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shadowbriar · 6 months

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James Potter - Traitor

Pairing : James Potter x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 1.9k Warning : Cliffhanger (sort of). Not proofread as always. Synopsis : As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away. Notes : Inspired by this request and Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor. Pretty sort as I don't know if anon would like a happy or sad ending? If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ James Potter's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @coffeehurricanes @ineedmentalhelp123

She should’ve known better. She should’ve known that when he pulled that stunt at the Great Hall, proclaiming his feelings and just how desperate he’s been to get her attention, that it was only a projection of the words he wanted to confess to another. She should’ve known that when he looked at her with those eyes that were filled with love, it would never compare to the affection he hoards for another. She should’ve known that with every promise, every sweet nonsense he whispered to her ears, they were truly addressed for another.

The signs were laid bare for her to see. From the way he stopped holding her hands in the hallway to making up excuses and cancelling their dates. His kisses have turned into quick pecks before they’re gone altogether. The jokes he used to share have stopped coming. Dissipating into thin air with no warning.

Supposedly it was her fault. She should’ve said something, calling him out from the lack of effort he’s been showing but she knew she was pulling on a thin thread. Their relationship has always been based on a frail foundation. She knew that deep down there was no other woman that could topple his first love, so she kept quiet. Crying herself to sleep and praying to whoever might listen out there to help salvage their relationship. Anything to keep him just a little bit longer.

“Love, you left your hair tie in my room,” James says once he takes a seat, busying himself with the stack of pancakes in front of him.

She takes the unassuming item and examines it. This hair tie wasn’t hers. She doesn’t have bright orange hair ties, “This isn’t mine, James.”

“Oh,” He responded, taking the item and placing it in his pocket nonchalantly “Must be Lily’s then.”

“Lily?”

“Yeah, we had an impromptu study session last night after our rounds. She helped me with my potion essays.”

“But we promised to do that essay together,” She says, forcing a smile as she tries her best to conceal her disappointment and heartbreak “I waited for you to have some free time so we can work on it together.”

“Yes well, like I said, it was an impromptu session. We finished our rounds earlier than expected so we figured we could use the free time to do the assignment.” He explained, still oblivious to the harm done to her heart “Shouldn’t you be proud I’ve finally managed to finish an assignment earlier than due? This is a huge improvement for me, don’t you think?”

Her head nods, another pretend smile decorating her face. James looks happy and proud of his achievement. It was true. When else would you find James Potter diligently working his schoolwork? He’s always been one of those students who waits for the adrenaline rush of working everything at the last minute. He’s brilliant, perhaps too brilliant to ever spare an hour in revising his notes and making flashcards for the upcoming exams, so this certainly is a huge improvement to celebrate for. If only it wasn’t because of Lily.

“You’ve been spending more time with Lily, lately.” She points out. Her hands were shaking, knowing that the pool she’s stepping in might be deeper than it seems and she might not know how to swim to the shore but she needed to start somewhere. She needs to save their relationship somehow.

James’ brows furrow, a slight sign of disagreement, “Not really. Our rounds just happened to be scheduled together a lot this month.”

“Well, you also cancelled our study date last week for her.”

“Yeah, that’s because she needed my help with Divination.”

A rude laughter escapes her, “You’re the worst from our House in Divination, James. She doesn’t need your help.”

“Where are you going with this?” He finally snaps, turning to face her with evident annoyance in his eyes “I thought you would be happy with me finally trying to fix my grades.”

“I am. I just didn’t realise that needed to be done by increasing the amount of time you share with your ex-crush.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous?”

She was quiet now. Sure it was jealousy that plagued her mind the first time he began drifting away but these days, these days she’s only been insecure and worried for their sinking ship. Anxiety over the chance of her being replaced by someone who has always had his heart has been haunting her nights. As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away.

“You’re being paranoid, again.” James scoffs, turning completely blind and deaf to her silent agony “There’s nothing going on between me and Lily. I’m trying to fix my grades for me. She just happens to be a great teacher and companion to help me study.”

She's still quiet, weighing if she should believe his words.

"Please, I don't want to fight," James sighs, dropping the fork on his hand and taking hers to show his sincerity "She's just a friend, I promise."

There was truly nothing left for her to say that wouldn’t act as petrol to their burning bridge. James wasn’t listening. For a while now he hasn’t truly cared about a word she’s said and it was painful to finally understand this. That he might never have been as sincere as she thought him to be. Or perhaps he did, once, yet that feeling has died a long time ago with no chance of revival. His feelings for her have withered, faded into nothingness.

And it’s only a matter of time before the flame in her heart dies too.

—-

It was a nasty fall.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this much worry and cried so much from something Madam Promfrey claims as ‘nothing but a light nudge on the head’, but she was there when the bludger hit his head. She was there when James began losing balance of his broom and falling to the hard ground. She was there when the team crowd around their passed out captain.

Her eyes were getting heavy now. The watch on her wrist has shown that she has skipped dinner a few hours ago. Some of the lights on the hospital wing have been turned off, making the hall darker as night falls deeper. If it wasn’t for the boys coming to visit James half an hour ago, she would be left starving and secretly creeped out by the eerie feeling of the infirmary.

“You should get some rest, Love, you’ve been waiting here for hours.” Remus advises, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze.

“He should be up anytime soon, now,” She reasoned as she looked up to see the tall boy “I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“Trust me, Dove, knowing Prongs, he might just sleep in till tomorrow,” Sirius added “Besides, you won’t miss a thing. He’ll still be the same obnoxious Potter tomorrow morning.”

A small curl of smile tugs on her lips.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Peter offers this time.

“You don’t have to, Wormy. I’m fine—”

“Dove, please,” Sirius begs “You look awful. And I mean this in the most endearing way but you could really use a bath.”

“Thank you, Pads,” She rolls her eyes, finally standing from her seat and glaring at the raven haired boy “Your honesty is always something I could count on, even in the darkest time.”

Sirius grins, nodding, “I am a man of honour.”

“Let me know if anything happens? If he wakes up?”

“We will,” Remus reassures “Goodnight, Love.”

With a last bid of hug and ignoring the still awful churning feeling in her gut, she links arm with Peter and walks out of the hospital wing. It’s been hours since she’s waited for her boyfriend to wake up from his sleep and the fatigue plaguing her body has only been recognised as she takes further steps away from the infirmary. Perhaps the worry has amplified the soreness of her muscles. It’s never an easy life dating the Captain of Gryffindor team.

She hates to admit it, but she might really need that bath Sirius was talking about.

And just when they were about to exit the tower, her brain reminded her of her left satchel, “Shoot, I forgot something.” She groans, letting out a frustrated sigh “Give me ten minutes?”

“Is it that important?” Peter asks “We can just bring it to you later.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise. I have to finish my paper for the first period tomorrow, I need to get my satchel.”

Peter only nods at her as she begins running back to the ward. Truth be told, she’s finished the paper as she waited for James earlier. Leaving her satchel was completely by accident and she could’ve just continued walking back to her dormitory and ask the boys to bring it to her later, but why would she pass up a chance to see her boyfriend one last time?

“So did she come?”

A smile blooms on her face as she hears James’ voice echoes faintly. He’s up.

“Of course she did, she waited for you for hours.” Sirius answers “She’s your girlfriend, Prongs, she never left.”

“Oh,” James answered, the disappointment dripping from his tone slows down her steps “I was asking about Lily, actually.”

There was a pause. She could see Sirius and Remus exchanging a glance from behind their backs. If it wasn’t for the curtain blocking James’ view, he would’ve seen her coming.

“So did she come?” James asks again.

“No, Prongs. Why would she come?” Remus asks, his tone slightly rising in annoyance.

“I don’t know,” James answers “I thought we were getting closer. I just figured she’d want to check on me.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Sirius says this time, the same level of irritation evident in his tone “Why are you even thinking of her? You have a brilliant girlfriend who cares for you. Who literally spent hours sitting on that awful chair, worried about your bonked head, and the first thing you asked about when you woke up was Lily?”

“It was just a question, Pads. No need to get all worked up on me.”

“Well, your question is rubbish, Prongs.”

“Why are you—”

“Hey guys,” She says, finally showing herself from behind the curtain “Sorry, I left my satchel. Oh, hello James, you finally woke up.”

She could see the surprise on James’ eyes that he quickly blinked away with a sweet smile, “Hello, Darling.”

“I’m glad you’re up. Are you feeling okay?”

“Still dizzy, but I’ll live.” He says warmly “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Uh, no, I need to finish my papers.” She says instead, fighting the loud ringing in her ears from the heartache “Besides, you need all the rest you could get. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“But you wouldn’t—”

“I really need to go. Peter is waiting for me,” She cuts in “Good night, James.”

She glances at Remus and Sirius for a brief moment. Staring at them for too long would make all the dam she’s trying to uphold break lose and the last thing she’d want to do tonight would be to cry in front of James. No, she would not give him that satisfaction. It is one thing to deny and avoid all of her questions and another to actually dismiss her presence. Perhaps it's time for her to accept that the heart James wears on his sleeve was never hers to begin with.

As she walks out of the infirmary for the second time tonight, she could hear Sirius’ curse faintly, “You’ve lost her for good now, Prongs.”

#james potter #james potter scenario #james potter scenarios #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter request #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x oc

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hotluncheddie · 4 months

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Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace.

wc: 2.9k | cw: alcohol | rated: M | part: 1/2 | tags: pre s4 au, steve harrington centric, stobin soulmates, raised catholic steve harrington

part 2 | ao3

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8:32pm January 3rd: Steve’s car

‘God stop complaining! It’s one party!’ Robin says, her exasperation at Steve finally boiling over.

Steve rolls his eyes, hard, wants to make sure she sees it. He’s stressed and uncomfortable and wants to be petty and petulant and complain because this night is going to end in him embarrassing himself somehow, he just knows it.

Robin makes just as much of a face back at him but then her eyes are full of concern. ‘You’ve just, been so mopey lately.’ she fiddles with her fingers, bites a nail even though that was her resolution. ‘and I know you say you haven’t been, but you know that I know, that you barely got out of bed on your days off over the holidays and that makes me sad.’ Robin laments, ripping his bitchiness off like a bandaid, seeing whats underneath.

Steve signs, defeated by her big beautiful brain. She is right, but. ‘Robbie. it was between Christmas and new year, there was nothing going on. What do you expect me to do? it’s literally time made for relaxing.’ Steves own exasperation falling away into something that just sounds tired. He’s so tired. And he hates it when she worries, he’s not, he’s still not used to it. Someone who cares, notices when he spends three days in bed because the thought of getting up when his parents are downstairs makes him want to puke. And, he loves her for it, but, sometimes it makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like he’s not good enough, not hiding well enough. Pitied.

‘But you don’t relax. You mope. You, like, wallow.’ She pokes his arm a couple times for emphasis, but her voice is softer, still a little sad. ‘And.’ she takes a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I also know this time of year makes you miss Nancy.’

‘Oh God, Rob, please.’ Steve whines, desperate now. ‘Don’t start bringing up Nancy.’ He drags a hand down his face, that is the last thing he wants to talk about. Think about. Admit anything to anyone about.

She’s not, entirely wrong but Steve still hates hearing it. He does miss Nancy, or, well, misses her in theory. He doesn’t really miss her anymore. But, he misses being her boyfriend, a boyfriend. Being needed, and being held, as pathetic as that sounds.

‘I know. Just.’ Robin says, twisting in her seat to look at him looking at the road. ‘I just. I want you to have some fun dingus.’

Steve squeezes the steering wheel. He nods. Glancing at her and giving her enough of a smile that she knows not to feel bad. It’s really not her fault that this time of year makes him want to sink into a hole, makes him think about purgatory and black vines, what he wants for his future if both can exist.

‘It’ll just be some band kids there, a few stragglers, no one’s going to care that you’re there too.’ Robin explains. ‘Plus, if they say anything I’ll be there to defend you.’ And Steve can hear that care again, but its lighter, said through the joke. He lets his shoulders drop and Steve smiles for real. He can’t help it.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ he says, like she isn’t his everything. Glancing away from the road a second, Steve catches her smile. Happy she’s won but happier that he’s going to at least try and have fun.

‘And, don’t forget you promised to help me with seeing if any of the girls there are even remotely available to me.’ Robin sits back normally in her seat. Talking normally again, worry about her soulmate time over. ‘Plus, who knows, your new favourite customer might just be there too.’ She says into the window, head leaning on her palm.

‘Robin!’ Steve near shouts, scandalised that she’d bring that up.

Robin just cackles.

‘Man, you say a guys jeans fit him nice one time and then it’s all you hear about.’ He grumbles, pretending his cheeks aren’t flaming red. He really hopes any discomfort tonight has nothing to do with that. He almost prays on it. But monsters come out of walls so he stops himself.

Robin wriggles around in her seat, delighted by his suffering. ‘Hey! Hey! No, okay you ragged on me over Tammy! I can make fun of you for making goo goo eyes at Eddie Munson!’

9:00 January 3rd: Kitchen

Steve shivers as the heat from the house mixes with the cold evening air he just walked through. Robin at his side but she’s quickly swept up in a little crowd to say hellos. She looks for him but Steve just waves her on with a scrunch of his eyebrows and a gesture to the beer he wants to find a sport for.

The kitchen in strewn with bottles and cups and snacks, not a total disaster but people have definitely been helping themselves. Steve is a little laser focused on getting the cans set down so he can start on one, relax his nerves a bit, so he doesn’t even notice Eddie sitting on the counter until he nearly gets kneed in the crotch.

He takes a hasty step back and gives himself a mental shake, get out of his own head. Eddies smile looks amused, his eyes able to look so sharp. Steve swallows, grateful for Eddies silence.

‘Hey man. You want one?’ Steve offers Eddie a beer and makes a spot for them on the side.

Eddie takes it, nodding in thanks, their fingers don’t brush, Steve would know. ‘You looking for anything stronger tonight? like King Steve back in the day?’ Eddie asks, taking a drink, hair framing the long line of his neck.

The old name makes bile raise in his throat. Eddie didn’t mean it like that, probably, wouldn’t have said it if he’d known how much that name feels like a brand on Steves skin. Itchy and scarred. Like ‘Harrington’, like ‘Bullshit’, like something that makes people think they know him, like his body and self isn’t his own.

Steve looks away. ’Uh, nah, I’ll stick to the classics.’ Popping the lid and taking a long gulp, going for casual, slouching against the counter.

Eddie nods like it’s no big deal. ‘I won’t make this awkward by asking you about college. I know you know I’ve seen you at family video.’

‘Your late back on ‘Poltergeist’.’ Steve says without thinking. Winces, why is he acting like such a loser? ‘But uh, yeah. Thanks.’ He finishes lamely. No way any colleges wanted him on his concussion grades and zero extra curricular credits.

‘Shit, so you do actually do your job.’ Eddie shakes his head, like Steve had deeply wounded him, sarcastic and mocking, pretty little glint in his eye. But it still makes some ugly, desperate little part of Steve rear up and want to take it back, beg for forgiveness.

Steve drowns that thought and chugs the rest of his beer.

Someone must motion something to Eddie from one of the other rooms because he nods his head up in understanding. But before he goes he leans in closer to Steve, smirking. ‘Oh, and, don’t thank me yet. I also saw you in that sailor get up at the mall.’

Steve chokes on his spit, coughing and spluttering like an idiot.

‘Thanks for the beer.’ Eddie says, patting him once on the shoulder before hopping off the counter and into the throws of the party.

Steve watches him go, skin of his shoulder tingling through his sweater. He feels an itch, like he’s being watched and turns his head to find robin staring at him from where she’s still by the door, talking to friends. Her smile wicked.

Robins parting words from the car float back through his mind and make his stomach twist. ‘Lucky for you, Eddie makes goo good eyes right back.’ She’d said, quiet and teasing, and Steve hates her. her hates her.

It’s going to be a long night.

10:54 January 3rd: Staircase

It’s a little quieter at the front of the house.

It had been going pretty well and then someone mentioned Starcourt. A couple pairs of eyes flashed to him in recognition. Someone murmuring to another, mentioning Hop. And then Steves eyes were prickling and his wrists were tingling and he had to excuse himself. Squeezing Robins shoulder for her not to follow. Just a minute alone to breath. Sip his drink to get the copper to wash from his lips. Get his teeth back where they’re supposed to be.

Orange streetlights filter through the window of the front door. It catches the dust, makes it sparkle.

He thinks about midnight mass with his parents, their one Christmas plan that he’s not allowed to get out of. Thinks about how the light filtered through the stained glass, made patches of the floor look red. Thought about the ceiling of Starcourt, the taste of red metal on his tongue as the world spun.

Went up for communion and crossed himself. Looked up at the crucifix. Thought about how the gash that opened in Joyce’s living room was red. How somethings grow in darkness, in cracks and out of sinew. A nail bat ripping through skin.

He looks at the drink Robin made him as a joke, its almost wine coloured, a murky, deep red. It makes Steves insides twist, she didn’t mean it, she didn’t. But blood of the lamb is making the back of his eyelids flash red and brown, flash lightning and ash floating through the air. His nose filled with mould.

‘Yeesh what is that Harrington?’ Steve looks up, Eddie’s blocking some of the orange light, head haloed and face in shadow.

Steve looks back into the cup, seeing it for what it is again. Remembering how her face lit up with laughter as she dumped in whatever she could find, knowing it would be awful but knowing Steve would still drink it. She made it for him, how could he not?

He looks back up at Eddie, Steve can smell his cologne. It smells good. ‘Don’t ask, Robin made it.’ He waves his hand and tries to clear his head of red and black. The spirits mix with the beer and now his hands and feet tingle, he focuses on that, it’s nice.

Eddie eyes it warily. ’You wanna trade?’ and he holds up a beer, a different brand that the ones Steve brought, he has two, for some reason.

