#and i felt this really sudden pang of fear

[jmliebert]

Scent of Seduction᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Summary: Halsin finds himself captivated by Tav, the feeling is mutual, of course. Their journey is full of danger and desire. Despite Halsin's internal struggle between primal instincts and duty, their mutual attraction intensifies. When Tav is in heat, their passion ignites... and well... let's just say things get steamy.

smut with (a little bit of) fluff?

Word count: 2,900

Tags: alpha/omega dynamics, heat, knotting, breeding, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: today my demons won. sorry guys, but I was thinking about it for the longesttttt time 

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The first time Halsin saw you, he was in his bear form. Held captive in the dark cellar, surrounded by goblins; such lowly creatures. He was helpless and angry, but then he caught a scent of something, or rather someone's scent. Someone who surely didn’t belong there, and that person was you. His ears perked up, intrigued. His muzzle watered a little, your scent being so delicious. But he didn’t want to eat you, of course. His hunger was of a different kind, you see.

At the camp, Halsin could sense you. He felt it in his flesh when you weren’t near. His mind and body grew restless, but it wasn’t only that. When he saw you talking to Wyll or Gale, laughing with them and sharing stories, he felt those sudden pangs of something he hadn’t felt for the longest time; jealousy. He was far too old for that, or so he thought. His heart wasn’t one to stir easily, but with you...it was different. He clenched his jaw unconsciously at the thought of you being with other males. He couldn’t stand this, but he shook his head, ignoring the feeling for now, as he had different matters to attend to.

Yet, his eyes followed you with longing each time you were close.

During the Tiefling Party, it took all the strength he had to reject your rather obvious seductions. You were absolutely sweet, your cheeks flushed from wine, your eyes sparkly and playful. It was a delight to see you so happy and carefree, the hero of the night, the center of attention. You were shining, and despite having so many people to choose from, your eyes found his. Halsin's chest swelled with pride at the thought, but he had to remain composed. That's why he didn’t drink that night; a calculated move on his part, as he feared he might say something he shouldn't have. Halsin already knew he had a certain weakness towards you, and alcohol would only fuel that. In no time, he would confess his feelings for you, saying you were made for each other, that his body and soul yearned for you. He would say he wanted to protect you and love you for eternity, and when he told you that you laughed, thinking he was exaggerating, but he wasn't. It was the truth and his words towards you would be sincere. Then, if he really got carried away and his alpha brain would win over him, he would not let you go until he marked you and pushed his semen deep into your womb. Continuously.

And he knew you for only a few hours at least, and you had a world to save, and he had his duties, and you deserved more than that—you deserved to be courted, to be worshipped. Yet, when he told you to enjoy the night with someone else, deep inside he hoped you wouldn’t.

The thought of you with someone else boiled his veins with anger, but what choice did he have? As he thought about it now, he realised he would act differently that night. He would take your hands in his, kiss them gently and ask you to wait for him, but then, it was different. Maybe he was scared? Maybe he wanted to play it cool, not used to having such abrupt feelings towards someone?

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Halsin wakes up in the middle of the night, sensing your absence. With a sense of urgency, he stands up and follows your scent. You're not in your usual spot. He finds you at the lake, bathed in moonlight, your naked form illuminated against the dark water. Your slender back, cascading hair, and the gentle curve of your hips beneath the water's surface captivate him. You look divine, a sight to behold. However, Halsin quickly averts his gaze, feeling it's inappropriate to observe you in such a vulnerable state. Returning to his tent, he finds his body betraying him, his arousal evident in the half-hardness of his dick.

Oh, how he longs to draw nearer to you, grasp your waist from behind and draw you closer to his body, making you feel his growing arousal pressing against you. Showing you how much he wants you, how much he needs you. He would groan to your ear, bite your neck and take you here and there, as nature intended. But you are not his to claim, he reminds himself sternly, over and over again, resisting the urge to succumb to his primal instincts.

But that was about to change when you left the Shadow-Cursed Lands. He was finally free from responsibilities, finally free to follow his heart's desires, and you quickly noticed this sudden transformation of his. As you traveled together, Halsin seemed drawn to your side, even unconsciously. He sought to protect you from any danger, always ready to lend a hand when needed. You noticed him finding excuses to be near you, to touch you, to engage in conversation. His gaze lingered on you, his presence felt even when he walked behind you. During campfires, he sat close, his body language open and inviting, his thigh brushing yours. Though he laughed and talked with others, his eyes always found their way back to you, his attention unwavering when you spoke. It made you feel shy, this whole-hearted attention Halsin gave you, but undeniably it made you feel appreciated.

Yet, you couldn't shake the memories of your early encounters. After he helped you battling those goblins, covered in blood and exuding raw power, you felt a shiver run down your spine. He appeared strong and imposing, igniting something within you. But when you approached him with openness and willingness at the Tiefling Party, he rejected you, leaving you feeling foolish. You had hoped for mutual feelings or at least some acknowledgment, but for most of your journey, he offered only polite smiles and lukewarm courtesy. Why the sudden change now?

Don’t get me wrong, you basked in the glory of his attention, relishing in those small smiles meant only for you. But amidst the warmth of his gestures, doubts crept into your mind. Weren't you worthy of his notice before? Yet, you quickly brushed aside those thoughts, focusing instead on the present. Halsin cared for you deeply now, ensuring you were fed, rested, and shielded from the sun's harsh rays. He showered you with little gifts; wildflowers plucked from the roadside, stones with intriguing shapes and colours, and delicately carved wooden ducks. There was no mistaking his intentions; Halsin was courting you, with patience and respect. Your heart raced at the thought, eagerly anticipating his next move. You pondered what the future held, though you never could have imagined what was to come.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

You found yourself in heat as soon as you arrived at Baldur's Gate. It was as if your body had finally released the tension accumulated during your harrowing journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. After witnessing so much death, roughly cut body parts and darkness, your body sought solace within the safety of the Elfsong Tavern, nestled behind the town walls.

Despite the late hour, neither you nor Halsin slept. Instead, you reveled in each other's company, cuddling on the sofa with the soft glow of the fire casting gentle shadows around you. Halsin held you close, his strong arms enveloping your body, and then he cupped your head, drawing you nearer for what would be your first kiss. As his lips met yours, a haze descended over your mind, and you found yourself yearning for more. You were waiting for so long.

You eagerly shifted positions, settling onto his lap, deepening the kiss with a hunger you couldn't contain. Halsin chuckled softly, his fingers pressing against the sides of your body possessively. You gasped at the sensation, feeling a sudden warmth between your legs as your pants grew damp. Panic surged through you—no, it couldn't be.

"I'm sorry, Halsin, I can't right now," you managed to say as you swiftly freed yourself from Halsin's embrace and fled to your bedroom. You needed space, distance from him until you could gather your thoughts.

His kiss and the sudden rush of emotions triggered your heat, overwhelming you with fear and confusion. You buried your face in your pillow, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Morning brought a gentle knock at your door, and you knew it was Halsin. He had been there all night, waiting patiently for you. "My love, let me in," his voice was soft, tinged with concern. When silence greeted his words, he spoke again, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his tone. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, never," you replied, your heart aching at the thought that he might blame himself. "I just don't feel well," you confessed through tears, your voice muffled by the pillow.

"Whenever it is, I'm confident I can help you, my darling," his words were sincere and full of worry. You were clearly in distress, and he felt he should be at your side, not here, behind these closed doors. "Just let me in," Halsin pleaded, his forehead touching the wooden surface in resignation.

You wished he was here too. When you saw his shadow at the door, your heart ached with longing. You were scared he would think poorly of you, scared of losing control to the heat. You hadn't known each other for long, and perhaps it was too soon for him to see this side of you. But at the same time, you were devastated at the thought of being without him. Unsure of what to do, you began to cry, and when Halsin heard your sobs, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going in!" he declared, his voice resolute as he forced the doors open. As soon as he entered the room, he clasped a hand over his mouth. There you lay on the bed, naked, the room dimly lit by the morning sun filtering through closed curtains. The scent of you filled the air, potent and overwhelming. Halsin thought perhaps you had second thoughts when you kissed for the first time, maybe things had moved too quickly, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. 

His dick twitched. You were in heat, he realised. "Oh, Tav..." You looked so lost and uncomfortable, your body covered in sweat, your eyes watery. All he wanted to do now was to take you in his arms and never let go.

"Halsin, I feel so hot I can't breathe. Touch me, please," you said, your voice laced with need. Halsin was there in the split of a second, responding to your plea without hesitation.

He took you in his arms, placing you on his lap, and you moaned, the sound emanating from deep inside you. As your bodies touched, you couldn't understand why you had pushed him away before, when you kissed for the first time. He felt like he was made for you, and you for him. Thoughts swirled in your mind as he held you close, his hands roaming all over you, his head buried in your neck, sniffing and then licking with long strokes, revealing in your delicious scent.

You began to grind on his thighs, your pent-up arousal needing release. Desperation fuelled your movements. Halsin placed his rough, large hands on your hips, guiding and assisting your grinding motion. In seconds, you reached climax, moaning and gasping. But it wasn't enough. The heat subsided for just a brief moment. Afterwards, you were ready for more. You wanted Halsin deep inside your wet and willing pussy.

You took his hand in yours and guided him to your heated entrance. "I need you here, Halsin," you whispered urgently.

"And you will have me, my love," he assured, his voice thick with desire.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Halsin quickly took off his clothes. And that’s how you saw his dick for the first time. It was huge, but somehow you suspected it will be. He seemed pleasantly heavy. He was already oozing pre-cum and fully erect. Ready for you.

You lay on your back as he returned to the bed, your legs parted, inviting him in. Slick all over your inner thighs and your entrance, guiding the way. He didn’t even need to finger you. You were perfectly ready. Ready as he was. 

Halsin kissed you passionately, causing your body to tremble with the intensity of the sensation. Every ounce of his desire and affection towards you was conveyed in that tender gesture.

"Halsin, please…" you moaned, your hips moving eagerly, your body yearning for more. His arousal at your entrance heightened your senses, driving you to the brink of madness. With a single swift motion, he guided himself inside you, and as he entered, you felt a rush of ecstasy that illuminated your senses like stars in the night sky. A scream of pleasure escaped your lips, echoing in the room, while he grunted softly in your ear, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to maintain control. It was a challenge to remain composed when you felt so incredibly tight and warm around him. The urge to climax threatened to consume him, but he resisted, knowing that this moment was all about you. In this vulnerable state, you entrusted yourself to him, and he vowed to cherish you, to prioritise your pleasure above all else. You were his priority, and he would savour every moment with you. 

As Halsin began to move, his motions were deliberate and measured, each thrust a testament to his desire to please you. One hand caressed your full breast, while the other gripped your thigh, spreading you wider to accommodate him. The sight of you, so beautiful and lewd, whimpering each time he showed his dick deep inside you, elicited a primal desire within him. Every whimper that escaped your lips drove him further, his arousal building with each thrust. He couldn’t help but look at your exquisite, smooth pussy swallowing him over and over again.

"You are so good to me," Halsin murmured, his voice soft and filled with admiration, as he brushed a sticky strand of hair from your forehead before pressing a tender kiss to your skin.

As Halsin placed his thumb on your clitoris, his touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. With deft circular movements, he quickened his pace, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. In response, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, craving the feeling of his muscles against yours, yearning for the weight of his body upon you.

His hard, deliberate strokes combined with the stimulation of your clitoris pushed you over the edge once more, eliciting another powerful climax. "Yes, yes, yes," you repeated, the words tumbling from your lips as your back arched and your inner muscles clenched in pleasure.

"Good girl," Halsin praised, his voice filled with satisfaction and pride. So responsive to his touch.

At this point, Halsin felt himself teetering on the edge of control. Sensing his impending release, he quickened his pace even further, his movements growing more urgent as his knot began to form. With each thrust, his desire to breed you, to fill you with his seed, consumed his thoughts entirely. He wanted nothing more than to hear you scream in pleasure beneath him.

As his movements became more erratic, more sloppy, he whispered urgently against your neck, "I need you to come for me one more time," his voice strained with desire. The sound of his groans mingled with yours, creating a symphony of pleasure as his flesh moved against yours in a passionate rhythm. In that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of utter pleasure being in his arms, being taken by him, feeling his knot pressing against your entrance.

As his knot fully formed, Halsin pushed it into you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from both of you. With three final, powerful thrusts, he released himself inside you, his loud moans reverberating through the room. In response, you screamed in ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as you reached your third climax.

You took his knot so well, and he felt an intense rush of satisfaction as he emptied himself deep inside you. His dick, engorged and throbbing, remained buried in your tight, eager pussy, his knot ensuring that his seed would stay where it belonged. In that moment of shared bliss, you both relished the sensation of being joined so intimately, lost in the throes of passion and desire.

With Halsin lying on top of you, his weight pressing down on your smaller frame, you felt a sense of pure bliss wash over you. His presence enveloped you, providing a comforting sense of security. As he remained inside you, filling you completely, you relished the sensation of being pleasantly stretched by his size.

You never wanted him to leave your pussy, not even for a moment. The thought of his knot disappearing, signalling the end of this intimate connection, made you want to cry. But for now, he was still with you, his body pulsing with each release of his seed. You felt his warmth spreading inside you, filling your belly, and you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of being completely claimed by him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

#bg3 headcanons #bg3 #bg3 romance #bg3 imagine #bg3 scenarios #bg3 halsin #bg3 halsin imagine #daddy halsin #halsin x you #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #halsin smut #smut and fluff #bg3 smut

[amalythea]

「 but does he really know me when the lights are on? 」

⤷ info: diluc & childe x gn!reader (separate) || angsty fic hehe || wc: 544 & 461 respectively

⤷ warnings: diluc n childe are a tad bit neglectful of their lovers bc theyre busy, mentions of childe's real name (does this even count as a warning), i tried to make this extra angsty as a treat for you guys <3

⤷ extra: i used the prompt i. “but does he really know me when the lights are on?” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!! thank you so much to @mei-sm for proofreading!!

diluc.

As the owner of the renowned Dawn Winery, your lover's days were consumed by the meticulous tasks of wine-making and managing the estate. Diluc was a man of dedication, his every waking moment dedicated to upholding his family's legacy.

But amidst the clinking of glasses and the rustle of grapevines, there existed a longing within Diluc—a longing for companionship, for someone to share his burdens and his joys. It was in the quiet moments of the night, as he gazed out over the vineyards, that this longing weighed heaviest upon him.

Then, amidst the chaos of his busy life, you came into his world like a breath of fresh air. You who seemed to understand Diluc in a way no one else could. Your encounters were fleeting yet profound, each stolen moment leaving Diluc yearning for more.

Despite his limited time, Diluc cherished every second he spent with you. He memorized the curve of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight. In his mind, he constructed an image of you—a flawless portrait of a person he believed he knew inside and out.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Diluc's time grew ever scarcer. His duties at the winery demanded more of him, leaving little room for anything else. Yet, in the rare moments you shared, Diluc clung to the illusion of intimacy he had built in his mind.

One evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, your voice broke the silence. "Diluc," you said softly, your gaze searching his face, "do you truly believe you know me?"

Caught off guard by your question, Diluc faltered. "Of course, I do," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I know you better than anyone."

But your eyes held a sadness he had not seen before. "But do you?" you murmured, your words hanging heavy in the air. "Do you know the dreams I keep hidden in the depths of my heart? Do you know the fears that haunt me in the darkness of night?"

Diluc felt a pang of guilt deep within him. Despite his love for you, he realized that his knowledge of you was only surface-deep. He knew your smile, your laughter, your outward demeanor—but the depths of your soul remained a mystery to him.

In that moment, the realization hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Despite his best intentions, despite his unwavering devotion, he had failed to truly know the one he loved. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the truth reflected back at him—the heartbreaking realization that your connection was built on a foundation of illusion.

Tears welled in your eyes as you rose to your feet, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things were different, Diluc," you whispered, your words heavy with sorrow. "But I fear that we are destined to remain strangers, even as lovers."

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Diluc alone beneath the stars, his heart heavy with regret. For in that moment, he knew that despite his best efforts, he had let the one he loved slip through his fingers, never truly knowing you as he had believed.

childe.

In the heart of Liyue Harbor, beneath the grandeur of the illuminated archways and amidst the bustling streets, Childe found himself entangled in the mess of his own making. The weight of his duties pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, consuming his days and nights in a relentless pursuit of power and influence. Amidst the political machinations and secret dealings, there was but one respite for him – the presence of his lover.

Your relationship was an affair hidden behind veils of secrecy and deception. Childe reveled in the moments stolen away from the prying eyes of the world, where he could lose himself in the warmth of your embrace. Yet, even in your most intimate moments, there lingered an unspoken question, a whisper of doubt that haunted your thoughts.

Despite his professed affection, Childe remained a stranger in many ways, his mind consumed by the ceaseless demands of his position within the Fatui. He spoke in riddles, his words veiled in ambiguity, leaving you to decipher the depths of his intentions.

As the nights grew longer and the shadows darker, you found peace in the silence between you, a quiet refuge from the chaos of your intertwined lives. But beneath the facade of understanding, doubts festered, like seeds sown in barren soil, their roots entwined with the fragile threads of your bond.

