#If it hurts you when I give you a cold shoulder have you considered. Maybe. Not constantly fucking pushing my boundaries.

[ante--meridiem]

Opens phone

*4 new messages from landlord*

Closes phone.

#Nope not fucking dealing with this right now #You have reached the end of my emotional bandwidth please wait till I recharge #If it hurts you when I give you a cold shoulder have you considered. Maybe. Not constantly fucking pushing my boundaries. #I know by now how to deal with him and enforce my boundaries but it is just so draining #Personal #Whining #Like it's just. I'm not scared anymore I don't think he'll Do anything to me but it takes so much energy to walk the line #Of civil but not giving any ground #& I think he knows that & thinks he can wear me down into giving ground

[kissitbttr]

omg I am in LOVEE with frat!miguel and cheerleader reader 🙏💕 I was picturing reader somehow getting injured at one of Miguel’s games (maybe a player slams into her or she hits her head), and him literally RUSHING off of the field to help her and people are shocked to see him getting so soft!!!! Ofc, this could be the other way around too, but soft!miguel would be such a shock, especially considering his reputation, and so cute to see 🥲🤲 Xoxo

“y/n watch out!”

your cheer mate scream at you with eyes wide, and before you could turn around, someone else’s bigger physique crashes into you. causing your body to fall and your head lands into the ground with a loud thud,

the audience let out a collective of gasps and surprised, worrying about the small girl getting concussed by the large linebacker who hurriedly get on his feet before spitting countless of apologies,

but nothing compares to how miguel reacts when he sees his girl falls,

his blood runs cold, aggressively taking off his helmet and let it fall into the grass before sprinting towards you in full speed,

“muñeca !!” he screams, voice filled with worried while ignoring the coach calling out his last name. as the rest of the team begins to exchange glances, wondering what the fuck happened to miguel.

because he’s never been the one to leave his position in any circumstances. football means a lot to him, he lives and breathe football.

so to see him completely dismissing the game is a shock to the rest,

“f-fuck i’m so sorry, i didn’t—“

“what the actual fuck was that?!” miguel roars once he gets to see you close, but his angry eyes move towards the guy who just crashed into you. his big hands violently shove the man out of your sight,

“didn’t you fucking hear the rules?! this area is off limits! there’s a line drawn here el hijo de puta!!”

“the fuck?! the ball was—“

“i don’t give a fuck if the ball went through here!! you leave it as it is!! someone could get seriously injured! you want someone to fucking die or something?!”

the team has never seen miguel so angry and red, it’s almost like miguel could actually snap that man’s neck in half. his eyes are filled with vengeance as he continues to call the guy names for hurting you,

beck’s face goes pale. “oh fuck” he mutters, jogging towards miguel and hurriedly put a space in between them. “okay okay, man! easy, easy! don’t start a fight, need me to remind you what happened to chuck last year?!”

beck searches for any significant changes on miguel’s face. heavy breathing combines with a deadly look on his expression before he shakes his head,

“okay good. let me take care of this and go to your girl. she’s still hurt” he pats on miguel’s shoulder pad before he walks off,

miguel is still burning with anger but that soon subsides when he hears you call out his name,

“miggy?”

he never turns around so quickly, bending down to your level as his arms begin to cradle your fragile body before pulling you close. “you good, baby?” his voice is now gentle and soft. “let me see”

his fingers move underneath your chin, gently tilting it back and winces when he sees a small scar across your forehead.

“dizzy?” he asks, you nod in response, hand holding your head. he then looks up to one of your cheer mates,

“get a medic, now!” he yells out, putting your head against his chest so you can rest comfortably,

“o’hara! get back here, game isn’t over!” his coach yells angrily

“i’m not moving until my girl is taken care of! go get someone off the bench to replace me if you have to!” he responds by looking over his shoulder for a moment

the coach’s shoulders slump, brows dipping into a frown as he shakes his head. “the fuck? this kid—“ he grumbles before turning around,

glen nudges beck’s side with his elbow, looking as confused as the rest.

“I don’t get it. he never asks someone to replace him. not even when his knee was busted.”

beck looks over at the two of you, watching how miguel intently taking care of your injured self.

“yeah, I don’t get it, either” beck mutters but with a small smile. seeing how his best friend completely fallen for you was definitely not on his bingo card. it’s a good change, he supposed,

he’s never been this in love with his previous girlfriends. not dana nor xina. you’re pretty much the first. he guesses, you must be the one for him,

beck gets it. he does.

#miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara #frat!miguel

[lilmashae]

s.jy x fem.reader | fingering (f.) · pet names · swearing | 18 + 🩶

you and jake laid together like every other night. however, this was different — you're laying with your back to him, which he hates. he'd just got home only a few hours ago — exhausted, and suffering from jet lag... so tired he barely noticed you, dropping his bags and walking straight into your bedroom.

it was a petty argument, if you could even consider it that. you were hurt, feeling totally disregarded by your boyfriend, but still you'll admit you were wrong — going as far as ignoring him for the rest of the day, and now.

it's killing him — jake can't stand the silence.

"y/n." it's a simple statement — one that makes you flinch, because it's the first time you've heard him speak since your quarrel. "y/n." jake repeats himself. he knows that you hear him, you're not asleep. he can clearly see you shuffling under the duvet every few minutes. "what?" you reply dryly, much more solemn than you usually would — not even bothering to turn around.

he simply scoffs, because there it is: another thing that he hates... your attitude — especially during petty fights like these when there's only one solution: he'll either have to fuck it out of you or try and talk — which in your current state of irritability, the first option's looking best.

"baby... m'sorry." his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you close. you tried turning your head to face him but he beat you to it, his head buried in your neck stopping you. "why're you upset, princess? without the yelling, tell me what's wrong..." as he was trailing hot kisses down your neck, your resentment began melting away. one of jake's hand fondled your chest, pulling and tugging at your nipples as the other slipped through the waist of your sleeping shorts, easily finding his way inside of your panties.

"fuck," you cursed under your breath. you weren't supposed to be this easy, but when it came to jake, you knew all self control was absent. "jake..."

"are you still mad, baby? 's why you wouldn't face me?" his fingers grazing your clit, making you shiver. the rings adorning his fingers were cold in contrast to your skin — burning up. "shit! i just..."

he slips a finger into your heat, creating a scissoring motion all too familiar to you. "hm? talk to me, baby." you can feel his bulge grinding into your ass, another one of his dexterous fingers finding its way inside your gummy walls. with each curling motion you think he's closer and closer to hitting that soft spot somewhere deep inside of you.

"fuck, jake... y-you just got home, and! ah, and didn't even look my, shit... look my way!" you managed to huff out. it was hard to concentrate with his fingers pumping inside of your heat. "hmmm..." he hummed against the soft of your neck, "you're right, m'sorry pretty girl... i should've paid attention to my baby, right?" jake mumbled into your skin, leaving small bites and wet kisses. "mhm..."

each plunging motion of his fingers drove you closer to the brink of cumming, his speed increasing. "such a good girl, mhm? 'so sweet, letting me fuck her on my fingers... even after i so mean," you were becoming impatient. the knot in your stomach was wrapping itself tightly around nothing, "shit... i can't, please, 'want to cum, jake."

he just smiled against your skin, "go ahead, i won't stop you, princess." and another hot kiss landed on your shoulder. after you came, jake's fingers left your sticky cunt feeling empty — bringing them to his lips, slick lathered around them as he stuck them inside his mouth and then into your own. "i'll give you all the attention you want, hm... sound good?" the idea sounded more than good.

you turned over to face him, "good." before placing a chaste kiss on his lips and falling asleep in his arms.

guidelines and disclaimers | my polls aren't working so i'm uploading this totally on whim 😭 hopefully it's enjoyed though !!! even though, it was sort of rushed and maybe confusing 🫶🏽

#lil-ma-shae #enhypen smut #sim jake smut #jake smut #enha hard hours #enha smut #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #poc!reader

[bwabys-scenarios]

Illumi stares at you often, and when I mean often, 95% of the time spent with him involves him staring at you at least a little.

His big, black eyes always seem drawn to you when you’re in his vicinity, pulling you into their dark depths. You’d think it would feel cold, considering his profession or cold personality, but looking into his eyes feels strangely warm and fills you with fuzzy feelings.

The dark haired assassin had never felt the way he felt about you before. At first he hated the way you made him feel, avoiding you at all costs. But the distance made his heart hurt, which again, is something he’s never really felt before.

If he hadn’t met you, none of this would have happened. Maybe… just maybe if he just took care of you and ended your life, that would make his heart stop racing every time he spotted you.

But he could never do it. You were full of blind spots, way too trusting, and much weaker than him, but still… he could never find the chance to kill you.

No… that’s not true. Just by walking past you alone, he could count at least 14 ways he could have swiftly ended your life within seconds, but when he moved to pull out his needles… he physically couldn’t. The needles heavy in his pocket, his heart thumping against his chest so fast that it made breathing difficult.

Killing was the only way he knew how to really interact with others. Killing them, killing for them… it’s all he really knew. So when you spotted him at a party for Hunters that he only attended so he could gather information on a target and invited him to join you for a drink… he couldn’t say no.

While the two of you talked, every little thing you did was noted down by him and stored away in his brain. The way you drilled your fingernails against the table when you were trying to remember something, the way you smiled softly when he occasionally spoke up, and even the way you breathed.

When you got up to leave, you gently patted his shoulder, saying that the two of you should ‘hang out sometime’.

And that single touch was the beginning of the end.

Just that small amount of physical contact made him feel way more drunk than the drink he’d been sipping on. The warmth of your touch reminded him of the first time he tried rum. The warm, almost scorching feeling of the liquor running down his throat almost matched the intensity of that little touch.

And he wanted more.

He had never gotten as hard as he did the night after you touched him. He found himself jerking off to pictures he found of you on your social media, imagining your pussy clenching around him instead of the touch of his hand.

As the months passed, you found yourself encountering Illumi a lot more than you had in the past. Whether it be on jobs, random bump ins at the bar or while you were shopping… it’s like you saw him everywhere these days.

Illumi felt no guilt over putting a small tracking device in your bag. After all, he killed people for a living, this was nothing.

He told himself that he was just fascinated with your ability, or perhaps even your knowledge on a specific subject. But that shouldn’t have been enough for him to be carrying you home from the bar after you had a few too many, his hands holding back your hair when you needed to vomit.

Illumi had never taken care of someone before, but when he attempted to leave you to your own devices, your hand held onto his sleeve.

“Don’t go…”

This is when he realized that he didn’t want anything you could give him that he thought. Your knowledge or your abilities meant nothing to him in the moment, what mattered is that he was curled up next to you, staring at you as you slept.

Illumi could go multiple days without sleep, so he spent the entire night just staring. Here you were, with your cheek squished against his arm, your hands clutching his shirt as you slept.

Could you ever even comprehend the things he had seen and done? Did you even understand that the man you had allowed into your bed ended other’s lives for a price?

You slept so soundly, as if you were not curled up with an experienced assassin. He couldn’t help but reach out and cup your cheek, squeezing the soft flesh between two of his nimble, pale fingers. This made to whine a bit in your sleep, but it didn’t wake you.

He was just… in awe of you. Everything you did had his heart racing. Even asleep, your actions could send him into cardiac arrest if he wasn’t careful.

As he caressed you, something he had been wanting to do for a while, his mind wandered.

What would happen if someone like him was sent to kill you? You were too trusting, too kind and naive for your own good.

He couldn’t let that happen.

That thought made him pause. For the first time in his life, he wanted to protect someone instead of use them for his personal gain. You weren’t just a means to an end or a stepping stone to his success… you were you.

And he loved you.

Love… the concept was foreign to him, but if that was the word that described what he was feeling for you… maybe he could somewhat understand the cheap romance novels he had read when bored on missions.

In the morning, you were sick again. He did his best to help you. Illumi had seen plenty of nasty things, he could handle some vomit and tears.

“Thank you, Illumi…”

He glanced to you as he put on his coat to leave. You were in your pajamas still, your face still a bit warm from embarrassment. The two of you barely knew each other, yet you had roped him into taking care of you.

“It was… no trouble.”

“B-but it was! Can’t I do anything for you to make up for it?”

He stopped, pausing by the door. “… be mine.”

The heat in your face increased tenfold. “What… did you just say?”

“I said be mine.”

Illumi was in front of you in no time, his hand was cold, but firm on your waist. “I want you, (Name).”

“Um…”

You laughed nervously, flustered. “How about a date?”

“Those terms are acceptable.”

As Illumi walked towards the car that had come to pick him up, he was already planning out how he’d bring up the prospect of marriage to his family. Of course they wouldn’t stop him, but he would prefer their approval.

Illumi opened his phone, seeing that you had texted him.

(Name): how about Sunday at 7 pm?

That was in two days. Would he be able to find a ring that suited you by then? Ah… but he really wanted to see you again as soon as possible.

Illumi: Sounds great.

He could feel himself get hard with excitement. As he looked out at the scenery passing by, he wondered if you wanted one or two kids.

‘Three or more would be best… but I’ll let her decide. She’ll be the one bearing my children after all.’

Unbeknownst to you, your entire future was being laid out for you. For the better or worse.

#illumi x y/n #illumi x you #illumi headcanons #yandere illumi #illumi x reader #requests open #x reader #anime x reader #reader insert #headcanon #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter x reader #anime x chubby reader #chubby!reader #chubby reader #illumi zoldyck #smut headcanons #smut fanfiction #smut fic #x reader smut #illumi smut #hxh smut #hunter x hunter smut #smut requests #fem reader #fem!reader #female reader

[crystallinestars]

Unrequited Love

When he develops feelings for you, but your heart belongs to another with no hope of ever loving him back.

I'm not 100% happy with this, but it has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, so I want to finally post it. Forgive me if these are all repetitive.

WARNING: This is pure angst. No happy endings here.

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, Alhaitham, Thoma, Zhongli, and Kaveh

🦚 Kaeya:

Kaeya has liked you ever since you were both children. Back when he and Diluc pretended to be knights of Favonius that heroically saved you and Jean from Treasure Hoarders, Kaeya had always wanted to play your knight in shining armor. When you got injured while playing and started crying, Kaeya was always the first one to comfort you and help patch up your scrapes and bruises. His little crush on you prompted him to look out for you and protect you from harm to the best of his ability.

As the years passed, that crush developed into full-fledged love. After Kaeya’s falling out with Diluc, you were the only person remaining whom he considered a close friend and confidant. Despite how much he tried to distance himself from you, you wouldn’t have any of it, and persistently wormed your way into his life. You worked hard to keep your friendship alive by giving Kaeya the companionship he craved, and served as a shoulder for him to lean on during his lowest moments. When faced with your sincerity, acceptance, and kindness, how could Kaeya not fall even deeper in love with you?

