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queenshelby · 2 months

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Our Little Secret (Part 33)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

"Alright, let's eat," Cillian's father announced, bringing everyone back to reality but Frank shook his head.

"You cannot possibly pretend that you are okay with this, dad!" he said, looking at his father with anger. "How can you sit here and pretend that this is okay? This is my stepdaughter for Christ's sake!" he spat, gesturing to you and Cillian before dropping another insult.

"But hey, bravo, Y/N! Your slutty behavior got you a sugar and a baby daddy, all in one, so I am sure you are proud of yourself," Frank went on, causing Cillian's face to grow dark with anger.

"Shut up, Frank," Cillian ground out, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "This is the mother of my child who you are talking about," he snapped, before turning to you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and you couldn't help but feel your heart sink at Frank's harsh words. You had never intended to cause any problems or hurt anyone's feelings, especially not Cillian's family. But it seemed that no matter what you did, you couldn't escape the judgment and criticism.

"Yes, she is because, clearly, she is too young and naive to use birth control," Frank sneered, not holding back any punches.

You could feel the tension in the room growing as Cillian's grip on your shoulder tightened.

"Please, Frank, enough," Cillian said, his voice strained but Frank was not listening.

"No, Cillian! You slept with a fucking child and don't see anything wrong with it," Frank shouted, unable to control his anger.

Cillian's grip on my shoulder tightened further, his body rigid with fury as he glared at his brother. "Frank, I said enough," he growled, his voice dangerously low.

But Frank was not deterred. He pointed a finger at you, his eyes filled with disgust and contempt. "And you, Y/N. You think this is all just a game, don't you?" he asked while even your mother tried to hold him back.

"No Frank, I don't think that this is a game at all and I am no child. I am adult and have been for quite some time. I never asked for anything from you and mum and I never asked for anything from Cillian either. I was going to have an abortion and get on with my life, but you know what?" you suddenly stood up, causing the entire room to fall silent as you took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek. "I am glad that Cillian stopped me from being so selfish. He wanted me to keep the baby and I am glad that I did as we both love her unconditionally, which is not something that seems to be the norm when it comes to my own upbringing," you stated, holding Mara tighter as she snuggled herself comfortably against your chest. "Nobody has ever wanted me for who I am. First my mother sent me overseas, then my father sent me back and then the two of you kicked me out because I fell for a man I shouldn't have. But you know what - I thank for it now because I am happy for once, with your brother, so there is that. You can keep on ranting all you want Frank, but nothing is going to change," you continued, speaking your mind before taking a deep breath, leaving everyone else in the room speechless.

"I am sorry for ruining your birthday," you then finally said to Cillian's mother, knowing that all this trouble and rage was the result of your presence.

"Don't be silly," Cillian's mother replied with a smile, patting your hand comfortingly. "Family is always messy. Always will be. Family drama is nothing new for me. Besides, I am glad that you and Mara are here. She's quite something," she said fondly, admiring a sleeping Mara while Frank rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," Frank muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. "I can't handle this crap anymore." he asked angrily, gesturing toward you with a flick of his wrist before walking off. He clearly needed to calm down and collect himself before returning to the table but, honestly, you couldn't care less about his feelings in that moment.

You were fed up with his constant judgement and criticism. Fed up with him acting like he had some sort of authority over you. Fed up with being treated like a child instead of the adult that you were. You deserved respect and dignity, just like everyone else.

"Let's just enjoy the rest of our breakfast," Cillian's father suggested, trying to diffuse the tension but your heart was still racing with anger and frustration.

You barely touched your food as you couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt and sadness wash over you. This wasn't how you wanted things to go. You didn't want to cause a scene or upset anyone, but sometimes the truth can be hurtful.

After breakfast, your mother excused herself to check on Frank, leaving you and Cillian alone with his parents at the table.

You could feel the tension radiating from Cillian's body as his grip on his coffee cup grew tighter and tighter.

"I'm sorry," you whispered softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "I didn't mean to make things any worse by speaking up," you told him but he turned to you, his eyes filled with sadness and regret.

"No, you did the right thing," he said, squeezing your hand. "You did well," Cillian assured you, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your temple. But you couldn't shake off the guilt and sadness.

"I just wish things could be different," you said quietly, staring down at your untouched plate.

"Hey," Cillian said, lifting your chin with his finger to look at him. "Things are different. We are different. And that's okay because we are together. We have each other and we have Mara," he reassured you, his gaze steady while his mother looked on with awe.

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his touch as you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur as everyone tried their best to avoid any further confrontations. Your mother and you were careful to avoid any topics that might trigger Frank and Cillian's parents were equally cautious not to upset anyone as you celebrated Cillian's mother's birthday.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourself lying in bed next to Cillian, your bodies entwined as you tried to drift off to sleep.

Mara was fast asleep in her crib, her soft breathsicle lullaby that filled the air.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you as you listened to Cillian's steady heartbeat, your bodies pressed close together. You trailed your fingers gently up and down his chest, marveling at the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Despite everything that had happened earlier in the day, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's presence in your life. You wouldn't have changed anything, not even the mistakes you had made.

Because they had led you to Cillian, and he was worth it all. You shifted closer to him, your breasts brushing against his chest, your nipples hardening at the contact. Cillian's grip on you tightened, and you felt him stirring against your hips.

You had been brave today, louder and stronger than you ever thought possible, and now it was time to let go.

"I love you Y/N," Cillian murmured, caressing your face gently as he traced your lips with his thumb, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill run down your spine.

"I want you so bad," you whispered in response, your eyes glazing over with desire.

"I want you too babe, but you know we can't. You haven't healed yet," Cillian reminded you, his voice heavy with restraint.

"Yes, I do know that. But it doesn't mean I can't still pleasure you," you murmured suggestively, pressing a soft kiss to his chest and causing Cillian to groan.

"No, please. I want to wait until I can be inside you again," Cillian pleaded, but you could hear the desire in his voice, the longing.

You traced your fingers up his chest, teasingly, before resting your hand on his crotch. You could feel his erection, hard and straining against his boxers, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of power.

"Fuck Y/N, you are not playing a fair game," Cillian gasped as you traced your fingers over his length, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.

"Why should I? You are the one denying me something I want so badly," you replied, keeping your voice low and seductive.

You could hear the struggle in Cillian's voice as he tried to resist your touch.

"Mara," he gasped, reminding you of your daughter sleeping soundly in her crib.

You glanced over at your baby, but saw that she was still fast asleep, her breathing deep and steady.

"She's asleep. You just have to be quiet," you told him. You wanted him, needed him, and you were determined to have him.

Slowly, you pulled down his boxers, exposing his erect cock to the cool air.

Cillian hissed at the contact, his hips jerking slightly as you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice low and deep.

You smirked at him, your hand moving slowly up and down his length, feeling him grow harder and harder in your grasp.

"Sshh," you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

Cillian's breathing grew labored, his fingers tightening in the sheets as you continued to stroke him.

"I don't know if I can keep quiet," he admitted, his voice strained.

You chuckled softly in response, your hand continuing to move up and down his length.

"Well, you better find a way," you whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss against his lips.

Cillian groaned as you deepened the kiss, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You could feel his hips thrusting upwards, seeking more friction as you continued to stroke him.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your lips down his chest, your tongue flicking out to taste his skin.

"I need you to cum down my throat so that we don't stain your parents' sheets," you whispered hoarsely, your hand still working its magic on his cock as you adjusted your position.

Cillian hissed at your words, his hips bucking upwards as you took him into your mouth.

You sucked him deep, your tongue swirling around his tip as you tasted his arousal.

"Yes, just like that," Cillian groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him deeper into your mouth.

You hollowed out your cheeks, creating a vacuum as you sucked him harder and faster.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian hissed, "I am close."

You moaned in response, your hand still working its magic on his base as you sucked him deeper.

Cillian couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry, he came down your throat, his cum filling your mouth as you swallowed every last drop.

You released him with a pop, licking your lips clean as you looked up at him with a satisfied grin.

Cillian's chest was heaving as he looked down at you, a mixture of lust and admiration in his eyes.

"You are unbelievable," he said, his voice husky with pleasure.

You grinned up at him, feeling empowered by your ability to make him lose control like that. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you teased, running your fingers along his thighs.

Cillian's hands were still gripping the sheets tightly, and you could see that he was still partially hard. "Do you want more?" you asked, raising an eyebrow seductively.

"No," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I want to return the favor when we get back home tomorrow," he told you, ensuring to place emphasis on those words.

"I am still bleeding Cillian," you told him as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

"I know," Cillian assured you before planting a kiss on your forehead. "But I've got an idea," he said, a mischievous look in his eye before pulling you closer into his arms.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, enjoying each other's warmth and comfort before the sound of a door opening caught your attention followed by two familiar voices, arguing with one another.

"I am so sick of this, Frank," your mother said, her voice strained. "You cannot keep behaving like this. It's not fair. She is still my daughter," she went on, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back tears.

"She might be your daughter but she is clearly out of line, whoring around with my brother, a 46-year old man," Frank retorted harshly, causing you to flinch at his cruel words.

"Enough," Cillian barked, his voice firm as he got out of bed abruptly before walking towards the door to address your mother and Frank who smelled of alcohol.

"Frank, I don't know what your problem is, but I am tired of this bullshit," Cillian said as his face twisted in anger, which is when Frank leashed out towards Cillian without warning, swinging his fist towards his jaw.

The yelling woke up Mara, causing her to start crying at the top of her lungs just as, suddenly, you heard a loud thud.

"Oh my god Frank, what did you do?" you then heard your mother shout as Mara's cries filled the house and you quickly picked her up before racing out of the room to see the damage that had been done.

Tags:

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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windwheeler-aster · 1 year

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you’re back!

summary: after being away for so long, hu tao is more than happy to welcome you back into her arms.

masterlist | advent calendar

pairing: hu tao x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is in an established relationship with hu tao, and reader is not traveler

word count: 563 words

genre: romance, (slight) hurt/comfort

format: headcanons and blurb

warning: clingy/touchy behavior,

a/n: i realized how much i loved hu tao while reading this. if that is quite obvious in this,,, it was intentional 💖

hu tao hates when you go on trips alone

she doesn’t let it show though

she tries to act all happy and chipper as she sends you off, clumsily kissing you goodbye as she murmurs sweet ‘i love you’s into your cheeks

but for the time you’re gone, hu tao is vulnerable

she feels insecure and lonely, and a little bitter too

and she feels “childish” for those feelings too, so she mostly just bottles them out

she tries not to let it get to her, and to just focus on work

but the nights are hard, when all she has is just her own thoughts

until you came home, unexpectedly early for your trip

and suddenly hu tao is sprinting out of bed to greet you properly

Not a minute had passed before you were greeted by your loving girlfriend, Hu Tao.

She had flung herself into your chest, wrapping her arms and legs around your body as she did. A gentle sigh tickled your neck as Hu Tao placed her head in the crook of your neck. She was light and adorable, dressed in one of your shirts and her shorts. Once you looked down to her, however, she craned her neck to look up at you, giving your chin an accidental kiss.

“I missed you!” she whined, squeezing you tighter now.

“Ah, easy on the ribs, baby,” you murmured, gently patting Hu Tao’s head.

Slowly, Hu Tao’s feet touched the ground once more. She still peered up at you, but only so she could kiss your jaw and neck hungerly. Although her lips were so soft and light on your skin it felt ticklish, ripping laughter out of you.

“Do you know how mean you were, leaving me all alone?” Hu Tao whispered, a desperation gripping her tone. Desperate for you, Hu Tao thinks to herself. For your company, for your attention, for your love, for your touch, for your—

“I’m sorry, babe. Really, I am,” you assured her further by pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I promise I won’t take any more trips without you.”

Hu Tao pushed herself off from you, and stopped craning her neck so much. She looked you in the eye with such seriousness and vulnerability, it shook you. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” you recite to her, bringing one of her hands up to your cheek. Then, you pressed a chaste kiss to her palm and smiled at her. With your other hand, you extend your pinkie out to her. “I pinkie promise, Hu Tao.”

She smiled and linked her pinkie around yours. Hu Tao’s cheeks did warm at the action, as she knows it’s childish to depend on an oath as silly as a “pinkie promise.” But then she looks at you, whomst eyes burn with such genuine care that Hu Tao’s cheeks warm even more. Just with a simple gaze, she managed to feel love soak deeply into her body. And, despite the weeks of loneliness and self loathing she experienced, she thought this love was all worth it.

But there was one more thing she needed from you.

“Well, you can always make it up to me with some cuddling. Right?” Hu Tao murmured, pulling you away from the entrance. “C’mon. I made sure to keep your side of the bed warm for ya.”

taglist:

@x-zho @definitelynotahutaosimp @cxlrosii @tiredsleep

(send an ask to be added or removed)

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

#wheeler's recs #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin blurbs #hu tao x reader #hu tao x reader headcanons #hu tao headcanons #romance #hurt/comfort #fluff #genshin advent calendar 2022

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pacifymebby · 1 year

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Rank the peaky men from who you'd want to sleep with the most to least 😬

So difficult for me near the top of the list because i can't pick between favourites really.

1. Bonnie would be the all round sweetest to sleep with i think, physically i find him most attractive (i am a sucker for that classic irish blue eyes black hair combo) Bonnie would definitely look after you, you know he'd be gentle with you your first time and hold back from going to hard unless you begged him... He'd be worried about hurting you. He'd be super cute afterwards as well, you know hed lie there with you, smothering you with kisses, lots of praise. He'd definitely accidentally fall asleep afterwards though and his snores would be v cute.

2. Alfie... Besties I've had such a silly wee daddy issues crush on Aflie since i was like 16 years old and i have not grown out of it. Now I'm the kind of girl who gets incredibly self concious and shy when i go on top and i tend to avoid it unless someone can make me feel comfortable enough with them... But i swear to god Alfie would just have to give me half of one of his little Alfie style speeches and tell me to come sit in his lap and id be all his.

Maybe he can't go on top or really go hard with you because of his injury but you know that doesnt mean hes gonna give up control of you. He'd be talking you through everything with one hand on your neck completely in control of you and hed be full of praise for you too.

3. This is where it gets kind of hard to choose but... Isaiah is 3rd because i am such a little bitch for arrogant and cocky classic bad boy stereotypes. Hes also just really. Fucking. Hot. If this man addressed me i would melt, id blush id trip over my tongue... Id be totally flustered and it would boost his ego and he'd be all the harder and faster in bed for it. Definitely going to treat u like a little whore and then sing your praises after.

4. Tommy - daddy issues again sorry guys. I want to misbehave, get myself into all kinds of trouble and then have him really calmly, sternly put me in my place. I read a fic on here once where he took y/n up against a wall, held her neck in his hand and forced her to look up at him. He points his finger between him and her and all he says is "respect the boundaries" and yh... Want Tommy Shelby to tell me to respect the boundaries.

5. John - I'm not gonna lie to you i always used to find john to be too sulky and childish for me, but there is something quite attractive about the thought of bringing him out of that sulk if you know what i mean? I also think hes the type to have a complex and need to tell you "youre mine" over and over whilst he's fucking you. As if him fucking you doesnt make that quite clear already.

6. Arthur - the same with the "you're mine" thing hes definitely growling/spitting that into your ear whilst hes taking you from behind. Also imagine being all snowed up in the bath with him and fucking, having a cigarette and then fucking again. His temper would scare me though, i get scared when someone's genuinely angry with me and arthurs angry sex would probably make me cryyyyy lolllllllll like if he shouted id just die.

But i do also think hes got a sweet side and would be devoted to you in a sense and that would be hot.

7. Freddie Thorne - sexy sexy communism mmmmm (see also, Ada Thorne)

8. Aberama - lowkey have a thing for an attractive but slightly sleazy older man and i would probably let him do anything to me)

9. Michael - would you believe this boy was once at the top of my list, my list used to go Michael, Alfie, Tommy... And then Bonnie, Michael, Alfie... And then one day i just stopped famcying blonde men 😭 (B says thats called becoming an adult haha) i also hate how he became so spoilt and entitled. I liked him when he still had some of the innocent in him. Being bad didnt suit him the way it suits Tommy and the others and i think it's because deep down the others actually do care about their families and their principles. In order to be a Blinder Michael has to lose all the principles he was raised on and take up a new set... He literally has to sacrifice his backbone to fit in with Tommy and i think if you can change urself that easy u have tiny dick energy and ur not to be trusted in or out of bed. He probably takes more than he gives.

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 2 years

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[AU] Love? | Mob!Bucky x Reader, Mob!Steve x Reader (Angst, mild Fluff)

Category: Angst, mild Fluff (Suggested) Age: 17+ Trigger Warnings: Violence, mafia themes, weapons, explosions, guns, fire Ship: Mob!Bucky x Reader, Mob!Steve x Reader Summary: She did love her husband, Steve, once. Maybe he loved her too, but James Barnes isn't keen on how that "love" is shown Request: N/A Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2.9k

---

There had only been three occasions where James had met the woman who Steve calls his wife. Today being the fourth. He remembers every single one like they happened yesterday.

The first time was when he and Steve were under civil circumstances.

“Rogers.”

“Barnes.”

“And who’s this lovely lady you have with you this evening?”

“This would be my fiancee, (Y/N) (L/N).” Steve introduces, turning to look at the woman by his side. “Honey, this is James Barnes, the man I’ve told you all about.”

He is right, she has heard all about it, but holy hell she didn’t expect him to be so… gorgeous.

“Don’t be rude, darling, say hello.” Steve prompts, (Y/N) having not even realised she was silently gawking.

“Sorry, sorry, gosh; good evening, Mister Barnes, a pleasure to finally meet you.” She offers a hand for him to shake, but the gentle touch he offers isn’t what she’s expecting.

The man raises her hand and presses a soft kiss atop her knuckles.

“No need to apologise, sweetheart, the pleasure is all mine.”

Steve doesn’t appreciate the way the brunet eyes up his woman, but he knows she’d never dare tread down that road. He’s taught her better than that.

She knows it.

She knows full well that her fiance has his eyes on the interaction. She knows he hates it, but he won’t cause a fuss. Not here. Not to a man like James Barnes.

James can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he gives the woman a wanton stare, but he doesn’t change his stance.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” The brunet offers, (Y/N) smiling and hoping her red in her cheeks isn’t as obvious to see as it feels.

“Likewise, Mister Barnes.”

“Please, call me James.”

The rest of the evening Steve kept her locked at his hip whilst he talked to endless amounts of clients and frienemies. She always finds these events boring and would much rather be in the comfort of her own home, reading some books that send her imagination wild, but she can’t complain. Steve spoils her and gives her a more than valuable life to live.

She’s grateful, truly, but he expects her to obey his every beck and call in response.

That’s the exhausting part.

“Am I alright to nip to the bathroom quickly, my love?” She asks, quietly, as he’s mid discussion.

“Be quick.” Is all she gets in response.

She doesn’t need the bathroom. Not really. It’s just her only chance of a break. A few minutes to breathe.