One night, as the city slept beneath a blanket of stars, your doubts could no longer be silenced. With tears glistening in your eyes, you uttered the words that had long lingered unspoken between the two of you.

"Do you truly know me, Ajax?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath upon the wind. "Or do you see only the shadows of who I am, cast by the light of your own desires?"

For a moment, Childe was speechless, the weight of your words bearing down upon him like a crushing weight. In the silence that followed, he searched your eyes for answers, but found only the reflection of his own uncertainty staring back at him.

"I... I thought I knew you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the night breeze. "But perhaps... perhaps I was mistaken."

With those words, the fragile bonds that held you together shattered like glass, leaving nothing but shards of regret in their wake. In the cold light of dawn, you turned away, leaving Childe to face the emptiness of his own solitude.

Alone amidst the ruins of your shattered love, Childe found himself haunted by the echoes of your parting words. In the depths of his heart, he knew that he had lost more than just a lover – he had lost a piece of himself, forever hidden in the shadows of what might have been.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ personal memoires ⟢ #「 birth of a supernova」 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #astronetwrk #diluc x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc angst #childe angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #diluc x reader angst #childe x reader angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin impact x reader angst

[dashitsxx]

i'll wait for your love | gojo satoru x fem!reader | (I)

summary. If only you had given attention to the emotions your boyfriend felt in your relationship, it would have never reached to this point.

genre. angst. sfw.

word count. 1.4k

warnings. modern au. messy plot. in an established relationship. toxic relationship. toxic!gojo. mean!gojo. toxic!reader. prob workaholic!reader. inconsiderate behaviour. mentions of actions of neglect/abandonment (reader). invalidation of feelings (reader & gojo). fighting. mentions of past arguments. cursing. yelling/shouting. a bit of egoistic behaviour (reader). miscommunication. abrupt toxic break-up. party. light drinking.

notes. ngl, i love ariana's eternal sunshine :(( it's her best album, i fear! her songs are so pretty especially this one--but i might have probably used the painful interpretation in this song, but i kind of didn't like the plot i thought tho... but anw, have fun!! also, there might be a possibility of continuation of this one-shot. not sure about it yet :))

"You know what? Fuck you," Satoru cursed at you aggressively as he stormed out of the living room. Your jaw dropped, taken back by what your partner said. Did he just curse you? He did. He just told you to go off. You feel your blood boiling, you cocked your jaw as you pursued his steps to the bedroom.

You push the door open forcefully as Gojo sits on the bed with his head in his hands.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You questioned him firmly with crossed arms. However, he didn't give any response to you while you waited. Annoyance soared through your body as you spoke in the same emotion you were currently feeling, "Do you have a problem with me? Talk to me, Gojo. You are really pissing me off!"

A huge snort left Gojo's lips as he lifted his head, tilting it in the process. " 'What's wrong with me?' That's what you are asking? God, Y/N," he vexes at you. This time, your expression transforms into confusion, which makes your boyfriend feel exasperated. "You really don't know?"

He turns his head away from you while your expression remains unchanged. "It's always like this, isn't it? You don't even know…" A sudden pang shoots through your chest as you hear a trembling tone in his voice. What does he mean? You wonder. What have you done wrong? You walk closer to him but keep a certain distance. "Please, Satoru, talk to me."

Another snort leaves his lips and looks up at you, behind his bright ocean eyes were burning in rage red flames. He was angr—no, furious.

"You are so unbelievable. I can't even imagine why I am still dating you."

Your current emotional state was abruptly replaced by a look of shock, causing your mouth to hang open and your eyes to widen. The corner of your lips twitched as you exclaimed, "Why are you getting so angry at me for no reason? What's wrong with you?" Your voice rose in volume as you spoke.

"For no reason?!" Gojo stood up abruptly, deathly glaring into your eyes. "I am fucking infuriated because of you!"

"Then, what the hell did I do? I have never done anything wrong!"

"Yes, you did!"

"What is it?!"

"You abandoned me!"

Pain flashed through your eyes as the tension brewed more bitter in the atmosphere. Stinging silence surged between the both of you, but a heave of breaths sounded in the room. What did he mean?

"I—w-what?" You stutter, yet your boyfriend sarcastically chuckles. "Remember the time when I booked us for dinner? I waited for 2 hours, but you never came. Why? Work. Oh, how about the other time when I asked you to pick me up? Another 2 hours wasted, again. Why again? Work again! What a world record!" His hands turn into fists as veins pop off underneath his skin.

"Also, the time when I fucking needed you the most because I was going through something—where were you? Over at the club, having fun with you coworkers and just getting fucking wasted, just for me to bring you back home." There was a bitter taste present in his voice.

You shake your head as you approach him carefully. "I-I never mean—" But he cuts you off and dares to continually speak.

"By the way, I love the part where you just went batshit crazy on me for no reason last week! I love the time you stormed out and ignored me for the whole day while in the same house. I love it, really. Now, who is being unreasonable between us?" Gojo gives you a full hand clap as if you have achieved something innovative. A puzzled expression was displayed on your face, you didn't know how to react or what to say. You didn't know Gojo was feeling this way, well, he should have told you sooner then.

You opened your mouth shakily and asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

A loud, ridiculing sound escaped Satoru's lips. "It's because you never listened," he gritted through his teeth. This time, you rolled your eyes. "I would have listened if you had told me sooner."

He placed his hands on his waist, making a mocking face and said, "Well, I tried! And you never did! Because you are so focused on your stupid work!" You noticed his voice raising in volume and his words made your blood boil hotter. "Stupid work? I work because I want us to live a life where we do not have to worry about money! I work for us to have food on the table! Are you not proud I do that for you, for us?!"

"I don't even give a shit about the money!"

"But I do! I want to live a comfortable life!"

"But how about me? Have you ever thought about my feelings, Y/N?! My feelings."

You clamp your mouth shut and bite the insides of your cheek, unsure what to say. The once-forgotten silence lingers once again. A sudden urge to escape emerged in you and honestly, you were tired of this arguing with Satoru. With that, you let out a defeated sigh.

"I don't want to talk anymore, Satoru. Come on, let's go to bed. We can talk about it tomorrow morning," you attempt to persuade him, yet your boyfriend widens his enchanting eyes in disbelief. He couldn't believe you.

Satoru gave a sarcastic laugh as he mutters the word, 'unbelievable.' This only made you frown as you walked closer to him. You reach your arm out to touch him, but before you are even an inch closer, he aggressively slaps it away. Your jaw dropped open at his action and this time—something in you snapped.

Shouts after shouts echoed in the room, bursting in anger. Words were thrown against each other. The stress accumulated from the relationship and work got the best of you.

"I'm done with you. I'm fucking leaving you," Gojo walks out of the bedroom and you sit down on the bed, placing your head in your hands. "Go on then, like I care." You utter under your breath. You were so exhausted and your throat was feeling sore because of the yells you voiced out a while ago.

A huge bang reverberated throughout the entire house, which indicated that your boyfriend left the house. You lift your head before a tired sigh escapes your lift. You didn't want to deal with all the stress you are currently feeling instead you brushed it off by settling yourself into bed. You figured that Satoru would be back in the morning.

However, you were wrong.

A year later...

You take a sip of your wine as you give a huge grin towards the capturing camera, flashing brightly in your direction. You giggled as your friends cracked a laugh. Conversations continued before you informed them to leave for some breeze.

There were some hazy-looking objects as you tipsily walked, the wine glass being supported by the hold of your hand. It took you a while to find a room with a balcony til you encountered an open door. Currently, you were invited to an event hosted by your company in a 5-star hotel. You were definitely enjoying the night you deserved. However, you got a bit carried away with your alcohol intake.

Your heels clack against the floor as you enter the empty room before proceeding to the balcony. You sigh in contentment once the wind brushes your face, your hair dancing with it. You lift your head up to stare at the gleaming light between the vast ocean of darkness and luminary clusters. The moon had a very light shade of blue around its rim as your eyes continuously gazed at it.

You leaned your arms on the railings of the balcony. No matter how you try to push them to the back of your mind, even the celestial body reminds you of him. That darn white and blue shade, you curse.

Nevertheless of your daydreaming of missing him, progressive footsteps vibrate through the ground, which you had not given attention to.

Until they spoke, "Y/N."

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice behind you as you turned your body to find the source of the voice you were now facing upfront. A disbelief expression replaced the tranquillity you felt a while ago. You feel your body nervously shake at the figure in front of you, not in fear but in anxiety. You shakily move your mouth as you utter the name you have never attempted to leave your lips.

"Satoru."

all dividers are from @cafekitsune, thank you <33

#dashitsxx #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #dashitsxx.angel #dashitsxx.gojo #dashitsxx.illwaitforyourlove #dashitsxx.iwfyl #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo

[lelengerine]

the sun in your system

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

synopsis | the one where haechan is hopelessly in love with you, it's sick.

genre | one-sided pining au, college setting, a mix of fluff and angst

wc | 0.7k

notes | i apologize for any errors in this bc i got the biggest brainrot for softie!hyuck and this was created from that spur... this isn't proofread or anything but i hope u like it :> likes and rbs are highly appreciated!

m.list

it’s a sunny saturday afternoon and haechan’s accompanying you to the school’s treasured library to study for an upcoming exam. it was an odd occurrence to even spot him near the premises of this god-forsaken building (as he likes to call it), yet the two of you have been here for a total of five hours and he hasn’t complained about going back to the dorms once.

you did tell him you were going to do some additional research for a class you were taking, but that no longer seems to be the case when you’ve dozed off an hour ago, and your best friend doesn’t seem to have any plans of waking you up.

the faint glow of sunlight peeks through the library’s windows, grazing your features with a soft touch. it doesn’t seem to disturb you, yet haechan takes it upon himself to grab a book and hold it over your eyes, silently shielding them from the warm rays. your nose scrunches a little from the change despite being asleep, falling back to slumber just as quickly.

why would the poor boy ever ever want to leave when he could see you like this?

he may look like a sick fool—and perhaps he is one for following you around like a golden retriever pup who’s lost his owner—but he’ll gladly let others think so if it meant he’d be able to spend his days with you.

it hadn’t been long since he’s fully realized how he felt about you all this time. no, it took a lot of nightly conversations with his dorm mates who were probably tired of the hearts in haechan’s eyes every time you randomly pop in their conversations. at this point, they’d prefer the boy to grow the balls to confess his heart out to you. it’s not like he doesn't profess his love for you in a different way at least once each day in the middle of their dorm anyways.

there were many people who called haechan the sun (hell, even he agrees with it), yet he believes he’d only be a small, burning star when compared to you, his entire solar system. the one that keeps him afloat, the one who makes him feel like he’s destined for greater things ahead of his life, the one who grounds him when he needs it the most so he wouldn’t be floating in a pit of dark space without meaning.

“you’ll never know just how much i love you, y/n.” he breathes without much thinking, each syllable falling from his lips with utmost care, afraid that if he spoke any louder, they’d only get caught up in the depths of his throat.

you stir in your sleep, or at least that’s what he still thinks you're under until you rise up groggily, rubbing your eye. “you love me?”

“it was a joke!” he brushes the topic off, words leaving him through an awkward laugh.

“uhuh, as if i believe that!” you exclaim before covering your mouth in haste, forgetting you were still residing in the library. 

haechan chuckles at you, absolutely adoring the way your eyes widened in sheer shock, cheeks flushing from the sudden rush. “hey, don’t laugh!” you whisper-shout this time, a small pout on your rosy lips.

“sorry! i can’t help it- you just look like a dork.” his statements clearly refuse to align with how he feels about you, a pang of frustration bubbling up within him for being unable to speak his mind freely—the constant fear you might turn your back on him if he did staying hidden in the furthest depths of his mind.

he was okay with this—admiring your presence, as a friend—or rather, he was okay as long as you were.

“was that really a joke though?” you question properly, and haechan can already sense the hesitation behind your voice. 

“mhm, don’t worry about it. i really was just kidding.” he tries reassuring you, another small pang hitting his heart right where it hurt. 

“if you say so… but that joke wasn’t funny at all!” you point out with a huff, returning back to studying as you open the forgotten notebook laying in front of you. “you need to get better at making them, hyuckie.” you tease, dangling your feet happily.

“yeah… maybe i should.” his reply is muffled, but you pay not much heed to it, now immersing yourself in your studies once more. perhaps that’s exactly why you don’t notice the gloom washing over him, your sun glowing a little less brightly in its solar system.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

[delirious-donna]

Coffee And A Smoke [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: another suggestion for Hiromi that I couldn’t pass up. I feel like this has potential for more but I’d really have to do some plotting and brain crunching before I could commit.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: smoking (is it obvious from this that I don’t smoke and never have? I hope not but…), SFW, very light flirting if you squint, mention of toxic habits, alcohol mention

Masterlist

Higuruma always felt a pang of sympathy for new starts. They had a habit of reminding him of his earliest days as a freshly qualified lawyer, his excitement to change the world and be the type not to back away from the difficult fights.

For a while, he had been that man and took on David and Goliath level cases to test his resolve, to prove that a person with enough determination and hard work could be the victor. Sadly, it didn’t last long.

He hoped you wouldn’t fall from grace quite so quickly or inelegantly as he had once done. Hiromi might not care for his reputation being tarnished these days, the dross he was tossed like it was a kindness to him, but he would never wish it upon anyone else.

You appeared only a handful of years younger than he was, and he wondered if you were maybe late to the career. It made him wonder how bad your previous line of work might have been to make you consider this circle of hell as your new livelihood. There was more than a chance that he would never know, he didn’t exactly draw people to him in the workplace. Rather he was looked upon mostly like a kicked puppy that everyone felt sorry for but never approached to comfort for fear of catching fleas.

Picking up his pen, the chewed end finding its home between his teeth, Hiromi returned to his work and put you out of his mind.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to the man over in the far corner?” You wondered aloud, the young secretary designated to be your ‘day one buddy’ glanced in the direction you were looking and visibly grimaced.

“Another day. He’s busy,” she countered with a wave of her hand.

Frowning at her dismissive tone and attitude, you looked over again and met with tired, hangdog eyes. He blinked, seeming unperturbed and gave a small bow of his head before turning back to his screen. There was something about this man, you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out, but something intrigued you more than it should.

The interaction did not go unnoticed. “That’s Higuruma Hiromi. He’s rather… particular about the cases he takes. Generally, he keeps to himself.”

You wondered if he was lonely, or maybe not well versed in socialising. Whatever it was, there was an aura surrounding his corner of the large office, like a perpetual rain cloud that threatened to rain but the cloud never burst.

With so much to learn and an entire new work environment to navigate, you quickly forgot all about the mysterious Higuruma and focused on finding your feet.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later did you find yourself in his presence. After a tortuous phone call with a troublesome client, you found yourself in desperate need to indulge in the bad habit you had sworn you’d given up, a cigarette.

Stepping outside into the small office courtyard, you fumbled for the emergency packet buried in the depths of your bag. You cursed when you realised you might have the actual cigarette you craved, but there wasn’t a lighter in sight, not even tucked away in one of the handy dandy compartments.

“Need a light?”

You whirled around and nearly landed on your behind at the sudden voice, coming face to face with Higuruma who had the good grace to look sheepish for scaring you out of your skin.

“It seems so,” you said with a shrug, stepping closer as the man held out his lighter and flicked the flame into life for you. “I don’t smoke often.”

Higuruma hummed in understanding, glancing down at his own half-finished cigarette, tapping away the excess ash. “I’d like to say the same, but I’m out here more often than I’d like.”

That first inhale felt like heaven, the heat in your throat a familiar sensation and you held the thick smoke in your mouth as long as you could manage, finally blowing it out in a steady stream into the sky.

“Bad habit?” You asked, leaning against the metal railing that enclosed the small courtyard space. It was cool even through your trousers, grounding you back into the here and now.

“I have a lot of those, smoking is probably the least bothersome. I can go days without a single cigarette, or I could smoke two packets within a single office day. There never seems to be an in between,” he joked.

It was hard not to appraise him whilst you both stood there, enjoying your respective cigarettes. His shirt wasn’t quite the brilliant white of a new or well cared for garment, nor were the tailored creases in his trousers especially neat or crisp. The tie around his throat was loose as if restless fingers had tugged it that way, and his hair was equally as ruffled. Yet, there was still something undefinable that made you smile at these observations, that endeared him to you.

His eyes were adorned with dark circles from sleepless nights but there was a subtly vibrancy to those eyes. The brown irises with golden flecked in the right light and the smattering of laughter lines at the corners assured you that this was a man who liked to laugh, even if you were yet to hear it in the workplace.

He wore an equally tired smile, however, it brightened when you addressed him directly and you wondered if he thought hi would ignore his presence. If that was maybe what he was used to, and that thought didn’t sit well with you.

“Oh yeah? Let me guess… you enjoy a bottle of wine on most nights?”

“Or two,” he countered, making you laugh.

Honestly, you couldn’t understand why he was considered the black sheep of the firm. From everything you had seen and heard, he wasn’t the money grabbing type and maybe that was the reason for him being a pariah, but that wasn’t a reason to brush him off or avoid him outright.

“Y’know… people will talk if they see you chatting with me.” Higuruma crossed an arm over his chest, a defensive gesture if ever you saw one.

You hummed in thought. Not that you really cared what people had to say about you. “I think I can make my own decisions on who I should and should not speak with. Are you always this cautious?”

