#shed blood sweat n tears for this fic

[vinnellamadz]

Enemies to lovers Adam x f!reader?

Enemies to Lovers

Adam X Reader

A/N: I shed blood, sweat and tears making this. SORRY IF ITS OOC this is my first real fic Adam is a PAIN to write.

You were never really able to get along with Adam. From the moment Adam arrived in heaven, the two of you were always at each other's throats.

Adam would always pick fights over the smallest things, and it was always enough to make you bite back. There wasn't a single day that he couldn't get under your skin and make fun of you. Calling you names, competing with you, and just being a general pain in your ass.

Today was the day of the first-second extermination of the year.

Adam was off giving his soldiers a 'pep talk', but before he flew off to this hazbin hotel, he came to you first.

As always, he made sure to get his daily insults in before he left, tearing into you with his words, ensuring you knew just how inferior and pathetic he deemed you. His snarky and playful tone only served to aggravate you further. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you snapped back, 'Oh, shut up! I hope you never return, Adam!' His initial shock quickly gave way to a smug grin. 'Calm your pretty little head, babe,' he retorted, his arrogance undeterred as he continued to prattle on about himself."

You weren't even listening; His annoying voice was easy to block out.

“plus I know you’ll miss me, I fuckin’ rock, I’m THE Adam” he pointed to himself keeping that stupid shit eating smile he always had, god you wanted to punch him so bad but couldn't, as you feared you would get sent to hell so you slammed the door in his face instead.

Later that night, you were sitting on your heavenly comfy couch, enjoying the latest episodes of your favorite shows. You were just about to fall asleep when a frantic knock jolted you from the cushions. With a tinge of fear, you approached the door, thinking, 'This is heaven; this couldn’t be bad, right?' As you opened the door and peeked out, you were shocked to see Adam, but he was far from his usual self. Covered in golden blood and bearing multiple stab wounds, he looked as though he had been through hell. (Lol) Without hesitation, you flung the door open, calling out, 'Adam!' before he collapsed on your doorstep.

It had been a while since you found Adam. Earlier, you had managed to drag him to your couch. As you attempted to patch him up, you discovered several more wounds scattered across his body. Shocked by the extent of his injuries, you couldn't help but wonder who could have inflicted such damage.

hours have passed since the surprise at your doorstep. You had fallen asleep on the floor beside him. When you woke up, he had yet to awaken, Panic gripped your heart as you reached out to shake him gently, wondering if he had actually died in his sleep. (double dead) You placed your finger beneath his nose, relieved to feel the subtle rise and fall of his breath. 'Why do I even care so much...' you pondered, a mix of emotions swirling within you.

More hours had passed, and as you were making lunch for yourself, you heard him make a sound. Turning around, you saw that he had finally woken up. “What the fuck am I doing here?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. “You came to me, Adam. You're hurt.” Upon hearing your words, he winced and attempted to sit up, but a wave of pain washed over him, causing him to groan. Reacting quickly, you rushed to his side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to ease him back down. 'Lay down, Adam,' you said softly, concern evident in your voice. “You're going to make it worse if you push yourself too hard.” Adam groaned with displeasure as you stood up and started walking back to the kitchen. However, something he said made you stop in your tracks.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” You froze in surprise. 'What?' Slowly, you turned to him, a shocked expression on your face. “Excuse me? How hard did you hit your head?”

You stood there in silence as he just stared at you “… I’m just fucking with you… dumb b-bitch…” he looked away in embarrassment, you stared at him with a shocked look ‘doesn’t sound like was a joke..’

“I can do it myself!” He argued.

"If you move, you'll probably explode or die. Stop it!" You were trying your best to care for him these past few days, but he's just such a pain in the ass. Currently, you were trying to feed him, but he kept turning his head away, stubborn as ever. Fed up with his behavior and the frustration boiling inside you, you finally snapped. With determination, you grabbed hold of his head, locking eyes with him. "Just eat it, damn it!" you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice as you forcefully shoved the spoon into his mouth. Finally, he relented and ate it, although begrudgingly.

“I’d rather you shove your-“

“Shut the fuck up”

“Moody Bitch…”

You scoffed at his remarks, striding over to him and motioning for him to sit up, to which he obliges. "Take your shirt off," you instruct. He smirks in response. "Don't give me that look; you know what I mean." His smirk fades into annoyance as he complies with your request. Gently removing his bandages required getting close, and you carefully unwrap them before swiftly replacing them with fresh ones, wrapping them around his body with precision and care.

"You look really pretty down there" he grins at you, his eyes sparkling with admiration. You blush in response, feeling a warm flush creeping up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected compliment.

Wanna know a secret?" He said, catching your attention. You looked at him with a confused expression, but slowly nodded, curiosity piqued.

"you know I live alone right now? No one's going to—" Your words were cut off as you felt his hand grasp your face, Before you could react, his lips met yours in a sudden, electrifying kiss, sending a rush of warmth through your body.

Adam pulled away, leaving you stunned and bewildered by the sudden rush of conflicting emotions.

"You make it so damn difficult to hate you," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher. As you stood there, grappling with the unexpected confession, you realized that perhaps there was more to your relationship than just rivalry. With a mixture of uncertainty and expanding hope, you met his gaze, silently acknowledging the unspoken possibility of a new beginning between two former enemies turned potential lovers.

This was so hard goodbye. It’s so OOC I’m soo sorry I tried to rush the end to put this out faster 😭

#adam x reader #adam x reader hazbin #hazbin #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #helluva boss #hazbin adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader hazbin hotel

[proxima-writes]

Title: No Closer Could I Be To God

Pairing: Post-outbreak!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary:

The closest he’s been to a god in these last few miserable years has been between your thighs.

Dear Reader:

This one is for the homies with religious trauma. If you enjoy this little fic, please comment or reblog! Title art is "Through Cataclysm" by Andreas Birath (b. 1974).

Warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), infidelity, no use of y/n, no reader description or age, single POV - Joel, post-outbreak Jackson, heavy religious themes and imagery, unprotected p in v, oral sex - f receiving, dirty talk, pet names, begging.

Joel Miller gave up on the notion of a benevolent god around the time the light faded from his daughter’s eyes and he was left to hold her lifeless body. Since then, he’s only seen glimpses of that former goodness in the world — in Tess and the way she fought tooth and nail for their survival and in Ellie, once she quit being such a pain in the ass.

But perhaps the closest he’s been to a god in these last few miserable years has been between your thighs.

“Joel!” You cry out, squirming beneath his tight grip. He’s got you laid out on the work bench, thighs hugging his head as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re singing his praises. The storage shed is hot, sweat gathering at his neck and beading at his temple and making his fingers slip against your damp skin.

“Shhh, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth away from your center and licking his lips to gather every drop of you from his flesh. “You’re fuckin’ loud today.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, voice breathy as your chest heaves with desperate breaths. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” Joel agrees, standing up and leaning forward to steal a kiss, your hot mouth opening immediately for his tongue to explore. You taste like shitty instant coffee and mint, his favorite flavor as long as you're the source. “‘M sorry.”

Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scratching against his scalp. He drags his lips across your jaw, down your neck, sinking his teeth briefly against your pulse point to make you shiver.

The modest dress you’re wearing is rucked up around your waist and Joel reaches down to slip his fingers past the elastic of your underwear, sinking two digits inside of you and groaning at how tight you are, how warm and wet you get for him. Your quiet whimper reaches his ears and he wishes he could hear you without restraint, wishes he knew how loud you could be. He’s fairly certain it’s as close to a choir of angels he could ever get.

Especially since he’s destined for hell. But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, he’s in heaven.

He removes his fingers, reaching up to slip them past your lips for a quick clean. Your tongue glides across his fingertips and your eyelids flutter shut as he uses his free hand to work his belt open with clumsy movements. He shoves his jeans and boxers down his hips, just enough to expose the hard length of his cock.

Joel pulls his hand away from your face, using his spit slick fingers to pump himself. With his other hand, he reaches into the chest pocket of his flannel shirt for his knife.

Your eyes go wide as he pops the blade open, slipping the cold steel beneath the elastic of your panties and tugging sharply. The fabric snaps, echoing your gasp, your mouth dropped open in surprise. He doesn’t give you long to recover, sliding his cock through your wet folds and smiling in satisfaction as your expression shifts from incredulity to pleasure.

“You ready?” Joel grunts, his tip catching at your entrance. You nod your head rapidly, but he’s in the mood to hear you beg. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Please, Joel,” you murmur. Your lashes glisten with captured tears and the sight makes his blood run hot. “Please, please, please!”

Joel presses forward, sinking into your body with ease. You have one hand on the workbench behind you to support yourself but the other grips his shoulder tightly, fingernails sure to leave little indents in his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

“Christ,” he hisses, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Always feel so fuckin’ good. How is it always so fuckin’ good?”

“Need you to move,” you reply. “Please, Joel.”

And what is he if not your good and faithful servant?

Joel draws his hips back and thrusts sharply, lifting his head to watch your face as he does. This is his favorite part, staring into the Garden of Eden, enjoying his forbidden fruit. You whimper and moan, teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep quiet.

When he feels that knot of pleasure coiling tight in his belly, he curses and chases it all at once. It’s always over too soon when all he wants is to worship at your altar for eternity.

“Angel,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your low back as your own circle his shoulders. “Need you to come for me, baby.”

You whine, high and petulant. “No, no, no,” you chant, “Not yet.”

Joel leans forward to capture your lips with his, the action more of a sharing of breath that lacks any coordination of a proper kiss. He slips his hand between your bodies to circle your clit, the responding moan swallowed by his greedy mouth.

“Good thing you don’t make the rules,” he grunts, hips stuttering as you begin to squeeze around him. He may not inherit the kingdom of god, but he at least got a glimpse of heaven today.

Your legs drop from around his waist and he lifts his head to find your gaze. He always worries what he’ll see — disgust, guilt, and shame have all been reflected back at him before. But today…today you just smile softly, your skin damp with sweat and your lips swollen from his kisses and your teeth.

“Joel,” you murmur, pressing a palm to his cheek. “I have to go.”

Joel nods, knowing you’re right. He’s kept you long enough. Gray light filters through the dirt caked window of the little shed and you should get back to your home to get ready for Sunday service.

“I’ll see you around,” he replies, wrapping a hand behind your neck to pull you forward and give you one last hungry kiss before stepping away to right his pants. He holds a hand out to you to help you down from the work bench and watches as you fix your dress.

You give him one last watery smile before leaving through the flimsy wooden door. It slams back against the frame, the sound sharp to Joel’s ears. He sighs, counting to himself as he catalogs the spiderwebs and rusted tools in the shed.

There’s a flash of white in the corner of his eye. The mangled fabric of your panties sits discarded on the ground, and he leans forward to pick them up, pocketing them. For what, he’s not sure, but he’ll take any piece of you he can get.

Even if it’s just the part you’ve carelessly left behind.

________

Later, your husband stands at the dented podium to deliver his Sunday morning sermon to the good people of Jackson who still turn to religion for comfort and guidance. Joel isn’t one of those people, but he sits on a rough wooden bench across the aisle from you. Your panties are still tucked away in his pocket and he wonders if you’ve cleaned up already, or if you’re still full of him even as you sit there watching your husband.

“…And we see this spoken of in Proverbs 7:25 — ‘Do not let your heart turn to her ways or stray into her paths. Many are the victims she has brought down; her slain are a mighty throng. Her house is a highway to the grave, leading down to the chambers of death’.”

Joel looks towards you as the words settle among the crowd. Your gaze remains steadfastly on your husband, but your hands move restlessly in your lap. When Joel looks up at the podium, he finds your husband’s righteous glare trained on him.

Maybe Joel was wrong. He hasn’t found heaven in you.

He’s just found a deeper hell.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #tw infidelity #tw cheating #tw religious themes #tw religious mention #tw religious imagery

[winterrrnight]

french open

PAIRING: drew starkey x fem!tennis player!reader

FACE CLAIM: iga swiatek

SUMMARY: an instagram blurb about drew being ecstatic about his girlfriend winning the french open

WARNINGS: n/a

EDITH SPEAKS: I've played tennis for a big part of my life so this definitely is a bit personal, I hope you all like it!! I haven't been able to work on my bigger fics atm so here's a little instagram au to keep my blog active :)

I made up all the instagram users, so if by any chance I have your instagram user used here, I'm so sorry I promise it was a total coincidence!

please like and reblog if you enjoy this! feedback is always appreciated 🪐

navigation || join my taglist || requests

liked by drewstarkey, jonathandavissofficial and 1,584,684 others

yourinstagram second week starts tomorrow. let's enjoy it ❤️

user81 sooo proud of you y/n! you've come so far

drewstarkey you're doing so well 🤍

-> yourinstagram thank you baby 💗

-> drewfan25 he's fr her biggest supporter 🥹🥹

-> rafes_starkey he is!! word is he's in france and most probably will be there at her next match

liked by rafe_is_hot, drewfilms_ and 56,834 others

drewstarkeyupdates drew with a fan outside the roland garros stadium today!

tagged: drewstarkey

rafes_starkey ITS Y/N'S SEMI FINAL TODAY AND HE'S HERE FOR HER OMG 🥹🥹

drewiseverything there's no bigger fan of y/n than drew

user45 he looks so good omg

liked by y/nfan31, drewhive and 458,421 others

ynupdates y/n will be playing in the finals of french open next week!! so proud of her 🥳💐

tagged: yourinstagram

y/nfan20 OH MY GOODNESS 🥹🥹

drewsify did y'all see drew in the crowd cheering her on?? it was sooo sweet

-> rafe_is_hot they're couple goals

user67 she's doing so well ❤️

liked by ynisamazing, drewfan56 and 89,282 others

drewstarkeyupdates drew via ig stories!

tagged: drewstarkey, yourinstagram

ynfan21 OH MY GOD 😭😭

rafezcameron I'll just go sob in a corner 😃👍

drew_clouds y/n played so well I was on the edge of my seat watching the match

liked by yourinstagram, drewstarkey and 4,683,760 others

playerstribune y/n y/l/n is the winner of the french open 2023, ranking her no. 1 in the world in singles by the women's tennis association (WTA)!

yourinstagram the most surreal moment of my life 🌟

-> ynfan21 Y/N WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU!!!

