossing and turning until the pills in his pocket are forgotten. TK realizes he must have fallen asleep at some point indicated by the light filtering through the blinds, casting a soft warm glow into the bedroom.

Not wanting to wake Carlos still sleeping beside him, but also not able to spend another minute laying in bed, he carefully gets up and makes his way through the hall and down the stairs, into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Owen says, all too cheerfully for the morning hour.

“Morning,” he replies while grabbing his coffee mug and filling it to the brim.

“How did you sleep?”

TK shrugs. It’s the same dance they do everyday. His father definitely knows him well enough to see how much he’s been struggling since the fire, yet he never pushes enough to get TK to talk.

“Do you want some pancakes? I got fresh blueberries yesterday at the market that I could throw in the batter.”

He considers it, knowing full well that his dad is trying to get him to talk using his favorite breakfast meal. But he also thinks if he tries to eat anything, he’s going to throw up. “I’m good with coffee right now. Maybe I’ll have a bowl of cereal in a bit.”

“TK,” Owen trails off. “Do I need to be worried about you?”

TK glances down, staring at his hands, unable to meet his dad’s eye. In the past when he had been asked that question, the simple no had always been able to roll easily off his tongue, regardless of whether or not it was true. But this morning feels different. He doesn’t feel cornered, but there is a part of him that wants to say yes. With just one word he’d be able to let out all of the emotions he has been bottling up for days, even months going back before the fire.

“Have you gone to any meetings lately?”

That gets TK’s attention. “No,” he says, looking up shyly. “I mean I’ve been a little busy taking care of Carlos and trying to get everything sorted out with insurance and just,” he sighs. They’re weak excuses, he knows. While that stuff is important, he’s also aware that his recovery should come first and he’s been looking for any excuse not to take care of himself, to avoid opening up the bottle of his emotions.

“You should. Why don’t I drive you to one today?” Owen offers.

“No, someone needs to stay with Carlos-”

“And there’s been dozens of people asking what they can do to help you guys out that I’m sure would love to hang out with him this afternoon. If Mateo won’t be around, I can ask Grace or Paul, or anyone from the station if they are available.”

TK nods, knowing there’s no way to get out of this. This is Owen’s polite way of letting him know that he knows TK needs help and if he’s not going to talk him or Carlos, he needs to talk to someone.

“Good. I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way in your recovery in the past 18 months,” Owen offers him a smile but the words hit TK like a punch in the gut.

He quickly shoves his hands in his pockets and freezes when he feels the familiar texture of the forgotten pills shoved hastily in there in a moment of weakness last night.

Owen studies him carefully. “Are you okay?”

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing thoughts before his face can betray that his father really did have a legitimate reason to be concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just going to go see if Carlos is awake.”

Owen nods, appearing to accept TK’s response. TK flashes him a smile before filling up a glass of water to bring up to Carlos and hoping that his father doesn’t notice the way his hands shake as he holds it under the faucet.

“Come back down when you’re ready to eat. The pancakes will be waiting for you,” Owen calls as TK climbs the stairs.

TK doesn’t answer, moving through the hallway until he reaches their bedroom and softly knocks on the door before pushing it open. He expects to find Carlos still sleeping soundly on the bed, but instead sees him attempting to push himself out of bed, a pained grimace painted on his face.

“What are you doing?” TK rushes over to him, guiding him gently back into the bed so he is sitting back against the headboard. “You’re not supposed to get out of bed without help.”

While Carlos isn’t technically on bedrest, it is harder for him to get around. He was given crutches for his broken leg, but using them puts a lot of stress on his injured back. TK can tell that the lack of mobility is starting to get to him.

“I was thirsty,” Carlos shrugs, flashing him a sheepish grin.

TK resists the urge to roll his eyes at that. “Well you can relax now, I brought you water,” he says, handing the glass over to Carlos. “And my dad is making pancakes if you want to try to get out of bed, with help this time.”

“That sounds good.”

“Good,” TK replies and they exchange smiles. Though he can’t help but notice the tension that still looms in the air from their last interaction. It clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by Carlos as well, whose smile soon drops at the shift in mood.

“Listen, TK, I’m sorry for kind of snapping at you last night. I was just tired, and in pain, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” Carlos sighs, taking TK’s hands in his. “These past few days haven’t been easy for either of us and you’ve taken such great care of me. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I love you.”

TK can’t help the tears that well in his eyes at Carlos’ words. His heart threatens to beat out of his chest, both at the tenderness of the moment and in panic of wanting to admit to Carlos what he’s done. He came in the room prepared to come clean, but now feels almost as though he doesn’t deserve the kind words. He doesn’t deserve this happiness that he came so close to throwing all away.

“Babe?” Carlos questions softly.

“I took some of your pills,” TK blurts out, spitting the words out in the air before he can change his mind and take them back. Carlos’ eyes widen in panic and TK quickly shakes his head. “Well, okay I didn’t actually take them. I just,” he sighs, reaching into his pocket and holding out the pills in his palm.