Steve looks into his cup, ‘Its honestly not that bad.’ He swirls the contents around a little, there’s something floating in it.

‘Seriously?’ Eddie asks. Steve looks up at him and his eyebrows have disappeared behind his bangs

Steve smiles, his lips tingling. ‘No.’ and his smile grows at Eddie laugh, he has dimples.

He looks at Eddie and decides, then, to take. See what he gets given. He can confess later.

The alcohol made a couple of the awkward conversations he had tonight bearable and the couple less awkward conversations he had enjoyable. Maybe it’ll do the same for him now. Steve takes the beer and places his other drink carefully on the stair behind where he’s sitting, makes a mental note to dump it out when he moves.

He shifts, sitting in a way he hopes looks casual, like he wasn’t just thinking about divine sacrifice. The staircase it wide and the carpet is soft, a nice place to take a break. A nice place to talk to a boy. A boy who makes his heart beat in his throat. Steve can confess later.

‘You run Hellfire right?’ He asks, sipping his beer and cataloguing again how the orange light shines on eddies hair, over his shoulder.

Eddie faces him fully, bobbing his head slightly to the music, Steve doesn’t recognise the song, he doesn’t think its one they play on the radio. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. like X-men’ Steve says.

Eddie blinks at him, but then the corners of his mouth curl and his eyelids droop and Steve feels too hot suddenly. ’Okay, I’m gonna need his majesty to explain how he knows about either of those.’

Swallowing, Steve goes for honest. ’Well first off you used to put new posters up every, like, two weeks man, kinda hard to ignore.’ Steve says, lifting up a finger. he paid attention, eddies doesn't need to know yet how much. But Steve paid attention.

Eddie stays silent, looks at him, eyes roaming over his face, lip still curled. Steve feels his adams apple bob.

‘Second, I babysit some of the dweebs who are current members.’ Steve lifts a second finger, takes another sip of beer. ‘And three, X-men is like super popular. And, like, super good.’ And Steve takes another drink, just because, just to help him be.

Eddies lips curl into a full smile, all teeth and a little tongue. He sips his own beer, looking away from Steve then back at him a couple times, like he thinks he’ll vanish, change before his very eyes. He shakes his head. ‘What changed with you man? I never expected any of that to ever come out of your mouth, like, ever.’ And eddies sounds kind of delighted, voice musical and tinkling.

Steve just shrugs, feels hot, Eddies voice too close to happy, words too close to praise. ‘Grew up a little, I guess.’ He crosses his arms, looks down at his shoes.

‘Yeah? That why no more parties?’ and Eddies voice is soft, Steve can feel his body heat, his knee by eddies hip.

‘I’m just not so big on, that much attention any more. That much noise.’ Steve says, looking back into Eddies face. Finds him staring, lips quirked in a little smile, softer, then before. Leaning his chin in his hands on the banister, leaning into Steves space.

‘So, you and Buckley, what’s that about?’ Eddies whispering now, like he knows it’s precious. The orange light kisses his cheek.

Steve clears his throat, whispers back. ’Summer job. We scooped ice cream and she, uh, scooped up my heart.’ he smiles, just from talking about her, thinking about them.

‘Oh.’ Eddie says, drawing away just slightly, eyes hardening in a way Steve hates.

He almost reaches out, something drastic, desperate. But he pulls back, fiddles with the tab on his can. ‘No, um. Not that kind of oh. I mean in, like, a friend way. Totally platonic oh.’

‘Right’ Eddie comes back, but it’s not quite the same, the moment lost. Steve feels a rosary between his knuckles.

‘Seriously, platonic soulmates. It’s a thing.’ He tries to lighten, tries to make Eddie read his mind the way robin does. It takes a moment, but then Eddie lets his eyes drink in Steves face again. His smile unfurling, sweet and pretty and different than before. He nods once, taking a drink. Looking away, cheekbones flushed pink.

Steve can confess later.

Robin comes barrelling down the hall calling out for Steve. But she skids to a halt when she sees Eddie. Then her eyes find Steve and she looks at him with raised eyebrows and barely contained glee bubbling under its surface. ‘Munson.’ She greets, eyes staying on Steve. ‘You’re late back on ‘Poltergeist.’

Eddie laughs, big and delighted. ‘Hey Buckley.’ He says. ‘Looking for your boy?’ but as he said that he’s gone back to the same position, still leaning on his hands, still looking right at Steve.

Steve feels his cheeks heat.

‘Ugh, not my boy. You are definitely not getting out your late fee for that.’ And she shoves him out of the way to get to Steve and grab his hand. ‘They want me to play beer pong, you’re on my team.’ And she’s pulling him up and away.

Steve cranes his neck back to give Eddie a little wave goodbye but he’s pushing off the banister, he’s following.

He walks slow, lazy, almost sauntering. Looking right at Steve still, with that little smirk. He knows. He knows. Steve feels the eucharist on his tongue. ‘What?’ Eddie asks, innocent but his smile isn’t. ‘I wanna watch.’ And Steve just squeezes Robins hand tighter, lets her pull him into the kitchen.

11:45 January 3rd: Kitchen

People cheer as Steve neatly sinks the ping pong ball into the final cup, Robin nearly jumping onto his back she’s so exited. The first couple games with Robin and some of her random band friends really weren't great, he drank a few times, helped Robin get through her shares, they barely won. But by the third game he basically played alone and won pretty easily. The crowd seem entertained, cheering for him and random people kept patting him on the shoulder. it’s weird, a little stale on his skin to be congratulated like that, over something like this again. But he’ll be that guy again for one night, if just to make Robin smile.

He downs a cup someone offers him in celebration. Accepting a couple high fives from Robins band friends. Tries to not be weird, to not show how the praise makes him itch.

Steve lifts his wrist up to wipe at his mouth. His eyes drawn to the far side of the room. Eddie is leaning against the wall, black jacket against stark white. He claps slowly once, twice, his eyes shining with something. Like Steve is something funny, something interesting.

Steve’s hands and feet tingle, his lips a little numb. Feels warm. Doesn't think about churches or blood or monsters. Just lifts his eyebrows, sucks some of the sticky beer from the pad of his thumb, and winks.

Eddie rolls his eyes and rolls off the wall, disappearing into another room.

But Steve saw his smile.

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part 2 | ao3

written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge! run by @thefreakandthehair and using the prompt: 'spiked eggnog'. ty for putting this on always!! sorry im posting on the last day again lol xoxo

title from 'stick season' by noah kahan (edited slightly to fit better)

@pearynice and @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx ty for the kind words and guidance getting me unstuck with this fic <3 its alive now

lmk if you would like a tag for part two :)

#hes a boy with a lot of thoughts #some of those are about another boy #some are about the meaning of grace in a world with monsters #and that's okay #this was very hard and then very fun to write #hotlunch #my fic #steddie #steve x eddie #catholic steve harrington #pre s4 au #platonic soulmates stobin #spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge

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oneeyedgrimes · 2 months

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Beat This World.

Summary: you were inlove with Daryl. you had been for a while but you hid it telling yourself you’d tell him one day, one day too late.

Tw: major character death, angst, pinning, all that good stuff.

ELLO TUMBLR This is my first time writing here I just needed to write for my husband because if I didn’t I would COMBUST. this DEFINITELY isn’t proof read as I started this at 2 and it’s 4 now so if there’s any errors don’t be afraid to let me know, constructive criticism is always welcomed and appreciated, enjoy loves!

You had always noticed Daryl. Since the day you stumbled upon the quarry, you’d been by yourself for who knows how long and when you finally found the group, he was the first person you laid your eyes on, pointing his bow ready to shoot and end your life at anytime and the only thing you could think was how pretty his eyes were in the sunlight.

From then on you found yourself trying to get to know him more, sitting next to him when the group would cook the squirrels he found, trying to get him to teach you how to hunt. The two of you even found yourselves up late unable to sleep and you would find eachother and just sit and look at the stars and that was all the both of you needed, you’d barely speak on nights like that you’d just soaked up each others presence.

By the time the group found Alexandria you and Daryl’s relationship was better than ever, though with the recent loss of Beth after just finding out she had been alive, watching her die infront of him Daryl had been more closed off, but you understood, ofcourse you did, so you gave him space, made yourself busy working on things around Alexandria.

But soon distance became barely seeing each other, and that only made your heart ache for him even more, you so desperately wanted your bestfriend back even if that was all it would be, even if you wanted him to yourself, even if you did want to feel the feeling of his lips on yours, you would take what you could get.

You’d finally found Daryl sitting on carol’s porch sharpening his knife, you stopped just before you came into his view and just looked at him, seeing him up close after not seeing him for so long, it felt like you’d fallen inlove with him again right there and it hurt.

“ Daryl can we talk please? I get it if you’re too busy but I really just wanted to talk to yo-“ Daryl looked up at her the slightest bit of a smirk sitting on his lips before he cut off your rambling “ hey, I ain’t ever ta’ busy for ya’ wha’s up” Daryl’s attention was fully on you and now you were nervous.

“ I miss you. I’ve barely seen you since we got here at this place and everything’s so weird and these people look at me like I’m some kind of alien and I know you’re working and doing things to keep people safe and this may be selfish of me but I miss you and I want you to be around more” Tears prickled at your eyes, whether it was from frustration or genuine sadness you didn’t know. Daryl looked up at you and and sat the knife down and brought his finger up motioning you to come towards him

“ c’mere,” You looked at him and slowly walked over to the porch sitting next to him blinking away the tears now feeling embarrassed you let your emotions get the best of you. “ why ain’t ya’ tell me ya been feelin’ like tha’ i woulda’ done som’ ‘bout it” Daryl guided your head to his shoulder, his voice a soft tune he only ever used with you. “ because i.. you were busy and I didn’t wanna bother you and I just..”

You trailed off going silent realizing you’d almost said something you’d probably regret, and Daryl just pulled you in closer wrapping his arm around you “ I’m sorry I ain’t been checkin’ on ya, I’m gon’ try an’ be around more, can’t promise nuthin’ but I’m gon’ try”. You got your friend back, and that was more than enough for you, even if your heart screamed to tell him what you really want.

It was a few weeks later, and Daryl did what he said he would, he was around a lot more and he kept you company whenever he could, and you were the happiest you could be. You were both sitting on Carol’s porch eating whatever cookies she made that day when Rick walked up to the both of you asking if you guys were up for a run with a few others from the group, you agreed and went to get ready.

As you walked inside your house you told yourself you’d tell Daryl how you felt when the two of you were back from the run, you thought of how you were going to do it as you finished putting on your boots and grabbing your bag putting a few water bottles in your bag. Daryl came and got you walking with you to the gate helping you into the car and you laughed looking at him thru the window “ thank you mister strong man” He looked at you with a straight face though you could see the tiniest smirk on his face “ stop.” He told you as he got into the car nodding to Rick as he pulled out of the gate.

Everything was going fine, they found a few cans of food and some bottles of body wash in a nearby store, you turned your back for just two seconds, you saw a toy you thought Judith would like and you smiled and reached on your tippy toes to grab it, at the same time a walker turned the corner from behind the shelf and fell onto you knocking you down to the floor, you reached for your knife but couldn’t reach it, atleast not before the walker sunk its teeth into the side of your hip causing you to let out a scream as you finally got your knife out of the holster plunging it into the back of the walkers head pushing it off of you as Daryl came running to you.

“ wha’ tha’ hell happened “ Daryl kneeled infront of you he saw the walked beside you and looked back at you all the confusion on his face gone “ you ain’t bit are ya’?” He looked up at you waiting for your answer, his face falling a bit when he saw the tears building in your eyes, his face now filled with worry as he looked down seeing your hand covering your side, he gently moved your hand lifting your shirt revealing the bite “ no, no you can’t fuckin’- this ain’t fair! You can’t leave me y/n you can’t” Daryl’s voice became wobbly and his lip quivered, something you had only ever seen a few times “ I’m sorry d, it all happened so fast I couldn’t get my knife out fast enough” You looked at him squeezing your waist tighter, your own lip started to wobble. “ you know what’s funny? I was gonna tell you that I’m inlove with you after we got back from this run, was gonna take you to my house and take you up to my room, and I would let you lay in my lap and run my fingers thru my hair and tell you how I’ve been inlove with you since you held that big crossbow at me” you laughed regretting it after as you started to cough harshly, Daryl just stared at you his eyes wide in shock “ I’ve loved ya for a while y/n a good long while too. Wasted all dis’ time when we coulda’ been ta’gether”You smiled finally letting the tears fall

“ we would’ve been a match made in hell dixon, will you be okay?” You ask him holding his face in your hand that wasn’t covered in blood “ Hell no, I don’ know how i’ma go on without’ ya. “ “ you’re strong I know you are, you’re gonna live for me and you’re gonna be okay I know you will I love you Daryl.” “ I love ya’ too girl.” “ then beat this world for me Dixon”

You smiled at him with the last bit of energy you had before your eyes shut and your movements stop completely, daryl sits there almost as still as your own lifeless body before he pulls out his knife stabbing you in the back of the head and sits with you for a few more seconds before he stands up picking up your body laying you in the back of the car as he calls the rest of the group, and they all see it on his face, so they don’t ask. They have a makeshift funeral and Daryl dressed up in his best button down he has, and when he goes to his room and it’s late at night and it’s quiet and you’re not there to fill the room, he doesn’t cry but he whispers into the air

“I’m gonna beat this goddamn world for you .”

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #the walking dead #daryl imagines #Spotify

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hwan-g · 2 years

Text

DADDY ISSUES. —BANG CHAN; 🚬

pair. soft dom! chris x f. reader | genre. lovers to friends, roommates, heartbreak, hurt/comfort, smut | warnings. profanity, angst, alcohol abuse, anger issues, mentions of cheating, attempted su!cide, toxic relationship, unprotected sex, filthy talk. | word count. 6.9k

tags. @ughbehavior (@straywrds), @cb97percent, @hyuneater, @lix-ables, @hellishmoons, @hyun-bun, @skz317cb97, @danyxthirstae01, @choigore, @j-0ne25.

a/n: hi lovelies! popping in to say this story is heavy, read the warnings before proceeding. if any of you need to talk, my dm's/inbox are always open. the national su!cide prevention lifeline for the u.s is 1-800-273-TALK. i love you, you're not alone. ♡

synopsis. what can Chris say about you—you’re his girl. he’d do fucking anything for you.

You were driving him insane.

Your cunt, they way you felt around his dick, your nails scratching on his back, the arch of your back—but your fucking voice. His name coming from your mouth, your perfect fucking lips, that tongue that knows how to wrap around him, lick him just right to get him painting your face in hot, sticky white. He’d cum time and time again for you—would bury himself inside your sweet folds every single goddamn day of his life, forever if he could, if you let him.

But you don’t. You let him rail you, fuck the absolute shit out of you, the harder the better, your hand, that fucking hand, fuck him, always guiding his own around that pretty neck, pleading with those devil eyes, daring him, sending him over the edge, making him want to kill you with how much he craves you, how much he wants you, wants to have you again, always, if you let him, only if you fucking did, and he’d show you, you know he would, because no one could fuck you better than him.

And it’s not for lack of trying. ‘Cause that’s the fucking truth, isn’t it—he fucks you; you fuck literally anyone else. Every other goddamn motherfucker out there that gives you even a smidge of attention, promises you words and free drinks, takes you to expensive hotels, reservations booked under false names, room service on the tab, that sort of thing. Chris could never do that, right, not anymore, because you forsook him, you chastised and threw him away when he got too close, yeah?

Even though he was your first, even though that hole of yours belonged to him first— he was the one that found you first, claimed you first, had you screaming for him, daddy, daddy please, right there, oh, please touch me right, there—it’s still clear as day in his mind, how he made you come for him, on his fingers, on his cock, on his tongue, Christ, over and over, his good girl, his baby, so helpless, so needy all the time, for him, for everything he could give you.

But no more of that. You were all grown now, weren’t you, you had no need for him anymore, he’d taught you everything there was, you’d sucked him dry, and moved on to bigger and better things, didn’t you? Now he was an afterthought, a quick fuck when you felt like it, when you were too tired to go out, and he was there, ready and waiting for you, always waiting, always getting the short end of the stick, always the crumbs.

And still, he accepted every time. Because it was you, because at least you were coming back to him, at least you still wanted him, because he could have you, even like this, even on the A.M, even if drunk, in one of your moods, where he doesn’t know if he should hold you down so you could let it all the fuck out, finally, at long last, or just fuck it out of you, take it by force, bury himself in all of your sadness and drown.

You could dance circles around him. You could point a gun to his head, and he’d swear you loved him with all of your tartar fucking heart. You did, love him. You loved him in a way he would never understand, in the same way you loved your father when you saw the suitcase in his hand, door open, leaving, leaving, leaving—

You loved him just enough to keep him around. You loved him like a field burning. But he could never know. The moment love reveals itself, it is no longer a mythical thing, it holds no substance, no magic spell. It shrivels up, and it dies. Chris could never know—he would never know.

When you broke it off, when you gave him the ring back, those same Satan eyes dry, cold, a freezing winter to his scorching sun, middle of July, he proposed your arrangement in a desperate attempt to keep you with him, close to him; so, you wouldn’t walk out on your relationship, whatever would remain of it, leave him entirely. It was a selfish bargain, a man sentencing himself to death by hanging, but there was nothing else—you’d left him with no other choice.

He never expected you to agree. Never expected the look you gave him. A truce between lovers, a friendship that could only be the result of having entered one’s soul, of having seen who they are in intimate ways. Roommates, then, and he helped you move out of your shared bedroom to the guest room, the one your mutual friends usually crashed in after a party, exhausted and drunk. In the same way he’d fall asleep all those nights after you put yourself in a different space, a space away from him, so close but so fucking far away, so he’d never touch you, so he could not whisper to you anymore.