“Some might say I have no caution at all.”

“Then why are you trying to warn me off?”

Higuruma’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, a plume of smoke emitted from between his pursed lips to momentarily obscure his face. “Didn’t realise I was under cross-examination. You’ll go far,” he mused before crushing out the remnants of his smoke and bringing out a packet of mints from his pocket.

“I don’t know about that… this career isn’t exactly what I anticipated.”

He waited, sensing there was more you wanted to share, and he had no desire to scare you away or shut you down prematurely. You couldn’t put your finger on the reason why you wanted to confide in him, perhaps you felt some kind of kindred spirit in him but that would be foolish having known him all of five minutes.

“Higuruma, do you fancy a coffee? My treat,” you offered in a rush. Embarrassed by how nervous you were to ask at your big age, and more so worried that he would refuse you flat out.

“I’d like that, but there is something I’d like much more.”

You held your breath, not knowing what he could possibly wish for more. He chuckled at your look of concern, stepping forward to offer you a mint from his pack.

“I’d really like to know your name.”

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma fluff #higuruma hiromi x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw smoking

[pedropascallme]

u said u are always looking for a reason to write jim smut so let me deliver bc i’m actually so fixated on this movie it’s CRAZYYY!!!!! anyways i would like like a build up to a confession kind of? like there’s so so much romantic and sexual tension and it just like breaks and yeah😭😭 idk if that makes any sense but yk!! ok thank u so much!!! you are amazing dude

In Our Perfect Present Tense

Pairing: Jim x f!Reader

Summary: "And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v, fingering, praise kink, Jim can be soft!dom if I say so!! Allusions to canon typical violence, I know Cillian Murphy is 5'8 but Jim is 6'2 in my mind, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Max you make my heart go badumbadumbadumbadum (good) I hope this is to your liking <3 Also continuing to cross tag my Cillian fics because my Jim fics rarely gain traction so we are trying some METHODS.

The cottage was so quiet.

You could hear Hannah shift under the blanket and sigh in her sleep, and though seeing her so peaceful made you feel a pang of protectiveness, watching her chest rise and fall, your mind was elsewhere. Maybe you were still in London, or Manchester, or anywhere else; maybe this was all fake and you had died somewhere along the way. Was this Heaven? Or maybe Purgatory, given that nothing seemed to have changed much.

And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?

No. You closed your eyes and his face flashed across your mind; eyes you wanted to drown in and cheekbones sharp enough to make you bleed. Maybe that’s why you kept him around in the first place. You’d never had to help him, save him from the congregation that chased him down the road; never had to take him to your hideout in the underground. At first, (and you knew this for a fact, at least) it was simply because Mark…bored you. He was cheesy and had a chip on his shoulder, and you didn’t like how he looked at you—didn’t like that he seemed to expect you to fall in love with him. Jim made a good buffer. And it helped that he had such kind eyes that seemed to be full of fear and morbid curiosity, and that he was, in every sense of the word, pretty.

You hadn’t been sad when you’d had to kill Mark.

But once you had made it clear to Jim that you didn’t want to fall in love with him, either, your snap judgement fogging your mind, you thought that was the end of it. Thought maybe he would go out like Mark did. And was it really your fault that Jim assumed you didn’t care about him? You didn’t. You wanted him to think you didn’t. Wanted him to think that he was essentially on his own when you ran up the stairs to the top floor, with his head splitting in pain and your legs going as fast as they could carry you. But when he came up to you that night to apologize to you, thank you, hold out an olive branch, it was then you realized that you felt isolated. And, yes, doomsday will do that to you, but it wasn’t just that. It was that even when humanity was rearing its ugly head, Jim still had the time to recognize and respect you; he was willing to put you first in a way nobody would’ve done even if their life didn’t depend on it.

You felt so guilty that night, touching yourself under the covers with everybody else just a few rooms over.

It was one thing to be wandering around the desolate city with him as your only company, but once you had Frank and Hannah (and a car) you felt like maybe, just maybe, there was hope. There was a glimmer of something behind Jim’s eye when you were eating out on the countryside after ransacking the supermarket—and it could’ve been the way the light was hitting him, or the way he laughed with Hannah, or the fact that he was eating fruit for the first time in weeks, but you thought maybe it had something to do with you. Maybe he had figured out that you did care. About him and about the state of things and about what the hell you would do if there was any sort of relief from running away. You thought about kissing him then, and he might’ve, too. There was a certain tenderness in the way he curled up next to you that night, under the stars.

In another life, he might’ve done it for reasons other than keeping warm.

And then, of course, that all came crashing down. It had been too good to be true, and in retrospect you hated yourself for allowing any harm to come to your small posse. You got out alive, but the hope you had was minimal, at best. Was alive good enough anymore? Was alive good enough when you’d fought off every evil you could think of in the span of 12 hours?

No. It wasn’t until Jim turned around, soaking wet and bleeding, that you realized that being alive was no good if he wasn’t there with you to enjoy it. You’d wanted to wrap yourself in him, to feel the sweat and blood caked on his chest and kiss him until you lost consciousness. Instead, you crumpled to the floor in the red dress that had been forced upon you, hugging yourself to his shins and begging him to tell you he was ok. It was mortifying, only made slightly more bearable when Hannah lobbed a bottle over his head. At least you knew there was still humor to be found in the worst of situations.

Shortly thereafter, when Jim got shot, you were certain that it was all over; you might as well follow him out. Maybe you would’ve if it hadn’t been for Hannah crying silently next to you as she floored the gas and begged you to stay. To do something. For once you felt like you had people worth fighting for other than yourself. It made you dizzy.

Which brought you back to the present.

There were two rooms in the cottage; both were damp and smelled like the lint from a dryer, but having a bed was enough. You had discussed the sleeping situation the night of your arrival, and there had only been some mild bickering.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. S’ok.” Jim remained gentlemanly throughout, but it was apparent, to you, at least, that the person with the bullet hole through their stomach should be able to sleep comfortably.  

“Hannah and I will take one, you’ll take the other.” You were blunt, dancing around the subject of who would end up sharing by deciding then and there to divide it based on sex.

“Wha—” Hannah began to protest before deciding to shut her mouth.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Jim stood his ground, “I’ll find something to rest on.”

“Absolutely not.” And that’s where you ended it. Saving face, dismissing any deeper urges, leaving no time for Hannah or Jim to propose a different arrangement.  

But now that you were somewhat settled, it felt wrong to be in this room. The wallpaper was a reflective pink, and it felt too bright even in the pitch-black night. You couldn’t get comfortable, and all you could do was mull over every past interaction you’d had with Jim. Every interaction, and the way his mouth moved when he spoke, and the way he smiled at you, and the way he had quite literally killed for you—nearly been killed for you.

You felt hot. Nauseous, even, to the point where you felt that you had to move around or take a walk or do anything to feel more at ease. But it just so happened that you felt the most at ease around Jim.

You tiptoed across the floor and into the hallway. You almost didn’t bother knocking on the door, but felt that you at least owed him that decency.

“C’m’in.”

You peered into the room, allowing yourself a small view of Jim’s shirtless figure splayed out on the bed. You smiled, feeling shy out of nowhere.

“Just wanted to check on you.” You excused yourself, not wanting him to think it any more odd than it already was for you to be in his doorway at midnight. “You feeling ok?”

“Better than ever.” Jim crossed his arms behind his head, sitting up against the pillows. You could see the bandage on his abdomen, and his skin covered in a ray of moonlight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, patting the mattress to encourage you to sit with him. You closed the door behind you. “Why’re you really up?”

“Honestly?” You paused to build tension, leaning in slightly, “Hannah snores.” Jim chuckled under his breath. “And…and I don’t really feel at home in that room.”

“Would you feel more at home in this one?”

“Maybe…”

“’Cause if you’d like it, you and Hannah could have it. ‘V’always wanted pink wallpaper, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, “No, that’s—it’s not that.”

“Then…?” Jim tilted his head slightly, and you looked down and away from him, inhaling deeply.

“Can I stay in here tonight? With—with you?” You could feel your pulse in your throat and though he responded almost immediately, you felt as though hours were passing.

“Sure, f’course.” Jim nodded; eyes wide with eager bewilderment. You swing your legs over the mattress, straightening yourself out beside him. You looked up at the ceiling, lying on your back and waiting to fall asleep.

“Closer.” Jim whispered.

“Hm?”

“Y’can come closer. If you want, I mean.”

“Oh…yeah.” You shuffled closer to him. Somehow you ended up spooning, his hand draped hesitantly over your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and his breath blowing against the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Comfortable?” He was still whispering, as if he would wake the crickets if he spoke any louder.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah…” You both fell silent again, and you wondered if he could feel the tension, too, or if it was something you had just made up. You turned over to face him.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke, though his eyes were closed, and you thought maybe he had already fallen asleep.

“For what?” His eyes were still closed when he responded.

“For—you know…” You reached out to graze your fingertips over his bandages, withdrawing it just as quickly when you realized that what you were doing was so forward.

“You didn’t shoot me.”

“I didn’t stop you from getting shot.”

“Not much you could’ve done. Three of us and more of them.” He opened his eyes, “Plus, you drugged Hannah, so just the two of us, really.”

You buried your face into the pillow, “Was trying to help.”

“You did.” Jim reached out to goad you from your hiding spot. “Been nothing but helpful since I met you. Consider this me returning the favor.” You managed to peek an eye out from the pillow to look at him smiling at you. He was so gentle. How could a man who had been comatose while the world was thrown into shambles remain so empathetic?

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.” You mumbled, barely audible when the words came out through the pillow.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt, either. Think I went to all that trouble for myself?”

“No.” You brought your head up to fully look at him.

“Exactly. You would’ve done the same for me.”

“You say that with so much confidence.”

“Cause it’s true. Cocky, but it’s true.”

“It is.”

“True?”

“Cocky,” you smiled when he feigned defeat, “but also true.” You quieted again, keeping eye contact with one another. Jim’s smile faded slightly.

“Why did you help me?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In the first place, by the gas station—why did you help me?”

You didn’t know how to answer. “I needed the company.”

“You had company.”

“I needed company I would enjoy.”

“What if I wasn’t enjoyable?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I was willing to take that risk.” You raised an eyebrow back at him, mocking his curiosity and his pushback. “And…I mean, plus, you were…I d’know. Tragic. And pretty.”

“Pretty?” His other eyebrow shot up.

“And tragic.” You giggled. “It’s not like I saw you tearing down the street screaming and thought that you only deserved help ‘cause you were good looking, it was just—it’s why I kept you around.” You rolled your eyes, trying to stop yourself from sounding too sincere, unsure if Jim was willing to recognize the attraction you had toward him. Unsure of whether or not you were willing to admit it right here, right now.

“You liked me.” Jim teased.

“I like you,” you clarified, “Present tense.” You averted your eyes from his gaze, opting instead to look down at his wound once more. He gawked at you, grinning. Placing a hand on your chin, he redirected your gaze to his face.

“How long have you been holding out on me?”

“What?”

“How long’ve you been wanting to say that? Not since day one, hm? Since we went to my parents’ house?”

“Didn’t want to say it,” you huffed, “wanted to help you stay alive.”

“C’mon, all that talk about how you didn’t care if I fell in love with you? Cared more than you let on, I knew it. Could’ve saved us so much time if you just came out with it.”

“Shush.” You tried not to dwell on his words, the realization that, this whole time, he was waiting for you.

“Say it again.” He gleamed, “say it again.”

You took his hand from your face, holding it in your own. “Jim,” you brought his hand to your chest, “I like you.”

You couldn’t take a breath before he was on you. You felt his lips first, plush against your own, and then his hands over your waist and his legs tangling with yours. For someone who had almost bled out less than a week ago, he was shockingly quick on his feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the release of weeks’ worth of tension that had been festering inside of you when his tongue slipped between your lips. You moaned, hands grabbing at any part of him you could reach: You felt his chest against your own and ran a trail down his spine with a finger, feeling him shiver at your touch. He ground his hips into you slightly and you reached for his arms, pulling him in as close as you possibly could.

“Knew it.” He whispered when you pulled away for air. “Knew it.” He began sucking on your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point and licking stripes down your throat. You gasped at the feeling, still trying to touch him wherever you could. You found yourself stroking his jawline while he sucked bruises onto your chest, feeling the way his cheeks hollowed when he made an especially strong mark.

“Jim—” You pleaded, trying to touch him, feel him, all around needing him. It was almost all too much.

He returned to eye level. “Mm?” He kissed your neck again, soothing over the fresh hickeys. “Tell me what you need.”

“You—need you.”

“C’mon,” his grin returned, “specifics.”

“Please,” you needed to feel everything, everywhere, “fuck me.”

“God, sounds so pretty coming out of that mouth.” He stood up from the mattress, pulling you up slightly to allow him to disrobe you. It didn’t take much effort; the threadbare clothes you were trying to pass off as pajamas had already practically disintegrated the moment you had put them on. He shucked his bottoms off before retaking his place on top of you in bed.

“So fucking beautiful,” he kissed you again, “so, so pretty. Wanted to make you feel so good f’so long.”

Feeling confident, you cupped his cheek in your palm, “touched myself thinking about this.”

“F—when? Thought about me while you touched yourself? Tell me.” It was a breathless demand, and you could feel his erection throbbing above you.

“The night in the apartment. Came on my fingers, came so hard while I thought of how good you’d fuck me—oh!” Your sexy display was cut short when you felt his fingers brush your clit.

“Yeah? Touched right here and thought of how nice I’d fuck this pussy?” You whimpered at the way he massaged you just right, and his words only added fuel to the fire. “Should’ve just asked me to take care of you, baby, would’ve helped.” God, he was wicked. Such a good man, and so, so wicked for speaking to you like this. You arched your back, and he took the opportunity to slide two fingers into your cunt. “Fuck,” he huffed, delighted by how wet you were for him, and your eyes rolled back, “get yourself this wet? Or is it just me?”

“You, fuck, Jim—it’s you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Cocky bastard.” You managed between whines and gasps.

“You love it.”  He continued to push his fingers in and out of you, and a delightful squelching noise filled the bedroom. “Fucking beautiful.” He kept at it for a while longer, enjoying the noises you made for him and the way your face contorted when he hit an especially sensitive spot. When he pulled his fingers from you, you sighed, feeling the low of being empty, until he brought the wet digits to your mouth and encouraged you to clean them off for him. He let out a low groan when you began sucking, using your tongue to gather your slick off from in between them. “Yeah, good girl.”

He slotted himself between your thighs, and you could feel the drag of his cock over your stomach. You looked down, wrapping a hand around him and ogling him; so long, so beautifully outlined by thick veins. He gently grasped your wrist, pushing your hand back onto the mattress.

“Wanna make this last.” He half-joked. He kept your arm pinned under him, and you could feel his tip exploring your folds, until finally he pushed himself into you. You let out a shaky, breathless moan as he shallowly thrusted into you, working you open to take him as deep as you could. When he bottomed out, he leaned his forehead against yours, and you could feel the stickiness of sex and sweat on your skin.

“Good, yeah?” He was still being smug, though ensuring you were comfortable. You felt devious, rolling your hips against him and grinning in response, earning a choked “fuck” from him. “Dirty fucking girl.” He pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back into you, forcefully enough that you felt your back drag against the bed. Your tits bounced as he rocked his hips into you, and he took the opportunity to grab one in his hand, taking the other in his mouth.

“Jim!” You couldn’t remember your own name, could barely remember who you were or how you got here; all you could think was Jim, Jim, Jim. “Fu—uck, oh my god, Jim!”

“Gonna wake up the whole neighborhood?” He was incapable of being serious even in the most intimate of moments, knowing full well that the people in this house were the only living souls for miles. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who’s fucking you?” Your lips parted, letting out small moans and whimpers of his name with every thrust.

You could feel his fingers on your clit again, and the feeling was electric; maybe it was because you had wanted him for so long, and tried to deny it for almost as long, but you’d never felt this good—never felt this perfectly sated. The way he kneaded your swollen bud while pounding into you hard enough to make the bedframe shake, the way he whispered such filthy things into the skin of your breasts, the way he wanted you too.

“Gonna—Jim, I’m gonna cum!” You tried to move in sync with him, but it was all too much; he was everywhere, and it was going to be your undoing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to fuck you deeper. He leaned over you, tracing his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your face in one hand.

“Cum for me, baby. So good, my perfect girl, cum on my cock like this.” You were as good as gone. You felt your legs tighten around his body at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. You dug your nails into the skin of his arm, and he growled at the way your body responded to him. “Yeah, like that—just like that, sweetheart.”

You were trembling, dripping down his cock and unsure of how to rationalize this amount of pleasure in the midst of end times. Who cared, anyway? You felt fuzzy, barely registering Jim’s words as his strokes became messier and rushed, catching up to you with his own high.

“Want it inside,” you mumbled through your haze, “please, inside.”

“Can’t fucki—can’t say that baby, can’t risk it.”

“Please…” You knew how stupid it was, knew that he would have to say no, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

“When we get out of England—when we get out of England, I’ll fill you up as much as you want. Yeah?” He slammed himself into you, and his words bounced around inside of your head: “When we get out,” “as much as you want.” If you weren’t so spent, you’d cum for him again from that statement alone. “Promise I will, whenever you want it, baby.”