He lived life by distancing himself from others. He didn’t want to be abandoned and hurt again the same way when his father left him all alone in Mondstadt as a child all those years ago. Kaeya didn’t want to grow attached to people and then suffer when those bonds inevitably broke, just like they did when Diluc shunned him once he revealed the truth about his origins. Kaeya knew better than that, yet your presence made him harbor hope that perhaps you were different.

You’ve known each other since childhood, so Kaeya naturally trusted you more than most. You had a deep bond of understanding and acceptance that made Kaeya hope that maybe he could find unconditional love with you. To have you by his side, being his sole light in this dark world, is all he ever wanted. To have just one person he can let down his walls around and bare his broken self to. These rosy fantasies floated in his mind whenever you were together, warming and soothing his scarred heart.

He should have known better, but he paid the price for his foolish hopes.

When you told Kaeya that you and Diluc got together, it felt as if a bucket of cold water was dumped on him. The sweet, golden fantasies were shattered, replaced with the harsh reality that you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Truly, he should have expected this outcome.

As children, Kaeya had wanted to be your knight in their games of pretend, but it was always Diluc who beat him to the punch. His brother was always the one to save you from the imaginary bad guys and be your hero, while Kaeya faded into the background and was forced to watch as you kissed Diluc’s cheek in thanks.

Kaeya was the first to comfort you when you got injured, but it was always Diluc who ultimately cheered you up and restored your smile. When his relationship with his brother became strained, most of your attention was focused on Diluc who was mourning the loss of his father, not on Kaeya who had also lost Krepus.

To you, Kaeya always came second, and this time was no exception.

Though the news shattered his heart, Kaeya expertly masked his pain with a smile. If you wanted to be just friends, then so be it. He would accept anything you gave him because he craved any scrap of your affection that badly. Your presence comforted him in a way nothing else did, not even his favorite Death After Noon which he resorted to when he wanted to numb the sorrow and forget the painful memories, if only for a few hours. He didn’t want to lose the care and gentleness you showed him, even if it meant suffering through the heartache of knowing that your acts of kindness towards him weren’t out of romantic love. Kaeya could tolerate it, he was sure. He would move on and learn to be happy for you and his brother.

Even if his conversations with Diluc became more awkward because as much as he tried to hide his heartbreak, Diluc knew Kaeya was suffering deep down, he would still smile and try to be happy.

Even if he felt bile rise in his throat when he watched you and Diluc share a kiss and profess your love, Kaeya would smile because you must never learn of his secret romantic feelings for you. His unwanted feelings.

Even if he silently cried alone at home after attending your wedding, grasping at his chest where his aching heart was and downing glass after glass of liquor, Kaeya will plaster on that same smile.

Even if his unrequited love for you never waned no matter how many years passed, Kaeya will continue to wear a smile and act happy for you despite his heart still longing for your love.

Maybe he can’t ever be genuinely happy for you and his brother, but he can at least pretend to be.

👹 Xiao:

Xiao knew that befriending a human like you would only lead to disaster. No matter how many times he warned you to stay away from him because his karma would hurt you, you didn’t listen and continued to visit the lonely adeptus.

Xiao should have put an end to your visits by disappearing and relocating somewhere you wouldn’t be able to find him, but he didn’t. Something in him wanted to stay with you despite his better judgment. The way you brought him new trinkets and foods to try was endearing, albeit a waste of your time since Xiao seldom liked anything you brought.

He wasn’t sure why you were so adamant about befriending him, and when asked, you simply said that he seemed lonely and in need of a friend. Xiao found your reasoning naïve and even foolish since you were putting yourself in danger over an altruistic impulse, but no matter how much he pushed you away, you didn’t give up on him. You were persistent in your attempts to befriend the lonely adeptus, easily seeing through him. He only pushed you away because he was scared, not because he hated you.

Xiao wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, but one day he caught himself looking forward to your visits. He anticipated your arrival, patiently waiting for the moment he when would hear the familiar sound of your footsteps that made his heart race. His breath hitched and cheeks flushed when you smiled at him or playfully teased him. Anything you did sent his heart aflutter. Xiao was utterly smitten with you, yet he didn’t know what to do about these feelings. For now, he was content to simply let them be and enjoy these peaceful and happy days with you. He would explore these warm and airy feelings at his own pace and see where they lead.

However, these delicate emotions quickly turned as heavy as a boulder when you announced that you found a lover.

Xiao was surprised by the news since he didn’t think you had someone else you were as close to as him, if not more so. In hindsight, he should have expected it. You were a warm and friendly person, so it was only natural that you had other people you were close to in your life. This was how things should be. An adeptus like him did not belong by your side.

Though he was aware that it was for the best for you to find love and settle down with a fellow human, something inside Xiao’s chest ached at the thought. He was disappointed that he was not as special to you as he perceived, but he tried his best to ignore the pain and disappointment by burying them deep inside his heart. He tried to maintain the same demeanor he always did around you, but even you could tell that he seemed bothered by something. The way he became more reserved and aloof around you tipped you off that something weighed on his mind.

When you pressed him about it, he reluctantly confessed that he thought you would stop seeing him as much due to your new love. Despite your reassurances that you still wanted him around, as time progressed, you visited Xiao less and less often. You still brought him gifts and foods to try, but this time supplemented by comments about how your boyfriend Gaming gave them to you to try and give to your friends. Most of your conversations were no longer about your life anymore, instead now revolving around Gaming.

Your less frequent visits worried Xiao, so he sometimes stopped by Liyue Harbor to check in on you to see if you were alright. That was how Xiao found himself observing the progression of your relationship with Gaming.

As he watched you stroll around the harbor with the cheerful boy, Xiao found himself yearning to be the one you looped your arms around.

To be the one to make you smile and laugh.

To be the one to hold your hand and kiss you sweetly on the lips.

He wanted to be in Gaming’s shoes and discover what it’s like to be loved by you. However, each and every time, he shoved those thoughts and desires into the farthest recess of his mind, locking them away. He will not interfere, it is not his place. It’s better for everyone if you don’t love him. You would only get hurt being around him if you do. As a human, you would inevitably get hurt by his karma, and Xiao would never forgive himself if that happened.

If one day you drifted apart because you no longer had time for him, Xiao would accept it. It will hurt, but he will accept it.

It’s better this way, he tells himself. It’s better for you to love a fellow human, especially one that treats you right and makes you happy the way Gaming does. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the one to give you happiness—all that ultimately mattered was that you were happy, even if not with him. Not that he truly believed he could make you happy…

He’s too dangerous to be worthy of your love, so it’s better this way…

It’s better this way.

🎧 Alhaitham:

When Alhaitham invited you over to his house, he never imagined that he was setting himself up for utter heartache. The number of times he invited a person over can be counted on one hand, yet you were one of the chosen few who piqued his interest enough to invite you to his private space. You were not a genius like him, but that did not matter. You understood his worldview and didn’t criticize him for his introverted personality, which he appreciated. Plus, you weren’t afraid to stand up to him if you thought he was being too cold or antisocial, and actively challenged him to step out of his comfort zone every now and then.

Having invited you to his house, you inevitably met his mess of a roommate. When you and Kaveh instantly hit it off, Alhaitham thought nothing of it at the time. The two of you got along, and Kaveh nagged at him less which was good enough for him.

However, with Kaveh being introduced into your life, your unusual friendship with Alhaitham started to change. Whenever you expressed a desire to come over or hang out with Alhaitham, you would always ask if Kaveh could join. Every time you met up with Alhaitham to share literature or get a cup of coffee, your topic of conversation would deviate to Kaveh.

The Scribe was no fool, and he could instantly tell that you developed feelings for his roommate. Something weighed heavy in his chest at that realization, but he chose not to ponder on that feeling too much, and simply brushed it aside. Alhaitham believed in letting people have free will over the development of their lives, so he didn’t stop you from seeking out the company of the architect, even when it resulted in you canceling plans with him.

Kaveh expressed similar behavior to you, constantly asking and talking about you like a schoolboy with a crush. It didn’t take much for the Scribe to figure out that the architect returned your romantic feelings. At the back of his mind, Alhaitham knew what this could result in, but even if something in him disliked the idea, he let things play their natural course. He figured you would know better than to go for Kaveh, a person plagued with deep-rooted issues that not just anyone could deal with.

It was only when he came home one day to find you cuddling up to and kissing Kaveh did that heavy feeling return with a vengeance. The sight of your happy smiles, the sound of your laughter, and the knowledge that Kaveh made you happier than you could ever be with him, weighed heavy on his chest like a boulder. It was difficult to breathe.

However, Alhaitham remained the picture of indifference and carried on to his room. You and Kaveh only spared him with a brief greeting before returning to your little romantic bubble, none the wiser about how the Scribe felt. Alhaitham himself didn’t know what he was feeling, and it wasn’t until much later when he was struggling to focus on reading his book did it finally hit him that he was heartbroken. His chest felt heavy with sadness and disappointment because he loved you, yet you did not want his love.

The realization came far too late, and Alhaitham was left with no choice but to accept that you would not be his. Maybe if he realized his feelings sooner the outcome would have been different? Maybe if he never invited you over, you wouldn’t have fallen for Kaveh? These questions, among various others, plagued him like a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

It was too late to change anything. You made your choice, and Alhaitham will respect it.

He hid his heartache behind an aloof demeanor and curt responses, going about his days as usual. It would be best if both you and Kaveh never found out about his unrequited love to avoid unnecessary drama and complications. Even if some days it was difficult to push down the heavy feelings pressing on his chest, Alhaitham hid them well.

The only times his carefully crafted facade cracks is when you hang out with just him, lost in your own thoughts or distracted by an activity, unaware that Alhaitham is looking at you. If anyone took the time to study his gaze, they would see that despite his stoic expression, Alhaithm’s eyes reflected pure yearning and sadness. As soon as you looked at him, though, he would quickly look away to avoid you finding out the truth.

He will respect your decision, even if it hurts him.

He will hide his pain to protect your happiness and friendship.

🍡 Thoma:

Ever since he first met you, Thoma knew you were off-limits. You were Ayato’s fiancée, after all. As attractive as he found you, he couldn’t get too close to you since you were already taken. He should have been content with simply befriending and serving you the way he served Ayaka and Ayato.

At first, he was.

Ever since being introduced to him, you were placed in Thoma’s care to have the loyal retainer familiarize you with the Kamisato estate and the workings of the Clan when Ayato was too busy to do so. Thoma could tell you were out of your element being engaged to someone of high political and social standing like his Lord, so he did his best to ease your nerves and help you acclimate to your new home. He surmised that being isolated in such a large manor with none of your usual friends and family around must have been lonely, so he chose to become your first friend at the estate.

Thoma regularly snuck you out to play with stray cats and dogs, and watched your face light up in a joyous smile when the animals sought out your affection. Thoma also taught you the ropes about acting like a noble. Due to your nerves, you sometimes made mistakes, but Thoma always helped you feel better by laughing off your blunders. When you expressed a desire to see your family and friends, Thoma accompanied you to the city and served as your protector. He knew what it felt like to be stranded away from family since he was separated from his mother in Mondstadt long ago, and he didn’t want you to miss your family the way he did.

Somewhere along the way, Thoma caught feelings.

He didn’t realize it immediately. It just hit him one day when he watched you and Ayato share an intimate moment on the veranda. He felt jealous and protective of you as he watched Ayato tenderly stroke your cheek and lean in for a kiss.

Thoma didn’t hate Ayato for being the one to capture your heart. He owed a lot to both the Kamisato siblings for accepting an immigrant like him and giving him a place to belong when nobody else in Inazuma did. He is eternally grateful to them for that. For this reason, his jealousy was quickly replaced with shame and guilt because he shouldn’t have feelings for you. You were Ayato’s fiancée, he knew that. You already have someone else in your heart, someone whom Thoma serves out of a sense of respect and loyalty. He would never have it in him to ruin the idyllic happiness shared between you and his Lord.

With no other option, Thoma chooses to keep his feelings for you hidden. He plays the role of your best friend perfectly, being mindful of not touching you unnecessarily or for longer than is appropriate, no matter how much he wants to. He maintains a respectful distance between you, both physically and figuratively.

Though he brushes aside your occasional puzzled glance at his sudden change in behavior, Ayato knows. Thoma can fool you, but he can’t fool Ayato. His Lord knows what’s really brewing behind the surface of the blond’s cheerful smile.

But Thoma steps back and shows Ayato that he has no intentions of getting in the way of his relationship with you. You do not love him the way you love Ayato, and that is the reality of the situation. If you want Thoma to be your friend, then he will happily remain as one, no matter how much his heart bleeds to not mean something more to you.

Thoma will smile for you, so you won’t know that something is wrong. Because nothing is wrong, he thinks. His feelings are not necessary, and he will do his best to move on to not impede the happiness of his Lord and yourself.

The only time he slipped up was when he tucked away a stray strand of your hair on your wedding day. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your cheek for a bit longer than appropriate, but quickly pulled away to not rouse your suspicion any further. Wishing you luck, Thoma saw you off with that same warm smile plastered on his face as you prepared to meet up with Ayato to begin the wedding ceremony.

He will smile for you. Even if his heart feels like it’s being torn apart, and there’s a thick lump in his throat that makes it hard for him to speak, the least Thoma could do is smile. He will support you on your road to happiness, even if it’s not with him.

🔶 Zhongli:

Zhongli had met many people during his very long life, but few left as deep of an impression on him as you did. You were an ordinary human, a friend of Hu Tao’s he occasionally saw when you stopped by to chat with the funeral director. At first glance, there wasn’t anything particularly outstanding about you, but Zhongli found himself drawn to your energy.

When Hu Tao introduced you to him, he took an immediate liking to you and your boundless curiosity for the knowledge and stories he had to share. It was no secret that Zhongli was wise and well-informed about many things, and you saw him as a source of trivia and riveting tales about events long past.

Your undivided attention and bright eyes endeared you to Zhongli, and the god grew fond of you. He invited you to more outings where he shared interesting stories and answered any questions you had about anything at all. He had fun in your presence and was delighted to be called your dear friend.

Zhongli was well aware that there were deeper feelings brewing in his heart for you, but he was in no rush to explore or act upon them. He was content to take his time and allow your relationship with him to develop at a natural pace. Perhaps one day the two of you would grow even closer, and he would divulge his greatest secret to you about his hidden identity. For now, he would accompany you around Liyue as your friend, and share his boundless knowledge with you.

When you suddenly started zoning out during one of his long-winded speeches, he wondered if something was weighing on your mind. At first, you sheepishly brushed his concern away, saying it was nothing. When you began canceling your dates with Zhongli and scheduling fewer of them than usual, his concern deepened. When he asked for the reason behind these changes, your answer left him conflicted.

