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trentlife · 9 months

Text

MORNING CUDDLES & FEEDS

requested: ✔️

summary: both your daughter and boyfriend have an obsession when it comes to your boobs

warnings: smut (only around boob area), adult language & fluff

authors note: sorry it's not that long, just was in the mood to write a lil something tonight! :)

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the sound of your 11 month old baby making normal morning baby noises, woke you up, and you put your attention on her, whilst your boyfriend slept peacefully beside you.

"my baby!" you tiredly but happy spoke to your baby girl kaia.

"mama" she replied, reaching her arms out to you as you took her out of her sleeping cot and took her over to yours and trents shared bed.

you placed her in the middle of the two of you, and gifted her in a ton of kisses and morning cuddles.

your fingers brushed over her smooth face, hoping to try and get her back to sleep for a little longer considering it was only 5am.

slowly, she drifted off into a few more hours of sleep, and you did the same, laying comfortably beside her with your arm around her.

that was until you heard your favourite giggle in the world, which made you turn over and come across your two loves, playing together.

"morning babe" trent rubbed your hair and gave you a kiss on the head as you leant your head on his bare chest.

your baby girl then came to you and wrapped her arms around your neck crawling on you as she sat on your stomach, with her dad admiring her.

"boobies" she poked the top half of your boobs that were showing.

you nodded sarcastically, knowing that what she wanted was to be fed. you've been breastfeeding her ever since she was born, and you've slowly been trying to stop, but you hadn't realised how hard it was, as it was such a special bond to have with your daughter.

you placed her in your arms and pulled your top up so she could latch on to your nipple, and you began to feed her. as soon as you done that, you heard trents face instantly look up from his phone and you turned to look at him licking his lips.

you placed kisses on her, watching how beautiful she is, and how lucky you were she was yours.

"your so beautiful mamas girl" you smiled down at her, and you received a little one, but she was more interested in her food.

randomly, trent sat up and leant over to give kaia a kiss, he didn't just do that, he sat in his position for about 2 minutes, and looked at your boobs and licked his lips staring up at you with a smirk on his face.

"she's one lucky girl her" he spoke and looked down and her.

"piss off trent" you both giggled and your slapped his muscly shoulder jokingly.

the day went on as usual, the three of you went holiday shopping, trent spoiling you both as per, and a fun day out for you all.

you went for food, and it was kaia's first time trying some pizza, and she absolutely loved it, just like her mum and dad.

the day felt good, trent only got noticed by about two people, and he was delighted, because when it's just him and his girls, he tries steps away from big profile.

you arrived back at home, and settled and bathed kaia for bed after a long day, and laid on the couch with her , giving her final feed of the day, until she eventually fell asleep and you took her upstairs and tucked her into her bed.

you wiped your makeup off, done your skincare, had a warm shower and sat on the bed in your towel scrolling through your phone, until you felt smooth hands run across your shoulders and feel his soft touch run along your neck.

"not right now trent" you informed him, and showing him you had only just got out the shower.

you stood up and walked over to your draws and pulled out some knickers and a little vest top, your favourite thing to sleep in.

you dropped the towel, slowly placed your knickers on over your thighs, and walked to look in the mirror to look at yourself in just your knickers.

the sight of your boyfriend still on the edge of your bed watching your every move, made a grin appear on your face as you knew quite well what you were doing.

you trailed your hands up your body, and touched yourself all over, and tied your hair up.

that was until you felt big hands approach you and cup your breasts. you placed your hands along his veiny tanned arms, as he pressed his lips into your neck.

he began playing with your nipples, and you had sight of it in the mirror, and he looked amazing doing it.

"come" you told him, and placed your hands in his and lead him over to to bed.

he sat down, and you climbed onto his lap and threw your arms around his shoulders. you instantly got pressed your lips onto his, as his hands rested on your bum, and eventually your tongue slipped into his mouth, until you both pulled away.

you pulled his head back down to your chest and your nipples were instantly in his mouth.

you threw your head back, enjoying what was going on.

"fuckk" you whispered, watching what he was doing.

"boobies" trent said poking them, exactly how kaia did this morning.

"there mine by the way" he told you, with a smirk on his face.

"you can have one each" you told him, making you both laugh.

the night went on, trent showering, and you watching the end of your movie.

trent joined you, snuggling up to your side and placing his head on your chest, and wrapping his arm around your waist.

you switched of the tv and the light, and got ready to go to sleep, cuddling your boyfriend and giving him lots of kisses.

"love you" you glanced, smiling at him.

"love you more" he replied.

the end.

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#trent alexander arnold #explore #explorepage #lfc #trentstories #lfcfans #liverpool #trent alexander arnold writes #football #trent alexander arnold imagines

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

CLOSE CALL

pairing : abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

cw : canon violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, use of alcoholic beverages, a little more angst as seasoning.

proof read : yes | no | kinda

a/n : this is taking place in jackson, joel is alive and well. ellie and abby are good friends and the world is still gross and infected but a little more peaceful.

word count : 3.8k

The crisp morning air bit at your fingers as you held your rifle to your chest. It was only 5am and you found yourself walking alone outside of Jackson's walls with nothing but a gun and a place in mind. It sounded like a good idea in your earlier state of delusion, but now as you trekked towards the abandoned ski lodge- the regret crept in. As much as you enjoyed the solitude of the lodge, something kept nagging at you to turn back. A voice in your head was screaming, but the forest remained silent. No infection, no people, no danger. So, despite your self preservation instincts begging you to turn around, you continued to push forward.

