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cherienymphe · 3 months

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Teenage Dirtbag IX (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

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summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

The first thing you registered was the most painful pounding in your head.

You didn’t drink often, and when you did, it certainly was never to the degree that you did last night. Your throat felt scratchy, your mouth felt dry, and your eyes felt tight. However, you felt like that last one had nothing to do with the drinking. Bits and pieces from the previous night came back to you, and you remembered crying into JJ’s arms about Rafe.

At the thought of your boyfriend, something tugged at the back of your mind.

You were lying down on an unfamiliar surface, both the fabric beneath you and the smell of the room foreign. It smelled like a mix of weed and ocean water and burnt wood, making your nose twitch, and when you finally peeled your eyes open…you paused.

Kie was knocked out on the chair across from you.

You stared at her for a good while in confusion before it registered that Kie wasn’t asleep at your house because you weren’t at your house. Your lips parted as you slowly lifted your head, eyes roaming over the inside of a house you’d only been in twice. You were still at John B.’s, and there was that tugging in the back of your mind again, something important—yet still unknown—nagging at you.

Much more awake, now, the rest of the night came back to you.

You’d drunkenly confessed the true nature of your relationship to JJ—something you were still conflicted about—and he’d kissed you again. You didn’t know if it was the kiss or the full weight of your confession hitting you, but you remembered stumbling away. You remembered drinking some more, throwing them back at an alarming rate, and ignoring JJ’s concern as he discreetly tried to get you to stop.

You recalled throwing yourself into another drinking game with Sarah and her friends, something that resulted in your head in the toilet. Your attitude had been contagious, Sarah and Cleo and Kie sharing a similar fate. John B. and Pope were high, you weren’t trying to listen to a word JJ said, and you’d passed out on the couch.

You’d passed out on the couch.

You hurriedly sat up at that thought, eyes wide and stomach turning.

You’d briefly wondered what time it was, but it only now registered that light was bleeding in through the window, and it wasn’t the light of the moon. Within seconds your entire body felt overheated, and your heart felt like it was in your throat. Stumbling to your feet, you almost tripped over Sarah on the floor, the loud thud of your foot making her groan.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, frantically looking around for your phone.

You heard Sarah mumble something as you rushed around the room before pausing.

You’d left your phone at Kie’s to make Rafe think you were still over there. You pressed your hand to your mouth, feeling like you were going to be sick, head spinning. It was the next day, and you didn’t doubt that you probably had hundreds of missed calls from Rafe, knowing your boyfriend well enough to know he would only call so much before just getting in his truck.

“Oh my God,” you mumbled again, and by this point, Sarah was waking up.

“What?” she groaned. “What time is it?”

Your stomach wouldn’t stop jumping, and you frantically blinked back tears.

“I need to call Rafe,” you forced out, trying to not be sick.

Sarah wasn’t reacting fast enough for you, sighing and sitting up, blonde hair going every which way.

“What…?”

“I need to call Rafe!”

You hadn’t meant to sound so shrill, Kie making a noise of disapproval as she was forced to wake up. You didn’t even consider that you’d be waking up the whole house, quickly wiping your eyes. Sarah was fully lucid and awake now, hurriedly standing and worriedly eyeing you. She swallowed, pausing for half a second before looking around for her phone.

You only just noticed that JJ was sleeping on the floor closest to John B.’s room, the blond standing as Sarah spotted her phone on the table. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to slow your breathing, but nothing was working. The air felt too thick, and your head felt too spacey, and your fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.

“Y/N…”

You ignored JJ, snatching Sarah’s phone as she handed it to you.

“Hey, I’ll talk to Rafe,” she gently offered. “You just got drunk and passed out. He’ll…”

You didn’t hear the rest of Sarah’s words, quickly making your way outside to the porch. You heard her sigh, Kie’s voice just barely reaching your ears as she asked something. Your hand wouldn’t stop shaking as you held it to your mouth, the other pressing Sarah’s phone to your ear. Your back was pressed to the wall as you sat down, knees pulled up onto the bench. You took a deep breath to try and calm yourself again, but it was in vain.

…because Rafe answered on the first ring.

“Where the hell-?”

“Rafe…”

You softly cut him off, swallowing at the silence that met you. Any remnants of a hangover were long gone the moment you realized you’d slept at John B.’s. The fear of what waited for you when you went home had sobered you up, mind going a mile a minute as you wondered what you were thinking last night. Rafe was so quiet—you couldn’t even hear him breathing—and you felt a few tears escape.

“Rafe-.”

“Where are you?”

The question was simple enough, but you actually felt bile rise in your throat at the thought of the answer. You briefly closed your eyes, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“I’m with Sarah and Kie and-.”

“I didn’t ask you who you were with…” you sank in your seat. “I asked where you were.”

You pressed your fingers to your lips, staring out into John B.’s yard. Your gaze focused on his van as the door opened, Pope scratching his head as he stepped out, and you surmised that he and Cleo had slept in there. Your eyes passed over them and focused on the dock out near the water, memories of what you did out there last night plaguing your thoughts.

“I’m already pissed, so…don’t make it worse by having me repeat myself.”

You pressed your hand to your face, fighting back tears and so angry with yourself for screwing up so bad.

“I’m… I’m at John B.’s.”

The immediate disconnect made more tears escape, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You heard someone step outside onto the porch—joining you—and the silence told you exactly who it was. You didn’t acknowledge him, looking away, and you weren’t sure why. He’d already seen you at your worst last night, but last night was different.

Last night you were drunk and running from your problems by chasing a bottle. Today you were sober and ashamed and wholly afraid of what was going to happen. Someone finally knew, but yet you felt no relief. You didn’t know how to handle someone else knowing why you were so afraid and quiet, right now.

“Is he coming here?”

JJ’s voice was clipped, and you could only nod. Recalling that you had Sarah’s phone, you handed it to him, avoiding his gaze.

“Can you give that back to Sarah?” you sniffed. “…and tell her I’m sorry for snapping like that.”

He didn’t respond right away.

“Y/N…”

His tone had you shaking your head, looking back out into the yard as Pope and Cleo made their way to the house.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered.

You both greeted them as they went inside the house, and from the corner of your eye, you could see JJ lean in.

“Just let me take you back to Kie’s, and then you can wait for him at home.”

You let out a bitter laugh, nodding.

“He’s already on his way…”

That you knew for a fact.

“As bad as things already are, trust me that it’ll be much worse if he gets here, and I’m gone,” you told JJ, finally meeting his eye.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched as he stared at you. There was a huge elephant in the room between you, and for once, it wasn’t the kiss nor your complicated feelings for the blond before you. For two years, you’d been utterly alone in dealing with Rafe’s wrath, and you didn’t quite know how to feel at the worry bleeding into JJ’s gaze.

“You should go inside,” you quietly told him with a shrug. “I can’t imagine what would happen if he knew you guys were here too.”

JJ looked as if he didn’t want to listen to you, but eventually he did, and you were alone again with your thoughts. Even if you wanted to savor the memory of kissing JJ again, you couldn’t. The whole thing was tainted beyond belief, and if it weren’t for him periodically sleeping in your pool house, you would be sure that you’d never have the chance to see him again after today.

It was some time before you heard the familiar rumble of a truck, and you knew that Rafe had wasted no time and had probably run every stop sign just to get here. You glanced over when Sarah joined you on the porch, gaze apologetic as you stood.

“Let me talk to him,” she offered again. “What can he possibly say to a few girls having too much to drink and crashing?”

There was a silent agreement that Rafe couldn’t know about the guys’ involvement.

“You’d be surprised,” was all you said, sighing at Sarah’s pleading look. “That’s nice of you, Sarah, but I doubt it’ll make him feel any better.”

She merely ran her hand through her hair as Rafe’s truck came into view. The sight of it made your heart skip a beat, and the blonde teenager huffed.

“You know you deserve better, right?”

Her comment threw you, and unsure of how to respond, you only sent her a shaky smile.

“I’m serious,” she sneered, walking outside with you close behind. “He treats you like he doesn’t trust you, and instead of just going to therapy…”

Her words became louder once Rafe opened the driver’s side.

“…he’d rather take it out on you.”

“I’m not in the mood, Sarah.”

Rafe was talking to his sister, but you didn’t miss the cold look he fixed you with as he approached you. You shuddered when he placed a hand on the back of your neck the moment he reached you, lips grazing your forehead as he leaned in.

“…and you really have no reason for that. I took care of your girlfriend just fine,” she told him. “We just had too much to drink, and we fell asleep.”

Your boyfriend just hummed, pulling away to hold your gaze.

“Was that before or after the movie?”

His question came out low, so you knew that was solely for you, and when you merely pressed your lips together, Rafe’s nostrils flared. His hand was still on your neck as he guided you to the passenger’s side, only making the odd hum here and there as Sarah tried to plead your case. When he closed your door, your gaze traveled to the house, eyes lingering on the window as if you could see JJ inside.

“Give it a rest, Sarah,” you heard Rafe say as he opened his door. “You don’t think I know that you hate her being with me? Hmm?”

There was a heavy pause.

“I think you could treat her better, yes, but… You make it seem like I’m doing these things on purpose, Rafe!” Sarah hissed. “It was just girls having fun, and we lost track of time! You’re acting like she committed some grave offense instead of just behaving like a normal twenty-year-old.”

Your boyfriend didn’t respond to that, shutting the door in her face, and you reluctantly put on your seatbelt as he started his truck. You leaned your head back as you stared out of the window, savoring the view because this would be the last time you’d ever be on The Cut. At this point, Rafe was never going to let you out of his sight again if he could help it.

Reluctantly, you glanced at him, and your heart sank at the way he absolutely refused to look at you. Even if his knuckles weren’t completely white as his fingers clutched the wheel, you could almost feel the negativity radiating off of him. Against your better judgement, you said something.

“Rafe…”

You were cautious, unsure of how to proceed.

You’d never fucked up this bad before.

“Rafe, I…”

Your words died in the air when he held a hand up, not sparing you a glance. Mentally preparing yourself for what awaited you, you told yourself not to push your luck, sitting back and turning towards the window.

“Please, say something.”

You closed the front door behind you as Rafe made his way to the kitchen, basically ignoring you. Sarah was still at John B.’s, Ward was probably out taking care of business, and there was no telling where Rose was. Wheezie was probably the only one home, and you were only mildly sure of that only because she rarely left her room.

“Why? So you can give me some more excuses for you not coming home?”

You watched him grab a pot, opening the fridge.

“They wanted to smoke a blunt, and Kie didn’t want her parents’ house smelling like weed.”

It was technically the truth, only you didn’t specify who ‘they’ were. Rafe softly laughed to himself, but it was dry, lacking in humor. You watched him place a pack of hot dogs on the counter, filling the pot with water.

“Why should I believe you?”

His question came out quiet, and you swallowed when he glanced over his shoulder.

“You left your car and your phone at Kie’s,” he murmured, back facing you again. “Almost like you wanted me to believe you were somewhere you actually weren’t.”

You touched your forehead.

“That’s not what happened,” you whispered. “We were in a rush, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“Convenient,” you heard him drawl. “Just as convenient as you ‘knocking out pretty early’ the other week too when I went to Charlotte.”

Your heart dropped at that, and you pressed your lips together when Rafe fully turned around, leaning against the counter. He stared you down, and you frowned at him.

“I mean, what are the chances that you’ve done this twice, now?”

“Rafe-.”

“You see where my head is at though, right?” he wondered, gently touching his temple. “You see why I’m looking at my girlfriend and wondering if she’s actually a sneaky bitch.”

You flinched at the insult.

“…and what if it wasn’t even just you girls?”

“Rafe,” you started, stepping towards him.

“What if John B. and Pope were there? JJ?” he sneered, lip curling over his teeth. “What if you and your new little sidekick are lying to me?”

You took a deep breath.

“You don’t believe that,” you whispered. “…because if you did…”

You threw your hands up.

“We wouldn’t be standing here…talking…”

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest, lips downturned as he nodded. He stared at you for a nerve-wracking amount of time, blue eyes intense and unmoving. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and that always scared you more than knowing. When he let out a small sigh after some time, you didn’t allow yourself to feel relief just yet.

“Come here…”

Resisting the urge to hesitate, you did. There was no escaping whatever Rafe wanted to do, only prolonging it, and you expected a slap or a harsh tug on your arm or even a hand around your throat. You did not expect, however, his hand in your hair and another on the back of your neck. A pained gasp was all that escaped you, the events happening so fast that you only gathered your thoughts in time to press your hand into the counter.

Your face was hovering above the pot of boiling hot water, the steam and heat hitting your skin and making you wince. Your other hand came up on the other side, pressing into the stovetop, and Rafe only pressed down harder on your head. You cried out in pain as you fought to push against his hand, and Rafe only moved closer.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the heat making them water.

“It’s interesting how when I’m around or just around the corner, that phone of yours is glued to your hip…as it should be…”

He pushed your face further down, the sound of the bubbling water reaching your ears.

“…but the moment I give you an inch, the moment I try to be nice,” he hissed. “…all of a sudden you barely give it a second thought, and you just leave it wherever you told me you’d be.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, peeling your eyes open and staring into the hot water.

Your hand slid along the counter, hands clammy from fear and nerves.

“How fucking convenient,” he spat, pressing harder against the back of your head.

You could feel tears spilling over just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears from the stairs. Rafe let you go, and you stumbled away from him, backing up into the fridge. Rafe’s entire visage was taut, eyes venomous and jaw ticking as he stared you down. Your eyes were wide, and you tearfully blinked, hurrying to wipe your face just as his youngest sister strode into the kitchen.

She scoffed.

“You’re not done with the hotdogs yet?” she practically whined. “You just put them in the water and boil them, Rafe.”

When he looked at her, his face softened some, and he chuckled.

“My bad, Wheezie,” he smiled. “Y/N keeps distracting me.”

They both looked at you, and you swallowed just as she sighed.

“He owes me hotdogs,” the younger girl told you. “You can have some too, but neither one of us will get any if he doesn’t actually cook them.”

She threw him a look to which he lightly laughed, turning back to the stove. You eyed the pot of hot water, pressing your nails into the counter as you cleared your throat.

“Sorry, Wheez,” you breathed. “I’ll try to keep him focused.”

Your voice was shaky, and when Rafe simply glanced at you, dropping the hotdogs in the water, you pressed your hand to your cheek, trying to cool your skin down.

You rinsed out your tub with trembling hands, watching the pink water swirl down the drain. You hadn’t stopped crying since last night, mostly quiet sniffles the moment Rafe rolled off of you, but you hadn’t been able to keep as quiet the moment he left this morning. With one look at the blood on your sheets, you wanted to throw up, but all you’d managed to do was break down.

You couldn’t take any more pain killers, so all that was left was a warm Epsom salt bath. It was far from relaxing, your sobs echoing around the bathroom as you scrubbed off semen and blood. One look in the mirror had you flinching, and you were never more grateful that your parents were out of town until Friday because you were sure this was the worst you’d ever looked. To make matters worse, you just knew the discoloration under your eye was only going to darken.

You tied your robe tight around you as you left your bathroom.

Only to stop short at the sight of JJ.

Your eyes were wide at the picture before you, the blond man standing in your bedroom. Your lips parted, and you opened and closed them, unsure of what to say or do. However, you quickly decided on something once you realized that he wasn’t even looking at you…but instead the sheets you hadn’t managed to pull off the bed.

“JJ…what…?”

You hurried across the room, throwing your comforter over your bed and facing him, gaze questioning. When his blue eye met yours, it wasn’t the warm welcome you were used to, and you hoped that he would ignore what he saw, but he didn’t. His eyes flitted over your face, drinking you in.

“What did he do to you?” he spat, teeth clenched.

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking around him and eyeing your open window.

“Did you break into my room?”

His expression didn’t change, and accepting that he was going to ignore your question until you answered his, you sighed.

“I don’t want to talk about that, JJ,” you whispered.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” he whispered back, moving closer. “…because you’re going to, or I’m telling Sarah.”

You blinked at him, disbelief filling you, and you scoffed. Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling, falling to sit on the edge of your bed.

“What do you think happened?” you tearfully wondered, shrugging. “I screwed up…and I will be lucky if I can even go pee in a public restroom without him standing over my shoulder.”

Your lips trembled, and you looked away, tears falling. You could feel the blonde’s eyes on you, and you wiped your face.

“What are you doing here, JJ?” you asked in a small voice.

The other guy moved closer, looking down at you, and you swallowed under his scrutiny.

“After the other night and yesterday morning, I had… I had to make sure that…”

He trailed off, no point in finishing because it was visibly obvious that you weren’t okay.

“I saw when you both came home last night, and I climbed up as soon as he left this morning,” he continued. “I really wanted you to be okay.”