“Mm.” You sighed contentedly at his assurance. “Tummy.”

“Yeah, good girl, gonna paint you with my cum.” He groaned when you reached up to brush your fingers down his happy trail.

“Give it to me. Please, Jim. Needed it f’so long.” Your mouth hung open, sensitive and sore from his cock and his hands, and somehow still so needy for him, desperate to see him to completion. He buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent and letting your moans fill his ears as his hips stuttered and he pulled out. You felt his knuckles against your stomach as he stroked himself, finally feeling the warmth of his spend land and spread across your abdomen with a long moan of your name. You stayed like that, both of you breathing heavily, Jim lying on top of you. The gluey feeling of his cum on your stomach and your own between your thighs only heightened when he sat up on his elbow, looking down at you to appreciate how pretty you looked after being fucked out, and you could see the strands of cum dripping between your bodies.

“So beautiful.” He kissed you again, and despite the passion from the last kisses still being present, he was significantly gentler with you in your bleary state.

You blinked up at him, smiling through the fog in your brain, and hugging him close to you. “Gonna have to change your bandages. Covered in your own cum.”

“But what a way to go, right?” He laughed, and you buried your face into him further. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Need a towel?”

“Would it be gross to sleep like this?”

“Gross? No. Uncomfortable? Maybe.”

“I’ll take my chances. Too tired to wash off.”

“As long as you’re alright.” He brushed your hair away from your eyes, maneuvering himself to look down at you while you were pressed to his chest.

“Feel amazing.” You reassured him. “Should’ve said something earlier.”

“No,” Jim pet your hair, smoothing it down over the back of your head, “this was perfect timing.”

“Perfect timing.” You murmured his words back to him in agreement.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #28 days later fanfiction #jim 28 days later #28 days later #jim 28 days later x reader #28 days later jim x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut

[yrluvjane]

Valentines Request

"Who did this to you" trope with Reggie because your crush asked you to come with him on the annual valentines day dance but decided to go with another girl instead and he told you this the day before the dance, and reggies ready to throw hands 👀

Valentine Heartbreak

You're stomach plummeted as Scott's words sank in. You thought that finally, you had found someone who liked you as much as you liked him, someone who understood you on a level that no one else did. But here you were, once again, heartbroken and alone on a night that was supposed to be about love and romance.

"Why?" You asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"I… I just, I thought… I- We didn't click," Scott muttered, his eyes blank and darting from one place to the other.

"Click?" You echoed, feeling a mix of anger and confusion course through your body. "What do you mean by click?"

"I just, I thought I was ready to take our relationship to the next level, but I realized that I wasn't," Scott explained, his voice growing irritated with each word.

He must have seen the sadness in your eyes because he reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'm sorry, I really am."

You felt your eyes fill with tears, but you refused to let them fall. "It's okay, Scott," you said, forcing a smile to your face. "I understand. I guess I just wasn't ready either."

"Thanks," Scott said, his voice much lighter. "I think it's best if we just stay friends." He says as a smile takes on his lips, he doesn't even bother to feign guilt or pain.

You wanted to scream and cry and beg him to take it all back, but you knew that you couldn't. You watched as he turned and walked away, feeling a pang of loss and regret as the door to the classroom closed behind him.

.

You sat on the edge of the dance floor, nursing a glass of fruit punch as you watched the other couples dance. As you watched, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards all the happy pairs, and you sighed heavily as you took another sip of your drink.

You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, and now here you were, stuck all alone while everyone else around you was having the time of their lives. It was hard not to feel like the odd one out, the one who always got left behind while everyone else was having fun.

You looked around the room, trying to find someone else who was alone like you. Maybe if you found someone to relate to, it would make you feel less isolated. But as you scanned the crowd, you only saw happy couples, smiling at each other and twirling across the dance floor.

You felt a surge of sadness and frustration wash over you, and you looked down at your drink, feeling the effect it had on your body in a way that made you feel even more alone. You took another sip, hoping that it would help numb the pain, at least for a little while.

You froze at the sound of Regulus' voice, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over, having been caught alone on the most romantic holiday of the year.

"I… I was just enjoying the music," you said, trying to maintain your composure despite the fact that you felt like you were about to burst into tears.

Regulus stepped closer to you, his hands in his pockets as he studied your face. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

You hesitated for a moment before opening up to him, feeling a sudden urge to confide in him despite the fact that you barely knew him. "I was supposed to come here with...someone, but he changed his mind at the last minute and decided to go with another girl," you said, feeling your bottom lip quiver as you spoke the words out loud.

"Who did this to you? What's this guy's name?"

You felt a brief spark of fear at Regulus' words, feeling a guilt to protect Scott from his wrath. "It's okay," she said quickly, trying to calm him down. "It was just a silly misunderstanding. He didn't mean to hurt me."

Regulus frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But he did hurt you," he said, his voice firm. "No one deserves to be treated like that, especially on a night like this."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a sense of respect and admiration for him. It was rare to find someone who cared about you so much, who was willing to stand up for you even when they barely knew you.

"His name is Scott," you said finally, feeling a sense of relief as you spoke his name. "He had his reasons, even if I don't fully understand them."

Regulus looked down at you, his expression softening. "He shouldn't have left you here alone, love," he said, his voice gentle. "You shouldn't have to be here by yourself on a night like this."

You felt your eyes fill with tears at his words, feeling grateful for his kindness and consideration. It was clear that he saw you as more than just someone who was alone on the dance floor. He saw you as a person who deserved to be cared for and loved, regardless of the circumstances.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

As you let Regulus guide you onto the dance floor, you felt a sense of warmth wash over you, feeling like maybe things would be okay after all. you let him lead you in a slow dance, and as you moved together to the music. For a moment, you forgot about Scott and the pain he had caused you, and you allowed herself to enjoy the moment, to feel the warmth of Regulus' touch and the beauty of the music. It was a moment of pure happiness, and you knew that you would never forget it.

As she leaned her head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she realized that maybe there was hope after all. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better.

.

I'm four months late, I am so so sorry 😭😭😭 i hope you enjoyed this

#marauders era #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #regulus black x female reader #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus x reader #regulus fanfiction #regulus black imagine #regulus black fluff #regulus black blurb #regulus x you #regulus black x fem!reader

[shion-yu]

A Safe Place (part 2) [day 7]

Cliff’s cough turns into something more serious. For @monthofsick Day 7 “Too feverish to think” and my @badthingshappenbingo space “Delirium”. Wasn’t expecting this to be more than 2 parts but the boys had other plans! 3,385 words, original work, TWs emeto, references to parental homophobia/abuse. [Part 1]

The night Cliff showed up soaked and feverish on the doorstep of Elliot’s family home, Elliot held him and stayed awake until dawn. Cliff was asleep, his overly warm body in Elliot’s arms. Elliot, on the other hand, was wide awake. He was disturbed by Cliff’s sudden appearance and the shape his boyfriend was in. He didn’t know what happened or how to deal with this. He was nineteen and usually he felt like that made him an adult, but right now all he wanted was to go wake his parents up for help. Of course he wasn’t going to turn Cliff away - he’d protect Cliff however he could - but the lack of context was maddening.

At seven, Elliot’s alarm for work went off. He left Cliff asleep in his bed and crept downstairs where he usually ate breakfast with his mom and dad before heading to work at his dad’s auto shop for the day. It was Saturday, so they were only open in the morning. Elliot never missed a day of work and was extremely reliable, but knew today he’d have to let his dad down - but first he had to tell his parents what happened. His dad was already working on one of the plates of toast on the table and his mom was packing the two of them lunch.

“Good morning honey,” his mom, Rachel said. His dad Giovanni nodded at him around a sip of orange juice. Elliot swallowed nervously, hovering awkwardly instead of sitting down.

“I need to tell you guys something and I hope you’re not too mad,” he said. His parents’ faces immediately grew serious and Rachel wiped her hands off and sat at the table. They looked at him expectantly. Elliot took a deep breath. “You know my boyfriend Cliff? Well... last night, he showed up at our door. He was soaking wet and didn’t have anything with him and I don’t know what happened, but... he’s in my bedroom.”

“You boyfriend’s here? In this house?” Giovanni repeated incredulously. Elliot nodded.

“Is he okay?” Rachel asked.

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know. I think not really. He has a fever and his breathing sounds bad. I know I should’ve told you last night but it was like three in the morning and, I don’t know. I should’ve come to get you. But I’m really worried about him.”

Rachel just nodded, and Elliot felt a rush of relief that neither parent seemed like they were about to lecture him. At least not yet. “It sounds like he’s sick,” she said, “I’ll go take a look at him.”

“Please,” Elliot said. His mom was a nurse, but more importantly she was a mom and he didn’t know what to do in this situation all by himself. “And um, I’m sorry dad but I don’t think I can come to work today.”

Giovanni stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do what you need to do today, alright kiddo?” Elliot gave him a quick side hug and hurried upstairs with his mom. Cliff was right where Elliot had left him, huddled under several blankets and his noisy breathing audible from the moment they stepped closer.

Elliot crouched in front of the bed and shook Cliff’s shoulder. “Cliffy? Wake up. I want my mom to take a look at you.” Cliff felt even hotter under Elliot’s hand than before, causing a pang of panic to run through Elliot’s body.

Cliff blinked awake sleepily, calm until he noticed Elliot’s mom in the room. Then his face turned to one of fear and he shook his head no, pushing away from Elliot as if the other side of the bed provided far more distance than it did. “No no, Cliff, it’s okay. She’s really nice. I know you don’t like being touched by other people but I think you’re really sick. Please let her look at you. For me?”

It took a few long seconds, but Cliff eventually acquiesced and pushed himself into a sitting position. His arms were shaking with effort and Elliot wrapped an arm around him so he could lean for support. Rachel gave Cliff a gentle smile and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi Cliff, I’m Rachel,” she said in what Elliot knew to be her nurse voice. “Elliot’s told me so much about you. I’m really glad to meet you. You don’t look like you feel too good though right now, do you?”

Cliff didn’t confirm or deny, but clutched onto Elliot’s hand tightly. Rachel grabbed the thermometer from where Elliot had left it on the bedside table last night and held it up to Cliff. “Under your tongue please,” she said. Cliff obeyed. Elliot could feel him trembling. He watched as the number kept going up until it beeped and settled on a glowing 102.7. Rachel frowned and said, “I think we need to go to the doctor.”

It was as if something in Cliff snapped and his grip on Elliot became painfully tight. “No, no, no hospital,” he said. “I-I can’t go to the hospital. My dad - my dad’ll be mad. Please don’t make me.”

Elliot’s heart broke for Cliff. He knew Cliff’s parents weren’t very nice people, but this reaction seemed extreme. He remembered how Cliff had begged him not to go to the hospital when he had the flu, too. Rachel had a similar pitying expression on her face. “Cliff, honey, we need to make sure you’re okay. We can go to urgent care though, alright?”

Cliff settled down a little, but he still looked afraid. “Hear that Cliffy? Just urgent care. It’ll be super fast and your dad will never know.” It took several seconds, but finally Cliff nodded.

“You boys get ready to go and meet me downstairs,” Rachel told him, leaving them in the bedroom alone. Elliot sighed.

“Cliff... What happened?” He asked. It still felt the wrong time to question his boyfriend, but he felt like he needed to know before this went any further. This felt serious and he couldn’t keep running on speculation. He also doubted that Cliff would tell any doctor the whole story.

Cliff looked at him with exhausted, watery eyes. "I came out to my mom,” he said hoarsely. “It didn't go well."

"Did she hit you?" Elliot asked, feeling like his heart was in his throat. "Did she kick you out?"

"No," Cliff said quietly.

"Then why, in the middle of the night, in the rain...?"

Cliff shrugged. "I just had to get out of there," he said simply. "And I really needed you."

Elliot wanted to know more. He wanted to push Cliff to keep talking. But Cliff seemed so delicate and they really did need to get him to a doctor, so Elliot let it drop for now. “Well, you’ve got me baby. Let’s get you looked at and then we’ll be right back here in bed, okay?”

Getting Cliff to urgent care was like leading a child. He was sluggish and acted a little confused, which scared Elliot. His mom drove while Cliff laid in the backseat with his head in Elliot’s lap. Elliot helped him into the waiting room and then checked him in. The wait was thankfully not too bad, something Elliot was exceedingly grateful for as he listened to Cliff’s breathing become more labored. He had a cough that sounded wheezy and painful, and the secretary waved a mask at Elliot until Rachel grabbed it and helped Cliff put it on.

Cliff sat on the exam table once they were led to a room and had his vitals taken by a nurse. His temperature was 102.9 now and he was shivering. Elliot climbed onto the table next to him and let Cliff rest against him until the doctor came in. Cliff predictably clammed up when the doctor started asking questions, so Elliot explained that Cliff had spent the night in the rain and had asthma. The doctor listened to Cliff’s lungs and ordered a chest x-ray. “You said his temperature was low last night? Rebound hyperthermia can usually cause a fever afterwards, but a cough like this wouldn’t have shown up overnight. How long have you been sick, Cliff?”

“A while,” was the near whispered answer. Elliot squeezed Cliff’s forearm, urging him to elaborate. “Maybe three weeks.” Elliot felt his stomach drop. Cliff had been coughing for three weeks and his parents hadn’t said anything? His dad was a doctor for goodness sake.

The chest x-ray didn’t show pneumonia, the doctor said, but Cliff had definite bronchitis and needed to rest. He was prescribed a 4mg prednisone taper pack and a new inhaler, and then they were allowed to head home. By the time Rachel parked the car back at the house, Cliff’s face was a pasty white with a tinge of green. He stood up, then sat back down. "Dizzy?" Elliot asked. Cliff nodded minutely. "Okay. Just hold on to me and we'll walk really slow." Elliot supported Cliff into the house, wishing urgent care had given Cliff something for the fever while they were there.

It felt like a long way all the way back up to the second floor, but Elliot got Cliff into bed and tucked in before going to get some fresh water and something to eat for himself. His mom was waiting in the kitchen and said, “Okay, let’s talk honey. What’s going on here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know that much,” Elliot said tiredly, sitting at the table heavily. The half-night’s sleep and worry was getting to him. “Cliff said he came out to his mom and it didn’t go well and... I think they were abusive growing up. He’s really scared of them.”

Rachel looked sad and gave Elliot a hug. “Well, it seems like he trusts you more than anyone. Just let us know what we can do and we’ll do it,” she said. “He can stay here until school starts and then you guys can go back together.” Elliot hugged her back, so grateful that he had the parents he had and not Cliff’s.

“Thanks mom,” he said, unable to help tears from filling his eyes. School would start in two weeks. It wasn’t that long.

Elliot ate his now cold toast from earlier and then went back upstairs, expecting to find Cliff in bed. Instead he followed the sound of retching into the bathroom, where he found Cliff kneeling over the toilet seat throwing up quite violently. Elliot winced, glad he hadn’t given Cliff his steroid from the doctor yet. “Oh Cliff,” he sighed sadly, sitting next to him and rubbing Cliff’s back.

“This is gross, go away,” Cliff groaned, weakly trying to shrug him off. Another wave of vomit caused him to launch back over the toilet seat.

“It’s fine,” Elliot said. “You sat with me when I threw up, remember?”

“That was different, we were drunk,” Cliff managed to choke out. He coughed into the bowl, the water making the sound echo a little. He slumped forward, resting his forehead on the edge of the toilet miserably. “Everything’s spinning.”

Elliot wet a washcloth and rubbed it against Cliff’s hot, sweaty neck. Cliff shivered. “I’m right here,” Elliot said evenly. “Take your time.”

It was about five more minutes of Cliff intermittently gagging until Elliot was sure he had nothing left in him and pulled Cliff into his lap. He wiped the rest of Cliff’s face off, and his hands which had some of the puke on them. “Bed?”

“Don’t wanna throw up on you,” Cliff mumbled.

“There’s a trash can. You need to lie down and take your meds.” Elliot helped Cliff stand up, which proved to require some core strength with how heavily Cliff leant on him. They hobbled back to Elliot’s bedroom where Cliff collapsed onto the mattress, panting heavily. Elliot popped out the first doses of prednisone and two Tylenol into his hand and held them out to Cliff. “You’re supposed to eat with these...” He said, “Do you think you can - no, didn’t think so,” he didn’t finish the question when Cliff interrupted him with a loud whimper. “Okay, let’s just hope for the best.”

Cliff took the pills and his new inhaler, mumbling a weak, “Thanks.”

Elliot climbed into bed next to him and spooned Cliff protectively. “Thank you for going to the doctor,” he said. “Now you can rest.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elliot had never heard someone cough the way Cliff had been coughing and he was extremely worried. In the week since Cliff had shown up unannounced, he’d been weak but after that first full weekend in bed his fever broke and he seemed a little better. He had been eating again and had become less painfully shy with Elliot’s parents. Elliot went to work with his dad the following week and Cliff seemed sick, but well enough to insist on helping out with the chores around the house. Rachel said he was a very good assistant.