-> ynisamazing OUR GIRL DID IT 😭😭😭😭

user80 no one deserves it more than her!! she's come so far, and she's worked so hard

liked by drewstarkey, madelyncline and 5,483,684 others

yourinstagram I still can't wrap my head around this, and I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for being there for me throughout this entire journey. these last few weeks were so exciting and frustrating at the same time, but your support and energy got me through every single day. keep daring, keep dreaming and keep working hard ✨🤍

drewstarkey my girl I am so so so proud of you!!! ❤️

-> yourinstagram I love you so much drew thank you 🤍

brooke_starkey we love you y/n you're a star! <3

-> yourinstagram sweetie you're so lovely 🥹

fionapalomo OH MY GOD!! darling you're such a big role model for all the girls out there who aspire to be big atheletes! they're all going to look up to you and remember you always 🤍🤍

-> yourinstagram oh darling this is so sweet of you to say thank you!! 💗💗🥹🥹

liked by hichasestokes, yourinstagram and 3,302,652 others

drewstarkey my girl did it!! I cannot be more proud of her. my darling, I look up to you every single day, there's no one I've ever known who's as inspiring as you. I've seen you train for this exact moment for years, and I know there's no one who deserves it more than you do. all the blood, sweat and tears you shed so you could hold this trophy are worth it all, because this trophy looks like it's made for you. it's meant to be held by you. I love you so much, cheers to so many more achievements like this 🏆🥂

yourinstagram my love, thank you so much. You've been there for me all the days when I thought this is way too far out of my reach, when it felt like I'm worth nothing, when all efforts looked like they were going to waste. You held me and comforted me, reminding me of my abilities. and today, there's no one with whom I want to cherish this moment more. This trophy is yours as much as it is mine 💛

-> drewstarkey you're my everything ❤️

rudeth y/n we're so so proud of you!!! ⚡

-> yourinstagram thank you rudy! 🤍

drewfan87 THIS IS SO SWEET I'LL ACTUALLY-

starkeyboyz I present to you drew starkey, the best hype man one could ever have

ynfan46 y/n created history 🫶🏻

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey instagram au #instagram au #drew starkey ig au #written by edith! 🪄

[jeonjcngkook]

danger zone masterlist | jjk (m)

⁀➷ summary: jung hoseok, an underdog boxer new to the sport calls out current middleweight champion Jeon jungkook in a string of twitter videos, taunting him in means for a match for the championship belt. with a neverending run of his mouth, you and jungkook decide that now is the time to shut the newbie up once and for all.. afterall, it is about time jungkook sheds blood, sweat and tears into the gold around his waist. but to the dismay of both of you and jungkook, the sacrifice of holding gold has you both eying another prize at the end of the four weeks.

・❥・pairing: boxer jungkook x female reader ・❥・genre&au: fluff | smut | est rel | boxing au + sex bans ・❥・rating: 18+ ・❥・word count: will update with each chapter. ・❥・warnings: will update with each chapter. ・❥・type: 5 part series

⁀➷ scheduled parts:

・❥・part one — read here ・❥・part two — read here ・❥・part three — read here ・❥・part four — read here ・❥・part five — read here

⁀➷ extras: main masterlist | mail box | playlist | tag list form

⁀➷ tracking tags: #jords asks - asks | #fic feedback - feedback | #fic : danger zone (updates&reviews&asks)

⁀➷ note: after some consideration, ive decided to go ahead and create my boxing jaykay series. based off of this twt post that @btsgotjams27 shared. this is the first series ive done lmao im quite nervous asdfghskjfh !! a shoutout to @kth1 @mercurygguk @jksnoona97 @jjkeverlast @caelesjjk @jikooknoona @here4btsfics @jjungkookislife who all backed this idea a month ago n now here we are <333 | banner by my lil magwai

⁀➷ note2: after the announcement of the enlistment of bts ive moved the release date to friday the 21st. this allows me extra days to finish it up and let my betas do their thing with a clear mind

#btshoneyhive #btsdreamcourt #btscarnivalnet #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts drabble #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts series

[eunoiaaaivy]

๑ INVISIBLE STRING...

tw: bad writing, idk how i made this, fem!reader, a bit of angst, blood, mentions of enemies to lovers trope, a bit of flashbacks, hyperventilation, a bit suggestive, a bit of fluff at the end

a/n: this was another self-indulgent fic but pls excuse my poor writing. 😭

the moon shimmers down on him, the spotlight as the wind flies along his cape. his insomnia chasing him as the cold breeze continued to glide along the cold night. the sound of sea, night crickets and the buzzing filled his ears as the memories accompany him.

the echos of laughter, the laugh of his innocent days, the warmth of the touch he never wants to forget- sasuke remembers it all.

the bright smile, the warm touch, the lingering gazes, the small fights and the pouting; he could remember it all, the days where everything wasn't tormenting him.

the guilt ran free in sasuke's blood, the realization of everything as he drowns these voices in his head "you don't deserve her."

yet he knew that wasn't true. "you've hurted her." the demon in his head whisper's as he holds a frame, gazing at it as if it was going to disappear anytime. the beauty and essence of your face was all he saw, making him smile small.

"you lost her." that voice whispered in his head again, this time hitting a bullet. sasuke's smile falters a bit, like a child who realizes life. "you gave her pain." continued the demon running around his head, feeding his turmoil and starting the killing of happiness.

sasuke slowly puts the frame down, a gloved hand clutching his head as he tried to drown this stupid voice in his head. breathing ragged, forehead dripping with cold sweat as he fights his inner demons, he felt like he was fighting for his dear life.

it felt like one of those wounds he could never close, bleeding and filled with pain as the voice whispers on. "stop this silliness. you can't be with someone you've scarred."

"stop! stop it!" he whispers to himself, no sigh of relief left his mouth as he tries to kill this demon of his. sasuke could still hear the way it taunted- tattering his heart as his memories went back to a series of reverie.

the demon stops, yet he feels like his gut is being re-arranged as the scene of him- in his younger days- driving a chidori near your neck, where your jugular could be. sasuke can still remember that small smile you had. blood splurged on his hand, eyes widened with the sharingan activated and the sensation all so familiar to him as you whispered three words he never heard of.

"i love you." you muttered out, pavement becoming red, the wild sounds of water reaching his ears as you took the blow for sakura. sasuke retracts his hand, catching you as you breathed heavily and pressing pressure to stop the wound from bleeding.

"hey! keep your eyes open [name]! don't play this game with me, you've won already! stop it!" sasuke frantically shouted as kakashi stood in front of sakura, shielding her as the scene unfolded all to greatly to them- when did your relationship progress like this?

for all they knew, you hated each other to the guts. they would expected him to laugh- one like of those madman's howling laughter.

not this scene, sasuke shedding a few tears as blood spilled from the side of your neck and him pressing on it to stop the wound.

sasuke's chest heaves up and down, mangekyou sharingan activated as he remembers everything. the sensation, the guilt, the warm trickle of blood, the tears he was shedding- the begging of you to not die out on him.

he remembers it all too well, like the first fall of snow that touched his skin with warmth radiating off from you as you hovered over his lips. the mutterings of promises, the howling of laughters sweet as honey, and the taste of your lips.

the intimacy of it all felt so amazing- the fleeting feeling of just knowing that both of you knew of this. the privacy only known to him, you and the world sent warmth through his cheeks like a warm, pristine, visit to the sand village with no hindrances.

the immaculate sensation of his head throbbing was insane, it was like the feeling of panicking over the wound he inflicted all over again was new. it felt like yesterday, as the moon shines it's beautiful light on his handsome face.

sasuke's been holding for so long, hissing as his head throbbed- the demon in his head cackling at his doom.

yet a warmth he's so familiar with, one that his sharingan can't top, pulled him out from the demon drowning him; defeating it with just a flick of warmth from the touch alone.

he can no longer hear the demon roaring with laughter, screams of agony was all he heard as his demon dies pitifully in his head. sasuke's sharingan died down, reverting back into his onyx gaze.

he could feel the warmth seeping from the hand that's cupping his face, breathing coming to slow down as the amity filled more of sasuke's senses to which successfully calmed him down.

you stared at him in worry, eyes gazing over his crouched state while rubbing a thumb over the apple of his cheeks. "what happened sasuke? why are you up so late?" you asked him in a soft tone hinted with agitation.

the moon coated your skin perfectly, the wind reading his thought of you looking so beautiful in your night gown yet the frown etched on your serene face broke him out of his thoughts. "i couldn't sleep so i went out for a walk." sasuke briefly answered, his hand coming out to touch yours on his face.

as if reading what was destroying his sleep, you sighed out lowly, hand reaching out the one that hovered yours and giving it a short kiss. "it's all in the past sasuke. im alive, you're alive. you don't have to go back, it wasn't your fault you chidoried my neck. i chose to sacrifice myself. don't blame yourself, okay?" you coaxed out, like a warm breeze and wind meeting his skin.

sasuke stood silent for awhile, trying to calm his raging thoughts. after awhile he finally spoke, "i know, but i can't help but feel guilty." he said in a murmur.

"oh dear, you don't have to. i understand you, but if you continue to think about it you won't be able to sleep." you whispered while caressing sasuke's face, placing a small peck on his forehead. retracting from the small peck, you kissed his wrist where his pulse is.

"you're alive. so am i. you don't have to worry alright? you could even kiss my wrist if you really need it." and so sasuke did, he kissed it to reassure himself. over and over, like how he did with your lips on the night he left. at that time it was to reassure you that he will be safe and that he'll come back. but right now...it was to reassure himself you were alive and not part of anything his demon whispers to him.

and you were alive.

alive like the day he kissed you so gently under that wisteria tree, banter on something stupid long forgotten already. he kissed you like there was no tomorrow, like the rays of the sun wouldn't reach you anymore.

alive like when he saved you from madara, from being stabbed as if his life depended on it.

you fought as kids, like one of cats and dogs, yet made an oath under a serene moonlight. the weight of the world and the burden of being apart- it felt weird.

alive like that one encounter you both made in the middle of the forest after a year he left konoha, shock-ridden with a gleam so bright. sasuke didn't know if it was adrenaline or out of impulse, he did. he kissed you- a kiss so passionate, so tender and filled with longing.

it felt natural, out of everything why did kissing you had to be it? it was like a string tied you to him. strings of fate and strings of gold. he felt pulled either way, the way his heart beat pulsed through his chest when he sees you, the giddy feeling in his vein.

the love that conquered his hatred.

who knew all along there was an invisible string tying you to him?

#naruto x reader #naruto #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke x reader #sasuke x y/n #sasuke x you #sasuke uchiha #sasuke headcanons #sasuke uchiha x you #sasuke uchiha x y/n #naruto oneshot #sasuke oneshot #naruto fic #lol i don't what's this.

[savventeen]

carmen cygni

latin, meaning 'swan song' a metaphorical phrase for a final gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement

pairing: seungcheol x gn!reader rating: M wc: 1.7k prompt: @caratober day 20 - zombie summary: while out searching for supplies, you get bit trying to escape a small hoard of zombies. seungcheol is forced to do the unthinkable. warnings: angst, seriously so much angst, all hurt no comfort, major character death (you), blood, guns, mercy killing, mentions of suicide, brief suicidal ideation tags: zombie au, seriously this is just pain guys i'm warning you, non-linear narrative, flashbacks, some mild religious talks a/n: this was originally a vmin fic i posted to ao3 (on valentine's day of all things holy shit was i okay) and decided to repost here for caratober. i am so sorry. (also fun fact it was the first time i'd ever cried while writing a fic :') this song is 98% to blame for this

five.

"Seungcheol."

It's the way you say his name that tells him something is very, very wrong. The syllables are weighted, heavy, resigned — two stones dropped in the ocean, sinking fast into a suffocating oblivion.

You say his name like the world is ending all over again.