His tone sounded defeated, and you wiped your face again. When he touched your face, you winced, and you didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his hand, eyes falling closed when his other hand gently found a home on the back of your head, pushing you to rest your forehead against his torso.

“Where is he?” he asked, voice hard.

“He went to the club with Kelce and Topper,” you murmured. “He’ll be calling every hour or so.”

The ‘or so’ was to keep you on your toes. It was late into the night when he drove you to Kie’s, closely hovering as you got both your phone and your car, truck tailgating you the entire drive home. The moment you’d made it inside of your house, you’d been pushed onto the floor. What commenced was just a blur of harsh kicks and harsh words, and a manhandled journey up the stairs.

The moment Rafe got you into your room, he’d wasted no time in tearing at every article of clothing you had on. Every action—every thrust—was done with the sole purpose to punish you. You hadn’t meant to scream—you rarely did anymore—but it had just hurt so bad that you couldn’t help it. When JJ pulled you to your feet, you curiously eyed him.

He said nothing to you as he pulled your sheets off of your bed, throwing them into a pile on the floor. The look he gave you held a silent question, and you pointed to your closet. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he grabbed a clean set, fixing them on your bed for you, and you felt your throat tighten.

“JJ, you don’t have to…”

You trailed off when he looked over his shoulder at you before continuing the task. When he was done, he moved closer to you, gently taking your arms. He stared at your face with a frown before exhaling.

“You not wanting me to tell Sarah or anyone about this is crazy,” he forced out, jaw ticking. “…but I get it, now. I understand that he’ll…”

JJ took a deep breath.

“I get what’s at stake,” he whispered, eyes looking between yours. “…but you can’t tell me to sit back and do nothing. That’s the tradeoff. You want me to keep quiet, then you let me be here for you.”

You understood where JJ was coming from, and you looked down. Asking JJ to keep quiet about Rafe’s abusive nature was asking a lot, and expecting the younger blond not to worry or help or be there for you in whatever way was asking for even more. It wasn’t really fair, and you reluctantly nodded.

You sat back down on your bed when he left your bedroom, and your mind spun over the predicament you found yourself in. Did…did you have two boyfriends? Is that what JJ was? Or was he simply the guy who treated you well and snuck into your bedroom and kissed you sometimes? It wasn’t right, but then again, the whole situation wasn’t right.

No, you shouldn’t be cheating on Rafe, but Rafe also shouldn’t be hitting you and raping you and hurting you in whatever manner he could whenever he wanted. JJ treated you good, proven in the way he returned upstairs with something cold he’d found in your freezer. His gaze was apologetic as he gently pressed it to your face, and you were unable to stop yourself from wincing.

When JJ sat down next to you, he tugged on you until you were lying down in his lap, looking up at him as he gazed down at you. His free arm made itself comfortable around your waist, and you reached down to cover his hand with yours. You were so used to Rafe’s treatment that you paid no mind to the dull ache between your legs, just thinking about when JJ kissed you again the other night.

It was the last thing that needed to be on your mind, and you closed your eyes.

“You can’t stay long, JJ,” you murmured.

You heard him sigh, although it sounded more like a huff.

“Yeah, I know.”

You felt your eyes burn.

“I don’t think I’ll be going to The Cut again,” you said. “I kind of ruined that.”

You felt and heard JJ lean down, and when his lips brushed over your swollen ones, you opened your eyes. When he pulled away, the blond held your gaze, expression thoughtful.

“That’s okay,” he eventually said. “You don’t have to to see them. We’ll find a way, and…”

He took your hand with his free one.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to you. “You know exactly where to find me.”

Your chest felt warm at that, and you found yourself eyeing his lips. When he leaned down again, you closed your eyes, ignoring how conflicted you felt. You couldn’t go on like this forever, but JJ and his possible place in your future wasn’t something you wanted to think about. In the moment, after being brutally raped by your boyfriend, you just wanted to feel good.

#jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #obx #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction

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reachartwork · 6 months

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how to write fight scenes

many people have told me that Chum has good fight scenes. a small subset of those people have asked me on advice for how to write fight scenes. i am busy procrastinating, so i have distilled my general ethos on fight scenes into four important points. followed by a homework assignment.

Fight scenes take place on two axii - the physical and the intellectual. For the most interesting fight scenes, neither character should have a full inventory of the other's abilities, equipment, fighting style, etc. This gives you an opportunity to pull out surprises, but, more importantly, turns each fight into a jockeying of minds, as all characters involved have to puzzle out what's going on in real time. This is especially pertinent for settings with power systems. It feels more earned if the characters are trying to deduce the limitations and reach of the opponent's power rather than the opponent simply explaining it to them (like in Bleach. Don't do that). 1a. Have characters be incorrect in their assumptions sometimes, leading to them making mistakes that require them to correct their internal models of an opponent under extreme pressure. 1b. If you really have to have a character explain their powers to someone there should be a damn good reason for it. The best reason is "they are lying". The second best reason is "their power requires it for some reason".

Make sure your blows actually have weight. When characters are wailing at each other for paragraphs and paragraphs and nothing happens, it feels like watching rock 'em sock 'em robots. They beat each other up, and then the fight ends with a decisive blow. Not interesting! Each character has goals that will influence what their victory condition is, and each character has a physical body that takes damage over the course of a fight. If someone is punched in the gut and coughs up blood, that's an injury! It should have an impact on them not just for the fight but long term. Fights that go longer than "fist meets head, head meets floor" typically have a 'break-down' - each character getting sloppier and weaker as they bruise, batter, and break their opponent, until victory is achieved with the last person standing. this keeps things tense and interesting.

I like to actually plan out my fight scenes beat for beat and blow for blow, including a: the thought process of each character leading to that attempted action, b: what they are trying to do, and c: how it succeeds or fails. In fights with more than two people, I like to use graph paper (or an Excel spreadsheet with the rows turned into squares) to keep track of positions and facings over time.

Don't be afraid to give your characters limitations, because that means they can be discovered by the other character and preyed upon, which produces interesting ebbs and flows in the fight. A gunslinger is considerably less useful in a melee with their gun disarmed. A swordsman might not know how to box if their sword is destroyed. If they have powers, consider what they have to do to make them activate, if it exhausts them to use, how they can be turned off, if at all. Consider the practical applications. Example: In Chum, there are many individuals with pyrokinetic superpowers, and none of them have "think something on fire" superpowers. Small-time filler villain Aaron McKinley can ignite anything he's looking at, and suddenly the fight scenes begin constructing themselves, as Aaron's eyes and the direction of his gaze become an incredibly relevant factor.

if you have reached this far in this essay I am giving you homework. Go watch the hallway fight in Oldboy and then novelize it. Then, watch it again every week for the rest of your life, and you will become good at writing fight scenes.

as with all pieces of advice these are not hard and fast rules (except watching the oldboy hallway fight repeatedly) but general guidelines to be considered and then broken when it would produce an interesting outcome to do so.

okay have a good day. and go read chum.

#writing #creative writing #writing tip #writing prompt #pro tip!#long post

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 months

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Seal It With a Kiss (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a looting session goes wrong, Astarion and Reader have to face the music and confront their feelings. Whatever they might be.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit

Word count: 3234

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

The light was too bright. And the ground was too hard. And the pillow too tough and lumpy. And why did Y/N feel so hot when it was literally snowing? And, actually, when had it started snowing? From bright blue skies, might she add?

Slowly, haziness dissipated from her eyes, and the world around came into sharp, painful focus. The light was too bright because half of her surroundings were on literal fire. The ground was too hard because she was half on rubble that once was a palace roof, and the tough, lumpy pillow was a rock her head had smashed against, while the snow was ashes flowing down, covering everything, including her, in a grey layer of soot, the sky peeking in from the hole above.

Although her sight was clearing, a sharp ringing pierced her ears. Or was it shouting?

A shadow crossed the sky, and above her, she could see their resident vampiric elf’s mouth moving.

“ – were you thinking?!” Finally, her ears started to clear as well. “You absolute imbecile! Why would you do that?!”

Y/N just groaned in response, as her memories came back in quick flashes. Everyone was arguing about where they should look for another magical artefact, Astarion shooting down what Gale had proposed, Wyll trying to make a sensible plan while Lae’Zel interrupted Shadowheart at any given moment. A deep rumble from the depths of the abandoned palace they were in silenced them all, Karlach throwing them a worried expression. And then the whole building exploded.

On instinct, Y/N had pushed Astarion as far away as she could before the ceiling came crashing down on top of her. It was nothing short of a miracle, she had managed to survive. Bruised, battered, no doubt with broken bones, but alive nonetheless. Maybe she’d have to thank a goddess or two. That was if Astarion didn’t rip her to pieces beforehand with how furious he looked.

Slowly Y/N tried to lift herself onto her forearms, and for all his admonishments, Astarion was quick to crouch down and help her, putting his arms under her pits and letting her rest against his chest.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, noticing a large bannister lying across her leg. “That’s not good.”

“Not good?!” Astarion practically shrieked, his hands tightening around her ribs. “How hard did you hit your fucking head? This is so beyond not good I can’t even think of a level!”

Y/N winced at his tone. “Can you stop shouting, please? Gods, my head is splitting.”

“Oh, is it now? It would be quite the fucking miracle if it wasn’t, seeing as a whole fucking palace just toppled on you!”

“Quit being so dramatic and help get that thing off me! Where’re the rest?”

“Frankly, I don’t fucking care right now!” Astarion gently laid Y/N back down and went to the large boulder.

His arms strained as he lifted the piece of the pillar, her eyes widening at the display of strength.

She sometimes forgot how strong Astarion actually was, how easily he could snap her neck with just a twist of his hands if he so wished while Y/N allowed him to drink from her. But he was always gentle instead, with how he held her nape, fingers soothingly pressing into her scalp and knuckles brushing against her collarbones once he was done in a sweet gesture of thanks.

As quickly as she could, Y/N scooted from under the rubble, Astarion dropping the boulder back unceremoniously, and he was back by her side in a second, an arm wrapping around her waist, so she could lean on him.

“We have to find the others,” Y/N hissed as she stood. Her whole body screamed in pain, but they had to get out of the now-ruined palace, lest another explosion happen.

“They can find their own way out,” Astarion grunted, as he led them towards the exit.

“Astarion!”

“No!” He snapped his head to look at Y/N, and his scarlet eyes held such a desperate gaze in them, that she pinched her lips shut. “I will knock you out if I have to. I am not letting you get hurt again.”

“Astarion, they’re our friends,” Y/N’s voice was gentle. “We have to help them if we can.”

For a moment, Astarion truly looked like he might just throw her over his shoulder and march out of the place. But then he sighed, hanging his head in defeat before looking at her with pain distorting his features. “Why do you always have to be so good?”

Something tugged at her heart. That expression on his face, as if it physically put him in agony to lead them around the ruined palace in search of their companions, as he flinched and tightened his hold on her whenever something crackled, ready to throw his own body atop hers, in case something happened. It wasn’t selfishness, not one bit. Something deeper lay beneath Astarion’s reluctance.

It took them a while to find their party, but luckily no one was injured, and Y/N was the worst one off. Shadowheart was by her side in an instant, giving her a healing potion.

“Should keep you set until we get back to camp.” She patted her shoulder. “I’ll heal you fully once we’re out of immediate danger.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at the cleric.

She was just about to ask Astarion whether he was alright, but the vampire had already detached himself and was glaring at the ground, arms crossed over his chest ten feet away from her.

Y/N couldn’t deny – it stung. He’d been so worried just a few moments ago, yet now he couldn’t even look at her?

Her feet worked on their own accord, moving in his direction, but the way he turned his back to her, told her all she needed to know – he didn’t want to talk.

Pain shot through her heart, and it was definitely not because of the explosion, but Y/N respected his privacy, so she didn’t approach him any further, even though they always, always, walked next to one another.

“We should head back,” she spoke up, eyes remaining on Astarion’s taut back. “Maybe get some rest as well. We still have tomorrow anyway to search this place.”

When Astarion left the palace without even waiting to see if anyone was following, Y/N could do nothing but sigh and depart as well.

The walk to where they’d set up their camp was uncharacteristically quiet, especially from the pale elf’s side. He’d usually fill their travels with mindless talk and sarcastic quips, but this time around, he hung towards the back of their group and was as mum as a grave. He didn’t even comment on whatever Gale was saying, which made Y/N all the more uneasy.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around why he’d become so distant all of a sudden. What’d happened at the palace was nothing unusual. They risked their lives on the daily, saving others and themselves, so why in the world was Astarion so pissed about this, she had no clue.

Karlach leaned to the side, watching as the vampire entered his tent, closing the laces immediately. “Fangs is quite in a bad mood. Anything we should know about, soldier?”

Y/N huffed. “Probably broke a nail or something. In any case – nothing important enough to be acting the way he is.”

“Maybe I should go and – “

She put a palm on Karlach’s shoulder, stopping her, and giving her friend a wry smile. “I’ll talk to him. Better he’s angry at me and only me, not someone else as well. Apparently, I’ve pissed him off as is.”

“You sure?” the tiefling asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. “I think we need to have a talk anyway.”

With a “good luck” from Karlach, she sighed and steeled herself against whatever the vampire would throw her way. She unlaced the ties and lifted the flap to the side. With crossed arms, she entered Astarion’s tent, only to be greeted by his back as he stubbornly kept looking at a book in his hands, not even acknowledging her.

“Are you seriously pouting right now?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence.

“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Well, does brooding involve giving the silent treatment, or can we talk?”

Astarion threw a withering gaze over his shoulder. “What is there you want to talk about? Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

Y/N let out an exasperated huff. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t apologise for saving your life.”

“By putting your own life in danger?!” Astarion spun around, throwing the tome he’d been holding onto his bedroll.

“Comes with the territory.” She shrugged. “You should know how it is.”

“Letting a whole building collapse on top of you is very different to knocking a blade out of the way!”

“Why are you so angry with me?” Y/N raised her voice, matching Astarion’s furious tone. “I saved your life!

“I didn’t ask for you to!”

She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Well, sucks to be you then! Because I was not just going to let you get crushed underneath all that rubble! Your life is just as important as everyone else’s!”

“Not to me! Not when it comes to you!”

Now that shut her up completely, her lips pinched in a thin line, eyes wide in shock. She and Astarion were friends, at least Y/N would've liked to think so. She most definitely had developed deeper feelings than that, but would only admit to it over her own dead body. The thought of Astarion’s rejection made her want to crumple into a small heap, but his reaction put thoughts in her head that maybe, just maybe, her feelings weren’t one-sided.

“What do you suppose I would do if you – if – if,” he stumbled on his words. “If I had to go on without you? If you were no longer with us… with me…”

“Astarion…”

“Do you understand how it felt to see you go down?” He sighed, hanging his head. “When I saw the roof caving in and then felt you push me away before you vanished beneath rubble and dust and ash… I’ve never been more terrified in all of my life, two hundred years of which were spent under the rule of an absolute sadist, where horrors awaited around every corner.”

His eyes bore nothing but pain and despair he’d felt in that moment. “I heard everyone else screaming - Shadowheart calling out, Wyll and Karlach making sure Gale and Lae’Zel were alright but nothing… not a single whisper from your voice. You tell me I’m pouting, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you… how you would look… dead. Your eyes closed forever, your blood spilling out of your body and I… I have to stand and watch as I am unable to save you.

“But I’m alright.” Y/N stepped up to him, taking one of his palms in hers, and squeezing it. “Astarion, I’m alive, and I’m fine.”

“But you almost weren’t!” he hissed, pulling her closer, bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “And all I would have been left to do was wait for the dust to settle and dig out your broken body. You would have condemned me to eternity without you… I just almost lost the person I love... and that fear is something I never wish to experience again.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at such an honest confession. “I umm I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Friendship was one thing, but love? That threw her completely off balance.

“Feel? Felt? What does it matter anymore? Clearly, it’s not like it’s reciprocated.” He scoffed, back the mask of bravado and not caring, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it.

“It matters to me.” Her brows furrowed. “It matters a great deal to me. Why do you think I did what I did, exactly? Because it’s fun? Because I enjoy blocks of buildings dropping down on me? Because it’s such an absolute delight to realise - if I don’t push you out of the way, you will be in direct line of fire, and I might lose you?”

Astarion’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t – I –“

“No!” Y/N pointed an accusatory finger at him. Now she was angry. “You don’t get to play the "I'm in love with you" card and be angry with me. Not if you dare tell me how I feel without asking first!”

“You...” He shook his head, a crease to his brow. “You never indicated you held anything more than… friendly affections towards me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, because I let everyone in this party use me as their personal snack each night. I’d say that should’ve been your first clue.”

“I’d say you’re a full-course meal, my darling, but I understand the sentiment.” And though back was his usual air of sarcasm, a deep vulnerability could be seen shining in his crimson eyes as he weaved a gentle hand to wrap around the small of her waist, brushing underneath her sleep tunic to rest against her skin.

