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aealzx · 8 months

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The heavy drum of rain cascading down the windows several rooms over was a hard lullaby to ignore for most people. But with it barely even being the hour creeping on midnight Leon found it easy to keep his eyes open. A myriad of stolen items were the newest objects in the abandoned room. A mat spread out on a recently mopped area of the floor, a battery powered space heater closeby. A pile of common medical supplies, disinfectant, bandaging, antibiotic spray, painkillers, anti inflammatories, anything that Leon could find that might be useful. A proper tourniquet had replaced his headband on Raph’s leg, the blue fabric back across his own eyes, surprisingly not bloodied. April’s jacket hadn’t been as lucky, but it was currently scrubbed with hydrogen peroxide and propped up on the other side of the heater from where they were huddled together. Thick blankets over their forms, Raph’s head once more in April’s lap while they both dozed on each other, exhausted. It had been an ordeal to change out the makeshift covers on Raph’s leg for clean gauze and bandaging, but it still wasn’t completely fixed. Leon needed more than painkillers and antibiotics to fix that injury. A scalpel for one thing. And a very detailed series of videos for another. Plus a sterile site. Which, while they were currently in a hospital the amount of dust and dirt was enough to make them all sneeze repeatedly over the hours they had been there. It had been enough to motivate Leon into making another trip to mostly empty stores to grab cleaning supplies as well shortly after they had arrived.

One day.

They had discussed their options, and come to the agreement that they wouldn’t try anything risky with Raph for one day. Leon had mixed feelings about it. He knew it was a horrible idea to leave a wound like that unattended for that long. His brain was screaming at him that it was a bad decision. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of trying to surgically straighten the bone without Donnie there to help him. Sure, Donnie hated blood and squishy things. But when it mattered he was the best assistant Leon had ever had. And the only assistant really. Without Donnie and Mikey there with them Leon was feeling horribly alone. It was enough to motivate him to keep his swords materialized and held against his chest while he leaned against April, the blades consciously dulled to prevent injury. He wasn’t planning on sleeping, but the slow rise and fall of their forms brought him comfort. One side of his brain justified his defiance by telling him someone needed to keep watch. Or that he shouldn’t sleep because he had a head injury. But really it had been long enough that it wasn’t serious. Sleep should be fine.

He was just scared.

He hadn’t mentioned it to April, but just two hours earlier he’d felt something different from Donnie. Before it had been a quiet pool of eerie silence, like what Leon usually felt when Donnie was in a dreamless sleep, but stretched into a faint uncertainty like he was behind an ocean of water. But while he had been away from the others he’d had to take a moment to recollect himself as other things had bled through. Fear, anger, distress, protectiveness, rage, then a jumbled pool of scrambled thoughts and feelings that Leon knew usually led Donnie to screaming in a desperate attempt to get rid of some of it. Even just a little. Leon had had to force himself to keep moving to help Raph and April at the time, but it had been hard to hide the fact he knew Donnie was in trouble. At least, he had been. There was something odd almost an hour and a half ago. A hesitant release, followed by a stretch of tense stillness. Then one moment of semi uncertain comfort before the dreamless sleep returned. Leon was clinging to the hope that that last sensation meant that Donnie, and Lil Mikey were okay now. But doubts plagued his mind and kept him easily, stubbornly awake.

And for once he was grateful they did.

The dim light on his arm displayed a screen that had only part of it changing regularly. Three sections of vitals making it easy for Leon to keep track of his own physical state as well as that of Raph’s and April’s physical well being. The rest had no feed. At first Leon had thought there was none to give, but now he was clinging to the hope that it was a technical malfunction. And it seemed they had been right about that. It took him a moment to notice the change, the device screen only within his peripheral sight. But after a confused blink he looked down at it, only to gasp and sit up.

Donnie and Lil Mikey’s vitals had flickered back to being displayed.

“April!” Leon hissed, turning to start patting his big sister’s shoulder rapidly. “April, wake up. They’re okay! April they’re okay!”

April returned to the land of consciousness with a startled snort, but was quick to chase the sleep haze from her mind. “What? Who’s okay? What?” she asked rapidly, finding her glasses to put back on so she could see what Leon was looking at after he squished into her, a hand grabbing his own arm and showing it to her. She immediately noticed the difference. “Heartbeats… They’re okay,” she breathed, relief flooding into her form. It was one thing to hope, but another thing to have that hope confirmed into truth.

“It was out of range. That had to be it. They were just out of range,” Leon rambled, starting to tap at the device to switch to a different screen. The map Donnie had installed didn’t completely match what was actually there, but it still managed to pull up everyone’s general locations. Just like how they’d wanted. “Donnie used the satellite to increase the range of this thing back home. But if our phones aren’t working then the satellite that he piggybacks off of doesn’t exist. Of course! I’m so stupid to have not realized that.”

“Leo, it’s okay. We haven’t had to rely on that for tracking for months now,” April assured, but it was hard to get Leon’s full attention. Donnie and Lil Mikey’s signal was coming towards them from the southeast, and completely out of state.

“Wow, that’s fast. They must be in a vehicle of some sort,” Leon detoured, reaching out with his other hand to grab his swords. “I’m going to go get them.”

“What? Leo, not on your own,” April tensed, leaning forward and curling her hands around Raph a little more. Her poor brother was so tired that he was still asleep, but he was starting to stir.

“It’ll be fine, April. I’m just going to wait for them to stop, pop in, grab them, and pop out,” Leon assured, getting to his feet and backing up.

“Leo…,” April protested, not able to put her wants into words. There was just so much that could go wrong, and then she had no way to find any of them. “What if you can’t come back?”

That was enough to get him to pause, and he thought for a moment before coming back to her. “Give me your phone,” he directed, tapping the screen on Donnie’s arm computer again. With a few taps he triggered a prompt for an additional device, then grabbed April’s phone and hand to pull it gently against the computer. After a moment an icon flashed steady, and a mirror of the screen appeared on April’s phone.

“Give me until noon tomorrow, then come get me,” Leon directed, changing the screen back to the tracking map and swinging in to give April a quick, but tight hug. “I promise I’ll see you before then. Make sure you and Raph stay hydrated.” He didn’t give her much of a chance to protest after that. A familiar blue portal appeared behind him for him to drop backwards into, a smile and a wink being the last April saw of his face.

Pursing her lips, April looked down to Raph and started soothingly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry Raphie. I just got startled by the rain. Go back to sleep,” she lied. She didn’t want to cause him more stress, and he was inevitably too worn out to resist.

___________________

Previous Next

___________________

How about a little check in with the other group.

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #cross dimension kidnapping #rise + 2003 crossover #rise leo #rise april #rise raph #long post #writing

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rvbysrorld · 1 year

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Sleeptalk

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Warnings:starts with fluff but quickly turns very angsty. Elektra. Talk of s3 matt, but this is set after s3.

Matt sleep talks.

He doesn’t think he does.

But he does.

At first it was cute. Incoherent words jumbled with soft snores and adorable mumbles. The first time it happened it was 11:37pm on a Tuesday night, just after Matt got home from work and finally had time to relax. You two were watching a movie, not one of Matt’s preferred ways to pass time, but he’d rather spend time with you while listening to a movie, than to be without you fighting bad guys in the middle of the night.

You two were sitting beside each other with a few Blankets draped over your legs and torsos. Matt’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders lightly, just so he could feel that you were still there. You got just over half way into the movie when you noticed Matt dozing off. His head continuously drooping back onto the back of the couch until he would shake himself awake and his head would shoot up and his eyes would fly open. You watched him with adoration in your eyes for a few seconds until you decided that it would be best if he gets some rest.

You tried to manoeuvre his body so he was resting against your chest. But when you tried to move him his eyes opened and he took a sharp breath in as he woke.

“Shhhh Matty it’s alright, I’m just gonna lay you down so you can get some sleep.” You whispered.

It took him a minute to get his surroundings in check but when he did he laid flat on your chest with his face smushed in between your breasts.

“Mm’ wasnt sleeping..” he mumbled.

“Don’t lie to me matty, I know you’re tired”

You ran your fingers threw his soft brown hair until he started to snore. Then, after you heard him start to mumble into the fabric of your shirt.

“What was that honey?” You whisper

He continued to mumble and whisper incoherent phrases and you thought he was waking up until-

“Mm…I love you.” And then it stopped.

Wait, is he asleep..?

Your heart skipped a beat and stuttered until you calmed yourself down automatically, not wanting to risk waking him up. You run your hands through Matt’s brown hair, watching it turn a light shade of red and orange when the light hit it. You then kissed him on the forehead and whispered “I love you too matt”. In the morning Matt totally ignored and disregarded everything you said when you tried to tell him what happened the night before.

“No y/n. I don’t sleeptalk.”

“I heard it”

“No you didn’t babe.”

The one other time Matt sleep talked was a little different. It was 12am on a Monday. You had gotten home after Matt, a rare occurrence in the Murdock house hold. Foggy always tries to get matt to go home early on days where he knows matt stayed up all night daredevil-ing. He sees the bags under his eyes and the way he has to feel a line in a report over and over again because he keeps losing focus. Some nights he even falls asleep at his desk. But he never leaves unless he it utterly exhausted. Like tonight.

He had been dozing off at his desk and hadn’t even heard foggy open the door and walk into the room until he tapped Matt on the shoulder. Matt jumped awake and held his hands out in a fighting position, ready for any potential enemies or threats. But when he smelled the almost suffocating scent of foggys aftershave that Matt was forced to get used to, he relaxed.

“Hey buddy..” foggy says awkwardly, his eyes wide from the confusing interaction. “You gotta go home.”

“I’m fine foggy-“

“I wasn’t asking.”

So he went home. And immediately after entering the door he just managed to walk down the hallway before collapsing on the red futon and passing out completely.

And when you got home, that’s exactly what you saw. His back against the couch, his legs and arms splayed every which way, and his head tilted back with his mouth hanging open. How angelic you thought. You approached him and looked for any open wounds or bruises, something that would cause him to pass out like this, but after some time you nailed it down to one answer. Exhaustion.

You tried to move him so his head was up and his arm and legs were under his favourite thick blanket. You were walking towards the kitchen when you heard the familiar sound of Matt mumbling in his sleep. You continued walking to the kitchen and started making him some dinner for when he wakes up. Also silently listening to him and chuckling whenever you managed to catch a few familiar words he said in his sleep. You were dicing up carrots when you heard it.

“Elektra…Baby.”

You stopped what you were doing immediately. Elektra died…three years ago. You helped Matt make it out of the pit of depression he was in when it happened and after it all ended, he told you he loved you. As much as you tried to get him to open up to you about it, he wouldn’t budge telling you he was fine and he is just happy you are with him. But now it seems clear it was all a lie. Matt still loved her. He never called you baby, always sweetheart or honey, never baby. She was baby. A groan and the creak of the sofa brought you out of your thoughts.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Your hearts beating faster than normal.”

You look up at him and although he can’t see them, you find yourself trying to hide the tears in your eyes.

“Nothing Matt.”

He looks sceptical for a moment but then he replies

“Alright…I’m gonna take a shower ok? Call if you need anything” he starts to walk off but pauses and turns around to face me “are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah honey…of course” you confirm.

He nods and walks off. And you find yourself praying to god that he never sleeptalks again.

#matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock #daredevil

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layla4567 · 6 months

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Hello! may request a Hunter D-90 x reader fluff/angst fanfiction?

Hi, sure 😊 sorry for answering a bit late

HOT COCOA

Hunter D-90 x GN!reader

Summary: Your job at the TVA is to be in the offices, filing boring papers, yet whenever there is a mission they assign you along with D-90. You've never been able to get so many words out of him, but a hot chocolate machine will change things.

Warnings: none, fluff

WC: 877

A/N: This may be a bit short since he is a fairly secondary character in my opinion and he doesn't have many dialogues so it is difficult to work with it, I'm sorry 😓 (If you want to request another character from Loki series, please do 😊)

******

You were sitting in your small space near the shelves where the files were kept, your table was a mess of jumbled papers but you tried to maintain order as best as possible. To make the work more enjoyable you hummed a song while rhythmically moving your foot trying not to see the time on the wall clock every two seconds. Suddenly you heard footsteps nearby but you didn't even look up to see who it was until he was in front of you looking at you.

“How are you doing with that y/n?"

When you heard his voice you already knew who it was, you raised your head to see Mobius smiling kindly at you, he with his heart of gold always cared about the other workers and that they were not too stressed.

"I do what I can"- you sighed, trying to make a joke.

"Well, look, try not to overexert yourself, okay? You're doing well anyway, you've already completed half the work."

You accidentally looked at your table and he was right, without realizing it you had already come a long way.

"Hey, why don't you take a break or eat something? Come on, you deserve it."-He said, tapping his knuckles on the table.

"Thank you Mobius, I will take your advice"-you laughed softly

Mobius gave you a big smile as he walked away with his hands on his hips. You rubbed your eyes, yawning slightly as you stood up from the seat and stretched your muscles, sitting for so long was exhausting and painful. With a tired step you headed towards the halls of the TVA and saw D-90 standing guard as always with a face so serious that he looked like a bulldog. You stopped to greet him.

"Hello D-90, good to see you"-You waved a hand with a smile like little kids would.

He just nodded at you without even smiling. You wondered why he was always like that, he always seemed angry although that didn't mean he didn't like you. You suddenly remembered all the times you joined him on a mission, he also behaved like that.

"Ok and how's everything going huh?"-You said something uncomfortable because of his cold attitude.

He, without saying anything again, just shrugged his shoulders, making a face. Great, you thought, at that rate you won't be able to snatch a hello from him. Suddenly you turned your head and saw the machine at the end of the hallway that served drinks, you soon remembered that in a few minutes you should go back to work, maybe a coffee would be good for you to stay awake. Suddenly you remembered that you could also choose hot cocoa in the machine and an idea came to your mind.

