#Because she's worried she somehow pushed him into doing things he wasn't comfortable with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Insecurities

Pairing: Husband!Charles x Wife!Reader

Rating: Pg-17

Warnings: Angst, Misunderstanding trope, parental anxiety, fear of child loss, talks of divorce, good ending

Requested: Yes/No

Request: hey can you do something with charles where the reader and he had a baby a few months ago and she is super insecure with her body, thinking that he is no longer attracted to her, there may be some misunderstanding in which she interprets the wrong things and draws these conclusions

Part One: It's Too Early

A/N: Made this Pt.2 to It’s Too Early

It's not supposed to be easy being a parent; being a parent is giving up this part of your life and becoming this whole new person, whose in charge of this little life. It petrified you beyond belief. Pierre was born at 26 weeks old. While you never told anyone, you were worried something would go wrong, and he'd be taken from you.

You were nervous and terrified to hold your son, afraid you'd hurt him somehow, not even meaning to. Charles....god, Charles was perfect. He took everything thrown at him and acted like it never affected him, he was excellent with Pierre, and some of you hated it. Why couldn't you be natural like your husband?

Charles was patient with you, but you could tell his patience was wearing thin but he wasn't home 24/7. Of course, he'd be happy to wake up in the middle of the night to soothe his crying son. He wants to do everything while he's there. But you were always there, and it wasn't helping you. It was breaking you down; you loved your son unconditionally, but a small part of you that went through all those negative tests you were terrified that if you got too close, the universe would play some cruel joke and take him away.

Charles could see how being home always with Pierre dragged you down and how you've changed; you even refuse his touch. That's what hurt him more. You didn't want to be intimate anymore, he knew it took a while for a woman to heal after giving birth, but he wasn't going to push it and started to provide you with space. You didn't want space; you just couldn't figure out how to talk to Charles about all your insecurities.

"Baby, let's go out for dinner tonight; Pierre can watch the baby, and we can....talk," Charles says, stepping back from you when you step near him.

You feel your chest grow tight with the rejection from your husband; he hasn't touched you since Pierre was born, and you know it was because your body was no longer its usual self. You nod your head in agreement and walk to your shared bedroom, thinking about what you should wear, but everything is either too form-fitting or shows off too much skin, and you can't even feel comfortable in your own skin. Why would you show it off?

You shower and try hard to make yourself somewhat.....sexy, trying hard to get your husband's attention back. You walk down the hall wearing only a robe since you need to breastfeed Pierre before you leave, but you freeze, hearing Charles's voice talking to someone on the phone.

"Nothing is where it is anymore; is that normal?" He asks the person, and you freeze, looking down at your chest. You knew that breastfeeding would change your breasts, but you didn't think that Charles would care so much about it enough to talk to someone over the phone about it.

"Yeah....but why can't it go back to normal? It's such a turnoff." He groans. Hearing that, you swallow back the tears and shake your head; walking into view, Charles turns and smiles at you brightly, acting like he is happy to see you. It was a slap to the face to see him putting on such an act when he was talking about you in such a way.

Picking up Pierre, you take him to his nursery, confusing Charles. You loved feeding Pierre in that little den corner, where the sun hit perfectly, and you could watch the sea and people below. He took a picture one day of you two together. It was the 2nd day home, and that's been his wallpaper for about 4 months. He loved that picture and used it to show this perfect family to fans and others.

The doorbell rings, and you come out wearing a loose dress that covers you but is still pretty; it is a gorgeous light purple color, and Charles wanted nothing more than to kiss you, but he knew you didn't want to be touched. Pierre comes through the door with a bunch of presents, making you laugh, and without thinking, you hug adult Pierre, causing Charles to stutter in his steps. His wife, who rejects his touches, is happier to touch someone else than him? He didn't know what to do.

"We should get going," Charles grumbles, patting his buddy on the back, who nods at him, and you list everything off, and how you pumped, and there was breastmilk in the fridge if he gets hungry. Pierre finally has to shove you out the door, Charles and you standing outside your home like you were strangers to one another. People who didn't even know each other or how to talk, you're married and have a baby together. Why would it be this way?

Walking to the restaurant, you keep your hands busy with your handbag, which would typically be wrapped in Charles's hands. But he kept his in the pockets of his suit jacket, both silent as you walked to the restaurant. You feel your breath leave when you come face to face with Brasserie du Cafe de Paris Monte-Carlo.

It was your first date, your first anniversary, where he proposed to you, and you had dinner as a married couple. Jesus Christ, you went here after discovering you were pregnant to celebrate. Was this another slap to your face? To shove how much you and your body have changed since you gave birth if it was, Charles was much crueler than you ever thought possible.

"Ahhh, Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc, seeing you back after the baby is a pleasure. How is the little one?" The head waiter asks, having seen your family grow right before his eyes. You both were perfect and an actual image of true love to him. But tonight, the couple in front of him was not the one he was used to; instead, it was almost like shells of the couple.

"He's doing wonderful, Benoit. Thank you for asking." You smile as he leads you to your favorite seat. It was the one overlooking the famous Monte Carlo casino, you loved this view, and Charles saw your old smile. He swore he could see the old memories playing across your eyes.

"Well, please enjoy," Benoit says, laying down the two menus and walking off but keeping a close eye on his favorite couple.

"I wouldn't drink wine." Charles cuts, making you look up, confusion on your face, and he clears his throat.

"You're still breastfeeding. Alcohol isn't wise while still doing it." He states, trying to start a conversation, but all it does is drive the knife deeper into your heart. Just another way for him to show off how he was a better parent than you.

You just hum in agreement, and Charles curses himself, knowing he just made things worse while trying to talk to you, his wife, the woman he loves more than life itself, and he can't even do that. You both order and sip on water while Charles sips on some old expensive liquor.

"Do you want a divorce?" You don't know why you blurted it out, but you did. Charles sucks his drink down and chokes on it. A sputter of coughs leaves his mouth while gently hitting his chest, trying to regulate his breaths.

"What?" He snarls, furious beyond means that you would even ask that.

"Do you want a divorce? Because clearly, you don't want me anymore." You lean back in your seat, refusing to even look at him.

"You ask me if I want a divorce, and you can't even look at me? Y/n." He hisses, anger and being scared shitless getting the best of him.

You turn and look at him, and his anger dies. Your eyes gave everything away, the hurt, sadness, rejections, everything was right there in front of him, but he was too wrapped up to notice how much you are hurting.

"Baby, Y/n. What's going on? You don't talk to me anymore or let me touch you, but you can touch other men. I have been patient with you; I know healing after birth takes a while, but....you just feel apart, and I'm trying hard to be strong for you, but I can't help you if we don't talk." He whispers, not wanting people to hear you.

"Am I a horrible mother? I ask myself that question all the time. Wanna know why? Because when I'm next to you or you tell me something, I feel like I'm a failure. I'm terrified that if I get too close to our gorgeous baby, the universe will just take him away, and I wake up every morning dreading the day it happens. What then, Charles?" Your throat tightens, trying hard not to cry in front of all these people.

Charles stares at you in shock before grabbing his drink and swallowing it now.

"Listen to me," He pleads and leans forward. "You...there is no one else in this entire world, fucking universe I would want to be Pierre's mother. You fought day and night to get him here, and he is. He's healthy and happy, and fuck, the way he looks at you like you're his whole world, is because you are. You're his mother; he loves you, feels protected by you, and craves to be near you. I know this because I have felt that same way every day since I met you. I married you and created a life with you because no one else could do it, and I would kill anyone who ever thought about taking you or Pierre away from me, Y/n." He whispers, tears forming in his eyes.

"You say all this but refuse to touch me, and I heard you earlier on the phone talking about how nothing is where it is anymore and how it's such a turnoff." You choke out, dabbing your eyes as the waiter brings you your food.

"Wha-" Charles clears his throat and looks at the waiter. "Thank you." The waiter scurries off, sensing the tension between you two. "Y/n, I was talking about my new steering wheel for the car." He explains, and you can't help the laughter that escapes your lips.

"What? Your damn steering wheel?" You curse, laughter getting louder while Charles rubs his temples.

"Yes, they moved all the buttons to different places. I was talking to one of the engineers. Putain." He curses, shaking his head.

"Then why won't....why won't you touch me anymore?' You whisper, cutting into your steak, mouth watering at the smell of spices and butter.

"You wouldn't touch me; I figured you didn't want to be.....intimate with you recovering, so this entire time, have we had one big misunderstanding?" He asks, cutting into his Lobster Bisque. You reflect on all your interactions and groan, nodding your head and making Charles chuckle.

"If being a parent was easy, love, the world would be perfect. It's not easy, and you know what? I want us to promise something." He bites into his food and nods at how it melts in his mouth, and you can't help but giggle at how he does that whenever he eats something he loves. He even did it to you for the first time; he went down on you. Still does.

"What's that, Char?" You ask, moving your free hand to grab his, and he smiles, lifting up and kissing your fingers.

"Once a month or whenever we feel we misunderstand each other, we breathe, sit, and talk. We can't keep this up. We have Pierre now, and maybe some...more in the future. We need to stay strong." Charles mumbles, kissing your wedding ring and then the palm of your hand.

"Char." You whisper, making your husband stare up at you, his thick lashes covering half of his eyes, giving those eyes that would make any woman naked.

"Check, please!" Charles yells, making you laugh and lean over, kissing him gently.

"Always be there for me?" You ask; glad to have this man in your life.

"Always." He whispers, unable to wait for the rest of his life with you.

3K notes · View notes

psychicpuppyarcade · 5 months

Text

His Songbird

Word count: 1,897

Warnings: ANGSTT, probably definitely one-sided love, unhappy ending..

Okay so this came from an ask I got but I fucked up and accidently got rid if it since I'm still new to that stuff but I copied it at some point so here is said ask: "Coryo and Capitol!y/n who are both as intelligent and observant as the other but somehow can’t figure out they’re in love with each other- or maybe Coryo does but pushes her away cause that’s what he always does. Y/N has a capitol!boyfriend but has been in love with Coryo forever. When the arena is bombed, Y/N leaves her boyfriend to go back in and save Coryo. She’s by his beside until he wakes up, even though it’s caused a huge argument between her and her boyfriend. He finally wakes up but Lucy Gray is still the first thing he asks about. Angsttttt with whatever kind of happy or sad ending you think"

______________________________________

At the start of the year at the Academy, you were often paired up with Coriolanus Snow.

The two of you were good at what you did. Your projects always got the highest marks, and soon enough, you were both the best in your classes.

This wasn't a surprise for you. You'd taken extra classes and had at-home teachers to help you study. Your family had done everything in their power to make sure your education was the focused priority. You found comfort in your studies now since they came so easily to you.

With that studying ease came the ease at which you would talk to Coriolanus- or Coryo, as he insisted you call him. You could feel his eyes on you from a mile away, ever the observer since the day you'd first met.

He wasn't the only one guilty of that to be fair. You'd noticed the way he held himself around different people, how he fidgets with his hands, how on edge he always seems. And you'd be a fool not to notice the way he looks at food like he's never eaten in all his life.

Coryo is a good study partner, good enough that you two had started to occupy each other's time outside of studying.

You walked to class together and sat together at lunch (Sejanus often invited himself to that too). Outside of schooling, you'd even had him over for dinner.

Your parents love him, he's a Snow of course.

He becomes the first person you seek out when a problem arises, the first person you find when you need someone to talk to. Coryo doing the same to you.

That's how you learn about his home situation, the poor thing. You find yourself sneaking him food from your own home despite his protests. It's nothing much but it's something.

Coryo is also the first person to hear when you finally get a date with the Capitol boy you'd been talking to for the last few months. Honestly, you know it could've happened earlier had you not been spending most of your given free time with Coryo but it happened nonetheless.

He gives you a smile and congratulates you on the date. That's where the conversation ends.

Your boyfriend is sweet, as sweet as any boy is. Giving flowers and jewelry as a way to impress, taking you on expensive dates.

While it's something to look forward to, spending time with Coryo is much easier. Maybe it's because you feel you can say whatever you want around him, maybe it's the fact that you know almost everything about each other.

A boy, a random Capitol boy you'd only just started dating, could never match up to Coryo.

Those thoughts are ones best kept in your head, you'd learned. Because if you said them out loud, people would say it sounded like you wanted to date Coriolanus instead.

But you didn't thank you very much, your boyfriend was all you needed on that front. Coryo was just your best friend is all.

When reaping day came you prayed to whatever God there was that Coryo would win the Plinth prize.

You know that's his only chance at making it anywhere past this point. your father would happily pay for your expenses so you have no worry over the prize. While, of course, it would be nice. your best friend deserves a chance to become the president his family believes he will be. He can only do that with proper schooling.

But then Dean-High-as-a-kite bottom announces that you'll have to mentor the poor things, and the Plinth prize seems out of reach from everyone.

To make these kids spectacles, like the show dogs they were becoming, was no easy task.

You get a girl from District 7, Lamina. And Coriolanus gets Lucy Gray Baird. The girl with the rainbow dress, the girl with the snake.

She sings a song, like some circus performer. Other mentors whisper things of the same vein to you, and your boyfriend agrees quickly with the comparison.

You hadn't been listening long enough to know who your boyfriend got, tuning in only for Coriolanus' and your own tributes.

Something sick twists in your stomach at the smile the blond gives to the screen. What did Lucy Gray do to warrant a smile from him? Why did it make you hate her?

Later that night, you're at the Snows apartment, sitting with Tigris and watching Coriolanus rant on about Lucy Gray.

It makes you feel better, that he sees her still as district trash. He doesn't think she can win- and that thought is silly. Because of course, he looks down on her, she's District! To think otherwise was strange.

These thoughts harbored in your mind confuse you, what did they mean?

In truth, they've always been there. Curling your lip at the sight of Coriolanus talking to other capitol girls.

He started flirting with this particular girl in class when you'd gotten with your boyfriend, which made you sick to even think about.

And anyway, it was idiotic for him to think he wouldn't win.

You get up and hold his worried face in your hands, "Of course you'll win Coryo and then the Plinth prize will be all yours"

"Even if I do win, the dean has it out for me,"

He worries further,

"And Lucy Gray is the runt of the litter anyway. She won't last a moment in that arena"

"Then make her a spectacle to the capitol like they said, make her unforgettable. Even if she doesn't live everyone who talks about her will talk about you too, the Capitol will be engaged for even just a while. That's what they're going for"

"They're trying to make people watch the games-"

"And Coryo part of that is getting engaged in the tribute's lives before-

"You two! She won't do anything for you if she doesn't trust you" Tigris finally enters the conversation, breaking up the debate "She has to be a part of this plan of yours too, considering this is her life or death"

Coriolanus. and you nod, finally stepping away from him and taking your seat back next to Tigris.

For most of the night, you all discuss the strategies of it all, ways to get Lucy Gray to trust Coryo (which you tune out for), and plans for the arena even if Coriolanus insists they are fruitless.

___

The zoo cage, the way Lucy Gray and him look at each other, their eating together

It all swirls in your head. It fills your lungs like burning and sweltering smoke.

