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altruisticalastor · 2 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Alastor was on edge from the early reaping approaching. He was in his radio tower every hour of every day. You worried for him. But you didn't dare to disturb his work. You knew better than that.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, smut, implied established relationship, full demonic form!alastor, power imbalance, (alastor owns reader's soul), size kink, dacryphilia, creampie, begging, tentacle usage

☒ Word Count: 1,654

Selling your soul over to Alastor wasn't all that bad.

The Radio Demon proved to be cordial. As long as you stayed in line. You hadn't planned on relinquishing your soul. Let alone to the heartless son of a bitch, Alastor.

But the dapper man presented you with an offer you couldn't deny. Your soul in exchange for protection and power. As a new demon perusing through hell, you knew some help would be needed during the yearly reapings. So, you shook on it. Sealing your fate.

Over the decades of being chained to Alastor, he began to grow a soft spot for you. It was gradual, but before you knew it, The Radio Demon had you hanging on to every word he said.

You assumed your little crush for Alastor was one-sided. But one evening, Nifty blabbered to you about Alastor's habit of slaughtering any demon that even looked at you funny. Your heart skipped a beat. From then on, you picked up on all the glances he shot your way.

Anytime you were in a room together, his crimson gaze was on you. Alastor watched you as if you were his prey. You didn't fail to notice how he only allowed you to touch him without repercussion. The Radio Demon often eased up from your warm embraces, which solidified your suspicions.

It didn't take long after that for Alastor to call you out on your fondness for him. You were more than flustered when he admitted to knowing all along. But The Radio Demon quickly eased your spiraling thoughts. He admitted to the feeling being mutual.

From that day forward, your relationship only flourished. But Alastor always made it a point to highlight that he was the one in control at all times.

Alastor was on edge from the early reaping approaching. He was in his radio tower every hour of every day. You worried for him. But you didn't dare to disturb his work. You knew better than that.

Eventually, you had no choice. It had been weeks, and no one had heard from Alastor. The hotel patrons pleaded for you to bring him out of his workspace. You denied it vehemently until those fuckers peer-pressured you into caving.

You muttered curses as you marched up to Alastor's radio tower. You cleared your throat before calling out to him. Your balled-up fists trembling beside you. "A-Alastor? May I come in?"

As the seconds of silence flew by, your anxiety increased. A few minutes passed before the door flung open. Revealing an unmistakably irritated Alastor. "What is it?" His sharp tone sent a chill down your spine as he stepped aside. Allowing you to enter his sacred space.

"E-Everyone's worried about you. So I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," Your voice was timid as you fixed your gaze on the floor. You heard a deep sigh escape Alastor before you felt his hands on you. He grasped your jaw firmly, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"You doubt my competence, my dear?" You froze, desperately racking your brain for a response. Alastor's other hand held your hip firmly. His grasp on you was bruising, no doubt. "Of course not! I just- with all the stress you've been under I... I want to help you in any way I can!"

You saw the wheels turning in Alastor's mind from your declaration. His hand at your jaw slithered down. Clutching your other hip as he pushed you backward. You stumbled slightly, and a gasp escaped you as your backside came in contact with his control panel. "Anything, you say?"

Alastor's voice was low as he hoisted you up. You now sat atop the control panel as The Radio Demon slotted himself between your parted thighs. You nodded fervently in agreement. "Anything, use me how you see fit."

That was all the conformation he needed. Alastor wasted no time hiking your skirt over your thighs. A blunt gasp escaped you as his sharp nails dipped between your legs, tearing your panties to shreds in one swift motion. Your eyes widened as you noticed The Radio Demon begin to morph into something more sinister before your very eyes.

Alastor's antlers tripled in size, as did his frame. A glowing red X marked the middle of his forehead, and his pupils turned into radio dials. His body completely enveloped yours as Alastor freed himself from his trousers. You bit your lip in anticipation as you admired his length. His antlers weren't the only thing that tripled.

His cock was an angry red, leaking a copious amount of precum as he bullied himself into your welcoming walls. "A-Alastor!" You whined as the tip of his hard length pushed past the tight ring of your pussy. You outstretched your arms to wrap around his twisted neck. But before you could get that far, Alastor's tendrils came out to play.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, my dear. I'm the one in control. Do I need to remind you of that?" Alastor's radio static was heavier on his tone than ever. A gasp escaped you as his tentacles tangled around your limbs. Your arms were now bound, and your legs were spread wide, giving Alastor better access to your dripping heat.

But that wasn't all. Your glowing green choker appeared before your very eyes. Alastor removed one hand from your hip to clutch the chain leash that dangled off your collar. A loud moan escaped you as Alastor plowed the rest of his cock deep inside your pussy.

"You speak when I say you can speak." He groaned, thrusting into you deep and tugging you closer by the blunt green chain.

"You touch me when I say you can touch me." Alastor pulled back, leaving only the tip of his ruddy cock nestled inside you.

"And you come when I say you can come." His hips snapped sharply, prodding your g-spot faultlessly. "Understood?" Alastor's smile took up nearly half his face as he peered down at you.

You scored your bottom lip with your teeth, waiting for the green light to speak. Alastor granted you another quick thrust. "Look's like someone was paying attention, good girl. You may speak now, darling."

Your lips trembled as Alastor began fucking into you wildly. "Y-Yes! I understand, I'll be good!" You babbled as one of his tendrils dipped between your thighs. The slippery tentacle flicked teasingly over your clit. You couldn't help the way your pussy clenched around Alastor's cock from the delicious sensation.

Alastor grunted from the feeling, but his hips never eased up. The Radio Demon fucked himself into you with reckless abandon. Chasing his own high above all else. The prodding at your sweet spot and the slippery tendril swiping at your clit was nearly too much to bear. You knew the coil within your tummy was merely moments from unraveling.

"Alastor! P-Please, I'm so close... please can I-" You babbled, giving him a pleading look as his sharp claws dug deep into your hip. Your vision blurred as tears spilled past your lash line. Your neck ached from the collar chafing your delicate skin, and your arms went numb from how long they were bound for.

His tongue darted out to lick the tears that ran down your cheek. You felt him throb deep within you from how you cowered beneath him. "Hmm... not good enough. You need to try harder than that, my dear." His pace was ungodly at this point. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

Your mind was fuzzy as you tried to form a coherent thought. Alastor chuckled wickedly above you as his tentacles tightened around your limbs. His grip on your leash was unwavering. "Please, Alastor! Please may I come? I'll be so good I-I promise... I beg you!'

Your pleading voice was hoarse as more tears slipped past your waterline. Bottom lip quivering as you peered up at him desperately. Alastor's pace faltered for a moment. Your pitiful plea riled him up more than he cared to admit. His release was near, it was only a matter of time.

"Much better. Go on, come for me!" The moment Alastor uttered those words, you were gone. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, legs trembling wildly as your white hot release overtook your senses. Your pussy gushed around Alastor's cock as he fucked you through your high.

Alastor groaned loudly above you as he slammed himself to the hilt inside you before stilling. A whine was pulled from your throat the second you felt Alastor's cum painting your walls white. His grip on your leash eased up, the green collar dissipating before your eyes. The Radio Demon slowly began to shrink in size as the last of his load filled you up.

You took a shaky breath as the tendrils slithered away from your limbs, finally allowing you to stretch them out. Alastor took on his normal appearance now as he slowly pulled himself out of your spent pussy. Embarrassment flooded your body from the aftershocks of what transpired. "Well, that was effective copulation, my dear! I feel as right as rain now!"

All you could do was stare at him dumbfounded as you pulled your skirt over your thighs. Alastor was back to his somewhat usual self. Who knew all he needed was to fuck you to get him out of his stressed state of mind. He offered you a hand as you slumped off the control panel, trying to stand on shaky legs.

"Glad you're better, Al. Now that we settled that- can we talk about how you never told me you could do that with your coc-" Alastor's finger pressed against your lips, silencing you.

"Now, now. No need for such vulgar talk! What my body can do is for me to know and for you to find out."

tags; @danveration @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix@littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @chewbrry @nonetheartist @zombiesnips-blog @stargirlplanet @twistedkisses

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#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

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*NSFW* How to train your pet Human (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

CW: Mind break, training, human pet, pet/owner relationship, humiliation, dub-con, non-con, dead dove

Pt 2, pt 3

(Reader) sat quietly and fearfully in a small cage that didn't allow for any wiggle room, their legs falling asleep under them from being in the same position for so long. They didn't remember how they got here, in a cage surrounded by freaks in what seemed to be a street market, only remembering walking home from the convenience store a little past midnight and seeing a white, blinding light before passing out.

Aliens of all shapes stuck their disgusting faces towards the bars of (Reader's) cage, speaking in sounds that didn't sound like speech at all. (Reader) watched as sniffling cages near them were bought one by one, and feared for their future.

After nearly an entire day (Reader) felt their cage lift high above the ground without shaking, and witnessed a tall creature draped with beautiful deep blue robes raise the cage to get a better look at (Reader's) face without needing to bend down. And bending down to the tiny cage must have been impossible without dirtying it's knees, since it seemed over seven feet tall.

It's face face was smooth, with large, opal colored eyes eyes in a hard shelled face. There was no nose, or lips, on its black and purple iridescent face. It spoke in a human like voice, in an earth language (Reader) couldn't understand.

"What?" Their voice was dry from dehydration.

"I asked what language you speak."

The voice was higher than expected, and melodic, yet still masculine. He lowered the cage to his hip, but didn't set (Reader) down, exchanging chatter with the seller and handing over a bag full of, what (Reader) assumed to be, some type of currency.

(Reader) was carried back to what looked like to be a large ship, dying of anxiety over what was going to become of them. They passed through multiple corridors and gateways, before entering a room decorated with glass cases and blue drapery the same color as the alien's cloak. He placed the cage on the floor and unlatched it, stepping back to give (Reader) space.

They tried to stand, but their legs were dead from the hours they spent bent doubled over. They cried in pain as the feeling began to slowly tingle down their thighs to their feet.

"What is wrong, human?"

(Reader) wiped away the snot and tears rolling down their chin. "My-My legs are numb from sitting in the cage. It hurts."

The one who bought (Reader) reached under their arm pits, raising them up and sitting them on a very high desk. He reached with what looked like scaled hands and began to massage their legs. (Reader) whined in discomfort, both at the pain and the uncomfortable situation, fearful to push the much taller creature away. Now that they were out of the cage, the alien was much taller and imposing, visibly sleek bodied under the fabric, but not scrawny, (Reader) could feel his strength.

"What is your name, human?"

"...(Reader)."

"(Reader)." He practiced saying their name, still massaging their legs. "I am Kirtch."

(Reader) nervously fiddled with the bottom of their shirt. "Why am I here?"

Kirtch pried his eyes away from their legs, looking down into (Reader's) scared face. "This will be your new home."

"What?" (Reader's) heart dropped into their stomach.

"I promise your safety, (Reader). I will do my best to provide you with comfort." Kirtch picked (Reader) up again, but didn't set them down, carrying them around the room giving them a little tour. The room was actually three, entering from the main hall into a study first, with another door leading to a bedroom, a small restroom hidden within that.

"I didn't expect to be bringing you home, so I don't have any human furniture yet. Although I've never owned a human before there is no need for you to fret, I have done extensive research, and I am confident as a first time owner."

(Reader) only just began to fully realize what was happening to them. "I.. I want to go home." The back of their throat got tight, choking back a sob painfully. Their nose began to tingle and they knew they wouldn't be able to hold back their tears for long.

Kirtch rubbed their back in what was supposed to be a comforting manor, but his hands were harder than a humans, and it was rough against their skin. "You'll feel better once your adjustment period is over. I shall bring you something to eat. It won't be a cultural dish from your planet, but it will be made of human safe ingredients."

(Reader) stretched their legs while trying to smile through their tears. 'Like hell. I'd rather die.'

They watched as he left the room, wondering how far away the kitchen or dining area was from the room they were in. (Reader) waited for a few minutes after Kirtch left before shakily rushing towards the door. But the door had no handles or knobs, it was a flat wall with barley any indication that there was an opening at all. They touched all over the spot (Reader) had seen the tall man had placed his hand, but nothing happened.

"no no nO NO!" They slapped the "door" in frustration. Time for plan B. (Reader) pressed their back against the wall, as flat as they could muster, just trying to make sure they wouldn't be visible in Kirtch's peripherals. The fear was destroying the lining of (Reader's) stomach, gurgling uncomfortably.

A whirring noise activated as Kirtch entered the room, holding a tray in his hands. It was quick, but (Reader) snuck right behind Kirtch and out the room without him noticing, right before the automatic door slid shut. The walls of the hallway were very tall and slightly rounded, made out of a blue metal. (Reader) began running in the direction they remembered entering from. They knew the probability that they were still on land was slim, but dying was better than being kept a prisoner without any hope of returning home.

(Reader) made it down only one hallway before strong hands effortlessly lifted them under their armpits. They kicked while crying, not seemingly phasing Kirtch in the slightest. He brought them back to his room, and his lack of anger hurt (Reader's) pride; it was good that he wasn't furious, threatening to hurt them, but his calmness reinforced the futility of (Reader's) escape attempt.

"That was my fault. I read that humans were prone to escaping, especially in the adjustment period. I should have expected this." He sat down, a deep imitation of a sigh rumbling through his hard chest. Kirtch sat down in his large chair in front of his desk, and laid (Reader) across his knees as their face fell. "Knowing this is my fault brings me no joy for what I need to do, however the manual did say that humans will test authority and will continue to do so if not punished."

(Reader) protested while squirming, incapable of breaking free as Kirtch slid their pants down to their thighs, exposing their bare bottom. His shelled hand was cold against their skin. (Reader) clenched to prepare themselves for contact, but it was useless against the inhuman slap, his hard flesh resulting in a sharp pain like they had been struck with a paddle instead of a hand. They yelped, squeezing their thighs together as the tears began to form again.

Another slap connected with their ass painfully, stinging as their tender rear began to bruise.

"I'm so-sorry!" (Reader) blubbered, another whack rippling their buttocks aggressively.

"Humans may appear remorseful, however this is self defense tactic to cease the pain they are experiencing. Unless one establishes themselves as the dominant force, they will continue to act out."

"No! I really am sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Their voice cracked as they screamed out the apology between sobs and slaps.

Kirtch smiled, rubbing the skin he had split open, stinging the fresh cuts. "I shall finish with your punishment for now. I do not wish to spoil you, but I would be lying if I didn't have a soft spot for you, my cute little pet. The next time this happens I will not be so gentle.."

(Reader) widened their eyes in horror. That was gentle?!

"Would you rather spend your first night in my bed, or shall I prepare a nest on the floor for you? I will buy a suitable human bed for you tomorrow, of course, but until then..?"

"The floor." (Reader) replied a little too quickly.

A "nest" of bedding was constructed, and (Reader) did find it quite comfortable, but refused to sleep, fearful that at any moment they would be in danger. They rested for what only felt like three or fours hours, max, before Kirtch rose from his bed and begun his day. His routine was uncannily similar to a human's, rising and dressing in his robe, stretching and leaving to five something to eat. It only enraged (Reader) further at their inhumane treatment.