It was a charming young man from Snezhnaya, you divulged to Zhongli. A young man going by the name Tartaglia, with eyes the deepest blue you’ve ever seen, sporting a striking red scarf and mask that made him easy to spot in a crowd. Zhongli instantly knew you were talking about Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

He warned you about the dangers of associating yourself with a man like Tartaglia, but that didn’t stop you from meeting the Harbinger on a regular basis. You were enamored with that Snezhnayan rascal, and Zhongli could do nothing but watch as you abandoned his company in favor of Childe’s. You still considered Zhongli as a friend and tried to make time for him, but spurred by your romantic feelings, you chose to prioritize Tartaglia over the former archon.

Watching you run off to be with another man left a bitter feeling in the back of Zhongli’s throat, akin to the bitterness of green tea. But perhaps, things were better off this way. You were a human, whereas Zhongli was a god. He was an ancient being that had lived thousands of years and would continue to live for hundreds if not thousands more, long after your death. He does not age the way you do, not to mention that him being not human might put you off.

Yes, it was better for you to be with someone of your own kind, even if Zhongli disapproved of the man you had chosen. However, seeing how happy you were with Tartaglia, perhaps he was wrong about the impulsive Harbinger. Childe spoiled you with gifts and meals, took you out to see new sights that Zhongli could not, and gave you a vast array of new experiences that the ancient god couldn’t hope to give you. Not to mention, Childe was a fierce and reliable protector, so despite his dangerous occupation, you were in safe hands.

You smiled more with Tartaglia than you ever did with Zhongli, and he knew that he had lost. There were very few battles Zhongli had faced defeat in throughout his long life of fighting wars, but battles of the heart were not his forte. In the battlefield of love, he was the obvious loser. At least, he could accept that fact.

Or so he thought.

The day you announced you were leaving Liyue to go live with Tartaglia in Snezhnaya, made Zhongli’s blood run cold.

Zhongli had lost many people he held dear to him, so he was used to the pain and heartache that came with loss. It still inevitably hurt, but he knew how to cope with that loss better. Losing you was a different sort of heartache, though. Knowing there was a possibility he could see you, yet being denied that privilege because your love for another man was far stronger than your attachment to anything in Liyue was a bitter pill to swallow.

Just like all the other friends and comrades he had to part with, you were also leaving his life, yet your departure was voluntary. You simply did not need him anymore. Not the way he needed you, at least. You made your decision, and Zhongli will respect it, even if something in him is screaming to convince you to stay, to not leave him for good.

He sees you off with a carefully crafted smile and all the best wishes for your future in another land. As a parting gift, he gives you a beautifully ornate hairpin. A token of your friendship, he called it, though in reality, it was his unspoken love confession. Even if you never pick up on the hidden meaning, that was alright. As long as you kept his gift, a piece of his heart would always be with you.

🍷 Kaveh:

To Kaveh, you were a warm ray of light. Whenever he felt down due to bad customers or haunting memories about his father’s untimely death, you would always be there to get him out of his depressive state and prevent him from overindulging in alcohol. You knew how to get through to him when Alhaitham couldn’t, simply by speaking with empathy and gentleness towards him, which is something Kaveh greatly appreciated. Having been faced with tragedy after tragedy, and Alhaitham’s constant harsh criticisms, your gentleness was like a soothing balm to his wounded heart.

Against his wishes, Kaveh fell in love with you. How could he not when you were so understanding and kind? He knew your relationship with him was strictly platonic, but a part of him hoped that maybe you loved him too. That maybe the two of you could be more than friends.

Being a romantic, Kaveh had daydreamed about you a lot, doodling pictures of you in his sketchbook while spinning fantasies about being in a romantic relationship with you. He pictured all the various dates he would take you on, how he would lean in to kiss you for the first time, how he would profess his undying love and hear you say those same three words back to him.

“I love you.”

The day he got to hear you say those words did come, but unlike in his fantasies, your words were not directed at Kaveh. No, instead, you said them to Alhaitham.

It felt like something out of a bad dream the way Kaveh had accidentally stumbled upon your intimate moment with Alhaitham while stepping out of his room to get a drink. He stood behind the corner, getting a glimpse of you straddling Alhaitham’s lap on the living room couch, yet going unnoticed by either of you.

Hearing your earnest confession of love directed at Alhaitham of all people, made his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Bile rose to his throat when Alhaitham awkwardly reciprocated your feelings and cupped your face in a tender gesture that Kaveh didn’t know the Scribe was even capable of. Once you started to lean closer to Alhaitham’s face, Kaveh quickly made it back to his room, slamming the door shut in his haste to get away from that sight. The loud sound alerted the both of you to his presence, but Kaveh was too heartbroken to care.

What followed were weeks of agonizing turmoil. Kaveh knew he should be happy for Alhaitham. The antisocial Scribe deserved to be happy with someone he loved, but a part of him felt resentful that you chose Alhaitham over him. His fights with Alhaitham became more frequent. Kaveh nitpicked everything Alhaitham did out of jealousy, sparking conflicts that were not as easily waved away and forgotten as before. That resentment turned into guilt as Kaveh felt like a horrible person and friend for being jealous. He didn’t want to argue with Alhaitham, but he couldn’t help himself when his emotions were such a mess. He couldn’t control the impulses.

Alhaitham wasn’t stupid and quickly figured out that Kaveh was lashing out at him because of his broken heart. He had known about Kaveh’s feelings for you. The architect didn’t even try to hide his infatuation towards you, and talked about you at length to him. But you had made your choice: you gave your heart to Alhaitham, not Kaveh, and Kaveh needed to respect that. Alhaitham didn’t mince his words when he told Kaveh he needed to let go of his feelings for you because you weren’t romantically interested in him, but instead of helping, it only hurt Kaveh worse.

Of course you chose Alhaitham and not him. Compared to Alhaitham, he had no money to speak of, no house, and a mountain of debt. Moreover, he tended to overindulge in alcohol and get moody easily, plus you often told him that he hurt you with his self-destructive behaviors… It was only reasonable that Alhaitham would be a better choice in your eyes. After all, he will never be good enough for you. Not a failure like him.

You would always be an unattainable light he will admire from afar but never touch because someone like him is unworthy of you. He’s unworthy of your love—your kindness, even—and you deserve someone much, much better who can truly make you happy.

Kaveh knew all that, yet it didn’t stop his heart from shattering to pieces every time he saw you with his roommate. It felt like his heart was pierced with multiple shards of glass every time he saw you give affection to Alhaitham, those same hugs and kisses he daydreamed about having with you, but he didn’t let it show. Kaveh would pull on a strained smile and pretend that everything was okay, pretend that he was genuinely happy for you. He truly wanted to be. Dear god did he try to be, but he could not. It hurt too much to see you with another.

When the pain became too much, Kaveh started to visit Lambad’s Tavern on a frequent basis. He wasn’t proud of himself for reverting back to his bad habit of getting blackout drunk to drown out his pain and sorrow, but it was the only thing that helped him cope with the heartache.

Kaveh would drink heavily almost on a daily basis. Lambad became witness to the many times Kaveh broke down crying, and many other times when he would laugh in a self-deprecating manner and smile wryly while muttering something under his breath.

The architect had to be regularly escorted home by his friends, preferably someone other than Alhaitham because Kaveh became quite volatile when the Scribe came to take his drunk friend home. So one time, you came to take him home. Kaveh's recent avoidance of you had become worrisome, and Alhaitham wouldn’t tell you why.

While carrying the plastered blond back to your boyfriend’s house, in his drunken haze, Kaveh had confessed to you. He babbled about how much he loved you, that he was sorry he wasn’t worthy of you, and how much he wished to be loved by you the same way.

He’s sorry he can’t be a good friend to you because of his feelings.

He’s sorry he’s such a mess.

He’s sorry. So very sorry.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #thoma x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY (part 2) : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2・❥・3k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

Steve has a problem.

No, scratch that. He created a problem for himself, actually, about a week ago. A big, confusing problem that he now has no idea how to solve, so naturally what he's doing is plan B, which is the next best thing: avoiding the problem until it somehow resolves itself.

You are Steve Harrington's problem.

You, with your disarming smile, your gratuitous kindness and your impossible-to-forget laugh. You had made his parents like you, for God's sake. If that's not proof enough that you have some kind of magic working behind your smile, Steve doesn't know what is.

Oh! And of course, there is that damn dress.

Steve lowers his head until his forehead rests on the counter and sighs. Ah, that dress. Steve probably shouldn't think about it, let alone what was beneath it, the warm skin he touched for just a few seconds…no. He shouldn't think about it if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. But apparently, he likes to torture himself.

Steve stays in this awkward position for all of five dramatic seconds until his spine hurts. He straightens up again, with another sigh.

"You should talk to her."

It's Robin (of course) giving her opinion (that no one asked, Steve thinks bitterly) as she walks past him with a stack of tapes in her hands.

"I should never talk to her again. In fact," he argues, speaking a little louder so Robin can hear him from the back of the store, "if you're really my friend, you should make sure that I don't talk to her for the rest of my life."

"Coward."

"Maybe I am."

Even from this distance, Steve is under the impression that he hears Robin sighing.

She walks so fast that he doesn't even register the sound of her footsteps until Robin is in front of him, on the other side of Family Video's front counter, looking at him the way a mother would look at a child throwing a tantrum.

"You are going to talk to her," says Robin, with the certainty of someone who says the sky is blue.

"No."

She smiles. Steve is certain he recognizes that smile. It's the one that scares him, the same that precedes the moment when Dustin or one of the other kids says something like "just trust me, I have an idea", and the idea usually involves a robbery, a murder or interdimensional travel. Sometimes, all three of them.

"Robin-"

She has her backpack on her back.

"End of my shift," Robin hums, suspiciously happy. She takes a step back which, Steve thinks, is quite prudent considering what she says next, "…which means, my dear Steve, that you are obligated to serve our customers. Any customer. Even if you don't want to speak to this specific customer, you'll have to-"

Steve leans over the counter — to do what exactly, he's not sure; strangle her, perhaps — but Robin, as always, is faster. She laughs, and before he can do anything other than practically beg her to stay, Robin is out the front door yelling I'm sorry! over her shoulder, even though Steve knows she's not sorry at all.

Less than ten minutes later, the bell above the door rings again, and Steve wouldn't even have to look to know it's you.

You enter the store and your steps are quick, hurried, a clear goal in your mind.

You stop in front of Steve, almost exactly where Robin had stood a few minutes ago, but the look in your eyes is completely different for more reasons than one.

Steve swallows hard. You had been here two other times this week, and both times Steve managed to somehow force Robin to distract you, acting as if he was too busy to see you. You had clearly decided to talk to her behind his back, because all this had definitely been an elaborate plan between the two of you so that Steve couldn't get away.

You get to the point, crossing your arms. "You are avoiding me."

You're not asking; you're telling him. You know. You noticed.

Well, of course you did. You're smart. Smarter than him for sure.

Steve can only hope you haven't found out about the reason why he's avoiding you these past few days. That would be hard to explain.

He clears his throat. It's like he's trying to breathe with a couple of birds inside his ribcage.

"I'm not avoiding you," he says, but he looks away so quickly he doubts you believe him. "I've just got a lot going on lately…" he trails off, racking his brain for an excuse that would make sense without revealing too much.

It isn't fair — you're the last person he wants to hurt, and yet it took some elaborate plan between you and Robin to get him to stand in front of you again.

Pathetic.

You don't seem impressed. In fact, you laugh before he's even finished speaking, but it's not your usual light, happy laugh; It's a low, wry chuckle that makes Steve feel instantly irritated, even though he knows he probably doesn't even have that right after everything.

He knows he hurt you. He knows. He never wanted that. But you…you have no idea how torturous that night, that dinner had been for him. So yes; he does get a little angry.

"You've got nothing new going on lately!" you retort, growing angry yourself. "You just- I don't know. Have I…done something wrong? Did I make your parents mad that night or something? Because all of a sudden-"

"No!" he snaps, the word coming out harsher than he intended, and definitely louder. His cheeks flush with anger, and then embarrassment, and suddenly Steve desperately wants to crawl into a hole somewhere.

He clears his throat.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he repeats, softer this time. "It's just…it's complicated."

"It's complicated?" you ask, and now you're all but yelling too. Great. "That's your excuse for flat out ignoring me for the past week?"

"I'm not ignoring you!" he protests, his voice a bit higher than usual.

The truth is: he has been avoiding you. Every time he sees you, he feels this strange pull towards you - a mix of attraction and annoyance that he can't quite figure out. And every time he talks to you, he worries that maybe he'll say too much, or worse yet, say nothing at all and you, with your annoyingly sharp mind, will read him like a book.

As if that wasn't enough, Steve thinks, tormented, you decide to walk around the counter to literally stand in front of him, nothing else between the two of you besides a couple of steps.

This proximity feels like a trap. Steve takes another step back and his hipbone hits the counter. Dear God.

"Yes, you are!" you argue, crossing your arms and taking a step forward almost without realizing it. "You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night so that your parents would leave you alone, and I did. I thought it was okay. But then you pretty much ran out of my house afterwards and refused all my attempts to talk to you ever since."

You sigh. You lift your chin and look up at him, and, alarmed, Steve notices that your eyes are a little red, as if you're holding yourself back from crying.

He's making you cry?

Shit. The last thing he wants in the world is to make you cry.

"Tell me what I did wrong," you say, and the sudden softness of your voice catches Steve off-guard. "You owe me at least that, don't you? If seeing me is such a problem for you, just..tell me what I did wrong and I'll leave you alone. I'll go…clearly that's what you want."

"No, that's not what I want," he says quickly, stepping closer to you before his mind can catch up on his intentions. "Look, I'm sorry. I just…I don't know how to handle this."

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you probably notice the desperation in his tone, because you just stand there, looking at him. Waiting, he realizes. You don't move.

Then you ask, sounding so innocently confused that Steve almost feels like screaming:

"How to handle…what?"

It's not possible, he thinks. There's no way you didn't notice. You would have to be blind, deaf and…well, maybe not even then. Steve had thought things had gotten pretty clear the week before, at your place, when you had asked him to unzip your damn dress and he had gotten so carried away he almost kissed you and…

Well.

"You," he answers immediately, looking you square in the eye with all the genuine honesty he still has the capacity for. "I don't know how to handle the fact that I…" Steve swallows.

"That you..?" you encourage, taking a tentative step closer.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks, not moving an inch.

"Yes."

Steve's heart skips a beat, a beat that could very well be his last. "Look-"

"Tell me."

"I think you already know."

"I don't."

"Oh, come on," Steve says, his voice cracking as he lets out a humourless chuckle. "You can't tell me you didn't notice the way I looked at you last week. I mean, Jesus, I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend for dinner with my parents, and then I almost…"

He trails off.

And there it is; that funny feeling inside your chest, that warmth you can't even begin to explain.

"You almost what?"

He chuckles again. "Why do you think I left like that?"

"I honestly have no fucking idea, Steve."

"You asked me to unzip your dress."

"And?"

Steve looks at you like you'd just grown an extra limb.

"You can't be serious."