Like the smoke entering your lungs right now.

The bombs go off in the arena out of nowhere, and you're transported to the sounds of the war. The far-away sound that still shook the building you lived in.

You were so little then, but the vibrations in the ground were identical except this time you were in the eye of the storm.

Your boyfriend tries to grab you off the ground ending in forcibly pulling you up.

Under your breath, only one word comes out

"Coryo.."

Unable to hear your voice over the ringing in your ears, only able to base how loud you'd said it on the anger in your boyfriend's face.

But you can't care. You search around for him, not even taking note of your boyfriend anymore.

Soon enough, you're alone, walking through the smoke with eyes full of tears. Maybe it's because of the smoke or you're scared, you can't feel which one it is.

You hear his shrill screams as you push your way through the rubble, the tributes and mentors running out.

Running towards the screams, you see it even through the thick smoke you see it

he's on fire

Rushing to his side, hearing his quieter whimpers and pleas for help break your heart. Your hands hurt from falling during the explosion, your skin cracked and bloody. It is hard to care as those same hands grip the metal and concrete trapping Coryo.

His pleas stop, and you soon realize he's passed out due to pain or perhaps shock. Maybe both, we were all children of war once.

After much heavy lifting, the beam is off of his shoulder. Looking down at your hands, you realize that there is so much blood on them and that you can't really feel it. You are in so much shock that you've blocked it out.

And then you get to the passing out part - the last thing on your lips is his name, and the last thing you feel is a peacekeeper hauling you off the ground.

______

The fight with your boyfriend was terrible.

Both of you had suffered minimal wounds considering what they said about the others in the explosion. Your hands are bandaged but it's easily hidden by a fashionable pair of gloves and any bruise hidden by makeup.

"All you talk about is him! We were getting bombed, and instead of going to safety, you went to him, and now instead of staying by my side or at least apologizing, you're just trying to run and stay by his bedside?"

There wasn't much arguing there because it was all true, but you'd still put up a fight. He wasn't going to keep you away from him.

"He's my best friend! He would do the same if I was in that situation-"

"Would he?"

And the question makes you think. Because of course, you want to believe he would.

But if it were Lucy Gray he was with, pulling him away from you, would he go with her instead of rushing to your side?

A stupid thought. he would help you.

Right?

____

The fight ends quickly because you don't even consider for a moment that you'd listen to your boyfriend's idiotic spew.

You're at Coriolanus' bedside with Tigris and Sejanus, the TV quietly playing the voices of the tributes. You think distantly you should have probably watched Lamina's interview considering she was your tribute.

It seems Coriolanus fogs your mind.

When he opens his blue eyes, clouded with worry, he does not say your name. Doesn't ask if you are okay or perhaps take a second to look at you or the other two people at his bedside.

No.

"Is Lucy Gray alright?"

Are the first words out of his mouth and they make you sick. Does he even see you? Does he know who you are anymore?

It was as if your name had been picked in the reaping, and Lucy Gray had taken the spot you used to have.

Tigris and Sejanus rush to give him the details, and all you can do is sit there and hope he notices you.

But he never does. Lucy Gray's face starts to light up the TV and her voice fills the air. Coriolanus limps to the screen as if she is his savior.

Like she saved him in the arena when she had not. The rainbow girl had left him to die, but he seemed blissfully unaware of this.

While everyone crowds around the TV your eyes fill with tears and you rush out.

You can only assume that Sejanus and Tigris had taken note, but Coriolanus obviously wouldn't have.

Too enraptured by his little Songbird.

______________________________________

I'm still taking asks btw so please do drop into my inbox with anything you need written!!

#coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow #angst #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you

127 notes · View notes

deathbxnny · 11 months

Note

HEHEHE

Oml i love self aware aus and i crave sahsrau ones anyways

I wanna request a sahsrau of the reader literally writing fanfics about them (lets say they can see what you're doing on your device literally stalking you but we wont talk about that it's just background context), what would be their reaction :0

With Serval, Caelus, Yanqing, Blade

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA idfk if this enough detailed information for u or smth just dm me if theres any problems wowow

I cant wait to see it bbg 🤡🤡👹👹✋

-----♡

A/N: Hello there! I've never written anything about self aware au's before, but I'll try my best here! Thank you for the request!<33

Content: Self aware au, stalking ig??, kinda unserious, it is not explained how the characters can see what you're doing, reader is a fanfic writer, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Serval Landau

Serval liked watching you do things on your phone. She found it amusing and her curiosity was endless. Ever since she gained self-awareness, she saw you as her best form of entertainment, even if she was hesitant at first. You weren't aware, that she was essentially stalking you after all.

But she pushed those thoughts away and watched you, as you wrote your newest fanfiction. She liked reading along, mainly because she thought that you were a very talented writer. She was surprised however, when she realised that the fanfic was about her.

She was confused as to why you chose her at first, but then she started becoming flattered. You must like her alot, if you chose her of all people to write about, right? She will definitely read every word and enjoy it too.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade didn't care about what you did at first. He was already baffled about attaining self-awareness and being able to see what you do in the first place, that he decided to not even bother with you. Or at least, he tried not to, as he sometimes caught himself looking anyways. Especially when he noticed that you were a writer.

He would sometimes read along and scoff, whenever he thought that you could certainly write something better. But what he didn't expect was you writing a fanfiction about him one day. He was confused, but intrigued, much to his stubborn dismay.

He'd read every word carefully, frowning whenever he felt like he would never do that or he'd react to the situation differently. He became very invested and might even make some changes, when you aren't looking. If you want to write something about him, then you better make it accurate.

-----♡

》Caelus

Caelus went through an existential crisis, once he realised that he was suddenly self-aware. He was confused and even a little scared, until he began finding comfort in watching you. He felt very guilty at first, but tried to still his worries by reminding himself that you wouldn't ever know that he was watching anyways.

He found your writing beautiful and often watched you create your work with wide, fascinated eyes, as he read every word attentively. He was surprised and even a little bashful however, when he noticed that you were writing a fanfic about him one day.

He wasn't sure why you chose him necessarily, but was still grateful that you did and read every word of it too. He found it nice of you and hoped to one day somehow express how thankful he was to you in person.

-----♡

》Yanqing

Yanqing was very excited to know that he had gained self-awareness somehow. He found it fun and cool, especially when it came to watching you do things on your phone every day. It became his favourite pass time activity and it never crossed his mind, that it might even be a form of stalking.

Instead, he watched you write your little fanfics and read along sometimes, since he found you quite talented. You practically became his favourite author. And when he saw you write a fanfic about him one day, he became so overjoyed!

He was so proud and giddy, that he couldn't stop reading and praising your work. You captured him so well and he was fascinated by how well you understood him as a person. You truly were a rare talent and unmatched at that, in his eyes. He is eternally grateful to you too, that's for sure.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! Thank you again for the request!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr serval #hsr serval x reader #hsr blade #hsr blade x reader #hsr caelus #hsr caelus x reader #hsr yanqing #hsr yanqing x reader #hsr

154 notes · View notes

darkfictionjude · 5 days

Note

I'm, not necessarily baffled (as I can understand it), but surprised Imre and Nia believe the MC to be murderer. The reasons Lorcan may have to believe in MC's innocence are multiple, and it was always clear to me he believed MC wasn't responsible (otherwise I know Lorcan wouldn't be asking MC's aid to find Orla's necklace, Lorcan is not that twisted, lol).

As for Nia, I also get why she believes what she does. MC has motives, possible opportunities, and the means (if I recall correctly, Nia saw one of the episodes where MC "rages" or loses control). Believing in MC's innocence, even from a sense of loyalty to MC, feels foolish from her POV. It could also explain, as well as make me reconsider a lot of what I thought of her, the reasons why she behaves as she does with MC. It also does explain some of her reticence when it comes to the murder investigation the gang is doing (after all, a likely murderer is helping, or so Nia believes), as well as the possible gripes she may have on becoming closer to MC. Can she look past the murder? What does that mean for her? For her self, for her morals? Is it worth it at all to love MC?

As for Imre... Like, I understand him believing MC is a killer. This boy it's too inmersed on the world of rumors and lies to naively think MC is innocent. Especially when he does not have enough information on MC (as they were mere acquaintances, and technically they still are, but less so than back then).

But unlike Nia, that has a relationship with MC before the murder, Imre doesn't have another motivation that would push him towards loving MC freely over maintaining a distance from self preservation purposes. The only justification I can have is that Imre is intrigued by it, or, worse, he finds it hot somehow. And like, I understand that when the murders are fictional. But, Imre, luz de mis ojos, sol de mi vida, luna de mi cielo, amor de mi corazón, what the fuck is wrong with you? MC may be interesting, but you don't get involved with murderers unless you are okay with becoming a criminal yourself or allowing yourself to be at risk of being murdered.

Now, I'm not necessarily sure MC is innocent. I think they may be, more so because it would be very polemic of you to make MC a murderer when it's not a part of the premise of the story. Making him a suspect? That's all fine and dandy, but making him the culprit? Well, that has a lot of issues, at least for an IF. I'm not saying it's impossible to do it, but it probably wouldn't be well received by the readers (since we wouldn't have a choice on it, and even if MC is not a self insert, is a very major thing to force on players especially as a plot twist of sorts, if it was something known from the beginning there would be less of an issue). Personally I wouldn't care. However, I do think MC is most likely to be innocent than guilty.

That said, I was imagining a scenario in my head. Basically after everything was over and MC proved, even if he (my MC is male) wasn't intending in doing so, his innocence when it came to Orla's murder, Imre and MC have a conversation. In this conversation, which they have after feelings have been shared, Imre confesses he believed all this time MC had killed Orla.

Then, my MC would look at Imre in shock, then in horror. They had kissed, perhaps more, and Imre thought MC was a murderer. But instead of being offended, my MC would be angry because Imre put himself at risk unnecessarily. So, my MC would reprimand Imre about this, about how unsafe it was for him to romance MC. What if MC was a murderer? What then?

And so my MC speaks long and passionately about this. Very lovingly, yet irate. And Imre is just amused by the whole thing, and weirdly touched. Then he comforts MC and they make up this little discussion physically and passionately. After all, Imre may want to reward MC for being, uselessly, worried about him.

But maybe he would react differently, although I would have to refer to you if that's the case.

I like how you broke down the motives for the ROs to believe what they do haha 😭

The thing is and pardon my French I don’t give a shit what people would consider polemic. It’s my game and I’ve said that you the readers don’t know much about mc. A big thing about this game is surprises and twists, there are things you won’t see coming given the nature of mc being an unreliable narrator, that’s warning enough to tell the readers that they need to expect anything.

The thing with spoilers is that they’re not part of premises for a reason like mc being murderer would be a big spoiler I couldn’t put that in the master post. Like I’ve said that’s why I hope I don’t get people in my inbox saying “MY mc wouldn’t do this” because that’s not how I’m writing this. Otherwise if it bothers people that much what mc might have done or not they might need to find a game more suitable for them. I care about the readers but if I can’t make this story the way I envisioned than I see no point in writing it because I want to create something I’m proud of and inspired by

I do like how you’re lowkey scolding Imre though haha “Imre people who you think are murderers should not pique your interest!” 😭

#I hope I don’t sound angry in this reply #it’s just I’ve said all the warning I can about things #readers have to decide if they want to take the risk 🤷🏽‍♀️#IF stuff #gameplay #plot #we wretched creatures

24 notes · View notes

sophierequests · 2 years

Note

Can I request a Hurt/Comfort & Angst fic featuring Nikolai x f!Reader? Maybe f!Reader is some sort of duke's daughter and promised to the second prince of Ravka who is serving in the first Army infantry at the time. However, when news of his devastating injuries arrive to the palace, she rushes off to see him in the medic tent at the Fjerdan front as the doctors are unsure whether he will live or not - only to be joined by a person she'd least suspected by her side: Vasily Lantsov. His royal idiotness himself. How will they react to seeing Nikolai dying? Maybe f! Reader has some previously hidden abilities that will be able to save the little Lantsov...

my blood is tainted // in the bright lilac light part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This request was so good oml! I loved writing it, even though I was very sleep-deprived whilst reading it for the first time, because I thought you wanted me to write a love triangle kind of thing with Nikolai and Vasily dslgsakg (don't ask). But I really like how this turned out, so thank you for the request! <333 Also, I love the term royal idiotness, so thank you for that.

You can find part two here!

Summary: After Nikolai gets badly injured, the reader throws all caution to the wind to go and see him. Is there still a chance for him to survive?

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, slight Fluff

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: mention of death, injuries, blood, infections and Vasily Lantsov (this is a teeny tiny bit gorey, but not too much)

You felt sick. Violently sick. At this point, you would have preferred hunching over the toilet to empty the contents of your stomach than obsessively rereading the slightly crumpled-up letter you held on so firmly. It didn't matter how many times your eyes skimmed over the neatly written lines, the words didn't magically distort and somehow create a different sentence. They stayed the exact same.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N,

I deeply regret to inform you that your fiancé Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, has been majorly wounded in action in the performance of duty and service of his country. The nature of his wounds has not been fully assessed as of now, but I would advise you to calm your worries. Our mediks are highly trained and will do everything in their power to restore his health. You will be promptly furnished with any additional information received.

Your obedient Servant,

Sergeant Pechkin

Sergeant in Charge of Records

No matter how many soothing words littered the text, you were well aware that his actual state was far from decent. After years and years of political training from your father, you knew that the First Army only bothered to send out notifications once the soldier was on the brink of death.

Nikolai was dying.

Your soon-to-be husband was dying, and they didn't even have the guts to tell you the truth. The man you had been friends with since childhood - the man you had been promised to for even longer - was dying and there was nothing you could do about it.

Well, nothing official, at least.

"Ma? Da? I'm going out for a ride!" You called into the drawing room of the visitor quarters of the Grand Palace. You didn't push your luck by going in to say goodbye to your parents properly. They would never approve of your plan, so any sort of confrontation would be ill-advised.

"Of course, my dear!" Your father's baritone voice called from behind the door. The sound of his voice was rather joyous, indicating that he already had one too many glasses of wine today. Maybe this would help with concealing your absence.

"Be back before supper! We're not waiting for you this time." Your mother added in her usual scolding tone. Maybe staying away unnoticed wasn’t that easy after all.

"I promise!" As soon as you finished that sentence, you began hurrying off in the direction of the stables. The bag on your shoulder wasn't filled with your usual riding equipment, but with a few rations of food and other things you would need for a three-day ride to the Fjerdan border.

On your way down the stairs the devil himself - Vasily Lantsov - passed you. He paused, letting his eyes dart over your dishevelled appearance. By now, they should have also received the notice about Nikolai’s injuries. However, the King and Queen were notorious for keeping their letters stashed away until they had time to open them in the evening. You imagined how they would react. Would they be devastated? Would they want to seek revenge? Or would they continue to act stone-faced, even though their son could already be dead?