“TK,” Carlos trails off. He doesn’t sound disappointed, but TK can’t help the panic that arises as he tries to figure out how to justify what he did now that Carlos knows.

“It’s just been so hard, you know? I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I get why. I mean, I don’t want to talk about it either. But no matter how many times I’m told it wasn’t my fault, the guilt still doesn’t leave, and it’s suffocating. I’m sorry, I know you’re probably tired of having this conversation but I don’t know what happened last night. I just hit a point where I didn’t know what else to do and I’m sorry I can’t be stronger for you.”

The silence that hangs in the air after TK’s word vomit is deafening. He takes some deep breaths, waiting for Carlos to say something. When more than a few seconds pass, TK can’t help but open his mouth again. “I’m so sorry, Carlos. I wish I could handle this better but I just keep bottling it up. I understand if you are mad, but you should know I’m going to a meeting this afternoon and I think-“

“TK,” Carlos cuts off his rambling this time. “I’m not mad at you. In fact, I think I’ve been bottling a lot of things up too, so that’s something we both need to work on. I’m just trying to figure out why you think I would be and why you think you’re not strong.”

“Because I took your pills,” he says quietly. “I almost relapsed.”

“Almost. But you didn’t. Instead you came to me and told me about it. And if you’re already planning on going to a meeting? That’s great, babe,” Carlos smiles and grabs his hands, squeezing them reassuringly.

“The meeting was my dad’s idea. I haven’t told him.”

“That’s okay. You still agreed to it, and you don’t have to tell him yet if you’re not ready. But whenever you are, I can be there with you if you want. I know he will understand.”

TK gives a small nod.

“Hey,” Carlos grabs his attention, tilting his head up gently. “I am proud of you, you know. And I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” TK gives him a genuine smile.

“Is there anything else I can do that will help you out?”

“Maybe, we could give your pills to my dad to hold onto? Just for a few days,” he says quietly, almost ashamed to admit but knowing it’s for the best.

“I can just get rid of them, I don’t think I need them,” Carlos responds far too quickly.

“Absolutely not. It’s only been a few days, and I can see how much pain you’re still in.”

Carlos nods. “Okay, then we will talk to your dad about it.”

TK smiles, a wave of relief washing over him that they had dealt with this in the best way possible. Maybe things aren't perfect now, and he still has a long way to go before he’ll feel stable in his recovery. But if the soft brown eyes and proud smile of his boyfriend sitting next to him are any indication, he knows he has all the support system he needs to get through it.

#911 lone star #911lonestarfic #tarlosfic #tarlos #tk strand #my fic #idk if i should tag anyone in this

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Wei Wuxian never had the patience for embroidery, and Jiang Yanli was passable, but preferred cooking. Jiang Cheng found it comforting, stabbing something over and over again, with a better result than breaking training dummies.

It started with Jiang Cheng being a sticky child, refusing to leave his jie’s side even when she sat for her embroidery lessons; with him being noisy and troublesome and the teacher just shoving the needle and thread into his hands with a muttered comment about it being good for men to know how to repair their own clothing – as if a future sect leader would ever need to know something like that.

Jiang Cheng quieted down and focused, all hard work and determination to please the way he went about all aspects of his life – he wasn’t a natural talent, in cultivation or swordmanship or even this, but he always tried his best.

His mother covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter when he presented her with the results of several weeks’ worth: it was just barely recognizable as the world’s ugliest duck.

“A symbol of loving devotion,” one of her maids said.

“There’s only one, though,” the other maid said. “They’re supposed to be a pair.”

“He’s still young,” Madame Yu said, and then held up a fabric with a vaguely incoherent green-white-pink blob. “And anyway, it’s still better than this – what is this supposed to be again, A-Li?”

“A lotus flower,” Jiang Yanli replied, utterly untroubled by her mother’s criticism.

Madame Yu and her maids studied the fabric for a little while longer, trying to identify a flower inside the knot of threads, helpless expressions on their face.

“A-Cheng is a duck without a partner and A-Li is unrestrained by commonly understood boundaries,” Madame Yu finally said, pinching her nose. “With signs as inauspicious as this…well, at least you still have your father to hold up the world for you.”

“Men care more about cooking skills anyway,” one of her maids said. “And A-Cheng is an heir to a sect: he’ll find himself a lady duck one day. Maybe even a whole set of them.”

“He’d better not find a whole set of them!”

There was a small needle on the floor of the hut where the Wen sect had stuffed him away – too small and thin to attack anyone, even if a useless waste with no golden core could muster an attack at all, and so it had been overlooked.

Jiang Cheng held it over the flame of the lamp to sterilize it, and then, with shaking hands, turned it on his own flesh.

He didn’t have a choice – it was that or die bleeding out onto the floor of some closet in the Lotus Pier he’d never even known existed, some of the cuts left by the Wens too deep to be left alone even for a little while, and he didn’t have spiritual energy to encourage the healing process.

Maybe he should just die. What was the point of living? He was a waste, now. Maybe the deep cuts were even meant to be a kindness – a way out of the misery that awaited him, a life of being Wen Chao’s slave, an object of pity and mockery.