"Hey, do you want something to drink? I'm on my rest, come on, I'll buy you something."

He frowned and opened his mouth to murmur something when you tiredly rolled your eyes and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the machine.

"Come on! Drinking something won't hurt you!"

D-90 reluctantly followed you without getting rid of his frown, he followed you with heavy steps and you had to make an effort to move him. He looked like a child refusing to go anywhere. Finally the vintage machine was in front of you, there were several options: Tea, coffee, hot cocoa and soup. You chose a strong coffee for you and a hot cocoa for him. With the glasses in both your hands, you turned to hand him his when he raised a hand and shook his head, pursing his lips.

"Please just take it, think of it as a gift from me to you."-you said with the best of your smiles

"It's just…"-he started talking and you were surprised because he finally said something.

"I've never tried hot cocoa"

He said it almost embarrassed and you opened your mouth and eyes in great surprise and the coffee almost fell out of your hands. Have you never tried hot cocoa? What did this man feed on then?! You shook your head trying to downplay it and without adding anything you handed him his glass, he looked at it and smelled it and then looked at you with a raised eyebrow, you just closed your eyes and nodded.

He slowly approached his lips to the glass overflowing with the sweet liquid and when he finished tasting it he looked at you, opening his eyes wide, it seemed that his serious and grumpy facade had completely fallen, he had liked the cocoa! You clapped happily, resting your glass on the machine for a moment and for the first time he smiled with a smile as genuine and tender as a child in a toy store, you had never seen him like that.

Smiling you took your glass and walked down the hallway heading to another place to tour the TVA while you rested when his voice made you turn around.

"Thanks for the drink."

He continued smiling happily and you smiled back tenderly.

"My pleasure"

You left there, leaving a D-90 very different from when you had seen him when you got there, one who drank his cocoa as if there were no worries in the world or the sacred timeline.

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x-amount-verbs · 1 year

Text

A Helping Hand - Part 29

[start here] || Part 28 || Part 29 || Part 30

[silco x f!reader] [2.9k words] [no y/n] [during timeskip] [touch-starved reader] [henchwoman!reader] [rated M] [gun-related PTSD]

AO3 Link

Things are mixed up in your head. A jumble of reality and memory, mashing together that night and minutes ago. You don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way until you’re halfway there, limbs feeling stiff and squeaky as you walk.

The Damascus street gym is locked. You stand outside, blank, for some amount of time. You have to be here in the morning anyway. Convenient if you could just blink and have it be morning.

It’s unclear how long you’re there, staring at a locked door. Eventually, exhausted, you press a hand to the metal, rest your forehead against it as you close your eyes. Your body has started to calm down, but your brain is still messy. Voice stolen, mouth sealed shut. A buzz in your head that keeps you from fully thinking anything out, so loud to drown out noise around you.

A questioning voice calls your name, and you turn your head, opening bloodshot eyes to someone half-familiar. You know a name and a face, but only in passing.

“You looking for—” They falter. “…You okay?”

“Hn.” Your single nod shouldn’t be particularly encouraging, not when you can’t even get yourself to speak, but you don’t know each other so they take it at face value.

“Need to be let in?”

“Mmhm.” Lips pressed thin into a polite smile more like a grimace, you give another, “hn,” to substitute for thanks as you peel away from their path after entering, and head straight for the locker rooms.

Should take a cold shower. Something to shock you out of your head.

Leather slapping against your skin, forcing you into the present. An inability to focus on anything else.

That would work, too.

The shot was ranged, not close enough to splatter, so your clothes are free of blood. But you still wear them into the shower as if they aren’t, too tired to change, and sensing the blood there regardless of its existence. Palms on the tile, the cold water drags your mind to the surface, like an anchor pulled to the bow, crystalizing behind, a solid block of ice to stop you sinking deep again.

By the time you realize what a completely fucking stupid idea you’ve had, it’s too late.

“…Shit.” You drag your hand against your face, clearing water from your eyelashes as you push aside the curtain and step out.

Fucking idiot.

You fumble to undo your holster, your belt, letting it all drop onto the floor. So much for saving that food for later, it’s undoubtedly ruined by whatever water made it into your belt pouch. Your gun shouldn’t be submerged either, so who knows what damage that’s caused. You attempt to tug off your boots, unable to balance until you lean against the wall and scrabble at the laces, tipping a good quarter cup of water out of them once you have them off. Dumbly running a hand through your hair, you grimace as the prosthetic fingers tangle in the braids from earlier.

“Stupid…” You grumble, wrestling off half-soaked clothes one item at a time.

They cling. The more you notice it the more claustrophobic you feel. The more claustrophobic you feel, the more desperately you try to pull, the more they seem to cling.

By the time you’ve stripped down to your underwear, panic is choking you. You lurch back into the shower stall, gasping under the cold water, finally feeling able to breathe as you unhook the front of your bra and peel it away.

Just cold water. And breath.

Just breath.

Breathe.

…

Fuck shit fucking dammit. What the fuck is going on. Why did you do that? Why did you do this?

Goosebumps bloom under the freezing cold water, but you feel more awake than ever. Fingers carefully undo the wet ties on the braids you’d made to match Jinx’s, grimacing as hair tugs and pinches.

This is bad. You’ve never felt so… detached before today. Divorced from your own body, your own mind, somehow gone and trapped at once. It doesn’t make sense, when you’d succeeded that night— the night of the shooting, you’d saved a life, spared another (for the time being), and been completely in control the whole time. Adrenaline had kept you sane and steady, had let you stay calm despite not knowing the fate of your hand.

But one fake gun pointed in your face and it all crumbles?

You comb through wet hair, jaw tight to stop your teeth from chattering. Eventually you let yourself turn up the heat to something warmer than straight ice.

It’s terrifying, if you think about it head-on, if you confront the reality of what just happened. Shooting someone without fully making the decision to do so. So you try not to remember, try not to look at the situation directly. Think around it. Let it stand as a blank space, a fogged haze, as you deal with the rest, to confront later.

Where are you now? What’s your current predicament?

Well, it’s some time after… who knows. After 11? Maybe midnight, or 1. You have no idea how much time has passed. Could be minutes, could be hours. For all you know, the sun is coming up in Piltover right about now.

You’re supposed to be at this gym at 10am. At least, that’s the schedule you’ve been keeping to. You managed to warn Wren one day that you might be late the next, and she’d been shockingly understanding. Hopefully she’ll be understanding of you showing up hours early and - you realize the inevitably of it - sleeping in the locker room.

Well, it won’t be the first time you’ve napped here, at least.

Don’t think about what happened, think about how to fix it.

Right. Yes. Good.

You have to get used to guns again. Whatever it takes. You’ll lurk at the shooting range all day if you have to. Hear gunshot after gunshot.

Stop— stop it, stupid stupid pulse, calm down, this is theoretical. Stop the racing, stop the tightness in the chest, just— stop.

You turn the faucet back to colder water, angrily; if your body won’t cooperate, you’ll just shock it again until it does.

This is sane and normal behavior and I am totally fine.

Gods, you don’t believe a solid third of your self-talk these days.

The cold water does its job, leaving you shivering and blue-lipped, but all signs of panic retreated in favor of responding to the physical shock of it. Turning the heat up again, you shed the last of your forgotten underwear and try to actually bathe, wash your hair, do all of those good reassuring things that make you feel normal and human.

You’ll sleep here. You’ll talk to Wren when she gets in.

You’ll get past this.

You have to get past this.

—

“Hey— not to alarm you or anything, but what the fuck.”

Opening bleary eyes, you find Wren looking down at you, brows furrowed in a transparent concern you rarely see on anyone in the Undercity.

“Hn. Morning,” you mumble, good hand rubbing at your eyes as you struggle to sit up.

“Gods—” Wren averts her eyes, holding out a hand, “keep the towel on, please.”

You glance down blearily. “Oh. Yeah.” Didn’t have dry clothes. At least you had the foresight to drape the wet ones over another locker room bench. You half ignore Wren’s request, letting the towel fall to your waist as you look around for your stuff. It doesn’t look that much drier than when you fell asleep. “What time is it?”

“6:30.” Again, she pleads, this time by name.

“Fine, fine,” you gesture loosely with the prosthetic hand and use the towel you’d had as a pillow to wrap around your shoulders. “I don’t see what the big deal is, you have boobs too.”

“It’s— different.”

“Not really. So yours came later, it’s all the same general stuff.” Gods, you’re sore. You grimace.

“Not cause— not cause you’re naked, cause it’s 6:30 in the morning and I’m supposed to be opening the gym and instead I come in to find a wanted woman, nude, sleeping in my locker room, potentially drunk-”

“Wanted?” That wakes you up. “Janna, I’m wanted? By who? The kid was trying to steal from me, it was— I mean, at least it was somewhat justified; I didn’t kill him.”

“Kid?” Wren’s gaze sharpens as well, embarrassment ebbing in favor of shrewd evaluation. “What kid?”

“You answer mine first.”

“Silco. Or Sevika. Maybe some other chem baron and they’re getting to you first, don’t know, just know eyes are out looking for you. Didn’t tell me why, just heard you weren’t at your place when they went looking. You drunk?”

They went looking? It shouldn’t make your stomach flip that way. You should feel scared or ashamed, not fluttery. “No. Sleep-deprived, but not drunk.”

“Then why the hell you sleeping in my locker room?”

You stare for a second, the reality of the situation coming back to you. You can feel the pained furrow between your brows as you look away. “I dunno. I freaked out. Or— I blacked out, I don’t know. A kid tried to mug me and I shot him. And then I was here. I’m not—” You feel your heart rate picking up again, and grit your teeth, forcing your breath steady. “I don’t think anything else happened in between. Just came here and— and took a shower. I mean, I have to be here in three hours, anyway.”

“…In your clothes?” Wren’s wry words are almost a relief, and when you look at her she has a brow raised at your clothes draped over the other bench.

“Didn’t want to pay the laundry service,” you say, tone dry.

“…They do like to overcharge.”

Something loosens in your chest. She doesn’t hate you, isn’t mad at you, doesn’t think you’re insane— probably, at least. And maybe you’re not. No: you definitely aren’t insane. It’s just… just bad memories, that’s all. Fucking with your head. You’ll get over it.

“So I guess I’m in early.”

“And you need a change of clothes.”

“That too, yeah.” You hesitate. Finally, some degree of shame creeps in. “…Can you help?”

The look she turns on you is uncharacteristically soft in the eyes, despite the firm line of her mouth. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You never would’ve. Before your injury you never needed to, content to handle everything alone. You are too damn lucky to have allies like Wren. Friends, even.

By the time you’re dressed in some spare clothes from the community storerooms, you’ve realized just how exhausted you are. When did you fall asleep, 1? 2? And awake again just a few hours later? All of that after whatever happened last night - this morning? - that had you a shivering wreck.

Yeah, you’re fuckin’ tired.

Wren gives in to your not-so-subtle pleading to skip out on opening the gym and doing the end-of-night (or earliest morning) drills that some graveyard shift regulars like to do. You will never understand people who go to the gym after work instead of heading home, when it’s any time past 2am.

Instead, she opens up the makeshift infirmary that’s usually locked unless there’s an emergency, and directs you to the cot.

“When you’re awake, we should talk plans for the day.”

Oh good, you were worried she’d ask what happened last night, ask for more details. You cannot handle that right now. Possibly not ever. Ideally this whole incident will be completely forgotten and you’ll never have to think of it again.

They went looking for you.

The sudden rush of heat as your face flushes with mortification makes your head spin, and you roll over to face away from the infirmary door. Gods, they went looking for you. You made enough of a fool of yourself that they had to seek you out to mitigate the damage. And then Wren just assumed you were drunk… You really did humiliate yourself that night at the Drop, didn’t you? If people are so quick to assume you’re a drunken nuisance.

You groan, closing your eyes. At least you can hide from your responsibilities just a little bit longer.

—

Inaccurate: your responsibilities have found you.

A few hours later, when your body is satisfied that it’s gotten enough sleep, you surface from unconsciousness to find Sevika dozing in a chair. Specifically, in a chair placed unavoidably between you and the door to the infirmary.

For a hot second, you consider pretending to be asleep again, waiting for her to wake up, get bored of waiting, and leave— but 100% you know she’ll wake you once she runs out of patience. Kinda shocked she let you sleep as long as she has. What time is it, anyway?

Habit has you reaching for the spot on your waist where you’d usually keep your timepiece, before remembering it’s still with your wet clothes after your mindless trudge into the shower after midnight. Grimacing, you wonder how ruined your kit is.

“Awake?” You must’ve missed Sevika’s stirring. Or maybe she really was half awake the whole time.

“No,” you mumble, half sheepish half spiteful.

Sevika’s scoff at least sounds somewhat amused. Can’t tell if it’s with you or at you, though.

“Fuck, girl, what the hell happened last night?”

She doesn’t know? “I shot a guy.”

“Yeah, we picked up on that part. But why weren’t you at your place?”

Your brain gradually dissects her loose tone. Not angry, not even strict; she really is amused.

“I shot a guy,” you repeat, pointedly.

Sevika’s brows quirk, bemused. The way she says your name has dry humor to rival Silco’s. “That’s literally your job, kid. You shoot people a lot— or used to, when necessary.”

Ok— well, she’s right, but- “This guy didn’t need to get shot.”

“You didn’t kill him,” she points out, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m sure it was justified-”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you blurt. A flush burns on your cheeks, your ears, your neck.

Grey eyes narrow. Lips thin. But she doesn’t say anything.