Cliff told Elliot a bit about his internship this summer and one afternoon they even drove to get Cliff’s college stuff from his parents’ house at a time when Cliff was sure nobody would be home. There was no incident doing this and Cliff seemed like he was on the mend. It seemed as if their final week of summer vacation was going to be actually spent together having a little fun. Elliot’s father planned to release him from work for the season so he could spend the last week before school started getting ready and relaxing a bit. Elliot thought about all his favorite places that maybe he could bring Cliff, like his favorite state park.

That cough just wouldn’t go away though, especially at night. By the end of the week, Cliff's cough had grown much deeper and he seemed like he was in pain every time he did so. It was just the cough and a low grade fever though, so Elliot still hoped it would go away. That hope was shattered when he came home after work on Saturday at noon to find his boyfriend sitting up in bed, struggling to breathe. Cliff was clutching a fist to his chest and his face was contorted in pain. When he looked up at Elliot his eyes were glassy and unseeing.

“Cliff!” Elliot exclaimed in shock. Cliff had seemed mostly fine when he’d left this morning, what had changed? He pressed a hand to Cliff’s forehead and was able to feel a searing heat in the second before Cliff jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” Cliff gasped. He looked angry, and Elliot felt hurt until Cliff added, “I’ll be good, I can go to school. Don’t call dad.”

“Cliffy, it’s me, Elliot,” Elliot said slowly, climbing onto the bed and holding his hands up when Cliff shuddered away from him. “Your mom and dad aren’t here. It’s just us.”

Cliff looked at Elliot suspiciously, his breathing labored. Elliot could hear that asthmatic wheeze back in his breath, but worse than that a deep, hollowed out noise underneath. “It’s just us,” Elliot repeated. “I promised you I’d never put my hands on you to hurt you, remember?”

It took a while, but finally Cliff nodded hesitantly, like he couldn’t quite trust that memory was real. “I don’t wanna go to school,” he mumbled. “M’tired.”

“Okay, that’s okay, no school,” Elliot reassured him. “Can we take your temperature?” Elliot slid the small instrument under Cliff’s tongue waiting anxiously for a reading. 103.2. Shit. Cliff had barely had a fever the past few days, mostly just a low one at night. Now it was noon and it was higher than ever. This didn’t seem right. Cliff whimpered in pain and wrapped his arms around himself. “What hurts?” Elliot asked.

“Chest,” Cliff said. It made a chill go down Elliot’s body. That was it. There was no begging it off this time, Cliff needed to go to the hospital. The question was how to get him there, because Elliot knew the second the word hospital was mentioned that Cliff would freak out. He racked his brain for a solution. They were the only ones home right now.

Cliff shivered and coughed that horrible deep cough that made Elliot’s stomach twist in pain. He knew Cliff might never trust him again if he did this, but he felt like he had no other choice. Cliff really needed help and he didn’t think urgent care was going to cut it this time. He made his decision. “Alright Cliff, my sweet guy,” he said. “I know you don't feel so good but we gotta go out for a bit.”

“Huh? Where?” Cliff asked suspiciously.

Elliot tried to keep an innocent expression. “Just out. Just for a bit. I need you with me though, can you do that for me?”

Elliot held his breath waiting for Cliff to answer, but finally Cliff nodded and said, “For you.” Elliot pushed down the guilt he was feeling and forced a smile at Cliff.

“You're the best,” Elliot forced himself to say with fake cheer. He coaxed Cliff into the car and drove well over the speed limit to the emergency room. He kept one eye on Cliff, anxious to get someone with medical knowledge to listen to that horrible cough that left Cliff gasping. Cliff seemed too out of it to notice when they pulled into the ER parking lot and Elliot took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable fight Cliff would eventually put up.

“Cliff?”

“Hmm?” Cliff's eyes were closed, his face disturbingly pale and his chest heaving with the work of breathing. Elliot grit his teeth and forced himself to be truthful.

“We're at the hospital. I need you to get seen by a doctor.” Cliff’s eyes opened and immediately Elliot could see a mix of pain, fear and betrayal. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world right now.

“You said we weren't going to the hospital,” Cliff’s voice wobbled. His eyes blurred with tears. “No way, I’m walking home,” he said.

Elliot, knowing Cliff had literally made his way here all the way from Newark last week, was afraid he actually would and grabbed Cliff's wrist. “Baby, please, listen to me. Cliff. You're so sick. I don't know what to do. Just let a doctor see you, we're not even in the city, your dad won't know.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Cliff said desperately, attempting to tug his arm away but Elliot didn't let go. Cliff was too weak to shake him off. “All I do is cause problems for them. I can’t.”

Elliot leaned forward so he was as close to Cliff as possible, his expression and tone begging. “Please Cliff. I’m going to protect you, but just come in with me. I’m scared. For me, please? If nothing else, for me?”

Elliot didn't think it was going to work. He physically slumped in relief when Cliff stopped pulling away and said, “Okay. For you, just this once.”

“Thank you,” Elliot gushed earnestly, squeezing Cliff's hand. “I love you, Cliff.”

“I love you too,” Cliff said, looking at Elliot with watery, exhausted eyes.

Elliot blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting the first I Love You to come right now, or anywhere close to right now when he had just tricked and then pressured Cliff into going to the one place he was most afraid of. “You do?” He said, his voice high pitched.

Cliff nodded. “I do,” he said hoarsely. He was mostly looking at his lap but gave Elliot a sideways glance.

“Oh,” Elliot said. “Thanks, Cliff.” He wasn't sure what else to say, but Cliff looked embarrassed and was definitely clamming up, so he added, “That makes me happy. And I'm really grateful you trust me enough to get checked out. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

“Okay,” Cliff said. Another harsh coughing fit overtook him that lasted so long that by the end of it, tears were streaming down his face. He breathed sharply through his nose, trying to catch his breath. “Can't breathe, El.”

“I know. That's why we're here baby,” Elliot said worriedly. “Let's go in now.”

“Promise you won’t leave me?”

“I promise,” Elliot swore. “I’ve got you, Cliff.”

[Part 3]

#shionwrites #oc: cliff #oc: elliot #sickfic #whump #sicknario #fever whump #illness whump #sick whump #male whump #emeto #TW: emeto #novemetober rescheduled #novemetober 2023 #bad things happen bingo #hurt/comfort #angst

[bluehoodiewoozi]

DRABBLE MARATHON #4:

LEE JENO + autumn leaves

1,4k words /// genre: fluff /// warnings: adult language.

In which he confesses as autumn leaves fly by.

The swing set in the park became your spot somewhere in the middle of your 2nd year. It was on an old playground, barely lit by a single yellow lamp post. Most parts of the playground looked too rusted to be safe, but the swing set hadn’t broken even once in all your months of visiting it.

Jeno always met you there, his smile bright and adorable even on his bad days. 

He often stopped at the playground after his nightly bike rides. He thought meeting you there, on the tired swing set, had been the best stroke of luck of his entire life. 

Soon, it became a tradition to tell you ‘hi’ when he saw you sitting on the swing as he was passing by. Then he started taking breaks every time he got to the playground, hoping that you’d show up as well. And then, before long, the two of you met up there almost every night, talking about everything and nothing, eating convenience store snacks and trying to coax passing stray cats to be your friends (they never did agree though). 

On this night again, Jeno biked through the park, coming to a halt when he saw your familiar figure. 

“Hey,” he called out as he approached and you offered him a smile as you often did. “Isn’t it cold?”

“Just cold enough,” you replied and continued swinging. “How was your ride?”

“A little more slippery than usual,” he admitted and took his usual seat in the swing next to yours, kicking his tired feet a little for some momentum. “There are a lot of leaves and puddles around. I almost slipped twice” He sighed in defeat. “I don’t think they clean the streets a lot.”

You chuckled. “Might have to start carrying around a rake yourself.”

“Do not tempt me,” he joked. “How was your day?” He sat up straighter all of a sudden, eyes wide. “Oh! Didn’t you have that academic writing seminar today? How was it?”

You shrugged. “It was fine.”

He smiled at that. “Wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, huh?” You nodded somewhat shamefully, well aware of the nonsensical panic you had rambled to him about just the night before. He clicked his tongue. “If only someone had told you so…”

“If only,” you played along and kicked your feet a little harder to swing higher than him. He gasped theatrically at that before following suit. Soon your laughter echoed between the trees, alerting passers-by of your joyful presence. 

As your feet grew tired, however, (much faster than Jeno’s, as much as it pained you to admit), you slowed down again. You watched him for a while as he kept swinging, the cold autumn breeze messing up his fluffy hair. 

“Hey, Jeno?” you found yourself asking. 

He hummed in response. 

“What’s your biggest fear?”

He answered without missing a beat, “Bears.”

You snorted. “What?”

“What?” he retorted, slowing down so he could calmly explain, “They’re freaking terrifying. Why are they so big? Why are they everywhere? Why do they eat everything? You can’t even run away from a bear because it out-runs, out-swims and out-climbs you. Absolutely fucking terrifying.”

“I–” You had to admit he had a point.”Okay, so, I meant from a more psychological, existential point of view. Like, is there some kind of a life event you’re afraid of?” Seeing his puzzled expression, you added, “I’m terrified of life after graduation, for example. The uncertainty of the future.”

“Oh.” He paused to think, staring up at the starry sky. He then nodded and looked at you again. “Bears.”

“Jeno,” you laughed, “I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled and took a moment to really think about it. “I guess… Confessing my feelings?”

“To who?”

“There just is one person.” He smiled to himself and you felt a pang of jealousy as you realised how much he must’ve adored this person. But then his smile faded, becoming just a quirk of his lips but not quite reaching his eyes anymore. He sighed. “But I don’t think they like me back.”

“Why do you think that?” you wondered. “You’re a great guy.”

He shrugged solemnly. “Maybe. But am I a great guy for them? Am I what they look for in a guy? Or am I just a hopeless romantic who’s never meant to be more than a friend?”

“That’s a depressing thought,” you muttered out loud without really meaning to. “I mean, if you have those thoughts every time you have a crush, will you ever find the courage to actually find someone to spend your life with?”

He groaned at the thought, his head falling back as if it was getting heavier by the minute. “Don’t do this to me. It’s, like, 10 pm. I am not in the mood for a therapy session.”

“Sorry,” you whispered and reached over to pat his shoulder. He leaned his head forward again, resting his cheek against your hand. “If it counts for anything, I think you’re great. I’ll always be your friend, whether you find that someone or not.”

Jeno’s breath hitched at that. “You mean that?”

“Of course.” Even if it kills me inside to never be more than that to you. 

He bit his lip, nearly drawing blood, before sitting up properly and looking you in the eyes. “We can’t be friends anymore.”

Your life seemed to flash before your eyes. “What?”

“Wait,” Jeno lifted a hand, folding all fingers but his pointer, his eyes squeezing shut painfully, “that sounded really wrong. I’m– Uh… Let me try again.”

You weren’t sure you wanted him to try again.

“(Y/n),” he took a deep breath and forced his eyes open again, “I don’t want to be your friend.” 

He paused, trying to find the words to say before you lost all hope in him and walked away. To be fair, you were on the verge of doing just that. He grabbed your hand to prevent you from doing so. 

“I want to be more than that,” he breathed out, his hand shaking in around yours, “I want to be the person whose home you go to at the end of the day, whose bed you take your afternoon naps in, whose arms you run to when you celebrate something. I want to be the person who knows all your favourite songs, all your embarrassing childhood stories, all your favourite snacks. I want to be your person.”

Your brain worked double-time to process the information. With wide eyes, you pointed at yourself. “I’m the person you like?”

He nodded, a tight smile on his face. “I like you.”

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask, unable to believe someone like him – a varsity athlete, a straight-A student, the face of the university’s soccer team, a man carved by the angels – could have feelings for you at all.

He chuckled. “How could I not? You’re amazing.”

“But… I’m just me and you’re–”

“Don’t pull the rom-com lines on me, please,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just rip the band-aid off and reject me.”

You frowned. “But I don’t want to reject me.”

His eyes opened, sparkling under the streetlight. “You don’t?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No.”

“Then…” He let out a noise of confusion as his face scrunched up in thought. “What? You really– You like me back?” 

You nodded and it made him spiral even more. “Are you sure? You don’t have to pity-confess. I’m fine. I’m a big boy. I can handle rejection. Don’t– Don’t play with my feelings like that… They’re–” His voice cracked. “They’re fragile. I’m… fragile.”

“I really like you too,” you confessed, squeezing his hand. “I think you’re amazing too.”

He blinked rapidly, unable to fight the smile appearing on his face. “You– Me– Like– Oh my god, I could cry.” He let out a giddy giggle – much resembling a little kid getting told he could have ice cream for breakfast – before reaching for your other hand as well. Once had both of your hands in his, he cleared his throat. “Then, and I can’t believe I get to ask this, but– uhm– Can I be your boyfriend?”

When you matched his giggle and nodded, he swore he would remember this exact moment for the rest of his life and cherish it as his most precious one: your bright smile and star-filled eyes, complete with the autumn leaves flying by in the background. 

A/N: the fact that i've been an nctzen since 2019 and this is my second ever uploaded nct fic is a little concerning tbh

#nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #lee jeno #lee jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios

[dearly-dreaming]

•𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄•

Title: Careful Embrace.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x fem!reader.

Word count:3471.

Warnings: Heights, falling, injury, pain ect, Morpheus’ imprisonment, touch starved Morpheus, the teeny tiniest bit of angst, love confessions and loads of fluff :)

Summary: You get injured and Morpheus takes care of you.

Author’s note: Thanks to the anon who suggested this, I hope you like it :)) Also Boundlessly Devoted should hopeful be up soon this chapter is long as lmao.

•𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄•

The Dreaming's library was the most extensive library in all of existence. Every book ever written, lost or unwritten was kept on its shelves. It was undoubtedly your favourite place in Morpheus' realm - aside from beside him.

Not that he knew that.

You were careful to keep your feelings for the King of Dreams Nightmares concealed, to him, at least. Lucienne was far too observant to miss your longing glances, the way you hung onto his every word, how you always delighted in being by his side.

It was why you two had grown so close, you confided in her and she in you, telling you how she loved her job dearly but how difficult it was at times. You told her how desperately you wanted to rid yourself of your affections for Morpheus - the ache in your heart - because you were sure your feelings were unrequited.

Soon enough, the answer was right in front of you two.

You loved the library, needed to distance yourself from Morpheus and Lucienne needed an assistant, she completely adored you.

So you became her assistant.

That's how you found yourself in your current position.

The Dreaming's library was the most extensive library in all of existence. Its shelves reached the painted ceilings and seemed to span on for eternity, it was only natural that ladders were your close companions.

You had to go particularly high today to place a book back into its rightful spot - much higher than your thought.

You really shouldn't have looked down.

The second you did, the world went spiralling, dizzy with distortion and confusion and soon you found yourself spiralling too.

The Dreaming's library was the most extensive library in all of existence. That's why no one heard you when you crashed to the floor, the air knocked out of your lungs as you stared up at the ceiling, pain shooting across your body so brutally that for a moment you feared Death's kind hand had come to collect you.

You couldn't move, couldn't find it in yourself too.

Everything hurt.

Your mind was scattered, only consumed by the pain that ignited across your body like a flaming torch. Honestly, that sounded better than your current situation. You wondered how long it would take someone to find you. Hours? Days?

You weren't sure, were unable to register time in your agonised state.

Every inch of you ached. Every inch of you wanted to rest in your bed. Every inch of you wanted Morpheus.

And Morpheus felt it.

He was in his throne room when he felt a sudden pang tear across his chest. He knew that feeling well, someone was calling to him, asking him to come to their aid. He was hesitant, someone had called for him once and he spent the next century imprisoned in glass.

He reached out to find out who was calling.

His book clattered to the floor.

His heart hammered.

His soul screamed in horror.

You were calling to him and you were hurt.

He wasted no time, a flurry of sand surrounding him as he shot to your position. You were in the library. Where was Lucienne? Where was Mervyn?

He felt the library materialise around him, welcoming its creator into its walls. He could not see you. Yet. And his fear grew tenfold, he could not have another person die on him, he refused to let that happen again.

A low croak filled the air.

Morpheus' gaze snapped towards the sound.

He found you staring at him through glazed eyes, body limp on the floor of the library, ladder next to you.

All the breath was stolen from his lungs.

He raced towards you, lungs and heart burning.

Morpheus collapsed to his knees beside you, his frantic, shaking hands coming to clutch your face, "Y/n?!"

Through distorted eyes, you saw his blurry figure and saw heard his distant voice. You could feel gentle, quivering hands grasp your cheeks and just managed to nestle into their warmth, a noise escaping your lips.

A moment of relief overcame Morpheus, you weren't dead.

He wouldn't be able to take it if you were.

Morpheus didn't hesitate as he swept you into his arms with the most care the universe had to offer. He held you like you were the wind, so fickle yet so unyieldingly brilliant - and entrancing. His breath caught in his throat as you slotted into his arms like you were always meant to be there.

You groaned slightly, everything hurt.

You felt cool hands on you, a chest pressed to the side of your body as you were lifted, almost like a child being carried to bed as they clung onto the fringes of awakeness.

A deep, rolling voice murmured, "Sleep. Sleep and all shall be well when you wake."

You let out a noise, even through your haze of pain, you knew that voice, it was imprinted in your mind like an echo. His whispered name left your lips, "Morpheus..."

He hushed you softly, like the chiming of a windpipe, "Sleep now, dear one."

