#maybe ill make a new leg for him one day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

happy-beeeps · 1 month

Text

Sweat it out

Summary: tav comes down with a nasty flu, and one of her travel companions begins to worry... and maybe realize his feelings

WC: 1.3k

warnings: none i think! idiots in love

f!tav x reader

It��s quiet outside Astarion’s tent as he paces back and forth. Halsin has been inside with you for far too long, and the lack of communication has him worried. How long has it been since he hasn’t ended the night with your words, your breath near his? Weeks, months?

He doesn’t like to think of it. In fact, he’s doing an excellent attempt at thinking about anything else as he paces, and fails to notice the clatter of their camp members walking over to him.

“Chin up soldier, the rest of us seem okay, it probably has nothing to do with her tadpole.”

“Karlach is right,” Gale agrees, “it seems unlikely that the rest of us would be spared the same fate if this truly was connected to our wormy affliction. She will pull through.”

As much as it pains him to admit it, Gale is right. For all logical sense, this should have nothing to do with the mind flayers—but the thought offers little comfort (few things hinging on Gale’s ideas rarely do.)

It has started this morning, you had remarked how your head felt wrong. You felt wrong. You had ignored it, had soldiered on. As the day progressed, you complained of aches that had not been there, of chills that ran down your arms. Your skin grew pallor, covered in a sheen of sweat. By the end of the night, a cough ragged at your chest, and you could do nothing f else but whimper to yourself. The slightest motion had set tears out of your eyes, your skin burning itself to rid your body of whatever was happening.

Only Halsin, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart accompanied you now, the two healers were working overtime on an attempt to find your ailment, and Lae’zel was not easily persuaded to leave behind one of her dearest friends.

Astarion thinks of the dagger pressed to poor Wyll’s throat when he kindly attempt to guide her towards a spot nearest the fire.

He’s worried about you. This isn’t new, he’s made peace with the reality that he cares for you, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it. Now, he fears the opportunity may be slipping from him.

It’s Halsin’s booming voice that calms his nerves, he and the other two step out from the tent, his grin palpable even from where Astarion is standing. “She’ll be fine. It’s a nasty virus, I’ve given her a brew to aid in the healing, and I’ve created tonics for the rest of us.”

As he passes them out, Shadowheart walks up to Astarion, who is quickly making his way towards your tent. “You… don’t need a tonic. On the account of you being, you know. Not really alive.”

“You’ve got such a way with words, really,” he breathes, but his eyes flicker to the flap of your tent, “so I can go see her?”

Lae’zel speaks up, placing a firm pat on his arm as she walks by, “she’s certainly been asking for you.”

* * *

You have two clear, feverish trances.

The first is of your mother. A memory that’s not uncommon, one you drift back to anytime you attempt to rest an illness away. Its familiarity brings comfort as you attempt to sweat this bug out, and ignore Halsin and Shadowheart’s proding over your body.

The other is… newer. One you hadn’t expected. You’re in a secluded section of camp, feet tapping against the water, skin swathed in moonlight. Your wearing nothing other than a long, white shirt, unlaced dangerously along the neck. This is no more than two days ago.

You follow the memory along, watch from your eyes as you trace circles along your bare thighs, until you look to your side. Astarion is there, eyes swimming with emotion, as he gnaws on his lip.

Memory Astarion reaches out, grabbing your hand, weaving your fingers together. “I’m glad you’ve convinced me to stick around after our escapades, you are entirely addicting.”

Memory you leans against him, pressing your weight against his. His skin is cool, the chill sending tiny bumps along your exposed legs. “I’m glad you’ve decided to humor me, Star.”

You’re mortified when your eyes flutter open, your mouth in the process of muttering his name, to realize he’s here. Next to you. In your tent. As you sweat through probably a third pair of smallclothes.

“You rang?” He’s cheeky when he speaks, but his hand goes to palm your stomach quickly, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re here, you’re still you. The concern is sweet, and it sends an all new kind of flush across your body.

“Feel so sick, Star.” Shit. Is that tiny little voice coming from you?

He moves then, gentler than he’s ever moved before, carefully contorting his body around yours and pressing you against him. In an instant, it’s like a salve to your soul. You’re covered in him—his smell, his weight, his temperature. The chill itself is a whole other soothe to your aches.

“I know you are darling, but Halsin said you’ll be better soon.”

“Can’t get you sick,” a cough takes your lungs briefly, “who’s gonna pick the locks for us then?”

He laughs, and smooths a few stray hairs out of your face. “I won’t. Officially medically cleared, according to Shadowheart. On the account of my ‘not being alive.’”

You move to nod your head, but the pain makes you stop. Astarion is quick, and he cushions the movement with his hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I hear you were dreaming about me?”

“Maybe. Lots of trances. You know how it goes.”

“Was it particularly scandalous? Is that why my little love is so keen to swear?”

“Don’t have it in me to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s a calm silence that takes you next, Astarion stroking your hair as you listen to the distant clamor of your friends. You break it, after another moment.

“I remembered my mother.”

You don’t often talk about your family, and he knows this. He moved just slightly so you can see his face, curiosity and warmth covering his eyes. “What was it?”

“When I was little, I got sick, nothing bad but still sick. My mother, she’d rub my hair and sing to me,” you pause to close your eyes, as if you could will her here right now, “she’d go to our kitchens and shoo the cooks out, she’d make me her special soup, and when she brought it to me she’d promise me she’d teach me one day.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. Smart too. She always knew things about me that I didn’t know.”

“Oh, like what?” Astarion’s face shimmers with a laugh and you use the last bit of your strength to attempt a shrug and burrow into his chest.

“She used to tell me she knew I’d end up with someone older. Don’t know if she knew how old.”

After your words, as if in cue, your chest begins its steady rise and fall, and Astarion recognizes the twitch in your fingers. You’re trancing again. Which means he’s stuck with your words and their heavy implications.

Still, with the way your overheating body simmers against his cold touch, he resolved that he doesn’t mind their weight, not at all. In fact, he’d like more of your burden.

You don’t slip out of your trance that night, but feel the briefest ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

When sunlight rolls around, your eyes blink awake. You’re weak, you can feel it, but better. You go to sit up, but realize quickly Astarion’s weight is still against you, one arm cradling your head to his chest, one arm twisted beneath you.

You’ve never quite felt so comfortable, so held. You don’t remember what you told him last night, don’t remember exactly what he said. Instead, you decided to live in this moment now, and pray to all the gods you’ll get to relive it again soon.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader

494 notes · View notes

themotherofhorses · 1 year

Text

maybe you think that you can hide (i can smell your scent from miles)

summary: let it be known that accepting defeat is not in aemond targaryen's nature. and with a witch now in his hands, the distance between you and him is only shortening.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. mentions of violence, previous smut, and child loss. male masturbation. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: to quote my mom, megan thee stallion: "pressed, stressed, obsessed, i got 'em."

masterlist | series masterlist

part one | part three | part four | part five

The rain was light. From his chamber’s windows, Aemond One Eye could see the fat raindrops fogging up the glass frames and mudding the open courtyard below, where he usually trained under Ser Criston Cole. The evening weather was peaceful and calm, very soothing, but Aemond’s mind was anything but.

He had been counting the days, as it was all he could do right now.

Three months, perhaps even four, since his own lady wife vanished, leaving no trace of herself behind.

Aemond deeply regretted not having a septon marry the two of them in the eyes of the Seven that very night that he claimed her, or whisking her away to Dragonstone in secret to wed her in the customs of his ancestors. Oh, he knew that his family would object to the marriage, but he did not care. She was his, and they could not, would not, deny that. She and the babe. They both belonged to him.

And now they were gone.

It weighed him down most days- if not all, a sort of feeling so heavy in his chest that sometimes it made it hard to breathe. Were they both alright? Safe and healthy? Had she gone against his wishes and returned to her homeland? Aemond had no way of knowing the answers and that itself was most upsetting, because what if they were dead? Or injured, with the Stranger trailing after them, awaiting the chance to rob them from him?

He shakes his head at that. I will find them, he swears to himself, while a fist clenches into a tight ball, no more of these ill thoughts.

But with no more ill-mannered thoughts come those of vengeance and punishment.

How dare she, this lady wife of his, flee from him!

He promised her everything under the golden sun and more- a plentiful and comfortable life as a princess of the realm and the mother of his heirs, as well as his very own beating heart and soul and seed. What more could the foolish girl long for? Aemond stares out the window, towards the gentle hill slopes of the realm’s countryside. The land was silvery from the rain and blanketed with a thick mist. What could her homeland provide that he could not?

He sighs before turning back to his empty bed, the left side, from where she once laid, now cold and untouched, with her sweet scent slowly fading. He hates it.

Yet some of it was still left, to his many blessings, and he brings the sheets to his nose, taking in a deep whiff.

The smell makes his cock stir and harden in his pants, and he soon grows too weak in the knees and in his resolve. He tears off his trousers and lays on the bed, his cock in one hand, and her side of the sheets in the other, his mind spinning countless images of his young bride. Every thought sent more blood rushing in between his legs, memories of her pretty body and all the marks and bruises her skin wore, her cries and whimpers, and the way her tearful eyes bore into his.

After that night, he took her more and more, in varying positions. Some new, others old. Sometimes he mounted her from behind, shoving her face down into the pillows to muffle her loud moans and screams as her hips slapped against his, and while that was pleasant, he soon realized he did not care for such. Aemond liked seeing her beautiful face twisted in pleasure and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, and how she easily flustered whenever he leant to whisper a string of praises in her ear.

He also liked when she sat on her knees with his cock in her mouth, her tongue working wonders as she stared up at him as if he was a god and she one of those whores that belonged to the Street of Silk. But he never dared mutter those kind of words aloud, fore his lady wife was so much prettier than them damned wenches, too sweet and innocent and pure, and wholly his.

And not long after that, she began to glow, the sort that came only with motherhood.

He loved it and felt nothing but immense pride.

Was she still glowing, and swelling with his child? Aemond was certain she was, and he could only imagine the sight, one most beautiful to man. He remembered his mother’s pregnancy with his younger brother- how her feet constantly ached, and all the times she would ask Ser Cole to fan her, or switch gowns because she grew too uncomfortable and moody.

Was it the same for his wife? Were her little feet hurting as well?

The thought of such makes him bite down hard on his bottom lip, trying his best to swallow his own grunts and moan, and with a whine so unlike him, the head of his cock weeps and spills more of his seed, down his hand and onto his thighs.

What a waste, he thinks emptily, while eyeing the mess he had made, all this belongs to her, yet the foolish girl refused to see it.

Heaving out yet another heavy sigh, he reaches for the rag that sits to his side. What more could be done? Nothing. Foolish, foolish little girl, he clicks his tongue, all this because of you. He then calls for the maid, requesting for her to draw him a bath.

Tonight, he will dream of his lady wife and their little babe and the life they should be sharing at this very moment. He will ponder over names and if the child will favor her looks or his, and how he will need to meet with the royal seamstress for a layette. And as he sinks himself into the scalding hot waters of the bathtub, he smiles in contentment.

One-eyed Aemond Targaryen will have his wife, and his child too, by any means necessary.

It was after he sacked Harrenhal that Aemond finds the opportunity he had been waiting for.

The sixth month was nearing with still no sign of his little wife, though the princeling did not dare to consider admitting defeat. There was much pent-up frustration and fury within him, festering from all the damned months he faced of constant loneliness and dryness, and the riverlands faced the brute of it, most notably House Strong. In the ward of Harrenhal, at the hands and command of Prince Aemond, no Strong was spared- neither trueborn nor bastard, all but Alys Rivers.

He had previously heard that the rivers woman was an alleged woods witch, though she dabbled in other branches of the craft. Blood magic too, several little birds say as well.

It gives him an idea.

So he demands two of his knightsmen to bring to him the wet nurse, dark-haired and twice his age. When she stands in front of him, dressed in a soft emerald gown and with her bodice sullied wet from her breast milk, he does not expect for her to bat her black eyelashes and promise to warm his bed if he grants her protection.

“I can be of great use to you,” she adds, in tones thick with seduction.

But Aemond is quick to unsheathe his sword and hold it at her throat. “It should be known that I carry no love for your kind, witch, and that I dare not touch another woman who is not my wife,” he seethes, pressing the blade harder against her skin, “-either you pledge to help me find her, or I will sever your tongue. Perhaps I’ll send it to the whore of my eldest sister as a gift, seeing how she loved you Strongs so much.”

In the back stands Ser Criston Cole, biting his own tongue from saying anything. He may have been the second son of Viserys Targaryen, but Prince Aemond was the knight’s through and through.

The woman nods, and Aemond pulls back his sword. In his mind, he is giddy with excitement at the thought of finally having his dear wife back in his arms, where she belongs.

And the babe, he can hardly wait to see him too.

Alys wipes away the tiny welts of blood budding along her neckline, grimacing. She recognizes the blade as Valyrian-steel, with an edge that could have cut her head clean off. It is probably spell-forged too, she thinks. “My time and craft come with a price, Prince Aemond,” she says, steeling her voice to hide the fact that she is licking her wounds. “I expect to be paid in return.”

“Yes, I know,” Aemond hums, while sliding his sword back into its sheathe. “You will keep your life, and still have the chance for more babes to feed from your chest.”

He debates whether to bring her back to King’s Landing, in case his own children need a wet nurse, but the thought is off-putting, and he wishes not to offend his wife when she returns. Instead, he turns back to study the rivers woman. “My wife is missing,” he says, “and I wish to find her and bring her home.”

Alys frowns. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Six months ago, in our room. She disappeared the next morning, leaving nothing behind.” Aemond sighs. “She is with child,” he says ruefully, “and I worry every day." He rubs at his temple, shaking his head. "This is her first babe, and mine as well. I have made her into a new mother with the promise to remain by her side, but now she is gone, and I haven’t the slightest clue where she might be.” The pain returns again, followed by anger and frustration, as well as the deep regret for not doing things differently.

His words give Alys a chill. She always had a soft spot for children and the young maidens that found motherhood too soon in their lives. Maybe because that was her once, so many moons ago, losing child after child well before their lives began.

She mourned so many dead babes that the thought of another girl going through the same felt sinful.

Finding sudden courage, Alys takes Aemond’s hand in hers. “Let me help you, Prince Aemond,” she tells him, all with the gentlest smile. “A father should be with his children, and a wife with her husband.”

His violet eye finds her green ones, and she catches the smallest glimmer of hope flickering within. “Thank you.”

“Blood magic would perhaps be the best way to find your wife, my prince.”

Aemond tilts his head at Alys. “How so?” The Faith of the Seven went against magic, and harbors little love or respect towards those who practice it, and he grew up with similar sentiments. But at this point, he is too desperate to care. All he wants is her back.

May the Father and the Crone forgive him in his later years, though he has a feeling that the Mother might be rather sympathetic and understanding towards his situation.

“It is a strong and powerful craft,” Alys explains, “capable of things beyond our own understandings. This sort of magic- it has the power to deliver life and then steal it away. ”

He hums, nodding along. “And how would it work?”

Alys pauses, unsure of how to say her next words. “It would require the blood of your wife, my prince,” she says, carefully, “even just the tiniest droplet would work well. I could call upon my own gods to find her. If she pricked her finger on a needle or scraped her knee, as long as it drew fresh blood, there is no use in her hiding.” But her head then drops, and her shoulders slump too, “Yet seeing how she has been gone for so long, I do not know how it could be done, or what else to do in that matter.”

Aemond remains quiet from where he sits by the room’s hearth. He brushes his knuckles against his lips as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. “Would dry blood work?”

Alys blinks. “Well, maybe?” Her mouths flatten in a line as she ponders over the idea, trying to remember if her old readings ever mentioned anything about dried blood and rituals. “I suppose so, my prince,” she replies with, fiddling with her long and thin fingers, “Blood is blood, regardless of time.”