And then came the visits after hours, the sliding under his covers, the ghost of you, only real as far as the bed stretched, only allowed for a short while, enough to get what you wanted, and then gone, just as fast as you’d come. Chris gave himself away to you every fucking time, because he was foolish; because he looked for you everywhere, because he drove himself wild with jealousy when you weren’t home, because he’d wait, and wait, and wait, until the sun rose again, until he’d hang from the couch heavy with sleep, his eyes remaining stubbornly open, staring at the door, staring at his phone, staring at your jacket hanging from the coatrack, wondering if you’re warm enough, if you’re safe, if you’re fucking alive—

Hours and hours of obsessing over you, cursing himself for ever suggesting this; this half death, this swallowing of heart, drinking himself oblivious just so the clock would melt away and shut the fuck up, the ticking of it turning into nothing more than a faint buzz in the background. You were out doing God knows what, probably fucking other men, and what about it, right, what was he supposed to do, he was nothing to you now, no boyfriend, no fiancé, no love of yours, nothing solid he could grab on tight and hold onto—a mere roommate. He could fucking laugh.

He's saved you from yourself, helped you through grief; all music is you, everything he writes, composes, fucking arranges—all is you, filled with you, thoughts of you, your scent, your cunt, the way it clenches around his cock, the way you unravel for him, his angel, his girl, his girl, his his his— but you’re someone else now, aren’t you? And Chris, still here, on standby until you come; one glance from you and he’s back to life like usual, like you hadn’t pressed pause on him, like he’d been working perfectly fine all along.

It was enough to drive him to addiction. And it almost did—booze eased the pain of you, helped him sleep. A known insomniac, someone that has been working in the dark for most of his adult years, someone that needs help from pills to go to bed, otherwise he’d carry on through the haze of days, slowly turning mad, paranoid with deprivation. Oh, he was broken too, long before you, and there was no fixing that. That was to stay with him for the rest of time. In consequence, his brain was rewired, worked different than others’. There was no hope—the sky was a ceiling and it had collapsed on everything.

Complete standstill.

He finds you in the living room, something four in the morning. He’d just finished a track, send it over to the guys for reviewing, and felt his mouth dry as cotton. Chris hadn’t even realized the time, creating being water that sweeps everything else away, concepts and basic needs included. Your knees were hugged close to your body, your head resting on top, slow blinking at the wall.

The him that would rush to your side, inspect you for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could make him see red—Chris held him back. This was not that, not like all those times before, this was backstepping, this was your brain eating at you in plain sight, the only voice louder than your own. He approached carefully, always aware of his position in your life, of what he wasn’t, and wasn’t, and would not be, not for a long time, not until you said so.

“Alright?”

The faintest nod, you’d have to know the habit to make it out. He knew it; he knew it best of all.

“Alright,” you repeated the word back to him, not moving an inch.

Chris waited, as he does so well. He waited for something else, an indication to proceed. Your sadness was consuming the entire room, its shadows curling in the corners. An episode, then, as heavy as the world, and he wondered if that was the reason you were home so early—if some fucker couldn’t handle your vastness, the mess of you, all your pointed pieces, and send you back to the one person that can.

“And the truth?” he presses, but just enough. Enough for you to spill, and he walks towards you despite himself, despite his throat warning him of dehydration, despite his heart running for the hills, screaming of ruins and deterioration.

He’s been through all of it. He tells himself it won’t hurt anymore, not the same, not as much.

He’s wrong.

A sharp inhale, the shaking of shoulders. Sadness always shows like this. “It’s bad, Chris,” you whimper, your voice breaking. “It’s bad again.”

Chris takes a deep breath, only to remind himself that he must keep distance between you. Because if it were up to him, he’d cradle you in his arms so tight pain would slide right off, scare away in the sight of love. If it were up to him, he’d carry you to your bed and make it all okay again, and every time, as many times as it took, with no hesitation, no second thought, nothing but taking your sadness as his own, nothing but bearing every single thing that hurts you, that weighs you down. If it were up to him, but it’s not. You do not want him, and your pain is your own, this you’ve told him.

‘I’ve had pain for so long, I don’t know what I’d be without it.’ So, instead, he watches as you cry silently to yourself, comfortable in his presence, but just enough. Always just enough.

But never fucking enough.

“Go to bed, (Y/N),” he tells you, but what he means to say is ‘Come to bed with me, lay down next to me and I’ll take care of you. I swear I will.’ What he really wants to say is he wants to hide inside your body, wants to swim through your bloodstream, squeeze through your veins and remove all toxins, all illness out of you. And if that sounds a little crazy, forgive him, yeah, he hasn’t slept in twenty-six hours.

You’re shaking the very fucking foundation of him. He cannot bear to witness your tears, cannot physically turn into something that can take it all away, angel, please, please stop crying, will you—you’re killing me, you’re torturing me—

You look so small, so frail in that place of yours. The couch was coming apart at the seams, having seen a little too much for its young age of four. Chris stared at the threads hanging at the bottom of it, to avoid the gun in his mouth. Perhaps he could reach out and touch you, maybe you’d let him, maybe you needed him as much as he needed you tonight, and you’d mercy him, you’d pardon his sentence and set him free.

Wiping at your eyes, mascara smudged in the corners, purples and grays smoked together, strangling, patronizing him—it’s not for you, it’s not for you, I was out with another man, I smell like him, I have his seed inside me, I will leave you one day, it’s not for you—and if it’s not that it’s the fucking dress, short and black and thin, second skin, covering your tits and your stomach and your cunt and not much else. His woman, once and always after that, in sorrow even when he’s let you do what you want, even when he’s sacrificed himself to the Devil so you have free will, even as he chews on glass as he watches you leave, always exiting doors, always away from him, never to, always from, and goddamn him, he’s not a fucking pussy, he’s your man—

You need him. He shut out the entire world he once knew for you, shunned everything, so he knows this— you need him.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you whisper, but your gaze is begging, your eyes are a window, and he’s got 20/20 vision, he reads between the lines, he recognizes.

He knuckles his own, rubbing his face raw. “We’re not doing anything,” an ancient voice. A voice that’s not his own, waiting. Tired.

The lighting is low, but he could make you out blindfolded. It’s late, and yet it’s not, not for him, not for you, not with you, but you lay in different beds, with different men, while he’s alone, whilst the waiting is in process and trust him, he’d rearrange the whole fucking architecture of this building to bring your bedroom closer to his, would build it himself if he had to, so don’t underestimate him, don’t test him, goddamnit, don’t refuse, don’t deny—

Your feet touch the ground, bare and no doubt cold, and he loves you, it rips through him, because where you’re always cold he’s always warm, and in that way useful to you. He remembers a time where it wasn’t bad, where there were no men, where you shared one bed and exchanged body temperatures, giggling like teenagers.

“Call out to me and I’ll come to you,” you disturb the silence between you, and your words cut through him like a knife. More knife than human. Because he’ll do it, he has a thousand names for you, and they all spell out one thing, they all reside in his head and haunt him.

He doesn’t believe you. You’re toying with him, because you’re sad and lonely, and need him. He’ll fall for it anyway because he’s sad, lonely and he needs you. A double-sided coin, but one all the same. You’ll cut him and cut him and cut him. He’ll bleed to death. Cause and effect—one cannot exist without the other.

If he puts his hands together in prayer, forgive him. He’s in love.

“What will you answer to?” He asks, holding his breath, afraid to look, but terrified to look away, and you get up from the torn couch, falling apart at the seams yourself, and this, you, he knows how to mend. If only he says the right thing.

“Anything.” You stand, fists at your sides, shivering, tears never ending, and he could grab you—

He doesn’t think you know what that means.

“Lies. One mistake and you’ll be gone,” he retorts bitterly, and his mouth has never tasted sweetness.

You smile, and you’re an idol at church, staring at him through glass, you’re a million-dollar painting guarded in a museum, people questioning you for hundreds of years. Is she smiling? Is she lying to me? When you already know the answer.

“Take a chance, Chris. This could be the last time.”

He should’ve paid attention to that, should’ve dedicated his entire life to solving the riddle, putting together the clues, gone on the scavenger hunt, but instead he lashes out, cups your face and smashes your lips together. He’s been starved, he’s been left thirsty in a desert to walk around in circles, repenting for his love. He’s had enough.

Mine, are you? A fucking angel, open your legs for me, let me feel my cunt, goddamn you—soaking my fucking fingers, baby girl, come. Come with me now. His hand over yours, walking into Lazarus’ tomb, a raising of the dead. “Tell me what you need,” as his teeth graze your earlobe, as he turns you around, your back against his chest, as his hand is holding your arms in place, a hostage in front of God, so you won’t go anywhere, “Did you hear me?”

“All of it. All of you,” you moan, your head falling back, and he bends you over the bed, your knees hitting wood. He’ll take you like this, because he cannot stand another night of having you where he sleeps, and you don’t stay. Lies, he thinks again. Not all of me—enough of me, bits and pieces of me, he tears the dress from your body in one swift motion, the fabric resisting over your hips. You gasp, pulling against his grip. He grips tighter.

You buck into his hips, and he groans, his lips on your back, on your shoulders, on your neck, everywhere at once, because unlike you, he wants every square inch of you, he wants to destroy you, wants to reach inside the cage of you and eat your heart so that it beats next to his own, nothing between you, and he sounds fucking pathetic, but it doesn’t even matter, you’re under him, at his mercy, and your cunt stretches around his fingers, his palm runs over your sweet cheeks, fingers tracing your lips, coming to rest on your neck, and you moan again, you’re shaking, but for an entirely different reason this time, and Chris wishes he can have you like this always, always always—

“You fucking own me body and soul, baby, that’s it, fuck on my fingers, come on—” you’re so close, so fucking close, but then he takes them away, and he’s entering you in an entirely different way, a better one, and you almost collapse, but your arms grip the covers, steady you on the mattress, and you’re crying out in ecstasy. He knows the exact map to your pussy, all the ways to make you cum for him, and he’s checking all of them off, his mouth is filthy, whispering in your ear, sucking on your neck, his cock drilling into your hole, rearranging your insides—

Listen to how your pussy sounds, fucking Heaven right under me, God baby, will you let me rip you apart, you will, won’t you, you know I’ll take care of you, fuck—despite the roughness of him, you felt comfort in the way he was taking you; like coming home, like opening the door of a place you know upside down. The violence that you unleash on yourself, an unstitching of all your wounds, and scars, the familiar red of your own bleeding, of being alive—Chris felt like that. You couldn’t stop coming back for more, because you knew the lights would be on, the bed would be warm, the blood would run the same.

You were a terrible fucking person, and you deserved none of it, so you bit your tongue, you tasted the iron, and clenched your teeth, letting him violate you in the best way, in the only way he ever will, because Chris was many things to you, but he could never hurt you—it’d only feel like he’d be hurting himself, every time.

When he came undone over you, he pushed through still, searching for your high, kind in his devouring savage in his ways, fingers brushing over your clit, smearing your wetness in between your thighs, driving you wild with his heavy breathing on your sweaty skin—it felt too much, too overwhelming, too hot, so hot, fuck c’mon baby girl, give it to me, I know you can, come around my dick, pretty baby, fuck you’re so goddamn beautiful—you did. Your eyes shut tight, your nails digging into his forearm, you came viciously, your entire body shaking, in a state of shock, rendered speechless, convulsing, yet needing more of him, his weight on you, his panting, his lips at the nape of your neck.

You’ve fucked a lot of men, you’re not proud to admit. All of them have been different, their love, the way they fuck—all different, all the same. They will never compare to this man, your man, one and only, because he knows you most of all, knows you inside out, has shaped you to fit around him like a glove. But it is because of that shame, because of the embarrassment—that you leave.

He watches you do so with apprehension, that dark gaze of his restrained, hurt. But you knew, didn’t you, Bang Chan? This changed nothing, this would always be one way and not the other, not what you want, never what you want. You could love her and love her and love her, until you die, until you burn yourself alive with yearning, until you get dragged into the pits of Hell. It—will—not—change. Because it’s not up to you. So, you watch her collecting seeds, you watch her fill herself up with so many of you, and you think maybe this will be enough now, maybe now she’ll stop, this is enough, right? Enough. This word on his mouth is pure acid, he curses it—but it’s all the consolation he has. That one day it’ll stop, one day you’ll come back, your thirst will be satiated, appeased, and you’ll be—satisfied. Another word that’s hard to voice, even harder to swallow.

“If I say it,” he starts, hands clenched into fists, tears brimming, heart crumpled up and thrown against the wall, a first-degree murder, “if I say it,” he repeats, and it’s wicked, “will you stop? Will you come here?”

You pause by the door, a being with no soul, no redeeming qualities. You will your face to look brave, to look indifferent, but what’s the use—against your own self? He can see right through you, this man.

“If you say it, you’ll never see me again.”

The door closes. He’s alone.

Two weeks later, Chris enters your apartment stumbling, taking off his coat, kicking off his shoes, world spinning. It takes him about two minutes to walk a straight line in the kitchen, but he succeeds, the water he manages to pour himself soothing his burning throat.

The record had been wrapped up, the fat check from his producer/song-writer skills now residing in his bank account, all the whiskey bought in his honor drank until the last drop. What was left now but to go home and sneak into your room, watch you sleep, fantasize about slipping right behind you under the blankets, wrap an arm around your waist, bring you close and smell the sweet shampoo scent of your hair? Such simple pleasures, and yet getting there was the hardest part. Chris wasn’t a creep, or at least didn’t consider himself one, but you’d driven him to the absolute fucking brink of madness. All he needed was your touch, your soft skin against his, your lips kissing back, initiating contact—he couldn’t even have that. Not even that.

He wanted to tell you, he wanted to see your expression as you’d hear it—he almost fucked another woman tonight. Almost, as in he couldn’t even look at her fucking face without thinking of you, couldn’t find his way inside her skirt, inside her pussy, and the truth of the matter was she wasn’t you, point blank, right, so what else was there to say? He got his dick sucked regularly, so many fucking girls begged him to take them home, but how could he when you’d be right there, one fucking wall of separation between you, possibly listening in, possibly covering your mouth, the betrayal pushing you one step further from him?

He couldn’t even risk it, no matter how impossible it sounded. You weren’t even there most nights, you didn’t even care—you’d gone and done it first, if he were to lay the facts down; you’d hurt him first, betrayed him first. But doing it back? Doing it to you? He’d rather cut his own hand. You held him by the balls, he was unable to escape your spell. So, he staggered over to your room, pressed the handle down, softly, quietly, afraid to wake you, if you were even there, he chanted, he prayed, it was so late, so fucking late, you better be in bed, you better be safe and tucked in and at home—you weren’t. Your bed was neatly made, your nightstand lamp off. But your shoes were by the door, a hope lit like a torch on his way to your bedroom now vanquished by the dark, the cold.

Panic settled low on his stomach, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing your number, eyes searching, ears perked for sounds. He moved towards the buzz, the living room, the sad looking couch—your phone was in between the pillows, going off on silent. Chris sobered immediately, warning signs going off in his head, his legs carrying him across the apartment, hands trembling, eyes wide, manic, heart leaping, beating out his chest, afraid, terrified—

You couldn’t have, you wouldn’t have, you’re fine, you’re out, you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine, he opens the bathroom door, looks left, looks right—you did.

“(Y/N)!”

There’s no one in his body, he’s floating, he reaches you, he falls on his knees, his arms sink into water, sleeves drenched, he’s dead, he’s dead, there’s nothing in him, he pulls your body up, he screams, he yells, he’s shaking you, you’re cold, you’re freezing, your eyes are closed, why are your eyes closed, he scrambles, he’s dead he’s fucking dead his heart is not responding—the water splashes on the floor, the water is everywhere, he’s drowning in it, he presses you against his chest, his lips are on your temple, his hands try to create friction, he rubs he rubs he rubs, he doesn’t know where to look, what to do, he’s not alive, what does he do what does he do—

“What the fuck, what the fuck, baby, please wake up, please wake up, please wake up,” he thinks he’s crying, he thinks he has to call an ambulance, he thinks there’s not much time, your pulse is weak, but it’s there, he’ll die, he’ll die with you, please please please please, “you can’t fucking leave me, you can’t fucking leave, angel why, why—”

Three numbers, he calls, he puts it on speaker, he’s shoving his fingers down your throat leaning you forward, how long have you been in there, how long like this, what if this doesn’t work, please, fuck, please, baby, baby, my—mine, my girl is not breathing, please hurry, please hurry, in water, I found her, she’s not responding, YES, SHE MIGHT’VE, FUCK, hurry hurry, what do I do!

Chris desperately tries to get you to throw up, checking your face, checking your pulse, ridding you of the clothes clinging on your skin, forcing himself not to think this was on purpose, the one time he’s not home, the one time he goes out. He doesn’t remember ‘this could be the last time’, he doesn’t remember the pills on your nightstand, he doesn’t, his mind is not cooperating, he’s not there, the woman is telling him to try CPR, but he doesn’t know how to do that, he’s scared to let you go, what if he hurts you, what if he breaks you, what if you die because of him, oh God, fuck, he’s crying, he’s hyperventilating, he’s dead, he’s dead—

You choke, water coming out your mouth, your shoulders moving, your body kickstarting, and he removes his hands from your chest, he pulls you to him, he rocks you back and forth, she’s back, she’s back, but she’s weak, as you gargle and heave on him, gasping for air, gripping on his shirt, meeting his eyes—you’re back, you’re back, no other thought than this, you didn’t leave, you didn’t leave him, but you’re pale, so pale, and you’re losing consciousness again, and the ambulance needs to hurry the fuck up, because this is a different fight now, a scarier one.

“Baby, what did you do, what did you do…”

“Keep her awake, sir!”