She readjusts the clips in her hair to make sure she doesn’t look too messy - knowing that Steve will punish her if she brings his reputation down by even an ounce. Stares in the bathroom mirrors and takes some deep breaths in an attempt to keep herself calm.

It’s almost cliche the way she stumbles into the man as she exits the bathroom to rejoin her fiance once more.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry…” The woman trails off as she looks up at the person she’s stumbled into, getting lost in those familiar ocean-blue eyes once more. “James- Mister Barnes, sorry, I’m so sorry, how clumsy of me.”

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t worry about it - no harm done.” James shushes, helping the woman stand upright once more. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks, watching her worried eyes.

Her head shakes.

“No, no, thank you. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

James furrows his brows at the amount of fear the woman has over simply stumbling into him.

“Sweetheart, no one’s going to punish you for accidentally stumbling.” He offers, watching her attempt a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I know, of course, was just silly of me.”

They both stand in silence for a good few seconds before she meets his gaze once more.

“I should be getting back to Steve, he’ll be looking for me. I hope you have a good rest of your evening, Mister Barnes, and apologies again.” She doesn’t give him the time of day to respond before walking off to find her fiance in the crowd of people.

James doesn’t take his eyes off of the woman until she’s truly out of sight, a number of questions running through his head. The main one being: just where did Steve find a woman like her?

ii.

The second time they met was just over a year later. It was the birthday party of a mutual friend: Tony Stark.

King of the Underworld. That’s what he was known as to people like James and Steve. The mafia.

(Y/N) was following her fiance around the event, bound to his hip, as per usual, but remembers making eye contact with James as he was standing on the balcony, taking a drag from a cigarette. The doors to the balcony were wide open, he was leaning against the wall outside, smirking as they locked their gazes on one another.

The woman gulps but can’t help the smile that etches onto her lips. He flashes her a wink which prompts her smirk to morph into a grin, looking down at the floor and shaking her head.

She feels like she’s in high school. It’s a pleasant feeling.

She meets his gaze again, that self-satisfied smile still resting on his face.

His lips move and she recognises him asking if she’s okay. She nods before tilting her head and returning the question. The way his tongue darts out and strokes his lips is enough to make her belly flutter. And maybe other regions. He nods.

Steve asks her a question which distracts her momentarily before his attention returns to the conversation and hers back to the gorgeous man standing outside with the midnight backdrop behind him.

It’s almost awkward how long they’re simply staring at one another for, James continuing to finish his cigarette, but it drastically changes when the echo of a gunshot goes off.

(Y/N)’s eyes widen and she screams without thinking. James’ eyes also widen as he flicks his cigarette off of the edge of the balcony, sprinting inside to see what’s going on.

Steve’s arms wrap around the woman in his arms, immediately eyeing up the whole room for the source of the sound.

Her hands grip onto her lover, hiding her face as she feels him tense up.

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay, honey?” He mutters, (Y/N) nodding desperately. “Stay close to me.”

She doesn’t acknowledge her surroundings as her fiance leads her out of the large building, more gunshots being fired which make her flinch.

It’s not the first time she’s been around gunfire - comes with being in a relationship with a man like Steven Rogers - but it never gets any less scary.

“Keep going down this corridor, through the double doors, then left, left, right, okay? I’ll be out as soon as I can.” Steve’s voice is the last thing she hears before she watches the man sprint away from her.

“Wait…” Her eyes are wide as she’s left alone in the corridor.

Her arms wrapping around herself does nothing to help reduce her trembling.

Gulping, the woman turns and continues pacing down the corridor, praying she’ll get out of this manor quickly.

“Double doors, left, left, right. Double doors, left, left, right,” She recites the directions under her breath as she follows the crimson carpet.

Hell, it feels like she’s in a palace.

“Hey!” A voice calls, her eyes widening and head snapping to her left, where the voice came from.

There’s a corridor with a man striding toward her, gun raised and ready to be fired.

“Where are you headed!?”

She’s speechless. She can’t find her voice.

Is this it? This is how she dies?

“I ASKED YOU A QUE-” The man is cut off as a gun fires, another yelp escaping her throat, jumping backwards on instinct. His body drops to the ground, another man appearing behind him, but she recognises this one.

“James…”

The brunet’s brows furrow as he sees Steve’s fiancee. Alone.

“Where’s Rogers?” He asks, voice serious and face tense. Nothing like the careless smiles they were offering one another minutes earlier.

“He- I- He went-” (Y/N) stumbles over her words as she points behind her. “He just went off, told me to get out.”

“You’re alone?” James confirms, watching her nod, eyes fearful as she stares up at him.

He’s fully approached her now, looking up and down the corridor she’s stood in.

“Why the fuck did he leave you alone?” He asks, genuinely confused. And pissed.

Her mouth moves but no words come out. She shrugs.

“Come on.” The man takes her hand, continuing their path to the exit. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

The words hit her with a sense of deja vu, remembering the time she stumbled into him like it was yesterday.

She shakes her head but realises he can’t see.

“No.”

He doesn’t respond.

They sneak out of a side door, Bucky walking over to someone he clearly knows.

“Sam, get this lady home safe, she lives with Rogers.”

“Yes, sir.” The man, Sam, responds, nodding his head.

“This is Sam, my driver, he’ll get you out of here safe, okay? Trust him with your life.” James tells her woman, a crowd full of noise happening all around them.

“James, what’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it now, okay? You’ve just gotta get home safe. I’ve gotta get back in there, I’m sorry. Be careful, sweetheart.” He presses a chaste kiss to her cheek, nodding once more at Sam, before heading back into the warzone.

“This way, madam.”

iii.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

The applause in the room was loud as the man she loves kissed her.

She does love him.

Right?

The wedding truly was wonderful. It was like a fairytale. Steve let her design pretty much all of it. He’s an angel in that sense.

Or he just didn’t care and couldn’t be bothered as long as the paper was signed that deemed her as his property.

The music was joyful, the atmosphere was pleasant, the guests were lovely.

The mood was happy.

For a little while.

“Well, well, well, I didn’t think I’d find the woman of the night hiding out here.”

The voice startles her as she’s leaning against the balcony of the gorgeous building that’s hosting their reception.

“Mister Barnes.”

“Mrs Rogers.”

The words make her shiver.

She wanted to keep her own surname, or at least make it double-barrelled, but Steve was having none of it.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” She asks, staring out at the sunset.

“It’s a pleasant evening; how about you? It’s your special day after all.”

She attempts a small life but it comes out as a mere breath.

“Yeah, it’s been a really nice day. Steve let me organise and design everything so I’m glad it’s my dream day, or whatever.”

“You did a really good job - it’s truly beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

They fall into silence, James asking if he can have a cigarette which she says yes to.

“I never got to thank you for getting me out of Stark’s place that time.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart, I simply did what he should’ve done.”

The woman sighs.

“Can I take a drag?” She asks, not looking at the man once as he furrows his brows at her.

“You sure?”

She nods, the man handing her the rest of the toxic stick.

“You’re not happy.” It’s not a question so she chooses not to respond. “Why don’t you leave?”

“I’m very lucky to live the life that Steve has provided me with. Before Steve I had nothing. I was nothing.”

“But were you happy?”

She gulps and inhales the last hit of the cigarette before flicking it away.

“I’m going to head back inside; if I don’t see you before the night is over, thank you for coming, James.” She offers him a warm smile before walking back toward the building, eyes widening when the man grabs her wrist.

There’s nothing violent about the gesture. In fact, the hold he has is rather loose and she could probably shake him off if she wanted to.

“You should be happy, (Y/N).”

She pauses as she eyes up the seriousness in his voice.

“I am.” She then does shake him off and walks back inside, hating the desire coursing through her to turn around and press her God damn lips to the man who cares about her more than her bastard husband ever could.

That was possibly one of the most fatal mistakes she ever made.

And the last time she saw James Barnes for three years.

iv.

Cut to the present day. A regular day. Well, almost.

It was going pretty well until the explosion went off.

(Y/N) wasn’t even sure where her husband had brought her. They’re in the middle of no where. Said he needed to get something work related and that she needed to come with him.

She didn’t question it.

She never does.

All she can think about now though is trying to remember how to fucking breathe. There’s flames all around her. Smoke filling up every corner of the room she’s in.

Steve left her there. Told her it’ll keep her safe.

He always was a fucking liar.

He even locked the door so she wouldn’t get hurt.

How sentimental.

The windows are small.

It’s an old storage room, maybe? She doesn’t know.

She’s sat on the floor, an old cloth she found covering her mouth in an attempt to stop the smoke filling her lungs any quicker.

Her back is to the door, banging on it and screaming for help.

She knows it’s useless but she would never go down without a fight.

That’s one trait that Steve admired in her. She can see why now.

She lays down, trying to keep her eyes open. Not because she wants to but so she doesn’t feel like she’s really giving up. But she’s done. She’s so very done with this life now. It was fun, but now it’s over.

“IS ANYONE DOWN HERE!?” She didn’t expect to hear another voice but it kickstarts her to keep fighting.

“Hello!” Her voice is barely a scratch.

Leaning up, she bangs on the door again, using the last of her strength to do so as the windows around her shatter with the room’s combustion.

“IS SOMEONE IN THERE!?”

She keeps banging.

“GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!”

She does. Barely. Rolls over slightly.

The wood is kicked in, having taken a surprisingly long time to burn.

“Holy fuck, (Y/N)!”

Wait.

James?

“What the fuck did he do to you!?” The man’s eyes are wide with panic but he works rapidly to lift the woman into his arms, bridal style, and start sprinting out of the burning building.

James and Steve ended up rivals at some point last year and they were constantly trying to corrupt one another. Steve warned his wife to make sure she never had anything to do with Barnes again. She simply nodded although disappointed.

Steve planned on tearing every one of Barnes’ staff to the ground. Wanted to watch the man suffer. He didn’t expect the brunet to have a big, shiny, ‘do not press’ red button under his radar that blew up his entire HQ.

James knew that Steve was rash and impulsive with making catastrophic messes. He always hated that about the blond. James was calm and tactile in his movements toward enemies.

He was running through each floor of his building to make sure all of his staff were out, not having expected the wife of the asshole to be trapped in one of his own rooms.

“Sweetheart, I can’t let you go back to him. He’s lost his fucking mind, he’s gonna hurt you. I need you to trust me.” He manages between desperate breaths as the smoke continues to follow them through the halls of his home.

Her eyes are barely open but manages to nod as he occasionally looks down to check she’s still awake.

“I trust you.”

Her head lolls, chest getting tighter with every passing breath.

“Try keep those eyes open for me, (Y/N). I’m gonna get you outta here, I promise.”

Another jagged nod, but she doesn’t follow through with it as her eyes close and mind falls blank.

///

A groan rumbles in the woman’s throat as she stirs awake. Brows furrowing immediately as she fails to recognise her surroundings.

“What the hell?”

“You’re awake.” A voice greets, her eyes looking across the room where none other than James Barnes stands, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You watching me while I sleep? Kinda creepy if you ask me, Barnes.” She manages, closing her eyes once more and taking a deep breath.

The man snickers and shakes his head.

“Foul mouth on you, sweetheart.”

She simply hums in response.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Really fucking tired.”

“I bet. You nearly didn’t make it.”

The woman sighs.

“Bet he’d have liked that.”

“He’s a fucking asshole.”

“Where is he?”

“Far away from you.”

With another sigh, (Y/N) meets James’ stare once more.

“What do I do?”

The man smirks and strides over to the bed she’s laid in, her not having even noticed yet that it’s his.

“Let me take care of you better than he ever could.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

He grins. She reciprocates it.

“That’s me, sweetheart.”

TAG LIST

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

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jerrienelock · 3 years

Text

Without You - Sadie Sink

Takes place after the filming of Stranger Things Season 3

Exhausted.

Sadie is exhausted from all her sleepless nights. The sleep she longs for, no longer around, not since you left. She misses your presence, your hugs, your delicate words, your gentle touches. She just wants to be in your arms relishing in your radiant warmth, feeling your loving kisses to the back of her head.

She just wishes you had told her how you were feeling before that fateful day happened.

Splashes of water coat her face, trying to wake herself up, and cleanse her mind of you so she is prepared for her first interview since you left. Sadie shuts the water off, her hands now firmly on the sink. Her gaze locks with her reflection. Her once smooth skin, disturbed with protruding deep purple bags under her broken teal eyes. Her lips automatically dropping into a deep miserable frown, she finds no need for her mouth to break away from that position for it was practically engraved into her skin.

But soon she will have to tear it out and upturn the frown in a mask of joy and perfection. She doesn't want to do that, she just wants to go home and cry into one of your hoodies and not come out for days on end or until filming starts up again.

She should be strong, but without you there it feels like her whole world is slowly falling apart, and just a gentle push can send it tumbling down. You were her rock, her saviour, her superhero that fends off all the bad guys for her.

But now that you're gone, she has to do that all alone.

An interview without you at her side feels so daunting, she won't be able to clutch onto your hands when she feels a slight bit of nerves. She won't be able to rely on you to get through the merciless questions that will only be worse, now that you're gone.

"Sades?" A soft voice calls from behind the bathroom door. Sadie quickly stands up straight and regains her composure just as the door opens to reveal Millie. "Oh Sades," The Fifteen-year-old says sympathetically opening her arms for the redhead.

Sadie instantly buries herself into the younger girl. "I miss her." She mutters into Millie's shoulder.

"I miss her too."

Millie tightens the hug and she stands there holding Sadie with all her might, afraid that if she were to let go the older girl will break down and shatter right in front of her. But she could feel Sadie begin to sob and heave in her arms. "It's okay," Millie hushes the girl, her one hand rubbing Sadie's back delicately.

After a few more minutes Sadie tears away brushing away her running tears, "I got given the camera she would do her diary entries on. Could we maybe watch it later, at my house with the boys?"

Millie nods, "We would love to do that. Now come Sades, we have to go, it's going to start soon."

The interview was the longest two hours of Sadie's life, she wanted to hide away from all the questions and sympathetic looks she had been given throughout. Noah had noticed her discomfort and had his hand placed on hers comforting the hurting redhead all throughout. The rest of the cast had helped with the questions she had found quite hard to answer, the one's involving you, and how she was feeling since your passing.

But now she sits in her living room cuddled into Millie, with your stuffed dog, watching as the boys try to hook up your old camera, all arguing as they figure out what cable goes where. This earns a small smile from Sadie.

Soon the boys get the camera working and instantly your bright cheery face pops up on the TV. Sadie sits up a little straighter at the sight of you, her heart both racing and aching at the same time. Millie pulls the girl closer to her, in a way of further comforting her but also to make room for Caleb who wanted to sit next to the pair while the others sat on the ground in front of the couch.

"Hello!" Your voice exclaims through the speakers. "Welcome to Diary Entry One! I am as you can see on the set of Stranger Things Season Two!" The camera flicks around showing the bustling set before flicking back around.

The cast knew exactly when this first took place, the first day of filming just after they had all met Sadie.

"We got a new girl here as well, her name is Sadie Sink." You gush into the camera, a pink hue evident on your cheeks. "She's really nice... and pretty." You murmur the last part looking off to the side. "Anyways! Let's go see her!" You quickly rush off to where you had been looking at, camera in tow and stop at a then fifteen-year-old Sadie, "Hello bloody tampon, say hi to the camera!"

Everyone laughs, including Sadie who remembers that exact moment.

"What did you just call me?" Sadie questions in disbelief and You laugh, "You heard me." Before Sadie could say anything else, you quickly leave and shut the camera off.

"Hello!" You shout with Finn alongside you, "This is, drum roll please Wolf boy," Finn drums his hands on his lap, "Diary Entry Two!" You and Finn cheer loudly capturing the attention of some of the crew members behind you. They immediately hush you both as they film a scene involving Sadie and Caleb. You and Finn quietly apologise before making your way over to Dacre who speaks with Natalia and Joe.

"Dacre!" Finn calls out causing the man to stop and turn to them, a bright smile on his face.

"Hello Lacey, Mike. What can I do for you?"

"Can you answer some-" Finn begins but you cut him off abruptly

"Is Sadie single?"

Finn turns to you and the camera wide-eyed. Dacre raises a brow, throwing a quick glance over to Natalia and Joe. "I don't know? Why, are you interested?"

Your voice sounds panicked from behind the camera, "No! I mean, Finn is."

"Y/n!" Finn shouts, "I don't!" He quickly grabs the camera from your grip and turns it to face a laughing you before cutting the feed.

"Oh, so that's how that rumour sprouted. You look so scared," Sadie giggles and Finn sends her a mocking glare.

"I didn't know she was going to say that okay?" He chuckles.

The next video rolls on and it shows both Sadie and you.

You set the camera down in front of Sadie who was busy getting her hair done. She eyes the camera cautiously as the stylist ducks out the way slightly. "This is Diary Entry number three... I think," You sit down on a chair next to her, your stylist moving in to prep your hair. "We are almost finished filming!" You smile and look over to Sadie who does a quick glance at you. "Anyways, it's time."

"Time for what?" Sadie quiers

"Time for the questions silly," You laugh tilting your head back as your stylist combs your hair. "First question, how has your time on set been?"

"It's been great! Everyone is amazing!"

"Everyone? You sure you don't mean just me?"

Sadie giggles, "Sure."

A few more questions were asked, them mainly being about how she has felt about her time acting and being forced in a room with you and the others. She had opened up slightly about how she felt kind of isolated in the beginning due to everyone already knowing each other until You and Millie kindly took her under your wing.

"Okay last question, do you have eyes for anyone?" You smirk and Sadie goes silent.

"No comment," You gasp.

"What! Sadelyn Sinkhole does have eyes on someone," You lean forward much to your stylests dismay as she pulls you back. "Who is it?"

Once again Sadie replies, "No comment." and you huff.

"I will get it out of you. It may not be today, but it will happen someday."

Sadie's cheeks turn pink and she can't help but hide her smile in your stuffed teddy, reminiscing about how she had ended up spilling her feelings to you not even a day later. To her surprise back then you had reciprocated her feelings and even managed to steal her first kiss, she doing the same to you.

The next video rolls on with you beaming once again in the camera.

"Hello!" You exclaim once again, in the background was the cast in their season two attire watching you with smiles. "This is Diary Entry number four, we have now finished the infamous season two!" The group breaks out into cheers and a round of applause, and you place the camera down on a stand so that everyone was in the frame and move back to go sit next to Sadie, pushing Finn out of the way in the process.

"I can't believe you couldn't tell she liked you!" Finn exclaims gesturing to the action you had pulled. "Your girlfriend literally pushed me out of my seat," He laughs making Sadie snigger.

"So Caleb Mclaughlin." You start, capturing the young boy's attention, "How was it like to kiss the gorgeous Max Mayfield, the infamous MadMax," You tease and the boy bows his head in embarrassment, Everyone laughs and so do you but it was cut short as you began to cough. "You okay Y/n?" Sadie questions and you nod while Sadie not so sneakily brings her hand into yours.