“Goddamn I hate this hill.” You huffed, coming to a stop in front of the town's lookout tower. The road to reach the lodge went directly through the heart of the tiny town, taking you along through the ancient routes of people long forgotten. Though, the sentiment wasn’t enough to keep you from hating this place. Through the past few years living in Jackson, you’d had quite a few secret rendezvous outside of the walls, most of which took place here. With it being the most easily accessible, empty, town- teens quite enjoyed the trek. Especially when it led to what was now duped, ‘the love shack.’ A,K.A. The only house on the block that still had a bedroom intact. One that you had fallen victim of more than once with all the wrong people.

Though, you weren’t allowed a moment to dwell on your regrets as your ears tuned into the familiar sound of infected. Their growling sent your body into flight mode, and before you could even figure out where they were, you began to run. “Fuck.” You hissed, hearing the sounds grow nearer, as you ducked into a cluttered alleyway. The nook was nestled between two old apartment buildings, giving the illusion of an escape route. Yet, as you pushed your way through the maze of old, rotting trash from years gone by- the only hope was to crawl on top of the dumpster and into one of the broken windows of the building.

As you pushed yourself up, ignoring the possibility of more infected- or god forbid, worse- being inside this unmarked and unsearched building, you took half a second to recall the patrol schedule for today. A monday, early morning- Abby and Ellie. As always. Whilst that gave some comfort, you had to focus on the situation at hand- not the possible rescue from the girls you’d been actively avoiding. Now, It was not knowing or death and for once you chose the former. From the eyeline on top of the dumpster, you caught a small glimpse of a pack of at least six infected running directly past the alleyway in search of a meal. For now, they seemed to be off of your trail but surely, your luck would run out eventually. So gingerly, you swept the glass shards from the window seal, avoiding giving away your position, before stepping into the wrecked studio apartment.

From a glance, you could tell that someone had really loved this place. There were remnants of posters and artwork that hung on rusted nails, torn into pieces from the years as they wore the paper thin. The walls had taken on a dusty green color from the pursuit of moss but before, it patched together in a shade of blush unbeknownst to most people who had passed through this place before you. It was enough to let your guard down, to slow your reactions as the world felt a little gentler in that moment.

What a mistake.

Before you could even take a breath, the hands of something unknown to you had wound its hands in your hair, violently jerking your head back to access your arteries. It had been completely silent, giving you no time to reach for your gun that you had let rest against the wall.

“Fuck! Get the fuck off!” You screamed, attempting to grip the mutated stump that posed as a head. It growled, something deep and raspy near the lobe of your ear, sending a jolt of undeniable panic into your bones as you struggled to get the upper hand. You couldn't die like this, no, you wouldn't die like this. So with a harsh kick, you threw your leg back against the stalker's kneecaps, sending the being onto the floor and promptly allowing the smallest of windows to unravel yourself from its grip.

It was going to work, you were almost free, when a gut wrenching noise echoed out through the building. Clicking. From this distance, you couldn’t tell how many there were, but from the sounds of it there was more than one. Anything could’ve happened on this short trip, but somehow it just happened to be the absolute worst thing that could've happened on any trip. Survivors' luck, right?

You couldn't open your mouth, the idea of alerting the clickers too much for you to handle. So you had to maneuver silently, using what strength you had left to keep your grip on the stalker's throat- which in turn kept its mouth arms length away. You didn’t have much on you, as you thought this was just going to be a short day trip to the lodge, so you made due with the things you had. Things being a ballpoint pen that was nestled into your front jacket pocket, just within reach.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out. Startling yourself and the creature vying for your flesh. Giving you just enough time to grab the pen and jam it into the eye socket of the stalker, shoving it as deep as you could with the palm of your hand before it finally slumped over- its weight collapsing completely on top of you. With a shove, you rolled the thing onto the floor and found your footing, smoothing your hair down as you grabbed your gun and catapulted yourself out of the clicker infested apartment building, throwing no hesitation to your fall onto the iced over ground.

“Abby, behind you!”

Oh fuck.

You dodged through the mounds of trash, throwing yourself back out onto the street. The scene was quite what you expected, seeing the two girls dismounted from the horses slaughtering the infected that you had just been running from.

Abby noticed you first, her eyes widening before moving back to look at Ellie. “Uh, Els. Don’t look now but we have company.” She grunted, throwing the infected off of her and crushing its skull with her boot. It was one of the last ones, the other being nestled in Ellie’s arms- head disconnecting from its spine.

She didn't hesitate to spin around with her gun aimed directly at you, arm slacking gently once she realized it was you. “(Y/n), what the fuck are you doing out here?” She chided, tucking her gun back into her waistband, moving her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her brown jacket was now splattered in blood, adding an intimidating aura to the woman as she zeroed in on you.

You didn’t dare look over to Abby, the idea of the both of them staring you down with such vexation making your knees weak. “Nothing, I'm doing nothing. No need to worry.” You assured, keeping your destination a secret as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. You had made a show out of avoiding the two women within the walls of Jackson that now you had no escape from the uncomfortable tension that saturated the air as you spoke.

Abby approached slowly, eyes skimming over your body before they landed on the semi-hidden splatter of blood by your neck. Not even to mention the bruising that had begun to develop in place of the stalkers ravaging fingers. “Is that blood?” She asked, raising a hand to brush your hair back, away from the harsh contrasting blood against your skin.

“What happened, are you bit?” Ellie voiced her worry, moving to your opposite side, eyeing Abby’s hands as they moved to scour the area for any signs of infection. She was one to worry, after all, her immunity protected no one but herself- which made it hard to stay grounded when the possibility arose.

“No, no bites. I'm fine.” You responded, attempting to wriggle out of Abby’s soft yet firm grip. “Seriously, I handled it. No need to worry.”