Seungcheol finishes barricading the door from the pack of roamers outside, goosebumps rising on his skin through his sweat as dread courses through him in an icy wave, and he turns.

The first thing he sees is the blood. It's coated your hand where you have it pressed to your right side, just above the hip.

"Fuck, y/n—" His mind is immediately sent spiraling into an anxious overdrive, wondering when and how and where you could have gotten hurt, whether the basic supplies you have between the two of you will be enough until the roamers leave and you can make it back to camp, if—

And then you lift your hand, revealing the wound. It's messy, flesh torn and bleeding steadily — but despite all of that, it's impossible to miss the distinct impression of a set of human teeth.

You've been bit.

You've been bit, and the world drops out from beneath Seungcheol's feet.

"No." He stumbles closer, trembling fingers reaching out and stopping just shy of the wound, before looking into your watery eyes. "No."

It's a command if he's ever given one — because with all of the things the both of you have had to suffer through, had to see and hear and experience these last few years, this had never been a possibility. Never.

Never like this. Never you.

The hand not covering your bite comes up and fists into the front of his shirt. "Cheol."

A million things go unsaid with that single syllable, but Seungcheol can hear them all, can see each one etched into your devastated expression. And because he will always, always, put your needs above his own, he shoves all the crumbling pieces of his own heart down and down and away, instead making room for you to step into his arms and cry against his chest — a mourning for something that has yet to be lost.

You grieve, and Seungcheol refuses to shed a single tear.

four.

"Y/n? What's the matter— why are you crying?"

You giggled, angelic as always, even through the tears. "I'm just... really happy, Cheollie."

"You are?"

"Yeah, just..." You bit your lip, and without thinking, Seungcheol reached out to smooth his thumb over it. You sighed into a smile and leaned into his touch.

"We've all lost so much, you know?" you continued. "But we were still able to find each other — able to find all the others and make a family. And now we have a relatively safe place to live, and I just—"

You beamed at him, laughing, even as tears continued to trickle down your cheeks. Seungcheol wiped them away as gently as he could, and you brought up the little wildflower you'd been holding, one you must've plucked from between the dozens of others that grew in the abandoned courtyard of your new home.

You continued with a nostalgic grin. "Did you know, the first thing you ever gave me was a handful of these?"

Seungcheol blinked down at the flower. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'd just saved you from the homicidal goose that was lurking on the campus quad, and you ripped out a bunch of these right out of the ground and gave them to me as thanks, and then you said—"

"My knight in ripped denim armor," he continued for you, the memory coming back to him with a smile, "can I take you out on a date?"

You beamed at him, eyes turning into crescents, and Seungcheol thought that the world had never felt more beautiful.

three.

You look dead.

"Y/n, hey," Seungcheol whispers, carefully nudging your bare shoulder. Your skin has lost most, if not all, of its color, and you're drenched in sweat. For a moment, your eyes remain closed, unresponsive, and his stomach swoops in fear, but then your eyes flutter open and he breathes out a shaky sigh.

"There you are," he murmurs, cradling your jaw with one hand. "Drink some water for me, yeah?" You nod, and he brings the nearly empty water bottle to your lips, tilting it slowly so you can take little sips. After a few mouthfuls, you hum to indicate you've had enough, and he sets it back down before gently pulling you to lean against him once more.

You let your head loll against his shoulder, groaning quietly; you start to reach out a shaky hand between the two of you, and he takes it immediately, twining your fingers together. You sigh, content.

For a moment, Seungcheol almost forgets.

"You're gonna need to do it soon, Cheollie," you mumble.

Almost.

His fingers twitch in your hold. He swallows.

A part of him wants to play dumb, wants to put off thinking of the horror of the inevitable as long as possible, but that would be the selfish thing to do, he thinks. So he squeezes your hand and whispers, "I know."

You squeeze back. "And you're not allowed to follow me, okay?"

Seungcheol stills. "What?"

"I know you, Choi Seungcheol, and I know what you're gonna wanna do after— after. But you have to promise me that you won't, okay?"

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Something's encased his lungs in a vice grip.

You continue, "I need you to be strong for me, and I need you to get back to the group, and I need you to survive, okay?" Your eyes, redrimmed and glossy as they are, are wide and pleading, desperate in a way he's not sure he's ever seen before.

Seungcheol hadn't known that his heart could break any more than it already has. "Y/n."

"I know you won't want to live at first," you forge on, holding onto his hand like a lifeline, "I wouldn't either. But Shua and Hannie need you, Cheol. Channie needs you. They'll all need you, and you'll need them."

You're the one they need, he doesn't say — bites back behind clenched teeth, you're the one I need, the one I've always needed, the one I won't ever stop needing.

He closes his eyes, your name falling past his lips in a plea or a prayer.

Suddenly, he's being yanked toward you by the collar, coming nose to nose with your fiery, bloodshot gaze. "I need you to promise me."

And for the first time in his life, Seungcheol hates the fact that he's never been able to deny you anything. "Fuck you, y/n," he chokes out past a sob, reaching out to cradle your pallid face and press a trembling kiss to your lips.

"Seungcheol."

"Okay," he croaks, stealing one more kiss before bringing your sweaty foreheads together. "Okay, I promise."

Anything for you. Even this. Even this.

two.

"Lay with me for a bit, Cheollie?"

His smile was soft as he easily agreed, "Of course." He made himself comfortable in the grass next to you, making sure the two of you were connected shoulder to hip.

You both lost track of how long you spent staring at the stars in silence together, but eventually Seungcheol broke the quiet with a murmur. "What're we looking for?"

You hummed. "The way to heaven."

"Heaven?"

"Yeah." Your hand snuck its way into his and gently squeezed. "My aunt believed in capital 'G' God — used to point out all the different constellations to me and then tell me that when Jesus came back for everyone that he'd take us all up into heaven through the stars."

"Hmm." He chanced a glance at your profile. "Is that what you believe?"

You sighed. "I don't know if I believe in anything, anymore."

"Yeah." He squeezed your hand.

A few minutes passed in peaceful quiet.

"Cheollie?"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me something?"

Another squeeze of your hand. "Anything."

You swallowed. "Stay with me forever?"

Seungcheol rolled over onto his side so that he could look down at you, the love of his life, and tilted your face towards him with a gentle finger crooked under your chin. Voice full of a devout sort of conviction, he whispered, "There's not a single place I'd rather be than right by your side, forever and always."

"Forever and always?"

The kiss, soft and chaste and a universe all on its own, was answer enough.

one.

"Seungcheol."

Your voice is so quiet now, barely a rasp of air, that he almost doesn't hear you even as he cradles you against his chest. "Cheol, it's time."

He wonders if this is what drowning feels like.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and swallows the lump clogging his throat. "Okay, love. Tell me what you need."

"Sing for me?"

Anything for you — even if it breaks me. "Yeah," Seungcheol's voice cracks, and he futilely clears his throat. "Yeah, of course. What song?"

I might not die, but this is going to kill me. You're killing me.

"S-Something pretty. Please."

Don't make me do this. Please, God, anyone, don't make me have to do this.

"Okay. A pretty song for my pretty baby." With one arm he pulls you impossibly closer to him, and with the other, he slowly reaches for the pistol strapped to his thigh.

He can barely get the notes out past his tears, but he does his best to carry the tune of your favorite lullaby, gently swaying you both in time with imaginary instruments. The gun feels impossibly heavy in his hold, and it only grows heavier as he slowly brings it up behind your head.

For a moment, he considers changing the angle just a bit — just enough.

But he made a promise. He made a promise, and even if it means living the rest of his life as something less than human — not a roamer in body and mind, but in spirit and soul — he'll keep his promise.

For you, he'll do anything.

(zero.)

He pulls the trigger.

And for the second and final time, Choi Seungcheol's entire world comes to an end.

#caratober #s.coups x you #s.coups x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #s.coups x y/n #seungcheol x y/n #s.coups angst #seungcheol angst #seventeenweeklyarticle #svt writing #svt fic #savv writes #savv fics #please please please read the warnings for this one #this is some heavy stuff folks pls be safe while reading #i am posting this and then going to bed so if u need to yell at me i will see when i wake up slkdfjslkdjf #also gonna say sorry one more time #sorry *drops fic and runs (to bed)*

[cherriesandsins]

Echoes

A/N: Hi! This one's my first Stranger Things/Eddie Munson fic. It's just about my musings on Eddie's chaotic life, past his possible wanderings to the metal/punk scene if he survived the post ST4 au. It can be read as an 'x reader' fic where the reader can assume that Peach is just their nickname. Enjoy!

She was the object of his heart’s desires. She was the scent that haunted all over the words on the tattered papers that were yet to be turned into the verses of the honeyed melodies of his songs. Till then, she’d be the verses to the rhythms of his heart.

He wished to weave his way into the strings of her heart and lay tangled in them forever. 

He watched her smile, dazzling and warm, unfurl across her cherry-tinted lips.

She was an explosion of earthy and red tones under the blinding rays of the sun- she was an ethereal sight to behold. Her hair shifted, revealing a new caramelized shade woven into the chestnut strands of her hair, framing her face gently.

Growing up, he heard people call him all sorts of things and give him all sorts of looks. Some told him he was trouble, some called him a sinner, and others called him a freak. He heard all sorts of anger, dread and terror fall from people’s lips, mixed with spittle and wrath. 

He was never sure if he deserved an ounce of their resentment, but he told himself he never cared much for it. After all, he wasn’t going to hide his ambitions in any nook and cranny of the town, like shards of broken dreams shoved away by many before him. 

But Hawkins swallowed him whole anyway. 

He’d walk around the streets with his long limbs and a cigarette between his chapped lips, his hair long and messy. Scraggly and unkempt. Black jeans ripped around the knees, a chain hanging from his side, and a bandana tied in the back.

Sure, he’s got a lot of nerve to be smoking in front of the adults (as Gareth said), but he never cared too much about it. If anyone gave him a disapproving look, he’d give them a condescending smile.

He knew he was a headache to deal with, and most people gave up on him. Hence, his asshole tendencies were excused, even when he got off the cigarette-scented van with the nameless faces or the faceless cunts he fucked. He wasn’t sure if that was an incriminating curse or a sinful blessing. Still, he didn’t care too much about how people interpreted that. After all, conventional morality was the first thing he shed off.

He was indeed an epitome of ‘Drugs, sex, rock n’ roll’, and he knew it.

That was until he emerged from the Upside Down, battered, bruised, and barely alive. 

Hailed a hero by his friends and Uncle and those who chose to believe his story. 

Abhorred by the others who believed that his soul was deeply charred to drip his hands with the blood of Chrissy and Patrick.

Adevil reincarnate, as they called him. 

His father would have been proud. He was truly living up to that Munson name of blackening his soul with violence and deception. 

‘You can’t shut every barking dog,’ an advice given to him by his beloved uncle when a five-year-old Eddie sobbed with unending tears in Wayne’s arms.  Eddie repeated the words in his head over and over again every time someone looked at him funny or muttered something under their breaths that he knew was directed at him. 

He was hurting more than ever. The scars are still fresh, and they hurt. At least the pills took that pain away. But what would help him muffle that agonizing despair that spilt from his eyes or the splitting cries of his wailing heart?

Some days, he wished that Dustin would have just left him in the Upside Down, plunging his world into eternal darkness.

Away from pain.

Most days, Eddie would rouse from his bed, panting uncontrollably, his sheets marred with sweat.

Sleep was a far-fetched luxury for Eddie. He hardly slept since he was a child.

Earlier, it was easy to blame his sleeplessness on an array of things- Wayne’s odd hours of working, poorly-planned substance abuse, a sudden creative spark (which wasn’t exactly a spark, but just an escape from his mind) for a song or a D&D campaign, the irresistible charm of his guitar or an unfinished homework.

It worsened now. He’d shut his eyes for a few hours, his mind stuck in an exasperating limbo between bone-weary lethargy and swooping frenzy. 

The doctors branded him with a label, and a bottle of white pills tucked away into some corner.

While it does induce him with sleep spells, it doesn’t scrape away the lucidity of the horrors that have been crawling around the twisted corners of his mind like devil’s ivy. So he doesn’t take them. He’d wait for his eyes to tire out through the mindless stupor of numbed paranoia and blurring grotesque images. A shallow rest most days. Dreamless sleep if he was lucky. Else nightmare-riddled sleep.

He traded his yearning for restful sleep for sanity.

One night, amidst the chill of January air, he hit his pit-stop. His cigarette lay close to his thigh, its blinding crimson core being the warmest thing he could conjure then. His other hand mindlessly twirled the beer bottle, humming the melodies to an unknown song.

Around then, he watchedherwalk into the dingy bar with someone he knew- oh, that was Robin. Since when did Robin like anything that wasn’t Bowie or Blondie or the Beatles?

But theother girl, withher vermillion grin, toggling between a cigarette and a cherry lollipop, babbling loudly to Robin. A Motörhead tshirt under her loose jacket and a pair of black ripped jeans. 