"Wait!" Millie jumps in disbelief her eyes trained at the holding hands, "Were you two a couple then?" She flickers her gaze over to Sadie who turns as red as her hair, "Oh my God! We thought you two got together just before Season Three." Millie smiles slapping Sadie's leg jokingly, "You dirty dogs!"

The entry's continue, this time mostly showing you and Sadie alone. Most of the time, your hands were wrapped around her waist while she holds the camera up at you two in various locations.

"First date!" Sadie exclaims looking lovingly over at you.

"Can you see me?" You question trying to look over into the camera to see if you were in the frame- you in fact were not.

* "Sades!" You call out for her from her living room. "I got you something!" The camera flicks down to a necklace with a small pendant in your hand.

While that video shows, Sadie herself glances down at the necklace you had given her and fiddles with it, her heart fluttering in her chest.

"Do you think they'll freak out when we tell them?" Sadie questions fiddling with your hand as the camera shows you both walking back onto the set for a reading. You nod, "Oh, most definitely." The camera cuts and then turns back onto an unknowing Millie waiting for you both at the entrance to the reading.

"Y/n! Sadie!- Woah." Millie's eyes go wide as she spots your hands, "Are you two?" She gestures between the both of you. Sadie confirms with a kiss of your cheek causing her to squeal and run in to tell everyone.

* "Hello! And we're back! Season Three of Stranger Things, it's your favourite character Aunt Helga speaking." You laugh at your own words, "I'm joking, it's the best character out of the show, Dustins' sister Lacey. Today we are as usual on our first day back at filming." You cheer, "This is Diary Entry number five."

"Y/n! Where are you?" Dacre calls out in the background, "You have to go get pepper-sprayed in the face!" You widen your eyes slightly, and Dacre appears behind you, "It's just water don't worry."

The camera cuts but then is turned back on to show a smiling Dacre, he flips the camera around and it shows you being dunked in the Henderson's kitchen sink by Caleb and Sadie. "I'm drowning!" You yell out gasping for breaths. "I'd rather you drown than go blind, Lacey," Sadie comments in Max's character. Caleb goes to turn off the tap but instead accidentally turns it on full speed, the water hitting you right in the mouth making you choke and develop a coughing fit. "I didn't mean to literally drown her!" Sadie yells and Caleb throws his hand up defensively, "My hands slipped."

That scene was a blooper itself but yet it was still kept in the actual show.

Many more diary entries ended up being full of bloopers, you hanging with Sadie and sometimes the rest of the crew until it started to change.

There you stand in front of the camera, your hands clutching your chest tightly, "My chest hurts." You croak out, tears swelling in your eyes from the pain.

The cast visibly sit a little straighter at the sight of you.

You stand there for a few more seconds just holding onto your chest before finally you drop your hands down and stand straighter. You furrow your brows, "It's gone. I don't know what it is but it's been happening a lot lately." You announce but quickly shrug it off as you hear your name being called. You grab onto the camera and run out where Sadie is standing waiting for you with a bright white smile. You grab onto your girlfriend's hand and you walk off to your next scene.

Another video rolls on this time showing you setting the camera down in a position so that it showed the set you were on. You are then seen dashing back onto set and getting onto your starting position with Gaten at your side. The video goes on as normal with the familiar star court scene and then all the way to the end, with Dacre having moved it for you to get the right angles where you stand near a casted officer, signalling the end of the filming process.

"Cut," The director yells and cheers are heard all around. You jump up and hug the nearest person to you, this being Sadie and enrapturing her into a joyful kiss before moving on to everyone else.

The mood is noticeably ecstatic and everyone is busy cleaning up, with you having a quick word with Sadie before going to head for your still recording camera, shouting a 'Shut up' to Caleb who had mocked what you said to your girlfriend. Your smile is bright and inviting until it drops to a stone cold expression.

And then you were seen clutching onto your chest, feet staggering and skin paling before dropping to the floor.

"Y/n!" Gaten screams hurtling over to you, just in time to catch you. You weren't moving and the camera shows it, it shows everything happening at that exact moment. It shows Gatens terrified face as he shakes you, trying to wake you up. It shows crew members flying over to you in a hurry. It shows your girlfriend and the others staring at you horrified and worried.

"Someone call an ambulance!" The director yells shoving past all crew members who were just crowded around you. Immediately chest compressions were started.

"Oh God," Caleb murmurs his teary eyes entranced on the TV. He wants to look away but he can't.

Sadie sniffles, her heart aching tremendously at the screen.

Millie and Finn hold a sobbing Sadie in the far corner of the screen, while Noah is seen dashing for the camera and turning it off.

They thought it was the end but another clip rolls and a bloodshot eyed Sadie Sink appears in one of your hoodies, holding your stuffed dog close to her chest. She was in your dressing room, it was known by the pictures you had placed on the walls of your family and the cast behind Sadie.

"Hi Y/n," Sadie croaks out, voice breaking instantly. She can't speak, her throat hurts and her tears just flow out coating your stuffed animal with her tears. "I miss you. It's only been a few hours since you left us, but I miss you so much." She brings your hoodie to wipe away a few of her tears, "I just want to say I love you."

Sadie can't look at the video anymore, her heart aching in great amounts in her chest, her bottom lip quivering noticeably. She turns and shoves her head directly into a saddened Millie who immediately takes her into her arms. Sadie wishes it was you instead.

She can still hear her own shattering voice in the video, each word breaking and every sentence ending with a cry. A cry of mourning. A cry for you. A cry for you to just come back and tell her you're not going anywhere. A cry for her broken heart.

Sobs wrack Sadie's body and a loud cry exits her making the crying cast members cast looks of sorrow, heartbreak and pain at her.

The video proceeds and Sadie is now still sat in your chair, this time not saying anything. Your stuff dog is latched to her chest, her chin sitting on top of the toy while she runs little patterns on her knee- something you would do to her when you felt nervous in interviews or big events. And then the door quietly opens and Sadie is seen turning back abruptly, her head shaking furiously.

"No, no, no, no," She sobs as your dad steps foot into the trailer there to retrieve your stuff. "Please can I keep the camera, please!" Your dad shakes his head sadly, tears in his own eyes as he reaches down to grab hold of the device.

"Please!" Sadie begs, "I can't live without her. I can't live without seeing her!"

The camera cuts off.

***

Masterlist; celebrities

#sadie sink #sadie sink x reader #sadie sink x fem reader #fem! reader

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white-poppie · 2 years

Text

Pretty boy with sad eyes

(Ps I made the banner, so please don’t reuse it ♥)

Character: Kurapika Kurta x G! n reader

Source: Anime- Hunter x Hunter

Genre: Hurt-comfort

Warnings: touch rotting fluff, wounds, exhaustion

Writer: @white-poppie

Recommended Music: https://open.spotify.com/track/0fZgk63gZmMA38fosHGMyk?si=75530297777b46fc (So this is love from Cinderella)

this can be treated as a second part to The Last Kurta or a fic as its own

The doorbell rang like a death knell. For the past few days, you had been on the tip of the sword. You knew Kurapika had been hunting the troupe, which put both you and him in danger. His work kept him far away from you, but at this point, any mistake could be fatal for both.

You peeped through the eye-hole. Gaze meeting a lock of golden hair. Kurapika. You could recognize that hair from a mile. Fingers fumbling with the doorknob, you opened the door harshly.

A disoriented Kurapika met your eyes. Eyebags from being forced to work until exhaustion, yet with a gentle smile that warmed your heart.

"Welcome home," you said as softly as possible, eyes moist from overwhelming emotions.

He stepped in from the entrance, arms snaking around your waist, leaning under your touch and nuzzling his nose in your hair. His cologne smelled subtle, like the scent of night blooms tenderly kissing the air.

"I missed you," he whispered in a dulcet tone that pulled your heartstrings.

Your arms wrapped around his ribs, forced to pull back as a low growl of pain escaped his throat.

"You are hurt," you said tucking his hair behind his ear.

"I am fine, love," he said reassuringly.

"Can I see it?" your voice trembled at the thought of him being hurt, "sit down first, you are barely standing."

He sighed, removing his shoes and walking into the house. He collapsed on the couch, breathing erratic and barely any strength.

After giving him a glass of water you helped him out of his socks, tie, belt and coat.

Your fingers shakily unbuttoned his shirt, under some other circumstances it would have been attractive, you lowered your gaze trying to hide the blush that formed on your face.

Kurapika slightly chuckled at that, but your eyes were fixated on the poorly wrapped gauze around his rib.

"Who did this?"

"Melody."

"Melody hurt you?" You gaped in shock.

"No silly, Melody dressed the wound up, we did not have any medical supplies during the mission," he paused, his eyes not leaving yours, "Feitan did it."

You nodded in understanding, slowly getting up and bringing the medical kit. You gently untied the gauze, your cold hands tingling against his flushed skin.

The gash ran from his upper rib to almost near his diaphragm. You cleaned the wound and secured it so that water cannot enter the wound.

"I will run a bath for you, make sure not to get water on the wound."

He shakily stood up, you sighed and helped him to the washroom.

You placed a stool under the hand shower, wrapping a towel around the gauze and giving him another so he could cover himself up while you turned around.

Your hands brushed through his hair, taking a pump of his shampoo your fingers massaged through his scalp.

A sound of satisfaction left his throat, "this is nice."

"Close your eyes before they actually turn red," you said washing his hair.

"Ha-ha very funny."

"Wet the towel and take a dry bath, don't risk the wound getting infected."

You waited for a while, cutting up some fruits for him. He came back dressed in sweats and a loose black teeshirt.

"Sit," you said, drying the excess water off his beautiful hair and presenting him with the fruit salad.

"Eat up, if you feel more hungry I will make something else."

He smiled cupping your face and leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

"Thank you."

"For what?" You beamed, arms encircled around his neck, "you are the one who is neglecting their health, not me."

His warm lips collided with your nose, then cheeks, then forehead, leaving jittery butterfly kisses all over your face, "Thank you, for being the one person I can come back to, angel."

A/N (0/////////0) (White_poppie, cause of death too much fluff.)

It's pretty visible how much I am a sucker for the injury troupe and even this pretty boy here.

〜 ➤Taglist: @denkis111 , @glizzygobbler9000 , @jazzylove , @cloudsgathering , @maybeleftoverjourneys , @idowritingandstuff , @lordmypantsaresocool , @futuristicallykawaiiturtle , @sukxma

〜 ➤Be added to my tag list: TAGLIST (If the link doesn't work message me under this fic or personally to add you)

MASTERLIST

@white-poppie™ on Tumblr

#[𝒦urapika]#⎯ 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 #hunter x hunter #kurapika #hxh x reader #hxh #x reader #fluff #hxh fluff #repopulate kurta clan :P #hxh fanfic #angst #leorio #hxhxy/n #x y/n #kurapika x y/n #white-poppie🌼#kurapika hcs #kurapika is now drowning in an undescribable empitness

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gucciwins · 3 years

Text

Are you Angel?

Harry gets hurt while on the job and Y/N gets a phone call she was not prepared for.

Word count: 7413

A/N: hello friends, it's been a while :) this is a continuation to my story Trouble Follows. You don't have to read but it will give you an insight of how Y/N and Harry met. I am thrilled to share more of firefighter harry with you. I adore him and I hope you do as well.

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333

Warnings: angst, breakups, hospitals

A firefighter will always run into a burning building with not a hint of hesitation. All their focus is on saving the people stuck inside.

Running towards trouble is second nature to them.

She knew that.

She also knew what it meant to date a firefighter.

The unreliable hours, the non-frequent communication, the many failed dinner dates. The twenty-four hours shifts when he would then arrive home to just sleep.

Harry had begun to give her a constant comfort that he would eventually come home and climb into bed behind her. He would then gently nuzzle his face in her neck, taking in her sweet honey scent. In contrast, she took in the woody ashy smell that seems to be permanently stained on him.

So trust her when she said she knew what she was in for when Harry asked her to be his girlfriend.

Four months in, she knew she would be here for a long time, maybe forever, if life would allow it.

She was sure; she knew what to expect.

But she didn't, not until she got the call.

The call that would shatter her heart.

The call that would lead her to be sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly brown hospital chair, holding tightly onto his ashy hand. As she prayed on and on to a God, she no longer held close but wished for Harry they were real and would bring Harry back to her.

Y/N prayed for Harry to finally open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile that he would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Until then, she'll wait.

Harry being Lieutenant allowed him to have a consistent schedule. That did not mean there weren't days where he had to pull a double shift or stay back to finish paperwork; he let it pile up.

The one day that was Y/N's was Sunday.

She got him an entire day to lay in bed together and eat all the baked goods she baked for him to try. It was becoming their day. Everyone at the station knew Harry could not be disturbed on Sundays unless it was the end of the world, and even then, they'd have to pry him away from Y/N.

He feels safe in her arms. Harry had never felt that before. Sure, he was surrounded by his firehouse family, but he had never felt so loved in two arms as if she could take all his problems and stresses away. Still, she did exactly that when she would flash him her gorgeous smile and hold her arms open for him to fall into at the end of every day.

Harry knows he's never felt this way, and he won't ever take it for granted.

This Sunday will be different, and she feels it as soon as she wakes up because, in her queen-sized bed, she's alone. No arms wrapped around her waist; no head tucked into her necks as he places soft open kisses to wake her from her sleep gently.

Already, she knows this is going to be a bad day. She feels it in her bones. Having been around trouble for so long, she knows the difference between good and bad. The feelings she has made her want to find Harry and pull him back into bed where she can keep him safe.

Y/N gets out of bed, throwing the warm sheets off her body going to the bathroom to do her morning skin routine, wanting to feel refreshed for when Harry breaks the news; he's going to leave her alone on their day. She knows him well enough; he's cooking her breakfast to make up for leaving her so early in the morning.

She walks out of her bathroom, going straight to her closet and taking out the first sweater she saw. It's a baby blue color and stitched on the left side on top of her heart is: "love me please?" It's Harry's favorite sweater of hers because it's an oversized sweater that fits him well. The only reason she has it back is that he wanted her to wash it and wear it until it got her smell again. Y/N kissed him silly when he told her that, plus she loves that it smells like him now.

Y/N takes one look at her unmade bed and walks away, knowing she's going to crawl back in after Harry leaves her. She walks out and, from the hallway, can hear Harry humming away. If she's honest, she doesn't recognize the song. As she has come to learn, Harry has an interesting taste in music; he has basically heard every song ever to exist. It's a reason they are so good at Four Clovers Thursday Trivia night. She dominates pop culture and films, and Harry takes on music. She's also better at history than him. Their friends love trivia night because their winning always gets them free drinks. It's something she looks forward to each week.

"Morning, H," Y/N says as she approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around his waist. Harry smiles, instantly feeling warm with her arms around him.

"Morning, firebug. Sleep well?"

She mumbles a no, causing Harry to laugh, and she feels it vibrate through her.

"Awe, upset I wasn't wrapped around you." He teases. "I'm making up to you by making breakfast."

She pulls away, spotting blackberries on the counter. "Sure, Jan."

Harry can hear the change in her tone and knows she's still goofing off with him but knows she's upset.

"Angel, come sit. Coffee is ready."

She shakes her head but makes her way over to the chair he pulled out for her. "No coffee. I'll be going back to bed soon." Y/N waits to see if he'll correct her, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry." He begins.

"No apologies."

"Please let me. I'm leaving you on our day." He pouts.

"As much as I don't want you to go, I'm sure they need you more than I do."

Harry frowns, "I hope you'll never stop needing me." He whispers against her lips before closing the gap. Y/N hums against his soft lips allowing herself to get lost in the moment; she loves his kisses, soft and gentle just as he is despite what his sharp eyes might have one believe.

Harry pulls away after pressing one final kiss on her pouted lips. "I'm sorry I have to go to work, but I know for certain that I can meet you for a late lunch."

"Lunch?" She repeats, arms wrapped around his waist, hoping he was serious with his offer.

He hums. "Yes, 2:30, that bistro with that avocado dressing you like for your sandwich."

"It's a date." She grins, laying her head on his chest letting him hold her tight. He unwraps his arms, letting her go.

"I've got to get going, firebug, but I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Styles." She tells him as she does every time he leaves.

"Try my best, angel."

With that, he slips his beat-up white Vans with lilac laces and walks out the door; it shuts it behind him. Just as Y/N steps towards it to lock up, it opens back up, startling her. Harry steps back in, and before she can question him, he places both faces on the side of her face and kisses her breathless. Y/N is quick to react, allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony, not as smooth but perfect, nonetheless.

"I--" Harry begins before he clears his throat. "I'll miss you, angel."

Y/N feels the heat rush to her cheeks because, for a moment, she thought he'd say another three words. "And I'll miss you, H. Now get out of here; I don't need you showing up late to our lunch date."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, hugging her before walking out a skip in his step. She peaks her head out, making sure he gets in the car safely before he drives off. He sits there for a moment, and she knows he is letting his Bluetooth connect as he waits for his drive-to-work playlist titled "it's time" to start playing. He takes a look at his mirrors before backing out and driving. That's when Y/N closes and locks the door.

Time to go back to bed for a few more hours; what else is there to do on a Sunday when she's left alone.

Harry genuinely did not want to go to work today, but it's not like he could say no to his Chief. His Chief was never one to call in favor unless it was an emergency. He didn't ask, knowing he'd get the full story Monday, but for now, he gets on his pants, t-shirt, and boots and hopes there are no fires today.

The only thing is that Harry isn't used to working with the B-shift, sure he knows everyone's name and a little of their lives, but they aren't his usual team. He shakes that off because he knows he would do anything to help a team member and knows they would do the same in return.

Harry is lost in thought, wondering what Y/N was going to do today. He knows she planned to take him to a butterfly pavilion today even told him the outfit she had planned out for it. A pair of jeans that had flowers embroidered all over something she added, saying she thought they looked a bit plain, pairing it with a pastel pink top. Harry was surprised with her style after meeting her various times in different outfits. He was surprised at how soft she dressed in pastels. She may have a bold personality, but her fashion was delicate and warm. It was a nice balance.

He nearly runs into Carols as he made his way to his office, too busy thinking of the girl he left at home. "Sorry, bud."

"No problem, Harry. Surprised to see you here," Carols tells him, everyone knowing Sunday was Harry's day off.

"Chief had something come up and asked me to come in. I should be out of here by eight tonight if we're lucky."

Carlos smiles, "with you around, we usually are."

Harry chuckles, telling him he'll be in his office if he needs anything. He looks around his desk and sighs at how much has piled up already.

Might as well get ahead.

It's a few hours when Harry realizes the house is quiet. He peaks around the window and figures they are all in the common room. It's only one, and thankfully there have been no calls, and if it continues, then he will make it to lunch with his angel.

He shoots her a text.

Angel

13:24 PM

I miss you. Counting down the minutes until I get to see you xxx

Harry clicks send and smiles down at his phone. 2:30 couldn't come fast enough.

As he gets up to stretch and go for a snack in the kitchen, he takes a deep breath because as confident as he may seem, he isn't around the second shift. They don't know him so well, and Harry ultimately is shy. He may be able to hide it, but he has small quicks that others pick up on. Something he knows Y/N spotted quickly, like when he toes his foot into the ground or when he begins to chip at his nails, and Y/N's favorite is when he moves his hands behind his back and sways side to side. She finds it endearing, but others might not think it's leadership material.