The women exchanged a look before Abby turned her attention back to you, “That aside, you are not supposed to be out here. We have to take you back.” She stated matter-of-factly, her arms winding back to cross over her chest. The tan jumper she wore pulled at the seams, stretching to account for the tensing of her muscles as she moved.

An exasperated sigh left your mouth before you could control it, earning a sharp look from the girl to your right. “No, I'm sorry guys but I'm not going back right now. I’ll head back in when I'm done.” You stated firmly, moving to turn away from the women, only halting when a hand clasped around your wrist.

Ellie’s grip was tight, not tight enough to hurt you though.“Done with what exactly?” She questioned, her green eyes piercing into your soul as you spun around to face her. You were now stuck between the two of them, avoidance paying into the situation you found yourself in now. “Where were you going?”

You internally kicked yourself for saying anything at all, shaking your head as you jerked your wrist back. Taking a fleeting step backwards to gain some distance, despite the situation at hand- the glow in her eyes took you back to that night.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ begin flashback ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The haze in the bar hung low as people chatted back and forth about town and social matters alike, the sheer volume deafening as you took another sip from the glass of whiskey before you. It wasn’t your drink of choice but between that and Seth’s homemade hootch- you’d make due with it.

Ellie and Abby sat at a booth on the other side of the room, chatting about god knows what, as they sucked down shot after shot of something you didn’t quite recognize. You tried not to stare, as everyone knows it's not polite, but there was something so captivating about seeing the two of them so happy. So much so that you took to stealing glimpses of the pair, not letting yourself linger too long incase they began to notice. Ellie was wearing a long sleeved green top, the sleeves shoved up to rest around her forearm exposing her tattoo. The sight made your stomach twist, watching in awe as she challenged her companion to an arm wrestle.

Abby happily obliged, knowing she would win. She always won, with her arms three times the size of Ellie’s even whilst relaxed. So she braced herself on the tabletop, stretching her fingers out before locking hands with Ellie. Her soft dirty blonde hair framed her face, leaving you unable to makeout what she was thinking or even feeling in the moment, so you tore your eyes from the sight.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Joel settled beside you at the bar, motioning towards Seth for a drink. He was still chilly, his jacket shedding snow as he shrugged it off and laid it on the seat beside him.

You jumped slightly at the greeting, not expecting someone to actually acknowledge you in your preoccupied haze. “Hey,” You began, your brain moving faster than your mouth. “Joel, hi. What’s up?”

The man chuckled lightly, accepting a glass filled with a dark liquor from Seth’s hands. He took a sip, grimacing, before turning his attention back to you. “Hey yourself, how long have you been here?” He questioned, noting the way you’d been nursing the glass before you. Not many would’ve noticed the way the glass's condensation had created a puddle on the bar, nor how your fingers had pruned slightly from the way you’d been gripping the wet glass. But Joel did, he always did.

“Too long, I think.” You admitted with a shaky laugh, moving to wipe your hands on your pants. It was true, you’d been sitting in your own delusion fueled haze for what felt like nothing. “What time is it now?”

Joel flipped his wrist, checking his watch before turning back to you. “Just about eleven. What’s keeping you, honey?” He asked, finishing off his drink in another fast sip. He coughed lightly, shaking his head as he pushed the glass away. Not even he could stomach more than a little of the homemade bunch. “Why aren’t you with your friends? I saw Ellie when I came in, she’s with that girl- Abby. They seem to be having a lot of fun.”

The mere mention of the duo in the corner made your stomach flip, in a good or bad way- you hadn’t yet decided. The truth was, you’d come to realize you’d harbored feelings for the women, and you didn’t know how to handle it. Their presence made you nervous and the idea of being alone with them felt like you might actually stroke out (lucky eugene, you found yourself thinking). “I-i couldn’t.” You managed, taking a harsh gulp of air before letting your head fall down to rest on the wooden bar top.

“What’s going on with you? You used to hang out with them all the time, right?” He halted, mind running with ideas to figure out what could possibly be keeping you from the company of the women you called friends. “Did they do something to hurt you? Is that it?” He knew it was unlikely, the two being pretty tame in nature, but he wasn’t willing to knock anything out- seeing as your usually bubbly personality had been replaced with a dreary, anxiety ridden one.

“No, no. Never.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, needing to make sure that he knew that it was you. They’d done no wrong, you just couldn’t get past your stupid crush on the duo. “They would never hurt me, They’re too nice. Even Abby, though she seems really mean.” You paused, hesitating as you glanced over at the man.

“Joel, can I ask you a question?”

The man nodded, turning his body to look at your barely noticeable eyes peeking up at him from the bar. “Anything, shoot.”

“Do you think someone is capable of loving two people at once?”

The question had been weighing on your mind, the possibility of you being able to encapsulate that much love in your one body was unlikely. So did it exist? The ability to have fallen head over heels for two people instead of one? You found yourself daydreaming about a life you could share with them, a long life bursting at the seams with love. How could you ever expect to recover from the longing that had engrained itself inside of you, fusing with that makes you who you are.

Better yet, how could you ever not love them?

Joel hesitated, his eyes momentarily darting from you to the girls who sat unknowingly at the center of attention across the room, and for once- things finally started adding up. “Well, sure.” He began, nodding along as he spoke. “I mean at one point it wasn’t believed our bodies could hold so much water. People used to say that, that was too much- but it was true. So, how can we deny the ability for our bodies to hold that much love?”

His words weighed on your heart, the familiar anxious thumping picking up as you found yourself looking to him for help. “I don’t know what to do, Joel. I’ve never felt this way and everytime i look at them- it starts all over again.” You gushed, quieting for a moment before finding the words you had wanted to say the entire time. “I’m not sure what falling in love feels like, but from what I can tell, I feel something like it when I see Abby.. and Ellie.”