Cold met warm, and Y/N gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. His slender fingers dug into her back as he pulled Y/N closer, their breaths mingling, and if they only moved just a couple of centimetres, lips would touch.

“I just – I cannot stand and watch you throw your life away for someone like me. The thought of your brightness being extinguished because of it… I couldn’t bear it.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Someone like who exactly? Someone who I’ve grown to look at as my dearest confidant? Someone who I know will always tell me the truth and be there if I cannot handle it? Or someone who so deftly has stolen my heart, he cannot even comprehend it’s been his the whole time? Besides, even if it wasn’t reciprocated...” She played with the string of his shirt, “you can’t tell me to be more careful, to not save you when you do the exact same thing.”

“How can I not?” Astarion’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and for once, he seemed to want the moment to reflect what truly lay in his soul. “You make my heart beat on its own. If I had to give up walking in the sun for the rest of my life, I would. As long as it meant you were safe and happy. I’d even gladly go back to Cazador if you were on the line. Without a second to spare.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!"

“But it’s true.”

“Not if I can help it,” Y/N grumbled, tightening her hold on his shirt by his hips, pulling him closer like she had to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s not ever going to get near you. I’ll level the whole of Baldur’s Gate if I have to.”

“And I am being honest when I say, if I had to choose between you being unhurt or me being imprisoned, being used as I was, I would always put you first.”

Y/N was on the verge of tears. “You listen to me you pompous blood-sucking elf – you will do no such thing. Whatever comes, we both will get through it. And Cazador will have his head ripped from his shoulders, but not before I gouge his eyes out, and do every single vile thing he did to you back onto him. I will skin him alive and then throw him in a tomb with nothing but cockroaches. Let him drink his own blood and see how he likes it.” She shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “Your life is not worth less than mine. Don’t you ever dare think that way.”

A watery chuckle escaped Astarion, and his eyes brimmed with silvery tears. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t dare lift his gaze, focusing on their intertwined fingers, resting against where his heart no doubt would have been rattling a crazy rhythm if it still beat.

“If you want to.” Y/N’s reply was as quiet as his question had been, but there was no teasing in her tone.

His eyes flashed for a second, but she didn’t get a full grasp on what it was she saw. Maybe surprise. Maybe gratitude? She couldn’t tell really, all she knew was that the emotion caused a pang to ring to her very core. She’d kill Cazador with her own bloody hands.

“I want it.” He nodded. “More than anything.”

“More than my blood? That first night you almost drained me dry,” Y/N’s words, though true, held no malice, only gentle teasing.

“And how do you know that first time I wasn’t trying to wake up the sleeping princess with a magical true love’s kiss? The feeding just ended up being a bonus.” He brushed her nose with his, and couldn’t help the way his own lips turned up as Y/N smiled.

“Well, this sleeping princess would’ve punched you in the nose, had you awoken her for such silly things. Besides, you did miss my lips.”

Astarion chuckled, relishing the way her body pressed against his. “But I am allowed to awaken you to drink from you?”

“Well...” She nudged his nose with hers now. “Seeing as you become absolutely unbearable when hungry, I think for my own peace and everyone else’s, that does count as a vital reason to rouse me."

Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Allow me to demonstrate then how vital a kiss can be to one’s survival.”

And then their lips met.

She’d never admit it out loud, for his ego would surely grow larger than it already was, but it did feel like a magical kiss of life. Her whole body sang as his fingers slid against the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, almost like Astarion was afraid she’d pull back, but she could never. Not when he slipped his tongue past her lips, and her knees almost crumbled.

Y/N had to tighten her hold on his waist to not completely lose it, and she could feel the smirk growing on the vampire’s face, as he realised just how incapacitated his kiss had made her. He nipped at the bottom of her lip and relished in the small whimper he got to devour.

After what felt like ages, they pulled back, panting, but not going too far as Astarion rested his forehead against hers.

Y/N smiled. “True love’s kiss you say?”

“It feels like it,” he mumbled, allowing himself to indulge in the tender touch of her fingers skimming up and down his back. “Though I don’t know much about… love… I’d like to experience it with you. All of it. The good and the bad that might come with it.”

“I’ll be here,” Y/N promised. “As long as you want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I ask for forever?”

She let out an over-exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “Forever’s quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“Not long enough,” Astarion replied, a smile tugging up his lips. “It’d never be long enough with you.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

He chuckled at that. “I’d say it’s more of a promise, if anything.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“Deal, my love.”

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un-lawliet · 9 months

Text

“Rough Day?”

— In which Gojo cares quietly.

(or i’m having a bad day and wrote this on a whim)

The slamming of the front door was enough of a warning for Gojo, a warning that today’s mission was bad.

The small sniffles that was heard after only confirmed this, and Gojo found his usually boisterous greeting die in his throat immediately.

You were hunched over, wiping furiously at the tears that fell pathetically from your eyes, determined to keep the remains of your composure as the events of today hit you.

You were bruised, battered and bloody. You felt disgusting and probably looked it too, and all you want to do is cry.

You felt him before you saw him, his hands coaxing yours away from your face, a tiny smile dancing across his lips.

“What’s got my pretty girl all upset like this huh?” Gojo’s head tilted forward, kissing the area under your eye softly, gently. Treating you as if you were made of the finest glass, breakable at any rough handling.

“So fucking tired Toru.” You mumbled back, lying your head unceremoniously on his shoulder in defeat, closing your eyes and embracing the feeling of his gentle hand rubbing your back. Your eyes burning with unshed tears.

A kiss on the top of your head, and your clutching the material of his shirt, pleading with yourself not to start sobbing on your doorstep in the arms of the strongest.

But the tiny hitch in your throat made his eye narrow in concern, his movements becoming daintier, feeling you start to shake in his hold.

You were losing a battle of wills and you could only let out a tiny whimper before you began to weep like a child.

“I know baby, I know.” Gojo whispers, his hands finds your face and he separates from you slightly, his blue eyes finding your watery, bloodshot ones.

His heart clenched at the exhaustion seeping from your frame, faltige plaguing your every movement. There was cuts on your face, tiny but plenty, Gojo didn’t like that, his eye brows furrowed and he made a mental note to clean them and kiss them better.

He kisses your forehead, and then the tip of your nose, a silent reassurance that he is there and that he understands.

Because Satoru Gojo, is loud and unabashedly himself, but he loves in silence, in the quiet shadows behind a large grin and a forgoing of common courtesy.

He wipes your tears away, whispering tiny words of praise, telling you stories of how endlessly proud he is of you, and even causing you to giggle as he tickles under your chin cheekily.

He smiles again at you, cooing at your miserable little pout, before he leans forward and captures your lips on his, a tender kiss that tells you that’s everything is going to be alright.

And you’re holding him tightly, as if afraid he’s going to vanish, the very cusp of your sanity seemingly dependent on him in this moment.

Gojo just chuckles, pulling away and leaving one final peck on your lips again, still cradling your face in his hands.

“Silly girl.” He taps your nose with his own, his eyes soft, “I’m not going anywhere.”

end.

( feel free to leave a request <3 )

masterlist here <3

authors note: omfg the toji and gojo fight animated was absolutely brutal.. it was so much worse that the manga ???? my heart was SHAKING - anyway i love u thank u for reading :)))

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #hurt/comfort #jjk leaks

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dancingbirdie · 7 months

Note

Your writing is so good! How about a hurt/comfort where a little bit of time after Cazador's defeat, Tav/reader wakes up screaming Astarion's name bc they had a nightmare that Cazador had managed to take Astarion back. They wake up in terror and practically clings to Astarion

Thanks so much for this writing prompt, anon! I hope you enjoy.

PLEASE take note of the warning tags for this one. The nightmare is pretty violent stuff.

Love in the Time of Nightmares

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Tav

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse and mental abuse, torture, blood/bruises/lacerations, fluff and angst.

Consciousness clawed its way through Tav’s body, scraping against their fractured ribs, digging into the bruises that bloomed across their arms and legs like some twisted watercolor masterpiece. Tav groaned as they came to, eyes straining to make sense of their surroundings.

Wherever they were, it was in near-total darkness. And it reeked of putrefaction. The air was saturated with fetid moisture. It felt like a rotting cloth had been placed over their mouth and nose. Where in the sweet hells were they?

As other senses slowly came online, Tav realized they were lying on their side, curled into a fetal position. A manacle ensnared one ankle, the cold metal biting into their skin. The floor on which they were lying was made of coarse stone. The grit of it snagged against their skin and clothes.

A whimper from somewhere nearby refocused their attention.

In front of them, Tav could barely make out the ghostly pale form of Astarion, half-naked, hunched over his knees on the damp floor. His hands were shackled to a bolt fastened into the stone. His wrists were cut and bleeding from an obvious attempt to slip through the cuffs. He was bruised and battered across his abdomen. And his back.

Oh, his back.

Tav released an anguished cry as their eyes beheld Astarion’s back. The infernal script had been cut into anew. The lacerations wept openly, forming rivulets down his spine.

“Astarion–” Tav croaked, attempting to draw his attention.

A voice from further ahead interrupted them.

“Did you honestly believe you could ever escape me, boy?” Cazador’s snakelike hiss reverberated throughout the cavernous dungeon.

At that voice, that hideous voice, Tav watched, helpless, as shivers wracked Astarion’s body. He began openly weeping, his head bowing over his shackled hands.

The bobbing light of a torch appeared through the gloom moments later, revealing the vile form of his former master. Cazador sauntered forward, closing in on Astarion. His gait was as casual as any nobleman enjoying a springtime promenade. Bile wrenched itself up through Tav’s throat, searing their esophagus along the way.

They watched as Cazador knelt before Astarion. He began petting his silver curls, tutting softly. It was a profane mimicry of comfort. Sobs only wracked Astarion’s body more violently.

The sight enraged Tav. Righteous anger surged through them. They smacked the floor, hard, with the edge of their fist, drawing Cazador’s attention.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HIM,” Tav screamed, vocal cords straining. They lurched forward to grab at the horrible creature but were halted abruptly by the chain pulled taut against their ankle.

Cazador gave a mirthless laugh, rising to full height and acknowledging Tav for the first time.

“You foolish child,” he spat. “You dare presume to command me? Astarion is mine. Mine to punish. To destroy. To do with as I wish.”

“NO. We destroyed you. You don’t own him anymore!” Tav cried, wrenching at the manacle once more.

Cazador threw his head back with a barking laugh. In the corner of their eye, Tav noted how the sound caused Astarion to shrink further into himself. The sight eviscerated their heart. To see their lover beaten down so low.

“I will always own him,” Cazador insisted. “My newest spellwork will see to that.”

With a snap of his fingers, the chains shackling Astarion’s wrists released from the bolt on the floor and flew into Cazador’s waiting hand. He jerked them violently, causing Astarion to lurch forward with a cry, barely catching himself from landing face first on the stones. Another tug, and Astarion was half-crawling, half-dragging behind Cazador as the slavemaster made his way back through the darkness of the dungeon.

“NO! DON’T TAKE HIM! PLEASE!” Tav screamed, eyes tracking Astarion’s form as he disappeared into the gloom. They kicked against the shackle, ripping their skin to shreds.

“ASTARION! ASTARION–”

The next thing they knew, strong arms were banding around their waist. Firm. Solid.

Tav’s eyes fluttered open, taking in their surroundings with a feral sort of awareness. Their heart hammered in their chest. Their lungs heaved with the effort to take in more air.

“Shhh, darling. It’s all right. It’s all right,” Astarion’s low, melodic voice soothed in their ear. His chest was pressed against their back, spooning them. Tav felt his legs intertwine with theirs, drawing them even closer.

Tav clutched at his hands as their attention darted around the room. They were in their bedroom, in the bed they shared with Astarion. In their home in the Underdark.

There was the glow worm terrarium on their night stand. They had fashioned it as a sort of night light, even if it was always “night” here. It limned the room with a gentle bluish hue. And farther away, there was the dresser they both shared, hewn from driftwood Tav had collected above ground. Their collection of paintings - sunrises, mostly - hung scattered about the four walls. The woody smell of incense drifted to their nose, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity.

They were home. Astarion was safe. He was here. They were safe. Astarion was safe.

But the mantra couldn’t stop the tears from spilling. The nightmare had felt so very real. It had attacked every one of their senses. They still felt like they could smell the rotten mugginess of the dungeon if they concentrated hard enough.

“I’m sorry,” Tav sobbed, turning their face into their pillow to muffle their crying. “I didn’t mean to– to–”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love,” Astarion whispered, clutching them tighter around the waist. “You were dreaming. It was just a dream,” he murmured, over and over again, kissing their shoulders and neck in between the words.

“I thought you’d been taken again – that… that he had taken you,” they keened, eyes clenched shut.

“Never, darling. He’s dead. Long gone. And I’m right here. Right here with you,” Astarion affirmed. But Tav continued to cry. Heartbreaking sounds emanated from their muffled form.

“Here, turn over and face me,” he urged softly, unable to bear their anguish a moment longer.

Slowly, he moved Tav so that they were lying face to face in the bed, their noses nearly touching. Astarion lifted a hand to cradle their cheek. The other hand slipped over the dip of their waist. He began rubbing soothing circles against their back.

“See, darling? I’m right here,” he smiled gently, meeting their teary gaze.

Tav nodded mutely, eyes never leaving his. Slowly, they raised a hand to trace their fingers across his brow. Down the line of his nose. Over his cheekbones. Around his lips. Across his jaw. They watched as Astarion closed his eyes, soaking in their touch. He allowed them to continue their ministrations, doing what they needed to in order to feel assured.

“It was a dream,” Tav finally whispered after a few moments of tracing Astarion’s features. Their words sounded more like a question than a declaration.

“It was only a dream,” he swore seriously, moving his hand to cradle the back of their head. He planted a chaste kiss against their forehead.

Tav bowed their head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent of bergamot and clove.

“I love you,” they whispered faintly against his neck, feeling utterly spent from the emotional response the nightmare had created.

“I love you,” Astarion returned. He continued to rub their back, tracing idle circles against their nightshirt.

“Can you tell me a story?” Tav asked, breaking the comforting silence of the room.

“About what, darling?” Astarion replied.

“Anything. Tell me about the last book you read. Or the plans we’re developing for that commune, to rehome all the spawn.”

“Very well,” he agreed, kissing their forehead again. He began describing, in elaborate detail, every room of the commune they were working to build for all of Cazador’s formerly imprisoned spawn. He provided Tav a verbal tour of all of his plans, his ideas for each of the common spaces, his intended partnership with the Myconid colony to cultivate a community garden. On and on he went, pouring out every iota of his ideas – even the ones that were still half-formed imaginations.

His eloquent cadence slowly led Tav back into drowsiness. He listened as their breathing became slower, more even. Finally, sure that they were well and truly asleep once more, he quieted. He took in the peacefulness of their bedroom. Observed his partner sleeping in his arms once more.

It had been three years since Baldur’s Gate. The nightmares still came frequently for both of them. Most of the time, it was he who woke in the middle of the night, needing comfort and assurances from Tav. Other times, like tonight, it was Tav. Astarion wasn’t sure either of their mental scars would ever truly disappear, no matter how long time marched on.

But the life they had carved out for themselves was a beautiful one. Full of life. Full of love. And full of belonging. Try as they might, that was something the nightmares would never, ever, take from them.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #astarion x gn reader #tav x astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 astarion fic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion baldurs gate

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lovelettersforthedamned · 2 months

Note

craving some angst with fluff at the end or like hurt/comfort with peter because im delusional and like to imagine them in my head and in the end it makes us stronger as a couple (i have no idea what im talking about rn) - 🎀

Fight For You

✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 1.9k

✮ summary: when you find peter battered, bruised, and barely hanging onto life, you make a rash decision to help him in a fight against vulture. when you get hurt, your mind brings you to a place of guilt.

✮ warnings: language, violence, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a few kisses, reader overthinks.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ peter parker masterlist

not my gif

The crowd around you couldn’t have been more packed. You’re pushing against the flow of people pushing past you, trying to flee from the scene before you. Any normal person would. But as your boyfriend starts to limp his way towards Vulture, you begin to shove yourself towards him.

Before he left, he gave you a quick kiss and pleaded for you not to follow him. He knew you were safer in your apartment, but of course, you didn’t remain in the safety of your home. You held your phone tight as you scrolled through the live news, tracking down the focal point of the action. That’s where you find yourself standing at a barricade, watching your Peter clutch his side, barely rising to his feet.