“Well, you look…lovely.” He chuckled, giving you a quizzical look. Even though it was still early in the afternoon, he looked like he was already terribly drunk. And judging by the sour smell coming from his mouth, that shouldn’t be too far from the truth. “Where are you headed?” Saints, you really couldn’t stand him.

“I’m off to go on a ride. The weather seems pleasant today, so I just have to seize the chance.” The honeyed pitch of your voice would have been blatantly obvious to any sober person, but thankfully, Vasily didn’t belong to that group of people.

“Sadly, my dearest brother isn’t here. I’m sure he wouldn’t have allowed his future wife to go on a ride all by herself.”

“What a shame he isn’t here then. But if you’ll excuse me, I intend on leaving while it’s still light outside.” You didn’t wait for him to say anything in return before speeding down the few remaining flights of stairs.

The military encampment wasn’t too far from the Fjerdan border, so with a bit of pep in your horse’s step, you completed the journey in three days. You only took breaks to eat and rest, but the adrenaline of needing to see Nikolai before he died kept you awake.

“Lady Y/L/N! What are you doing here?” Pechkin appeared from one of the tents as you handed your horse to one of the soldiers, who was assigned to take care of it. The sergeant looked as if he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in forever, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of what might’ve caused his distress.

“I’m here to see my fiancé.” You answered sternly, putting all the years of training your facial expression to use. The man shifted on his feet, not wanting to deny you, whilst also not wanting you to see whatever husk was left of Nikolai.

“His Royal Highness is currently not in a state to allow visitors I’m afraid. It really would be best to.-”

“I’m here to see my fiancé. I won’t leave until I know what happened to him, and how his chances of survival are. This is not up for discussion, Sergeant.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his already greying hair. He knew that you were stubborn - you were supposed to wed Nikolai Lantsov, of course, you were stubborn - but he had hoped that you would at least be a bit less persistent.

“Fine. But you might not enjoy seeing him like this.” He motioned for you to follow him in the direction of a small grey tent. The medik tent. Your heart sank when you reached the entrance. What would you see? Would you be able to stomach it?

Pechkin halted briefly, sparing you another thoughtful glance before lifting the flap and allowing you to enter the cluttered room. It seemed to have been his personal tent before it was repurposed as his infirmary. You peered around. A tiny desk stood in the corner of the room, a stack of opened letters - probably yours - was sprawled out on top of it, right next to a collection of various maps and plans.

Your heart dropped when your gaze met the reason for your distress. An unnaturally pale-looking Nikolai Lantsov laid in a makeshift sickbed. His face was completely devoid of any emotion or life, as a medik stood next to him, presumably checking his vitals and medicine intake.

"Saints…" You whispered under your breath. You had seen him injured countless times before, but never had he looked this empty.

The man behind you rested his hand on your shoulder in a futile attempt to comfort you, but you didn’t even acknowledge his presence. The medik turned to face you with a glum expression on his face. In that moment, you assumed the worst.

“How did he get injured?” It took you a few seconds to register that the words were your own. It felt surreal.

“His group got ambushed, and he tried to defend the others. They got overpowered and he was stabbed. We were lucky to find them while it was still daytime. Had the night already started to set in, we would probably not have been able to retrieve them.” Pechkin explained. You didn’t have to face him to know that a tight scowl was adorning his face. He and Nikolai had gotten along great - it was a fact that always seemed to matter greatly, when he brought it up in his letters - so you could assume that he was quite affected by the whole situation.

You walked over to the bed, sitting down on the free space right next to him. If he hadn’t looked so pale, one could have mistaken his critical condition with a very relaxing good night’s sleep. His breathing was unnaturally shallow, but it still could’ve just meant that he was asleep. However, you knew better.

“His heartbeat is drastically too slow.” The medik spoke up, taking the elongated silence as his turn to address you. “There were minor scratches we managed to heal fine, but the stab wound seems to have a much larger effect on his body than we had expected, even though it appeared to be quite minor on first glance. By being exposed to dirt and other outside influences, it looked quite infected once he came into our care. We tried to treat it as best as we could, however, the infection still remains. It pains me deeply to say this, but it is unsure whether he’ll manage to survive his injuries.”

“Has he been awake at some point or has he been unconscious the whole time?” You asked suspiciously. The mediks assigned to treat the sons of the Royal family were highly skilled, and you had your doubts that the effects of a supposedly minor stab wound would cause him to be in such a terrible state.

“Yes, there have been a few times he has been semi-conscious, but it appeared to be more of a feverish daze than actual consciousness. We have not found a feasible explanation for this sort of behaviour, though.”

“What does the wound look like?”

“I don’t think that this information is suited for-”

“Sergeant Pechkin, I have seen people’s tongues get cut out after betraying their country. I have seen people get beheaded for way less than that. I have seen the marks of war, and I wish to live long enough to survive its wake, so I should begin to get used to it.”

“If that is what you wish for.” The medik said slowly, coming up to stand right next to you. He removed the heavy blanket, revealing a previously white bandage that had been soaked with blood by now. You could see the man frown, as he worked on removing the fabric that covered his injuries.

Nothing could have prepared you for what hid underneath.

The gash truly didn’t seem to be that deep, what really startled you were the purple and black veiny bruise patterns that originated from the wound, spreading over the expanse of his chest. The smell emitting from the wound smelled foul, sickly-sweet, whilst also carrying the stench of mould with it. This wasn’t a normal stab wound.

“How long have the bruises been there?”

“Uhm, they started showing one day after he was retrieved. They started off as blue and purple bruises, but have changed over the last few days to look like…this. We have never seen an injury similar to this.”

This told you everything you needed to know. The sadness you had felt prior to this was replaced by anger.

“That’s because it isn’t-”

The flap to the tent was thrown open again, revealing a person you would have never expected. Vasily took wide strides as he walked inside. He looked surprisingly calm, but as much as you wanted to discredit his feelings, you knew that he would still be devastated if he had to watch his younger brother die.

“Your Royal Highness!” Pechkin called out, visibly startled by another royal showing up without notice. You imagined that another unannounced appearance would cause him to go into cardiac arrest. The sergeant wanted to speak again, but Vasily silenced him with a simple wave of his hand.

“I’m here to see my brother, that is my right.” You moved to stand up in order to allow him access to Nikolai, however, this offer was quickly dismissed by a disapproving glance. “Stay there, it’s fine. You,” He turned to the two other men inside the room with a grimace on his face. “I’d suggest you leave for the time being. I’m sure Lady Y/L/N would like some time with her betrothed without the presence of military officials.” After giving each other a reserved look, they both left the three of you alone.

“I see that you have diverted quite a bit from your original plan.” Vasily stared you down. It was the same stare he used to give Nikolai and you after finding out about your newest shenanigans back when you were young kids. “Do you have any idea how worried the duke and the duchess were, when you didn’t return in the evening? Having their only daughter suddenly disappear without any trace or note about her whereabouts? You should be glad that my parents didn’t send out the Royal Guard to look for you.”

“I know, but I had no other choice, Vasily! My parents would have never allowed me to go, and I couldn’t have lived with the fact that he might die without me seeing him one last time.” You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks. His chiding was the last thing you needed right now.

“You have no idea how long it took me to convince them to allow me to look for you.” He sighed, throwing the bag he carried on the ground next to him. His tone had also grown a bit softer, even though he still sounded as boastful as ever.

“Why?”

“I saw the letter, and I opened it. All hell would have broke loose if my mother had found out about her little precious boy being on the brink of death.” His gaze wandered to his brother, but it flinched away as soon as he saw the extent of his injuries. “I knew immediately where you went. It was the perfect opportunity for me to get here unnoticed, even though I’m sure that spell won’t last too long. I assume that they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“So you lied to your parents, because you didn’t want them to know what actually happened?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less honourable than I had imagined it. But yes. That’s precisely what I did.”

“I- I’m not quite sure what to say. That’s probably one of the most honourable things you’ve done.” He waved your comment off, allowing himself a more concrete glance at Nikolai, his eyes never meeting the wound, however.

“Saints, that smells terrible.” The crown prince had to cover his mouth in order to resist the urge to vomit. And for once, you couldn’t even blame him. “What happened?”

“Stab wound.” You didn’t feel like voicing your suspicion, but Vasily wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“A stab wound? That does not look like a simple stab wound, Y/N.” That’s because it wasn’t. You knew exactly what it was, and how you could still give him a chance to survive this. The only thing keeping you from it, was the measures you had to take to make it happen. “You know more than you’re letting on. What is it?” It was for the best to give in. Maybe he could help you.

“Have you ever heard of Vaizite?” He shook his head as a response. “Some also call it the Violet Rot. It’s a very strong, chemically created poison, that you’d usually only find in Shu Han. I have no idea how the Fjerdans managed to get their hands on it, but I’m sure there had to be some crooked scheme going on.”

“Is it fatal?”

“That’s difficult to say.” He gave you a frown, but you weren’t keen on seeking his approval. “It was not specifically created to kill. The Shu usually tend to put it in their prisoner’s drinks to torture them. If ingested it poisons you from the inside out, but it doesn’t kill you. It does, however, make sure that every waking moment is spent in excruciating pain. It slowly eats away at your muscles, until you’re unable to do anything but lay there and endure the pain. When they think you have suffered enough, they dispose of them through killing them as a supposed act of mercy.”

“But he hasn’t digested it, has he? What happens if the blade was laced with it?”

“It is to assume that it could be fatal. Not immediately, but eventually. By indirectly injecting the poison in his blood stream, it could have a way worse effect on his health than if he had consumed it. I have never seen the bruises develop that fast.” You fiddled with the straps of your coat, avoiding his penetrative gaze.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Do you still recall what I studied at Ketterdam University?”

“Something that had to do with plants?”

“Herbology. That’s what I studied. There was a very long and drawn out unit on recognizing and working with poisonous plants. One unit included a plant called Oshrovov, also called Assassin’s Polkweed. It’s deadly when touched, but once you dilute it with some other chemicals, it can be the perfect weapon for torture. We talked about that quite a few times, so I do know a few things about it.”

“So you know what to do to save him?” Hope was evident in his voice, and you knew that you had no other option than to reveal something you had hoped to keep hidden for just a bit longer.

“I can try, but you might not like what I’m doing. And you have to promise me that you won’t allow anyone to enter while I work.” Vasily raised a brow in confusion. What exactly were you planning to do.

“A promise coming from me isn’t worth a dime, but if that’s all it takes for you to help him, I can’t say no.” That was good enough for you.

“Good. Get that bowl over there.” You pointed at a brass bowl that stood on one of the sidetables close to the entrance. He obliged, carefully watching you as you began to lean over Nikolai’s torso.

“Where am I supposed to put it?”

“You’re supposed to keep it in your hands, until I tell you to do otherwise.” Vasily had to bite back an offended remark as he listened to you bossing him around, but you just didn’t care about his royal feelings at that point. “I’ll need you to act quickly and catch the poison once I extracted it.”

“Extract it? How are you planning on-”

“See for yourself.” With that, you let your fingertips hover over his body, whilst shutting your eyes tightly. You had imagined that you might be a bit rusty in using your Small Science, but after you felt a familiar hum hit your palms, it was as if you had never stopped training it in the first place.

Since you had never been officially trained at the Little Palace, you had only a few minor lessons with your mother to fall back upon. They had kept your abilities hidden away from anyone that wasn’t close family, so it was a pretty dangerous for you to be so callous with using them, especially around someone like Vasily Lantsov. All of these worries faded away when you realized who exactly was lying in front of you. You needed to save him.

Your hands twitched ever so slightly when you located the poison. Quickly, you focussed your Small Science on directing the substance towards the open wound. You felt how it tried to latch onto his arteries, but your determination was stronger.

“Vasily, keep the bowl ready.” Not wanting to be asked twice, he stretched it out towards you, keeping it as far away from him as possible.

Slowly but surely, a thick mass of purple crawled out of his wound, taking the dark black tendrils with it. When you finally removed all of it from Nikolai’s torso, you didn’t hesitate to quickly drop it into the bowl. The substance splashed as it met the cold metal, but it didn’t manage to get even close to touching either of you. Even though you had been quite careful, Vasily still recoiled after watching the liquid fall. Before he could dump it on his shirt, you grabbed it from his hands, hastily making sure to keep it out of reach.

When your gaze shifted back towards your partner, you felt your heart do a flip as you noticed his normal breathing pattern return. The wound was still there - you weren’t a Healer, so what did you expect - but the dark bruises that littered his chest were finally gone almost completely, just like the rotten smell.

“You’re Gri-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll make sure to dump the whole bowl of poison on you.” You threatened, pointing an accusing finger at the slightly frightened Vasily. “And if anyone else should ever get wind of this, I’ll make sure to provide you with an even more painful death than anything you could imagine.” It was a completely empty threat, but it still did its job.

“Alright, I will take this secret to my grave!” He exclaimed, raising his hands with a scared expression on his face.

"You better do."

Vasily quickly called for a medik, giving him some half-arsed explanation for the sudden disappearance of the bruises. The medik quickly got to work, cleaning and disinfecting the gash again before bandaging the wound again.

You didn’t even have to wait a full day before Nikolai’s cheeks reclaimed their previous colour, and his eyes eventually pried open. He let out a low groan as he attempted to sit up, but you reacted faster. With one hand on his chest, you pressed him back down into the mattress. It was only then, that he noticed where he was.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded hoarse, but as long as he was alive, that didn’t matter. “Y/N! What are you doing here? Why are you-”

“You almost managed to get yourself killed, Nikolai. Of course, your fiancé is going to be here.” Vasily cut him off, a self-satisfied grin on his face as his brother’s head whipped around to face him.

“Vasily? What are you doing here?”

“Your situation was critical. No matter how many differences we might have, I’d still not let you die alone. You’re my brother, after all. Or do you really think that lowly of me?” If he heard your muttered ‘yes’, he chose to tactfully ignore it, rather taking joy in Nikolai’s utterly befuddled expression.

Whilst their brotherly bickering was continuing, his hand snaked its way into yours, gently squeezing it in an act of reassurance. You couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful you were, that he was still alive, giving you the warmest smile he could muster.

“I was poisoned?!” He exclaimed as his brother had finished the basics of what happened before you arrived.

“You were stabbed and poisoned.” You added with a sly smile, watching as his concerned gaze shot towards you.

“What happened to the poison? How did they get it out?” His eyes filled with realization, as he glanced between you and Vasily. “Y/N, please don’t tell me-”

“Vasily is the only one who knows. Don’t worry. The information will be safe with him, won’t it?”

“She threatened to kill me if I tell anyone, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Vasily grumbled, causing Nikolai to let his head fall back in relief. He had expected the worst, but he knew that you were smarter than that. “Wait, hold on a second, you knew about her…disposition?”

“Of course, I knew. She'll soon be my wife, in case you have forgotten.” You pressed a quick kiss to Nikolai’s hand, soaking up the feeling of finally being near him again. From now on, everything would be okay.

Well, after you explained to your parents why you had disappeared for other a week. You sadly couldn’t use your Small Science for that.