Jiang Cheng’s hands might be shaking, but his embroidery was good: he’d kept it up, citing it as good training for precision, a way to improve his dexterity, but in fact it was the only thing that could make his mother smile at him anymore. Sure, she yelled about him wasting time with feminine pursuits when he ought to be cultivating, training, getting stronger, surpassing Wei Wuxian, but when she looked at the little things he made for her, she still smiled, almost as if she couldn’t help herself.

She wouldn’t smile for him any longer. Neither smile nor scolding.

Jiang Cheng would live to see Wei Wuxian take the revenge their parents deserved. He could wait until that was done to die.

A regular needle could prick the finger of a cultivator a thousand times before drawing a single drop of blood.

Jiang Cheng’s fingers were covered in bandages, but the new disciples of his Jiang sect had robes embroidered with lotuses, the way they should have, and they need not be ashamed to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the other sects in battle.

It wasn’t a job a sect leader should ever do, but there was no one else to do it; any money had to be spent on supplies, none left over for paying seamstresses to do something impractical, and the few women who joined up expected to be used for their skill at the sword, not the needle.

It was just another thing he had to do with no time to do it – he had to train himself in preparation for battle, teach the new disciples the Jiang sect techniques, make sure they had enough to eat and drink, keep one step ahead of the Wen sect’s forces that sought to destroy them, recruit new sects to join their cause and all of it while searching desperately for Wei Wuxian, who had gone missing.

(Sometimes, in his nightmares, Jiang Cheng wondered if Baoshan Sanren had seen through their mischief, recognized him as someone other than her disciple’s son, and demanded a price be paid for the gift she had given him.)

At least embroidery was something he could do at night when he couldn’t sleep, something productive that wouldn’t disturb the sentries or make anyone worry about him.

Sometimes, Lan Wangji – who had joined him in searching for Wei Wuxian – would come and sit next to him at the early hours of the night, undoubtedly fleeing nightmares of his own. His meditation didn’t bother Jiang Cheng, and as much as he hated to admit it, the company was welcome.

That didn’t stop him from embroidering a small awkward stork on the inside of Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon the one time the other man had asked him for help fixing it after it’d been cut in battle.

“I know Madame Jin probably already got you something better,” Jiang Cheng said, his fingers twisting together – in fact, he hadn’t thought of it at all, not until he reached Lanling and heard the women on the street speculating as to which skilled seamstress had been retained to embroider all the auspicious signs onto the wedding clothing of the Jin sect’s new daughter-in-law.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that they would just buy a set pre-made – wedding clothing was traditionally embroidered by the bride herself, preparations made over the years, and of course the set Jiang Yanli had (with no real motivation or ambition) been working on had gone up in flames along with the Lotus Pier. When she’d come to let him know about Jin Zixuan’s impending proposal, and that she intended to accept, Jiang Cheng had panicked and ordered the silks and thread himself; his sister was passable at embroidery at the best of times, much worse when under pressure or a deadline, and he didn’t want the Jin sect to laugh at her.

He should have realized. What didn’t the Jin sect solve with money?

“As if I would wear anything other than what A-Cheng made for me,” Jiang Yanli said, voice warm as she ran her hands over the red silk he’d brought with him, the golden threads glinting. “It’s beautiful. Your ducks have gotten much better since your first attempt, all those years ago.”

Jiang Cheng covered his face with embarrassment. His mother had kept that stupid hideous duck for years, often just sitting in her pocket alongside regular necessities so that she could pull it out to embarrass him whenever she pleased; it had probably only died when she had.

“I left some undone for you to finish,” he said through his fingers. “I brought the thread…if you want?”

“Of course. A-Cheng will sit by me and make sure I don’t make any mistakes.”

The last pair of ducks ended up crooked, their heads too close together, their beaks at such an odd angle that it almost looked like a smile; they were Jiang Cheng’s favorite ones of all.

“For you,” Jiang Cheng said, shoving the box into Wei Wuxian’s arms and ignoring the look of confusion. “For when Hanguang-jun finally decides to live up to his responsibilities.”

“What are you talking about?” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “Why are you even at the Cloud Recesses?”

Jiang Cheng sneered because it was easier than doing anything else. It was the first time he’d seen Wei Wuxian since the events at the Guanyin temple: Wei Wuxian hadn’t come back to the Lotus Pier, not once, even though Jin Ling had tried several times to invite him.

“Am I not allowed, now?” he demanded irritably. “I’m a sect leader; I have a visitor’s token, same as anyone else. Anyway, I have other business to attend to – just take it and be done with it. Don’t make a fuss.”

It was a mistake to say that – as soon as Wei Wuxian realized there was the possibility of a fuss, he couldn’t wait to confront it at once, and disregarded all rules of etiquette to pull open the box right there as they stood, before even Jiang Cheng left.

“Red…?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes went wide. “Jiang Cheng, you got me wedding clothing.”