He watched her from the stage, shouting excitedly when she heard the first few notes of the KISS songs they covered swaying and jumping without missing a single beat.

Peach. She introduced herself as Peach when he offered to buy her a drink.

He never asked for her real name. Perhaps Peach was her alter ego, the skin she preferred.

And that was okay.

She sat next to him. Her body was lightly tilted towards him, one of her legs rested against him, and she never moved. He didn’t move either.

She was telling him about her rather impressive Led Zepplin collection and her distaste for the Rolling Stones. Ouch.

“Still not a good reason to hate ‘em,” He smirked, tilting his head back against the seat as he carded his hand through his unruly hair, clearing his sight to meet her sharp gaze. 

“Their music is sloppy. Sometimes.”

“That’s every single band out there, Peach. Try again.”

She replaced her cigarette between her lips with her overly sugary cherry lollipop.

“Fine, you win,” She dropped her shoulders, adding: “Maybe an unfair bias on my side.”

Eddie watched her flick her thick curls back and quickly down the last drink, her head tipped back, and eyes tightly shut around the astringent burn. And that’s when he noticed near her wrist an inked mark, a couple of bats.

He smirked softly, his hand tracing his own bat tattoos.

She let out a soft sigh, her eyelids fluttering.

He shifted his gaze back to Peach, his eyes raking all over the soft curve of her nose, the sharp cheekbones dusted in a pale pink powder, and her half-lidded eyes painted with a glittery dark brown colour.  

Her features were striking yet so appealing. So lively and vivacious, almost elegantly unrefined. Faintly magnetic. A strange allure, really, but an overwhelmingly blinding one.

Robin excused herself from Gareth, walking towards them. She whispered softly, her eye glancing at her wristwatch.

Dawn was approaching fast, and a certain sense of dread filled Eddie. She was leaving. She had to leave.

A part of him wished Peach was some intensely hued figment of his imagination. But she was real. So fucking real.

She placed her lips softly over his cheek, muttering goodbye. Before leaving, she urges him one last time to make his first musical pit stop at the Sunset Strip.

He could definitely imagine being on stage in a packed bar with a haze of cigarette smoke and dull lighting. Perhaps a bigger crowd than the Hideout.

A place to completely deluge his imperishable passion.

Eddie wasn’t sure if his band or if he could recreate the danger and notoriety of the metal and punk rock scene like all the bands before him. Else he’d collapse entirely.

Find me there, she said, before walking away from him, hand in hand with Robin.

Perhaps he should follow her to California, sauntering under the glittering beams, glinting sequins, and gleaming strobe of the Strip. And maybe he’s a fool to believe they will meet again and pick up where they left off, piecing back together what they had tonight.

A fairy-tale dream.

But would reality have worked out in his favour? Fate was never his friend.

The thought flowed and consumed him until his earlier euphoria melted away, agony filling him completely.

It was a choice. Either continue in the dingy bars of Hawkins, adorned with freshly split knuckles. Or explore the chaos of the Strip, thrive in the virulent unfamiliarity or the rosy-tinted passion.

His hair was grown longer than before, his eyes hardened, and his fingers more calloused. He’d fit in easily.

And she.She was all he needed to coax him into chasing his dream- or trapping an illusion constructed of smoke and mirrors and lights.

If it’s the former, it would be skyrocketing fame. If it’s the latter, he’ll either go unheard, or it’ll be his untold secret.

True, the potential of “what next” or the unknown is nearly too much to grapple with.

But before any apologetic sonnets of ‘what ifs’ could manifest on his tongue, he decided he would follow the trail to the kaleidoscopic streets of LA.

If he’s destined to shred his shimmering red-coloured guitar, clambering down the Strip with their reckless cacophonies, then great.

However, if he was damned to fade away amidst the swirling marquees and dusty streets, so be it.

The liberation did feel heavy in his shaky hands.

But he was glad he took the chance on one dewy morning of August, when he convinced (forced) Steve to join him on his voyage, and listening to him grumble about waking up to Eddie's ugly mug instead of some Heidi's face. Eddie just smirked with the ultimate retort he'd heard Dustin and Robin say before: "There are things far more important than your love life."

Even though the great expanse of the unknown was stretched before him, Eddie reached for it eagerly. The unrestricted possibilities of what ifs that once crawled under his skin uncomfortably, gnawing at his flesh painfully no longer bothered him. 

He lifted his gaze to look at her again. 

The evening glow bathed her in a golden flush, the salt-tinted air of the beach mixing with her gently saccharine scent of cherries.

Her smooth dark olive skin, radiant under the sun like an ever-morphing serenity of browns, her deep vermillion dress fluttering in the summer air, hugging her in all the right places.

He was smiling at him, standing so close to him, he felt the soft cadence of her breath tickled the skin of his sternum. Her smell of sweet cherry delight swamped him, a strange sense of familiarity consuming him. He could clearly see her eyes, those damned deep brown eyes, sparkling in polished amber under the sun with specks of honeyed golden.

She stood between his arms, wrapped in pure authenticity. Just like the day he met her in the Hideout. Just like the day he saw her again at the Roxy. 

(He even got her real name)

More eloquent poetic verses swarmed in his mind, and he tried to shove them deeply and harshly into some crevice of his mind, hoping to pour it all on the crinkled sheets filled with his scrawl and scribble.

She was laughing, her sparkling contentment rather contagious, as he felt a smile cracking from the corner of his lips.

From getting front seats to his half-assed shows for an entire year, she was now stuck with him for a lifetime with a future of touring and festivals. 

Excitement simmered in his chest, pure jubilation etched onto his face. She mirrored his unfettered elation, softly pressing her lips to his, sealing their deal.

  It was a ride-or-die with him, and she was all in. 

That’s the only assurance Eddie ever needed. His earlier reservations were pushed aside as a renewed urge to go on, to live to the fullest, filled him entirely to the brim. 

Eddie felt the sappy emotions rush to the tip of his tongue, and he bit it down. Instead, he pulled her close, tucking her under his chin. 

Everything would be alright

#love bites 💋 #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #stranger things

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen qing #wen ning #what the fuck am I doing you ask??? #i don't know #okay #i really don't know #i am nhs #i haven't come up with the bebe's courtesy name yet lol #i am the national health services #midnightlighthowlite #corie replies #corie fics #cql ficlet #lanyan #midnight sun #ly1

[salty-rey]

Come Back | Bad Batch Fan Fic

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Words: 1748 words

Warnings: Angst. Reader gets hurt, mention of blood

A/N: I gave you romance with Fives last time. Now, time for some PAIN!!! I told yall I wanted to make a Bad Batch fan fic, I just didn’t expect my first one to be like this. 

Pretty short, I wanted to write it down before I lose any inspiration, and I have to get back to my finals. 

Hope you guys like! 

(gif courtesy of @clxnewxrs​ )

- - - - - - -

This plan has gone to crap!

It was supposed to be simple. Get into the command center, retrieve the necessary intel, and get out. Something you’ve done many times before. Piece of cake! 

But last time you remembered, you did not have a child following you around. Omega insists on coming along, even going against Hunter’s orders. Because of her disregard of orders, she had tripped an alarm, alerting the guards to your position. But you couldn’t blame her. Even if she didn’t came along, something wasn’t going to go according to plan. She’s not a soldier and wasn’t trained like you and the rest of the Bad Batch. There were some tasks or missions that were fine for the young clone to come along, but this mission was more dangerous. 

One good reason why; Crosshair had finally tracked you down.

The Batch had split up during the mission, aiming to complete your objectives. Before you can all regroup, that is when Crosshair and his Elite Squad Trooper caught up to the group. And you had the unfortunate case of protecting Omega from the sniper, who was now standing in front of you. With the only exit blocked by your former comrade, the only way to escape was to shoot your way out or leap out an 80 storied building. 

“Crosshair, please! Don’t do this,” you pleaded, body shielding Omega as the young girl cowered behind you.

“I can bring you back alive,” The grey-haired clone spoke, raising his handheld blaster to your chest without hesitation. “Or in a body bag. Your choice, Freckles.”

You tense, staring down the barrel of the blaster, wondering for a second if it was put on lethal or stun mode. You felt Omega gripping your arm, sparing a glance at the child before looking back at Crosshair. His eyes held no remorse. There was no more warmth in those honey-brown eyes. Your heart shattered at the sight of him, your fists clenching to keep yourself composed. 

“This isn’t you, Crosshair. That damn chip is manipulating you!” You snapped, keeping your stance and hoping to buy some time for Hunter and the others to assist you. 

“You would have never shot Wrecker before, no matter how much he annoyed you. And you would never point a gun at me. Come back to us. We can find a way to free you from that chip. We know it’s not your fault, and we don’t blame you for your actions. Please,” you begged, your voice breaking a little as you reached your hand towards him. 

The clone stared hard at your hand, his shoulders tensed before locking eyes with yours. He can see the desperation in them, unshed tears causing your eyes to glisten. This was a familiar sight. Not too long ago, when all of you were imprisoned back on Kamino, you had the same expression. 

Crosshair was being taken away from the rest of the group for unknown reasons. Hunter, in his attempt to keep everyone together, received a harsh hit on his gut. The sergeant doubled over in pain, but no one dare moved to aid him as blasters were pointed at everyone. The clone shook his head at the sight of his sergeant before standing up. As he took one step forward, he felt a tug, keeping him in place. Looking back, he saw you gripping his hand with all the strength you have. 

You were looking up at him, silently begging him not to go. The corner of your eyes shedding small tears, your hand squeezing his ever so tighter. 

“Let’s go!” The clone guard exclaimed, his patience wearing thin. 

Crosshair felt something foreign in him, telling him to obey. He knows that he should stay. He knows that he should fight against these mindless regs. He’s not like them. He belongs here with his brothers, and with you. 

But, fighting the regs unarmed will just cause unnecessary casualties. And he can’t stand the idea of having his brothers’ blood on his hands. Especially a kid that is apparently a little sister. And you. 

The thought of losing you caused him to shiver in fear. An emotion that he rarely felt, until you joined the team. 

The sniper looked back at you once more, squeezing your hand in return. He gave you a reassuring look that was also apologetic and sorrowful. 

You knew that there was no getting out of this. That there was no way in saving him. With a heavy sob, you let go of his hand, allowing him to be taken by the guards. 

His hands were now trembling, causing the blaster to become unsteady. “Crosshair?” You said with uncertainty. The sniper’s eyes snapped back at you, having lost focus for a few seconds. 

“So, you miss me? How sweet,” he sneered, but his hands continued to shake. 

You relaxed your posture for a second, pulling your hand back before pressing it against your chest, right over your heart. “I have. So very much.”

Something must have snapped inside of the clone because his eyes became unfocused, and his hands were trembling harder. He was in pain, his free hand gripping the side of his head, eyes squeezing shut as the blaster fell from his hand. You watched as Crosshair internally fought against the inhibitor chip, hope slowly rising inside of you. 

As you slowly approached him, you failed to hear the thundering sound of boots approaching you. The only indication that you got was hearing Omega gasping before shouting, “Look out!”

The moment you spotted the Elite Squad Trooper raising his blaster, you felt the searing hot pain piercing your side, and a blood-curling scream echoed throughout the room. You fell to your knees, clutching your left side, where the blaster shot hit you. 

Luckily, you were wearing the specialized armor that the Bad Batch wear, so the blast wasn’t able to pierce the other side. But you can feel blood pooling out, and if you don’t get any aid soon, you’re going to die. 

Before the trooper can shoot you again, he let out a shout of pain as Crosshair’s fist collided with his buckethead before punching his gut. “I told you to stun the woman and to shoot the men!” He snarled before kicking the hunched-over trooper. 

As Crosshair’s attention was on the reg, Omega rushed to your side. Panting heavily, you grabbed a tool from your utility belt and wrapped an arm around the girl’s midsection. “Hold on...tight...and whatever...you do...don’t let go.”

“What are you---whoa!” Omega cried out as you picked her up and charged at the window. The girl screamed when your shoulder crashed into the window, both of you plummeting over the edge. Neither Crosshair nor the troopers reacted quick enough to catch you, watching the both of you fall to what appears to be your death. 

You reached out your arm, pointing your modified grappling gun, and pulled the trigger. The claw-like end soar shot through the air, piercing the closes building, secured in place. The pair of you swing through the cold night air, Omega’s arms and legs wrapped around your neck and waist. 

Before you could crash into another building, you released the trigger, the grapple unhooking from your end. You rolled onto the rooftop of a building, shielding Omega in the progress. Wincing, you got back on your feet, still holding onto the child, and continued to run away, troopers now shooting at you. 

“Tech! I need a pickup, NOW!” You exclaimed into your communicator. 

“We’re reaching your location!” His voice came through, and without another second to waste, you heard the engines of the Havoc Marauder. The ramp was open and both Hunter and Wrecker were there. 

Despite the searing pain, your adrenaline forced you to pick up the pace. Blaster shots were flying past you, and if you move any slower, you were going to get hit again. But you weren’t scared of being hit by the Elite Squad trooper again. No. You were afraid of a certain sniper. Deep down though, you had hope that he wasn’t going to pull the trigger on you. He had several chances to do so, but he didn’t. 