You have an iron grip on your phone, your knuckles turning white as you fight the urge to hop over the metal. Police cars line in front of you, acting as a second line of defense. Their guns are drawn, focused on Vulture as he towers over your boyfriend. Peter is exhausted, you can tell by the sway in his movements. And when the winged man knocks him to the floor, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and a quiet plea leaves your lips, “Please, Peter. Get up, get up.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you open them back up, and you wish you didn’t. Peter is still on the floor lying face down as Vulture laughs, walking towards Peter. The urge to shout after him almost escapes your lips before you realize your surroundings, your words stuck in your throat.

With the crowd now clear behind you, you feel isolated. Your focus is entirely on Peter, your eyes never leaving his body. Peter is trying to push himself off the ground, but before he succeeds, Vulture plants his claw on his back, keeping him in place on the pavement under him. “No,” you couldn’t hold back the words from escaping this time. Jumping over the barricade, you barely make it another step forward before two police officers hold you back. “Get up! Please, Spider-Man,” you yell, catching both men’s attention.

“It looks like Spider-Man has a fan!” Vulture turns your head towards you, another full belly erupts from his stomach. You’re thrashing against the hold of the officers beside you while the others stand up straighter at the pivot of the bird’s attention, guns drawn.

You couldn’t care less for the outcome of your actions, you needed Peter to be alright, and if this is what it takes. Then so be it.

The moment Vulture’s foot is lifted off of Peter’s back, you take a breath before it’s stolen away from you again. He’s starting to walk towards you, his eyes trained on you as he approaches. The police begin to fire. The bullets don’t penetrate the metal suit, instead, they fall at his feet.

“You have balls, I’ll admit. But you are incredibly stupid, sweetie,” the officers who were once at your side are now shoved to the ground before he reaches for your throat. His grip tightens when he lifts you off the ground, bringing you to where Peter lies. You’re trying to pry his claws off of you, but in response he squeezes tighter, drawing blood from the sharpened talons of his gloves.

He examines your face before throwing you on the floor next to Peter, landing on your back. You cough before turning to face your boyfriend’s masked face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Reaching up to your throat, you touch the indents on your neck. They’re not too deep, but the blood rushing down your neck makes you lightheaded. And when you glance at your fingers, you sigh when you see red.

Your eyes flutter, oh shit. You bring your hand back to your neck, applying pressure like Peter taught. “Baby–Baby, hey,” he says your name before groaning as he pushes himself closer to you, “you gotta stay awake, okay?”

You barely nod, as you wince at the pain, the adrenaline leaving your system; leaving you with the reality of your injuries. “Do you know her, Spidey? No wait,” he pauses, putting the pieces together, “That’s your lady, isn’t it?”

Fuck. He’s figured you out. You groan loudly, “Wow, captain obvious. Do you have anything else you want to share? Maybe the sky is blue?” You laugh at yourself, the signs of blood loss showing. Turning your head towards Peter again, you smile, “Kick his ass, Pete.”

A second wind comes to Peter when he hears your backtalk towards Vulture. A little reminder that you could very well handle yourself, but the sight of your blood appearing on your hands lit a flame of anger within him. He pushes himself up with haste, he turns to look at you one more time, “Don’t close those eyes!” And in response, you wave your other hand at him.

He makes sure to push the fight far away from you, his senses throwing him into overdrive as he focuses on your heartbeat while throwing punches. If you were willing to throw yourself into a fight defenseless for him, Peter knew he was guaranteed to defend you from death’s grasp.

✯✯✯

You could’ve sworn you only blinked, but the change in scenery caused a wave of confusion to flood your senses. You were in a hospital room, and the smell of the sterile atmosphere along with the cold white lights above you made your head spin. But still, you take a deep breath as you look around. Your body relaxes at the sight of Peter leaning into his hand, his body awkwardly sitting as he sleeps.

There is a dryness in your throat that makes you wince, you try to clear your throat to call out to Peter, but what comes out is a pathetic-sounding wheeze of air. You rasp, “Peter.” Repeating yourself for the second time, his eyes fly open, his heightened senses picking up on your call for him.

He rushes to your side, grabbing your hand softly as he looks down at you, a look of worry apparent in his eyes. You can see his gaze flicker down to your neck, and as you reach up to touch it, he speaks, “I brought you here right after I finished with Vulture. That was about 2 days ago, bug.” He sniffles, he’s trying to hide his emotions as he’s holding back tears. “There was just,” he pauses, his throat tightens, “there was so much blood.”

Your heart breaks at the sight of him in front of you. He won’t let go of your hand as he breaks down in tears. You push yourself to the other side of the small bed, leaving a space for Peter to join you. Tugging on his hand, you clear your throat again, hoping that this attempt at talking is more successful than the last time. “Pete,” your hoarse voice cracks to life, “lay with me. Please.”

He carefully lays down beside you, making the already small hospital bed feel even tighter. His cheek was squished against your shoulder while his arms snaked around your torso. You both needed this after the week you’ve experienced. Peter thought he was going to lose you, and you know that pain. So having the roles reversed pulled at your heartstrings.

A part of you felt guilty. You were the one that gave Peter a reason to worry. Maybe he just needed another moment to get up during the fight. You couldn’t help but think that you were reckless; just another burden for Peter to carry, especially when you throw yourself into danger like that. While laying in bed with him, you nuzzle into him a little more, trying to hide the tears that are threatening to spill past your lash line.

How could I be so stupid?

Your ear can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. The pattern somehow makes your guilt feel worse. Maybe it’s because of your uneven breathing, or maybe the wetness on Peter’s shirt, but he pulls his head back, craning it down at you. And when he sees you trying to conceal your quiet sobs, his hands are immediately on the sides of your face.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you cry, “I’m an idiot for running to you like that. I made everything ten times worse!” You’re hysterical. You can’t stop the tears that rush down your cheeks, landing into Peter’s palms.

You made Peter’s biggest fear come true.

And for that, you couldn’t apologize enough. “Hey, hey, hey,” he gently says your name, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He tries to pull you back to reality, grounding you in any way he can. His eyes are searching for yours behind your tears. “Baby,” he starts, “you’re incredibly selfless, I knew that since the moment I met you. You would go to the ends of the earth for a stranger if you could. That’s just who you are, and I’d be evil to ask you to change that about you.”

You were able to take a breath, trying to calm yourself down. Peter’s kind words eased your overthinking, causing a wave of embarrassment to wash over you. You felt stupid for an entirely different reason. You knew that Peter would never be too angry at you for doing what you thought was best for him, but it still affected you in an unfathomable way. “I love you,” you wipe your damp eyes before looking into his.

Peter grins before pressing a smiley kiss into your lips. You take a deep breath as your lips meet, a wave of euphoria floods your senses. If there was one thing Peter could do, it was make you feel like a teenage girl all over again. He filled your stomach with butterflies every time he kissed you.

Pulling away, you smile back at him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of this stupid cramped bed,” you look around, “and while we’re at it, I hate hospitals.” Peter laughs at your sudden discomfort with the surroundings. “Wait,” you pause, looking at him, “did you take me here in your suit?”

“Is that really what you want to know right now? Not how I absolutely destroyed Vulture?”

“Mmm, no,” you laugh.

He shakes his head at you, giggling, “Yeah, I brought you here in my suit. Figured it was faster than an ambulance.” Your eyes are moving, as you piece together the story before groaning. Peter’s extremely confused at the sounds coming out of your mouth, he playfully shoves your shoulder, “What’s wrong now?”

You sigh, “I wish I could’ve seen everyone’s faces when Spider-Man carried a girl bleeding from her neck in here.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. He lifts himself off the bed, not before you stop him, a pouty look on your face. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get out of here,” he lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “I think we have like ten minutes before someone will notice you’re missing.” Peter grabs your clothes, and tosses it to you, “Let’s get you home, bug.”

✮ author's note: hi all!!! just a little hurt/comfort to spice up your tuesday night! i had a blast writing this because im a sucker for hurt/comfort and angst:p. thank you to the lovely 🎀 anon for this request! my asks/inbox is open!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you see something you like.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #fluff #marvel #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #peter parker hurt/comfort #peter parker angst

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hellfireghoul · 1 year

Text

Approval

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

Summary: You've been partnered up with Leon, much to both your dismay, on the mission to rescue the President's daughter from a deadly cult located in Spain. Leon's constant jabs to undermine you really start getting under your skin and you finally confront him about it.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Pure smut with little plot. Slight degrading??

Words: 4.1k

Notes: Okay so I haven't written smut in a long time so bare with me, this is probably fucking awful but I cannot stop thinking about this pixelated man, the brain rot is too real. Okay enjoy

You wondered if he’d ever look your way again. You wanted nothing more than for him to tell you you’d done a good job. Or to maybe compliment your skills. Just once.

It incensed you that you felt this way, that you wanted the approval of someone so cocky. You didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone. You’d gotten where you were from years of gruelling hard work and training, and it infuriated you that you could be left feeling this way over a man you barely knew. If you were hearing this story from a friend, you’d laugh at them. At the sheer neediness and desperate desire for approval. From a man no doubt. It was pitiful.

Nevertheless, you found yourself pining for that approval. Making sure you were on your A game even more than usual. You’d been assigned the task of rescuing the President’s daughter, yourself and Leon Kennedy being the only two people entrusted enough to deliver on such a task. It seemed Leon had a hard time believing why you were chosen to accompany him.

The sly comments had begun from day one, as soon as you were deployed. You had met previously of course, but only briefly around the office and he’d never even really acknowledged you. Naturally, you were thrilled when you’d been paired with him. The arrogant agent that never spoke a word to you, great.

You took it upon yourself anyway to introduce yourself properly to Leon as you boarded the helicopter, he’d simply nodded at you but didn’t say anything. You’d pressed for further conversation on the flight, and he’d simply commented that he ‘wasn’t aware you were up to a level to be on this type of mission’.

The fucking cheek.

For the first day, it had been a constant battle of you poking at him to get his attention. Not even because you wanted it, you were just baffled at how someone you were spending your every waking second with could be so indifferent. So uninterested. You were lying if you said your ego wasn’t a little bruised. The few comments he did make however, were to undermine you.

“Your gun needs a reload.” He’d murmur, as you’d just finished taking down two ganados single-handedly.

“You not gonna pick that up?” He’d commented, gesturing to your combat knife strewn on the ground in the midst of you both fighting. You’d merely scoffed at him, shaking your head and shoving it back into its pouch with more force than necessary.

Now, the two of you were holed up in a decently sized abandoned house. It was day two, and Leon had barely spoken more than a few words to you, much to your utmost annoyance. You were exhausted, having been on constant alert all day, taking out some of your frustrations perhaps on the ganados. You’d gathered some intel on where Ashley Graham was being kept, but right now, the weather was absolutely horrific and you had no way to access her. You’d have to wait it out. You watched from the floor as Leon barricaded the front door of the house with a battered bookcase, your eyes glancing over his toned arms, causing you to swallow thickly and avert your gaze.

“Little help would be nice.” Leon uttered, a final shove ensuring the bookcase fully covered the door.

“I’m surprised you would entrust me with such responsibility. I mean, I’m clearly not capable enough.” You said, venom laced in your tone as you stood up from your seat on the floor. Leon, to your dismay, didn’t react. This only served to infuriate you more. You strode over to the window, shouldering another worn piece of furniture in front of it, he came over to help, but you’d already managed by the time he’d got to you.

“I got it.” You muttered, sulking off to cover the other window. “Unless you know, I didn’t do it right. Maybe you want to check it.”

Leon audibly groaned at your sarcastic words, and you seized his tiny reaction and ran with it.

“No seriously, what is your problem?” You span round.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ve been undermining me from the minute you set eyes on me. Some niceties do go a long way you know.”

“I’m not here to make friends, sweetheart.”

You had to stop your jaw from falling slack at his choice of words. You were enraged at his audacity.

“Sweetheart? You barely speak to me and now you have the audacity to start calling me sweetheart?” You scoffed in disbelief at the arrogant man standing before you. His stern features didn’t so much as falter at your words, instead, he clenched his jaw and took two paces towards you.

“We have a job to do, if you don’t like it, you’re more than welcome to be dismissed.” He spoke in a dangerously low tone, his face now inches from yours. The tension in the air was almost palpable, and it shocked you how your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your body flush from head to toe. You’d always found Leon attractive, sure, but his arrogance seemed to turn you off to any idea of him in that way. Now however, your mouth went noticeably dry and your head spun as he was inches from touching you. Your entire body felt as if it was on fire, waiting for something to happen. Expecting him to make a move. Instead, he pulled away, leaving you almost whimpering.

“That’s what I thought.” Leon stated, his face neutral as you watched him back up a few paces in disbelief. He headed towards the moth-eaten sofa and the equally tattered chair, settling himself in the armchair with his pistol fully loaded in his right hand.

“Get some sleep, big day tomorrow.” Although his face didn’t display it, you knew he was feeling unbelievably smug.

He was playing a game, one you were now set on winning.

Ashley Graham was exactly how you’d envisioned the President’s daughter to be. Preppy, innocent-eyed and slightly entitled. You watched in irritation as Leon played the hero, catching Ashley perfectly from the church window and you fought not to roll your eyes into the back of your head, aware there were more pressing issues at hand as the sound of ganados snarling rumbled beneath you. You climbed out next, hovering on the window sill and gaging how to land.

To your surprise, Leon offered out his hand. You shot him a look, opting to jump out of your own accord, landing perfectly at his feet with a satisfied smirk you couldn’t hide. The three of you hurried around to the graveyard that preceded the church doors, you ahead, Leon behind and Ashley sandwiched in the middle to ensure maximum security. You drew your pistol as you fought through some of the enemies, dodging and shooting where needed. As you fled through, you came to an opening just before a wooden bridge. Ganados fled in from every direction, torches and pitchforks at the ready, screaming and ready for blood.

You paused in your tracks, desperately searching for the best way forward until Leon yelled, “This way!”

He’d rushed forward, over the wooden bridge and that’s when you saw a familiar face gesturing you inside the house ahead. You and Ashley followed Leon in hot pursuit, following him as he ushered the two of you inside and began bolting the large wooden gate in front of the house.

“You again?” You said, pondering the familiar face in front of you. The dark haired man before you, you and Leon had met the day previously, on the first day of your deployment. He had left the two of you entangled in a compromising position, much to both of your disgust.

“Listen, about the other day-” The dark haired man began, but Leon abruptly cut him off, his fist pummeling on his chest and pressing him against the far wall.

“Yeah, about that. Who are you? Talk. Now.” Leon growled.

The man introduced himself as Luis, and specifically locked his eyes on you.

“And what about you?” Luis smirked, seemingly not interested to learn anyone else’s name in the room. You were about to answer, until a loud bang made both you and Leon spring into action, eyeing the windows to locate the source of the sound.

“Shit.” You hushed under your breath, the locals having broken the previously bolted gate wide open and now advancing on the house.

“No time for introductions.” You said casually, as you hauled your shotgun off your back.

“Ashley, hide.” You instructed the blonde girl, and she nodded nervously.

“Here, help me.” Luis called to Leon, and the pair hauled a battered wardrobe over, revealing a hole in the stone wall where Ashley could hide away. She reluctantly crawled in, and the three of you readied yourselves for the incoming attack.

Snarling surrounded you as the ganados began breaking their way in through long ago smashed windows. They toppled in, one by one, some of them still sporting pitchforks and shovels. You got to work, making good use of your shotgun and knife, thinning the herd considerably but as fast as you did, more seemed to emerge.

“There’s too many!” You yelled.

“Stand your ground!” Luis called back, shooting an enemy directly in the eye from a decent distance, earning a ‘Phew nice shot!’ from yourself.

Luis shrugged and grinned devilishly, and you felt a familiar pair of icy blue eyes boring into you for a brief second. A flurry of gunshots, flash grenades and broken knife blades later, the house seemed safe. The hoard seemingly ran dry, the only noise to be heard outside was that of the wind and heavy rainfall pattering on the ground.

“Jesus Christ.” You huffed quietly, and bent double, leaning your palms on your thighs in an attempt to regain your breath.

“Are you okay, miss?” Luis was at your side in an instant, offering you his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” You sighed as you took Luis’s hand. You were suddenly aware that Leon was glaring at the two of you again.

“Actually, Luis. I never did get the chance to introduce myself properly. I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said, softly as you looked up at him innocently through your eyelashes.

“No, the pleasure is all mine.” Luis said slowly, and with that he brought the hand he was still holding to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on the back of it. You blushed ever so slightly, and smiled, feeling Leon’s glare absolutely boring into your soul. There was a small pause, your eyes still lingering on Luis until Leon broke the silence.

“Ashley, you can come out now.” Leon almost growled, heaving the wardrobe himself with a grunt to free the girl.

“Hey man, I would’ve helped you with that.” Luis stepped forward in an attempt to help, still not releasing the hold on your hand, but the job had already been done. Ashley emerged looking somewhat disheveled from being holed up in the dark. Her eyes immediately darted to Luis holding your hand still, and a small smirk creeped on her face.