He lightly slaps your cheek, his fingers never moving from the pulse on your neck, and he talks to you, he talks to you about the first day he met you, and your eyes are fighting to stay open, you’re here but you’re not, you hear him but you don’t, and you smile but it’s a phantom thing, barely there, drugged, not there, not there—you walked up to Seungmin to get his phone number, and he should’ve known then, you’d never truly belong to him, because he saw you first, but he didn’t have you until later, he wanted you from that fucking moment, but he didn’t say anything, he didn’t intervene until later, until he talked to his friend, until he went on that first date instead of him, and how that came to change his entire fucking life forever.

Because you’ve been in it since, because he can’t imagine anything without you there, there’s fucking nothing, a black void, a hole to bury himself in, and that’s it, without you? Without you? His girl? Nothing. You need to stay alive, you owe him at least that, if he can’t have you, he won’t keep you back, not anymore, he promises, he swears, but please, please, for the love of fucking God, stay alive.

The paramedics come five minutes after he pulls you off the tub, and they take you away in the towels he’s wrapped you in, checking for responses, talking amongst themselves. He follows lost, in a haze, his drunk mind slowing him down—he wants to call your mom, but you haven’t talked to her in two years, and fuck if he knows where your father is. He left you, you’ve told him, when you were little, and ever since then you’ve treated the men in your life as passengers on a train, expecting them to walk out whenever their stop comes up, never thinking for one second that anyone could want to stay on forever, until the train seizes to work, until the tracks rust away, and there’s no more need for transportation.

You’ve never for one second thought maybe you don’t need to be train—that you don’t need to always arrive and depart. That you could stay, and that someone would stay with you.

You don’t wake up for three days.

You’re driving him insane. He still comes.

He sits next to you for hours, staring at your serene face, the face he’s seen change in fifty different ways, and he remembers how it felt to be the recipient of your smile, how your mouth stretched and curved, how your eyes creased. Sometimes you’d move your fingers, others your eyelashes would flatter, or your leg would jerk. He’d call the nurse immediately, point it out, get disappointed, fall back on the chair.

‘Normal reflexes,’ they called them. He thinks he hasn’t slept in more than thirty hours; he thinks your face is ingrained in his memory, yet he studies it nevertheless, endlessly, day to night, night to day, the machine next to you beeping, the IV on your arm dripping—he thinks he has reflexes too, but they all respond to you. If there’s no you, then he might as well stick that needle inside him, lay next to you, sleep eternally.

If there’s no you, what’s the point?

Seungmin visits, Jisung does too, they both bring flowers. On the third day your mom shows up much to his surprise—there was no emotion behind her eyes, nothing to indicate the girl on the bed was in fact her daughter, and Chris had to get the fuck away, step out before he caused a fucking scene, before he did something he’d regret.

There was no one for you—all those ‘friends’ you partied with on the regular, all those fuckers you slept with—no one came, no one called, no one gave a damn. You stretched yourself thin for people who most likely didn’t even remember your fucking name, you gave yourself away, time and time again, told him to go to Hell, you’d do whatever you wanted, you had others, you weren’t alone—Chris based himself off those words entirely. Knowing the truth, realizing the loneliness you’d been enduring all these months—he wanted to crack his head open, physically pick you out of his brain.

Only because you wanted to be away from him. All of this because he insisted.

How to forgive himself now? One, for being too late. Two, for not seeing. Where does one put his sins? There was no excuse for him; he saw you every day, he prided himself for knowing you best of all. What the fuck did he know, huh?

He left. Told the receptionist to call him if you woke up—him, not your mom, not anybody else, and he fucked off to go drink himself oblivious. The tiredness he felt couldn’t be described in human words. It had built a home inside his very bones, rested heavily, stubbornly on top, pressing down, down down—a mere mortal, with insignificant pains, and the need for sleep. Chris had no need for sleep, no need for mortal prerequisites.

He needed you. That was all.

You go home, eventually.

He picks you up, a thousand words in his mind, none on the tip of his tongue. He drives in silence, and you stare ahead. You’re different, there’s a cloud twice the size it was now. You have to go to therapy, you have to take other pills now, long names on them, day and night. You have to ask for help when you need it. Chris was pulled to the side as well—he had put himself down as your fiancé, had asked to know everything about you. So, they tell him.

You might need to go away for a bit, but for now you’d go back with him. Call this specific number if something happens. Your life redefined by this one choice. It was stupid. You didn’t even want to die, not particularly, you just wanted the pain to go away—you fell asleep in the wrong place. It didn’t even matter, anyway. Doctors don’t listen, not really. Chris does. You know he does, you know he’s a good listener, you’re positive he will understand—because he loves you.

And you love him, too. Just enough. A field burning. Always, and forever.

But he can’t even look at you, and you think you might’ve fucked something up with him. In him. So, you stare ahead, and you wait until you’re home. You didn’t even want to die; you say this over and over to yourself. You didn’t even want him to see you like that. Now he’ll treat you differently, he’ll ponder over everything you say, he’ll look for hidden meanings. Your mother was the same way, and you left her.

You absolutely do not want to leave Chris; you know this now.

Home is tidy. He might be a fucking mess, might’ve lost the entire goddamn plot over your absence, ruined his liver, and his brain nerves, but he’s not about to reveal that to you. Any of that. He keeps quiet, as you put the things he’d brought you away in your room, untouched, still as it was that night, says nothing as you undress and slip into pajama shorts and a T-shirt. You figure you’ll probably have to break the ice first, as he seems terrified to do so.

And with good reason. You had him balancing on very thin thread—what did you expect?

You sit down on your bed. He stands by the door, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe. He looks exhausted, drained. He looks like he wants to reach out, see for himself if you’re really here, and you can see the fight inside him rage on and onwards. How do you fix this? Where do you start?

“I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression pained. Hearing those words…that’s not what he wants to hear. You’ve nothing to be sorry about. It was all him—he had no idea what you were going through, he’s the one being selfish, wanting you all to himself, forcing you to do things that were clearly against your will. You had nothing to be sorry about, nothing at all.

Except breaking his heart. Over, and over, and over. The one thing.

“You told me not to say it,” he speaks, his voice collected. “That night…that I’d never see you again. But it’s all that matters, (Y/N), isn’t it?”

You grab onto the covers underneath you. He’s right. He’s right, but you’ve been ignoring it for so long, you’ve been refusing to acknowledge, you’ve been putting him off, thinking if I do this a little longer, if I take it a little further…maybe he’d leave first. Maybe I won’t have to do the leaving this time, please don’t let me do it this time, I don’t think I’ll bear it.

But he cannot do this for you. The one thing.

“Do you love me?” he asks, and you shake all over.

Love—it was a house. A house with him in it, holding the ceiling in place, the light always on, the bed warm. Love was a place you never wanted to leave behind. A place you’d die in. Did you love him—yes. You never stopped. But was it enough? Say he knew this, the simple truth, you loved him all along, you loved him even through all the pain you caused him—then why? Why didn’t you just stay with him? It’s the question after that you’re most afraid of.

Your face collapses. “Yes.”

He pushes off the frame, hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Yes?” he breaths, chuckles incredulously. “Yes, she says, then drowns herself in the bathtub. Explain your love to me, angel. I’m fucking clueless.”

You flinch. At his words, at his tone. He’s not meaning to hurt you, not really. His frustration, his concern, it’s all written across his face. He could never lie, not to you. Yet, being confronted by it…it digs through you just the same.

“That was an accident,” you didn’t know where to start, what to say. You thought it’d be easier. It’s not. “You don’t have to forgive me, Chris. Please don’t, I don’t deserve it. But the answer to your question—it’s always going to be yes.”

He bended at the knees, hands coming to rest in front of him, as he stared at you. Never forgetting to put distance between you, even now. If you could feel anything, you’re pretty sure you’d feel your heart trying to break free from its cage. You wish you could, if just for a moment, so as not to feel like such a liar speaking such truths.

“I’m not going to ask why,” he croaked, his head dropping, embarrassed at the emotion spilling out of him. “Though God knows I want to. I almost fucking lost you, and it might not mean anything to you, but it means everything to me. If you’d died—that’d be the end of me, (Y/N), do you understand what that’s like?”

You couldn’t help your silence as you watched him break down and cry. You thought if you didn’t move then, you’d lose him and that was ten times worse. It’d be a long while since your life had any meaning for you, but Chris shouldn’t have to bury himself in the same pit as you. He used to smile so brightly once, was always the life of party, someone you counted on all too much, because he was just that dependable.

You think you need to become a little like him. Have more courage.

All it takes is three steps. Then, you’re on your knees in front of him, your arm resting on his back, as you try to find his eyes. His hand tries to wipe the tears away before you catch them, but you interject with your own, your fingers brushing over his cheek. You want to taste them, these tears, understand through them, without the misunderstanding of words, without ever speaking—you wish to know him before he even opens his mouth. As he is with you. You need to learn more about love, about what it means, and how it feels, really, and truly.

“I never stopped loving you, baby,” he whispers, the strain of him vibrating. “Not once. You could shoot a bullet through my chest, and I’d take it, I’d die a happy man. I’m as messed up as you are.”

He still won’t look at you. You pray one day he’ll be able to express himself without feeling ashamed. You hope one day your throat won’t choke up when around him. Maybe it wasn’t even about who’d leave first. You had never tried just being—with him. The one thing.

“Do the program,” he encourages, calming down. “Do the program, and when you get out, I’ll be here,” finally the brown meets you. You search it, want to dive in it, get lost in it. One last time. “I’ll always be here.”

When he takes you in his arms, then, you know he will. There’s no intention behind it—just love. Only love.

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aliahm · 11 months

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Figuring Things Out - Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You and Crowley talk about the confusing feelings that came up for you after going out for lunch.

Warnings: Insecurities about eating, body image issues (If I’ve left out any content warnings, please let me know).

(The moodboard above was made by me, using images found on tumblr and Google. Full credit for the images goes to the owners. Credit for the divider goes to firefly graphics, here on tumblr).

“What’s happened?”

Crowley had noticed the shift in your mood from the second you came home. You were talking, but only if he talked first, and you hadn’t looked him in the eye since you stepped into the house.

“What?” You asked, still looking straight ahead at the TV. “Nothing, I’m fine”.

“Something’s off, it wasn’t before. You can tell me”.

You didn’t say anything. Even if you tried, you didn’t think you’d know where to begin.

He snapped his fingers and suddenly the screen in front of you was blank, not that it mattered. You hadn’t been paying attention to whatever was playing in the first place.

Finally you turned to face him, and he said nothing, waiting patiently for you to say whatever you needed to say.

Another few moments passed as you tried to find words that fit whatever this was that you were feeling. Eventually you came up with:

“I just- don’t feel very good right now”.

“Not good how, love? Sick?”

“No, just- gross”.

Crowley frowned. He didn’t like hearing you say that about yourself, and it confused him. There was nothing gross about you.

“Gross? Did something happen at lunch? Did somebody upset you?”

He was beginning to worry, and that protective instinct of his kicked in immediately.

“I guess I did.” you answered with a shrug, as if feigning indifference would get rid of everything else you were feeling.

“You did? All you did was go out to eat, love”.

“I know.” You replied, your voice empty.

Crowley paused and thought over your words for a few moments. You fought the urge to look away from him, but you did. It was just too much.

Finally he asked, “Is that what’s bothering you? Going to lunch made you feel bad?”

“Not going to lunch, just…”

“Eating?”

You didn’t say yes, you didn’t even nod. You couldn’t admit it, verbally or otherwise. Instead you said:

“and it’s never happened before- I- I don’t-“

Your voice broke and trembled as you tried to push your way to the end of a sentence you didn’t know how to finish.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Crowley placed his finger beneath your chin and tilted your head towards him, “breathe”.

You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes for a moment, before meeting his eyes once again.

“I don’t know what’s going on.�� you told him, and the sadness in your eyes sent a sharp pain right through his chest.

“Listen to me. Whatever this is, you can figure it out, I promise. We can figure it out”.

You hid your face in his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I feel so stupid.” you muttered.

“You aren’t stupid, and you aren’t gross either”.

“It’s just one thing after another with me, isn’t it?” You laughed bitterly. “Why can’t I catch a break?”

“We agreed to be honest with each other, that’s all you’re doing.” he reassured you, “That’s a good thing”.

“I don’t know what to do, or think”.

He held you without saying anything for a bit, then he replied, “Maybe take some time and see how you feel, then we’ll go from there.”

You nodded against his shoulder, and he pulled you away from him slightly, so you could look at each other again, then he told you:

“I want you to promise me you won’t try to struggle through it by yourself if things continue this way, alright?”

“I…”

“Baby, I know you’re scared right now, but I need you to be brave, for me, and most of all, for yourself”.

You hesitated, deep in thought, then eventually you nodded again.

“Say it.” he encouraged you.

“I promise, that I won’t keep secrets from you, and I’ll tell you if I need help”.

“Good,” he kissed your forehead. “I’m already proud of you”.

#good omens crowley x reader #anthony crowley x reader #good omens crowley x gender neutral reader #crowley x reader #crowley x gender neutral reader #good omens crowley fanfiction #anthony j crowley x reader #anthony crowley x gender neutral reader #anthony j crowley x gender neutral reader

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beaconfeels · 5 months

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@like-lazarus kindly tagged me in a “Messy Draft Monday” and even though I’ve been too stressed to be actively working on anything right now, I wanted to share something. So have a little bit of one of the random steter stories floating around in my brain:

Peter finishes loading the last bag into his car and leans against the trunk for a minute. Overall, he feels satisfied. His revenge is complete, plus he’s an alpha, which is a nice little perk.

It’s a little galling to have to leave the Hale territory instead of ruling it, but if he stays here his nephew and that merry little band of budding psychopaths will kill him eventually. He’s lucky, but he’s not that lucky.

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps catches his ear first, then a quick heartbeat. He knows that heartbeat. He memorized that heartbeat one night that seems so long ago, but really wasn’t that long ago at all.

He turns around.

“Stiles,” he says, low, dangerous. Because he likes Stiles, but Stiles is most likely to come up with a murder plot that will actually work, so he’s not to be trifled with.

The boy pulls up short, staying well back from Peter. He’s breathing hard, and those pretty pink lips are parted, his cheeks flushed. He really is very lovely, Peter thinks.

Stiles has a large duffle bag weighing down one shoulder, his grip on it white-knuckled. “Take me with you,” he says.

Peter blinks. He thought he was beyond being surprised.

“You want me, right?” Stiles goes on. “You wanted to turn me. I can’t let you bite me, but I can be pack. Just take me with you. Let me stay with you and I’ll be pack. I’ll cook too, and clean.”

“Can’t let me bite you?” Peter asks. It’s not the only question he has, but it’s the one that sticks out the most in what Stiles has just laid on him.

“I don’t think so. Maybe? But right now it’s a no.” He bites his lip, taps his fingers on his leg. “Yeah. Definitely a no right now. Maybe forever. But humans can be pack, right?”

Peter doesn’t know why he’s even still standing here. Of course he’s not going to take Stiles with him. “You don’t even know where I’m going,” he says instead of what he should be saying, which is obviously no. It’s definitely not happening.

“I don’t fucking care,” Stiles says, and he sounds suddenly weary. “As long as it’s not here, I’m cool.”

Peter tilts his head. Stiles is such a mix of scents it’s always been hard to get a read on him, but Peter has noticed the anguish that radiates off the boy in waves. It’s a layer that runs under everything else— a steady, overwhelming sadness. “And what would your father have to say about that?” He still doesn’t know why he’s even engaging in it, why he’s giving the boy any hope.

Stiles snorts. “I left him a note that he’ll find whenever he finally realizes I’m gone. He won’t come after me.” He looks down and to the side, his hand clenching into a fist.

“Listen,” Stiles says, and he raises those big brown eyes to look right at Peter, “I can’t stay here anymore. Please. Just please, take me with you. I know I can’t promise not to be any trouble, you’d never believe that, but I can be useful. I can be good for you. I can be pack.”

He’s desperate, and that shouldn’t matter. If it were anyone else it wouldn’t matter, but this is Stiles. Stiles is unusual. He’s interesting. Now that he’s had his revenge, Peter is at a bit of a loose end. Not without plans, never without plans, but the future already looks a little boring. Stiles is many things, but boring isn’t one of them.

Plus, Stiles is the Sheriff’s son, and absconding with the son of the sheriff sounds like a delightfully mischievous, if misguided, end to his run in Beacon Hills. “Alright, you can come along.”

#my writing #steter #wips #I’m usually here for good dad Noah #but listen sometimes you need to take your dad issues out on innocent characters #for both catharsis and plot #also the irony of Peter calling Derek’s pack budding psychopaths is not lost on me

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kingofpopmj · 3 months

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you could do a story with Michael Jackson where he is married to Y/N just to please the media and he doesn't really love her that much. However, he respects her even though he gives her a few arrows with nasty words, making her disappointed. Also, if possible, at some point in the bedroom while Y/N is sleeping, Michael appears slightly nervous and when he sees her, he starts kissing her because he misses her touches.... and... maybe a passionate ending smut????please…. thank u😩😙💓

~This is my first smut imagine, so don’t be too hard on me.🙈 I hope you enjoy it! Michael is spicy in this one so read at your own risk. Thank you to the hunni that requested this!

Failed Obligation

The heaviness in my heart grew unbearable as I unlocked the front door. The shine of my wedding ring ever so bright as I slowly pushed the door open. I quietly entered the house. It was spotless. The house filled with the smell of a homemade meal. My favorite meal. The distant sound of Y/N humming made me feel everything and nothing all at once. She was- she’s fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.

I stood in the doorway unable to shut the door behind me just yet. I wanted to be home. It’s just home doesn’t feel much like home lately. I let out a deep sigh before closing the door. There’s no running. I can’t run away. Making my way to the kitchen with small steps I’m greeted with Y/N’s backside. She was bent over putting something in the oven. A normal husband would happily announce his arrival or greet his wife with a kiss, but me- I have no idea what to do.

“Oh my goodness!” Y/N jumped when she finally turned around. “You scared me.”

“I do live here.” I scoffed.