"I am not a dog." They whispered to themselves, as though fearful they would forget.

The ship must have been still docked at the trader's colony, because throughout the day gifts for (Reader) were brought into Kirtch's room and office. With each piece of "human" furniture Kirtch would happily rub (Reader's) head, petting them like an animal and waiting for them to show some kind of sign that they enjoyed their new toys. But (Reader) showed no such sign, feeling humiliated as they were treated like a cat instead of an adult human. But they didn't snack away Kirtch's hand, or tell him off, scared of being punished again, so they simply sulked, trying to hide from his gaze so they could disassociate without interruption.

His new pet's attitude was making Kirtch worried. He flipped through the human owning handbook, wondering what he could be doing wrong. They seemed so stressed, and Kirtch felt it was far worse than the normal stress of a new environment. Then Kirtch flipped to an interesting chapter on chemical responses. "If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..."

(Reader) hid under a box, hating the irony of their hiding place while they tried to formulate a new escape plan, now knowing that they were in fact still connected to some type of land. Not every alien could be a cruel monster, there had to be some kind of interplanetary animal rights group or space hippies. The box was lifted and removed from (Reader) sat to the side as Kirtch smiled down on them.

"I'm sorry I haven't been playing with you, pet. I've been so busy trying to make this room more comfortable for you that I have been unintentionally neglecting you." He scooped (Reader) up into his arms, and brought them over to his desk, which he had already cleared off. (Reader) nervously glanced around, wondering what was going to happen to them. "But I wanted to help you become acclimated to your new home. And you still feel more comfortable the sooner we ease your stress." He pulled out a box and a couple of strange bottles with syringes.

(Reader) scrambled to get away, but was quickly held down by one hand, being shushed in what was supposed to be a calming manner. One of the strange bottles filled the syringe, making (Reader) thrash harder. Kirtch pulled down their pants, revealing their still sore ass cheeks, and stuck in the needle, injecting them with the unknown liquid. (Reader) cried out as a warm sensation rippled through their body, turning their limbs to jello and making it difficult to breathe.

Kirtch released them, seeing that they could no longer run from him. (Reader) growled, pissed off that their body wouldn't act as they wanted it to. "What did you do to me?!" Their body was rapidly heating, becoming to feverish to hold up.

"If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..." Kirtch opened the box next, revealing a strange rubber looking object shaped like a cup on the outside with polyps inside. "I have always wanted a pet human, (Reader), so I was very excited to see you for sale. You are the most attractive like human I've ever seen, and I promise to give you a long, happy life."

The device was placed on (Reader's) crotch, attaching itself to their pubic area without needing to be held on. It came to life, each nub moving on it's own as it rubbed (Reader's) growing erection. The contraption grew against (Reader's) body, enlarging to fill every hole and crevice, pulsating and writhing like a living creature.

"No! It feels gross! Take it off!" (Reader) screamed in fear, watching as their hips bucked against their will and their nipples hardened through their shirt. Tears over how unfair everything was pricked at their eyes. Kirtch lifted (Reader) into the sitting position, rubbing their back soothingly while giving them a better view of the throbbing toy violating them.

"Shh. There's a good pet.." His words felt like taunts to (Reader) as they kept approaching their orgasm.

(Reader's) body was shaking as it begged for release, but (Reader) held strong, trying to rob Kirtch of the satisfaction of seeing them crumble. Another bottle was opened, this one however was poured down (Reader's) throat before they had a chance to cognitively force themselves to close their mouth. The warm liquid was tasteless and odorless, but the effect was like an immediate five shots of vodka, clearing (Reader's) sinuses and plunging them into a drunken stupor.

"What..? What..?" (Reader) couldn't even form their sentence correctly. Their unfocused eyes drifted around confusedly before snapping down to their lower regions, feeling their stomach muscles clench in anticipation.

Kirtch continued to rub their head and chest, gently rubbing their head like a good puppy while he rolled their nipple between his harsh fingers. "Whose my good little pet?"

"Ahh! No.. I'm not a pet.." (Reader's) whimpering voice mewled pathetically, their quivering lips complimenting their sweaty visage. The tingling feeling that had been building was ready to overflow.

"Don't you want to cum, little pet? It's okay. I'll make sure to always keep you happy like this, all you have to do is ask nicely." Kirtch leaned in, amused by his human's drenched thighs soaking his desk, shaking from being denied their orgasm. Behind (Reader's) back, Kirtch held a remote. They would not achieve relief until they played the part of a good little pet.

Drool dripped down (Reader's) chin, unnoticed by their hazy mind. "I-I want to cum."

"What was that?"

"Please let me cum?" They moaned, trying to press themselves deeper into the toy.

A button was pressed outside of (Reader's) peripherals.

Their body rocked violently as (Reader) was finally allowed to achieve their climax. Kirtch continued to stroke their head affectionately, whispering words of praise to his little human as liquid dripped from between the toy and their wet holes.

Kirtch kissed the top of their damp head, still smiling over how adorable (Reader) was. Although he hoped his pet would come to love him and enjoy his company on their own, he was secretly excited to use this toy on his little pet again. He peeled the appliance off, causing (Reader) to twitch sensitively in Kirtch's arms. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed, but Kirtch found that it wasn't a bad look on (Reader).

"Why don't you lay down for a nap, little pet. We'll play some more when you wake up."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #bd/sm pet #gender neutral reader #pet reader #pet human #cw dubcon #smut #brain dead #dead dove do not eat #not proofread #bad writing

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

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☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x yn #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #idk im sad and i love him #self indulgent slay #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted #angelshubnetwork

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norrizzandpia · 5 months

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i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #las vegas gp 2023

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mockerycrow · 6 months

Note

Can I request just some comfort Fluff with soap? Maybe him just being at home with the reader and finally being about to fully relax

— love your writing 🤍

MINE, OH MINE (Soap x GN!Reader)

soap masterlist — 808 words

a/n: I had actually gotten two of this request, so 🐤 anon, this is for you, too!!! i apologize for my slowness lol this is also short </3

[WARNINGS: None, domestic fluff!]

Johnny has always loved the mornings after he arrives home to you. Of course, he loves that first near rib breaking hug you give each other—he loves the slow and thankful unsteady kiss you share at the front door with his duffel bag at your feet. Johnny loves the way you run your fingers through his messy mohawk during the sweet kiss, the way you lean and melt into him so naturally.

He loves the way you tremble; like you can’t believe he’s with you and he isn’t looking at you through a facetime call. Johnny adores the way you basically refuse to leave his side the rest of the night, barely giving him enough space for him to use the restroom by himself. He doesn’t mind though, because he knows he’s the exact same way. You are clingy the first two days whilst he is clingy all the way up until he has to leave again; neither of you mind.

Johnny loves the way you wear his clothes while he’s away, the way he sees more of his own laundry than yours in the laundry basket by the washing machine down the hall in the laundry room. Johnny loves the way it’s clear when he steps into the bedroom to put his bag away, you hog his side of the bed. He appreciates your insistence on helping him take a bath, his pajamas already in your arms. You know how to massage the knots out of his shoulders and back, you know the exact pattern on how to stroke his hair and tickle his neck to make him incredibly still. Johnny loves the way you’re concerned about his eyes when washing your hair, cupping right about his forehead to prevent any possible droplets of soap to drip down into his tear ducts. Johnny loves that you care enough to squeeze his hair at his hairline to keep it from dripping down his face.

Johnny loves the way you allow him to rub your back once he’s out of the bath and properly dressed; you’re sitting on the bed with the Scot sitting behind you, his legs crossed as his big and rough hands press against the tense muscles of your back through your his shirt. He loves the way you sigh with your lips closed from being content, the way you instinctually lean back into his touch, the way his thumbs press into your shoulder muscles and rub them in circles to relieve the tension that has most certainly built up, deep in your bones and tissue. He loves the way you tilt your head when he peppers soft kisses to your shoulder, leading up to your neck.

What Johnny loves the most, though, is waking up next to you after these nights together, after returning from deployment and missions. He loves waking up with his nose buried into your shoulder with an arm wrapped around you, the other under his own head for comfort. Johnny loves waking up with his head buried in your chest, or maybe your head is buried in his. He loves waking up to see you still sleeping, your lips parted ever so slightly in your sleep, your face devoid of stress and anxiety. If you snore, the man very much treasures every noise coming from you; it’s a sign of life, and he would fall asleep to the sound of it every night if he could.

Johnny likes to run his fingers against your brow ridge and then down your temple to your jaw, his fingertips sliding against your pulse for a moment, just feel your heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum. Sometimes on a rare occasion, you’ll wake before him; which is how he found out you watch him sleep. Of course Johnny isn’t upset when his eyes flutter open and the first thing they do is lock onto yours. He finds out you wait for him to wake up like he waits for you, admiring his face, his chin scar, his hair. You look at him like there’s nothing else in the world and that makes his chest so tight and gooey.

He likes it when you mumble “I can’t understand you” in the mornings, the grogginess thickening his accent. Johnny likes your little smile when his voice rumbles in the morning, the sound penetrating deep into your chest and staying there. Johnny likes it when you kiss him in the morning, despite the fact that his morning breath has always been worse than yours. He likes it when you cup the back of his head in these morning kisses—all he can think about is you, you, you. Johnny likes it when you insist on staying in bed for a bit longer, despite your alarm for work having already gone and past.

Yeah, Johnny loves coming home to you, alright.

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nhlclover · 2 months

Text

battlefield | matthew knies

word count: 1.02k

summary: you and matthew get into an argument, testing the strength of your relationship.

warnings: angst, arguing

notes: finally getting around to old requests…

The air in your apartment was thick and heavy, tension hanging in the air like an oppressive fog. Each breath felt like a burden. A simple disagreement that started an hour ago now had you and Matthew caught in a heated argument, ensnared in a tangled web of emotions that refused to dissipate.

The fiery argument was fueled by the pent-up frustrations and grievances the pair of you held. You took turns shooting your words across the room, each sentiment increasingly more bitter than the last. Each accusation is aimed at the heart, both of you letting your anger get the best of the situation and just wanting to cause pain. It was a standoff with neither of you wanting to concede.

As the argument reached its crescendo, a sense of fragility now hung in the air. You sighed, exasperated. Your cheeks stained with tears and your lungs tight with anxiety.

“I can’t argue anymore, Matt.” You say softly.

You were curled up on the couch, knees pulled into your chest, while Matthew stood at a considerable distance across the room. He leaned on the island, the granite was cool against the clammy skin of his palms. The sound of you sniffling softly caused a crack to go through his chest.

“I…” You breathed, your voice trailing off. You struggled to find the right words to convey the turmoil churning in your stomach. “I think I need some space.”

He looked up at you, your frame squeezed into a tight ball. “What does that mean, y/n?” Matthew asks.

His face was so delicate like your next words could shatter him if you weren’t too careful. “I mean I think I need to some space for a bit. Just to sort through my thoughts.”

Matthew pushes off the counter, heading to the front hall. You spring up from the couch, following him. In the foyer, Matt shoves his feet into a pair of sneakers, yanking his coat off the rack.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he grabs his car keys of the key rack.

“Giving you space.” He replies.

The door slams behind him as he heads for the parking garage. Getting in his car, he had no destination in mind. He let his internal GPS take him wherever. Soon enough, he was pulling into the driveway of a familiar home. Matthew parked his car in the driveway, the engine clicking as it cooled down. He sat for a moment, staring blankly through the windshield before getting out and going to the front door.

Upon opening the door, John was met with a sad shell of his teammate. He opened the door wider, allowing Matthew to enter. He followed John into the familiar living room, sinking onto the couch. John’s gaze was fixed on Matthew.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” He asked.

With a sigh, Matthew poured out his heart, retelling the last few days in which the tensions rose between the two of you, before finally boiling over into the argument from this morning. John listened intently, offering some words of wisdom once Matthew was finished.

“Sounds like it’s been a rough couple of days for you guys,” John said, Matthew nodding in agreement. “But disagreements are just opportunities for growth. You know how the two of you navigate these rough patches are just going to make you guys stronger.”

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What if we don’t figure it out though?” Matthew asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

John couldn’t help but chuckle softly, recognizing the anxiety of going through an argument in a young relationship.

“It might not be easy, but you’ll get there. You’ve got to be patient with each other, try and see her point of view. Remember you’re a team. You’re in this together.” John said.

A sense of clarity washed over Matthew, John’s words aiding Matthew in navigating this. John’s sage advice was born from years of experience and Matthew took comfort in knowing that John knew what he was talking about.

Before long, the familiar sound of boisterous laughter and shrieks filled the home. John’s kids enter the room, having just returned from school. Matthew found himself drawn into their world, the simple joy of their company offering a welcome distraction.

As the evening wore on, Matthew lost track of time, the hours slipping away as he played hide and seek with the Tavares children, as well as being invited to stay for dinner.

Back at your apartment, you were still sitting on the sofa, nerves wracking your body. Matthew hadn't called or texted. You believed he was safe, that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. But your heart was still in your stomach as you watched the time tick by.

When you heard the front door clicking open, you sprang up from the couch, meeting your boyfriend in the front hall where he was removing his shoes.

“Where were you?” You ask, your voice a little louder than you intended. “You didn’t call, you didn’t text…Nothing! I was so worried Matt!”

You launched into a tirade, your words sharp with frustration as you spewed out every single anxious thought you’d imagined since he left. Matthew let you vent your frustrations, upset with the fact that he had been gone for the last 6 hours. When you finally fell silent, Matthew spoke.

“I’m fine.” He said softly. “I just went somewhere to clear my head.”

You fell quiet, not quite knowing what to say next. The pair of you stood there, looking at one another as the tension slowly seemed to dissipate.

“I’m sorry…” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, y/n.” He reassured, stepping towards you. “We both needed time to breathe.”

There’s another beat of silence before you speak again. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. And for what I said, I’m sorry Matt.”

“Me too. We both said things we shouldn’t have.” Matthew replies. Matthew reaches out, taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry.”

His touch sends a wave of warmth through you, You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. The words of John from earlier reverberate in Matthew’s mind. You guys were a team and you were in this together. It was going to take a whole lot more than an argument to separate the two of you.

#matthew knies #matthew knies imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #toronto maple leafs #matthew knies x reader

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madwomansapologist · 2 months

Text

doubt comes in | bg3 companions

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: You knew exactly what would welcome you back to camp. The alluring smell of Gale's cooking, the awful noises of Lae'zel working on a sword that don't need to be sharpened, Wyll practicing his dance moves. You clearly weren't expecting to see yourself. Or to be forced into fighting the companions you swore to never harm in order to prove Orin was playing with their minds. [3.4K]

warnings: orin being orin. well, you, actually. "prove who's the real you" trope. i mean imagine the level of anxiety that scenario induces because you want me to act like me? kitten, mommy don't fucking know who she is. bg3 level of violence. a lot of blood. body horror should be a tag? tav suffers slashing damage, but orin suffers psychic damage. angst. happy ending. shadowheart x tav x halsin. companions (lae'zel, astarion, gale, wyll, karlach, jaheira, minsc). camp followers (yenna, scratch, grub). background (orin, gortash, mizora, shar, cazador, silvanus).