The burn feels hotter, more ashamed. “He pointed a gun at me— it wasn’t even a real gun, Sevika, gods— he pointed a gun, and it was that night all over again.”

Her silence is far from reassuring.

You babble to fill the empty air. “It was a fucking paintball gun. I shot him because he had a paintball gun,” you can’t help the hint of disgust in your tone. “And then I— I don’t know. I just blacked out, and then I was here.”

All amusement has disappeared from her face, the bluish scars on her cheek seeming etched deeper. “…You know I have to tell him that, right?”

You blink. “If I’m honest, I kinda already thought he knew.” You’re not sure why. It just… feels like he’d know, instinctually. Which is stupid. You haven’t seen him in nearly a week, there’s no reason he should know anything about your life, let alone what was going on in your head when you shot a teenaged mugger.

There’s no question of who he is. Sevika is Silco’s right hand, and— Well, your right hand is his.

“You really had people out looking for me?”

Sevika grimaces. “Not quite. There’s a kid paid to keep an eye on your place - to make sure no one’s going after the investment, all that - and he usually gives the ok when you’re back at your place for the night.”

The blank expression you give her hides a flurry of emotions. Surprise, yes, but more importantly some mix of indignant and flattered. Some little spark of hope that you quickly stifle. Some hint of care. Should you be angry that Silco has you watched? Or have this fluttery feeling that he’s trying to protect you? You’re the investment, he’d made that clear— to you, at least, if not his people.

“When that didn’t come, someone traced back to the lab, heard about a shooting, your description, but all witnesses seemed to think it was justified. …Kinda the risk of mugging someone,” she muses with cynical humor.

Brows lift, tilting your head. She’s not wrong.

“He asked me to check your place, so I did. Since you weren’t there, we put out some feelers.”

Is it weird that her use of ‘we’ is as heartwarming as it is embarrassing? It’s nice to know people look for you when you’re missing, even if it’s mildly mortifying that while they were looking for you you were half-catatonic, fully clothed, in a cold shower. You cringe.

Sevika’s tone goes wry again. “We called it a night and then 7-fucking-AM I get woken up and told Wren called it in, and you’re both alive and crashing at the gym.” Her tone makes it clear that she sees absolutely no logic in choosing this place.

“I have 10am practice,” you mutter, cheeks stained.

A beat of silence, and Sevika snorts. “No you don’t.”

Your brow furrows. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Her lips are curving to a knowing smirk as she shakes her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

Another scoffed laugh. “Kid, it’s 2pm. And if you think you aren’t being called straight to the boss’s office, your brain must still be M.I.A.”

Well, if it wasn’t, it is now.

—

[next part]

[Welp. It’s been a bit. In all honesty, my writing ability has kinda up and disappeared, but I had 2.8 chapters in the backlog, so as a holiday/new year gift, have 29 and 30 (and hopefully 31, though I need to figure out how the heck to end it). I’m notoriously bad at finishing things, but hopefully these three chapters will offer resolution on… 👀 a few things.

Funny how last time I said I’d post on the 15-16th, and… well, I guess I’m 3 months late, but it IS the 16th, and I AM going out of town today, so I was technically telling the truth! 😅 I know I haven’t been replying to comments (typical shame and guilt for not updating), but I’ll be getting to those now that I have a plan for posting, and have accepted the hard truth that brain no like write right now. Regardless, I still love reading peoples thoughts and reactions, so please drop a comment or tag!

Insert your usual plugs-per-chapter; give it a reblog if you liked it, check it out on AO3 (I always recommend subscribing, so if/when I update, you don’t have to be checking every single day and be disappointed ><), and you can find the reverse POV pieces on AO3 and tumblr. Get added to the tag list by commenting on this linked post, so you’ll know when the last of the end-of-year gifts drop! ^^

I can’t thank y’all enough for sticking around and loving this fic, even if I’m flaky as hell when it comes to finishing things when my brain won’t cooperate 🤦‍♀️ I adore each and every one of you, and appreciate you to the ends of the earth. Also… I may have commissioned a few pieces of Ivy (reader OC) that I’ll try to post before the end of the year as well. There are some amazing artists on tumblr, and I love just searching the ‘commissions open’ tag and finding cool styles to comm. Some discord friends have already seen me freak out over comms, so they know what’s coming 😁 Thanks for all the support, and hope you’re staying cozy this winter! (/cool this summer, for the Southern Hemisphere folks) ❤️ -verbs]

Tag list: @hawk4president @mello-jello29 @jennrosefx @dad-dumpster @ellhd-imagination @zuckerwattencupcake @meep-moop-mystic @sherwood-forests @ariaud @witxhy-lexx @mazikomo @leave-me-alone-doctor @antoine-tte @wisteria-songs @imalovernotahater @eriseffigy @leorioaki @artificialwords @hehicular-hanslaughter-lecter @ironandglass @ughhhh177 @faraige @ilikemymendarkandfictional @jennithejester @insult-2-injury @iz-zy5 @rinadragomir @queenofspades6 @cuddlejeongin @differentladynerd @leo-the-undead @silcoitus @stepsonsilco @commotionpotion @averagecrastinator @eurydicethesage @mialobo @wierdestmoppet @bumble-bee-17 @sonicbananawithbowtie @venommie @sheisacryptid @cuckconnosieur @yew-over-there

#silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco/reader #silco #silco arcane #silcoxreader #wip:a helping hand #a helping hand #x-amount-writes #arcane x reader

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edutainer2022 · 1 year

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It's Mother's Day, so here's a little Thunderbirds AU thing. It's a rogue idea I've been entertaining any time I think about Jeff's tragic abrupt widowship and later the need to cut off all ties and ship his orphaned sons to a super secret isolated location. (In my headcanon Alan was about two, when they lost Mom). Kayo's POV.

mother, should I build the wall?

The boy was about Alan’s age. A couple of years younger, maybe. And he looked unnervingly like Scott at fourteen - in those last photos with their Mom - bar the sheen of auburn in the dark wavy hair. That was one of the reasons Alan and Kayo lingered in the hospital waiting area, having delivered all survivors of the earthquake-turned-rockslide they could dig up in between themselves and two pods. It was an all hands on deck rescue in South America. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were wrapping up in the village several miles away. Even John came down, alternating comms coordination, liasing with authorities, and helping out at a triage point Virgil set up with the local services. The boy was trapped by the wall of the local school and badly battered. Alan squeezed through an opening in the jumbled bricks and stayed near, talking him up to stay awake through a massive concussion, and staving off bloodloss as best he could, till Kayo figured out a way to clear the debris and not kill them both. The rest of the kids in his homeroom didn't make it. That was another reason they hovered at the hospital eventually. Alan was visibly shaken and exhausted, so Kayo preferred they stayed somewhere in the vicinity of medical assistance too, other than having to explain to Scott and Virgil a baby brother succumbed to shock. They had to wait for the conclusive reports on injuries and casualties anyway, the GDF would be on Scott's case the moment IR cleared the area. A disaster of that magnitude was a paperwork nightmare in the making, among other things.

Kayo was keeping an eye on Alan’s half-hearted attempts at grounding exercises, when a woman stormed the reception lounge. Middle-aged, likely not local, judging by a smattering of freckles over fair skin, curly graying hair in a disheveled bun, eyes frantic and voice desperate - she was looking for her son among the victims extracted from the collapsed school. Kayo vaguely remembered Alan's chatting with the boy they saved - his Mom was American, a music teacher at that same school, off at a piano contest in the neighboring town for the day. Kayo shifted her stance instinclively to shield Alan, largely still out of it and shivering, from the sight - as the woman was pointed to a gurney among the chaos of the ER and all but threw herself over the frail form of the injured teenager. Kayo knew she and Alan shared that wound - the ever present phantom pain of not knowing a mother. They were surrounded by a sea of love, of course, it was easy to drown out the longing for something they only ever knew by proxy and hearsay on a good day. But today was not a good day. Kayo was ready to turn away, the moment between a mother, out of her mind with fear and relief, and her child almost too intimate to intrude on, yet too mesmerizing to relinquish, when the woman moved up to take a better look at the boy and shifted to brush stray hairs from his forehead. Tears, flooding her eyes, caught in the corner of the smile, streaming down. Kayo was grateful for all the rigorous training her father put her through and she picked up along the way on her own or working with Penny - never loose your cool, never give anything away, never break composure. She did feel her head swim a little bit, chalking it up to ten hours of gruesome rescue. Maybe she was imagining things. But she was schooled to recognize a face by the slightest of features, even in disguise. The safety of those she loved depended on her skill. Besides, she would know those eyes anywhere - electric blue to rival the sky on a cloudless noon in July, and dimples flanking a soft smile.

Kayo braved a glance over at Alan, considering her options. Her next string of actions was decided by Scott's hologram popping up on Alan’s wrist, face worn out and haunted, not too subtly glancing Alan over for injuries and demanding status report. Kayo took that as a cue to propell Alan out of the noise and bustle of the overflowing ER and into the subtle comfort (and much needed distraction!) of the big brother being there for him, and made her way to the reception, asking for the patient manifest. The IR uniform and logo was key to a well of information to be obtained discretely. If she still had any doubts, the answer Kayo didn't know how to begin to process or comprehend, was staring her in the face among a list of casualties admitted to the ER from the danger zone - the woman that just ran in, the local music teacher, as a friendly receptionist helpfully supplied, was looking for her son. Donald Kent Slayton*...

TBTBTB

To snatch a piece of discarded blooded gauze on her way out, past the mother and son, engrossed in their own little world, was the easy part. To run a strictly classified DNA test in a GDF facility where a lab technician owed her a favor or ten - was slightly trickier, but doable. As the results turned out the way she knew deep down they would, Kayo pulled on all of her composure and deposits of reason to reserve judgment till she knew all the facts. Till she knew all the facts and rationale firsthand, and looked that person in the eyes. That was the least Kayo owed her sons. After everything they had been through.

The hardest part was completely hinged on Eos and her ability and willingness to not only keep a secret, but to lie - even to John. There was no certainty how the brothers would all handle the truth. Or even if they should.

With that in mind Kayo waited for Eos to dig up top secret files of GDF witness protection program.

--------

*Donald Kent "Deke" Slayton - one of Mercury Seven.

#thunderbirds are go #kayo kyrano #alan tracy #lucy tracy #kinda #thunderbirds au #thunderbirds 2015 #methinks i have astronomy #my fic #cw: earthquake #cw: mentions of children dying in an earthquake #nothing graphic #alan tracy needs a hug #all tracy brothers need a hug #kayo needs a drink

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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I just know she fell asleep and he had to carry her back😔

Despite Y/N’s best efforts, her exhaustion overcomes her, and Harry accidentally falls asleep right along with the human, his better judgment caving under her comforting body heat and mellow breaths. Having her that close after so long soothes him more than he expected, and even though he fights it off as best as he can, both of them eventually knock out within the first fifteen minutes of cuddling.

They wake up tangled in each other’s limbs, Y/N wrapped in his arms with her legs intertwined between his calves and her lips pressed to the dip of his throat, his own flushed against her warm forehead out of needy instinct. He rises with a deep inhale, the cool morning air expanding his lungs as he comes to, the sun filtering in through the shades and casting a silvery glow across the entire bedroom. The second his lashes flutter open, his face immediately pales at the scene before him, his stomach dropping to his ass as he nearly screams bloody murder.

Y/N’s mom is hovering over the bed, her arms a crossed loosely over her chest with a lightly scolding expression across her features. He doesn’t know when she’d come in, or how long she’s been watching them sleep, but according to the accusing tone surrounding her, it’s likely been a few minutes. She taps her index finger against her lips in a silent warning, repeating the gesture along the shell of her ear to make sure the vampire interprets the message. Harry gawks up at her with wide, guilty eyes, mortification flooding across his face as realization settles into his groggy mind. He’s grateful that the duvet is covering below his hips, or else his girlfriend’s mother would be getting quite the eyeful.

He resists the urge to cover his bare chest like some sort of chastised harlot, pulling a slumbering Y/N deeper into his embrace out of protective impulse. He opens his mouth to defend himself meekly, accent throaty and low with drowsiness. “I can explain.”

“You don’t have to.” The older lady’s voice sounds surprisingly calm given the condemning situation, and for second, Harry thinks he might be dreaming. But then Y/N shifts in his grasp and sighs wistfully within her hazy state, and the hot air that cascades down his cold skin reminds him that he is very much awake.

Harry clears his throat gently, swallowing thickly in an attempt to gather his bearings. He tries to keep a collected front for the sake of his pride, but his words come out jumbled and clumsy. “We didn’t— I would never— it would be so disrespectful on my part to even think of doing that—”

Y/N’s mom holds up a hand, dismissing his excuses with a simple flick of her wrist. She shrugs casually, whispering her reply with shocking indifference. “You don’t have to make excuses, Harry. I don’t mind you sleeping together, as long as you do it without disturbing anyone else. You’re both adults; you’re entitled to do as you please.”

Harry feels like his jaw is going to fall off from how hard he’s gaping. She’s reacting unexpectedly well for a mother who just found her daughter half naked in bed with a man she’s barely known for a week.

“I was your age once,” the woman continues, a fond sheen glinting across her aged face, “so I understand where you’re coming from.”

The immortal restrains the urge to snort at the ironic assumption. I highly doubt it.

He doesn’t express his sarcasm aloud, obviously. Instead, he just nods slowly, choosing the safe route as a means to weasel himself out of this predicament.