“Of course you live here. I just wasn’t sure what time you’d be home.” She smiled hopefully. “I’m happy to see you.” She moved towards me wrapping her arms around me. When I didn’t reciprocate the gesture her arms fell to her sides. The look of defeat plastered across her face.

“I’m gonna go take care of some things.”

“Wait.” She gently held my arm stopping my abrupt exit. “I made dinner. I thought we could eat together. Maybe have a movie night?” Again, she smiled. It was full of love and optimism. I couldn’t stand the feeling in my chest, but still I held my ground.

“I’ll pass.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being this way.” It came out as a whisper, but I heard it. I heard her sadness. I felt her despair.

“You don’t understand a lot.” I snapped.

“We used to be friends.” She looked up at me with watery eyes and in that moment I hated myself.

“We are what we are. That’s it.”

“What are we?”

“We are legally bound to one another.” I said with a shrug. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t.

“You make it sound so-“

“I make it sound like what it is!” Y/N jumped back at my sudden outburst. She looked terrified- terrified of me.

“Why do you have to be so mean?” Her voice laced with pain. “You asked me to do this for you and I did because you promised me nothing would change.”

“I’m not being mean! It’s not my fault you’re a dimwit that can’t understand simple concepts! You keep acting like this perfect little housewife. It’s too much! You are too much! We did this to get the world off my back, yet somehow you’ve managed to screw that up! It’s exhausting being your husband- your fake husband!”

“I gave up my whole life because my friend asked me- no begged me to help him. I couldn’t be anything else but Michael Jackson’s wife. You knew that. I had to abandon my family, my friends, my job. Everything. I know this isn’t real, I know we aren’t real, but I still thought you were worth it. I tried to make this strange situation as comfortable as possible, but you are determined to hurt me. To break me.”

“Y/N-” I stopped when she put her hand up shaking her head slowly. She untied the apron from around her waist placing it on the counter.

“Dinner is on the table. I made the cake you like. It’s in the oven- just take it out when the timer goes off.” She spoke softly before leaving the kitchen forcing me to watch her walk away- walk away from me. It seemed inevitable.

She doesn’t deserve this.

I don’t deserve her.

I took my seat at the table unable to eat anything. After how I treated Y/N, I deserved the loss of appetite and more. I stared at the spread in front of me, which only made me feel worse. She did so much for me. She does so much for me. The kitchen timer went off reminding me of the cake in the oven. I walked over to take it out. She really did all of this for me. She’s the best person in my life. The only one I can truly trust and I’m going to lose her.

Two hours have gone by since Y/N left. I knew she fell apart after how I spoke to her. She felt safe in our bedroom, so I knew that were she was. I desperately wanted to see her- hold her- be with her. I knew the shame would become insufferable the moment I looked into her eyes. Even with that understanding, I couldn’t stay away from her. The effect she has on me is something I don’t think I’ll ever fully comprehend.

Another forty-five minutes went by before I mustered up the courage to leave the kitchen. I found myself struggling to proceed when I reached the bottom of the staircase. I need to make this right. I need to fix this. I need Y/N.

As I reached to top of the staircase I see the bedroom door is closed, but as I twisted the knob I was thankful it wasn’t locked. My eyes scanned the room unable to find Y/N. The bed was made without a crease in sight. The only source of light illuminating from the bathroom. I rushed over hoping to find her braiding her hair in front of the mirror or massaging her face with that lotion she loved so much. It smelled like peonies, her favorite flower. The more time that passed without any trace of Y/N the more empty I felt. I was starting to feel worried, but mostly confused.

The closet was the last place to check. Nothing could prepare me for how broken I’d feel once I pushed that door open. The hangers were empty on Y/N’s side of the closet. Her suitcases littered the floor half full of her belongings. She was curled up into a ball on the tiny couch I got her for our first anniversary. It’s from France. She fell in love with the soft velvet fabric and I knew I had to surprise her with it. I still remember the smile on her face. She was so touched. She was so happy. Ironic, how easily- how quickly I tarnished that happiness. When I realized she was asleep I moved closer. Her tear stained cheeks broke my heart further. The pain in my chest growing by the second.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered kneeling down to leave a gentle kiss on her forehead. Unable to take my eyes off of her I gently took her hand in mine- her left hand. I admired the ring on her finger remembering the proposal, the smile on her face, the joy that filled my heart and the love between us. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered again leaving kisses on her hand.

“Y/N?” I said softly trying to wake her up without scaring her. Her eyes remained shut as she instinctively snuggled into my hand that rested against her cheek. I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her face in my hands as I left tender kisses all over face.

“Michael?” Y/N sat up looking at me bewildered.

“I’m so sorry.” She avoided looking into my eyes. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry.”

“You act like you hate me.” She murmured staring down at our entangled hands.

“I don’t.” I began kissing her hand slowly traveling up her arm, shoulder and neck.

“Michael.” Y/N pulled away finally meeting my eyes. “You can’t bombard me with kisses and think that erases all the bad.”

“I know. I know. Y/N, I love you.”

“You can’t just say that and not mean it or act like it.”

“When I asked you to marry me as a favor I didn’t necessarily think it through.”

“What do you mean?”

“We loved each other as friends. I thought it would stay that way. It didn’t. Not for me. You promised me five years of marriage. On our third anniversary, I asked you for an extra five more and you obliged. You agreed to ten whole years as my wife.”

“I knew it would help you, so of course I said yes.”

“We’re just about to hit the five year mark and the thought of eventually having to let you go terrifies me. I asked for five more years because I don’t want to be without you.” I leaned in before she could respond and kissed her. I kissed her like I meant it. I kissed her like how I’ve been desperately wanting to for so long. Desperately, I pulled her to sit on top of me guiding her hips as I brought her down to my lap.

“What about the rules? No sex.”

“Those were impossible rules to follow. An idiot created those rules.” I say brushing her hair behind her shoulder and sinking my face into her neck. Her perfume filled my nostrils and I mentally kicked myself for denying myself of this pleasure sooner.

“Calling yourself an idiot there rule maker?” She questioned rolling her eyes and giggling. Oh, that sound. I love that sound.

“I think I deserve it, don’t you?” She shrugged in response. I pulled her closer, so close her body moulded to mine. “You’re my wife. I want to do this the right way. I want to do it all with you. I want this to be real.”

“Real?”

“I don’t want to push you away anymore. I want to bury myself in you.” I whispered in her ear as she took a deep breath. “Let me bury myself inside of you.” I purred against her sweet lips. My hands slowly traveled from her hips to her waist taking in every curve. I dragged my fingers just below her breasts to unbutton her shirt. I slid it down her arms leaving trails of goosebumps on her skin. I knew by the uneven rise and fall of her beautiful chest she wanted me just as badly.

“Please.” She said breathlessly tearing my shirt off and throwing it across the room.

Y/N’s head fell back as I kissed her neck, sucking down on the sensitive skin. Her fingers laced in between the strands of my hair as she kept me close. She rolled her hips against mine painfully slow as she met my gaze. The look in her eyes was more than enough to send me over the edge. She continued and I was could feel myself lose control. Y/N stopped without warning sensing my predicament. I held her hips with such force I’m certain she’d be covered with bruises. I want her. I need her to move- to move faster, but she refused to give me what I wanted. She was going to make me beg- and I would- I will. A seductive smirk covered her face. She enjoyed teasing me.

“I need you.” I panted trying to compose myself.

“I know.” She whispered in my ear unaware of just how much I worshipped her. She left wet kisses down my neck and chest as she pushed me until my back met the rug. I gawked at her unable to form any words. Unable to do anything but follow her every move.

She made me so weak.

I watched as she unzipped my pants sliding them down my legs.

She looked deep into my eyes as she removed my boxers.

I was so lost in her eyes that being completely naked in front of her didn’t register. The only thing on my mind was her.

The immense feeling of emptiness took over me as Y/N stood letting her panties fall to the ground.

I extended my arms folding them behind my head as I admired the view. She smiled bashfully before returning to her place- on top of me. Oh how I loved this view.

I reached out touching her anywhere-everywhere. I never thought anything would feel so good. Look so good. Taste so good.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, holding onto my shoulders lowering herself onto me.

I could feel everything.

I love the way she feels. I never want to go without her again. I’m hooked.

Her warmth tightened around me as she took me in deeper. Her eyes squeezed shut adjusting to me. The sound of my name falling from her lips only fueled my neediness.

My eyes rolling back at the sensation of her. I’ve missed out on this for too long. I glanced down at our connected bodies before quickly flipping us over. I settled in between her legs. I needed to be on top of her. I needed more. My hand traveled up her outer thighs and I took the opportunity to wrap her legs around me.

“You feel so- so good.” I lowered myself to meet her lips once again as I began to thrust into her. She interlocked her ankles behind my back pulling me in deeper each time.

“Faster!” Her voice was full of lust and it drove me wild. “Michael! Please!”

“Y/N!”

The room filled with the overwhelming sound of us satisfying one another. She brought something out in me I couldn’t explain. I licked and sucked on every part of her glorious body. Each moment better than the last.

She kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before. Her lips so soft. Her tongue so sweet. Kissing her came natural to me. Kissing her made me feel alive. Kissing her was like breathing. I needed it to live. I needed her to live.

“I’m going to-“ I felt myself release inside of her. The sting of Y/N’s fingernails dragging down the length of my back adding to my pleasure. We were both panting, but insistent on staying connected. Insistent on burying myself inside of her over and over again.

“Please!” Her lustful cries echoed off the walls as she clenched around me. Watching her come undone made me want to do this- do her all night- every night.

“Michael!” I collapsed on top of her resting my head on her voluminous chest.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” She began laughing uncontrollably. I looked up at her seeing a genuine smile gracing her face.

“What is it?”

“I can’t believe we just did that.” She sheepishly covered her face and I immediately pulled her hands into mine. Forcing her to look at me.

“I wish we had done it sooner.” I smiled kissing her deeply.

“The floor was fun.. Can we maybe try a couch or a mattress next time?”

“Next time?” I moved sliding my arms under her neck and legs lifting her up and walking out of the closet into our bedroom. I laid her on the bed gently spreading her legs with the tips of my fingers. “Who said I was done with you?” I chuckled leaning down kissing her inner thighs.

“Michael! Oh my-”

“Relax, I’ve got you baby.”

#michael jackson #michael joseph jackson #michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #king of pop

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zchnlswrld · 6 months

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[ 01.24 ] idol!san — angst

note: this probably isn’t that good but it made me so sad :(

“you’re leaving?” you ask from your house porch, staring at san and the other members of his group.

“y/n-”

you cut him off before he can make up an excuse. “you only just got here.” you remind your old neighbour.

yunho takes san’s suitcase out of his hand and places it into the car trunk for him.

“why are you going at such time?” you tilt your head, trying to hold in any emotions however your voice going up at the end of your question gives it all away.

“your parents aren’t at the door,” you point to his porch “did you already say goodbye?”

he remains silent still.

although you’re entirely focused on your friend you can see his now closest friend, wooyoung, tap his arm trying to get him into the car.

san tears his eyes away from you and turns around, grabbing the car door handle.

“you’re not going to say goodbye?”

silence.

“is this it for a while?”

silence.

“i’m going to have to miss you all over again.”

time stills. his heart drops and it hurts to the point where he thinks he might have to grab his chest. he then mumbles something however you don’t quite hear it.

wooyoung taps him once again, trying to urge him to get into the car.

“don’t say that.” he says, louder this time but you barely make it out.

“it’s fine, just go. i won’t hold a grudge, i didn’t before.” you just manage to say.

his friend quickly gets into the car, giving both of you a moment to address the words shared between the two of you.

san turns around and is met with the sight of you resting your wrist on the bridge of your nose, biting you lip, trying to quiet yourself down and keep your tears at bay.

if his heart can drop further, it does.

“y/n, please don’t cry.”

“no, no, it’s fine.” you hesitate. “you need to get back i shouldn’t hold you up.” you wave your hands to dismiss him and turn to go inside.

a rush of footsteps are heard behind you however you pay no mind to them but before you can reach out for the front door handle a hand reaches for your wrist and turns you around, you’re now chest to chest.

san stares back as you and you fully take him his appearance. he’s grown into his features entirely yet he’s still the same boy you fell in love with all those years ago. one with a warm smile and large heart, one you never confessed to after all the pining.

“it’s not like that.” he whispers.

you pull your hand out of his grip and rest your fist on his chest. “you never said goodbye to me,” you lightly punch him. “and for years i thought i did something wrong but i never held it against you.” another light punch connects “you came back,” another one “barely spent any time with me,” another one “and you try to leave in the middle of the night without as much as a goodbye,” you punch him one final time “again.”

“it’s not like that.” he tries to defend himself.

“then what is it like? i spent nights alone in that bed, one you used to lie with me in, wondering why you didn’t say goodbye to me. when you came back i thought you’d want things to be the same which i know is selfish be-”

he shakes his head. “it’s not selfish at all. i want that too.”

there’s a glint of hope in your eyes and it takes everything in him not to kiss you then and there.

“but we can’t have that.”

“then why talk to me again?”

“i- i don’t know.”

“that makes you selfish then, not me.”

yet another moment of silence falls between the pair of you and you step back, only slightly, although you never break eye contact.

he reaches out but you pull back. “i’m going to miss you all over again, and that’s fine. i can live with that.” you whisper. “i just felt like that 18 year old kid, waiting for a goodbye that never came, one i was promised.”

quietly you press a short kiss onto his cheek. “good night, choi san.”

you turn around and open your front door, you give him one last look, one that says goodbye, one he wishes to have never seen. you give him a chance to say something but nothing comes so instead you flash a smile and shut the door.

he stands there, still completely frozen from the short kiss. it takes him a minute or so to come back to reality and only then does he realise your gone.

he also realises that you probably won’t, and shouldn’t, be able wait for him forever because that’s cruel. he’s willing to wait for you because he always has and always will but he can’t put you through that a third time.

“i’m going to go now. i’ll see you again,” he starts hesitantly “when i’m more sure about us.” he says to your door, just loud enough for it to slip through and reach you on the other side. “i promise. i won’t let you down this time, i can’t.”

you ball your fists as you lean against the front door. he can hear the shuffling as you try to pull yourself together.

san let’s out a small ‘hm’ and nods, a habit he picked up from you when you were 100% satisfied with school work or a project.

“goodbye. i’ll miss you too, i won’t ever stop missing you. not until we’re together again.” he says quietly but, again, just loud enough for you to listen through your front door.

you put your hand over your mouth to muffle a sob however it fails when san can hear it through the door, you quickly realise when you can hear a hand be placed on a door and a mumble of your name. sliding down the door you let it all out and san can’t bring himself to leave anymore.

he stays there for minutes, his own eyes tear up and he says another i’m sorry before leaving. he can barely bring himself to walk away but he does anyway slowly, stopping every once in a while to look back at your house.

at this point yunho has gotten out the car to open the door for him but instead of getting in he holds onto yunho and sobs himself. he grips onto the back of his shirt as he hugs him while yunho only strokes his back.

what had he done? how was he going to fix it?

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caseyqdilla · 11 months

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Staycation Extravaganza

A/N: Listen, @oneforthemunny this wasn't supposed to be an angst thing, but my brain just went there okay. IM SORRY (I couldn't bear leaving them that way though soo I definitely have it ending in fluff.)

CW: Slight angst, fluff, and a little bit of hinting of smut at the end there, but nothing happens. Ends in fluff as promised though!

Finding out you were pregnant after you adopted Ollie wasn’t in your plan, but you and Eddie were excited nonetheless. Or you were until you figured out that you were going to be a hormonal mess your first trimester. You hated it, Eddie felt like he had to walk on eggshells around you and you found yourself getting agitated at the smallest things that normally wouldn’t have bothered you. It all came to a head one day as you’re laying on the couch; you’d come home early for the day with a splitting headache and having gotten way more irritated than you meant to with your class. Eddie had heard you in the classroom and pulled you aside when they went for lunch.

“Sweetheart, I think you should go home. School’s almost out for the day and I’m sure they can get someone to sit with them for a little while.” as delicately as he could, trying not to set you off. You knew he was just trying to help, but you just got teary-eyed and your lip started wobbling. “No, no baby, don't cry! I’m just worried about you sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” but it was too late, you were already nearing hysterics. You hated this, you were an emotional person already, but you were used to being in control of them, not them controlling you.

“Y-you’re right, I should go home…I probably am making them miserable.” you stuttered out between sobs. It broke Eddie’s heart seeing you so sad, but he knew (well he hoped to whatever deity would listen) that it was only temporary and would be over after your first trimester.

“Baby, you’re not making anyone miserable, you just have a headache and having to stand most of the day probably isn’t helping.” he tried to reason with you. You nodded slightly and made your way to the principal’s office to let them know you needed to leave due to your condition, as you’ve taken to calling your over-emotional state. Knowing it wasn’t normally like you to call out or leave early just because they were very understanding.

Coming home you grabbed an ice pack and a towel to wrap it up in so you could lay down on the couch. You’ve never felt less like yourself than you have during your first trimester. You’d fallen into an uncomfortable sleep.

Ollie had come home when Eddie was done and was eager to talk to you as he did every day after school; except today you were unusually snappy today. You were getting irritated so easily and finally snapped when he was trying to get your attention.

“And then- mom, are you listening? Mommy?”

“Ollie, I’m listening.” you’d responded in a terse tone, which did not go unnoticed by Ollie or Eddie. Ollie quickly receded into himself which broke Eddie’s heart as well as your own. You went to say something else, but Ollie had run off to his room quickly shutting the door. Guilt took over your mind, “Oh god, I ruined everything; he’s gonna hate me so much now.” you sobbed out dropping your head into your hands.

“Sweetheart, he isn’t going to hate you, we just have to explain to him what’s happening.” Eddie tried to console you, unsure if you wanted physical contact he went with verbal reassurance waiting for you to make the next move if you wanted him to hold you or stroke your back. You sniffled as your sobs stopped.