“Making friends are we?” She grinned, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” You smirked.

“Let’s get moving.” Leon murmured as he brushed past you and Luis for the door.

The four of you headed south, and that’s where Luis left you, to your great protest. You were only just starting to have fun. Leon’s eyes narrowed him suspiciously as he left, insisting that he didn’t trust him. He tapped his radio, waking up the comms system and getting through to your agency assistance.

“Condor one to roost, baby eagle is secured.” Leon spoke firmly but quickly down the comms system, as you and Ashley stood waiting behind him, attempting to shield yourselves from the torrential rain.

“Great job Condor one, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. The weather is too bad for us to deploy the chopper, it’s too risky. Are you able to hold out till morning?”

The voice traveled to yours and Ashley's ears, and Ashley shot you a worrying look. You didn’t alter your expression, not wanting to worry the girl, after all, it was your job to protect her.

“Copy that. Condor one out.” Leon pressed the button on his receiver hard and inhaled deeply.

“Back to the house?” You suggested, your voice slightly raised in an effort to be heard over the rain. Leon nodded, reverting back to his usual silent self.

The house, although abandoned and unkept, was a welcome sight for the three of you after the trek in the horrendous weather. It was a relief just to be sheltered from the rain. Ashley immediately slumped down on the sofa you had slept on just last night, and you made yourself busy by lighting a few candles across the room, to allow for a tiny bit of light.

“Hey, don’t light too many of those. We’ll draw attention to ourselves.” Leon instructed, causing you to roll your eyes as you blew out the match after lighting the last candle you’d intended to burn.

“Not stupid, remember?” You jabbed, and you heard Leon give a small sigh as you set yourself down next to Ashley.

“There’s a bed upstairs Ashley, the rooms all boarded up but there’s no access for anyone to get in from the outside anyway. You’ll be safe in there, plus you know where we are if you need us.” You said softly, and Ashley nodded, slowly getting to her feet.

“I can’t thank the two of you enough for what you’ve done.”

“Don’t mention it.” You reassured her.

“Just doing my job.” Leon added, and you don’t know why but even this irked you. The fact he didn’t say we, as if he and he alone single-handedly saved Ashley from that church. Leon offered to show Ashley upstairs, and you scoffed as he wrapped his arm around her, still irritated at his prior comment. It was evident that whatever you did wasn’t good enough. You could easily hold your own, you’d worked your way from the ground up in this job, the only other person the President himself entrusted with this mission. But yet he still treats you like you’re a dumb and inexperienced, an inconvenience nonetheless.

“What was that for?” Leon’s voice emerged from the darkness as he made his way back down the stairs, startling you out of your thoughts.

“What was what for?” You fired back, sitting up straighter on the sofa, your eyes never leaving him as he made his way near the front door to push the bookcase in front of it.

“You don’t think I heard it? C’mon Y/N. That pathetic scoff you gave out just now. So unprofessional.”

“Oh, I’m unprofessional? At least I’m not the one flirting with the objective.” You hissed back, careful to not let Ashley overhear you. As much as you were irritated, a small part of you secretly got a kick at the fact he was actually arguing back. It beat his prolonged silences and poker face.

“You call that flirting? Then what would you call Luis goggling at you like he was earlier? And you lapping up every minute of it?”

Jackpot. You knew he’d hated it. His jealously was seemingly the one thing he couldn't hide. But the question remained, why? As far as you could tell, this man hated your guts. Or was that indifferent to you, he couldn’t quite care less about what happened to you. But on the other hand, he had ample opportunity last night to make a move on you if he'd have wanted to. Hell, he could’ve had you bent over this very couch, your legs spread apart as his hips snapped into you, if he'd so desired. But he didn’t. So what was the end game here?

“And if I was enjoying Luis’s advances, what’s it to you Leon? And don’t feign professionalism, we both know you’ve had your fair share of ‘action’ shall we call it? On jobs.” You snapped, you were now on your feet and took a few steps towards him, folding your arms tight to your chest.

“I’m not following.” Leon answered, mirroring your actions of folding his arms tight to him. Your eyes involuntarily glazed over his arms once again, being distracted momentarily by the sheer size of them and the muscle tone.

“Ada Wong. Need I say more?” This seemed to shut him up, and you weren’t sure if you were correct in thinking his face looked a little more flushed than before, it was hard to tell in the dim candlelight. You knew this was a low blow, the entire agency practically had heard the rumors about Leon’s involvement with her, and how she had used him. You feared you had gone too far for a moment, his silence raising a slight level of internal panic. You advanced further forward, sighing and a pang of guilt jolted through you.

“Leon, I’m sorry. That was too far, I-”

You were interrupted by his lips crashing into yours, and his hands firmly cupping your face as he kissed you deeply. Shock froze you to the spot for a second, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into his touch as his fingers wove into your hair. You pulled away first, breathless and taking in the sight before you. Leon was panting too, his lips red, swollen and glistening slightly from being on your mouth.

“Leon, what are you-”

But you were cut off once again, his mouth re-connected with yours as he kissed you with such ferocity it almost took your breath away. One hand snaked down your body to your waist, pulling you towards him with a firm grip and the other remained entangled in your hair. He gave your strands a firm pull, causing your head to jolt back which allowed him access to your neck.

“Do- you- ever- shut- up?” Leon breathed against your neck between sloppy, open mouthed kisses that caused you to gasp involuntarily. You, for once, were speechless. The only word you could manage was his name in breathless whispers and gasps as he kissed down your neck and to your chest. The hand that was pressed into your hip began making its way up your stomach under your shirt towards your breasts. His hands were cold against your flushed skin, making you gasp as he massaged your chest, your nipple perking up at his touch. He pecked at your neck still, but quickly stopped causing you to sigh as his blue eyes met yours.

“Is this okay?” He asked, earnestly and with the softest tone you had ever heard emanate from his mouth.

“Yeah.” You managed to breathe, and just like that, Leon hooked his arms underneath your thighs in one swift motion, lifting you off of the ground so your legs were wrapped around his waist. You gasped in complete shock as Leon practically threw you down on the couch, his lips were immediately on yours again as you lay flat on your back. He pulled away as quickly as he’d connected, and you moaned slightly at the lack of contact. Leaning back to pull his t-shirt over his head, his hair fell just perfectly out of place as he hovered over you, pupils blown out in lust as his gaze never left yours. You felt him harden against your thigh as he returned to kissing your neck, and you instinctively reached between the two of you to palm him through his trousers. Leon grunted against your ear, but quickly grabbed you by your wrist and pinned the offending hand above your head.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. Gotta teach you your lesson first.” Leon murmured in your ear, and you gasped as his free hand wandered south, silencing your desire to ask further questions.

His hand easily slid past the waistband of your trousers, his fingers sliding to your sensitive spot with ease causing you to hiss at the sudden contact. Leon sat back up on his knees suddenly, unbuttoning your trousers and sliding them down your legs. You lifted your hips briefly as he did the same with your underwear, and you now lay bare in front of him.

“God, look at you.” Leon whispered, taking you in and how soaked you were for him. “Such a pretty girl, all worked up like that just for me.”

Leon gently traced your inner thighs, getting closer to where you desperately needed him to touch you. You were sighing and whimpering as he missed every spot you needed him to be.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, feigning innocence and all you could muster was a weak moan in reply. Suddenly, he plunged two digits deep inside you and you cried out at the sudden full feeling. He clamped his free hand to your mouth, hissing at you to shut up. You pathetically whimpered against his palm, as he massaged your sweet spot, causing you to writhe beneath him. He pumped his fingers at an unrelenting pace, and the all too familiar feeling in your stomach began building with intensity. You threw your head back as his thumb circled your clit, threatening to push you over the edge until… Nothing. He stopped. His fingers withdrew and your head shot up in absolute despair. He removed his hand from your mouth and a smirk was tugging at his lips.

“What-wha?” You breathed, the ache settling between your legs and tears almost forming in your eyes at the lack of release.

“Leon, what-” You continued, your eyes searching his face for an answer. You thought maybe for a moment there was danger. Leon leant down towards you, his mouth inches away from your ear, his breath making your skin prickle.

“As I said, gotta teach you your lesson.” Leon hummed lowly in your ear, and you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated moan against him. Before you even had a chance to process what he’d said, his fingers were deep inside of you once more, causing you to gasp once again and he chuckled smugly against you.

“Leon, please… Please.” You begged pathetically as he pumped two fingers into you, you felt your release building once again as fast as it had before. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had you unraveling beneath him, a writhing mess of pants and moans of his name.

This was exactly what he had wanted. You’d been giving him attitude since you’d been paired together, and this had finally put you in your place. Leon had always been interested in you, and this was exactly what he was afraid would happen. He didn’t want to compromise his professionalism, which is why he thought it best to keep you at bay by being less than conversational and pleasant. What he didn’t count on was your attitude turning him on so fucking much. The constant challenges and jabs. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Right now, all he could hear were your soft moans of his name and it was driving him crazy.

You were right on the edge, and you almost cried out as he repeated the same as before, removing his fingers at the very last second and leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

All you could manage was a string of his name and various protests. He simply laughed smugly at you, and if you weren’t so worked up you would’ve killed him.

“You have to ask next time, sweetheart.”

You nodded weakly, your eyelids heavy as tears of sheer frustration coated your lashes.

“Yes, Leon. I’ll ask I promise-” You whimper, and he chuckles again darkly as you struggled to form a sentence. Your hips were unrelenting, attempting to chase some kind of release, and he pinned you down in place before sinking his digits in again, continuing at that same detrimental pace that had you struggling to vocalise anything but his name. You felt it again, the familiar build in your stomach.

“Can I? Leon, p-please-”

“Can you what?”

“Leon-” You couldn’t verbalise your thoughts, your brain a jumbled mess with only one thought running through it.

“Use your words.” He commanded, still slamming his fingers onto your sweet spot causing you to see white.

“C-Can I please cum?” You managed to force the words out, and as soon as you asked, he approved your request. You allowed yourself to fall apart beneath him, your legs shaking and eyes shutting as you’d finally been allowed the release you’d been desperately chasing. You clenched around his fingers as he fucked you through it, only stopping once you began pushing him away from overstimulation. A shit eating grin spread across Leon’s features as you lay there, completely high on just him.

“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

It seemed you’d finally won his approval after all.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #re4 #resident evil 4 #i am not okay #an unhinged human being

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ebbaskz · 7 months

Text

are you bored yet? | h.hj x reader (a,f)

masterlist

pairing : hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

content : established relationship, insecure!y/n, cutest bf ever hyunjin, lots of self-doubt, angsty with a little fluff at the end

word count : 1.7 k

“but i can’t help from asking ‘are you bored yet?’ ”

The cold pattering of the shower onto your skin has not encouraged the effect you had been hoping for.

You had hoped that the ice-cold water would bring you back to Earth for just long enough that you could do some chores that needed to be done, but in reality, you were now stood under the running water, zoning out into an infinitesimal space of self-destruction in your mind.

The last few weeks have consisted of a constant battering and bruising of your self-worth. But all of it was caused by your own insecure thoughts.

Hyunjin has been nothing but the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, carrying you in his heart so gently as if you are the most precious thing that has ever existed. He has cared for you these past few months of dating in ways nobody else has ever even attempted to care for you.

It’s honestly a picture-perfect relationship in everyone's eyes,

except for yours.

While dating someone who might as well be considered an angel who has fallen from the sky, the floods of insecure thoughts multiplied as the months passed.

He could do better.

They are all looking at you two differently. They think you don’t deserve him.

Why would he pick someone like you?

These thoughts have led to your current predicament in the freezing shower, a useless attempt to bring back any sanity to your discouraged self. You see how this attempt is ultimately futile, and you turn off the water stream, quickly drying off and stepping out of the shower just to plop down on the floor of your bathroom, leaning against the wall.

You haven’t seen nor really talked to Hyunjin in 12 days, an insanely long time considering how often you two would call or have coffee dates together in the early mornings of the day.

He has sent a few questioning messages about where you have been or how you are, to which you would respond with such a false sense of happiness, saying that you were ‘okay, just busy’ in the least amount of words possible.

That was bullshit, and even you knew that, but the thought of facing him now after spending hours lying in bed thinking about how horrible of a partner you are for Hyunjin sounds excruciating.

Avoidance isn’t a forever option, but right now, it’s the option that works best for you.

Until the ringing of your phone begins to sound. The unique chiming is one that you had specifically set for Hyunjin so you would know to always answer that call.

You think you would rather do anything than answer that call right now.

The ringing continues to go on. You are not even making a single movement towards your phone, just letting it ring and ring up on the bathroom countertop.

You close your eyes and rest your head back up against the wall, silently praying for the ringing to finally end so you can go back into your delusional fantasy land where you will never need to talk to Hyunjin.

The phone eventually stops ringing, but it is replaced by an erratic knocking on the front door of your apartment.

You slowly stand up, still wrapped in your towel, and walk towards the front door, carelessly letting the water fall off your body to form a trail following you to the door.

You stand in front of the door, not moving to open it, as you already know who’s behind it.

If you were wrong, then you would have no clue who it-

“Y/n? Are you home?”

Your guess was right. It’s Hyunjin.

You knew that this little game of hide and seek wouldn’t last long considering the type of guy that he is, caring about you so deeply that he would take the subway at 11 pm to make sure you were okay.

Yet, you still don’t open the door. You don’t know what you would say to him.

He still deserves better. Ignoring him is for his own benefit.

“Baby, I know you are there. Please just open the door. I want to see you…”

Shit. You thought you would be stronger than this but the next thing you know you are opening the door at the sound of his pleas.

The sight of him kills you. His face is flushed a deep red and his hair is tousled due to the extremes of the late autumn weather. A quick look to his hands shows a small bouquet of flowers and a small bag from a local bakery, likely containing your favorite pasty that they make.

He quickly throws himself into you, almost dropping what he’d been holding. The hug he envelopes you in makes you feel so incredibly guilty for ignoring him.

“Why are you here?” You ask while moving a little away from the hug to see his face clearly.

“I missed you so much. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lifts his free hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, “I just haven’t seen you in so long so I figured a surprise visit with some of your favorites would help relieve you from some of the stress of your busy schedule.”

Honestly, you wish you would just get swallowed up by the floor right now. Hearing him care so much after you have been lying to him for almost two weeks was a wild punch in the gut for you, the guilt almost unbearable.

And because of this, you move out of Hyunjin’s hold as tears start to stream down your face.

His face morphs into one of confusion and concern as he figured you would be happy to see him rather than sad.

“Hyunjin, i really think you should go home. It’s late,” you say, barely able to say this without your voice entirely failing on you.

“What? Are you okay? I’m not going home,” He steps further into your apartment closing the door behind him and setting his gifts on the floor before approaching you, waiting for you to seek comfort in him as you normally do.

But this time, you don’t move toward him. Rather, you take another step back as you avoid eye contact with him, not being able to deal with the hurt in his eyes. “I’m just not feeling well right now, Hyunjin. Thank you for coming to check up on me, but you should leave.”

“Stop calling me Hyunjin,” he says while walking further toward you so he can lift up your face so you will meet his eyes, “You never call me Hyunjin. Please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something, baby?”

God, you wish he wasn’t the absolute sweetest soul in the world. Of course, it wasn’t because of him. He could never do anything wrong to you.

“No, it’s not you,” you quickly spill out, not wanting him to delve any deeper down that hole, “but it’s definitely because of me.”

He gives a confused quirk of his eyebrows and a sort of sad look in his eyes, “What do you mean? You haven’t done anything.”

“That’s exactly it, Jinnie. I haven’t done anything. I just don’t understand why you are here to see me when I’m just me. How are you not bored of me yet?” This comes out straggled through your sobs, and you are practically unable to get out the entire thing.

A quick look into his eyes immediately calls out every one of your idiotic insecurities to be horribly wrong as his care for you is reflected back to you.

“What are you even saying, baby?” He starts to tear up at your admission of conscience, feeling horrible himself for not treating you better (as if he wasn’t already treating you like a goddess beforehand). “I will never get bored of you. You are my everything, Y/n. My happiness. My comfort. My love.”

“But Jinnie-“ You try to speak out to stop him from continuing.

“No. There are no ‘buts’ here. I am here for a reason, baby, because I love you so much that I was worried sick that work had been stressing you out too much with how busy you’ve been. I hated thinking about you being miserable, so I came to see you. I missed you, and I wanted to talk to you. I love you, Y/n. Does that really seem like I’m ever going to be bored of you?” Hyunjin proclaims this with his full chest, reaching and holding onto your hands so tightly just to get his point across.

You don’t think you have ever been loved as well as Hyunjin loves you. He truly, unconditionally loves you with everything that he is able to give you.