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry I asked you to do that, but I didn't mean to make you, uh…uncomfortable. You could have said no if-"

"That's not it." Steve cuts you off, frustrated because God help him, you don't get it. You still, somehow, don't get it. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

So what he does instead is turn around, placing his hands on the counter, his back turned to you so that he can think clearly for a moment without being distracted by the way you're looking at him.

But you…oh, you never let things go, do you?

"What is it then, Steve, huh?" you ask, shortening the distance between the two of you by half. You know the answer, or at least a part of you does. But the other part, the part that's stubborn and insecure and tired…wants to hear him say it. Needs to hear him say it. "What is it? Because it feels like you just want to hurt me. You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, but it didn't feel like we were…"

Pretending. Is that what you were going to say?

You stop speaking abruptly, eyes wide as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own. Judging by how angry you sounded, Steve thinks that's exactly what happened.

"Then you just…decided to ignore me."

For one moment, the only thing between you two is the silence.

"I didn't do that to hurt you," his voice is a whisper.

"Then what the fuck were you trying to do, Steve?"

"Get over you!"

"I...what?"

It feels like you're taunting him at this point.

"What, not what you expected?" He says, voice tight as he turns around to face you again, a bitter laugh trapped inside his throat. "C'mon, are you that oblivious?" 

He's getting closer to you as he speaks now, voice growing more intense, more desperate; but you don't back away, he notices. You don't move, don't push him away. All you do is look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, waiting, searching for something in his expression. 

"I-I fucked up, okay? I told you it was just play pretend but the truth is…I didn't have to pretend one bit," he confesses, eyes finding yours, and immediately that anger — or whatever it was — dissipates, his tone softening as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I should have known that having you for one night, even if it was just pretend, would just make it that much worse. That's why I tried to avoid you. To get over you…and clearly that didn't work."

There's so much you want to say that you feel like you're choking on your own words. "I don't- you, I mean-"

"No, it's alright, just…" He looks down at the ground, then steps back again with a small, empty chuckle. "Go ahead and reject me. Make it easy for me."

"I-what? Reject you?" If a demogorgon suddenly showed up and swallowed your left leg whole, you're pretty sure you would have been less taken aback.

"I know it's not what you want to hear. It's not how I wanted things to go either. But I'm trying to be honest here," he says, taking another step back, feeling more and more exposed with every stupid word that comes out of his mouth. "I care about you. And I know that if I don't get over this, it's going to ruin everything. So, please, just-"

"Oh my God, you are so stupid!"

Your tone of voice changed completely. Steve lifts his head to look at you, and to his complete and utter confusion, you're laughing.

Laughing.

For a terrible moment, the thought that you're laughing at him crosses his mind, but then…

You hug him. You hug him so tightly, in fact, that Steve is pushed back a step or two, and suddenly he's pressed up against the counter once again.

“You didn’t kiss me,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest. 

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair and feeling the soft cotton of your shirt under his fingers. He can feel the warmth of your body against his. It's almost painful, how good it feels to be this close to you. 

He wonders if he heard it wrong.

No — he certainly heard it wrong. He's hallucinating. Must be.

"Wait, I…what?"

You don't move an inch, but Steve feels as you take a deep breath against his shirt. He wishes he could see your face. 

"That night," you explain, finally looking up at him. You look more flustered than he's ever seen you. Closing one of your hands into a fist, you hit Steve's chest without any real force. "I thought you were going to kiss me, but then you just ran off without saying anything. How was I supposed to guess that you actually liked me, Steve Harrington?"

He almost chuckles. Steve feels like his heart is in his throat, he can't believe what he's hearing. You like him? You, the girl he's been crushing on for what feels like forever, actually like him? 

It's too much to process. He tries to form a response, but all that comes out is a strangled sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

So instead of trying to use any stupid words, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. He leans down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, and finally, finally, when you don't move away…he brushes his lips against yours. 

It's just a soft, tentative touch, but it's enough to make him forget about everything else. 

Steve pulls back then, waiting for you to pull away, to tell him no…but you don't. You close your eyes and lean into him, opening your mouth a little more against his, inviting him in. He takes the invitation, pressing his lips against yours again, more firmly this time, feeling your soft, warm tongue slide against his. He presses harder, deepening the kiss, feeling your hands curl into his shirt as he pulls you even closer.

You feel dizzy, light-headed, and utterly, perfectly lost in this moment. 

Your hands cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there as you, too, attempt to pull him closer, as close as possible…and then, the bell above the front door rings, announcing that someone just entered the store.

Fuck. 

Steve groans as you pull back immediately.

It's just a customer, an older man with a newspaper under his arm, looking around curiously. Steve knows it's not his fault, but he doesn't think he's ever hated anyone quite so strongly.

He looks down at you and it's a mistake; you look so beautiful with your cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, a soft, embarrassed smile on your mouth. Steve doesn't know what to say, he's not even sure he knows how to find his voice right now, so one of his hands finds its way up to cup your cheek again, fingers curling gently while the man walks around the store looking for God knows what.

Steve feels like he's on cloud nine. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in you again, and to hell with Family Video's customers. But you, on the other hand…

You grin. "You should probably-"

"Don't go anywhere," Steve tells you with a grin of his own. "I'll be right back."

Apparently, he wasn't aware that he wouldn't be able to get rid of you if he tried.

tags (i hope i haven't forgotten anyone, sorry!): @siriuslysmoking @sebastiansstanswhore @sorchateas @boomitsallie1 @vivzzi @mel119g @skrzydlak

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

[razzle-n-dazzle]

hello, friend!! i saw your adam hcs and i loveddd themmm!! i was hoping to request smth if that’s okay? could we get lucifer with a reader who also struggles with depression like he does (it’s mentioned in episode five if you didn’t know!!) and maybe reader had a practically rough week and gets home from work and just breaks down in tears, and luci find a way to cheer them up? either fem! or gn! reader if that’s chill, tysm for taking your time to consider this even if you don’t get to it!!

— 🪽anon

ᯓ★ "Give Your Corpse Some Smile Lines." Lucifer / Reader | Oneshot TW! Read at your own risk and comfortability! | talks about depression, suicidal topics/actions, overdosing topics/actions, reader breaking down, hurt to comfort, self destruction, abuse

ᯓ There are days and weeks, sometimes months and years, that prolonged like time, made it appear like it no longer moved and served a purpose. Like time was nothing but a feign idea that was made to torture everyone and anyone who dared think about it, who dared to calculate how it traveled and how long it took to pass a minute. And some days it made people want to break, and some day it made people want to kill other people, and some days it made people overjoyed, and some days it made people excited, and some days it made people nervous, and some days. . . It made you want to die.

ᯓ To be killed in the most brutal fashion known to man, to explode in a death either as silent as taking your own life in your own home or as bright and fantastic as the explosion of fire works. Time for you was never a friend and it continued to taunt you after you had died, overdosing on the pain medication you were prescribed after a horrible accident. Horrific! You had heard people call you, friends and family, after they saw the state of your decaying body after being rammed by a truck who lost control. Monstrous! None of them chose to stay around, none chose to help you when you were at your weakest and worst, when you could barely help yourself. And all you had done back then was help them! Was care for them! Be there for them at any time of the day whenever they needed, whenever they wanted, whenever they asked or called or texted or shouted or pleaded or-

ᯓ And it was a coward move, you were sure. Weak, many would call it, blasphemous and you were sure it was why you never got into Heaven despite having done everything in your power to be okay, to be the perfect person everyone wanted, to be good. But one night, when everything was moving too slow and no one seemed to blink twice at your presence, you would take your own life in silence. To overdose on your own pills, both praying it wouldn't work but gain the attention of someone yet also praying it would kill you and finally let you live in peace. In a world of black nights where you didn't have to open your eyes no longer, where time wouldn't be creeping over your shoulder, where nothing would hurt anymore because dammit. . . everything hurt.

ᯓ IT ALL FUCKING HURT.

ᯓ And then you ended in hell, and then you realized this would be your life . . . and then you realized you were still stuck with your worst enemy of all: Time. Forever stuck in an eternity after life, forever stuck here by yourself, forever being another face in the crowd or another person on the street for people to pass by and not think about twice. Someone. Just someone! Not even someone, no one. Just a shell, just a person decaying on the streets, decaying for all to see. A pitiful show.

ᯓ You could hardly remember when you met Lucifer; Maybe you were down on your luck one day and was eating cold Ramen out of the streets and he took pity to sit by you, to talk to you. Maybe it was when you were at a bar, downing another drink to forget the fact that you were chained down here, chained to your enemy, chained to your eternity of a never ending moment of the hands of time. Maybe you were working your minimum wage job to barely survive, or maybe you bumped into him. You memory hadn't always been good, party due to your own mental health and a constant flight or fight response, yet you had always knew life to be so bleak before you had met him. And then one day, everything was slightly a bit more okay. And slowly everything was a little more barrable; Even just slightly.

ᯓ And maybe a life can be handled in eternity, and you didn't have to be alone anymore . . .

ᯓ Yet, no matter how much anyone wished, love cannot fix all problems. Love can teach you how to heal, love can teach you how to live, love can teach you how to handle everything inside of you in a better manner than self destruction. But love cannot instantly fix everything wrong with you; You should have realized that sooner.

ᯓ You lived a life nothing short of a fairy tale for the last few months, living life alongside a partner who you could share the weight of the world with. Who felt comfortable enough to share the weight of the world with you. Where in the days you both laughed and played, pushing and pulling each other, peppering kissing on skin and longing ones on the lips. And at night you cuddled against each other, both with the fear of losing, both with longing, both just enjoying the company you now had, that you could now share. You've already shared tears, concerns, worries, troubles. You've both been vulnerable under the other's eyes, staining shirts under the other's careful and cradling hug, broken down and rushed out apologies. You've already both taken care of each other, took your time and held patience with each other and you both tried to heal the broken pieces of one another. Most would call it a disaster, a tragedy, yet for you both . . . it was like some sort of twisted hope, knowing you were no longer alone in your self deprecation. Knowing that even if either of you tried to self destruct everything around you, tried to gain that control that's slipping away, tried to push the other away, they would understand and be there. That in the end of the day you had someone to crawl to.

ᯓ Yet even with constant oxygen and wood, a fire can still grow dim in it's own silence and try to snuff itself out.

ᯓ This week had been long, it had dragged you by the heels and you could no longer put the energy to fight against it's slowing seconds. Working a minimum wage job, even after Lucifer had told you that you never had to again (yet you continued to do so for some sort of feeling of schedule and stability), that you hated and wished you could quite for a paycheck that wasn't even that high to withstand the abuse you had to. Lucifer constantly worried about you, about how the job affected you both physically and mentally. You often came home either drained or hurt, as costumers tended to get rather violent down in Hell. It was common to be stabbed during a shift and having to endure it until your shift was over. Effectively causing you to bleed out while still having to rep a costumer service smile. And the stabbing might not even be the worst part of everything; As you had to try many times to bite back any sort of emotion, ire and frustration and sorrow, as costumers yelled, screamed, tossed shit your way for a mistake you didn't even make. And yet it was your fault. It was always your fault and you couldn't do anything but stand there and take it, as your job would be on the line if you did anything other than stand there and take the anger and take the frustrations and the yelling and the stabbing; Being everyone's personal punching bag without any sort of composition.

ᯓ What was the point of it?

ᯓ The thought had came to you one day after you came home, slugging your shoes off your feet and tossing your keys onto the counter. Lucifer wasn't home, he usually was, yet you guessed he had something better to do than hear your sorrows of the day. You would want to do anything than hear about your sorrows as well, you couldn't blame him for trying to avoid you. So you dragged yourself to the bathroom, heavily sitting down upon the close lid of the toilet before sinking down some. A hand rested upon your stomach, the knife that pierced through your side slid in between your fingers like it didn't draw your blood out. Like it wasn't causing you pain; not even the worst pain in your life, just pain that poked and pricked and brought tears to the eyes, but you were no stranger to tears or to blood. You were no stranger to the bruises that covered your body from angry costumers, from the blisters that grew from harsher treatment, from the blood that seeped and stained. And maybe you should take care of that wound, but it was best to keep a knife into the wound than take it out; It stopped bleeding and you hadn't stained that much, you didn't think, and you were oh so tired so maybe. . .just a nap would help. It didn't have to be a long one, yet something in the back of your mind hoped it would be, and you leaned your head back against the back of the toilet. The light above gave out a buzz, showing it was working, sounding that it was on and here.

ᯓ Yet a nap sounded nice.

ᯓ "Honey! I'm home!" Lucifer shout, a cheerful laugh followed and a careful grin was stretched on his face as he tried to balance the bags of groceries that were in his arms; Trying to make his one round of bringing groceries in to work. He didn't want to drop a single one of them, "I'm sorry I took so long, yet I went to the store and wow! There were a lot of options for things that I was sure I would never make it out of there! Did you know that there's like. . ." Lucifer would pause to count his fingers, having successfully delivered the bags onto the counter without breaking anything, ". . .15 different brands of milk?! And they had like this Milk called Almond milk, where they apparently milk the almond and I don't know how they do that but-" Lucifer's voice fell flat as soon as he noticed you weren't around, at least, not around as usual. By now you would have sprung from the couch, or yelled at him from the bathroom that you were doing your business, or came from the bedroom to wrap him in a hug. Yet your presence was absent and it didn't allude Lucifer, at least, not many more. "H . . . honey?" He would call out again, this time with a more shaken voice and frowned eyebrows; His smile no longer held the confidence of a man who managed to do one round of bringing groceries in with 13 bags.

ᯓ And yet you didn't respond to his call, how could you when your own breath was so shallow your heart was speeding up, stressing, just to pump blood through your body; And Lucifer grew worried. It would triple upon seeing the mess you had left, a mess that hadn't caught his eye until now. . . Your shoes left lazily by the door, your keys stained with blood. Blood that streaked like a hand across the counter top and traveled inward, towards the bathroom and it's door that lingered tauntingly open. And instantly, Lucifer felt his mouth run dry and his feet speed towards the bathroom with nothing but horrible thoughts piling up in his head. You were hurt and you weren't answering his calls. You were hurt and you weren't doing anything to signal to him that you were okay. Are you okay? Are you dead? Oh god he hoped he didn't get to that bathroom door and see your dead body there, all stained and pale. Please don't be dead, please please please. . . "OH MY GOD!-" Lucifer hated to admit the way his body froze in horror by the doorway, one hand clinging onto the frame and the other shot up to cover his mouth. He hated the way his feet stuck to the ground like they were rooted, forcing him to look at your bleeding and barely breathing figure on the floor.

ᯓ And no, he didn't miss the way your blood was smeared on the toilet. He could never miss such a detail when your blood was the last thing he ever wanted to see seep out of your body and pool and stain everything around you.