A cough drives you from your reticent confession, ripping your eyes from Joel to figure out who might've had the balls to interrupt at such a time. That was, until your eyes landed on two people instead of one. Two women, THE two women you had just confided in your close friend about.

You saw stars with how fast you jumped to your feet, moving to dodge the extended hands that attempted to deter your departure. “Fuck me.” You groaned, throwing open the door to the bar before sprinting out into the snow.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ end flashback ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“The Lodge.” You gave in, pointing up to the ski lodge that sat snug at the top of the hill. Doing this, then gave away your personal haven- but for the chance to escape this situation, you’d do just about anything. “I was going there to clear my head.”

Abby hummed in acknowledgement, following your eyes up to the massive ski lodge, it was easily a full day's walk with the way the snow had piled onto the roads. Though, she didn’t quite expect you to know that, considering you usually kept inside the safety of Jackson's walls- tending to the farm animals and harvesting crops in the fall. She liked that about you, you didn’t go putting yourself in danger if you didn’t have to. “You wouldn’t have made it there before dark, you know that right?”

With a sigh you shrugged, avoiding being too close to either party as you shifted your weight from leg to leg, distracting yourself by any means necessary.

Ellie groaned, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as she looked at you. “Okay, out with it. I'm sick of this.” She began, giving Abby a glance as she began to step forward towards you. “We heard everything, yes, but that is no reason to avoid us. I mean-,”

“No, Ellie, you can’t just tell me how I can feel about this.” You laughed breathlessly, shaking your head as you took another step back. “I wasn’t ready for you guys to know, I mean fuck! I was barely ready to know myself.”

The rush of emotion led you to back up directly into Abby’s solid chest, successfully trapping yourself between the two women. If the unexpected intervention wasn’t overwhelming enough, now you had every reason to allow your eyes to well into tears. Their usually bright demeanor being hazed over with a lul of sadness. The two people you valued most in your life witnessed a moment of vulnerability and now you felt they hated you for it, or worse, they were disgusted with you by it.

“Hey, hey.” Abby cooed, hands landing on your shoulders to swing you around- facing her now as the tears began to race down your cheeks. There was nothing holding you back now, the wall was broken- truth splayed out for everyone to see. “Look at me.” She spoke, her left hand sliding under your chin, tilting your head up to look her in the eyes.

The sight was almost enough for her to lose her composure, instinctively wanting to pull you close and wipe away the tears that now streaked down your blushed cheeks. She restrained herself though, using the pads of her thumbs to gently swipe the cascade of tears from your jaw. Abby wasn’t the softest person, in fact- most people in Jackson referred to her as emotionless, but as she stood before you something inside of her felt the need to deaden around you- to create a barrier between the world and you. Something inside of her yearned to protect you, even if it was from herself.

“We wanted to talk to you, that night. After you left, Joel told us everything.” The woman explained, nodding over to Ellie.

Ellie nodded as well, moving to rest her hand on your waist. The contrast of touch was making your head spin, firm and soft. Loving and protecting. “It’s true, I tried to follow you outside but it was snowing too hard. I lost you.”

The tears had slowed, your glossy eyes moving from one girl to the other- searching for the unsaid words they had been dancing around. “I don’t understand, why?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes searched Ellie’s for an answer.

Say it.

Please, god, say it.

“We want you.”

“We want to be with you too.”

Your head spun, the words falling from your lips in the form of an inaudible gasp. This wasn’t real life, there was no way that this was real life. Things never work out so well, the girl never gets exactly what she wants- so what was the catch? What was about to be thrown at you in exchange for the love of two women who meant more than the world to you.

“What?” Was the only thing that left your mouth, making Ellie release a small laugh in turn.

Abby chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully before dipping down to your height and pressing the lightest kiss to your lips. It was a mere brush, but the sensation sent a chill down your spine. Her mouth lingering before yours for a couple more seconds, allowing her breath to fan across your face- giving birth to the bursts of color in your cheeks. “I’m with you.” She whispered, taking a step back.

The empty space was quickly filled with Ellie, her smile sending a pang of nerves into your stomach. Her touch was gentle, but beneath the facade, you could see the restraint she was showing. Ellie’s nimble hand slithered around to the back of your neck, the other placed firmly on your collar bone before she pulled you into her. Her kiss was rougher than Abby’s, the surprise falling from your mouth in the form of a small whimper- in which Ellie devoured gratefully- But just as it began, it ended. She pulled away from you, letting her forehead rest against your own. “I'm with you.”

“We’re together. What the fuck.” You laughed, partly in disbelief and partly in delight. The anxiety you’d been harboring dissipated, being replaced with waves of adoration for the women before you. How was this real life? It didn’t even matter anymore, real or not. Staying or fleeting. You’d take what you could get.

Ellie chuckled lightly, glancing back at Abby before checking her watch. “C’mon. You’re on patrol with us today. If we have time at turnover, we’ll head up to your lodge.” She stated matter-of-factly, motioning towards the horses that shuffled back and forth in anticipation. The feeling of momentary bliss refused to fade, engulfing those around you in a haze of new love.

Today was day one of many more to come, and whether it was for the better or for the worst, they were with you.

a/n : part two following the events of the lodge? smut would take place then, let me know your thoughts on a continuation !