“Jump!” Hunter shouted as you reached the edge of the building. Mustering whatever strength you had left, you leaped from the edge, Omega’s arms reaching towards the Sergeant and larger clone. You collapsed into their arms, letting them pull you both inside as blasters were now hitting your ship. 

“She’s been shot!” Omega cried. Hunter and Wrecker saw your bleeding side, and with a nod from their leader, Wrecker picked you up as carefully as possible and carried you to your cot. “Echo, get over here now!” Hunter shouted before grabbing whatever medical items that they need.

Your armor was removed and Wrecker ripped the fabric of your blacks to expose your wound, allowing the boys to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain, legs kicking and your hand gripping the first thing that came into contact, which was Hunter’s hand. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Echo reassured as they pierced a needle into your wound before spraying it with bacta. Omega stood at the doorway, hands covering her mouth, silently crying as the boys managed to stop the bleeding. Despite being their combat medic, the Bad Batch knew a good amount of medical aid before you arrived, but learned more when you became part of their team. 

“I can’t believe Crosshair shot her!” Wrecker growled as Echo placed a bacta patch to help quicken the healing progress. 

“I don’t want to believe either. But he shot you, didn’t he?” Echo countered.

“He...he didn’t shot me,” you groaned, your hand squeezing Hunter’s. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, no more talking. You need your rest, Freckles,” the Sergeant said, using his free hand to gently wipe off any sweat forming on your forehead. 

You ignored Hunter’s order and took in a deep breath before continuing. “It was a...trooper. Crosshair said...only to stun me and Omega...” You then looked back at Hunter, body feeling weak and vision getting blurry. “He’s still in there...fighting to come back....we can’t lose hope.” You managed to say that last bit before darkness consumed you. You slumped against the pillow, a familiar scent comforting you as you slept. 

The group watched you sleep, ensuring that you were okay before relaxing. Hunter slowly slipping his hand from your grasp before covering you with a blanket, Crosshair’s scent continued to engulf you. 

“We will bring him home. I promise.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #clone force 99 #clone force 99 crosshair #ct crosshair #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #star wars x reader #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #omega #hunter #wrecker #tech #echo #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #star wars #fan fiction #fan fic #angst #tw blood #tw: blood

[papercupids]

trapped - kim doyoung

pairing - yandere!doyoung x gender neutral!reader

summary - you should have known better..

genre - yandere!au

warnings - yandere themes, a lot of manipulation, doyoung is a sly mf, mentions of an abusive household, running away from home, mentions of stitches, mentions of blood, they bury a dead body, doyoung kills someone.

word count - 2.6k

prompts used - ‘everyone’s gone now! no one can get in our way now. why deny our love?’ + ‘hopeless? you think i’m hopeless? sweetheart. pigeon. dove. don’t you see that you’re the one caged here’ from this prompt list 

a/n - i was in midst of completing this fic, couldn’t figure out the end when i came across this prompt list and honestly i couldn’t have completed it without it. shoutout to @go-shotaro for proofreading it <3

Doyoung's sobs rang softly in the house as the loud noises from the television covered it well. You attempted to catch your breath, courtesy of running too fast after he texted you, “emergency”.

Now normally people would counter question each other, “what emergency?” And “what should i do?” But it was something you had established with him after you came to know about how both of your households had been abusive. And it was never to be taken lightly, april fools or not. No one from the two of you was allowed to text it except if it was really bad.

So hence why you ran with all the speed you could muster after sneaking out from your window. Chances of you getting caught were not absolutely zero but you thought about how your best friend could be in danger.

At present, his door was already unlocked, but you don’t pay much attention to it, the sobs absolutely making you fear for the worst.

and some smell. some metallic smell. Before you could recognise it as something you’ve smelled when you got cut while you were chopping off onions, you’re greeted with a pool of blood in the kitchen.

Pool of blood with a body. 

A body. His father’s body, precisely. 

There's a hollow pit in your stomach which digs deeper as you take the seriousness of the situation in, sirens going off in your brain. But you move your eyes all over the kitchen to find the source of the cries, your best friend.

he’s crying softly as if he hasn’t fathomed what he’s done, numb even.

He’s shocked to see you even when it was him that texted you and immediately begins sobbing a little louder when you bend down to his level.

“What happened?” You ask in a hush as if his father is going to wake up if you make a sound.

Instead of replying he clings onto your frame in a hug, his crying getting uncontrollable by the minute.

“He....he..he was going to kill me, y/n.”

it doesn't take you much to be convinced of that, you’ve had past experiences when you bandaged up doyoung's wounds.

Even accompanied him to the hospital for a few stitches on his forehead.

It absolutely pains you that your best friend has to go through this. All this torture at an age where he should be partying out or just overall be carefree, he was burdened with the load of the house. His father off to gamble and his mother, well, she was dead so you can’t really blame her.

And a bulb goes off in your brain

So you get up and offer him a hand as well.

“Doyoung, get up, stop crying, quick, we’re getting out of here.”

“What?” He sniffles.

“You heard me. I’m not letting you go to jail.”

His tears stop finally as you scour his cabinets for gloves and a cloth to wipe the blood off the floor, and he brings a bucket of water as you attempt to wipe off the blood off the floor.

around half an hour later, the blood's no longer visible on the floor and doyoung's dad's body rests in a sitting position in front of the living room.

he sobs occasionally as you both work in silence to eliminate anything that connects doyoung to this.

you would have thought twice if it was someone else. but Doyoung's dad was one of those drug addicts, who if they found some good stuff, would sell their own spouses.

he's been torturing doyoung since you knew him, which was about five years ago. 

The only people that would look for his dad were the ones he used to smoke with. that is, if they remember him at all.

and as for you, it had been a recurring thought to run away from your home. with all the beatings getting out of hand and your parents just over all blaming you for every problem. 

maybe this was a sign that you just should.

maybe you and doyoung be a little happy, make a life for yourselves and not end up like everyone else in the town.

maybe you had a chance at this.

you help doyoung fit the body inside a suitcase. it takes about 20 minutes but it does, finally, close. 

and you let out a visibly loud sigh, cutting off the silence that had taken over you both.

"Can you tell me what happened now?"

"he found out i was stealing from him, planning to run away,”

"Oh,”

he wraps his arms around you, resting his face on your shoulder, and you let yourself loose as well. Head on his shoulder as well.

Without any words, just standing there with the warmth radiating between you two saying something words just could never.

-

You get out of the house and doyoung is behind you, locking the door softly, the walls were thin here and someone could rush out to complain or just to pick a fight for the fun of it if they were drunk.

You stroll the suitcase as if you’re going on vacation to Hawaii, making sure to look at every direction. Left, right, behind, straight.....

He follows close behind you carrying a hoe he found outside in the garden shed, it was rusted; but it would work. And he leads you to his car. 

His dad’s, actually.

No one would actually suspect doyoung and you unless they witnessed this happening. Because there were a lot of times Doyoung’s father would just disappear for days, leaving him to sneak into your room and sleep in hiding.

So it wasn’t quite suspicious.

You reach the boot of the car, your slippers creating a slapping sound on the road; it was a little wet from the showers in the afternoon and muddy.

The silence around is deafening and you turn around for the umpteenth time, scouring every window around to confirm there’s no one watching you.

Doyoung taps the car lightly to get your attention, preferring to maintain the quiet. And you don’t take twice to nod to him and get into the passenger seat.

As the engine revs up, the seriousness of the whole situation settles in your body. Should you just have turnt doyoung in? No, never, that was your best friend. He was the one who did feel like home; you could do this. 

And maybe if you do get caught, you’ll be doing something you won’t be regretting. You’d be doing it for your best friend.

Doyoung’s eyes meet yours through the rear view mirror and he breaks the silence with a cough and a soft whisper,

“Are you sure about this?”

You nod. Words refuse to come to you.

“You won’t be able to turn back after this,”

“I’m sure, doyoung,”

He smiles painfully; like a friend forced to put their friend in danger due to circumstances. But you knew doyoung would do the same for you if it were you in his position.

After driving to the outskirts of the city, doyoung takes a turn around a cluster of trees, the beginning of a forest.

And you turn on your alert mode again, constantly turning back to ensure there was no one lurking around in his uninhabitable area; every slight noise of a vehicle passing by made you jump.

Doyoung was surprisingly calm, this time around he carried the suitcase. And you look at his hands which were blood stained just about an hour ago.

The darkness makes it hard to see but you follow him through bushes and stones, careful with each step of yours.

Trying not to make a sound plus trying to slip.

You swear you can almost hear your own heart pound inside your chest as you walk.

Doyoung stops nearly 15 minutes later; deep inside the forest, there’s a clearing of trees here and he stops you by grabbing your arm.

“I think this will be okay?” His tone is more of a questioning one, but you nod, it was deep inside the forest and no one would ever actually think about digging this up, would they?

Doyoung puts the suitcase aside gently and stretches out a hand in front of you, motioning for you to lend him the tool.

And you give it to him, but feel a sense of insecurity later, it felt like something you could hit someone with in case they found you, but you found yourself defenseless now.

He dug his first jab slowly. But upon realising that slow won’t do much, he did the second one with more impact.

And he hits it till the ground finally breaks, while you keep a lookout towards every direction;

Gradually, doyoung is exhausted and his hands pain from the torture of digging, so you volunteer to dig the rest of it.

Sweat trickles down the back of your neck to your t-shirt, but at least you’re done digging.

Doyoung stands up from his spot where he sat on a protruding tree root to examine if it's deep enough, and you both look at each other for the other’s approval.

And in a swishing motion, doyoung is dragging the bag to the suitcase to the edge of the hole. And his reluctantly trace the suitcase, you have to bury the body alone if you want it to decompose fast; 

So you help him out by getting the body out of the suitcase.

It's deteriorating fast, and the smell makes you breathe through your nose, but you position him the way you want him to be buried and nod to doyoung.

-

an hour later, you’re at a diner sitting quietly and fiddling with your fingers.

trying to figure out what to order.

doyoung stares at you worried; mostly because when the waitress came to place menus at your tables, you let out a loud gasp.

“..and some sprite, yeah that’s it,”

the waitress smiles at you as she completes jotting down your order and disappears right down the hall.

“Hey, are you okay?” Doyoung’s features are concerned and you nod at him and throw him a small grin.

And he smiles warmly back at you.

he takes your hands in his and looks at you, “i’m not sure what i’d do without you,”

The sun’s up, and your mother’s surely banging at your door to wake up; but it doesn’t even matter much, because you’re free and that’s all that matters.

-

An hour later, you're back at the road, when you're hit with the realization that you still don't know where you're going.

"where should we go?"

to which doyoung replies, without taking his eyes off the road - "i have it all planned, don't worry,"

"how do you have it all planned?" you raise your brow, hoping he'd clarify what he meant.

"I mean. i just planned it all out, you don't need to worry,"

and he scoffs, "you're acting as if this was a plan."

"of course not," you cross your arms. and begin to ponder if anyone would be onto you both;

it would be counted as a coincidence at most because you were never seen together, mostly because of the orthodoxy of both of your families.

nevertheless, your family would try for a month at most, and give up later, not thinking of you to be worth it.

it's what they had done when you attempted to run away a few months ago, escaping to Doyoung's house.

and it had hit you there, that there was no one apart from doyoung who cared for you.

-

a few hours later, you had dozed off against your better judgement, while doyoung kept driving to said place cautiously.

and he pulled up inside a cozy parking lot, causing you to jerk awake and yawn loudly; 

"where....are we?" taking in the informality of the place, you were sure this wasn't a hotel, it was something way too familiar. but what bugged you more was how despite being like an apartment complex, the parking was mostly empty. 

doyoung threw you a smile in reply and extended his hand towards you, motioning you to take it, "come with me."

you reluctantly fit your hand inside his, after all he was your friend, he couldn't do you any harm, right?

and he leads you into a bit deeper inside the parking lot, the sound of your breath being prominent in this silence.

at last an elevator comes into view, it's small and cozy; maybe we're going to an airbnb? you glance around the lift warily as doyoung waits eagerly.

as a small bell rings and the elevator doors open, he takes your hand in his once again and looks back at you, "you're gonna love it,"

and you take in the floor number, "9", and follow him through around two doors, both of them absolutely new and maybe even unoccupied. 

he finally reaches the end of the hallway where there is a similar door like the ones you passed through, the only difference being that doyoung fished out a key for this one.

and you don't remember stopping for anything after the diner..

Was this planned?

he was creeping you out more and more every passing minute. 

and he opens it to reveal a fully furnished, small, and a cute apartment. 

but well that would have been your first thoughts if you had been here under different circumstances.

"Do you like it?" doyoung asked, as if he was a little kid asking for an opinion on his drawing.

he shuts the door behind you as he takes your off guard-ness to pull you inside.

"doyoung, what is this?"

"what, you don't like it?" he pouts a little.

"Since when have you been planning this?" you ask, expecting an answer that you know is gonna make you completely repulse Doyoung. 