“Reused ones,” Jiang Cheng said before Wei Wuxian could get too emotional or anything. “The only adjustments were to the size and shape – don’t think too highly of yourself!”

“Sect Leader Jiang is too humble,” Lan Wangji said from the door. “It must have been a great effort to make clothing for a man from the ones your sister wore.”

“Sister…? You – this is what shijie married in?”

Jiang Cheng glared at the immovable Lan Wangji rather than look at Wei Wuxian. “Her marriage was happy,” he said stiffly. “Yes, it was cut short –”

Best not to say by whom.

“– but it was still happy. It’s not meant to be a bad omen or a curse…I thought you’d like it. Not that I expected you’d remember what it looked like, with your memory.”

“Of course I like it!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, hugging the red fabric to his chest. “You made it for shijie, and she finished it, right?”

“I had to add some more fabric to make up for the size difference,” Jiang Cheng said, still refusing to look at him directly. At least Lan Wangji had the good grace to be easy to glare at, that pig who dug up his family’s (lost, dead, resurrected) cabbage. “There are a few more that still need finishing. That way, it’ll have something from all of us – don’t you dare cry at me!”

“I’m not crying! My eyes are watering from laughter at how sentimental you are, that’s all!”

“It is good that we will both have signs of Sect Leader Jiang’s approval with us,” Lan Wangji said mildly.

Wei Wuxian turned to him at once. “Both? What do you have?”

Jiang Cheng was equally confused, and only when Lan Wangji reached up to his forehead ribbon did he remember his fit of pettiness in horror. “Wait, no, don’t – it can’t still be there –”

It was.

Wei Wuxian’s cackles followed him as he fled.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #jiang yanli #lan wangji #wangxian #my fic #my fics #I really like how this one came out actually #Anonymous

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squiggledrop · 4 years

Text

Reforget - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Both Reader and Spencer have feelings for each other. Reader kisses Spencer, but he runs away and ignores her. - Song fic to Reforget by Lauv

Word Count: 3k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual implications, Crying, Angst, Fluff,

Didn't wanna be a ghost

But you pushed me over and over

Never thought I'd have a vice

Other than you, over and over

It had been three weeks since you and Spencer first kissed, and two weeks and six days since you both decided you were better as friends. Well, since Spencer had decided for the both of you. When it happened, the two of you were walking out of the BAU together, ready to head home. You had had a crush on Spencer since your first day a couple of months ago, and the two of you quickly became good friends. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer also had a crush on you, but was much too insecure to ever act on it. As you made your way to your car, you grabbed Spencer’s arm as he was about to turn and say goodnight. You didn’t know where this spur of confidence came from, but you were running with it. You gave him a peck on the lips, which caused his face to turn into a tomato.

“I’m so sorry”, you blurted out in shock, “I don’t know what I was-”. You were cut off by Spencer cupping your cheeks and placing his mouth back on yours. For the first time in Spencer’s life, his brain couldn’t keep up, and he was on you before he could even process what was happening. The kiss was fueled by passion and the hidden feelings between you both were almost palpable. When you pulled apart you stared into each other’s eyes, full of lust and desire, however, as Spencer finally realized what had just happened, his eyes grew wider and a film of terror masked his face.

“Uh, night”, he stated blankly before darting off. You tried to call out to him, but it was no use as you couldn’t seem to form any words. You stood there in shock. Every emotion coursed through your body. You were terrified because you just kissed Spencer Reid. You were elated because Spencer Reid kissed you back! But, you were crushed because Spencer Reid just kissed you and ran off like it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Left you in the sky with the fire below

Thought I had it right, but I'm still

Lost in the light

As you drove home you replayed the events of the night over, and over again in your head, trying to make sense of what just happened. He kissed you back. That had to mean something.

Spencer rode the subway in silence, just staring out the window, reminiscing how your lips felt on his. He was beating himself up for running away like that, but he couldn’t handle the thought of you rejecting him. When you kissed him his mind went blank and when you pulled away he put his lips right back where they belong. The only problem was, as he was kissing you, your words finally registered in his head: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. He knew kissing you back was a mistake and he couldn’t bear look you in the eye after you had apologized for kissing him.

When you got home, you looked at the screen of your phone through tear-filled eyes. You made out Spencer’s blurry contact in your texts.

To Spencer: Hey, can we talk about earlier?

Spencer heard his phone buzz and blinked back the tears welling in his eyes. It was a text from you asking to talk. Great, he thought to himself, you probably wanted to apologize again because kissing him was just that horrible. Spencer opted to save himself anymore hurt and ignored your text. He threw his phone on the couch and went to bed.

To Spencer: Can you at least let me know you got home okay?

To Spencer: Spence, please?

The tears streaming down your face became too much, so you decided to just leave him be. Fine, if he wants to be a jerk who just kisses you and runs away then so be it. You left the ball in his court, so it was his move. You had no energy to do anything else.