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twistedwonderlandobsession · 2 months

Text

˖° ࣪⊹ Desperation ⊹ ࣪° ˖

Type: Angst

Character(s): Sebek

Format: Oneshot

Catagory: x reader

!!Warnings!!: Mentions: implied violence, blood

Note: This is a second part to the Oneshot "The Call" that I wrote for @fanlovedlt and @shytastemakerthing

Part 1

It was early the next morning when Sebek awoke, and not his usual awaking at 5am. Groggily turning over as he stirred from his slumber, then the sound of footsteps alerted him of a unwanted presence in his room. Sebek immediately became alert, sitting up in bed. Reaching over to his sheathed sword in the dead of the night. His hand grasped the handle in the sword in a matter of milliseconds, prepared to strike down his foe in seconds before a familiar voice came through the darkness.

"Keep the it sheathed."

He paused at Lilia, wondering what the fae was doing in his room at the ungodly time of two am since the fae had never been in his room without being invited. Especially not when the green haired man was sound asleep.

"Lilia-Sama, what are you doing? Did something happen to Waka-sama-"

Lilia shook his head twords the overprotective teen. Quickly cutting off his line of questioning so that this conversation would be limited to 10 minutes instead of a hour.

"No, they called a meeting. I was just here to leave a note to explain it in case Malleus and I had not returned when you had awoken."

Sebek was surprisingly aware although he had awoken not a few moments ago. This was unusual, the usual didn't have a meeting until at least 8 am unless it was emergency.

"What is it?"

The Vice warden hesated for a few moments. Internally debating whether or not he should inform sebek of the situation, especially since it had to do with the human he had recently grown to be fond of and he didn't know what was to come. Eventually deciding he would figure out anyways and it was best he heard it from a reliable source.

"I am not for certain what is going on, but it involves Grim and prefect."

That was all the confirmation that he needed. Throwing off his comforter and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. Striding over to his closet and slamming open the door. Throwing his pajama shirt over his head instead of unbuttoning every little button as he usually would. Sliding a random button down shirt over his head before pulling his hoodie on. Changing into his jeans before Sliding on his shoes, grabbing his phone and keys all within a minute before opening the door to his room for Lilia to exit so he may follow close behind...hesitating and looking back at his sword for a moment. Before he swiftly grabbed it before following behind the fae.

Lilia apparently made not objections as they walked through Diasomnia to the mirror and slipping through it to the other side.

The cold air of the cold school hitting his face as soon as he made his way to the other side appearing in the room everyone used as a meeting room for housewarden.

Immediately he was met with the sound of crying, his heart clenching at the context of hid all. Taking a step or two closer to the circle of people gathered around something only to see grim.

"I miss my hench human! You have to bring them home! Please! They wouldn't leave. Not without telling me! They have been gone for hours. I swear I'll be good. Just bring them back."

It was heart-renching to see this usual prideful creature litterally sobing heartbroken on the ground Begging. Pleading. For his friend to return.

Riddle stepped in the center next to the creature , clearing his throat, having a attention direct twords him as he raised his voice to make a announcement.

"The issue has been made clear. Let us waste no more time. Kalim, Vil, Jade, Trey, Leona, Ortho Lilia cover your dorms. Ruggie, Azul, Jamil, rook, Idia, Sebek Search campus. Any questions? No? Let's move."

No on dared ask any questions, this was their prefect. Even if some didn't consider themselves close to the magicless human they at least owed them for all they had done. Sebek ignored everyone else as they scrambled to gather their wits, moving past as he entered the outdoors. Shoving away all his swirling thoughts of what may of happen to his human as he pressed on. Searching through the darkness.

An hour later and he hadn't noticed. The chilly air was in his face making his nose a tad pink. Each and every breath being tainted with condensation making it look like smoke in the frigid air. A distinct crack came from the bushes immediately Sebeks mind went to the worst, his hand flying to his handle, quickly withdrawaling the sword from its sheath. Imaging the worst, huge, magical creature that may have caused you to not return. A snap sound emanated once more as something got closer. Sebek prepared to strike the vile creature where it stood.

Only for a tiny squirl to appear from the bushes. Sebek scoffed at himself for having such a immediate reaction only for it to be futile in the end. Taking a few steps closer to the bush to look a bit closer at the creature only for it to scamper away.

Sheathing his sword about to turn away when a small hint of a dark color in the bushes caught his attention. Taking a few steps closer her drew his wand. Casting a simple light spell to reveal what lay within the darkness.

A dark red substance splattered on the wall as it dripped from the bushes. The smell of metallic hitting him in the face hard. His eyes widening at the sight and darting all over to take in. Every detail.

Then his eyes landed on your skin that was now purple and red in most areas. Immediately kneeling beside you he frantically removed his jacket draping it over you before gently picking you up. His usually gelled hair now down in its natural form and hanging over his eyes. Your skin was as cold as ice to him as he cradled you in his arms. Running his fingers throughout your hair while muttering desperate apologies. Wishing that he could make it all go away. Tears running down his face as he begged your unconscious body not to forgive him, but just to make it.

"I'm so sorry. I failed human. I failed at protecting you. I don't deserve to be called a guard. Please please please don't die. Not now. Not due to my foolishness. I don't want your life cut short."

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst diasomnia #twst sebek #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek #twisted wonderland lilia #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge

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emsgoodthinkin · 4 months

Text

As long as I’m with You

Steve Harrington x You (short)

Summary: Steve wakes up to another bad night you’ve had this week

Warnings: hurt/comfort, talks of poor physical and mental health, doctors, suicidal ideation, medication use, drug use, chronic health issues, BPD if you squint, disabilities, use of the word “girl” x times, negative self talk, mentions of sex, angst, fluff~~

This is based off my own experiences and inspired by my pal Morgan’s version; feel free to check hers out

Tick tick tick

The clock strikes 12 and then 1, 3, 5am in the morning, no sleep no rest it’s an every day cycle. The same shitty cycle.