He walks into the lounge to cross to the kitchen when a few heads turn to him, but before they can say a word, the alarm rings, and Harry is literally saved by the bell.

Not a second to waste, everyone heads over to the rig and quickly suits up. Harry is Lieutenant meaning he's in charge of the scene today, seeing as their captain and Chief aren't here today. Harry respects all the firefighters and knows this will go well if everyone carries out their job.

It's a factory fire, and as soon as they arrive, Harry can see it's burning fast. He's not sure how many people are there, but he calls in for reinforcements knowing they will need all the manpower they can get.

"This is House 102; please send more units available. The factory fire is burning at a faster rate than we can control. My team is going in now. There are five people unaccounted for; the left side of the building is clear." Harry speaks into his two-way radio.

"Carlos," the young firefighter jogs over, eyes on Harry, no longer staring at the roaring fire. "You're going in with Baz. Stay close and don't go up the second floor; you need to be quick in and out."

"Who's going with you, Lieutenant?" Carlos asks, clearly worried.

"Jameson and Rey are coming with me; stay safe, and if anything happens, just radio in."

"You got it!" Harry pats his shoulder and walks off towards the two waiting men.

Harry knows the men well, he trained them when they came into the house, but they preferred B-shift instead of being with him. One spot was available, and he knew they didn't want to be separated. Rey and Jameson have been dating for two years, but that's a secret only very few know. It's not prohibited, but if it gets more serious, one will have to relocate to a new station. They simply aren't ready for that, and indeed Harry would be sad not to have them around the house or hearing their stories. It just adds a more considerable risk because, at the end of the day, the job is first.

Rey walks towards the entrance with Harry following right behind. Jameson, a few feet back, calling out for anyone in there that needs help.

"Fire department, call out." Echoes out as much as it can as the fire begins to roar louder.

The heat gets worse the further they walk in; they turn right at the edge of a desk labeled "Torres."

"H, there!" Rey shouts, rushing over to a man knocked unconscious and had heavy storage struck over his legs, pinning him down. Harry and Jameson run over, assessing the man before making any sudden moves.

Jameson finds a pulse, weak but there. He gets the extra mask over the man's face hoping it'll wake him up soon.

"On the count of three, we lift," Harry tells the two men standing to a stand as the others do the same.

They nod. "One, two, three." They grunt in unison, pushing the container to a standing position. Harry looks over the man's legs and is thankful there is no blood, but there will be swelling and bruises. "Right, Rey, take him out. We'll keep searching."

Rey nods, lifting the man over his shoulder as he was trained to do, and rushes out of the burning building. Harry and Jameson have just learned a new area when the radio comes on. "Lieutenant Styles, it's Carlos. We found two men; only one remains unaccounted for."

Harry nods. "Got it, no one comes back in. We'll be out soon."

He now leads the way, making his way towards a stairway. There's no fire here, but it's moving faster, and smoke is thick. Whoever is in here might not last much longer without oxygen.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts, voice firm.

"Here.." a whisper is heard, both Harry and Jameson freeze. Once more, "here" is yelled but sounds muffled.

Harry looks around, not seeing anything but fire, and fears the structure will collapse soon. Just as he was about to yell again, he sees a can knocked, and a man hidden under a black rag is seen. Jameson rushes over, helping the man sit up. He's older, well into his sixties. He doesn't look too well; he has a few scapes.

"Right, we need to head out," Jameson tells Harry, helping the man stand up who is fighting consciousness.

"This is Lieutenant Styles; on our way out found the last man. Have paramedics on standby."

"Got it, Styles. Get out quick."

Jameson and Harry get the man up and head to exit. Harry can see the light of day and knows he will be late for lunch, but thankful Y/N is understanding and very forgiving. He'll make it up to her by buying dessert.

Just as they almost reach the door, a piece of dry wood comes falling down, separating Harry and Jameson; luckily, it did not hit them, but now Harry has to find a new way out. It's not looking good.

"Harry," Jameson looks panicked, but Harry stays calm.

"Get him out, now," Harry tells him, looking in every direction for what to do.

"No, I won't-" Harry cuts him off.

"Jameson, get this man out. He needs medical attention. That's an order." Voice full of authority with no room to argue.

Jameson nods and heads out. "I'm coming back for you."

Harry chuckles. He sees a small path, but it'd be a more extended way out. He debates what to do. He could wait, but the longer he stays, the quicker this building is beginning to collapse.

It takes him two seconds to decide to go right and find a new route out instead of staying put. He walks and only gets hotter as the fire begins to surround him. He's good at not panicking, always thinks better under pressure, but this is getting intense. Harry climbs over a crate and bends low to go through this tight space. He sees the exit, it's still a bit away, but he knows he is in the clear.

That's when he hears a big explosion knocking him forward. His oxygen masks flys off, landing a few feet away. As Harry reaches his hand out to get it, he's pulled back. He looks behind and sees he's stuck. There are crates stacked on top of him. The air is thick of smoke, and with no oxygen, it seems like the fire will soon enough engulf him.

Shit.

He's really in trouble now.

Harry presses his radio, holding it, hoping it's still working. "This is Harry," He coughs. "I'm trapped under a few crates. I can't reach my ask. I'm west of the building."

"Harry, hold on. We're going in." Harry hears Jameson reply, but he's fading quickly.

He shakes his head. "Can't go to sleep, but this smoke is too thick to actually see anything, let alone for his team to find him.

"Tell…" He coughs again, and this time doesn't stop for what feels like five minutes but is only a few seconds. "Tell angel, I'm sorry."

A voice comes over the speaker, but Harry's eyelids are fluttering shut, the weight of the crates is too much, and the smoke only gets deeper in his lungs if he keeps speaking.

Harry welcomes the darkness as he sees the one person he was supposed to meet for lunch. She's holding an outstretched hand for him to take and who is he to ever say no to her.

Real or not, he goes to her, and soon enough, he falls unconscious, not feeling when his team lifts him out and puts him in the back of an ambulance.

Y/N decided to show up a bit earlier for their lunch date, putting in their order early, wanting to maximize all their time together. She wouldn't see him until late that night, and honestly, she wasn't a fan of being separated on her favorite day of the week.

She sits on a bench right outside, both sandwiches wrapped tucked away in a brown paper bag and a lemonade sitting next to her untouched. It was his favorite, too sweet in her opinion. Still, Harry loved it, especially since he wasn't one to indulge in sweets unless they were hers.

Knowing Harry could be running late, she pulls out a book from her orange tote bag that Harry gifted to her. The book was Beach Read, Frankie recommended it to her then gave her the book saying she needed to read more romance books and not just poetry and nonfiction books. She actually enjoyed it, which surprised her, but even if she didn't, she's too invested to not find out the ending.

She was just starting chapter five when she feels too much time has passed and glances down at her phone.

2:55

25 minutes late isn't bad or unusual even; she decides to put the book away and keep an eye out for him. Usually, when he keeps her waiting, he makes up for it with a long kiss that never fails to take her breath away; she's excited about it now.

Time seems to go slower when she just sits waiting. She debates beginning to eat her sandwich when her stomach starts to growl. It's low, but she would feel bad if she began to eat, and that's when he shows up. She settles for waiting and instead takes a drink of the sweet lemonade.

As Y/N sits waiting for Harry, her phone begins to ring and displays an unknown number but the city's area code. Every bone in her body tells her to prepare for the worst but hopes she's paranoid.

She takes a deep breath before answering and bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, are you angel?" A deep voice man asks.

"It's Y/N. Actually, can I ask who's calling?" She's holding her breath; only one person calls her angel.

"I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Harry Styles. Harry has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. He asked us to call an angel on his way to the hospital. We assumed you were one of his emergency contacts."

Y/N feels her hands begin to shake. "What hospital?"

The man on the phone rattles the information, and she lets it all sink in. He hangs up, and she sits there waiting on the bench for her date that will not be showing up.

Her phone rings again, she answers without looking at the caller.

"Y/N," she recognized the voice; it's Mitch, and if he's calling, then it must be true.

"Mitch," she whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It's shaky, tears beginning to well up.

"Where are you?"

"At the bistro a street down from the station." She replies, hoping he's coming for her.

"I'm close; we'll pick you up and go see him, darling." She nods but remembers he can't see her.

Y/N isn't sure why she's not crying. She feels the tears, but it's like they are stuck; her heart hurts, and she knows that says enough. "We were supposed to meet for lunch. I got worried when he didn't show up, but I didn't think--" he interrupts her.

"Harry is going to be fine, trust me. He's okay, and he needs us there."

Y/N doesn't reply because she sees him pulling in. Mitch is in the passenger seat, Sarah is driving. She doesn't say a word as she swings open the door and settles in the back.

She sets her hands in her lap; she can feel herself trembling. She can feel herself breaking because she won't know if he's okay until she sees him. Mitch can say he's fine, but she needs to see for herself.

Sarah and Mitch share a concerned look; Y/N doesn't notice her eyes looking out the window.

"Y/N?" Mitch begins, voice full of concern. "Do you- are you okay to go see him?"

"Of course." She replies quickly. "He needs me; well, I hope he does."

"Course he needs you. Needs his angel by his side." Sarah tells her calmly, wanting to see her smile, but it doesn't work because only Harry should be calling her that. She shouldn't be on her way to see him in a hospital bed. She should have seen him next to her on that bench as he ate his sandwich and gave her kiss and kiss as she told him stories.

They are silent the rest of the way. Sarah pulls into an empty parking space, and she rushes after Mitch, who seems to know exactly where Harry is as he rushes past the front desk. The only thing that slows them down is waiting for the elevator; she gladly would have taken the stairs if Mitch didn't tell her that he's on the sixth floor. Instead, she waits impatiently for the old elevator that will take her to see her love.

He is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Y/N keeps those thoughts running through her head as Mitch and Sarah guide her to room 613.

Mitch walks in first, holding the door open, Sarah places a comforting hand on her back, and Y/N feels supported and loved, but nothing prepares her for what she is about to walk into.

The constant beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only thing that can be heard in his private room. The beep is steady; it makes her let out a deep breath. The monitor already calming her down, she approaches slowly as if he'd wake if she'd walk any faster.

She sits in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed and pulls it as close as she can.

Y/N just stares at him, taking it all in. He looks like he's resting peacefully like he should originally have been when they started this day together. His curls are disheveled, his face dirty with smoke stains and a few gauzes wrapped around his arms. She can't see much else but knows he's got a road of recovery still ahead of him.

"Hi, Harry," she whispers, her hand slowly reaching under the white sheet to grab hold of his right hand. "I'm right here, okay. Take your time waking up; there's no rush. Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

She pauses, hoping for a reply even though she knows she won't get one. "We can also discuss how I'm sort of one of your emergency contacts."

Y/N presses her lips to his hand. "Need you to wake up, want to see those Rapunzal eyes." She sits back, not removing her hand from his. Sarah has not taken her eyes off of her, Sarah might feel like she might blow up soon, but being at his side, she has begun to feel better.

"Harry, we're here for you. The whole team is outside in the lobby, probably why they sent us to the floor with the biggest waiting area. Even young Carlos is out there, saying you gave them a scare but really hopes you never pick up another B-shift again." Mitch sniffles before stepping out of the room. Sarah walks over to where he was standing.

"Hey Harold, it's trivia night in a few days, and kind of counting on you to get us those free drinks." Sarah chuckles. "It's been a while since we've been in the hospital. I think it was when I made you all donate blood for that ambulance competition. Fun times, now you rest and get better. The good thing is you have the best nurse looking out for you." Sarah glances at Y/N, sending her a small smile.

Y/N sits back in her chair as Sarah sits in one by the window. She knows she's in for a long afternoon and an even longer night.

Harry's head is throbbing.

He's not sure why. The last he remembers is leaving Y/N's house to go for his shift at the station.

They were meeting for lunch; he's sure she wouldn't let him drink any alcohol on the job.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and is blinded by the bright light. He sees a photo of the sunset right in front of him, and a tv hung up; if he's not mistaken, he's in a hospital room, primarily due to being in an uncomfortable bed. The oxygen mask over his face is also a dead giveaway he was in an accident.

He looks around, and he sees he is not alone. His angel is sleeping, a tight grip on his right hand; she looks exhausted. Mitch walks in just as Harry was about to wake her. Y/N mumbles and sits up, pulling her hand away from his to rub the sleep away. Harry wants to tell her to stop knowing how much it actually irritates her eyes, especially when she tubs a little harsher than usual.

"Were you able to find tea, Mitch?" Y/N asks, looking over at him.

"Sarah's bringing it over." Mitch's gaze never turns to her staying on Harry; this confuses Y/N and turns back around in her seat to look at a resting Harry but instead finds his eyes on her.

"Harry!" Y/N scoots forward, grasps his hand in hers. "You're awake. Mitch, the nurse, please."

Harry raises his free hand to take off the mask. He wants to speak, but this won't allow him. "No, love. Got to keep it on."

Harry's eyes close, then flutter open. He stares at Y/N, his eyes kind but defiant. He takes the mask off, coughing a bit; it makes Y/N feel nauseous, knowing he's not doing so well.

"I think you need to keep it on, Harry." She says, "the nurse needs to see it when she comes in soon."

"Hey, angel," he says in a raspy voice. It sounds like he's in pain when he talks.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Y/N shrugs, "no big deal. I wasn't even scared."

Harry smiles, showering her his dimples since she last saw him this morning. He begins to laugh but stops when it causes him to cough. Y/N lets him settle down before bending down to gently kiss him.

"Now, let that hold you over, and put the mask pack on."

Harry nods. "Anything for you, my angel."

It's a half-hour before the doctor comes in, and by that time, Harry had fallen back asleep, only just waking up a few minutes before the man walked through the door. Mitch alerted everyone outside he was awake and doing good.

Dr. Vazquez walked white coat open, displaying a purple button-up and a bright yellow tie. It puts a smile on Y/N's face.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. Glad you're awake."

"Me too, Doc. Nice tie."

Dr. Vaquez smiles, looking down at himself, "Thank you, my wife picks out my tie every morning before she heads off to work."

"Lucky man," Harry tells him.

"That I am." Dr. Vazquez replies. "You've got a mild concussion, nothing serious, but you are allowed to sleep while you're here. We've got a good team looking out for you. You've got a few burns, but those will heal nicely if properly cared for. A few deep bruises on your leg and one on your rib cage, no blood clots. It will hurt to walk for a few days."

"Nothing too bad, then," Harry sighs, relaxing in bed.

"I've looked at your charts, and it looks like you will be making a full recovery and should be back on the job in three or four weeks. In the meantime, you will need to stay overnight and keep taking in oxygen. I see the nurse changed your mask. Please don't remove this one." Harry nods. "Any questions?"

Harry shakes his head no, "Not at the moment."

"Alright, I'll be off then. I'll come to see you tomorrow midday, and we'll talk about going home. I hear you have a waiting room full of people dying to see; just be aware that visiting hours end at nine, but if you're kind to Nurse Lucy, she'll be lenient to ten."

"Thank you, Dr. Vazquez." Mitch and Y/N say in unison as the man exits the room.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen you, firebug." Harry teases.

"You hush." She lightly pats his arm.

Mitch laughs, "going to go tell them you're allowed, visitors."

Y/N and Harry sit in silence. He can tell she has something on her mind, a slight frown on her face. He wonders if it's about him if she won't be able to handle dating someone who can be hurt by the job. Harry honestly does not want to lose her.

"I'm going to step out," Y/N tells him, looking down at their joined hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," Harry sighs.

"You've got lots of people waiting to see you and roughly have an hour to see them all. I'll be close by." She leans down, presses a kiss to his cheek, and walks out before he can reach out to stop her.

She steps out while a few members of his team come in to see him offering her a smile as she passes them. As much as she didn't want to leave him, she needed a moment away, and he needed a moment with his family.

God, Y/N has never felt so scared, and now a minute alone, everything is beginning to set in. She has no idea where the restroom is, and the next thing she knows, she's running into someone, but it seems they recognize her because they say her name, and the next thing she knows, she's crying, sinking to the floor. She feels arms wrap around her.

Shushes in her ear, brushing the ends of her hair. It's calming, but she needs to let all the tears she's been holding in.

"Y/N," she can now recognize the voice as Sarah's, "I'm going to help you stand and sit you in the chair.

Y/N feels herself nod.

She begins taking deep breaths, never letting Sarah pull her hand away. It is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I got her some water." Y/N hears Frankie whisper handing it to Sarah before taking the seat to the left of her.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "I'm okay."

"Y/N," Sarah begins.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie." Frankie brushes her hair back.

"I'm supposed to be strong; I have to be strong to do this to stand by his side," Y/N tells them, beginning to let her emotions out.

"No one is expecting you not to cry."

"Bu-" Sarah interrupts her.

"No. stop. Accidents happen, and so do injuries. It's okay to be scared and hurt."

"I want to be strong for him." She whispers.

"You are. You never left his side; you talked to him. You're crying now because you care."

She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeves. "I love him, and I was so scared that when I got the call, I'd never get to tell Harry."

"Then you tell him as soon as you walk back into his room."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank, I care about you, and I know Harry would be grateful to know you're not alone. You've always got us. Now let's grab something to eat, and we'll come back in an hour once all of them go home."

She chuckles. "Alright."

"Text me where you're sitting. I'll pop in to see Harry, then meet you."

"You don't have to," Y/N tells Frankie because she knows she is just as concerned about her friend.

"Are you kidding me? You're my friend first, always."

Sarah and Y/N walk down to the cafeteria. She knows she isn't okay but is feeling better, finally letting emotion out. It was only a matter of time before she let the dam break; she's just happy it was not in front of Harry.

The girls sit in the cafeteria munching on snacks for well over an hour. Mitch sends them a message letting them know all the crew has left and it's time to say goodbye for the night. Frankie wishes her goodnight downstairs with promises to come to see her tomorrow and bring her a change of clothes.

"Let's walk you back," Sarah tells her, linking their arms together.

"Do you think he'll know?" Sarah takes a good look at her and grimaces. "I'll just say I tripped, and it made me cry." Y/N jokes.

"I don't think he'll believe that."

"Yeah, me either." The girls walk out of the elevator as their laughter dies down.

They settle in silence as they make their way to his room, Sarah holding her hand leading the way. Mitch is in the chair she was in for so many hours before waiting for him to wake up. Mitch hears their footsteps and turns his head, but Harry is frowning, looking out the window at the dark sky.

Y/N doesn't know what to say, but one look at him has her heart filling up with relief; he's okay.

He's fine, and he gets to go home soon, and she gets to love him all she wants.

Harry turns his head as she steps forward. "Angel," he breathes out.

It makes her eyes well up with tears again. "I love you," she just lets it out, as if she's told Harry this every day as if she never went a moment not saying it.

"Oh my angel," Harry begins to cry, feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. His angel loves him, and although this isn't a perfect day, the moment is.