The only problem was, Spencer was never good at sports, or confrontation for that matter. This led to the two of you not speaking the following morning, or the following two weeks and six days. The team knew something had happened because normally you two were inseparable, but now they were lucky if you could even stay in the same room for more than 30 seconds. You avoided each other, not wanting to be faced with the devastating truth. You came to the conclusion that Spencer’s lack of response was his response. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Spencer on the other hand felt so guilty about ignoring you, but he knew he would break down if you told him kissing him was a mistake, and for a man who relied on facts and statistics, he wasn’t willing to face the truth.

And I don't know what night it is

You're somewhere else, I'm drinking not to guess

It had been three weeks of avoiding each other and the team knew that they had to do something.

“Hey! Why don’t we all go and get drinks!”, Penelope suggested after a taxing case. It had been a long time since the whole team did something fun together, and they thought this way they could get you two drunk enough to finally tell them what was going on.

“I-I don’t really feel like it…”, Spencer said softly as he grabbed his coat and bag.

“Oh come on pretty boy! It’ll be fun!”, Derek said as he patted Spencer on the back.

“I could definitely afford to get wasted”, you huffed, sneaking a glare at Spencer. He avoided your glance and reluctantly agreed to go for a little while.

When you all got to the bar, you and Spencer sat as far away from each other as possible. He slowly sipped on a beer as you, JJ, Emily, and Penelope went to the bar to order. He watched as you downed a line of shots, and he sunk further into his seat.

You did four shots, gaining amazed, and slightly concerned looks from the girls. They knew whatever happened must have been really bad because you clearly wanted to forget everything.

“Whoo! Come on! Let’s dance!”, they couldn’t say no to that, so the four of you made your way to the dance floor. Penelope traded a knowing look at Derek who joined her. Spencer sat and watched as you all danced and jumped around, a light sheen of sweat forming on your forehead. You looked so beautiful and free, he thought to himself, but he quickly pushed the thought away and took a swig of beer.

You wanted so desperately to forget about Spencer, who discarded your entire friendship over one stupid night, but you couldn’t. The way the dim lights outlined his face made your heart race. All you wanted was to kiss him again. You had to do something to get your mind off of him. You thought the alcohol would help, but your intoxicated state was only making your feelings stronger.

Blurry bodies, but you're on my mind

We let it go now I'm full of rum and regret

I go out just so I can reforget

You jumped as you felt a hand on your waist. You turned to see a tall, handsome man with smirking eyes. Normally when in this situation you would tell the guy to fuck off because honestly you were repulsed by any guy who felt the need to grab a random woman’s waist at a bar. However, tonight, you found the unwarranted touch empowering. This is what you needed, you told yourself, some guy to help you forget about Spencer.

Spencer’s eyes grew with anger as he saw the guy, who wasn’t him, dance up against you. He ran his hands all over your body, causing Spencer’s blood to boil. The worst part was that you seemed to be enjoying it. Normally when a guy approaches you at the bar, you find Spencer so he’ll give up and move onto some other girl. You always made Spencer feel special because he knew you trusted him to keep you safe. But now, seeing you grind against that arrogant man, in a way he has never seen you move before, was more than he could handle.

You hated yourself for what you were doing, knowing you would regret it in the morning, but it felt nice to be desired after three weeks of Spencer ignoring you. That’s why, when the guy pressed his lips against yours, you reciprocated will full force.

“Do you want to get out of here?”, he whispered in your ear. You nodded, using all your willpower to not turn around and look at Spencer. He didn’t want you. He made that very clear. Why shouldn’t you go home with this guy? He was hot, a good kisser...not as good as Spencer...No! Stop! This is good. This is what you need.

Spencer felt a single tear roll down his cheek as that man kissed you. The salty taste consumed his mouth as he watched you leave the bar, your hands interlocked. He watched your blurred silhouettes leave as he broke down in tears.

Two more footsteps on the wood floor, but it ain't you

I'm faded so I bring someone home

You opened the door to your apartment and he pushed you up against the wall, tracing your body with kisses. You moaned at the sensation, but when you closed your eyes, all you could see what Spencer.

The guy, whose name you still hadn’t even bothered to find out, began to lift your top, running his fingers on your bare waist. At this, all you could think about was how much you wished that this guy was Spencer. Fuck, you thought, as tears brimmed your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just really tired…”, you said as you pushed the guy off of you.

“Oh, okay”, he forced a smile to hide his disappointment.

You walked to your bedroom, tears running down your cheeks, hoping he would just take the hint and leave. As you closed your bedroom door, you heard your front door close. You laid down on your bed and let yourself do the one thing you wouldn’t let yourself do all night: think about Spencer.

Already paying for tonight

Head spins like a carousel, over and over

Spencer had left not long after you. He made his way back to his apartment, where the only images protruding his brain were of you under that guy and him making you feel the way Spencer wanted to make you feel. He couldn’t get the thought of you moaning some other guy’s name out of his head.

He tried to sleep but it was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. That’s it, he thought. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go see you. He looked over at his alarm clock: 3:28 am. Well, at least at this point he wouldn’t interrupt whatever activities the two of you had gotten up to. God, he hoped he wouldn’t walk in on that.