ᯓ "Oh fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" The words fell out of his lips, fell onto deaf ears, as he ripped his rooted feet off the ground and rushed over to you, to your body. He felt dazed, confused, unsure of himself all of a sudden. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? "Hey, don't be dead come on!-" He didn't realize he was rambling to himself as he kneeled down next to you, not minding the way your blood seeped and stained his white clothes. He shuffled around, looking for your wound, looking for something he could fix to help you! He was so panicked, and had to stich up your wounds so often, that the thought of calling a doctor didn't cross his mind. Lucifer was hesitant to touch you, but didn't want to hurt you, "Wound, wound wound! Where the fuck is your wound?!" He asked before spotting the knife that was jagging out your side. It was mostly covered by your body, as he had happened to kneel down on the opposite side of where your wound pierced in. "Oh fucking duh, it's where the knife is. Nice job Lucifer can't spot a fucking knife when your lover is bleeding out on the floor!- Shit wait I need to actually take care of that. Fuck! Where the hell is the first aid kit?!"

ᯓ To say Lucifer was freaking out during the whole process of taking out the knife, tossing it to the side to be picked up later, disinfecting your wound, trying to stitch it up with shaking hands, and wrapping you up. . . would be an understatement. He was terrified to hold you, afraid he might make the wound worse or he might put you in more pain, yet somehow managed to move you from the bathroom floor to the couch in the living room. He would have put you to bed, at least provided your body a little more comfort, yet he was afraid to leave your side. Afraid that if he took his eyes off of you that something might happen, that you might roll onto the wound and break the sticking, that you might just stop breathing as a whole and leave him alone.

ᯓ He tried calling Charlie to help, yet physicked himself out right before he was going to press the call button. He needed some sort of help, he couldn't go through this alone, yet he didn't want to put his daughter through this either. All he could really do was find himself sitting in front of the couch, head resting upon the cushion, watching your chest rise and fall with heavy eyes; Just to reassure himself you were still here, that you were still alive and you could wake up. Maybe tomorrow? Hopefully. Maybe he should bring you to a hospital. Either way he was here, waiting, hoping.

ᯓ Fuck . . . He didn't know what he would do if you didn't wake up. But you did! By some grace of god you had happened to wake up in the middle of the night, the day after Lucifer had found you. He hadn't been awake, and you were barely moving due to the pain that jabbed at your side. Though you noticed the weight that indented the couch by the edge, slightly turning your head to see Lucifer's crossed arms and nuzzled head into it; He was sleeping, leaning against the couch while sitting on the floor. Drowsy, tired, you glanced over at the couch, wondering why he was sitting down there instead of up here with you. When did you even get to the couch? And then you noticed how you were wearing some of his clothes, with the shirt pulled up to expose your wrapped chest, the bandages still a stained a little crimson red. And you frowned, eyes heavy, looking down at the wound and realizing, at least to some sort of extent, why he wasn't up here. You had scared him . . . A heavy sigh left your lips as you reached a hand out, shaking, as you leaned down into the cushions. Gently, you placed your hand on top of Lucifer's, trying to intertwin your fingers without waking him. If anything, by the way he looked, you were sure he just managed to fall asleep . . . and most likely passed out from exhaustion rather than willingly succumbing to slumber.

ᯓ Though feeling the sudden warmth on his hands, and being half-awake and half-asleep in general, Lucifer's eyes fluttered open despite being rather heavy. He felt heavy, he felt tired . . . yet his hand felt warm, causing his eyes to glance down and notice your hand on top of his. Your hand, your thumb rubbing against his. "Love?. . ." He would mumble out, hoping this wasn't a dream, as he gently raised his head. You noticed the way his eyes sagged a little, his eyelids clearly heavy with eyebags starting to form under his eyes. The frown that had been on his face, tugged down out of pain, began, sluggishly, to tug into a warm smile. "You're awake. . . how are you feeling, do you need anything?" The way his voice croaked, clearly tired and clearly worn from tired and sobbing. His disheveled look, the way his hair was more frazzled than normal and the way his clothes were stained. It all made you upset; Not at him, no, you could never be upset at Lucifer. You were upset at yourself. For causing him so much pain, for making him probably so worried and panicked with the crawling thoughts of your death if he dared to ever take his eyes off of you.

ᯓ Lucifer, waiting for your answer, would gently bring your hand up to his cheek. He had missed your warmth, you had been so cold when he touched you last to move you from the tile of the bathroom floor to the plush cushions of the couch. He was glad that the warmth had returned to body, that he was able to watch your eyes sparkle in the dim lights that flooded in from the kitchen stove hood.

ᯓ His eyes were so gentle, his smile was so genuine, and all you managed to weakly croak out was a, "I'm sorry." And you felt bad feeling the warm tears starting to clump up in your eyes again and spill over. And you felt horrible as Lucifer shot awake, seeing your tears through the light of the kitchen, and rushed to bring his free hand up to your cheek to wipe away your tears. "I'm so sorry Lucifer I. . ." You would choked out, unsure what else to say. How else could you apologize to Lucifer when you knew that you had laid there, on the toilet, with the intention to hopefully die. And you didn't know how to tell Lucifer that to his face, especially when you've never had to tell anyone who's gotten as close to you as Lucifer has that you've thought about killing yourself. That you tried to plan it out in your shared home. Where you knew they would find you. Where you knew. . . "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're-" Lucifer paused for a second, glancing down at the side of your stomach. He had to reassure himself that you were alright before trying to comfort you, "-okay. You're okay now!" Lucifer grinned towards you, a little nervous at first before it fused out into more worry. "You're awake and you're not dying and it's okay! We can. . . talk about it all later okay? Just focus on getting better."

ᯓ You both would sit there in a comfortable, slightly-comfortable, silence as Lucifer stared up at you, and you stared back down at him. His hand, after having cleared your tears, hand reached up to play with your hair, trying to coax you back to sleep. Even when you knew he needed sleep himself, with the way his heavy eyes closed for long periods of time before opening again to meet mine. "Come here. . ." You would mumble, trying to reach for Lucifer, wanting to feel his warmth against yours. He was hesitant to do so, you could tell by the way his eyebrows scrunched upward and the frown that tugged on his lips. It took a while to coax him onto the couch, where even then he gingerly laid on his side and wrapped his arms cautiously a safe place above your bandages and nuzzled his head between the crook of your neck. You were able to play with his hair this time, give him a soft peck on the forehead. A silent apology for all the pain he had to endure because of you without you there to help, without the support he had shown you countless of times without fail.

ᯓ "I. . ." Lucifer's voice warily mumbled out, ". . .thought I was going to lose you." And the way his voice cracked broke your heart into a million pieces. And the only pathetic response you could muster back to him was a soft, shaken, "I'm sorry." As tears silently began to fall down your cheeks, and you could feel the silent tears that fell from Lucifer's eyes stain your neck. "I'm. . . so, so sorry. . ." "It's okay. . ." Lucifer would hug you a little tighter, "We'll work through it together, you're not going to lose me that easily, even if-" He would pause, choking out a bit of laughter between his tears, "-you try yourself."

ᯓ Oh. . . he knew. . .

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[beneathstarryskies]

Hi hi hi there!

Could I please request a smutty something having to do with Astarion and him drinking my blood while having sex? Thanks!

Warnings: blood sucking (obviously), fem!reader, oral (f receiving), penetration (p+v), creampie • word count: 2,262 • a/n: I got a lil carried away on this one lol

Astarion tries his damndest to keep his hunger in check when he is close to you. You already give him so much - so willingly at that - he couldn’t bring himself to burden you with the random bouts of bloodlust he feels at times. Not because he knows you wouldn’t give in to his whims. Quite the opposite. He can already picture you giving him that sweet smile and baring to him that pretty little neck, inviting him to take and take and take some more. Despite your willingness to stand up to him about your morals, you hardly have the strength to truly deny him anything he wants. 

After a while, the bloodlust begins popping up during the most inopportune times. Bathing with you in the large tub, holding you close as you rest against his chest draws his attention to the curve of your neck, tempting him to bite when you���re so trusting and vulnerable. Having you spread out on the bed while he’s buried between your legs only makes him wonder if the blood would taste sweeter if he bit into your inner thigh. On the same note, he imagines driving himself deep inside your tight heat and biting into your neck to hear your sounds of pleasure mixed with a cry of pain…You can try to tame a vampire, but at the end of the day he will always be a predator. 

Maybe that’s why he begins pulling away from you, spending more time alone and wandering the streets at night. Finally, he has the nerve to ask you if he should consider finding a different way to feed. He’d fed upon animals before, he’d be willing to do it again if it meant he didn’t lose control and drain his beloved. The only person who has ever truly cared for him…

“Why would you want to do that?” you ask him, feeling a little hurt at the assumption you didn’t want to allow him to drink from you any longer. 

“It just doesn’t seem economical that you have to bear the burden alone,” he explains in that voice that’s dripping with sweet manipulation. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for you, darling.” 

‘And trying to keep myself from tearing you apart…’ he thinks. 

“I suppose it does make sense,” you agree. 

He nods, seemingly satisfied with the conversation. He stalks out that night in search of prey, and you’re left lying alone in the bed wondering where it had all gone wrong. The act of letting him feed on you had been the first step to bonding with him. Like a feral cat, Astarion found himself slowly growing closer to the one who provided him sustenance without asking for anything in return. Eventually, he’d allowed you to even touch him while he did it, running your fingers through his hair and clinging onto his shoulders. Then came the night he’d taken too much. You hadn’t even been angry with him over it. You’d blamed yourself for not letting him know in time. As you’d laid in your bed roll shivering from the cold brought on by blood loss, he’d even tried to hold despite knowing his cold skin wouldn’t offer much help. 

The nights pass with each of you alone until one night when he’s preparing to venture out once more, you grab his hand. Your eyes are desperately peering into his, trying to convey all of the feelings you struggle to say out loud. 

“Stay,” you whisper. 

“Darling, I should feed.” 

“Please,” you whine and tug on his hand with enough strength that he almost drops back into bed beside you. “Just one night, please. I’ll bring you a rabbit or something tomorrow. Please. Just stay.” 

His eyes soften when he hears your pleading. The new arrangement had taken him away from you during the key few hours of the night when you could be together without worrying about the sun. He places his palm on your cheek and sighs softly. 

“I suppose I have been sneaking away a lot lately,” he concedes. He sits down on the bed beside you. “I just wanted to make sure I was feeding well, and not burdening you.” 

“I thought you were beginning to hate me,” you chuckle softly despite the relieved tears brimming along your lash line. 

“Oh, darling. I had no idea that’s what was going on in that pretty head of yours,” he kisses you softly. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“I don’t know. I just assumed I’d made it clear I don’t find you to be a burden, so the only explanation was that…You know, you were pulling away.”

“And you were just going to let a beauty like me go?” he teases you although his hand on your thigh is gentle and reassuring. 

“So, will you stay?” you plead again. 

“Hm, let me think on it,” he says as he stands up and begins undoing the laces of his shirt and untucking it from his pants. “Should I?” He removes his shirt and tosses it onto the chair nearby. “Perhaps, I will.” 

He kicks off his shoes and removes his pants before crawling back into the bed with you. His hand slowly moves up the hem of your nightshirt. 

“It seems you are,” you giggle. “Unless you intend on going out in those adorable underpants.” 

“Rest assured, my adorable underpants are for your eyes only.” 

He smirks before leaning in to kiss you deeply, slowly pushing you down onto the bed so you’re pinned beneath him. His hands slowly move down your sides. It always awes him how warm your body feels, and he instinctively seeks out to take it in. He pulls your nightshirt off and tosses it aside just to feel you against him, your warmth seeping into his being. He pulls you closer and begins nibbling on your collarbone. 

“Astarion,” you giggle. 

“Mm, I think you should be moaning my name. Not giggling it.” 

He moves lower, letting his fangs graze against your skin. He used to worry about that. He thought it’d bother you, remind you of what kind of monster he is. Until the day you’d shyly admitted you liked how it felt, it turned you on. He carefully drags them over your warm breast before sucking on your nipple. As a moan falls like a song from your throat, he flicks his tongue over the pert bud. He continues until you’re writhing and whimpering then he moves to the next breast, lavishing in it in the same lewd attention. Astarion knows how to work a body into a craze, but none have delighted him the way you do. Every moan, every quiver, every soft breath of his name falling from your lips is like a gift to him. 

“So responsive tonight, have I truly neglected my sweetheart so much?” he asks before kissing your tummy. If you do answer, he’s too busy kissing and licking and nibbling on every curve of your body until he’s nestled between your legs. 

“Astarion,” you gasp when you feel his breath on your dripping cunt. 

“Oh, that’s more like it,” he chuckles. 

He presses a soft kiss to your mound before using his nimble fingers to part your folds. He feels his body stir with delight at the sight of your flushed, wet pussy. He explores the curves and tender flesh with his tongue before wrapping his mouth around your clit. His hands hold your thighs apart, allowing him to devour you as deeply as he desires. He keeps savoring the taste of your sweet arousal with the same appreciation one might use to sample an expensive wine. He can almost taste the orgasm building in your core. He can sense the quickening of your pulse and smell the increase of your hormones. 

“I’m gonna…” 

“I know, darling. Let go for me.” 

He returns to his ministrations as though his very being depends on it. Your thighs tremble around his head and the moans falling from your lip are like music to his pointed ears. You throw your head back as you feel the tightening in your core threatening to break at any second. 

Astarion suckles on your clit and moans against your cunt. It’s enough to drive you mad. The coil snaps inside of you, releasing waves of nerve-numbing pleasure. You tug on his white hair gently and your hips buck slightly against his face. He keeps you suspended in a place where time stands still, and it’s only you and him at this moment. That is until you let out one final cry of pleasure and fall back into a relaxed puddle on the mattress. Astarion smiles when he lifts his head from between your thighs, a look of smug satisfaction on his features. 

“I suppose it has been much too long since I’ve done that,” he admits before climbing over your body.

 He presses soft, sensual kisses on your lips before pushing his boxers down and kicking them off. He takes your hand and guides it to his aching erection. A hiss of pleasure escapes him when your warm, soft hand wraps around his length and you start to stroke him with practiced skill. 

“Do you feel what you do to me, darling? After all this time, just the smell of you can drive me to madness,” he whispers huskily against your ear. 

You’re lost for words, as you so often find yourself when Astarion speaks such passionate words. It had been an adjustment to learn when he was toying with you and when he was sincere. As time went on, he became more sincere than manipulative. It was a gradual change that came the more you proved your care for him and the more you’d earned his trust. Now when you look into his eyes, you see such unwavering devotion you feel like such a fool for having doubted him. 

“I love you,” is the best you can do in response, but the sound of those words still sends a shiver down his spine and warms his chest in a way he never thought he’d feel again. 

“I love you too,” he whispers. It’s still painful for him to say at times, for fear the vulnerability will be turned on him one day. Instead, you release his cock and spread your thighs, baring all for him. Invite him once more to take what he desires from you, proving your willingness to give him everything if that’s what it takes. 