You imagined he would have sprinkled sand into your eyes but he did not need to. Ever since his prized ruby had been destroyed, Morpheus had become even more powerful. His sand was still useful but in his own domain, Dream could put only to sleep with a mere command.

Just as he did with you.

Soon enough you were walking the landscape of your dream.

When you awoke from your blissful dreams you were in a room you had never seen before. In a bed, you had never been in before. Its wood was made out of the richest mahogany you had ever seen, the sheets and covers the smoothest silk you had ever felt, like the soft trickle of rain.

The floor was white marble with grey cracks running through it like spiralling stories. The windows were large, only a thin, semi-see-through curtain covering them like the rippling of stars. And the ceiling was scattered with constellations unknown to your eyes.

You let out a gasp, suddenly realising the ceiling wasn't painted. You were staring up at an actual galaxy with marvellous constellations that gave all the room light.

You were so enamoured you almost forgot the smooth desks and refines bookshelves even Lucienne would be jealous of. An astonishing mirror brandished by golden shimmered brightly as you gazed at it.

You were amazed. So much so that you didn't notice a certain physical personification appear in the room.

Morpheus finally felt like he could breathe again when he saw you. You were awake now, hair swept over your shoulders in the most heart-fluttering way as you look around his chambers in wonder. Pride filled him then, you looked at his bedroom. A part of him hoped you liked them well enough to stay in them, with him.

He stepped forward, almost hesitant, you looked so peaceful and he did not wish to disturb you but he desperately wanted to know if you were well. He spoke lightly, his voice so gentle even the clouds would weep for him, "Y/n?"

You snapped your head in his direction as soon as his poetic voice filled your ears.

He stood a little ways away from you, dark closed etched from darkness such a great contrast to the pureness of white skin. His midnight hair gleamed in the soft light of the sun, almost seeming to shimmer like a diamond. His eyes blazed with warmth, with a fondness one could only feel when gazing at the beauty of stars.

You were enamoured.

You were struck with a sudden realisation.

You were in Morpheus' chambers.

Panic lashed at you and you scrambled to get up, "Oh, my gods! I am so sorry! So sorry! Sorry-"

You were silenced by Morpheus' hands on your shoulders, stopping you from moving. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity you could only find in the skillfulness of eccentric painters. You let out a breath, hands desperate to hold his marble face.

Morpheus' voice was smooth, enchanting, and all too ethereal as he hushed you most gently, "Do not apologise when it is me that should apologise."

You furrowed your brows, the ache in your back fading slightly as you focused on all the wonders of his entrancing face. The words fell from your lips so softly it was as if the first snow of winter had fallen, "Why would you apologise?"

You had forgone the usual honorific of 'my lord' in your moment's frenzy and Morpheus' heart warmed. It felt personal, precious. he found himself never wanting you to call him by any title ever again.

He spoke gently, "I promised you no harm would come to you in my realm and it has."

You shook your head rapidly, ignoring the brief dizziness that spanned across your body, "Because of my own clumsiness."

"Because of own carelessness," He responded instantly, glimmering eyes darkened by the weight of guilt.

You hated that look in his eyes.

You loved all of the other looks he could have.

Your heart hammered in your chest as your hands moved on their own. You cupped his cool skin in your hands, feeling the silky softness of it in your palms. The words you were going to speak almost vanished but you just managed to catch them. Firmly, you told him, "It wasn't your fault. Do you understand me? It wasn't your fault."

And you both knew you weren't just talking about your fall.

The world had gone silent now, waiting in suspense for the next moments to unfold. Your heart rang in your ears as you stared into the endless pools of eternity that glimmered with inspiration and wonder and brilliance only Dream of the Endless could have. His dark hair wisped into his eyes tantalizingly, daring you to come closer, to be entranced in the bright darkness that was Morpheus.

You let out a breath.

And reality pulled you back into its grasp.

You gasped, "I am so sorry, my lord-" You went to yank your hands away like you had been burnt.

Morphues caught your hands.

You went still.

Almost hesitantly, he rose your hands again, pressing them against his face, gauging every one of your reactions. He was nervous, tentative and cautious. Dream of the Endless had fallen many times and he just kept falling.

That's why people are scared of love, isn't it?

You fall.

But falling for you was the greatest splendour he had ever felt. He relished in the warmth of your hands against his cheeks, he would spend eternity in your embrace if you allowed him. You were like a goddess and he your devoted priest, your dedicated worshipper, your divine follower.

He was completely and utterly besotted by all that was you.

And like every poetic creature, the confession was burning at the tip of his tongue. Words never would be enough to convey.

"My lord...?" You questioned slowly, you had never seen him like this.

His eyes fluttered closed, almost annoyed by the title. The feeling of your burning warmth against his skin had left Morphues open, unafraid and entirely desiring. He begged for you, he needed more. He needed all of you.

And he could no longer keep it his dear secret.

The gentlest of sighs escaped his lips as he stared deeply into the enchanting gleam in your eyes, words a wistful whisper, "Don't call me that. Please."

You furrowed your brows, mouth going dry for a moment, "I'm sorry. Would you rather I call you your majesty or -"

He shook his head, expression softening so much it could shatter. His skin gleamed like forbidden crystals in the sunlight and somehow you managed to hold him.

Then he spoke that word that sounded like the heavens, that tasted like dusk and felt like peace.

"Morpheus."

You swallowed, and disbelief struck you.

But you were a human and had been taught cruelly that the universe was not kind and that dreaming was foolish. Reality had sunk its claws into you and left you dreamless. Even in front of the Dream King himself, you could not allow yourself to slip into the blissfulness of your greatest dream.

To be loved by Morpheus the same way you loved him.

"What do you mean-" You choked out the words.

He grasped your hands ever so slightly tighter, almost as if you would fade if he didn't.

"Morpheus," He breathed, "I wish for you to call me by name. Morpheus."

You could not believe your ears. The universe was not kind, it would not allow you this. It just wouldn't. You shook your head rapidly, "But that's - I'm just a - You're a king!"

"And all I want is for you to say my name. To hear it spill from your lips like the finest ichor, like the most sacred song, like the sweetest story," Intense eyes glimmered like stars, "I want to hear it repeatedly. I wanted it imprinted in my memory for all eternity. I want it to echo in the halls of the castle. Give me that. Give me my name from your lips."

He was begging.

Dream of the endless was begging for you to say his name.

"Please," His eyes glimmered, his voice crackling as tears threatened to spill like rivers.

You gasped.

You had brought Dream of the Endless to the brink of tears.

And like all desperate poets, you found yourself enamoured by your inspiration, willing to do anything he asked.

"Morpheus," You whispered, his name sounding like the softest of rose petals on your tongue.

The reaction was instant.

A sound you never imagined you would hear passed through his lips. A sort of hitched whine as he nestled into the warmth of your hands as if he had finally found safety from a storm he could not free himself from.

You were entranced, completely and utterly besotted.

"Again," His voice was barely above a whisper as he begged you again.

"Morpheus," You breathed breathlessly as he shuddered, curling closer to your body as if you were a paradise he found in the middle of a great tempest untrollable.

It was almost as if he was struggling to breathe as he clutched your hands in his, pushing them as close to his face as he could manage, "Never call by anything else again, I could not-"

His words were cut off by a shaky intake of air and through his closed eyelids you could begin to see that his eyelashes were glistening.

Your heart began to hammer in your chest as you leaned closer, murmuring, "Open your eyes, please. Open your eyes, Morpheus."

At the utterance of his name, he followed your request. His eyes opened and you saw the way they glistened with stars that cried with overwhelming emotion. But the tears would not yet fall, as if they couldn't. They had been held in for so terribly long that Morpheus had forgotten how to cry.

"Morpheus-" Your voice cracked as you stared at the man in front of you, shattered yet so unbelievably strong. An odyssey of pain and power.

His breath shuddered as the words came tumbling out of his mouth like a scrambled story, "I never want to hear you call me by anything other than my name again. I could not handle it any longer. I could not. I can not."

You tried to hush him.

But he could not stop now, "Please do not make me go through the torture of hearing you call me by titles so detached and unfamiliar that they make my heart cry. Please do not make me. I beg you. Please."

Tears were gathering in your eyes now as you watched the man who always seemed so sure and controlled spilt apart in frantic emotions in front of you.

All you wanted to do was ease his pain, console him, heal him.

"Morpheus-" You attempted to speak, to calm his storm of emotions.

The words were choked as they flew from his mouth, trying to stay afloat, "Please do not make me. I can not bare it. I love you too much."

You froze then. Surely you had misheard?

But you hadn't.

And his confession seemed to spill like a symphony, "I love you too much. Too much. Every part of my being belongs to you. Any command you give I shall do, anything you ask for shall be given, anything. Everything, You have my heart. My soul. You have everything that is me. You always will. I love you, y/n. I will love you for all eternity, I will love you even when we are stardust. I love you with everything I have. I love you, y/n."

And then the tears fell from your eyes.

That speech was for you.

That was how felt about you.

That love was for you.

"Morpheus," You croaked, clutching his face tighter as you gasped out the words, "I love you like the sun."

He froze. The universes in his eyes seemed to freeze along with him as he stared at you in disbelief. The silence was thick as you waited for him to say something, anything. But he did not. His eyes merely gazed into you and you gazed back.

Tentatively, you pressed your forehead against his.

And time seemed to start again.

Desperation was strong as he shot forward, lips pressed to yours frantically, intense and consuming. His lips were soft like silk, they tasted like sweet sunset. His kiss was erratic, passionate and beyond your wildest dreams. His kiss was like waves crashing against a cliff, intoxicating. His kiss was like that special place everyone had, home.

You gasped, hands clutching his cheeks as you pulled him closer, feeling the coolness of his body press softly against yours. Frantically, your fingers traced the wonders of his face as you kissed yourself and Morpheus into the sweetness of oblivion.

Morphues reciprocated your touch, callous hands coming to grasp your face sweetly, desperately, as if him letting you go would be the worst kind of torture. And it would be. A century of isolated agony, a century of no touch, a century of complete loneliness. All had been forced upon Morpheus and your soft smile and even softer touch gave him something he didn't know he craved until now.

Your touch sent him to Heaven.

Your touch lost sent him to Hell.

Morpheus would not lose you, he could not. He couldn't take it.

His lips moulded against yours as they had always meant to, the entire universe smiling for two souls that had meant to be together from the very beginning had finally collided.

And, oh, how you collided.

Morpheus gasped, relishing in the way you pulled him closer still. He would gladly be consumed by every part of you. You were his eternity. You were his reason. You were his love.

It seemed that Dream of the Endless himself had finally found his dream.

Your chest heaved as you almost forced yourself away from Morpheus.

He followed your lips.

You let him, lips connecting once more in quick, hasty kisses filled with desperation and passion and enamour. Morpheus could barely breathe, you were like the sweetest song, and he would forever be entranced by you.

The words came from his mouth like a story, "Please. Never leave me. Stay by my side for all eternity. Be mine, heart and soul.

You grasped his face tighter, forehead falling against his tenderly, "Oh, Morpheus, I already am. I am yours, heart and soul. Forever."

He shuddered at the use of his name once more and his eyes gleamed with tears again, "You're mine?"

You nodded, another kiss pressed to his berry-pink lips, "Always. Endlessly."

And the tears finally fell.

Oh, they fell. They fell in hot burning streaks down his face but he could not shy away from you. You would not let him, you clutched his face tighter, hands stroking away each and every one of his tears.

And Morpheus fell apart.

His cries grew louder, his grasp turning to a grip as he fell into your arms, embraced by your safety. Morpheus did not remember the last time he was so vulnerable, the last time he had allowed himself to break. But he could now. In your arms, he could release his pain.

You gently rocked back and forth, hushed reassurances whispered into his ears as one of his hands came to find its place in his midnight hair, cradling his head closer to you.

"It's all right, now, Morpheus," You breathed so very gently, "I'm here. And I always will be here."

"Promise?" He croaked."

God, he sounded like a child.

But you only smiled, "Promise."

That promise would carry on throughout eternity. Stories and songs would be written about that promise. Your vows would be made from that promise. Your children would be made from that promise. Your lives would be made from that promise.

But for now, as the both of you lay in Morpheus' bedroom, hidden by one another's safety, the only thing that mattered was you. Now, you were two people, completely and entirely in love with one another.

You would remain that way until all the stars burned out, all the worlds collided, and all the galaxies shattered as the end of creation drew near. And then as you turned to stardust, you would still love each other.

You would love each other endlessly.

And that was the greatest promise of all.

Tags: (Tell me if I missed anyone)

@fate-huntress @layla2-49 @asianfrustration13 @true-queen-of-mischief @mxtokko @notabotiswear @marion7s-blog @winxchesters @beautifulbows924 @sidneysdreamland @boofy1998 @thecrazytealady @kisses4kitty @we-love-our-bandz @kittycatcait219 @crimsonabbath @violet-19999 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @silverhart93 @dilf-of-the-endless @tea-effect @bakerstreethound @popcornceilings69 @blu3what @angelphishy @ultimateissuessimp @aliisa-jones

[astaroth1357]

Proposing to Simeon

I found this sitting in my old drafts and it felt too good to let gather more dust.

It'd be plain to say that the MC was nervous… so incredibly nervous.

Simeon loved them, they had no doubt about that, but despite their feelings there was always an unspoken distance in their relationship…

He was an angel, a being of pure grace, and the MC was a lowly human… So many things about their love brought up questions… Was it permissible? Are they breaking any rules? Did they even deserve him...?

Some of these questions don't have clear answers and the MC was too scared to ask anyway… But they loved Simeon desperately with all their heart and soul. They couldn't imagine a day without him…

Despite their worries and their fears… they knew that they wanted him to know that. They wanted to make it official!

When they got to Purgatory Hall, Simeon was in his room toiling away at another draft. They could tell it was giving him some trouble, but he greeted them with a smile nonetheless…

No matter how busy or frustrated he was, he could always make time for them. Just another one of his angelic qualities, of course.

Simeon: "MC! What brings you here?"

He had to turn his desk chair to face them directly, but when he did they could tell he knew something was wrong… In truth, MC wasn't really hiding their nerves all that well and it didn't take anyone particularly empathic to know that.

Simeon: "Is something wrong?"

His worry was clearly evident in his voice as he got up to hold them immediately. Though the MC would usually never begrudge their angel's speedy reaction to their discomfort, they had to take a step back from him when he tried to approach them in the doorway...

Of all the times for him to act so perfect… Should they even be trying this?

MC: "Uhm… Simeon? Can I have a minute? I have a question to ask…"

They could see that he was stunned, and maybe a little hurt, from their sudden withdrawal from his arms but he didn't make a move to stop them.

Simeon: "I… Yes, of course… What is it?"

Given the go ahead, and knowing it's now or never, the MC hung their head to speak.

MC: "I've been wanting to say that… I… I've been so happy with you, Simeon. And I know that doesn't sound like much, but I mean it. Every day with you has felt better than the last but I feel so selfish because I know what kind of problems that I cause for you and I just-!"

A gloved finger softly silenced their rambling before tilting their head back up to look into their angel's eyes, warm with admiration and love.

Simeon: "I've told you before, my love, that none of that troubles me… I'll be here for you today just as much as I will be tomorrow and anyday after that."

MC: "... Really? 'Anyday'...?"

Simeon blinked, caught off guard yet again by the question, but nodded affirmatively.

Simeon: "Yes, that's what I just said…"

MC: "Well, how's about 'every day' instead? 'Till death do us part..?"

Reaching into their pocket, they finally pulled out the source of their hesitation all evening… A little white velvet box so small that it could only hold one thing and both of them knew it.

For the first time ever, the MC saw their angel pale somewhat at the sight of it - like he was witnessing a nightmare - and they felt an instant pange of regret. They shouldn't have tried this, it was much too soon!

Before they could hide the jewelry box away again, Simeon's hand took it from theirs with all the reverence of a priceless artifact… They watched quietly as he held it in his palm then, eyes glistening with tears, brought it close to his chest.

He didn't respond to their question, perhaps he couldn't or maybe just shouldn't, but he didn't need to anyway. They knew from his smile, his beautiful, honored smile, that they had their answer.

Now if they just had his Dad's blessing...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me simeon #shall we date simeon #simeon x mc #obey me dateables #obey me fic #obey me headcanons

[callofloony]

As fate would have it. (141)

—————

Very long HC post up ahead!

Tags: Fluff, angst, mentions of death and violence, 141 headcanons, hurt/comfort, everyone is hurt, Price is the comfort, semi proofread, found family dynamics… with an asterisk, i guess? Lmk if i missed any!!

A/N: This literally took me so long to type out auagwhhwhw!!!!! It’s been in my drafts for SO LONG. The premise is Price slowly realizing the ways 141 wormed their way into his heart. Hope you likeyyy!!!

~ Post begins under the cut ~

—————

Maybe it’s because I’m really into found family, or because I’m in love with the idea of a stoic, serious man, having soft spots for those he’s closest with. But I’m having thoughts, so now it’s everyone else’s problem.

I am the absolute firmest believer that Price wasn’t all that close to his team when they first joined, with the only exception maybe being Gaz. He only saw them as coworkers, nothing else beyond that.

He recognized their capabilities, understood where their limits were, and treated them like the assets they were. But that’s all he saw, assets. Of course, he still cared about them, but it didn’t go as far as to call them friends, let alone family.

But things started to change when he heard something slip from Soap while staring at a calendar, muttering that he missed someone… It was the anniversary of his mothers death, and it had him feeling a bit more worse for wear than usual.

Price felt a sudden pang in his heart hearing that, one that he’d never felt before. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one, especially a parent, and his heart ached for Soap.

He’d never felt such empathy towards a teammate before, let alone someone he was literally fighting tooth and nail with, risking their lives, and getting their hands dirty… So the world stays clean.

He decides after some internal debate to give Soap the day off, he didn’t have any work or missions to be completed, and he was mostly just making his way around base anyway. Training, looking for a distraction.

When asked why, Price didn’t have a clear answer. He didn’t want Soap to know he’d accidentally overheard him speak about his mother, so he simply said, “You’ve earned it.”

That was the catalyst to Price beginning to loosen up more, show a little more affection to his team. He kept that date in his mind, often allowing Soap a little more leeway on things during that month, before turning back to his no nonsense boss persona.

He wrote it off internally as just comradery, giving Soap some room to mourn while also getting his work done, it’d help him out in the long run! Simple as that…

Then, he walked in on Gaz having a panic attack.

Gaz was horrified when he saw Price, snapping his gaze towards the reports he was supposed to be working on, trying to hide the shaking in his hands and the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, giving his Captain a slight wave before brushing him off. But the air in the room was tense, and obvious.

Price hadn’t experienced a panic attack before, but he knew what the signs looked like, and had helped people through them before. He wasn’t just gonna leave Gaz like this… What was he thinking? When had he started empathizing so hard with the other man?

He just sighed and shut the door behind him, walking over to Gaz with a stern, yet soft gaze on his face, making Gaz whimper and tense up with worry. But when Price reached out to him, he simply placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Gaz flinched and turns to Price who had a look of understanding on his face, like he understood, and wouldn’t judge Gaz for whatever it was that caused this. And that made Gaz break.

He buried his face in his hands and sobbed softly, trying not to make too much noise or being annoying in fear that Price would think less of him. That just made Price shake his head, wrapping his arm around Gaz’s side and pulling him forward, allowing him to rest his head on his Captains shoulder. And that only made him cry harder.

He pulled Price into a hug, grip loose so he could pull away whenever, but he didn’t… He just waited until Gaz was calm, he was already struggling, Price didn’t want to add onto that.

After a minute or two, Gaz finally calmed down and was able to catch his breath, feeling way better as he’d been holding that cry in for a while. And Price smiled at him, asking a simple question… “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

And the question shocked Gaz, he didn’t expect his Captain would be so open eared about this, but if he was offering… Gaz figured he had nothing to lose here.

He began opening up, hands continuing to tremble as he recalled having to put an injured dad and his kid to sleep, the kid looked at Gaz with such fear and panic, but the father was practically begging for it to be over, they both knew it was for the best, but… He couldn’t get the kids face out of his head.

He’d put a fatally injured child out of their misery after a bombing, their eyes and begs burned into his mind like a bad scar, and the report was for that mission… He was crying again, looking away and apologizing.

Price looked shocked when he’d heard that, Gaz never mentioned anything like that when they’d headed back to their getaway. Price saw that Gaz looked slightly shaken up, but he chalked it up to nerves… He hadn’t known.

He shook his head and firmly told Gaz not to apologize, that these were circumstances he couldn’t have controlled, and that anyone would’ve preferred a quick death rather than a slow one, comforting the other man.

He took the report from Gaz’s desk after, making the Sergeants eyes widen in shock, and upon questioning why, Price says, “I don’t need you getting more affected than you already have, I’ll finish this up. Go rest.”

And Gaz nods, not wanting to argue with him.

Price feels exasperated with himself as he finishes the work Gaz had been assigned, why had he just done that? When had these feelings of neutrality, turned into ones of concern?

He shook his head, brushing it off again. He was just giving Gaz a break from the stress of missions and work, nothing more. Nothing like this would ever happen again, he had to promise himself…

Then, he had a smoke with Ghost.

Ghost was probably the most reserved person on his team, and Price didn’t mind keeping it that way. It was just easier to keep work, work. And personal shit, personal.

It was the only way he’d keep from completely caving, anyway.

That was until he noticed Ghost outside base, leaning against the wall, mask rolled up in order to have a calming smoke. Looking up at the sky in seemingly deep, intense thought.

Price knocked on the wall to let Ghost he was there before walking over, tilting his head at the other man. Ghost just gave him a nod of acknowledgment before returning to smoking. He didn’t mind Price being there, the man had already seen his face anyway.

“Mind if I smoke with you?” Price had asked simply, leaning against the wall Ghost was on. He could see the faintest flicker in Ghosts eyes when the other man spoke, he hadn’t looked at the Captain, he just exhaled the smoke before nodding again. Allowing Price in his bubble.

Price smiled slightly and pulled a cigar out, lighting it while looking up at the sky like Ghost was, a vein of curiosity spreading through his body as glanced at the other man, once, twice, thrice… He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

He took another huff of the cigar, releasing the air as he prepared for whatever response might come from this.

“What’s on your mind?”

His voice was soft and genuine, giving Ghost a full look as he definitely noticed the glances Price gave him before, he’d just been waiting for his Captain to say something.

Ghost paused for a moment, contemplating his answer before sighing and shaking his head, putting out his cigarette against the wall, a soft sizzle being heard as it died out.

He said he wasn’t required to say anything, which made Price chuckle and nod. The other man was right, he didn’t have to say anything if he didn’t want to, and Price wouldn’t interrogate him for it, however… That didn’t mean pestering wasn’t on the table.

Price continued to lightheartedly press about the things going on in Ghosts mind, Price already knew about some of the things the other man had been through, life altering and ruining things that didn’t look like something anyone could bounce back from… But Simon did.

Or so he thought.

Ghost huffed and rolled down his mask, crossing his arms and looking away from Price right after. Truth be told, he wasn’t necessarily in the mood for Prices insistent attempts at getting him to speak. Though, he couldn’t help but appreciate the effort.

After a bit of contemplating, he sighed and gave Price a slight glance. Tensing up a little before beginning to speak. He trusted Price, he knew he wouldn’t be judged for everything that was on his mind.

He spoke in a low, slightly softer tone than Price was used to, which caught the Captain off guard, but it only made him listen more intently. Simon revealed he was reminiscing about his family, his mother, Tommy, Beth, and his adorable nephew, Joseph.

He never showed it outright, but he missed them dearly. Nightmares plagued his mind about finding their dead bodies, the grief and horror he felt was something he’d never been able to let go of. How it still hurts to think and remember, and the haunting realization that’d he’d forgotten what even his own mothers voice sounded like.

He gets a bit choked up while speaking, his voice laced with a slight quiver, a tremble in his hands as he reminisces. He blamed himself for it, deeply.

Prices heart and face softened when Ghost said this, he knew part of what the other man had been through, but he didn’t know the full extent, let alone the amount of trauma and scars that had been inflicted onto him.

Hearing all this now? It made his heart break, and he knew he had to do something. He’d pressured Ghost into opening up, he wouldn’t just leave the other man in heartache.

He looked at Ghost with a somber gaze, and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that he’d allow Ghost to pull away from. But he didn’t, he just looked at Price with his eyes slightly widened.

Prices expression read, “It’s okay to cry, mate.” And that’s exactly what he did, Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he had a good cry. He looked down as the tears begin to stream out of his eyes, he barely made any noise, but with the waterfall of tears, the impact was there, and it meant a lot to him.

Price just continueed to be there, patting Ghost on the shoulder, eventually moving to his back. He was encouraging Ghost to cry, everyone cried. Everyone needed to cry. Even Price sometimes.

Price wouldn’t pretend to understand what Ghost had gone through, or even how bad it affected him, because he knew he’d be wrong. But, when Simon turned to him with slightly puffy eyes, giving his Captain a nod and a quiet, “thank you.” He smiled, knowing he did something right.

After those instances, he started to notice some changes. Everyone seemed to be acting a bit more casual and chill with him. Striking up small talk, engaging in banter, hell… Even smiling more around him. And like the man he was, he indulged them.

Soap got him small gifts and trinkets as a way to show his gratitude to Price. Perhaps a kind of chocolate he ate when he was younger, that he thought wasn’t being manufactured anymore. He mentioned it in passing, feeling nostalgic. And Soap had found it again.

Gaz began offering to help comfort and calm Price down whenever a mission goes to shite, because that’s the same thing Price had done for him. He offered a shoulder to cry on without judgement, and Gaz wanted to show he’d be there for his Captain as well.

Ghost began to strike up more conversations and show his true colors to Price, after generally being a bit more reserved than anyone else, and it showed Price just how comfortable the other man had become around him, even after just that single interaction.

And all of it, makes him crack a smile.

It frustrated him, why was he like this? He’d made a promise. A promise that he wouldn’t become attached to anyone on this team, that it would remain strictly professional… But he failed. What was wrong with him?

It’s only when 141 plans a surprise for him, does he find out why.

They’d been scheming for ages for the perfect plan, holidays were usually spent working. Whether it be missions, paperwork, training the recruits, they were always busy… But that day, his team had their chance.

Gaz knocked on his office door, gesturing that there was something he needed help with, and Price followed, feeling confused when the other man had brought him into a dimly lit room, was this a trick? A prank? He’d be on his ass if it was…

And then Gaz flipped the light switch, and everything made sense. In front of him were 3 presents (one from each member), a cake, and Soap and Ghost standing there, yelling out, “Happy birthday!”

He stood there stunned for a moment as Gaz chuckled, giving the other man a pat on the shoulder with an eyebrow raised, asking, “So… What do you think? Are you surprised?” He certainly was, he’d forgotten it was his birthday, and he didn’t even realize the others knew.

He continued to stand there shocked before chuckling, a smile creeping onto his lips, he couldn’t express his gratitude properly as an affectionate, “You muppets…” Escaped his lips. And they all celebrated.

It was a small party, sure, but they all had the time of their lives. Bonding, joking, and all around just being happy. Price never could’ve expected this to happen in his over three decades of living, but he could honest to god say… This was the best birthday he could’ve asked for.

And that’s when it hit him, the reason why he was being so affectionate and understanding towards these men, the men he set out to only view as subordinates, and nothing else… He’d always had it in his heart to love ‘em.

He didn’t want to get attached because subconsciously, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle losing them, even if he never got close to them. But… Life has a funny way of twisting fate, so this destiny was his, and he had no choice but to accept it. With open arms might I add.

They were his family now, a family he knew would stick by his side, and always be with him. No matter what came to tear them apart. Rain or shine, life or death, they’d be there to support him until kingdom come…

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

—————

A/N: WOOOOOO IT’S DONE!! IT’S OUT!!!! SCREAMS! A lot of this is prolly very very unrealistic but SHHHH LEMME BE AUTISTIC… ty for reading hehe !!

#cod price #price cod #captain john price #captain price #call of duty price #price call of duty #john price #cod ghost #ghost modern warfare #ghost call of duty #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #gaz mwii #gaz modern warfare #call of duty gaz #kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #soap mwii #cod soap #soap modern warfare #soap call of duty #soap cod #john soap mactavish #141 #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod

[snootlestheangel]

Break For Your Heart P3

Taglist: @stuffireadandenjoy

For most of the morning, his bunkmate ignored him. At least, it had felt that way. The way the other simply didn't say anything else, nor ask any questions, gave Simon the impression he was being intentionally ignored. He found himself not minding, however. The silence as he laid there on the bottom bunk, staring at the bottom of the bunk above, gave him plenty of time to think.

Time to think about the situation he had landed himself in, about the disturbing place he was currently trapped.

Simon screwed his eyes shut as he focused on his breathing. He was certain it wasn't entirely unusual for people to struggle to cope with the sudden transition of being imprisoned, but Simon wasn't about to risk seeming weak in front of his bunk mate. He had yet to learn anything about the man, and the idea of being beneath a complete, dangerous stranger was unnerving.

But just as Simon had begun to even his breathing, he felt the bunk shift heavily as the other suddenly moved. He opened his eyes and peered to his right just to see his bunkmate's head dangling off the side, piercing blue eyes accentuating the light smirk on his face.

"Got a name, big guy?" The Scot asked, and Simon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"You don't speak to me for over an hour and then suddenly expect me to just give you my name?" Simon snapped and the Scot's head disappeared from view as he began to cackle madly. Fearing the worst, Simon tensed but remained where he was. The bunk shifted again as the man dropped down, still shaking his head with laughter.

"Aye, that's true." He muttered, briefly tilting his head at Simon. Suddenly uncomfortable with the attention, Simon glared at him the best he could before laying an arm across his eyes. There was a moment of quiet shuffling before the distinct sound of liquid hitting a metal basin. Simon audibly groaned against his better judgement, turning his head away as he tried to ignore the fact his bunkmate was currently pissing next to him.

"Ah, you'll get used teh it eventually. Yeh lose yer shame once yer here long enough." There was a somber tinge to the man's voice towards the end as he spoke, and Simon felt a pang of pity for him. Privacy would of course become a thing of the past in here.

"Also, don't expect to wash yer hands in here. Ahm no' allowed teh have soap." The Scot spoke as he sat on the edge of Simon's bunk. Simon uncovered his face to glare at him, but cut the glare off when he noticed the mildly sadistic glimmer in the man's eyes.

"I don't even wanna know." Simon muttered under his breath as he covered his eyes once again.

"Really? Most people cannae stop asking me what tha' means. Bunch o' morbid motherfuckers in here." The genuine shock in the man's voice was the only reason Simon decided to engage in conversation with him.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to know." He snapped, and his bunkmate frowned at him.

"Yeh got some mystery man thing goin' on?"

"No. I don't." Simon snapped once again, but let out a sigh when his bunkie didn't seem intent on giving up his path of questioning.

"I was framed." Simon murmured, and the man's face fell into a somber grimace as he nodded in understanding.

"Yer gonna be a target if the others find out yeh dinnae belong. I suggest not strayin' too far from me. Fer a bit, at least." Simon quirked a brow at the man's words, only to receive a slightly mad smile from the other.

"This some kind of "stay close, I'll keep you safe" deal? Gross." Simon muttered and the other cackled once again.

"Well, ah mean, there is a reason the guards dinnae like me." This made Simon pause. There was truth to the statement. The guard that led him to this cell seemed rather wary of the previous resident, and Simon could only assume this applied to the other guards.

"What'd he call you? MacTavish?" Simon asked and the man nodded.

"Aye, John MacTavish. And you are?" Simon didn't miss the way John's face broke out into a wicked grin, something riddled with an inner madness he wasn't keen on getting to close to.

"Simon Riley." John nodded, almost distantly as he continued to stare down Simon. The unnerving nature of the man's staring was starting to get to Simon, especially with the way those piercing blue eyes seemed to strike through his very being. It was an odd feeling; being so perceived yet not at the same time.

Simon definitely did not miss the way John once again let his eyes drift up and down his frame before he shoved himself off the bottom bunk. He did not miss the knowing smile the man gave him before pulling himself back onto the top bunk. A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding escaped as John shifted into a comfortable position above him. Simon was already fed up with his circumstances, with the drawn out torture he's already endured in the manner of a few hours, but he couldn't complain.

Hell is an eternity, after all.

#what a power line to end it off wtf #prison break au #break for your heart #it's unhinged!soap time #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #call of duty

[triforce-of-mischief]

Bad Dreams will Fade

Summary: Hyrule has a nightmare and Legend comforts him.

Word count: 740

AO3

Reblogs > Likes!

For my awesome friend @marinovels! Happy birthday, Mari!

Legend tried not to worry. He couldn’t help it, though. It was in his nature to fuss over every tiny detail. Right now, he was supposed to be on high alert as he had ended up with middle watch. He stared at the glowing embers of their fire, telling himself that he didn’t need to look up.

He did anyway.

His gaze went right to Hyrule, the subject of tonight’s worries. And the last few weeks’, if he was being honest. Again, he couldn’t help it. Hyrule was a skilled hero in his own right, but sometimes Legend couldn’t help but only see a vulnerable kid.

Hyrule was, unconsciously, doing a great job of that tonight. It had taken a lot of coaxing for Hyrule to sleep on the ground with the others. Legend no longer had to peer up a tree to witness Hyrule’s fitful sleep. He watched the traveler toss and turn, kicking his blanket away as he fled imaginary foes.

Just let it pass, Legend told the part of him that wanted to rush over and help. He doesn’t need interference.

Hyrule sat bolt upright with a gasp, head whipping around in search of danger.

Legend’s inner voice screamed at him and he gladly relented. He stood and slowly approached Hyrule’s bedroll, waiting for the other to see him.

Hyrule looked up, watching Legend with half-asleep eyes as the veteran sat beside him. Legend felt a pang of sympathy when he realized that Hyrule was crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks even though he didn’t so much as whimper.

Legend was no stranger to silent fear. He knew the feeling of having to muffle sobs so the monsters wouldn’t come. It hurt a little to see that Hyrule still didn’t feel safe around them, but only patience and kindness could fix that.

“Hey, Rule,” Legend whispered, and waited for Hyrule’s ear to flick when he recognized his voice. “Bad dream?”