The short drive to your apartment felt like a lifetime. He thought about what he would say, how he would explain himself. He wanted you to know how much you mean to him, even if you didn’t feel the same.

I never thought a sunrise

Could burn more than a midnight without you

You had been trying to sleep for hours, but it was no use. Images of Spencer filled your head. You were still pissed at him for ignoring you for the past few weeks, but to be honest, what hurt more was how empty you felt without him next to you. You missed how he would lay his head on your shoulder when he would fall asleep on the jet after long cases, you missed hearing his laugh every time you made a stupid joke at your desks, but mostly, you just missed talking to your best friend.

Spencer finally made it to your apartment and was relieved to not be greeted with any muffled moans. He stood at your door for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He scrounged up an ounce of courage and put his knuckles to your door.

You jolted up as you heard a knock at your door. Confused, and exhausted from crying, you quickly wiped away your tears and headed for the door. Shock set in as you saw who it was.

When you opened the door, Spencer was met with your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His hair was more disheveled than normal, like he had been running his hands through it, which he always did when he was overwhelmed on a case.

“What are you doing here?”, you croaked out, annoyance lacing your voice, after a few moments of silence. Spencer looked you up and down and his eyes softened at your current state. His heart twinged at the sight of you so upset. He secretly hoped you were only upset because of him and not because that idiot guy did something to hurt you when he wasn’t there for you.

“I just, I needed to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that, and I’m sorry”, he paused, waiting for your reaction. When you just stood there, unsure of what to say, he continued, “Are you okay? You-”

“Okay?!”, you cut him off, “Am I okay?! I don’t know Spence! Would you be okay if your best friend ignored you for three weeks just because of one stupid mistake?!” The pain in your voice broke through the anger as you choked back tears. It hurt him to see you in this much pain, especially because of something he did, but, what sent a sharp twinge through his heart, was hearing you admit that it was a mistake. He knew you would regret it. He should never have come. He turned to leave before you could see his own tears forming.

“Oh that’s it! Just leave me again!”, you sobbed. He snapped his head back around.

“Well, I’m sorry! But don’t you get it! I didn’t ignore you just to be a jerk! I can’t stand to look at you without breaking down. I’m- I’m sorry that I love you so much that it physically pains me to know you don’t feel the same.” You just stare at him, your eyes growing wider. “God, (y/n), I’m sorry but you can’t blame me for not wanting to talk to you after you realized kissing me was such a horrible thing. I’m sorry I’m not as hot or good of a dancer as that guy at the bar. And I’m sorry that seeing you leave with him and do who knows what literally kills me inside”, by now Spencer was sobbing. You still couldn’t bring yourself to react, still shocked by what he had said: he loves you.

Spencer let out a sigh and turned to leave again, only this time you grabbed his arm, just like that night three weeks ago, and placed a kiss to his lips. He quickly pulled away, not knowing whether you did it out of pity or to make fun of him.

“Spence…”, you looked into his eyes, “I never said kissing you was a mistake. C’mon, you’re the one who has an eidetic memory”. You expected him to at least let out a chuckle, but he replied sternly.

“You just said that night was a ‘stupid mistake’”, he huffed. Your face softened and you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t mean kissing you was a mistake”, you whispered, “I just-when you left after kissing me, I just-I thought”, you sighed, “I was so confused Spencer, cause that was the best kiss of my entire life, and then when you left and wouldn’t respond to my texts, I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me.” When he still didn’t say anything, you asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”, he sheepishly asked.

“That you love me”, you said with a small smile. He finally looked you in the eye and mirrored your grin.

“Of course I love you, (y/n)”, he admitted matter of factually. You were about to kiss him again when he backed away and asked, “Wait, what exactly happened between you and that guy from the bar…”

“Oh”, you let out a coy laugh, “Sorry you had to see that… We came back here, but nothing happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much I wished it was you instead of him-”

“Really?”

“Of course… Spence...I love you too. That’s why I kissed you. When I pulled away at first it wasn’t because I was sorry I did it, I just was sorry in case I made you uncomfortable because I- I didn’t want to lose you…”

Spencer stared at you before enveloping you in a hug and wrapping one hand around your waist and the other in your hair. You placed your arms around his shoulders and rubbed your thumb on the back of his neck.

“I promise, you’re never going to lose me again”, he said as he kissed your head. You looked up at him and brought him in for a kiss. This one was just as passionate as the one you shared all those weeks ago, only it was gentler and more sensual. You grasped each other as if your lives depended on it. You continued your kiss as your salty tears mixed with the taste of alcohol in your mouths, but neither of you cared. When you finally broke apart for air, you embraced each other in another hug.

“Let’s go to bed”, you whispered in his ear. Spencer hummed in response and picked you up, earning a loud giggle from you. He put you down on the bed and crawled in with you. He pulled you close to his chest as you placed your face in the crook of his neck. The two of you closed your eyes and were finally able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks, comforted by the presence of one another.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #penelopy garcia #emily prentiss #jj #derek morgan

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

So Far (Yandere Hawks x Reader)

Title: So Far

Synopsis: Follow up to "So Close." Hawks realizes that in order to build you up as the perfect partner, you've got to be broken down first.