He guides the weeping tip to your entrance and takes a moment to tease you slightly. He presses the head against your whole just to hear you let out a pleading whine, then pulls away again. He repeats the motion until you’re trembling with need, then he thrusts into you with graceful precision. You both gasp as your bodies connect. Your hands almost instinctively grab onto his ass, squeezing and pushing him forward. 

“It feels so good,” you moan. 

“Divine,” he grunts as he begins thrusting slowly. His hand rests at the back of your head, tangled in your hair. 

Your body begins moving along with his in a sensual, lustful dance. How many times the two of you must have made love like this, but it always feels like the first time. The thrill of it all is never lost on you, and the comfort shared in the act of being so close to one another and knowing your bond is deeper than either thought possible only adds to it. 

Astarion watches you with hungry eyes. His gaze moving from your lips to the curve of your exposed neck, and his mouth waters. Just the thought of biting into your neck and drinking of your blood while he’s so intimately intertwined with you riles him up further. His thrusts quicken, becoming more frantic as a fresh wave of arousal hits him. You gasp when he begins kissing your neck and you can feel the sharp point of his fangs against your skin. 

“Bite me,” you whisper. “Please.” 

He wants to hesitate, to be a good partner to you and assure your consent before continuing. But he just can’t. The hunger, the lust…It’s all too much to fight against. You cry out in pain and ecstasy at once when his fangs pierce your skin. The wound is deep, but never deep enough to be fatal. He would never forgive himself if he did that. It’s just enough for the coppery tang of your blood to hit his tonge, and he begins to suck on the wound to bring forth more. Your mind spins as the icey numbness on your neck conflicts with the white hot pleasure in your core. 

Without warning, a second orgasm rips through you. Your nails dig into his back as you cry out. Astarion only releases your neck because the steady pulsing of your walls brings him to the edge as well. He kisses you, neither of you caring about the blood staining his lips, as he fills you with his seed. As you both come down from the intensity of your shared bliss, he returns once more to the puncture wounds on your neck. He suckles gently then begins licking it to soothe the ache until finally the bleeding stops.

You’re still holding onto him like your life depends on it, so he contents himself with laying his head on your chest. He can hear your heart beating against his ear as you run your fingers through his curls. 

Against all odds, Astarion is content. 

#astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion anuncin x tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion bg3 x reader #🌟written in the stars

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

If you're a Hobie fan who gets mad at Hobie's characterization in fanon -

Open a photo of him right now and stand there being thankful over the fact you're not a Miguel fan

Miguel fans have it ROUGH out here its like whatchu want, irritated machismo and cold - or - overly affectionate and aggressively latin, either way he's gonna rail you at the end of this fic

like godddammmn ya'll serve Mild Miguel here???

Miguel who works all day and falls asleep while making paella? A Miguel who casually finds piece in organizing the files of the Society, or feels proud when he sees a new recruit level up

A Miguel who actually enjoys his work at the Society despite the weight on his shoulders. Or just one who like...has friends...and is nice if not sarcastic and a bit of an ass

One who has been out of the dating game for a while and is still learning how to come to grips with dating after a loss because he's still a father, living post-tragedy

And relationships are gonna be new to him after all that

Miguel who has baggage and is aware of that and hesitant to put it on someone else-

Like,..Mild Miguel please.

Miguel who wants to take it slow. Who is terrified of asking if his partner wants a family. Who hasn't had a date in like 5 years and - 'Lyla what should I wear. What do people wear to first dates?'

A Jess and Lyla who look at him like 'Oh God this guys a mess' because he's still getting it together - like every Spider-person is. A Peter who thinks he's smooth as fuck cause he won back MJ and give him all kinda corny romance tips

Mild, normal, healthy as he can reasonably be considering everything - Miguel

ya'll serve that here? Some Mild Miguel?

Can i get that with a side of fluff, maybe hurt/comfort? Hold the smut, please thankyou

#spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x oc

[gojoath]

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ EASE THE ACHE, OKKOTSU YŪTA

your glad your boyfriend yūta was always prepared, offering you a sleeping pill when you were having trouble was helpful— but why do you feel so needy suddenly?

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. aged up characters. he drugs you with an aphrodisiac and tells you it’s a sleeping pill -> dubcon. creampie. he’s obsessed. wc, 3k.

note. repost :)

you’re not sure how long you’ve been lying here— gazing at the empty space of your ceiling as you toss and turn in your comforter. you’re pretty sure if you check your phone one more time you’ll have seen most hours of the clock, and the frustration only seems to make your body feel even more awake. you’d even taken a sleeping pill, so humbly offered by your boyfriend to try and aid your own exhaustion, but if anything it’s only made the room spin as you try to focus on the steady rhythm of your heart.

your body feels weird, like there’s a buzz underneath your skin that extends to the base of your spine— every brush of your figure against the sheets tickles and every squeeze of your hands on your thighs feels even better. you feel needy, uncomfortably so considering how late it is, but you can’t help the way it makes you yearn. why now of all moments? 

you let yourself exhale a slow sigh as you try to ignore the ache between your thighs, kicking at your sheets until they pull down your hips because not only can you not sleep— your body cant even find a comfortable temperature and it makes you want to get out of bed entirely and just give up.

“baby?” the low hum jolts you slightly with the way it cuts through the darkened atmosphere of your room, accompanied by the slow crawl of cold fingertips across your hips as your boyfriend, yuuta, presses into you from behind. “what’s wrong?”

his touch feels like it cools the warmth of your skin comfortably and you find your eyes fluttering at the way his hands seem to instinctively begin drawing soothing shapes into your sides, like he’s aware of your answer before you even say it.

like he’s been awake watching you this whole time.

“i just cant sleep, i think i’m going crazy.” but your answer still earns you a smeared kiss along your shoulder as yuuta leans in closer, followed by another as he pushes his hands up the hem of your shirt to palm at your overheating skin. “i don’t know what’s wrong, it hurts,”

he holds you there, your back pressing into his chest until you’re surrounded by him— by his scent and his being. you can feel the ticklish press of his dark hair trailing along your skin as he coats you in kisses, tiny little ones that morph into ones that linger as he pushes them up the slope of your neck. why does everything feel so much better than usual right now? 

“do you need me to help?” another suckled kiss and it’s accompanied by your boyfriend’s cold touch teasing slightly just beneath your chest. his teeth nip gently at the base of your neck from behind and he gives you a slow look from over your shoulder— you’re unaware of his gaze from this angle, but he can still see enough of your pretty features to leave him satisfied for now.

you don’t know why you feel more sensitive than usual, maybe it’s the sleeping pill in your system— no, it wouldn’t be that, your boyfriend wouldn’t give you something that could be deemed unsafe. you must just be tired.

you let the question linger in the space where you both breathe for a bit but you swear your boyfriend must feel the way it seems to urge your heart rate to take a quicker rhythm, taking that as his answer. your next exhale is choked off and dreamy when yuuta takes a languid palmful of your tits to squeeze, the pad of his thumb flicking slightly over your nipples until they perk up under the touch. the soft, featherlight movement is enough to make you shiver— pushing yourself closer into his chest like you’re caught in his web.

yuuta’s glad you opt not to wear a bra under your pyjamas. it’s like this is exactly what you want from him. you’re pliant, drowsy state only seems to be heightened by the pill he slipped you earlier, it would help with your sleep eventually but the mild aphrodisiac effect would be quite troublesome for you until then, but that’s what he’s for.

he had his own ways of making sure you slept well afterall, you don’t need anything else but him to help you. he can prove that.

your eyelashes flutter prettily against your cheeks as you suck on your lower lip and as much as you want to give into yuuta’s greedy touches, you know he should really get some rest too considering how little he seems to sleep. you’d put it down to him being a light sleeper, he always seemed to be awake before you— lying on his side, staringat you as soon as you first open your eyes.

like he wants to make sure he’s the first thing you see.

“it’s fine, yuu— you can sleep, it’s—“ another sinful swipe of the pad of his fingers across your nipples makes you croon, hes close enough for you to hear the way your reaction pulls a drawn out growl from him as he curls even closer— like hes trying to crawl into your skin.

“i’m not tired,” another smeared kiss followed by a nip of his teeth and you give into him so easily given the haze of your mind and the heat that twists in your gut. “i promise.” yuuta’s words are emphasised by a steady, but needy rock of his hips into you from behind as you feel the press of his clothed cock against your lower back.

your hips shift and it only seems to make everything feel even better when you feel him reach down to hook his palm beneath your thigh, pulling it back until he’s able to push himself closer to the heat that teases him between them.

“you’re so soft,” another stuttered press of yuuta’s hips into yours and you can feel the way his cock throbs against your clothed cunt, like it’s begging to be even closer, shed of it’s restraints— like a wild animal without its collar so it can return to its instincts, “and warm.” his other hand continues its ministrations on your sensitive tits as he presses more kisses and marks up your neck, then down your shoulder as he ruts into you from behind.

“sometimes i just want to stay awake to look at you.” his praise makes you feel lightheaded as heat licks at the base of your spine, you can’t help but push back into his movements— arching into the press of his palms as he toys with your body. the confession might be weird to some but you know that’s just the type of person your boyfriend was, so full of devotion and love that he’d stay awake for eternity if it was by your side.

your lips part to moan and the sound makes yuuta’s hand on your tits squeeze as he buries another strangled moan into the crook of your neck. you feel the cool crawl of his fingertips as they leave your thigh, twitching closer to the space between them instead as you hump desperately into the touch and he rewards the act of pure love with another suckled kiss.

“can i taste you?” it’s a delicious question, one that you’re still slightly whoozy, sleep deprived mind almost bends to instantly when it’s breathed out like it’s a low, desperate plea. but you know if he starts, he won’t stop as soon as he’s buried into your cunt and as much as you’d love to have your hands in his hair and his head between your thighs— you do actually want to get some rest tonight.

so as much as it pains you, you manage to shake your head despite the pleasure that clouds it.

“yuuta, i want you right now.. please, don’t wanna wait,” your voice comes out needier than you expect it too when it’s followed by a particularly, slow press of yuuta’s fingertips between your clothed folds. the soft touch presses hard onto your clit as your body rolls against his, and you’re pretty sure he can already feel the damp, creeping heat that your slick is leaving on your panties as he pants against you.

“all of me?” he asks, desperately— mindlessly as his hips continue their needy pace,

“mhm,” your answer pulls a sinful sort of sound from your boyfriend behind you as his hands grab at the layers between you both— almost ripping at your panties completely before he’s kicking his sweats to his ankles and resting his forehead against your shoulder to breathe deep. you already feel dizzy, maybe it’s how heavy your body feels— weighed down by exhaustion but also lust, need now that you’re so close to being wrapped in the man behind you.

you’re so close to easing that ache that you can feel as deep as your bones.

yuuta’s cold touch keeps you present as his hands return to squeeze at your thigh, urging you to lift it so obediently so he can slide his cock between them. you move so easily when you’re like this, bending to his will— to his love and it makes something in his chest squeeze with the way you rely on him like this. just like he needs you to.

you feel the trembled exhale across your nerves with the first press of your silky cunt across the shaft of his cock, urging his hips to almost glue themselves to you as you rub your slick along the length of him.

he’d normally spend hours to prep you, to stretch you— even just to use it as an excuse to take as much of you as you’re willing to give him.

but right now you’re sleepy, half coherent and your eyes flutter closed everytime you feel yuuta’s tip catch on your clit, making a wet tacky sound as the pleasure trembles against your spine. a few more languid thrusts through your folds and your lips part into a pretty ‘o’ shape when he finally presses against the entrance to your cunt, teeth biting down on your shoulder when he finally begins to sink into you.

you feel him grunt against your skin, one of his hands moving to rub soothing, messy circles into your clit as your pussy clenches harder around him the deeper he goes. but the dizzy spin in your head has you arching back against him, pushing more of his cock into your flexing walls until you feel him glide past the spot that has your whole body twitching in his hold.

you whimper when he finally bottoms out, high pitched and needy at the feeling of yuuta’s balls pressing against your ass and you pull another groan from the dark haired sorcerer when your pussy flexes again. it’s not enough, it still burns— aches in your gut, you need him to fuck you until you’re trembling, on the edge of consciousness. your body feels like it’s on fire with want, you’re so needy you’re considering it really could be love.

his jaw clenches and your back relaxes against his chest once more, feeling the press of his palm return to its place under your shirt as he takes a slow handful of your breast, making you melt into him as your walls quiver around him.

“i.. i don’t like not being able to see you,” yuuta’s words are a trembled exhale as he grits his teeth before drawing his hips back, feeling the hug of your walls press down on his cock eagerly at the loss as you try to lure him back in. he always liked his front row seat to every pretty expression he could pull from you— knowing nobody else would ever see you fall apart like that. not now that you’re his.

“baby,” he tries again, a plea accompanied by his first real thrust as he presses up against the pleasurable parts inside of you that make you moan. it makes you twist into him as you lean onto your back, looking over your shoulder to meet your boyfriends haunting gaze for the first time since this whole exchange started.

“‘s that better?” your eyelashes flutter as you look over yuuta’s features and you swear you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you as your eyes meet.

your lips are parted, eyes half-lidded and blown and he’s never seen you look so sinful— like you’re a fucking succubus and he looks back at you, all adoring and infatuated like he’d let you drag him straight to hell. “yeah, uh.. i like when you look at me, you’re pretty.”

the pace yuuta’s taken is quick, needy little pumps of his hips that make your tits jolt with every clapping thrust as it echos. your skin is too warm, damp with sweat but every deep kiss of his cock only makes you greedy for more as you whine wordlessly. he sinks into you again and your eyes almost roll back entirely with the way it soothes the sting in your bones and you feel your boyfriend lean in to lewdly lick at the sweat gathered along your jawline.

“please, yuu~ make it feel good,” your words are half-coherent, hormone-drunken babbles that’s are like music to your boyfriends ears when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him. it’s like your body is begging for it too, so wet and warm that every thrust only seems to coat him in even more slick as it squelches with every press, “it hurts so much,”

your eyes are still on his, albeit your gaze blurry with how well yuuta’s fucking you right now— easing your need and you feel his lips trace their way across your cheeks as his fingers under your shirt toy at your nipples again. “it’s okay, i’ve got you. i’ll do anything for you,” his voice is low, urging you to arch at the sweet, soft sound with the next press of his cock, stuttering past your sensitive spots just as his fingers pinch to pull at your tits. “because i love you,”

his lips part to continue, but it’s cut off by a rough groan when your pussy squeezes, making his hips stutter before he’s swallowing heavy and trying again, “s-so much,” your pussy is like silk, squeezing so tight he can barely move— like it’s returning his confession tenfold and that only seems to urge him to begin a pace that’s a little faster, needier as he moves to toy with your clit next. “does it feel good?”