“Eddie, I think you and Ollie should go. M-” before you could finish your sentence, Eddie panicked and began to rattle off.

“Sweetheart, i-it’s okay, we don’t need to leave; I- I promise that it isn’t -” tears having welled up in his eyes in his panic, thinking you wanted him to leave an that you changed your mind about having his baby; you immediately start to sooth his anxieties, cursing yourself knowing you should have worded it better.

“Baby, baby! I didn’t mean to leave for good. Baby I never want to get rid of you or Ollie, I love you both so so much I just meant for a weekend; maybe just until the end of my first trimester since I only have a few more days.”

He calmed rather quickly, thankful you hadn’t suddenly changed your mind after having to deal with these big emotional changes that you weren’t able to control.

“Maybe you and Ollie can go on a trip with Wayne?” you suggested.

Eddie mulled it over, “Yeah, I think taking Ollie to see Wayne would be a good idea. He’s been itching to see him more and I think he has this weeknd off actually.” he smiled at the thought of Wayne and Ollie having this time together, “I doubt he’s gonna wanna go on a trip though”, he huffed a small laugh, “maybe we could have a staycation. Ollie and I can grab a bunch of movies, snacks, games, and all that jazz.” you gave a watery smile nodding and thinking about how much fun he would have with Wayne and Eddie; without you. You shook those thoughts away as quickly as they approached, it would just be a few days and you needed this just as much as they probably would enjoy seeing Wayne for those days. As Eddie went to call Wayne and make sure he was okay with the idea (which of course he was; as he put it, “Boy why are you asking to bring me my grandson? You never have to ask.”) you went to Ollie’s room and knocked gently to ask permission to come in; you swore as soon as you’d become a parent that you were not above apologizing when you messed up, even if it was something out of your control like this.

“Come in.” his quiet reply came and you tentatively opened the door.

“Hey Ollie-pop, can I talk to you?” he nodded and you sat down gently beside him, he curled up shifting away from you slightly and it took all your power not to burst into tears right then and there. “Lovebug, I am so sorry for how I spoke to you. I know that it sounded like I wasn’t excited to see or talk to you, but I want you to know that how I spoke has absolutely nothing to do with you.” he nodded to you, but refused to meet your eyes so you finished up, “I hope you can forgive me Ollie, but I also want you to know that it’s okay to feel big emotions so if you are upset with me I will understand and we can talk about it if and when you want to, okay?” It was hard not to scoop him up in your arms and hug him, but you knew this was a big moment for you two. You knew that you needed to let him make the next step when he was ready. With that you told him goodnight and that you loved him, which thankfully he did respond in kind you think if he hadn’t you’d have sobbed all the way to your room.

The next day Eddie and Ollie had woken up before you and rather than wake you up, knowing how rough a day you had yesterday Eddie gave you a gentle kiss on the head and left you a note letting you know they’d gone to Wayne’s. Ollie was still a little upset by yesterday’s events, but as soon as he saw Wayne’s smiling face he ran into his grandpa’s arms giggling when he swung him around in his embrace.

“I missed you so much boy!” he said as he put Ollie down and not knowing what happened yesterday curiously asked, “Where’s mom at bud?” he got quiet and walked past Wayne to go to his toys that he kept there leaving a confused Wayne and Eddie to explain what happened.

After he finished telling Wayne about it, he asked “What am I going to do Wayne? What if it isn’t any easier for her after the first trimester? What if her mood swings get worse??”

Wayne put a firm hand on his shoulder, “Eddie, you married her cause she’s a strong woman. She will get through this, you just have to be there to support her. I know you’re doing what you can so don’t worry. As for Ollie-pop, let me talk to him while you make us dinner.” he smiled and clapped Eddie on the shoulder as he stood.

Eddie laughed, “Is that why you let me tag along? Maid service?”

“You remember how you were in highschool? Of course I’m collecting maid services now that you’ve got it together a little and your woman whipped you into shape a little! It was like living with a feral raccoon most of the time.”

Eddie barked out a laugh as he made his way to the kitchen to make something he knew Ollie would like and Wayne made his way to Ollie.

“Hey buddy, wanna go play outside? I can throw the ball around with you for a little?” Ollie’s eyes lit up and he raced outside. He vaguely heard Eddie grumbling about turning his baby boy into a jock; which got a snort out of Wayne. “Shush you.”

They had been throwing the ball around when Ollie had seen some other kids playing in the trailer park with their mom and he suddenly got sad again. Wayne noticed and had him come sit next to him on the bench in the middle of the park. “What’s wrong Ollie?” he asked, knowing but also wanting to hear what’s going through his mind.

“I think mom hates me.” he sniffled as tears started rolling down his cheeks. It broke Wayne’s heart and he couldn’t even imagine how it would have affected you; especially with your hormones being played like a yo-yo.

Wayne pulled Ollie into his lap and rocked him back and forth slightly as he let him cry. When his tears started to dwindle away, Wayne pulled away a little so he could look Ollie in the face. “Ollie, you mom doesn’t hate you. She adores you, you’re her favorite person in the whole world; don’t tell your dad though, I don’t think he could handle it.” Ollie giggled, which had Wayne smiling. “She’s going through some changes, nothin’ that you’ve done is the cause of any of those changes you hear me?” he waited for the boy to nod in understanding before continuing. “You remember how they told you you’d be having a little brother or sister?”

“Yes sir, mommy and daddy were so excited and I can’t wait to have a sibling! But what if they don’t want me after?” The statement took Wayne back to when Eddie was a little boy, how dejected he was when he was left with him feeling unwanted and terrified being without his mom. He knew there had to be an underlying reason your tone had a bigger impact on him. You and Eddie have had to be a little strict with him on certain things and he never closed himself off like this during those times and Wayne understood it now as fear. He was afraid of losing you two, afraid that you’d get the newest addition to your family and think that he was just too much to handle with the baby. He wrapped the young boy in a tight hug. “If I know anything about your mom and dad; and I’ve known your daddy since he was a little thing just like you,” he ruffled his hair affectionately eliciting a giggle from him, “and I’ve known your mom for quite a while, I know that they love with all their hearts. Let me tell you, the first time they met you and came to tell me all about you, they were already so in love with you bud. They knew right after that they wanted you as their son.” Wayne saw the tears forming in the little boy’s eyes and a small smile stretching across his lips. “A lot of people are born in unfortunate circumstances, your dad was one of them, but very few of them are lucky enough to say that their family chose them.” Ollie launched himself at his grandpa and buried his face in his chest.

As if on cue to offer some comedic relief, Eddie; sweet Eddie, bursts through the trailer door followed by a plume of dark smoke coughing and shutting the door as quickly as he could lest Wayne see. However, nothing escapes his watchful eye. He drops his head to Ollie’s little shoulder as he stands up laughing at his dad’s antics.

“How about we go to Benny’s or order pizza?” Eddie offers up bashfully.

“Let’s go to Benny’s. Open that door boy, get that smoke out of there.” he says shaking his head as they pile into the van. As they leave they stop and Wayne asks one of his friends to watch the trailer and if they can “get that damn smoke out of there”. His friend laughs and asks if it was Eddie or the little man, which Eddie definitely doesn’t blame Ollie; nope he would never do that. Ollie looks at his dad with his mouth agape and playfully glares at his dad.

After they have dinner and make their way back, luckily the house is void of smoke. Thus begins their weekend of fun and relaxation; you were always at the back of their minds, but they knew you needed this time alone even if you didn’t particularly want it.

They had a blast playing whatever Ollie’s little heart desired whether it be board games, sports (much to Eddie’s dismay), or even a one shot campaign Eddie threw together, the guys were ecstatic that Ollie had started showing an interest in DND.

By the end of the weekend extravaganza, Eddie and Ollie were ready to get back to you; you were so ready for your family back too, finally feeling more like yourself. You were glad that you got to have some time to try and reason with the little being that you were growing, “Come on little one, I need to still be there for your big bro and your daddy. You’ve gotta let me function somewhat normally love bite.” you’d pleaded with your little peanut that had begun to show a little while your boys were gone. You were so excited for Eddie to see and you were anxious to see Ollie, hoping that he was able to forgive you and that Eddie was right and he didn’t hate you; which you knew in the back of your mind that he didn’t, but that’s never stopped your worry-goblin from running amok in your mind.

You’d been cleaning up after having made dinner. You'd made Ollie and Eddie’s favorite, dino nuggies with mac and cheese; even if the smell of the artificial cheese made you want to lose what you’d eaten prior to your making dinner. You would suffer through for your boys, you love them so much and this weekend without them just solidified that even more. As you finished up the last pot and got the plates down ready to have dinner with your family, you’d heard the van door shut and excitedly put the plates down on the counter by the stove and rushed to the door, meeting them as it opened.

“My boys are home!” you’d exclaimed as they entered, Eddie was the first to greet you with a big hug and a gentle kiss. Once he pulled back, he grabbed the bags they’d taken to Wayne’s and went to the laundry room, wanting to give you a few minutes with Ollie; knowing you needed it as much as he did. (However, he did notice your belly had begun to show and he would most certainly be addressing that after Ollie went to bed. Fuck, he fell in love with you all over again. He also really hoped you were feeling like your old self a little cause, damn seeing that he was definitely hornier than a prepubescent teenager.)

Ollie was standing where Eddie had just been, you crouched down to his height, “Hey my Ollie-pop, how are you baby?” Eagerly he launched himself at you, as gently as he could as to not hurt his little brother or sister. “I’m sorry mommy.” he sniffled as he hugged you tightly.

You pulled away with a confused expression, “Lovebug why on earth are you sorry?”

“Before we left I never said goodnight…”

“Lovebug that’s okay, you were processing some big emotions I’m sure. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about anyway. Nothing was your fault baby boy I promise.” you pulled him into a gentle hug and squeezed him close. “I just hope you can forgive me sweet boy, I never meant to hurt you in any way. I would never hurt you on purpose baby.”

He smiled and squeezed you back gently, “It’s okay mommy, I forgive you. Grandpa Wayne helped me with my big emotions.” your heart soared knowing Wayne did that for you, he’s such a great grandpa; the big ‘ol softy.

With you and Ollie being able to talk about things and you explain in more detail as to why you’d been so emotional he understood better. You tried not to be too graphic, he is just a kid after all. You also wanted to make sure that you used phrasing you knew he’d understand, which it seems like you hit your mark as he nodded and asked questions where he needed to. By the time Eddie had come back from starting the load of laundry they’d brought back it was time for you all to eat dinner.

“I made your favorite you guys!” you’d excitedly told them and loved the way their eyes lit up at the same time, rushing to the kitchen. Eddie paused, letting Ollie prepare his own plate (you guys had gotten a small step ladder that he could use so he could become a little more independent, which was bittersweet for you both honestly) and he stepped back to hold you, your back to his chest.

“I’ve missed you so much baby.” he whispered in your ear, placing a gentle kiss on your neck right below your ear. Before you could respond he continued with a slight growl in his voice low enough for only you to hear, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re showing baby. You look so fucking amazing.” it must have had the desired effect as you felt him smirk when your knees buckled slightly. You’re not even sure why it got you that way, but you’d just blame the hormones for now and address it later. Eddie then pulled away from you to go get some of the delicious smelling dinner you’d made and you followed shortly after him then you all sat chatting and eating as the happy little family that you were. After dinner you all piled on the couch to watch a movie that Ollie picked out, but as anticipated he didn’t even make it a quarter of the way through. You and Eddie shared a fond look as he picked up your sleeping boy and took him to his room so he could sleep comfortably.

Once he was tucked away safely in bed you both got ready and snuggled in bed together, any plans of debauchery squashed as you just missed being in one another’s embrace.

“How are you feeling baby? Any better now that you’re out of the first trimester?” he asked curiously. You smiled as you ran your fingers through his beautiful locks, “Yeah baby, I feel so much more like myself now. Me and the little peanut had a heart to heart and I think she got the message.” before you realized what you’d said Eddie’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“She”, he whispered in awe, tears starting to brim his beautiful chocolate eyes. You mentally cursed yourself, your doctor had called on Friday when you came home from work and let you know the gender since it was time and you’d done the blood test to find out as soon as possible. You really wanted to make a huge surprise for Eddie and present him with the wonderful knowledge that you both were having a baby girl, but your pregnancy brain apparently had another thing in mind. You smiled sheepishly as tears formed in your eyes as well nodding your head slightly, “Yeah baby, she.”

You’d make a super special announcement for everyone later, right now this is all that mattered. You being in each other’s arms; that’s how you fell asleep that night, embraced in one another’s arms and slightly teary-eyed from the good news.

#munnysummergame #oneforthemunny #janitor!eddie munson #teacher!reader #Teacher!reader x Janitor!Eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #angsty #im sorry #i still love you all #PLEASE DONT COME FOR ME

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ringsofsaturnnnn · 4 months

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.˚ ┊..⃗. 𝐢𝐧, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 ⌇

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: mentions of sh, depression, and suicide

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: i had to write a memoir for english class, and this is what i wrote. please please PLEASE be aware of the tags before clicking read more. dark content below the cut. i know it’s not what i normally post, but i thought that maybe it’d be fun to share something like this that i’ve written. i’m sure we’ll be back to your regular scheduled content soon. okay i’ll shut up and stop rambling now 😭

oh, another thing! if anyone ever needs to talk, my dms are open. i promise i don’t bite. just remember that you’re never alone, even if you feel like you are. also. you matter. read that as many times as you have to, because it’s true.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Just close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out. It’ll only hurt for a moment, you know? It’s not as bad as everyone makes it seem. It only stings for just a second.

I’m used to hearing that I fake my depression. I mean, according to everyone I have no reason to be depressed. I have two parents who are together, a good family, everything I could ever want, and more. What gives me the right to be depressed? Well, over the years, I’ve figured out that depression doesn’t care who you are. It doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor. Male or female. A kid of divorced parents or a kid of two parents who love each other. Depression sinks its piercing fangs into whoever it wants, whenever it wants.

The hardest thing about my depression is the fact that it ebbs and flows like the tide. It seems to come and go in waves. I know what times it’ll hit me the hardest and what times it’ll fade away, like the calm after a violent storm. However, there are some days when it randomly hits me like a fierce wave crashing against the shoreline. Those are the days that I find the hardest. Those are the days when I lock myself away and hide from the world. I mean, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror on those days, so how the heck would I be able to face the world and the cruelty that lies within it?

I’m not quite sure when it all started. That nagging feeling of despair; the crackling, static noise of my own mind that wouldn’t cease. All I knew is that I didn’t like it. However, it didn’t seem to care that I disliked it. Instead, it stayed. It made a home within me, making me grow accustomed to the feeling of hopelessness. It burrowed deep inside the confines of my thoughts and loomed within my mind.

I’m a person who likes to be in control. These nagging thoughts never let me have that satisfaction. They were always there, never letting me think for myself. Just when I thought I had finally broken away from them, they crept back in, making sure I knew that I wasn’t in control. That I never would be in control again.

As a result, I turned to the one thing that allowed me a sense of control. Self-harm. When I first thought about doing it, I was scared. My palms would start sweating and the palpations of my heart would quicken. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Cutting open your own skin isn’t exactly something normal people think about. However, during these times, I didn’t feel like a normal person. Normal people didn’t think about death like I did. They didn’t think about ending their own lives because they were so unbearably sad that they couldn’t stand it anymore. They didn’t seek comfort in the despondent thoughts of their own death. Normal people just didn’t do that.

The first time I did it, I cried.

I thought that the pain was awful. Too much to bear. However, as I continued to do it, I started to find relief in it. This was something I could control. While my thoughts may have been spiraling, my pain wasn’t. I knew where the pain was coming from and when it would start. Oftentimes I sat in my bathroom for five or ten minutes just controlling my own suffering. For this small drop of time, I was… I was happy. I was content because I had finally found something I could control again.

As time went on, I taught myself how to endure the pain by distracting myself. I learned how to focus on the music that I would play in the background. While the music was rather depressing with pessimistic lyrics, it was something I could relate to. It was something I could use to help cope with the gruesomeness of my own mind. I convinced myself that this temporary pain was better than the mental pain of my own suicidal thoughts that I dealt with daily. I learned that all I had to do was breathe.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

#˗ˏˋ saturn’s stories ´ˎ˗#cw: depression #cw: suicide #cw: sh #memoir #literature

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nightingale-interactive · 2 years

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NO. You really had me in the first half, not gonna lie. I was smiling so hard because I saw a Christian’s snippet… my innocent and clueless self really thought “aw, finally something good and wholesome to make my day brighter” boy was I wrong 😭

And you know what’s even more sad? Is that I went through the list of prompts to find a cute one to erase the angst from my mind but this one…

39. “Is this really how you want to end this? After everything we’ve been through and overcome?”

….it just fits so well as a continuation to all the tragedy that it makes me wanna cry 😞

But… please, can you write a happy ending this time? Christian isn’t perfect but he deserves to be happy 🥺

“Is this really how you want to end this?” You don’t even recognize your own voice at first-- the broken entity that it was so foreign in any other place besides your own mind. Your eyes lock with Chirstian’s blue gaze as you try to get him to understand that you weren’t giving up-- not again. “After everything we’ve been through and overcome?”

A sardonic smile curls his lips. “I’m not the one who gave up on us, MC.” He shakes his head, turning from you so he could compose himself. “I’m not the one who walked away again and again.”

“That’s not fair, Christian,” you gasp, pain lancing through your heart. “I’m not the one who’s married. I’m not the one who’s the President of the United States. I’m not the one who’s made commitments--”

“But you are the one that’s made promises you can’t keep!” Christian roars, his back straightening as he whips around to look at you incredulously. “You’re the one that’s gotten my hopes up over and over again. You’re the one that I thought I could always count on, but you’re just like everyone else!”