At that, he leaves the room, only to return several minutes later carrying a single bedsheet, cream in color. Alys watches as he drapes it over the chair he had sat at, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. When he is done, he calls for the witch to join his side, and when she stands next to him, he gestures to a bloodstain at the center, dried and a bit crusty but still obvious.

“My wife’s blood,” he says, smirking, “from the night I took her maidenhood and gave her our son.”

Alys glances at him, and her lips pull back into a smirk too. “Perfect.”

tag list: @minttea07 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @smolnuggie911 @marahisthebest @bibli0thecary @whatsonthemirror @bellaisasleep @witchy-jadda @princeaemond1eye @mefools @xcharlottemikaelsonx @browngirl101

(if I did not tag you, it’s because it did not let me! im sorry, little love, the tumblr gods hate me today.)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

3K notes · View notes

hisui-dreamer · 3 months

Note

omg omg !! HAPPY 2K RINNA <3 i’m so so proud of u and u deserve everything 💗 the event looks so fun hehe YOU ALRKEUADY JNIW WHI IN GONNANS ASK FOR

i really really love tulips so could i ask for lilia and tulips please? its meaning is perfect and deep love hehe CHEWS YOUR WALLS

good luck with your assignments and take all the time you need !! i love you and miss you mwahh

a crown befitting of you

Pairing: Lilia Vanrouge x gn!reader

Synopsis: his feelings had grown so subtly, so steadily, that he had not realised at all

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, reader eats lilia's food omg

Word count: 783

Notes: mil mil my favourite person ever!!💕💕💕 thank you so much ill work hard on my assignments 🫡 i hope you enjoy lilia hehehe >∪<

Masterlist

flower of choice: tulip

tulips are commonly asosciated with perfect and deep love.

Looking back, Lilia vividly remembers the day you arrived in Twisted Wonderland. Amidst the grand spectacle of the entrance ceremony, particularly with Grim's frantic attempts to avoid being captured, there was something about you that captured his attention. Maybe it was the distinct curiosity shining in your eyes, navigating through an entirely foreign world with a blend of composure and uncertainty. Whatever it was, he found himself wanting to reach out and make you feel welcome.

He started looking out for you without even realizing it. He began with small gestures, like offering help with your studies when he found you hunched over a book in the library or popping down from the ceiling to help you find a classroom. He enjoyed seeing your smile brighten whenever you grasped a new concept or conquered a challenge. It felt good to be there for you, to share his experiences and insights.

As time went on, your interactions blossomed into a regular occurrence. Hours seemed to melt away as you engaged in conversations about anything and everything, exchanging stories of your homeland and experiences while he eagerly recounted his adventures from various countries. Among the students, you were the only one to actively praise his cooking, willingly joining him in the kitchen. These shared moments became cherished moments for Lilia, feeling a connection forming between you that he couldn't quite explain.

But it wasn't until much later that he realized the true depth of his feelings. They had silently amassed over time, creeping up on him when he least expected it. Suddenly, he found myself thinking about you all the time, wondering how you were and yearning to see your smile once more.

Just as his thoughts drifted to you, a familiar laughter dances through the air, drawing his attention. Turning towards its source, he finds himself captivated by the scene unfolding before him. The sun bathes the school courtyard in a radiant golden hue, casting a warm, inviting glow upon everything it touches. There you are, seated on the grass with legs crossed, skillfully weaving delicate tulip flowers into a crown.

Curiosity piqued, he approaches quietly, not wanting to interrupt your moment of concentration. As he draws nearer, you glance up, your eyes shimmering with delight and a mischievous grin playing upon your lips.

"Lilia!" you exclaim, a hint of surprise colouring your tone. "What perfect timing! I've made something for you."

With a graceful flourish, you hold up the tulip flower crown, presenting it as if it were a priceless gem. Each vibrant petal seems to shimmer and sway in the sunlight, casting a spell of enchantment over the surroundings. The delicate blooms, ranging in hues from deep crimson to soft pastel pink, are meticulously arranged in a circular formation, creating a majestic crown fit for royalty.

"You made this for me?" he asks, a wry grin on his face. He can't help but think it suits you far better.

"Of course!" You reply, your grin widening. "Don’t you think it’ll enhance your cuteness?"

A huff of laughter escapes him as you delicately place the crown upon his head, adjusting it until it sits just right. He can't help but feel a rush of affection towards you, grateful for your kindness and the undeniable warmth you bring into his life.

As you step back to admire your handiwork, your gaze meets his, and time seems to stand still. He finds himself entranced by the sparkle in your eyes, the way your smile reaches all the way to your soul.

It is then, with the sun kissing your skin and the scent of tulips filling the air, that he realises just how deeply he cares for you. In your laughter, in your playful gestures, he found a love he hadn't known existed, a love that filled him with a warmth unlike anything he'd ever felt before. And as he looks into your eyes, his own heart overflowing with emotion, he knows that he has fallen completely, utterly in love.

"Rather than me," he begins, lifting the flower crown from his head and gently placing it upon yours. "I believe it enhances your cuteness far more effectively."

He watches with rapt attention as a delicate flush blossoms across your cheeks, like the soft petals of a rose responding to the morning sun. The warmth of embarrassment paints your features with a gentle hue, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to your already captivating presence. In that moment, your eyes widen slightly, reflecting a mixture of surprise and affection, like sparkling jewels illuminated by a ray of sunlight.

Truly, the deepest of loves.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge x mc #twst lilia vanrouge #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia x reader #✧millie🪭✦

403 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 5 months

Text

(dash)ing through the snow • e. jaeger

synopsis: not even the holidays can give you peace from your favorite headache of a DoorDash driver but honestly, you wouldn’t want it any other way!

content + themes: fem!reader (black coded), food play, lots of fluff and humor, bits of angst, heavy kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, alcohol mentions, handjob, riding, drunk sex, sub eren (he moans a lot), calls reader mama and baby, creampie

word count: 5.7K

📝: hope everybody enjoyed their holidays, whether you’re celebrated alone, with family, friends or fur babies. Or maybe not even at all..either way, I hope y’all are taking care of yourselves for the rest of the year. 🫶🏾🤍 this IS coming a day late cause mama’s got chronic pain + illness and when it hits, it’s like a truck so I was been out since 10PM yesterday on pain meds with a fever too so I’m posting now. Hopefully the Christmas spirit hasn’t left yet. I’m sorry I got y’all hopes up for it yesterday! 😭

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

The holidays..a time that by all accounts should invoke cheer and joy into the hearts of everyone. An occasion for celebration, love and laughter. Being surrounded by those you cherished dearly, enjoying the food, gifts and just the warmth that Christmas brought forth. However, that wasn’t the case for everyone, including (y/n) (l/n), who would be spending their day alone for the second year in a row. All but deduced to living on your own, you had only spoken to your roommate via FaceTime, where she explained that she’d be staying behind to help out the family business over the busy holiday rush and your own relatives, two states away despite not being particularly close to any of them. It still would’ve been nice to have someone around to share the day with. Growing up, Christmas was a staple in your household and it was by far, your favorite time of the year. Decorating the tree and wrapping gifts, making delicious food and even baking cookies for Santa. Now it seemed that the whimsical, childhood spark had all but dwindled..a sham of a holiday that you didn’t care for anymore..however, if your favorite nuisance had anything at all to do with it and if you knew him, you wouldn’t be left by your lonesome for too long!

“I’m so sorry, (y/n)! I thought I’d be back in time but they still need me. I swear I’ll make it up to you..”

“It’s fine, boo! Don’t worry about me..be with your folks and enjoy yourself, okay? I’m fine, trust me.” Which helped quell your best friend and roommate’s unease a little. As of late, you seemed to be in much better spirits. Genuinely smiling as opposed to the fake one you were obviously forcing. You hadn’t exactly divulged the secret to her about you and your little rendezvous with the delivery driver. Out of fear of embarrassment or the sheer fact that the two of them didn't exactly get along. Not only did they go to high school together but she used to straight kick his ass in any sport he even dared to try. Although beautiful and girly at times, she had quite the tomboy side to her. She’d first learned of his identity, the annoying DoorDasher who kept magically ending up with your orders, when she came back around Halloween. He was in for a rude awakening when the five foot eight girl with tattoos and short hair answered the door. Knowing damn well she was the last one to try with his bullshit antics!

“If you want to keep your job and your legs, you’ll hand me that bag and get your ass out of here.” A threat that was certain to come to fruition messing with her. It was the only time you’d gotten peace. Of course, the second she boarded that flight, he was talking cold hard shit! “Man, ain’t nobody scared of her. She ain’t gone’ do nothing to me..” still, it didn’t deter him from keeping away from his favorite customer and new boo. Especially because he knew that although you had told your friend that you were just fine..you were probably sulking on the couch. The feeling of loneliness setting in..and the realization that you were about to spend another holiday by yourself. That was unless he came and saved the day..it wasn’t a full five minutes after the conclusion of your call before you’d be greeted by a faint knock at the door. Followed by that of a text..

“I should’ve known..”

you’d peer down at your phone screen, illuminated with the notification and the time; ten thirty pm. Considered late by any other standards but the perfect hour for the antics you were certain was about to ensue. Having brought some liquor and eggnog earlier in the day when you finally had some free time for the holidays. Having some much needed time off. It felt good to not have to depend on someone else to deliver your items. But alas, you wouldn’t be scot free of the man who had all but flipped your mundane life upside down in these past eight months. Making these humdrum days far more exciting, whether you wanted to admit so or not. The ever so lively Eren Jaeger..your doordasher and as of late, newest fling. After what was set to be a wonderful outing with a Tinder date, you were unfortunately stood up and left with only regret and disappointment. However, rather than annoying you with his usual nonsense, he showed a much different side. One that was far more mature and nurturing than what had been previously displayed. As fate would have it, you’d find yourselves trapped inside due to a nasty rainstorm. And before the night’s end..not only were you over the betrayal by the potential date but thanks to Eren, you were also left feeling highly satisfied; courtesy of the several orgasms he invoked out of you that night! From the kitchen counter where he jolted you around on his fingers, slowly kissing and reminding you just how beautiful you were to making love underneath the sounds of pouring rain in your bedroom..a space delegated solely for yourself. Nibbling at your ear and giving you slow backshots as he pressed you flat to the mattress. You couldn’t get enough of one another and needless to say, it caused quite the shift in your once rocky dynamic. A shift that elicited more late night visits and constant texting afterwards. It made you realize that you truly hadn’t seen all of the layers of this once irritating guy who seemed to have been showing up on your step more frequently as of late. Shuffling over to the door, you’d stand to your tiptoes, peering from the small opening meant to screen guests before allowing them in.

“You gon’ let me in or I gotta stand out in the cold all night?”

“That depends. Do you have what I need?”

and of course, he would never be so foolish as to show up empty handed. Not when he was determined to woo the lady who had all but encompassed his psyche. Since the inception of your illustrious little, makeshift love affair, Eren had all but become infatuated. He was already smitten to begin with…loving the fact that you were so quick witted and matched his antics with a no nonsense attitude. Snapping at him when truthfully, you just needed someone to get rid of that stress. Regardless, you wouldn’t be worn down so easily!..if he truly wanted to pursue something with you outside of a customer-driver relationship, then he’d have to work hard to persuade you that he was worth the trouble. It was going to take more than some dick and sweet nothings to knock you off your game. For a moment, he fell silent. You figured he was back to his old antics.

“Baby, I always got what you need. All you have to do is ask. Besides, I’m not risking you whooping my ass because I forgot something.”

with that rather typical response, you’d unbolt the locks and allow him entry. “You are so aggravating.” But before he stepped over the threshold, you’d find his arm snaked around the small of your exposed back, due to the cropped tank top you were sporting and quickly tugged into an entrancing kiss. One that almost swept you from your feet. Even grasping a healthy portion of your asscheck amid the moment. You could tell that he was the type to not only capture a girl’s body but her mind and spirit as well. Despite not trusting him fully, you couldn’t pull away nor did you want to stop seeing him. Once again using the guise of needing a late night meal, you’d summon your faithful driver forth and he’d come bearing gifts. A bag filled with all sorts of delectable treats..ranging from strawberries, chocolate dip, whipped cream, ice cream and of course more of that spiced rum you both loved so much. On his shoulder, he brandished a black duffle; affectionately coined his ‘spinnanight bag’! Needless to say, he had no plans to leave for the time being and all of his devotion was on you.

“Like you’d actually be able to live without me.”

“Mmm..well I guess things would get boring without you around to get on my nerves, huh?”

flashing him a toothy beam, he’d scale your hips with gentle hands for a moment with a similar expression on his handsome face. That was the thing about Eren..despite his crass personality, he handled you with the utmost care. Something you weren’t used to…

“C’mon now, that’s my job..what I do best..” invoking chuckles from the both of you. By this time he had closed the door, securing it behind you both. Followed by the offering of a seat as you formally invited him inside of your home. “Yeah, well I paid you to bring my stuff so hopefully you got it right.” It was rather plain to see that he no longer considered himself a stranger in your life, accepting the warm invitation with open arms and acclimating himself into your space. He’d carefully observed it during the last two visits, but he truly couldn’t fathom how beautiful your apartment was. Clean, organized and so well coordinated despite the bright aesthetic with a mix of lavenders and pinks. Plants swaying and a humidifier steaming gently in the corner to help them keep warmth in the winter. The whole vibe seemed to suit you..

“Give me some credit now. I’m a professional, I don’t make mistakes..”

it was then that Eren would become interrupted in his tracks when he’d peer down at your coffee table..spotting the preset shot glasses before him. Faintly smirking to himself because it was fairly easy to see the type of time you were on!..things truly would never be the same between the two of you now..whilst you shuffled around in the kitchen, preparing some snacks, he’d begin making himself quite comfortable. Kicking off his shoes, pulling off his hoodie and and propping his feet up as if he belonged here. Your roommate would have a conniption if she saw that. He carefully observed the rest of the surroundings, including the adorable tree that you had so meticulously decorated. Lined with garland, glistening with ornaments and illuminated with bright lights..it was beautiful! He’d never seen one so carefully decorated since his own mom.

“What’s up with this tree?”

causing you to glance up, meeting his snarky expression as you chopped up some fruit. “Not too much on my tree, she’s cute. I worked hard on it.” Which only further brought him to hysterics because the thought of someone like you..someone as angry and uptight loving Christmas this much, so much so that between your already beautiful interior were gaudy decorations of snowmen and Santa. Little reindeer figurines strewn throughout the apartment..it was rather adorable, this side of you. He hoped to see it far more often. Chuckling to himself, Eren couldn’t help but to snicker at your reaction but it was purely from a wholesome perspective, not to make fun of you.

“Nah, you did a good job on it. On all of it actually.. aye, I’m even a lil’ jealous. I can’t get those dumbasses I live with to clean up sometimes, less known get a tree set up. At least somebody’s in the holiday spirit.”

he wasn’t lying either. Truth was, he too loved the holidays growing up and as he got older, Eren came to realize that many of his peers didn’t share the same sentiment. Many saw it as childish or just downright unnecessary at this age. Rather, they spent their holidays getting high and drinking, partying the nights away. It was fine to an extent but he missed the whimsical joy that this time of year brought forth. It was nice to see..

“Well I’m glad you think so. Not too bad to say I did it myself..my roommate’s been a lil’ salty with me because I put it up without her. But a Christmas tree being in my living room while trick or treaters were knocking would be insane.” To which he was inclined to agree. Although the uttering of your aforementioned roommate caused him to visibly shudder. “So, where is the she-devil? Still riding her broomstick through hell?” You had to catch yourself from laughing, not because he was poking fun at your best friend but because she put him in a headlock in the middle of the parking lot and Eren couldn’t escape. You were so hysterical, your sides hurt from laughter after she was finished. And at the time, you were so frustrated with him and his bullshit, it felt like some sort of penance for all the aggravation you had to endure. “Unt uh..I know you’re not still mad. Not when you ate half my burrito and then tried to play me in a game of rock, paper, scissors for my drink.” Reminding him of why the altercation started in the first place. “As hungry as I was that night too, yeah, you lucky a headlock was all you caught.” Swinging your knife with animated expressions as you chuckled. Naturally, he had no response whatsoever and truth be told, he couldn’t be mad that two pretty girls had bested him!