You shatter the glass pane of insecurities, pushing past those insignificant thoughts to realize that you are more than lucky to have this great of a man here to love you. You run into his arms, holding him in the tightest hug you could give. “I’m so sorry, Jinnie. I love you, too, so so so so much.”

Hyunjin breathes out a deep, relieved sigh as he reciprocates the hug. He knows you have struggled in your past with feeling insecure, but he never thought you would ever feel that way when being with him.

He gives you time to get what you need from this hug until your grip on him loosens a little. He takes the initiative this time and pulls out of the hug, transferring his admiration for you from a hug into a deep kiss that takes you by surprise.

It’s a long kiss, one that you both need. It’s a shared sign of your love for each other as you both sigh into this kiss, revelling in the affection and warmth of the other.

After breaking the kiss when needing to breathe, you and Hyunjin look at each other. This is when you truly realize how enamoured you are with him, which you can see in his eyes is exactly how he’s looking at you, with only pure love.

“Thank you, Hyunjin. You are my prince.”

He laughs airily at this but responds, “Anything for you, my princess.”

You know that these insecurities will eventually come back, but now you know that your prince will come in to swoop you up and take you away from that evil into a land of happiness and love.

a/n : i’m sorry but hyunjin is just so boyfriend-coded that this needed to happen. this song is so good that i just had to use it as inspo. as always, requests are open and lmk how i did! - eb

#Spotify #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz fanfic #straykids fanfic #hyunjin angst #skz angst #hyunjin fluff

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mitsies · 7 months

Text

❊ one more time! - michael kaiser . . kaiser thinks that he was destined to meet you in this lifetime.

it's january when kaiser firsts asks you out. and it's january, when, in response, you laugh in his face and decline.

he'd met you in a coffee shop. your aunt's coffee shop, to be specific. he'd been a regular for a while but had never seen you there before. sitting at a booth in the back, by a window, rare winter sunlight kissed your cheeks and bathed you in a brilliant soft white light.

eyes dead-set on your textbook and laptop, sitting on the small table in front of you, he watches. kaiser thinks you're just so cute, with your fingers thrumming against the ceramic mug that holds something light brown and steaming, and with your headphones blocking everything but your notes out. actually, he's so enamoured that he ends up walking right into a table.

with a rather unattractive 'oof,' he hunches and grabs the table with both hands to stop it from rattling; unfortunately for him, the damage is done. the sweet older barista is laughing at him. customers in line snicker. and you? you look up from your work, blink, and then crack a small smile. and oh, kaiser thinks his bruised ego and battered side are all worth it now. because you smiled at him. and god, it was the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

in line to order, he's thinking about you the whole time, and stealing furtive glances (that he hopes are more subtle than they feel) back at your table. and at the counter, he orders a caffé mocha instead of his usual large iced chai latte with oat milk, 1 pump of caramel syrup, and 3 pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup. the barista, who knows him from his daily overly-complex orders, gives him a raised eyebrow. kaiser simply shrugs and smiles. he tells her that he's testing a hypothesis. she gives him the stink eye and upcharges him.

once his drink is up, he's on the move, taking confident strides over to your table, where he asks, "is it okay if i sit here?"

and karma is in his favour today, because when you look up and around, the café is busy and bustling and the tables are all full. and he thinks that if cool guys swooned, he'd be swooning hard as you give him the tiniest, polite smile and a brief "sure" in response.

he thinks he's the smoothest man in the world, really, as he takes a seat across from you (like a date) and glances at your beverage. it's the same shade of caramel-ly brown, same kind of mug, same everything. he's fairly sure he's got the same drink as you-- a perfect conversation starter, just like he planned. kaiser clears his throat. "you order a caffé mocha? me too."

you look up again and glance at his drink before turning to him. "uh, no. not quite."

damn. kaiser's really done himself in, now. but he's cool. he can play it smooth. "really? what do you order, then?"

he then moves to shift his hands and, with an incredible lack of grace for a professionally-trained sportsman, he knocks his drink into his lap, spilling the lukewarm beverage all over his white sweater and jeans. he curses under his breath, and then remembers he has a really, really cute person he wants to impress, so he sucks up the embarrassment and grins (grimaces, more like) at you. "i don't suppose you ordered some napkins, too."

you let out a huff of laughter that makes him forget about his permanently ruined sweater as you fish around in your bag for a small, cloth napkin which you hand to him. "hopefully your sweater isn't too stained."

he hums. and a small smile takes over his face. "so, do you give a handkerchief to every guy who spills his coffee, or am i special?"

you raise your eyebrows in amusement. "you're the first guy whose spilled his coffee on himself while trying to talk to me. so i guess you're special."

kaiser beams, and he's sure satisfaction makes his grin grow on his face when he catches you flustering ever-so-slightly at his smile. "that's what i like to hear."

"what about you? you come here to impress strangers often?"

"only the ones i want to take out on a date."

and that's when it happens. that's where you laugh. and he's sure he looks appalled, absolutely shocked, when you stop, and say "sorry, no thanks."

he's a little speechless, when you look at him next, so you very helpfully fill in the silence. you offer, "any guy who drinks a caffé mocha isn't my kind of guy."

he splutters, cheeks likely redder than he'd like, reeling from embarrassment. "that was only because i thought you liked them!"

"why would you think that?"

kaiser doesn't reply. he's dug his grave, he knows, as you blink. in real time, he watches you connect the dots. "oh. you walked into the table because you were trying to see what i got. so you could talk to me, right?"

maybe he could still salvage this. if not his chance with you, then his dignity. "maybe i did. it worked, at least."

you're staring at him again, a contemplative look on your face. and he's willing his heart to stop racing under your gaze, and he's begging his face to return to a normal colour, and he's practically praying for the butterflies to stop churning windstorms in his stomach, when you say, "it's hot chocolate. and i'll be here tomorrow. same time, same table. if you want to try again with the right drink."

he's never believed in fate. kaiser is a realist. he's practical. he knows, or at least, pretends to know what he's doing. kaiser believes life is what you make it. kaiser believes his future is in his hands. but then you smile at him again. and it's a different kind of smile; one where your eyes crease and it's more on your left side than your right, and he thinks that maybe, if one thing was bound to happen in this lifetime, it was to walk into this café and meet you this winter morning.

"hot chocolate," he smiles back at you, "i'll remember that."

you take your textbook and slide it into your bag before standing. "i'll see you then."

you're already gone when he realises that he still has your napkin. but, he smiles to himself, it's okay. he can just give it back to you tomorrow.

flowers chosen: sweetpea & tarragon . . thank you for the lovely time & lasting interest

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#blue lock x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #kaiser michael x reader #kaiser michael #blue lock kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #mitsies 5k

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oneforthemunny · 2 months

Note

hockey!eddie, angst, bruises

feel better evie 🫶🫶

"This one looks pretty bad." You muttered, helping Eddie out of his undershirt, sticky with sweat, clinging to his battered body.

You would think he wore no padding with the way his skin looked, blossoming with deep hues of purple, greenish tints haloed around, prominent even under his tattoos. You knew he played rough, he always did. It was his thing, why the fans loved him so much.

Still, it wasn't nearly as fun for you, who had to tend to him afterwards. Who watched in horror every time he was slammed into the glass, body barreled at him by someone much bigger than him, an opponent he haggled until they were checking him.

He'd taken it too far, against the Penguins. Taunting and mocking their defensive center until he sent Eddie flying, a dogpile of a fight that got them both ejected. Only, Eddie's departure was on a stretcher.

Bruised ribs, which you supposed was better than them being broke. Though now, you weren't sure, looking at the mangled mess on his skin.

Eddie grunted, trying to swallow back a cry of pain when you moved his arm. "'S not too bad." He gritted. "Definitely had worse."

You didn't laugh, lips didn't pull in a smile. Instead, you simply pressed the frozen ice pack to his side, ignoring the hiss he gave when the hard, cold plastic touched the throbbing bruise.

"What's wrong?" Eddie sighed, gnawing at his bottom lip. "C'mon, why're you mad?"

Your lips twitched, turning to reach for the gauze. "I wish you wouldn't just go out there and try to get hurt-"

"-I don't try." Eddie huffed, eyes rolling nearly petulantly. "It's just apart of it. You get hurt sometimes."

"You do try." You snapped, every hue of blue, purple, green, red- it infuriated you even more. "You just go out there and piss them off until they're sending you flying. And you always go for the biggest guys-"

"-I can handle them." Eddie boasts defensively, chest puffing lightly.

"But you can't, Eddie." You huff. "He broke your ribs."

"He didn't break them, they're only bruised."

"This time." You snap. "I thought you said you'd be more careful." You sighed, eyes rounding when they met his.

Eddie swallowed down the rising bile in his throat. You looked so disappointed. "I- I'm trying." His pitch raised, just barely but you know better, you knew he was lying.

You sighed, a defeated slump in your shoulders, wrapping the gauze around the ice packs. "Sure, Eddie." You muttered, shaking your head lightly.

"Baby, you know I really can't. I-I have to give the fans what they want, or I-ll get traded or-or cut-"

"-I know, Eddie." Your tone was flat, deadpanned with no fight left. It made Eddie's chest tick, buzz with nerves.

It had become so routine, the fight, you didn't have it left in you to have it again. He knew how you felt, you knew his excuses, it wasn't worth it. Instead, you wrapped his wounds, pressed the ice to his chest until it was comfortable in a tense silence that left a bitter taste in both your mouths.

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astr0exe · 2 months

Note

I LOVE the way you write stepdad price!!! its just so 🤤🤤🤤 i have a request you can ignore this if you’re not comfortable with it or you just dont feel like writing it!!! stepdad price walking in his stepson riding ghost and he ask price if he wants to join in since hes just a cockdrunk whore!!! :(

UGH I LOVE THESE MEN 🤭 also dying at this ask its like so fucking perfect 💐🫶🏻 this took me so long to write:( also didnt do stepdad cause i read this wrong but hope you still like it !! have a great day ml

CW : tm!reader, threesome, double penetration, spit roasting, degradation, creampie, unsafe sex, rough (?)

Simon whos lying on his cot, his hands gripping your hips as he forces you up and down on his dick, your nails gripping his pecs tightly, your head thrown back, your eyes rolling back all hazy. Your hair sticking to your forehead due to the sweat dripping off of you.

Simon who’s groaning and smirking at the completely cock drunk expression. Bouncing you roughing on his dick, his hands bruising your hips and waist, red angry bite marks covering your skin as your head is thrown back from his dick hammering into you perfectly.

You don’t even notice when the door opens. Price walking in, pausing, before leaning against the door frame smirking as he makes eye contact with Ghost coughing loudly to get your attention, your head is so hazy that it takes you a few seconds to register the loud cough.

Simon who keeps hold of your chin so you can’t fully see whos at the door, making you whine and squirm which just leads to you moaning due to the hard dick inside you. Simon keeps pounding into you roughly, your squeals and shouts echoing through the room as Simon and John laugh “Ay Capt’n want a go? He’s a tight fucking slut.. So cock drunk and messy..” Ghost groans motioning towards you, the man drooling and moaning all over his fat cock.

Price who can’t wipe the smug smirk off of his face as he walks over towards the too small cot. “Oh look at ‘im.. so cockdrunk.. who knew our Sergeant was such a cheap whore.” Price laughs, moving to stand behind you and grip your hair pulling your head so you are facing John. He assaults your lips, biting and kissing them until they are sensitive and raw.

Price who manoeuvres you so you are facing him, his hand still in your hair tightly as he groans in your ear as Ghost keeps grinding up into you, hitting all the right spots inside you. Price stares down at you expectantly as he jerks his cock slowly, his tip dripping as you gaze up at him, your eyes completely hazy and showing just how fucked out you are. Your face makes Price laugh as he taps his cock against your lips, no words exchanged as he thrusts into your tight wet mouth the same time Ghosts pounds into your cunt.

As you moan around Prices hard cock, Ghost keeps his rough pace, thrusting in your slick hole as Price pulls out your mouth. Once the men found a rhythm, they didn’t stop the constant battering of their cocks against your holes. Your loud moans mixing with your equally loud gags as both men smirk and groan “Fuck lovie.. Such a cock slut…” Price smirks, his balls whacking your chin consistently.

John looks down at your tear stained face, slowly pulling himself out of your soft mouth, “Ghost.. You wanna see if he can fit us both?” just the words leaving his mouth makes you moan loudly, still bouncing on Simon’s dick before he pulls out slowly. Moving you so you are still on top of him but now face to face. Price pushes you down against Simon’s broad chest, his large hand between your shoulder blades as Ghost lines his cock up with your slick hole again. Pushing in as John drags his fingers towards your cunt, his fingers slowly making their way inside your pussy along with Simon’s dick making all three of you moan at the experience.

“Oh sweetheart, you think you could take us both in your tight hole?” Simon asks, you cant even reply, nodding and moaning in agreement. Your eyes rolling back as sweat clings to your skin, feeling Price’s cock line up with your hole as well, pushing into you along side Ghost.

You scream at the feeling, feeling so full up. Your eyes completely unfocused as they both start pounding into your tight holes. Moaning and whining, your voice cracking with every noise you make. Both men are also very flustered, their cocks rubbing together making their pleasure blinding.

“Sh-shit love.. taking our-fuck.. dicks so well huh?” Ghost growls in your ear, smirking as you clench down tightly due to your ever nearing orgasm. Price’s hips stutters slightly at the sudden tightening of your hole before his rhythm starts up again despite how much he wants to cum.

Price’s fingers come down softly on your sensitive cock, jerking you off, which makes you clench more. Basically stopping both men from moving, they grind into you as you cum, your shouts bouncing off the walls of the room. John groans as his cum paints your womb, unable to hold off any longer as he presses surprisingly soft kisses to your back and shoulders.

Simon moans as he pulls out his cum staining both your stomachs. No one speaks, the only noises is your quiet whines and everyone’s heavy breathing. Your face completely blissed out.

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cherienymphe · 3 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag XI

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

You gasped when Rafe tightly squeezed your wrist, pinning it down beside your head as his other hand trailed down your sweaty frame. It was only the evening, but after hitting a few balls at the country club, he came back in a mood that resulted in him reaching for you the moment he made it to his room. Any other day, and you would’ve gone played your role perfectly.

…but JJ was right downstairs.

All of Sarah’s friends were congregated in the living room, so you made yourself scarce no matter how much you actually wanted to stick around. It’d been hard to avoid JJ’s watchful eye every time you went downstairs, recalling the feel of him on top of you and his hands on you. It was something you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks—even while lying next to Rafe.

You were so conflicted…and not just because you were cheating on your boyfriend.

The whole situation with JJ felt…off. You hadn’t really wanted to go that far, and when JJ kept pushing, you were still unsure if you regretted giving in or not. Was he right when he said you were just scared because Rafe had mentally fucked you up so bad? Had you really just been afraid of the unknown? After all, up until that night, Rafe was the only guy you’d done practically anything with. Those things were very true…and yet you wondered if you should’ve forced yourself to go along with things you weren’t ready for like you had.

…because the truth was that you did enjoy lying underneath someone you felt safe with. When sleeping with Rafe and letting him touch you and returning the favor…you had never not been afraid. Your first time had been a drunk and bloody and violent mess. You didn’t know what it was like to be with someone you trusted and felt wholly comfortable with.

It was an entirely different experience.

Your conflicting feelings were too much, and it was something you wanted to talk to JJ about, but you could just never find the time. Rafe had been especially clingy as of late, and on the off chance he wasn’t, the rest of JJ’s friends happened to be around to where you couldn’t get him alone without arousing suspicion.

Like today.

Unable to get JJ alone, you were forced to basically do nothing but wait for Rafe.

Your boyfriend had been insatiable for almost an hour, twisting his hand into your hair and pulling your face closer the moment he walked into the room. Lying on his bed, you hadn’t had much choice but to slide your lips along the length of his cock, the only silver lining being when he returned the favor. You’d hoped that he would be quick…

“You’re so quiet,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, hips snapping against yours. “What’s wrong?”

When your boyfriend pulled back to look at you, you only shook your head.

“Nothing…”

There was a slight furrow between his brows, and you didn’t like the look that passed over his features.

“You know I like hearing you,” he said, pulling his lip between his teeth. “…and it’s not like we’re at Topper or Kelce’s.”

You swallowed, and his hand tightened on your wrist.

“Is this about Sarah’s dumbass friends downstairs?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“No…I…” you licked your lips. “Not really.”

Rafe had stopped moving, holding himself inside of you as he looked over your face.

“Not really…?” he repeated, eyebrow raised.

Glancing around the ceiling, you sighed.

“I’d just feel embarrassed…”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You would feel embarrassed about Sarah’s friends hearing you, but you especially didn’t want to think about JJ hearing you. Obvious reasons aside, JJ was the only one to know about what your relationship with Rafe was actually like. You didn’t want to imagine what he’d think.