It’s a new year, but not a new you.

Sitting in your walker in front of the excruciatingly bright television screen, high as a kite, everything in existence running through your mind 100 mph, sometimes the weed helps the pain. Sometimes it induces it or even makes it worse. Right now it’s doing nothing for you. Looking over at your loved one sound asleep. You don’t want to bother him with your whines or crying. So you just sit there silence, tears rolling down your cheeks; while you watch some bullshit on YouTube.

Sniff Sniff

“Baby?”

Shit.

“..yea?” you say in a whispered tone

“Are you ok? what’s wrong?”

“Ah, you already know”, you’ve used that line probably over a million times

Steve comes along your side expecting a few dried tears, but his eyes widen when he’s sees the collar around your shirt bitten, snot dribbling down your mouth and throat, crouching down, he lies his head onto your thigh looking up at you, “Talk to me sweetheart”

“No.”

“Hey, I know you’re hurting”—

“GOOD FOR YOU! Congratulations you know I’m hurting, you know I’ve been hurting for fucking years. I’m glad you’ve acknowledged it unlike some people”you sniffle getting up in a hurry to take a piss as he follows with sad eyes leaning against the door frame

“I’m fucking tired, I’m so goddamn exhausted nobody will ever know what I’m dealing with!”, you say wiping your ass not bothering to wash your hands, “I can’t do anything I can’t run, I can’t jump, can’t go to the stupid, fucking grocery store without one of those motorized carts.. my back hurts, my fucking knees are throbbing, stupid fucking nerves won’t calm down FUCK! It’s not like I can get in the bathtub to calm my muscles down. Nothing is helping! No medication, no PT, no injections, no nothing! Why?? am I just resistant to any source of help or treatment? I-I can’t even lay in the goddamn bed to sleep. That’s all I have left is rest!! What is rest!? I don’t know what the hell that even is”

“I know baby I know”—

“NO YOU DONT STEVE, all you know is what you see. I wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy, my worst enemy to feel what I feel. That’s how bad it all hurts. The most evil, sick and twisted person in this world, I would never wish this upon. I just..”, getting dizzy you collapse on the bed sobbing into your own hands, then eventually into Steve’s shoulder as he rocks you, tears spilling from his own eyes—

“Nobody cares, nobody wants to help me. nobody cares unless I’m rich and can afford to give them any and ALL the things off my back, but I can’t. Even with the money you make it will never be enough to help the poor girl who’s too young to have any kind of issue. It’s “all in my head” I’m just fucking crazy. I could break my own neck and still be told it’s only from anxiety. Nobody cares just”—

“I care” he exhales

“It doesn’t matter if you care, all your care is useless, all your help is worthless to me because it gets me nowhere. Nobody’s love and care gets me nowhere. It’s nothing all but fucking false hope. Don’t you get that? None of you still to this day seems understand that. Stop praying for me to get better. It’s never going to happen. I can’t take it anymore.. I just wanna die! All I wish for is to die but, I can’t even have that. It’s like all of you want me here, to live and suffer for the rest of my life for y’all, it’s not fair, fuck that”, your trembling, body in fight or flight

“Don’t say that, you know I’d do anything to take your pain away”

“It doesn’t matter what you’d do because you’re not a doctor. You’re not a professional, you can’t help me get better.. sucks to hear but it’s the truth Steve..fuck”—

Steve’s really trying not to beat himself up over your words, he knows you’re in pain, it comes from a place of anger, frustration and fear

“I have all these pain medications I could easily take all at once, so I’ll never have to wake up in this position ever again. Why can’t I do it huh? I could end right here right now you never have to suffer again, but I just d-don’t; If anything, I’m the most selfless person for staying alive for YOU just so I can be alive but in pain all over again for YOU!”, your tone getting higher and higher in pitch

“I-I’m sorry.. I wish I knew the right words to say baby”, he’s trying his best to stay strong for you

“You’ve got to be sick of me, tired of me. All I do is cause more money to come out of your pockets, more exhaustion, more burdening, more crying, more everything bad for you. You already deal with your own shit. I do nothing but make your own mentality worse, hell you’re making your own self worse being with a person like me. A broken and useless excuse of a human being. You deserve somebody who can go hiking with you, go to the beach, travel with, who can do the bare minimum. Can’t even fuck you properly—

“STOP! Stop that right now” he shouts

You freeze because he’s never raised his voice at you, atleast not on purpose at such a vulnerable time

“I hate it too. You know it hurts me to know that you hurt and I’m sorry that I can’t take the pain away from you. My sweet, sweet girl I’m so sorry that nobody has given you the chance to hear your voice, to help heal you..but I’m gonna make you the same promise I make you almost every single night. As long as I’m with you, I will try my best with all my power to make it a little bit more bearable for you to be here, and I am so grateful that you are still here and choose to be here with me for us to be together. I know you hurt, but as long as you’re with me, I’m going to do my best to put a smile on your pretty face, beautiful sunshine of a smile because you’re my sunshine.. y-your smile gives me life did you know that?”