Word Count: 2163

Notes: yandere, choking, violence, food deprivation, malnourishment

You wish you could stand up and properly stretch. But the unassuming crawl space that Keigo unceremoniously pushed you into after bringing you "home" was too small for that. The ceiling was low, and

You pull your knees up against your chest and wince at the pain in your thighs and legs. The floor was concrete, and the drop had hurt--enough to bruise, at least, but the dim lighting from a single, small window didn't really provide an opportunity for you to check.

You flinch when you hear the half-sized door open, and not a moment later does Keigo enter, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling. He has a tray with him, which he sets down in front of you. A glass of water and leftovers from the other night, still streaming from the microwave.

Your stomach seems to growl on cue, but you fight the urge to reach for the food and instead stay still. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of feeding you right now.

Keigo sighs, as if sensing your defiance, and crouches down until he's sitting on his heels. He stares at you. You stare back, hoping your gaze looks braver than you feel.

"This is my fault," he says, finally. Low and sad, you can see his lips curling downward in a frown. "I shouldn't have done this."

Your heart feels like it skips a beat. Could… could he be letting you go? Did he finally realize how fucked up this all was?

He regards you for a moment, nearly grimacing. "I expected you to adapt to your new life all on your own." He shakes his head. "It's not easy dating a hero, huh?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded beyond belief.

You can't stop yourself from spluttering out the words, "Are you crazy?"

Keigo ignores your little outburst. "Nope," he says, his voice taking on a slight drawl. "It’s not easy dating a hero at all. Not easy being taken care of, especially when I know you're not used to it."

It's then that his infuriating grin finds its way back onto his lips. A grin you've come to hate so, so much. "I understand now--it wasn't fair to expect you to get used to this all on your own. But don't worry babe, I'll help you."

You can’t take it. Feelings of helpless and anger and physical soreness bubble over, and you crack.

"Fuck you fuck you fuck you! Just leave me alone!"

You don't stop to think before your hands grab the glass of water on the tray and you throw it directly at Keigo's head. He jerks at the sudden movement, and the glass hits his shoulder, shattering on impact. You barely hear the cracking glass when you lift the tray and chuck it just as hard, dumping the contents of the leftovers all over yourself and Keigo in the process. This time, he's prepared, and the tray is easily smacked to the side. It collides with the concrete wall.

And so do you, in an instant. Keigo is kneeling on what must be glass with his hands around your throat, pressing so hard that you can't breath. You hear rushing in your ears and wonder if this is finally it. His breathing is rough and erratic as he presses you against the concrete. You can't speak, you're in so much pain, you can't even breathe. Your hands claw at his own, instinctive and animalistic, and you must have made some sort of cry because Keigo suddenly lets go.

You take in ragged breaths and hold your bruising neck with your shaking fingers. You suck in air and shakily glance at Keigo, who has scooted backwards to press his own back against the other side of the room. He looks shocked. Afraid. He says nothing, taking deep breaths himself, before crawling into the doorway so he can stand up. You see his look turn impassive and neutral and dark before he mutters: "Fine. Fine. Fuck me? I'll leave you alone."

The door slams with a terrifying finality, and you listen helplessly to the sounds of multiple locks clicking into place.

You can't remember the last time you felt full. Or even close to it. Food, hunger, your stomach. The preoccupying hunger that you feel at least gives you something to do in your current situation.

Since that day, Keigo has been more or less true to his word. He's left you alone. He opens the door in the morning--you think it's the morning, it has become hard to tell the time with no lighting but what seeps through the window. Then he sets down a thin, plastic tray and nudges it with his foot. He lifts up your waste bucket and doesn’t so much as glance at you (even when, like you do lately, you try to talk to him) before turning around and shutting the door. Then come the locks. Click, click, click, click. Four locks.

Your meals are always the same. A glass of water in a plastic cup--safe, safe for Keigo and probably safer for you, lest you get any ideas of what to do with glass. Plain rice in a small plastic bowl. He stopped giving you chopsticks when he caught you trying to use one in the doorknob lock. Now you have a plastic spoon. It's blue.

You used to scarf down the rice, desperate and hungry, but now you’re more careful. Because sometimes breakfast (if it’s morning, you think, but maybe it’s actually lunch?) is the only meal that Keigo gives you for the day. You used to think he wasn’t feeding you much on purpose. Now you realize that the truth is much scarier: he’s forgetting about you, tucked into this little crawl space room with nothing in it but misery.

Or maybe, you think. Maybe he’s so busy with hero work that he doesn’t have time to be constantly dipping into your little room with meals. If you weren’t in this little room, if you were free to roam the house and the kitchen, you could feed yourself when he’s not here, like you used to.

But you’re not out there, so today, like other days, you pick up a half spoonful of rice with your trusty blue spoon and carefully set it in your mouth. You lick the granules with purpose and let them rest on your tongue. One, two, three, four. Four seconds. Then you swallow.