Taglist:

Grishaverse in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #netflix shadow and bone #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #grishaverse fanfic

378 notes · View notes

j-oneseungz · 4 months

Text

"best friend" | kim seungmin

genre: arranged marriage au, angst + a dash of fluff, hurt/comfort

warning(s): mention of death, grief

word count: 698

...

Something about the downpour further deepens the grief you’ve been holding in your heart. After your nana passed away, the grief kept on growing and growing like a vicious avalanche with each passing day.The casket had been lowered and it was your turn to drop a white rose on it. It was her favorite. You remember all those times she would trim away the thorns and pluck out the pointy leaves just so she can tuck it in behind your ear. Oh how cruel it is how beautiful times disappear.

Your legs felt heavy, almost as if they were hesitating for you to say a one last goodbye to your grandmother. But you had to stay strong. You have to do it for nana to honor her.

It was brief yet such a small moment seemed so long. Your white rose drops on top of the other white roses. As you were observing it, it seemed like it was falling in slow motion. Others went back to the crowd but you were stunned at your place. You can’t help but start crying in the rain. Tears were commingling along with rain droplets on your face. Your black dress was starting to soak. The wail you let out was just heartbreaking. Everyone knew how you were very close to your grandmother.

The rain somehow stopped pouring on you. A familiar presence next to you holds an umbrella, protecting both of you from the downpour. You looked to see who it was and it was your husband.

Seungmin’s heart broke, seeing how devastated you looked. He took out a handkerchief in his pocket and he gently wiped away your tears and the rain off your face. He takes your hand, and guides you away from the people.

He lets you wail. He lets you cry on his shoulders. He lets you let out the pain and heartache you’ve been feeling. Being your husband and close confidant, he never judges you for whatever it is that you feel. That’s something you were always grateful for from him.

Seungmin lets you take your time. You both left early and now you have reached your home.

“I think you should take a sh—”

And suddenly, you gave him the biggest hug yet. “Thank you Min. I really can’t thank you enough for today.”

He chuckles a little. “Don’t worry about it. We’re a team, remember?”

You nod, feeling warm inside. Not just because of your hidden feelings for him but just how much he cares for you. You couldn’t imagine being married to anyone else despite his heart belonging to someone else.

“You know what, instead of a shower, I’m just gonna prepare you a hot bath instead. Would that be alright?”

“Yes of course. Thank you best friend.”

“Best friend? That’s new. I sure hope Hyunjin is not gonna kill me when he finds out you have a new best friend,” he jokes.

Seungmin noticed you haven’t had a good laugh for a while until this moment. Your tummy was aching and you were letting out tears of joy rather than tears of grief. He always finds a way to cheer you up in the simplest things. “There’s nothing wrong with having two best friends, Minnie.”

He laughs along, holding your hands to warm them up. “Okay okay. Now let me get your bath ready. I’ll be back in a bit. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“And Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m here for you okay. You’re not alone.”

Seungmin then heads upstairs to the master bathroom. You’re thankful to have such a caring husband even if he wasn’t in love with you. Even if he was already happy and in love with someone else. It’s alright.

No matter how much you push away your feelings for him, you can’t help but admit that you are deeply smitten by him. Not wanting to jeopardize your arrangement, you’d rather swallow your pride and feelings deep inside the thoughts that Seungmin won’t be able to find and explore.

It’s alright. It’s okay. What matters to you is keeping your bond with him for as long as you can. Even if it may be selfish on your part.

...

A/N: Hello! Man I wasn't able to get some stuff out over break and now it's back to school. Hopefully can still post some stories despite my busy schedule. There is a high likeliness that this drabble will be turned into a full fic :D

#j-oneseungz writes #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids blurbs #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz blurbs #skz drabbles #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin blurbs #kim seungmin drabbles #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #seungmin blurbs #seungmin drabbles

27 notes · View notes

anxiously-going · 2 months

Text

Safe With You

There's a difference in knowing because of objective knowledge and knowing from experience. And if there's one thing Len knows from experience, it's that Jim is safe.

Jim tried punching the button again. The door remained sealed. "Bones?" He called and knocked loudly. "C'mon, let me help."

Had he had his words, he would have told Jim he was fine. Of course, if he could talk, Jim wouldn't be so worried. Not that he could talk much, vomiting as he was. Still. It was the thought that counted.

Leonard threw up again. Or tried to at least as his body convulsed in with dry heaves. He coughed with the effort, making him gag more. He tried holding his breath to make his body go still, but it only lasted a moment before he was gasping. He closed his eyes. It was only to be expected that his nightmares would grow worse in the revelation of the abuse she put him through, but he had not expected this violent of a reaction.

He had not expected to feel her hands ghosting along his thighs as she used to do when they would sit on the couch together watching TV. Once it had been a question.

Later in the marriage it became an order.

She still phrased it as a question, but was persistent until she got the answer she wanted. Until she got the time she wanted.

He could have begged her to stop until he was in tears. And at first he did. Working himself into a panic, gasping for air as he pleaded with her to show down, to stop. She would only laugh and purr at him how attractive it was, making a if he way just being coy, rather than overwhelmed and afraid. She never listened. So he took his mind away instead.

Disassociating until she purred her thanks into his ear, murmuring about how wonderfully he did and how much she loved him.

Until he knew it was safe to come back.

This seemed worse somehow. He could not take his mind away from something that wasn't there. He wanted nothing more than to peel away the skin he could feel her pressing against. He wished he could go deaf, could have been deaf, so as to never have to hear the moans she let out as she pleasured herself on his body against his will.

He almost wish he'd pushed her away. Been more forceful in his objections. But still a year and half later, he feared what she might say.

He imagined pushing her body off of his, she would fall and hit her head. Claim that is was him forcing himself on her. That she hit her head as she struggled to get away. And he would be imprisoned for trying to defend himself.

They would never believe him.

He was stronger than she was. He could have gotten away any time he liked. All this time later he lived in fear of what she would say about him. That no one would believe him. That he would be mocked and told he must not have minded that much if he never fought back. The thought of such words was enough to reduce him to tears.

And that was how Jim found him when he finally managed to finagle the door open. Huddled against the cupboards under the sink and sobbing hard enough it made his whole body quiver. Jim never so much as questioned him. He knelt and practically scooped Len off the floor, running a hand up and down his back, the other held the back of Len's head and thumbed just behind his ear. Leonard still held his stomach for a long moment before finally melting fully into Jim's arms.

Jim was safe. His hands did not go where they were not wanted. Even when he used Leonard's body for his own needs he was not selfish about it. Jim was not greedy, taking Len's hands and putting them on his own body in silent orders for Leonard to give him pleasure, holding them there until he was satisfied. Jim was only ever content with a hug, or perhaps to lean his head on Leonard's shoulder. He had never so much as hinted at a desire for more. And he always listened when Len asked him for space.

Jim could be trusted with his body. So he took comfort in the hands that massaged his back and held his head. They were different than the hands would grip fist fulls of his hair to keep him from pulling away from a messy and passionate kiss. Different from the hands that would roam his body as if doing so was their reward for a brief shoulder massage. These hands were not selfish.

"You alright, Bones?" A kind voice asked quietly. A different quiet. Words spoken clearly and born of concern. Not the kind of quiet that came from a breathy lust that disregarded his own words in return or tried to tell him that he wanted to be touched.

Leonard blinked slowly and it dawned that he wasn't crying anymore. He wondered how long ago he'd stopped. "I'm okay," he croaked, his own voice little more than a whisper.

"We should get you back to bed. I'll help you email your professors tomorrow, let 'em know you're sick and you can take the day off." Jim waited for Leonard to move before helping him off the floor. He kept an arm around Len to keep him steady as he walked, then laid down in bed. Jim pulled the blankets up to his chin before sitting beside him on the bed. He massaged Len's head the way he did to get rid of a migraine. "You want me to stay with you?"

Len shook his head. In part because he could. He could tell Jim no and Jim would listen. Jim was safe that way, he could trust Jim. Because of that he would feel safe in Jim's arms.

But he also needed space to to process. He needed space to breathe. He needed to be able to say no. He needed to say no and be heard. To know that his words meant something. To know he meant something. Something more than device for another's pleasure and desires. He needed to know that he could.

"Okay," Jim nodded. He left only the briefest of kisses on Len's temple. A simple show of affection and endearment. There was no double meaning, no request or attempt at temptation behind it. "I'll be right here if you need me. I'm here for you, Bones."

Leonard patted his hand in thanks.

Jim chuckled a little and squeezed Len's arm. "G'night, Bones."

---

Leonard woke with his arms around Jim.

It had been his choice. He'd woken up in the middle of the night again, hearing her voice, and feeling her breath against his face and neck, needing something to ground him to the moment. Before he could feel the rest of her body pushing against his. He had planned to maybe splash some cold water on his face, but Jim didn't hesitat.

As soon as he heard Len standing he lifted his blanket and offered him a place next to him. He let Len settle in before simply, pressing his forehead to Len's and offering a quiet reassurance that he was okay, that he was safe.

He was far from greedy and let Leonard make the first tentative move at contact after that. He remembered falling asleep, holding Jim's hand to his chest and tucked somewhat under Jim's chin.

He felt safe now with Jim huddle backward against his chest and Jim seemed equally at peace, holding the arms his head was pillowed on. There was something grounding about his presence. He was lucky to have such a friend. He felt a pang of guilt at his selfishness. He knew Jim liked to cuddle, but Len had never asked for it, had never used that part of Jim for his own needs.

"You okay, Bones?" Jim asked groggily, and thumbed one of Len's arms.

"Yeah. Sorry." He tried to sit up but paused when Jim patted his arm.

"S'ok. Don't have to get up if you're not ready to. Already emailed the professors."

"What about you?"

"Eh. Need a day off anyway."

"Sorry about last night."

"Don't worry about it, Bones. Been a rough few days. Just get some rest today, okay?"

"Thanks, Jim." For only a moment no one spoke.

"Do you need me to get up?" Jim asked.

"I-I think so," Len stammered.

Jim nodded and pushed himself upright. Leonard sat up only to curl up on himself, and rested his chin on his knees.

"Hey, talk to me, Bones. What do you need?"

"I'm sorry."

Jim blinked. "What?"

"Bothering you in the middle of the night like that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jim assured. " And don't worry about waking me up either. We both know I'm a light sleeper. Honestly...I think I slept better with you there, since I knew you were okay that way. I usually sleep better with people close by."

"Does it actually help, or are you just saying that?"

"It...kinda depends. Some nights more than others, but it helps." Jim shook his head. "What are you gettin' at, Bones?"

"I don't wanna be selfish," Len answered quietly.

Jim blinked. "What?"

He took a shakey breath. "I don't- I don't wan' to take advantage of you not minding."

Unease tugged at Jim's gut. "Bones, I would let you know if anything you did made me uncomfortable. Alright? I promise. So don't worry about that."

Len managed a small nod, but couldn't bring himself to look at Jim.

"You know you can tell me to back off if you need to, right?"

Len nodded again, but still said nothing.

Jim took a breath and hoped he wouldn't regret his next words. "Bones, you are not her. Okay? You're not. I know neither of us really know...how this maintaining any kind of relationship is supposed to go, and we've had our rough spots. But you are not her. And I have never once felt unsafe with you."

"Thanks, Jim," Len replied softly and Jim smiled and lightly squeeze Len's arm.

"You're welcome, Bones."

#jim kirk #leonard mccoy #star trek aos #academy days #tw sa mention #tw emetophobia #my writing #i wrote this quite a while ago and could never bring myself to share it #but here you go

9 notes · View notes

anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

Text

The Way I Loved You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: The way you loved Bucky was exhausting. Screaming, fighting, kissing in the rain, cursing his name at 2 AM. You've moved on. You found someone that respects your space, calls when he says he will, he's sensible and incredible, so why do you miss the way Bucky loved you so damn much?

Bucky grunts in disapproval, watching the door in anticipation at seeing you for the first time in months. Even if you were coming with your stupid new boyfriend. "They're late."

Sam sighs, putting his glass down on the table. “I already told you to behave.”

“I am behaving - by being on time.”

“Listen, I’ve already told you both. I’m not taking sides. So let’s just remember the age-old lesson: if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," Sam chides, fed up with this cold war between the two of you.

Sam didn't actually know what happened between the two of you. All that he knew was that this fight wasn't like the others. There was no reconciliation nor did there seem to be one on the horizon. That was partly his motivation for inviting Bucky here, to see if proximity could force something out of the two of you.

"I have nothing to say."

"I highly doubt that."

"I don't care. I don't even know why you brought me here," Bucky grumbles.

There were few worse things that he could think of than being forced into a conversation with you for the first time in months only because you wanted to introduce your boyfriend to your friends. Well, one friend and one former friend.

"Because you two used to be friends. And no matter what she says, she cares what you think."

"And I highly doubt that," he mumbles as he takes another swig of his beer.

He remembered the last time you two spoke, really spoke. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't anything that the two of you said, words thrown at each other in rage you two could take. It was the vitriol behind those words in that argument that marked the end of the friendship.

Though, he has to confess, your friendship was a complicated one. It was a difficult relationship to articulate and even more confusing when anyone saw it firsthand. But it somehow worked. Upon meeting, the two of you clicked. And though it wasn't effortless, Bucky was usually at his happiest with you.

And still, there was also no one that could rile him up the way you could. You pushed his buttons and in return he did the same. You didn't take Bucky's bullshit and he didn't take yours.

You bickered like an old married couple. Fought like you were arch enemies in a generations long feud. But beyond that, what most people didn't see was the way it worked. Inside jokes. A comfort. An understanding.

He remembered those missions Steve and Sam were reluctant to send him on if only because they were both worried that you two really would end up killing each other one day:

“I hate you,” you snarl, hauling yourself out of the freezing Atlantic Ocean. It might've been easier if your wet clothes and gear didn't add what felt like 50 additional pounds to your person.

“I just saved your ass! You should be thanking me,” Bucky counters with equal anger-filled fervor.

“Thanking you?” you scream, unhooking your soaking wet gear and throwing it on the ground. You kick off your boot, turning it upside down. Water pours out of the shoe and you angrily gesture to it. “I should thank you for this?”

Your shoe still in hand, you take a moment to look at the big picture of this moment. The utter ridiculousness of the whole thing.

You and Bucky screaming at each other in the middle of nowhere when you should really be finding out where the hell you are.

You’re both soaking wet, drenched head to toe with the salty Atlantic Ocean water.

Bucky’s hair is matted with sand and salt from the water.

You’ve got one shoe off and in your hand.

This time, you shake your head, laughing, “I hate you.”

Just seeing you laugh, Bucky laughs too. “I hate you too.”

“See?” you say, plopping down on the sand. “This is why we don’t go on assignment together.”

Bucky huffs in amusement, crouching down next to you. “You look ridiculous.”

“You’re not any better. You’ve got seaweed in your hair,” you say, plucking a small piece from his head to show him.

He shakes his hair, sending more sand flying everywhere. “You’re only wearing one shoe.”