"Remember I told you how my dad found out I was stealing money from him?" you can't move your eyes from the sofa in front of you, and doyoung moves around you like a merry go round

"why don't you look at the bright side, y/n?" he hovers behind you, his breath fanning your neck.

"and that is?" you ask in a small voice. you had no idea who this man was. because he clearly wasn't the one you had vowed to protect a few years earlier.

"we can finally be together," he whispers in your ear.

"Are you kidding me, doyoung? this can't happen."

and he snaps from his calm demeanour, "everyone's gone now! no one can get in our way now. Why deny our love?"

"doyoung, you're my best friend, i don't love you romantically, please stop with this it's creeping me out."

"that's not a thing to worry about, I'll make you love me."

"it's hopeless doyoung,"

his hands travel from your shoulders to your wrist.

"hopeless?" he scoffs, "you think i'm hopeless? sweetheart. pigeon. dove. don't you see that you're the one caged here."

and as he pulls away, he leaves you free.

but you can't move a limb because a part of you knows doyoung has a trick up his sleeve.

"this memory card," he flicks it in front of you, "belongs to the camera that was installed in my living room, moments before you came. and hence, i have proof that you were an accomplice."

you walked right into that. no one in their right mind would help cover a murder. they do say that they would, but no one would. and you, being the hopelessly foolish, helped him out.

"do you get it now, dove?"

#prism.nw #neoturtles #tw yandere #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere kpop x reader #yandere nct x reader #yandere!nct #yandere!au #yandere!kpop #yandere!doyoung #yandere doyoung #yandere nct 127 #yandere nct 127 x reader #yandere au #kim doyoung #kim doyoung x reader #doyoung x y/n #doyoung x you #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct x gender neutral reader #nct 127 #nct x you #nct 127 doyoung #nct doyoung #nct doyoung x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n

[alberivh]

veille my love!!! could i request for an angsty childe fic with reader and him a battle against an army or something but then reader dies at the end? :"D

the greediness of a warrior.

summaries : the last mission before you left the fatui are to protect your lover, childe. So you decided to be on his side, forever and after. even when you know deeply, this is going to be dead end of you.

Characters : childe x gn! Reader

Contains : heavy injuries, heavy angst, comfort/hurt, blood.

A/N : thank you for requesting jia! I hope this is exactly what you want at first and perfect for your writing taste! Once again thank you very much!! ((Ah and please do know that i have a pretty bad writing block right now and my first language isn’t english, so there might be many mistakes surrounding this request, my apologies. though i still hope you enjoy this!))

“come on..wake up my love it’s still dawn..you couldn’t just lie in here after everything..let’s celebrate our winning and we could–“

“there’s no use..no use..”

Repeating your answer, childe became much more than each seconds the time has past through out teyvat. His arms losing it’s balance over your body, cold and so light. He could only feel it as you were leaving him in no time. soul-less is the name of the situation, they say.

you were screaming in pain and lost out of words. As after you got scarred in chest by the cryo abyss mage ; whom have been prepared by signora as your death, your visions started to burn in childe’s hands, making it now a grey symbolism. The mission of protecting childe as the eleventh harbinger and your lover is a decoy for you to die in his arms, for your life to end. Signora doesn’t want traitors to inflated themselves with the harbingers. So she killed you in his arms, for the sake of the tsaritsa well being.

sweats and bloods became a rain of honor. Bloods covered the domain entrance, your blood shed. Tears filled the corner of his eyes not knowing how to react, now he realize, he is just a burden to your life.

he cries for help, even if no one could hear him. Carrying your hopeless body into his arms as if you were still alive. The loss of your Blood have covered all of his body right now, your injuries are too fatal. sweats and panics came through his lungs as you’re starting to sunk your head onto his once-warm chest, silence groaning and hissing through your pain.

“Ajax..nothing could help, please..please, let me go..let me..go..” , kissing his neck as if it was a form of goodbye. Selfishness and guilt crawls onto his skin after he saw your dead eyes opened in fear.

“why? I still love you..why must you go so easily my dear..?”

it was your last mission, and it was to protect him. How can you not refuse it for the sake of your lover?

your funeral has been held in liyue, no one have been invited even your family, only childe alone could be there. he is the only one who stay with you until the end of your journey. he couldn’t just forced the government to bury your corpse onto the nations of the Tsaritsa , after all they knew you as a traitor. A threat to the Tsaritsa.

he quits the fatui afterwards. Holding the pain of threat and griefs after losing you because of his trusted affiliation. Losing a fiancé and a companion because of their sacrifice is a total bliss to childe.

Childe has always visited your grave ever since he quitted the fatui. He never regretted the chance to love you, he never regretted the decision to built his last name onto your precious name, though guilt which crawls up to his lungs are none other because of your sacrifice, he still loves you nonetheless. Even after your birthday, which was the exact same day of your 100 day passing. He still bring your proposal ring to your grave, making it as another hopeless wish for you to dream in heaven.

“long time no see, my beautiful darling..”

#childe #childe angst #tartaglia angst #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact writing #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe fanfic #tartaglia fanfic #childe headcannons #tartaglia headcannons #ajax #ajax angst #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia

[bimswritings]

Savage Opress x Reader

Request: Open

Warnings:Yandere Themes, canon-typical violence

Summary: On their conquest of the universe, Savage finds himself drawn to one of the newest captives in their spread of power.

A/n: The next chapter of ‘This is our way’ is up on my Ao3. It will be posted here after I finish and upload my current Armorer x reader fic.

__________________________________________________

Your planet wasn’t anything special. Located out in the outer rim, it was little more than a moon compared to its neighbors. Its land was barren and cold, an almost ever present frost covering the ground.

Yet you and your people had made it your home, learning how to grow a small amount of crops and mine the rare metals underneath. A job you had yourself, providing enough money for you and your younger brother to live on until he was old enough to work as well. What was produced was enough to give your people an economy, yet remain under the radar and out of the war that ravaged the rest of the planet. The Republic and Separatist had limited interactions this far out at best, and you were able to enjoy a peaceful life, if not a bit exhausting.

Unfortunately, it was this isolation that had been your saving grace for so long that also proved your downfall.

Their ships arrived in numbers you had never seen before, landing on the grey dirt and unloading copious amounts of armored men and women. Your village didn’t even have time to put up a fight, overpower and subdued before you could even think of a weapon to protect yourself.

Soon you were corralled into the town center, separated into groups seemingly at random. Families were torn apart, mother from child and husband from wife. The entire time your brother clung to your leg, hiding as the armed guards shoved you along through the crowds. You tried to stay out of sight the best you could in an attempt to draw the least amount of attention to yourself, hoping, praying, that you could go unnoticed enough to keep him with you.

Above it all, standing out against the dull sky with their vibrant colors, were two Zabraks. Creatures you had only ever heard about in stories from the occasional trader that passed through, and had been just that, stories, until now. Their horns alone were enough to send shivers down your spine, each one protruding from the crown of theirs heads like a twisted version of a crown. Unlike a crown, you knew they weren’t for decoration. The damage they could undoubtedly do if provoked only solidified their threatening presence.

Now they stood above you all, tattoos illuminated in the light of the setting sun. The shorter red one stood in front, chin raised and chest puffed with pride as he looked over your people with another armored man, this one clearly human. He seemed to not even notice the cold, bare chest on full display for anyone to see the unique markings that marred his skin. Just beyond him stood the second Zabrak. His yellow markings stood out even more than his companions, only emphasized by his large size. None of the others even came close to his height, let alone the bulk you could tell he possessed under his armor. Even from here you could tell he could wrap a single hand around your neck and snap it easily with his strong fingers.

His gaze was just as impassionate, if not more so, seeming more bored than anything as he watched the proceedings.

“Come on! Move it!” One of the guards yelled, catching your shoulder as he pushed you forward, reminding you bitterly of Telik being led to slaughter. You kept Jay close, keeping your head down as you passed more guards, pace increasing. Just a few more yards and you would be with the others. Whatever the future had in store for you, at least you would still have each other.

“Hey, you!” A voice called, clearly directed your way, though you pretended not to hear. A cold sweat broke out across your skin as footsteps closed in, hand reaching out and stopping you in your tracks.

“Children don’t go in this area.” He growled, prying Jay from where he hid, ignoring his cries and your screams as he was pulled away. A guard stepped forward to hold you back, another coming to his aide as you fought to get to your brother, who was making it just as difficult for his own captor to drag him away. Even with the muscle gained from the mines you struggled against them, putting up your own desperate fight.

“Stop moving you little- fuck!” He yelped, pulling his arm away and out of Jay’s mouth, which had latched on to the only unarmored part of the hand holding him.

Immediately he turned and was running back towards you, tears streaming down his face and blue eyes wide with fear. In his panic to get back, his childish coordination caught up to him and his feet caught on one another, throwing him to the ground as he was left to scramble. All the while the guard he had bitten approached. 

“You little brat!” He snarled. His hand moved to his hip, producing a whip from its depths. The long weapon crackled to life, sparking with energy as it extended to full length.

Your own stomach dropped in fear as you watched. 

Jay, the one light in your life, the only person you had left, was in danger. You were his older sister. You were supposed to protect him, guide him into adulthood in place of your parents. Be there to kiss away every injury, wipe away the tears after every nightmare.

A new burst of energy flooded your system, giving you the strength needed to push past the guards, leaving them stumbling as you flew towards Jay.

The man brought his arm down, whip swinging in a wide arc aimed at the defenseless boy on the ground. 

It didn’t even have the chance to hit him. You slid the last few feet on the rough terrain, body covering his at the last second and jolting as the electric weapon met your clothed back, ripping through the material like a stone through water. A pained scream tore itself from your lips. Not even when you had gotten a burn from a small explosion in the mines had it hurt this much. In fact, you would take a dozen burns before this. This was just pure agony, the pain not even limited to a single area as the electricity coursed through every part of your body, invading every nerve.

The man was far from done though, and he repeated the action again and again, turning your skin into a bloody mess as Jay continued to cry underneath you, struggling in your protective grip. Still you held tightly, biting your lip to muffle your cries with every lash.

No one lifts a finger to help, not even looking in your direction in fear of the same treatment as they continue to shuffle along. You don’t even have it in your heart to blame them, knowing your reaction would be much the same if the situation was reversed.

Unbeknownst to you, your little altercation has caught the eye of the golden Zabrak, a small twinge in his heart at the deja-vu feeling he gets from the scene. From your age, he can only assume that the boy is your brother. You look too young for him to be your son.

He has flashbacks to his own brother, giving himself to the cursed Nightsisters in exchange for his life, only to be forced to kill him in a cruel show of power.

Before he realizes it, his hand has fallen to his lightsaber, already taking a step to where you are. He only gets a step before Maul calls to him, pulling him away to the ships and leaving him to look back over his shoulder at you crumpled form.

“Come. We must set up camp. The prisoners will be dealt with later.” Maul chuckles. “Those that survive anyways.”

And so he follows, leaving your fate to the Mandalorian who has yet to relent in his cruelty. But out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind, and the memory of your form curled on the ground, taking every lash with little more than a jolt and muffled cry, sticks in the front of his mind and prevents him from having a single moment of rest.

It's hours before he’s able to slip away. Between his brother and Death Watch, it’s nearly impossible for him to make his way to where the captives are being held. They’re all gathered in one of the far corners of the camp, held in place by the ropes around the wrist and looking miserable as they huddle for warmth against the lightly falling snow. He feels no guilt for what their eventual fate will be. They’re nothing to him, mere insects in his brothers plans. Animals to the slaughter. All for the greater good.

The fear he can feel radiating off them feeds a twisted sense of pride within him. The Sith side of him. They know who he is. They know he could easily kill them with no consequence should he choose. 

He’s not here for them though.

A dozen yards away, your body is still laying in the same spot as before, more lifeless than when he last saw you. This time there’s no Mandalorian enforcer above you. Instead, he’s replaced with the small boy from earlier. What remains of your shirt is peeled back from the skin and even Savage, who’s used to many grisly sights, grimaces at your wound. The skin that isn’t lacerated is red and swollen, and he now notices that the young boy has shed his own shirt, using ripped strips to clean the blood away and form a crude version of bandages. He’s busy fumbling over himself, fingers clumsy and stiff from the cold as he does his best to care for the wound with no medical supplies.

So focused on your wounds, he doesn’t even hear the large Zabrak approaching, not until it’s far too late. To his credit, and Savage’s amusement, the boy refuses to leave you, placing his body in front of yours. His bare chest is rapidly moving up and down with fear, thin body on full display. Not an ounce of muscle on him, Savage muses, moving closer to your body. If he doesn’t get you proper medical attention soon the wounds will undoubtedly become infected and kill you, if the blood loss hasn’t already damned your fate.

When he goes to pick up your limp body however, he’s stopped by your brother. Well, stopped is being rather generous. It’s more like he’s latched himself onto Savage’s waist, small fist beating at him with the strength one would expect of a child. He might not have even known he was hitting him if he wasn’t watching it happen.