Rafe scoffed.

“Who gives a fuck about them? This is my house,” he said, tone cocky as he leaned in to kiss you. “Besides…”

He slowly pulled his hips back before thrusting back into you just as slow.

“Let them hear what I do to you.”

His tone was sinister, a mocking lilt to his voice as he started to snap his hips against yours again. When you bit your lip, his movements grew rough, and you sharply inhaled. His hair brushed your forehead as he leaned in, and you couldn’t avoid his eye.

“I’ll fuck you all night if I have to.”

The warning was clear, and when he pushed his cock into you again, you didn’t swallow down your moan this time. As embarrassing as it was, the shame eventually left you when Rafe started pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. At some point, you found yourself on your knees, fingers clutching the sheets and the pillows as he thrust into you from behind.

His hands were tight on your hips, and a mewl climbed out of your throat with every push of his hips.

When he leaned over you—chest pressing against your back—his hand snaked its way around your throat. His grip was tight, making you gasp and making your eyes roll. You reached up to cover his hand with your own, flinching when his teeth grazed your ear.

“You like that?” he wondered, and at your nod, he leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck. “Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You,” you gasped.

He hummed, a question in his tone, and he only seemed satisfied when you moaned his name. Pushing you down, he had you pinned, hips slapping against you as he repeated the question. Understanding what he wanted, you moaned his name again. And again. And again. Rafe only seemed satisfied when you were practically screaming his name, hand tight on your throat while the other dug into your hip and thigh.

When you came, you were shouting his name, and you heard him groan yours into your ear when he came too. You shuddered at the feel of him filling you up, shuddering at the stickiness between your thighs and the cum dripping around his cock and onto your folds. Laying you completely down, Rafe kissed down your back as he pulled out of you, telling you he was going to take a shower.

You wanted one too more than anything, but Rafe had a habit of commencing round two whenever you joined him under the water.

Instead, you took the time to roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you pulled the sheet over your chest. As great as the sex was with Rafe—when it was consensual—you couldn’t help but to compare it to your time alone with JJ. Thinking back, you’d always thought your former friends were lying when they talked about other things being better than sex depending on the guy.

…but JJ’s fingers and his lips had sparked more excitement than anything Rafe did.

You knew why, and it made you sigh. Resigning yourself to everything with Rafe had been so much easier when you didn’t know what you were missing. You did now, though, and you weren’t sure how you were going to continue to pretend with no problem. Dealing with Rafe’s abuse didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world when you didn’t know how much better ‘better’ could be.

The fact that the ‘better’ was right downstairs had your heart skipping a beat, and as much as you wanted to go downstairs again just to see his face, you weren’t quite ready to face him after he’d so clearly heard Rafe fucking you.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

You wiped your face, crossing your arms over your chest as JJ pleadingly gazed at you. The pool house was quiet save for your occasional sniffle, and you were still when the blond reached for you—not quite rejecting him, but not quite accepting his advances either. There was still some dried blood under his nose, and the skin under his eye was already beginning to bruise.

All of it was evidence of his actions not even an hour ago.

Against your better judgement, you went along with Rafe to a small party on the beach. You’d texted JJ to see in advance if he was going to be there, seeing as the answer to that would determine your own actions, but you’d gotten no response. Hence, your own slight shock at seeing none other than a familiar blond talking to Kie.

You’d looked away the moment his eyes met yours.

Rafe—and you by extension—had kept his distance, but you hadn’t exactly anticipated JJ to be the one to start trouble tonight. Rafe had been talking to some friends that weren’t Kelce or Topper, his hand tight on your waist as he held you close. Per usual, you’d been quiet, just sipping on a beer you didn’t even like as your gaze roamed over the beach.

Your boyfriend had been shoved out of nowhere.

Before either of you had time to react, JJ was on him, throwing punches and taking you by surprise. No amount of yelling could get him to get off, and even when Rafe eventually got his bearings and started fighting back, blood was already smeared under his nose and on his lips. While Rafe’s friends tried to join in and make it unfair, John B. and Pope only tried to break it up.

You didn’t understand what happened, only able to look on in horror as your boyfriends fought.

When JJ slammed Rafe’s head into the sand, your heart jumped. There was a look on the younger blonde’s face like he could kill, and for a moment, you thought that he could. You hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to you in Rafe’s kitchen that day, and you didn’t want to acknowledge the way a brief bout of relief filled you at the thought of him actually killing Rafe. The feeling scared you, so much so that it made your stomach turn, and all relief was gone the moment you imagined JJ in jail.

You only wanted Pope and John B. to get him off of him.

When they did, they struggled to hold him back, and Rafe’s friends fared no better, your boyfriend determined to get his hands on JJ. You’d only been able to look between them, eyes lingering on JJ as he was pulled away. You hadn’t missed his brief glance towards you and the venom you saw there. You were only pulled from the trance by the feel of Sarah grabbing your arm.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get caught up in that, did you?”

You’d shaken your head, and she’d angrily tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Kie will drive you home,” she’d said. “I’m sure Rafe won’t take much convincing.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Your boyfriend was huffing and darting his eyes every which way when Sarah proposed she make sure you get straight home. Even if your boyfriend hadn’t said it, you knew what he was thinking. He still had a fight in his eyes, and you knew that whenever he made it to The Cut, if he didn’t find JJ, he would settle for either of his friends.

That was exactly what you told the blond the moment you walked through the pool house, positive as to where he’d found refuge.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t know why…”

JJ trailed off, running his hands through his already messy hair.

“No…”

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“I know exactly why I did that.”

He moved closer to you, jaw clenched as he gazed at you.

“I hate that everyone thinks he’s such a great boyfriend,” he sneered. “I hate that he can just walk into a party with you on his arm like he doesn’t treat you like absolute shit!”

Your face fell, and your gaze found the floor.

“God, seeing you standing there…? Like his little accessory or something? Just hanging on his arm without even being acknowledged like you aren’t even a person?” he wondered. “It made me angrier than expected.”

You sighed at that, some of your own irritation dissipating.

“JJ,” you exhaled, sadly looking at him. “You can’t let that bother you.”

“…but it does!”

His voice bounced off of the walls.

“It’s not fucking fair,” his voice was quieter, now, hand coming up to rest on your arm. “It’s not fair that he gets to treat you like that…and have you too.”

You could see it then—there in his gaze—that this wasn’t just sparked by tonight.

Closing your eyes, you sighed again.

“I can’t exactly…refuse to have sex with him JJ,” you softly whispered, slowly meeting his gaze.

You could see that it bothered him, disgust and anger flitting over his features.

“The rest of them were making jokes and pretending to gag,” he gradually replied. “…but all I could think about was him giving you a black eye…and then having sex with you weeks later.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So you fought him?”

“What else can I do?” he seriously wondered, giving you a look. “…until I can figure out how to get you away from him…I have to settle for kicking his ass.”

You couldn’t even focus on everything JJ said, lips parting as you blinked at him.

“Get me away from him? JJ,” you lightly scoffed. “I…”

Of course, you wanted that, but Rafe was…Rafe. Rafe Cameron, son of Ward Cameron and equally as rich as you. You didn’t want to imagine the things he could get away with considering what he’d already gotten away with. You recalled Ward’s convincing tone that day you’d called the cops on your boyfriend, telling you everything that you already knew. You especially remembered Rafe’s hands on your throat one night, threatening to kill you if you ever left him.

You’d long accepted your fate of walking on eggshells around Rafe forever.

“Are you telling me you don’t want to get away from him?” the blond wondered, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek.

“I do,” you told him, shaking your head. “You know that I do, but… I have no way of…”

Your words trailed off as JJ shushed you, his other hand coming up to rest on the other side of your face. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in, foreheads touching too. His thumbs traced circles into your cheeks as he closed his eyes.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he whispered, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “I’m going to get you out.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you thought about Rafe on The Cut looking for JJ, none the wiser to the fact that he was with you.

“I promise you.”

Ward and Rose’s party was in full swing, and yet you found yourself on your fifth drink of the night on the back porch. Rafe was especially irritating, going on and on about JJ, and unable to take it anymore, you’d slipped away to find comfort in your solitude. Since Topper and Kelce weren’t privy to what went down the other night, Rafe had to let them in on all the sordid details, and you couldn’t stand it.

That same night JJ had kissed you for what felt like hours, eventually letting you go once you reminded him that Rafe wouldn’t be out looking for him forever. It was reluctant, but he eventually kissed you one last time. It was still on your mind when Rafe finally came back, still angry at JJ and choosing to take it out on you, kisses rough as he pulled at your clothes.

He’d only seemed satisfied when you came around him for a second time, exhausted and milking him dry.

This feud or whatever between Kooks and Pogues had always been ongoing, but your relationship with JJ only added another complicated layer to it all. While Rafe thought the other blond was just being an asshole, you knew better. You knew that JJ was angry with Rafe’s treatment of you and saw himself as defending your honor or something.

You would’ve found it flattering if it didn’t worry you so much.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar hand on your elbow, and you hadn’t even heard Rafe come outside. When you looked at his face, you could see the boredom all over it, and so you weren’t shocked when he said:

“We’re heading to Top’s.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, and you didn’t have any choice but to follow along as he pulled you through his house. The two familiar guys were already in his truck when you made it outside, and you could only stare out the window when you slid in next to Topper. You tried to ignore the way Rafe’s words slurred as he got behind the wheel, sipping on your own drink.

You could faintly hear him complaining to the other two about Rose’s ‘awful party’ and needing to ‘hit a few lines’. You rolled your eyes, not enthusiastic to be with Rafe and his friends while they snorted whatever up their noses. Despite his inebriation and irritation, Rafe still helped you out of the truck once he arrived. However, you figured out why when his lips immediately covered yours.

“Maybe you can cheer me up, hmm?” he wondered against your lips before pulling you along.

You almost tripped over the end of your dress, and you watched Rafe loosen his tie as he followed the other two inside. The atmosphere was immediately different, Kelce looking for something on his phone to play while Topper headed to the kitchen for more drinks. If you were going to halfway stomach the three of them at once, you’d need another.

While you went to the bathroom, you resisted the urge to text JJ.

Rafe was drunk—and was about to snort a line or two of coke—so his behavior was going to be extra unpredictable. The last thing you needed was for the blond to inquire about why you were on your phone so much and snatch it from you. You really didn’t want to imagine how that would go, shuddering at the thought, and you pressed your hands to your forehead.

Gazing into the mirror, you thought to yourself that you would’ve never thought this was your life a year ago—hell six months ago.

There was a time where you barely even knew JJ Maybank’s name, and now…now he was…what? Your second boyfriend? Your lover? Your guy on the side? Never mind the fact that you’d been too terrified of Rafe to even entertain the thought, but… There was a time where the thought of cheating on Rafe would’ve made you sick.

You felt your eyes burn, and you pressed your hand to your mouth.

You and Rafe were so far from how you’d started out, and while the abuse had certainly made you realize that, your recent actions only drove it home. You’d been sneaking around with someone that wasn’t your boyfriend. You’d been spending the night with him and kissing him and letting him touch you. The reality of just how far your relationship had fallen made you want to cry…

…and now JJ was talking about getting you out.

The thought was terrifying because…how? How was JJ—with his limited resources—going to do what you couldn’t? The thought of not being with Rafe anymore felt so relieving…but equally as scary. Rafe was all you’d ever known, although, you supposed that was no longer the case, and you reminded yourself that JJ told you not to worry about it.

It was easier said than done.

When you made it back downstairs, music reached your ears, and the sight of Rafe snorting a line off of the coffee table met your eyes. Ignoring him, you made your way to the kitchen, quickly finding yourself a drink. The night was going as it usually did, and for once you were happy to be ignored until Rafe remembered your presence.

You had too much on your mind.

You were on your third drink since coming to Topper’s when you finally found a seat on the couch. You tried to ignore how you stumbled, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as Rafe’s words reached your ears.

“…and the piece of shit just pushes me,” he scoffed. “For no reason.”

“What else can you expect from Pogues, man,” Kelce chimed in, shaking his head.

“The next time I see JJ, I swear to God, I’m going to make him swallow his fucking teeth.”

At that you did huff…and Rafe noticed.

The room grew quiet, but you figured that all the alcohol in your system made it hard to notice.

“Problem…?”

When you glanced up, Rafe’s familiar blue eyes were on you. Kelce and Topper were conveniently looking anywhere else, and you gave a humorless chuckle at their cowardice. You didn’t miss how blown your boyfriend’s pupils were.

“I just think it’s stupid…all of this fighting and back and forth,” you took another sip. “You find him and beat him up? Then what?”

You shrugged.

“He starts another fight the next time he sees you, and so on?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed. “It’s stupid.”

At that, Rafe’s face twitched, and you watched him sit his drink down.

“You almost sound like you’re defending him…”

You were way more drunk than you’d intended, but his tone and the glint in his eye warned you off—your inebriation not making you lose your common sense.

“I’m not defending anyone,” you said after a tense pause. “It just seems unnecessarily violent.”

You thought about how angry JJ had been the other night, the look in his eyes, and you shuddered. You really didn’t want to see JJ and Rafe fight again—ever again if you had any say. Rafe only scoffed at your words before standing and making his way over to you. When he reached for your drink, you held it out of reach, and it was his turn to huff this time.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” was all he murmured when he leaned in.

“…because I think it’s stupid to not just let this go?” you wondered with a frown. “God forbid you decide to act your age.”

His hand was circling your chin before you realized it, and you heard Topper lightly murmur his name. Your boyfriend stared you down, both of you just holding each other’s gazes as his fingers pressed into your skin. The room felt too quiet and too tense, and you searched his eyes, almost daring him to do something in front of his friends.

Listening to Top, Rafe let you go.

“Maybe I should take you home,” he sneered. “You’re ruining the mood, and nobody wants to hear your Kumbaya bullshit.”

His hand was on your arm, yanking you up, and he paid little attention to how you swayed. Rafe only cared about pulling you along, telling his friends he’d be back. You stumbled a few times in your heels, almost tripping over your dress, but Rafe just continued to force you outside. He practically shoved you into his truck, uncaring if you even pulled your dress inside of the vehicle all the way.

The moment he was next to you, you were unsurprised by the feel of his hand digging into your arm.

“What the hell is your problem? Huh?”

“I don’t have a-.”

“Bullshit!” he spat, shoving you away and starting the truck. “You’re practically defending JJ—telling me to let this go when he’s the one who snaked me.”

You knew that he wasn’t entirely wrong to want retaliation against what he believed to be an unprovoked act of violence, but you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. That glint in JJ’s eyes. If Rafe and JJ fought again, you were worried that someone was seriously going to get hurt, and if it was Rafe, there was no doubt in your mind he’d make JJ’s life hell.

Despite the alcohol and coke in his system, Rafe managed to safely pull into your driveway.

“You should probably drink some water when you get inside,” he mockingly said. “Sloppy drunk isn’t sexy.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed.

The slap was loud in the truck, and your cheek burned beneath your hand when you touched it. You didn’t know if the alcohol made the pain less or worse, and you blinked away tears. Some still escaped though, and you pulled your lip between your teeth as you sniffed.

“Hopefully you’ll have pulled yourself together by the morning,” Rafe murmured, unlocking the truck. “You know I hate when you get like this.”

Stumbling out of the vehicle, you made sure to slam the door behind you.

Rafe didn’t even wait around to watch you go inside, backing out of the driveway just as more tears fell. Your face stung more when the air hit it, and you sniffed, searching in your purse for your keys. Your parents were still at the Camerons’, and considering it was actually still pretty early in the night, you figured they would be for a few more hours. When you dropped the clutch, you cursed, and you were just about to bend down to get it when another hand beat you to it.

“Jesus!”

You might’ve fallen if he hadn’t reached out to grab you.

“No, JJ,” he teased, but his face fell as he really looked at you.

His hand tightened when you swayed, keeping you from falling, and his other hand reached out to hold you too.

“Hey…hey, are you okay?”

You touched your forehead.

“I’m fine,” you sighed. “Just the average night with Rafe Cameron.”

You wiped your face again, and JJ pulled you against him.

“Did he hurt you?”

The question made you laugh, and you reached for your purse again with a shrug.

“I don’t even know if a slap counts anymore,” you choked out with a bitter smile. “Ending the evening with only a slap is considered a good day.”

You could feel yourself crying again—you blamed the alcohol—and you didn’t protest when JJ took your keys. Rafe was long gone, so you let JJ guide you inside, a hand on your waist as he closed the door behind him. When you stumbled in your heels, it was a reminder that you were wearing them, and JJ bent down to help you take them off. You swayed when you put your foot down, and JJ steadied you as he rose.