That’s enough for now. You decide to stretch your rice out as long as possible, because you think today might be a scarce meal day. You haven’t heard Keigo near the door since the morning, so you assume he’s already gone to work. You hope he brings back your bucket tonight, because you really do have to go. If he does, you decide, you’re going to ask him if he could maybe bring you two bowls of rice tomorrow--just in case he gets so busy he can’t feed you again.

Over the course of the day, you eat the rest of your bowl, half-spoonful by half-spoonful. It staves away the sharpest of your hunger pains, but it’s never enough to stop them. You distract yourself with stories that you like to tell while tapping your finger on something--your knee, the wall, the floor. Sometimes your glass. After some time, you look up and realize the light has gotten even dimmer, and oh--it must be night time.

You like to fall asleep before it gets truly pitch black, so you curl up on your side and try to cradle your head in your arms. You wish the floor wasn’t so cold. You wish you had a night light for when it was pitch dark inside the room. You also wish, vainly, for a pillow.

Then next morning, when you wake up, your bucket is back. Your meal of water and rice is waiting for you. Keigo didn’t even let you see him, this time…

You carefully pluck a single cold grain of rice from your bowl and line it up against the wall with the others. You wanted to keep track of time, but Keigo had ignored you when you asked for a pencil or paper or even a calendar. So you made due.

By the time you get to 40 grains (give or take how many days it had been before you started counting) it feels wasteful. Sometimes you daydream about scooping them up and gobbling them down.

Some mornings, you see Keigo. Some mornings, you don’t. You find yourself trying to wake up early so you can at least try to catch his attention. But even when you do, matter what you say--a feeble good morning, a quiet question, even just saying his name--he doesn’t do more than glance at you and move on.

You really are nothing, now. You dig through your rice, but even your ritual of one-two-three-four feels hollow today.

You press your back against the wall and slowly stretch our your knees. They’re always sore, but stretching helps. And it gives you something to do. You make a slow game of bringing one knee to your stomach, stretching it back down, and repeating with the other. One, two, three, four...

Evening seems to come quicker than usual today. Doing nothing feels exhausting, and you’re glad that you will at least fall asleep quickly.

You push your tray closer to the door (Maybe he’ll come in while you sleep, and you don’t want to make him have to come too far inside) and decide to get ready for bed. Your bedtime ritual is much simpler than it was when you were living in the rest of the house. Then, Keigo would insist on showering with you and brushing your hair and helping you get into pajamas and--other things, too. The bed was soft and you smelled so nice and after everything, Keigo would hold you until you fell asleep.

Now you don’t have a shower or a brush or pajamas, or anything but yourself, so you dip your fingers into a thin film of water that remains in your cup and scrub them around your face. Then you smooth down your hair and curl up on your side. The concrete is hard and cold, but it’s all you have. When you pull your shirt down over your knees, it almost feels like a nightgown. As long as you close your eyes. You cradle your knees with your arms and try to ignore how thin and frail they feel.

Everything about you, in fact, feels thin and frail. You miss food. You miss the bed. You miss nightgowns and books and the kitchen. You miss--you miss him. The realization makes your stomach twist, or maybe that’s the hunger, and in any case you suppress the notion down. Can’t afford to throw up, when you are barely getting fed. You go to sleep with tears rolling on your cheeks, cleaning away more grime than your fingers ever could.

You’re asleep, dreaming lightly and dimly, when you hear the locks begin their song. Click, click, click, click.

You lick your chapped lips and sit up, too quickly, and the light from the room behind him makes Keigo’s silhouette all the starker as you fight mild dizziness. He has your bucket in his left hand.

You can see him flinch, just slightly, when he realizes you’re awake. He sets the bucket down.

He stares at you. You stare at him.

“K..Keigo,” you say. Your voice feels like a croak. His face turns impassive again. Oh, oh no, you think. It’s another morning of Keigo coming and going and leaving you all alone with nothing but concrete and rice and the wretched hollowness inside.

Without warning, you begin to cry. Full, heaving sobs wrack your body as you begin to spill out words in between helpless cries that come from deep within your chest.

“I’m sorry--I’m sorry.” You can no longer see, tears stinging and painful. Your shoulders ache from the wrenching of your sobs. “I didn’t mean it, please don’t leave me alone anymore. I miss food, I miss the house, I miss---” You look up at him, and his eyes widen in shock as you whisper hoarsely: “I miss you, Keigo.”

In an instant, he’s swooped down to cradle you in his arms. He’s so warm. He smells like sweat and smoke. You bury your head against his shoulder and continue to weep. Your frail hands cling to his jacket so tightly that your skin begins to hurt--you don’t want him to go away.

“I missed you too, (Y/N).” His voice is so soft and gentle and you can’t remember why you hated it so much. “C’mon,” he says, gently leading you out of the room and back into the warm light of the house. Your knees ache with the freedom of standing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

#yandere hawks #yandere bnha #yandere keigo takami #yandere x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

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