It’s times like this that he’s most grateful for his cursed strength, easily detaching the boy from him and holding him by the back of his neck, tucking him under one arm as the other reaches for you. It's almost concerning how cold your body is against his own skin, and he’s more careful as he lifts you over his shoulder. His brother would surely find it laughable if he saw how gentle he was being with you.

Without hesitance, he turns back to the main camp, ignoring the looks the others cast his way as he carries your unconscious and broken body over his shoulder, your brother still fighting under his other.

Let them gossip. There’s none that will stand against him.

____________________________________

The first thing you’re aware of is warmth. Surrounding and enveloping your form, begging you to stay as it threatens to drag you back into the land of dreams. That in itself is enough to alarm you. The heating was always turned off at night to save energy, replaced in favor of thick blankets made from the local TekTek wool.

That’s your second red flag. TekTek wool is warm, yet coarse and scratchy. The fabric currently piled on top of and under you is significantly softer, having a slight musk to it.

Finally managing to drag your eyes open, the sight that greets you is not one you were expecting. 

Dark fabric makes up the majority of the tent you find yourself in. It’s clearly worn, yet does a surprising job of keeping the wind outside from entering, slight ripples waving across the fabric yet never entering. A fire sits in the very center, smoke curling up and through a hole in the ceiling. It’s glow provides the only source of light in the space, illuminating the few objects scattered around, including the cot you currently find yourself residing on. Buried under layers of blankets, your hands travel to the bandages wrapped around your chest, the only thing covering your upper body and providing little warmth in comparison to the blankets you were previously under.

How did you get here? Where was Jay? The last thing you remember was the invaders arriving, then nothing. So the question was, how had you gotten from there to here? Alone in an unfamiliar tent.

Your questions are soon answered, a shuffling from the front of the tent drawing your attention. From between the flaps emerges a large figure, his horns nearly catching the fabric as he enters.

You both freeze, eyes locking on one another, equally surprised. There’s a moment of pause, each of you trying to determine your next move. It’s only broken when he takes a step forward, cautiously, but still sending you into a panic. Ignoring the nearly debilitating pain coming from your back, you scramble to the edge of the cot, pressing your back against the fabric and you can feel it straining against your weight. Trying your best to look intimidating, you send a glare his way.

“Where’s my brother?”

He says nothing for a moment, and you almost repeat yourself, cut off as he begins approaching. He’s there before you know it, long legs easily eating the space as his arms reach for you, forcably turning you around despite your resistance. He lets out a grumble as he inspects your back, scoffing about how you’ve ‘reopened them’.

The next thing you know, his hands are worming their way under the wrappings, loosening them as he goes to remove them.

The panic you had felt before was nothing compared to now, knowing where this scenario was going all to well. The stories of what you had heard from other village girls filling your mind, darkening your thoughts as you could only imagine what this monster was about to do to you.

“No! Stop!” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was nothing you could actually do against his strength. The bandages become looser, only held up by your hand as you wildly swing out with the other. All the while you try to distance yourself from him. 

“Please!”

To your surprise, he pauses. His first sign of even showing he heard you since entering. His gaze never leaves you, and you can see the debate going on within his eyes. About what, your guess was as good as any. All that you cared was that he had stopped for the moment, allowing you to cover yourself with one of the many blankets in an attempt to preserve any decency you had left.

Growling, her turns and storms out the way he came, a wisp of freezing wind invading the tent as you're given a glance at the dark night sky outside before you’re once again left on your own. Not for long though, and you think he’s returned once again when the flaps open, only to reveal a young woman in similar armor that you had seen earlier. Not the person you trusted the most right now, but you still preferred her over the large Zabrak from earlier.

She approaches slowly, setting a medkit down on the bed as she smiles your way. “I’m here to change your bandages.” She extends a hand your way, which you only look at, neglecting to come out of your little corner. 

“Please. You’ve opened your wounds again. If you don’t come out now, I’ll just wait for you to pass out and change them then.” she sounds a bit exhausted, and it takes a few more minutes of coaxing before you allow her access to your back, keeping your back towards her as she slowly unwraps the bindings. She deposits them into the fire, leaving you to watch them burn to ash as she retrieves a small container from the medkit. 

Inside is a blue gel, surprisingly warm as it touches your skin and leaves a pleasant numbness. You can almost feel her gaze burning into your skin as she applies the gel, eyes skittering across old scars, fingers even tracing them when visible underneath the new wounds. Seeming to sense your unease, she rushes through the rest, quickly wrapping new bindings around your torso, apologizing with every small grunt of pain you let out. 

Far too quick for your liking she’s done, packing up her things as she prepares to head out. If she’s leaving, then that means there’s more of a chance that he’ll come back. In fact, you have no doubt that she’ll go and tell him once she’s out of here.

Snapping the case closed, she turns back to you and hesitates for a moment.

“I don’t know what you did to gain Savage’s attention, but believe me,” her green eyes lock onto yours, holding a sense of severity that chills you to the bone. 

“, he’s your best chance of surviving.”

With that you’re alone once again, left to your own thoughts and the crackling of the fire, which has gone down a significant amount since you first woke.

What did she mean by that? Gained his attention? And he was one of the ones who lead the attack on your home. Why would he be your saving grace? If anything, he would be the most likely to kill you.

Once again the flap opens, and you almost want to groan about the number of people going in and out, letting the heat out of the tent.

It’s the Zabarak. Savage, you remember the woman from before calling him. This time he has some additions. A cloak draped over one arm and a plate in hand. He moves slower than before, almost cautiously approaching you as he sets the items on the far end of the bed.

“Eat.” His voice is a deep baritone, rich yet monotone as he speaks, nodding towards the plate before moving towards the fire. Your eyes never leave his form as he tosses more wood onto the flame, moving them about without a fear of burning himself. Despite the fear still gripping your nerves, the food is tempting and only now do you realize how empty your stomach is, almost turning in on itself as it lets out a low rumble.

You grab the plate cautiously, picking at its contents as the man continues to poke at the fire. When you do finish, you find yourself wishing you had taken more time with it, no longer having the small distraction from your current situation. Despite the desire to throw on the warm looking cloak, you don’t. While he had directed you to eat, he had said nothing about the cloak. The last thing you wanted to do was make him angry, especially after he had shown how easily he could manhandle you earlier.

“You’re going to travel with me from now on.” He spoke, his back still towards you, yet it still carried loudly through the air, leaving no room for you to mistake his words. “If you have any objections, your fate will be the same as the rest of your village.”

You have no idea why he’s saying this, not when he could just direct you without any information. There’s only one thing on your mind though, present from the very beginning and still burning on your tongue.

“Where’s my brother.” You ask once again, praying to the maker you’ll get an answer this time. “What about him?”

His shoulders tense for a moment. The first emotion he’s shown besides anger.

“He will be allowed to come along given that he trains as a Mandalorian warrior. This is the best option for him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. While being forced to train with the ones who captured him wasn’t an ideal situation, you could only be thankful that he wasn’t fated for something more unfortunate. The only thing that worried you was his size. He was never much of a fighter, too kind to want to cause others pain. You would need to be there for him.

“I...I can still see him.”

“Yes.”

You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should ask another question. He already seemed to be wearing thin with his patience, but you had to know. You would never get a moment's rest until you knew.

“Why am I here.”

He doesn’t answer right away, throwing a few more logs onto the fire before turning to face you. His face was nothing but shadows, eyes standing out in startling contrast. His footsteps were slow and heavy as he made his way over to your form, unable to back away any further as you already find yourself in a corner. He grabs the cloak as he passes, the article almost ridiculously small in his hands.

As soon as he’s close enough, he lifts his arms and you flinch, expecting him to strike you out of annoyance and anger. It never comes though. The only feeling was that of heavy fabric settling on your shoulders, only there a moment before it’s clasped and you feel yourself being pulled forward. 

Savage’s hands are wound tightly into the fabric, forcing your face to nearly touch his. This close you can see every detail of the markings splashed across his skin, the black only making his amber eyes burn even brighter, nearly suffocating with the intensity with which they stare. Almost like molten gold themselves.

His breath fans across your skin, lips nearly brushing yours as his forehead grazes your own, making you whimper as his horns roughly scrap the skin.

“You’re mine now. You will never leave my side, there at my every beck and call no matter what I may need. If you even think about trying to leave or betray me,” he pushed further, forcing you to lean back onto the bed. His weight pushed down enough to keep you in place without being crushing, one hand releasing the fabric of the collar to travel up your face. It brushes the hair away, catching the tear you hadn’t even realized had escaped.

“I’ll force you to watch as I kill your brother in the most painful way imaginable.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans forward, baritone voice speaking lowly in your ear as his lips tickle the skin.

“You’ll wish, beg, that I had killed you as well instead of what will happen to you after.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #savage opress x reader #savage opress #x reader #tcw #fanfiction #darth maul #tcw x reader #star wars the clone wars

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Eight

Summary: You wake up somewhere different from where you fell asleep. Once you figure out what happened, someone’s getting their ass kicked. Additionally, Javier wakes up. 

W/C: 3.5k (I got carried away)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, LANGUAGE holy shit language, Steve is a patronizing asshole but he means well

A/N: AAAAA this chapter was really fun to write you guys. I decided this series is going to have 10 chapters and an epilogue. We’re approaching the end and that’s so crazy! Thank you all for sticking around with me!!! I have a new Javier fic series coming soon, titled Caffeine Rush, and I’m SO excited for it! In the meantime, let’s figure out where our dear reader woke up, shall we?

previous chapter | next chapter

You frantically look around the room you woke up in, terrified and confused. It’s dark, a sliver of moonlight coming in through the crack in the curtains. The alarm clock on a bedside table next to you reads that it’s 3:38, clearly at night, since it’s so dark. There’s a lamp behind it and you flip it on, uncovering the room to your eyes. It’s still unfamiliar, but you look at the other night stand and things start to shift into place.

On the small table sits a framed photo of two blonde-haired and blue-eyed people, hugging each other: you’re in Steve and Connie’s bedroom, in their bed. You rush out of the bed, flipping on the light. In the mirror, you discover that you’re wearing a large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Your hair is tied in a colorful scrunchie. You have no recollection of getting in these clothes or getting here, which makes you realize that Steve or Connie must’ve been the one to change you from your bloodstained scrubs and take you here.

Exiting the bedroom, you walk into the apartment itself to find that neither of them are there with you. Javier’s denim jacket and your purse are sitting on the kitchen table. You pull the jacket on, grab your purse, and storm out of the apartment, down the steps and out of the building. You’re on a mission at this point, enraged that they’d remove you from Javier’s side, specifically without your consent. You murmur angrily under your breath as you make your way back to the hospital.

When you arrive, you shove the doors open and make your way up to the proper floor. The other nurses clear from your path as you stalk through the halls. 

You find Lorena as you enter the break room, and she looks relieved to see you. “Did you rest alright?” she asks, concerned, and puts her coffee down on the table she’s sitting at. 

“Did you let them do this?” you ask her, less enraged as her presence remains calm.

She shakes her head. “They took you before I could do anything about it. Steve brought you out and drove you to their place, then Connie told me about it. I wasn’t exactly happy that they did it but I figured you needed some rest, so it sounded like a good idea.” 

“They could’ve fucking told me!” 

“You wouldn’t have gone. Come on, we all know that.”

“Doesn’t make it alright.” You turn and leave the room, determined to go check on Javier now.

Outside of Javier’s room, Steve sits in an office chair and reads a book. He hears you approaching and his neutral expression tinges with fear when he sees your face. “Has he woken up yet?” You ask, hands on your waist to prevent yourself from grabbing his shirt and shaking him until his blue eyes burst from their sockets.

“Twice. He was barely conscious for either of them, though,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“How dare you, Murphy?” you hiss, stepping closer. 

He doesn’t dare to tell you that it isn’t his fault, that Connie was the one who asked him to do it. She changed you into Javier’s spare clothing and tied your hair up, and Steve brought you to the car and into their apartment. It doesn’t matter; Connie doesn’t need your wrath right now. She’s already spent most of the night crying. “You needed it.”

:Yes, I needed rest, but this was not the way to do it. Not without telling me, taking me somewhere without my knowing. Javier needs me, and-”

“Javier is asleep,” Steve says firmly. “He can’t need you when he’s not conscious. Plus, look around. This hospital is full of competent nurses.”

“I know him best of the nurses, Steve. You are not my father, you don’t get to make choices like that for me, like I’m some toddler.”

“You’re acting like one.”

You feel the rage pooling inside you, but it all dissipates as you look up and through the window and find a pair of dark brown eyes looking at you and Steve. “He’s not asleep, turns out,” you grumble and enter the room, smiling softly. 

Javier smiles back at you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you practically whisper and gravitate towards him.

“You looked sexy yelling at Steve like that.”

You genuinely laugh at his words and shakes his head. “I think I’m physically incapable of looking sexy right now.”

“No, really. I like your jacket,” he tells you teasingly with a dazed smile, and you chuckle as you look down at yourself. “And your clothes… are they all mine?”