“Let’s get you upstairs…”

You let him lean you on him, moving towards the staircase.

“It takes almost nothing to get him mad,” you murmured after a few moments, recalling his ire. “I don’t even know what I was thinking drinking so much tonight.”

You always had to be on high alert with Rafe—always had to be hyperaware and hyper focused on every single expression and word and change in body language. There was no relaxing around Rafe ever, and the thought made more tears fall. When you made it to your room, you immediately sat on the floor, dropping your face into your hands.

JJ softly called your name.

“You know that he grabbed me tonight…and Topper and Kelce barely did anything?”

You looked up at the blond as he sadly looked down at you, jaw clenching at that.

“…and I’d like to think that they would do something if he did much worse,” you slowly said. “…but the truth is…”

You shrugged at him.

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “They never speak out against him, so I don’t know why I’d ever expect that where I’m concerned.”

JJ moved to sit down next to you.

“Especially since they barely even acknowledge me on a regular basis.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry,” you tearfully told him, shaking your head when he protested. “I don’t…”

“Don’t apologize for talking to me about this—any of this,” JJ firmly told you, taking your hands. “I wanna hate him for leaving you alone this drunk, but…”

JJ pressed his lips to your cheek.

“He’s probably the last person you should be with,” he whispered, pulling away slightly.

His blue eyes searched yours, and you blinked at him. You could see so many emotions pass over his features, anger being the most prominent, and JJ’s gaze hardened.

“I should kick his ass again-.”

“JJ,” you admonished.

“I should,” he said with a smile, kissing you. “I should do to him exactly what he does to you.”

Your drunk brain knew that JJ was in your bedroom and kissing you, but you couldn’t quite make sense of it. Your face still stung, and your chest still felt heavy, but all you could really focus on was the kiss. JJ kissed you like he missed you, and you supposed that you missed him too. When one of his hands rested on the back of your neck—the other on the zipper of your dress—you touched his chest.

“JJ…”

He gently shushed you, leaning in towards you more.

“It’ll be okay…”

“I don’t… I don’t think this is smart,” you told him, pulling away. “Rafe could easily decide to come back, and I…”

You bit your lip, eyeing him.

“I don’t want this going too far.”

JJ brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it a bit.

“Trust me,” was all he said, kissing you again.

You did, but you knew that this wasn’t something you were prepared to handle yet. You wouldn’t be able to take anything back, and you weren’t mentally nor emotionally ready to walk around looking Rafe in the eye and pretending like you hadn’t had sex with someone else. You were already cheating on him, this was true, but sleeping with JJ just felt like the point of no return…and not just because of Rafe.

Rafe was unfortunately the only man you’d ever been with, and you weren’t able to get past that mental barrier.

“JJ,” you protested, words slurred. “Wait…”

Your back was pressed to the floor, JJ’s frame pinning yours down as he kissed you. Your movements were sluggish and weak, the alcohol in your system hindering them. It was hard to tell if you were actively trying to push him away and was just failing, or if you simply weren’t trying, at all because you didn’t want to.

Everything was so confusing.

The sound of the zipper on your dress was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you shuddered when the air hit you. When JJ kissed you again, your thoughts halted momentarily, and you blinked up at the ceiling when his lips trailed down to your throat. The room was tilting, and you squeezed your eyes shut. The feeling of his lips on your chest and then your stomach made you shudder, and you pressed your hands to your forehead when you felt him yanking your underwear down.

Your next protest was forgotten when he tasted you.

Your chest arched, and you gasped, wide eyes on the ceiling. JJ’s tongue slid between your folds and across your clit while his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place. His mouth on you was making your head spin, and too many thoughts were racing around in your head. You wanted to push him away…but you also wanted to pull him closer. You wanted to moan, but some part of you also wanted to swallow down every sound that threatened to come up.

Alcohol completely settled in your system, your vision went in and out, and the next time you blinked, JJ’s lips were touching yours. You could taste yourself on them, and you drunkenly hummed. The blond was saying something to you, but you could only halfway focus, slowly blinking at him.

“You’re okay,” he softly repeated.

You realized why when all of your senses came back into focus, and you felt yourself pushing against his chest. It was weak, anyway, positive that JJ could bat your hand away if he wanted to. Instead, he only kissed you again, deeply inhaling and reaching between you. When you felt the tip of him grazing your thigh, a shiver crawled up your spine.

You turned your head when he pressed open mouthed kisses along the expanse of your throat, shifting as he completely got rid of his pants, now. One hand kept himself hovering over you while the other reached behind his head to pull at his shirt. You shuddered again when his bare chest met yours. It was only just hitting you that you were about to have sex with someone that wasn’t Rafe…

…and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

JJ was slow when he entered you. He took his time in pushing his cock into you inch by inch, and you didn’t know if he was giving you time to adjust or simply savoring the moment. Maybe both. You heard him sigh—you did too—and your nails pressed into his arm. When his hips firmly rested against yours, he held himself there, pausing and just basking in the feel of you wrapped around him.

You were also getting used to the feeling.

While he seemed to be just as long as Rafe, you weren’t prepared for the stretch, and you involuntarily moved your hips. The action made JJ hiss, and he pressed his forehead to yours. His breathing—like yours—was uneven, and he only started to move once he calmed himself down a bit. Pulling his hips back until only the tip of him remained, JJ swiftly thrust into you.

You softly yelped, hanging onto him, and JJ adopted a slow and steady pace. Your dress and the carpet beneath you were soft against your back, and JJ hummed as he sank into you. Your entire body felt abuzz with energy, and it fought with the alcohol in your system. Every push of his hips had you gasping, and when JJ lifted his head, his blue gaze held yours.

You were still really confused—the room tilting around you—but you trusted JJ way more than you ever trusted Rafe. Despite the fact that this was not what you wanted for your evening, your body slowly relaxed underneath his with every thrust. Despite everything, you weren’t scared, and those feelings heavily conflicted with your uncertainty surrounding this.

You hadn’t wanted this…but now all you could think about was JJ’s smooth thrusts and his efforts to push you both over the edge. You hadn’t wanted this, but you forgot why when JJ trailed his lips over your throat, sighing when you threw your head back. Your lips parted, a choked moan escaping as he curved his hips against yours.

JJ was being so gentle with you, and it was what stood out to you the most.

Then again, maybe everything felt good because you were drunk. You felt so light, like you were floating, and your lashes fluttered. JJ’s hand curved against your waist, holding you as he continued to fuck you, while the other ran up and down your side. He was saying something to you, and it took you a moment to focus.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again. “Do you feel okay?”

When you gave him a nod, he smiled against your lips.

“I told you,” he whispered, cock stretching you out and sliding along your walls. “It’ll be okay.”

You moaned his name, chest arching up into his. He cursed as he held you tighter, and you wrapped your arms around him.

When you came around him, JJ kept moving against you, fucking you and plunging his cock into you. You clung to him as you shuddered, gasping and toes curling. When you squeezed your eyes shut, you saw stars, and JJ murmured soft praises into your ear. His movements prolonged your climax, the overstimulation making you shudder, and JJ only slid his hand under you to fist the hair at the nape of your neck.

When he forced your head back, his teeth grazed your neck, head drifting towards your collarbone.

“I want you to think about me every time you’re with him.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #jj maybank fic #outer banks imagine #obx imagine

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yeahspider · 2 months

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nonviolent communication

Ve’s note - yes this is another spider han post and no i will never stop pushing this agenda . he IS peter parker in another universe . and i have a whole theory chart to prove it . bestfriends to lovers ? this work is sfw . just a lil angsty/ hurt / comfort but maily fluff with a happy ending .

“just one second!” he almost begged as he tried to pull himself together. you couldn’t see him like this again. the last time you caught him battered and bruised after a mission you panicked.

"jisung what is wrong ? Is everything alright? why are you always coming over with bruises? and disappearing at random times? you know you can tell me anything right? nothing could change my love for you . " he hears you call from the other side of the door. getting out of his suit was proven a struggle with his battered ribs. a groan slipping out his mouth as he took an arm out.

"Are you hurt? ji let me in please," you say in tears. he hated being the cause of it. he ignored you as he continued to undress little by little. you couldn't catch him in his suit. This was the only way he knew how to protect you. but the suit was not coming off without causing more damage, he needed your help. so with a defeated sigh, he walked to the door.

"promise not to freak out okay?" he said bottom lip between his teeth. hearing an okay from the other side he unlocked the door and took a step back to let you in. With closed eyes, he waited for you to start screaming at him. keeping a secret this big from you was a just cause in his mind for you to leave him.

"jisung... you're hurt badly. let me help. tell me what hurts." you say as you take a step closer to him. scanning his injuries for the best way to treat them.

Jisung was shocked. why weren't you mad at him? why weren't you screaming at his face calling him a liar? a coward?

"Earth to ji hello? tell me what hurts," you say with a frown on your face.

"You're not mad at me? you do see what I'm wearing right? You're not upset i didn't tell you?. he said. confusion lacing his voice as he observed you observing him. he couldn't figure you out.

"I'm only mad you didn't let me in sooner so I could help you. As for the Spiderman thing I already knew. I was just waiting for you to tell me." you said with a soft smile on your lips.

"what- HOW DID YOU KNOW?l" he was beyond shocked.

"Well, I mean I've never seen you and Spiderman in the same room so you know the possibility was always there."

"...until now"

"right until now," you commented with a smile on your face. you were glad he was able to still joke even in pain

" and I mean you missed a lot of bio classes and you LOVE bio so that was the biggest tell really. jisung let out a relieved laugh that caused the pain in his ribs to fla back up and for him to lean into you. he can't believe you've known this whole time.

"and you don't hate me? for all the lying and the disappearing?

"I could never hate you jisung. now let's get this suit off and you can tell me all about how it happened."

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fluff #yeahspider #han jisung fanfic #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff

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celtic-crossbow · 9 months

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I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win.

Daryl was not so easily mollified.

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye.

You weren’t afraid of him.

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you.

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said.

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger.

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes.

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about.

Still, you stayed.

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now.

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced.

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you.

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?”

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue.

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot.

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow.

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his.

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll.

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family.

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor.

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety.

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you.

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile.

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?”

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned.

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring.

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse.

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away.

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.”

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose.

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides.

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance.

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him.

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you.

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.”

“Why the fuck do you even care?!”

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing.

“Ya even hafta ask?” You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door.

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you.

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside.

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded.

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder.

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle.

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt.

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you.

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.”

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair.

“Ya do?”

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment?

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail.

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile.

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy.

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you.

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder.

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement.

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot.

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently.

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper.

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly.

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back.

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite.

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter.

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.”

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front.

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later.

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat.

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear.

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands.

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!”

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat.

“Shit!”

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen.

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark.

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt.

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder.

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion.

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.”

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone.

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.”

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!”

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg?

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up.

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.”

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again.

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long. Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep.

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse.

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave.

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered.

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail.

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?”

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?”

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away.

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him.

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance.

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was.

A confession.

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this.

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap.

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other.

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you.

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?”

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.”

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it.

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already.

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away.

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair.

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #Spotify

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daisies-daydreams · 11 months

Note

141 reacting to civilian!reader getting into an accident and being hospitalised while the team is deployed?

Category: Fluff & Angst Warnings: Descriptions of Injuries/Stitches/Recovery, Hospitalization Word Count: 1.1k+

Headcanons below the cut.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny opened up a text from you as soon as he had access to his phone. His eyes widened as his heart sank.

“Fell down the stairs. At the hospital near the apartment” (Sent 2 Days Ago)

He didn’t even change his clothes, simply throwing off his tactical vest before he jumped into his car. Johnny didn’t care about the speed limit as he rushed to the hospital. His baby was hurt, and he wasn’t there to help them. He almost crashed into another car as he tried to park it, running inside.

“I’m here to see (Y/N),” Johnny stated, his voice slightly cracking. The nurse directed towards your room. His eyes watered when he saw you, your leg elevated and wrapped in a cast. Your eyes lit up as he walked inside.

“Johnny,” you smiled. Other than your leg, you sounded just fine, though it didn’t stop him from being careful as he hugged you with his bulky arms. “Are you okay?” you asked as you patted his back. He nodded, his eyes still misty.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. But you-” his voice was cut off when he motioned towards your leg. You waved your hand.

“Something came up and your family wasn’t able to help me on the last day. I was carrying a box up the stairs and I…slipped,” you lowered your head as if ashamed of yourself. Johnny mentally slapped himself. Both of you were moving into a new apartment and he wasn’t there to help. He should’ve been there for you. He could’ve caught you or carried the box himself. Could’ve…should’ve…

A gentle kiss to his cheek drew him out of his own head.

“Bonnie?” he blinked. You smiled as you smoothed your thumb across his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. But you know what would help me feel much better?” you asked.

“What?” he said. You grinned.

“A kiss from my devastatingly handsome boyfriend,” you said while wiggling your brows. Johnny chuckled before cupping your face, tenderly pressing his lips to yours. Both of you ended up watching a game show on the hospital TV, falling asleep while holding each other’s hands.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon’s hands shook as he strode into the hospital. He received several missed calls from you-all while he was deployed. Your last voicemail sent chills down his spine.

“Hey, Si. I-I was in a car accident. I’m sorry…” your voice was hoarse as you sobbed throughout the message.

The words replayed in Simon’s mind the entire ride over. He tried to remain as calm as possible, though his blood still ran cold as he walked into your room. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw you lying on your bed, your body covered in bandages and bruises. Your eyes flicked open and you weakly smiled as he walked up to you.

“Hey love,” Simon murmured, as if afraid to startle you.

“Si,” you breathed out. Your monitor was beeping a little faster than before as he wrapped his hand around yours. He squeezed it gently as he kissed you.

“I’ll be okay. The doctor said that I should be good to go home in a few days,” you said. He nodded, his eyes scanning over your battered body.

“If you don’t mind tellin’ me, what happened?” Simon asked. Tears started to well in your eyes as your lip trembled.

“I-I was coming home from the store late because I forgot something. There was a green light at the intersection…I went, and-” your voice was cut off when you began to shake and cry. Simon felt his heart ache as he tried to hold you as carefully as he could.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, love. I’m here,” he cooed. Simon didn’t pressure you to talk about it anymore, instead letting you cry on his shoulder as he whispered comforting words into your ear.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle padded through the hospital, his heart racing wildly. You had texted him while he was deployed that you had an accident while you were riding your bike. When he saw the word “concussion”, he didn’t waste a second getting to the hospital.

Kyle felt his heart glow when he saw you smile as he walked into the room, though his smile faltered when he saw your arm in a sling and stitches across your head.

“Ky,” you called.

“Hey there, hun,” he grinned wearily. Kyle strode over and kissed you softly. Your eyes seemed a bit unfocused when he pulled back. “Heard you hit your head pretty hard,” Kyle said. You went to shrug but winced slightly. “Love? What’s wrong?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“I broke my collar bone, too. I think the drugs are starting to wear off,” you grunted.

“I’ll ring the nurse,” he said before pressing the extension on your bed’s remote. You beamed.

“My hero,” you swooned dramatically. He chuckled, eyes glistened as he held your hand.

“You sure you’re alright?” Kyle asked. You hummed.

“Of course I’m alright. I have the most handsome man in the world right next to me,” you slurred. His lips twisted as conflicting emotions barraged inside of him. On one hand, you were clearly in pain. But on the other…

“And who would that be?” Kyle asked. You blew a raspberry.

“YOU, duh,” you rolled your eyes. He smiled and pecked your cheek. God, he’s missed you.

Captain John Price

John drove like a bat out of hell towards the hospital. You had left him a text saying that you had slipped while getting out of the shower, yet there hasn’t been a message since. He’s seen a lot throughout the years-but God forbid something happens to the ones he loves. John marched towards the desk and was fidgeting while being signed in.

Once he was able, he rushed down the halls, nearly running into several doctors and patients. A lump formed in his throat when he saw your jaw hinged shut and stitches across your lower chin. You waved over at him, cheeks swollen as you smiled.

“Hi, love,” John sniffed. You tilted your head as much as you could. He swallowed thickly as he slid in the chair next to you, scooting in closer. You held your hand out. John had to bite the inside of his cheek as he slid his larger palm into yours. He was shocked when tears began to freely flow down his face as he pressed your hand up to your forehead. You patted his arm with your other free hand, brows slightly furrowed.

“I wasn’t sure if I lost you,” he confessed with a shaky breath. You stopped patting him and rested your hand on his forearm. John looked up at you, his eyes red and gushing with tears.

“Promise me that you’ll be more careful, please,” he begged. You held your hand up and shook it in a nodding motion. John sniffed before gently kissing your knuckles. “I love you,” he breathed. Even though you couldn’t speak, he knew you’d say the same.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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