Hyrule nodded and bit his lip in a futile attempt to hide its trembling. He looked away, seeing the blanket that lay crumpled between them. He picked it up and draped it over his shoulders, pulling it tight as he hugged himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Legend asked.

Hyrule quickly shook his head and retreated further into his blanket.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to if you’re not ready. Do you want me to sit with you, or should I go back to the fire?” He glanced back, unprepared for the hand that shot out and grabbed his wrist. He started at the sudden touch, and Hyrule’s hand flew back as if he had been burned.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Legend muttered.

Finally, Hyrule relaxed the tiniest bit. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his ears drooping from exhaustion. He began to slump forward, and Legend inwardly panicked, unsure if he should move away. His decision was made for him as Hyrule slowly tipped over, both of them helpless as contact was inevitable.

Legend’s breath hitched as Hyrule’s face pressed against his shoulder… and stayed there. Legend froze, afraid of scaring him again. The traveler, who usually avoided touch, was seeking comfort. From Legend, of all people. It had to be a mistake. Hyrule was just tired and confused.

“No, no, no- come on, Rule, you need to go back to sleep,” Legend breathed.

Hyrule nuzzled closer and let out a pitiful whine. Legend could feel him shivering, and mentally kicked himself when he remembered that Hyrule was still crying.

“Okay… I’m going to hug you now,” Legend said, then waited for Hyrule to flinch or protest or something.

Hyrule’s only response was a quiet hiccup.

Legend took a deep, steadying breath before gently pulling Hyrule into a proper hug. Hyrule fit snugly into Legend’s embrace, and Legend allowed himself to relax. It was clear that the traveler felt safer in his arms, and Legend was pretty sure that he had stopped crying after only a few minutes.

“I’m not going to leave, but you really should sleep.” Legend tucked a curl of hair behind Hyrule’s ear, smiling when he prompted a soft coo from the sleepy teen. Legend held Hyrule close, slowly rocking them back and forth until Hyrule began to drift off again. Legend hummed a lullaby that only he knew, protecting Hyrule from the nightmares until it was time to wake somebody for the next shift.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #linked universe legend #lu legend #linked universe hyrule #lu hyrule #fable writes

[pascaloverx]

As It Was (S2)

Chapter Ten

previous season next chapter

Summary: Lots of news in this new season, which will be full of several twists and discussions. And of course, lots of James Buchanan Barnes.

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

Waking up in a hospital bed is much more uncomfortable than it seems. In fact, at first I thought I was dead. But it was when I tried to move and felt a pang in my stomach that I realized I was alive. I don't know how happy or sad this makes me. Someone I believed was good cheated on me, someone I loved died and I have no idea where the hell my ex husband is.

"Thank God you finally woke up, I'm going to call the doctor but try to stay conscious for the next few minutes at least." Dave speaks happily as if he's been yearning for me to wake up.

A few moments later I was so confused that I didn't even notice a team of doctors and nurses entering my room, it was almost as if I were a rare specimen. They are analyzing my every mole, asking standard questions like do I see this or that, do I remember my name, and checking my moles as soon as they enter what appears to be my hospital room.

"Doctor, what happened to me?" I ask, fearing that they are analyzing me because something terrible is about to happen.

"You may be a little confused in the next few days, the shot you took hit your spleen, which resulted in complications in his surgery. You got on induced coma for a while so that we could guarantee a recovery. The exact time you were in a coma was six months. The good news is that your body has fully recovered, without any apparent signs of trauma. For any additional information, you can ask the doctor on duty or the nurse who will be responsible for the care of this ward." The doctor speak so seriously, I feel a little confused with so much information.

"Will I be released soon or will I have to stay here for a long time?" It's the only question I long for the answer.

"We have to keep you here for at least another day for further observations but probably tomorrow, you will be released and you can go home." He speaks subtly with precision. It's a relief knowing that I will soon be able to leave here if everything is okay with me.

Dave enters the hospital room a few seconds after the doctors leave, looking extremely relieved. I really want to hug him but you're afraid to make sudden movements.

"You look like you got hit by a truck but I'm so glad you woke up. Sam and the girls were just as worried as I was, wondering when you would wake up." Dave says sitting in the companion's chair next to my hospital bed.

"How is Bucky?" It's all you can think about, wondering how my ex-husband was, who risked his life because of me.

"You won’t like to know. I think for your recovery, it’s better if you know this later.” Dave says while holding my hand softly.

"I need to know how he's doing Dave. If you consider yourself my best friend, start talking." My authoritative tone must be more powerful now because Dave seems to want to obey me.

"Barnes is working..." Dave sounds so uncertain saying this like he's afraid of my reaction.

"What do you mean, working?" Something inside me says I'm going to get stressed in the next few minutes.

"His father figured that Killian and Rogers would betray him and made a dossier and secretly handed it in before he died. The FBI and national security had no doubts about Barnes' innocence so as soon as he recovered from his injuries, he returned to work. I think he even got promoted." Because this information doesn't surprise you, it reminds you why I ended up ending my relationship with Barnes.

"What a son of a bitch, how can he come back after everything we've been through...what about Rogers and Killian?" This I really hope that one of them is at least arrested.

"Both are on the run from the police, but they disappeared. Which is kind of good news." Dave talks trying to sound optimistic.

"They both have reasons to kill me. Which makes it even worse." Stress slowly eats away at me as I imagine how unbearable my life will be.

"We will be with you and Barnes will also take care of you. Rumor has it that you're going to have cops watching." Dave tries to calm me down, which somehow works.

"I think I'm going to need some time to adapt to this information but I'm glad I'm back." I say, holding Dave's hand tightly as I lie to his face. I'm not happy, I'm desperate. My father died, my ex husband is still the same idiot and there are two cruel men wanting my head. I couldn't be more fucked up.

#bucky barnes x oc #spotify #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #reader insert #steve rogers x original female character #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier series #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #fanfic steve rogers #steve rogers angst

[bluenet13]

Whisking Away Your Pain (a 9-1-1 Lone Star post 4x04 fic)

Carlos is struggling to come to terms with his trauma from captivity, avoiding the kitchen and losing his love for cooking and baking, but TK is there to help him heal, one home-cooked meal at a time.

AO3

It had been a few months since Carlos had been kidnapped by the serial killer who had taken Iris. TK and Gabriel had managed to rescue him, and his physical injuries had healed, but the experience had left its mark on him. In the immediate aftermath, Carlos was assaulted by nightmares, more often than not waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, his fight or flight response activated as he trashed against the sheets until his brain processed TK's arms around him and he was able to relax. During the day things weren't much better, as any sudden movement made him jump and he found it hard not to fear the worst after every case. All in all, given the experience, Carlos had seemed relatively normal, if a little shaken up.

But as the weeks went by, TK started to notice that some things were different now.

They had finished their shifts and were on their way home after Carlos picked TK up from the station. As they drove through the city, TK couldn't help but notice that Carlos seemed distant, lost in thought.

"Hey, you okay?" TK asked, breaking the silence.

Carlos shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm just tired."

TK didn't believe him, but he didn't want to push. They arrived home, and TK started to prepare some dinner. "Do you want to help me cook?" he wondered, but Carlos shook his head.

"I'm not really hungry," he said, settling himself on the couch with the book he always kept on the coffee table. "Maybe I'll order something later."

TK felt a pang of worry. Carlos had always loved cooking and seeing him avoid the kitchen was a sign that something was wrong. But maybe Carlos really was tired so he would give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

A few nights later, TK woke up in the middle of the night, and he realized that Carlos was gone. Turning around, he touched the sheets beside him, and they were still warm. His first thought was that Carlos had gone to the kitchen to bake something, as he often did when a case left him anxious, or life was too stressful. He began getting out of bed, reaching for his discarded hoodie from last night so he could go accompany him, but then he heard the front door open and close, quietly but not enough, and knew that Carlos had gone out for another run instead. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and turned to the clock on the bedside table. He got a sinking feeling when it read '4:04'. This was the third time this week he woke up to Carlos leaving the apartment or coming in sweaty and disheveled after a run.

TK didn't sleep much for the next hour that Carlos was gone. He tossed and turned in the bed, wishing there was something he could do to help, only managing to fall back asleep at around 5:30 after Carlos had returned and gotten a shower, before grabbing his keys and going out again. Even then he only slept for an additional half hour, finally getting out of bed with a tired grunt, showering and heading into work himself.

That night, TK decided to talk to Carlos about what was going on. He was all for giving him space and letting him work through problems on his own, but the day he had asked Carlos to marry him he had known they would become one after that, which included the fun times, but also the individual struggles and whatever else life threw at them.

"Carlos, can we talk?" He asked softly, coming to stand behind him. He lifted on his toes and set his chin on his shoulder, sighing when he saw Carlos perusing a takeout menu.

"Hmm," Carlos hummed in acknowledgement and tipped his head to his side, looking at TK out of the corner of his eye.

"You haven't been cooking as much as you used to," he said, rushing to add when he felt Carlos tense in his arms. "I'm all for takeout every once in a while, but I miss your cooking, baby."

Carlos still looked at him apprehensively, but he nodded with a smile that managed to look mostly real even if it didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry, things have been busy at work. I've been too tired to cook afterwards."

TK wished he could believe him, but he knew Carlos better than that. He usually loved cooking and baking as ways to relieve stress. It also kept them happy and fed, a welcomed plus in the 'Reyes family manual'. But lately he'd been avoiding the kitchen and it was all kinds of wrong.

"You've also been going for runs in the middle of the night. Are you okay?" TK pressed tentatively and rubbed his arm in an attempt to get him to open up.

Carlos hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I'm fine." He paused, and TK waited expectantly hoping he would decide to be honest instead, but Carlos put up his best cheerful facade and asked enthusiastically, "So, do you want pizza or burgers?"

"A burger is fine," TK said dejectedly. Carlos might think his words were convincing, but TK knew him better than he knew himself and he was sure he was lying. Still, he didn't want to push too hard and have him close off completely, so he let it go for now and decided to watch Carlos more closely from now on, hoping he could figure out what was really going on.

A few weeks later, TK came home from the gym to find Carlos sitting in their living room, staring blankly at the wall. He had baked some cookies earlier, and the sweet smell still filled the room.

"Hey, I made cookies," TK said, a soft and proud smile gracing his lips. "Did you try one?" He held out the plate with one hand and took a bite of a cookie with the other.

Carlos recoiled, his eyes wide with what could only be described as fear. "No," he said, his voice shaking. "No, I didn't."

TK frowned and put down the plate. He sat on the couch next to Carlos and turned to face him, grabbing his hands. "What's going on, babe?" he asked. "It's just a cookie?" He knew it was about more than that, but he needed Carlos to want to contradict him.

Carlos sighed and looked up at TK with tears in his eyes. "It's not that I don't want to. I can't." His voice cracked at the end and TK's heart broke alongside it.

"Okay, that's okay," he soothed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Carlos' hand. "Why?"

Carlos rested his head on TK's chest, whispering against his shirt as he explained, "It's the kitchen. I was held in the kitchen all day. And she baked cookies. She made me try one."

TK's heart sank as he understood what Carlos was saying. He had known Carlos was held in the house, but he had found him in the living room, and he had never mentioned the kitchen until now. He had wanted to read the full report of what happened, but Gabriel had kept it from him, promising it was for the best. Now he wished he had pushed harder.

"Why didn't you say something before?" he asked, moving his arms to Carlos' back pushing their bodies incredibly closer.

"Because I feel stupid," Carlos mumbled, laughing self-deprecatingly. "I'm a cop, I've seen worse. I shouldn't be traumatized by an old lady baking cookies."

"Carlos, look at me," TK pleaded. He pulled away and cupped Carlos's face. "You didn't see this happen, you lived through it. This is something that happened to you, not a case you worked. And you've every right to react to it any way your brain decides to. It's not stupid and it doesn't make you weak."

Carlos nodded, but TK could still see fear and shame mixed in his eyes. "I can't even smell cookies without feeling sick," Carlos admitted. "I can't cook, I can barely set foot in the kitchen for longer than a few minutes. Every time it's like I'm trapped there again."

TK put his arm around Carlos, holding him close. "It's okay. You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. We can keep ordering takeout and I can take the cookies to the station tomorrow when I go on shift. I'm sorry I baked them, I didn't know."

"No, no, TK. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault," Carlos said, needing him to understand that.

TK opened his mouth to protest, but Carlos pushed up and silenced him with a kiss. "I'm alive because of you. You realized I was missing. You got my dad and APD involved. You made the connection to the pharmacy. Hell, you brought me back, TK."

"But I didn't realize any of that soon enough," TK whispered against his lips.

"I didn't make it easy on you. But you still got there in time and saved me." Carlos wasn't sure of many things right now, but he was sure he had brought it all on himself when he decided to lie to his fiancé and go investigate on his own. But luckily, he had chosen to give his heart to a man that always noticed the things he tried to keep hidden from the world. And it had been that connection and that loyalty that saved him. He had told TK those exact same words many times since he was released from the hospital, and he knew he would continue to repeat them every time self-doubt crept up on him.

TK nodded, pulling Carlos into a tender kiss before guiding him to sit between his legs and rest his head on his shoulder.

Carlos leaned into TK's embrace, his body silently shaking with sobs. He wanted to speak, say something to thank him, but the love and gratitude he felt for his fiancé and his gentle understanding overwhelmed him. All he could do was hold onto TK, and let his strength carry them both through the pain.

"It's okay. Let it out. We'll get through this," TK promised, a hint of sadness in his voice.

TK continued to hold Carlos until his tears ran out and his breath evened out. And that night there were no nightmares or midnight runs as Carlos found peace in the simple knowledge that he was loved deeply by the man next to him and that TK was loved as fiercely in return.

-x-x-x

A few days had passed since Carlos had opened up to him. TK had been keeping an eye on him, but otherwise, hadn't brought up the subject again. He knew from experience sometimes all you needed was time, and to know that you had someone willing to catch you when you fell.

One Friday night, TK was sitting on the couch, checking his phone, when Carlos came in from the grocery store with bags full of ingredients. TK looked up hopefully, curious and thrilled by the sight.

"What's all this for?" He asked, grabbing some of the bags and helping Carlos set everything on the counter.

Carlos looked up, a faint smile on his face. "I thought we could make my mom's chilaquiles," he proposed. "It's been a while since I cooked, and I think it would be nice to try."

TK could see the hesitation in Carlos' eyes, but there was also so much determination behind his brown gaze. He had always known Carlos was one of the strongest people he knew but seeing him work through his trauma like this caused a surge of pride deep in his chest.

"Sure, I'd love to help," he said, nodding enthusiastically, but also trying not to make a big deal of it. He was surprised but didn't want to question what felt like a gift. "What do you need me to do?"

Carlos' smile deepened, more at ease now, and he began walking TK through the instructions he remembered by heart. They chopped veggies, grated cheese, and boiled chicken, working side by side in the small kitchen, their shoulders brushing every once in a while, and their hands tangling momentarily, as they felt more normal than any other time in the last few months.

TK could see the tension in Carlos' shoulder start to ease as they worked. As TK's warmth and presence anchored him, his movements became more confident, his hands working deftly as he cut vegetables, shredded the kitchen and prepared the homemade sauce.

They finished preparing the chilaquiles in comfortable silence, the air thick with the aroma of spices and roasting peppers, but no longer heavy with unspoken words and hidden traumas.

When the dish was ready, they served it up and sat down to eat. TK's first bite felt like a revelation, not because he was surprised at the explosion of flavors, but because this dish was the physical representation of Carlos' fight against the demons of his abduction and the proof that he was healing and coming out the other side victorious.

Carlos savored the chilaquiles, and his eyes misted, a faint, grateful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was a small but genuine expression, and TK felt the pieces of their life begin to slide back into place. "Thanks for doing this with me," Carlos whispered between bites, rubbing TK's thigh with his socked foot under the table.

"Of course," TK replied simply. He knew that this statement applied to this moment and every other moment in their lives. He would gladly do anything for Carlos, even if it meant walking into the depths of hell to find him sooner and reduce his trauma even a little bit. "I'm proud of you for trying to cook again. And I'm glad we could do this together," he added, feeling his affection for the man sitting in front of him grow with each moment they spent together.

As they finished their meal, Carlos and TK basked in the peaceful stillness that had settled over the kitchen. Their minds and bodies connected by the intertwined fingers resting on the table and the unspoken acknowledgement of what this dinner meant to them and their recovery.

"Maybe next Friday we can try my mom's Hamantaschen Cookies?" TK tentatively suggested, as they carried the dishes to the sink.

"I'd like that," Carlos said softly. He wished he could express how much the offer meant to him, but that part of his captivity was still too raw to share. For now, he settled on TK knowing how much he's loved. "Want to watch a movie?" He tugged at TK's hand, leading him to the couch for a cozy evening together.

"Not washing dishes? Andrea would be appalled." TK teased, but Carlos kissed the grin right off his face.

"Cleaning can wait till tomorrow," Carlos said, his eyes soft and vulnerable. "Let's enjoy the moment. Tonight, I just want to be close to you."

TK's heart swelled with affection for Carlos, and he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. They watched the movie in companionable silence, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling safe and being close to the one they loved.

#tarlos #911 lone star #tk strand #Carlos Reyes #tarlos fic #911lsfic #911 ls 4x04