“yes! i love you, yuu~” your mouth seems to act on its own when your mind is so foggy with pleasure, so close to your orgasm you can feel the relief tremble beneath your skin as you meet yuuta’s thrusts with messy, needy humps that only urge him deeper. his fingers are still cold despite the way he’s sweating hard, curling them into your folds as he rubs sticky circles into your clit and you’re almost rigid beneath him, feeling the waves of your orgasm begin to burn along your skin as you pant his name with a stuttered pleasepleaseplease—

you almost pass out with how hard and good it hits you, toes curling from where they rest as you make a messy, creamy ring around your boyfriends cock and he ruts into you like an animal in heat as he greedily takes the orgasm he’s earned from your pliant body.

it seems like it stretches on forever and you feel like a shell of a person as you come down, so fucked out you’re drooling and half-coherent as the lingering pleasure shoots through you but yuuta doesn’t stop. he thinks you’re adorable like this as he presses kisses against your now tear stained cheeks, licking up the drool that trails from your lips as you grab at him— you’re suddenly so drowsy but you’re still burning with lust, your body is begging for more as he continues with the back and forth stutter of his hips.

“yu—uta, ah—“ you can barely breathe with the pleasure that weighs down on you, body jolting with your boyfriends movements but it feels so good, you feel like you’re floating, caught in a dream-like state that makes the room spin.

“mhm, baby. i’m here for you— see, just look at m-me, i’ll never leave.” you offer yuuta a slow, pretty blink when you feel his fingers tilt your head back towards him, his eyes are still on you— unnervingly dark as they cut through your pliant state but his stare still makes your cunt squeeze with his next thrust.

“you’re s-so pretty.. want, ah—want you to see me cum for you,” another broken, needy plea and you whimper out a dreamy little mhm that makes him fucking moan as his orgasm burns through him. it’s so messy and loud the way he presses his load into you, fucking it into your walls until it’s pushing out of you with every thrust— dampening the mattress beneath you as it smears against your cunt and thighs.

but this time, yuuta stops when he begins to tremble— wrapping himself around you instead when his cock finally eases out of your walls, half soft and still twitching from his orgasm as you all but collapse in his arms. you’re unsure if it’s your now drowsy state that has you curling into him, but you feel like you could sleep for days— not even bothering to care for the mess when you’re in his arms and feeling him press sweet kisses against your features between i love yous.

“thank you, yuu,” it seems your sleeping pill has finally kicked in as you find yourself dozing off, you’ll be sure to thank him for giving you it in the morning after a well deserved rest.

lucky for you.. and him, your boyfriend bought more than one— just for you.

© gojoath. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#cw yandere #cw dubcon #cw drugging #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

[luvjunie]

hiii!!!

i was wondering if you can do some miles earth 1610 and earth 42 miles head canons if they were your older brother??

btw I love ur work <333

in which miles is your older brother and your favorite hobby is annoying the shit out of him

the brief mention of Jeff can be present or past, meaning this can be interpreted as 1610 or 42. don’t think it needs to be mentioned but y’all are siblings in this au so it’s obviously platonic lmfao

“Miles!” you sang delightfully on your way to his room, nearly skipping with the excitement of aggravating your older sibling. “Dear, sweet ‘ole brother of mine~”

“Nope, leave me alone.”

His voice, sounding just a tad deeper than it did last week, echoed from down the hall as you approached.

Miles was already up from his bed and on the way to close his door, but you somehow beat him there and leaned your shoulder against the frame. A proposition was eminent in your demeanor, and it made his top lip turn up in distaste.

“Hey Milesy. What’s up?”

He crossed his arms. “You stopped calling me that when you were six.”

Perhaps you were laying it on a little thick, but you’d already gotten this far, so you played on.

“And? Maybe… I’m feeling… nostalgic.” you shrugged.

“Spell nostalgic.” He challenged smugly.

“Anyways!” You abruptly changed the subject with a cheeky grin, the dissimilarity in your expressions comical. “Wanna do me a teeny-tiny favor?”

He couldn’t have shot you down faster.

“Absolutely not. I’d rather use the bathroom after Dad.”

You cringed at the thought. Was he that unwilling?

“Why not?”

“Are you crazy?” Miles gawked. “I got my door taken off the hinges the last time you asked for a ‘teeny-tiny favor’,” he quoted the words with his fingers. “Get somebody else to do it—“

“Wait!” You foiled his sudden attempt to shut his door by using your right foot to stop it— the foot in question, currently clad in a fuzzy, christmas themed sock.

It was the middle of April. But that wasn’t important.

Miles’ hazel eyes agitatedly narrowed at you between the small gap you’d managed to keep open. You both knew he could easily close his door if he really tried, but he didn’t want to hurt you. Though he was considering it.

“Pleaaaseee?” Hands clasped to accompany your begging, you whined at him in a tone that made him grimace.

“Y/n, what did I just say?” He grumbled. “No escuchas. (you don’t listen). It’s like you were born without ears or something.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you for!”

He shook his head, “I don’t need to!Knowing you, it’s something stupid.”

Making his way to the kitchen, Miles immediately recognized the scent on the hoodie you were wearing when he brushed past your shoulder.

It was the one you’d bought him last year as a birthday gift. He hadn’t noticed it was missing until now, and after it being in your possession for God knows how long, the remnants of his cologne were now drowned out by some tooty-fruity ass body spritz that had his head hurting.

“And stop wearing my clothes, dude. You always give ‘em back smelling like Victoria Body Works and argon oil. That’s if you even give them back.”

Yeah, ‘Victoria Body Works’ was definitely not a thing.

Hot on his heels like a cold that medicine just couldn’t kick, your brows pinched together while you accompanied him through the empty apartment on what you assumed was a search for food.

“It’s Victoria’s secret, dumbass. This how I know you ain’t got hoes.”

“Who?” Miles quirked a brow as he sifted through the snack cupboard for a box of something to demolish in an hour.

“You-“

“—Asked. Bozo.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, a deadpan look on your face when you went to rest your elbows on the granite counter top. “You’re actually ancient.”

Miles was only two years your senior, but he acted like an old head, and that was probably the fault of your Uncle Aaron. He’d spent more time with that man than he did in his own room, which was shocking to say the least.

Miles’ eyes lit up when he discovered a hidden gem tucked into a back corner. “Yo, you gonna eat these honeybuns?”

“You gonna do me a favor?” you shot back, head tilted with the confidence of your incredible advantage over him.

Miles kissed his teeth. He had an immense sweet tooth, and you of all people knew he could never deny sugar.

“Dude, this same box has been sitting in here since last month. Which I know personally, because mom sent me out to get them. Meaning your tubby-ass forgot about these at least two weeks ago!”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I am not tubby!”

“Tubby is a mindset. Now can I have ‘em or nah?”

You paused to think. “Depends.”

“On?” he encouraged impatiently as you toyed with the hemming of your sleeve.

“When asked where I’m at, around…Let’s say,” you chewed on your thoughts. “Six pm tomorrow— and I know you’ll be asked— say I’m at Isabella’s.”

Miles gave you a skeptical look. “And where are you really gonna be?”

He doubted he wanted to know the specifics on why he needed to lie for you, but he thought to ask anyway. You were his little sister after all, at least one person needed to know where you were.

“Nunya.” you mumbled.

“It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Miles squinted, fingers pinching either side of the honey bun’s plastic in preparation to open it.

Rolling your lips under your teeth, you awkwardly shifted your position so your back was leaned on the counter instead, and spoke cautiously as you ogled the lifting of a few floorboards.

“Maybe… But we’re just gonna-“

“Alright, alright. I got you. I’on need details.” Miles scooped the entire box of his well-earned treats into the cradle of his arm, then reached the other over your head to close all the cupboards he’d previously opened.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stole the opportunity to trap Miles in a quick hug, tightly squeezing your arms around his torso on purpose because you knew how much it annoyed him. He never did grow out of being ticklish.

“Yeah, yeah. Move,” voice muffled as he was mid-bite, Miles separated you from him with two, rudely-stiff fingers to the middle of your forehead, then started back to the room he rarely left, somehow grabbing the entire jug of apple juice off the counter on his way.

He called out to you without turning back around.

“But if you not back by 9, I swear I’m snitching. I need my door, trust.”

Your face screwed into one of disgust at the implication. “Ewww bro, you’re gross!”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse headcanons #miles morales fanfiction #atsvplatonic #miles morales x sister!reader #miles morales headcanons #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales drabble #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader

[luveline]

what about reader being stressed and feeling really bad due the amount of blood and how wild the murder happened in a mission and hotch comforts her?? i really love your work and i hope you write but of course it's okay if you are not comfortable with it!! though i crave some hurt/comfort right now 🥹 take care, we love you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ty for requesting, i love u! fem!reader

You're used to depravity, but the body cannot truly desensitise itself from carnage. You shouldn't know the inside of a person like that, shouldn't be able to pinpoint gore with the accuracy of a mortician. You feel sick knowing what was supposed to be where. Enough blood to kick down the door and have it flood the hallway, stain your shoes with a permanent rust. 

You turn away from the scene, sirens and shouting white noise, and leave blood footsteps like a breadcrumb trail down the paving stones, huge slabs of white grey printed by wet soles. You're just past the red flash of the ambulances when you freeze, your legs won't carry you. You've no choice but to sit down hard in the road. 

There's just blood everywhere. No metaphor to soften the blow, no explanation. There was blood everywhere in the crime scene and it took less than ten minutes inside of it to be plastered with it too. 

Blood and cold floor. The road is cold, maybe wet, seeping into your trousers. You put your hand down and feel the dirty bite of it pressing into your palm.

Considering his duties, Hotch finds you quickly. You'd know him from presence alone, but hiding hand is familiar on your back. He crouches down behind you. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, second hand curling around your shirt. "You can't sit here. Can I help you up?" 

You manage to get to your feet by yourself. Hotch walks you to a car like you're injured, leaning you against the hood. "What's wrong?" he asks. 

You shake your head. This isn't some slasher flick where the blood is sugar syrup and everyone goes home, this is your life, that was somebody's life, and to be killed in such a violent way… nobody deserves that. Your arms twist around your stomach as your stomach twists into itself, churning. 

Hotch watches you severely. Anyone might think he was pissed with your behaviour, but he isn't like that. He's probably pissed he can't immediately fix the problem, arms crossed against his chest, the font of his SWAT vest glaringly white. He's neat and official as always, but there's blood on his shoes. 

You try to talk and it's like your lips are gummed shut, a hum with nothing intelligible as you lean forward. 

Hotch gives in. He breathes out, the barest ghost of his cologne distracting you from the smell of rust as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You curl your fingers into the strap of his vest, quick to press your face into his side, wherever you can that's softest. 

"I know," he says quietly, his arms tightening around you. The slide of his sleeves against your shirt, the sound that it makes, feels loud as a bell. 

You hadn't realised you were shaking. Hotch tries to wring it out of you one steady stroke of his hand at a time. You can imagine his viewpoint, your feeble position on the car and the white washed crime scene behind you. They'll be setting up the flood lights and taking photographs soon enough, no bodies to lay to rest, only gore to wash away. 

"I didn't think we could save them," you confess into his shirt, ashamed.

When he replies, it's measured, as though he's thought about his response carefully in little time. "That's realistic. This case has been… heavy from the beginning." 

Heavy isn't the word he would usually choose. He's talking to you, he knows exactly how you're feeling because he knows you well, and cares about you more, if his cheek pressed to your temple is anything to go off of. "I have to go coordinate," he says, his thumb rubbing with pressure into your shoulder blade, "I'm sorry. I'll get Reid to come sit with you in the SUV… Y/N, listen to me…" Hotch leans back, meeting your eyes. "There was nothing more we could do. I'm confident that you performed to the best of your ability. This outcome– this isn't what anyone wanted, and I'm sorry we couldn't fix it this time." 

"I just don't get how you can do that to another person," you say. Why you'd want to. You're a profiler, and you know a wealth of information about what makes certain people act as they do, but you still can't empathise with the killer. It's too much; it's beyond explanation.

"That's a good thing." His hands squeeze the tops of your arms. "It is." 

You look down at his shirt collar, thinking you probably don't deserve his comforting. This is your job, and tonight you couldn't do it. "Sorry I– I freaked out. I shouldn't have walked away." 

"That's a good thing, too, in a way."

He offers you a small smile. You can't smile back, but Hotch doesn't mind, his hands falling down the lengths of your arms. His fingers tangle momentarily with yours. 

Reid comes around to sit with you when Hotch leaves. He probably wouldn't have needed telling, your friend's hand curling over your shoulder protectively.

"You okay?" he asks. 

You watch Hotch lead his jurisdiction of operations. Things aren't okay, you're far from it, but you trust that it'll get better with Hotch at the helm. Still, a bitter taste lingers. 

"They won't be," you say, nodding to the crowd of people behind the rapidly erected barricade. At the very front is someone's mom. 

"Not for a while." Spencer tries to lighten the mood, throwing you a life jacket. "You're his favourite, you know?" 

You recall the subtle strength of Hotch's arms around you, the lean length of his torso and the warmth of his breath as he'd spoken in your ear. Without trying for it, your pulse calms. Your despair dulls to an ache. 

"You think so?" you ask. 

Hotch looks in your direction, checking on you. Spencer nods. "Definitely." He has a list of interrelated BAU statistics to prove it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[mentos-or-mentoes]

Cult of the Lamb x Tall! Reader who loves giving piggyback rides. Headcanons.

The Lamb, Narinder, Leshy, Heket, Shamura & Kallamar.

(this will be with the bishops in follower form because i dont really think it would be possible to pick them up in their bishop forms).

Narinder

General:

He had returned from a crusade with the lamb, his legs were hurting a bit, but he didn't pay much attention to it.

Someone else did though. He was not happy when he was lifted up into the air, out of nowhere.

Narinder can and will try anything to make you put him down, but upon realizing you're not putting him down, he accepts defeat.

When he suddenly gets put down on a bed, he realized that you probably somehow knew that his legs were hurting, and just wanted him to get some rest.

He will thank you, before asking you to leave.

Romantic:

Ngl he definetly enjoys the piggyback rides, as long as he initiates them.

If not then he will likely shout something along the lines of ''Put me down! I will not tolerate- oh its just you. Put me down please''.

Will purr lightly when recieving piggyback rides.

Can and will kiss the top of your head while up on your shoulders.

He enjoys cuddeling your back if you can't / dont want to have him up on your shoulders.

Loves the feeling of being big again. even if not as big as he used to be.

He will ask you to ensure that the lamb isnt around if you pick him up. He already got defeated by the lamb, he doesn't need to have them see him being given piggyback rides.

Heket

General:

I don't even know how you even picked her up in the first place to be honest.

Definetly enjoys them as long as people don't really see it.

Does kind of like it if you just carry her to the kitchen or just bring her food.

Also likes the feeling of being slightly bigger then everyone else, but the thought of how she looks alone is enough to turn her away for a majority of the time.

It reminds her of before she got slain by the lamb so she does find some joy in being carried around.

Romantic:

Heket does become a whole lot more fond of being given piggyback rides once you're in a relationship with her.