Mitch and Sarah sneak out quietly, shutting the door behind them to give them their privacy.

"I love you so much. Please come here." Harry replies, voice shaky.

In the next second, she's moving forward, pulling the chair as close as she can as he grabs her hands, squeezing them tightly. She leans down and presses her lips to his chapped pink lips. They move gently, pouring all their love and fears into the kiss. Telling each other that the worst is over and they are together, and they are fine. Y/N pulls back, knowing she can't kiss him as long as she'd like due to his sensitive lungs.

"Harry, I love you, and I was so scared I'd never get to say it."

"I'm sorry, angel; I never wanted you to get a call like this, at least not before talking about it."

"Me either," She sniffles, no longer able to control her tears, "but it happened, and I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'm okay," he repeats. She smiles, taking one of her hands out of his hold to wipe his tears away; Harry can't help but lean his head into her gentle touch. "I'm okay because my angel is always looking after me.

"Harry."

"It's true. I've never been luckier and safer since you came into my life." She smiles. "But there's something we have to talk about." He continues, and by the tone of his voice, it's going to be serious.

"Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine. You're the one in a hospital bed." Her tone is defensive.

"There's something wrong. I can see it."

Y/n sighs, taking a deep breath. She takes her hand out of his hold.

Harry is quick to mask his hurt.

"I don't like that you're hurt. I hate that we aren't at home in the kitchen dancing around to your Sunday playlist as I bake you a new treat." She says in a rush.

"Hey, love, relax," he says and gestures for her to move in closer. She does so, allowing him to take hold of her hands with a firm grip this time.

"You're upset because I got hurt?" She nods in reply to his question. It's stupid because, of course, he's going to get hurt; it'd be naive to think he wouldn't in his job.

"It's part of the job." He says simply. It's something he wants her to accept and remember. She thinks back to a month into dating when he told her about his ex-girlfriend and how she couldn't handle the unknown of the job each day he left her. Y/N thought she'd be fine, but she loves him, and losing him would be something she could never recover from.

"I know. It's just not easy to see." Her voice was quiet and defeated.

"What do we do?" Harry asks, and Y/N freezes; she can feel her heart beating in her ears.

What do we do?

"What do you mean?" She can feel her hands begin to shake.

"This can happen again." He gestures to him in the hospital bed.

"I know." She says softly.

"Is this something you can handle or not?" He asks very direct. She knows this might not be the first time he's had the conversation, but she just told him she loved him, and he's questioning her. She's allowed to feel this way, but it doesn't mean she can't handle it.

"Y/N," he begins, "I'm incredibly happy with you. I see you and me together for a long time. You're it for me, but this job is my life."

"I know," she repeats. "I would never ask you to give up your job."

Harry stares at her; heartbreak passes through his eyes. "Are you asking me to give you up?

She shakes her and begs for the tears not to fall, but it's no use. She feels them falling and can't wipe them as Harry has a hold of her hands.

"Harry, I love you." He frowns as if fearing the worst. "I love you, and I'd rather love you every moment I have you than let you go now and never know what could have been."

"Oh, thank god." Harry lets out a deep breath. She giggles. "I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation earlier; honestly, I feared if I brought it up, you could possibly break up with me, and I selfishly wanted to have you longer."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, not if it's up to me. Seeing you laid up is hard but knowing I get to be there for you makes up for it. Also helps that I'm a nurse."

"That it does."

Y/n grins at Harry, leaning in to kiss him, short and sweet for now. Each kiss never fails to make her heart race, and due to Harry's heart monitor, she knows it does the same to him. They sit in silence, staring at each other as Harry traces small shapes against Y/N's cheeks, loving the feeling of her in his hand. Especially when she lets out a soft giggle when he hits a sensitive spot.

"Move in with me," Y/N blurts out after a while of silence.

It shocks Harry. "What?"

"Until you're better. That way, I can be your in-home nurse."

"Only until I'm better?" She nods. "So, you'll give me the boot after." Harry teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks warming up but pushes through, "Only if you're a bad patient."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display for her, always for her. "Okay, I can be good and naughty only when you ask."

"Harry!" She gasps.

He throws his head back, laughing.

"God, I'm so lucky to love you." His words warm her heart, and she promises to tell him every day from now on.

"Now get up here and cuddle me. I got Mitch to cue up Netflix."

"Are you sure?" She stands slipping her shoes off, knowing he won't be taking no for an answer.

"Going to deprive an injured man of what he wants most?"

"Guess not."

"Good."

Y/N crawls on and lays on his side, carefully resting her head on his chest. Harry presses kiss after kiss for his comfort, knowing he will be okay and has his favorite person by his side. She chooses Legally Blonde knowing it's Harry's comfort movie as much as he tries to deny it.

For an unusual start to their Sunday, it ends right; together in bed, a hospital bed but nonetheless a bed, together arms wrapped tight around each other.

Y/N might not have liked that Harry got hurt, but he's okay, and he will recover.

That's all she could ever ask for.

thank you so much for reading!

please send me a message of what you thought or if you'd like to see more firefighter harry

I adore you. take care xx

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles ou #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #firefighter!harry #harry fanfic #harry fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #my writing

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bigilante · 3 years

Text

— 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 ❣ 𝕙.𝕠

⌜mature content • minors do not interact⌟

「 contents: mature language + handjob ━━━━━ word count: 2.4k 」

: a.n : hiya! it's been long since i last posted something but here i am! this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo writing challenge. be gentle with me please, i'm really awkward writing in second person but i really wanted to make this gender-neutral.

: prompt : Harrison injures his right hand. He’s sexually frustrated, and his left hand just isn’t doing the job. Reader notices something is up with her poor roommate, and asks if there’s anything she can do to help. Even though they haven’t been anything more than friends up to this point, reader offers to “give him a hand,” or whatever of her other body parts he likes.

For two weeks Harrison had had his right hand clasped in a splint from taking a rather nasty fall from his skateboard. The night he had come home from the park with his jeans ripped on the knees and his hand clutched to his chest you hadn’t wasted a second to start taking the piss out of him at the clear picture of him eating shit at the skatepark but when he let out a pained groan after trying to take his jacket off your laughter died down and worry settled on the pit of your stomach.

His hand turned out to be badly sprained and well, the next couple of weeks had been spent in him trying to navigate his days with his non-dominant hand and with the initial panic of your roommate hurting himself gone you resumed the lighthearted piss-taking. Although he laughed with you at the jokes you made you could see how it really bugged him that he wasn’t as useful and agile with his right hand being in mandatory rest. “Told you, H. Whatever you have trouble with I can give you a hand.” You reminded him waving both your hands in front of you in a somewhat mocking manner.

“Yeah, heard you the first time.” He grumbled while struggling to button up his dress shirt. “Damn it.” The blonde cursed under his breath when his fingers seemed to not be working properly. That was enough for you to put your cup of tea down on the breakfast bar to walk up to him taking over the task he was growing frustrated with. He sighed defeated, letting his hands drop to his sides allowing you to close his shirt for him.

“Really, Harrison. I don’t mind helping you out.” The reassurance prompted Harrison to nod in understanding, running his fingers through his hair clearly irked by his situation. As if after you repeating it ninety-nine times before hadn’t sunk into his brain until the hundredth. “There you go, all done.” You patted his chest a couple of times then stepped back away from him to grab your mug again watching him leave the flat in a hurry after thanking you. You had been joking about what happened to him but you really felt bad for him, Harrison was a very active and independent guy who rarely asked for help and now that he was close to useless at doing simple tasks you could see how much it troubled him.

In the evening when he returned home he headed directly to the bathroom barely uttering a greeting back when you welcomed him, the sound of the running water splashing around let you know he was running a bath, you sighed at the fact that he had beaten you to run one for yourself though you were still busy making dinner for the both of you you didn’t duel much on it. About thirty minutes had passed since he went in for his bath and you figured it’ll be enough time for him to be about done with it to come out and eat, hence you walking up to the end of the hallway to knock on the door to make him aware that the food was ready.

However, the noise of water splashing a bit too aggressively accompanied by Harrison’s angry cursing made you believe something was wrong. With not much time to think you tried for the door and found it unlocked, swinging it open swiftly. “Are you okay!?” You asked in a panic, eyes wide when you saw the walls dripping and the floor flooded with soapy water. “Are you hurt?” You insisted, daring to step inside the room, bare feet coming in contact with the wet ground making comical splashing sounds.

“Yeah-no. I just…” He frantically tried to gather the few bubbles that floated on the scarcely-filled tub, bringing them closer to his body to cover himself a little.

“You just what, H?” Your voice still held concern and he noticed, finally looking up at you with seemingly pleading eyes. “You need help with your back or what is it?”

“No, y/n.” He huffed, brushing his wet hair back with his splinted hand wincing a little with the action. “This time you really can’t help me, alright? Just, let me get dressed.”

“Harrison, I told you I don’t mind help—” You started but was soon cut by the blonde’s voice rising above his usual level.

“I need a wank! That’s what I need. And my fucking left hand ain’t cutting it anymore.” Harrison blurted out a bit worked up, breathing heavily with cheeks burning hot showing in a bright crimson colour that stood out against his milky skin. Your mouth closed immediately after he acknowledged his problem, a warmth crept up your neck settling comfortably on the apples of your cheeks as your fingers toyed aimlessly with the hem of your oversized bed t-shirt. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he had thrown his head back on the edge of the tub and covered his eyes with his injured hand while the other was under the water.

The way the muscles of his arm were flexed made the heat of your cheeks travelled to new places that could be labelled as inappropriate. Boldly, you stepped further into the room your steps marked by the sloppy meeting of them with the soaked tiles, not knowing exactly how you conjured the confidence to do so. “I-I don’t mind... helping,” You stuttered out, stopping right by his side. Wide eyes hanging on the young man’s hidden face that was instantly revealed as soon as those words left your lips.

“What!? Don’t be silly, y/n. I could never ask you to do that.” He sat up, making starts to get up but you stopped him by placing a hand on his bare shoulder keeping him inside the tub.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” You gave him a sincere smile, irises dancing between his crystal clear ones as you waited for him to accept or decline your proposal. Harrison’s teeth clenched as he swallowed thickly making his jawline look even sharper. When he delayed in giving you an answer you felt as if you had overstepped his boundaries and panic began to invade you fast.

“Okay.” He agreed with a nearly imperceptible wobble in his voice. “But don’t look at it. It’ll make me feel less guilty if you don’t know what it looks like.” The chuckle he let out was nervous and awkward, causing you to match it with one of your own as you nodded your head.

“Okay, I won’t look.” You declared, pressing your lips together before sinking to your knees right beside the bathtub sitting comfortably on your folded legs. Taking in a deep breath you reached for his left forearm with your right hand, eyes focused on the edge of the porcelain trying your best not to look down as you let your hand trail down his arm ultimately meeting his own hand under the lukewarm water. “Let go.” In a soft voice, you requested. Harrison exhaled through his nose prompting you to shift your gaze from the tub to his face, sending him a reassuring nod and a faint smile, those sufficient for him let you hold him inhaling a tad sharply when you did.

With your hand now wrapped around his girth, you started to give him slow and long rubs with a fairly firm grip. Since your eyes were still on him you saw him sigh, momentarily closing his eyes with the first few strokes, his lips pressed together as he breathed through each caress you provided. It was hypnotising seeing him in that way: head thrown back, eyes closed, flushed face, brows pinched together; adding to all of that he was completely naked and splattered with water droplets. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips, swallowing thickly at the scene in front of you, subconsciously your grasp on the man’s erection tightened enough to make him let out an involuntary moan that echoed throughout the tiled room, travelling through your ears and finding a new home deep inside your brain.

Again, —you thought— do it again. You now craved his pleasure noises, with a new goal you lifted yourself from your sitting position back into your knees so you could move your arm at a faster pace, wrist twisting every now and again succeeding at drawing more moans out of your roommate. A whimper left your throat when your arm started to grow tired from the motion and the pressure of the ceramic edge underneath it prompting Harrison’s eyes to shoot open and you swore you felt him twitch against your palm. “S-sorry, my arm got sore.” You let out an embarrassed laugh when your eyes met his, your whole face burning hot.

The aching of your arm combined itself with the soreness of your knees forcing you to stand up and let go of Harrison in the process, with little time to think twice you swung your leg over the edge of the bathtub soon followed by the other before you found a comfortable new position straddling the blonde’s bare thighs. The weight of you coming into the water raised the level of it, permitting it to soak the bottom half of your top, Harrison’s eyes never left your figure as you moved that much closer to him, his stomach was a little sucked in as if he was holding in his breath. “Is this okay?” You quizzed, noting that you sitting on him might be too much.

“Ye-yeah.” He breathed out in a hurry. You proceeded to resume your ministrations now with a better angle and an additional hand to give your right one a minute of rest. The movement of the water around you both and Harrison’s heavy breathing was the only things that could be heard in the bathroom of your quiet flat. The view was intoxicating; chiselled chest heaving, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, jaw slacked, pink lips parted and eyes screw shut. You found it next to impossible to reap your gaze from the guy in front of you, the way he was reacting to your touch was rapidly becoming your favourite thing and you wanted more of him, your thighs tightened over his when he let out a particularly loud moan and you had to blink a few times to try and restore your morality without much success.

“Are you close?” Your voice filled the air around you, it surprised both of you for you didn’t know you had it in you to ask such a question when you were trying to keep your composure in front of the man. Harrison’s eyes were half-opened and on you the second you asked, the intensity of them draw you in closer and closer to his face until your forehead was pressed against his tentatively. Soon his healthy hand was back under the water only this time it landed on your bare thigh gripping it tightly, the simple touch causing your breath to match his ragged one, mixing together from the close proximity of your faces.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” Harrison ordered with a deep groan as his body began to tense up underneath you. You took the cue and doubled your efforts with both your hands subconsciously whispering encouragements eliciting louder moans from him. His poorly hand came up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place —as if you really had the intention to move away— while his high very evidently approached. “Fuck, y/n.” The blue-eyed boy moaned in your face luring a whine out of your throat at the sound of your name being called in such a way.

“Cum for me,” You encouraged him, nudging his nose with yours silently prompting him to look at you, and he did. Hooded eyes fixed on yours mere centimetres away that you could feel his lips ghosting over your own teasingly, warm breath fanning over them. “Harri, c’mon.” A whisper was all you could manage at that moment. Your own throat had grown dry and you had to suppress the mewls that threatened to leave your chest when you started to feel his cock twitching in your hands. A loud grunt got stuck in the man’s throat the moment he toppled over the edge, his length spasming in your grip as you so clearly sensed it unload under the now cool water, the temperature of the liquids contrasting against your skin when his seed landed on your hands as it sank.

Harrison’s body shuddered with each slow stroke you gave him to help him ride his orgasm, moans continued to fall from his parted lips. He swallowed, finally releasing your neck from the clasp to be able to relax back in the tub letting out a long and deep sigh of content. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed the moment he pulled away but it was for the best, you couldn’t be wishing for him to do something for you when you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

That was when it hit you, the position you were in wasn’t appropriate at all, it didn’t matter how willing you were to be his second self surely giving him manual relief was a step too far. So with overwhelming shame, you let go of him, leaning to the side to take hold of the edge of the tub, pulling yourself up to your feet in a daze. The water that dripped down from your soaked t-shirt far too noisy in your ears as they buzzed with the adrenaline that still coursed through your body, the wet fabric sticking to your skin making you self-aware that it was now see-through so you hurried to the railing stuck to the wall and grabbed one of the towels, quickly wrapping it around your waist.

Embarrassed, you started for the door, holding the doorknob ready to leave the room, “Di-dinner’s ready.” You acknowledged shyly, the tremble in your voice giving your remorse away. You frantically shuffled on your feet stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you. There was a weird feeling in the pits of your stomach, you knew you felt embarrassed of what had just happened yet, that wasn’t it, it was almost like a craving. A craving for his touch and that made the shame feel ten times worse. You marched to your room locking yourself in, forgetting about your dinner plate that was sitting on the kitchen counter, your hunger long gone. Though, despite the mortification, there was a new much problematic sort of appetite tingling deep inside you and the throbbing between your legs made it much too hard to ignore.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this piece ♡ 】

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 4

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, smut, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official

Lee Bodecker x Reader

Arvin Russell x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter covers a little bit about her relationship with Arvin and some other things as well. I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

You had lost your virginity in the back of Arvin Russell’s pick-up truck. Your mom and you had gotten into a fight again- you don’t even remember what about. You remember she pushed past you to go outside, while you grabbed the phone dialing Arvin’s number. You didn’t even need to say anything. He just knew. He groggily mumbled out that he’d be there soon. And like the sweetheart he was, he was there in the middle of the night to come pick you up.

Your mom didn’t even look at you as you came out of the house, your coat secured over your pajamas. She just stared out at the dark night and would light herself a cigarette, taking a long drag. He pulled up to your house in his truck and you’d hop in the passenger door. You sat flush with his side, while you cried silently. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped tightly around you, occasionally taking his eyes off the road to kiss your temple affectionately.

There was a spot out by the lake. A small clearing you could get to by driving on an unmarked road through some woods. He would bring you there when you had to get out of your house. Sometimes, he’d just hold you or he brought a large quilt with him and you’d both crawl into the pick-up and lay together watching the stars as he held you close.

Despite everything that happened, that boy has always been good to you. He was the kind of boy who you could wake up in the middle of the night and he’d show up in his pajamas to come get you no questions asked. You both looked a little silly. Him wearing his work coat and boots with his pajama bottoms and sleep shirt, and you wearing your coat over a nightgown you paired with whatever shoes you had by the door.

He’d park the truck and pull you into his arms, holding you close and whispering to you that everything was going to be okay. He’d stroke your hair and press small kisses to your cheeks, not caring that they were salty with tears. You never doubted how much that boy loved you.

He untangled himself from you for a moment so he could grab the blanket off the top of the backrest. He got out of the truck and you followed his lead, he always held out his hand to escort you down. You stood with your arms crossed over your chest and looked at the ground while he spread out the blanket in the pick-up.

You’d both climb in and kick off your shoes, and he’d pull you into his chest, so you could rest your head on him instead of the floor of the truck’s bed- which was still hard despite the blanket. You’d rest your hand on his torso, aimlessly drawing shapes over his t-shirt while he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

Sometimes, he would try to think and come up with stories to make you laugh. Sometimes, you’d both just talk about your future, wanting to get out of this town. He’d make promises of taking you away from all your troubles and at the time, you truly believed he was your future. Other times, much like this time, you’d cuddle up together and enjoy the quietness, just enjoying the contact of being so close. He’d never press you to talk about your problems, but he was always there to just listen or if you wanted help he’d be there for that too.

In-between the whispers of promises and comforting words, you’d both share kisses until before you knew it, you were on top of him, straddling his waist and his hands gently gripped your waist. His touches were always respectful, and he’d always wait for an okay before touching you anywhere. At the time, it was what you wanted.