Reaching Baldur's Gate didn't made life easier, but Gods did it helped. Danger is near, sometimes closer than a kiss, but this city is still your home. They can try, but no one can take that away from any of you.

Mizora can bargain and dissemble, but no lie coming from her burning lips will ever change the fact Wyll would do anything for this city. He had his first kiss in one of those bars. Gortash is a threat, but did he started counting his days? Karlach is coming for him, and he had it coming. She can still remember the vinegar taste on her mouth after her first spree.

Shar had her time to mess with Shadowheart's memories, to turn goodness into fear and desires into guilty. Shadowheart is learning how to swin. Long ago, before Cazador could even think of looking at him, Astarion walked on those streets. Cazador can see him as a walking corpse if he so desire, something that fell into decay, but Astarion is alive and free forever and evermore.

The world is a freaking mess, but so be it. That won't stop you from living. That won't stop any of you.

"Soldier! Over here," Karlach called for you, up on The Blushing Mermaid's balcony. You dodged the drunkards and ran upstairs to their table. They saved a seat for you. They always do. "What took you so long?"

They're always teasing you for being so controlling with their gold. That was an act of survival, to save for what matters, but now that you reached the city... You're still controlling it, Silvanus knows Astarion would waste it all without noticing, but you can allow your party some luxury from time to time.

You put the bags under the table, careful to not let them see what was inside them. "Just lost track of time," you sat between her and Minsc. "Did I miss much?"

You turned around, looking for a waiter, but a glass was dragged from across the table towards you. Halsin, sitting across from you at the round table, had already ordered your favorite drink. He always knows what you want even before you say it.

Your smile was subtle, the glass already rising to hide your mouth. You didn't use words to thank him, but your foot met his under the table. You dragged it along his leg, a hidden affection. A secret between you two.

"Oh, yes, Boo. Minsc agrees, her smile really seens different," Minsc whispered. Boo moved on his shoulder, sniffing around. "What are you hiding, my gentle friend?"

Perfume of night orchids, clothes fit for a vampire or whatever Astarion means by that, a recently released tome of evocation, instruments to improve weapons, a music box for a dancing hero, owlbear cub plush, new whittling knifes, a book about adventures Jaheira wasn't part of but is still somehow the main character, and stone sculpture of a certain miniature giant space hamster. "Nothing," you answered.

Halsin chuckled. "There is nothing you can't do, my heart. Except by lying, I must add."

"I just bought a few presents," it sounded almost defensive. Alright, maybe you really were a bit too controlling of the gold. Just a bit. "I'll give them after dinner."

Karlach chocked on her beer. "Are you feeling well, soldier? Have anyone forced you to waste your precious gold?"

"There is a hero coming through to help you, my friend," Minsc hit the table with closed fists. Your drink almost fell on your lap. "Tell Minsc who forced you and his boot shall find your wrongdoer!"

Karlach and Minsc tried to see what were in the bags during the walk back to camp, and you protected them with your life. They started a game of guessing what you had bought, never realizing you weren't participating on it.

Halsin took the bags from you, and with his free hand caressed yours. He kissed your knuckles, then your forehead. You melted against his touch. "Is it duck related?"

You chuckled, eyes still closed. "Fuck off, Bear."

Finally at camp, Halsin followed you to your tent .You saw when Wyll walking out of his tent, hair dripping wet, and smiled at him. Karlach and Minsc sat by the bonfire, still arguing about the possibility of receiving an ax as a gift.

You told Halsin to close his eyes so you could hide everything. "Alright, done."

You walked towards the bonfire, but Halsin grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You linked your arms around his neck, ready to stand on tiptoe. "It's on your black chest, isn't it?"

You sighed, walking away from him. He tried to stop you, but you dodged Halsin easily. "Of course not," you lied. And he could tell.

You used a branch to stir the fire. You had the feeling it would be a cold night. Yenna was near it, stroking Grub's fur, and smiled at you. So young, so innocent. So unfair.

Lae'zel and Jaheira carried pans with food to the large table Gale conjured, and nodded on your direction. "Fifteen minutes, cub," said Jaheira. "Weren't you on watch?"

You denied with a movement of your head. Jaheira isn't the one to get confused with watches, neither are you. After all, you both organized all shifts.

"Are you hungry?" You stroke Yenna's hair, ignoring Grub in order to not scare him away. Kneeled in front of her, you threw the branch far away. Scratch ran to catch it. "I have strawberry and hon..."

"What the fuck is that?!"

You turned to Karlach, your sword suddenly so heavy on your side. She looked perfectly fine. Following her gaze, you understood it.

Shadowheart had her spear on hands, back from first watch to supper. And besides her, with a hand on the half-elf's waist, stood you.

One thing you can't deny Orin: that bitch is creative. You admit, it was smart. Half of the party left with you, half stayed at camp. It was only a matter of chosing the right moment to appear, making sure to say only the right words, and everything would work on her favor.

Smart, until she wasn't anymore. Because instead of aiming your companions quietly without raising doubts, you are back now. She is surrounded by the enemy. Cornered by her own actions.

You smiled to Yenna, her scared eyes shone upon you. "I need you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?" As she put her tiny hands in front of her face, you raised from the floor. The smile was still there. "Orin."

She was behind you, but you knew Karlach made Nyrulna find a way to her hands. He's not on your vision field, but you promise Silvanus you'll kill yourself right then and there if Minsc and Boo aren't ready to fight and die beside you. The golden light on your periphery in theory could be from anything, but you knew it was Halsin waiting for your command to transform and attack.

The things you couldn't see didn't surprised you. Quite the opposite.

Jaheira's eyes shone, and without hesitation she turned into a fire myrmidion. Wyll, before careless, casted an armor on himself. Lae'zel had her sword on her back, but her movements showed she was nothing but ready.

They were looking at you.

As easy as that you understood. You're always thinking on the great scheme of things, careful about every movement and choice so at the end nothing will stop you from defeating the Absolute, but this isn't a game of Go. Orin didn't proposed a bet, one where all moves matter and any choice could change the final outcome. No. This is as simple as tic-tac-toe. The results depends only on doing the right first movement.

Orin isn't surrounded here.

You are.

Shadowheart hesitated, the spear uncomfortable on her hands, her skin paler. She gazed at you, at that thing, and you could almost see the doubt replacing the new found glow in her eyes.

"You finally decided to show up again," Orin said. She could immitate your voice perfectly. Even the words were something that could've been said by you. "Now we don't need to hunt you down."

You kept on staring at Shadowheart, ignoring her stained words. "Lua, you know who I truly am." You drew your sword, the golden glow illuminating your face within the light of the setting sun. "Fight beside me, my love. Like you have always done."

"Don't fall for her theatrics," replied Orin. If you didn't knew better, even you would fall for her tricks. "She is playing with your mind. Trying to control it like many attempt to before. Don't allow it."

In a quick motion, her spear cut through Orin's torso. Orin, you, stumbled back. You stood in front of Shadowheart, protecting her with your body from the changeling's response.

All Orin did was to add pressure to the cut. "Get away from her!" A necrotic energy came from her fingers, the same you are so used to control. You shouldn't have left your shield on your tent. "My love, she'll only hurt you."

Jaheira aimed at you, lava dripping from her transformed hand, but didn't attack because of how close Shadowheart was of you. Karlach got further away, now with a better view of camp. Minsc had his sword in hands, just as Wyll had a cloud of darkness aiming at him. Lae'zel was in front of Orin, eyes filled with determination.

They moved faster than you wanted to. The board getting new possibilities, and you worst problems to deal with. What strategy can overpower hers?

"On sight, soldier," Karlach screamed from distance. You could picture the spear on her hands, ready to be throw right in Orin's eyes. "One word."

"Ckh. Enough," ordered Lae'zel. "Pull yourself together before I pull you apart."

"That changeling is playing tricks with your mind, Lae'zel," said Shadowheart. Light came from her fingers. "Don't let her fool you."

"I know my leader," was her response. "You should know too, cleric."

"Can't any of you see her true goal?" Your voice echoed through the camp. "She isn't just trying to end me. She could've done this before, we all now she had chances. Orin wants you to fight one another, to break our bonds and divide us. Stay still, stay alert, and she won't have a choice but to end her disguise and attack with her own claws. Patience: that's the only thing she does not have."

With the noise, Gale and Astarion came out of the kitchen. "Who is..." Astarion didn't even had time to finish.

"It's me," you yelled. You had even forgot about them. Just more players for a game that should be won alone. "For Silvanus, I even said goodbye to each and every of you befo..."

You swear you saw a smirk on your duel's face. She fooled you too. "You fucking bitch."

You barely had closed your mouth when red strings of energy passed right beside you. Shadowheart's illuminated fingers were surrounded by darkness now. Gale's work, you knew.

"She is right," Lae'zel's words made you breath easier. It was more than just a smart move, it was a great plan, but Orin won't suceed for a very simple reason: her main goal is to hurt, and yours is to prevent it. Lae'zel stepped closer, her longsword in hands and eyes on Orin. "The wizard shouldn't have aimed at the Shadowheart, neither was she supposed to fight."

A sign of trust coming from her of all people could convince them all. Lae'zel cares, deeply, and wouldn't do something without being sure of it. You glared at the others, hoping Lae'zel's words had calmed them down. And it did. Their eyes were softer towards you. But those weren't the eyes you should've been watching closely.

You didn't saw when she moved. Didn't noticed the smell of danger floating on the air so near you. Didn't heard anything that would've warned you to defend yourself.

But you felt as Lae'zel rip your chest apart.

So much blood. You never would've guessed a mortal vessel could carry so much blood. It stained the silver, dripping from the longsword, splashed her face. It ran down your body, penetrated the ground and its roots, fed the plants..

Red. It was all you could see. All you could think about. Your lungs only had space for it. They burned. Your trembling hands moved towards your ripped belly, your insides staining them, and held the sword. It cut your palms.

"Bloodlust won't solve our problems," someone said. You knew that voice. Was it yours? Lae'zel forced the sword down, then pulled it out of you. "The changeling's is all we need to spill."

You were on your knees. Did you fell? Were you kicked? Are you praying? You must be. You probably were. Who do you pray to? Have you ever prayed before?

Kneeled beside you, a woman talked to you. Her mouth moved, a red liquid dripping from her face and hands. Her touch was warm. She felt like home. Shadowheart. Her eyes reflected a golden light, but they dissapeared so quickly.

"Let me go!" She tried to fight Lae'zel's hold, but the warrior was stronger. "She'll die because of you. She'll die and I will never ever forgive you for that, you damned gith!" The screams turned into cries. "She saved me, let me save her!"

"It's me," the doppelgander said. She held Shadowheart by the cheeks, trying to get her to calm down. "Lua, love, it's me. Just me."

"Get out of me," Shadowheart spat on her face. Lae'zel pushed her away, trying to prevent Shadowheart from doing something she would regret. "Why no one here listen to me?!"

"Stop squirming," Lae'zel hissed. "Look into her eyes. Look and tell me you don't see our leader."

Shadowheart eventually stopped fighting, her body exausted from crying. The changeling was in front of her, you were in front of her. She smelled like you. Talked like you. Felt like you.

"Is that really you?"

"Of course it's me," lied Orin. "Please, look into my eyes. We were together all day. You know I haven't left camp. Please, please, trust me."

Spikes grew, surrounding Orin. She hissed, the ivy twining around her legs and tearing the skin open. Halsin were throw to the ground before he could end the healing spell.

"Halsin!" Shadowheart screamed. She almost escaped Lae'zel's hold. "No!"

"She was with us all day, Halsin," Wyll said as he paralised the druid. "We know it's her. Don't fight back."

That didn't stop Karlach from throwing her spear near the Blade's feet. "You fucking idiot!"

Mizora clapped, enjoying the show.

Jaheira burned Mizora before losing her wild shape. She will come back, she always does, but that never stops Jaheira. At least they will have some moments of respect.

She wandered towards Minsc. He kneeled on the floor, and for a moment she feared something happened to him when she wasn't paying attention.

"She told me not open my eyes," cried Yenna. "I can't open they yet. She told me not to."

"Have you ever seen my miniature giant space hamster?" Yenna didn't react to him. "No, Boo, she nee..."

Jaheira kneeled beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You did well, cub," she forced herself to laugh. "You were so brave. Let's get you and your red cat something to eat, alright?"

A dry sound reached their ears, stopping every and each one of them. You fell to the ground, as firm as an empty sack, whimpers leaving your mouth as you slipped into unconsciousness.

No fighting. No yelling. A quiet end. A peaceful one.

So easy.

Astarion grabbed Gale's shoulders, whispering so the others wouldn't notice. "It smells like her," Astarion swallowed hard. "I know it."

"Are you really sure of that?" Gale watched you, saw all your blood spreading through the ground, and looked into his eyes again. "Because if you're not, if your guess is wrong, then it will be our guts on the ground. Do you really trust your nose that much?"

Astarion gave him a smirk, but Gale could see the fear he was trying to hide. "Will you cover me, darling?"

"What's your plan?"

"Please. If you think I have one, then you don't know me at all."

As the spike dissapeared, Orin held Shadowheart's face again. "Think of everything we faced together. The nautiloid, the grove, the shadows. Wasn't I beside you all this time? Have I ever turned my back on you?"

"No." That Shadowheart knew the answer. "Never."

She looked up to the moon, praying for assistance. When her eyes fell down, she saw the body on the floor. And what surrounded it.

Scratch sad down beside you. He nudged your shoulder with his nose, waiting for you to stop with that game. He didn't like it. It wasn't fun like the others. But as he moved your body, she saw something reflecting the sunset. A flask. Concentrating, Shadowheart saw the contour of something. Of Astarion's body.

Gale had blue rays of light coming out of his eyes.

"Exactly, my love," her cheeks were pinched. The long nails digged on them for so long. "I've never turned on you. Not when you tried to kill Lae'zel. Not when you lied to me again and again. Or when you showed us how low you would go for your goddess. Remember the fear on the Nightsong's eyes? Remember how I pretended not to know all you would do to her if I wasn't there? A cleric who doesn't know where to lay her faith, a torturer so easily deceived, a coward unable to make the right decisions. That's why you never turned on me, right? Because I make the decisions you can't. I carry all the guilty for you. Because it's easier when I control everything. Don't you like it? That you don't need to use your brain when I am around? Wouldn't you give your memories to me if I asked? I know you would. I know you will."

Your head fell. The bone cracking, the skin stretching. They could hear as it moved, as it turned into something else. The shoulders falling, elbows breaking in half, the spine bending until it touches the bloody ground. The last snap, deep and long.

And from a thin cloud of dust, Orin appeared.

"Look at it. Crawnling under my fe..."

Nyrulna wasn't near Wyll, deep on the ground, neither did it came back to Karlach's hands. With accurate aim, the trident pierced Orin's ribs. Her blood joined yours, and the pale body fell where yours once lay.

Taking your time, you walked towards her. Stepping on the changeling's stomach, you ripped the trident from her insides. "I will give you a glorious death," you growled. "I'll make Bhaal wish I was his chosen."

You kneeled beside her, pressing the trident against her neck, then lowered your face until her ear. "I'll make him regret ever settling for you," you whispered.

Her eyes shone. "How... you know," she could barely say anything. "My... sib..."

You squeezed her cheeks, shutting her up. Then you caressed it, getting her skin dirty with your blood. "I know shit about you," you replied. "But I can tell you would never be anyone's first choice."

Orin can believe she escaped, if it's that what she desires. That you were too slow to stop her from teleport to wherever she deemed safe. That you were all bark and no bite. The truth is that she was wrong about you from the start.

You like the hunting.

You dropped Nyrulna to the ground, and threw yourself into Shadowheart's arms. “She lies,” you whispered. "She deceives and hurts and maims. Nothing was true. You're nothing that she said."

Quietly, Shadowheart hugged you. She breathed in your scent, felt your touch, heard your voice. You, you, you. She cried against your body. You.

Looking at the rest of your party, you breathed in. "We need a code," you said. "If we ever get into this sort of situation again, we need to say..."

You bite your lips, trying to think of something. Something you wouldn't use in another situation. Something that would be unique, impossible to confuse the meaning.

"Gold," you chose. "Or the rest of us are allowed to go for the kill."

Lae'zel cleared her throat. "Fair enough."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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chaoticsimp · 9 months

Text

What Could Have Been - Part 2

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Relationship: Twilight x Reader

Content Warnings: SFW, Fluff, Angst, Angst, Angst, Female Reader, Y/N, Reader has a son, Mention of pregnancy and birth, reader has a gun but doesn't use it, Anxiety mention. So much longing.

Summary: It was like looking in a mirror. A chance encounter that Twilight could have never seen coming. He could just move on, ignore the realities of what the child could mean but he was never one to sit still.

A/N: The very requested part 2 of What Could Have Been! There might be a part 3, but haven't decided. I hope you enjoy the additional angst.

Word Count: 2600

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After dinner, homework, bath, and the next chapter of his bedtime story your son was fast asleep. You laid out a fresh uniform for the morning and got to work tidying the kitchen. Your unfinished lesson plan sat on the coffee table in the den, along with assignments waiting to be graded. When you glanced at the clock you knew you’d be up later than you liked and started on a pot of coffee to compensate.

“Damn him,” You muttered to yourself. Damn Twilight and his distractions. He had done as he promised, he stopped following you and you hadn’t noticed any other eyes on you since that fateful evening. Yet you remained paranoid and worried your son was beginning to take notice of your unusual behaviour.

“Damn it all.” You wiped your hands before retreating to your couch. You lifted your pen and eyed your lesson plan as your mind wandered. Would they come after you or him? Should you run just to be safe? It was easier when you were pregnant, and even when your son was an infant, but you had built a life in Ostania. Your son’s friends, and his school. Your Saturday adventures, weekly rituals, and routines that were all important to a developing mind.

“No,” You sighed to yourself. You couldn’t just leave; it would break your son's heart.

A soft knock pulled you from your thoughts, one you recognized as the beat repeated. You rose from the couch, listening for your son as you cautiously approached the door. You reached into the hidden compartment beneath your entrance table and drew the gun to your side before finally unlocking the door.

“Astra.” A name you hadn’t heard in years. One that only a handful of people knew, Twilight being one of the few. You stared up at him, both surprised and unsurprised that he’d show up on your doorstep so late. He caught the door when you tried to close it but didn’t put any more force than necessary to hold it open.

“There is no one here by that name,” You reminded sharply.

“My apologies, Y/N,” He replied slowly, gauging your response to the use of your name before continuing.

“Can we talk, please?” He asked quietly. Your eyes studied him – as beautiful and intelligent as he remembered only, they had lost some of the warmth. No…no he realized; the warmth was still there they had just lost the warmth they once held for him.

“Come in,” You relented and stepped aside. Twilight stepped in, allowing you to close and lock the door behind him. He pulled off his hat, setting it on the coat rack but kept his coat on.

“Coffee?”

“Isn’t it a little late?”

“Yes or no,” You replied.

“Yes.”

“Take a seat.” Twilight eyed the gun in your hand as you set it on the kitchen counter, exchanging it for a tray which you added a second cup to before bringing it to the living room. You placed it on the coffee table, pouring his cup before yours and took a seat on the single chair while he sat on the couch.

“I was surprised you used your real name.”

“Just my first,” You countered, taking a sip from your mug. “What better way to hide than in plain sight?”

“Fair point.” He lifted his own mug, his eyes wandering around your living space. Photos covered the walls; all were of the boy from infancy to now. In some you were present, in a few he spotted Master Henderson and in others faces he didn’t recognize.

“Why are you here?” You finally asked.

“I’m sure you know,” He replied, setting down his mug.

“When you actually backed off, I was surprised,” You admitted. “Surprised by you, and that the Handler hasn’t sent anyone else to snoop around.”

“You left peacefully, retired. I don’t see why they would.”

“What does my peace matter when my skills could benefit peace for all?”

“Words you used to live by.”

“I found better things than the job,” You replied.

“And yet you carry a weapon to answer the door.”

“I left the job, but I’m not ignorant of my past,” You sighed, and you followed his gaze as it wandered back to the photos on the mantle.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Twilight.” The use of his codename brought his eyes to yours. To the untrained eye, you looked relaxed, leaned back in your seat and hands occupied by your coffee. It looked as if you were catching up with an old friend. However, he knew you were poised to strike the moment you felt threatened and from his count had at least five things within range you could kill him with.

“Please, call me Loid.”

“Have I still lost the privilege of your real name?” Twilight noticed a playful glint briefly shine in your eyes. If it had been under different circumstances, he may have been tempted to play along but he reminded himself of his mission and the reason he came in the dead of night.

“I’m here to talk about the boy, your son,” He replied, and he noticed you tense.

“My son,” You repeated, and that icy demeanour cracked. A soft smile graced your lips as you glanced at the photo closest to you.

“He’s incredible,” You continued. “A brilliant and kind child. Curious, so much so that he gets into trouble more often than he should, but he craves knowledge.”

“He’s six?” He asked and you nodded, confirming the timeline he had laid out in his head.

“Most days I fear I’m not enough for him, but I suppose that’s how all mothers feel.” Twilight shifted in his seat, moving a little closer and nearly brushing your knee with his.

“Y/N,” He paused, trying to calm his racing heart as he clasped his hands together. “He looks just like me.”

“Just ask,” You breathed, and he noticed an uncharacteristic tremble in your voice as you held his gaze.

“Is he…my son?” He finally asked and you hesitated – those feelings from so long ago rushing back as you stared into the stunning blue eyes your son shared.

“Yes.” A whispered response that faded to silence as you stared at each other. Twilight had come here expecting this answer. After doing the math repeatedly he had concluded that there was no other possibility and yet part of him dared to hope. Wish? That for once, he was wrong.

“Is this why you retired?” He asked and you nodded. Your voice caught in your throat as you watched him stand, and you feared that he’d just leave now that he had the answer he came for.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Twilight had started pacing, his voice of reason he relied on disappeared as his mind swirled with questions.

“Or ask the Handler or Frankie to reach out to me? You could have found me yourself, you’re more than capable.” He felt the sweat gathering on his brow, and his stomach churned as he tried to sort through his conflicting emotions.

“Well?” His tone was sharper than he intended. Why was he getting so upset? Why couldn’t he see reason? He felt like a madman until he turned back to you. In all the time he had known you, you had never looked so small. He took a few slow breaths, trying to steady his racing mind and remind himself of his training as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“Because you left,” You finally spoke. Your voice betrayed you as it broke, and Twilight watched as the tears you were trying so hard to hold back slipped down your cheeks.

“Did you know back then, that last night? Is-Is that why you said you loved me?”

“No, of course not. I-I didn’t-”

“But you still hid him from me,” He accused.

“Stop interrupt-”

“I can’t believe-”

“I can’t love you!” Twilight paused at the raise in your voice, at the anger in your eyes as you stood to face him.

“I’m sorry, but the world needs Twilight more than I need you.” You recited, throwing his words back at him. “I told you I loved you, and that is what you said.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as you debated whether to kick him out or not, but Twilight’s thoughts were elsewhere. They were back on that night. A night he had locked away in the depths of his mind. To a normal couple it would have been a third-year anniversary, three years since you had stumbled upon the other. It was never official, but neither of you had seen anyone else in a romantic setting outside of missions. You met whenever your paths crossed, you wrote to the other in coded letters to check in, and yet neither of you would commit to a relationship. Yet he was the one who thought to pick up an expensive bottle of wine, and a small gift on that night that coincided with your third year of not being together. He opened that door first, and then slammed it in your face when you stepped through.

“I was heartbroken, alone, and scared with no reason to think you would care. You abandoned me, and I wasn’t going to let you abandon my son.” He knew you were right. After that night, after your confession and his less-than-kind response, you asked him to leave, and he promised not to contact you again. So, he tucked you away with the other thoughts he hid and didn’t reach out when you retired a few months later. Now he wished he had.

“That’s not fair,” He argued. “You’re not allowed to make that choice for me.”

“So, you’d have stayed?” Twilight hesitated, and that was answer enough for you.

“I couldn’t face you again and have you leave us, and maybe that was selfish of me, but I-I-” You tensed as he reached into his pocket, taking a defensive step back. Twilight didn’t take offence to your caution as he lifted his handkerchief, and you briefly closed your eyes as he dabbed the tears from your cheeks.

“You are anything but selfish,” He said gently. It had been so long it was easy to forget the pain he caused, and how deeply he hurt you. He never thought he would be faced with you again, and he scolded himself for not being more prepared for this interaction.

“I’m sorry, I let the surprise cloud my better judgment. I came here knowing the answer, and still, your confirmation sent me spinning,” He admitted.

“I’m not even sure I wanted the confirmation. It only leads to more-”

“Ma?” A sleepy voice whispered, and both your eyes went to the hall.

“Are you okay?” You quickly wiped your face, pressing on a smile as you stepped around Twilight.

“I’m alright, did we wake you?” You asked gently, lifting him into your arms as he rubbed his eyes.

“I was thirsty,” He whispered.

“I’ve got it,” Twilight offered, retreating to the kitchen.

“Is he bad Ma?” He heard the child whisper and noticed his own hand tremble as he filled a glass with water.

“No, he’s an old friend.” When Twilight turned back, he realized the child’s eyes were on the gun on the counter. It was a sight he seemed to be used to, and unsettlingly comfortable with. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then set him down and Twilight offered him the glass.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“No problem,” Twilight replied, suddenly unsure how to act as he stared into the eyes of his son.

“Back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute to tuck you in.” The boy kept his eyes on Twilight, and he felt like he was being analyzed. He patted his mother’s leg before wandering back down the hall.

“We can set up another time to talk. If you have more questions.”

“Yes, but just one more before I go,” He requested.

“Go on.”

“Why did you name him after me if you never intended to tell me?” You smiled slightly.

“A moment of weakness,” You confessed. He watched as you went to the living room and took a small photo off the mantle. You carefully pulled it from the frame, smoothing out the edges between your fingers as you returned to him.

“Birth was difficult, and I’d sooner face interrogation by the SSS before doing it again but when I met him all I saw was you.” You offered him the photo, and he stared down at it.

“Like looking in a mirror,” He mumbled, as he took it.

“Does he ask about me?”

“Sometimes.” Twilight glanced up from the photo.

“What do you tell him?”

“That is father is a brilliant, wonderful, and kind man who has spent his entire life protecting others with little thanks. That even though he couldn’t be with us, it doesn’t make him any less of a hero.”

“Oh…” It was all he could say, as he had expected the worst.

“You may have hurt me, but you are still a good man. Besides that, I needed you to be someone he wasn’t afraid of. So, my intentions weren’t entirely honourable.”

“But you never wanted us to meet?”

“No, but as I’ve said I’m not ignorant of my past. I had contingencies in place if something were to happen to me – he had to know of you, the real you.”

“So, he knows that he is named after me?” He asked and you nodded.

“If he needed to get in touch with WISE and more specifically you, that would have been better than any old code.” He knew you were right, and once again expected nothing less.

“What-”

“I believe you said one question Mr. Forger,” You reminded, and he noticed the tired look in your eyes and remembered that your son – his son – was waiting for you to put him back to bed.

“Yes, you’ve indulged me quite enough for tonight,” He agreed, offering back the photo, but you gently pushed back his hand. He didn’t argue as he slipped the photo into a hidden pocket within his coat.

“I’ll set up something with your office, so we don’t raise any suspicion,” You offered. He nodded, drawing a business card from his pocket, and set it on your entrance table.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Although he hoped you wouldn’t wait too long. He went to take his hat from your coat rack but noticed you already had it in your hands. He leaned forward a little, letting his Mr. Forger façade slip as you set the hat gently on his head. Your fingers drifted down the side of his face, and he closed his eyes briefly to lean his cheek into your hand. He lifted one of his hands to set over yours, recalling the comfort you always brought him. The gentleness you used to have for him, the peace you used to blanket him in after a mission. It was all still there in your palm, and he felt selfish for lingering in it now. Twilight opened his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he met your gaze and when he went to lean in your other hand came up to stop him.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Forger.” Twilight chuckled and kept a hold of your hand as he stood straight. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hand before turning to open the door.

“You as well Ms. L/N.”

#spy x family #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #loid x y/n #loid forger #loid forger x reader #loid x reader #loid forger x you

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cultofdixon · 2 months

Text

The pain won’t last forever

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Trauma situations happen often in the apocalypse, Daryl learning first hand how to take care of one. Even someone as important as her, who currently is the patient. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Motorcycle accident / Punctured lung / Blood loss / Injuries

Requested by: Anon

“The fuck is that?”

“A pinwheel? Have you never seen one?” Y/N had to laugh a bit, making Daryl get heated in the face a bit embarrassed. “What? You never like saw a garden with one of these in there?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

“Yeah! I think I’m gonna take it back” Y/N smiles blowing against the pinwheel to watch it move. “I mean like. Obviously grab some other stuff but I think this wouldn’t take up much space”

Daryl simply stopped caring about the run they were on and watched Y/N enjoy this thing of plastic. Just the smile on her face made his day…

Until the worse possible thing had to happen…

See, when Daryl got his bike back after the Saviors War he had to fix a few things. A few things that were easy to also unfix…like sabotage. Yes some Saviors were allowed to enter other communities after the war ended, especially after they were evaluated to not be riding Negan’s philosophy anymore. But that didn’t mean some didn’t have their own vendetta against some. Daryl having quite a few. So an “ex-Savior” took it upon themselves to get a little revenge for what the archer done by not only cutting a slice into the break line so every time he rides it’ll wear down to eventually snapping…but they hoped Daryl would be riding with someone important the moment it snapped.

Which lead Daryl here, jolting awake from sudden unconsciousness after his bike wouldn’t break and he couldn’t control it. His anxiety made his heart pound in his ears while his mind raced from the throbbing pain in his left shoulder down to his arm from the road rash—-to where in the hell is Y/N’s body?!

Daryl scrambled to his feet, shaking a bit from the shock and wobbling. He grabbed his radio putting it back on his belt as well as his knife before stepping over to his crashed bike finding the rest of their things.

“Y/N?!” He shouted with no reply back but when he did get close to his bike, he noticed a bit of drag in the dirt toward the forest. He also noticed the blood. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck” He quickly, to the best of his ability, followed the trail that didn’t get far because Y/N slipped into her currently unconscious state.

The archer quickly dropped to his knees flipping her onto her back. He quickly pressed his fingers against her throat waiting for a sign. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Hershel taught him for these intense situations.

Check for a pulse

Check if they are breathing

Check for any major injuries

“Injuries…” Daryl frowns checking her person as she had the occasional cut and her own road rash on her leg. He felt her side resulting in her body jolting and her waking from the pain. “Shit. I’m sorry—“

Y/N couldn’t speak, her breathing was fast and hard to achieve. The pain in her chest caused tears to form as she reached and gripped his arms trying to direct the feeling to something else.

“Okay okay okay—-Try to take some breaths” Daryl quickly stated, taking one of her hand directing it to his chest to grip onto his shirt so he could use the hand to grab his radio.

“Siddiq? Anybody?! Rick?!”

Siddiq quickly pulled away from preparing for the next infirmary run to pick up the radio. “Daryl?”

“Thank fuck—-We’ve been in an accident”

“Wait. We? I thought you left alone this morning”

“I—-Shit”

Is he crying? Siddiq frowns turning the radio frequency to be open from his end so he doesn’t have to press a button to remain on. “Daryl. What happened? Let me try and help”

“It’s Y/N. I—-I crashed my bike. Something happened that I don’t know and we went flying. She’s having a hard time breathing”

“Any signs of distress?”

“Wha—-Plain words man! For fucks sake”

“Can you see a cause of injury? A reason for her breathing to be harsh” Siddiq tells Daryl as he quickly scans her person not finding anything on the surface other than the road rash and a few cuts. He then remembered the reaction she had to him touching her side, leading him to lift her shirt a bit to find major bruising.

“Oh fuck. Fuck”

“Talk to me Daryl”

“It’s uh. I think uhm. Her rib broke” Daryl was careful the next time he touched her side but he and Siddiq heard her sudden gasp then the doc heard the archer start to panic on the other side.

The doc quickly ran around the infirmary grabbing the instruments for a chest tube because he knew what Daryl was going to have to do.

“Siddiq?! The fuck do I do!”

“Uhm. Stab a tube in her side”

“The fuck did you just say?!”

“The only way to relieve the pressure, is to insert a chest tube. But you’re in the middle of nowhere to me. You’re going to have to work with what you have. Your knife can make the incision and the difficult part is finding something like a tube. A straw works.”

“I-I-I can’t. I can’t do that to her”

“I’m sorry Daryl but she will die if you don’t.”

Siddiq had to be honest in order for Daryl to get his head on straight. He quickly rummaged through his bag and Y/N’s while Siddiq grabbed his radio and med pack racing out the door to find someone—anyone to accompany him to go retrieve the two. Thankfully, Rick and Michonne were at the gate as he came over.

“Daryl and Y/N have been in an accident. I don’t know where they are but we have to find them or Y/N will not make it”

Rick gave him a stern look before turning to Michonne and quickly running past her to get one of the cars while she whistled down Eugene and Aaron’s attention.

“Open the gates for us!” Michonne yells watching them both run over while she and Siddiq ran over to the car Rick was pulling up in.

As Siddiq got secured in the back, he pressed the button for his radio. “Daryl?”

“Daryl? Do you have everything?”

Daryl kept checking Y/N’s pulse every now and then making sure it was there while he unsheathed his knife trying to think of a straw then he remembered.

“Fuck me…” Daryl reached for Y/N’s pack taking out the pinwheel as most were made with a straw as its main stick. Thankfully this one was as well. “I’m sorry Y/N” he knew how much Y/N liked the plastic thing but it had to be cut enough so it was simply a straw. He picked up his radio bringing it back to his lips and pressing the button.

“I’m ready”

Siddiq took a deep breath before getting in the moment while Rick and Michonne focused on finding the two.

You are going to want to pierce the skin deep enough to insert the straw between the ribs

Daryl lifted her shirt on the side the problem was as he took his knife, slicing into her skin.

Not too deep. But deep enough to stick about half of your index finger in

He checks by sticking his finger in and confirming it was fine. He set his knife down picking up the straw gripping onto it

The second you hear a gust of air. Stop. You did it. Some blood will be normal.

Daryl rested his hand carefully on her torso, aligning the straw with the incision he made even inserting it a bit. But it took a bit of force to get it in there.

That once he did, Y/N gasped causing him to flinch in fear as she quickly recuperated weakly opening her eye to look at him. Making him keep his eyes on hers and the rise and fall of her chest indicating he did it before closing her eyes again.

“Okay Daryl. Just keep it secure until we get there”

No response was made as Daryl kept his eyes on Y/N’s chest. Watching the rise and fall…making sure she remained breathing because he would never forgive himself if he let her die.

But the longer he waited, the more difficult it was to remain conscious but thankfully the rescue came. Rick and Siddiq quickly ran over to secure the makeshift chest tube with tape Siddiq carried while Michonne checked on Daryl who kept his gaze on the two helping Y/N before helping her up and in the car. Right when that happened, the exhaustion kicked in and the adrenaline wore off.

“Guys!”

The next time Daryl opened his eyes, he was in an infirmary bed causing him to jolt forward scanning around the room for anyone. But no one was there. His injuries were taken care of and his half naked form (no shirt) shot out of the bed heading to the next room to find Siddiq checking on Y/N’s new chest tube. One that is actually a chest tube. Her other injures were taken care of and Michonne got her some clothes that she and Rosita helped get her unconscious form in. Shorts just made it easier to treat the road rash on her leg.

“Good. You’re awake”

“Is she uh…”

“She’s okay. She’s doing good” Siddiq smiles, finishing the bandage around the tube. “She hasn’t woken up since we inserted the new tube. But it’s fine. She needs the rest…and so do you”

“I’ll rest when she wakes” Daryl scoffs, bringing himself to the chair by her bed as he realizes he was shirtless resulting in him covering his chest. Siddiq chuckled to himself as he grabs the spare clothes he was going to leave for Daryl when he was sleeping, now handing them to him. “Thanks…”

“I’ll be back to check your dressings in an hour. Holler if either of you need anything” He says on his way out of the room giving the two privacy even if all Daryl did was put his shirt on and stare at her chest again.

He’s gotten used to watching her breathe in moments like this but it drove him nuts when she didn’t wake right away.

Three days passed, Rick came in to check on the two for himself but also address what happened.

“Yea need somethin?” Daryl asks when his brother stood in the doorway for a while trying to collect the right words.

“Uh. Yeah well”

“Just spit it out”

“We brought your bike back, now not a lot of us understand motorcycle machinery but Eugene found a book so—-“

“Is there a point to this?” Daryl bringing his gaze finally onto Rick and seeing the worry on his face. “What?”

“Someone tampered with the break line. Somebody wanted you to crash your bike at an unexpected moment so that it wouldn’t be tracked to somebody.” Rick frowns bringing his gaze onto Y/N’s still unconscious form. “Eugene said all it took was one deep enough cut for a few rides to have it snap”

Now Daryl is used to accidents happening on his bike, especially now because the apocalypse isn’t really lucrative in the motorcycle parts department. He’s not used to dismounting with another person if his breaks faltered even if in the moment it happened too quickly to realize.

“Any leads?”

“No. But there was a crowd when the two of you came in the condition you were in. We were thinking of asking a few of those people if they saw anybody in Y/N’s garage the past week”

“New guy…”

Both turned to Y/N staring up at the ceiling pushing herself to sit up even if she went back down given the stitches from having the chest tube were unbearable. Tube came out a day ago.

“The new guy…”

“Y/N you’re—-“

“The new guy y’all let in from the Sanctuary. I’d catch him by the garage every night since he came. He had uhm. A basic name…”

“The Kyle guy?” Rick watches her give a thumbs up to confirm the name. But honest. Y/N didn’t want to be in the position she was in. “Did he say anything to y—-“

“Respectfully. Please leave”

“Y/N it’s best to get this do—-“

“Please…just leave” Y/N averted her eyes even from Daryl who wanted a word in ever since she woke. But before Rick could even try to push again, Daryl just gave him a threatening look resulting in the retired sheriff leaving and closing the door. “Sorry I just…didn’t want to talk about it anymore”

“You don’t gotta explain. I’m just…glad you’re okay”

“Are you?” Y/N finally turned to look at him as she had tears in her eyes causing Daryl to bring himself forward to gently wipe them away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay…fuck…I’m okay when you are” Daryl exhales, feeling the pressure finally releasing after feeling like he couldn’t breathe the last few days.

Y/N carefully brought her hand to move his sleeve to see his bandages knowing they weren’t the heavy duty ones. It wasn’t too serious but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry and Daryl saw that in her eyes.

“Are you in any pain?”

“Yes…”

“I can go grab yea somethin’. Knowing Siddiq he probably labeled something just for me to find for yea—-“ Daryl pulled himself almost completely away from her until he froze when she grabbed his wrist.

“C-Can’t you radio Siddiq to get it?…”

“But you’re in pain…I don’t want yea to suffer” Daryl frowns bringing himself back and holding the hand that grabbed his wrist. “It’ll only take a few second and if yea need Siddiq then what else is happening? Are you in—-

“Stop rambling I just don’t want you to leave me” Her voice broke and Daryl instantly brought himself to his knees at her bedside bringing himself close strapping his arm gently over her stomach as the free hand gently caresses her cheek.

“I won’t ever leave yea”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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somekindofpoet · 11 months

Text

Missed Connection 7

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! smut, language

A/N: Have your tooth rotting fluff and be happy with it you gremlins <3 Also, I want to thank you guys for being so supportive and patient. You all are really the best

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

You wake to the sound of a shower running in the bathroom and the feeling of soft lips slowly moving up your spine. The blanket is draped around your waist, the pillow pressed into your chest.

You’re generally not a fan of mornings, but if your wake-up call is like this every day, you could become more accustomed. As her lips move further up your vertebrae, you feel her chest move onto your lower back, and she kisses the slope of your shoulder. You crack your eyes open, quietly groaning. You’re split in two; one piece of you feels it’s far too early to be conscious, and the other piece is more curious about just how naked Jenna is behind you.

You turn your head, trying to see her, all while trying to give her space to press wet kisses to your neck. She runs her hand up your side slowly, letting her fingers bump over your ribs. You can’t stand not seeing her any longer, so you roll onto your back.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says, her voice scratchy with sleep.

Somehow, even having just woken up, she’s gorgeous. Her hair is messy but still falls in thick waves to her shoulders. Her face is clean of makeup, and seeing her without it makes you want her more than anything has.

Instead of replying, you pull her down into a kiss. Just a peck, and then you push her back. She pouts, her brows furrowed in confusion.

You grumble out, “ Toothbrush,” as you roll out from under her and stand from the bedside.

Jenna giggles and rolls onto her side, watching you in nothing but her underwear as you stumble into the bathroom. The sight makes your mouth go dry. You gulp and tear your eyes off her, frantically readying your toothbrush.

You’re not even aware of your own nakedness until you lean against the doorframe to watch her as you brush your teeth. She’s looking down at her phone, grinning at the screen until she looks up at you. Her eyes widen almost comically, and she drops her phone to the bed. The steam from the shower she’s started rolls out of the bathroom around you.

You smirk around your toothbrush, trying not to blush, “What?”

She stays put, her eyes shamelessly roaming across your body until they land on your face, “I don’t remember ordering room service.”

You snort, choke on the toothpaste, and turn back to the sink to spit. You can hear her laughing in the bedroom as you rinse your mouth with haste.

When you step back into the room, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, like she’s going to get up, and you simply won’t allow that. You stride over, wrap your arms around her bare shoulders and roll onto the bed, pulling her over on top of you. The room is filled with laughter, and it makes your heart swell with joy.

Jenna kisses you once, pulling back to look down at you again, “We have to get ready. We’re meeting my sisters for breakfast in an hour.”

The anxiety is back, and she must be able to tell because she drops to your side, one hand on your cheek. She turns your head to her, kisses you again.

“Just be yourself, and they will be your biggest fans.”

You smile, nodding. She rolls out of the bed, and you sit up, watching her pad into the bathroom. You scoot to the bedside, sitting on the edge, taking in her form as she checks the water temperature. She glances over her shoulder, catching you staring. When she approaches you again, with slow steps and messy hair, you bite your lip hard. The soft sting keeps you grounded.

She steps between your legs, uses her thumb to free your lip from your teeth. Your hands have a mind of their own as they slide up the backs of her thighs. Your eyes take their time traveling up her body.

She dips down, her lips brushing over your ear, “We need to shower, baby.”

Your eyes could roll back into your head, hearing the pet name fall from her lips. You hadn’t missed the we in her statement. When you stand, you lift her with you, holding her on your hips with your hands gripping the back of the legs. She yelps in surprise, hanging on to the back of your neck.

She leans back, her smile painted widely across her face. You walk her to the wall next to the bathroom and press her back into it. She gasps, the cool paint giving her shivers. You lean in, kissing her neck lazily, your lips and tongue canvassing her skin.

“Shower,” she gasps, rolling her hips into your stomach, “two birds, one stone.”

You can’t help but chuckle into her neck, she has a fair point. You step back, gently set her on her feet. She immediately takes your hand and pulls you into the bathroom, only dropping it to shed the sole layer of clothing she has on.

The moment you’re in the shower, her lips are on yours. She pushes you into the wall, her leg between yours, her hands on your hips. The water is warm, her hands are cold, and your mind is in overdrive.

“We’re never going to get clean like this,” you say, breathless, as her tongue drags over your pulse.

She tilts her head back, lets the water run into her hair, and push it out of her face, “It’ll have to do.”

Suddenly, it feels like you’re starving. Your mind and body are finally awake, and you’ve never seen Jenna in the shower before, and you are ravenous. You flip her around, pushing her into the tile with your lips on her collarbone. Her hands wrap around your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin.

You lift your head to kiss her, your tongue brushing across her lower lip. She pulls you in, rough and rushing.

The hunger is gnawing at your skull, beating against your ribs. Your hands can’t touch enough skin, you want all of her, all at once. The water is nearly scorching, reddening your shoulders and neck. You reach up and push the shower head aside, the water splattering against the door in steady rhythm with your heart.

You dip down to kiss her neck again, her whimpers driving you lower. You take your time, ducking down to drag your lips across her chest, over her breast, sucking her nipple before moving lower. You carefully drop to your knees, your hands running up the front of her thighs. She drops her head back against the tile, drapes a leg over your shoulder as you kiss just below her belly button.

You’re famished and gluttonous and insatiable, and the only thing you want is exactly what you take. Her fingers wind into your hair as your tongue runs over her, dipping inside to lap at the fruits of your labor. She grips your shoulder with surprising strength, her leg on the other, pulling you in, encouraging. Your lips wrap around her clit, your tongue brushing over it as you suck gently, building her up. You lap at her, groaning at the syrupy sweetness that has built between her legs.

The sounds that pour out of her are obscene and yet, entirely pure. Her taste on your tongue, the water running over your back, makes you wonder why anyone would want paradise when there is this. Why anyone would ever want to be anywhere else is entirely beyond you.

Her nails press so hard into your skin you’re sure you’ll need to throw out any tank tops you had planned to wear for the weekend. Her fingers tightening against your scalp and her hips bucking into your face give you a clear warning that she’s close. You almost wish it could last longer, forever even.

You change your mind when she cums, releasing your hair to grab her own chest, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth open. Michelangelo couldn’t dream of the masterpiece that you are witnessing. That you are actively causing.

She presses so hard into you that her foot slips, her leg resting on your shoulder yanking you forward. You brace yourself with one arm against the wall, the other reaching up to her hip to steady her. You can’t help yourself but laugh when you look up and find a mixture of terror and ecstasy on her face.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, wiping water from your eyes.

She takes a deep breath, removing her leg from you and standing, a little wobbly, “I…haven’t figured it out yet.”

She shivers, leaning against the tile, and you stand, reaching up to the shower head to point it back at your bodies.

She laughs, “I’m not cold, just…”

“Recovering?” You say with a smile.

She grins, pulls you down to kiss her under the faucet. The water runs over your eyes and lips, but you don’t care.

She leans back, “Okay, let’s not waterboard ourselves. We have got to get ready, or we’re going to be late. Trust me, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

You raise an eyebrow, “They know we’re staying together?”

Jenna blows a raspberry, pumping body wash into her hand. “My sisters know everything.”

You grimace, holding your hand out so she can give you soap, “Everything?”

“I mean, not the gory details, but yeah. Everything.”

“That is…kind of horrifying.”

Jenna snorts, rinsing the soap off of herself, “That’s something an only child would say.”

You laugh, switching spots with her to stand under the water, “I mean, guilty. But I more meant that I have to look them in the eyes after what I just did to you and know that they know.”

It’s Jenna’s turn to grimace, “Oh god, no. I won’t be telling them about this yet. Also why we can’t be late, they will know. They’re like, clairvoyant with this stuff.”

“You are not making me feel better at all.”

——

The breakfast spot Jenna picks is slammed. Crowds mill around the parking lot, already sweating in the Southern California heat.

You grip the steering wheel a little tighter, sighing, “Here we go.”

Jenna turns to you as you park the car, her hand resting on your leg, patting you soothingly. “They’re not here for me, they’re here for the waffles. And the huevos rancheros,” she adds as an afterthought.

You nod, wide-eyed, and she laughs, squeezing your leg, “You won’t have to protect me from them today. It’s okay.”

You roll your eyes and shut off the car, turning to her. She leans over the center console and plants a quick kiss on your lips.

She leans back with a curious frown, “Hey, you never told me who it was.”

You raise your eyebrows, confused, “Who what was?”

“Who you punched that pap for? Who was it?”

“Oh,” you say, brushing it off, “Victoria Pedretti.”

“Huh,” she hums, unbuckling her seatbelt, “She never told me.” She reaches for the door and opens it, turning back to you with a wry grin, “She killed my sister, you know.”

She climbs out of the car, leaving you dumbfounded.

“What?” You mumble, frowning. “Wait, what?!”

You open the door and try to stand, only to realize in your shock that you’re still buckled in. You scramble to undo the belt and practically fall out of the car, jogging to catch up with her.

“Jenna, wait, what?”

She turns and grabs your hand, “We were in a show together. She killed my sister.”

You scratch your head, stumbling along beside her as she drags you toward the door.

She looks up at you, “You never watched You?”

“You what?”

She sighs, reaching for the door, “The show, You. What were you even photographing her for?”

Now you’re really confused, but you try to play it off to give yourself time to catch up.

“Some horror show. Haunting of the house on the hill, or whatever.”

Jenna giggles, “Hill House.”

All you can do is blink at her, you’re lost, and you have no idea how to reign this conversation in.

“Well, don’t you two just look so in love?” A voice from your left rings out over the commotion in the restaurant.

You jerk your head to the side to find Jenna’s sisters, arms crossed and identical grins on their faces. Jenna drops your hand and runs to them, pulling them into a hug. She’s so much smaller than them, it makes you smile softly.

Jenna turns back to you, “Mia, Aliyah, this is y/n,” she says, gesturing toward you, “y/n, these are my sisters.”

You stick out your hand to shake, but the two of them pull you into their sides for a hug. It’s shocking, and you fight the urge to tense up. Over their shoulders, Jenna shoots you a cheesy smile and two thumbs up.

“About time we met you,” Mia says, stepping back.

Aliyah has the same mischievous look Jenna gets and says quietly, “Jenna’s little convict.”

Jenna slaps her shoulder, “I asked you not to say anything about that.”

Aliyah only smiles, turns back to you with a raised brow, shrugging. She’s testing you, and you know it. You laugh, shake your head and shrug back at her.

“Someone had to do it, and I’d do it again.”

At the same time, all three sisters quietly mumble “And I’d do it again.”

You bark out a laugh, but they carry on like nothing has happened. The hostess seats the four of you quickly, tucking you away into a booth in the corner. People are starting to notice Jenna, but it’s a quiet whispering, not reaching the out of control spiral. Still, it makes your hands clammy.

Jenna slides into the booth, and you sit beside her, Mia and Aliyah sitting across from you. It makes you nervous, and it feels a bit like you’re about to be interviewed or interrogated.

Aliyah leans back, putting her foot on the booth next to Jenna, and that mischief is back on her face. You brace yourself for whatever is about to come.

“So, you guys were late.”

Jenna waves her hand absently, “Only like ten minutes, chill.”

Mia elbows Aliyah, but she’s undeterred. She raises her brows at the two of you, awaiting explanations. You decide to let Jenna steer the conversation.

“Y/n got lost on the drive over.”

You frown, not appreciating the excuse but not refuting it, even though it’s a terrible lie.

Aliyah scoffs, “In your hometown, dude? Probably not.”

Mia smirks at that, slowly giving into the sibling prodding at Jenna’s expense, “Yeah, that’s probably the worst excuse you’ve come up with yet.”

“And don’t tell us it took you forever to get ready. That one is played out.”

Jenna’s face turns that beautiful shade of pink you’ve come to adore, and if she weren’t so distracting, yours would probably be red too. She hides her face in her hands, and the two sisters turn their attention to you. Now you feel the heat rising up your collar, creeping into your cheeks.

“It’s pretty hot for that shirt, isn’t it, y/n?” Aliyah chirps, eyeing you.

You fight to keep your face composed, only granting her a smirk, “Fashion over function, I always say.”

“Okay, she’s smart too,” Mia says, giving you an approving smile.

“ANYWAY, anyone want coffee? What’re we eating?” Jenna pipes up, finally changing the subject.

The rest of breakfast goes well, the sisters bickering and laughing the way only siblings can. You’re happy to be included and proud at the feeling that they’ve accepted you. You’ve passed their first test, for now. It takes a weight off your shoulders and allows you to have more fun.

As the bill is being placed on the table, things get less fun, very quickly. A bright flash goes off near your table, blinding the four of you momentarily. You blink hard, willing the spots out of your eyes as you search for the source.

A man with a large camera stands, guilty, in the middle of the restaurant. Immediately, you feel your blood begin to simmer.

You grit your teeth, growling at him, “Are you serious right now, man?”

Jenna’s hand is in yours faster than your anger can grow. She leans into your shoulder, her weight soothing you.

“It’s fine, babe. Let him make his pennies off of a dark diner photo.”

You sigh, turning back to her, “He’s invading your privacy. It’s rude.”

She shrugs, “Comes with the territory. We’re leaving anyway.”

You nod, conceding to her more even-keeled temper. The irritation is still there, and you scowl at the man when you pass by him. He jumps out of your way, taking his moment to snap another picture of the two of you, hand in hand.

Outside, the fresh air cools your head like water on hot coal. Jenna's hand in yours, her body close to your side, does wonders to keep you calm and centered. There’s a tiny flicker of anxiety and annoyance, but it’s small enough to ignore now.

The four of you drive back to the hotel, where you’ll be meeting the car that takes you to the festival. The parking lot of the hotel is blessedly empty, and you’re able to all pile into the sleek black car without fanfare.

Jenna grips your hand, pulling it into her lap, “This is going to be a little crazy, at first. I want you to be ready.”

“I’m okay,” you say gently, rubbing your thumb over the back of her hand.

She smiles up at you, resting her head on your shoulder. Her sisters jokingly make gagging sounds, turning away from the two of you to chatter to themselves.

The ride to Coachella is short, and soon enough, you’re pulling into the back entrance of the festival gates. The signs all declare the VIP status, the security shoulder to shoulder. It relaxes you, some.

Jenna wasn’t wrong, though; the crowd outside is insane. When you step out of the car, people notice immediately. There are shouts at Jenna and, shockingly, some to you. They know your name, and a few anonymous faces in the crowd crack loud jokes asking you to assault them later. The Ortega sisters snicker at your expense, and you’re happy for it. You figure it could be worse.

Cameras flash around you, but in the middle of the day, they don’t seem so intrusive. Security whisks you through, herding you into the VIP area of the festival. Once inside, hardly anyone shoots a second glance at you or Jenna.

It’s filled with celebrities of the likes you’d never expected to rub shoulders with. No one cares that you’re there. No one is star-struck. It’s a relief, but you have to remind yourself to act cool. Especially when the musicians you love stroll past you like strangers on the street.

The day is filled with music, laughter, a drink here and there. At one point, you whip out your camera to conduct an impromptu photo shoot of the sisters, going the extra mile for the right shot. They laugh and poke fun at you and at each other, and it feels so natural you almost forget how truly abnormal your life has become.

Toward the end of the day, as the sun is setting, you’re standing with Jenna, watching a set, just enjoying the vibe and the music. A wave of bodies leans back, forcing you to stumble a step back. Jenna slips, grabbing your shirt and pulling the neck down your back and near one of your shoulders. You laugh and sweep her up, unbothered about the stretched collar of your shirt.

You’re vaguely away of giggles behind you and the sound of girls babbling. It’s a concert, there are sounds and flashes everywhere—nothing to pay much mind to. Jenna moves around to your front, wrapping your arms over her shoulders and leaning back into your chest.

The set comes to a close, and the four of you set off to find a bathroom. The sun has disappeared completely, finally cooling the now-dead grass under your feet. There are only a few shows left until the end of the night, and the crowds are split between people beginning to feel the effects of their intoxication or exhaustion. The lines for the bathroom are long, and after you’re out, you wait for Jenna, Mia, and Aliyah at the side.

A group of girls gasps and point at you, and you wave at them. They giggle with their eyes wide and hands covering their mouths, shyly waving back before moving on. It’s funny, how quickly you’d gone from an anonymous figure to a small time celebrity, thanks to Jenna. You don’t mind much, though, you find it amusing.

A hand around your waist makes you jump, and you look down to see Jenna, a little tipsy. She pulls you between the bathrooms, glancing side to side before leaning in to kiss you like her life depends on it.

You smile, lean back, “Your sisters, babe.”

She shrugs, “They’re still in line. We have a minute.”

She kisses you again, her hands untucking the back of your shirt and sliding over your skin. Goosebumps rise in their wake, making you shiver. Your common sense goes out the window every time her lips are on yours, so you kiss her back like there’s not another soul in the world—much less hundreds of thousands around you.

A frustrated groan at the entrance of the small alley you’re in pulls you both out of your stupor. Aliyah and Mia stand, giving you both looks of exasperation, motioning for you to come out of your hiding place. You pull Jenna behind you, re-entering the festival with sheepish grins.

“You guys are kind of disgusting,” Aliyah says.

“And kind of cute, to be honest,” Mia interjects.

Jenna leans into your side, your arm resting over her shoulders, “Don’t be jealous.”

Aliyah snorts and heads off, with the three of you trailing after her.

——

You fall face-first into the hotel bed the second you’re in the room. Your shoes are kicked off, and you’re nearly asleep when Jenna prods you.

“You can not sleep like that. Go shower.”

You groan and roll over, realizing that maybe you had fallen asleep because her hair is wet and she smells like lavender soap.

“You showered without me?” You whine.

She rolls her eyes, “I tried to get you up, but I think you may have died for a brief moment there.”

“Huh,” you say, dragging yourself up to trudge into the bathroom.

You take a quick shower, rinsing off the sweat and the dirt of the day. When you walk back into the bedroom, Jenna is sitting cross-legged on the bed, biting her nails and frowning at her phone.

“What’s up?” You ask, hopping into bed next to her.

“Uhm…” she hesitates, glancing up at you and then back to her phone, “Sam is not going to be happy with us.”

You frown, tilting your head, “She’s the one who sent us here. What happened?”

Jenna gives you a pained smile and turns her phone for you to see. You’re both trending on Twitter, which is a win. The issue at hand now is why you’re trending.

There’s a photograph of the two of you between the bathrooms, intertwined in an embrace that clearly should not have been public. On par for a festival, but not when your tongue is down the throat of an A-List celebrity.

There’s also a blurry picture of Jenna’s hand pulling your shirt down, with red welts clear as day on the skin of your back and shoulder. The comments are hilarious, granted, but you know you’re in for it when Sam gets ahold of them.

“Oh,” is all you can say, picking at your nails nervously.

“So,” Jenna says, setting her phone on the nightstand, “apparently, we’re not very good at PG.”

“At least they won’t be talking about the mugshot?” You offer.

She snorts, “You can tell Sam that when she tries to bite our heads off in the morning.”

You grin, shrug, “In the morning, it’ll be our problem to deal with. Right now, my problem is the amount of clothes you think you’re wearing to bed.”

Jenna’s laugh is smothered between your lips as she rolls over to kiss you. For a few hours, there’s no one watching you at all.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega

972 notes · View notes

bangchansgirlsblog · 5 months

Text

Ouchie

It happened so quickly. Hyunjin found himself facing an unexpected challenge. He had sustained an injury during a particularly intense rehearsal for the VMA’s. It left not just physical pain but also emotional ripples that extended to the closest person in his life—the ninth member, his girlfriend, Y/n.

He was trying to do a flip off of I.N’s back about once Y/n had walked in he lost concentration and lost his balance causing him to fall on his ankle badly.

As the news of Hyunjin's injury spread within the group, concern and support poured in. The boys, bound by a deep sense of camaraderie, rallied around their injured member. However, within this sea of well-wishing voices, Y/n found herself grappling with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

In the quiet moments that followed the accident, Y/n, her heart heavy with a sense of responsibility, hesitated to approach him. Fear clung to her like a shadow, whispering irrational thoughts that she was somehow the cause of his injury. The once effortless connection between them now felt fragile, and the fear of unintentionally causing him harm loomed large in her mind.

One day, as Hyunjin, determined to bounce back from the injury, navigated through physical therapy, he noticed the subtle distance that had crept into his interactions with her. Her hesitance to touch him, the cautious glances, and the unspoken anxiety were impossible to ignore.

"Baby, can we talk?" Hyunjin implored, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration, as he gently grabbed her hand.

Y/n on the other hand, her gaze averted, pulled away. "I... I don't want to hurt you accidentally. I'm scared, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin, sensing the magnitude of her apprehension, furrowed his brows. "Scared? You've been avoiding me, and I don't understand why. I need you with me during this, not distant."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to articulate her fears. "What if I was the reason you got hurt? What if I distract you, and something worse happens?"

Hyunjin, taken aback by her words, held her gaze with a mixture of confusion and concern. "What are you talking about? You didn't cause my injury. Accidents happen, and it's not your fault."

Despite Hyunjin's reassurances, she couldn't shake off the irrational guilt that clung to her. In a desperate attempt to protect him, she distanced herself, inadvertently creating a barrier between them.

Recognizing the complexity of the situation, Chan, the wise leader of Stray Kids, observed the dynamics between Hyunjin and her. Sensing an underlying issue, he decided to intervene, understanding that communication was key to resolving their emotional tangle.

One evening, as they all gathered in the shared space of their dorm, Chan approached her with a gentle smile. "Mind if we talk for a bit?"

She nodded, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in her eyes. Chan guided her to a quieter corner, away from the watchful eyes of the group.

"Something seems off between you and Hyunjin," Chan began, his voice a soothing melody. "Mind sharing what's going on?"

The ninth member, her emotions bubbling beneath the surface, hesitated before speaking. "I'm scared, Chan. I'm scared that I caused Hyunjin's injury, that my presence might distract him, and he'll get hurt again."

Chan, his gaze warm and understanding, took a moment to absorb her words. "Hyunjin cares about you deeply. He wouldn't want you to carry this burden. Let me help you understand that you're not to blame."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to articulate the irrational fears that had taken root in her mind. Chan, with a calm presence, patiently listened, allowing her to unpack the emotional baggage that had been weighing her down.

"Sometimes accidents happen, and they're beyond anyone's control," Chan reassured her. "Hyunjin needs your support, not your distance. It's important to communicate and navigate through these emotions together."

Encouraged by Chan's words, she found herself opening up about the irrational fears that had fueled her distancing from Hyunjin. Chan, with empathy and wisdom, gently guided her toward a more balanced perspective.

"You care about Hyunjin, and that's evident in your concern. But you need to understand that accidents aren't caused by love or distraction. They're unfortunate events that happen in the course of our lives," Chan explained. "Hyunjin doesn't blame you, and he needs you by his side, not pushed away."

Feeling a sense of clarity and comfort, the ninth member nodded. "I just... I don't want to be the reason for his pain. It scares me."

Chan, with a reassuring smile, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Fear is natural, but don't let it control you. Talk to Hyunjin. Share your feelings with him. He loves you, and he wants to face these challenges together."

Armed with Chan's words of wisdom, Y/n approached the impending conversation with a newfound sense of courage. Later that evening, as Stray Kids gathered for a meal, she found herself seeking a quiet moment with Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin, we need to talk," she began, her voice a mix of vulnerability and determination.

Hyunjin, sensing the seriousness of her tone, nodded and guided her to a more secluded corner. "What's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. "I've been scared. Scared that I might have caused your injury, that my presence might distract you and lead to something worse."

Hyunjin, his expression softening, gently cupped her face. "Listen to me, it's not your fault. Accidents happen, and I don't blame you. I need you with me during this, not pushing me away."

Her eyes filling with tears, finally allowed herself to be vulnerable. She shared the irrational fears that had haunted her, the weight of guilt that had driven a wedge between them.

Hyunjin, listening with compassion, wiped away her tears. "I understand your fears, but we face challenges together. You're not a distraction; you're my strength. Don't carry this burden alone. We're a team, okay?"

Embraced by Hyunjin's understanding and reassurance, she felt a sense of relief. The emotional barricade that had separated them began to crumble, making way for a renewed connection.

Later that night, as they all gathered for a practice session, the dynamics within the group had shifted. Their relationship , once tested by emotional tension, now resonated with a shared understanding of vulnerability and support.

Chan, observing the positive change, smiled as he watched Hyunjin and Y/n interact. The unspoken fears had given way to open communication, reinforcing the bond that defined Stray Kids not just as a musical group but as a family of friends navigating the complexities of life together.

The injury that had initially cast a shadow over Hyunjin and his girlfriend's relationship became a testament to the strength that emerged when love, understanding, and open communication prevailed. The stage, once a battleground.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz drabbles #skz fluff #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyujin imagines

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neteyamslovrr · 11 months

Text

WRONG TO WANT YOU - PT2

summary: ever since you stepped foot onto the land of his clan he couldn't help but feel drawn to you. everything about you he craved. but he couldn't have you. not while his son called you his.

contents: 1.8k words, fem!sullyreader, swearing, cheating, ooc ao'nung, very mean ao'nung, what a bitch man, cute wari, cute sully family

authors note: part 2!!!! i've been motivated to write so im taking advantage of this. this chap isn't wari heavy but it's JUICY (laughing evilly while typing this)

(reader is 21 and tonowari is around 40. when they came to the clan she was 20 so they've only been there a year!! all characters aged up)

previous / next

The ache in your head was outstanding. It was as if your brain was pounding and bashing against your own skull. The nauseous swirling in your stomach as your eyes slowly adjusted to the light shining through the crack of your marui’s entrance.

Sitting up, your sight was foggy. Rubbing your eyes with your fingers, the surroundings slowly moving into focus.

Wait. This marui…it is different. The space is larger… the decorations are nothing like you’d seen before. A feeling of fear welled in your stomach and sunk to your toes as you tried to remember the events from before.

Though as you turned to your right and noticed a softly snoring giant next to you, you let out a blood-curdling scream. Why were you in the chief’s bed? How drunk had you become. Oh no… nothing happened … did it?

Tonowari shot up in an instance, his heart racing and eyes blown wide in alert. “Are you hurt?” He asked concerned, eyes full of anxiety, then filling with realization… Ah last night.

“Why am I here?! Why am I in your bed? Did we fuck!? Oh great mother!” You were frantic, practically shaking as you’d instinctively held the blanket to your body, almost like a child cowering behind their mother.

“No. No! Let me explain, be calm please.” Tonowari had woken up abruptly, the consequences of his actions last night hitting him in the face, much too early in the morning. Yet, in all of this chaos, he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked when the morning sun bounced off your sapphire skin. How your hair splayed across your shoulders, delicate hands close to your heart, gripping tightly onto the weaved blanket he had made years ago. Years before his mind and thoughts were corrupted by you.

“I shouldn’t be here…” You shake your head trying to rid of the horrific scenarios of your drunken stupidity out of your head. How had you ended up in the bed of your ex-boyfriend’s father. The same man who you had shamelessly dreamt about every night. He was so much older yet, your youth was attracted to him. Like two magnets pulling each other close.

“Y/N. Listen just for a moment.” His pleading eyes stared into yours. Oh how could you deny such a man filled with sweetness. He was like sugar so sweet, so addicting.

A small nod gave Tonowari the clearance to inhale deeply and start to explain the situation. “You were drunk last night…and so was I.” This only made you panic more. Two drunken idiots, that are most definitely attracted to each other?

“Please let me finish.” Tonowari pleaded seeing your eyes filling with anxiety once again. He wanted to caress your cheek, force you to stare into his eyes as he told you it was all going to be okay. But how could he allow himself to give in to that urge? What type of man would that make him?

“I followed you towards some the rocks…I was afraid you would hurt yourself. You started to cry and wail about … my son.” He winced at the mention of the Ao’nung situation that had occurred leading you to this mess. You winced as well, the memory barely fading from your memory. It stung in your heart and scratched your insides…it hurt so much. “I comforted you and took you here to sleep for the night. I did not want you going home alone.”

You nodded still grasping the situation ahead of you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” It was incredibly embarrassing. The thought of him seeing you in such a wreck.

Tonowari frowned, a touch on your shoulder. He told himself it was friendly, but the way his fingers lit up with the feeling of your skin he couldn’t even kid himself. “Do not dare to apologize…the stupidity of my son is not something you should have ever had to endure. Y/N…I am sorry.”

He was so earnest. So honest. His words softly caressing your heart and making it flutter. Tears fought their way to well in your eyes. You refused to cry any more in front of your chief.

“Thankyou. But I should go. My family must be getting worried.” Why was your heart aching to stay, to once again cry in those huge, muscular arms. One last look at Tonowari, giving him a respectful bow as you stood up. His hand sliding off your shoulder, grazing the skin of your arm and waist.

He didn’t want you to go. If he could indulge in his greatest desires he’d keep you in his arm right in his marui, not a single soul interrupting the two of your time together. “Yes…you should. Goodbye Y/N.”

His voice was smooth yet rocky. It made no sense, but with an innocent yet yearning wave you exited the marui. Immediately speed walking towards your family’s marui for breakfast.

While you did have your own marui, you made it habit to go and eat your meals with your family. It was as if you made a heart-warming memory with them every time you sat on your woven mat and laughed with your family.

Walking into your marui your family was staring at you all each a different…an odd look on their faces. “What?” You said confused looking at them, mouth slightly agape as your younger brothers started to let out little chuckles.

“You look like a mess bro!” Lo’ak cackled out, slapping his knee in the process. Neytiri his flicking his shoulder.

“Lo’ak!”

“What?!” He pouted holding his inflicted shoulder, still chuckling every time he looked at you.

Did you look that terrible? Was it obvious you had gone too intense with the drinks? Did Tonowari think you looked terrible. Huh? Do not worry about him! You scolded yourself, refusing to let your shameful thoughts resurface in a time like this

“Sister you look slightly dishevelled that is all.” Kiri said calmly, but even she couldn’t hide the grin creeping onto her face. She tried to cover it up by eating more fruit, but her attempt was pointless.

“Hey! I do not look that bad.” A little stomp as you walked into the room, subconsciously patting down your hair.

“Yeah stop making fun of Y/N…she simply had a fun night” Neteyam giggled, even Lo’ak slapping his arm as they cracked up at the table.

Even Jake couldn’t hide his smile, the way his grown up daughter was now stomping her foot and complaining. It was just like back in the forest. Even Tuk laughed along, not like she understood of what her older siblings were referring to.

“What the- Neteyam!” A gasp left your mouth, what was this skxwang talking about. You were so going to kill him after breakfast.

“Sorry sis!” He snickered holding his hands up innocently. You simply rolled your eyes, and lightly smacked his head as you sat beside him. He gave you a tiny snarl as he continued to eat his food, and so did you. Filling your starving stomach with deliciously cooked breakfast

It was now late afternoon, the sky slowly darkening, as the calming waves rushed up just onto the tops of your feet. The water cold, but only enough to make you want to delve into the water more.

The scurrying of feet on the sand emerged from your side. Turning to investigate the sound…it was the last person you wanted to see.

Ao’nung.

Expression morphing into one of disgust, as he walked closer to you, you started to immediately get up to race away from him.

“Hey! Don’t go. C’mon Y/N! Let’s talk!” Ao’nung dragged his feet across the sand faster as he jogged up to you.

“No. Go away.” The words were cruel and stern, enough to make him rethink his decision to find and talk to you.

“Y/N! Come here for fuck’s sake! Stop being a brat!” Ao’nung had no right to be so cruel, especially when he was so deeply in the wrong.

Seething you turned swiftly marching towards him to lay a loud slap across his face. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” You hissed at him. Hand stinging from the impact.

“Did you just slap me?”

“Do you need another one? You cheating scum.” Ao’nung scoffed as he rested a tight grip on your shoulder. It was nothing like his fathers. No it was harsh and tight, there to inflict pain. Such a strong contrast to the tenderness of Tonowari’s touch.

“Get over it… c’mon Y/N it was just a mistake.” Ao’nung was lying through his teeth. He’d never admit it, but he loved every minute with that girl. Shit, he’d go back for seconds if he didn’t have girlfriend. But he’s a good boyfriend, so he won’t.

“the only mistake was trusting you.” Rage was coursing through your body. How dare he come up to you and speak with you like this as if he had not, disrespected your union and broken apart your heart.

“C’mon Y/N, is this a forest thing? Being such a bitch?” Ao’nung chuckled you, he knew everything to get right and comfortable under your skin. He had his signature smirk on his face, a shit eating grin, begging for another slap.

“Is it a reef thing? To be such a disrespectful, immature, unlovable piece of filth?” Floored. You had floored him with your words.

He had never been hit with such words of disrespect. His mouth hung open, shocked at each syllable that had the nerve to exit your mouth.

“Are you seriously calling me unlovable?” The look in his eye was evil, a glint of pure rage seething through him as his tail lashed and thumped on the ground.

You nodded, trying to not be intimidated by his towering stance.

“You were lucky that I ever gave you a chance. Freak. How could you ever think you were ever worth enough to be worthy to the reef? Even the great mother abandoned you. Nature is not on your side, and nor is love. You are a freak, a demon.”

Your heart shattered. To think he would use such low insults on you. As if you hadn’t spent night crying in his arms about you feeling so out of place, so out of luck. And he had turned your vulnerabilities into daggers back to stab you in the back.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Biting your lip, sucking in the sob that desperately begged to come out.

“did you ever love me?” I ask softly, trying to keep the shakes out of my voice, blinking away the tears.

“Who cares. I don’t now.” And those words were like a slap against your face, lashing you to a harsh reality as you whimpered.

In the long run. You wondered how you ever thought you could be loveable. You weren’t in the forest, and neither were you in the reef. And now as you seethed and tried not to sob. All emotions took over, no logic whatsoever occurring in your mind.

“Your father does.” As soon as it rolled off your tongue you wanted to suck it back in. Shit, Fuck, shit. You should not of uttered a single word.

“what.”

tell me what you think!! what's going to happen next? reblogs and replies super duper appreciated

tags: @avatarkv@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@cyberfreaky@cinetrix@supercoolusernamesblog@gabrijelasworld @rebeccao03 @sakura-onesan @neteyamsluvts @reinap06 @totesnothere04

everything taglist: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby

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live-tweeting-hotg · 2 years

Text

my prince [aemond targaryen x reader]

summary: what if, instead of sending Luke to Storm's End, Rhaenyra sends her daughter, childhood sweetheart to Aemond?

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

warnings & content: incest probably, Aemond swears, violence, enemies to lovers?? (he puts a sword to her throat), very slight spoilers for ep 10

wc: 1.6k

a/n: my attempt at salvaging what’s left of my heart after the season finale…

“If you take this errand, you go as messengers, not as warriors.”

Your mother’s voice rings in you head, soft but insistent. You try your best to suppress your rising anxiety as the sharp cliffs of Durran’s Point come into view. You tense slightly, bracing for impact as Seasmoke lands before the gate of Storm’s End. Suddenly finding your throat dry, you try again to remember your mother’s words: Lord Boros is an eternally proud man. He’ll be honoured to host a princess of the realm.

Your clear your throat and jump from Seasmoke’s back in one swift move. As the Baratheon knights move to acknowledge you, Seasmoke suddenly snarls, pressing his head against you, almost causing you to lose your balance— before you look up and pinpoint the source of his threat. A large, looming shadow, almost covering the entire horizon, and you wonder why the fuck you hadn’t see it earlier. Vhagar. Shit.

If Vhagar was here, then her rider had gotten to Boros Baratheon before you. Your mind races, trying desperately to draw up a strategy, both to draw Boros to your cause and to avoid confrontation with him. Aemond. Thinking about his name made you wince. As children, you two had been betrothed and inseparable, and in a different world, you might have even called him your first love. But that, of course, was before Luke took out his eye. After your mother hurried you back to Dragonstone, not another word was said about the betrothal and you had simply assumed you would marry another lord and rid your mind of him.

When you last returned to King’s Landing with your family, before the death of your grandfather, the late King Viserys, you tried not to look at Aemond, instead allowing a thick, unbearable silence to fill the space between you two. And Aemond had not looked at you, when stood up at the table and toasted your brothers as bastards. His face was sharper than you remembered, the corners of his mouth carved mockingly upwards, and his eye shone, wildly, with something you could not recognise. He acted as if you didn’t exist, and when he pushed Jace to the ground, you half-wished that it had been his hands on you instead.

The sound of the castle door opening forced your return to reality. As the knights announce your name and title, you stride into the hall with what you hoped was unbothered confidence. You could see his silvery hair out of the corner of your eye. You would not look at him.

“Lord Baratheon,” you say evenly, forcing your tense shoulders to drop. Your hand are steady as you offered Rhaenyra’s letter to a knight. “I come bearing a message from my mother, the Queen.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you regret calling Rhaenyra your mother. It sounded girlish and juvenile, and you were sure Aemond would be suppressing a smirk. You were so close to him. You would not look at him.

Lord Boros smiles, slowly, contemptuously. The letter is in his hand and he glances over it quickly. He had caught on to your slip. “Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King.” He pauses, and you hear a soft exhaling of air, as if a smothered laugh. You wonder if it was Aemond. “The house of the dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

You bite your cheek as the Baratheon lord continues. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact, not to mention the seat of Harrenhal.”

A marriage pact? It was suddenly very difficult to breathe. Surely not…? You move your head abruptly to look, finally, at Aemond. He was already looking at you, with a growing smirk that made you want to punch his face in. With some difficulty, you smile stiffly and look back to Boros.

“Harrenhal sits at the heart of the Riverlands. The Houses Frey and Tully both have bent the knee to Queen Rhaenyra before the Iron Throne, and neither has pledged for Prince Aegon’s cause.” A pause. The calmness of your own voice surprises you, and you decide to press further. “How his highness might distribute land that he does not own is beyond me. One might call into question the virtue of his judgement,” You look sharply at Aemond, acknowledging him for the first time: “or, perhaps, his foresight.”

It works like a charm. The smirk is wiped from his face and he stares at you intensely, his jaw firm.

“The wind changes, my Lord. This dance has not yet begun, and the Queen would not yet fault you for waiting to pledge your allegiance.” The Queen would very much mind, but you figure that convincing Boros to stay neutral would be better than nothing, and at least buy you some time in the war. Your eyes flash to Aemond again, and you are suddenly struck by the impulse to do something stupid. “As for his marriage pact, I wish only to remark that Prince Aemond appears to have more betrothals than he does eyes—” This comment was so dangerously ridiculous that you fought the urge to laugh out loud. “Two, that is.”

The court falls silent, and you wonder if you had gone too far. Boros Baratheon laughs suddenly, clapping loudly, slowly, forcing the court to swing back to life. You breathe a sigh of relief, before you hear the grate of a sword being drawn, and then Aemond is striding towards you, blazing. Shit.

“Say that again,” he hisses. He towers above you and you suddenly realise how tall he is, how broad his shoulders had become. Everything about him is overwhelming. You open your mouth and forget what you had to say.

“Not in my hall! I’ll not have bloodshed beneath my roof!”

Lord Baratheon’s words shake you out of you trance and before you realise what’s happening, Aemond’s arms wrap around you wordlessly, practically dragging you out of the hall and into the storm outside. Your boot heels clatter helplessly against the cold stone as he throws you onto the ground.

“Aemond, I—”

“Draw your sword.” His voice was liquid fire, and you know you had fucked up.

“I won’t—”

“I said draw your fucking sword.”

He looks like he wanted to kill you. Instinctively, your hand flies to your sword, pulling it out of its sheath just in time to parry the first blow from Aemond. Seven hells, he actually wants to fight you?! You stumble back onto your feet and narrowly deflect another swing, dancing backwards to try to put more distance between your face and his blade. Your father had trained you well, but you knew you had no chance holding Aemond off for long. Aemond deals another swing at you, which you dodge with a sidestep, but he lunges unexpectedly and locks his sword around yours, twisting suddenly and your sword is falling out of your hand, clattering on the stone. Before you realise what’s happening, Aemond tackles you roughly onto the ground, pinning you in place underneath him. His sword rests against the softness of your neck, the cold pressure almost hard enough to draw blood. The rain pours around you, and you realise you are both completely soaked. His face is mere inches away from yours, and as you watch, a drop of rain drips from his lips to yours. You didn’t know if you want to kiss him or to spit in his face.

“It was a poor joke,” you whisper, breathless. “I swear I didn’t mean it.” It’s a desperate apology. Deep down, some irrational part you you almost wants to laugh at the situation. Hadn’t you wished for this? After what he did to Jace? Aemond’s sword presses a little harder against your throat, making you almost whimper. You feel like a child again under him, and find yourself almost enjoying his proximity. It made the past feel real.

He dips his head to meet your eyes and you wonder how a man with only one eye could have such a splittingly intense gaze.

“Didn’t you?” He sounds faintly mocking, almost amused. You feel a jolt of relieve at the change in his tone. His voice is deeper than you remember. Everything about him overwhelms your senses. “I seem to remember you stood on your brothers’ side whilst they took my eye. You mean to tell me you didn’t mean it?”

“I asked— for forgiveness,” you choke slightly, as a thin line of blood drips from where Aemond had cut you. It was true. You had sold your half your gowns and pearls to a travelling Braavosi to send Aemond an unblemished sapphire, in place of his eye. You never heard back from him.

He hums softly in response and the sword seems to waver. You stare wordlessly at him, remembering just how fucking breathtaking he is. His lips twitch slightly as you cautiously stroke your hand along his cheek, hooking a finger under his eyepatch. Pulling it off slowly.

The sight of the pure, unclouded sapphire sets your heart racing. You smooth your thumb along his healed scar, running down from his eye to his cheek. Aemond takes a quick, shuddering breath, and across the angular planes of his face flickers something almost like vulnerability. You have to admit to yourself that you had never quite gotten over him. You look at him again, with a new certainty, and he understands instantly.

In that second, something shifts between you. The air thins, leaving you breathless, and it suddenly feels like every wrong had been righted.

With the sword still in place, Aemond leans down to kiss you roughly, as you knew he would. The rain run from his hair to your cheek. You freeze for a beat before your body responds almost of its own will, jolting to his touch and gasping as his tongue met yours. Distantly, thunder rolls and you moan softly against him. He has made his claim on you, and you feel like something had clicked back into place.

This feels right.

This time, you feel Aemond’s smirk as it forms against your mouth. “Come with me to King’s Landing.”

Your eyes shoot open. “As your captive or your betrothed?”

His smirk grows. “Does it matter? I have a sword to your throat.”

“Then I supposed I’m in no position to refuse, my prince.”

#aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfic

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erinfern0 · 7 months

Note

i love your writing! can i please request some more softdom roman? with any prompt you want.

thank you ♥️

perfect for me.

softdom!roman x gn!reader

— gender-neutral anatomy, gender-neutral nicknames, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: he doesn't usually take any breaks at work, but you can take as much of his time as you want, especially after you've been so good to him. you were always his favorite stress cure.

warnings: slight financial dom, office setting, semi-public, teasing, unprotected sex, messy, creampie, cock warming, a bit of performance anxiety.

Please, reblog if you like my posts!

His mind was always busy, thinking about his work and all the upir stuff that was happening to him, but you were that little anchor that kept him going. You kept him feeling loved and secure, always calmed by your soft hands and words of affirmation. No matter how tough life was, just a glimpse of your smile could make his day better.

That's exactly why the moment he started to feel overwhelmed, he called you a little before midnight, asking you to visit him in his office. You were so worried the moment you heard his exhausted voice, almost begging you to use his card to pay for your taxi. And so you did, not even half an hour later you texted him you were waiting by the elevator.

He was so happy you were there for him, the moment you stepped into his office, he turned around in his chair, smiling ear to ear as he watched you lock the door behind yourself.

"Oh, baby... Look at you!" he said excitedly as he spotted your outfit. It was one of many that he had bought for you during one of many of his shopping sprees. Seeing the way the soft fabric wrapped around your body so perfectly made his heart melt. "Come here, love."

You giggled as you felt warmth spreading over your cheeks, walking over to his desk. Before you could even think about protesting, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his face into your soft tummy.

"Are you okay, Rome?" you asked, fingers slowly playing with his hair just the way he loved so much, nails gently scratching the back of his neck. He murmured something in response, palms slowly kneading your hips.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired, y'know? Needed you here." he explained while resting his chin on your stomach just to look into your eyes. You smiled at him and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You weren't even sure when the soft, gentle pecks on his face started trailing down his neck, your fingers lingering over his clothed shoulders and chest, messing with the buttons of his shirt.

His breathing became heavier but shakier, quiet groans leaving his mouth every time you teased his exposed skin with your teeth, gentle hickeys suckled over it. Feeling the way your knee rested between his thighs, placed on his chair, makes him feel like he has his whole world above him.

"If you keep going, I might not..." he stopped with a gasp as you pressed your knee over his bulge, allowing him to slowly grind against it. The chair squeaked as he got up, your knee still between his legs as he pushed the papers aside. Proud smirk on his lips as he pulled your body to sit on top of his desk.

His body moved automatically, spreading your legs to fit between them, a low chuckle left his mouth when you threw your arms around his neck. You shifted, tilting your head to make space for his yet-cold lips to leave kisses the same way you did for him.

Roman's hands gripped your hips as he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk, your crotch pressed against his as he purposefully avoided your lips. You tugged on his hair, whimpering into his ear as he pulled your shirt up, thumbs caressing your nipples under the material.

"R-Roman..." you moaned, feeling him gently bite into your exposed shoulder. He looked at you, eyes already glistening with lust, as he smiled at you. Nodding his head, he pressed a kiss on your cheek, smirking as you tried to reach his mouth with yours.

"You want a kiss, doll?" he asked, feeling the way you arched your back against his digits. Slowly rubbing and tugging on your sensitive buds. You nodded your head eagerly, legs wrapped around his waist. "Use your words... Say 'Please, kiss me, Roman'. I know you can..." he whispered encouragements into your ear, a little high-pitched whisper so similar to the way you plead. Vibrations of his voice send shivers down your spine.

"Please... Kiss me, Roman." you whined and he proudly kissed your lips. Fast pecks slowly turn into passionate making out against his desk, bodies grinding against each other while you claw at his belt, trying to unbuckle it.

He chuckled at your miserable attempts, quickly pulling your wrists away to help you. Your movements are rushed, clumsy, and fueled by the adrenaline that the idea of being discovered like this brought you. Roman's palm started rubbing your clothed sex, patting it slightly through the material, just to hear your little mewls against his lips.

His trousers fell to the ground with a clank of his belt, you softly palmed him through his boxers, focusing your thumb on the wet spot right above his slit. All this pent-up stress made him desperate, and happy at the same time – happy that he had such a loving little toy that was always there for him whenever he needed it the most.

He couldn't wait any longer, almost ripping his shirt off his body, staring at your hands flimsily pulling your own pants down. He can't keep his eyes off of you as you get yourself prepared for him. Not only that, but he praised you, tracing your inner thighs with his fingertips as he witnessed you moving your fingers in and out of your tight hole. Spreading them around with the addition of spit to help with the slight soreness.

"All this just for me, huh?" he asked, kissing your temple as he stroked his cock, precum covering your smooth skin. Roman never cared about how messy you got, it never bothered him. Sometimes, though, it worked like fuel to his actions. Getting him so eager to finally make you feel good, to hear your soft moans again.

This time, you were in his office, legs wrapped around him as if you were scared he was going to move away any second. But he wouldn't ever leave you like this, exposed and vulnerable. You were his and to his eyes only.

His nature took over, pulling your thighs apart as he slowly slid inside, feeling your walls already clench around his leaking tip. He groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes focused on the spot where your bodies connected.

"Am I... doing okay?" you asked, panting above him as you tugged on his hair. The way his head jolted upwards to face you made you squirm in your seat. Slowly moving his hips, one hand on your thigh, the other cupping your jaw. Not harshly pulling towards him, just softly holding it as his greatest treasure.

"You're doing so good for me, baby. As you always do." He didn't sound upset, just slightly shocked that such a silly thing could ever cross your mind. His hips started thrusting into you a little harder, making your eyes roll and your voice crack. "So. Fucking. Perfect."

Soon enough, his palm covered your lips, muting your moans as he continued, kissing your neck and earlobe as he panted against you. Your hands focused on holding his torso close to yours.

The room was quickly filled with rhythmical sounds of flesh slapping against each other and the desk hitting the wall behind him, but he didn't even care at this point. He slowed down, seeing how overwhelmed you were becoming. You couldn't even look at him anymore, eyes closed shut, tears slowly pricking at the corners of your eyes as he pounded you.

His movements slowed down just to allow you to rest for a second, his forehead against yours as he pecked your cheek, asking if you were okay. Roman's hand moved down your body, easily finding your shoulder, then your arm until he found your hand, taking it away from his neck.

He kissed each one of your knuckles until you looked back at him. "Too much for you?" he asked worryingly but never stopped moving his hips. Your lover chuckled as you shook your head, grinding against him for even more friction. The way he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of you started to create a knot in your lower stomach, you couldn't allow him to stop now. So he didn't.

Roman found the pace that got you the most worked up, still hissing your hand as his eyes closed in the indescribable, almost overwhelming pleasure. Your bodies were caged together over his desk, above the documents that he was supposed to take care of.

His arm wrapped around your waist just to hold you a little closer if that was even possible. Your lips connected for the last time before those coils inside the both of you unraveled. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the way he painted your walls in his spend, claiming you yet another time.

He panted heavily, a string of saliva connecting your lips as they parted. Roman grasped your shirt, pushing his face against your chest to calm down, not pulling out yet. The warmth of your flushed bodies interlocked with each other always made him feel that maybe there was heaven for someone like him.

You spent the rest of your time in his office, straddling his lap as he sat by his desk. Leaving kisses all over your neck and shoulders, arm still wrapped around you as he worked. All that stress he couldn't bear was gone, replaced by his well-known post-sex kindness and care. Even when his mind was solemnly focused of his paperwork, his body still soothed you in the gentlest ways possible, despite him almost breaking you a couple of minutes ago.

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