You nod. He tells you all the time

“I- I’m tired for wishing to feel ok for my birthdays, every Christmas. All the shirts and posters you got me for Christmas? I haven’t even touched them yet, you know why? Because the selfish person in me doesn’t give a fuck about none of it. The only thing I care about and want and NEED is pain relief and that’s too much to ask for isn’t it? Apparently wanting to be better in the world it’s too much to ask for”

“You deserve to feel better”, he says while his hand travels up your back to rub your tense neck, “You deserve to be free from all of this and I can’t give that to you. You’re not selfish baby you’re hurting. I love you for you. I knew what I was signing up for, and if I didn’t want that I wouldn’t be here right now with you. I know the sacrifices Ill have to make, the tears I’ll have to shed, the strength it’ll take me to pick you up when you’re down, but I fell in love with you, how you are, and who you are”

“Who are you kidding Steve, you don’t even know who I am. The real me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I wish you met me when I wasn’t sick then maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed out a-and.. and,” you start sobbing again, it’s all too overwhelming

“Hey, hey look at me, no. I met you at the right time. You need me just as much as I need you. You may not think you’re worth nothing but you’re worth everything to me. Yeah you have a good and bad days..—

“I’ve had nothing but bad days for the past few months Steve”-

“I know, I see it, I hear it and I witness it, I may not can feel it, but at the end of it all, you still love me. You’re still here. You still want to cook for me. You still get up to brush your teeth and I’m so proud of you for still trying to care for yourself. That’s the biggest job you’ll ever have, and it’s been a very hard job hasn’t it?

You nod, as he nods with you

“Yeah, it has, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you. You’re my girl, you deserve so much and as long as I’m with you, I will try every day, every hour, every second or minute, to make sure you know how loved, how great and how amazing you are. How great and amazing you’re doing for yourself and for me. How strong you are”—

—“im tired of having being strong all the time”, interrupting him

“I know you are. You are so strong for being on this earth, even when you don’t want to be. I wouldn’t ask for anybody else, you’re it for me always. Will you continue to let me try to make it better for you every day? To take care of you?”, he squats in front of you, cupping your wet cheeks, kissing your forehead

“But Stevie.. you know you’re getting your own hopes up because nothing you do helps either and I feel like a piece of shit for saying that because”—

“I know what you mean, you don’t have to be sorry. I understand you may not have hope but I do. All my Hope goes towards you and it always will. You are the most important thing in my life. I’m not gonna give up on you, on me or on us, ok sunshine?”

..”okay”, you repeat rubbing your temples

“Head hurt, darling?”

“yes”

“From crying too hard?”

You nod, looking away in shame, “It’s okay, I’ll get your Migrane cap from the freezer and i’ll set your pillows up how you like, just sit tight”, he says it standing then pausing at the doorway, looking over his shoulder, “I love you”

“luv you—

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you” he exclaims

“I said love you gosh.. shut up”, you barely crack a smile

That was enough to get him through the rest of the night.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x disabled!reader #steve harrington x ill!reader #tw sui talk #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #tw sick mention #mental health awareness #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x chronically!ill reader #steve harrington x sick reader #steve harrington angst #stranger things #joe keery #chronic pain issues #bpd #spoonie

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itsonlytext · 1 month

Text

Restoring Balance · scene i

He had already made up in his mind that he was going to sink in the silence alone today and yet there John was, texting him at 5am asking if he and Rosie could visit.

(read this chapter on ao3.)

sherlock discovers that although things will never be the same, it doesn't mean that it will always be necessarily bad. there aren't any warnings today - this is post season four, so feelings are (obviously) a tentative topic but there isn't anything upsetting ≈ 1500 words. also, we get a bit of rosie fluff. i love rosie. and fluff. and rosie fluff and mainly fluff and rosie with a bit of fluff but also rosie fluff the most

The weeks following Eurus' discovery were silent.

Of course, not literally - the builders that Mycroft sent to restore 221B after the explosion were incredibly loud and invasive. (Invasive about what? Nothing sentimental even survived. They were just doing their jobs. Sherlock eventually realised that he simply didn't like their presence every day from 3-6pm.)

But after they finished, after there was nothing left to be restored or repainted, Sherlock couldn't do anything but hover around the living room in the silence.

With a quick gaze over the room, it looked exactly the same as it did before the explosion, Mycroft's men had done well to ensure that. However for Sherlock, he couldn't help but notice how off-key the new wallpaper was, how the spray painted smiley face was neater than before and how the new desk by the window was an inch taller than the old one. He lived there - of course he was bound to notice. (He was himself - of course he was bound to notice.)

The detective stumbled out of bed and into the (unfamiliar) living room with a sigh. He didn't bother changing out of his pyjamas, for he had already decided that he wasn't going to do anything (or see anyone) at all today.

Another silent day - that was his resolve.

Early morning sun streamed down through the windows and straight into his eyes. It was earlier than usual, Mrs Hudson was yet to bring up his morning tea. Besides, he didn't want it; there was a persistent pit in his stomach that wouldn't let him sleep. (He wouldn't have been able to keep the tea down anyway.)

He made a point not to look at the walls or the smiley face or the desk that was too tall as he sat down in his armchair and pulled out his phone. He had two new messages.

Can We Come Over Today? Rosie's Been Asking For You.

Hope It's Not Too Early.

It was sent two hours ago. John often used to wake up early (a habit sustained as a result of the army) but recently, after his daughter was born, had somehow managed to wake up even earlier.

Sherlock's fingers hovered over the keyboard. The silence rang in his ears (he never got used to it, not really). He had already made up in his mind that he was going to sink in the silence alone today and yet there John was, texting him at 5am asking if he and Rosie could visit.

He blew out a gentle breath.

Sure. SH

John responded immediately.

Thanks. We'll Be There In Fifteen

He was probably struggling to entertain his daughter's early morning excitement any longer, waiting for a reply back, another shoulder to lean on. Sherlock suddenly felt bad for not seeing the messages sooner. His stomach churned.

He let his phone drop down and onto the leather of his chair. He glanced around. Tried not to let his gaze linger on anything for too long. There was an awful tightness in his chest whenever he breathed, as if his lungs didn't want him to. He needed a cigarette. Probably shouldn't. Not if Rosie's on the way. (Damn it.)