“I love you so much,” he’d whisper when you broke the kiss to catch your breath. He pressed his forehead to yours and made circles on your sides with his hands. You’d giggle at how his words made you feel, butterflies in your stomach and goosebumps rising on your skin. He’d smile at the sound of your laugh, knowing he was making you feel better.

“I love you too,” you whisper. He leans up and connects his lips to yours again. They’re so soft and his body is warm. He sits up so his back is up against the back windshield and you’re sitting in his lap. One arm holds you close to him, his thumb delicately rubbing the exposed skin of your thigh, your nightgown gathering at your waist in this new position and the other hand holds your face as he kisses you deeply. His touch makes a soft moan escape your lips and it encourages him to grip your skin a little bit tighter.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs, running a hand through your hair, before ducking down to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. The action makes your hips instinctively grind against him and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he groans at the feeling. His arms hold your back and guide you so you’re laying back down on the blanket again, this time his body above yours. He holds himself up with one hand and moves his jacket over with the other for a pillow for you to use. He leans down and presses his lips to yours again. Your hands find themselves under his shirt, sliding up his torso, and you smile against his lips when he shivers at your touch.

“Please touch me,” you beg softly in his ear and almost immediately his body freezes above you for a moment. You bite your lip and nod, noticing his hesitation. “I want this,” you confirm, leaning up and kissing him again.

His hands push up the fabric of the nightgown and then slowly pull your panties off. He was moving like if he went too fast, you’d break. Your hands go to the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it off of him, and then you kiss him again with much more urgency, guiding his hand to in-between your legs. You moan at the feeling of his hand finding your clit and rubbing it in a gentle circular motion. Everything was just so slow and purposeful, and all very loving. He kissed your neck, biting and leaving small lovebites on your skin as he picks up his pace, sliding two fingers into you.

His fingers curl and move perfectly, he knows your body so well and he’s already memorized what makes you react to his touch. He kisses you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth, suppressing the moans that fall from your lips at his touch. He can have you falling apart just with his hands.

“Arvin, I need you,” you plead, feeling yourself getting very close. “Please.”

He pulls his hands away to pull off your nightgown, and he stares when your nipples harden in the night air. You were the more beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He also pulls off his own pajamas and his boxer shorts, tossing them somewhere behind him. His lips attach to yours again, one hand running down your side and the other cupping your breast, massaging gently. “Are you sure, baby?” he asks in a whisper against your ear. You can feel his length teasing your folds and it was driving you crazy.

“I’m sure,” you moan softly, running a hand through his hair. He’s very careful, sliding into you for the first time. It was his first time too, and he was worried about hurting you. You wince at the feeling and he pampers you with kisses until you’re ready for him to move.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, and your legs wrap themselves around him. The pain you felt shortly after turned into an immense feeling of pleasure and you moved your hips, silently begging him to move. He chuckles softly, and begins to move his hips. He’s so focused on looking at you, looking at your reactions, making sure you’re okay.

“You feel so good,” you praise, your nails gently marking his back. You did really, honest to God, love Arvin Russell.

“(Y/N) I love you so much,” his gaze looking down at you like you’re the only other creature in the world. Both of you were so dumbstruck by love, and the harsh realities of the world hadn’t torn you from him yet.

Even after you finish, he wraps you up in his arms, making the moment all about you. He was so attentive and caring. You worry that you took him for granted when you think back. No place made you feel safer than his embrace. He was the most selfless person you’d ever met and he would do anything you wanted. He made you the center of his life, and you were so thankful to have had him, even if the world got in the way.

But you didn’t know if Arvin was the boy you had thought you wanted. When you got a call to come pick-up Tommy, you never imagined that Arvin had it in him to inflict so much on someone. The boy who never once scared you, secretly held the ability to beat someone so severely. You were livid with your brother. You were absolutely furious- but this wasn’t something that surprised you about him. Arvin surprised you. He had this anger bottled down deep inside him, and you were scared of it. You were angry and confused.

You were mad he didn’t talk to you. He just went off and did it. It was shocking. He almost killed him. The beating was graphic, Tommy still not even telling you everything. You couldn’t bear to hear it. You could rationalize Arvin’s actions if it wasn’t your brother. It was someone so close to you, and it made you look at him differently. You were also so upset that he kept it from you. You wished he told you about Lenora, and about Tommy and his friends hurting her. But he didn’t. He kept it from you, and he handled the situation in the worst way possible.

For a while, all you would see when you looked at him was the cruelty he inflicted on your brother, even if you agreed the creep deserved it. But that was family, and you had a more delusional view of your family back then. You held a loyalty to them that they didn’t return to you, clearly. Not a day went by when you wished it could’ve turned out differently.

When he showed up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness, his eyes full of regret, you couldn’t picture anything else than how he must have looked when he attacked Tommy. You can only see how horrible Tommy looked when you had to pick him up off of the ground and carry him to your mother’s car. You knew Tommy deserved it, but he was your brother. You can’t blame Arvin for his actions, and you see that now. But when he was sitting on your front porch steps for hours every day hoping you’d come out and talk to him, all you saw in your mind was the version of him that was sadistic enough to inflict that much pain on somebody.

You wonder if this is why you find yourself drawn to the Sheriff. You knew he had skeletons in his closet, but he was much more up front about his own demons than Arvin. With the Sheriff, his own personal devils were worn on his sleeve, even though he thinks the badge hides it well. With Lee Bodecker, what you see is what you get. Even if he had the secrets the town claimed he had, he was no good. His issues weren’t as nicely tucked away as Arvin’s. With the Sheriff, like yourself, your issues were right there on the surface. You could look at Lee and see the pains of his life. He was not nearly as good at hiding his wrongdoings as he thinks. With Arvin, he was good at pushing it back and hiding it away- and you saw now what happens when he choses to let go.

Arvin would linger in your mind occasionally- thinking about all that could have been with him. But your image of him is tainted, and you don’t know if you could love him again like you had when you were blissfully unaware of this side of him.

You aren’t even sure if this is the reason, you’re finding yourself so drawn to Lee. You had a hard time seeing where these lines were being drawn. Your train of thought hasn’t been rational, you don’t think you ever have been in your life. There’s just something about him that has pulled you in that you couldn’t explain. It was getting harder and harder for you to deny the feelings, as confusing as they were.

“Hi, sugar,” the blonde woman says when you open your front door. She’s wearing the nicest clothes, with white sunglasses, and an animal print coat. If she wasn’t in this town, you thought she’d be a Hollywood star or something. “Ain’t you a doll?” she chuckles, looking you over. “My big brother around?” she asks, looking over your shoulder to obviously peer into your house. The action makes you close the door slightly.

“Who are you looking for?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You look behind her, a man standing on the steps with a camera around his neck accompanied her. The pair of them were a sight, and the two made your skin crawl.

“Lee!” she exclaims, “Lee Bodecker. Don’t he live here? I’m his sister, Sandy. This here is my husband, Carl.”

“One second,” you say quietly, closing the door and locking it, leaving them on the porch. You had an uneasy feeling about the pair of them, that you couldn’t explain.

You run up to his room and knock on the door. “Lee,” you call, obvious distress in your voice.

“What is it?” he asks, door flying open immediately, concern evident on his face.

“Some woman is here asking for you,” you inform him. “Said she’s your sister. Her and her husband are outside on the porch?”

He lets out a sigh, obviously annoyed that the pair would show up. He tells you he’ll take care of it and follows you back downstairs. He heads over to open the door and the two of them step into your house without waiting for the invitation to come in. You see that Lee’s jaw clenches at their actions. He’s upset they’re here. He’s upset they know about you. He doesn’t know what they want yet, and he doesn’t want to find out with you sitting in the room.

“Can you let the adults have some time to talk sweetheart?” Carl says looking over at you, asking you to get lost in your own house. It’s infuriating. Your fist clenches and you see Lee out of the corner of your eye react the same. Sandy shoots you a sympathetic look and Lee silently apologizes, and nods, his way of asking the same. You hold back from fighting with the stranger when you see Lee’s plea. You nod and head upstairs.

“She’s as pretty as a picture,” you overhear Sandy say as you head upstairs. “She your new sweetheart Lee?’

“What do you want Sandy?” you hear Lee ask with a heavy sigh. Out of respect for Lee, and just assuming it was personal family issues, you head to your room- missing the rest of the conversation. You think about how much you can’t wait for those two to get out of your house. You knew it was wrong of you to judge, but Christ that pair just made your skin crawl for a reason you couldn’t explain.

Sandy and Carl had no problem showing up at Lee’s doorstop asking for money. Of course, that reporter Henry Curtis showed up at their door asking for information about Lee, and Sandy didn’t tell him anything. However, she saw this as an opportunity to get something for herself. She thought by not letting the reporter in and sharing information about her brother she deserved a reward. Sandy knew was in the pocket of a lot of people and she thought by threatening to talk to the press she could get something out of Lee. So now, here they are asking for hush money.

“The only reason you’re not behind bars right now is because I chose to look the other way while you’re whoring yourself out,” he points out to her. “I’m letting you walk free and then you have the audacity to ask me for money? What? Because you wouldn’t talk to a reporter? Fuck, Sandy. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“You let me walk free ‘cause it’ll smear your image, Lee,” she points out. “You ain’t doing that out of the kindness of your heart ‘cause you love your baby sister. You won’t win reelection with a sister locked away for prostitution.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he spits angrily. “Don’t test me.”

“If you don’t think I’ll blab all your dirty secrets when shows up again, you’re stupid Lee,” she counters. “I think what I’m asking for is more than fair. Lock me up, I don’t care. I’ll make bail and you’ll never hold public office again.”

He feels pinned. All he can think about is getting these two of his sight and out of your house. In the moment, he cares more about that than the money. Fuck it, he thinks. Having this fight with her while you’re upstairs is not worth it. He gets up from the chair, and heads over to his jacket. He pulls a couple hundred dollars of the envelope in his inside pocket from his most recent visit from Brown. “This is for keeping your mouth shut, and for never coming back to this house- call me at the station instead if you need to see me,” he says, handing his sister the small stack of twenties. She nods, kissing his cheek, before they both leave the house as quickly as they entered.

He’s livid. Adrenaline is pumping and he can’t even think straight. He walks over to the window and looks through the curtain, watching the pair drive away. Sandy is driving while Carl looks to be adjusting the radio. He could punch the wall; he can’t even describe the feeling that overcomes him. He’s just overwhelmed, his mind is hazy. He feels like he has no control of his life and he just wants to drive off and never come back to this fucking town. He’s so mad at his sister for showing up here, and even more mad that she brought that fucking husband of hers. He’s pissed thinking about how Carl spoke to you and he’s angry at himself for not coming to your defense. This is who he is. He’s everyone’s lacky. Just letting everyone use him for their own selfish gain. He was complacent when faced with adversary, he always had been. He hates how he’s let himself fall this far down. He’s nothing more than a pushover.

You assume the pair left when you hear Lee close the door to his room, loudly. It surprises you and makes you jump. You decide to head over to his room and see if everything is okay. You get up from your bed and put your book on your nightstand, heading over to his room. You’re concerned and you know there probably nothing you can do to help. But he was so helpful and attentive when that reporter had you so upset. You needed to offer to return the favor at least. You only knock once before his door flies open, and he’s looking down at you. Anything you were planning on saying is lost and the look he’s giving you makes your mind go completely blank.

You don’t know who made the first move. It was like you both went in for the kiss frantically at the exact same time. The kiss was hungry and feverish. Both of your just pulling each other as close as physically possible. His hands run up your back and tangle in your hair, tugging gently, making you moan. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck and he uses his foot to kick the door closed.

“Fuck, doll,” he groans when he pulls back for air. Both of you are panting, and neither one of you know what you say. You both just look at each other wide eyed, your eyes scanning his wondering where the hell that came from. You don’t give yourself much time to think about it, pulling him in for another kiss by the tie of his uniform.

Part Five

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

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books-and-catears · 3 years

Text

Okay so I've been thinking of writing this for a while now. (Spoiler alert for chapter 16-20)

After MC is brought back to life, everyone approaches them as Lilith. And everyone seems to be all over them as if they weren't just almost killed by Belphie.

So MC feels uncomfortable over this whole thing. Not only do they feel like a replacement for Lilith but they can't even tell anyone about the trauma of almost dying cause they are demons, they can't possibly sympathize with human fragility. Well maybe one of them can.

The only brother who didn't know Lilith firsthand. The only brother who has spent centuries studying humans and reading all about their emotions.

Satan.

Tags: Angst, Hurt, Comfort

Only You

GN! Reader X Satan

"Ah MC...It seems you have only a week more left in Devildom." Lucifer announced in the middle of breakfast.

Everyone paused and stared blankly. Even Beel stopped chewing and put down his sandwich. You smiled, "Ah I was guessing it might be. Thank you for confirming, Lucifer."

One more week and then you could stop pretending to be okay. One more week of being Lilith. One more week of holding in your trauma. You smiled at the thought of being free of it all.

Everyone around looked dejected. Mammon was the first to break the silence, "Oi! You both are kidding right?!" Lucifer shook his head sternly.

"Ah how unfair! It seems only yesterday we met MC!" Asmo piped in.

"B-but we have so many animes left to finish in our watchlist, MC! And so many games we're still waiting for release!" Levi whined.

"So we can not have MC's cooking anymore?" Beel asked sadly.

"I barely got enough time with them! And you all are complaining?!" Belphie said, annoyed.

Satan was still silent. You looked at him only to find him staring right at you. You blush and look down, picking at your food. No matter how many times he did that, you still couldn't get used to it.

"You must have missed home a lot MC. Happy to go back?" Satan asked softly into your ear. You nodded slightly.

Then you felt your chest tighten. You did want to leave but that would mean no more Satan. You wanted to open up to him. If there was anyone among the brother's who could understand you - it was him.

After breakfast was over you stopped everyone before they left for class.

"Um..since it's my last week here, I have a request on how I want to spend it." You announced. All the brothers nodded and stared attentively.

"I will spend one whole day with each of you individually. And the order will be Beel, Belphie, Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Asmo and Satan. Is everyone okay with this?"

Everyone shared confused glances at the sudden statement but obliged never the less.

The rest of the week flashed by and soon it was your last day. Satan's day.

You woke up early that day, already prepping his parting gift. A bookmark made of dried flowers, with two petals on top shaped like cat ears, inside your favourite book from the human world.

"MC? Are you awake?" Satan called out, after knocking on the door.

You were still dressed in your flimsy pajamas but who cares? You ever going to leave tomorrow anyway. You put on some cat ears and called out, "Come in Satan!"

"Good morning MC, I think you'll like what I've planned for-" Satan stopped in mid speech. His eyes widening at the attire that did a fine job of wrapping around your body seductively.

"Good morning...sorry I was too busy to freshen up haha.." You apologize. "Wait for me here, it'll only take me a few minutes."

Satan nodded, hiding his blush behind his golden locks falling all over his cheeks as he lowered his head. You sighed. How was he so beautiful early morning?

Satan held out his arm like the gentleman he was as you prepared to leave for your date. "Take my arm, MC. We have lots of places to be."

You chuckled and did as told. "I can hardly wait."

You spent the day as if you were in a Romance novel. Cat Cafe, the bookstore, walking in the park watching the setting sun, holding hands. Satan really knew the ways to your heart.

After the sun set, you returned to the house of Lamentation.

"Would you like to come to my room later? We could read your favourite book together one last time before you leave?" Satan requested, his fingers still interlocked with yours.

"Yes..." You nodded, "I was going to ask you the same..."

"I'll be waiting." Satan said, walking you to your room and reluctantly letting go.

After dinner when everyone was asleep, you sneaked into his room. He was wide awake, waiting. He was sitting in his bed in only his black t-shirt and jeans, reading a book. The room was dark with only candles providing enough light to read. He looked up when you called for him softly.

"Satan I'm here...sorry for making you wait.." You said sheepishly.

His eyes lit up and he held out his hand for you to take. "Come sit with me."

You joined him on the bed. He swiftly put an arm around you, holding you snug against him. You could smell his scent and feel his breath on your cheek.

"I got something for you. It's not much but.." You handed Satan your gift.

"A gift? For me?" Satan saw the cover of the book and flipped to where the bookmark was. "That's... beautiful. Thank you MC I can't believe you'd- wait what's this?"

He fished out a long strip of stray paper in the middle of the pages beside the bookmark.

You remembered what it was and tried to snatch it away. How did this even get in there?! What the hell?! "IT'S NOTHING!", You scream

Satan smirked as he held it beyond your reach and started reading it. "A poem for Satan? That doesn't seem like nothing MC."

You tried getting up to gain better access to snatch the paper from him. "DON'T READ IT I SWEAR IT'S NOT SOMETHING SERIOUS. I WAS JUST BEING SILLY!"

Satan tightened his grip on your waist and started reading it out loud to your utter humiliation. You struggled in his grip, gave up and hid your face instead. He stopped midway.

"You read it to me." He demanded.

"Like hell I will!" You rebutted.

"Please." He splayed out his fingers on your back holding you close. His locks tickling your nose.

"N-no. It's embarrassing. I can't-" You started but he looked so dejected you gave in. "Fine but you have to look away from me."

Satan swiftly turned his face away and nodded. You cleared your throat nervously and started.

"Dear blonde boy with the sea in his eyes,

I'll be gone soon, so I'm done with the lies,

I've liked you for a long long time,

But it's too late to impose now, so I guess it's fine?"

"You see me for me, like I see you for you,

Everyone else, they just put me in her shoes,

But these shoes don't fit, they're not mine

And I'm sick of having to toe this line."

"But with you, I'm better, I'm more like myself,

And I can't thank you enough for all your help,

For your kindness, smiles and touch,

You always save me when it gets too much."

You stop. The next part of the poem feels like oversharing. Maybe you should have talked to him about this first. He squeezes your arm, asking you to continue.

"Satan I should explain this-"

"I know. I've known this for a while. But I want to hear this first please continue."

Shakily, you continued.

"I feel his fingers on my throat, unforgiving and unkind,

Help it's getting dark...am I going blind?

I let out a tiny scream with whatever voice I have left,

You're the only one here who didn't turn deaf."

"So replace his touch with yours, with your fingers so gentle and nice,

Hold me, warm me, I feel as cold as ice,

I wish I was a kitten, in your care,

You may be full of wrath, but I was never scared."

"But I'll be gone soon, I don't want to return,

But for you my bookworm, my heart will yearn,

Blonde boy with eyes of sea,

One last time, will you kiss me?"

You had barely finished when Satan spun around and cupped your face. He peppered some kisses on your lips, going upto your ear. He nipped at your earlobe and you let out a soft gasp. His face felt warm and flushed.

He placed his head against yours and sighed. "I can't get enough of you. How do I hold myself back when you're showering me with this much love and that too so beautifully?"

He wrapped his arms around you protectively. You instinctively buried your face in his chest and put your arms around his torso.

"You don't need to hold back..." You whisper.

Satan stiffens. "MC, you don't know what you're asking for."

You hold him tighter, lifting your head you place kisses on his jaw and nibble on his shoulder. "I know."

"Then I won't hold back any longer" He says, slowly pushing you down against his pillows.