“I personally don’t have an issue with this,” the lady motions vaguely towards their conjoined bodies covered in rumpled sheets, “but my husband, on the other hand…”

Harry instantly accepts her cautionary advice, struggling to prop himself up onto his elbows without disturbing his girlfriend. He can read between the woman’s lines easily enough— “Get her back into her bedroom before he comes in.” Y/N had told him that her dad is the one that goes into her room to rouse her every morning, so if he wanders in there as part of his daily routine and finds her bed empty…

“He was brushing his teeth when I left our bedroom.” Y/N’s mother murmurs, carefully turning her daughter onto her back so Harry can wriggle his way out from beneath her, helping as much as she can to keep him from getting crucified as a result of their childish irresponsibility. “You’ve got maybe thirty more seconds before he’s due. And frankly, I don’t really feel like witnessing an execution today. I just cleaned the rug downstairs, and blood is nearly impossible to get out.”

Harry huffs a nervous laugh at her joke, swinging his stiff legs over the edge of the bed and pushing himself onto his feet, no longer stressing about the fact that he’s in his underwear. Not when he has bigger problems to deal with. He tunes his enhanced hearing to gauge his chances of escape, and he can hear the unmistakable sound of a faucet shutting off and a toothbrush being tossed inside a ceramic holder. He doesn’t have time to warm up his legs, and he’d be a fucking moron to speed in a house full of an unsuspecting mortals, so he’ll have to settle for hobbling as fast as he can.

He delicately wedges his strong arms beneath Y/N, biceps flexing as he rolls her towards himself and scoops her up without a single issue. He arranges her as comfortably as possible within the makeshift cradle he’s created, glancing at her mother appreciatively as he begins pacing quickly across the carpeted floor. He mouths a silent, “Thank you.” as he scurries past her, feeling an immense sense of relief fill his tummy at the warm smile she gifts him in return. He knows he must look ridiculous right now with his curls standing up in frizzy tuffs and his eyes crusted with sleep, but it feels good to know she won’t hold this mishap against him. Her opinion is important to his relationship with Y/N, and the fact that she already likes him enough to be on his side takes a humungous weight off his shoulders.

Harry hurries down the corridor to Y/N’s room, nudging the door open with his foot as he rushes inside. He can hear Y/N’s mother descending down the stairs now that her savior mission has been complete, and he can hear Y/N’s father closing the door to the master bathroom as he prepares to emerge from the next room over, his muffled footsteps growing louder the closer he gets. The impending circumstances drive the vampire to act out of rashness.

He taps into a bit of his super-speed, swiftly placing his girlfriend down on her bed and tucking her in safely to suggest she’s been there all night; hopefully this attention to detail will deter any suspicion. He bends down to dust a tender kiss to her forehead, mumbling his words in a hushed tone as he shakes his head at his own expense. “The shit I do for you.”

He then makes a break for his the guest bedroom, leaving behind a chilly breeze and swaying curtains in his wake.

#ysijwa!ask #ysijwa!blurb

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binniesthighs · 3 years

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he lives in my lap | reader x changbin

➛ Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x seo changbin

➛ Recommended listening: she lives in my lap, outkast

➛ Genre: pwp (smut), fluffy tones, 18+

➛ Word count: 3.9k

✨ Summary/Request Here ✨

Anon: sub!changbin nipple play drabble👁👁

i’m such a sucker for sub bin smh

a/n: thank you for requesting sweet anon! any day, any time i will write sub!changbin! this was such a pleasure to write n’ i hope that ya like it! <3

{see below for nsfw tags!}

NSFW: dom!reader, sub!changbin, tsundere!bin, slightlybratty!bin, established relationship, use of petnames, body worship (calm tf down ro, we know you love binnies’ bod), *plz pretend to be surprised here too* thigh kink, power dynamics, LOADS of nipple play (m receiving), praising & mild degradation, handjob, lil pet of petplay (bunny), v soft aftercare

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you caught him sulking, bundled up in his chair with his legs crossed and his eyes dried. its the times like this when you don’t need him to tell you what’s going through his mind. he huffs and spins around just to get a moment to break his stare at the screen. he rubs at his temples where his headache surges, but he’ll never stop to ask for help or to express how tired he really is.

“what are you working on?” you simply ask as you cross the way behind him and squeeze his shoulders.

he sighs, and answers, “work.”

it’s barely an answer, but knowing him, prodding wouldn’t do much else.

“its getting late,” you pause, contemplating to next part of your phrase, “could you come to bed? i’d....love to have you with me...if you can.”

his fingers stop their typing, and he pulls off a single padded headphone to listen to you.

“you know that i’ve got a deadline. can’t.”

“wouldn’t you like to--”

“--can’t you just live one night without it?” he barks, swiveling in his seat to face you.

his eyes, the whites of them pink and his under-eyes bagged, tell you that you can’t take exactly what he means to heart, but still, it doesn’t hurt much less.

“bin--i just want you to take care of yourself and not overwork. you know that you need your rest to make everything work out right. right?”

your boyfriend sighs and composes himself, then puts his headphones back on.

“deadlines are deadlines.” changbin simply replies. “in a couple days it’ll be over.”

the sound of his clicking at his mouse fills the room back up, and this close you can hear the faint buzz of his music on the other side of his headphones. its as if he wants to create some kind of shell between you and him; he pulls his hood up and balls himself up in his big black hoodie.

with him, your patience overcomes anything.

“bin--” you reach for his arm to rub in calming little circles with your thumb, “you’re worrying me.”

the exhaustion in his voice causes it to crack, “i’m fine.”

it doesn’t take him much to go up in arms when you pull off his headphones to hold his puffy face in your hands. earnestly you hold his eyes with yours.

“you’ve worked so much already today. please, come to bed, i know you won’t admit it to yourself, but it’ll be okay if you sleep for just a little while....or, relax at least...”

changbin huffs out again in his same little annoyed nature. you knew the ins and outs of him well: your words might have gone in one ear and left out the other, but they still would jumble him up on their way out.

“i said that i’m fine,” your boyfriend repeats, “you’re worrying over nothing.”

it isn’t easy to admit defeat in the moment, but that’s all it is: a moment. he allows you the pause to plant a tiny kiss on his forehead before focusing back on his work. the truth is, you really did want him to join. the bed was always warmer with two anyway. these days, it was even a little hard to fall asleep with him.

“well,” you throw your hands on your hips, “i’ll just be back here...if you need anything. i can warm up your side for you, kay?”

for a moment, his fingers stop their clicking, wavering. “okay.”

he likes it when you wear his shirts and other little things like that. he even thinks that its cute when you steal his socks and they bunch up a little. after living together your clothes have started to all smell the same, but knowing that it’s his has always been enough for you.

at first, you promise yourself that you’ll stay up as long as he does, but not even you can stay up that late. he turns the lights off for you, leaving only his desk lamp and the blue screen of his desktop. silently you promise him that you’ll stay up as long as you can manage...

“--oh. sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up...”

your blurry eyesight makes out the time that’s ticked past two hours since you last remember checking.

“its okay,” your sleepy self returns. you’ve fallen asleep on his side of the bed which you promised to warm up, but he won’t ask you to give it up when you’re half awake.

“i’ve decided to sleep in late tomorrow.” he hums while reaching for his phone light to turn it off. “you’re right.”

“i know that i’m right.”

even in the dark you can feel his little joking smirk. the mattress makes springy sounds under the weight of your two bodies, and somehow your hands find their way into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. there’s nothing like feeling his presence beside you--its a kind of irreplaceable reassurance that you’ve only ever felt in him.

he’s close enough to feel his tiny breaths in the space between you, and how it tickles your upper lip. sleepy kisses float from your lips to his which he happy returns by pressing into you closer and melding your body with his. you make a point to kiss him slowly and with every ounce of intent that you are able to pour from yourself to him.

your love unties himself for you just as he does whenever he feels your thumb trace under his jaw slowly or as you hold his face in your hands, tilting him to deepen your exploration of his mouth. you can feel him get looser and looser after being so tightly bound. your hands work at his knots with swift fingers that interweave with his hair, then find their way to traipse up the hem of his clothes.

he mutters a little sound that could be translated into many pleasurable things, but you don’t need to think too hard to interpret it.

“binnie...” you coo, gently rolling him to his back to lean over him with your upper body, “you’re doing so well. i can tell how hard that you’re working...there’s no need to hide.”

he nods, allowing you to paint his cheeks with more little kisses that fall down to his neck, then travel back up to his ear where you nibble softly. in your own mind, its your favorite place to show him your love: he shivers feeling your breath quiver in his ear, then exhales out after feeling the small pull at his skin.

higher under his shirt your hands tip-toe, then trance the curves of his sides and finally reach the spot where he is most sensitive...your boyfriend gifts you the gorgeous sound of his uncontrollable little whimpers once he feels the pads of your fingers graze over one of his hardened nipples.

“oh?” you taunt, “already so sensitive?”

changbin attempts a scoff that comes out airy on his lips, “i mean, yeah...when you do that.”

your index circles his bud, causing and even more delightful symphony of shaking breaths to exit.

“...but its so late...” you remind him. its halfway between a genuine reminder and somewhat of a challenge. there’s nothing more that you would want, but the clock tells you otherwise.

your room is nearly devoid of light save for the way that the crescent moon peeks through the slits of the shades. the silver light illuminates his face in stripes, one of them directly over his eyes which makes them sparkle with the same iridescent shine of stars.

“do you think that i care?” changbin shies a bit into the puffy pillow that cradles his head.

from your position above him you can see the way that he pleads wordlessly, and how he just knows that he’s irresistible to you. his gaze softens to shift in that cute little pout. he too knows how to untie you, how to make you fall into him so deeply that you can’t see anything but him. he knows exactly what to say, how to wet his his cushy lip so it glistens just a little when he parts his mouth for you to crave even more than you already do.

“do you want me to say please?” he adds.

fuck, he really does know you well.

your knuckles rub along the fuzzy underside of his sweater, scribbling more circles around his nipples that hardens them painfully even though you’re barely touching him.

“that is my favorite word,”

his tone is airy, barely audible when he asks as politely as he can, “please, can you use me how you want?”

you tut, bowing low over his lips to only let them hover over his own. your lie of a kiss just barely makes contact with him. he whines from the promise of your taste, even wiggling his hips in his agony knowing that he won’t get what he wants quickly.

“hm, i didn’t really hear you that time...” slowly your hands begin to pull the fabric of is shirt over his head. “say it again for me?”

“please...?” your boyfriend desperately repeats.

“and you’ll be a good boy for me? you’ll do what i say?”

“yes...yes. everything that you say.”

his hoodie ruffles up his cute dark locks that sprawl all over his face and even cover his eyes. for a moment you think of how his hair had gotten longer than you had noticed. you sweep it aside, holding his eyes while your hand swipes up and down his chest just between his pectorals.

“and you’ll tell me when you want me to stop?”

finally you grant him the kiss he’s been waiting for which he drinks up greedily, moaning carefully over your lips.

“mmhm.”

you nearly startle him after forgetting to move slowly, finding your own eagerness taking hold of you. changbin’s eyes gleam seeing you on top of him and both of your legs straddling his sides. you slither farther down his body to align yourself correctly, then pause finding your place.

after, he then startles you by letting out a sudden cry in response to his beloved sensation. both of your hands are busied pinching and tweaking directly at his pink nipples that turn redder from your touch. you toy with the hardened buds while his eyelids flutter--he can’t figure out if he wants to close his eyes to feel it all, or watch you. he decides upon the latter and tries his best focus on your hands spread on his chest.

its a wondrous indulgence of yours as you watch the way that his muscles fill up your hands and even how his skin pops between your fingers when you squeeze. “my bun,” you sigh in admiration, “i just can’t handle you...”

your head spins when he echoes, “neither can i...”

it seems fair for you to take off your top too, so you do. your hands survey farther up his chest, then course down his arms which you tuck to rest on each side of his head.

“you know how it goes.”

he doesn’t even need the reminder.

“fuck, you’re gonna take all the time you want now, aren’t you?”

your boyfriend regains a bit of his composure to snark with that little unfair smirk of his.

“would you rather me not do this for you at all...bun?”

he rolls his eyes, impatient and annoyed for barely a second. he’s quieted the moment that he feels your lips float over his skin. you can feel the way that his breaths are thrown out from his lungs once you press even harder. his hips squirm and he turns into a puddle of half-choked winces that turn high pitched and needy the closer that you get to the sensitive areas of his chest. your tongue twists around it, only teasing at first and never allowing him to feel the full heat of your mouth. your left hand swipes up his side and settles right over his other bud which you toy with between your index and middle finger. you pull, then delight in the way that you can even feel his moans start deep from his core then come ripping out carelessly.

at last you grant him the wet of your mouth when you tense your lips to pull too. you know that he likes it when you use your teeth too, but you never start with the most exciting part.

his arms twitch like they usually do where they lay on both sides of his head. your boyfriend interlocks his fingers behind his head to pull and hold them there until his knuckles turn white. he would touch you, but you don’t like getting that distracted. you don’t need it anyway to heighten the way that unraveling him already pools heat between your legs and sends you grinding over his midsection.

you use a combination of gentle kisses contrasted with the pull of your fingers and eventually the bite of your teeth to get him properly gasping out as if he cannot breathe. your name finds its way twisted into some of his moans too; it sounds so perfect, so right said that way: airy, wavering, shaking after he bites it into his lip too.

you stop to admire him, now using your thumbs to tease at the way his reddened nipples now look painfully aroused and even glimmer with the sheen of your saliva upon them. changbin is flushed out all across his cheeks and even over his nose bridge. the rouge spreads down to his neck where the veins there quiver with each of his senseless gasps for air. he jerks from the careful feeling of the pad of your thumb compared to how viciously you had tugged at him before. you grind down your hips into his hard-on between your legs and into your own heat which craves him just as much.

“good?”

he nods, and chuckles out after reveling under your view.

you free his hands from their place behind his head, then you immediately find yourself wrapped up so tightly in his arms that you let out a tiny squeak. his thick arms that stretch with the strings of muscles always remind you that the power you have over him, he holds over you just the same. he brings your lips back to his to kiss thanks into your mouth that’s become raw from your musings.

“i’m not done yet.” you sneer directly into him.

“i had a feeling.”

your love knows how to sit and look pretty for you. how to keep his hands to himself and wait just enough for you to make a proper mess of him. even though you don’t see it, he’s infatuated watching you twist over him to the bed table and pick up the cup of water that holds partially melted ice. the sound of the cubes chime against the glass and burns your hand with the cold once you choose the largest of the lot.

changbin looks at you fearful at first still consumed by your heat which lingers all over his body. you test out the sensation by spreading out your opposite hand first which is wet from the condensation from the glass.

“ah!” he winces out.

“too cold?”

“n-no...” somethings shift in the way that he holds your gaze and the ice quickly melting in your hand. “i-i want it...”

“you sure?”

“please don’t make me wait again...”

the cold from the cube starts to make your fingertips turn numb, but its of no conscious to you when he holds every bit of your attention while you wait for his visceral response.

he yelps, nearly almost screaming from the mixture of cold and hot that swirls around his body. he grinds his teeth into a groan next to steady himself feeling the tenderness of his nipples next to the freezing cold. you can’t help but stifle a greedy laugh at how downright confused he seems at the two sensations of arousal and biting pain that made him feel even more lightheaded.

you love the sight of the whites of his eyes when he reaches a kind of euphoria that only you can give him.

“oooooh god.” he laughs along with you at how preposterously unreal it feels. the little smile that anchors on his mouth is unbelievably cute, and you can’t help but want to feel it on your own.

you trace circles around and around his buds until they harden just as they had done under your tongue. he shivers too; either from the cold, or from the overload of his senses--it travels from the tip of his head, through his hips and down to his toes.

“aw, my bun likes this...doesn’t he?”

“mmm.”

the ice only lasts a few moments on his chest and between your fingers. after, his chest is left shimmering from the new substance that looks like liquid crystal all over him and where it drips down to the comforter in droplets.

you shift your attention lower down his stomach where you stop right above his bellybutton to let both of your hands hook under his sweats. you look up for approval, which he eagerly gives with the hastily phrase repeated, “do it, do it.”

his clothes it the floor in a puddle, and your boyfriend is left bare for you to take in. you indulge in every single part of him that you’ve explored time and time again, but each time it feels renewed. your hands eat up his thighs with covetous squeezes until the crescent-moon shape of your nails decorates him nearly everywhere. they slide up higher, finding the place where his curved and rosy cock bobs waiting for your touch.

“poor bunny....does it ache when i don’t touch your cute little cock?” you trace a finger up his shaft which causes his body to violently jerk in response. the truth of the matter is, he’s anything but little.

even when your words turn venomous back on him, he still drinks it up as if it is nectar.

a wicked chuckle passes by your lips remembering what he had said to you a couple hours before. “can’t you just live one night without it?”

“n-no--” he stammers, “i-i’m sorry that i said--”

you silence him with a finger to his lips. “sit up.”

he does so, trying to gauge what you’re planning to do next. the mystery of it all enthralls him to the point of working his cock up with pearly pre-cum that drips down his length. changbin waits as you reposition yourself behind him, just so he sits flush against your torso and between your legs.

at first, you trial you hands up and down his thighs to create a show for him. your fingertips tickle him gently where his leg hair grows thin and soft. you then move to massage into his inner thighs and the more intimate erogenous areas there that you claw at.

“hm. maybe i’ll let you get what you want if you say--”

your boyfriend’s hands bury themselves into the sheets to grab at anything to provide balance. “--please! please...i’ll say it however many times it takes...”

you tsk, then nibble into the peachy cartilage of his earlobe. “mm, that’s enough. i’m feeling generous...”

you wet a stripe of your saliva up your palm and guide it to his length where you give him one good squeeze that is more than enough to send his toes curling. he whimpers out feeling the lack of contact afterward, realizing that one squeeze was all that you were planning. instead, shift your motions toward his tip and his seeping slit. the tip of your index draws rings around it which elicits agonizingly gruff growls from his throat that you’ve only ever heard a couple times before.

“please, please, please....” he chants.

you do love the way it sounds.

his moans become even louder once he feels the tension from your grasp where it returns to his shaft and pumps. in a way, the whole image is just perfect for the both of you: as you peer over his shoulder you can’t even but help feel turned on by the sight of your own hand and how it twists around the throbbing veins that imprint his cock. with your non-dominant hand you continue traversing the squishy and fleshy bits of his thigh.

your boyfriend laughs out his growing self-indulgence while you work your hand up and down, then experiment with testing him with the ways that you can squeeze harder then softer. changbin throws his head back into your shoulder lazily once he starts to feel his senses slow and intensify the closer that he gets to his release. he shudders against you too, and tightens his body too as he edges himself even closer.

after the distraction that you’ve crafted tugging him up and down and how the twist of your wrist feels like heaven, he jumps still feeling your free hand find its way back up his chest one last time roll his nipple between your fingers. the combination of the two sends him spilling right over the edge and overflowing with a rambling of curses and half-attempted moans coupled with the release of his seed cascading down the back of your hand.

nearly all of your boyfriend’s weight falls upon you and you giggle trying to deal with your previously cold and stubborn lover reduced to nearly nothing but a limp and euphoric mess in your arms.

“you okay?” you ask him, peppering tiny kisses into his neck.

“give me...a minute.” he laughs out too. “i’m just...really...exhausted. but--in a really, really good way.”

“time to get some rest then?”

changbin nods, and gives you back as many kisses he can with his neck titled at this somewhat awkward angle.

“stay right here, hm?”

you cradle him back to slide out from behind him and work at cleaning yourself off, and them him--he loves obliging if it means that he gets to be pampered with clean clothes and your little massage to his shoulders to get his tensed body relax even more. the blankets get exchanged for new ones and you find him telling you not to put your shirt back on.

changbin flushes, explaining, “i just like being close like this with you. everyday. any day. i can’t live without it either.”

you can’t exactly tell who is “holding” who, but it all just feels so peaceful and intimate you almost forgot that you were supposed to be sleeping until the day breaks behind your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“thank you,” changbin sighs, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“now start taking care of yourself.” you tease, “don’t overwork yourself, got it?”

your boyfriend sleepily hums, and tows you right back into his chest. “don’t worry, i have a feeling that i’ll be sleeping in pretty late.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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cryoaquila · 3 years

Text

spin the bottle pt. 4

prompt: you and a few of the genshin ladies play spin the bottle together, part 4 pairings: beidou x gn!reader, ningguang x gn!reader, ganyu x gn!reader wc: ~1.6k tags: kissing, nsfw themes, dom!ningguang, dom!beidou alcohol mention and consumption. a/n: part one is here, two is here, and three is here! i’m glad so many people love this cute series! this part has some heavier suggestive themes (borderline nsfw) so be aware of that please.

minors dni.

you spin the bottle at a party. it lands on…

beidou

she smirks wide as the tip of the bottle points towards her. she’s actually the one who asked her ‘friends’, which was you, ningguang, and ningguang’s secretary, ganyu, to all play together.

but... you have never heard of the party game played in such a way before.

she requested everyone use a bottle full of alcohol and whoever the bottle lands on, they take a drink before kissing.

the bottle lands on her and she smirks, grabbing the bottle, opening it, and taking a long swig.

she slams the bottle down on the table, “alright, let’s do this!” she grabs the collar of your shirt and you, a jumbled blushing mess, were at her mercy as she yanks you in for a powerful kiss.

the kiss was rough, her lips mashing against yours as if your mouth was a stormy sea that she was trying to conquer.

the taste of alcohol was so prominent you wonder if you were going to get drunk off her lips alone.

she pushes against your mouth further, pushing you down onto your back, the couch comforting your spine as she climbs on top of you unashamed. her tongue, which had been prodding at your clenched teeth, finally pushing inside the wet space within.

ganyu leaves as soon as you two fall onto the couch, unable to watch any longer, her face completely red. ningguang stayed seated, continuing to drink her glass of water, uninterested in your activities as she was off in her own thoughts.

you felt as though you were drowning and floating at the same time from the hot kiss. her body pressing against yours allows you to feel her rippling muscles with every little movement, which only causes you to feel even more overheated.

you finally manage to part your mouth from hers, gasping for air.

she watches you gasp, a little disappointed the kiss had ended so soon, but the disappointment gets quickly replaced with mischievousness.

“i’ve got the ship, you’ve got the harbor, wanna tie up for the night? you can see how wet a ship captain can really get back at my place” she suggests while smirking slyly.

your head was spinning at this point from the kiss and the innuendo, but you couldn’t deny that her request sounded quite delectable. after a moment of trying to catch your breath, you agree to what she said.

“heh, we’re going to have a great time!” she stands from the couch and scoops you up with ease, her strong arm muscles rippling from holding you. “i’ll carry you there, alright?”

“ok.” you squeak as she smiles down at you, carrying you out of the party. she’s so beautiful and strong, you were head over heels in adoration.

her ‘place’ is actually a room on her ship which is currently docked at the harbor. you’ve never done it on a ship before, that is, until tonight.

ningguang

per beidou’s... request, she carefully picks the bottle up, popping the lid off and taking a small drink, eyeing you as she did so - wait, was that a wink?

you had heard the whispers and rumors circling around the party. why was someone as prominent and rich as ningguang here? what was her ulterior motive? you couldn’t help but wonder too.

she sets the bottle down, never breaking eye contact with you as she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours.

the start of the kiss is very slow and enticing. she tilts her head to further the kiss, never taking her eyes off you.

you blink, adverting your gaze finally, and you feel her smile against your lips.

“b-boss, is this really appropriate?” ganyu stutters, her hands covering her eyes.

“come on, ganyu, let her get some!” beidou laughs before taking a sip of the bottle unprompted.

your lips separate for a moment as she opens a fan, “appropriate? but of course, if i enjoy it, then it is appropriate.” she responds simply.

“r-right.” ganyu mutters, looking away, “apologies.”

she then moves the fan so it blocks both of your mouths. she leans closer to you, as if she was going in for another kiss, but instead whispers to you, “care for a little investment?”

“investment?” you ask curiously, following her hushed tone.

“i invest in you protecting me for the rest of the night and on my walk home,” she brought her free hand up to your face, tracing your jawline with a single finger, “and then you get a reward.”

“what reward?”

“i’ll let you come.”

“... come i-inside your house?”

her hand fell to your thigh, which she caresses slowly, “hm, i don’t care where you come, i only care if you come when i give you permission to.”

oh.

she breaks your shocked silence by asking, “do you agree to such terms?”

“y-yes!” you say a little too loudly and she giggles at your excitement.

“good.” she pats your thigh before closing the fan and turning back to the two curious-looking faces. “well, who is next?” she smiles softly - your face beet red as you glance at the bottle, ready to get the game over with already so you can get your thoughts in order.

you never left her side for the rest of the night, but nothing happened. not even when the two of you walked to her house - which, was more of a mansion. she never seemed in danger to you, but that meant the reward was easy to get, so you didn’t mind as she held up her side of the contract.

after an exhausting but tantalizing time in her bedroom, she unties your restraints, finally freeing you, your wrists still showing the signs that you had been tied down for quite a while.

after she unties you and makes sure you were alright, she gets up and starts getting dressed.

“wait, where are you going?” you ask hurriedly, sitting up in the bed.

“i have work to do.”

“b-but...” you stammer, wanting to spend more time with her and cuddle with her, “you liked it, didn’t you?”

“i did indeed. if i didn’t, you wouldn’t still be here in my house. but the happiness this brings lasts only for a moment.”

she opens the door, the hallway light pouring into the dark room, silhouetting her. “stay for the night, but leave when dawn breaks. if i ever have a need for you again, i will send for you.” with that, she closes the door, plunging you into darkness, the large bed cold and empty without her next to you.

ganyu

the bottle lands on ganyu, who, at first, was a little apprehensive to play, but after seeing ningguang agree she readily agreed too.

you plan on giving her a nice, sweet kiss to begin with since you knew how kindhearted ganyu was and this was your first kiss with her.

but then you realize she’s asleep.

“um...” you mutter and both ningguang and beidou snicker.

ganyu yawns upon hearing their giggles, blinking away the sleep as she jerks awake, “ah!” she looks around at everyone, “s-sorry!”

ningguang rests her chin in her hand, “maybe less work is needed-”

“no, no no, i’m quite alright! um,” she glances at the bottle. “o-oh! you spun it already? when did that happen?” she stares at it, blinking a few times, “oh! it landed on me! um...” she grimaces, “i’m not drinking that.”

“killjoy.” beidou mutters before taking the bottle, “welp, more for me!”

she looks at you coyly, her face starting to turn pink as she smiles sweetly. she closes her eyes before pressing her lips against yours in a lovely kiss.

even though there wasn’t any tongue, you could still taste a little bit of her - wait, what was this bitter taste? you were expecting a sweeter taste, so it catches you off-guard.

she breaks the kiss sooner than you want, turning her head away from you to let out a small yawn.

“ah i’m sorry!” she apologizes to you after yawning, “the kiss was good, i’m just very tired!” she bows her head.

“i-its ok, really!” you try to comfort her, but you were secretly glad she didn’t find the kiss boring.

“i shouldn’t have come to the party on such a rare night off. i should’ve slept early... well, guess it isn’t too late, but i don’t want to be alone in case i wake up and the party’s over and i’m by myself...” she mutters to herself, but you didn’t catch a word she said due to the noise of the party.

she turns to you, asking loud enough for you to hear, “want to go sleep with me? i hope there is a bed upstairs that’s available...”

“huh!?” you couldn’t believe your ears, you hadn’t expected her to ask you something like that so soon!

you ask if that’s really what she wants and she slowly nods, looking a bit confused by your reaction.

together you head upstairs and into an unoccupied bedroom, and that’s when you realize what she actually meant.

she literally meant sleep, for as soon as her head hit the pillow she asks you to sleep next to her, already sounding like she was half-asleep herself.

somehow, she was able to fall asleep even with the noise below. it sounds like they had started a dancing competition, but you didn’t mind missing the party since cuddling with ganyu and watching over her while she got some much-needed rest was far better than any party.

she moves a little, waking up for a few moments to say in a sleepy voice, “tomorrow let’s go out together for lunch, i know a place with the best salads...”

“it’s a date,” you say and she smiles, curling up closer to you.

#genshin impact #beidou x reader #ningguang x reader #ganyu x reader #genshin x reader #beidou #ningguang #ganyu #genshin imagines #genshin impact writing #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #written

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exhaustedwriterartist · 1 month

Text

Happy Palm Sunday my friends! 🌿

I hope everyone has a blessed Sunday. <3

#exhausted's half awake jumbles

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

Text

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

#grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

If you’re still taking prompts: 22. “When you’re feeling better, I swear, we’ll talk this out.” Qui-Gon& Obi-Wan. You’re writing is so lovely btw!!

Yay, more prompts! And I do love this one. Thank you for choosing it!

CW: this one got rather dark. there are heavy implications of and references to attempted assault of a minor, child death, and other horrors of war.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

They were three days out from Coruscant when the fever made a turn for the worse.

The Jinn/Kenobi team had been deployed to Calzec III to investigate the disappearance of an ambassador, an assignment that had led them down very dark paths into the minds and heart of a planetary society.

A mere two days into their investigation, Obi-Wan had vanished — kidnapped, it was quickly discovered, by the party responsible for the disappearance and murder of the ambassador.

Qui-Gon had assumed that the six days between Obi-Wan’s abduction and his recovery would be the worst of it.

That the growing dread inside him that had gnawed away at his concentration and serenity, the likelihood that he would not reach his apprentice in time, his fears that Obi-Wan was being hurt, would be the most difficult things to handle.

Or even the mingled relief and panic when he had finally found his sixteen-year-old Padawan bound and unconscious in a cellar with a floor half-flooded in dirty water — that after that, they had survived the worst.

He was mistaken.

Obi-Wan was ill when he was pulled out of that cellar. There was no one to trust and nowhere to flee except off-planet, and the the distance between Calzec III and the nearest medically advanced planet was no shorter than simply returning to Coruscant.

So he set a course for Coruscant and settled Obi-Wan in his bunk, stripping off the soiled clothing he had been wearing since his kidnapping and replacing them with a clean set of tunics.

The boy was exhausted, unfocused; his skin was clammy to the touch and he had brief periods where he seemed fully awake and mostly functional.

After the first day of hyperspace travel, they had settled into a routine. Qui-Gon kept to the cockpit, while Obi-Wan kept to his bunk and the fresher, trying to rest and to contain his illness. Qui-Gon knocked periodically on his door, reassuring himself that his apprentice was all right.

And that he was there, because working alone on a hostile planet without knowing anything of his Padawan’s wellbeing aside from being sure that he was in danger had been more of a trial than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

And then, on the third day, he knocked lightly on the door and received no reply.

“Obi-Wan?” he called.

He thought he heard an indistinct mumble. Qui-Gon chuckled, imagining the boy emerging from his blankets like an irritated loth-cat, rumpled and annoyed.

Then Obi-Wan screamed.

Qui-Gon’s mind conjured — for a split second — a new version of the image he had pictured in his mind for over a week — his Padawan, attacked in his sleep — drugged — dragged from his bed —

Then he blinked and the image vanished. Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and pressed on the entry pad, opening the door. He stepped inside the cramped cabin and was relieved to see the boy securely in his bed, the room completely absent of any impossible intruders. But Obi-Wan’s face was flushed with fever, and he was struggling beneath his blankets, thrashing as if he were actually being attacked.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, shaking his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”

The Padawan didn’t seem to register Qui-Gon’s presence at all. He struggled with his bedsheets, small whimpers escaping his lips as he fought.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon said more sharply. “Wake up now!”

Obi-Wan rolled onto his side and dry heaved, his eyes flying open. His Master dropped to his knees beside the bed, running a hand soothingly up and down the boy’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “You were dreaming.”

“C-C—” Obi-Wan choked.

“Shh,” Qui-Gon said again.

“Cerasi—”

Qui-Gon’s heart plummeted. Obi-Wan was not coherent, that was obvious.

The boy had not mentioned that name in over two years.

“Padawan, you must focus,” he said softly. “This is not Melida/Daan. We are on a ship, heading home.”

“Cerasi is…”

…dead…

“…gonna… kill you.” Obi-Wan’s words, and the sheer venom in them, shocked the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan was still struggling, but more slowly now, almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing so. His eyes flickered feverishly to the middle distance, seeing things that weren’t there.

“Padawan…” Qui-Gon said slowly.

“Let them go!” Obi-Wan shrieked suddenly. One arm came loose from the blankets and missed striking his Master by inches. “Let them go, they’re too young! Let them go let them go let them go!”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon seized his Padawan by the shoulders.

Bloodshot blue eyes suddenly snapped directly onto Qui-Gon’s face, but instead of calming, Obi-Wan’s panic only increased. “Get off me!” He screamed, twisting, kicking, squirming away. “Don’t… don’t you touch me! Stop, stop, stop!” he was wailing now, utter despair twisting his face beyond recognition. “Please don’t!”

Qui-Gon released his Padawan as if burned. He pulled away sharply, horror rising in him, tasting bile.

I wasn’t — I wouldn’t —

It’s a fever dream —

A memory?

Qui-Gon tasted bile. “No,” he heard himself say aloud. “No.”

Obi-Wan had squirmed away, pressing himself flat against the wall the bed rested against, his body curling inwards — the last defense of the helpless, the frightened. The abused.

“I won’t,” he was saying frantically. “I won’t. Get out. Get out. They’re flying in the morning, they’re flying — Nield said — we tried to take the tank but — we lost too many — no. I tried! I did!”

Obi-Wan fell abruptly silent again, staring vaguely, his breaths coming in uneven little puffs. Sweat glistened on his brow, in his hair.

Qui-Gon wanted desperately to reach out and touch his shoulder, wipe his brow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, terrified of causing another panicked outburst, of hearing —

I don’t know what happened on Melida/Daan.

“Trevor, Meola, Hanta, Chassi, come with me,” Obi-Wan said, still gazing vacantly. His voice, however, was firm. “We need to clear the streets. Gather up the bodies. Any pieces large enough to carry. Leave anything too small.”

I never asked him. I just assumed. He told me about the end of the war and Cerasi’s murder and I never thought to ask for more.

“Hanta?” Obi-Wan said. He coughed. Kept trying to talk even though he could barely breathe. “Hanta? Dammit… she’s gone. Infection. Infection. We’re out of medicine. We’re out. They can’t. I won’t go. They can’t they can’t. Get out.”

Obi-Wan dissolved into jumbled sentences, his eyes fluttering open and shut and open again, his cheeks blazing with fever.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered.

“Cerasi?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“I can ask,” Obi-Wan said, and he sounded very small, so uncertain, nothing like the slowly-more-confident but quiet Padawan who had accompanied him last week. “I could. But he’s not. He’s not. He left, he doesn’t — he doesn’t want me.”

Another chill swept through Qui-Gon. He held his breath, waiting for more, not wanting to hear it but needing to know.

“He left me, I’m not meant — he said I wasn’t meant to be — I’m not good enough for it, Cerasi,” Obi-Wan murmured. His eyes fell closed again. He almost seemed to be sleeping. “He was right about… right about me. I’m not. Not. I can ask. He might not… come back. For you. For you he might. He’s good. Not me. Not me.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head onto the bedsheets, his breath sharp and painful in his chest.

I never asked.

“Nield. I will ask. I’ll ask the Jedi I will, I will. I’m not one of them. For you. I’ll ask for you.”

We never talked about it.

“The little ones, Cerasi. I can watch them. I’ll watch them today. My fingers. The man, he broke my fingers in the alleyway. I’ll watch the little ones, little ones. It’s story time, Jilo. Shhh.”

I let everything that happened afterwards consume it. Consume me.

“Qui-Gon doesn’t want me,” Obi-Wan said, so, so softly, his tone perfectly reasonable. Calm. “My fault. I’m not. It’s okay. I’ll talk to them. It’s okay. I want to… I want to go home. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. “I want to go home.”

My Padawan.

With utmost care, Qui-Gon rose to his feet, feeling the floor sway beneath him as if he were at sea and not flying through hyperspace.

He went to the fresher and poured a glass of water and dampened a rag, carrying them both back to the beside. He set the glass on a table, and seated himself cautiously on the side of the bed, radiating as much calm as he could, trying to make his presence known through their training bond.

It must have worked, because Obi-Wan did not panic or flinch away from the person sitting beside him. Or perhaps he was simply too tired, delirious to the point of vacancy.

Qui-Gon reached out with one hand and gently pressed the boy back against his pillows, resting the cool cloth against his forehead once he had settled. He kept his hand there for awhile, and gently stroked the sweat-soaked hair with his thumb, watching the boy’s eyelids flicker as he began to doze, to dream.

With his other hand, Qui-Gon gently took one of Obi-Wan’s, holding it gently as if it were fragile, a treasure beyond price.

“Oh, my boy,” he whispered, and was not shocked to taste salt on his lips as he spoke. “Sleep now. When you wake, we will talk, I swear it. We’ll talk about everything. Anything you want.”

Obi-Wan continued to dream.

As he fell deeper into sleep, his fingers curled gently around Qui-Gon’s, and he did not let go.

fin.

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Remember us - part 3

Here we are with part 3.

This was a tough chapter to write.

Please do not hate Rowan, he is confused and scared and what is happening to him is scary.

-------

A slow tune played in the distance of the big garden.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand and walked away from the big crowd and near the bank of the lake where it was just the two of them.

“Did you drag me here to kill me?”

Rowan in response kissed her and Aelin could not read his expression. His arms went around her frame and pulled her closer for a slow dance on the spot.

His hand brushed her back and let her scent envelope him.

“Lys and Aedion look happy.” He whispered to her, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms. A presence he would never tire of.

“It was about time.” Aelin said kissing his chest.

“It’s our turn to be that happy, what do you think?” Rowan went down on one knee and gently grabbed her hand pulling it to his chest “Fireheart, I love you. You are my best friend, my soulmate and I want to walk the path of life at your side. I want to grow old with you and still watch silly movies on the sofa. Aelin Galathynius, will you do me the honour of marrying me and let me call you my wife?”

The smile on Aelin’s face became radiant “Yes,” a kiss on his lips “yes, buzzard, I will marry you.”

Rowan woke up panting hard. The memory had been very vivid and clear in his head. The colours, the smells, he felt as if he had been there. Aelin had told him about that memory, about the day he had proposed to her at a friend’s wedding.

The memory had felt so real and his hands were now shaking.

It had been a week since that conversation. Aelin had started visiting him on her way to work and sometimes during her breaks as well. They had been chatting and she had been telling more about their lives and answered all the questions he had. The topic he hadn’t had yet the courage to cover was the one about her being pregnant. He felt bad for snooping on the phone but that was his anyway and Aelin had given it to him with that exact intention. For him to read and discover more about who he had been and hopefully unlock more moments.

He was busy with his thoughts that he did nor notice a male nurse popping into his room.

“Time to go.”

The doctor had told him that now that he was awake it was time to finally start his rehab and to try have him walking again quite quickly.

The nurse helped him to shift onto the wheelchair and pushed him out.

“Can someone tell Aelin where I am gone? Sometimes she comes and visit on her break.”

“I am sure nurse Ytger will tell your wife that you went for physio.”

He had started to enjoy and wait eagerly for her visits. He wanted to tell her abut the flash of the day he proposed.

They finally arrived at the gym and a man was waiting for him “Hello Rowan and welcome to hell.” Said the man in front of him “You’ll probably will want to kill me after every session but I assure you I will make you walk again. I always do.” The man said quite smugly “my name is Dorian, by the way.”

For a half an hour Dorian massaged and warmed up and loosened his right leg. Every time he bent his knee Rowan was ready to cry. Until the man got him back on the wheelchair and they reached some parallel bars “now, we try walking.”

Rowan looked at him in disbelief. He could not be serious.

“Come on, hold on to the bars with your hands and pull yourself upright.”

He followed the directions and pulled himself up.

“Good. Now try to move a step.”

Rowan tried but almost fell on his face if it wasn’t that Dorian grabbed him “don’t put weight on the injured leg yet.”

He was about to try again when he spotted Aelin in her blue scrubs entering the gym. Dorian saw her as well “are you going to look good in front of your wife?”

Aelin joined him “Hi devil.” She greeted Dorian.

“Hi my darling. Your hubby and I just started.”

“Just go easy on him. I just got him back.” And Rowan saw Aelin give him a warm smile. He needed to tell her about his dream. He wanted to revive that day with her, to know how she felt. She had looked happy in the memory. Rowan was also curious to know why she called him buzzard.

For another good hour he did all Dorian told him and by the end of the first session he did manage to walk once the length on the walking bars. Aelin had given him the most stunning smile.

They were now back in his room and she was helping him climb back in bed.

“You must be exhausted. Dorian’s sessions are tough, but the man does miracles.”

“My leg hurts…” he said fully leaning back in bed in a seated position.

“I should let you rest.” Aelin made a move to leave but he stopped her, grabbing her hand for a fleeting moment “stay, please.”

Aelin nodded and sat back down on the chair. He noticed her hand gently move to her stomach in a protective gesture.

“I had a dream.” He told her and saw his wife turn her head to him “it was the day I proposed. You had a green dress and we were at Lys and Aedion’s wedding.” He continued and saw her face break and try to hold back the tears “you called me buzzard.”

Aelin started sobbing. It was just one memory. It was not their entire life but it was something. She nodded eagerly and restrained herself from the desire to kiss him. She missed the contact with him.

“It’s my nickname for you. You hover, like a bird of prey. I have been calling you like that since the beginnings.”

He smiled and decided to tackle the more pressing question he had for her, his heart started racing. He had found out from the phone and not from her. He took a deep breath “I know…” he whispered and she looked up at him with curiosity “I was going through the text messages we exchanged and I found the one where you sent me a picture of our baby.”

Aelin gasped “I didn’t tell you because it would have been too much and you already have enough to deal with.” She was trying to protect him. She had been dying to tell him but for a moment she had put her desires aside and thought about him, how he would react at the news.

“How far along are you?”

“12 weeks. I am just at the end of my first trimester.” And he saw her lift her scrub and could see the slight hint of a bump “peanut, this is dad. Dad, this is peanut.”

Rowan sighed heavily “what if…” how could he explain his fears to her without crushing her? “What if the person I become is not the husband you remember? I don’t know when I will get my memories back. And when I do? Will it still be me or a brand new person with some jumbled up memories? What if you realise you can’t live with a version of me that is just a bad copy of the original?” He was terrified at the idea.

“To whatever end.” She whispered “that’s the promise we shared on our wedding day. We will go through life together no matter what. Together.” Aelin sniffled loudly “we already went through a lot in seven years of marriage. Two miscarriages that shook us to the core. But we survived. Our marriage survived.” She took his hand feeling the need to a contact with him to dispel the fears in her heart “we will survive this as well.” She was now sobbing and Rowan had no idea how to console her. He had grabbed her hand briefly but still did not feel comfortable enough for contact with her.

“Sorry, it’s the hormones.”

“Aelin, you should move on. Find someone—” but Aelin did not let him finish “Rowan Whitethorn, please tell me you have not just suggested me to leave you.” She stood and shouted at him furious that he could even think about something so outrageous.

“I am not leaving you for another man. You are my husband.” She felt anger rising at the idea he might suggest such thing. It broke her heart that he would give up like that.

“What if I don’t want to be your husband? Have you thought about me? I am trapped in a life I don’t recognise.” His tone matched hers and at his words Aelin felt her heart break. She took a step away from him.

“You come here and tell me all those thing about our life. Am I supposed to accept them without question and jump back in my old life?”

She did not answer him. Aelin just ran out of the room, heavy tears streaming down her cheeks. And when nausea hit she ran for the toilets and emptied her stomach.

She sat on the floor for a time that felt endless until she got paged and had to force herself to go back to work.

***

Rowan closed his eyes and he collapsed back on the pillow. His soul ached at the words he had said to Aelin. Why did he tell her something he did not believe himself? He was confused and utterly overwhelmed. He had so many questions and he had reacted in the worst possible way. But he was scared of not being able to be enough for her, to transform into a copy she might not like. They had kids to think about too. What if he was going to destroy a family? They deserved better than him.

Waking up and not remembering anything of his life had been terrifying. But that woman, his wife, was willing to take him back no matter what. She was ready to show him a way to find himself again.

He took his mobile and texted her as soon as he figured out how to do it I am sorry for what I said. I am really scared.

Rowan placed the phone on the nightstand and lay down. He felt exhausted and when he closed his eyes, sleep caught him in his arms.

***

Rowan was standing in front of a crowd. He was in what looked like a ballroom inside and old building. The guests were all dressed up nicely and so was he. At his side there was a blonde man grinning happily.

As soon as the music started he turned his head and saw two dark-haired women entering the venue and slowly proceed along the aisle in his direction. His gazed drifted away from them as soon as he spotted Aelin at the entrance. She was dressed in the most amazing light blue dress and she looked stunning. He felt like the luckiest man alive. Aelin had chosen him.

She stopped in front of him and he mouthed the words I love you to her. The officiant proceeded with the ceremony until it was time to exchange their vows and he went first.

“Aelin, my heart, once we set our hate aside you became my best friend and then my soulmate and soon I will be able to call you my wife as well. I am ready to face this new adventure together and stay at your side, no matter what. To whatever end, fireheart.”

By the time he finished she was in tears and it took her a moment to compose herself.

“Rowan, my buzzard, life can be unpredictable and cruel, but as long as I have you at my side I know I can survive anything. You are my rock. I am looking forward to our new adventure together. I love you, to whatever end.”

Rowan kissed her not even waiting for the right moment.

“Rowan Whitethorn, do you take Aelin Galathynius as you wife. Promise to respect her and cherish the time you will have together? To love her for better for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”

“I do.” Said Rowan never averting his green eyes from her.

“Aelin Galathynius, do you take Rowan Whitethorn as your husband and promise to walk the path of life at his side. To love him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part?”

“I do.” Tears of joy streamed down her face.

A moment later the scent of flowers had gone and Rowan awoke abruptly and the smell of disinfectant hit him.

He had been dreaming again. Their wedding apparently. They had been so happy and he could not remove from his mind Aelin’s stunning smile.

Frantically he grabbed his phone and sadness hit him when he noticed there was no answer from Aelin.

What had he done?

***

That night when Aelin got back home she looked for comfort in her mother’s arms first. She had told her all that happened at the hospital and Rowan’s words. Evalin had let her cry until she was spent.

When bed time came she went for her bedroom and found her bed already occupied by her two terrors. She changed in her pyjama and climbed in bed. Gently she pulled Freyja to her chest and inhaled deeply her scent. As if on instinct, just like his father, Thomas adjusted and moved to her snuggling closer. A pair of green eyes set on her “go back to sleep my love.” She kissed his blonde hair.

“I miss dad.” He said moving even closer and Aelin wrapped her arms around her two children “I miss him too, Tom.”

“When is he coming back?”

“Soon.” She brushed his hair “now sleep, okay?”

“I love you, mum.”

Aelin barely stopped the tears “I love you too.”

She closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

74 notes · View notes

b0ba-chan · 4 years

Text

hq x hozier

summary: hq boys as hozier lyrics

pairings: atsumu x reader, semi x reader, ushijima x reader, matsukawa x reader, suna x reader

word count: 1503

warning: choking, overstim, drugs

author’s notes: i love hozier hehe

buy me boba?

𝔪. 𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔲

imagine being loved by me!

i won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things that we'd do

so I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

- talk

atsumu walked up to you, holding two glasses of water so you can hydrate yourself over a crying session. your boyfriend had cheated on you yet again and the only person who would comfort you rather than scold you would be atsumu. he didn’t seem like the person, but he was great at comfort, telling you what you need to hear in the gentlest ways possible. his shoulder was still soaked from your tears. the blond sits next to you, watching you stare off with puffy eyes.

“come ‘ere, lets watch a movie.” he sighs and opens his arm, heart hurting to see you in such pain. he starts howl’s moving castle, holding you as you immerse yourself in the colorful movie. fingers were treading through your hair as you two watch and your giggle slightly shocks atsumu.

“if you would grow out your hair, you’d look like howl.” you hum and look up at him, eyes still red but cleared from tears. the man smiles a bit and mindlessly cuffs your cheek with his free hand. shock runs through you as he leans in, but not moving away from him at all. “you know he doesn’t deserve you.”

your breath hitches as his thumb caresses your cheek bone, feeling tears trickle from your eyes. “i’m sorry.” he mumbles. “i can’t hold back anymore. been waiting too long.” atsumu leans in and pulls you into a deep kiss. without hesitation, you kiss back, feeling like this is all atsumu has to do to get rid of your problems. the lip lock got intense as it continue on, neither one of you wanting to end it yet. he was on top of you, crotch pressed against yours as his hands start to wander under your shirt, feeling up your skin. he pulls back a bit, a trail of spit connecting your mouths. “can we continue? been waiting for this for too long.”

𝔰. 𝔢𝔦𝔱𝔞

ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay?

ain't you my baby? ain't you my baby?

nothing fucks with my baby

nothing can get a look in on my baby

- NFWMB

you grip the sheets tight, squealing into the sheeks and eita smacks your ass. tears soak the pillow as you tremble under your boyfriend, begging him that it’s too much for you to handle. after going to one of his gigs, he couldn’t help to get jealous when he sees you get sweet talked by his bandmates. it took him all his power to hold back his jealousy until you two got back to the apartment. it was in a blink of an eye when he got you into bed, not holding back on his thrusts no matter how many times you came.

“e-eita! oh god!” you gasp as he lifts your hips higher as he digs deeper into your cunt. his cock kept brushing up against your cervix over and over again, leaving you a drooling mess.

“cmon, who do you belong to? let everyone know, baby.” he grunts, licking his lips as sweat drips down his face. you sob and mewl, not being able to say anything as your mind jumbles every word you can think of. eita’s hand grips your hair and tugs you off the pillow, rolling his eyes as you babble and mewl. “i asked you a question, you have to answer me.”

“you! eita!” you garble out as he continues to keep a firm grip on your hair, shivering as his teeth brush your shoulder. he sucks a dark hickey and biting, making sure to make an indent into your skin. “that’s right. only mine, baby.”

𝔲. 𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦

'cause my baby's sweet as can be

she give me toothaches just from kissin' me

no grave can hold my body down

i'll crawl home to her

- work song

you slept soundly as the morning light poured from the half opened blinds. ushijima had an uncharacteristically small smile painted on his face as his hand lightly traces the dark hickies on your back. he had just come back home from a long term poland trip to play for their team and facetime calls weren’t the same especially with time differences. he didn’t want to say it outloud but he was scared this trip would’ve deter you from him. but alas you were still in bed when he came home.

as you shift awake, his smile falls but continues to race the hickies the decorated your skin like the constellations in the sky. you hum and smile up at him, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes. “good morning, toshi.”

your hand reaches out to cuff his cheek, giving him a short yet soft kiss. he flash of disappointment shoots in his eyes and you laugh at the bigger man. “let me brush my teeth first, you big baby.” you laugh and try to sit up, but he pulls you back onto his chest. you let out a small huff and feel his lips back on yours.

you didn’t fight back, letting him indulge in your lips. your hands massage the back of his head as his grip on your waist get tighter. as you pull away again, he chases after you lips to pepper them with kisses. your laugh echoes the quiet room, trying to shove him away. “let me go!” he shakes his head and snuggles into your neck.

it was quiet as you sat on his lap, petting his hair until he broke the silence. “i missed you.” toshi mumbles into your neck, ignore your laughing and teasing.

“i missed you, too, toshi. i’m glad you’re back.”

“i’ll always come back for you.”

𝔪. 𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔦

she tells me “worship in the bedroom”

the only heaven I’ll be sent to

is when I’m alone with you

- take me to church

“issei, so good.” you sigh softly, biting your lip as his hips rolled slowly up into you. his mouth never left your throat, placing soft kisses on the bare skin. you bounced on his cock, moaning as you throw your head back when he hit your cervix. “gorgeous, c’mon keep going.”

you nod weakly and keep bouncing, thighs shaking from exhaustion. but you trek on anyways, bouncing to please your boyfriend since that’s the least you can do when he has made you cum multiple times already. his hand trails up your stomach as you bounced, other hand holding your hip to help you bounce. issei thumbs at your perky nipples, smirking against your neck as you whine loud and grind down harder on his dick.

“perfect, little girl, my angel.” issei pulls away to watch you work yourself on his cock. his finger continues to tease your nipples, pinching and squeezing. you start to drool as he showers you in praise, mind going mushy when no words can leave your mouth. his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. you let out a tiny gasp, rutting down hard. “go on and cum angel. you look so good getting ruined by my cock.”

𝔰. 𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲

i will not ask you where you came from

i will not ask you, neither should you

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

we should just kiss like real people do

- like real people do

the heavy smoke looms through the air, your legs thrown over rintarou’s lap as you felt his hands wander over your thighs. you took another drag, smiling lazily at each other as he kisses your forehead. it had been a long week for the both of you two, and being very close roommates, a smoke session felt like the best thing to do in the moment. neither of you talked about what happened, only basking in each other’s touch, trying to convince each other it was simply platonic.

all the kisses that avoided the lips and the hugs shared when either of you were having a bad day were nothing more than just friends being friends. the most mouth contact was shotgunning, but the both of you brush it off as a more efficient and fun way to smoke. but it hurt to know that one another could have anyone but each other, assuming that the other does not feel the same. patterned were being traced on your skin as you passed the blunt on to him.

he glances down at you and cuffs your cheek. without thinking, you leaned in to kiss him and not minding the long drawl of the kiss. he nibbles your bottom lip as you giggle pulling away to exhale the smoke. you looked confused as nothing comes out of your mouth.

“you forgot to smoke, dumbdumb.”

he rolls your eyes and puts the blunt out, cuffing your cheeks to pull your face close to his. “i forgot nothing.”

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jackiesarch · 2 years

Text

reclaimed memories

i wrote this a while ago for my beloved @jamesbvchanans and their lily-rose and never posted it. macy has given me permission to share it with you all, so — here she is!

words: 1.1k

warnings: canon typical violence, trauma inspired nightmares

It feels like drowning.

He’s asleep, but it doesn’t make a difference. Black spots pepper his wavering vision, dust blotting out the film reel of memories that loops in his brain. Color bleeds from the image and injects itself back in in equal measure: the world is snow white, the world is blood red, the world is shades of grey that blur into something violently unrecognizable.

“готов подчиниться.”

The words come out in his own voice. He knows them. He doesn’t. This memory hurts, burns, like acid in his lungs and lightning in his bones. Somewhere, as close as they are far, there are voices. They speak to him lowly, commandingly, feeding him instructions and names and faces like one feeds coins into a slot. He is ready to comply. He is staring down his mission. He feels everything and nothing all at once, dragging him under the murky water of his mind and stealing his breath away.

Distantly, he hears a scream. A half second later, it comes again, this time next to his ear. This place is familiar, he thinks. The scream is, too. He is there and he is not, a spectator to his body while someone else pulls the strings.

“James…”

He knows that voice. It comes soft and gentle, swirling around him in every direction, leaving him dizzy and disoriented in a moment that flickers and sparks like a live wire.

“James, please…”

There is warm skin under his fingertips. The sensation is dull, muffled by a metal so strong that the tiny hand gripping his wrist does so with futility. Blonde hair tumbles over the silver of his arm as she struggles and strains in his grip. She is warm, but he can’t quite feel it. He is cold, and he knows she can.

“You don’t have to do this…”

He doesn’t want to. He has no choice. He’s a puppet in his own skin, a pawn desperately trying to ignore the alien urge to squeeze. It’s no use — his fingers close of their own accord, tight and impossible to pry away from her throat. They bruise and crack, compressing her delicate windpipe and leaving nothing but destruction and mottled purples and blues in their wake.

No, he tries to say. The words flounder in his throat, die before they reach his lips. He doesn’t want to do this, but he doesn’t have a choice. Not with his mind in tatters and his cheeks wet with tears.

The edges of his vision burn black, creeping towards the center like a vignette closing in one inch at a time. He hears her rattled breathing, but he can no longer see her face. He feels her grip on his wrist loosen, but he can’t see the way her hand falls limply against her thigh. He is killing her, he has killed her, and by the grace of a force he doesn’t understand, he can’t see her face.

For a moment, there’s nothing. Blackness.

Then everything comes back in a flash of pale white light and frantic, frenzied breathing. He is not asleep. He’s not drowning. He’s upright in a nest of twisted blankets and half-flat pillows, his eyes darting from point to point to search out threats.

He doesn’t find anything. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of his own heaving, desperate breaths. Then, her voice.

“James…hey, stay with me. You’re okay. You’re awake.”

And he is. He blinks, focusing on the burn of exhaustion behind his eyes, on the anxiety that twists his stomach up into knots and tangles. Thudding under his ribs reminds him that he’s alive, that his heart is still pounding. A dream, he realizes. It was all a dream.

“You with me?”

Lily speaks gently. She always does, her tone tempered and soft enough that Bucky finds himself instantly soothed. Hasn’t she always been like this? Hasn’t she always been the anchor?

He nods. There are words in him somewhere, swirling around in the back of his throat, but they’re a jumbled mess.

“Good. Good, that’s good,” she murmurs. Her hand darts out tentatively, testing the waters, and settles on his shoulder. “I think—I think you were having a nightmare. You were crying out in your sleep.”

“I—“ he tries, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I don’t—they’re in my head.”

Lily doesn’t speak for a moment. She’s so quiet that he almost thinks he’s imagined her, that this is another part of another nightmare that just won’t seem to end.

“You’re safe with me, James. It’s over.”

The hand on his shoulder is warm. His dream had muffled it, made it hazy and numb, but now? Here in this moment, awake and breathing again? All he can feel is the brush of her skin against his, the warmth of her touch against the mangled scarring on his left arm and the metal that extends beneath it. It’s comforting. It feels like home.

“They made me hurt you.”

Admitting it feels like a failure. A sin. Bucky has kept her out of his nightmares as long as he’s known her, has never spent a restless night terrified that HYDRA might slip inside him and use his weakness for her as a weapon.

Still, she doesn’t flinch. Lily kneels, shuffling closer until she can reach up and rest her palm against his cheek. He almost flinches. No one has touched him like in years. Not without pain.

“But you didn’t. Not really,” she murmurs, soft as ever. Her thumb strokes the line of his cheekbone. “See? I’m fine. Do you want some water?”

His body screams yes, but he doesn’t want to be alone. Instead, he curls into her touch, lips brushing her palm, and shakes his head. It’s an answer and a question, a “no” and a “please stay” all at once — and like always, she knows exactly what he means.

“Here, come on. Lay back,” she says, her hand slipping down to his chest. She gives him a gentle push and sends him back onto the mess of blankets and pillows. “You need to rest.”

Tension builds in his shoulders and stomach when she nestles herself beside him, but it bleeds out just as quickly. Lily is a calming presence, a safety. She grabs his hand, tangling their fingers together, and suddenly he’s reminded of every other time she’s held him like this: through tests, through tears after his wipe, through every single painful memory that ripped another hole in his subconscious after they ran.

“It’s alright,” she whispers, squeezing his palm, stroking her thumb along his knuckles. “I’m here.”

And she is. She’s there. This is the Lily of his waking world: the one that stole away with him to the middle of nowhere without a second thought, who chose to trust him without ever having a reason to.

He is no longer drowning. Not now. Not with his anchor keeping him grounded, afloat.

“Me too.”

#it’s not perfect but it’s the first piece i’ve finished in a while and i love these two a lot so #it’s special #foc: lily rose watt #my writing.

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prfctethereal · 3 years

Text

in my head. | remus lupin

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play in my head by ariana grande

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you try to tell remus how perfect you think he is, but his insecurities get in the way

word count: 1,819

warnings: mentions of injury

a/n: yuh, in my head is one of my favourites from thank u next and i really love this story ahhh it's so cute okay bye - kennedy

***

Love was a funny thing. When you’re in love with someone, you tend to focus on the good of the person, and completely ignore all of their flaws. Whether you convince yourself that you’re different and you don’t do that, it will be true for everyone. Everything about the person you love is distorted through rose coloured glasses.

I always thought of Remus Lupin as a perfect angel. From the first time our eyes met on the train in first year, I knew I would grow to care for him deeply. Even later on, when we became the closest of friends, as well as with James, Sirius, and Peter, I knew I would care for him forever.

It was me who first noticed something strange with Remus the first year, only raising slight concerns when he would disappear for a few days and come back, cuts on his face and arms littered with bruises. Pointing this out to him only made him shy away, so I took my concerns and thoughts over to the other boys.

Second year was when we finally confronted Remus about what was going on. Ashamed of himself, he explained of his lycanthropy, expecting us to leave him, but of course, we did not. By now, my heart had begun to flutter whenever I caught Remus’ gaze from across the classroom or whenever our hands grazed each other’s when passing books between us. I knew I liked Remus in a different way to the other boys.

We never left Remus’ side when we found out he was a werewolf. He expected us to think of him as a monster, but I only saw another thing to hush about him in private. His bravery, his courage. his persistence. He seemed perfect to me, not bothering to suspect that maybe lycanthropy was a flaw.

Perfection. As we grew older, I only saw Remus as perfect. Perfect cedar hair that swept to the side, fluffing at the top of his head. Warm, inviting eyes that perfectly swirled with wonder and mystery. Scars across his face, seemingly endearing. It came natural to me in third year when I realised that I had a crush on the wolf boy, confusing me as to why I hadn’t realised earlier.

In fourth year, my love for Remus only grew stronger and in fifth year, the other marauders and I made a pact to become animagi to help Remus during his full moons, much to his disputes.

When it was time to show Remus our animagus forms, we ushered him into the Room of Requirement one quiet night, a few days before the full moon. It was a risky idea as Remus often became more and more anxious as the full moon came closer but we thought the revelation would calm him down.

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here.” Remus muttered, playing with the fingers in his hands anxiously. I stood by his side, wrapping my arm around him comfortingly, as Sirius started explaining what was going on.

“I know that you always feel alone and scared during the full moons so we wanted to find a way to help you.” Sirius said, gesturing to the group around us. When Remus looked my way, I gave him a small smile, feeling a blush rise on my cheeks, as Sirius continued. “So, we made it our mission to become animagi.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Remus looked absolutely terrified, getting all flustered as he pulled away from us, backing away against a wall. “That’s dangerous, that’s illegal. I can’t have you guys in trouble because of me.”

“It’s okay Remus.” James said, trying to calm down the anxious werewolf, turning into a majestic stag to show him.

“We’re going to be with you on your full moons and help you.” Peter added, before changing into a small rat, squirming around to Remus’ feet.

“It’s been researched that werewolves won’t try to attack animals as much as people.” Sirius offered, turning himself into a dog, whimpering as he brushed up against the stag next to him.

Remus strolled over to me, concern welling up in his pleading eyes. “Not you too, please don’t say you’re an animagus too.”

Slightly offended, I turned myself into a delicate hummingbird and gently rested on Remus’ shoulder. He looked almost like he was about to cry. In a hushed voice, he whispered so only I could hear: “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Right then, James turned back into his person form and said, “please just let us help you. Let us be there for you, as your friend.”

“Plus,” I mentioned, becoming a person again too, “I’m working towards becoming a healer, so I can help patch you up as well afterwards.” I sent Remus a small smile.

So, it was decided. Each full moon after that, we went with Remus through his transformation, and every full moon, I fell deeper and deeper in love with him.

It was probably all the time we spent together after the full moon, only the two of us left in the shrieking shack, when the rest of the boys went to fetch Madame Pomfrey. The quiet chats we would share for the twenty minutes we had to ourselves, talking about nothing and everything, as the near exhausted Remus laid half awake, muttering a string of thank you’s under his breath.

One particular night, Remus didn't have that bad of a transformation, leaving him less bruised and battered than usual, only a few cuts across his torso and face. Insisting he didn’t need Madame Pomfrey, he trusted me in fixing him up all by myself.

“Thank you.” Remus breathed out after a few minutes of silence since the boys had left. I blushed, nothing unusual, hiding my scarlet didn’t cheeks with a dirty rag I had wiped the dirt off of him with.

“What do I always say, Rem?” I asked, carefully stroking the damp cloth across his chest, cleaning up the dried blood. “You don’t have to thank me for helping you.”

“But I want to.” Remus started, taking my hand in his, raising it up close to his face to gently kiss my knuckles. “You don’t have to be here right now. You shouldn’t have to be here right now. You look too tired to be looking after me all the time. Go to bed.”

“No. I’m here for you, because I love you and you’re my friend.” It just slipped past my lips, those three words. On the outside, it looked like just another thing I said, going back to working at the cuts across his chest. Inside, my heart was working overtime, beating faster than usual. I couldn’t believe I had just said that.

Eyes flickering upwards towards Remus, I took in the fact that he had dozed off, probably not even hearing the confession that had fallen without me trying, and I was okay with that. He looked perfect, quietly sleeping there, eyes shut, so I worked silently, patching up his cuts, placing a single kiss on his hairline as he slept.

***

The next day tradition was always visiting Remus in the hospital wing as Madame Pomfrey always insists he stays there for an extra day. After classes, the rest of the marauders and I piled into the wing to tell Remus about their days.

Today, I stayed quiet, still shocked about what I had confessed the night earlier. As the boys kept Remus occupied, I anxiously waited for when he would eventually ask to talk to me.

As the boys dispersed from the hospital wing, I felt a shaking hand grab mine, pulling me to stay. My heart was thumping out of my chest but I stayed put, sitting on the edge of Remus’ bed, looking into his perfect eyes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Remus muttered, playing with my own fingers mindlessly. “Is something on your mind?”

I needed to tell him. It was the perfect time to tell him about how I felt but I couldn’t find the right words to say. Everything felt like a jumble in my head. Nothing was coming out of my throat and my brain was blank.

“I’ll tell you what,” Remus said, squeezing my hand reassuringly, “once I get out of here, we can go raid the kitchens together, like we used to, you know? And after that, we can go sit by the black lake and read one of your muggle books you always read.”

“You’re perfect, you know that, right?” I whispered under my breath, getting a soft chuckle out of Remus.

“I’m far from perfect, sweetheart.”

But I didn’t believe him. He always proved himself wrong in different aspects. Holding up to his promises, he came with me to the kitchens, telling the elves to fetch an abundance of chocolate, a love we shared between us.

Walking down to the black lake together, it was solemn but peaceful. Sounds of animals chirping and leaves rustling filled the air, a light breeze brushing past us as we walked down the path. Once we got to our favourite spot, we sat down, with Remus pulling out an old copy of Alice in Wonderland to read.

As he read aloud, I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. All I knew was that it was finally time to tell him how I felt about him. It was time to tell him that I was in love with him.

“I need to tell you something.” I abruptly said, interrupting Remus’ reading of the book. He looked up at me, humming, egging me to go on.

“You’re perfect.” I reinstated, much like I said before in the hospital wing, but instead of getting a glimpse of laughter like before, I was met by Remus’ confused eyes.

“Remus,” I sucked in a breath of air, “I’m in love with you.”

Silence. A pause. At that moment, I knew I had blown it. He stared at me, not saying a word, until he murdered something, so quietly I almost didn’t hear.

“No, here’s the thing: you’re in love with a person you’ve created in your head, that you are trying to, but cannot fix. The only thing you can fix is yourself.”

My heart stopped.

“You don’t want to love me, [Y/N], I’m a monster.”

Acting on instinct, I cupped his cheek with my hand, placing a soft kiss on his temple, that was immediately washed away by a tear that had rolled down my own cheek.

“You’re not a monster.” My voice was shaky. “And I do love you. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

And he held me closer, placing a kiss on my lips. Out of shock, I didn’t know what to do, but then, I kissed back, pulling my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. When we pulled away, I stared into his perfect eyes.

Perfect.

“I love you too, [Y/N].

#harry potter #marauders era #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you

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