“I think you set me up, that’s what I think. But it’s all good..you wanna know why?” picking through the assortment of snacks that you had already set out with a smug grin on his face. Knowing that he was about to have you all to himself and there was nothing she could say. In truth, he felt as if he had the last laugh! Finishing up your assortment of delectables, you’d shuffle over; setting them down and then taking a seat next to him shortly thereafter. “Why’s that? Tell me..” “Because..” not even a full second before you acclimated on to the couch, you’d find your head tilted upright with his fingers underneath your chin. “I got what I wanted. I get to be with you. So I’d say I won.” Just barely grazing your lips together before you’d halt him with a gentle hand to the chest. It wasn’t for a lack of you feeling the same way about him and it certainly didn’t help matters any for you two to be sexually involved now but you were also apprehensive. What if this entire pursuit was some sick conquest for him? Proof that he could wear down the harrowing Ice Queen of Apartment Two Eighty Four. Maybe it was all a part of a bet he had made with friends that he could bag you..perhaps it was something he did all the time.

“That’s how you feel, huh?”

“I don’t think I can make it any clearer, mama. I mean, I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else right now..”

even so, you couldn’t let your fears hold you back from happiness! You can’t recall the last time you’d smile so much. Being around him brought forth a sense of peace that seemed unattainable. And now, here you were spending Christmas Eve with a man, who by all accounts was your sworn enemy almost a year ago. Now things were starkly different and you’d never look back. Either way it went..

“Well in that case, why don’t we get us some drinks?” “Now you talking. Besides, I know you don’t play about your food, so I brought plenty.” Earning him a snarky side eye in the process. He was still that same asshole he always was, it just now seemed far more charming! “Oh, so you got jokes? I’ll remember that.” “I crack myself up from time to time. Hey, what’s that?” And the instant you turned your head, searching for the imaginary object, shifting when you realized nothing was there..you’d find yourself entrapped in a kiss as he had craftily snuck something from his pocket. A tiny mistletoe he had been saving for the perfect moment. Dangling above your heads as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. His touch warmed you to your core..it felt so nice..

“Y’know, I’ve always wanted to do that. Definitely worth the wait..” immediately, you’d find yourself flustered and unable to gather your thoughts for a moment. You’d never been kissed like that, not once in your life. “You’re so corny.” Faltering into a snicker but immediately feigning with a light touch to his cheek. “But it’s cute. So I’ll let you slide.” With that declaration, the small scale festivities would commence and you two began what would become a night forever ingrained in your memories.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

an hour or so passed by, with you both indulging in all of the delicious treats he had brought over, including chocolate dipped strawberries that he’d swirl around before sticking between your lips and watching you on. Eventually taking a bite. Allowing him to lick the drinks from your collarbone with a trail of kisses that obviously turned you on. Sucking whipped cream from his fingers and vice versa..there was something rather sensual about all of it. Along with the whipped shots you took in conjunction with the several glasses of liquor..which hadn’t left either of you inebriated yet but you were slowly beginning to feel a bit of a buzz. Which in turn, had you both fawning over one another..lofi holiday tunes faintly hummed from the mounted television as the faux fireplace underneath from your mantle. You guys didn’t just engage in lecherous activity, you chatted it up quite a bit. Reminiscing on prior Christmases. Talking about life and your daily routines..it was really nice to have someone listen to you rant about the mundane. Brandishing your wine glass whilst your feet remained propped in his lap, you’d propose a rather invasive but necessary question.

“So, lemme ask you something..why did you want to spend Christmas Even with me? Of all people? And no, to fuck is not an acceptable answer.” “Well excuse me, but I think a little piece of pussy isn’t a bad gift at all. It’s quite thoughtful.” Prompting you to roll your eyes. He couldn’t be serious for once in his life and that much was certain.

“Can you not turn everything into a joke?..I was actually hoping I’d get to know you a little..what about your family?”

heeding that strict fervor in your voice that wouldn’t disappear anytime soon. With those tanned cheeks flush with red, a bit intoxicated from the Barcardi coursing his veins, as always..Eren flashed that coy smile, leaning his head back on the couch as he began to respond to your question.

“Truth is..my folks are in Germany right now. It’s where my dad’s from originally. He’s a first generation immigrant actually. He got offered a job working for their medical association and because both of his kids are grown as hell, he and my mom packed when I was nineteen. Been doing my own thing ever since. Honestly..I was before that. Skipping school, acting out..I was an asshole to them. Maybe it’s why they decided to leave me behind in the first place. They finally can get some peace. I don’t blame them though. It does make me miss them, especially this time of year. Makes you appreciate what you have when it’s not there. My mom’s cooking, seeing them open up gifts—“

just then, he’d find himself halted in his tracks and Eren would glance over, seeing that the expression on your face had shifted significantly. “My bad, guess I got carried away.” But in fact, you were happy that he had disclosed this to you. He was opening up and you were gaining a newfound respect. “Not at all..that’s really sweet, Eren. Sounds like they really mean a lot to you..” tracing a finger along the rim of your glass, peering down with a tinge of sadness. A hard lump forming in your throat that despite his ever vivacious smile, you could sense that it was a sensitive topic. Not only that, it made you think about your own family dynamic. Of course, he’d have to ask and get your dirt as well. That’s when you’d confide in him that you were twice as bad. Rather than delinquency, you threw yourself into studying..attending classes and eventually working full time. Desperate to make it out of your small town and into higher living. It was that same determination that drove you away from your family. Missing birthdays, holidays and important events, all for a job that didn’t give a damn about you and school work that could wait. After a while, they just sort of disowned you and didn’t bother inviting you at all.

“Damn, sounds like we’re both awful kids, huh?” Which could only be met with laughter because it was the truth. The hardest truth you’ve had to swallow in a long time. As quiet as it was kept, you were both one in the same. Two lonely people, lost souls yearning for comfort in someone else. His ‘friends’ were always doing their own things so he was by himself by the time he made it home. And even when they were around, he felt out of place. The girls he met were superficial and he had no interest in meaningless hookups anymore. Only difference was you coped with anger and he coped by being silly. Unfortunately, you’d end up in similar fates.

“Well, you’re not wrong..listen, Eren. I’m sorry I judged you. You just always seemed so….” “Arrogant? Carefree? Like I didn’t give a fuck about life?” All sentiments you’d be inclined to agree with. But there was a reason for it. “I wouldn’t say it was wrong. I always did have a way of getting under people’s skin and for a while, I didn’t care. But honestly, I just have fun. Doing something to keep a smile on mine and other people’s faces. Even if it does come off as irritating. Otherwise, I’d be walking around mad at the world..” “..like me, huh?” Something he hated to admit out of fear of offending you. But alas, he was right. “But it suits you. The whole ‘mean on the outside, soft on the inside’ thing is kinda cute. Deep down, I can tell you’re really a sweet girl. I guess what I’m tryna’ say is…I.really like being around you. And not just for your body. You make me happy, (y/n).”

with that declaration, you’d find yourself flush with a plethora of emotions. Tears brimming in your eyes; only mere seconds from falling. Crying because no one had ever spoken to you in such a way. So delicately and kindly. He had a way of seeing through what was nothing more than a surface level facade to protect yourself from getting hurt. Eren knew that all too well. But it was when he smiled at you..when he flashed that pearly white beam at you and leaned closer, cradling the back of your neck with such security and dominance, you wanted to melt right in his grasp. But you were also guarded. Steadfast in not wanting to let another person in only to be let down in the end. Even so, you’d take that leap and let the cards fall where they may.

“You make me really happy too, Eren..” moments later, without a single other phrase uttered, your lips would meet with a gentle crash. Both of your kids shut as you reveled in the long awaited moment. It felt like this every time with him. This invigorating, fiery spark that refused to die. Your tongues twirled around one another in a haze of sloppy pecks..lips lapping over the other and minute strings of saliva being exchanged in the midst. He couldn’t get enough..of your flavor, your essence..any of it. Shortly thereafter, your limbs would become tangled and you’d find yourself shifting onto his lap whilst he pulled you up. It was there that your hands absentmindedly roamed each other’s bodies. Scouring your frames to peel and quite frankly, tear off the binding articles of clothing. Only leaving your tank top on because he loved the way your breasts spilled from it. For the entire duration that you were being stripped down, your lips barely retracted and the heavy make out session only intensified with faint groans. Heavy whimpers even arising sporadically. Finally free of those confines, he’d plant heavy smacks and firm grasps on your ass whilst you straddled his still clothed crotch. As for his top half, you’d be met with chiseled muscles and a few tattoos sprinkled across his chest and torso. In addition to the plethora riddling his toned arms. Chewing at your lower lip, you’d break into a faint smile, admiring his body. Taking the time to delicately trace your fingertips along the outline of his pieces before running your hands to the back of his head. You’d feel his hand snaking around to grope your breasts but shortly after, he was halted when you gently clutched his wrist.

“Can I take care of you tonight?...you’ve already been so good to me..”

mouthing the phrase with a delicate and slightly higher pitched tone. Almost as to appear seductive but not in an obnoxious way..naturally, it worked and Eren would soon be left stumbling all over himself. “Would you like that?” Quivering when you’d trace your tongue around his earlobe, placing kisses on his neck right after. “Y-yeah, I would..do whatever you want to me, baby..” with his explicit consent, you were free to please him in anyway you saw fit. Rolling your hips around, lifting them by an inch to shuffle his pants down his legs. You would maneuver your own lower half so that you were now seated on his thigh. Left with only your thin panties, you’d massage that clothed slit and mound against his skin. Causing gentle friction and heavy arousal. There was something so sexy about using his thigh to get off..the sensation of your wet folds rubbing against his bare skin. Tossing his head back once more, you’d hear a breathy yet quick ‘fuck’ out of earshot. A sign that he was enjoying this just as much as you were. “That feel good?” Earning you more whimpers, which only further drove you to tease him more. You’d peer down and notice that his cock was twitching, jumping on its lonesome..twirling those nimble fingers around his shaft, (y/n) pumped it gently within your palm; slicking him up with strings of precum and saliva. It was blatantly obvious that he was becoming aroused, seeping all over your knuckles. You could even feel his leg underneath you thumping as that swollen bud continued to graze it. Your juices trailing down his flesh and between that and the subtle thrusting through your hand, he was about to lose his mind!

“Get on t—-ahhh..shit!”

that swollen mushroom tip emitting a bright red and oozing with the creamy substance as your movements sped up. Eren rested his hands against your hips, subtly guiding you along but you needed no assistance. You’d rotate your hips in a slow circular motion; grinding to bring yourself closer to a climatic peak as well. Neither one of you would be able to withstand this mounting pressure for much longer so amid toying with him, you’d question once more what it was he wanted. You wanted to hear explicitly what he wanted from you. Just the same as he did when you were feeling down. Not just pleasing him physically but healing his heart as well. Neither of you were lonely anymore..

“What was that? Tell me what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you?” Nearly babying him with that gentle voice, palm brushing against his face and that slow pace. He’d never been taken care of like this and needless to say, he couldn’t get enough! But you too were enjoying being in control; having that subtle dominance over him and being responsible for his orgasm..it was so hot. “(Y/N)…oh my God..” however, that just wouldn’t do..you wanted to hear his words, his explicit permission of how to proceed. Clutching his chin, you’d snatch it downward so that your faces could meet. “Look at me..say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you.” Although he was in by far the most vulnerable state he had ever been in, Eren was enjoying this so much more than you could ever imagine! That chiseled rising and falling with labored breaths. He couldn’t hold out, he had to have you!…

“Fuck me..please, ride this dick, baby.” Giving you the proverbial green light to take him as you saw fit. Shifting in a matter of moments, you’d propel yourself up and glide over to his lap; aligning yourself with his cock with a grasp on his shaft before slowly lowering yourself down on it. The initial sensation and slight ‘pop’ of entering your tightness caused both of you to release loud cries. Especially when you begin to bounce up and down..grazing his pecs and admiring that incredible body as you rode him with a moderate pace. The collision on that heavy ass against his pelvis, in combination with the open palm slaps to those round cheeks; the sounds of smacking resounding throughout the apartment along with his pathetic moans, that only further fueled your desire. At this point, you weren’t sure who was enjoying it more. A smile plastered on both of your lips and each set of your hands scouring the others frames. He’d even burst into a quivering chuckle. “Ohhh, my fucking gosh. This is the best fucking In the midst of that cunt clutching him, he’d make the haste decision to tug down your shirt..groping your breasts and alternating between each one to flick his tongue around those stiffened nipples. He was determined to ravage you, enjoy his fill while he was here.

“Just like that, mama..that pussy feels so fucking good. Keep going..”

soon, you’d plant your feet firmly into the mattress and amp up your movements. Showing him that a lot more lies in your repertoire. With your hands planted to his shoulder blades, you’d reacclimate and toss your head back in the midst of propelling yourself on that thick member. Stretching out that tight core and kissing the inner core of your cervix. “This dick is so fucking good..” Each thrusts touching your sensitive spot..meanwhile, Eren would enjoy the showcase that was your perky breasts bouncing with each movement. “Give it to me!..shit!” “Take it. Take this fucking dick..ohhh fuck!” His vocal pleas increase your stamina yet again and just when he thought you’d be fairly close, you’d surprise him. You’d even look back with your tongue gliding over your lips as it dangled from your mouth from being worked over. Eren was no different and with that pearlescent substance leaking down his shaft and wetness coating him, he was forced to clutch the couch’s arm as an attempt to quell his urge to release. “You gonna give me that nut, baby? You told me you’d always give me what I need..” with one more gentle graze underneath that chin, you’d bring him back to reality; only pausing momentarily to glare into his eyes. “You promise?” It truly shocked him how captivating you were and how well you commanded him. “Ye-yeah! I promise. I’ll do whatever you want..please! Just let me c-ahh!” Loud wails arising from his throat as he trembled in pre ecstasy bliss; something that felt so close yet foreign at the moment. But fortunately, you wouldn’t make him wait much longer.

“Then come for me..I’ll let you nut in it, baby..”

those words seemed to have invoked a feral energy in him and in turn, caused him to tighten his grasp on you whilst he fucked up into that dripping cunt until he emptied the sought after load into you. Letting out loud cries with tears streaming down his face because no woman had ever made him experience euphoria in such a way..it was no wonder you had him twirled around your finger. “FUCK! So good…you made me feel so good..” Filling you up with every drop from those round balls that had been slapping against your backside. Simultaneously, your own climax would come trickling down his rather sensitive member. “Good boy..I’m so glad I did. C’mere.” Rewarding him with a barrage of sloppy and passionate kisses. Kisses, touches and sensations he wouldn’t forget for a long time, if ever!

“I’m so happy I’m here with you. Merry Christmas..” his faint smile and tired glare were the only thing you could see and right there on that sofa, you’d cradle one another close. Topping his forehead with a smooch before nestling your face into his neck..obvious that neither of you wanted to let go..

“Merry Christmas, Eren. My love.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@buddhas-bunny @violetxxvenom @miyaluvvsyou @nieceeee @mochiviewz @momobaby227 @hoesluvshanti @spaceforher @lammys-thinking @thickbihhwitdagapp @jamaicanqueenaa @simplycmr @caramelswirlwithacherryontop @themidknightguardian @invisible-888 @hyunip @prettypixigrl

848 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 27 days

Text

the girl next door 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can’t remember the last time you had the house to yourself. Even if your mother’s just next door, it feels a little lighter around there. And you’re happy for her. Maybe having Steve around will be good. He can be an outlet so she doesn’t have to put all her frustrations on you.