He reached down and removed your slippers off your feet. "A part of me suspected you might feel this way. But you're not Lilith. You never will be and you don't have to pretend to be. You're MC. And that's all you need to be."

You looked away, outside at the moon. "Tell me honestly...if I didn't have Lilith's bloodline, would you all care the same way?"

Satan held your chin and turned your face towards him. He may never have been an angel but awash in this silvery moonlight, he certainly looked like one.

"Remember when I told you how much I hated being a part of Lucifer? And you told me that I'm my own person. You told me there was more to me than my wrath."

"Of course." You reached out to hold his face. "You're the smartest demon I know. And your love for cats and literature is unparalleled."

"Well then you're the only human who has swayed my heart. The human so strong and capable enough to bring a semblance for harmony to a dysfunctional family of demons." He smiled gently, running his fingers in your hair.

You felt warm inside. Atleast there was someone who liked you for you. You were so happy you could cry.

"As for what Belphie did, I made sure you never really alone with him." Satan said, now intertwining his fingers with yours. You give him a questioning glance.

"Remember the book of defense spells I gave you? I cast one on you whenever he's in the vicinity. It will render him useless if he dare attack you." He said, matter of factly.

"You knew...? But I never told anyone." You said, confused.

"I know. You held it in for our sake didn't you? You repressed it so much. I can't imagine what kind of hurt you went through." Satan's fingers tightened around yours.

"But one night, you fell asleep in the library. I went to put a blanket on you when I heard you mumbling for help. You kept saying it hurts and you can't breathe. And then you said Belphie's name and asked him to stop hurting you."

"I was so furious I rushed straight to the twins room. I was going to yank Belphie out of bed and renact what he did to you. But Beel woke up and stopped me. I told everyone in the morning before Belphie woke up. You've never been alone with Belphie ever since. One of us always stayed nearby."

You listened in utter shock. "You...you were protecting me all this time?"

Satan nodded, "Well I can't take all the credit. My brother's helped too. But just know that you're not a replacement for Lilith. And Belphie's an ass who doesn't know how to apologize. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone. I know it's your last night here, MC... so I'll make this one worth remembering."

You smiled and pulled Satan towards you for a kiss. "I'm glad I saved the best for last."

#obey me satan x reader #obey me smut #obey me headcannon #obey me game #obey me fanfiction #obey me oneshot #obey me satan #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #obey me imagine #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me belphie #obey me levi

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

—————————————

Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

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

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

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

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

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bokuroar · 3 years

Note

hi tiger! i really love your work abt hq captains as ur bf. u made my heart woosh and pit pat hard. can i make a request? an hc on how would karasuno boys take care of you when u are sick? 👉👈

☽ a/n: omg that description lmao ilysm im so glad you liked it !!! and thanks so much for sending in a request i hope this would make your heart go woosh & pit pat hard too 💗😋 im sorry too this took so long i got so busy with college! (this is still in school setting btw)

haikyuu!! captains & how they take care of you when you’re sick

✧ DAICHI SAWAMURA

daichi drops everything at an instant for you

— both as a volleyball player and a senior, daichi knows how to help his teammates inside and outside the court. he thinks having the role of a captain developed his natural tendency to always look out for and take care of others especially the people around him. however, when it comes to you, his willingness and capacity to care for another doubles. he could be in the middle of practice or in the classroom listening to a lecture, but once he receives a text that you saw your school’s nurse because you weren’t feeling well, everything else but you loses importance to him. he’d ask coach or the teacher if he could excuse himself as this counts as an emergency. he wants to attend to you personally because daichi doesn’t think a simple text or call would suffice. the degree of your sickness doesn’t matter to him too. “daichi, you didn’t have to come i was just feeling a little dizzy that’s all.” daichi only lets out a chuckle at this and kisses your forehead, “i’ll always be there when my baby needs me.”

✧ TOORU OIKAWA

oikawa treats you like royalty

— even after watching hundreds of oikawa’s volleyball matches and witnessing his sets and spikes, his speed when he sees you try to get out of bed when you’re sick is unparalleled. to say that he wouldn’t let you lift a finger is an understatement. he isn’t underestimating your strength, he knows you are strong. but for him, he thinks that it’s the least he could do. it irks oikawa that he couldn’t physically remove your sickness away so, for him, nursing you back to health is his #1 job. you must admit it is kind of amusing and borderline silly to see the cocky volleyball player image oikawa puts on quickly replaced by a panicked concerned boyfriend when he sees you exert effort too much his liking. “honey, i have a cold. i can stand on my own, i am not dying.” you explain. “as your king i am obliged to be at your service!” he dramatically bows and kisses the back of your hand while you roll your eyes. you hate to see him go frantic about a trivial and temporary thing but your heart swells at the amount of effort he puts in for you.

✧ TETSUROU KUROO

kuroo runs you a bath

— kuroo hated seeing you sick. it breaks his heart to see you in such a weak state, example when you lose your appetite or your energy to even do the simplest of things. he’d never admit it out loud but he is actually annoyed that out of all people, you get to be sick. so when you’re feeling unwell, without you even saying a word, kuroo’s already on his move to lend you a hand. when you wake up from your much needed naps, there’s always already a glass of water, medicines, and warm soup waiting beside you. declining kuroo’s offer to feed you, he then proceeds to setup a bath for you instead while you eat in bed. as soon as your done, kuroo puts the dishes on the sink and gets back to you. he crouches down on your once again resting state on bed, caresses your cheeks and gently whispers, “hey. time for a bath?” you give him a small nod and appreciative smile, “a warm one please.” kuroo hums as confirmation. he kisses your forehead and wraps an arm on your back and another arm on the back of your knees, “hold my neck, baby.” he carries you all the way to the bathroom and asks you if do you want him to stay and help or keep you company while you relax on the tub, which you’d no doubt say yes to. as you feel kuroo’s hands massage your temples from his chair outside the tub, you couldn’t help but get one of his hands and kiss the back of it as a non-verbal thank you and i love you.

✧ KOUTAROU BOKUTO

bokuto never leaves your side

— bokuto is already a clingy boyfriend on a normal day, so what if he finds out you are sick? he’d be too worried to lay off his eyes off of you even for a second. bokuto thinks the greatest way he could help alleviate the pain you’re feeling is staying by your side. when you’re walking around the house, he won’t insist you to stop but you’ll have his eyes following you around. if you didn’t tell him you’d be fine to walk around on your own, you’d never stop having a shadow named bokuto koutarou following you around. so instead, he is on full alert if ever you need him to do something for you. he volunteers to be at your beck and call. and honestly, you find comfort with this. even just the feeling of his presence around makes you feel more ease than the usual tension you have when you’re sick. as bokuto gently hugs you from behind as you take a nap, you guiltily whisper, “bo, you don’t need to stay with me all the time. won’t you get sick too?” after realizing he spent all day at your side. bokuto frowns a bit, “look at my muscles, baby, these are too tough to get sick!” you lightly chuckle, “even the strongest men get sick, you know? and i don’t want that.” bokuto only hugs you even tighter and buries his head on your hair, “well that’s too bad. i’d rather get sick than be far away from you when you need me.” sickness aside, safe to say you both fell asleep with the most lovely smiles.

✧ SHINSUKE KITA

kita brings you everything

— kita is a very observant boyfriend. he always knows what to say and what to do in different situations. these situations include when you’re sick. one text of “my love, i can’t go to school today. i’m sick.” sent to him, he’d immediately know what to do. he calls it the “sick baby care package”. medicines? check. bottle of water? check snacks? check. kita once bought atsumu food and drinks when atsumu forgot to take care of himself. what more of it’s his partner? even with the necessities already in his bag, he would still go to a nearby store and ask you what else do you need. he prioritizes your needs above anything else especially he knows how much discomfort being sick brings. after a small reprimand of not looking after yourself, “what would you do if i wasn’t here, huh?” he lightly teases. “i’d probably still be sick. but alone.” you pout and tease back. his shoulders shake a little as he lets out a small chuckle and leans down to give you a kiss, “good thing i’m not going anywhere then.”

✧ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

ushijima searches up recipes and cooks meals for you

— the captain of shiratorizawa is a silent worrier. behind his brooding and intimidating exterior is a warm and kind heart. when he finds out your sick, it may not show on his stoic face but his mind’s an entanglement of thoughts worrying about you. does your head hurt? have you taken your medicines? do you have food? he wants to bombard you with these questions for his peace of mind but he knows better than to bother you even more. so after his errands at school, he immediately sends you a text that he’s on his way to you. seeing you sleeping on your bed when he arrives, he goes to the kitchen to inspect the food stored. as an athlete, ushijima knows that one of the best things to help you get back on your feet is digestion of healthy food. and as your boyfriend, he would love nothing more than that to happen. trying to minimize the loud sounds, ushijima then proceeds to open his phone and searches simple soup recipes when sick. a gentle tap on your shoulder and a hushed “hey” wakes you up from your slumber. when you wake up, there’s already a glass of water, medicines, and warm soup waiting beside you. “hey, you came.” despite your uneasiness, you smile as you see ushijima. he reciprocated your smile and a nod as if saying of course he wouldn’t be anywhere else. he sits beside you and gets the soup he just cooked, “i know you haven’t eaten yet, love. so here you go.” you ask him where and when he bought that when you saw the soup was on your bowl and not a takeout. ushijima slightly blushes and admits he cooked it for you. who would’ve thought, huh? you just let out a giggle and push yourself off the headboard to give his cheek a kiss before accepting his relentless offer to feed you.

; say hi/request — see pinned post!

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coulson-is-an-avenger · 3 years

Note

kisses 21 jm!

For the prompt “we’ll face this together” kiss. TY SAHAR!!! OKAY I accidentally had one (1) jonbinary idea and then it ended up being SO FUCKING LONG (like 2.5k long) so uh. yeah. Warnings for descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of kidnapping and self loathing, and Jon getting pretty close to a panic attack. Also disclaimer, although I am nonbinary, I’m not transfem, so if there’s any critiques surrounding that, don’t hesitate to let me know. Stay safe y’all!

Jon’s face itches as he faces the mirror like an old foe. It’s long held an image that hurts him to see; aged by unfathomable horrors and dotted with marks like a canvas before a child’s paint tipped fingers, and these days he can’t even be sure that his reflection looks away from him when he turns his head. But, the devil it holds at the moment is the simple reflection of his short beard, and his face itches at the reminder of it.

It isn’t a physical itch. It lurks under the skin, poking and prodding at his senses, rubbing him the wrong way as he lays his cheek on his pillow, leaving a distracting echo when his chin brushes against Martin’s during a kiss, scraping at the inside of his skin as he stares at himself and takes in the sight of it covering his chin.

He scrubs his fingers over his eyelids. He isn’t ignorant, he realizes the discomfort he feels is most likely somewhat gender-related, but it’s… his relationship with his gender is complicated. In a lot of ways, it’s been such a mundane concern recently that he’s somewhat lost track of where he stands with it, but he remembers how it felt to first wear a skirt into the archives, all those long years ago. How gentle Sasha had been with him back then, even if the memory pinches the back of his head and grins with too many teeth and a short haircut that he knows now was wrong. But the Stranger cannot take that act of kindness away from her, even if it took away the face he remembers sharing it with.

He had felt like he was becoming something new, then, staring at a new path, freshly paved in his life, open to the possibilities of self discovery and certainty. Then his life had been riddled with worms and his friends had been carved out, one by screaming one, and he was on the run and set alight and kidnapped and disabled and nearly killed and kidnapped again and nearly killed and—

Jon remembers, vaguely, a flash of what had happened in the month he was… gone. He doesn’t remember most of what happened in that place. Probably for the better, he tells himself, but he does recall one thing. One very simple thing, really; that he hadn’t been able to shave, and he remembers the itch being all he could focus on for days at a time.

One of the first things he had done after stumbling through Michael-now-Helen’s door-not-deathtrap was drag himself to a sink and shave his face raw, burned hand be damned. His skin had suffered afterwards, nicked and irritated beneath its smoothness, and he had taken some strange, morbid comfort in the blemish he was able to inflict, after so many days of hearing hollow voices sing of its beauty.

This is a dangerous line of thought, he realizes, hands pressed against the bathroom sink, his heartbeat starting to pound in his ears. He desperately does not want to think about that, not here, and preferably not ever again, if he can help it.

He tries to bring himself back to the here and now, grounding himself in the feeling of porcelain under his palms, but the victory over his mind is a hollow one, unfortunately, as it brings him right back to the itching under his skin.

He’s not sure if this itch is exasperated by his own self consciousness, or by the lingering sting of the Lonely that threatened to separate him from himself, but it builds until its all he can feel in his skin, on his face, and he finds himself lunging across the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to hunt down Martin’s razor.

Jon had lost his own somewhere in the chaos of living in the archives, but he’s sure he saw Martin trim his own short beard when they first arrived at the safehouse, so it must be here, he thinks, ripping open drawers, it must— aha!

His fist closes around the razor, hidden under the sink next to a small bottle of shaving cream and Martin’s testosterone shots, and he barely gives a thought to what he’s doing before raising it to his dry cheek, just needing this thing off, and—

“Jon? You know that’s not how to do that, right?”

Jon whips around like lightning, his back to the sink and the razor clenched in his fist against his chest like a talisman, breathing heavily.

Martin had been smiling slightly as he entered the bathroom, but the expression quickly falls from his face as he takes in the panicked look on Jon’s face, and the erratic motion of his free hand, clenched into a fist at his side and twitching in an attempt to calm himself. Martin steps forward quickly, outstretching a hand.

“Jon, love? Are you alright?”

Jon fixes his eyes on Martin; kind, beautiful Martin who still goes a bit grey at the fingertips and the eyes when anxiety seizes him, Martin who has always been there, always been there, ever since the beginning. Jon anchors himself as he looks at that familiar, beloved face, and tries to take a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” He manages, because this all feels very silly now. He’s a grown person standing in the center of a bathroom, clutching his boyfriend’s shaving razor like it’s a weapon, for God’s sake, all because of what? Some facial hair? Good Lord, he’s being ridiculous. “Probably, I just… um.” He trails off, gut sinking as emotions spiral through him, too fast to pin down and name.

“Okay,” Martin says gently, shuffling a step closer. “Why do you have that?” He gestures to the razor in Jon’s hand, and Jon twitches, holding it closer.

“I need to borrow it,” He explains, stumbling. “I can’t- I need-“ He makes a frustrated noise and tries to get his thoughts to align. He inhales deeply and tries again. “I need to …shave. This-“ he gestures jerkily towards his face. “This is too much.”

Martin nods carefully, eyes glued to Jon’s face. “Too much?” His question is as gentle as his eyes, and Jon has to glance away for a moment, overwhelmed by being seen.

“It’s… complicated,” He begins, the fist pressed to his chest beginning to lighten up. “It… it just itches, all the time. Like- like a thousand ants under my skin, w-which is ridiculous because it doesn’t actually hurt or itch or- or anything, it just…” he glances back to Martin’s eyes, furtive and desperate for him to understand. “I need it to stop.”

“Oh,” Martin softens even more before Jon’s eyes, his face melting with understanding and sadness. “Oh, Jon. I didn’t realize you were having dysphoria.”

At the word dysphoria Jon glances sharply up, uncertainty fraught on his face, and Martin backtracks quickly.

“Or- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Is it-”

“N-no, Martin, it-it’s fine.” Jon waves Martin’s nerves aside and finds that he finally has a decent enough hold on his own to lower the hand that had been pressed against his chest. He turns around in the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, sighing heavily. “It might be dysphoria, I don’t…” He hesitates, chuckling slightly. “I’m not quite sure I know it well enough to place it. Gender hasn’t exactly been… a priority these days.”

Martin nods and follows him deeper into the bathroom, setting down the lid of the toilet so he can sit on it and listen to Jon blunder through his feelings.

“It might be? I mean… I know I’m not a man, per say, but it… I mean, it could also be so many other things at this point. It’s just- I know it’s stupid to overthink, but—“

“Hey, hey,” Martin cuts him off, extending a hand to brush against the side of his knee. “It isn’t stupid, Jon. You don’t have to have a label or a reason in order to be uncomfortable. It’s- you’re allowed to call it just that; uncomfortable.”

Jon nods, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

“I know. It just hit me so suddenly, I-” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead, careful to avoid brushing any of the hairs on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin murmurs, and his hand rests more solidly on Jon’s knee. “Is this alright?”

Jon nods mutely, and lets himself expel some more of the tension in his shoulders as he focuses on the motion of Martin’s thumb sweeping softly over his knee.

“It reminds me of the circus,” Jon breathes after a moment of silence, and Martin’s hand stills against him, attentive and horrified. “When- when they…” He inhales sharply, willing his voice not to break. “Well, I couldn’t very well shave it,” He clenches his hands into fists again, still holding the razor tightly in his right. “Got it off as quickly as possible once I could.”

Martin exhales. “I remember that. I thought you just… I dunno, just really nicked yourself. I didn’t think about… yeah.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, keeping his gaze on the hand on his knee. “I-I mean, I definitely did, nick myself that is. I wasn’t really thinking about doing it properly, I suppose.”

“Like just now?” Martin asks, kindly, gently, not judging. Jon feels his chest pinch anyways.

“Yes.” He admits quietly. Martin leans down to press a careful kiss to Jon’s knee.

“Okay, well, this time we’ll do it properly,” Martin raises himself from the toilet seat, reaching down into the cupboards to pull forth the shaving cream and a towel, and holds them out towards Jon.

Jon blinks, looks at the objects and then up at Martin, unsure of what’s being offered. “Sorry?”

“You still want the beard off, right? Let’s just make sure you don’t upset your skin,” He cracks a humorous smile. “Then it’ll actually start itching.”

Jon takes the can from his hand, but still frowns. “Us?”

“I- yeah,” Martin shifts his weight, fidgeting with the towel. “I can help, if that’s alright with you. You don’t… always seem to handle mirrors the best? And I’ve helped shave another person before so… yeah. If you want.”

Jon’s world stutters to a blushing halt. Martin’s right, he doesn’t like to linger on his face in mirrors even on the best days (of which today is certainly not one) and as much as he’s accustomed to doing this himself, what Martin is promising is intimate; an extension of vulnerability and the promise of a care that he hardly takes with himself. The more he considers it, the more finds himself tentatively wanting it, and he nods carefully. He trusts Martin, he’s decided a thousand times by now.

“Alright,” He agrees, and smiles.

Martin smiles in response. “Alright. Do you want me to um-” He gestures with the towel in his hand, and Jon nods.

Martin makes quick work of running the towel under the tap until it’s warm, and then wringing it out so it’s ready to actually use. He takes his seat again and tips Jon’s head back with a hand to lay the towel gently overtop, letting the warmth seep into his skin. It’s more effort than Jon usually puts in, or used to, when he did this more regularly, but he finds it’s a nice feeling, and he almost misses it when Martin takes the towel away again.

“Right,” Martin continues, looks pointedly to the can of shaving cream in Jon’s hand and Jon hesitates.