You shrug, waving your hand in defeat. “I’m out of insults.”

“Really? So soon?” he chuckles.

This time you only respond with your middle finger.

Finally, just a few minutes later. He sees you walk in with your new boyfriend. Bucky’s jaw clenches as he watches the guy hold the front door open for you and help you shrug your jacket off. And thanks to his super-soldier senses, he can hear the guy whisper how beautiful you look. And like it’s some kind of win for Bucky, he sees the incredibly fake smile you plaster on your face in response.

And in a loss for Bucky, you falter when you see him at the table.

“I thought you told her I was going to be here,” Bucky hisses to Sam.

“Must’ve forgotten,” Sam shrugs. “Whoops.”

You recover before your boyfriend even notices. Bucky thinks to himself that he would’ve noticed. He would have noticed the fake smile too. You approach the booth, holding the man’s hand.

"John, you've sort of met Sam. And this is Bucky," you sigh, gesturing to each of the men.

Bucky immediately notes your continued use of his nickname, he hates the way it sounds out of your mouth. You used to call him Barnes. Or at your angriest, James.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Sam. And you too, Bucky," John greets, shaking Sam's hand.

"You can call me Sergeant Barnes," Bucky curtly corrects, squeezing John's hand a little too hand.

"Bucky," you hiss with wide eyes that warn him to stop whatever he’s doing. You turn and chuckle at John, "He's kidding."

Bucky shrugs with indifference. By the time the four of you have some appetizers and drinks at the booth, the air is thick with cold, awkward tension. And Bucky’s made it clear to you that he has no intention of making this easy for you. He wordlessly scoffs at John's drink order, at John's comment about how he doesn't really like spicy food, or the awkward dad jokes John makes to the waitress.

“So, John, what do you do?” Sam asks, trying to break the silence.

“I actually work in the Compound too. Nothing cool like you guys, accounting mostly.”

“An accountant, nice,” Bucky chortles only loud enough for you and Sam to hear. Thankfully John doesn’t. You swiftly kick him in the shin in response. He jolts, but keeps a wry grin on his face. You immediately know you’ve made it ten times worse. "So, Jake-"

"John," you correct again.

"Right, Justin, an Avenger huh? Aiming high there, aren’t you?”

“What Bucky means to say,” Sam corrects, elbowing Bucky in the ribs. “-Is how did you two meet?”

“Well, that’s a funny story actually,” John chuckles then begins telling the story of you two bumped into each other at the small coffee shop on campus. He spilled a drink on you and offered to take you out as an apology. You've never really understood why John thinks it's a funny story, but you nod and chuckle along with him.

“A real funny story there, Jimmy,” Bucky snarks, raising an eyebrow at you. You can feel the unspoken challenge in his knowing, snarky expression. “But let me ask you this, you’ve been with her what? A few months? Has she shown you how big of a pain in the ass she can be? You really think you can handle that?”

You roll your eyes, your glare hardening as you debate whether strangling Bucky would scare John away. “Real nice, Bucky.”

John chuckles, though you can tell he’s not sure who his reply is supposed to pander to. “Well, we all have our faults.”

“So you think she has a lot of faults?” Bucky continues, liking the tripped up, flustered expression on the man's face.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you tell John, resting your hand on his arm. So quickly you almost miss it, Bucky's eyes flicker to your hand comfortably resting on John's arm. His jaw ticks, but he plasters a mischievous smirk on his face.

For a moment, you contemplate moving your hand to appease Bucky, but you're too proud to back down from his challenge. In the corner of his eye, Sam can see this strange chicken fight between the two of you and before he can diffuse it, Bucky's talking again.

“What are you, his lawyer?” Bucky snickers, raising his glass to his mouth to cover up his smirk.

“No, it’s okay,” John assures you. “She’s great. She makes me very happy. I think that's what matters.”

“Aww…see that was nice,” Sam encourages.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt that she’s a good kisser, right?” Bucky offhandedly offers, though you both know that Bucky knows exactly what can of worms he's just opened.

“Bucky!” you hiss. You unknowingly remove your hand from John's to lean into Bucky, glowering at him. Still seated right next to you, John’s eyes flicker between you and Bucky. The way you're both leaned over the table, faces inches apart. It's more intensity than he's ever seen from you.

“Oh shit,” Sam exhales, shocked at the new revelation. “You did not.”

You back away from Bucky slowly, refusing to put yourself back in the same situation you were in four months ago:

“I hate you!” you shout like you’ve never shouted before. You both take refuge from the massive rainstorm underneath a large tree, and once again have to wait for someone to come get you after another dumpster-fire mission with Bucky.

“I hate you!”

“God,” you scream. “You’re such a prick! I’m never, ever going on a mission with you! I mean it- I’m so fucking sick of you!”

“Good! I’m fucking sick of you too! You’re the biggest pain in my ass. You know that? The whiniest, most infuriating person I’ve ever known.”

Your hands clench and you practically shake with anger. There aren’t enough words to describe how infuriated you are at this very moment. “And you think you’re so great? You’re such an asshole! The biggest idiot I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“And you’re the most aggravating jackass I've ever had to work with!”

Blinded with rage, you take another step toward him. “You’re the most difficult, annoying little shit-head with an even shittier fucking attitude!”

“Oh, ‘cause working with you is a walk in the park. You’re reckless," he accuses, taking another step toward you. "You don’t think ahead. You do whatever the fuck you want whenever the fuck you want-”

“It’s better than sticking with your dumbass plans. Look where it got us. Stranded - once again!”

“We’re stranded because you can’t fucking listen to save your life.”

You take another step forward, jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest. “No, I don’t like to listen to the bullshit plans you string together.”

You’re close enough to see the muscle in Bucky’s jaw tick as it clenches. “That’s called insubordination. And it’s why you’re the biggest pain in my ass.”

“I hate you,” you repeat, getting impossibly close to him.

“And I hate you,” he snarls, lowering himself to meet your eye.

Your chest heaves with so much anger and suddenly you're so close to him that you feel Bucky's breath in your face.

There's so much palpable tension and electricity crackling in the air that you do possibly the dumbest thing you've ever done. Your fists unclench and you pull Bucky’s lips to yours. He gasps, reflexively tearing himself away from you.

You freeze for a moment, shocked at the turn of events. You just kissed your friend because you were mad at him. It was insanity, he was driving you crazy in ways you'd never even realized until this very moment.

Before you can say or do anything, he steps forward, firmly grabbing your face and kisses you with a maddening intensity.

Lost in the moment, he pushes you up against the large tree. “God, I hate you.”

“I hate you,” you pant as he lifts you up.

There’s so much anger there that he practically devours you. Nips at your jaw. Your fingers press so roughly into his shoulder as he lifts you up. Your hands weave in the nape of his neck and you tug roughly at his hair. His hand squeezes your thighs roughly and you’re almost certain there will be bruises there. It feels like you can't breathe and yet you can't get enough.

You only stop when you hear the Quinjet land behind you. You both are breathless and he gently lets you down. You keep eye contact for a long moment, but you can see it in his face that he has no clue what he's supposed to say or do. And that scares you to your very core.

Purely out of fear, you walk away.

Through the rain, Bucky watches you jog to the jet. He pushes the moment down, following you only moments later.

“You guys okay?” Sam asks as you board the jet, Bucky in tow. “I’m surprised you haven’t killed each other yet.”

Neither of you say anything, both stunned silent.

“Wow,” Sam exhales, never having heard silence quite this loud. “Silence. That’s a new type of pissed.”

"I think I'm going to grab another drink," John awkwardly excuses himself.

"Will you quit it?" you seethe, your attention more on Bucky than it should be considering your boyfriend just walked away. "Whatever it is you're trying to do - it stops now."

Bucky doesn’t have a chance to reply before you take off after John.

“Are you kidding me?" Sam scolds. "You were supposed to play nice.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky shrugs, feigning innocence.

Sam exhales in disbelief, shaking his head at the tumultuous turn of events and the idiocy of his friends. “I have about a million questions and only a few minutes before she comes back here and kills you.”

You follow John to where he stands at the bar and immediately begin profusely apologizing. “I’m so sorry about him. I talked to him, he’ll back off-”

"Actually, I think I'm going to head out now," he says as the bartender brings him a small paper receipt. He signs the check, putting a few dollars down on the counter.

"Oh, okay. Let me just grab my coat."

John clears his throat, slightly shaking his head. "Alone."

"What?" you awkwardly chuckle, watching him put on his jacket.

"Listen, I just don't want to get in the middle of anything. And you're clearly in the middle of something," he says, gesturing to Bucky.

"There's nothing between me and Bucky," you quietly assure him. Though, regardless of how much you wanted it to be, you know that it's not entirely true.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. "I think you and I both know that's not true."

"I'm sorry," you sigh in resignation.

"It's alright. It was nice getting to know you either way."

You offer a small, sad smile in return, "You too."

And you watch him walk away.

And what hurts the most is that it doesn't hurt at all.

He was perfectly nice, reliable, consistent. And at most, you were fond of him. Three months you'd spent with him and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get Bucky out of your head.

It was terrible, you were terrible for that.

He called when he said he would. You two didn't into screaming matches or swear at each other like your lives depended on it. He understood the demands of your job and said all the right things. And at best, it was fine.

"Where'd John go?" Sam asks as you shuffle back to the booth.

"He left."

Bucky snorts as he raises his glass. "Course he did."

Sam swiftly elbows him in the gut as you glare at him. He knew exactly what he did and showed little to no remorse for chasing John away. "Actually, I think I'm going to go home too," you say in a clipped tone, snatching up your coat and turning to walk out.

Before that crushing argument, you'd take Bucky's snarky remarks and snide comments in stride, but now it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

You'd been oddly quiet since your kiss with Bucky.

Anything you said to him was about assignments and only assignments. And then the last mission made it ten times worse. You were aboard the jet with him and a few other agents when he started offering up details about the date he went on the night prior.

A month had passed since your rage-filled kiss.

Neither of you spoke about it. And things had yet to go back to normal.

You knew the mature thing to do was to simply talk to him. But hearing Bucky talk about this date, this girl, it felt like a sharp jab to the heart. Surely if he was going on dates then you needed to move on from this ill-fated emotional rollercoaster. The rush no longer justified tearing yourself apart trying to figure out how you could keep him in your life.

You decided right then and there that you couldn’t do this anymore. Somewhere down the line you'd fallen in love and now was the time to remove yourself from the situation.

“What the hell is up with you?” he demands, watching you haphazardly throw your gear down after a successful mission.

What Bucky meant to do was come down here to talk to you, to know what was happening to the two of you. If you couldn't be together than surely you could remain friends.

But he watched your cold, apathetic expression on the jet, and it seemed like you couldn't have cared less as he went on and on about this fictional date. He knew the mature thing to do was to simply talk to you, and he knew it was childish to lie and make things up to coax a reaction out of you.

At first he though you needed time, then you started avoiding him, you iced him out, he knew that's exactly what you were doing. So he made up a stupid story about a fantastic date, and still nothing.

“Nothing. Just thinking,” you absently state, shrugging off the last of your mission attire.

“About?”

“Can you just leave me alone right now?” you ask, a little too curt to be considered polite.

“What’s your problem?” he prods. “I’m trying to be nice here.”

“Since when?” you scoff. “When have you ever concerned yourself with being nice to me?”

“You haven’t said anything to me all day. I'm trying to do the decent thing here and check on you but you're kind of being an ass. Doesn’t seem like I’m the one with the problem here,” he accuses, malice dripping from his voice.

You hear the undercurrent of anger, real anger, and instead of diffusing it, you stand up from your seat to meet his scowl. “No, I have the problem. I want to be left alone and once again, you’re not respecting my boundaries.”

“It’s not a boundary. It’s avoidance,” he challenges.

“You’re full of shit. You know that?” you scoff, slamming the door to the armory. "All that therapy teach you that?"

Bucky follows you right on your heels, stopping you by blocking the doorway out of the training room. “I don't know why I even put up with you anymore! Seriously, what the fuck is your problem?”

“Right now, you. You’re my problem!”

“Really? Because it seems like you're the problem here," he accuses. "You get your feelings hurt and you start acting like a cold, heartless bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you? ”

Your jaw clenches. The words you can take, you've been called way worse, and in some way, you know he doesn't actually mean it. But you can't ignore the contempt there. “Back off, Bucky. I’m being so fucking serious right now. Walk away before I say some shit I don't mean.”

Bucky inhales sharply. In some strange way, hearing his nickname being spit from your mouth hurt more than any other insult possibly could. It marked a strange shift, a slippery slope that this argument was not like the others. If he hadn’t felt as hurt as he did, if he couldn’t feel his heart splintering, he might’ve been smart and walked away.

You suck in a breath and your lips press together, holding back your next retort when he doesn't leave you be.

Normally your arguments are filled with red hot intensity, but this feels cold- it feels real. Like you’re not going to bounce back from this. Your heart was already broken courtesy of Bucky, and your normal banter seemed deranged right now. Right now, your words, both his and yours, were shooting to kill.

"Leave me alone," you repeat.

“You’re a coward,” he grits. “You know that? A fucking coward.”

And you look at him, shaking your head. It seemed as good of a time as any to wave the white flag- for real this time. “You know what? I'm not the cold, heartless bitch here, Bucky. Just stay the hell away from me. I want nothing to do with you anymore.”

His hand drops from the doorway, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut.

As his hand skates down the door, you take a large breath and walk away.

“You should come inside. It’s gonna rain tonight.”

“Go away, Bucky,” you absently state, staring out to the pitch black night that surrounded the Compound.

His heart clenches at hearing his nickname again. At hearing your tone of indifference. There were a lot of things between the two of you - anger, occasional borderline hatred, friendship, a burning passion that got so out of control it often left the two of you scalded and tending to third degree burns.

Indifference was never on that list.

And somewhere on the way, he'd fallen- hard. He liked that air of confidence that surrounded you, the way you didn't take any shit from him or anyone else. How the two of you fought but at the end of the day you always had his back.

He missed you.

So despite his own cautious thoughts, he steps onto the balcony. He sees the bottle on the small table next to you, drink in hand. “You know you were just at a bar?”

“I left so I could be alone,” you say, still turned away from Bucky.

“I thought you left because your boyfriend left.”

“Well, thanks to you, I no longer have a boyfriend.”

"He's a dick - that was a dick move," Bucky offers, though he doesn’t know what actually transpired in the two minute conversation, he’s got a pretty good idea of what went down. And the role he played.

He felt like shit. And that was before Sam chewed him out the entire car ride back.

You huff out an incredulous laugh.

"What?" he grunts, taking another few steps toward you.

"Nothing," you coldly chuckle, raising your drink to your lips. "Just a little hypocritical coming for you, isn't it?"

“Wow,” he exhales, nodding tersely. “So we’re just done then?”

“Done?”

“Us. Me and you. It’s over? We're done?”

“There was nothing there to begin with,” you lie, taking another long drink to slow your racing mind.

“Does John buy your bullshit too?” he audibly wonders, his nonchalant tone guarding his own hurt feelings.