She was happy when she left, even excited. That’s another rarity in your life.

You start your day off with a tea. The apple cinnamon bags are a bit old so you use two. You bring the cup into your room and get your table set up with your pencils and sketchbook. You open the window to let in the sunlight, the natural light much brighter than the yellowed bulb above.

You know your mom would tell you to do something more useful than just scribble in your sketchbook. You got the dishes done last night. Steve offered to help but you deflected as you foresaw your mom’s disapproval. You can’t let company pick up your slack.

You try to wipe away the anxiety of last night. It’s over now. You shouldn’t have worry very much about it again.

You finish your tea. It’s cold by the time you get to the dregs. You sit back to look over your sketch. Your eyes feel a bit fuzzy from hyperfocusing on that one stamen. You rub your brow and yawn. The sun shifts and you look over at the old alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s close to noon.

Something else catches your eye. You look up at the window across from yours. The curtain ripples around the gap before it’s pulled open from inside. Steve stands on the other side of the pane. Can he see you?

You can’t tell as he turns away without acknowledgement. The glare of the sun should hide your room well enough. You never really thought of it as your blinds are closed more often than not.

You get up to rinse out your cup. You stretch your legs as you pace in the kitchen. You’re restless. You’re so used to your mom and her demands and expectations, that having your own time feels aimless.

You could surprise your mother with dinner. Have it in the oven when she comes home. It’s still early but you can make something more than boxed macaroni. It will be a good cushion to fall back on when you remind her about tomorrow’s appointment.

🏠

When your mother returns, you can see the fatigue around her eyes. For as little as she goes out, you’re not surprised. What strikes you, is how happy she is. You help her to her recliner and she sighs as she leans back.

“Such a nice man,” she keeps repeating.

You smile and let her regale you with a recounting of her day. Still, you can’t help but wait for the pendulum to swing back to normal. She leans her head in her hand, her eyes distant.

“I swear, the universe sent him to me,” she says, “it had to. It was how much I need someone.” She drops her hand and traces her finger around the armrest, “sick, got a lazy daughter, stuck in this damn house...”

There it is. You frown. You mash your hands together and waver.

“I made dinner,” you offer.

“I don’t want KD,” she snips.

“I made... I made shepherd’s pie,” you offer meekly, “should be almost done.”

“Hm, wondered what that stench was.”

You frown. “I can put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Be good to have something we can just heat up after the doctor’s.”

“Doctor?” She grumbles, “eh... I forgot.”

She slumps and her eyes dull. You can’t help the pang in your chest. Sometimes you wish it was you who was sick. It feels like you deserve it more than her.

“Hopefully it’s good. If you can get the surgery--”

“Surgery!? Surgery. You keep going on about the damn thing,” she barks. “They can’t fix me, girl, get that through your head.”

“I know, mom, but they can help--”

“Like you help me? Crittering around here like a rat!” She hits the armrest violently, “would ya leave me be?” She closes her eyes and turns her face away, deflating once more, “ruined a good day...”

You sniffle and slowly turn on your heel. You should have known better. You should have just left her alone. As much as she rants about you staying in your room, she prefers you there. Out of sight, out of mind.

🏠

The next day, your mother doesn’t say much. Her silence is just a bitter as her words. You don’t push it. She gets in the car without argument and you set off into town. Even if she says it’s a waste of time, she listens intently to the doctor and answers all his questions. It’s only when she has to go through the tests that she shows her agitation.

After some hours spent at the specialist clinic, you’re free to go. Your mom is just as quiet. You feel her mood roiling in the air. Her hand is shaking to the point that she’s hissing at it.

You steer down to the corner and linger at the stop sign.

“Mom,” you squeak, “you want some orange julius? A treat for the way home?”

“Don’t talk to me like a damn child,” she snarls. “Let’s just go. I’m tired. Got no blood left in me.”

You nod and bite your tongue. Maybe you can just put her to bed. Her naps are a respite, though you find yourself anxious in the silence, terrified of waking her prematurely.

As you pull onto the suburban avenue, you slow and approach your drive. You pull in and shut off the engine. You get out and go around to help your mom. You open her door and she hauls herself out, tisking under her breath.

“Didn’t see him,” she mutters.

“Good afternoon,” Steve’s voice answers your question before you can ask. You look over the hood as he waves from his porch, “busy day?”

Your mother steels herself and forces a smile, “just went to the doctors.”

“Oh, everything okay?” He asks.

“Sure,” she chimes, “just some tests. Nothing serious.”

“Good to hear,” he stands behind the porch railing, arches crossed, “day’s not over yet. Still lots of time to enjoy the sun.”

“Mhmm,” you mom grabs onto your wrist, shaking you as leans into you. “Nice day out.”

“I was gonna do up a milkshake, if you ladies wanted to join me I got plenty to go around.”

“Milkshakes?” Your mother considers, “mm, I’d have to change out of these.” She looks down, “smell like a hospital.��

“Sure, take your time,” Steve says, “how about you, honey? I got strawberry. You seem like a strawberry type.”

“Eh, she’s more a vanilla type,” your other cackles. “Plain.”

“Got that too,” Steve ignores the joke. “I understand if you’re tired out though. Don’t wanna be too desperate over here, just wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’ll be over soon,” your mom assures him, “she’s got some laundry to do.”

She keeps hold of you and points you towards the house. You help her inside, even though she does her best to hid how she clings to you. Her steps are uneven and stunted. You get through the front door and help her sit on the chair you keep by the door, just in case.

“Goddamnit,” she’s shaking pretty bad. “Help me, you dumb girl.”

“I... I don’t...”

“Get my goddamn inhaler. I forgot it this morning.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

You hurry down the hall and to bathroom. It isn’t in the cabinet. You go back out and scan the table. Not their either. You find it next to her recliner. You wish she’d keep it one place. You go back to her and hand it over.

“I’m gonna go over,” she says before she huffs from the canister, “you’re gonna stay here. Out of my way.”

“Alright,” you agree. You prefer that anyway.

She takes a minute before she gets up. She shooes you away and you retreat to your bedroom. You sit on your bed and wring your hands, waiting as you listen to her. She doesn’t say goodbye before she leaves. Only the front door slamming lets you know she’s gone.

You exhale and pull the fold out table up to the edge of the bed. You open your sketchbook and stare at the pencil. You don’t feel like drawing but you have nothing else to do. You just sit, looking at the amaryllis. You can pick out every flaw in your work. You close the cover and frown.

A knock startles you and you stand up. Oh gosh, it’s probably Marge. What is it now? Is the siding too stained? Are the steps crooked? You get up and shuffles down the hall. You open the front door, hiding behind it as you poke your head around.

Steve has the screen door propped open against his elbow. He holds a tall glass filled with pink, “here. Figured I’d bring this over.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you accept the condensating glass, a wide straw poking out of the whipped cream topped drink.

“Maybe next time you can pop over too,” he suggests, “I’ve been working on getting the pool going...” he grins, “it’ll be a good summer for it.”

You nod and look down at the milkshake.

“Really nice of you,” you say.

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” he puts his hand on the door above him, looking down at you, “enjoy.”

“Uh,” you look at him then at the straw. You don’t want to be rude. You put your lips around the tip and take a sip. “Mm, yup, good. Thank you.”

His blue eyes stick to you and he drags his hand down the door, “I’ll make a deal. You come over to see the pool when it’s ready, and I’ll make you another. How about that, sweetie?”

You push your lips out. It’s not nice to say no. He didn’t have to bring you the milkshake or invite you. You shrug.

“Okay,” you agree, “erm, thanks again.”

He nods and taps the door frame before he steps back. He gently closes the screen door and you watch him through. He turns and strides down the stairs. You shiver as the cold glass numbs your fingers. Hopefully, he forgets about the pool thing. You don't even have a suit.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america

261 notes · View notes

leonsdolly · 11 days

Text

Wicked Game

Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon leaves you for her, and you're not sure what to do now.

CW: nsfw 18+, infidelity, angst, suicidal thoughts, comparing yourself to her, masturbation, mentions of p in v

WC: 1.5k

“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…” You murmur along to the melancholy words that are floating around your room like butterflies. Actually, more like flies nearing the end of their life span - movement transitioning from an erratic flight to a lazy, almost purposeless dwindle until they’re on their backs with their legs sticking up in the air. That’s exactly how you are now that Leon’s done with you. A dead fly - no one could save me but you. Chris Isaak gets it. He gets it so well that he’s been looping for God knows how long.

Was it only last week that Leon left you for the ghost from his past? The one in red, haunting him in ways that you were oblivious to. Always bleeding red, like Bloody Mary or something. Maybe it was better if you’d feigned ignorance to the evidence. Maybe you’d still be able to call him yours if you played your role of a cross-eyed Mary jumping right into his arms with no protests, always playing it clean.

It was all because of a letter that was carefully tucked away in his desk drawer, folded and sealed with a kiss. No, literally a kiss. The bitch left her lipstick imprint in lieu of her signature. YSL, shade R1. You’d always been a Dior girl anyway.

You swore up and down that you weren’t purposely snooping through his belongings, that you were just looking for Scotch tape. The offensive document shook in your hand as you fearfully inquired about its contents. He was stuttering and ashamed and apologetic and all the things a good man is when he’s sinned. He let you cry and scream and sink to your knees with your head in your hands like you were never going to come back up, like you could die in this position and be encased in marble. A new weeping angel.

You know in your heart that you could never equate to her in his eyes. The knowledge that he’s probably been comparing you to her throughout your relationship makes you so damn ill. Maybe you should slit your own throat in front of him and let the crimson flow over your body so you can match with her. Bleeding red all over the place, letting him see nothing but that cursed color, the way he did all those years ago in the city where it all started. The way he’d still continued to do so after meeting you and promising all sorts of things you weren’t accustomed to hearing. You suppose you can’t fault him completely, it wasn’t like he intended on hurting you; he’d tried to overcome his adversities and forge a new home for himself, one that was pink and frilly and covered him in glossy kisses after a long day at work. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. His allegiance lay with first red, then white, then blue.

You just miss him so damn much. You’re desperate enough for him that if he were to walk through the door right now, you’d take him back in a heartbeat. Sure, maybe you’d have difficulty meeting his eyes for a while, deep pools, murky with guilt and who knows what else. Your vision would be limited to the freckles on his neck, the ones resembling a vampire bite, but that’s alright with you. You’re familiar with the area, having kissed it so many times. You shouldn't be thinking about those little spots or anything else about him for that matter. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. With her. Pressed up against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Oh God, now you're the one seeing red. Is there really such a thing as a red string tying two people together, keeping them bound for eternity? Hopefully not, because you're nauseous at the concept that it's always been her. She was right there beside his former bright eyed and bushy-tailed self, the version that had a vague understanding of how the world worked, before he was your solemn Leon. They trudged through the abyss together, leaning on one another for strength in the midst of a plague. You wish God would just deliver armies of locusts to devour you and him and her and the rest of the world. The end is here anyway now that he isn’t.

Your last memory of him is that pitiful look in his eyes as he gazes at you one more time. You said I was your baby. He said a lot of things, promised you the world, and look how things turned out. It’s sickening really, how cruel fate can be. Was this fate? You’re going to tie their disgusting red string around your neck and squeeze until your head pops off like a rocket. A blazing glory, capable of stealing his attention.

The thoughts of needing to be better so that he’d be with you again swirls around in your brain, filling up your entire being until you can’t bear it any longer. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to put a ring on your finger and give you his babies and hold you close on your deathbed. Your hand twitches, muscle memory activated from all the times you slipped your hand into his, anchoring you to him. I’m so sorry… Ada and I… We’ve been through a lot together. You can’t take this anymore. But I love you more than anything in the whole world… How am I supposed to live without you? He never did give you a proper response to that, silence encompassing the air between you.

You shuffle to the bottom drawer of your dresser and fish out a wrinkled shirt that had been shoved towards the very back, away from prying eyes - navy blue with the letters “RPD” emblazoned in white across the front. You slip it on and inhale the fabric draped over your frame, protecting you, hugging you as you crawl back into your bed. His arms really were the loveliest place to be. Firm and gentle, wrapped around your torso like your very own bullet vest. Shielding you from horrors you would never have to experience, he’d make sure of that. Or at least he had, anyway. His lingering scent fills your senses like whispers in an abandoned chapel. Something familiar, a sense of comfort in your hollowed out state. It takes over your grief for a second, and when you shut your eyes tight, everything is alright again.

You yearn to hold onto this feeling, but it dissipates once your eyes open, and you're isolated yet again. Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, gripping onto the hem of his shirt. His arms are around you again, and the smell of him is welcomed. It elicits a natural response from your body, begging for his touch, forming a silent prayer to any divinity who will listen. Your thighs involuntarily part as you reminisce on the feeling of his face in between them, tongue lapping at everything you have to offer. Whimpers fall from your lips as your other hand travels down to slowly stroke your clit the way he used to do it. There’s my baby. You’re his baby, still so good for him. You rub your clit faster and faster as the hand that was clutching onto his shirt for dear life comes up to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples.

You realize that tears have been running down your flushed cheeks as you grind down onto your fingers faster in an effort to chase your high. Just like that… Sweet baby, my sweet baby.

He's probably fucking her at this exact moment. Cock buried miles deep inside her perfect cunt, perky tits bouncing at every thrust while she moans for him. You’re going to blow your brains out. What kind of sounds does she make when she’s getting the railing of a lifetime? Something more refined than your own little whines. Is she kissing those precious freckles on his neck, giving them all the attention they could ever ask for as he lets out his own delicious noises? You weep as you continue to rub your clit while slick leaks from your neglected pussy, begging for only him to fill it up.

You’re sobbing as you feel the release building up in your core, and you're bawling as you feel your pussy clamp around the ghost of his cock. You let out a cry of both pleasure and agony as you frantically cum all over your fingers. My perfect baby.

Shallow pants escape you as you simply lay motionless, eyes trained fixedly on the ceiling of your melancholy prison. You shakily bring your other hand up to wipe away the tears that have forged new paths for themselves on your cheeks and down to your pillowcase. I love you. You’ll always be my girl.

This world is only gonna break your heart. How are you supposed to live without him? Nobody loves no one. Chris Isaak needs to shut up.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil

288 notes · View notes

confessioncassette · 2 months

Note

Hello again, anon that complimented you before, maybe ill just refer to myself as Doe anon hahah- ANYWAYS LISTEN PEE KINK IS 👀?? Im starting to think our interests are more aligned than i thought PFFTTTTT

HELLO.

my sweet little doe nonie, we might just be the same person… you gave me the green light for this. Ily for this. so thank you.

𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 - 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫. 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐦.

𝐭𝐰 : 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃. 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. —— 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞. 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"You look a mess, my dear."

You watch the radio demon carefully as he softly closes the door with a click. Glowing red eyes meet yours through the dusk of the evening.

Standing tall with a too-wide smile, he watches you squirm.

"It's not funny, Alastor, please," you beg. Your eyes dart from the demon before you, to the windows overlooking Pride. Your bladder aches, threatening to release itself- it's so full.

Alastor had a new game for you today. It started with a cup of coffee with breakfast, then insisting that you hydrate with a cup of water afterwards. Then it was him pestering you about staying hydrated after the group exercise today.

"You need to keep drinking, my dear," he'd coo, conjuring your soul bound chain around your neck. He had pulled you close to him by your leash and forced your mouth open to gulp down another glass of water at lunch. "Good girl!"

The worst part of it all - all the bathrooms today after lunch were either locked or being cleaned by Nifty.

And currently, you're knocked knee and as fragile as glass while Alastor stares down at you. One off movement and you’ll- you can’t.