“Ah. Maybe not that part? Th-the actual shaving is fine, but-”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin nods, not questioning, and reaches forward instead to gently take the razor itself from Jon’s fist so he can use both hands to get the shaving cream on his face. Jon surrenders the razor, forcing himself to trust it in Martin’s hands, to trust that Martin won’t just leave him hanging.

He tries not to think too hard about the feeling of the cream on his skin. It’s a far cry from lotion, so it doesn’t bring up any sense memories, thankfully, but it’s still an uncomfortable texture, and he focuses on the sound of Martin’s breathing to keep himself from slipping.

Fortunately it doesn’t take long; soon enough Jon’s finished, wiping his hands on his trousers, and then Martin’s shifting closer, taking Jon’s face in his hands like it’s something precious, something to be loved and cared for. He is very close, his dark brown eyes nearly black with focus as he gently reaffirms that Jon’s sure about this, and then the cool razor swipes across Jon’s cheek.

Jon’s heart lurches in his chest, a messy combination of nerves and gratefulness, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all, and just watches Martin focus with gentle certaintly as the blade passes over his cheeks again and again in careful, confident strokes. His fingers whisper at Jon’s chin when he tilts up his head and swipes the blade carefully up the top of his throat, brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.

Jon holds his breath, wills his heart to still, but it’s alright, with Martin it’s always alright. His hands are warm as they cup his cheeks, tilt him this way and that, thorough in their task, and his fingertips are gentle as they lift his chin and brush away foam and ghost over his throat. He never even comes close to nicking him, and Jon feels a great warmth unspooling in his chest, stinging his eyes.

“All done,” Martin finishes triumphantly, his face breaking into a grin as he hands Jon the towel again, lets him wipe off his own face.

There’s no coarse texture as the fabric touches his face, no itching or discomfort as it drags over his chin, and the steady drumbeat of wrongness that had pervaded him for weeks finally, finally dissipates, unblocking his lungs and releasing the tightness from his shoulders. He runs a hand over his chin, and finds a shy smile quickly taking over his face, affection and relief filling him up from the inside out and spilling onto his features.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and Martin matches his smile with one of his own, and nods, nothing but respect and affection in his eyes.

“Any time,” Martin says seriously, before reaching out to take Jon’s hand and slowly bringing it to his lips, giving Jon ample time to pull away. “You don’t have to struggle with this stuff alone,” He murmurs against Jon’s knuckles. “It’s easier together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon’s response is quiet, and Martin kisses his hand then; gentle, and full of reverence. Jon finds that he could melt right into the floor and be happy for the rest of his life.

He reaches up to pull Martin down into a kiss, gentle and insistent and grateful, lacing his hands in his hair and sighing against his lips at the sensation, noting how nice it feels to kiss his boyfriend without his itching skin pressing at his thoughts.

The kiss stays chaste, and eventually Jon pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in it. “Together, then.” He affirms, and Martin smiles.

“One way or another.”

#sorry this took forever but in my defense im insane so here we are #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jonbinary #nonbinary jonathan sims #gender dysphoria #YES it’s a shaving fic ok listen. listen. im 🥺#my writing #answered #set in the safehouse!!

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cannibal-witchh · 3 years

Text

🖤Brahms Heelshire🖤

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Sexual Elements, Sub/dom behavior

Notes: I've struggled to write and this was a quick piece I did tonight. It might have errors or not be as polished as desired but I wanted to get another fanfic out. This is portraying a slightly submissive Brahms with a dominant female reader. It's not accurate at all to the movie so just be open minded to what happens! Thanks again for reading.

The walls and floor boards creaked loudly throughout the stretched corridor. It was another rainy night, rain persisted over England for days. Drenching the garden that surrounded the Heelshire home, glistening the stone walls, trailing down the windows, and rattling the home each time it thundered. You didn't have an opposition towards it, the rain wasn't a disturbance to you. In fact, it was more of a sound that relaxed your racing mind, the drumming of the rain along the large home made the silence vanish. It made the home feel less large and empty.

You laid in your bed, resting on your side and watching the rain fall down your windows. Trees in the distance swaying, and flowers glistening with gems of precipitation. You felt restless tonight, perhaps it was how cold the house had been since the weather decided to be wet and gray. You shivered under your thin comforter, hugging yourself and pulling the sheets as close to you as possible.

Abruptly, the floor boards creaked again and you drew you head to the sound near the door. "Brahms?", you sleepily muttered watching him sheepishly shuffle under the doorframe. " Has the thunder got you startled?", you tossed over to your opposite side to face him. He shyly shoved his hands in the pockets of his cardigan and nodded at you. His loose dark curls bouncing infront of his big eyes. A flash and crackle boomed throughout the house, Brahms jumped and his eyes widened with worry. He quickly scurried towards you, his eyes now locked on the floor, and his hands still hidden in his cardigan. From his little gestures you could read he was embarrassed from being this anxious. " Brahms, come here.", you beckoned lifting the sheets to welcome him under. "It's cold anyways, I'd appreciate the warmth." You flashed a gentle smile to him, and he quietly got under the sheets with you. You pulled the sheets over him, his eyes fixed on you, your little movements causing him to flinch. " Relax, everything is ok. I won't let anything harm you. Just like you won't let anything hurt me, right Brahms?", you pulled the covers over him and brought your arm to drape over his chest. His heart was racing and beating against your arm. He was absolutely worked up. He continued to stare at you but managed to motion a nod. His shakey arm stretching out to wrap around you to allow you closer to him. You were so close to him, inhaling his musky aroma. He didn't smell foul, just a little sweaty from all his built up anxiety. You moved your leg over his waist, and as you brought it over you felt a growing erection. It twitched against the side of your calf as you brushed over it. "Brahms?", his eyes moved away from your's, you were certain he felt relief being hidden under a mask. You felt a presence of humiliation linger from him. " Brahms, are you excited? We just started cuddling too, silly boy.", you groaned tiredly. Brahms nodded and continued looking away at the decorated walls. " Are you wanting to play Brahms?", you nuzzled your face against his sweaty neck. " Mhmm...", he nodded quickly.

Moments had past, the next minute Brahms was standing beside the bed undressing himself infront of you. You laid on your back in your panties and an oversized shirt. You heard the jingle of his belt as he unfastened it, his pants and boxer briefs dropping to his ankles. He then removed his cardigan and lifted his shirt above his shoulders off. " My, you are a naughty boy, Brahms. Such a little pervert just from some quick cuddling.", you glanced at his cock. It was generous in size and slightly curved. Brahms quickly shot his hands to cover himself, and looked away from you again. " Brahms, don't hide yourself from me. You're such a good boy, come to me and show it to me. Let's play.", you playfully flirted, signaling him to return to the bed. He slowly dropped his hands away from his fully erect member, he brought himself back to the bed, and began to slowly crawl to you until he was between your legs. Your foot stopped under his chin, gently lifting his face up to look at you. His nervous wide eyes staring at you, his messy curls falling down his mask. " Sweet boy, look at me. There's no reason to hide your pretty eyes from me.", you giggled bringing another little smile on your face to assure him to relax. " Do you still want to play, Brahms?", he quickly nodded and brought his hands to your panties. His long fingers hooking under your panties and prying them off you. " Eager, I like it. ", you praised him, his hands clenching the panties and bringing them to his nose. He inhaled loudly through his mask, smelling your scent, his cock twitching from the excitement. Brahms had a problem with your panties, it become a habit for him to constantly carry your's in his pockets to smell when he was away from you. Although, even when he was near you, he felt drawn to still smell them. It intoxicated him, and delivered him immense excitement.

" Silly boy, if you keep taking them, I won't have anymore to wear."

He hid the panties under the pillow he would rest on, not breaking eye contact, he pulled your shirt over your arms and off you. Your breasts exposed to him, nipples hardening and growing sensitive from the cold and the arousal. " Touch me, Brahms." You desperately demanded, as you watched him cock his head to the side, examining your body, his intense eyes bubbling with dark desires. His large hands slid slowly along the shape your body, raising goosebumps on your skin. He traced along your breasts as his hands cupped tightly around them. Squeezing and squishing them between his fingers. A quiet moan escaped your lips, his eyes immediately flashed and his head perked up. Brahms enjoyed when you moaned, he lived for the sounds of your approving pleasure. His hands loosened its grip on your sensitive chest, his fingers tracing along your shape until they met your nipples. His fingers gently tugging against them as you let out low moans. For a few seconds he focused on your nipples, pinching and pulling at them, hungrily trying to make you squirm and moan. Heavy panting crawled from under his mask, and arousal made his chest to rise and fall. " Brahms, don't make me wait any longer. I need you inside me, I want you.", your hands lightly swatted his hands off your chest as you stared into his needy eyes. For a brief moment, you caught a glimpse of his eyes before looking away. His eyes looks like they were starving, like he was predator stalking his prey and finally making his move to devour.

Brahms nodded to your demanded, his massive hands gripping your hips and dragging you towards him. He guided himself, gently tracing the edge of his cock against your wet slit. He brushed lightly against it for a few seconds before he pushed himself inside you. His cock slowly filling you, a moan escaped him, as he buried himself completely inside your warmth. You let out a heavy breath as you felt your body grow incredibly flush. "Oh, Brahms...", you sighed. He began to move his hips, a slow pace at first, and then it began to gradually get faster. His hand gripped tightly into your hip, the other quickly drew to your neck, gently gripping it, and holding your head against the bed. His hips thrusting hard into you, and his cock sliding in and out of you rapidly. You couldn't control yourself, you arched your back feeling pleasure well up inside you, constant moaning leaving you, your hands searching for loose sheets to grip. Brahms was sweating heavily, his body glistened, his neck beaded with sweat as it spread out to his chest. His hand tightening around your neck as he took away your breath. He leaned towards you, pulling your face towards him, he choked you for a few moments before releasing your neck. His eyes locked onto you, you pressed your face against his mask, kissing his nose and bring your mouth on his porcelain lips. You licked them and dragged your tongue down to his jaw and down his neck. His salty sweaty gracing the tip of your tongue.

He positioned you differently, he put you on your side, and pulled your leg around his waist and the other over his shoulder. He liked this position for some reason, and it ended alot with the two of you like this. He continued fucking you, pounding inside you without stopping his rhythm. The bed creaking loudly, his breathing getting sloppy, and your moaning growing louder. He towered over you, although, he was above you, he still submitted to you. " You're my good boy, mmm! You are making me feel so good. Am I making you feel good?", you tried to say it as clear as you could, but it was challenging with how fast he was penetrating you. He noded, as his pumping grew messy. He was close. " Sweet boy, go ahead and make yourself feel even better.", you winked as you reached over to spread your pussy infront of him. Rubbing your clit as you stared at him. "Y/N...", he groaned as he dug his hips into your body over and over. His cock fevered and twitching as it filled you. He watched as you touched yourself infront of him, his loud breathing filling the room, and his sweat dripping onto you.

You felt your climax finally build, as you continued rubbing yourself, Brahms quickly grabbed your wrist. " Brahms?", you moaned watching him lean over and pull your hands towards his face. His nose brushing against your finger tips, he inhaled your scent off your fingers. A sound of satisfaction grumbled in his throat, and he released your hand. He fucked you as deep as he could, drilling into you for a few more moments. His pace never slowing itself down.

Your body tensed up as you felt your body finally meet its along waited climax. Your arched your back, threw your head back, and moaned loudly. The pleasure scattering like dust throughout your body. Brahms came as well, he grunted loudly as his body tightened, and his hot cum filled your insides. The heat invading you and dripping out onto your thighs and sheets. He collapsed on his side beside you, gathering for several moments his breaths. "My good boy,", you smiled as you rolled onto your side to stroke his hair and pull him in your arms. " Let's rest now, my darling Brahms.", you yawned sleepily as the storm interrupted the sounds of both of your loud panting. This time, he didn't jump, instead he just nuzzled his face into your chest.

#brahms heelshire #the boy #brahms heelsire x reader #slasher x reader #fanfic #brahms heelshire fanfic

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talsiaa · 3 years

Text

Every Great King - Prologue (Prince Caspian x Reader)

Prologue - Growing Up

*not my gif*

Series Summary: You had grown up with Caspian and naturally you were best friends. Completely inseparable for as long as you both could remember, learning with the professor together, attending (rather boring) balls and banquets and running around the castle grounds in the spring and summer. But then Miraz's own son is born and Caspian's life is at risk. From here the series follows the plot of Prince Caspian and then The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

A\N: This chapter is pretty much an introduction into the pre-existing relationship between yourself and Caspian, running into the next chapter which is set at the start of Prince Caspian :) Nothing very important happens, just a few little windows into your life with the prince so far.

Next Chapter

Posted: 12/04/21

Age 6

Wind raced past your body as you ran as fast as you could across the fields surrounding the castle, giggling and not at all caring that you were getting mud on your shoes and dress. Caspian was only a few feet behind you and so slowing down really wasn't an option, lest he catch you. The stream you were running to was in sight, as well as an old oak tree you knew too well.

Every morning you and the young prince, your best friend, raced each other to the tree by the stream and the winner got to pick which game the two of you would play until being called back to the castle for lunch and being scolded for how messy you'd both gotten.

"HA!" you shouted in victory, leaning on the tree as Caspian caught up to you just a few moments later. "I win."

"That's not fair, you pushed me back at the castle gates!" Caspian laughed, making excuses on why he should have won (just as he did every time you beat him). "I'll let you have this one, but only because as Prince it's my job to be a gentleman." he smirked, knowing you hated being treated this way.

"Oh do shut up, Caspian!" you shoved him playfully and made your way to sit with your feet dangling in the stream. The cool water was a welcome respite from the burning August sun and cooled you down very nicely.

"Do you think if we stayed here long enough we would see a water nymph?" Caspian was sat beside you, staring up the stream where it was a little deeper. He was referencing a lesson the two of you had shared just the day before all about different magical creatures that used to fill Narnia. You both longed to see even just a tiny bit of this magic, even just once.

"I don't think so. Not this close to the castle anyway..." even at such a young age you knew what was happening in the kingdom was wrong. The professor had made this abundantly clear. You heard Caspian let out a sad sigh and grabbed his hand.

"Doesn't mean we can't look for one, though," you smiled, although you both knew very well that magical creatures like water nymphs had gone extinct a long time ago.

Caspian looked lost in thought for a minute then suddenly dipped his hands into the stream and splashed you, making you squeal and splash him back, laughing.

Age 9

Tears were running down your face as you stood beneath the oak tree by the stream, Caspian shouting at you that he 'didn't want to play with a stupid little girl anymore'.

"Caspian, stop it! You don't mean that, you're just in a bad mood and you're-" you were in the midst of shouting back when you were cut off by a harsh shove from the prince which knocked you to the ground.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE, Y\N!" He practically screamed at you, looking down at you. "One day I am going to be king and future kings don't hang about with stupid girls!" He started walking away from you, back to the castle, leaving you on the floor in shock, tears still running down your face.

"FINE THEN NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN AND SEE IF I CARE!" you shouted after him, your hurt turning into anger and then back again. Letting out a sharp breath, you moved to sit by the water. With your back against the tree, you pulled your legs to your chest and planted your chin on top of them, watching the water flow.

After a while your tears had dried, leaving your eyes puffy and your face a little blotchy. You stayed against the tree for at least a few hours, not thinking about much before you felt someone sit beside you.

"Y\N..." the person next to you whispered. You sniffed, turning your head so you couldn't see Caspian at all in your peripheral vision.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Please forgive me," he shuffled closer to you and leant forward, trying to make you see him. "I promise I didn't mean a single word of it, I'm so sorry."

Although you knew you were ultimately going to forgive him, you turned your body away from him. He was going to have to try a bit harder.

"You're not a stupid girl, you're the best person I know and if being king one day meant I couldn't be your friend I would give my crown to someone else." he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back towards him. "You're my dearest friend and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Y\N?"

"I forgive you." you smiled at him and in a few days neither of you would even remember falling out.

Age 16

A warm breeze flowed through the daisies and daffodils growing wildly around the picnic blanket you and Caspian lay on. It caught your hair a little - blowing it away from your face gently, as to not tangle it. You had come to cherish days like this one where you weren't in some tight corset, learning how to dance or drink tea or sew whilst Caspian was learning how to do useful things like fight and ride a horse. He was being trained to serve his people as a King whilst you were being taught how to be an obedient wife and you loathed it. Caspian did too, vowing to never treat you like you were anything other than equals. He also taught you everything he was learning to do, taking you into the woods and sneaking two swords out so that you could duel or taking some bows and arrows so you could use the trees as target practise.

Instead, on days like today you and Caspian could sit and talk and laugh and read in the sun, just enjoying yourselves like when you were just small children.

"Did you bring a book?" you asked him, moving to lay your head in his lap while he was leaning back on his forearms. Humming in response, he pulled himself to sit upright and took a book out from the very bottom of the basket he had brought out. It was a book full of legends and tales from the golden age when the kings and queens of old rules and magic was everywhere in Narnia. He had took it from the professor just this morning, careful not to let any of the guards see it. "Read to me?"

"Of course," a smile ghosted Caspian's lips. He loved reading to you -whether it was cuddled up in the library or by the fire or outside like now, his hand always found it's way to your hair, fingertips dancing across your scalp slowly and gently.

He found your favourite tale in the book and began reading, his voice like honey running into your brain and making your spine tingle as he stroked your hair. It didn't take you long to fall asleep.

Age 17

Your hair was strewn out on your pillow as you slept, some of it stuck to your forehead in your cold sweat. Nightmares weren't very common for you or at least they were never this bad. You tossed about in distress for a long while before finally waking up with a start, your chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. As your eyes brimmed with tears there was only one thing you could think of doing and so you quietly made your way across to Caspian's room, a few hallways away from your own.

Checking that there was definitely nobody there, you knocked softly at his door. When no reply came you decided he must be asleep and slowly entered, closing the door gently behind you.

"Caspian," you called out softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. Unlike you, he looked extremely calm and peaceful (and, as always, very handsome) in his sleep. "Cas, wake up,"

Giving his shoulder a gentle shake seemed to make him stir enough to open his eyes. "Y\N? Are you alright?" worry laced his voice, as it was very unusual for you to be in his bedroom at all, never mind in the middle of the night.

"Sorry to wake you, I just-I had a nightmare and I didn't know what else to do." you explained to him, regretting waking him up when you realised how silly it sounded.

"Hey, it's okay," he patted the space next to him and lifted his quilt so that you could lie down next to him. When you did so he almost immediately pulled you as close as he could so your cheek was pressed against his chest and his arms securely around your waist. "I've got you, don't worry. You're safe." a soft kiss to the top of your head made you sleepy again and Caspian's fingers started to draw comforting circles on your sides.

"Goodnight, Caspian." you whispered, feeling sleep taking over you.

"Sweet dreams, Y\N."

It was the best night's sleep either of you had ever gotten, although you were both in a lot of trouble for it the next morning.

#prince caspian #caspian #caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #pevensie #lucy pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #pevensie siblings #king caspian #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #telmarine #the voyage of the dawn treader #fluff

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