“You’re pushing it, Barnes,” you warn. “Go back inside.”

“No, I want to know," he insists. He shouldn't have been elated at hearing you call him his last name, it sounded insane, but he did. It meant you still cared. "What about that fake laugh? Does he actually think you laugh like that? Does he think that 'funny story' is actually funny to you?”

You turn away from the railing and finally look at him. It feels like a win to Bucky even though he's sure you want to kill him in this very moment. “Stop being an ass and go back inside. I'm not going to ask you again.”

"Or what you're going to scream at me? Or you're going to run away?"

"You're an insufferable prick," you seethe, downing the rest of your glass.

"So you're going to stick with insulting me?" he nods. "Go on, it's been months since I've heard from you. You've probably got a whole new arsenal of profanity just waiting for me."

"Because that's what you think I do, right? Sit here and pine for you? News flash, I don't. My life doesn't revolve around you and I'm done playing whatever masochistic game you think this is!"

"Me? Playing games? Last I checked you were the one that kissed me and then ran away."

"I ran?" you scoff. "You pushed me away. You didn't once try to talk to me. And then just a few weeks later you were going out on dates."

"There was no date!" he confesses angrily. "I made it up because you iced me out! There was no talking to you! You got your feelings hurt and you cut me out."

“Oh my God," you loudly rant, feeling a fresh wave of anger toward Bucky. "Do you hear yourself? This is insane, actual certifiably insane. And that's another reason I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what?” he glowers.

"This!" you shout, gesturing between the two of you.

"According to you, there's nothing there," he fumes.

"Damn it, Barnes! You've always got to one up me, don't you?"

"Why can't you just be honest for once?"

"You want honesty," you scoff. Your chest heaves with unbridled, intense anger. “Let me tell you something really sick: I miss it! I actually miss it: screaming, fighting like with hate each other. I miss it all.”

"Then why? Why'd you walk away?" he demands.

"Because I need to move on, James!" you continue, feeling a light drizzle on your face.

"From what?" he booms. "From me?!"

"Yes!" you scream, the rain coming down all at once. "I can't love you anymore. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

His widened eyes flicker up at you and he almost stumbles back in shock. “What did you just say?”

“No,” you shake your head, refusing to repeat yourself. “I can't do this anymore."

"You're in love with me?"

"Yes...No- Yes." You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steel your crumbling resolve. "It doesn't matter. Look at us - this isn't healthy. This isn't good for either one of us."

"You're in love with me?" he repeats.

You shake your head. "I'm over it."

"Which is it? Are you over me or in love with me?"

"Stop," you demand, holding your hand out to keep him a safe distance away. "I'm over-"

“Don’t say you’re over me,” he whispers, slowly encroaching on your space.

“I am,” you quietly insist, halfheartedly pushing him away. “I’m over-”

“Don’t say it,” he interrupts, putting one hand on the railing to cage you in. “Because we both know you’re not. I’m not either.”

Even though it's pouring out, he gently grabs your chin, lifting it to force you to make eye contact with him. "Please."

"No," you shake your head.

He can see the hurt on your face. Hurt that the two of you caused in this war that no one was ever going to win. And this time, he lays his armor down first. "I'm sorry."

You swallow the knot in your throat, your soaking wet hair sticking to the side of your face. He sweeps it to the side, leaning his forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry," he repeats, trying to convey the sincerity of his emotions.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

He looks up at you, the two of you drenched from head to toe. Standing in the balcony having just screamed at each other with reckless abandon. A chuckle bubbles out of your mouth as you finally regain the ability to look at the big picture. The whole ridiculousness of it all: screaming, fighting, kissing in the rain. So in love that you both acted insane.

"We're ridiculous," Bucky quietly chuckles, still so close to you that you can feel his huff of amusement on your face.

"So ridiculous," you agree. "We could just go with it?"

He shrugs. "I'm out of insults."

"Me too."

He leans down, pressing an firm, intense kiss to your lips. After another moment of kissing in the pouring rain, he hums, "We should go inside."

"We should," you agree, pulling away from him and turning to go back inside.

"Hey," he says, intertwining his fingers with yours. You stop, turning back to look at him. "In case you were wondering, I love you too."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

361 notes · View notes

yellowhollyhock · 1 month

Note

Please tell us more about Donny and Angel I love these two as a couple they so cute! She’s so perfect for him and vise versa. I like to pretend when the series ended they became official they got married. Mikey is the flower girl because that’s hilarious to me and he’s genderqueer so he’s like yes I get to wear a dress. LH is best man because he’s Donny’s best friend. I am not sure what Raph and Leo are lol. I know there’s brides maid but not sure what you call the version for the groom so Raph and Leo are up there with LH.

Aaahdhhs thank you!! 💜💜🥹 I am always at any time so ready to talk about Donny and Angel.

I love your ideas about their wedding! I think since Splinter would be officiating, Raph can give Donny away (is giving grooms away a thing? if it isn't then, oh well it is now), and Leo can be the ring-bearer. Angel's friends Ashley and Jessica who I made up for the Meeting Gramma fic (it's in pinned post) are bridesmaids.

Okay so below the cut, here's some things I've been thinking about, and how I imagine his proposal!

I don't imagine them fighting often, but one thing that would definitely cause friction is his driving. In the show his bros always let him drive, but have you ever noticed how he's crazy? Usually I think it ends up that way because there's a big chase or it's just comedic, but I like the idea that he's actually quite reckless. Tbh, a lot of people I know irl who are really good at working on cars are really bad at driving safely. They know exactly how far they can push that machine and they like showing it, sometimes forgetting to factor in that there are other people on the road and such things as safety laws.

Anyway Angel lost her mom in a car crash where the other driver was at fault. She was six. Neither her nor Ryan have licenses, partially because driving is scary to them but also because they live in New York City.

I don't think Donny would take it well when Angel calls him out about his driving. This is something he taught himself how to do in order to take better care of his family. He didn't have access to the resources she did to learn (experienced drivers, opportunity to legally obtain a license), and she hasn't shown any interest in using them (he doesn't know about how her mom died at the time), so why should he take criticism from her? He gets defensive when she makes a comment, something she is not used to from him, and they both end up pushing and holding onto little things. Angel says she'd just rather not get in the car with him and if he wants to go places with her they can walk. This seems pretty inconsiderate to Don who cannot simply walk through the city, and he doubts she wants to learn how to slink around and jump across rooftops since she doesn't even want to learn to drive.

Once they've both had time to cool down, he apologizes--he hates that he made her feel unsafe, he'd be happy to walk places with her if that's more comfortable, and he'd like her to know he has asked Raph to backseat for him for a while (call him out if he takes corners too fast, breaks laws etc). With him being vulnerable and apologizing, it's much easier for her to realize and admit why it actually scared her so much, that it wasn't all to do with him, in fact she never feels safe in cars. As they've been getting closer she's been worrying a lot that she would lose him somehow. She apologizes for losing her temper and calling him out in front of everyone (everyone probably consists of April, Casey, and his bros). She tells him how much she appreciates that he's trying to do better and that of course she doesn't mind driving places with him, in fact she feels better knowing that if something does happen, she'd know about it right away.

Also kinda thinking maybe Donny teaches her how to drive, later when she asks. I think she'd still feel safer with him at the wheel, especially once he starts being more careful, but it could still be empowering for her to know.

Their proposal~~

He takes her to Central Park--they wouldn't go somewhere like that very often, but they risk it early one November morning for what he will only vaguely call a 'special occasion.'

Anyway it's not hard to stay disguised because he's freezing and wearing so many layers you can't even tell he's round. (We don't really see the turtles in winter clothes much in the show, but after all the chaos had stopped I think they'd be more comfortable doing little things for themselves such as keeping warm). They buy hot chocolates. She makes a snow angel, which he cannot stop laughing about. She keeps close by to keep him warm, which makes him nervous because the ring is in his pocket and she's going to find it before he's ready--he panics and starts a snowball fight. She's in her element. He's getting more flustered by the minute. He's still a ninja though, and holding his own--until in a moment of distraction she nails him right in the face. She's wheezing, crying, cackling and fussing all at once--and when she comes over to help him up he panics again and takes the opportunity to pull out the ring.

It's a puzzle ring. They've talked about it before, and she's never liked the idea of a fancy gem. She wears lots of jewelry, and an engagement ring of all things should be practical to wear daily, not like her studded nose rings or chain necklaces with all kids of loud charms.

He pulls it out and lets them dangle from each other; four rings, all attached to each other. "It takes some work to fit them together," he explains as he assembles it for her, "But it's impossible to take them apart." Allowing herself to get close to people has been a big deal for her since her dad left. He's still haunted by the possibility of just disappearing one day, apparently without a trace.

He's getting teary and having a hard time getting through the speech he planned so carefully. "I want that for us."

She slips the ring on and pulls him into a hug. "I want that, too." Then, as if she's only just thought of it, "Let's get married." Because she's always loved making him laugh 💜

#thanks for the ask!#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #2003 donnie #tmnt angel #donnie x angel #dongel

6 notes · View notes

puckthisshift · 3 months

Note

14 with Mattdrai please. thanks!

things you said after you kissed me

"Why do you taste like sour candy?"

Leon makes a face, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. It's not his usual reaction to kissing Matthew, but then again he isn't usually trying to punish Leon for some perceived slight.

"You know what you did."

He has no clue.

"Is this about..." Leon trails off on purpose.

Sometimes Matthew will reveal his issue that way, by Leon distracting him from the fact that he doesn't know what he did.

Does that make him sound like a thoughtless dick? Yeah, it probably does, but Leon knows that there are extenuating circumstances. Matthew is more prickly these days, and Leon cannot blame him for going stir-crazy without hockey or training.

Plus the summer Florida heat isn't helping.

"Yes, it's about you getting the wrong ice cream." Matthew pouts.

Leon would kiss him again if it wasn't for the taste. Somehow it's worse than anything else Matthew has tried so far. Probably because he still had some sour candy in his mouth while they kissed.

Maybe Leon should question his taste. His own.

"Sweetheart, they didn't have your favorite, I told you that." Leon smiles softly. "I promise I looked for it and asked the clerk. I want to take care of you. We can go look somewhere else if you want? I bet it would be nice for you to go outside for a bit."

Matthew's been hiding, not wanting the world to see him the way he looks now. He's not ashamed, he tells Leon. He's nervous. Worried about being recognized and losing his precious privacy.

And Leon gets it. It's nice having something that's just for them.

"Ugh." Matthew puts a hand on the curve of his belly. "She says yes."

"But what do you say?"

"Can we swim?" Matthew cuddles as close to Leon as he can. "I feel so huge and... We can get the ice cream delivered."

The pool is perfectly comfortable, leaving Matthew with an easy way to get some movement in. He's been struggling so much with the doctor's mandate that he take it easy in these final weeks. He keeps pushing his limits, and Leon knows he doesn't handle being idle very well. He's been taking the brunt of it. Of course, he knows.

"Excellent idea."

"Kiss me?"

"Wash your mouth with something better and I will."

Matthew accepts the ultimatum, having some Gatorade and leaning in eagerly. Leon can't help but kiss him again, once, twice, a third time.

"Much better." Leon ducks down to kiss Matthew's belly too. "I'll order an extra pint of ice cream."

#mattdrai #puckthisanswers #otter core #idk this just happened I blame otter

12 notes · View notes

cavinginhisfvce · 1 day

Text

They Never Want To Discuss What Triggered You. Just How You Reacted. | Angst.

Before I get into the fic, this is a story I’ve written for a different fandom, I just changed things to work for The Usos. If you spot any errors/continuity mistakes please let me know! This is a CodyJey story, but it’s not the main focus.

Nobody notices the way Josh seems largely put off by every meal. They don't see the disgust that courses through him with every bite, through every uptick in his calorie intake.

They don't see when he finally dips off to the bathroom to ralph every morsel he possibly can.

Nobody hears his cries over the rush of shower water, they don't hear him shouting to be seen, heard, and held.

They don't see the drops of red that mix in with his shower water as it trails down the drain.

What they do see is Josh’s unbridled anger. His hair triggers for any and all things. They see bruised knuckles, and split lips in place of his oh so evident pain. They see a nuisance, an unreasonably angry boy. They take what they see at face value, nobody digs further. Josh doesn't ask them to.

Nobody witnesses the days Josh can barely drag himself out of bed. Nobody sees the days where he's so tired, every movement feels like a war on his body and mind.

There's always a hidden layer of fatigue beneath his skin, some days it's easily ignored, while others it demands to be addressed.

No one is around to watch as Joshua Fatu becomes a shell of his former self. Not even Jon. Only Josh and the four walls of whatever room he's holed up in.

Nobody sees the papers that litter Josh’s bedroom, or their contents. They don't see the "Dear Jon’s" and the "I'm sorrys".

Not until it's too late, anyway.

Now, Jon watches, horrified as Cody Runnels, and his father alternate between applying pressure to Josh’s wounds, and checking for a pulse.

It all seems so hopeless. Their mother tries, and fails to shield him from seeing the panicked attempts at keeping Josh alive. The paramedics aren't too far, Jon can hear the blare of their sirens, even over Cody’s rushed words of, "stay with us, Josh. Please." "I got you, please."

Please, please, please.

Jon wonders if he's pleading with Josh or with the universe. He hopes it's both.

When the EMTs finally did arrive, Jon watched with tearful brown eyes as they carted Josh off and into the Ambulance. He watched as their father slipped in before the doors shut. He watched as Cody dropped to his knees and began to sob, his clothes ruined from the blood that was all over their living room floor. He doesn't know if he should comfort him or leave him be.

Jon didn't understand why Cody was crying. Was it because the situation was traumatic, even for them? Or was it because somewhere along the line, they'd become friends or something like it?

Sadly, Jon wasn't able to wonder very long before his mom was guiding him back into the house. She tried to rush them past the spots where Josh’s blood pooled the most, tried to keep the red stained floors from view, but Jon had already seen. Jon had already seen the state his brother was in when they found him. Had seen the lifeless tint to his skin.

He thought for sure Josh was gone, but somehow, in spite of his own attempts, he was still fighting. Still alive.

Weak, but alive. If the EMTs were to be trusted when they told him and their mom that Josh would be okay.

His mom tells him to pack a bag, one for himself and one for Josh.

He obliges.

When his own bag is packed and resting at the foot of his bed, Jon hurriedly slips into Josh’s room.

He ignores the knowledge that he hasn't been inside of his twin brother’s room in almost a year.

He pushes past the visible signs that his brother had been spiraling. There's beer cans littering just about every flat surface. There's papers everywhere, some ripped, some crumpled.

But, worst of all? It's significantly empty, all his posters are gone, leaving his walls bare, lackluster. His records are almost all missing. Which is a worrisome thing in itself considering how hard Josh worked to find them in the first place.

Hell, Josh doesn’t have a single trinket laying around his own room anymore. It looked as if he were just someone visiting, and that left a sour taste in Jon’s mouth.

His once extensive record collection has dwindled considerably. He barely has six left. Jon notes that almost all his favorite ones are gone, the remaining six are the ones he too found himself enjoying. Back when he and Josh still hung out. Before they moved, before Josh changed.

His clothes are all packed away in plastic crates, the kind meant for long term storage.

Jon doesn't let himself consider how long Josh had been planning this. If he did, he’d probably see all the signs he laid out for somebody to acknowledge.

He had long since swapped out his short-sleeved, tight shirts, for layers. His jeans followed the same fate, and were replaced by sweatpants and loose jeans. At the time, Jon assumed the cold had finally gotten to him. He thought he was just conforming to a life in their dull little town, the same as he did.

Instead of packing a bag, he reaches down and swipes up a piece of paper. It's crumpled beyond repair, but legible nonetheless.

"Dear Jon,

I'm sorry. For everything. I wasn't a good twin brother, and you deserved better than that.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from him, any longer. Please don't hate me for this, Jon.

If you have to hate me, hate me for how I treated you. But please don't hate me for this. There was no other way out for me,"

The letter gets cut off there, Jon guesses he wasn't pleased with how it was coming along.

Jon drops the paper with a soft gasp, his eyes filling with tears once again.

He had so many questions. Like who the person Josh was talking about in the letter? Who couldn’t he protect Jon from?

A feeling in his gut tells him it has to do with the way he limps home after spending the day with Joe, or the busted lip and black eyes he sports all too often. He was never that close with Joe, but Josh always was. Now though, Jon can’t help but wonder if they’re only close because Joe is forcing it. Forcing Josh.

He wouldn't cry though. Because Josh was going to be okay. He was going to get better, and Jon could be the twin brother he's always needed, and in turn he hopes he will at least try to be a proper brother to him. How he let his brother go on hurting this way will never sit right with him, but at the very least Jon can help now. He can fix things, even just a smidge.

He wants to read another unfinished note, but it feels like an invasion, because Josh might've been addressing him, but the letters were still in his possession.

Jon never hated him. Jon just followed the tune he played, it was better if Joe thought they were against one another. Even Jon knew that without needing to be told. There was always this controlling nature to him, this possessive attitude when it came to Josh.

But this whole situation? It changed the tune of the song, whether Josh intended for it to or not, Jon was no longer following his cues. He didn't need to, because when Josh came home, they'd write the song together.

With that in mind, Jon sets to pack his bag. It was easy, considering the way his clothes were packed up.

Jon, despite his protests, was sent to stay with Joe and his family for over a week. His aunt and uncle seemed genuinely concerned for their nephew, but Joe was just mildly put off that the twin he didn’t really associate with was the one staying with them.

Usually, staying with his uncle was a blessing, because Jon got to learn the things about wrestling their father couldn’t teach, but this time it was a dreadful affair.

He just wanted to go see Josh in the hospital, but he kept being told it wasn’t right to see him that way. As if he hadn't seen his brother lying in a pool of his own blood.

When Jon was able to go home, Josh still hadn't been released from the hospital. At dinner, he finally asked why that was.

Their dad seemed to tense up at the question, his fingers clutched his fork so tightly the metal all but bent at the action.

"He's not well, Jonathan. The doctors just want to keep him there a little longer to make sure nothing like this happens again." His mom's voice cut through the silence that followed his question.

Jon, feeling pissed off, and put out for some reason, just nodded and went back to eating his dinner.

Well, he tried at least. Most of it was burned, or just too bland.

Her mom was never a good cook, not like Josh, who would always manage to save their dishes in some way. He always caught them before they burned, or snuck in extra seasoning whenever their mom would turn her back.

It was another two weeks before Josh was meant to come home, only five days before it all, their father had taken off in the dead of night. He didn't leave a note, didn't even say goodbye. Jon can’t help but suspect that his father knew about whatever was happening with Josh, but had refused to be of any help to the boy who so clearly needed it.

To Jon’s knowledge, their mother hadn't cried when she realized her husband wouldn't be returning. She blared the music he often complained about, Josh’s favorite genre of music, and skirted around Josh’s bedroom. She had Jon help her unpack his belongings, his clothes returned to the closet, his scarce record collection was put into a proper display.

Cody even came by and hung Josh’s mirror up behind his door. To Jon’s surprise, he'd also replaced the posters that once covered the walls. He even went as far as to add additional posters, ones from bands Jon knew Josh enjoyed. He just didn't know why Cody also knew which bands he favored.

The day they set out to pick Josh up from the hospital, Jon had been buzzing with excitement. Three long weeks of not seeing Josh was finally coming to a close.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so ready to see his twin, he thinks it might've been when their parents were only taking them individually to see their cousins.

They still lived in California, they still got along back then.

However, on the ride over, Jon was starting to regret agreeing to come along. He initially thought Josh had been in the Memorial Hospital, it was nearby, and equipped to take care of him.

But, when they drove beyond the town's limits, to a hospital in the next town over, Jon had thrown his head back with a groan.

Cody, who had offered to drive him and his mom, just laughed and glanced back at Jon when they pulled into a red light. "It's a long drive, right? I've made this drive at least six times this month."

Again, Jon was left to wonder just how close Cody and his brother had gotten without his knowing.

This time, however, he voiced his question to him.

The elder seemed to pause, his hands freezing in their place on the steering wheel. He was almost dazed until their mother laid a hand on his arm and whispered something Jon couldn't catch.

Whatever it was, was apparently enough to have him nodding his head and breathing out. "We're dating? He's my boyfriend, I guess. I mean, it was purely physical for a long time, but..."

Even though he sounded unsure, and was probably scolding himself for oversharing, Jon detected the smile in his voice. He was shocked, for a multitude of reasons. But, mostly because Cody was dating his brother. The mere thought had him gagging out loud, his face scrunched up in obvious displeasure. He was shocked his mother knew, but that was a topic to broach on a later date.

"Okay, chill! I got it, I ain’t need that last part, Uce." His mom was the first to dissolve into giggles, but both Jon and Cody were quick to follow suit.

It took almost thirty minutes before Josh was crossing the threshold of the hospital he'd spent nearly a month in. When he spotted Jon, his mother and Cody, it was obvious they hadn't seen him yet. So, Josh did what any sensible younger brother would do, and snuck up behind Jon. His eye caught Cody’s and he motioned for him to remain silent, before he was placing both hands on Jon’s shoulders and leaning into his space. "Hey, shitbird!"

Jon, who almost jumped out of his skin, turned around and flung himself into Josh’s arms. "Asshole!"

The latter caught him easily enough, his arms winding around his twin brother, both of them ignoring their mother’s gentle scolding.

It was at least a minute before Josh was playfully shoving him away, his face twisted up in mock anger, "alright enough, you're getting little bitch all over me!"

Jon just kissed his teeth before slapping his arm, his lips forming a light pout, "stop being an ass, I missed you!"

Josh just smirked at him, clicking his tongue as he glanced up at Cody, then at his mom.

There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one familiar to all of them.

Cody was the one to groan, "Josh, no, don't."

But, his plea fell on deaf ears, because two seconds later, Josh was saying, "You act like I almost died, Uce."

Again, Jon slapped his arm, this time with more power than the first one. "Don't joke about that, Josh!!"

His body seemed to betray his demands, because he was then giggling madly.

"Only you two would find this funny." Their mom just shook her head, her disappointment overshadowed by the fond twinge to her tone.

On the ride home, Jon and their mom both sat in the back, allowing Josh the opportunity to sit in the passenger seat.

He tried convincing Cody to let him drive, but he was quick to decline. None of them were too keen on the motion sickness that came with Josh’s fast, reckless driving.

Every time Cody glances in Josh’s direction, Jon can't help but to wonder if he's seeing the same image that flashes occasionally in his own mind.

Josh, not breathing, bleeding too much for any one person, he was thinner than Jon could recall.

It was like Josh had been replaced before their very eyes. Only, nobody noticed the way his cheeks seemed to sink in, or the way his eyes always held dark bags, even after hours, and hours of rest.

Once upon a time, Jon would've praised himself for how well he knew his twin brother, but recent events proved he knew very little about him. It had taken him nearly dying for him to see his pain. For anyone to see his pain. Jon wishes he would've seen Josh changing from abrasive to withdrawn for what it was. A cry for help. Instead, he wrote it off. He wrote Josh off.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

6 notes · View notes

queenoftheworldisdead · 2 years

Text

Family Affair

Note: Ari and Ransom are twins in this

Summary: Harlan's money ruled the world of your husband and in-laws. When Harlan cuts his family off the rift between siblings grows larger and you are somehow caught in the middle.

Warning: none yet, 18+ only, will be dark

eventual dark Ari x Reader, eventual dark Ransom x Reader

Chapter 1

💍

You didn't understand why you were here. You weren't close to Harlan so you were very surprised he asked for your attendance to his birthday. It was late, you were tired and they hadn't even cut the cake yet.

Maybe because the birthday boy stayed held up in his office for more than half of the event.

You were stuck here as Linda was your only means of transport. You watched dully as she argued with Joni. Sympathy for the widower had long sense dried out and so did the pleasantries.

Marta tapped your shoulder unexpectedly, the gentle touch had you jumping out of your skin.

"Sorry," she apologized in a hushed tone. The young nurse, turned new Mrs. Thrombey, had been just as elusive as her husband. You had an inkling why, but you rather not think about it.

"It's alright. I'm sure Harlan would enjoy me giving birth and dropping dead on his birthday." You chuckled as you rubbed your belly.

"I can see it now the nurse did it." She joked while pantomiming. You both shared a laugh that earned sly stares from the other family members.

"Harlan asked if you could meet him in the study?"

Marta talked lowly again as if she were trying not to draw attention. The people around were immersed in their own conversations, but it was slightly obvious they were ease dropping.

"What does he want with me?"

With a heavy sigh you pushed up off the chair. The move that once was simple now had you breathing heavy.

You hoped he wasn't still upset about the wedding. It was all Ari's idea and you foolishly went along with it.

She smiled lightly as if to reassure you things were fine, but you were slightly worried.

"You'll just have to come with me and find out."

💍

Marta closed the door from the outside leaving you alone with the man. It had been a while since you'd seen the patriarch of the family. Your last encounter had not been a pleasant one.

"How are you sweetheart?" Harlan asked from behind his desk.

You felt the strain on your knees as you lowered yourself into the chair before him.

"I'm good… Just tired."

He smiled softly at you, while you tried not to fidget and get comfortable in the hard seat. The small chair reminded you how much bigger you had gotten.

"That's understandable. Remind me how far along you are?"

"Five months, and the due date can't come sooner." You joked lightly while you mindlessly rubbed your belly.

"Do you know the sex?"

"No. I'm waiting for Ari to come back so we can find out together." You confessed.

"That's very sweet. I'm sure he will be elated whatever the outcome." He smiled back at you, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes.

“I know with Ari constantly traveling it must be hard."

"It is, I miss him so much, but Linda's been a big help."

"Shame that boy should've been here the instant you told him." He said, disappointment written all over his face.

"You know Ari. His work isn’t done until he’s saved the entire world." You defended. Harlan's frown set in deeper making you feel even more uncomfortable.

"Unfortunately I haven't brought you here for pleasantries. As you know I fund a large portion of Ari's organization.... And recently after some investigation it has come to my attention that there are some financial discrepancies…."

Your confusion morphed into a frown. You had assumed that Harlan had a hand in it one way or another. How else could he fund irrigation systems, hospitals and school building? It was unimaginable that the mission, Ari's baby and true love, could be anything but virtuous. Someone must've taken advantage of him, with different countries and different rules he must've just trusted the wrong person.

"Ari wouldn't do-"

Harlan halted you with a jester of his hand.

"Ari’s mission isn’t the only cause for concern. Corruption seems to have splintered throughout my families various businesses for quite some time."

Sigh heavily .

“As of late I've been advised to sever all monetary ties, no matter how noble their causes might be. I love them all, but it is time that they all stand on their own feet.”

The news was surprising. Harlan was cutting off his family. Without his money Ari would need to find other mean to support his mission. Which means Ari would no doubt be coming home.

It confused you as to why he was airing out his family’s business to you. Other than your relation to Ari Harlan's money didn't touch any aspect of your life.

Aside from the marital contract no one would've known of your relationship with this family.

Your ring was non existent. Ari vehemently apposed to blood diamonds and gold excavation on the environment. Nuptials, a fifty dollar signing ceremony at the courthouse.

Wedding gifts were donated or declined at your husbands behest.

While your in-laws lived various extravagant lives you worked. The same job you had since meeting Ari.

It wasn't that you rejected luxury. Ari did.

💍

“That being said I don't feel it's fair to the little one growing inside of you. Each of my grand children had been given a trust. Your child will be no different."

"Oh gosh! Thank you!"

"There is one stipulation …."

Harlan paused again. He rubbed his arthritic hands together, seemingly searching for the right words to say.

"When the child is born I will need for there to be a paternity test."

You fumed at the request. Pregnancy made it hard to keep your emotions in check.

Harlan looked almost ashamed. Good. At no point had you ever asked him, or any of them for money.

By asking for a paternity test you knew exactly what he was trying to say. You were an interloper, a gold digger that trapped their golden boy with this baby.

You highly doubted Joni or Donna had been put through this.

You tried to curtail your anger as you rose to leave. Harlan shouted at you to stop, but you refused. Tears were starting to bubble over from the insult, and you refused to let yourself cry in front of him.

💍

Storming out of Harlan's office you almost knocked into Ransom. On the rare occasion you’d came around he had not been here. Just as elusive as your husband, despite their differences it would seem they were alike in that regard.

"Whoa watch it short round.” He teased after observing you.

You had gotten a lot bigger since the last time he had seen you.

Swiftly you dipped your head low hiding your swollen face from him. Ransom relished antagonizing people and no doubt if he saw your face it would only goad him.

"Please move Hugh." You pleaded weakly trying to push past, but he blocked you.

"Oh come on now your family. You know better than to call me that."

You opened your mouth to plead again, but Harlan's voice cut you off.

"Ransom leave her alone and come here now!" Harlan sounded thunderous. With the distraction you barreled past Ransom. You could feel him still staring, but you ignored it. The feeling not elevating until Harlan called his name again.

Ransom slammed the door to the study. The ruckus to you relief did not draw any attention from the guests still consumed with their own conversations.

Quickly you walked off and began calling and texting Ari.

You hadn't realized you were outside until the cold air nipped at your skin. Too focused on the bright screen, anticipating any response from Ari.

Of course you received no immediate reply.

You pinched your nose and tried to calm down. You had hoped your pregnancy would've changed his attentiveness, but you were wrong.

His non answer was not something uncommon. It sickened you how you waited for any nugget of attention that Ari would throw your way. Waiting up all night just for a reply or to see your message left on read. How pathetic.

"What are you doing out here?"

The sudden voice of Ransom startled you. You wiped your tears on your sleeve and sniffed, still trying to hide your face.

"It's too cold to be out here like this. Come on I'm taking you home." Ransom informed. He took hold of your arm and dragged you a long. You didn’t want to argue it was too late, too cold and you didn't want to be here anyway.

💍

chapter 2>>>

#dark fic #dark ari levinson x reader #dark ari x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ari x black reader #dark ari levinson x black reader #dark ransom x black reader

94 notes · View notes

oro-e-diamanti · 2 years

Text

Puppet Masterlist | Puppet Taglist | Buy me a coffee?

It's the day of the gig. But that doesn't mean the night is over once the band leaves the stage.

Content: Bit of smut, bit of angst, bit of comfort?

Word count: 3.1k

Lesson Thirteen: Safewords are made to be used.

You had spent the day on your own. Berlin was gorgeous and a perfect place to keep your mind off things - being around the band would have only made you go insane with nerves at the prospect of finally dressing Thomas in your blouse for the gig that night. So after an awkward stumble out of Ethan's room that morning you had waved goodbye to the four of them for the day and promised to meet back with them that night at the venue. Yet, you weren't able to completely forget about it. As you were sitting in a café, sipping on a hot drink involving way too much caffeine and people watching, everyone and everything seemed to remind you of the four people you had spent the last few weeks with. A head of hair that just looked like Thomas' tousled mane. A pair of trousers you knew would make Victoria's hips look amazing. A shade of red on someone's lips that you wanted to put on Damiano. A tall man with long dark hair who, upon turning around, couldn't even get close to the beauty that was Ethan.

You allowed yourself to let it all go into your drawings. There was no point trying to push their influence away as it was, so you decided to embrace it. You ended up sketching for hours, working and creating until your hand started hurting, not allowing yourself to think too much about any of the details, not erasing a single line, simply letting the inspiration of the city and your head full of thoughts guide you. Your feet carried you away from the cafe as it became too awkward to overstay your welcome there any longer, letting the streets of Berlin inspire and motivate you. You couldn't resist the temptation of the vintage clothing shops, ending up with more than a few purchases.

Dusk was on the verge of breaking when you finally left, rushing back to the hotel to get changed for the concert, gathering your things, and calling a cab to bring you back to the four people you had somehow managed to miss, even when the separation was only fleeting.

***

"Vic, I swear to God, if you steal my fucking Gucci butt plug one more time-"

Backstage was pure chaos. They hadn't played a show in a while so not only were everyone's nerves tense and their adrenaline spiking, but the usual order of events wasn't flowing quite so naturally as it did a few days into any sort of tour. It didn't help that Vic was in one of her moods, mischievous to the bone and on the right track to pissing absolutely everyone off. You knew it was her way of dealing with the nerves, but that didn't mean she wasn't annoying the whole team.

You left her to her own devices as you vanished into a room with Thomas instead. He was already wearing your blouse and if you were being honest, it looked even better than it had done in your imagination. In fact, he looked positively divine. The white material was flowing over his skin, natural and soft, sleeves wide enough to evoke a silk-like effect without restricting his guitar playing, chest and back on show.

"Do you like it?" You asked, insecurity still ringing in your voice. Just because you were in love with the piece didn't mean he was - and nothing was more important than him being comfortable during the concert.

Thomas turned towards you, surprise painting his face as he saw the doubt in yours. In a single, large stride he was in front of you, hands on your cheeks, angling your head upwards to force you to look at him.

"I love it." Bending down to your height, he put a small, soft kiss on your lips, leaving your heart racing and your worries erased. You couldn't help smiling back up at him, tender eyes pulling you in. You just about managed to leave another quick kiss on his mouth before the door burst open.

"Five minutes!" Victoria's voice was something between a shout and a melodic tune. You weren't sure if it was actually five minutes until stage time at all or if she simply needed to stir chaos and get attention, but Thomas let go of you, both of you exchanging smiles as he went after her to amuse her. You could only chuckle. They were a mess of a group, chaotic and confusing, but loving and caring and you were ecstatic to call them your friends. Or maybe something more.

***

The gig was small and sweaty and it was the first time you had seen the band play live in years, so it was little surprise that they ended up blowing your mind. Thomas held onto the blouse for as long as he could before it was positively drenched in sweat and then threw it right at your face as you watched from the side of the stage, laughing at the squeal you let out as the wet material hit your skin. All of them played their hearts out, the audience giving back just as much and you couldn't help having a little dance and a singalong by yourself, intermittently noticed by the band who would throw you smiles and in the case of Damiano the occasional kiss.

You would have thought they were out of energy when they finished their show after a rousing encore of Lividi Sui Gomiti, but apparently, the adrenaline was still running high and energy was still searching for an outlet. Before you knew it, you were back at the hotel in Vic's room, where everyone met back up again after their showers to get changed for a night out.

"Wait - is that the club you told us about?" Damiano questioned as he stared at the address Vic had sent to his phone. "You know, that one?"

The way Damiano had said it caught your attention.

"Wait, where are you planning on taking me?" You asked right as Vic was handing you a top to wear that looked more like a fancy bra than anything else. "That's too revealing, I'm not gonna go out like this."

"I think that will still be one of the least revealing outfits there," Ethan commented, thoughtfully, as he mustered your boots, shorts, and the top in your hand.

You looked around the room. You were easily the most dressed out of the five of you. You were used to the band dressing in extravagant ways, often not wearing much at all on stage, full of harnesses and chains and other bondage-inspired accessories, but it wasn't usually the look they went for when they went out by themselves afterward. Too much attention.

"Okay, honestly, guys, where the fuck are we going?"

Ethan and Damiano only smirked. Thomas wasn't meeting your eye - you felt like he wasn't too sold on the whole affair either, but who was he to turn down a party.

"It's a rock club," Victoria finally explained. "But the twist is..." You wanted to strangle her for long she paused for, just to push you over the edge of anticipation. "...you are allowed, and, in fact, encouraged to have sex there."

"I'm sorry, what now?"

"You don't have to, obviously. You don't have to do anything. It's just the fact that it's allowed so... you'll definitely see some things. And if you wanna join in, this is the time and place. No phones allowed either, they take them off you when you enter. But if you genuinely feel uncomfortable, we don't have to go, you know."

You looked between the four of them, studying their expressions one by one. This seemed to be way out of your league. It was a lot, and it was possibly too soon. But you trusted them with your life. They'd be there with you the whole time, they'd never push you to do anything you didn't agree to, and they wouldn't hesitate to leave if you asked for it. It was time to step out of your comfort zone.

"Vic? Give me that bra."

***

You weren't quite sure what you had been expecting, but the club, two floors with a number of different rooms, stuffed with people clad in next to nothing involved in heavy make-out sessions and - as far as you could tell - some slightly more intimate things in certain rooms - was overwhelming, to say the least. You didn't necessarily feel uncomfortable, there was no rush or pressure to participate in anything at all, or even pay attention, but there was a vibe in the air that you hadn't felt in any other club or party setting ever. You would lie if you said it didn't intrigue you a little.

You kept close to Thomas for now. Everyone had dispersed pretty quickly upon entering but you didn't quite want to explore on your own yet. Thomas didn't seem too interested in the shenanigans happening, so you followed him onto the middle of the dance floor where people's minds were occupied with the music playing and a lot of dancing. He fit right in, pulling all of his signature moves, no one even bothering to give it a second glance. It improved your mood immensely. He pulled you in easily, making you join and forget about the fact that you couldn't move to the beat if your life depended on it, and let go.

You couldn't tell how long you were there for, simply letting Thomas swing and twist you around until you were shaking with laughter and joy. You weren't paying much attention to the happening around you, but you figured the main action past some heavy make-out sessions wasn't bound to happen in the middle of the main dance floor anyway. But then Thomas needed the loo (you politely declined the offer to follow him there) and suddenly you were on your own. Feeling rather lost and a little self-conscious in the middle of a big room, you went searching for some other familiar faces.

You found Ethan at the bar, deep in conversation with a stranger. He gave you a smile as you passed by, a hand briefly wandering along your body, not even faltering in his talk. You did your best to stay calm and collected.

You found Victoria in one of the smaller rooms, leaning against a wall, drink in hand, intently watching two girls next to her. One of them had the other pressed against the wall, leaving wet kisses along her neck, her hand disappearing somewhere you couldn't see in the dark lighting. Vic seemed to be spurring them on, whispering into both of their ears interchangeably. You decided to leave them to it.

Damiano found you on your way to no place in particular. He pulled you into a different room, back into the blaring music, immediately drawing you close and wrapping his arms around you. You could tell he's had a drink, easily more intoxicated than you, by the way he moved and by the way he was clinging to you. You embraced it, letting him whisk you away. You let your arms fall around his neck, as his held your waist tightly, making dancing almost impossible, but neither of you minded as you kept trying. He kissed you, desperate and needy, not much technique left in his apparent search for more. His lips were warm and inviting against yours and you found your hands wandering to the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair.

He couldn't seem to stay still. His hands were wandering up and down your body, searching for the abundance of naked skin you had on show, fingers trailing past your bum to dance over your thighs, before coming back up, over the small of your back, harshly grabbing at your hips, thumbs stroking you softly in contrast. Moving up, they grazed the underside of your top, almost touching your breasts. When he stopped, you looked up at him, trying to figure out what had gotten him so distracted. It wasn't difficult to find out.

Following his line of sight, you could spot a couple locked in a messy kiss, their dancing reduced to not much more than a way of rubbing against each other, his knee moving between her legs, pushing against her in ways that had her moaning and breaking the kiss. You couldn't hear her over the music, but the sight of it was enough. It was hot and sexy and it felt forbidden to watch even with the knowledge that they did this well aware of their audience.

Damiano's interest was obvious - not just in the way he stared, but in the way he pressed against you. His cock was hardening noticeably through the thin material of his shorts. He turned back towards you, eyes darkening in a way you could make out even in the low light. Grabbing onto your face, he pulled you back into a kiss, hard and bruising. He overpowered you easily, letting you fall and give him control. Your hands were still slung around his neck, but he tugged on one of your arms until he could take hold of your hand. He didn't pull back as he dragged your hand down between both of your bodies, clumsily moving it over his chest, only covered by a sheer top, lower and lower. He didn't stop when you reached the waistband of his shorts. You could feel his hard length clearly now, every single detail about it prominently bulging through the material and into your hand.

As you applied some pressure, he wrecked his mouth away from yours, shamelessly throwing his head back in a moan. A head or two turned.

It felt like a thousand heads.

You could feel the eyes on you, watching you, staring, judging your every move, waiting for more, waiting for a scene.

The rational part of your brain tried to tell you it was all in your mind, that this was a club for exactly this sort of thing, no judgement, no one would care apart from for their own pleasure, there were no phones, no cameras, this was a safe space. It got drowned out too easily by the part of your brain that started to panic.

Not a safe place, not a safe place, not a safe place.

Damiano's eyes were closed and he was still moving your hand ever so slightly against himself as the panic rose up in you. A white-hot feeling seemed to travel through your whole body. Your mind went into overdrive. You didn't want this. It came out of nowhere. You weren't having fun. You weren't feeling comfortable. Your eyes were darting around the room, convinced you were the sole center of an unwanted type of attention, filling you up with shame and horror.

You have to stop, you have to stop, stop it now, tell him, let him know, use your safewords, tell him to slow down, tell him yellow yellow yellow-

"Red."

You weren't sure how Damiano heard over the music and the general noise of everything that happened around you, but it seemed like he'd been hit by lightning the second the word reached his ears. He was off you immediately, a welcomed distance as his hands let go of you completely, not a single part of him touching you anymore. You didn't dare meet his eye, staring everywhere but at his face. You felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, as if you had let him down and ruined a situation you should have been fine in but somehow weren't. You hated the feeling.

"What's going on?"

Victoria seemed to appear out of nowhere and she didn't miss the situation happening in front of her. She looked back and forth between you and Damiano, waiting for an answer, obviously unsure as to how to continue.

"We were making out and-" Damiano stammered for a moment, apparently just as overwhelmed as you. "I took it too far, I didn't check in with her, I was too distracted, and she said red."

Vic didn't hesitate, turning towards you. "Do you want to leave?"

You nodded.

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Another nod.

Her hand was gentle on the small of your back, a stark contrast to the touch you had felt from Damiano's hands before. You gathered the courage to look into her eyes, only just noticing the tears stinging in your own when you did. Her face was full of empathy as she returned your nod. You barely remembered the way out of the club or into the waiting taxi. Only when you sat down next to her in the backseat, immediately searching for her body and her comfort, did you feel like you were breathing again.

"You did the right thing, cucciola," Vic whispered as she wrapped her arm around you protectively. "There's no shame, okay? Safewords are made to be used. Our traffic light system is made to be used. That's why we taught you. You found a boundary of yours and you spoke up. I'm really proud of you."

You felt like crying, but in a good way now. Her words soothed your soul so perfectly, reassuring you and comforting you exactly the way you needed to be reassured and comforted. She was perfect. The way back to the hotel wasn't long, but she made sure to hold you and put little kisses on the top of your head all the way. She was safety.

Victoria held your hand as you left the taxi, she held it as you went up the elevator, and she held it as she led you to her room. You easily follower her lead, trusting her explicitly and the way she seemed to magically know what you needed. She jumped in the shower with you, washing your hair, scrubbing your body until you felt clean and whole again. Then she wrapped you into a towel and blowdried your hair. When she moved you into her cozy double bed you felt warm. She snuggled in next to you, making sure to always be close, always touch you in some way. You curled up like a cat, simply content to be in her arms.

"Sleep now," she whispered with another kiss, this time to your temple. "You did everything right. And we all love you. Always."

You sighed as sleep started to take over. You almost missed the last sentence she mumbled, but you couldn't bite back the grin when you heard.

"And tomorrow, if you feel like it, you'll let mommy take care of you."

After all, Vic was still Vic. Always.

***

Taglist: @till-you-scream-and-cry @ethaneskin @damianodavide @itsmaneskinbitch @blackberryblossom @lifeofa-fangirl @bethanysnow @noeprd27 @polygraph-paperplane @iambandlover @xx-x-frxnny @thewitchinthemountain @arrelia-hunter26 @crazyonthelines @vicbellaangelis @mortyandem @icarodamiano @Ursulalurks @Aapjesopeenfiets @xmusse @tellmesomething01 @elvirabelle @moonlight-simp @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @theimpossiblehologramtree @ha-la-ansia @l0standn0tf0und @iamtashaquinn @myleftsock (sorry, it won't let me tag you, it's either something in your settings or Tumblr being Tumblr) @maneskintifoso @katmoonz @dreaming-with-happiness @que--sera--sera @cuzimitaliano @wow-ihateithere @searchingford @damianossigaretta @purrthehouse @gr8rainbowpunk @littledropsofheaven @randombush3 @klavedeservesthegoddamnworld @wonderlandishell

#puppet #maneskin smut #maneskin fiction #damiano david fiction #damiano david smut #victoria de angelist fiction #victoria de angelis smut #thomas raggi fiction #thomas raggi smut #ethan torchio smut #ethan torchio fiction #mywriting

109 notes · View notes