You shake your head. “I’m not, Christian,” you state, the firmness returning to your voice. Approaching him, you’re reminded of a deer caught in the headlights-- his bright blue eyes staring at you, widened to an almost innocent degree, as he forced himself not to hope; to believe that this would be different for you both. “You’re the love of my life and I’m the love of yours. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, I swear it.”

The fabric of his button-up feels smooth against the palm of your hands when you rest them against his well-defined chest. Your neck craning back to look into the gaze you love more than anything-- into the eyes of the man who would forever hold your heart.

“I love you, Mr. President.” Lifting up onto your tiptoes, you press the lightest kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to show it to you until now.”

Silence is all you’re met with. A type of silence that fills you with dread at what was to come. You don’t know how Christian was going to respond to your bold declaration, but you hoped that he would give you another chance. This time you wouldn’t be foolish enough to break his heart.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his arms wrap around your body and crushes you to his. His head bows to press his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes-- the love within the blue depths causes them to sparkle with enough brilliance to rival the stars hanging above you both.

“I love you too, Sweet Baby,” he murmurs, dropping a teasing kiss to the tip of your nose. “That’s something that will never change. Even if things get hard sometimes, I don’t think I will ever be able to let you go.”

Your arms tighten around his waist. “Good, I don’t want you to.”

Laughter rumbles out of his chest-- the deep baritone of his voice like a soothing balm to your aching soul. “I don’t want to do so either.” His arms tighten imperceptibly around you. “As long as I’m able to breathe my heart will forever beat for you.”

“You promise?”

Another kiss is bestowed-- this time on your forehead. Warm breath ghosts across your skin because of Christian’s next words. “I swear it.”

This time you wouldn’t do anything to break either of your promises. Everything was as it should be.

As you have always wished it to be.

#scandal #christian anderson #you're imperfect pieces fits his #anonymous #asks #ask #drabble #snippet #hope this was okay #fluff #continuation of the last one #sort of

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ronni-right · 1 year

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I saw you say you were lonely so I kind of wanted to send you a blend of amazing that would hope to make you happy. Awesome mix of the nsfw prompts I'm super surprised more people don't grab. Journey of Daemyra sexi time. Please Rhaenyra 18+. Start, Daemon has been away years he returns but baby girl is repressing those old feelings. He catches her getting off at her room avoiding seeing him. Start -16 “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” She only thinks of him. Next -5 “Touch yourself all you want, only I’ll be able to make you cum.” Followed by -3 “I want to take you apart in every way. With my fingers. With my tongue. Until you are nothing more than a sobbing mess for me.” -43 “would you prefer my fingers or tongue?” Poor Rhaenyra right? And next -14 “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.” Combine with -25 “I love the way you look with my fingers inside you” Is this too much? I thought it could be fun to combine some of the best to tell a real sexi story and you could enjoy it. The end of -22 “You’re so tight, I doubt I could even fit inside you.” After he has truly made her a sob mess for him she speaks -38 “Do you think you deserve my maidenhead?” Daemon after proving his answer word and action says -48 “I can’t wait any longer for you” But of course the awesome end of them all is -51 “Why don’t you ride this dragon My Love.” Hopefully you like the combo made and story told with the words. Even if you don't like them all change any of like.

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing(s): Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warning: 18+, Rhaenyra is over 18, uncle/niece, Targcest | Targaryen Incest, lose of virginity

Headcanon: Daemon returns from Stepstones, but his exile never happens as well as the brothel scene.

Author’s note: English isn’t my native language.

Dear Anon, I’m deeply sorry for working on this for so long. As I said before I liked your idea but I’ve got troubles with how to proceed with everything and I was figuring out plot far too long so it took a while, but no matter how lame my writing is, I hope you can enjoy it.

HotD Smut prompts you can send me in Asks. I’m still pretending someone is interested in my writing.

Word Count: 3717

It's literally been years. Years away from her, years of her longing for him, years of miserable life, easily irritated, easy to anger, no passion for anything that wasn’t Syrax or old books about Old Valyria. It was so sad without him. She felt void without his presence. She always feels like that when he isn't around.

Rhaenyra wants to say that these four years seemed like one day to her, but she would be lying if she said so. Those four years seemed like an eternity to her. But finally Daemon is back, as a winner, proclaimed King of the Narrow Sea, cocky and arrogant, and knowing his own value, far more valuable than anyone else to her, and dashing with his new haircut.

Daemon is back.

And Rhaenyra avoids him.

Not that she has real reasons to do that.

He hasn't changed drastically. The same man that left four years ago, only changed in how he looks but not who he is.

But she has changed a little. Rhaenyra didn’t rush into his arms when the opportunity arose, she kept her distance from him, except on the day of his return, when a party was held in his honor where he and her talked about marriage prospects and he told her that he wanted only the comforts of home.

Daemon returned, and her feelings for him lit up again. Rhaenyra thought that in these four years her feelings would disappear, but no, it didn’t happen. And her dreams about him became more persistent. Now she spends nights thinking about him, with a languor in her stomach, which is satisfied only by the fingers between her legs and the thoughts of him. She dreams about his fingers inside her, she dreams about him in her bed, kissing her, touching her and promising her that he will be her husband one day.

Rhaenyra looks at him across the table. She didn’t plan to spend this evening alone with him. They supposed to dine at father’s quarters, but the second before she supposed to leave her own bedchambers, Daemon burst into, telling that Viserys is ill, Alicent is staying with him, and they, her and Daemon, are to have dinner alone and a few moments later servants came to serve them dinner.

Daemon sips his wine, looking at her. She averts her eyes from him, looking at her already cold roast duck. She has no appetite. It’s silent, he already told her everything about war, she told about what happened in his absence in the capital.

The thing with Daemon: no matter how long they didn’t see each other, when they see each other again, it’s just like a few days passed. It was always like that, but not this time. Rhaenyra is a little bit tense about him, even though she enjoyed his company the day he returned.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks to fill the silence, finally looking at him and taking a few gulps of her own wine.

It’s her third cup, and Westeros wine knows to be strong and she feels its impact on her. She feels her cheeks are red, body is hot in her dress, and she likes the heat like all dragons do, but it makes her want to get naked. And when she watches Daemon, she knows she won’t be able to stop looking at him.

And Rhaenyra knows how her night will end, naked, not under the covers, spread on her bed while working her cunt wet. She found some books in the library, explaining men’s and women’s body parts, with pictures, and explaining how different bodies work, and how to find pleasure. She didn’t expect to find such a book in the library but she was glad she found it.

“I don't think you should know my thoughts, princess.” Daemon finally murmurs, and his gaze heavy on her.

“But your answer shows you have something to tell me.” She answers fast, eager to know what he has on his mind.

“I always have something to tell you, Rhaenyra.” He softly smiles at her and then chuckles: “As far as I remember you alway loved my stories.”

“Nothing has changed.” Rhaenyra will always love his stories and his soozing voice.

“Are you sure?” Daemon asks with an raised eyebrow, like he doesn’t believe her.

“Yes.” She nods.

“You seem distant these days.” He makes a remark. Daemon is indeed observant, and she averts her gaze and picks on the food even as she doesn’t feel like eating. Rhaenyra just needs something to do and has an excuse not to look at him because he sees through her. “And when you were a child you always seeked me out when I was at Red Keep. But you haven't done it once since I returned.”

Rhaenyra indeed isn’t a child. She is all grown, with desires she can’t sate alone. She can’t tell him the truth, that she avoids him because she wants him.

“I’m not a child anymore,” Rhaenyra answers softly, “and I’m busy with my duties. And we dine together every day.” She looks at him with a smile for a few seconds before looking down at her plate.

“Maybe it’s not enough for me.” He rumbles. “And you changed.”

She looks up at him:

“Don’t you like it? Don’t you see your little dragon in me anymore?” She asks apprehensively. He noticed a change in her behavior, though she hoped it wouldn't. But he is always too observant when it comes to her.

“You are my little dragon, no matter how old you are.” He says it in a low, soft voice, and his smile is also soft, his eyes filled with tenderness for her. And only to her. Only with her can he be gentle, although this is completely not in his nature.

“I hope it won’t ever change.” She bats her eyelashes at him. She really hopes it won’t ever change.

“I can swear it won’t.” He says, and it's a promise.

She beams at him. Daemon never once broke any promises he gave her.

“So … did you miss me?” Daemon asks.

“Maybe just a little.” Rhaenyra tries to sound serious. It’s a lie of course. She missed him terribly.

“Just a little?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You know, I have little time to miss you. After all, I used to you being away longer than you stay there.” It’s a sad truth. It broke her heart every time he was banished after just a few months he stayed in Red Keep. She cried and begged him to return, begging her father to make Daemon stay. But her wishes were never granted. As she grew, she cried and begged less, but her heart was broken anyway.

“Do you want to change it, my little dragon?” He asks with a teasing.

“It doesn't matter what I want,” Rhaenyra sighs heavily. “You always piss father off and it always ends the same, you get yourself banished.”

“I'm planning to not repeat this.”

“What?” She is surprised that it shows on her face.

Daemon takes another sip of his wine before saying:

“Like I said, I want comforts of home.” And there is a deep meaning, but she doesn’t understand him right now, her mind a little bit clouded. Nor does she understand why he looks at her so focused and determined.

Rhaenyra doesn’t answer immediately, sipping her wine. Maybe she should stop. It’s her third goblet after all. But after a pause, she licks her lips and tells him:

“We will see how long you will last.”

“I promise it will last long.” he salutes her with a goblet and winks at her.

“Why?”

“Because I remember it made you happy. And I want to make you happy. And I will stay there as long as you want me to be by your side.”

Rhaenyra feels hot at this confession. She wishes for him to stay by her side forever. But she doesn’t tell him that, saying:

“Thanks, uncle.” She salutes him back and empties the cup to the bottom with Daemon doing the same and still watching her.

🌘

The fire in the fireplace paints her room in dark red, and shadows dance on the walls. The fire gives a lot of warmth and not so much of a light, so it’s almost dark. And darkness keeps secrets of what she does at night. Rhaenyra sighs and lets her legs fall apart. She is already wet, it’s all because of Daemon's presence. She brushes her thumb over her clit lightly. Like always she imagines Daemon touching her, Daemon’s hands and fingers, much longer than hers and rough from his sword. She strokes herself slowly and arches at her bed, rubbing herself faster.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra moans quietly, not registering the intruder's presence, who looks at her with a hunger no one but her could sate. She cries softly and opens her eyes just to gasp as she sees Daemon standing by her bed. Rhaenyra doesn’t immediately react to his presence. Probably a few seconds pass, she stares at him, he looks at her naked body before she exclaims: “Daemon!” Rhaenyra immediately throws a blanket over herself, wrapping herself in it. “What are you doing here?!”

He pouts when she wraps herself in a blanket. And he looks disappointed but then he grins:

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

Rhaenyra only thinks of him of course, but she exclaims:

“No! I don't!” But she should be quieter. If the guards at the door heard her, they would no doubt decide to find out what was going on and if she was safe. And if they catch Daemon in her room, then Daemon will be sent into exile again. And how did he even get into her room, bypassing her guards, who should not leave her room at all while she is inside?

Daemon silently examines her face, standing at the foot of her bed.

“No?” His lips curve into a smirk once again and he whispers: “You whispered my name, Rhaenyra. There is no one in Red Keep who is named Daemon but me.”

Rhaenyra called for him. He is the only man she wants and sadly the man she couldn’t have because of his marriage to Lady Royce and because father won’t ever approve of Daemon as her husband even if she lists hundreds of reasons this match is the best one.

“You shouldn’t be there, Daemon.” Rhaenyra states, looking at her blanket.

“You cried for me, princess.” He speaks in a barely audible voice.

“You should leave.” She answers in the same manner.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Rhaenyra just nods, not trusting her voice. She knows Daemon stares at her, feels his heave gaze on her, but she still looks at the blanket. It’s the right thing for him to do. Her reputation would be ruined if any one gets a whiff of him being in her chambers that late at night. But she doesn’t want him to leave. Her cunt aches, unsatisfied.

Daemon moves, and on a few broad steps he ends up standing by the headboard. He leans to her, his hand rests on the apex of thighs, and his nose is pressed against her temple, and he whispers hotly in her ear:

“Touch yourself all you want, only I’ll be able to make you cum that you will forget everything.” Daemon lingers by her side, nuzzles into her hair for a few seconds before kissing her temple and moving from her. He respects her, she knows it perfectly well, that’s why he retreats.

Rhaenyra looks after his retreating figure, realizing with regret that if he leaves now, her opportunity to be as close to him as possible will also disappear. He would never visit her like that again.

“Daemon,” she calls him softly and he stops, turning just slightly to her. “Do you want me?” Maybe he will find this question to be silly, but she wants to be sure. She wants him wanting her, not the throne, not the crown or the position he may hold if he stays by her side.

When he turns to her and says:

“I want you, Rhaenyra.” She believes him.

Rhaenyra pushes the covers away and rises to stand on her knees. Daemon doesn’t need any other answer from her and he returns to her immediately, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. And she melts against him immediately, her hands coming up to clutch his shirt while he holds her face in his palms, kissing her softly and intimately. Rhaenyra doesn’t know how to kiss properly, but she learns fast, mimicking his movements. And the kiss turns to be more heated with every second, until he parts from her to take a deep breath. It's just a few inches between them, and he breathes into her lips, while looking her directly into the eyes:

“I want to take you apart in every way. With my fingers. With my tongue. Until you are nothing more than a sobbing mess for me.”

There is a heat pooling between her thighs that demands to be sated, and her cunt throbs. She needs this, she needs him. Rhaenyra pulls him down to kiss him again. And when his lips touch her, Daemon hands move from her face to her waists and then up her body and he gropes her breasts. It sends a jolt of pleasure and she presses herself more against his palms. Daemon growls against her mouth, his hands rubbing and squeezing, while he kisses her.

“You are perfect,” He says when he pulls from her again. Rhaenyra whimpers at the loss of the contact, watching him taking off his boots. But then he is on her again, and she doesn’t even notice how she finds herself on her back, and he hangs over her, kissing her lips first, then her cheek, moving lower, kissing every inch of her skin, his palms on her thighs. He nuzzles her skin, nibbing all the way he goes. Rhaenyra doesn't have a lot of things to do, being in this position, but she runs her fingers through his hair and he makes a throaty groan that makes the wetness between her legs increase. Daemon kisses her under the belly button and looks at her, asking:

“Would you prefer my fingers or tongue?”

Is he joking right now?

“Can’t I have both?” She pleads. “Please, uncle.” Rhaenyra is hot all over, and so-so wet, she was never that wet.

“I knew you would say that, my little demanding princess.” Daemon smirks, spreading her thighs slowly. “You are spoiled to the core.”

“Partly it’s your fault.” She says and whimpers, when his two fingers rub over her clit.

“And I enjoyed every second,” Daemon doesn’t stop his actions, rubbing her clit that makes her buck her hips against his fingers. “And I plan to enjoy it in the future.” And he presses his face into her cunt, lapping at her slick folds.

Rhaenyra pants and rolls her hips to seek more, and as she does so, Daemon grunts more. There is no denying he likes it all like she does. Daemon slides a finger into her cunt, and she freezes. She never did that, and it’s a new sensation that fills her, and she likes it. Daemon pumps his finger in and out, asking:

“Good?”

“Yes,” she whimpers and Daemon smiles.

He presses a kiss to her soft thigh, then to her clit, with his fingers working inside her. And seconds later he adds a second finger. Rhaenyra gasps and grips his hair.

“Daemon,” she moans, her body shaking and wriggling on the bed from pleasure.

“My little dragon, look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.” He says teasingly, stopping his fingers from moving, still inside her. His gaze burns as he looks at her cunt. “I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” Daemon whispers and then licks her clit again, continuing to move his fingers again, spreading her apart.

It feels good, better than her own fingers and Rhaenyra grids into him, taking his fingers inside her and clenching around them. “You’re so tight, I doubt I could even fit inside you.” He murmurs against her clit.

It’s a torture, really, but what a sweet torture, as she wriggles on her bed, seeking the release, but everytime she is almost there, he stops, moves to nib at her thighs. Rhaenyra doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she is a sobbing mess, on the verge of crying because she wants the relief so badly.

“Daemon, stop.” She pleads and Daemon stops and looks at her. “Do you truly think you deserve my maidenhead? That you deserve me and the place by my side when I would be crowned.” Rhaenyra asks, far too serious for the situation they are in.

Daemon moves to her, pressing his forehead into hers:

“No lord but me deserves you, Rhaenyra. We share the same blood, and We have always been meant to burn together. We both know it. And I really can’t wait any longer for you. I need you right now. I want you to be mine forever.”

Rhaynera wants him. And she will have him. So she helps him to get rid of his shirt and pants. His skin is covered in scars and burns. But it causes even more excitement. This shows that he is a fighter, the best in the kingdom. And the fire didn’t kill him, because he is a dragon. Rhaynera looks at his cock, red and hard between his legs. And this makes her cunt to gush more slick.

“Will it-” she stops, not knowing what question to ask, will it hurt or will it fit because he is so huge. But she doesn’t feel any fear. Rhaynera wants to touch his cock, taste it, suck on it and maybe chock.

“It will.” His eyes are soft and he rests his hands on her sides, caressing her. And she doesn’t know whether Daemon said it will fit or will it hurt but it will is an answer to both of her questions. “But we can always stop.”

“No.” Rhaynera says far too fast that it makes him chuckle.

Daemon kisses her passionately. They stroke each other, wherever they can reach, and then, when they are both panting, he pulls away. His hand is big, but it doesn’t cover all his cock as he wraps his hand around his cock. And she likes the size difference between them when Daemon covers her with body, lining his cock up with her cunt.

“I will always take care of you, Rhaenyra,” he presses a kiss to her head and the same moment he enters her slowly.