And he's amused.

That familiar confident smile paints his face, eyebrows raised as his ears alert and honed straight on you.

"Do you need to use the facilities, sweetheart? You look...uncomfortable." His head cocks to the side with that last word.

"I haven't been able to go all afternoon." Your voice is soft, embarrassed that you're even in this situation. It's been a pain in the ass to even get to the toilet with all of them being locked all day, and it's starting to cause... discomfort to say the least.

And Alastor knows this. He sees this. He wants to make you crumble. The fear in your eyes of accidentally wetting yourself is a glorious sight.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine! I needed your help with something if you didn’t mind.”

You do mind. And the last thing on your mind right now is succumbing to Alastor’s busy work. Just because he owns your soul doesn’t mean you have to-

“Ah-“ a panicked whimper leaves your lips as you make a run for the door. One hand hovering over your blade as the other desperately reaches the doorknob- and it doesn’t budge the slightest.

“No, no, please, Alastor, I really gotta go-“

The demon sits calmly in his chair with a relaxed smile. He watches you in delight as your face drains of color and a hand rushes to cup yourself.

“Like I said, my dear, I need help with something.”

He rolls his eyes, “Once you’re done you can relieve yourself.”

Fighting back the urge, you slowly walk over to him. Alastor assesses you like prey and taps his thigh as an invitation. You stop once your legs bump into the side of his- he’s still tall sitting down as he is standing.

You hesitate.

“Sit.” Alastor commands, gripping your waist and pulling you down in an instant. You straddle over his leg and the sudden feeling of his thigh makes you gasp.

“No-“ you whine and attempt to pull yourself up and away from him but his grip is strong, claws dig into the flesh of your hips.

“Ah, ah, no need to be scared. This will feel good.” Your leash manifests before your eyes and he pulls you in roughly by the collar around your neck, “Don’t you want to feel good, little one?”

Tears welt in your eyes. You can’t, you can’t hold it but you can’t-

“Like this?” Alastor presses his thigh up and into you as he grinds your hips down onto him. Your legs wrap around his and brace your stomach.

“Don’t you need to relieve yourself? Wouldn’t it feel sooo good to… let go? Piss all over me?” He grinds you down into him while his other hand jerks your neck forward to meet his face.

The snarl on his face shows his gums as he talks, “Come on, sweetheart, you know you want to…” a beat, “I want you to.”

The pressure is too much, the movement makes you see stars. You shake uncontrollably, trying to keep what’s left of you together. Forcing every muscle in your body to lock up and not betray you…

The hand over your waist slides down, under your dress and finds your clothed clit- and he presses roughly.

You cry out, and as you do, the hand on your leash is on your neck in an instant.

“Let me see that beautiful face. I want to see you come undone for me. I want to see the mortification in your eyes as you piss all over me.”

Your face contorts, but you lock eyes with him regardless. Alastor mocks you, his eyebrows raised as he coos in your face.

“Wouldn’t it feel so good to let go? You’d be my good girl if you did~”

His smile is sinister as his finger press rough circles over your clit, your body jolting with every movement. Tears blur your vision as you shake.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I want you to! I know you can’t hold it.” He hushes you, but the grip on your neck tightens. He knows you’re about to-

“Oh the look on that face!” His eyes light up.

You whimper, shuddering over his body. Warm liquid seep through your panties and spread across his pants. Trickles of your piss litter the floor beneath you both and you feel absolute bliss. You see white. Your body relaxes in his hold, and Alastors grip on your neck becomes softer, allowing you to lean into him in pure bliss.

“That’s my girl, good girl. You’re a dirty fucking bitch.” His eyes never leave yours and his ministrations over your clit never falter. His hand coats in your liquid.

“Look at this, you’re a filthy fucking mess. Pissing all over me, what a shame. I just had this suit cleaned..” he talks you through it, all the way until youre empty.

You relax into him and he doesn’t move. He lets you sink into him as you regain control over yourself.

And that’s when shame and embarrassment flush your neck. Your face is hot with mortification as you realize what you just did. Your heart drops and you attempt to push away but he doesn’t allow you.

“We’re not done, my dear.”

#doe anon #tw piss #yandere alastor #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #tw dubcon

317 notes · View notes

hyperfixat · 7 months

Text

day 14 of ai less whumptober: No Anesthesia

supporting these posts helps encourage my writing and creating, thanks!

(@ailesswhumptober)

The sound of one of your joints popping and the breaking of a bone are terribly similar. Too similar, in fact. The brothers have broken many bones in their infinite time.

The first snap, crackle, pop of your joints had made everyone in the room freeze. Leviathan, in the middle of talking about some new limited Ruri-chan figure, stopped. All seven pairs of eyes stare at you in horror.

Did the human die? Are they broken? Fragile thing, what would Lord Diavolo say?

You freeze as well, hands intertwined and held above your head.

Lucifer seems to have gotten even paler than his usual pale-ness. Mammon’s gaze catches yours and is filled with absolute horror, and Asmo. Asmodeus looks on the verge of illness, eyes wide and face sickly gray.

“Ohmygod,” Levi breathes out in absolute shock.

“What’s wrong?” You’re a little nervous at their odd behavior, and as to what happened to make their moods flip so suddenly.

“Are you okay?” Satan is on his feet, walking over to you, attempting to inspect you for any injuries. Mammon flies to his feet as well.

“Hey, hey hands to yourself! The Great Mammon can do that.” He pushes Satan aside without any real force. Together their hands and eyes cover you, like a TSA pat down.

“Does anything hurt?” Lucifer asks while you’re nearly being groped.

“No?” Confusion fills your voice.

A worried whimper comes out of Beel and he turns to Belphie, “so bad it’s numb.” You think you hear him say.

“Nothing seems broken,” Satan says, he’s squatting down to check your legs and feet. He lifts himself to standing. His eyes are somber as he gently takes hold of your shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mammon shifts on his feet behind you, hand brushing over your shoulder blades, where you popped.

“Yeah? I was just stretching…”

Asmo inches over to you, crawling on the floor slowly like you’re a landmine that could detonate at any second.

“You cracked.” It’s an accusation. Lucifer near glowers at you.

“It happens.” You shrug.

“No it doesn’t,” Lucifer glares this time.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s normal,” you side eye him.

A hand on the hem of your pants. Asmo looks up at you, horror still plastered on his face.

Dramatic.

You pat his head and some color returns to his face.

“What happened then?” Belphegor challenges you.

“I cracked my back.”

“How?” Mammon’s jaw drops. “That’s horrible.”

“It feels good.” You defend. “You guys can’t crack things?”

“No!” Asmo cries out. “That sounded horrendous.”

“Oh.”

It’s confusing, demons and angels don’t make sounds like that. No one hasn’t let themself grow used to the noise, they’ll never let themselves. Because the haunting what if? will never leave.

Eyes always fly to you the second one of your bones shift; it’s sweet they care, but they’re worried over nothing! You’ve never broken a bone, ever.

You jinxed yourself.

Today you broke a bone. Well, you’re pretty sure you’ve at least done something you shouldn’t have to your bone. The splintered edge of the bone sticks out gruesomely from your forearm. Yeah, that’s not normal.

Blood drips onto the bathroom floor and you don’t know why you aren’t crying right now. The demon had handled you too roughly. Shoved you out of the way too hard and you hit the air dryer bolted into the wall then this happened.

They had looked at you with a mixture of shock and fear as the sickening crunch of your arm registered, and the coppery scent of blood began filling the air. Panic took over the stranger and they ran out of the bathroom, leaving you to sit on the floor and stare in shock at your horrible looking arm.

Your stomach churns and you look towards the ceiling and blink to try and clear your mind.

The demon fled the second his actions dawned upon them, fleeing the scene of the crime. Smart fella.

The scent of blood permeates the air and you know you won’t be alone for long. A hungry demon is bound to find you the way you are just bleeding.

And just as the thought hits you, the bathroom door flies open and Asmo is rushing towards you. Concern and panic lace his features as he places a gentle hand on your injured arm. You wince.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to get this tied off.” His voice is sweet and your head rolls to the side as you relax, because your Asmo is here. Things’ll be alright now. Mammon stands anxiously behind him, avoiding looking at your wound.

The bathroom door has swung closed again and you relish in the privacy of having you Asmo and Mammon take care of you.

“Oh, who did this, MC?” Asmo keeps the lilt in his voice, although it is strained. “Hmm? Who would hurt you?” Golden eyes attempting to meet yours.

You crane your head further back to avoid the lure of Asmodeus’ eyes, “it was an accident.”

There’s a tug at the junction of your elbow.

He makes a displeased hum, “Mammon, fetch Satan for me, he’ll know how to fix this better than me. Oh, Barbatos too if you happen across him.”

Mammon gives your uninjured arm a pat and follows orders.

“Alright sweetheart,” Asmo kisses your cheek, “this might hurt a bit. I’m gonna have a little bit of help to fix your arm up. You’re in good hands, doll.”

You hear ripping fabric then have to hold back a scream as Asmo begins to wrap the exposed gore.

“I know,” he sighs sympathetically. “I know.” He keeps it tight on your arm and you take some deep breaths.

The door swings back open and Satan and Mammon come in, Barbatos in tow. Satan’s face twists into a grimace as the scent registers. The two that Mammon fetched kneel at your sides adjacent to Asmo, Barbatos tears his white gloves off and takes hold of your upper arm, applying firm pressure.

“Fuck,” Satan hisses out, fidiling with his pockets. He pulls out something silver and metallic and you wince and turn away.

When you do so you bump your face into Mammon’s chest, where he’d taken to holding you steady.

You do your best to keep quiet when you feel them begin to work on your arm, but you can’t help a pained, breathless moan.

“Sorry, your pain cannot be helped,” Barbatos puts his bare hand on your knee and attempts to give it a comforting squeeze. It doesn’t do much, but you're grateful.

You feel sharpness cutting away at flesh and muscle. Your eyes bulge and you grip Mammon’s forearm with all the strength you can muster.

Fuck, it hurts so bad, it’s all you can do not to scream or passout.

“Shh,” Asmo soothes, you peek an eye open and glare at him.

“I can’t,” you stutter out.

“Yes you can, I’m almost done.” Satan says, voice plain.

You feel Barbatos stand and walk to the dryer you were shoved into. Peeking out the corner of your eye you see him crouch and investigate. His bloodied white glove runs through the half dried viscera painting the floor. You’re torn away from watching him when a new pain rocks through your nerves.

A sharp crunch resonates through your body as Asmodeus and Satan shove your bone back into place. You let out a hoarse squeal and there’s a fresh round of hushing from Asmo and Mammon. Your breaths come in wheezing bursts and Barbatos comes to kneel a bit in front of you.

“I trust these three with fixing you up for now. I must report this to the Young Master.” Barbatos gives a sympathetic smile and stands to leave. “I will tend to you at a later point, MC.”

A sharp, pointed pain in, and a sharp pain out. Steeling your nerves you peek at your newly shoved back inside arm to see Asmo sewing your flesh shut as Satan holds it closed.

It takes an excruciatingly long three minutes for them to finish and tie off the stitches.

“Now, darling,” Asmo’s stained hand reaches to cup your jaw, “when we get home, we’ll talk about finding whoever did this to you.”

“Don’t be too harsh now, Asmodeus.” Satan chides, holding your injured arm soothingly. “They’re sure to be in a lot of pain right now. Save that conversation for when they’re feeling better, okay?” When he finishes the sentence, he nuzzles into the side of your head affectionately.

“Let’s get you home now,” Asmo says, blatantly ignoring his older brother.

As Mammon helps you to your feet he speaks, “we should probably stop by the student council office and let Lucifer know that they’ll be missing from classes. And,” Mammon turns his attention to you. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be with you the whole time you’re healin’ up!”

#obey me #verified hyperfixat post #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #leviathan x mc #satan x y/n #beel x reader #belphegor x reader #demon brothers x reader #ailesswhumptober2023 #ai less whumptober #ailesswhumptoberday14

527 notes · View notes

ryker-writes · 9 months

Text

Sibling with a chronic illness (part 2)

This is a second part to one of my favorite things I've written! It's basically angst with the characters who have a younger sibling with a chronic illness and they keep it hidden from their older sibling because they don't want them to suffer more. The younger sibling ends up going into a coma and the doctor reveals to the character that they don't have much time left

First part here

Request rules and Masterlists

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Kalim, Vil

Riddle:

perfection

it was demanded of you from you and Riddle's mother and you were raised to eternally abide by that

anything less than the perfect life that your mother had planned was not accepted

but life always had a funny way of twisting things around

so when you got sick, you kept it hidden from everyone in fear of your mom finding out

and everyone included Riddle

you loved Riddle, and he was a very good brother, but he was...a lot like her and a natural worrier

Riddle had already been through so much with his overblot, and you didn't want to bring more negative feelings upon him

he deserved to be happy and you didn't want to disturb that at all

so you kept it from him

of course, it wasn't that easy

as time passed, you grew more sick, and even started coughing up blood

you were lucky enough that Riddle didn't notice how often you went to the bathroom to cough up blood

but he did notice once that you had a red stain on your clothing

Heartslabyul was often full of red paint for the roses and you were able to convince him it was just paint

it wasn't an act you could keep up forever

as the days went by, you could feel yourself growing weaker and weaker

the worst of it was at an unbirthday party

as usual, Riddle had pushed everyone to make sure this party was incredible

it was exausting, but you pushed yourself to get through it

...maybe you pushed yourself too hard

because when it was time to actually celebrate, the world started spinning and you felt your legs give out from under you before...nothing

Riddle nearly had a heart attack when you collapsed

of course, the party was immediately cast aside as he started shouting orders to the others before taking you to the infirmary

Riddle had never walked through the school faster, in fact he was running

A school rule was not to run in the halls, but right now, he didn't care

No one wanted to get in his way

but upon bringing you to the infirmary, he received the worst news

you were in a coma, and you were dying

Riddle felt stupid

how could he not know? How could he not see the signs?

His own sibling was dying and he couldn't do anything about it

he'd never felt so...helpless

his own mother was a doctor, he should've noticed sooner

he should've helped you

why? why would you hide it from him?

you two were supposed to be close and be able to tell each other anything

but you didn't tell him, and he could do nothing

Riddle had decided to remain by your side for as long as he could, even if it meant not attending classes

because you were more important to him than any rule could ever be

Azul:

Azul an you have always been very close as siblings

growing up, you were about the only one he had for a long time

you were his strength when he was sad and crying because of what others would say

even as you two kept growing and he grew stronger, you two were just as close as ever

he told you everything

you told him...almost everything

there was one thing you didn't tell him: you were sick

it wasn't any normal sickness either, this one won't go away

but you just couldn't tell Azul

you were his strength, and he had come so far from the octomer he used to be

he wasn't as sad anymore and he was doing really well for himself now

and you...you didn't want to ruin that

you'd hate to see him cry again

so you kept it to yourself and Azul was blissfully unaware

he never commented on how you would quickly run off to the bathroom to cough up blood

perhaps he was too buried in his work to even notice

not that you minded, it made it easier to hide

you just had to be careful around the observant eyes of Jade

he would likely report anything suspicious he saw about your behavior to Azul

since no one ever confronted you about it, you assumed that he didn't notice

however...there was no way Azul didn't notice when you collapsed onto the floor of the VIP room

it was right in front of him too

to say Azul was panicking when he saw you collapse was an understatement

he thought his heart nearly stopped, and he was desperately hoping that didn't happen to you

Azul was quick to abandon his current work to take you to the infirmary

it was there that he thought his heart actually did stop

the doctor told him that you had fallen into a coma after collapsing, and you didn't have much time left

he'd be lying if he said he didn't blame himself

you two were supposed to be able to tell each other anything, but you kept this big secret from him for who knows how long

now here you were, laying unconscious in the infirmary bed with Azul by your side

he wasn't going to leave your side, but he also wasn't just going to sit around and do nothing

the Monstro Lounge was being run by Jade during Azul's absence and Azul spent nearly every waking moment by your side studying and researching to find anything that could help you

he was determined there was some way to help you

the doctors just haven't found it yet

you were his sibling, and Azul needed you with him through everything

you were always his support, but now it was his time to be yours

and for you, he would pay any price and make any deal just for you to be awake again

Kalim:

Kalim was always so happy

Even as you two were growing up, his cheerful energy always brightened any room

he was an amazing older brother

whenever you were feeling down, he would do anything he could just to see you smile again

it was very rare to ever see him sad or upset about something

that's exactly why you couldn't tell him the truth

you were very sick, to the point that you were even coughing up blood

thankfully Kalim never seemed to notice

he was always lost in his little world, and trying to get others to join him

if you were being honest, seeing how happy he always was brought you comfort despite your illness

Kalim deserves to be happy

But telling him would mean getting rid of his smile, and you just couldn't do that to him

so you kept it hidden

Kalim was blissfully unaware of your growing sickness and how it seemed to get worse each passing day

even when you got to the point of coughing up blood, he never noticed

in a way you've very happy to have a brother who doesn't pay such close attention

but that would only last so long

after all, it's hard not to notice his sibling passing out at one of his own parties

and for once, the party was put aside regardless who or what it was thrown for

you were a bigger priority to him than any party

Kalim hated to leave parties, but he didn't think twice about it this time

he took you to the infirmary while Jamil handled the aftermath of panic at the party

the entire way to the infirmary, Kalim was fighting tears

he was just so worried

it only seemed to get worse once the doctor saw you, and gave Kalim the bad news

you had fallen into a coma, and you didn't have much time left

Kalim sat in disbelief for a few minutes after that

his sibling...was dying?

how could this happen?

how did he not know?

why didn't you tell him?

there has to be a cure right?

the doctor had told him there wasn't a cure, and Kalim was destroyed

Kalim was lost

he didn't know what to do, but he couldn't just carry on while you were there in a coma

so he waited patiently by your bedside for the day when you would finally wake up

he spent his days rambling to you about things he heard are going on around the school

and he spent his nights crying and quietly begging for you to wake up

Vil:

growing up as a Schoenheit, there was a certain pressure to always look and be your best outside your home

Your brother Vil, was always there to help you with that

he was always accepting of you and helping you whenever you needed it

and when you weren't your best in public, Vil always covered for you

even when you weren't in public, Vil was there for you

that's probably why it was so hard to tell him what the doctor said

the truth was that you were sick, and there was no cure

but how were you supposed to tell Vil that?

you knew that if he found out, he would deny that there's no cure and even cancel a lot of his appointments to find a cure or help you

those jobs of his and all his appointments...that's his career

it's what makes him happy

you couldn't bring yourself to tell him and put a stop to that

he would try to help you and take care of you all the time as kids, so you thought maybe this time, you can do what's best for him

but it was hard to keep it hidden

Vil was observant, and Rook being around all the time didn't help

you would often rush off to the bathroom only to cough up blood, but you had to be extra careful not to have a single stain on you or anywhere in the bathroom in case they notice

even if you were sure there wasn't a stain, one of them would often ask if you were okay

you were always quick to say you were, but you often wonder if they've caught on

maybe they should have

because as the days passed, your illness got worse

you could feel your body getting weaker, and everything seemed more bittersweet

something wasn't right with you, you could tell

and you should've said something

Vil had you come to his room like usual so the two of you could do his special skin care routine

it was usually a very nice time for the two of you to chat and hang out without other people staring at you

but Vil knew something was wrong the second your eyes started closing

"Are you alright? You shouldn't be tired so early."

Vil lightly shook you when you didn't respond before realizing that you were unconscious

without a moment of hesitation, he abandoned the skin care routine in favor of taking you to the infirmary

the students of Night Raven College were shocked

THE Vil Schoenheit was walking around with a halfway done skin care routine, and he looked slightly distressed

rumors were quick to spread, Vil didn't care

you were his priority right now

he didn't care what anyone was thinking, until the doctor revealed the truth to him

you were in a coma and you didn't have much time left

at that point, he only cared what you were thinking

how could you not tell him?

Why didn't you tell him?

He tried to think of many reasons, not a single one good enough

and how did he not notice?

Vil used to pride himself on knowing when you needed help and being there

it was part of your bond as siblings

but you needed help all this time, and he wasn't there

you kept him from helping

he was angry and heartbroken

even though you were unconscious, he spent a lot of time lecturing you about how stupid you were for hiding this from him

whenever Rook or anyone else was there to check on you or him, he would smile and calmly tell them that you were going to be fine

he didn't seem worried in the slightest

but it's only after everyone left that he held your hand and let the tears fall

he didn't care about the mascara running down his face, how his eyes would be puffy after, how horrible his posture is, or even how messy his hair and clothing looked right now

all he cared about was you waking up

556 notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 2 months

Note

could i request azriel with t (time) from your angst alphabet?

T for Time: you're ill and you don't have much time together, from my Angst Alphabet

Since I don't think fae can get ill, I changed this a little bit. This is sad and heartbreaking and please forgive me. Send in your requests if you have them!

Warning: pregnancy gone wrong, death during labor, descriptions of pregnancy injuries.

Time you take for granted - Azriel

2nd month

The night had brought an intense rain over Velaris, that had soaked the streets and threatened its villagers into their houses. Even cats and dogs had found shelter between the containers and hallways. Fires burned in almost every home, families laughing around it and sharing stories about their days.

Azriel could only guess their days had been better than his, than yours. There was no fire in your house that night, and he wouldn’t be lighting one. Not when darkness helped him disguise the terror stuck in his face, the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“We will have to talk about this, my love. Eventually” you broke the silence from your sitting place in bed, across from his couch. “You can’t close off”

He had been doing that since you two received the news hours away, when the sun still warmed the streets. When he thought his life was at his peak, with a loving mate who walked wrapped around his left arm.

He could do that for a little bit longer. Pretend Madja had just sent you off with some medical prescriptions for the nausea and two weeks leave for your job. Pretend Rhysand would grimace but allow him to disappear those two weeks with you.

“Please, Az. I’m scared too. I don’t want to do this alone” your voice sounded too at the brim of panic. “I need you”

Those words made him look up from the stain of the carpet. Azriel had been sitting in the couch, quiet and unmoving, for a long hour. Enough time to process the information, the fears and doubts. He guessed that was enough time for him, given the news were mainly about and for you.

It wasn’t about him.

Azriel rose up and took the few steps that separated you. The bed dipped under his weight, and you shifted until one of your legs was on his lap. Until you could wrap both your arms around his own and make sure he wouldn’t leave. He tried to give you a comforting smile, that came out crooked.

“I know we weren’t planning this. But it could be good. We can’t be sure it’ll be a problem, Madja can be wrong. She even said there’s a long way to go” you assured him.

“What about not starting it?” Azriel proposed for the first time, his fears getting the best out of him. “It can be a problem. We know how hard it was for Feyre and for Nyx, maybe we should… contemplate other options”

“No, Az. We’re going to have a baby. And it’s going to be alright”

Azriel would remember your determination for days, the confidence in your words watering down his worries and Madja’s warnings about a pregnancy in a non-winged female. He found in them the excitement to share the news with his family, to go through that first month by your side with an easy smile.

He even allowed himself to believe that his life was about to get better. Azriel let your words and confidence become his, and ignored the bad feeling in his gut.

3rd month

“What do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?”

Azriel didn’t bother looking at you, not when his whole body was touching some part of yours. You were laying in his arms looking up the sky, both your hands wrapped around your middle. Where, shortly, you would start showing signs of your pregnancy.

It was a sunny day, and the memory of the announcement and Madja’s words were far away. You had decided to have a picnic in the mountains. It was cold, and windy, yet looking up at the morning sky with his mate safe between his arms was beyond weather problems.

He thought about your question for a second, trying to decide what he wanted more. Cassian was a girls’ dad, and he wouldn’t stop trying for one until Nesta and him had at least three. Rhysand, though, liked to dress baby Nyx in the finest clothes and buy him the most elegant little-bowties.

“I don’t care. I just hope they look like you” he smiled against your nose that brushed his neck. “That they have ten little toes. Ten tiny fingers. Pointy ears. A button nose”

“Glad you want a baby and not a dog”

He chuckled and you laughed with him, and he was happy. Azriel hummed softly, with the certainty that he didn’t care about the gender. Either boy or girl would have him wrapped around their pinky – he or she already had, given the amount of stupid baby stuff he had bought in just one month.

Your face appeared and broke his thoughts apart. Pregnancy seemed to make you glow, not only your scent sweetened but your face brightened. Your cheeks were rosy from the cold, and while your head was covered with a thick hat, some locks fell over his face and ticked his nose.

He scrunched it and tried to brush them away.

Leaning down, you captured his lips on a kiss and his hands tightened on your waist. He let himself relax under your, years of training and feeling unsafe gone when you were in his arms. The kiss was slow, your lips moving against his lazily. Both your noses nuzzled each other, and you squirmed with a soft chuckle when he pressed his fingers against your ribs.

“I love you” you whispered against his mouth, not opening your eyes.

“I love you more. Both of you”

Azriel let his hands explore every inch of your body in that forgotten mountain, let his heart roar in happiness when you broke away and stared into his eyes with so much love his bones threatened to melt.

He pushed the lasts of his worries away before kissing you.

4th month

It wasn’t unusual for you to find your place on Azriel’s lap. He never complained about it, but lately he found a particular joy in it. With your bump showing, he could have both his worlds close to his soul.

You were just in that position when the first worrying question came through. After a game night where you had lost three times, you had declined the next round. Azriel was playfully biting your earlobe, loving how you squirmed on his lap. He couldn’t help the growing hardness in his pants, and like a growing teenager, found himself pushing you to move more.

He was minutes away from dragging you both to your rooms when he caught on the conversation between you and Feyre.

“It must be wonderful, knowing you’re so close to the third trimester” Feyre was saying, ignoring her own mate’s hand trying to sneak under her dress. “How is the nausea going? Mine never left”

“I’m doing fine now, at least I can have breakfast and keep it inside” you shifted in his lap when Azriel ran his tongue through your pulse point. “The worst part are the clothes. I can’t keep anything for more than a few weeks”

“I had a whole new wardrobe by the time I had that belly” she pointed with her chin to your bulge. “The sixth month is hard”

“I’m… it’s been four. Not six”

You smiled at her with innocence, but the whole room fell quiet and your smile dropped. Feyre’s own face paled a little as she looked at your belly. Looking down, you wondered what they saw that made them fell silent. You weren’t a big person, compared to fae’s and coming from the continent, where your kind were shorter than other people.

And sure, the belly looked big on you. But you were pregnant, and you thought that was normal.

Azriel tensed under you and, for the first time in two months, realized that your pregnancy was looking a little too different from Feyre’s. He always kept track on details, on things people didn’t usually notice. And when Feyre mentioned, he realized that you were far bigger.

His arousal and joy died down when he felt a rush of fear down the bond. It was normal, right? Different people, different pregnancies. Azriel was bigger than Rhysand, taller and broader, and his wings were certainly wider too.

Feyre ended up dismissing the mistake with a hesitant smile, and Morgan chipped in to ask for more wine. The conversation returned shortly after, but that time, there were no playful bites or kisses. You leaned back farther into his embrace and he let his shadows caress your hair, your belly, your fingers. Anything to erase the first spec of worry in that beautiful journey.

5th month

The news were hard to digest, and that time, Azriel didn’t let your cheerful words dig in. He smiled at your excitement, he held you as you jumped in joy and gleamed with the new information. Azriel didn’t say anything until you were asleep in bed, laying on your back with your belly on display.

Only when he was sure you wouldn’t wake up, he winnowed away to Rhysand’s office, when he and Cassian were already waiting for him. They both wore worried faces, and perked up at his presence. After all, it had been him who had asked them to meet him.

Azriel needed to share his worries, to acknowledge the risk, and he couldn’t do it with you, not when the pregnancy pains were already taking a toll on your days.

“Madja admitted she’s indeed too big for only five months. That she looks ready to give birth, not to be halfway a pregnancy” Azriel said, slumping down on the comfy chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face. He was exhausted. “We’re… having twins. A boy and a girl”

“That’s good news, Az. A son and a daughter”

Cassian’s words did nothing to subdue his worries. He tugged at the end of his hair, not knowing what else to say. Madja’s face had said it all – the tightness of her shoulders, the paleness in her face, the shakiness in her hands. Fae pregnancies were already rare, but twins? Azriel didn’t know any twins, let alone whose mother wasn’t winger and whose father was.

Madja had asked you to see her each week. She had sent you into mandatory rest for the rest of your pregnancy, and Azriel wouldn’t be leaving your side for that time. It wasn’t his job that worried him. Not even his training. If staying with you meant everything would be okay, he wouldn’t sleep nor blink.

“What about… other options?” Rhysand proposed, earning a wary look from Cassian.

“She doesn’t want to hear about them. Shuts down when she sees me coming. Since Feyre’s comment on her size, I’ve been testing the waters” he felts his eyes water at your negative. “Y/N wants to continue the pregnancy and I don’t know what to do anymore”

“It doesn’t have to go wrong, brother” Cassian knelt on his right and squeezed his forearm. Rhysand’s hand fell on his shoulders. “You can get through this, she’s a strong female. Don’t think the worst yet”

“I’m afraid”

Those words were the last thing Azriel said before breaking down in front of his brothers. He would be strong for you, would offer you kind words and support when you needed him because he had to. But he let himself drown in anguish at the bad feeling of his gut that was coming alive little by little.

That night, Azriel let his brother hug him and soaked into his fake comforts. There was nothing any of them could do about it, yet they tried to believe against it. When he went back home, he dried his tears and laid down in time to watch you wake up, a sleepy grin on his face.

Azriel repeated that routine many times in the months to come.

6th month

Entering the third trimester brought along the first problems.

Azriel didn’t let you get out of bed without him, only allowing what Madja called ‘stretching your legs for circulations’. You complained and complained until Azriel threatened to shut you up with a gag, and that led to other activities.

Through all of it, Azriel held himself back and refused to bury himself where he needed. Instead, he let his hands and mouth do all the work gladly. You slept soundly after that, and as Azriel followed you with a content sigh, he should have guessed it was too good to be true.

He was a light sleeper, so he couldn’t understand why he only woke up at the sound of muffled sobs in the bathroom. Sheets got tangled between his legs as he ran out of bed, crawling to you while his left foot dragged the whole night cloth with him.

You were sitting in the toilet with your nightgown bundled around your belly, now large enough to make you wobbly while walking. With a fist against your mouth, you cried desperately and looked between your legs, down to the toilet. Azriel didn’t need to feel the bond to know you were panicking and in pain.

“What’s wrong?” he hoisted himself up and stumbled down on his knees in front of you, until you met his widened eyes. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“I peed” you managed to hiccup against your closed fist. “I peed”

“You peed?”

You peed all the time. In the toilet, in the kitchen, in bed. He had found himself used to waking up with warm sheets, because you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. With two babies pushing your bladder constantly, he refused to let you feel embarrassed or clean the sheets.

Pee was normal, yet your face screamed at him with an urgency he couldn’t understand, that his soul was roaring for. His hands were uselessly trying to fight an enemy he couldn’t protect you from, that his power couldn’t destroy.

“I peed blood” you admitted quietly, looking down the toilet again.

Azriel followed your gaze and watched the few spots of blood inside the toilet. Inside, a reddish liquid lay. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of you bleeding, of you being hurt. His body went on autopilot as he gathered paper and cleaned you softly.

As you leaned against the wall, he gladly inspected for the origin of the bleeding. Madja had assured you that it was normal a little bleeding, but he listened to his inner voice and kept looking.

You ended up calming down in his arms, as he guided you back to bed with the promise of calling for Madja in the morning.

He tried to convince himself it was normal, as Madja had said. As you tried to tell him while you fell asleep, for your and his sake.

Azriel didn’t believe it, and didn’t sleep that night. When next morning you peed blood again, he just winnowed you to the clinic.

7th month

Madja’s words haunted him for days, and he only slept when he fell unconscious. If he wasn’t unconscious, he stared at you for hours or cried to his brothers more often than not. They were his support, his lifeline, and he was yours.

One winged baby was enough to cause damage to a winged-mother, threatening her life on a normal basis. One winged baby could kill a non-winged mother any day, during labor or during the pregnancy.

Two winged babies on a non-winged mother were tearing your body apart.

One of the talons had ripped through the womb and into your bladder, causing a small tear. Madja had fixed it, yet had deemed appropriate to move into your house and be within reach for the next occasions.

“There might not be any other problems, but just in case I want to be close” she announced, looking into both your eyes to make sure you understood. “We’ve been lucky the talons are still small. But they’re growing”

Two days after the first tear, the same talon reopened the same wound. You peed blood and Azriel held you close as Madja healed you, his own breaths coming in pants at your pain.

She took the decision to try and move the babies a little, which put you in so much pain that you broke two of Azriel’s fingers from squeezing his hand. He didn’t say anything as he switched hands.

That solution was temporary, as a week later, you puked blood. The other baby’s talon had caused an internal injury, and in just two days not even Madja’s protection was enough to keep the bruises off your belly.

Your huge, bruised belly that Azriel caressed every night along with your face.

“Please” he begged you with tears in his eyes, ignoring the pain he was causing you at his petition – he had to, when you suffered every breathing minute. “Please, consider it. I don’t want to lose you”

“There’s a chance they’ll make it, Az. I can’t ignore that chance”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t – You’re –“

His words always died down in sobs, and during that month, he wasn’t strong enough to leave to his brothers’ embrace. Azriel broke down in your arms, laying on your collarbone as he begged you to end the pregnancy, to ensure your life while you still could. Maybe you weren’t linked like Feyre and Rhysand were, but if you died, Azriel was sure he would too.

You didn’t change your answer, and he still begged every night.

8th month

Your body was too small, to fragile.

He watched his own children drain the life out of you, but he couldn’t hate anyone but himself. Hate his choices, his brief hopes that had made him careless and put you in that situation. There were no longer walks or laughs, just your body in a bed, with Madja by your side more often than not.

Azriel too was always by your side, so when it happened, he was there.

There was no way of knowing if it was the own weight of the babies, the lack of your strength or one wrong move. One moment you were leaning against him to reach the bathroom and the other you were screaming in pain as your knees buckled. He heard as part of your spine gave up under the weight, as you crumbled down.

Madja and the other healer were by your side in a second, pushing your body to the bed and yelling at him to move.

Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel listened to each and every cry that left your lips, smelt every tear that licked your cheeks, and felt every nail mark you left on his forearm. He didn’t bother begging or crying, he wouldn’t let his emotions leave its cage because then he would be gone too. He would be so far away no one would ever reach him, and you needed him.

Feyre’s presence was just a memory on the edge of his vision, the kind woman in charge of emitting those pointless comfort words he couldn’t get out. Azriel whined when your spine was put back together by four, five, or six healers.

He didn’t need to ask what would happen now, or why they had long faces. He didn’t have to try and change your mind, as you wouldn’t move. He only let another anguish cry.

Until birth, my lady. We can hold it until birth.

9th month

Azriel didn’t register the blood on his face. Maybe it was his, from how hard he had dug his nails against his face. How he had wanted to rip himself apart, and had almost done it. Maybe it was from Cassian, who had tried to avoid his brother entering the birth room. Or from you.

His throat was raw, there was no voice coming out of him. And his clothes were soaked. With tears, with sweat, with blood. With his own sick, that he had thrown over himself.

The sky had opened to cry with him that night, it seemed. Azriel would have been soaking wet if it wasn’t for the roof above his head. He didn’t know which roof it was, where he was. How had they gotten him out of the room once your heart stopped beating.

Once Madja stepped away from your broken body, blood still seeping to the floor. He could still hear the phantom of his own voice before your eyes rolled back. There was no point in trying, in begging, so he had just been there. Holding your body, praising you, swapping the sweaty hair out of your face.

I love you

You’re doing good, I love you

My beautiful mate, I love

How you’ve changed my life, I love you

I love you

He had cried the words but had made sure you had heard each one of them, because for nine months, he had known those would be the last thing you heard.

A rebel tear rolled down his cheek, down his jaw and the column of his neck. Another one hit the bundle, the tiny sweet bundle, that rested in his arms. He had been holding his daughter for three hours, and he wouldn’t be moving for a while.

Azriel stared at the only survivor of the birth, a baby-girl with floppy wings. With then little toes and ten little fingers. With pointy ears and a button nose. He couldn’t say yet if she looked like you or not, if she had your eyes or hair.

What she had, was the stubborn soul of her mother. She had survived the birth while her brother had died with you. Had survived being smaller than her death brother, who took most of the space. Had survived the first hours which Madja had said would be crucial.

He didn’t have more tears to share or more feelings to break over. Azriel felt void, vacant, like the part of his soul had been ripped. He wasn’t sure he was even alive, only the weight on his arms the constant reminder.

The rain hit the windows with an enormous strength, but the baby didn’t notice. She kept sleeping soundly in her father’s arms, unaware of the world she had just entered. Azriel had enough strength to stagger back to the couch before breaking down in a silent cry that shook his body.

The baby still didn’t stir.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

223 notes · View notes

fyodorloveclub · 9 months

Text

i could be the one, or your new addiction

toji x afab reader (no pronouns used) this came from the deepest depths of my soul in abt 30 mins. cw: risky places, somno mentions, just pure unadulterated horniness. minors dni! (divider by @benkeibear)

toji cannot fucking get enough of you. toji cannot get enough of fucking you. it makes him feel like a goddamn nymphomaniac, but he can’t help it. how could anyone? it’s damn near impossible to resist bending you over the closest surface with the way you look at him, the way you sway your hips when you walk, just the way you exist. you’re like a siren, with the curves of your body and the singsong nature of your voice drawing him in at every moment, his pupils so blown his emerald irises are completely obscured.

and he usually can’t resist it. toji typically prides himself on being pretty self-disciplined, but you’ve torn him apart at the seams. at least once a day your legs are spread and your hole is stretched by his girthy cock, throat going sore with the screams you can’t control.

the bed frame hasn’t survived the ordeal - the wooden supportive slats underneath having cracked and split from the regular, violent shaking. there’s multiple spots in the bed where the mattress uncomfortably dips, but it’s the absolute last thing on your mind when your knees are touching your shoulders as he pounds into you relentlessly. it’s not due to a lack of funds that you haven’t replaced it, just that you both know damn well the next one would just be destroyed too.

there’s no position you haven’t tried at this point, either. obviously missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, mating press, spooning, prone bone, full nelson once or twice - the list goes on. it honestly doesn’t matter though. your lover is so talented with his cock that he could hit your sweet spots even in his sleep. and… he has. sometimes the insatiable, unbearable libido infects you, and you can’t even wait for him to wake up to slide his length into your aching cunt and fuck yourself on it. toji loves opening his tired eyes to you fucking back onto him as he spoons you, or you bouncing on his lap moaning and whining uncontrollably. even grinding against his mouth a few times.

location doesn’t hinder the two of you either. countless public bathrooms and dressing rooms have bore witness to your lewd activities - to him spitting on your pussy before he eats it raw, or driving into you so hard and deep it’s almost certainly audible from the outside. the riskiest so far was when you fell to your knees and sucked toji off in a movie theater, or maybe jerking him off on a plane before fucking in the tiny bathroom. he’s even pushed you against a tree in the middle of a hike on a public trail, tugging your shorts down just enough to give him access to your sopping hole. and fingered you in a crowded elevator.

others have noticed, too. how you’ll wear scarves far too regularly in the heat of the summer to cover the smattering of bruises on your throat, or waddle like a heavily pregnant person - despite not being one - after a particularly rough night, it’s really not hard to put two and two together.

maybe it’s an illness, a debilitating obsession that needs to be rehabbed, but neither you nor toji could give less of a fuck. it feels good, it tastes good, and it keeps you active. what’s the harm in that?

#toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader

460 notes · View notes

bad268 · 23 days

Note

Omg I just read your new kimi fic (with the chronically ill reader) and I love it so much! Soo literally anything else for kimi would be amazing (there's so little fics for him istg) but if its okay I'd love a figure skater reader (but like professional, world champion kind of skater) who's currently not competing cos she injured herself kinda badly (preferably smth to do with her acl but anything is fine) so she can't skate atm (like kinda Angsty but also fluffy, maybe kimi comforting reader or smth?)

Otherwise I'd also love same concept with figure skater reader and her and kimi going skating and like her teaching him or smth haha

Thanks so much in advance already <3

Go for the Gold (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Figure Skater! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love! I'm glad you liked it <3 I may or may not have semi-based this on Sasha...)

Warnings: Drugs (pain meds)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1040

Summary: Silver will have to do until you can get back on the ice.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

As if finishing second in the Olympics wasn’t a hard enough blow, you landed wrong during a practice jump and made a worse injury for yourself when you proceeded to compete on it. Yes, it wasn’t your main jumping leg, but that did not mean you didn’t stand on it during certain moves. And yes, silver was good, but when you set a world record in your program, maybe you set the expectations too high when you expected gold. Your teammate ended up getting gold.

You just got back to your apartment in Italy after a medical appointment. Of course, you tore your ACL. And to make matters, worse, your boyfriend was out for testing all week. That just added salt to the wound.

Your parent dropped you off after you assured them you would be fine as you hopped up the stairs with your crutches in hand. You would not be able to get in for surgery for at least a week, so you had to suffer in pain for the next few days until the doctor scheduled you.

You hobbled up to your door, trying to fish out your keys one-handed while simultaneously balancing on one leg. Usually, it would not be difficult, but you were still in pain and still felt the effects of the pain meds. It was a little harder than you remembered. You finally got your keys out, and of course, you dropped them.

“Can anything go my way for once?” You groaned to yourself as you tried to grab them. Just when you touched them, a hand came out to swipe them off the ground as another hand wrapped itself around your torso and pulled you toward the door that you just now noticed was open. You looked up at the person, dazed, to see Kimi holding you up. “When did youtube here?”

“Testing ended yesterday, I thought I texted you?” Kimi replied as he lifted you, grabbed your crutches, and carried you into the apartment. He carried you all the way to the common room where he set you on the sofa and handed you the remote. You took it from him with a glare as you pulled out your phone to show him no messages.

“Does it look like you texted me? No. You didn’t,” You snapped as you threw the remote to the side as you opted to stay on your phone. “Would’ve been nice to have you with me, but no, You were here chilling while I was getting drugged and x-rayed.”

“I must’ve forgotten to send it,” He muttered as he pulled out his own phone. Indeed, he did forget to hit send. He wanted to be upset at the attitude from you, but he’s been with you long enough to know that when you get hurt, you get mad. It’s never directly at him, moreso at yourself, but that did not mean it hurt any less. He knew the best way to go about this is to give you space for a while.

So he left you alone. As soon as you snapped at him, you felt bad, but you couldn’t follow him because he left your crutches against the far wall. You had to just sit there in the hole you dug and wait for him to come back.

What felt like forever to you was more like an hour for Kimi. How did he know? Because he cooked you your favorite food (that he knew how to cook) as an apology. He went to hide away in the kitchen, so he could still keep an eye on you while also focusing on food. If you were still on the meds, you would be hungry after they wore off, he thought.

He was right because he peaked over to the common room when he heard rustling, and he saw you trying to stand up using the table. It was not nearly tall enough to provide adequate support, so you kept falling. He ran over to help support you, and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes when you noticed he was the one helping you.

“I’m sorry I’m being difficult, Kimi,” You whispered as you leaned into his shoulder and cried. ”It’s just a lot, and I didn’t plan on being injured, and I know I’m not the nicest when I’m injured, and I know I snapped at you-”

“And I know you’re sorry, and you don’t have to apologize,” Kimi chuckled as he cut off your rambling. Every time you got hurt, you would apologize profusely every time you snapped, but it became something he would look forward to. It usually means the initial pissy mood was gone until the (inevitable) next injury. “I made your favorite to cheer you up a bit? Are you hungry?”

“Are you a mind reader?” You gasped as you snapped your head up to meet his eyes. “Did you know I was craving it?”

“I just know you like to eat it when you’re feeling down,” Kimi consoled as he helped you toward the kitchen island to sit. Then, he went around to plate up your food. “It’s known to give you strength. Maybe enough to get you back on your feet sooner.”

“Oh, I wish,” You sighed as you began to eat the food. “This is amazing, Kimi! Who knew you could cook?”

“You’ve known I could cook for years since you taught me how to make it!” Kimi defended himself. “And what’s with the ‘I wish’? Something happened at the appointment?”

“Just that they can’t get me in until next week at the earliest,” You groaned as Kimi took his seat next to you. “Looks like you and I are gonna be attached, more than usual, for the foreseeable future. At least a week wait for the surgery, then a 9-month recovery period. Therapy won't start until at least a month post-op.”

“And I’ll be here the entire time,” Kimi comforted as you leaned into his side. He left a kiss on the crown of your head before whispering, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get the gold next time. You’ll come back stronger than ever. I think this is the start of your comeback story.”

~~~ Part 2 -> (Coming Soon)

~~~~~

122 notes · View notes

faggymutt · 4 months

Text

contains: pet play, cnc, knotting

new herding pup joining the pack and me and the older dogs have to teach him the ropes. at first, we just have him follow us around while we move the sheep around. after a little bit, we have him try to lead the herd, but he’s too soft, not enough teeth.

the other dogs and i decide that he needs to spend some one on one time with me to make him tougher. one of the days when the herd is more relaxed, i take him off to the smaller barn close to the edge of the property.

first, ill have him show me his teeth and his growl. his growl is more of a cough and his snarl looks like a grimace. with a demeaning chuckle, i'll shake my head and tell him to sit down, keep his eyes on me, and try not to get scared.

ill draw myself up to my full height and start a low rumble, slowly stalking towards the pup. my lips will curl up as a i get louder and closer to him, the rumble becoming more and more threatening.

his ears fold back and his tail tucks between his legs as i get closer to him. i start to circle him, and maybe im starting to have a little fun, and snap my jaw. i circle him once, twice, then stop in front of his face and snarl straight at him. he whimpers a little, so what if i think its funny?

and maybe i’ll get a little carried away and back him up against a wall. maybe ill pin his shoulders to the wood and start to sniff at his neck, drinking in his scent. it riles me up, my vision starting to cloud with red.

before i can stop myself, i’ve pushed him to the ground, shoving his face into the straw covered floor. he barks and whines, scrabbling at my arms and trying to get away. i pin his arms behind his back and mount him, shoving my cock into his puppycunt without any hesitation. his voice breaks on a moan and it sounds like music.

i can't help but rut into him without abandon. after a little bit, he starts to give in, his cries turning into whines for more. his puppyhole clenches around me, and i drape myself across his back, pushing his hips back onto my dick.

he starts to beg for my cum and my knot and who am i to deny him? with a few more heavy thrusts, ill finish inside him as i groan. he whimpers happily as he feels it fill him, squeezing around me. i sit up and pause, panting. then i start to grind into him, pushing my knot into his cunt. he squirms and whines, i think he underestimated the size, but when it finally pops in all he can do is say thank you.

we keep training in the barn, even after he's able to herd sheep on his own. you can never stop learning after all.

271 notes · View notes

be-with-me-so-happily · 10 months

Text

Not Another Time

ONE SHOT

[ or Part 2 of Could We Not ]

<< Request >> "I loved could we not. Can you maybe also write when that guy came running on stage and he maybe pushes reader out of the way or something like that😅" - anon

<< Request >> "Omg PLEASE could you do more parts or ‘could we not’ literally loved it!!!" - @loza--may

Summary: Harry is used to things getting crazy on tour. What he wasn't ready for is how much he misses YN during the Latin American leg of his tour. But at the Rio de Janeiro show, he needs to expect the unexpected.

AN: Highly requested part 2, which I wasn't expecting but am so honored to have written for you all. Sorry it took me FOREVER to write and post this. I hope you like it.

Warnings: Some explicit language, attempted attack by a fan, mild head injury

Not much can shake Harry when it comes to wild moments on tour, throughout his entire career. There once was a fan hiding in a trash bin, dildos thrown at his face, wedding proposals, canceled shows due to illness, and there was even a time when a girl tried to dolphin her way onto the stage, back in the early days. But he still loves it, loves it all. It's titled 'Love On Tour' for a reason.

Now, he's in Latin America. Any and every performance here has such a special place in Harry's heart. He has a 'brasil' tattoo on his thigh, after all. However, the time is a little different.

The horn players have not accompanied the band for these shows. No trombone, no saxophone, and no trumpets. Which means no YN. No sweet but subtle winks onstage, no flirtatious comments backstage, no seeing her bright smile, no hearing her pure laugh, or getting lost in her beautifully deep eyes. No gazing at her lips and wishing so desperately that he could kiss them again.

Unfortunately, their first kiss was their last. Harry hopes that's not forever. But after it happened, he got sick, putting a crimp in his plans to further things with her. When he recovered, their time was taken up by those last few shows in Los Angeles. Then he was off to Mexico. And she wasn't.

Needless to say, her absence is very apparent. To him, at least.

So, like he has done every show since Guadalajara, Harry checks his phone after getting dressed. He wants to make sure he hasn't missed any 'good luck' texts before going on stage, but a disappointed sigh releases as he sees that he has no new messages.

"Alright, H. Ten minutes." The stage assistant announces.

Harry nods, handing his phone over and grabbing his mic pack from the sound tech. The band gathers around for a little pre-show ritual and Harry feels the tug on his heart, wishing there were four more members in their huddle, so there could be one particular member tucked under his arm. But he commits to staying focused on his performance, to put on a good show for the people of Rio de Janeiro.

Despite a few fans fainting in Bogota, things have been relatively smooth so far, and this night should be no different. All he has to do is get out there and get through it.

"Do you know the words to this one Rio?" Harry shouts to the crowd as the band begins to play 'What Makes You Beautiful'.

Despite his efforts, this song always makes him miss YN. The trumpets in the backing track just don't do this song, or any of the songs, as much justice as when she is there, with him, playing live. The other three too, of course, but he has always been able to distinguish her trumpet from the other horns, and he would always dance near her while this song played. Without that, without her, it's just not nearly as exciting.

As he begins the second verse, Harry moves to his left, twisting around to tug on the mic cord that feels as if it's caught on something.

"I don't know why you're being shy…" Harry's eyes shoot up and then around as a security guard strides past him, settling his gaze on a figure charging towards him. "And you turn away when I look into your eyes."

It's like a flash. He is walking, then swiveling around, moving over, and then backing up into another security guard. All within a matter of a few seconds. It takes a moment for him to fully understand what's happening, as multiple crew members grab hold of the man.

Watching him be dragged offstage, Harry moves back to the center mic, still in shock of what happened but still wanting to continue the song.

He glances over to each side of the stage, shaking the disbelief away when he meets the gazes of a few of the band and crew. Each one reciprocates the sentiment, yet seem to keep their caution, as a few of them motion over that way. Harry turns back, just for a quick check, and notices a small group of people gathered in a huddle. He turns back to the crowd. He trusts his team, he knows they are handling whatever it is, and he won't let this one moment take away from the show. It can't stop him. It won't stop him.

As the song ends he takes a quick moment to gather himself and take a breath before turning to the crowd.

"Well that was different…" He states sarcastically, though truthfully. It's probably one of the more accurate ways to describe that moment, especially if he's trying to keep this a 'family show', as he always claims. "Is everybody okay?"

The fans laugh and cheer, seeming to answer his question with the same disbelief he feels.

"I'm shooketh… I'm shooketh!" He exclaims, receiving another laugh from the audience. At least they are recovering and feeling good. Now he can recover and feel good too. He twists around, looking from one side of the stage to another, meeting the gaze of a few security guards and crew as he does so. "Thank you, thank you. You saved me!"

That's when he catches it. The glimpse of a familiar face, of YN's face, off to the side of the stage, among the small group he had noticed earlier. However, her expression is not one he's seen before. Well, only once before. It's pained, again, but this time it looks worse, and Harry feels his stomach drop.

He transitions into a quick acknowledgement of his band members, his mind wanting to focus solely on the one who wasn't even scheduled to be there, but as soon as he's done, he takes advantage of what's next.

He uses the band mic to let everyone know he'll be off to the side while the extended introduction to 'Late Night Talking' plays on the screens, and once the lights dim he swiftly makes his way over.

"YN. What's-... what are you-… umm, hi." He fumbles, his thoughts racing with so many questions. He didn't even know she'd be in Brazil, or at the show, let alone on the side of the stage, and now she's standing there in front of him, with an ice pack on her head.

"Hi." She chuckles minimally, hurting Harry's heart with the lack of usual enthusiasm and joy. "I came… to surprise… everyone."

"Well, you did that!" He exclaims, managing as best of a smile as he can. His gaze travels from her eyes, to her lips, and then up to her head, and his expression immediately drops. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." She attempts to play off, much like the last time he saw her injured. "Don't worry about me."

"That's impossible." He retorts. "What happened?"

"The guy… the fan, just… knocked me down… on his way out with security." She shakes her head, scoffing, though Harry feels as if she's directing it towards herself more than anyone else.

"Okay. Umm… go backstage and get checked out." He states, his ears picking up on the music, knowing he'll have to return to center stage in just a few moments. "I'll… I'll see you after, yeah?"

"Harry, I'm fi-"

"Just do it!" He exclaims, immediately wincing as he watches her eyes widen with surprise. He's never talked to her like that, never even raised his voice even remotely in her direction without it being out of excitement or flirtation. But he cares about her, and now he will only worry more seeing her there in pain. "Please."

She nods, opening her mouth with a reply, but seemingly deciding against it.

Harry gives YN a quick kiss on the cheek and hustles back over to his mic stand, shooting his gaze to the side for one last glance of her as she walks out of sight.

It's not as if he's going to stop worrying, but maybe it'll be a little less than it would if she were still there watching him. He knows she'll be taken care of, and he'll see her when it's over. Right now, he needs to get through the rest of it, preferably without any other issues.

"... on a Summer evening, what is happening? An-... you're the end of… we are going to stop the song."

Technical difficulties. During 'Watermelon Sugar'. Of course. As if Harry's mind wasn't already somewhere else. He knows it's an easy fix, hopefully, but it's just another thing added to the existing thoughts already causing chaos in his mind. He's a professional, sure, but everyone has a limit and he just doesn't want to find out where his is.

Get through it. That's all he has to do, just get through the next song, the show, and the night. Just get through it and then get to YN.

'Love of My Life' is next. Thankfully it's a slow song, so he can calm his mind and body down, even just a little, before the break in the set. And at that point he can finally regroup.

It works, for a moment, until he notices that some fans need help, and despite making his team aware, they are still there struggling. He lifts the mic stand up and turns his head back, motioning with his finger, with some intensity, for someone to help them and get them out of there.

He feels himself spiraling, just a bit, and has never looked forward to the end of a song as much as he is tonight.

As Harry waves to the crowd, with a mouthful of water, he impatiently waits to spit it up in the air, thank the crowd, and get the hell off stage.

The crowd continues to applaud and cheer as he says goodbye, turning around and using the last bit of energy he has to run backstage.

He stops among the hustle of the crew, realizing he isn't sure where to go, or where to even start looking for YN. The most likely place is his dressing room, so he swiftly shuffles his way there, doing his best to acknowledge anyone he passes by that congratulates or compliments him. He feels bad, he usually takes time with each person, always grateful for their work and feedback. But not tonight. He only has one person on his mind. One person he wants and needs to see.

He swings the door open and takes a quick scan of the room, finding no one. Not anyone. Not her. He runs his fingers through his now very sweaty hair, inhaling deeper to catch his breath and figure out where to go next, where to look next.

He takes a seat on the couch, elbows resting in his knees, and glances over to the table in front of him to find a note that wasn't there before. He grabs it immediately, blinking the salty moisture out of his eyes as he looks over the words.

"Hey H.

Went back to the hotel.

Hope you had a great

rest of your show!

- YN"

"Fuck." He mumbles, suddenly remembering how he yelled for her to go backstage. Well, he could argue that he only raised his voice, but in that moment, that hectic moment, it didn't matter. He shouldn't have done it at all. And truth be told, it would've made the entire night better if she had stayed. But he yelled, and sent her away. Now all he wants to do is go to her and make it better, make her feel better.

After the fastest shower and outfit change of his life, Harry found Jeff and discovered that his manager helped YN get there, so he knew which hotel room was hers. At least Harry didn't have to spend countless hours searching all of Rio for her.

He stands in front of her door and takes a deep breath, nerves on edge as he knocks, and fully prepared for her to open the door and ask him to leave. Immediately.

"Harry?" He hears, causing his gaze to lift from his shoes to the woman in front of him. She's dressed in cotton shorts and a t-shirt, looking comfortable and yet more beautiful than he's ever seen her. He just wishes she wasn't also holding another ice pack to her temple.

"YN." He breathes out, unable to form any other words as he looks her over, hopefully more subtle than he fears it might be. "Are y-... how… I mean, umm…"

The sweetest sound grabs his attention and he watches her step aside as she lets out a small giggle.

"Come in."

He nods, and without hesitation steps into the room. The sound of the door closing causes him to swivel on his heel, and his eyes stay fixed on YN as she motions him over to the edge of the bed.

"What's up?" She asks, casually, removing the ice pack and placing it down beside her.

"I, umm, wanted to check on you." He answers, not convinced his volume was even loud enough to be heard. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She swiftly responds, and he cringes at the lack of emotion with it. Even though it was only one word, he feels as if he knows her well enough to know that's not her normal tone. "Hit my head when the guy knocked me to the ground."

"I'm so sorry, YN. I didn't know you were there tonight, or I would've…" He pauses, looking down to where his nails pick at each other. "I don't know… I could've done… something…"

"No, Harry, I'm sorry." She states, causing his gaze to shoot back up to find hers filled with, what looks like, embarrassment. And maybe even regret. But definitely with insecurity, which is not something he's used to seeing from her. "I shouldn't have come."

"Oh." His heart drops.

"I feel like I may have been in the way. Well, I was for that fan…" She states, the smallest smile lifting the corners of her mouth, despite the roll of her eyes and shake of her head. "But I definitely didn't want to be in yours."

"No! I'm glad you're here!" He replies, without hesitation, and watches as her eyes widen, now allowing him to see the depths at which they usually take him to.

"You are? Because it seemed like…" YN clears her throat, confirming for Harry that she is in fact nervous. Not confident. And it seems to be his fault. "It seemed like you were upset when you saw me."

"No! Not at all." Harry replies, his frustration with himself appearing in the crease between his brows. "I wasn't upset seeing you there, I was upset seeing you hurt. Really upset. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, H. I'm alright."

"I know. I know that. I just… I was worried for the rest of the show, wondering if you were okay. It was torturing me."

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm really sorry." She lets out a sigh, and it almost breaks Harry's heart as she drops her gaze and squeezes her eyes shut.

"No, don't-... that's not-..." Harry lets out a low growl in frustration. He doesn't know how to express what he means, and if he even should. But at this point, he doesn't know if he can hold back. "It was torture because all I wanted to do was fix it for you. Like last time."

"Like last time?"

He hears her breath hitch, and his heart races more, feeling each beat thump against his chest. They had shared a kiss the last time she got hurt. They spent the rest of the night together, hanging out and talking until the sun was almost rising. But then nothing. Was that it? Was it just a one time thing, just a momentary thing after an adrenaline-raising show? No, it wasn't. Not for him. And she needs to know.

"I… like you, YN. A lot. And that night… meant a lot to me." He fully turns his body towards her, gaining a fraction of the confidence for himself that he has always seen in her, and since she is now there in Brazil, he won't waste another minute without sharing his heart. "We didn't really get to talk much afterwards, or see each other even, but I just need you to know that… I want to be with you. If… if that's something you want too."

Harry watches as she pulls her lips inward, hoping that the expression he sees underneath is pleasant. Pleasant for him. But he suddenly realizes that if she doesn't feel the same, he doesn't want to lose her. For the band.

"If it's not, no problem. We can move past it." He swallows the lump caught grasping against the walls of his throat. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, and don't want you to leave the band over it. You're very talented, YN."

"Thank you." She replies, looking over at him with those gorgeous eyes and a tenderness she's never given him before, and despite him offering to move past his feelings, for the sake of his heart, he desperately hopes that she feels the same. He wants her to only look at him like that from now on. "And that night meant a lot to me as well."

"Yeah?" He responds, shifting in his spot at the edge of her bed, with all the giddiness of a lovesick school boy.

"I want to be with you too, H."

His palms fly up to her cheeks, receiving a warmth from them that flows right to his chest. His gaze flickers to her lips, yearning for them, desperate for them.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" She chuckles, and his heart swells from the self-assurance that she always expresses, that he has fallen for.

He grins, wider than he ever has, but only for a moment. He's not going to wait any longer. He leans closer, and her eyes close, pursing her soft lips to meet his in a gentle kiss.

Her hands run up his arms, applying pressure as they move over his shoulders, and connect behind his neck. She pulls him closer, and his tongue teases her lips before she parts them, each sighing as they deepen the kiss.

His chest tightens, this time out of need for air, so he pulls back, only leaving enough room for a breath, and smiles as he hears her release her own, happy exhale.

"How are you feeling now?" He asks, resting his forehead against hers as one hand strokes over the hair covering her temple.

"Much better. I do need to rest now, though." She whispers. "But, you know, I may have a concussion…"

"That's not funny."

"No, it's not. It's very serious." She pulls away more, hands still behind his head, and his mind fills with worry. Worry and confusion, as he watches her smile reappear through her solemn expression. "I should probably have someone stay with me tonight. To make sure I'm alright, of course."

"Of course." He smirks, feeling his heart burst, following as she scoots up the bed and rests her head on the pillow.

He does the same, laying down to face her, and sees her eyes begin to flutter shut. It's been an exhausting day for the both of them.

"Come here." He whispers, opening his arms for her to settle in, wrapping them around her body, and pulling her to his chest. "You doing okay?"

"More than okay." She utters, drowsiness now coating her words. "Thank you, for fixing things."

"Anytime." He replies, placing a tender kiss on top of her head. "I'll fix things for you anytime."

A silence falls between them, and as he hears her soft breaths leave her even softer lips, Harry hums in contentment, allowing his own body to succumb to the rest it now needs too. He shuts his eyes, and one last thought appears as he feels himself happily drift off to sleep.

Despite all the chaos, this night didn't turn out so bad after all. With YN, it's been the best one yet.

Main Masterlist

If you like what I post, and want to just send some extra support, I have a ko-fi account. Even the smallest amount is greatly appreciated. There is no obligation or expectation to donate, because I am honestly just so grateful that you're here! 🩷 Bee xx

Overall Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @lomlhstyles @vrittivsanghavi @fdl305 @sunflowersloverr

879 notes · View notes