She will do anything to avoid you picking her up infront of the other ex-bishops (especially Leshy because he likely wont stop teasing her if he finds out).

Will probably ask you to take her somewhere if she doesn't feel like walking.

I feel like she has tried to jump onto your back atleast once.

She will kiss you one way or another whenever you pick her up.

Leshy

General:

I don't even know if its possible to give Leshy piggyback rides considering that, well, he's a worm.

He will try and wiggle out of your grasp if you pick him up.

Once he realizes that now he's far above everyone else, he feels happy, untill you or someone else, reminds him that he is currently being carried on your shoulders.

unless you hold him in place he can and will fall off you, unless he wraps around you like a scarf.

Romantic:

If you don't pick him up, he's definetly gonna try and slither onto you just so he can be on your shoulders, or somehwere else on you.

Makes for a very nice and alive scarf for the winter.

He will be cuddling you while he's wrapped around you in one way or another.

If its cold, he's basically glued to you.

He will ask you to just carry him sometimes.

Kallamar

General:

He is terrified when you first pick him up.

He's going through every single possibility as for why you would pick him up, and none of them are good.

Lowkey will have an anexiety attack if you don't tell him why you picked him up out of nowhere.

If you do it to him while he looks uncomfortable and bring him somewhere he can be alone for a bit he will probably try to thank you.

He is nervous so if you sense something is up and you go pick him up and take him somewhere to comfort him he's gonna be getting very close to you.

Romantic:

If he feels uncomfortable he can and will look for you.

You have become a safe space with the addition of maybe some cuddles.

Loves being picked up by you, makes him feel like he's not gonna get hurt.

Kallamar will hug you constantly while being given a piggyback ride.

He doesn't want to go back down once you pick him up, he has to though but he's not too happy about (too scared to really complain though).

if you're not gonna have him on your shoulders he'd likely prefer to be carried facing the front of you rather then your back. Mainly because he's scared he's gonna be attacked without you noticing.

Shamura

General:

Shamura was probably curious at first about what this ''piggyback ride'' thing you were talking about was.

Immidietly after you pick them up they get confused.

Just one moment ago you guys were talking, and now they're on your back.

Once you explain what piggyback rides are and why people give them, Shamura immidietly calms down, now knowing why they're currently on your back / shoulders.

Might rest their head on your head depending on how close they are to you and or if they're on your shoulders

Romantic:

Shamura will give you small kisses on top of your head whenever they're recieving piggyback rides.

If they have a feeling that they forgot that they needed to be somewhere, they'll go to you because you usually know.

If it wasn't for their injury, they would've given you piggyback rides as well.

They have read a book atleast once while sitting on your shoulders.

The Lamb / Lambert

General:

The Lamb had been on many crusades before, usually coming back un-injured.

Allthough one day in particular after a crusade they had gotten a somewhat bad leg injury.

You along with many other followers came up to see what was wrong. You being more then happy to carry your leader, gave the lamb a piggyback ride to the infirmary.

Once out of the infirmary they saw you carrying children around via piggyback rides as well

They definetly are curious as for why you're so willing to give people piggyback rides.

Will ask you about it one day, curious if you viewed them kind of like a child that day they had the leg injury.

Romantic:

The lamb loves recieving piggyback rides.

Whenever they return from a crusade uninjured and if nobody needs them at the moment, they will immidietly go to you, maybe ask you for a walk (mainly because if their legs get tired they can just ask for a piggyback ride).

Would give you piggyback rides if you werent as tall.

They love cuddling with you as you just walk around with them.

I imagine that their legs have been sore for some reason atleast once on a day where they had to perform a cermone so they just asked you if they could sit on your shoulders for the duration.

Requests are open by the way

#cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl bishops x reader #narinder x reader #cotl lamb x reader #lambert x reader #heket x reader #leshy x reader #kallamar x reader #shamura x reader

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

series masterlist here

support city girls, reblog what u like

#ghost x black reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost mw2 #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x black!reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod x you #ghost x gn reader #ghost cod #kechiwrites #baby daddy ghost #baby blue fic

[raineandsky]

#72

tw: illness

The villain is goddamn embarrassed to be here. They shouldn’t be here, really, but damn if curiosity didn’t kill the cat.

The hero has a window open, because all heroes are, of course, dumb as bricks and have no sense of self-preservation. The villain hefts themself up onto the windowsill, glancing inside and thanking god for its emptiness.

The hero’s been gone for almost a week. The villain’s not worried, god no—can you imagine? No, this is curiosity. Maybe boredom. They could find the hero dead on the floor and they’d consider themself satisfied just knowing that that’s where they’ve been.

The office is freezing with that window open; the villain quickly slips it shut behind them before quietly letting themself into the hall. It’s dark, too, with all of the lights turned off. There’s light leaking out from a room at the end of the hallway. This couldn’t feel more set up, but the villain follows it anyway, slightly on edge as they slowly swing the door inward.

Said light is spilling out from an ornate side lamp—and in its golden glow, like an actor spotlighted on stage, is the hero, face down at the kitchen table.

Well, the villain expected this. Kind of. It doesn’t make it any less surprising to find. They approach warily, like the hero will pop up on them. They seem very dead, so that’s improbable, but precaution never hurts.

A half finished sudoku is in the hero’s lazy clutch. The villain notices, with an air of amusement, that most of the numbers are in the wrong places. They hold a hand in front of the hero’s face, almost disappointed to feel the warm breath against their palm. It’s fast, though—no normal person breathes this fast in their sleep.

They give the hero a nudge, slightly startled to feel the heat radiating off of them. The hero stirs slightly at the contact, barely conscious and clearly not all there.

“[Hero].” The villain knows they probably shouldn’t announce themself in the hero’s home, but from the way their gaze turns up to them unseeingly, they don’t think they have to worry too much. “You’re burning up.”

They say it like a statement. They’re not entirely sure why. The hero stares at them with glazed-over eyes. “Wha…?”

“Good god.” The villain bends down slightly to them, brushing the hair away to get a hand to their forehead. The hero’s skin is wet with sweat, and they lean thoughtlessly into the villain’s touch with a pleased hum. “Are you contagious?”

“Iduno,” is the incoherent answer. "Yur hands nice n' cool."

The villain pulls their hand away, and the hero frowns disappointedly as they almost face plant the table again. The villain quickly shoves them back by the shoulders before they give themself a concussion.

Don’t engage. “God, fine. Let’s get you to bed, at least.” Godddamnit.

They lug the hero to their feet, almost toppling over when they stagger into the villain with the effort. Getting them to the bedroom is a nightmare; the hero manages to walk into every single piece of furniture they own. “Ow,” to the kitchen chair. “Oh,” to the coffee table. “Eugh,” to the doorway. The villain’s trying to guide them but it’s like the hero’s magnetised to everything.

Getting them to the bed is a relief, to say the least. The villain only just pulls the covers back before the hero flops into it with a muffled “oufh.”

The villain manages to dig out some face cloths from the bathroom, running them under the cold tap before more or less slapping them onto the hero’s face. The hero, too delirious to worry about why they’re getting slapped at all, accepts the cool fabric with a relieved sigh.

The villain rolls the cloth up so it’s sitting on their forehead. They’re not that cruel.

The hero distantly watches as they make themself busy settling down next to the bed. Then, like the prospect of the villain hanging around is agonising, the hero bursts into tears.

The villain positively jolts. God, please don’t make me handle emotions as well. “[Hero], what’s wrong?”

“I– You—” They don’t even have the energy to wipe at the tears trailing down their face. “Yur bein sonice tome.”

It’s tragic to watch, frankly. The villain doesn’t like being reminded that they have a heart. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” they say softly. “You’re ill. You can’t handle all this on your own.”

They lean forwards to carefully wipe some of the tears from the hero’s face—that’s just as wet and sticky as the rest of them. The villain makes a mental note to wash them up as soon as possible. Their thumb brushes over the hero’s cheek, and a new flood of sobs wracks through their throat.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” the villain says quickly. Their hand retracts lightning fast.

“Noh,” the hero cries. Their hands move under the covers, too weak to get them where they want to gesture to. “Iss nice. Plese.”

The villain leans forward again, slightly apprehensive, and continues brushing the tear stains from the hero’s face. They let out a slightly choked sob again, but they assume that’s a good thing.

“Surry,” the hero says after a quiet moment. They snivel dejectedly, and the villain would’ve loved this blackmail if they hadn’t felt so awful seeing it. “Idunt meen to belik zis.”

The hero’s chest heaves miserably. The villain wishes they cared less. “It’s okay,” they repeat. “Just focus on getting better, okay?”

The hero nods, kind of. “Yeh.”

It’s incredibly easy to get a feverish person to sleep, apparently—an idle hand on their face and thirty seconds is all it takes for the hero’s despondent crying to go quiet.

The villain is so mad at themself. Of course they had to be nosy. Now here they are, looking after a sick hero. God, if the supervillain could see them now.

They pick up the book on the bedside table idly, mentally preparing to settle in. The hero will probably need a few days to recover from this state.

And when the villain inevitably catches it, the hero can return the favour.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #tw illness

[grave-z-boy]

are you comfortable with writing about a transman? if so id like to see arthur morgan comforting ftm!reader, maybe calling him a "good boy" to make him happy x

Arthur Morgan x Trans!male!reader

Summary: Reader runs into an old family member and is desperately in need of comfort afterwards. (Once again making excuses to be sad and transgender)

Words: 1264

Warning: hurt/comfort, pre-transition reader is referred to as “dead” and “little girl” by reader, reader threatens his cousin, shitty family members.

A/n: shorter fic cuz I've been banging my head against the wall trying to get the rest of my writing back.

Masterlist

“You need to eat.”

You glanced up at Arthur, the fire between the two of you illuminating him in a orange glow. Your food had gone cold, and you didn’t mean to be wasteful, but today was…a lot. You shifted uncomfortably on the large rock you'd perched yourself on.

“‘M not hungry.”

You heard him sigh as you stared down at your plate.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you just gonna sit there and sulk.”

“It's nothing-”

It was something, it was definitely something. You went into town on your own, bright and early so you could be in and out of the shops and get back to camp while the sun was still up. That was the plan, pick up some spices, and oddly enough a picture frame, Arthur had asked for it but he said it wasn't for him, probably gonna be a gift of some kind, you didn't think too much about it.

While you were making sure you're satchel was still secure, you heard a familiar voice.

“D/n?” he called from across the street.

You froze, but just for a moment, you tried climbing onto your horse as fast as you could by you were stopped by a firm grip on your shoulder. Turning, you saw him, right in front of you, your cousin, your asshole of a cousin, Damian.

“Well I'll be damned, it is you!”

Taking a breath you said, “Do I know you?”

“‘Do you’- d/n stop playing around!”

His voice was loud, loud enough to garner unwanted attention from those around you.

“I don't know no d/n sir, you've got the wrong man, now you best take your hand off me before you lose it.”

He backed off, a small apologetic yet nervous smile on his face, “sorry, you just uh, look an awful lot like my little cousin.”

Finally mounting your horse, you looked down at the man. You didn't say anything, just holding his gaze in yours for a long moment before giving him a quick nod and riding off.

You rode out of town faster than you should have, gaining various shouts and complaints from the townspeople who'd nearly stepped in your way.

As you broke out into the open road, your mind swelled with thoughts.

D/n was dead, she’d been dead a long, long time and you really didn't need reminders of her life, especially not the parts she hated.

You didn't want to hate your cousin, you just did. He was an ass and so was the rest of his family, you guess that technically included you too, but you never really felt like they were your family- even when you were little. You were different, so they treated you different. You never knew what tipped them off so early. Maybe you played with the boys too much, or you were too rough with the girls. Whatever it was, they knew before you did, they considered their daughter dead before she was, and they treated you like you killed her.

You liked being dead now, you thought you wouldn't have to worry about your family anymore, they had a whole funeral for you and everything, you figured that they'd move on, that if you did run into them, they'd take you as a ghost and nothing more. Your cousin was always an asshole though, and could never quiet get with the program, that made y'all alike in some ways, but mostly it just drew a bigger rift between you and your family. Everybody loved him, but they hated you, wasn't that funny?

You skid to a stop right outside of camp, zoning back into your surroundings just in time. Hoping off your horse, petting her for a short moment before tying her to a post.

It didn't take long for Arthur to find you, having only been in camp a couple of minutes before he spotted you. Before he even reached you, he could see the grim look on your face as you sat on your cot, glaring at the ground.

Arthur sat next to you, rubbing your back with his hand for a short moment. Arthur wasn't really a touchy person, not in front of people at least, a soothing touch on the back was as close to a kiss as you'd get with this many people around.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for a short moment before starting back down at the ground below.

It didn't take much for him to convince you to take a ride with him, especially when he offered to let you ride his horse with him, you appreciated it, knowing that yours would have bucked you off the moment you saddled her after you nearly ran her through camp. You almost felt bad- when you climbed on the horse behind Arthur, watching him avert his gaze from anyone who looked in your direction.

He wasn't ashamed, you knew that, he was just private, didn't like it when people paid too much attention to your relationship, or you at all for that matter.

You rode together for a long while, once you figured the road was clear enough, you wrapped your arms around Arthur and rested against his back, you felt him tense, then ask if you were okay, you nodded, he relaxed after a moment, quietly continuing down the road, he knew you weren't alright, not fully, but he figured talking could wait a couple of hours.

Now you're here, you sat on a rock while Arthur set up camp, when you mumbled an offer to help, he shot it down, reassuring you it was fine.

By the time food was cooked, the sun had set completely, the fire being the only source of light.

“- I swear I just…ran into somebody today.”

You could here the faint clink of silverware against the bowl as Arthur set it to the side.

“‘Somebody’ like who?”

You sighed.

“Like my cousin, Damien, ran into him in town today.”

You weren't fully sure you told Arthur about Damien, but when you looked up at him over the fire you could see a look of annoyance on his face, so you had to at least have mentioned him and his aggravating exploits.

“It's stupid, I just… I don't know. I thought that I would never run into them again, or maybe that they wouldn't recognize me if they did. But he called that little girl's name and it just felt like my heart had stopped.”

Starting down at the dirt, you heard Arthur push himself up off the ground, the dirt crunching beneath his boots. Then he was sitting right next to you, the stone just big enough to hold two queers at once. Meeting his eyes again, you opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a long, tired sigh.

“I know, “ he said, his voice so calm and soft, a tone reserved for those that deserved it, “come here, boy..”

And you did, leaning your head on his shoulder, buried in the nook of his neck, your arms just barely around him in an effort. He wrapped his arms around you far tighter, pulling you into him, feeling your shallow breaths as the day's events replayed in your mind.

“That's it, good boy,” he muttered.

A small smile formed on your face. You hummed in contentment, squeezing him a bit tighter, forcing a small chuckle out of him.

“You liked that?” you nodded, he laughed again.

“It's helping..”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

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