They look at each other, while he pushes his cock in further. He doesn’t rush, gives her time to adjust and it’s painful, at first, but she just whispers “keep going, don’t stop” and he doesn’t stop until he is fully inside her.

She can’t deny pain is there, sharp, but it goes away and there is pleasure. Daemon peppers her face with little kisses, his palm rests on her hip while his other palm strokes her clit. And she adjusts to him inside, adjusts to the heavy pressure of him. He doesn’t move until she breathes:

“You can move.”

She doesn't expect him to come out of her completely but he does and she whimpers from the loss, however she doesn't have time to say anything because in an instant she's sitting on his hips.

“What?” Rhaynera asks, not knowing what he wants to do.

“Why don’t you ride this dragon, my Love?” Daemon nuzzles her neck, his cock pressed to her cunt. “It will be easier for you and you can control me that way.”

She just hums and he kisses her again and lines up his cock with her hole. Rhaynera moves slowly, but she slides at his cock until she is seated fully, moaning and gripping at his shoulders while he kisses her neck.

“You are the most perfect lady, my little dragon. And all for me,” he moves his hips up, and she cries in pleasure, clenching around him that makes him moan. He is thick and heavy, and fills her completely.

It doesn’t take her long to navigate how to ride him. And Daemon helps her with his hands gripping her hips as she rides him. His cock hits all the right spots inside and every move they make overwhelms her with pleasure.

“I love you, my little dragon,” Daemon whispers and seals his lips to her, gripping her thighs tight.

“I love you too,” Rhaynera whispers and somewhere along the way it’s him fucking into her and not her controling the process but she likes it anyway, the pressure and how good he makes her feel and how his cock drags over her walls that makes her see stars.

Rhaynera feels the building pressure and she cums when he reaches the deepest spot inside her cunt. It’s shattering and she holds him tight, pressing his head to her shoulder. She cries out his name, feeling boneless. Her eyes are slightly wet from tears but it’s happy tears. Daemon fucks her through her orgasm, kissing her tears away. And it takes him more thrust to cum inside her, painting her with his cum.

They stay like that for a few moments, him burying inside her as they slowly kiss but then he pulls away and arranges her in bed, with her half on top of him, safe in his arms under the covers he pulls to cover them.

“I want us to be wed, but father-,” she mumbles, cuddled into her chest.

But Daemon presses a finger to her lips:

“I will make him see reasons, my dragon.” He runs his palm over her bare back and forth and it’s snoozing.

She hums and closes her eyes, warm and content, believing him.

☀️

The next day raven comes with a news:

“Lady Rhea Royce is dead.”

And Daemon is free. But for how long? As this time he wants to be married.

#daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra × daemon #daemon targaryen #rhaneyra targaryen #matt smith #milly alcock #hotd #house of targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd smut

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spicler-man · 2 years

Text

angst fics

psa: most of these have happy endings only bc i hate sad endings, but theres just Way more hurt than comfort. the other list is a little hurt and a lot of comfort

masterlist here

Empty Casket by Jen27ny for Vintervittran

After the Vulture, Tony should have known better. He should have listened to Peter. But he didn’t. And now, Peter is dead.

Sigh No More by blondsak

“So if he wasn’t your son, what was he?”

Tony finally turns to meet the man’s gaze.

“Everything.”

---

In the first few years after the snap, Tony gets to know his neighbor.

(Written for Irondad Bingo. Trope: Post-IW.)

Happy Birthday, Morgan by Neighborlyavenger

It's Morgan's seventh birthday, and two outsiders are checking in from a distance. One died a couple years ago, and the other technically doesn't exist. Neither of them know how to react when they see each other.

a wonderful life by zipadeea

"There’s a person.

A boy, he thinks, not a hundred yards away. Tony can’t believe he hadn’t noticed him yet. The boy must see him too, because he starts sprinting toward Tony, splashing like a madman through the water. Tony wonders if he should be afraid.

But then the boy gets closer, and Tony takes in the shaggy brown hair, the torn jeans and baby face and the t-shirt that says 'You Matter. Unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light squared. Then you energy.' The kid looks about fourteen and Tony would believe it if someone told him his eyes had been transplanted straight from a puppy dog.

Tony isn’t scared. This boy couldn’t hurt a fly."

***

Peter and Tony meet for the first and last time.

In the Home by aloneintherain

The Avengers have been infected, turned violent and aggressive against their will. And Peter, the only one unaffected, is trapped inside the Tower with six feral teammates.

“Natasha,” Peter says cautiously, “what happened here? Steve attacked me, and if there was ever a sign that something was wrong, it’s having the embodiment of Truth, Justice, and the American Way throw you across the room—”

Natasha comes closer, her stride controlled. Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary, but there’s something in her face, in her eyes—

Natasha lunges across the space, and slams into Peter, hard.

Give him back to me, or so help me god by eva7673

…aka that time Ross took Tony’s Spidy-son, and Tony was 39237234% not okay with it.

Not You Too by for_the_night

Tears streamed down Peter’s face, shakily pressing his fingers to Tony’s pulse point.

He felt nothing.

“N-No. Don’t do this. Please, Dad. Don’t leave me… I can’t lose you too. I can’t. You promised me you’d stay,” he cried, and when it started sinking in he was holding his dad's lifeless body, just like he’d done Bens, the screams started.

Or: Tony experiences Astral Projection and Peter discovers how it feels to lose his fifth parent.

Oh, take me back to the start by TheRegularWriter

He looks... well, Peter doesn't want to say old, because that wouldn't be nice - and he knows that the media can be deceiving most of the time, but... the hero still looks like he's seen years of tragedy, and he stares at the Parker family as if they were all ghosts in front of him.

Given the loose hug, Peter leaves May's and Ben's arms and takes a few steps forward. He can't help feeling a little ache at the growing glassy light in the Iron Man's dark eyes.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter calls him. "Why are you crying?"

#spider-man no way home #spider-man #irondad and spiderson #tony stark #tony stark fics #iron man #irondad fics #irondad #spider-man fics #spiderson #spiderson fics #peter parker #peter parker fics #angst fics

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meadows-of-light · 2 years

Text

Prompts 2700-2799

2700) But the heart isn't like a box that gets filled up, it expands in size the more you love.

2701) If I tried to take everything in the world that reminded me of you, it would be so empty, that God himself would have to start again.

2702) She never thought that they would become a memory.

2703) It’s not till death do us part for us, is it? (Name), I-. It’s until death takes you from me.

2704) I'm not supposed to have to live without you.

2705) I still wanted to believe that you are a good person after everything you've done to me.

2706) You do not turn against your family!

2707) There's nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you.

2708) You make a difference in my life. It wouldn’t be the same without you here and I don’t want to find out what it’d be like to not have you around.

2709) You don’t deserve the bad things that happen to you. You never did.

2710) Do you ever stop to think about the consequences of your actions?

2711) It’s been a year since they died, and it still feels the same, like I’m being suffocated.

2712) The most beautiful part is, I wasn’t even looking when I found you.

2713) Maybe we could have been together in another life.

2714) It’s all in my head. This isn’t actually happening, you’re not real!

2715) If I ever see you again... just know... I will not hesitate to kill you.

2716) What you’ve done to me can never be forgiven.

2717) You’re never going to get that kind of love from me, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of it.

2718) She wasn’t always like that, you know? I can't imagine her being anything other than evil and vengeful.

2719) You were the best thing to ever happen to me. Don’t forget that.

2720) Never let me get to that point, you have to promise me.

2721) I have to relive those memories every day and it’s killing me.

2722) You look just how I remember you.

2723) What if I’m not strong enough for this anymore?

2724) I made a promise to you, on my soul, that I'd love you with my whole heart, that I'd protect you, that I'd do whatever I could to assist you on your journey. I do not take that promise lightly, but I do take it joyfully. It's not an expectation that you feel the same, although that is my prayer that one day you will feel that way. I know you're busy doing the things you want and must. The people in your orbit have no idea how blessed they are to see you and spend time with you each day. But I realize how special and meaningful it is. Sometimes I wonder if you think about me. So, I simply ask, please don't forget about me, don't forget about the man that loves you unconditionally. I promise and will do so until my last breath, last heartbeat.

2725) After all this time, you're still part of me. I still feel my heart skip a beat when someone says your name. You're always the last thing on my mind before I sleep. Little things during my day remind me of you. But time has made my memory soft. I forgot about the horrible way you broke my heart. My mind blocks out all the memories of the all-consuming sadness you caused. All I can remember are the happy memories, and you better thank God for that, because I had a rage so fierce within me, my sharp words would have cut you deep. After all this time, you're still part of me. But only because I cannot remember my anger and I cannot forget my happiness.

2726) I saw it in her eyes, I saw the pain that I caused her. I felt it in her presence, she was no longer herself, she became a ghost. Her smile faded along with her contagious laughter; her eyes didn't sparkle anymore like they used to then. She was once so alive, but now all I saw was a body with no soul. As I sat there, I tried to make her smile. I didn't know I had such an impact on her life, I didn't realize just what I did to her the day I left her. I really didn't know why I did it, or why it ended the way it did. I questioned myself, and my stupidity, I finally got the answer. She was too good for me, she was never mine to keep, she belonged to somebody better and all I did was come along and break her heart. She was too precious to hurt, she deserved better all along, now I know why Angels cannot be touched.

2727) She hides, you see? Not because she wants to, but simply because that is what she has learned is the safest thing to do when she doesn't feel safe. Few people realize the trust and faith she must feel for her to show herself at all, so shy and fragile are her hopes and dreams, and too many times has she been ignored and abandoned. When emotions start boiling in her mind and fear allows the darkness to consume her, the little girl hides away and the strong, stoic woman protects her with reality and logic. Fiercely she will protect that little heart, for it is the light of her very soul.

2728) Your trauma is valid even if you’ve mixed up memories in the past. Trauma memories can be really complicated and getting confused about details or mixing things up does not mean you are faking.

2729) You do not have to heal, or even start healing, to be worthy. You are worthy now, as you are. Healing is supposed to be for your benefit, and not to be “worthy.”

2730) I wish I could tell you how much longer things are going to be like this. But I can’t. What I can tell you is that you are going to make it. You’re going to make it through.

2731) Your brain is what determines what is traumatic for you. It isn’t about the scale of an event, or what you or anyone else thinks should count as trauma.

2732) Your trauma is valid even if you can’t explain why something traumatized you.

2733) A lot of people aren’t going to understand your trauma, your healing process or a lot of things surrounding your trauma and healing. That’s okay. You are still valid, regardless of whether others “get it.”

2734) Your trauma is valid regardless of whether you reported it, waited to report it, or didn’t report it at all.

2735) And we hereby commit these souls to the deep who at their last gave all to the world of the living. May they be remembered forever. Until there is no more pain, no more suffering, and the abyss itself shall give up her dead and return them to us.

2736) This battleground is deadly, but you wear blood well for one so gentle and this was always your nature, to give light in the dark to shatter when needed, they say that the biggest stars burn brightly and die quickly. Achilles was the sun but baby, you were always supernova.

2737) I miss you. But not the way you miss your family when you're gone for some time. I miss you the way you miss the sun when it snows. The way you miss home when you're on the road. That's the way I miss you.

2738) I know love isn't always easy, and I might also fuck it up sometimes. I'm not easy to love but trust me; I love really hard when I fall for someone, and now you happen to be that someone.

2739) If you're having one of those days, sitting in that place again, where you feel worthless, insignificant and small, this is for you. I see you. I've been in that place many times before; I know it's not an easy door to walk through and I know there's rarely any visitors. But I see you and I wish you could see yourself in the same light, larger than life, shining in your dark, bright enough to light the whole sky. I see you. You are not invisible, you did not go unnoticed, you are worth so much. I need you. Your dark, your light, your emptiness, all of you. Whether you are here, in pieces, or still whole, come here. You matter. All of us are just one, big puzzle, searching for the right pieces to fill our emptiness, soften our edges, speak to the void we hold so tight. Maybe some of my pieces fit perfectly across your cracks, maybe some of your pieces are the exact shape of the scars I bear that will not heal. Come here. With all that you are and all that I'm not, I need you, and there's someone else, sitting in that same place who needs you too. Open the door, come out with your pieces, let's teach each other how to be whole.

2740) Even when no one was looking, I was still kind, when there was no proof, I was still good. I do everything with all of my heart, even when my heart is invisible.

2741) I'm sorry if this comes off as rude because you don't understand at first, but I'm not sorry for dropping everything that is not good for me and only giving my time to vibes that bring peace my way and it's okay. There's nothing wrong with putting myself first for a change and letting everything else fall where it may, because today is my day and every day after. My journey is about me now. You don't have to understand. And you don't have to stay for it.

2742) She's known sadness, and it has made her kind.

2743) Once a pirate, always a pirate.

2744) My father stood for family above everything. This school is my family, so if you're going to hurt them, you're going to have to go through me.

2745) What comes next is gonna be scary and hard. The pain will probably never go away. You're gonna miss them. It's okay. It's okay to miss them and feel sad. Because you're also gonna feel something else. You're gonna feel them beside you, no matter what, like they're a part of you. Because they are. You will always feel them, they'll never be fully gone and that will make you brave.

2746) Give me your mornings, give me your sun and when it sets, give me your dark nights too because I’m ready for anything from you.

2747) Thy ghost will catch thy holiest of thy hands.

2748) There was before you and there was during you. For some reason, I never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and I was in it. I'll be in it forever.

2749) Run (name). It thinks I'm the threat. This is as far as I go. No more, this is it. Bring it home.

2750) We do terrible things for people we love.

2751) You're my brother/sister, until the end of times. Even after that.

2752) I remember all of them.

2753) It’s strange. I know she’s dead. I’ve accepted it, but no matter how much time goes by, I still feel like I’m just waiting for her to come back. It's not strange. I feel the same way, like life stopped when she left and can't start until she's here again.

2754) I will show you grief. I will slaughter your children in front of your eyes and play their screams on repeat over the speakers, I will cook your friends and feed them to you, or maybe I will feed them to you raw. I will break your back so you cannot run, I will burn down your house and I will hurt everyone who you have ever even laid eyes on. Then, and only then, will you understand how I feel.

2755) I know you don't feel good, but I need you to try and eat something.

2756) You may feel like you have nothing to lose, but I don’t want to lose you!

2757) I never thought that I could care for someone like this, but then I met you.

2758) I don't need a big house to call home, because you guys are already my home.

2759) I'm going to be truthful with you; I'm this close to fucking losing it.

2760) Did you miss me? Are you kidding? Of course I missed you! I missed you every second you were gone.

2761) I’m here, you got that? I don’t care if you never say anything to me ever again. I don’t care. I'm not going away, and I'm not going to stop being here for you, no matter how long you glare at me or ignore me or pretend that you’re okay because I know that you’re not. I know.

2762) You are not broken. You can love and be loved, despite what may feel like the eternally brutal nature of the world. Even when you’re drowning and so far under, there is always time to reach for someone who will teach you how to breathe again.

2763) But when I think of you, it’s as if you’ve gone away to sea on a ship, out in a foreign brightness where there are no paths, only stars and sky.

2764) We are a thousand years of emptiness, an endless parade of slaughter. Until your daughter came to us. Now she is everything, (name), worth every fight, worth every sacrifice. She must not suffer the same fate.

2765) I was nine and I saw this scary monster who looked like my dad. Who taught me how to mix paint. Who called me princess. I didn't know which version of you was real and I waited for you to explain it. Or apologize. Or tell me that you loved me. I waited for you for years! But you didn't come.

2766) Take care of your loved ones, particularly when they are doing everything in their power to push you away. A broken heart, like a wounded beast, will often lash out at those it is nearest, but that does not mean they don’t need you.

2767) Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, may looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.

2768) My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness. Continue to allow humor to lighten the burden of your tender heart.

2769) It’s not the pain I’m afraid of; I know about the pain. What I’m afraid of is the end of this small, sweet dream.

2770) At a certain point, I just have to try not to think too much about certain things, or else they’ll break my heart.

2771) It’s okay to be scared; please try your best to remember that there are always people who will help you through.

2772) If you find someone who makes you smile, who checks up on you often to see if you’re okay. Who watches out or you and wants the best for you. Who loves and respects you. Don’t let them go. People like that are hard to find.

2773) Sometimes people with the worst past end up creating the best future.

2774) Some people go through life searching and never find their soul mates. They never do. You and I did, we just happened to have them for a shorter period of time than we hoped for. It’s sad, but it’s life.

2775) Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

2776) Death would be too much of a mercy. There’s plenty of fates far worse than that.

2777) One day, you will get what you are due. In malice, and in kind.

2778) You should not underestimate the level of someone's hate. It is the opposition to love, but similarly, it runs deep.

2779) I feel like I’m rotting from the inside out.

2780) They tried so hard to protect this. That’s why, I can’t leave no matter what.

2781) Where were you when I needed you?

2782) I don’t have enough brain cells for this.

2783) My rage won’t subside so easily.

2784) Even if you are dangerous, I will still love you.

2785) Bold of you to assume I know how to handle ANYTHING properly.

2786) Look. It’s dumb. It’s cliche. But I’m telling you, they’re not someone you wanna mess with. Those eyes are filled with the intent to kill.

2787) FIGHT ME YOU OVERGROWN VEGETABLE!

2788) If only I got here a little sooner, maybe you would still be here.

2789) We’re assassins. We only end lives; we don’t save them.

2790) You’ve really grown up now. You don’t need me anymore.

2791) Thank you so much for loving me.

2792) Hey. if we’re ever reborn, I hope I can meet you again.

2793) You shitbrained animal.

2794) Your family must be so proud of you.

2795) I admire your strength.

2796) I love who you have become.

2797) Why don't you understand how much you've hurt me?

2798) When did we lose sight of what was important?

2799) I lost everything, my family, my friends, my home!

#writing prompts #dialogue prompts

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