You look closely at the clothes and realize that they are. “Connie changed my clothes while I was sleeping,” you chuckle. “I wanted to be here when you woke up, but they took me to their apartment to rest.” You sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches up for your face but you take his hand and hold it in both of yours. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here the last few times you woke up.”

Javier chuckles softly, then winces at the pain it causes. “I can’t even remember them, so that’s okay,” he tells you with a soft smile, his voice gravelly from the sleep. 

You bite your lip, your heart breaking at the pain he’s clearly in. You shed his jacket and bend down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell him softly, your thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“I had the best nurse in Colombia to help me,” he tells you and you smile and kiss his knuckles gently. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask into his fingers.

“It hurts,” he admits in a small voice, his other hand tracing the incision across his abdomen. 

You nod at that, letting his hand rest on the bed, both of yours still clasping it. “At least you’ll have a badass scar,” you tease softly, and he smiles up at you, not bothering to laugh, not wanting the accompanying pain. His pupils are slightly wide; it’s an indication he’s not fully clear of the pain medication’s hold on him. You’re silent for a moment, simply looking at each other and glad the other is there. “What do you remember?” you ask, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Not much,” he shrugs. “Murphy and I were on the street to find an informant who told us to meet him there, and then there was a bang and I started to feel how much it hurt.” He gulps and looks down at the incision, though he can’t see it through his hospital gown. “Then I was in the ambulance, and then I saw you.” He smiles and you chuckle, a small smile tugging at your cheeks. “You looked like an angel.”

You bite down on your lip and look down as you remember what else he told you. He’d tell you now, you think, if he remembered it. But he doesn’t.

The door opens and Steve walks in. You squeeze his hand lightly, not wanting to look at the man you just berated so aggressively. “Hey, Javi,” Steve says softly.

“What the fuck did you do to make her so angry?” He asks, sitting up a little and wincing at the pain he feels in his abdomen.

“Javi-”

“No, what the fuck did you do?” he asks, clearly pissed off at him. “Because it was something shitty; no one just snaps like that, especially not her. What was it?” The medications make emotions more volatile, more subject to a quick change, but you didn’t expect this from him.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “It’s okay, Javi,” you tell him and gently press him down until his back meets the hospital bed again. He seems to relax under your touch. You swallow and tell him the story, an abridged version of it at least. 

“How dare you, Murphy?” Javier asks, in just the same tone as you did a few minutes earlier, and it makes Steve chuckle a little. He struggles up against your hand, trying to fully sit up “What, you think that’s funny? You fuckin’ c-”

“Javier,” you say sharply and continue to hold him against the bed. “Relax. It’s alright now, it’s all okay.”

The effort sitting up took shows on his face and in the way his body relaxes against the bed. “Okay,” he says warily, still looking at Steve with a little suspicion.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Javier,” Murphy simply says and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

The fact that Javi’s awake and seems to be able to stay awake is calming to you. “I’ve had a long day,” you admit with a chuckle. “I’d really like to go take a shower. I’ll get Connie or Lorena to come sit with you, and then I’ll come back?” You offer to him.

He shakes his head. “Send Steve back in. Go shower, hermosa,” he tells you with a smile. 

You nod and start to stand but he clutches your hand. “Before you go…” he sits up a little and presses a kiss to your forehead, then falls back against the pillow. He grunts from the effort it took. “Thank you.”

It warms your heart, makes you melt a little. “Cualquier cosa para ti, Javi,” you tell him gently and kiss his hand before dropping it. “Are you hungry? We can’t really give you solids yet, but I’d get you a Jell-O or something,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “No. Thank you, though.” 

You nod with a soft smile and exit the room. The smile falls as you see Steve again. “I’m going to go shower. He wants you,” you tell him. You look down at the cigarette he’s smoking and frown a little. “Whatever you do, don’t let him smoke.” You walk past him and head to the nurses’ bathrooms.

-

Steve enters a few moments later.

“Cigarette?” Javier asks him.

“You practically got stabbed, Javier. No smoking while you’re in here,” he tells him, but slips him a piece of nicotine gum. Javier chews it and sighs at the release that comes from it. “Why did you want me?” He asks.

Javier looks away, out of the window to the outside world. “Were you with me the whole time?” he asks him. 

Steve shakes his head. “No. Connie took over, made sure I wasn’t too fucked up. Got stitches,” he chuckles and points to his forehead. “She didn’t let me get discharged until she was sure every bandaid was in place.”

Javier nods. “Tell me everything that happened,” he asks, still staring away from him. Not wanting to meet his eyes when he makes a request from him.

Steve nods. “Well, let’s see. The bomb went off and a big piece of somethin’ went into your abdomen. Connie said it went between your ribs and it almost hit the liver, but just missed. It hit a big vein or somethin’ like that, I don’t really know, and you lost a lot of blood. Ambulance brought us here. Connie took me as soon as we got to the hospital. You were in surgery for a coupla’ hours. That all happened yesterday, technically. It’s ‘bout 4 A.M. now. You slept a long time, now we’re here.”

Javier nods at the story, chewing his gum and sighing at how nice the mint feels after the terrible feeling in his mouth that follows hours and hours of sleep. “Gotcha. When I was fucked up… did I say anything? To you, to anyone…” he trails off. It’s referring to you.

Steve nods. “Uh, yeah. The girls told me that you said you loved her, quite a few times. Called her your angel, with the whole light above the head thing,” he says and gestures to the top of his head. “Uh… she called in Lorena, and you thought she said Lorraine, so you started panicking.”

Javier’s eyes widen and he finally looks back at Steve. “What did you tell her about Lorraine?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just that she was your ex. Nothing about the whole wedding fiasco.”

Javier sighs at that, reassured. “Thank fucking Christ,” he nods and rubs his face with his hands. “Did anything else happen?”

She told you that she loves you too, Steve thinks, but he realizes he’s not really at liberty to tell him that. “No, that was about it. I brought her to our place and she slept for a little while. She… she cares a lot about you, Javi. She was about to fuckin’ castrate me before she saw you were awake.”

Javier smiles a little at the image, you in his clothes and absolutely roasting Steve. It made him a little proud, he had to admit. “Thank you. For making her rest,” he tells him finally.

Steve nods. “She needed it. She might be pissed about it now but  that was the only way she’d rest properly.”

“She’s a stubborn one.”

“Suits you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Murphy.”

“You said it first.”

The two men smile softly at each other. They’re both exhausted; it’s evident in their eyes. “Go home and get some rest. Better yet, tell the bastards at the embassy about this.”

“Oh, they already know, Javi.” Steve chuckles. “The explosion was at 7:30 in the mornin’ yesterday. That’s about a day ago now,” he reminds him. “They say to worry about the injury first and Escobar later.”

“Easy for them to say. They barely even think in the first place, much less about Escobar,” Javier grumbles. “If you go to the apartment, will you bring some of my files?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You really think I’m going to say yes to that?”

Javi groans as he readjusts himself, his rear end growing sore. “Worth a shot. Go home, Steve. I’ve got the girls here to take care of me.”

Steve nods a little. “Maybe I will. What else can I bring you from your apartment?” he asks. “I have four things I won’t bring you: cigarettes, booze, files, or condoms,” he teases and counts them off on his fingers. “You two can fuck when you’re all healed.”

Javier rolls his eyes at Steve. “At least some nicotine patches or gum then, if you won’t let me smoke.”

“Hey, her orders, not mine,” Steve says and raises his hands defensively as he stands. “Rest well, kid,” Steve tells him as he leaves the room.

“I’m older than you, you bastard,” Javier calls after him, and he hears Steve chuckle lightly as the door closes.

-

A bit after Steve leaves Javier’s room, you finish your shower and dry your body with a towel. Lorena keeps a small set of her own shower products in her locker, and gave them to you so you didn’t have to use the shitty, hospital-provided 6-in-1 soap. You feel refreshed as you dress in the only clothes available for you: one of Steve’s hoodies, with some American college’s logo plastered across the front, and Javier’s sweatpants. You tie your hair up with the same scrunchie as before and sigh as you look in the mirror. 

Your eyes are bloodshot and deeply sunken from the amount of tears they’ve shed in the past 24 hours. There are dark bags beneath them, puffy and heavy, and they only emphasizing how pronounced the veins in your eyes are. You nearly start crying again from how shitty you look, but hold back. You brush your teeth with a disposable toothbrush, sighing at how good it feels to be clean. 

Once you finish, you put the items back in Lorena’s locker and chug a coffee in the break room. You haven’t eaten much today, besides the snacks Steve brought earlier, but the coffee is all you need. It feels good as it warms you from the inside out. 

At this point, you’re technically off-shift, and it should be after visiting hours, but none of your coworkers comment on this as you walk to Javier’s room. They simply pat your shoulder or give you some words of reassurance.

You throw away your coffee as you stand outside his room. His eyes are shut, and for a moment you worry that he fell back asleep, but they open when he hears the door. He sees you and smiles softly, reaching out a hand to you. “Mi ángel,” he calls and you smile, sitting on the side of the bed. 

“Hi,” you chuckle and trace his face softly. “Would you like it if I washed your face? It’s been a long day. That shower felt nice, and I can’t really get you in there yet, but maybe you’d-”

Javier cuts you off. “I’d like that.”

You nod and go to his room’s little bathroom, filling a basin with warm water and a little soap. You place a towel in it and bring it out, sitting on the side of his bed again. 

The towel is soaking, and you lightly wring it out over the bucket before wiping down Javier’s face. His pupils have shrunk to a regular size again; he must be back to a proper consciousness by now.  He smiles at the touch and you’re so close you notice his breath is minty. Odd, until you remember- you chuckle softly. “Steve snuck you some Nicorette.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” he says, his beautiful eyes looking up at you. 

“You’re not the only one trained to be observant, Peña,” you tease softly. “You take down narcos, I psychologically evaluate my patients.” “And what are you finding out about me?” he asks, a hand on each side of your waist.

“That you’re a desperate flirt, even when you’re coming back from the edge of death.”

“Damn, you are good.” You laugh softly as you finish wiping his face, behind his ears, and his neck, placing the towel back in the basin and setting it on the bedside table. You take his face in both your hands and smile down at him, and Javier’s smile widens. “I meant it earlier. You really are my angel. Saved my life,” he mumbles, your faces closer together as he sits up a little. 

“I’m no angel,” you shake your head and look down softly, your hands still cupping his face.

“Oh, I know that,” he chuckles gently, just lightly enough that it doesn’t upset his wound. “Mi ángel. Mía.”

“Javi,” you whimper softly and pout, smiling even though your eyes water. 

He finally closes the gap between your lips, kissing you softly and chastely. It lasts just a moment, but it’s perfect. He breaks away and whispers your name softly, and you rest your head in the curve of his neck. “I know I was looped up as fuck when I said it,” he tells you, “but I did mean it. I love you.” 

You lift your head, the tears now dropping from your eyes. “I love you too, Javi. So much, so so much,” you admit through a watery voice. “Can you- do you think it would hurt you if I hugged you?” you ask, looking down at the area where his incision is. 

“Try it. Can’t hurt much worse than it does now.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he wraps his around your waist. It doesn’t matter that it does hurt when he presses your chest to his. The pain is nothing when you have your arms around him, when you’re holding him and he’s holding you.

“Here,” he says and scoots over in the bed. There’s space for you, and you lie down next to him in the bed. You drape an arm over his chest, making sure it’s above the deep wound. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you against him, snuggling you into his side. You smile softly, your head resting on his pec. It’s cozy, cuddled up with him. With the man you’ve spent the past day in absolute agony over.

“I love you so much,” you murmur to him, your tears falling onto his hospital gown. 

“I love you too, mi ángel,” Javier mumbles into your damp hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp.

It’s calming. You can hear his heart thump in his chest, his lungs inhaling and exhaling in a low and smooth pattern. His chest vibrates as he speaks. It’s perfect. “Will you stay here? Fall asleep with me?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Oh god, yes,” you chuckle a little. “Please.”

“Well, goodnight then,” he murmurs to you and kisses your head once more. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, Javi. I love you too.” Even though you just chugged a coffee, it takes no time at all to fall asleep in Javier’s arms.

-

Translations: 

Cualquier cosa para ti- anything for you

Mía- mine

- Taglist:

@diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @blo0dangel @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @mishasminion360 @fruit-of-my-hoechloins @tanyaherondale @marydjarin​ @softly-sad @binarydanvvers @obsessivelysearching

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javi peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfic #steve murphy #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

[jamie-leah]

Are you ready to...

Coming to a Tumblr near you, the Bucky x Reader fic you never knew you wanted but definitely needed.

Ever felt like the "Y/N" in the story didn't make the right choice? Ever felt like you would have chosen differently? Well now you can!

Premiering on 25/09/2021 - make the right choice and come and read this masterpiece*

*Please note the logistics of this took forever. Blood, sweat, and a few tears have been shed but I would love any and all feedback. This will be a One-shot with potential for more depending on reception and if my inspiration takes another extended vacation.

If you are interested and don't want to miss the premiere then please send me an ask to tag you once the story has been published!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fucking barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff