#its nice to be this excited about something again! to the point of nausea! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angstyaches · 11 months

Note

Could u do another similar to the Valentine’s Day Drabble were it’s very fluffy and the person is embarrassed by there gas. There blushing and excusing themselves as there stomach rumbles also phrases like goodness! excuse me dear

or just excuse me or pardon. And my stomach is upset or disagreeing with me please.

I love ur blog have a gd day ♥️

Ahhh, I'm so nervous about this one because it's different and a little silly.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this request but I took some parts and combined when with an idea I already had brewing, I hope that's okay, anon!

Early(ish) Days Felix.

CW: vampire blood-drinking, fantasy elements, overindulgence, bloating, stomach noises, burping, embarrassment, intentional burping, mentions of previous nausea and lack of appetite etc.

___

“Hello,” Elliott said as he walked through the bedroom door.

“Hi,” Felix called out, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he thought he did. He wanted to be excited that Elliott was finally home, but he wasn’t sure his body would let him.

The bed jostled as Elliott sat down to take off his shoes and, in turn, so did the warm, heavy lump of pressure in Felix’s belly. He felt his stomach walls tremble with the effort of holding that pressure in place, but instead of cramping or churning, it continued to just… sit there beneath his rib, but not before letting out an audible groan from under the duvet.

Elliott paused and straightened his back at the edge of the bed. An amused half-smile crossed his face as he turned his head. Felix’s belly didn’t exactly have a reputation for going about its day without making a peep, but more commonly, it was wracked with twisting pleas for sustenance, or the watery gurgles of nausea.

“Was that your stomach?” Elliott asked incredulously, as though part of him wondered if the sound had come from his own.

All the blood – his own blood, that is – in Felix’s veins felt like it was rushing to his face and neck.

He nodded. "Pardon me."

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just… I may have pulled a you today.”

Elliott’s smile dimpled his cheeks. “A me?”

“Yes,” Felix said, savouring the chance to be cryptic for once.

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Elliott chuckled, bending at the waist again to continue unlacing his shoes. “More to the point, should I be flattered or offended right now?”

Felix winced as he watched his partner; Nancy had assured him it was almost impossible, but if Felix tried bending like that right about now, he would surely projectile vomit across the room.

He swallowed carefully at the thought, feeling a tiny bubble of pressure deep in his chest.

“I may have… over-indulged.”

Elliott sat up and glanced over his shoulder at Felix again – first, twisting to get a look at the swell of his belly, and then turning towards his face. He undoubtedly noticed the improvement in his colour; even Felix himself had noticed in the mirror earlier. Vampire starvation apparently took a while to take its toll, but could be remedied fairly quickly under the right circumstances.

“Over-indulged on…?” Elliott raised an eyebrow.

“Blood. Yes.”

“On a hunt?”

Felix nodded.

“Oh. Nice. Where did you go?”

“The woods.” Felix gave a light shrug. “You know geography isn’t my strong suit. I’m certain Ryan can fill you in the details…”

At the emergence of another deep, sluggish rumble, Felix flinched, an inexplicable shyness washing over him. He wasn’t sure if it was the relief that sparkled in the amber of Elliott’s eyes, or something else, that sparked a warm glow in his chest. He didn’t dare to hope that Elliott might be… proud of him? Or, at the very least, less worried about him than he usually had to be.

“I’m assuming Nancy gave you something for the nausea, then?”

“Yes,” Felix said, trying to brace himself for the wobble in the mattress as Elliott moved again. “It was incredible. Like night and day.”

Elliott finally kicked off his shoes and placed them to the side of his dresser. “Oh?”

“She gave me a tonic, which…” Felix paused as he listened to his own stomach churn, feeling its gently burbling movements inside. He smiled in Elliott’s direction to assure him he was okay. “I’m not quite certain, but I think it relaxed the muscles in my stomach. Have you heard of that?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She and Ryan must have developed it recently then.”

Elliott scoffed. “Or I just never had need of it.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Felix grimaced. He was both very attracted to and envious of Elliott’s seemingly indestructible digestive system.

Then again, if there were any stories from Elliott’s transformation days that painted him in a less-than-indestructible light, Felix was sure he’d gone to lengths to make sure those stories were kept airtight.

“So, it worked?”

“Yes. Once everything relaxed, it…” Felix almost didn’t want to admit that today’s hunt – the adrenaline, the euphoria, the feeling that he was the strongest creature on the food chain – aligned uncannily with how Elliott had described it all along. “It felt… the way I assume it is supposed to feel.”

Instead of hitting him with an I told you so though, Elliott leaned on his elbow, bringing his face closer to Felix’s. His bergamot-heavy cologne made Felix’s head swim in the most delicious way.

“Amazing,” Elliott whispered, with an almost relieved warble to his voice. And maybe a touch of excitement, too? He looked like someone who had been the only one to know a secret for years and years, only to finally have someone to confide in about it. “Right?”

“Incredible, Elli.” Felix wished he had it in him to sound more enthusiastic about it. “Once my body was relaxed and I was in the right headspace, it was… honestly astonishing how hungry I ended up feeling.”

“Not that astonishing.” The spark in Elliott’s eyes dampened slightly. “You didn’t keep anything down for almost a week, boo.”

Felix chewed the inside of his lip at the pet name. Elliott must have caught himself using it too, because he lowered his chin slightly to hide the smile that twitched across his face.

He hummed low in his throat as he reclined into place on the bed, turning to place his head on the pillow beside Felix’s.

All of the movement made Felix’s weight shift on the mattress again, earning yet another groaning vibration from his stomach. Nancy had warned him that along with easing any potential nausea or cramps, the tonic would also slow down the digestive process, meaning he was in for a long night of lying on his back, more or less immobile, as he had been all evening.

He hadn’t been prepared for how exhausted he would feel once his stomach was satisfied. His muscles felt like cotton wool. It was an effort even for his arms to work against gravity right now, so he’d spent most of his horizontal time with his arms placed neatly by his sides.

Felix swallowed. He was just thinking about how nice it would be to have a hand on his content-yet-confused belly when Elliott reached out and placed – no, braced a hand gently on his side, as though in apology for all of the movement.

“Felix,” Elliott exclaimed as his fingers edged up the gentle swell that pushed through the duvet. “Jesus. How much did you drink exactly?”

“Gosh, like I said…” The tips of Felix’s ears burned with indignance, and he found himself gulping drily again. “I believe I experienced something similar to your… frenzies.”

If he was offended or perturbed at all by that, Elliott didn’t say or indicate so.

He peeled the duvet back, exposing the t-shirt that Felix’s abdomen was doing its best to escape from. Its rumbling was even more obvious – and consistent – now that there was no thick blanket to muffle it. His t-shirt had gotten bunched up as he’d gotten comfortable in bed, leaving the lower half of his abdomen exposed.

Felix pressed his lips together and swallowed harshly, his tired lungs shuddering just from holding his breath for a couple of seconds.

He frowned and watched the curve of his belly lift and press even harder against his clothes as he inhaled, hands slumped by his sides. His stomach felt like a sentient water balloon struggling about inside of him.

The warmth and the weight of Elliott’s hand was pleasantly reassuring, though.

"Pardon," he murmured when his stomach shifted noisily again.

Elliott shook his head in mild distaste. "You don't have to pardon yourself every time your stomach makes noise."

Felix disagreed with a silent grimace to himself.

“I am so delighted for you,” Elliott insisted. “The fact that you finally got to enjoy feeding? Felix, that is everything.”

A flutter in his chest allowed Felix to relax into a proper smile. “It is?”

“Absolutely.” Elliott paused to let Felix’s belly grumble into the silence of the room. He waited for a particularly high-pitched, bubbly gurgle to break up the deeper sounds before he frowned and asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, gosh." Felix gulped. "Yes. Sorry. Pardon all of the... disturbance."

Felix squirmed as much as his lethargy would allow him. He found himself wishing his stomach would give it a rest now. Sure, maybe it’d been endearing at first – Elliott certainly seemed to think so – but this was getting ridiculous. It was also getting a little difficult to breathe without becoming painfully aware of his stomach pressing on his lungs.

He wasn’t in pain; in fact, there was something satisfying about feeling his stomach churn and groan and process such a huge amount of blood. He’d been empty, or close to it, for so long, his body so starved for blood that regular food was digested at an accelerated rate, leaving him with hunger pangs mere hours after having a full meal.

But this was… lingering. Satisfying. Something he’d started to doubt would ever be possible for him.

His train of thought was de-railed as Elliott put a single fingertip against his side. The soft, stretched-out flesh barely reacted as he applied the pressure, but as he pulled his finger back and released it, Felix’s tummy wobbled from side to side, acting a lot like the water balloon it felt like.

Felix hummed under his breath, feeling everything – everything – as his stomach trembled inside.

Another trickling gurgle ran through his belly. The impulse to swallow washed sluggishly over him, but before he could do anything about it, a soft burp tickled at the back of his throat, rolling out over his tongue.

"Oh... gosh," he squeaked.

Elliott’s hand splayed over the top of Felix’s stomach, stiff with surprise.

Eyes watering, Felix pinned his gaze on the ceiling. He wanted to cover his face with his hands, but his silly arms felt like jelly. It felt as though the world had shifted on its axis, landing him in an alternative reality where he held even less mystery in Elliott’s eyes. Besides the queasy ones that always found their way out during a vomiting session, he had never burped in front of Elliott before.

This wasn’t fair. There was very little spasming in his belly or throat, so the gas had simply slipped out of him like it’d been pressed out by an outside force. There was just no room left for it.

“Par – pardon me,” Felix murmured as an afterthought.

“Sorry if that was my fault,” Elliott said. He lifted his hand from Felix’s belly. “Should I stop?”

Felix turned his head to look at Elliott’s idle hand and let out a resigned sigh. He was in for a penny, now; what difference would a pound make? “Do whatever you want, darling. It’s not as though there’s much I can do to stop you.”

“Wait. Are you angry with me?”

“What? No.”

“Something is wrong,” Elliott observed. “Are you sure you're feeling well? Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Well, then, talk to me.”

“I had never…” Felix mumbled off the rest of his complaint, face blazing with heat. He was kind of grateful for the blush; at least Elliott would be able to tell that he was ashamed of what he'd done.

Elliott just stared blankly at him. “What?”

“Oh, my gosh. IhadneverburpedinfrontofyoubeforenandnowI’membarrassed,” Felix blurted out. “Alright?”

It was a half-truth; Elliott had heard Felix expel gas from his mouth more times than Felix was willing to recall, during his many vomiting sessions over the past few months. But this was different. He wasn't nauseous. He should have had more control over himself.

“Embarrassed?” Elliott chuckled like he'd been told an amazing joke. He smoothed a hand over Felix's arm. “Fee, you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Especially not over this. I’ve burped around you lots of times.”

“No,” Felix complained miserably, “you haven’t.”

Elliott’s lips parted, as though he were about to give an example of a time when he had, but his eyes glazed over slightly as the gears turned in his head. “Well… perhaps I haven’t.”

Felix hummed in disappointment. He would have liked to be proven wrong.

“Give me a moment.”

Elliott raised his shoulder from the bed slightly, as though he were halfway into a sit-up. His defined stomach clenched visibly under the fabric of his shirt. He took the hand from Felix’s belly and curled it over the inward curve of his own. Then he inclined his chin and he pressed a little harder…

A low, swishing gurgle made Felix’s ears prick up.

Elliott opened his mouth to release a low, controlled belch, snapping his jaw shut as soon as he was done. Then he relaxed his shoulders into the bed again.

“There,” he said breezily, brushing his fingertips over his stomach muscles. “We’re even now.”

Felix could only gaze at his partner's face. His head didn't feel like it was going to burst into blame anymore, and the strained grumbling of his stomach didn't snag his attention quite as abruptly now.

There was just the two of them.

#StW Felix #StW Elliott #stomach kink #vampire kink #stomach noises #tummy kink #burping #eructo #eructophilia #blood mention #fantasy sickfic #vampire whump #burping kink

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slayonehundredninetytwo · 6 months

Text

seatbelt

request: Hello, I’ve got another idea for a request! So I had this stomach ache during my soccer game and I decided to sit off the last 45 minutes because I knew from experience it would get worse if I continued to run around—so I was thinking: what if Felix (changed to Jisung) had a stomach ache during vocal recording for one of their songs and he sat in the same spot the entire time, refusing to get up unless called into the booth and not really talking to anyone because the pain was too great. Then they all head back home and it’s still bothering him. In the car he can feel it getting worse, and the pressure with the seatbelt around his stomach isn’t helping, so he tugs it looser and holds it slightly away from his midsection. Maybe one of the members, could be Changbin, notice it and question him, to which he denies how he truly feels. They’re nearly at the first dorm when he can’t hold it anymore—the pain has grown so much during the ride that he was battling naseau—and he throws up right as the van pulls into their street. You can choose how to end it and who acts as the caregiver when he finally gets sick. ❤️

Here they are again, recording a new track for a new album. Of course they were all excited! And of course, that includes Jisung. Being on the producing line, it was something they looked forward to throughout the whole production process, it really brings their ideas to life. But he was struggling to really enjoy it, as a dull ache resided in his stomach, and he struggled to keep his focus. The headphones he wore to hear the singing from inside the booth were squeezing his ears and giving him a headache. His stomach hurt way worse in comparison though. Normally, he would be contributing to the recording and directing the singer in the booth, but today, he sat quietly in his chair, only really contributing when asher for his opinion. Even then, his responses were along the lines of “That’s good.” or “Smoothen it out a bit.”, simple answers that didn’t require much thought.

Chan didn’t notice his friend’s condition. He was in the zone. Changbin however noticed it fairly quickly. Usually Han would be spinning on his spiny chair or moving around somehow as they worked, today, he stayed perfectly still in his chair. Changbin looked at Han, seeing his tired face did not have its usual color, now looking eerily pale.

Changbin quietly pointed at the boy before doing 👌 in order to silently ask “You okay?”

Jisung gave a little head nod, although Changbin was not quite convinced.

Finally, it was time to head home. Jisung couldn’t wait to go home and sleep off whatever was bothering him. He sat down in the car, quickly buckling his seatbelt, eager to return home. As the car took off, he felt so uncomfy in his seat. His seatbelt dug into his stomach, squeezing the already upset organ. The pressure and the movement along the bumpy road were definitely not helping his discomfort.

Changbin had been keeping close watch on the boy, and noticed the way Han tugged at his seatbelt to release pressure on his stomach. He leaned over to Jisung and whispered,

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m okay. A little tired I guess.” he was lying straight through his teeth, and Changbin could tell.

“Okay. Why don’t you lean your head on my shoulder for a bit. We’re almost home.”

hoping to atleast provide some comfort. Han gratefully complied, but couldn’t fall asleep because of the cramping in his stomach and the nausea. But it was still nice.

Even as his eyes were closed, he knew they were about home because they had been turning a lot. Before they reach their dorms, there’s like a million right and left turns, which only added to the nausea. Changbin watch as the color drained from his dongsaengs face as they were just about to pull in. The boy jerked his head up off of Changbin’s shoulder to hopefully avoid getting vomit all over his friend, but was a tad too late, splashing a guppy of vomit on his hyungs lap. He started to cry out of guilt, pain, and definitely from the fever, each sob just made him sicker.

“Hannie, it’s okay, let’s just get you out of the car, alright?”

“O-okay- huUUurk” He retch, splashing out more hot liquid onto the floor.

“Shit.”

The rest of the group tried to make themselves as little as possible so Han could squeeze past them. He made it out of the car with no more mess, but the second he got out of the car, the flood gates were opened- no- RIPPED OFF and the puke flowed out of him like a fountain. It was atrocious. Even the members who weren’t quite as squeamish had to avert their eyes from the grossness in order to not loose their own stomachs.

Once his stomach had completely emptied itself, he shakily sat down on the curb, still crying.

“It’s really okay Ji. Are you ready to go inside.” Changbin said.

He gave a head nod as Chan and Changbin helped him into their dorm, sitting him down on the couch. The couch was already set up with pillows, blankets, and a bucket, courtesy of Hyunjin who had already headed inside to avoid the atrocities that were happening outside, since he had a sensitive stomach and couldn’t handle that. HE gave a gentle smile as he handed Han a bottle of water and some pills.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to get the pills down quite yet, but atleast drink some water.”

Jisung didn’t know if he could stomach even the water, but his throat was destroyed and he knew it could help.

“Thankyou.”

“No problem. I just want you to feel better.”

sorry this took a million years, i worked on it diligently whenever i could but i’m a busy gal what can i say

🫶

#skz sickfic #stray kids sickfic #skz emeto #kpop sickfic #chitchat192

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dabisqueen · 3 years

Text

The Captured Pt.3

Shigaraki x Reader x Dabi

⇢ rating: 18+

⇢ word count: roughly 4K

⇢ plot: Being held hostage at the LOV HQ, you are Shigarakis "spoils", but can't help falling for Dabi. This makes for a troublesome situation.

⇢ warnings: 18+, noncon, rape, mean Shiggy, soft Dabi, blood, cum, creampie, smut, alcohol, force, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), orgasm, threatening of quirk use

⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!

personal note: where do i start. it got longer than anticipated so there will also be a part 4! geez... ok, this one i still had a hard time writing the plot and its twist. but i think it will all come together nicely in the end.

Pt.2 / Pt.4

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Time passed as I got accustomed to my new situation. I knew by now I was never going to have my old life back, never going to get free. To the outside, I was missing, probably dead and I felt like I was not the girl I used to be - and would probably never be. I had unknowingly become part of the League, but I actually liked it. Dabi's room had become mine, even Shigaraki didn't mind about it, for Dabi slept most of the time on the couch in the lounge. The tight work schedule of the League made it impossible to find time for each other and Shigaraki, being completely engulfed in his leadership goals, hadn't come up to me either.

One evening most members were out and I was left alone with Toga supervising me. We were at the bar, I had been drinking a couple of gin tonics as we were stuck in conversation. Toga suddenly had her elbows on the table and leaned in so close I could feel her breath on my face. She chirped with her happiest voice “Forgot to tell you: got a special date today. Can you help me get pretty, please?” she grinned at me with an eager mewl, eyes almost squinting.

I sighed, “Ok, but no sticking knives in me, got that?” She crossed her heart and grinned “Promise!”

Squealing with joy she grabbed my hand and guided me to her room. Once there, she retrieved a bag from the bathroom, stuffed with all sorts of makeup. Sitting her down in a chair, I knelt in front of her and grabbed an eyeliner, unscrewing the top. She shivered in excitement, all the while licking her lips, eyeing me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Turning towards her, I started applying the makeup on her, faces only inches away from each other. I noticed her excited hot breath fanning my face, smelling like bubblegum.

"So, uhm, who's your date?“ I questioned, hovering in front of her.

Before I knew it she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her, her soft warm lips locking with mine. I was frozen in surprise as she pulled back and whispered “You…” and then I felt a sting in my fingertip. I jolted away from her, looking down at my finger. Blood started oozing out of a hole in the tip of my finger, slowly running down my finger.

“Fuck, Toga!” I yelled at her, while she giggled and wiggled a large syringe needle in her hand, “No knife, see?”

“Brat!” I spat out, staring at her, stunned. There was an awkward moment of silence between us as the blood started dripping on the floor.

“Please, just one lick?” She begged, eyes gleaming with pure desire, a smile like a thousand volts in her face as she kept licking her lips.

“Geez Toga...” I mumbled as I suddenly felt the alcohol kick in while the adrenaline wore off. Without any time to react, she grabbed my finger and pulled it towards her mouth. Her tongue came out and, sliding it up, she collected all the blood on it. I gasped as she closed her plush warm lips around my finger, cheeks hollowing as she started sucking on it. Her eyes narrowed, as she kept relentlessly pulling the blood out of my finger. With a plop, she released it, my red juice pooling rapidly on the tip from the suction and she opened her mouth. Dark red, thick fluid covered her tongue, puddling around it. I felt nausea creeping up inside me as she closed her eyes, swirling it around in her mouth before visibly swallowing it. She opened her mouth again, now empty, and grinned sharp and wide.

“You're sick,” I groaned as I staggered off to the door on wobbly legs.

Toga kept calling after me "Awhh… that wasn't that bad! Please stay!"

But I ignored her and continued on to Dabi's room. Nausea kept stirring my insides as I stumbled into it, ripping open the bathroom door and convulsing over the toilet, vomiting into it. As nausea finally subsided, I leaned back, feeling heavy with foreboding rumbling deep inside my core as I hung my head and cried.

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Shigaraki had been out with the other members to meet another villain group to potentially join forces. The evening had stretched itself out, I had been left alone for the first time. I sat in the lounge and played with some cards, getting myself a drink once in a while.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar purple warp gates opening and each member, one by one, appeared through it. At least I thought so. As Shigaraki passed through the gate, covered in his hands, I could feel something was off. He was fuming with anger, his whole body shaking, while everyone else seemed in a gloomy mood, hurrying to shuffle out of his way. He stomped to the bar, hissing and cursing, as Kurogiri almost flew behind the counter to pour him a whiskey. He grabbed it, lifted "Father" for a moment and chugged it in one go. Still ranting to himself his glaring red eyes darted across the room as if he was looking for something. Finally, his crazed gaze fell upon me, his eyes narrowing.

"You..." he glared at me across the room.

Everyone went silent, all eyes on me.

Shigaraki slowly approached me, his hand stretched out as he rasped an undeniable order "My room, now."

My eyes widened with fear, I stumbled to my feet, tripping backward against the chairs,

"N- no, please…" I stuttered out, shaking my head frantically.

"I said my room," his voice was even more chilling than before. As I still didn't respond, he darted towards me. With no time to react, he grabbed my wrist and jerked me with him towards the door. I stumbled after him, protesting, tears starting to well in my eyes as I looked over my shoulders.

Everyone stood unmoved, no one had the guts to speak up. Toga even wiggled her fingers after me with a sheepish grin on her face. And then my eyes found Dabi’s. His face placid, he watched me being pulled out of the room. His behavior felt treacherous, I was hurt, lost as I pleaded "Dabi please help!" but all he did was avert his eyes and then he disappeared out of sight as Shigaraki coached me through the door into the hallway.

Being dragged after him, I stumbled a few times trying to keep up with his pace. Once at his room, he kicked his door open and yanked me inside, having me lose my footing and fall to the floor on all fourths. He slammed the door shut behind me and rasped "Undress."

“N- No, I won't!” I shook, scrambling to my feet.

"You're testing my patience, little Spoils," he hissed, approaching me with five fingers pointing at me.

I felt the built-up anger inside me bubble up and couldn't contain myself anymore. If he were to dust me, then be it! “Fine, jerk!” I yelled at him, aware of the danger I was getting myself into by saying that. Hands shaking I fumbled on my button and zipper, slowly pulling down my pants. Shigaraki ignored my harsh tone though and turned towards a dresser on the side. Not leaving me out of his sight he one by one unhinged the hands off of him and placed them neatly into a drawer.

As I stood only in my underwear in the middle of the room, he strode towards me and grabbed my wrist. Ignoring my loud protests he pulled me towards the bed and pushed me belly down onto it. I cringed when he pried open my legs, kneeling between them. The rustling of his pants being undone was accompanied by my pleas not to hurt me again. But he kept ignoring me, prodding one finger inside, slowly gliding in and out.

"So hot for me…" he snarled, red eyes glowing with excitement, as he licked his dry lips.

"Shigaraki, don't make me fucking bleed again!" I cried out, lifting my arms, trying to prop myself up. But his right hand grabbed the back of my head and pressed it down into the sheets.

"Shut up!" His voice full of irritation.

My complaints were muffled by the sheets as he prodded himself at my entrance, pushing my panties aside. His left hand pressed against my back, thumb curled in, pinning my body against the mattress as he sheathed himself inside me with one strong thrust. I wailed into the sheets at his forceful intrusion.

The stretch from his girth was still unbearable. I groaned as he started pumping himself into me, letting out angry huffs as he kept muttering fucking yakuza… fuckin' brat… should have dusted him… I whimpered into the sheets as he continued pounding into me. By the time he came, I felt that dull pain in my core again and anger almost boiled over inside me. As he caught his breath and pulled out, reaching for his pants, I jerked around and yelled at him "Fuck, Shigaraki, you need to stop doing that!” I almost cried, “Can't keep on hurting me like that, if you call yourself the 'boss' around here!" He growled at my outburst but before he could react I pushed him aside, his eyes glinting with surprise, grabbed my clothes and stumbled out of the room.

Ignoring the dull pain in my core and the hot fluids dripping down my legs, I started staggering down the hallway. As I got closer to the stairs, I saw a familiar figure standing at the end of the hallway, resting against the wall. Dabi looked at me with an unmoving expression in his cerulean eyes. I didn't even stop, just pushed past him as I continued my way to the stairs. He followed me and held out his hand, rumbling lowly, a bit abashed “Here, lemme help" as I swayed a bit. But I swapped it away in anger and growled at him "Don't you dare touch me, " as I continued my way up to his room, leaving him standing deserted in the hallway.

I went straight to the bathroom, got undressed and took a shower, washing all the smut off me. I sank to the floor as an uncontrolled flow of tears started mixing with the hot water running down my face.

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Life went on as usual in the headquarters. The League was out a lot, recruiting more, doing some successful quests, that the news later on talked about, as we all watched TV at the lounge bar. Their increased activity had me spare more intimate time with Shigaraki and Dabi. It was a much-needed break, giving me the possibility to cope with my new life, trying to figure out how I could fit into it. As for Dabi, I distanced myself from him, avoiding him whenever possible. I needed time, thinking about his obscurr attitude towards me in the past. So whenever he entered the lounge, I usually sat down at Shigaraki’s side or scooted off to the furthest corner. When we met in the hallway, I avoided eye contact, looking straight ahead and just passed by.

Dabi became increasingly on edge by my behavior. He didn't know how to cope with my anger. His irritation showed in his increased aggressiveness, repeatedly snapping at the other members. Everyone started being on edge with him, even more than they used to do. Toga kept complaining to me about his erratic behavior and repeated outbursts. Not as if that was anything unusual, but it had become more frequent. Even though I tried avoiding him, he somehow managed to be a constant presence in my periphery. He hung around to just watch me, reclining back in his chair looking half-asleep and completely disinterested, but I could see how he was constantly shooting me glances. During meetings in the lounge, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest and kept watching me with those unmoving ice blue eyes.

Despite those troubling circumstances, I started to get accustomed to the rest of the members. I grew really fond of Spinner and Twice, even Kurogiri became sort of a father figure for me with his constant concern over us. Toga was still an annoying crazy little brat who never missed a chance to draw blood from me, but I started thinking of her as the younger sister I never had. Whenever she kept asking for cuddles I couldn't help but give in to her, wrapping my arms around her, while she gave me an almost bruising hug back, snuggling into me and calling me her “Big Sis.”

Shigaraki - he turned out to be a handful. After I had lost my temper with him that one night, he seemed a bit apprehensive around me. He started fiddling with his fingers and phone when I was close, shooting me nervous glances. He kept looking at me with his burning red eyes, intrigued, curious as to what I was doing. Whenever there was a meeting or we just sat at the bbar he demanded me to be next to him. He snickered when he saw me snapping at Dabi. Whenever I huddled over to the other members, conversing and laughing with them, he kept eyeing me with interest.

Dabi on the other hand grew more agitated the closer Shigaraki kept me by his side, disagreeing during meetings, ignoring certain commands, just being more of his usual asshole-self towards him. And that didn't go unnoticed by Shigaraki, as he kept getting more aggrivated by his behavior.

It was one of those days they had been out again for recruitment and after they returned through the portals back into the lounge, Shigaraki turned towards me.

“Sit with me,” he rasped dryly as usual and slumped down at the bar. I reluctantly joined him, noticing that he seemed pretty agitated.

On the other side of the bar, Dabis had slouched down on a stool, whiskey in his hand, half-lidded eyes staking nonchalantly at me. Toga pranced over, leaning into me, purring and letting me stroke her hair. Even though no one said anything, there was an unspoken tension in the air. I looked at Shigaraki from the side, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What are you staring at,” he scowled irritably.

“Just seeing what mood you're in.” I shrugged.

He didn't react, as his eyes went up to Kurogishi to order us a drink. As the evening continued, we drank in silence but I couldn't shrug off the feeling that something was off between him and Dabi. They had not spoken a word since they came back. I was a bit tipsy, as Kurogiri kept placing drinks in front of me on behalf of Shigaraki. The tension-filled air, the weird vibes between the members made me feel uncomfortable and a heavy weight started suffocating me. Unexpectedly, all the stress and frustration, all the hurt and heartache of those last weeks, months of living in this place, came crashing down on me. It had been too much, too much of everything. Tears started glistening in my eyes as I felt every nerve in my body vibrate with feverish exhilaration, like strings singing with tension, ready to snap any moment. And that moment came sooner than I expected.

As Mr. Compress, a new member, approached Shigaraki, calling him “boss”, that certain something snapped inside me. The way Shigaraki had been handling me in his room was beyond “boss”-behavior and had left a sour taste in my mouth. I was barely able to suppress a giggle pressing itself up my throat. Shigaraki shot me an annoyed glance and Dabi cocked his head, honest concern starting to mix in with his usual bored expression. As they kept continuing the conversation, I couldn't control myself anymore and kept giggling every time I heard that specific word, a laughing fit slowly but surely starting to build up inside of me. Shigaraki grew increasingly annoyed by my behavior, his body started to tense, his idle hand curved into a fist and his leg nervously bouncing up and down. Once in a while his hand shot up so scratch his neck, until I could see small red patches. At one point I totally lost it, snorting, choking on my drink, not being able to suppress the frantic giggles creeping up, tears threatening to roll down my cheeks.

There was a wet splattering sound and I looked up to see Shigaraki, who clutched the remnants of his glass with all five of his fingers. What was left of it kept disappearing, turning into dust and the whiskey inside had splashed all over the counter. All heads jerked up as the scene unraveled before them.

He was shaking, face hidden behind his white messy hair as his lips parted and he breathed out in a low scratch, warning tone “Do you have a problem?"

I swallowed down my giggles, still nervous. I realized I had crossed a line and there was no way out for me.

His red crimson eyes shot up at me, his voice now trembling with rage, "I asked, if you have a problem!”

I fumbled with my fingers, which started to get sweaty and sticky. "I- I’m sorry… boss” and my body started shaking again with laughter, too exhausted from the last weeks straining experiences to care.

Shigaraki slowly slid off his stool and I watched him approach in horror, still sobbing with frantic uncontrollable giggles. So fast I couldn't even react, his hand shot up and wrapped around my throat, pinkie hovering dangerously close to my skin. He leaned forward into my face, red eyes burning into mine. I could smell his breath, induced with alcohol as he rasped out "I think I need to fuck those giggles out of you and show you who the boss is. Don't you think, little Spoils?" And with that he pulled me off the stool, my hands cutching his wrist, that was still grabbing my throat. I kept apologizing, pleading with him to let me go as suddenly a low growl emenated through the room "Stop touching her."

Shigaraki stopped dead in his tracks, still clutching my throat. Silence spread through the room like before an upcoming storm, and it had the hair at the back of my neck stand on end. Kurogiri nonchalantly turned off the TV and moved closer, ready to step in if necessary.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Dabi growled again more viciously from where he slid off the stool at the bar, “She's not going anywhere.”

Shigaraki turned around slowly, staring at Dabi. "Oh, is that so?” I was stunned by Dabi's behavior as I tried to loosen Shigaraki's grip on my throat and was finally released. I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath, stumbling a few feet away.

“Are you gonna fight me?” Shigaraki rasped dryly, turning his attention towards Dabi, who hissed back, teeth exposed in a vicious smile. “I might, jackass."

"Over some spoils?" Shigaraki raised an eyebrow.

Dabi looked at him and I could see all the rage and frustration that built up over me, bubbling just beneath the surface for the last weeks, erupting at that moment. He let out a low rumbling sound, eyes burning with anger now, "She's no spoils, she’s my girl."

Shigaraki seemed to weigh up something, tilting his head. My heart was pounding out of my chest now, I had never seen Shigaraki this eerily calm before. His eyes moved between Dabi and me, his voice raspy and cold when he finally spoke, sending shivers up my spine. "Oh- I understand... You've been fucking her," he snarled and then it all happened very fast. A blur of movement, Shigaraki jumped towards Dabi with one swift move, hand stretched out, ready to strike. Dabi simultaniously shot his arm up, blue flames ready to shoot out of his palm, the smell of kindling suddenly suffocatingly strong. They were on a collision course and someone was about to die. Kurogiri was ready to step in but before he could I heard myself cry out “Stop!" Both villains froze, standing right across from each other, red orbs gleaming viciously at cold cerulean eyes - and that's when I realized what I had to do.

I moved before I thought, wound myself in between those outstretched arms, careful not to touch either of them. I winced at the heat of Dabi’s flames only inches away from me, Shigaraki's hand almost touching my face. Every muscle tense, I stared into Shigaraki's gleaming eyes and watched his hand tremble. The entire room held their breath as the other members watched the scene in front of them unravel.

"Shigaraki," my voice shaking, “please stop," His eyes narrowed and glared at me between tufts of pale hair.

"Why should I, Spoils?" he sneered coldly.

“Because there is no need to fight. I will go with you.” I said resolutely.

I heard Dabi hissing a growl behind me, blue flames pulsating and gushing with each of his heavy breaths.

Shigaraki stood unmoving, his eyes taking me in, visibly contemplating. Then his lips curled up and he let out a scratchy snicker, looking up at Dabi. "Ok, but I am only doing this to teach that sorry ass of a patchface over there a lesson - for having fucked you," he grinned wide.

"No," Dabi growled at me, desperation weaved into his voice. His eyes shot at his boss behind me and back to me. I turned around towards blue flickering lights licking at me, determination in my voice, leaving no place for arguments “Dabi, I am going with him."

His eyes froze at those words. For a split second, I could see his facade sway, turmoil flickering in his mesmerizing eyes, but he composed himself again, same cold expression on his face again.

"You're faking… " he snarled, staring at me.

Not saying a word, I stepped backward until I was leaning against Shigarakis body, feeling his hot breath against my ear, his chest rise and fall with each tensed breath. Red bloodshed eyes bore into cerulean ones as Shigaraki stared at him from behind my back, arm still outstretched. Dabi gritted his teeth as Shigaraki’s chapped lips stretched into a wide, eerie smile. He placed his free hand around my throat, pinkie raised as he tilted my head to the side and licked slowly along my pulse, never averting his eyes from Dabi. Agonizing seconds passed as he stared at Shigaraki, then at me. I was frozen, pinned in place by the heavy judgment written in his face. But then he backed down, blue flames dying as he lowered his hand, averting his eyes with a scowl. The gesture was small but there was an acknowledgment of defeat.

Shigaraki's lips curled up in a mock grin.

“Let’s go have some fun then,” he rasped lowly into my ear and pulled us towards the hallway.

Dabi watched us leave, a strained expression on his face. As soon as we were gone, he let out a feral scream, kicking chairs and tables out of his way. His hands started smoking, an eerie blue light dancing in his palms as he stared at the other villains with hurt anger, turned on his heel and stormed towards the exit. He crashed his boot against it and it flung open, hinges aching under the brute force. The last thing to see were the ragged edges of his coat as he disappeared into the dark of the night.

----------------------------------

Pt.4

@scruffymctee @sage-malf0y @undefined--person

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itsdanii · 3 years

Note

hii i just read all of your masterlist and i loved it kdjzjsj. Could i request a scenario where Asahi has been working long hours and never gets to see his wife. And his wife is secretly pregnant :o so they get into a scrabble and all is revealed but happy ending coz i cant do sad ending ny heart might shatter

Baby Daddy

hey, bub. thank you so much for requesting! here's an asahi angst to fluff with a pregnant wife. i hope you like it ❤️ stay healthy and hydrated!

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of nausea, mentions of monthly period, suggestive content

ft. asahi azumane

reminder 1: lashing out on your wife is not a good practice, especially if you're unaware that the said wife is carrying your child inside her womb

reminder 2: never slam the door shut on your wife

With shaky hands, you stared at the pregnancy test you were holding. Tears of happiness were streaming down your cheeks as you took in the two lines signifying that you are indeed pregnant.

You've been feeling nauseous these past few weeks and the moment you noticed that you skipped your monthly period, you immediately bought a pregnancy test to confirm your suspicions.

And so, there you are, now holding the positive test as you let the feeling of hope and happiness embrace your being. You smiled and reached down to place your free hand on your nonprominent baby bump. Sure, it was too small to be noticeable yet but the fact that you knew that there's a life forming inside you made you happier than you could've ever expected.

"Hi, baby. I know you can't hear mommy yet, but I want you to know that she already loves you very much," you whispered while rubbing small circles on your skin.

Once you finally calmed yourself down from the exciting news, you took a shower and put on some presentable clothes, the red silk of the dress you're wearing shaping your body perfectly.

You stared at yourself on the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. Despite how the dress accentuated your curves, it wasn't too tight to suffocate your lower belly. You put on some light make up and kissed your wedding ring as you finished.

The next thing you did was proceed to the kitchen to prepare some fancy dinner for both you and your husband, giving the table a finishing touch with a bottle of wine for Asahi.

You glanced at the clock and noticed that it was already 9 in the evening yet your husband was still out. You decided to send him a message but only frowned when you received no reply. Sighing, you instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly as you felt a sudden distress.

What if he didn't want the baby?

What if he leaves you?

What if he realizes that he no longer loves you?

What if-

The sound of door opening interrupted you from your thoughts and you immediately stood up to welcome your husband.

Lately, Asahi had been coming home late, always overworking himself to the point of exhaustion. To be honest, you were seriously starting to get worried but everytime you tried to confront him, he would only grunt at you and head to sleep.

You made your way to Asahi and helped him with the stuff that he was carrying, making sure that you only took the light stuff in your arms. "Welcome home, love," you said affectionately and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips.

Unlike the usual, Asahi didn't wrap his arm around your waist nor buried his face on the crook of your neck. You frowned at the lack of affection but decided to let it pass.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, finally taking notice of the food you prepared. The smell of steak was still lingering in the air and despite how it slightly made you feel lightheaded, you held it in knowing how much Asahi loved it everytime you cook steak.

"Nothing," you said as you placed some of his stuff down. "I just wanted to make you some nice dinner since we haven't been spending that much time lately."

Instead of answering, he only sighed and flashed you an apologetic smile. He made his way to his seat and waited for you before eating.

Silence enveloped the two of you and you can't help but feel your palms starting to get sweaty. The way he seemed to rush his food made you feel as if he was only eating as to not offend you. As you were about to speak, he downed his glass of wine in one go before standing up.

"I'm finished. I'll go ahead to bed, okay?" your husband said as he placed a kiss on top of your head, the sweet gesture doing nothing to soothe the negative feeling bubbling inside you.

You stood up and wrapped your arms around him from the back, hands gripping each other to lock him to your embrace. "Love, I missed you," you murmured against his back.

"Y/n, I don't have time for this. I'm tired, okay?" Asahi tried to uncoil your arms around him and groaned when you won't let him.

"Don't want to let go yet. I know that if I do, you'll go to bed again and when I wake up, you'll be gone. Can't I have even just a little bit of your time?" Your voice almost cracked at the end as the toll of his absences finally made its way to you.

He applied a little force to remove your arms before turning around to face you, a deep scowl now present on his face as he stared down at you. "Time? You want time? I'm sorry if I don't give you enough. Unlike you who just stay at home and do nothing, I have work. I have priorities so I'm sorry if you think that I'm not giving you enough attention. Geez, y/n. I'm your husband, not your damn babysitter."

"You call yourself a husband when you can't even prioritize your own wife?" you spat angrily at him.

You knew that you offended him by the way his jaw clenched yet you stood your ground because you knew that the problem wouldn't be resolved unless you confronted it head on.

"I wasn't aware that it's a wife's job to nag at her husband nonstop," he spat back. "Stop being childish and maybe then you'll do something productive and not just spending your time sitting pretty."

Asahi didn't let you speak and opted on turning his back on you. Within a few seconds, you were left alone as the door of your bedroom slammed shut.

You felt your blood run cold as you stared at the door in front of you. "I'm sorry," you whispered, not to yourself nor to your husband but to your baby.

Quietly, you began to clean up the table and wash the dishes. You groaned as you felt an upcoming headache starting to form, no doubt due to the stress you're currently experiencing.

You dried your hands and turned off the lights before making your way to the guest room. Your husband basically slammed the door on you which means that he didn't want you to disturb him, right? So if it's space that he wants, it's space that he'll get.

You curled yourself against the bed, the empty space beside you making you feel lonely. You were used to sleeping beside Asahi. Despite him always coming home late, you never missed the feel of him pressing apologetic kisses on your skin.

It wasn't long until a sob escaped your lips. Your fingers gripped the pillow beside you tightly as you burried your face against the soft cotton, silently wishing that it was your husband you're embracing instead of the white material.

Unbeknownst to you, Asahi was just as distressed as you were.

He couldn't stop himself from tossing and turning as he anxiously waited for you to open the door and fit yourself in his arms. He didn't mean to slam the door at you. He only applied a bit of force not knowing that the impact would be that much.

God, he didn't even want to fight you.

But the feeling of stress and exhaustion from his work along with the expectations of people made him irritable which then resulted to him snapping at you.

Not being able to resist you anymore, Asahi swallowed his pride and made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water to wake himself up before he talks to you.

But he guessed that the cold water was no longer needed.

Because there sitting on top of the toilet seat are two pregnancy tests with both positive results. He carefully picked up one of the tests and stared at it with shock evident on his face.

You're pregnant.

You're carrying his unborn child and he just shouted at you, called you childish and disregarded your feelings.

Instant regret made its way to him and he felt his heart rate picking up. "Shit," Asahi whispered to himself as he paced left and right inside the bathroom, hands gripping the pregnancy tests tightly.

Asahi quickly made his way to the living room, eyes widening in fear upon seeing you nowhere. He surveryed the whole house while calling out for your name and only stopped when he saw your curled up form inside one of the guest rooms.

He sighed in relief and made his way to you, gently scooping you in his arms to carry you back to your shared bedroom. He removed the few stray hair from your face and placed a small kiss on your forehead and both of your swollen eyes, obviously the result of crying.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered as he showered your skin with kisses.

"Azumane," you called out with a raspy voice as you woke up from the light feeling of lips trailing on your skin.

Your husband stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "You're pregnant." It wasn't a question, no. It was a statement, one that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

"I am," you said with a nod and took his hand, placing it on the spot where your bump will soon make its appearance.

Despite being cover by the dress you're wearing, he leaned down and kissed your lower belly lovingly. Pulling away, Asahi shifted himself to lay beside you, his hand reaching for yours to bring it to his lips.

"Im so sorry for what happened earlier," he whispered. He took your lack of response as a signal to continue speaking, one hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"Im sorry for shouting at you and for neglecting my job as a husband. I was too focused on proving myself to my co-workers that I forgot the person waiting for me at home." He let go of your hand and wiped your tears with his thumb, his hand cupping your face as you leaned to his touch. "Please don't cry, my love. You know I hate seeing you cry."

"It's your fault," you mumbled with a shaky voice. "It's just... It's so unfair that I'm your wife but I still have to ask for your time and attention when in reality, you should be the one to give those to me without me asking."

"I know. I know, love." Guilt and regret were evident in his voice and the more Asahi watch you let everything out, the more he hated himself for being a bad husband. "But I promise you it won't happen again. I'll be a better husband and the best father to our child. So please..."

You nodded and buried your face to his chest, his scent helping you calm down as you cried everything out. Your hand gripped the back of his shirt tightly as you sobbed in his arms, warmth enveloping you as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're okay, we're okay," Asahi whispered, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he held you without any intent of letting you go. "We're okay, right?"

You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. "We're okay," you said reassuringly.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other's embrace, Asahi slowly pulled away. A whine escaped your lips making him chuckle slightly.

"You dressed up for me?" he asked as he raked his eyes down your figure.

"I wanted to look good for you," you said shyly. "I haven't got the chance to change since you basically slammed the door on me."

"I already apologized with words." Asahi gave your lips a peck before settling himself between your legs, eyes looking up at you as he slowly hiked your dress up, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingertips grazed your thighs.

"Now let me apologize with my actions."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

question: do you prefer the plain divider or this pink one?

#haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq angst #azumane asahi #hq asahi #asahi angst #asahi fluff #asahi x reader #hq scenarios

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cocosstories · 3 years

Text

Bucky Barnes One Shot

hi can you make a bucky x pregnant reader where she gets kidnapped and than tortured and injected with the super soldier serum in front of bucky, you can imagine everything else, why she got kidnapped, by who, how is bucky gonna react, how is gonna end. can’t wait!

Yay so I have a request for Bucky. The reader is a medic for the avengers. Her and Bucky have been friends with benefits for more than a year now. Tony throws a party and one drink leads to another and they hooked up. Then she gets pregnant.

You had been recruited to join the Avengers after a chance encounter with Black Widow.

She had been injured pretty badly on a mission and you just happened to be near the scene and jumped into action, using your extensive medical knowledge to patch her up quickly while making sure neither of you got hit from the battle that was still happening.

When everything was said and done, Tony offered you a job as the Avengers official field medic and you jumped at the chance.

You hit it off with the team almost immediately and soon it was like you had always been there.

One particular Avenger you had become close to was Bucky.

Many people had noticed the two of you shamelessly flirting and knew it was just a matter of time before thing escalated to more than friendship.

One night you and Bucky were working out on opposite sides of the training room, both unable to keep your eyes off the other.

You caught a glimpse of the fire burning in his eyes and couldn't help yourself, you walked over and kissed him.

After the initial first kiss, he took control of the situation and this began your friends with benefits arrangement.

You had decided to keep it a secret from the team for the time being and Bucky fully agreed.

It was a few months into your arrangement when Tony decided to throw a party after another successful mission.

You spent most of the night with Natasha and Wanda who you had become very close with but felt Bucky's eyes on you the whole night.

"I thought I would never get you alone, doll."

He says with slurred words as the two of you find yourself in his bedroom as the party dies down.

"Well, here I am Sargent Barnes. What are you going to do?"

You ask, a smirk on your face.

With that, Bucky takes you to the bed and the two of you spend the night entangled together.

Weeks later and you were on yet another mission feeling like death.

"Y/N, are you sure you're alright? You don't look so good."

Steve says, pointing out the green tint to your face coupled with the sweat on your brow.

"I'm fine. Just a bug or som-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, you lean over and vomit in the seat next to you, getting the attention of the rest of the team.

"You are not alright. When we get back to the compound we are getting you checked out."

Natasha says, worry on her face.

You reluctantly agree and true to her word, Nat immediately takes you to the compound infirmary once the jet lands.

"Bucky, can we talk?"

It was a few hours later and you were finally feeling better.

You head down to Bucky's room and knock on the open door.

"Of course, doll. How are you feeling?"

He asks, getting up and walking over to you.

"I'm alright. Dr. Cho gave me something for the nausea."

You reply with a small smile.

"Did she figure out why you were so sick?"

You nod.

"Bucky, I'm pregnant."

His eyes go wide as he takes in your confession before a huge smile crosses his face.

"We're having a baby?"

He asks quietly.

"Are you alright with that?"

Bucky reaches out for your hand.

"Doll, that is the best news I have ever heard."

Tears form in his eyes as he speaks and you realize that he never thought he would ever have a family again and your baby was a second chance for him.

"I love you, Y/N."

He finally admits the feeling s he had been hiding for so long, no longer having a reason to keep them to himself.

"I love you too Bucky."

You say, matching tears form in your eyes just as he kisses you.

"I guess we have to tell everyone now, huh?"

He chuckles and you nod.

"Yeah, but I think everyone will be alright with it."

As you had expected, the team was extremely happy and excited for you and Bucky.

The weeks flew by and before you knew it, you were over halfway through your pregnancy.

You and Bucky were going strong and had even started talking about the possibility of marriage in the future.

Life was good and you couldn't be happier.

One day, the team was on a mission, leaving you alone in the compound.

Late afternoon and you were craving something that you could only get from the store and decide to head out for a nice walk to get it.

As you take in the scenery, everything suddenly goes black and you crumple to the ground.

You wake up hours later, strapped to a table with Hydra agents around you.

"Ah, you're awake. Good."

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

You try and fight the straps holding you down.

"Now, now, just relax. We don't want to hurt you but you are carrying a child of the Winter Soldier and that child belongs to us."

The agent lightly touches you stomach as he speaks.

"You are not going to take my baby! Bucky and the Avengers will find me and save us!"

You scream, trashing against the hold again.

Meanwhile at the compound, the team had come home to find you gone and Bucky went into immediate panic mode.

Everyone went off in separate directions, looking for any sign as to what could have happened.

"Mr. Stark, I found blood."

Vision calls over the coms.

"Is it hers?"

Bucky asks frantically.

"I have analyzed it and yes, it belongs to Y/N. It seems she was ambushed and taken."

The team meets back at the compound as Steve and Sam do their best to calm Bucky.

"She is hurt! What if the baby is hurt! What if they kill her? I can't lose them Steve!"

Bucky cries as everyone watches helplessly.

"Barnes, we will find her. We will bring her and your child home."

Tony says, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"It has to be Hydra. Who else would want a pregnant medic?"

Natasha says, doing her best to keep her own emotions in check.

"But why would they want her?"

Rhodey asks.

"Because she is carrying my child. The Winter Soldier's child."

Bucky replies, pure hatred in his eyes as everyone else realizes what he means.

"Where do you think the would take her, Buck?"

"Where I was kept. Siberia."

Bucky gets up without another word and walks to the jet, the rest of the team following behind him.

The flight to Siberia was a quiet one, the whole team focused on getting to you as quickly as possible.

"Bucky, you need to keep your cool. Your only focus should be finding Y/N and getting her and your child put of there. Do you understand?"

Steve says just as the jet lands and Bucky nods.

You are in and out of consciousness with what seems like dozens of needles going into your arm when Bucky finally finds you.

"Doll, oh god what the hell are they doing to you?"

He says as he begins carefully pulling the needles out of your arms.

"Bu-bucky?"

You breathe out, your vision blurred from the trauma.

"Yeah, its me. I'm going to get you out of here. Just try and stay awake for me."

He says, breaking the straps holding you down and then helping you to your feet.

"Do you have her?"

Steve calls out.

"I've got her. She's barely conscious."

Bucky replies, picking you up and carrying you.

He carefully gets you through the fighting Avengers and Hyrda agents and back to the jet.

"What the hell did they do to her?"

Natasha asks once the team was back on the jet and you were headed home.

"I think they were trying to give her the serum. Or a version of it at least."

Bucky says.

"Trying? They didn't do it?"

"Looks like they didn't have time before we showed up."

As soon as the jet had landed, you were taken to the infirmary, every test possible performed to make sure you and the baby were both ok.

"They're alright?"

Bucky asks Dr. Cho when she comes to tell him he can see you.

"Both perfectly healthy. You saved them. You saved your family, Sargent Barnes."

She smiles and leaves him alone with you.

"Tell daddy thank you, baby girl."

You smile, taking Bucky's hand and placing it on your belly where your baby was kicking.

"Baby girl?"

He asks once he realizes what you had said.

"Yes, we are having a girl and she says thank you for saving her."

You nod, laughing a bit as the baby kicks under Bucky's hand.

"I will always do everything I possibly can to save you and protect you."

Bucky leans down and says to the baby, kissing your belly lightly before looking up to you.

"And you too."

He smiles and kisses you, so thankful to have both of his girls home and safe.

#Dad! Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes One Shot #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Cocos stories

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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anthemxix · 3 years

Note

Fierce deity wars aftermath? :o (I'm sorry if this comes across as demanding or rude, was just excited to see the fic and was curious how what happened after might go, it was really good!)

this isn't rude at all, my friend! i'm flattered you enjoyed my fic enough to ask for a follow-up! thank you ;w;

this picks up right where the previous one left off (here's the first part)

"Injuries?"

"Nothing major."

Voices drift through the dreamless void, which clings to Warriors like cobwebs: wispy, malleable, adhesive.

"Is he awake?"

"Maybe. Not aware, at any rate."

The words seem insubstantial, impossible to grasp, like specks of light.

"Captain? Can you hear me?"

"Time to wake up, Pretty Boy."

Like a borealis, the voices shimmer above him. Though tangible, they shy from his reach.

Warriors concentrates on forcing his eyes open, and his lashes scrape against red cotton.

"Hey, Captain? You with us?"

The stench of death saturates the air, so he must still be on the battlefield. He tries to lift his head, to see his surroundings, but all he glimpses is red.

"Hey. Pretty Boy. You awake?"

Still, he pieces it together by feel. His side is pressed against someone. His head is lolling on their shoulder. Their arm is around his back, fiercely gripping his sleeve.

"Captain, can you look at me?"

He's being held. Huh. That's a nice feeling, being held. Safe. His eyes begin to slip closed again.

"No, Captain. Stay awake. Look at me."

Always one to obey orders, he drags his head around a fraction, searching for the source of the voice. His vision is blurry, but he can see a green tunic, brown hair. The Traveler.

Something cool brushes against his hand. Glass. A bottle. His fingers automatically hook around it. Something warm wraps around his hand, affixes it in place.

"Drink this for me, okay?"

Warriors' bones are infused with lead. He watches the Traveler guide the potion to his mouth, but his body won't cooperate. His throat muscles seize, and he coughs out the liquid. It speckles across the red tunic he's cuddled up against.

"Don't make him choke!" someone outside his line of vision squawks. That's the Sailor. He knows the little Sailor's voice.

"Sorry," Hyrule laments, and cups a hand under Warriors' chin, tilts his head back. Tries again with the bottle.

This time, Warriors downs two gulps before his throat locks up and he coughs out the rest of it.

"You're getting my tunic wet." A gripe, but the grip on his arm tightens, protective. The Vet. That's the Vet, holding him. Red tunic. Right.

A thought emerges from his mental haze. Twilight. Hadn't he been with Twilight? Warriors wishes he could ask, but he's so tired. He closes his eyes again, sinks back into the void where his friends' voices echo around him. It reminds him of being trapped in the Great Fairy's bottle, the way everything is muffled and obscured and looming.

Warriors lets their voices wash over him, idly picking out words when he can and examining them like puzzles in need of solving.

"There's caves that way, half a mile or so."

"He can't walk."

"I can carry him."

"No. Traveler's magic may have stitched your wounds up, but your body still needs time to recover."

"Here, I can do it."

There are hands on him, and he's getting shifted around, and he wishes he could move. Instead, he completely retreats to the empty dark space in his head.

Then the concept of time becomes as ephemeral and elusive as his friends' voices around him.

Sometimes when Warriors opens his eyes, there's sunlight, and sometimes there's only the hazy glow of embers or the flicker of a lantern. He can't shrug off the mental mire that pins him down, can't ever keep his eyes open long enough to fully process where he is or what's going on.

That would feel more disconcerting if not for the constant, comforting presence of his friends. One of them is always right at his side when he wakes. The little Sailor, snuggled against him. Sky, carving wooden figurines. Four, polishing weapons. Even as he slides back into the dreamless dark, he feels safe.

That is, until the dark stops being dreamless.

Memories begin to unravel before him, unspooling into formless shapes and colors. At first, all he can see is blood-drenched chaos; he hears dying screams and clanking weapons, smells copper and iron. Slowly, the memories come into focus, draw together into distinct scenes. He can distinguish certain moments: a lizalfos sliced in half at the waist; a darknut's chopped-off head thunking to the dirt; a bulbin slipping on spilled moblin guts as it tries to run, then shrieking as it gets skewered.

These memories aren't his, per se; they belong to his body. His body, which he can see morph into someone else's. His hands, which are someone else's hands, brandishing a double-helix sword that cuts through monsters with no resistance.

Although Warriors has witnessed much more gruesome atrocities, these memories steep him with burgeoning unease. The violent images burrow under his skin like termites, boring tunnels into him from the inside out, as he watches them play in a loop, over and over. They continuously reignite in the dark like poe lanterns, haunting and undead.

Oblivion shifts from a refuge to a prison. Warriors starts to jolt awake with startled gasps, his terror wrenching him back into consciousness. In these moments, he often finds Time next to him, stroking his hair, murmuring soothing platitudes that Warriors can't hear over his pounding heart.

Once, he lurches awake with a shout, wide-eyed and shuddering as detailed visions of massacre still float through his head. Time gently shushes him, tucks him back into his bedroll, and pulls out the banged-up wooden ocarina he used to play as a child.

Warriors curls up on his side, hearing the distant whispers of rainfall beneath the unfamiliar melody that Time plays. The tune is wistful and haunted, layered with tragedy, like its player. But it massages away the tension rigidifying Warriors' muscles, calms the frantic adrenaline buzzing through his system. When he falls asleep, he doesn't dream anymore.

- - -

Sighing with relief, Warriors slumps back against the door. The past few days, he's managed to stay awake for longer and longer stretches, but constant fatigue still holds him hostage. Finding a town with an inn feels like a miracle, and even though he could easily collapse right here on the floor, he is eager to finally sleep in a real bed.

With effort, he straightens and shrugs off his shield, sword, and bags, depositing them by the nearest bed. The weight of his equipment has never felt so burdensome before; he's concerned that this debilitating exhaustion is atrophying his muscles and permanently docking his stamina.

But like every thought lately, he can't keep hold of his concerns for too long. They slip away from him, and he gladly lets them go, concentrating instead on the unnecessarily arduous task of shucking all his armor.

As he loosens the leather bracers on his arms, Warriors absently scans the compact rented room, which only contains two twin beds and a shabby dresser. He blinks at the dresser mirror, freezing as he registers his reflection.

Armor temporarily forgotten, Warriors strides across the tacky rug and splays his hands on the dresser. Most mornings, he spends what the others consider an unreasonable amount of time fawning over his hair in his hand mirror—personally, he thinks none of them spend enough time on making themselves presentable—but lately, he's forgone that ritual, only casting cursory glances at his reflection to ensure he's not overwhelmingly unkempt.

He hasn't gotten a proper look at himself in days, which is why the sight of the mask's red and blue brands give him such a shock.

Though their colors have already begun to fade, the sharply angled lines remain prominent. No wonder the other heroes, who have been treating him delicately, like he's liable to break, can't look at him without staring at those marks. What do they think, when they see them?

Warriors find them abhorrent. Finds that looking at them triggers unease and discomfort and nausea.

He turns away from the mirror and resumes removing his armor, gracelessly dumping it on the floor and topping the pile with his sloppily folded scarf. As he flops onto the bed, he sighs again, the relief of getting off his feet immediate and encompassing. The mattress is thin and there's a rogue spring jutting into his lower back, but goddesses, does it feel good to lie down.

Lazily, he drapes an arm over his eyes to block out the afternoon sunshine filtering in through the flimsy curtains. He doesn't feel sleepy, exactly, doesn't feel like he'll get dragged into unconscious oblivion like he was for several days right after donning the mask, but he truly is exhausted.

Physical exertion, sparse as it's been, contributes to Warriors’ fatigue. Progress across this Hyrule has been slow; the distance the heroes have covered over the past few days could be crossed, under normal circumstances, in half the time.

Warriors didn’t even walk for much of that distance. He couldn’t. Along with his sluggishness, his legs wobbled like a newborn deer’s and his sense of balance was skewed. Wind continually remained next to him, catching him when he stumbled and preventing him from toppling over.

When walking became too infeasible (and he was too tired to care about pride and dignity), he'd ride Epona. By that point, he'd usually feel so weak and shaky that he would require a boost from Twilight just to mount the horse, and from there it was a perpetual struggle to stay upright.

Fortunately, he's steadier now, able to walk without feeling constantly on the verge of collapse, but the fact that he is not okay is tremendously self-evident.

He hears the door to his room open and close, but he doesn't bother uncovering his eyes. He's certain it's just whoever decided to room with him this time—probably Wind or Legend—dropping their belongings off before venturing into town.

A lengthy moment passes before he recognizes the sound of heavy plate armor clinking. Moving his arm a fraction, he peeks out to see Time shedding his armor, setting it aside with more care than Warriors had mustered.

Warriors blinks in surprise. Time is the last person he expected to see here.

The other heroes' behavior around the Captain is subdued, and they speak to him quietly, like he's an animal prone to startle. They act so sad, he thinks now. Like they're grieving. Like they've lost something.

But Time... He was there for those horrid days when Warriors was drifting in and out of consciousness, trapped in nightmares, but ever since then, he's kept a distance. He won't even look at Warriors most of the time.

It would be unfair for Warriors to be bothered by that, though. Like a coward, he's been reciprocating the cold shoulder treatment, because he can't bear it.

He can't bear thinking about his little Sprite using that cursed mask. How old was the kid when he first used it? And what was the aftermath like for him? Was he alone? Did he have someone to comfort him through the nightmares? To help him walk or tend his wounds?

How many times has Time used this mask for those marks to permanently smirch his face?Is the aftermath of using the mask always this dreadful? What if it's not, because Time has gotten used to the effects of the damn thing?

And if Warriors feels so strange after what must have been mere minutes with the mask on—if he feels like his very essence has been ripped apart and reassembled—if he feels like some of his pieces are missing, or that now there is something new inside him, something he can't quite identify or describe—then how must Time feel, having used the mask for decades?

How does it feel to sacrifice yourself over and over, to let an inconceivable power destroy and rebuild you however it pleases, and then carry that weight alone?

With his armor off, Time turns around and catches Warriors' gaze. His neutral expression doesn't change. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Warriors breaks eye contact, repositioning his arm over his eyes. Coward. "I thought you'd be making sure the kids don't set the town ablaze."

"I'm sure the Rancher can handle it."

For some reason, this statement pricks at Warriors' heart. "I know he's your favorite, Old Man, but don't misplace your faith. He can be as much of a troublemaker as the rest of them."

After a long stretch of quiet, Warriors feels the thin mattress sink. He peers under his elbow to see Time sitting at the foot of his bed, leaning forward, elbows on knees. Hands folded, he's looking at the opposite wall, expression still deliberately blank. "Is that what you think?"

"Yeah, I do. Didn't you hear his arson story?"

Time huffs a soft, startled laugh. "No, I meant...you believe he's my favorite?"

Warriors shifts, pulls his arm away from his face. "Well, yeah? It's not up for debate, is it? It's obvious."

"Hmm." Time looks down at his hands, and his mouth flickers between a slight smile and slight frown before settling on the latter. When he speaks again, it's stilted, like a formal recitation. "Captain, I owe you an apology. I've left you to deal with the mask's effects by yourself."

Dragging himself to a sitting position, Warriors says, "That's not true..."

He's suddenly struck by a vague memory of a recent night where he fell asleep as soon as the heroes found a campsite. Tired beyond caring, Warriors had promptly slid off Epona and settled in the dirt a few paces from the horse. Prone on his stomach, he pillowed his head with his arms, despite his bracers digging into his cheeks.

Later, Time roused him, herding him upright. He was still half-asleep, struggling to keep his eyes open, as Time worked on taking off his protective gear piece by piece. Warriors' chainmail had pressed grooves into his torso; it was a relief to have someone else guide the heavy armor over his head and set it aside.

"Come to your bedroll," Time had said softly, and he ushered Warriors into his sleeping mat, which lie ready and waiting. Exponentially more comfortable now, Warriors had dropped off to sleep almost instantly, but still, he registered Time gently tucking the blankets around him.

Weary, Time sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "It is true. I've been selfish. I shouldn't have left you to figure this out on your own. I know how it feels. How...confusing it is. How strange it is, like your body isn't quite right anymore, or like you're not quite the same. How..."

He flexes his fingers, searching for his words, and a mournful look breaks through his stony facade. "How...broken it makes you feel."

After a silent, somber moment, Warriors shifts to sit next to Time, dropping his bare feet to the warped hardwood. The mattress creaks. He feels another damaged spring jabbing into him.

"I'm sorry that you've always had to handle this alone," Warriors says. A lump hardens in his throat, and he swallows. "I'm so sorry, Sprite."

Time looks at him then, really looks at him. Slowly scans the red and blue lines before re-locking eyes. He smiles, sad and small but genuine, and sets a hand on Warriors' shoulder. "I'm proud of you, you know. I've always been proud of you."

Warmth blossoms in his chest at the unexpected words, and Warriors has to turn away.

"Perhaps you should get some rest." The smile lingers in Time's voice. "We can talk when you wake up."

With Time's hand still on his shoulder, Warriors says, "I can stay up a little longer. I think we have a lot to talk about."

#catch me once again only hinting at emotional closure but not actually providing it :D #i gave time and wars a cute moment though #oh yeah ps. i like the idea that wars is a lil jealous of time and twi's relationship #like idk how true to character that is #but i like it #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu warriors #warriors #lu time #time #fanfic #anthem answers #anthem writes

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morgana-ren · 3 years

Note

Damn validation hits different when its from your favorite Shigaraki poster.

No but really creepy obsessed Shigaraki can like get it however it he wants it. Just like that act of having blood on your hands from killing someone "accidentally/on purpose" and Shigaraki making you touch him and in turn touching you with the blood of your friends that he spilled to get your attention is like 🥵🥵🥵. The manipulation, the bloodshed, the unhealthy relationship that's gonna result cause like. You jumped at an opportunity to kill babe, in the end you're just like him. Or Shigaraki forcing you to hold the knife or whatever and kill your remaining friend(s). Its hot and romantic if you think about. Just like spilling blood together even if its accidental is AMAZING

I honestly can't write for shit, I just have ideas and run on sentences but I'll take whatever scraps you throw my way❤

Thank you so much! ❤️ 💕 I’m telling you, it’s a fuckin’ awesome idea. Look, on some level, a lot of us were simpin’ for these slashers. Especially when it came to the ones that got a little too close and personal. One going crazy for you and using your weaknesses against you? Holding your friends lives against you and bending you to his whims or else? Top tier.

Mmmmhmmhmhmmhhaaaaahahaaa okay so I tried my hand at a quick one, just him being a total bastard. You know, cause why not. I can technically make it more crazy and romantic as opposed to ‘total psychopath holds me captive’, but this is what ended up coming out atm. I hope it’s alright! He is not nice, because I never write him nice. He’s actually a complete bastard, but you know.

Tomura shoves you through the rocks and fauna that line the camping area and forward toward one of the craft cabins, practically carrying you at this point because your own legs are too weak to hold your own body weight.

A quick flip of the switch to turn on the ugly, yellowish flickering lights reveals he's got one of your fellow councilors tied up and unconscious with their head lopped over on their shoulder, a little dribble of blood trailing down their temple from where he hit them with the butt of the knife. You're shaking in his grip as he gently guides you in front of the chair, rubbing up and down your arms in a way that is likely meant to be comforting but gives away his already barely concealed excitement.

"You said you'd do whatever I ask, right?"

Dread blooms, threading through your ribcage and squeezing, suffocating your lungs and anchoring your gut to the floor in abject horror. Bile rises up to tickle your esophagus as he presses the hilt of the blade to your palm- still slick with blood and caked with the viscera of your fellow campers- your friends. You tear your face away. You can't look. You can't look.

"I want you to prove it to me."

His hand constricts across your chin in an iron grip and yanks your face back toward them, your tears pooling in the slats of his fingers. He gently curls each of your own fingers around the knife- so gently in contrast to the way he's lodged against your jaw- before releasing you and shoving you forward.

“You’re going to kill them. I even made it easy for you. He’s out cold- no screaming, no struggling, none of the obnoxious stuff I had to deal with. All you gotta do is push the knife in to prove your loyalty to me.”

The dam breaks and you fall to your knees, shaking your head as the knife falls from your hand and clatters to the floor, spinning aimlessly on its axis. Sobs catch in your throat, hiccupping relentlessly through the choked gasps and guttural blubbers. “I-I can’t! I won’t! You can’t make me do this! Please, Tomura-”

He rolls his eyes, plucking the knife from the floor before threading his hands through your hair to the scalp and jerking you back up to your feet and into his arms again. Your teeth clench at the pain, another sob wracking your spine as you almost double back over. “I can make you do anything I want- Don’t forget what this is.” Releasing your hair, he curls an arm around under your tits, holding you upright, his other pushing the knife back into your sweaty palm, hand curling around yours to guide you. “Don’t forget what happens if you don’t do what I ask. I’ll even help you, if you’ll stop your incessant sniveling.” He moves forward, bringing you with him closer to your target, brandishing the knife entwined in your hands. The sharp blade catches on the collar of their pastel camp shirt, moving lower as Tomura calculates out exactly where to move- he won’t drag this out just to hurt you. He might be cruel, but he’s not a monster.

“Right there-” The tip sits point blank, scaling downward below the inner part of the left clavical bone- stopping approximately between the fourth and fifth ribs and angling the knife upward. Hours of volunteering to teach the camp anatomy lesson tells you as much. “We’ll push it in together right there. It’ll be almost instant, I swear-”

“Please- I can’t-” “You can.” He cranes his neck and kisses your hairline, and you recoil as much as you from his affections. “And you will. For me.” A hideous giggle as he kisses at the shell of your ear. “And for yourself.”

His hand moves forward, taking yours along with him, and the tip of the blade dents in the billow of your victim’s shirt. Your hand shakes, fingers trembling, but guided by Tomura’s movements, it nudges in deeper, and you meet the first level of flesh.

“Now just push it in-”

A small patch of blood begins to bloom outward from the point of contact, piercing his skin as Tomura wedges the blade in deeper with a slow, fluid movement. You could swear that as it embeds further into his skin, that his body quivers and tightens-

“C’mon- Almost there. A few more inches and you’ll be done-”

At this point, he’s the only thing anchoring your hand to the handle, more his efforts than your own. He’s definitely taking far more pleasure in this than you; A terrible, carnivorous smile sliced across his face as he claims your faltering fingers beneath his own. He’s made it perfectly clear what’s to become of you if you dare to defy him, but even as the proverbial guillotine looms above your neck, every instinct in your body screams to shove him off, to run, to hide where he can never find you.

But he’s stronger than you- faster too- made sure to impress upon you that he’s smarter as well. He’s made a point of telling you in explicit detail what will become of you if he has to chase you down again, but the impulse is thrumming through your veins side by side with the adrenaline that makes you nauseous. Even if you could fend him off- even if he couldn’t catch you- you could never go home. He’d spent months planning this down to the marrow. Every little detail orchestrated to look like the handiwork of an unhinged and underappreciated camp councilor- you.

There’s so much blood. On him. On you. Dribbling down the front of the unconscious councilor’s shirt and staining the pastel a stark red that blears your black and white pulsating vision. You can feel his heartbeat in the knife, you swear you can-

“Almost there, baby-”

The blade stills as it meets a meaty wall of resistance and you know it’s reached the his heart. Tomura’s body shivers against yours, knife almost fully driven into the thorax now. You try not to think about how much time it must have taken him to study, how much he must have researched avoiding the sternum and the cage of ribs meant to protect the vital muscle if only to force you to bend for him this way.

“You wanna know something fucked up?” He removes his hand from yours, leaving you gripping the hilt for a split second before you yank yourself backwards, sobbing openly as it stays put, stiffly wobbling slightly from the lack of support once you both withdraw. You turn away from the body, smacking into Shigaraki’s chest even as you try to shove him away. He cradles your face, hands crusted with blood tracing the curve of your cheek, smearing your tears across your skin. “He could technically live through this, if I let him. The heart closes punctures on its own if allowed to do so. At least long enough help could get here.” “Please-” You whine, voice cracking and sinuses draining into your throat and clogging your airway in your distress. “Please! We can leave together, we can go wherever you want! Just call him an ambulance and we’ll go. I’ll go with you willingly, we don’t have to-”

“You’ll come with me anyway, you dumb little slut. I don’t think you’re quite grasping what’s happening here.” He seethes behind clenched teeth, fingers twisting in your uniform. “But I guess you have a point. He doesn’t have to die.”

“Please- Please just-” “Convince me then.”

He pushes you down to the floor again, landing on your knees before him. His hand finds the back of your head, grinding your face onto his crotch hard enough you can feel his stiffening cock against the soft of your cheek.

“What? We don’t have time-” “Better hurry then. Tick tock, princess. I didn’t put a whole lot of effort into finding out how long he can survive.”

Nausea curls up in your gut once more but your fingers still find his zipper, shaking and blinking back tears as you unbutton his trousers. You try to ignore the mocking laugher bubbling in his gut as you fish his cock out from the barrier of fabric, hesitating slightly when your fingers close around the velvety skin of his shaft, hot and throbbing to the touch.

“I don’t know what will be a bigger disappointment- if you don’t know what you’re doing or if you do.” He jeers, taking his dick out of your hands only to slap it against the side of your mouth a few times as he yanks his pantline down enough to free himself fully. “I guess we’ll find out. Either way, you’ll catch on to what I like, won’t you? You were always such a quick little learner.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, shoving the head of his cock past your teeth in a way that seems almost too eager- like a virgin would. You don’t know much about Tomura- had never even really spoken to him before these past few days, but if you had to guess, judging by the way he’s already breathing heavy and looking down at you with manic eyes and sweating profusely from the nape, this is probably the first time he’s ever been touched intimately like this.

“C’mon!- Suck me already-”

It’s not a surprise. He’s brash and rude and a total loner and butted heads with everyone else from the start, and now he’s responsible for countless deaths as well. He probably never found time to woo anyone between his plotting and abhorrent personality. At least it plays in your favor to some degree, since chances are he’ll cum sooner rather than later. The thought of having to take him down your throat makes you sick, but if it’ll save your friend...

You stick out your tongue past your lips, allowing him to slide his length down your throat without obstruction, blinking your bleary doe eyes up at him as you kitten lick his cock. He shivers with every lave of your tongue, his musky scent invading your nostrils as you try to repress your gag reflex to allow him deeper.

“Oh, fuck yes-“

He stutters his hips, rolling them against your face until you’re flush with the course and curly white litany of hairs nested at the base of his pelvis. His musky busk clogs your senses and cloys up your sinuses, but you’re determined to please him- this isn’t about you anymore- so you shove down the disgust and focus on pampering his cock as best as you can given the circumstances.

“Shit- you’re such a little slut for me. Look at you go, taking my fat cock like a pro-“

You purse your lips around him, locking an airtight seal around the base of his prick and covering your teeth with your lips. The edges swell your lips with every bob of your head, but his moans clue you into the fact that you must be doing something right, so you ignore the discomfort in favor of taking him further down your throat instead.

His hand finds the crown of your head again, closing around your scalp and forcing his cock down into the depths of your throat as he shoves you deeper until your lips are practically pressed against his navel. Gagging is inevitable, as he’s not exactly small, but you try to remind yourself to breathe through your nose instead- though the hot, heady air near his groin does you no favors.

“Come on, baby, take my dick- fuck, you’re such a good little whore for me- suck my cock- fuck, such a good girl-“

He’s close, he’s so close you can taste it. The slimy consistency of precum coats your mouth and he’s throbbing against your throat- he’s almost ready to cum, just a bit more, just a bit-

The tangy smell of blood and arousal sits heavy in the air and even as you want to cry, you swallow him further, closing your throat around him and massaging him with the silken cavern of your throat, letting him fuck your mouth to his liking. Drool spills from the sides of your mouth, swollen lips puffed around his shaft, and he looks at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Gunna cum- gunna come down your fucking throat- you’ll swallow it all-“ his other hand clumsily slaps against your cheek, massaging your cheekbone with hands still blood-wet. “Take it all, you fucking whore- fuck, so pretty, so pretty, all mine now-“

He throbs and you can feel it, cum spurting from his cock down your throat and into your belly. You almost gag, having to force down the sputters with a red face and weepy, bulging eyes. He doesn’t relent his grip, keeping you stuck on his cock as he moans loud and unabashed enough that it leaves you humiliated even as you know that everyone else in the vicinity too long gone to hear it.

You try to swallow it down, try to stomach it all, but it proves just a bit too much. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he’d been withholding for a while. Tapping his thighs, coughing around his length until he finally has the wherewithal to take the hint, he withdraws from you as you cough up small bits of spittle and cum onto the knees of his jeans and your own mouth. You fall down onto your side, hacking up bits of liquid that clearly went down the wrong pipe as he tucks himself away back in his pants.

He kneels down before you, patting your back in a condescending manner with a sinister, lofty smile. You try desperately to get a word out between convulsions, and it doesn’t help that he’s pulling you to your feet before your vision can clear itself, yanking you up into his arms and over his shoulder with one careless heave.

“You did real good, baby- I can’t wait to fuck that tight little cunt of yours when we get back- You’re so perfect- Fuck that was incredible, everything like I dreamed but better-”

You pound on his back, pointing at your friend. They sit limply, knife still jabbed in their chest. Their skin is a sickly pale color, blood running down and pooling in their lap and absorbing into the fabric of their clothing.

“Call- first- please-”

“Huh?” He looks back at the chair and the body tied down to it, grin faltering slightly. “Oh. They’re gone. Long gone. See?” He turns on his heel, bringing his shoe up to kick at the butt of the knife, lodging it deeper into the corpse with one quick stomp of his shoe. There’s no movement, not even a cry or a whimper or a rattle. “They were already dead. I stabbed them in the back of the neck earlier. It was quick, if that makes you feel better. They didn’t feel a thing-” He pats your ass, giving it a quick smack. “But you sure did, didn’t you?”

You wail and kick and scream, energy renewed as his horrific deception and that sickening feeling in your gut plunging further and further into sick. He only cackles, easily keeping you under control with one hand slung around your waist and his shoulder digging into your gut.

“Good call though. Can’t be leaving the murder weapon behind. Memories of our first kill together and all.”

He yanks the knife out in one swift movement, body slumping over from the momentum and you see the ghastly wound right at the base of the back of his neck.

He was already dead. He was already dead.

#Morgana and friends #nsft #tw noncon #hot slaughter #lmao #written hastily do not judge me #watch me make up a shitload about anatomy and death because I don't know #stabbing someone in the heart is one of the few things I've never done before

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Act Two | Down to Earth

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"What are you standing there alone for, (Y/N)? Come sit with me!"

While you expect Juno would rather have lunch with people she already knows well, you see her stand up from her seat and approach your side when she spots you nearby. She holds the tray firm in one hand and waves with the other. In response, you smile and grab your own tray tight before following her, all while ignoring the ever-growing feeling of everyone's eyes on you, regardless of almost all the students around being too busy eating, talking, and walking to notice your presence. So far, and -- close to what you expected -- you've only talked with the wolf and the dog; the latter you hadn't even come across with since yesterday afternoon. Truth be told, you want to take up his offer and knock at the door of his dorm, but more than one reason restrains you from doing it.

First, you'd only known him for a day, and even if you really did only need to ask him more about the school, you couldn't gather sufficient courage to do it. Second, you didn't want to risk making your parents worry by telling them the very first thing you'd done was run off to the boys' dorm without a care in the world. Third and most important of all right now, you didn't know how to keep up a normal conversation with Juno without worrying about your word choice every few seconds, so merely thinking of doing the same with Jack made you retreat on the idea without thinking it twice. Having to share a room with someone else and the impending need to form small talk and prevent yourself from seeming rude or awkward was already draining enough -- mentally, most of all. You're aware you're far from prepared to tackle any other, larger issues without having an internal meltdown over them, so it's best to set some limits for the moment being; perhaps eventually, you could handle a bigger crowd, but today's not that day.

Being homeschooled weights more as a con the more hours you spend at this school. Not only do you have a hard time being social and getting adjusted to such a large campus, but you barely have any knowledge of the relationship between carnivores, herbivores, and those in-between. If you didn't wish to be classified as ignorant or naïve, you would soon need to ask either Juno or Jack to tell you where the library is. Starting off with some basic research is about the least you can do to break out of that shell -- once and for all.

"...Earth to lamb?"

You flinch and almost topple the juice box on your tray.

It takes you a second to process that you've already made it to a table, and a few more to acknowledge Juno's now sitting down -- and with an empty chair waiting across from her, too.

"Sorry," you say, mouth and ears drooping just as much as your courage. Your head spins as you rush to sit down and shrink away in your seat, avoiding eye contact with her by all means possible. Then, you take your drink, open it, and sip some of it, hoping to ease the tension out of you. "I keep... spacing out lately."

Juno smiles and tilts her head to the side, while her ears perk and her gaze lights up. Her eyes are intent on you, and these carry the same brightness as when she talked with you about love. "Someone on your mind?" She looks behind her -- as if expecting to see your source of interest from close by; her smile remains intact as she goes back to looking at you. "Is it Jack?" she asks, winking. "You looked like you were getting along pretty well with him yesterday."

You smile back, though you still end up shaking your head to let her know otherwise. Having a crush on someone so quick and suddenly was unlikely for you, but the reminder of how passionate she seemed about this particular subject yesterday makes you believe she's the type to fall fast and love lavishly. You fork some of the salad on your tray and toy with it for a moment, mind yet to return from its journey as you consider her words and just how different your view on love is when compared to hers. "I was thinking of him, but not like that." You take in some air and brace yourself for any incoming questions. "I was actually wondering if… if you knew where the library is? I know he offered to help, but-"

"So there is something going on with you!" The wolf interrupts you with her excitement and stands up from her seat. Her gaze is now as wide as the smile on her face, and her energy almost rubs off on you. She places her hands on the table, leans in, and suspends herself over it. "Was it love at first sight? Don't skim on the details, (Y/N)!"

You scratch your throat and prepare yourself with a deep breath, at a dire need to tell her the truth.

"Ah, n- no." You set the fork down and look up to meet with her eyes. The desire to clear things up grows stronger, and you can't ignore it for much longer. "I just want to make friends, but I'm not sure I'll be too successful in that, considering how… who I am."

Juno's excitement falls. Her gaze knits as she sits back down, and a frown replaces her smile, overpowering her previous attitude entirely. "What do you mean?"

You gather wit to be blunt, not wanting to sugarcoat how you feel about yourself and this recent change. "Frankly, I'm…" Your words trail off and you hesitate with a deep breath in, along with one out. "I feel I'm too... ignorant to understand how to get along better with others at this school." Hunger stays absent -- even when you stare down at your plate and breathe in its scent. Your confidence from yesterday proves to be little and outright superficial with how different you feel today, reaching towards a level of self-consciousness you haven't experienced since your early teens. "I only ever went to kindergarten, and the rest of my years were taught at home." You grab the juice box and drink from it in an attempt at finding your appetite again. When you gulp, it feels worse than before. Nausea arrives with how much you dwell over a single topic. "To be honest, It… It surprised me when I noticed I'd be staying in the same dorm as you. Jack heard me say something… rude about it, though I'm not sure if you heard me, too."

"Oh, I heard you," Juno replies, a laugh leaving her mouth. She takes a bite from her food before continuing with, "But I pretended not to."

"Why would you do that?" you ask, now your turn to frown. "You were so close by when I yelled that…" Your face turns hot the longer you think about that memory. "It was rude of me. A terrible first impression, that's for sure!"

A grin forms on her face, though she doesn't say anything yet. Rather, she takes another bite off her meal, almost emptying the plate in the process. How fast she eats prompts you to start eating from your tray, against wasting any food and risking the chances of feeling hungry by your next class. "Maybe it was, but I wanted to see if you would bring it up someday." She sets the cutlery down and glances behind you, grin growing. "And you did," she adds, words as confident as you wish you could be. "Much earlier than I thought you would." Juno gazes behind you again; her tail wags and her eyes spark with what looks to be mischief. "Look behind you!"

You do as suggested and almost end up falling from your seat when you come face-to-face with Jack, his knees currently bent to match with your sitting height. His snout is nearly close enough to brush with yours, and that same excitement and joy from yesterday remains in his stance. "How's your first day going?" he asks, tail wagging at a similar pace to Juno's, although his smile proves to be more genuine rather than teasing. "It's nice to see you making friends already!" His eyes shift towards the wolf and turn back to you once more. Then, a slip of paper is offered out to you, this one folded neat and compact for you to carry. "Here's my number, in case you ever want to hang out."

"Being bold again, aren't you, Jack?"

His hold on the paper stays even as you take it; a hint of embarrassment shows up on his cheeks when he looks at Juno. Her comment -- slowly, but surely -- dawns on him and leads to him staying frozen in that same spot for a while. "It's not like that!" Jack exclaims, snapping out of it. He finally lets go of it to stand up straight and meet the wolf with a flustered gaze.

Juno, on the other hand, laughs it out with just as much glee as the first time "Sure, it's not," she replies, giggling. Her teasing nature returns in an instant, hardly giving him a chance to recover from the previous blow. "First, you invite her to your place, and then you give her your number, too? I'm the person you can least hide these things from."

That's enough for her to shut his mouth.

Jack's forced to find a distraction by facing you again, with a less confident look now present in his eyes. "Think we could talk later? I'm meeting up with some friends today." He stops for a second; fluster falls from his face as a cheery expression makes its return. "And maybe I can introduce you to some of them, too. I'm sure they'd like to meet someone new!" He takes a final glance at the paper before leaving the table, an act done while avoiding Juno's gaze from all angles.

"Y- You can still keep that, by the way."

With that last, stuttered sentence, he runs off -- but not before waving goodbye.

You wave back and watch as he disappears from your sight, leaving you alone with Juno once more, who smiles in response.

"So... Friends, huh?" she jokes, letting out a laugh.

Your tray almost ends up on the floor when she says that, hands shaking to the point where you can't bring much control over them anymore.

While you're aware she's not being serious and that it's all done in good fun, you can't help dwelling too much on whether you're supposed to be here, and if someone like you would only cause more trouble to the school and all its people.

"I'll take your word for it, (Y/N)."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Updates will be weekly on Mondays from here on out!

#various x reader #legoshi x reader #legosi x reader #haru x reader #jack x reader #juno x reader #rouis x reader #louis x reader #beastars x reader #female reader #sheep reader #slow burn #romance #mystery #thriller #lgbt #lgbt themes #long fic

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nanasparadise · 3 years

Note

Can you do (aged up of course), Yandere Narancia x reader. [p.s can it include any of these prompts? “ Stop denying our love! Stop denying our future together!! ”, “ Please don’t cry. Show me the smile I love so much! ”, “ You can’t escape my love.”,” You will grow to love me back, I just know it!“] Thx so much <3

“You can’t escape my love”

“You will grow back to love me, I just know it.”

Hiya anon! I hope you enjoy it! <3

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries and keeps harassing you, until he stands in front of your apartment’s door...

TW: cyber harassment, implied stalking, gaslighting, mentions of a panic attack, toxic relationship, noncon touching, curse words, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Narancia has been aged up, no minor content on my blog!

Word count: 2155

“No escape” Yan! Narancia x gender-neutral reader

Bling. Another one of… how many messages again? You have stopped counting a while ago. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, wondering why you haven’t turned off the volume yet. Why is he so unrelenting? Annoyed, you take your phone in your hand, staring at the twenty-five texts Narancia has left for you. At first, they have started off innocently, asking you about your well-being and your day. But as time has passed, the messages have begun becoming more invasive and have ended up being straight-up creepy.

“Why aren’t you answering me, did I do something wrong?”

“Stop being so stubborn, I know you want to be with me, too!”

“I’m always near you, you’re aware of that, right? You can’t escape my love.”

An icy shudder travels down your spine while reading the last two sentences. Fear clenches around your heart, making your chest feel heavy, your breaths short and laboured.

“’’Try out this dating app!’ they said, ‘It will be fun!’ I see where this fun has lead me to”, you think gloomily. Why on earth did you ever sign up to that damned app and had to match with Narancia? You curse yourself, curse your naivety for having expected to encounter there a nice and healthy relationship.

The only thing that has waited for you is an obsessive stalker you can’t get rid of. Of course you didn’t realise Narancia’s disturbing nature at the beginning. No, you thought of him as sweet and energetic, although a bit tiring. Your first dates were pleasant: you went to a fair, sharing candyfloss and laughter between you, to a restaurant, where the Italian nearly choked on his pasta out of excitement, to a spring picnic at the local park, bathing in the gentle sunlight. It all seemed so beautiful to you back then, so innocent. But quickly, things have changed.

Narancia has become increasingly clingy to you until it started feeling as if he was glued onto your hip. Oh, you want to go grocery shopping? He’ll come with you and help you carry your bags! You’re planning on visiting your family on the weekend? He’ll join you, he has been dying to meet them anyway!

Setting boundaries with him was extremely challenging. Every time you hinted that you’d rather like to spend some time alone, he nearly threw a fit, taking your words out of context and twisting them around.

“So you want to toss me away? You don’t think I’m important to you?”, he shouted at you, tears of anger forming in his eyes. Back then, you didn’t notice his gaslighting methods, felt guilty for prioritising yourself. But now, you don’t want to hold yourself back anymore. There isn’t any reason for you to justify yourself, especially not to someone who clearly has no right to intervene in your life like this. Your gaze travels back to your phone. All these messages, these implications, are proof enough of his unhealthy attachment to you. Hell, he even admitted following you! No matter how much you enjoyed your time together, you can’t let Narancia continue with his creepy behaviour.

Quickly, you type a text, telling the Italian that if he goes on invading your privacy, you’ll block him. For a few minutes, sweet silence dominates your living room.

“Maybe he finally got it”, you muse hopefully.

Bling. There goes your hope.

“Are you messing with me? Why would you write that?! Please, stop with these jokes, we can talk about this!” Another sigh comes out of your mouth.

“No Narancia, we actually can’t. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell the whole time, but it seems you don’t understand. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna block you for now, otherwise I’ll go insane.”

With these final words, you block his number. Relief washes over you as you realise that the Italian can’t harass you anymore.

“It‘s kind of sad how things have turned out”, you mumble to yourself. Though you do feel some regret – after all, the two of you had shared many beautiful moments together – you abruptly stop your pondering. “No use to cry over spoiled milk, Y/N. If he keeps treating you like this, it’s best to get away from him.”

Little did you know that Narancia isn’t letting you go that easily. The following days, he kept reaching out to you towards multiple phone numbers. Every time you blocked it, a new one popped up. At this point, you’ve simply stopped using your phone altogether, only relying on the device if it’s inevitable. In those cases, you’re helplessly exposed to the unnerving messages of the young man. The latest one keeps haunting your mind, initiating your anxiety.

“I’ve been really patient with you, Y/N, but this little game is making me lose my temper. I’ll be seeing you tonight and then we settle things straight. You will grow back to love me, we’ll make up again, I just know it.”

Nervously, you eye the nearest clock in your flat. 8 p.m. What does Narancia consider ‘tonight’? Will he even come? Are you able to face him right now?

“Oh god, I need to go”, you whisper desperately, nausea manifesting itself in your stomach. You could crash at your friend’s place, you’re sure they’d understand your situation. Quickly, you gather all your important belongings, ready to flee, as a loud knocking on your front door followed by an all too familiar voice interrupts your escape.

“Hey Y/N, could you open the door for me, please?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You mutter an incoherent string of curses. Petrified, you just keep staring at the door, not daring move a single muscle in your body.

“If you don’t open the door yourself, I’ll just break it in, you know?”, Narancia shouts on the other side. The casualness of his tone scares you even more.

“How can he just be so blasé by his behaviour? Doesn’t he notice how wrong his actions are?” Actually fearing the Italian might damage your property, you accept your defeat and slowly walk up to the front door. Hesitantly, with shaking hands, you unlock it and pull the handle down. Nervousness creeps up on you, making your palms grow sweaty and your heart palpitating erratically. Soon – too soon for your liking – you meet a pair of familiar purple eyes. To your surprise, Narancia smiles upon seeing your face.

“Hi babe,” he greets you, carefree, “I’m so glad you opened the door for me! You have no clue how much I’ve missed you!” Without even waiting for you to invite him in – which you definitely wouldn’t have done – the young man marches into your flat, invading your privacy even further. Suddenly, two arms wrap around your middle and pull you close to the young man’s chest. Your breathing falters at the abrupt touch. “It’s alright, it’s only me, Y/N”, Narancia tries to comfort you. If only he knew that his presence currently gives you anything but comfort…

A few moments later, you find yourself sitting on your couch next to him. Narancia flashes you a seemingly reassuring grin all while you keep fiddling with the sleeves your shirt. You blankly stare at the floor in front of you. Even though Narancia’s behaviour is conveying sympathy, you couldn’t get rid of the intuitive feeling that this is all but a façade to lull you into a false sense of security. Who knows what he could do to you? Despite his overall sweet and fun nature, the young man doesn’t shy away from using violence if you test his – admittedly little – patience. His numerous messages flash up in your mind again. You’re painfully aware now how he made it clear that you’ve clearly missed your opportunities of being in his good graces. This realisation pushes you nearly over the edge, being on the brink of a panic attack. Would Narancia really hurt you?

“Look Y/N,” the sound of his voice interrupts your train of thought. A little startled, you immediately straighten your back and glance at his form next to you. The young man’s hand finds its way to yours, stopping your fumbling by securely grasping it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but what’s wrong? Why did you just ignore me like that?”, Narancia asks you. You don’t miss the hint of annoyance in his voice, indicating his true feelings. Though anxiety still has a hold on you, you try your best to fight against it and tell him the truth. After all, it’s not like you could escape this situation anyway. So you take a deep breath in and out again, before you spill your following words.

“Well, I know you’re more of a clingy person Narancia, but what you’re doing is unhealthy. You can’t expect me to give you my full attention all the time. And you definitely can’t follow me around! It’s just creepy and wrong. You know that’s considered stalking, right?”

The Italian stares back at you incredulously. You wonder what’s going on in his head right now.

“You gave me no other choice, Y/N! How am I supposed to see if you’re doing alright if you deny me like this? You really think me worrying about you makes me some deranged criminal?”, Narancia barks angrily back at you. The grip on your hand tightens. Listening to your previous gut feeling, you immediately retrieve your hand from his all while scooting away from him to gain more space between you. The dark-haired man’s jaw visibly clenches at your action, disapproval glistening in his eyes. Of course he would use his gaslighting tactics on you, he always does when things don’t go his way. Cautiously, you think for a while of what to say, not wanting to trigger Narancia’s wrath any further.

“It’s not the fact you worry about me, it’s the way you choose to show your concern. Narancia, it’s not okay what you’re doing, you’re actually making me feel very uncomfortable, even right now. Plus, you’re blaming me for your behaviour, which is, again, not acceptable”, You carefully reply, hoping to talk some sense into him.

He makes you uncomfortable? Narancia can’t comprehend your words at all. He’d been worrying himself sick the last few days, trying to reach out to you as best as possible while you cruelly kept on ignoring his countless messages. But he is supposed to be the bad guy now? The Italian scoffs intensely at that thought. He can feel the anger gnawing at his guts, ready to be released.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Narancia reprimands you, “can’t I show you anymore that I care? That I love you? Even after you’ve blocked and ignored me? What do you expect me to do now, to just let you go?”

“Actually, I do,” you peep quietly, “I can’t continue with this madness. If you don’t want to understand and listen to me, then it’s best for you to go. Now.” Your voice grows stronger with every word you utter, finally regaining your confidence. Meanwhile, Narancia’s heart sinks to his stomach at your statement. Do you really want to leave him?

“No, no no no Y/N, you don’t mean this, right? You wanna stay with me, don’t you?”

“No, I really don’t think I do, not after you’ve shown me your true colours.”

With a force you don’t expect, Narancia pulls you suddenly against his chest again. His arms cage you in, leaving no room for you to move at all.

“This is just a misunderstanding,” the young man keeps repeating like a mantra while tightening his grasp as if you could dissipate into thin air if he didn’t cling onto you, “It’s normal for couples to fight from time to time, it’s fine. We’re fine, right? You wouldn’t abandon me for real, would you?”

“Narancia, I –“ you try to intervene, but your attempts remain futile as he cuts you off quickly.

“No, you’re not going to leave me! I’m not letting you. Look, this is but a silly fight, you’re not going to toss away our relationship for that, are you? Just remember all the beautiful moments we shared together, how happy I can make you, if you just let me!” Narancia nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you, Y/N.” He eagerly plants kisses onto your skin, making you shudder and whimper helplessly. Your eyes grow bigger, your breath quickens as you desperately look for a way to escape this situation, to escape him.

“I love you more than anything in this world. I’d gladly give up everything if it meant to spend every second with you by my side. No one can love you like this but me. Remember that next time you’re thinking I’m going to let you off the hook”, Narancia whispers in your ear, the underlying threat being crystal clear to you. No, you aren’t going to escape from him any time soon…

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere jjba #yandere jojo #yandere narancia x reader #yandere narancia #yandere x reader #jojo golden wind #minors dni #tw: aged up character #tw: yandere #tw: noncon touching #tw: toxic relationship #tw: gaslighting #tw: cyber harassment

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

eyes full of stars

word count: 3.1k

warnings: insinuated!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, slight sexual innuendo (kind sorta maybe, minors please be aware)

recommended listening: cowboy like me | taylor swift

a/n: it’s cold and snowy. to combat the winter blues i wrote about a sunny minnesota summer with brock :))

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Brock this carefree.

The season was hard on him. There were large periods where he didn’t put up any points, and trade rumors started to circulate. Halfway through, before the playoff push even started, the negative social media comments came rolling in. You frequently saw fans request a trade or say that the organization should regret drafting him. Brock did his best to brush everything off, but it was beginning to waer on his mental health. You’re devastated when they fail to make it to the postseason, but you know it’s for the best. The injured team will spend the offseason recuperating and be ready for the next one. Besides, it means you and Brock will get to spend more time on the lake.

So here you are, packing the car for the twenty-seven hour drive to Minnesota. Brock insists on driving, says it’s relaxing, but you aren’t sure you agree. Prone to car-sickness so fierce you can barely look out the window, you’d much rather fly. Everything is exasperated by the fact you’re a nervous traveller to begin with, afraid of taking a wrong turn or missing an exit. You’re a terrible road trip partner but at least Brock could talk to the dogs. Coolie and Milo loved car rides, and you can typically hear your boyfriend having full on conversations with them as you fade in and out of consciousness.

“Ready to go babe?” Brock asks as he closes the trunk. The question is delivered with a bright grin, and despite your anxiety you return it with ease.

“I don’t really have much of a choice do I?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he moves towards you. Sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans he kisses you lazily. It’s comforting and all-consuming at the same time; doing a great job of occupying your mind with thoughts of him instead of the journey ahead. “I suppose not,” he says, planting a final kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be fine. You can take a Gravol right before we cross the border and you’ll be asleep before we hit Seattle.”

It’s the best plan of attack, so you agree immediately. After taking one last run into your shared apartment to use the bathroom and make sure everything is in order, you make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat of Brock’s jeep. Music filters through the speakers at a low volume, and you focus on the retreating skyline of Vancouver. You’re excited to get back to Minnesota, to relax and see your boyfriend in his natural habitat. Countless days are about to be spent lounging lakeside enjoying each other’s company. It will also be nice to spend time with Brock’s family: they’ve been incredibly welcoming over the years and you can’t wait to catch up with them. You know Brock’s itching to spend time with his nephew, and just to be at home.

Just as Brock said, you’re asleep before Bellingham. It’s fitful, and you’re frequently woken up by the dogs barking a little too excitedly in response to something Brock said. However, it does a good job of keeping you from emptying the contents of your stomach onto the floor. Somewhere in Idaho, a good seven hours after you left Canada, you awake for the final time.

“Look boys, Mom’s finally awake!”

You laugh at the comment and lean over the center console to ruffle his hair. It’s still long from the season, and curls slightly around your fingertips.

“You’re hilarious.”

Brock takes his right hand off the steering wheel, unravelling yours from its resting place and entwining your fingers together. He places a kiss to the back of your palm. “You know I’m just teasing,” he whispers. “I know these drives are hard on you. Thank you for doing it twice a year.”

Instead of answering verbally, you squeeze his hand tighter. Though it’s true you hate driving through five states, you’d do it twice a week if it would make Brock happy. It seems a bit much to convey with a single gesture, but you can tell from the smile that graces his features that Brock understands. The two of you sit in silence, enjoying the scenery and trying to scout for a rest stop. Coolie and Milo are getting antsy and you’re also due to stretch your legs.

After letting the dogs run around to release some energy and using the bathroom, you start the final leg of the day. Missoula, Montana, is the destination. Not quite the halfway point, but close enough that you could tackle the rest of the miles tomorrow, the city has a wide variety of pet-friendly lodging. You insist you drive the rest of the way, giving Brock a well deserved rest. Looking at the interstate for hours can cause serious highway hypnosis. Not even twenty minutes after getting back on the road he’s asleep, snoring softly as he rests his head on the window.

You take a moment to admire your boyfriend. He looks so relaxed and peaceful, and the forehead creases that are starting to develop from over analyzing hours of tape disappear. Brock looks years younger, and you know the youthfulness will creep back into him the longer you’re in Minnesota. You can’t wait to see him without any cares again.

Less than two hours later, the hotel creeps up on your left. Pulling into the first available parking space, you turn the car off before waking Brock.

“Brock, we’re at the hotel,” you say softly, jostling his shoulder. “Let’s get checked in and then we shower.”

The mention of washing off a day’s worth of travel has him letting the door fly open. You had made sure to pack your overnight bags in an easily accessible spot, and work at getting them out while Brock wrangles the dogs. For being cooped up all day, they’re extremely well behaved. Once cleaned up you imagine you’ll take them on a long walk and grab some food.

“Hey, give that back. Milo!” you hear Brock yelp, and peek around to see what’s happening. The younger pup has Brock’s bucket hat between his teeth and is in the process of tearing across the parking lot.

With a giggle you call him back. “Milo, come here baby,” you say. Without a second thought, the dog bolts towards you, knocking against your shins when he fails to stop in time. You lean down to scratch Milo’s ear, and as soon as you ask him to drop the object he places it in your open palm. “Good boy,” you coo, letting him lick the side of your face.

“He’s your dog alright,” Brock huffs from where he’s standing, Coolie running circles around his ankles.

You toss the hat over the roof of the car as you laugh at him. “You’re just jealous he listens to me.”

“I sure fucking am. He’d be an absolute nuisance if it wasn’t for you.”

The rest of the night is spent unwinding from the long day. Dinner consists of the greasiest burgers you can find, and you roam around the city hand in hand, the dogs leading you. By the time you get back to the hotel you’re spent. Sleep takes over rather quickly, and you’re dozing off before Brock gets back from brushing his teeth. Once ready for bed, he slides his body against yours. The pair of you fit together like a puzzle, and after a quick kiss you let sleep consume you.

The second day of travel is much the same, except you do a better job of staying awake. You take a different anti-nausea medication and frequently switch with Brock. Conversation flows easily, ideas for summer excursions and repairs that need to be done around the house. The Boeser’s are kind enough to lend you their lake house during the off season, but the property can be a lot to manage. Brock takes it all in stride, and somehow actually enjoys spending hours mowing the grass. He says it’s relaxing, mind numbing work, so you let him handle it. Country music flows from the car speakers, and eventually talking turns into a full on concert. Milo and Coolie do their best to harmonize with Brock, and it’s too cute not to post somewhere. You sneak your phone from your pocket and manage to catch some of it on video, posting to Instagram immediately. Those from the Canucks organization you have on social media will love it; Brock’s teammates will most definitely chirp him for being tone deaf.

It’s late by the time you pull into the driveway of your temporary home, almost eleven. Grabbing only the essentials and leaving the rest to be unpacked tomorrow, you unlock the door before flopping on the couch. The dogs follow suit, laying on top of you. When Brock walks in he shakes his head, but still leans over to kiss you.

“Make sure you text your mom and let her know we made it,” you call to his retreating figure. “And let her know we’ll be over in the afternoon once we get situated.”

You swear he flips you off, no doubt poking fun at your maternal instincts. “Yes ma’am,” he replies.

“Ma’am?” you shriek. “I am not fifty. You’re so gonna get it Boeser.”

After gently nudging the dogs off your legs you’re chasing after him, laughing all the way. Brock’s a lot faster than you, being the athlete he is, but you don’t give up hope. In a last ditch attempt to get him back, you launch yourself forward, square into the middle of his back. The change in weight distribution has him falling to the floor, sprawling the width of the hallway. Both of you are giggling messes, delirious from lack of sleep and the knowledge you get to spend four months of uninterrupted time together.

“I love you, you know that right,” Brock murmurs into the crook of your neck. He dots chaste pecks along the skin and you sigh at the feeling.

Pulling him closer, you make sure to properly enunciate your words as you respond. “Yes sir.”

Brock eyes darken visibly, and he shifts his body so he’s resting on top of you. “You’re in for it now,” he groans, dragging himself to his feet. You quickly follow, meeting his lips in an eager kiss. The pair of you stumble the rest of the way to the bedroom, bodies intertwining like ivy vines, and Brock makes sure to kick the door shut to ensure your pets don’t interrupt the salacious activities he has planned.

☼☼☼☼

You settle into a routine fairly quickly. Mornings are spent alone while Brock works out, and afternoons are for lounging in the sun. The hours after the sun fades away are spent huddling around a bonfire with friends, and midnights are for just the two of you. Sometimes Brock lets himself rest and spends the day in the middle of the lake doing his best to fish, leaving you to spend time with his mom and sister. They’re lovely; warm and welcoming, making sure you’re never too lonely or bored. You and Brock also spend a lot of time with his nephew, doting over the toddler. Seeing your boyfriend with him makes you want kids, but that’s a conversation that is yet to be had in any serious light.

Sometimes you join Brock when he does typical professional hockey player in the summer things. It turns out you're quite the golfer, and have put him to shame many times. Countless days are spent helping him fix the roof of the lake house because he insists on doing it himself even though he knows nothing about roofing. At least seven phone calls to his father and a desperate run to the hardware store later, it’s completed; sealed and free of cracks. Though you’re a terrible fisher, Brock tries his best to teach you. Truth be told, you don’t have any interest in the sport, but his tongue pokes out slightly when he’s thinking about how to explain a concept and you think it’s adorable.

Coolie and Milo are loving being able to roam free, and you both spend a lot of time outside with them. You’re only ever really in the house at night, reading or playing games on the patio furniture Brock’s mom picked out. It’s peaceful; existing like this. You swear you could do it forever.

Being home allows an invisible weight to be lifted off Brock’s shoulders. There’s a pep in his step, and he’s always smiling. Even the intense at-home workouts can’t seem to bring him down. You’re delighted, how could you not be? It’s as if the only things that matter to him are enjoying a few beers lakeside and coaxing you out of shorts in the dark. You suppose that’s the truth.

☼☼☼☼

It’s incredibly warm out. The sun beats down on your back as you turn the pages of your novel, half listening to the conversation Brock is having with his friends. A group of you are on the boat, enjoying one of the last full days of summer. Later in the week you and Brock will pack up the car again, making the long trek back to Vancouver. You’re sad time has passed so fast, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to be back in the city. It’s your home, and the boys seem to be really fired up for the new season. You have a feeling some really good hockey is going to come out of Rogers Arena.

“Yo Y/N, who’s the better driver. Me or Boes?”

The question pulls you from the fantasy taking place on the pages, and you look to see who’s speaking to you. It’s Brock’s dearest childhood friend, someone you consider family at this point. “It’s absolutely not Brock,” you shrug. The comment earns a loud laugh from everyone and you find yourself joining in.

“Ouch babe, that hurts,” Brock says as he slides into the free space next to you. Casually wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, he leans down to whisper into your ear. “Looks like you need to be taught a lesson.”

His words have a vaguely sexual connotation, and you look around nervously. Your swimsuit won’t cover the flush that will be sure to rise on your skin if Brock tries anything. Everyone seems to be engaged in their own conversations, but you still feel queasy about getting caught. Though Brock’s friends are the type to laugh it off, you’d be absolutely mortified.

Before your brain can overthink anything else, you’re being lifted from your seat. It only takes two seconds for Brock to hoist you over the side of the boat and throw you into the cool water. You land with a glorious splash, but take your time coming to the surface. Partly to bring your temperature down, partly to make your lover squirm.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you yell to him from below, but the bright smile you flash him lets Brock know you don’t mean it.

He sets his hat on top of your book before climbing over the edge. “Shut up,” he fires back, diving gracefully to join you in the water.

A small splashing match breaks out, and soon everyone else is in the water, picking sides. You swim until your skin is wrinkled beyond recognition, pruned and puckered something akin to a raisin. Only once the sky begins to redden do you head for home. Brock keeps the boat at cruising speed, and you sit comfortably in his lap. Once back on land, dinner is quickly thrown together. A mish-mash of what’s left in your fridge and what others have brought, but it works. The boys huddle around the grill and everyone else swoons over the dogs, who are on their best behaviour.

Later in the night, once the dishes are cleaned up and some guests with day jobs have left, you settle into Brock’s side at the fire. Not caring if you get chirped for the PDA, you hold his face in both your hands and rest your forehead against his. The scruff that’s grown in since the last time Brock shaved tickles slightly, but you’re too in love with him to care. It’s been so refreshing to see him relaxed, acting without a care in the world. Hopefully the attitude he currently has will stick and not disappear once you hit the Vancouver city limits.

Brock takes a sip of his beer before offering the bottle to you. You gingerly place it to your lips, making a face at the taste. He laughs at your reaction, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Still tastes disgusting,” you mutter, reaching for your own drink to wash away the taste.

The fire crackles gently behind you but you barely register the sound, in your own little world where everything is perfect. It’s you, Brock, and the dogs living in a house similar to the one you’re currently residing in, living life to the fullest.

“You gonna come back to me, space cadet?” Brock chuckles, tracing the outline of your nose.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you apologize. “Was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Us. The future. Living in a lake house just like this one and spending all our time being so in love with each other that our friends constantly make fun of us. Maybe having kids in a couple of years. How I love seeing you like this; so at peace and full of life.”

In lieu of a response, Brock kisses you passionately. It’s a soft kind of passion: one that holds you tenderly and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. He tastes like the Coors Light he’s been drinking, but somehow the idea of beer is much more appealing when mixed with Brock. You lose yourself in him for a while, relishing in the gentleness of his hands resting on your waist. Eventually you return some of your attention to the others, but even then you can’t find it in yourself to focus. Your mind is filled with nothing but love for Brock.

It’s seems that he’s feeling the same way, because he continually leaves kisses across your shoulder blade. “I really, really love you,” Brock confesses, and you feel him smile through the thin material of your worn hoodie.

You intertwine your pinky with his and let them sit comfortably in your lap. “I love too. So much that it’s all consuming.”

Brock often leaves you breathless in more ways than one, but sweet sentiments like this will always take the cake. Especially when they happen on summer nights where he’s free to be his authentic self.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#why tf did i spend so much time detailing the car ride lmao #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser fic #vancouver canucks imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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nanamikeento · 4 years

Text

where it's so sweet and heavenly

(gif made by me)

pairing: Marcus Pike x F!reader

summary: An unexpected surprise leaves you anxious about your relationship with Marcus.

warnings: a bit of angst

word count: 3.6k

masterlist || series masterlist

“Are you okay?” Your coworker, Anne, asks as you lean over the sink and take a deep breath.

You’ve been feeling weird all morning. Well, scratch that, you’ve been feeling weird all week. You’ve been more tired than usual, and your emotions have been everywhere. Just last night, you cried over a dog food commercial, claiming the puppies were too cute. Marcus hugged to comfort you and laughed at your reaction later. Now your stomach is acting up and you feel sick every abrupt moment you make. The smell of the hospital is making you gag every time you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You sigh, feeling a little better after taking a short break. “I’m feeling kinda weird lately.”

“Something you ate?” She approaches you, looking at the dark circles under your eyes through the mirror.

“Probably.” You grimace, thinking about the ham and eggs you tried to prepare for yourself this morning. No matter how hard you tried, you could never cook it as well as Marcus. He always makes you breakfast when you stay over his place or vice versa. Sometimes he makes you dinner too. Most times. He knows you’re not really good at cooking. Being neighbors with your boyfriend has its perks.

Regardless, you continue to work, longing for your lunch break, where you’re supposed to spend it with Marcus. You’re more excited to see him than to eat since you continue to feel sick all morning. Later, in the locker room, as you change from your scrubs to your usual clothes to go out for lunch, Anne shows up again and asks you a strange question.

“Hey, when did you have your last period?”

“What?” You laugh, throwing a shirt over your head.

“You said you’ve been feeling weird lately... Don’t you think maybe you could be, you know... pregnant?” She argues, sitting on the bench near you.

You’re not pregnant. You’re a nurse, you would’ve noticed the symptoms if you were pregnant.

“That’s possible,” You huff a laugh, shaking your head. “Marcus and I– We use protection every time and I’m on the pill.”

Anne shrugs. “You know no contraceptive method is one hundred percent safe.”

“Yeah, but what are the chances of the condom breaking the same time the pill fails?”

You stare at her and the silence grows between the both of you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s possible. Of course you do, but you don’t want to think about it. Not right now.

When Marcus arrives to pick you up, you greet him with a kiss on the lips and a smile. Things have been going great between you two. Nine months officially together and you couldn’t be happier. He’s kind and appreciative of you, and you don’t know how you got so lucky to have met him. He’s always understanding and respectable of you. The perfect boyfriend.

Marcus drives to your favorite Italian restaurant, offering to pay for the meal. Of course he would take you to have your favorite meal on a common day. But today you don't feel so good. It starts with the car ride to the restaurant. Marcus always drives safely, but you feel sick with every turn the car takes. When you get to the restaurant, you can’t even eat half of your food. You keep staring at it and feel like throwing up.

“Everything okay, baby?” Marcus asks and you look up at his concerned eyes.

“Yeah,” You smile at him. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”

“You sure?” He takes your hand over the table and you melt under his touch.

“Yeah…” You smile at him. “Maybe we could have it to go?”

“Only if you promise you’ll eat something this afternoon.”

Your smile grows and you look away, cheeks burning under his gaze. He’ll always make you intimated with his immense worry and care for you. That’s why you love him so much.

“I promise.” You nod at him.

When Marcus is done eating, you both make small talk before leaving. As you stand from your seat, a wave of nausea hits you and you take a deep breath, trying to make it go away. He doesn’t seem to notice you stood behind and continues to walk away. You slowly try to take a step to follow him but feel what you just ate in your throat. You don’t know if you call for him, or just run to the restroom. Fortunately, he notices you’re not by his side and frowns confused, walking back to you.

“Sweetheart? Are you–” He starts but is interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Pike?”

You both turn to the source of the interruption and you see a couple staring at both of you. She’s tall, dark haired and blue eyed, while he’s even taller, blonde, and also blue eyed. They look like a couple out of a movie. Marcus huffs out a laugh and shakes his head as he looks at the couple.

“What are you two doing here?” He asks, with a smile on his face.

“Business trip,” The man answered, smiling at you two. You look at them confused, but offer a polite smile at them.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Marcus rests his hand on the small of your back and introduces you to them. “These are Patrick and Teresa. Some old colleagues from Texas.”

“Oh.” You smile, shaking Patrick’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” Teresa leans in to shake your hand and her sweet perfume invades your nostrils. It’s strong but syrupy and it hits you with another wave of nausea. It takes everything in you not to gag in front of them and keep a neutral face, but you might have done a face because Teresa wrinkles her brows at you.

“Are you okay?” She asks, still holding your hand.

“Yeah.” You nod, letting go of her and turning to Marcus. “I need to go to the restroom–”

Marcus looks at you concerned and opens his mouth to speak, but you’re already turning your back to him and rushing to the restrooms. When you reach them, you barely have time to kneel on the floor before letting the contents of your stomach out in the toilet. Tears water your eyes and you clutch the porcelain bowl on the side with a strong grip, as if to comfort you. After it’s over, you sit on the floor and lean on the wall of the cabin, taking deep breaths.

You can’t be pregnant. You’ve been with Marcus for not even a year. But the symptoms are there. You think back when Anne asked you the last time you’ve had your period and realized you missed last month. Closing your eyes, you try to hold back tears. No use to cry when you’re not one hundred percent sure of it. So you take a couple of breaths and try to clear your mind.

Forcing yourself to stand up, you wash your mouth and face with cold water and pop a mint in your mouth. When you leave the bathroom, you take two steps before getting jumped at by Patrick.

“Jesus!” You put your palm on your chest, letting out a breath.

“Sorry.” He smiles at you and watches your face. “Are you feeling better?”

There’s something about his expression, his eyes are roaming all over your face and you feel a weird sensation in your stomach. Not nauseating, like before, but something in your gut telling you to stay away from him.

“Uh, yeah,” You answer before starting to walk back to Marcus.

“Good. So, when are you going to tell him?” He starts walking beside you.

“Tell who what?”

“Marcus. That you’re pregnant.”

You stop walking and turn your head to him so fast it almost gives you whiplash. Frowning deeply, you look at him confused.

“I’m not pregnant.” Your voice is just a whisper, afraid Marcus will listen to your words even though he’s feet away from you.

“You were throwing up, weren’t you?” He points his thumb in the direction of the restrooms.

“The food…” You trail off, frowning deeply.

“No, it wasn’t the food, was it? You’ve been feeling nauseous since you set foot in this restaurant.”

Okay, so now this guy is starting to scare you. “You’ve been watching us–”

“Yes.” He interrupts you and keeps talking like it’s nothing. “How long have you two been together? A year? Two?”

“Nine months…” You answer almost automatically still trying to figure out how this man knew you’ve been sick before.

“Ah, so that’s why you haven’t told him.”

“I’m not–”

“Listen, don’t worry about Marcus, okay?” He interrupts you again, touching your shoulder. "I'm sure he'll be supportive. I mean, I wanted to marry Teresa months after they met, he was willing to give her–"

"What?" It's you who interrupts him this time. "Teresa…?"

"Oh," The smile fades away from his face. "You didn't know."

You watch as he tries to walk away. Marcus had told you of an ex-fiance that left him for another man, but he never told you her name. He never told you what exactly happened.

"Wait," You call him, holding his forearm. Glancing at Marcus and Teresa, you see them talking normally and smiling at each other. You feel a sting of jealousy in your heart, nothing but a small poke of a needle in your feelings. It bleeds a little but you quickly swallow the light pain down and look at Patrick again. "Teresa and Marcus–"

"Listen," Patrick sighs and looks at you. "That was years ago. I'm sure Marcus doesn't hold any grudges by the way he's smiling at her. And don't worry about the baby, he seems like the family type of man."

With that, he walks away leaving you behind with your thoughts. When you return to your boyfriend you give the excuse your lunch break is ending and that you have to go. Marcus immediately complies, saying his goodbyes to the couple and driving you back to work. The car ride is much more silent than before and you can't stop thinking about what Patrick had told you.

Marcus stops the car on the other side of the street in front of the hospital and sighs deeply.

"Alright, what did he say to you?" He asks, turning his body to face you.

"Who?" You unfasten your seatbelt and look at him.

"Patrick."

Your gaze drops and you think About lying to him. But you decide to tell him the truth, regardless, there are no lies between the both of you

"He said…" You hesitate. "He told me about Teresa."

Marcus' eyes widen a little, but he lets out a little sigh indicating he knew it was coming sooner or later. When he doesn't speak, you continue.

"He told me you wanted to marry her after… Months of relationship. Is it true? She was the one who left you?"

"Yeah, that was–" He laughs, looking away for a moment and then looking back at you. "Yes."

Nodding, you wait for him to speak again; he looks into your smile and offers you an honest smile.

"I used to jump into relationships. Get too excited, wanting to skip to the best part." He explains. "With you, I– I wanted something different. Wanted to take it slow. Something I've never done before and honestly? It's the best thing I've ever done. I don't feel like I have to rush things with you."

Despite the sweet words and good intentions, your heart drops at them. If Marcus wanted to take things slow with you, how would he react to you being pregnant?

That is if you're pregnant.

You smile at him anyway and press your lips to his but pull away quickly. Hoping he can't see the tears in your eyes, you open the door to leave.

"I have to go," You say, trying to conceal your emotions. "We'll talk more about this later, at my place?"

"Sure." He smiles at you. "Pizza or Chinese? Or do you want me to cook again?"

"Pizza is fine." You close the car door and duck to look at him through the window. "I'll be home by 8."

"I love you, okay?" Marcus searches your eyes. Your gut tells you he knows something is off, but he doesn’t push you to talk or anything. Instead, he just smiles sweetly at you.

A beat of silence passes before you answer him, voice quivering.

"I love you too."

…

Tears water your eyes as you look at the plastic stick sitting on the bathroom sink. After having lunch with Marcus, you marched to Anne and asked her to draw your blood to run a pregnancy test. The results would be sent to your email by the evening and you were nervous and jittery all day. It’s a miracle you weren’t sick anymore, but your emotions were definitely everywhere. The symptoms were so obvious, that you’re almost embarrassed to admit they totally flew by your head. On your way home, anxiety was eating you on the inside, so you stopped at a drugstore and bought the cheapest pregnancy test to bring home. And there it is.

Two lines.

You try not to cry, not to lose your mind over it, deciding to trust the blood test rather than the pharmacy one. Besides, Marcus could be knocking on your door at any moment and you wanted to be sure before telling him.

Holy shit, you’re gonna have to tell him. You can’t even imagine how disappointed he’s going to get. He wanted to take things slow with you and now you’ve ruined it.

Almost as if on cue, the doorbell to your apartment rings, echoing the place and scaring you. You quickly throw the test in the trash bin and rush to the door. Marcus is standing by your door with a pizza box in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Despite your feelings at the moment, you let yourself smile, feeling a warmth in your chest.

“What’s the occasion?” You ask as he comes in, handing you the flowers.

Daisies and Baby’s Breath. Your favorites.

“Just thought I’d bring my girlfriend some flowers.” He shrugs with a nonchalant tone in his voice as he places the pizza on your coffee table.

You smile at him and press your lips against him, in a sweet kiss. “I love them. Thanks.”

Marcus radiates serenity. Somehow, as you sit on the couch to eat with him and watch old movies, gives you peace. And you realize you want that peace for the rest of your life. If he’s willing to accept the fact that you got pregnant after nine months of a relationship, you could be together. Live together. Maybe even get married, who knows? The thought brings a tiny smile on your lips. This man got you wrapped around his little finger and he doesn’t even know it.

“I can practically hear your thoughts, sweetheart.” Marcus lays a hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb on the soft fabric of your sweats.

Looking up, you see warm brown eyes, wrinkles in the corners, honesty in them. But what if he doesn’t want it? What if Teresa left him traumatized? What if he decides he doesn't want to have a family with you right now? What if he wants you to get an abortion?

“I don't feel like I have to rush things with you.”

His words echo in your mind as you feel your smile fading away and anxiety slowly creeps into you again.

“Honey?” He calls you, shifting to move closer to you.

“I need to tell you something.” You barely recognize your voice as you talk.

Marcus gets anxious and you can see it in the way he straightens his back and mutes the television, looking you straight in the eyes. This is it. The calm before the storm. You take a deep breath and open your mouth to speak, but your phone dings on the coffee table and your heart speeds up even more.

“Sorry, I just have to–” You pick up the phone and unlock it, quickly tapping on the email notification.

It’s the results of your blood test. You breathe out as you skim your eyes through them, tears welling up your eyes. Marcus calls your name and you let out a sob, covering your mouth with your hand. He doesn’t hesitate and pulls you to an embrace, even though he doesn’t know what’s causing you to panic.

“Baby, you’re scaring me.” He confesses, the low tone of his voice vibrating on your skin as you let him hold you close to his chest.

“I’m s-sorry, I just–” You sob, pulling away and looking at him with teary eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Marcus’s eyes widen a bit and he can’t hide the surprise on his face as you start rambling.

“You said you wanted to– to take things slow after– after Teresa, and I– I– I’m sorry, I was on the pill and I didn’t think– I’m sorry, Marcus, I ruined everything– It’s not– It’s not even a year since we’re together and– fuck, I’m so-sorry–”

“Hey.” He’s calm as he cups your cheeks with his big warm hands. “Breathe.”

You let out a couple of shaky breaths until you calm down. He has a cool exterior, his face is completely neutral and you wonder if he’s calm inside too. Surely the news caught him off guard by the way he reacted to it, but you thought he’d be freaking out.

“Before I say anything, I want you to know that this is not your fault, alright?” He makes sure you’re looking at him by tilting your face up. “It takes two to tango, after all.”

You let out a breathy laugh at the saying and Marcus smiles with you. “Yeah?” He asks, his smiles growing when he sees yours. You nod, grabbing his wrists to keep his hand on your wet cheeks. He wipes the remaining tears there and you sniff, feeling much calmer now.

“So, what do you want to do?” He asks, stroking your hair lightly.

“What?” You wrinkle your brows.

“Do you want to keep it?”

The question catches you off guard and you take longer than you expected to answer.

“I–” You hesitate. “I don’t know…”

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

Your heart skips at that and you feel your eyes water again. Marcus looks at you expectantly as you think about your answer. You haven’t thought this through, to be honest. You were so nervous about telling him that you didn’t stop to think whether you wanted this or not. But looking at him right now, it makes your heart flutter. Like just moments ago when you felt peace with him.

Now you realize he is your peace. He’s your safe place. And there is nothing you want more than… him.

“You...” You hesitate. “You said– You wanted to take things slow…”

He sighs, taking your hands in his. “I know, baby.” He reaches to your cheeks, wiping a stray tear there. “But if you want to keep it, just know I’m all in. I’m not going anywhere.”

A silent pause hangs in the air as you go over your options. Keeping it would definitely change things between the both of you. Permanently. But maybe for the best? Maybe it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, having a baby with him. He takes care of you so well, why wouldn’t he take care of a child that’s his?

“I think I wanna keep it.” You whisper, still uncertain of his reaction.

But Marcus smiles. He flashes a grin so wide it makes your heart burst with happiness.

“Yeah?” He says, grinning like he had just won the lottery.

“Yeah.” You nod as he cups your cheeks again and presses his lips on yours. Marcus then pulls you to his chest, kissing your hair and sighing. You swear it’s a sigh of relief, but you can’t tell with your emotions going crazy at the moment. “How are you so calm?”

He chuckles, the laugh vibrating through your body. “I’m not.” He pulls away to look at you, still smiling. “I’m freaking out. But in a good way. I’m excited!”

A smile spreads on your face as you bring your lips to his once more.

“We’re gonna have a baby, Marcus,” You whisper on his mouth.

Marcus nods and pulls you to a tight hug, a hug that takes your breath away.

“We’re gonna have a baby!” He repeats with more enthusiasm as he pulls away to kiss you once more. “You’re gonna be a mom and I’m gonna be a dad!”

You let out a laugh, smiling widely. “That’s usually how it goes, babe.”

He kisses you again and again and again. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Marcus.”

He looks at you with widened eyes for a second, the look of excitement never leaving your face.

“Oh, my gosh, are we gonna have a boy?”

“That’s not–”

“Can we have a Junior?!” He interrupts before you can finish.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You laugh at him. “I will not let you name our child–”

“What if it’s a girl?”

“Marcus!” You laugh at his demeanor. “Calm down!”

Marcus smiles at you gives you yet another kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry, I can’t. We’re gonna have a baby!”

You can’t believe you’re doing this, but you’re happy it’s with him. You’re happy he’s excited and looking forward to it. And that makes you happy and excited too. Even though it’s a little soon.

tagging: @adikaofmandalore @yespolkadotkitty @hiscyarika @aerynwrites @haildoodles-writing @murdermewithbooks @forever-rogue @bestintheparsec @goldafterglow

let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my works!

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x you #the mentalist #myfic #listen i don't want to have kids either #but if marcus pike asked me i would

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polarbearaone · 4 years

Text

☔︎ Sayuri

✞ synopsis: Aone thought your life with him was supposed to be long and happy, but all good things must come to an end right?.....

✞ pairing: Aone x fem! reader

✞genre: angst :(

✞ warnings: character death! mentions of v*miting, pregnancy and health conditions

The look on everyone's face when Aone proposed to you was to die for. Within the crowd there were surprised team players of the VC Date team along with elated coworkers from the construction firm that Aone invited. Oh, failed to mention that Aone proposed during one of his volleyball games. Soon you would be (Y/N) Aone, married to Takanobu Aone. Dating for the past six years, Aone was the best partner you could ask for. He never left your side, even accepted you with you and your past. When he met your parents, Aone told your father a trick to keep his plants from freezing during the harsh winters from Japan, since that day, your father began referring to Aone as “son”. Five years later, Aone was sitting on his soon to be in-laws couch, asking for your hand. Your parents understood how amazing Takanobu was, they knew he would never leave your side and always protect you.

“What theme should we have for our wedding?” Aone blurted out one day while dinner was steaming on the stove. “Already thinking about themes huh?” the way you looked at him, wearing his shirt while you made your way to the stove. If it were up to him, Aone would marry you in that very kitchen. The kitchen was where there were so many memories waiting to be made. “A turtle theme would be nice” you jokingly said. Aone started to lightly tap his chin, considering the theme. “Babe, I’m joking,” you said giggling. “oh” Aone said, in his little voice. “(y/n), can I ask you something?” Aone asked, playing with the strings of his shirt. You gave him a quick nod as you continued cooking dinner. “Can we get a turtle?” he said, a soft blush appearing on his face. Putting down what you had, you walked over and cupped his face. “Is it going to be our first child?” replying with the biggest smile on your face. The blush on his face matched the red shirt he was wearing. His brain was going wild, his dream was always to have a family with you. Kissing his forehead, you replied, “We can go tomorrow to the pet store”

The headaches began around a month after the proposal. You thought it was the stress of planning your perfect wedding. Aone noticed you were hurting when you did not accompany him to feed Kame, your turtle. He did not open the curtains like he usually did, nor did he give you a forehead kiss in fear that he will cause more pain. He started brewing tea and gave you some medicine. He let you stay in bed that day, and the day after that, also the whole week. Aone was worried sick, he knew stress caused headaches but every single day? His mother reassured him that the stress of working, trying to plan a wedding but also being there for Aone was a lot and that he should pamper her. Aone cleaned the whole house that afternoon, he even cooked your favorite dinner. It was supposed to be a perfect night, but you came home with a pale look on your face. The mere smell of the food made you run to the bathroom. Anything you ate that day came out of you as you hunched over the toilet. Aone held your hair back, softly rubbing your back. After emptying your stomach, you leaned into Aone’s touch. You needed him, his support, his love. As you slowly fell asleep on his lap, one thing ran through Aone’s mind, what if you were pregnant? You two were sexually active, plus it would explain the nausea and headaches. His mind was going wild once again, Kame finally will not be your own child anymore.

“hey honey, can I ask something?” Aone whispered into your ear as he massaged your head, a common occurrence in the morning. You hummed an answer. “do you possibly think you could be pregnant?”. The question lingered in your mind. Could you? It would make sense. After taking some medicine, you booked an appointment to the doctor. With Aone next to you, you knew you would be ok. The days leading up the appointment felt like forever. You were still with nausea and headaches, but you were excited to find out if a mini Aone was formed in your stomach. Finally, the day arrived. Aone was nervous next to you, you felt his handshake as he held yours. “Baby, you are more worried than me” you said giggling at him, “I just want you to be ok” he replied. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” The nurse called. “Wait here ok?” you reassured him before entering the hallway. After many tubes of blood later, the doctor asked you to come back when the results were done.

A week later, Aone and you were waiting for the doctor in his office. All Aone wanted to hear that you were pregnant so his worries can subside. The doctor entered with a gloomy face. “Unfortunately, the blood test we did let us know that you weren’t pregnant but there is something more concerning” the doctor stated. The grip Aone’s hand on you faded away, at this point he did not care if you were not pregnant. He wanted you to be ok. “What’s more concerning?” Aone asked the doctor. “ We see some hormones that are way higher than they are supposed to be, we only see these types of numbers when a tumor is present near the pituitary gland, we would like to do more studies to confirm our suspicions” Tumor was the only word in your mind. You could have a tumor. The doctor requested more blood work, and scans. The weeks following, many of your symptoms began to worsen. Your vision began to blur, migraines began more and more frequent, even had a seizure. Aone was terrified, but even with fear, he never left your side. He held you every time you felt weak, he spoons fed you soup his mother taught him to make. The wedding was postponed until you felt better but you told Aone that both of you should get married legally before having any celebration just in case anything happened. “Nothing is going to happen (y/n), you and I will get through this ok?”

You seemed to get worse. You had to be admitted to the hospital due to your condition. After many more scans, it was revealed that the tumor in your brain was a mere 5 centimeters long. Despite being so small, it caused you excruciating pain. The physical pain you felt was nothing compared to the news you received two weeks later. “We have extremely bad news” the group of doctors who had been treating you said. “The tumor located inside your brain is too dangerous to live with, it cannot be surgically removed” Your sobs could be heard from across the hallway. Aone tried to calm you down, he held you so close to him, he could not lose you. Your sobs subsided when the doctor cleared his throat “That is not all”. “It’s not your fault that you didn’t notice since pregnancy symptoms are similar to your symptoms but you’re roughly two weeks pregnant.” The room had an eerie silence to it. The pain inside of you was so immense that crying was not an option anymore. “You have to do something! She cannot live like this! What about the baby?” Aone practically yelled at the doctors. Despite knowing him for 5+ years, you had never heard him yell. “Baby, shh, its fine. They did what they could” You said, trying to calm Aone down. “B-but” Aone was choking on his own sobs. Now it was you holding Aone. The doctors made it aware that the last weeks of your life should be spent at home, with your Fiancé. The baby would not survive much longer, therefore the both of you should cherish the small amount of time you had.

The following weeks were filled with smiles and pain. You were getting paler, weaker. Aone could see life leaving you as the days progressed. He saw how tired you were, each day you got more and more tired. You could barely walk over and see Kame anymore. Aone resulted into bringing him inside for you. Kame specifically liked when your soft blankets covers his shard shell, Aone loved seeing you two sleep with one another, well three. Aone remained strong for you. When you would sleep, he sat near you, crying. The love of his life, the one who was supposed to be there for him through it all, was dying. He felt that he could not keep his promise to protect you. You nor his child. He got into bed next to you and Kame, wishing you a beautiful night. That morning was like any other, except it was Kame who nudged him to wake up. He groggily got out of bed to make your tea for your medication. Something felt off to him. Usually you nudge him to wake him up. He ran towards your shared bedroom, turning on the lights. He knew you would kill him if he did but he needed to know your awake. Despite the bright light shining in the room, you were silent. Kame on the other hand was making an array of noises. He walked towards you, tears threatening to fall. “Baby?” he whispered. He fell to his knees. He felt weak, he felt empty. Aone began to shake you, trying desperately to wake you. “(Y/N) this isn't funny, wake up” Aone shook you one last time, before screaming into the bed. He ran to dial an ambulance. The paramedics looked at Aone with sorry eyes, he knew what those eyes meant. “Take her to the hospital now” Aone said, growing at them. “ Sir-”... “I SAID TAKE HER”.

The doctor who was treating you slowly sat next to Aone in the waiting room. “She was strong” Like you a couple weeks ago, the pain Aone felt didn’t allow him to cry. “I know that nothing is visible yet but here” The doctor handed Aone an ultrasound picture. “The baby is too small to see yet but they’re there. No matter how much it hurts, know that they will both be there, forever.” The doctor gave Aone one last hug goodbye, before walking back to the hallway you once entered through. Aone stood outside the door of your shared house. How could he enter without you? How could he ever live without you? His thoughts were erased when he felt something hit his leg. Looking down, he saw Kame rubbing his head on his leg. Slowly picking up Kame, he headed inside. Sitting on the couch with Kame, he showed the turtle the ultrasound. “This is your sibling Kame, I’m not sure what gender they were but this is Sayuri, my small lily”

a.n: NOT ME CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY AT THIS. also I wanna thank @nuttymouthful for this idea! It was originally an reincarnation au! but I got lost at the end :( so I closed it with a bittersweet (?) ending. Reader was supposed to reincarnate as Kame but idk kame is a himbo turtle but that’s ok. PLZ REQUEST MORE ANGST I LOVE THIS

tags: @elianetsantana @girlofdystopia @kara-grayson04

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #angst #aone takanobu x reader #aone #aone takanobu #aone angst #Aone Takanobu angst #aone x reader #plz i love aone #aone x y/n #aone x you #plz forgive me aone #PLZ I CANT STOP CRYIN G

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the-spindly-lady-faith · 3 years

Text

Another Chance [Thranduil]

authors note: this was partially inspired by another fanfic i'd seen from @luna-xial where the reader is basically thranduil's wife reborn and i honestly fell in love with that idea

warnings: sorta smut

My life on Earth was nothing exciting but nothing boring unless you would like to count a neglectful mother. More times then I could count, people complemented me on my graceful features, my long, silky hair, sharp & high cheek bones. Some compared me to an elf more then once.

My last memory on Earth, or at least my Earth was slipping into the comfort of my bed after having said my goodnight quietly to my mother who paid no mind to me as she smoked her night away, again.

"Where am I?!" I shot up in alarm once I noticed my surrounding area was not my home. Wherever I was, it was a small little place as I sat up on the bed that I had been curled up in fetal position on. I glanced down towards my clothes & while they were quite beautiful, it confused me greatly. Where was I & who's clothes were these? I had to walk around slightly bent over until I slightly stumbled into what appeared to be a dining room.

Among the much smaller men was a man dressed in all grey, a bushy beard hung from his face. My eyes met theirs as I cleared my throat "If I may, where am I?" A bright looking one cleared his throat and came towards me "Firstly, I'm Sam & Hello. Secondly, you're on Middle-Earth of course!" He was cheery, his curly hair topped his head, some curls falling in his face.

"This isn't where I belong I'm afraid. I belong on my own Earth" They all shared confused looks before looking back to me "Do you remember your name ma'am?" One with black hair questioned me, leaning slightly over the table to look at me "I'm... My name is..." It was just like my memories of back home had been wiped clean from my mind, nothing but a blank slate was there.

The black hair man sighed and shuffled over to me, shaking my hand "We did find you in the middle of a potato field but you know not your name?" I shook my head, slightly disappointed in my lack of self-knowledge. "Well, think of this as a new start then. Choose your name" It took me a moment of thinking before I nodded a bit "Arwen"

Life in The Shire was something to get used to over months especially with the obvious lack of technology but it became peaceful & I came to love the life. I had just closed the door of Frodo's home when the group approached me. “Arwen! May we ask you a question?” I nodded as I balanced the clothing basket on my hip “We’re planning on traveling and since you haven’t left The Shire since you got here, would you want to come along with us? Maybe you have family in Mirkwood!” I smile at Sam’s enthusiasm, looking at the group as I glanced at Gandalf who just simply nodded.

“I must pack first but I don’t see why not” I slipped back into the hut and retrieved a decently sized handmade bag as I pack a few clothes and other various things in there before meeting with the group back outside and then our journey began.

“What did you mean by finding my family in Mirkwood, Sam?” He shrugs “You’re an elf Arwen. Just about every elf lives in Mirkwood so maybe but if not, that’s fine. You have us!” I nod as we trek through the lush forest, the sun peeking through the many and various openings.

It was an adventure, I’ll admit but I never expected to be running for my life and fighting creatures I did t even know the names of. We took a stop by a peaceful stream and I plopped on the soft grass with a heavy sigh, sliding my bag off my shoulders as I dipped my feet in the stream, the water quickly cooling them off.

“I don’t remember anywhere mentioned that I’d be fighting for my life while on this adventure” The Hobbits looked at me sheepishly with an apologetic shrug. The journey continued onward.

I stuck to the back of the group for a big majority of the walk and during those times, I thought back to my old life as best I could and the memories did not come to me well. They came with splitting headaches or severe nausea so eventually I gave up and whatever life I lived before, I’d never go back to it.

We approached Mirkwood as I gulped back a nervous feeling, my guard up high as I gripped the hilt of my short sword in hand. “Halt! You have been caught trespassing through elven terri-“ I looked up at the surrounding guardsmen who all carried unlimited grace “The king has requested your presence immediately” A brown haired elf shot a look of disgust towards Thorin before we followed, encircled by guards.

Beautiful, graceful white. Marble climbed high, vines accompanying the climb to the ceiling. The cuffs hugged our wrists as we all stood in front of an empty and intricately designed throne. It was a loud silence except the distant shuffle of feet, occasional sniffle and a small cough here-and-there.

Soon, a man of unexplainable beauty entered the room, his face looked so clean and porcelain as he eyed us all but my head kept its gaze more to my own feet as the man, who I best assumed to be the king approached us. Thorin & the king locked tightly in a heated glare “Are you trying to crash into my home once again? May I remind you filth of the last time you did”

He paced infront of us before standing back some “Young woman” he said, directed towards me “let me see if you too are a traitor I’ve yet to-“ I slowly raised my head and when our eyes locked, he grew shocked, nearly frozen in place “No... That can’t be possible....” I quickly looked to my friends who just shrugged.

“Take them to the dungeons. Leave the girl and unshackle her” The few guards did as told and soon, leaving only the two of us standing just a few small feet from the other. “My love is it really you?” He questioned, his eyes soft with hope “I’m sorry but who is it you speak of” Though his exterior was shut down and cold, he seemed open “I’m your love, Thranduil. As you are my love” I shook my head.

“I know not of who you speak. I’m Arwen though, your majesty” I did a small curtesy as he slowly approached me, his slender hand resting on my cheek “You don’t remember me?” It was silently as we stared at one another before my head pounded, my legs growing weak as I gripped at Thranduil’s forearms before meeting the blackness of sleep.

When I woke up, I was laying in a plush bed, various plants, vines, & branches expanded all around the room, keeping a consistent earthy theme. In a corner of the room, a warm fire quietly crackled as I slowly rose up from the bed, the sheets slipping back to the bed behind me.

The view from the window was amazing. The tree's danced gracefully & slowly in the light wind as I take a more careful look around the room, a fresh tray of tea lay on the bedside table as I sit back down, grabbing the tea cup & it smelt of warm, fresh vanilla as I took a careful sip, warmth spreading through my body.

The door quietly creaked open as I turned to meet the person who entered and it was Legolas who gave me a thin lipped smile. "Lady Arwen. It's nice to speak to you in a calmer environment" I nodded in agreement, standing up to fully look at him "Indeed it is.. May I help you with anything?" I tilted my head slightly in question as he cleared his throat, straightening out his back "My father wishes to speak with you in the throne room"

I think back to the gorgeous man, his eyes so bright blue they almost seemed white "Before that, where am I?" "My father's room" I slowly nodded. It would make sense as the room was quiet grand & the more I look, the more little details I came to notice, like the small splatters of gold, intricately carved wood & much more.

Within just a decent amount of time, I'd fallen for a stone cold man who gave of an angry aura & suffered the loss of his beloved. He still carried his usual stone cold facade unless it was only the two of us in private.

As of right now, I sit infront of my vanity, slowly & gently brushing my hair which I placed all onto my left shoulder, my silk robe hung just barely off my shoulders as the light of the sun cascaded in the room. Gentle hands rested upon my shoulders as I turned just a slight bit, to see the gentle smile rested on Thranduil's face "Come love. It's been a long day"

I carefully set the brush down, taking his hand as he leads me towards the bed as he slips his cloak off before turning to me & slowly letting our lips meet in a soft kiss full of passion. His hands gently held my cheeks, leaning foward slowly until my back met the mattress, his silky locks gently tickling my cheeks light.

He let one hand trail down to my neck slowly, his lips following shortly after, leaving a trail of slight warmth. My head lay gently on the plush mattress, Thranduil leaving sloppy kisses all over my neck until his teeth grazed my sweet spot, eliciting a soft, little moan as he groans lightly against my skin.

He attacked the same spot on my skin as he carefully undoes the little bow tie of my robe, sliding it further off my body as I shimmy a little to help. His hands venture my body before he broke the contact of his lips & my neck. He slipped his own clothes off smoothly before looking back to me.

"At any given point it hurts, or you don't want this anymore. Tell me quickly, okay my meleth nîn*" I nod, gently pulling him into a sweet kiss before pulling back, looking into his lust infested eyes

"Take me... My king"

(( meleth nîn* = my love ))

#lotr #thranduil #legolas #bilbo baggins #gandalf #thorin #fili #kili #lindir #haldir #elrond #elves #mirkwood #dwarfs #hobbits #frodo and sam

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longitud-de-onda · 4 years

Text

mistakes like this

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you return home having forgotten your keys, so javi lets you spend the night at his place, both of you pretty tipsy from the night out. rating; nc-17 warnings; alcohol, smut, dubcon a/n; (added feb 22, 2021) i’m no longer writing as much if at all for the fandom, and as such i don’t have the time or energy to rewrite this to match the more consensual sex that i had imagined while writing. however i want to make it clear that as it stands, consent isn’t very clear in this fic, and issues of that consent are mentioned. word count; 3.1k mistakes like this masterlist

You almost fell on the way up to your apartment. Javier, thankfully, was not only right next to you, but coordinated enough to catch you.

You muttered a thank you, as you gripped the handrail a bit tighter to make it the rest of the way up the flight of stairs. Your head was still pounding, an aftereffect of the countless glasses of alcohol you had consumed earlier that night.

Earlier that day you captured one of Escobar’s sicarios after a week without leads. Connie had suggested you all go out and celebrate. The four of you enjoyed each others’ company, but, after a few drinks, Connie and Steve were all over each other, and Javier suggested they head home early to spare everyone at the bar from seeing the two undress each other on the dance floor.

Javier and you stayed for another hour, drinking and talking until it was late enough to call it a night and head home.

You now stood in front of your apartment door rummaging through your purse, trying to find your keys. If they were there, you couldn’t see them. Your stomach sank. And it didn’t mix well with the alcohol. The wave of nausea and frustration caused you to lean your back against the cold door and slide down to the ground.

You stared at a spot on the floor where a fine line split across a yellow tile. Something big must have caused the crack. Something from before the Embassy bought the building.

You glanced up. Javier fumbled with his own keys, not entirely sober enough to open the door in one try and you giggled at the sight.

“Something funny, Y/N?” he turned around, cocking an eyebrow.

“No, no, it’s all fine Javi,” you said, drawing out the ‘i’ in his name, “it’s all good.”

You turned your head back to your purse and dumped all the contents on the ground. No keys anywhere. You groaned. You remembered where you last put them down. Unfortunately, that place wasn’t your purse.

“You sure you’re all good?” Javier asked, leaning in his own (open) doorway, grinning.

“I, uh, I forgot my keys,” you said, “left them in the drawer at the Embassy.”

“Fuck,” Javier said, “If you want, you can stay at mine tonight.”

You figured the alcohol excused the lack of tact. At least you were about 80% sure he wasn’t inviting you to have sex with him. 80% was enough for you when tipsy.

“Fine,” you said, scooping your stuff back into your purse. Standing up was a challenge, your legs a lot shakier than you were used to. You followed Javier into his apartment, muttering a ‘thank you’ along the way. He just nodded back.

“I’m gonna take the sofa, you can take the bed. The bedroom’s in the back,” he said, pointing, as if you had never set foot in his apartment before. You knew very well where the bedroom was. The two of you had been working together for almost five years now, and small dinner parties with Steve and Connie or late nights where you took work from the embassy to someone’s coffee table were not uncommon.

“I can take the couch,” you protested, “It’s your house.”

“Y/N,” Javier walked over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, both to stabilize you and ensure you looked him in the eye, “You’re gonna take the bed, and I’m gonna sleep on the couch. I know you, and you are going to wake up much more hungover than me, so if the bed is a bit more comfortable, at least you’ll have that going for you in the morning.”

To be honest, you had zoned out after he said the word ‘hungover.’ This was going to hurt tomorrow morning. Javier was right about that; even if you didn’t get drunk too easily, you suffered much more in the morning than the average person. Javier’s reasoning didn’t really matter either because when he held your arms with the force he did and stared into your eyes, saying your name with such agression, you melted. Anything he could have said, you would have agreed to.

You nodded, reaching up to push him off of you. The alcohol in your head mixed with your decision making and if he stayed there even a few seconds longer, you would have fallen deep into his eyes and made a decision you would probably regret in the morning.

You and Javier were coworkers and close friends. You started at the embassy before Steve, and the two of you had grown close, but it was never anything more than friendship. You were his wingman when you went out, you drank together, and he would share all the details of his many conquests.

He was attractive, but that was always a thought you wrote off as a product of an often lonely life (and hearing him have sex at least three times a week through the walls of your shared floor) and would push to the back corner of your mind. You liked how unproblematic your relationship was.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water,” you said, averting your eyes from Javier’s and making to go to the kitchen.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Javier grinned, trailing behind you.

You grabbed two glasses and filled them from the tap before handing one back to Javier.

“Do you have any pain relievers?” you asked. You leaned up against a counter, one hand gripped to the edge of the laminate. Your head was getting better, but it would still hurt until you fell asleep.

“Yeah, I can go get them,” he said, exhaling with a grimace, implying he might need some himself, “Can you make some toast or something? My stomach is about to start fighting back.”

“Okay,” you smiled. You wanted toast too. Food always helps ease the pain the next morning. Anything extra in your stomach would. You rummaged around his kitchen to find the bread and popped it in the toaster. Drinking the water in your glass helped, both your head and your rationality.

Waiting for the toaster, you let your mind wander. It would have been nice to keep drinking until you were really drunk and spend the rest of the night and morning at the bar, but any longer and Javier would have probably gone home with some girl, leaving you to make it back alone. And you would have returned to some hot, young girl, disheveled and a bit out of it, walking out of Javier’s apartment door, or worse, heard them passionately making love like you heard most nights.

You were reasonably less tipsy when the toaster finished, and you placed each slice on a plate.

“They might be expired,” Javier said from behind you. You jumped, not having heard him approach.

“That’s fine, they usually still work, right?” you said and grabbed the bottle from his hands, dumping out a pill and swallowing it with a sip of water.

“Usually,” he grabbed a plate from the counter next to you and took a large bite, and began talking again with his mouth full, “I already took one so I hope so.”

He rested against the countertop next to you, and the two of you stood eating, the only sound the crunching of the toast. You loved the quiet. You didn’t need to talk to be okay spending time with each other.

When you finished you set your plate down next to you and glanced up at Javier. He had stopped eating a minute ago and now stared at you, half-finished toast on the dish in his hands.

The quiet was now heavy and uncomfortable. Something about his gaze meant something more, but you had no idea what. Your head was clear of the pain, but in its space was the crushing feeling in the air and confusion. Javier was not one to talk much, and if you said anything, it might very well ruin the night.

He swallowed, his neck rippling in the soft light, and you stared back, goosebumps prickling up all over your arms and your stomach tightening. He analyzed you the way he would approach a new case: slowly, methodically, and with a raw intensity that scared most of his coworkers. It didn’t scare you when you were on the clock, but here? Here it sent a shiver down your spine.

He set down his plate, and walked forwards, pinning you against the counter. A hand rose up to push back a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face. You breathed deeply.

Then his lips came crashing into yours, arms wrapping you, moving across your back with an intensity you weren’t used to.

You didn’t feel the alcohol running through your body anymore, but it was clearly still working its way through your brain as you kissed back, roughly, one hand holding his jaw, the other gripping around his neck. Javier’s lips were strong and you melted into them, legs beginning to tremble. This was a bad decision, right? You were friends.

But he shoved your hips together, pushing your further against the countertop digging into your back. You let out a moan against his lips and decided to let go. Your mind was awash with thoughts of him. Javier smiling at work, Javier rescuing you from a bad date, Javier’s eyes glistening with excitement as he brought you and Steve to his new favorite restaurant, Javier and you laughing over bad telenovelas with a bottle of wine.

You not wanting to ruin a delicate friendship didn’t matter anymore as he disappeared and began to kiss down your jaw to your neck, mouthing at your skin, sucking marks that would be there at work on Monday, not that you could even think that far ahead.

You worked your hands down his back, reaching the hem of his shirt, which you pushed up, finally getting to run your hands across his skin, pulling his chest towards yours.

With a grunt, Javier reached his hands down under your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter, allowing you easier access to his face as he leaned over you to kiss you again. Your hands returned to the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards, and he broke off to remove it. Your hands resumed roaming over his hot skin, and his hands slipped under your own shirt. Fingers brushed across your breasts and your arousal built pressure in between your legs.

Javier pulled your shirt over your head, eyeing your chest hungrily. He leaned in to kiss your clavicle, and you threw your head back gasping. His lips moved down to the tops of your breasts, and he reached back to expertly unclasp your bra.

Once he removed the offending article, he buried his face once again in your chest, kissing, licking, and sucking on your nipples and you squirmed on the cold laminate, wanting nothing more than to feel more of Javier. You grasped at his hips again, hoping for some friction, but he pulled back, leaving you whining.

“Bed,” he panted, pulling you gently off the counter.

You nodded. Trying to walk with Javier proved difficult as you struggled to hold yourself up, your whole body shaking with arousal.

He reached his arms under your legs once again, and you jumped into his chest. You pulled him close, his bare skin against your naked breasts causing a swell of need, and you kissed. Javier walked with you to the bedroom, where he dropped you on your back on the soft sheets.

He crawled over top of you, placing kisses every inch from your navel to your neck until he reached your face to once more kiss you passionately on the lips. His hands worked to unbutton your pants and push them down to your knees.

He teased you, hands roaming around your waist, down inside your thighs, and grabbing your ass. His fingers brushed up against your clit, and you let out a loud moan. It was like the moans that kept you up at night when Javier had other girls like you squirming in his bed. While the logical part of your brain told you to stop, you wanted more. It had been a long time since you had gotten any action, and tipsy sex between two friends wasn’t the worst that could happen, right? Plus, the alcohol in your system kept you from saying no to any of it.

“Javi,” you breathed, “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please more,” you said. You inhaled and exhaled rapidly, you wanted friction, and you wanted something inside you. Soon.

Javier nodded. He spread his palm over you, squeezing gently, eliciting more sounds out of your control. He slipped a single finger inside you and you writhed underneath him.

“You’re so warm, Y/N” grunted Javier, “So wet for me.”

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips as he slipped another finger in, and began to move them slowly. You lifted your hips, desperate for more, and he bent his fingers, pushing into all the right spots. He moved with more sensitivity than before, and you took the moment to try to slow down your breathing. Sweat covered your hot body, the sheets sticking to your back, and you felt a build up inside you. As Javier moved more, moved faster, you felt even more empty. You wanted more of him.

You shook at the brink of an orgasm.

“Javi,” you said, “Javi, please. Please. I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum. I want you. Inside. Please.”

He stayed quiet, nipping at your neck, sucking dark purple spots into your skin. His fingers kept moving until they hit exactly where they needed to, and you cried out, clenching around him. You arched up into his chest, hands digging into his back, scratching into his skin.

“Y/N, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Javier said, sitting up straddling your legs. You whined at the sudden lack of contact.

“Javi,” you said, head falling back onto the bed, the rest of your body vibrating with pleasure. He pulled your pants completely off, throwing them across the room. He began to take off his own pants, revealing how much you aroused him.

Javier was no stranger to sex. He was practically an expert if there ever was one at the activity. He reached down to caress your body, rubbing across your stomach and up to your breasts where he squeezed. You were winding up again as he felt you.

You hadn’t ever let any of your alcohol-induced fantasies of Javier reach this point, never allowing yourself to imagine what this could be like. It would have ruined the easy way you lounged around eating pizza and drinking beer together and the casual physical intimacy without any tough emotions involved. But here you lay, a slave to every touch, gasping at his strokes. You wanted nothing but Javier. He was going to be the death of you.

You were utterly fucked. Tomorrow morning, whatever happened, your relationship would never be the same.

Grabbing your hips, Javier pulled you up onto his lap, where he teased at your entrance, his precum mixing with the results of your orgasm. You bucked your hips, silently asking for more, and Javier, firmly gripping your waist, slowly pushed in.

You moaned again with the feeling of fullness. He kept pushing in deeper and deeper. Until he pulled back, leaving you almost entirely empty again, and thrust forward once more, his hands around your waist guiding the motion.

He built up speed and you whispered his name, once, twice, and then again until you repeated it like a mantra. His palm moved to the small of your back, pulling you up into an embrace. As he knelt on the bed, you began to bounce yourself up and down, listening to Javier’s moans.

“Fuck, Y/N. Oh god. Fuck,” Javier exhaled, “Shit, Y/N.”

You wrapped your arms around him, your breasts flush to his chest, and you kissed him, all teeth, biting at his lips, then his jaw down to his neck. His hand on the small of your back pressed you down further with every thrust, and you became desperate for a position that allowed you to feel him deeper.

Javier wanted the same, as he pushed you back down onto the bed, pulling up your waist as he leaned over you, one hand stabilizing himself, the other wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you up in the air, close to him. His face hung over your chest, and as he quickened his thrusts, he took one of your breasts into his mouth, biting and sucking at the nipple.

He slammed his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper as he hit a spot inside you, making you cry out, loudly. Again and again. Another orgasm threatened to erupt.

His hips stuttered as he let out a groan, and you felt him pulsing inside you. He kept rocking into you as it happened, building up, growing brighter and brighter until everything turned white and your hearing cut out.

When you finally came to, you had collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Javier lay on top of you, head right underneath your chin. Just as you went to reach up and wrap your arm around him, he rolled off you and lay down beside you, your arms barely touching.

His breathing slowed, and you waited for him to say something. You hoped for the best but braced for him to kick you out as he did with all the other girls he fucked. As a neighbor with thin walls, you always heard when he finished, along with the doors opening and closing and whatever girl he had brought home leaving the apartment building shortly after.

You didn’t expect him to prop himself up on one arm and kiss you on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered before he lay down on his side, facing you, and wrapped an arm around your waist.

He closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. He had almost instantly fallen asleep. You held in a little laugh. Of course Javier would fall asleep right after. You were still coming down from the high, and despite how exhausted you were, it would be a while before you drifted off.

You smiled, watching him. Asleep with his guard down, he had the hint of a smile on his face. He didn’t appear half as tough as he did awake.

You pulled him in closer.

“Goodnight, Javi,” you whispered into the darkness.

next part

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