For now, he'll have to settle with just tea and hope it'll stay down.

John was (unsurprisingly) right - fifteen minutes of sinking deeper into his chair trying not to look at anything and there was a knock at the door.

A nest of blonde curls toddled into the detective's arms before he could stand up. He lifted her up and ignored the way she eagerly tugged on his hair with a remarkable grip.

“Watson,” he greeted calmly.

“Yeah,” she grinned, pulling on his curls and bringing his head down with it. He winced.

“Let’s not do that,” Sherlock said as he gently pried her tiny fingers away from his hair.

"She's doing that to me, too," John began. Sherlock glanced up, suddenly aware of his voice, his presence. He was lingering by the door with heavy eyes and a large baby bag over his shoulder. He pointed to his greying hair. "I think I've got a bald spot here now."

"You've always had that."

"Oh, thanks," he replied lightly, dumping the bag by the door and walking in. "You're erm. Up early."

Sherlock didn't reply, instead he turned his gaze to the toddler. She gazed back at him with an illiterate babble. Her stare was so firm yet so playful. (So John yet so Mary.)

“Any cases?” John carried on, fluffing up a pillow with a fist before falling into his armchair with a sigh.

For a moment, as he asked about cases and fell into his armchair, it was like time hadn’t irreparably cracked and bruised their friendship. But Sherlock knew that wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t - the bags under John’s eyes and the silver colonising his blond roots ensured that it wouldn’t be the same again.

It made the pit in Sherlock’s stomach sink even deeper and he didn’t know that was possible. (He wasn’t sure it would ever go away.)

“Haven’t checked.”

“Greg hasn’t called for anything?”

“Who?”

“Sherlock.”

The corner of his lips tugged. “No. Mycroft called yesterday though. Something about a political domestic.”

He tilted his head. “And I’m assuming you turned it down.”

Sherlock smiled. Then suddenly, he winced.

“Rosie!”

“G’na pull it…”

“No!” John huffed, reaching forward and holding out his arms. “You don’t pull on people’s hair. It hurts.”

She grunted angrily, burying herself into Sherlock’s neck so that her dad couldn’t take her. “It’s alright,” the detective replied calmly, splaying out a large hand on her back and trying to ignore the piercing headache forming at the nape of his neck. He stood up with her and faced the mantle. “Let’s do something different.”

John watched as Sherlock fed her curiosity by providing context for all the memorabilia that had accumulated over the years at 221B. She (obviously) didn’t understand anything and she (definitely) didn’t care about the context other than they were all great to shove into her mouth, but it kept her from creating pools of bald spots in anyone’s scalps and for that the men were grateful.

John knew that their spontaneous visits were good for Sherlock - that he needed Rosie’s livelihood and John’s tiredness to feel needed enough so that he wouldn’t drown in his own mind. He also knew that Sherlock wouldn't ever realise that for himself.

“Oh, and that’s a pinned vampire bat. Not sure where from. Mexico, at a guess.”

“ ‘nd dat one,” the little girl grabbed a tiny metal object with sparkling eyes.

“That’s just the gun token from Cluedo.”

So instead of saying it, John just carried on keeping the visits spontaneous. (He figured that some things were better left unsaid. Or maybe one day Mrs Hudson will say it out loud and make the detective realise.)

“I bought some breakfast on the way,” he said suddenly. “Figured you haven’t eaten yet.”

Sherlock shifted his body slightly to face him. “Didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well.” He stood up. “Let me take her, you eat.”

“It’s alright.”

“You’re not on a case, Sherlock, you’ve no excuse not to eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“That’s a lie.”

He glanced down at Rosie as he reluctantly handed her over to John. “Your father’s a tyrant.”

“I try,” he replied with an exaggerated grin, taking his daughter into his arms.

Sherlock strode over to the paper bag and pulled out the food. Cafe pastries, a sandwich. Nothing he could stomach yet. (The Danish looked good though. He was going to save that for later.)

He glanced back. John had sat down on the carpet with Rosie in front of him, playing with the skull and the tiny gun from Cluedo.

He knew very well that John could currently be in the comfort of his own home instead; he’d have a wider variety of toys for Rosie, (proper) baby food, their beds. John only did it for Sherlock’s benefit, not his own. But Sherlock didn’t say anything because he couldn’t deny that their presence probably was, on balance, better for his lungs than a three-month-old secret stash of Marlboro reds. (Damn it.)

He glanced back at the bag and pulled out the Danish pastry anyway, hoping that it would make his stomach feel better and not worse. He took a bite.

There was a knock at the door and Mrs Hudson used her elbow to push it open. She was carrying a tray of fresh food from the cafe and his tea.

“Too late,” Sherlock muttered between a bite, lifting the Danish pastry to show her.

“Oh, John,” the old lady ignored him, setting the tray down in the kitchen. “I didn’t know you two were coming.”

“Neither did we, really,” he smiled politely, ignoring the way Rosie climbed his frame and started to reach for his hair. “Well. Not until half an hour ago.”

“If I had known, I’d have gotten those cakes for the little one, the one she likes,” she gestured lovingly with her hands.

“She’ll like anything with sugar.”

As they conversed, Sherlock glanced at his watch. She was fourteen minutes late.

Mrs Hudson was never late to float upstairs with his cup of morning tea, she lived by that strict schedule for years; wake up, dress, make breakfast, eat, tidy her kitchen, make Sherlock's tea, carry said tea upstairs, tidy 221B and then open the cafe. She was the only subtle reminder that Sherlock wasn’t completely alone in the silence when he’d wake up at 8am to find a freshly steaming cup in the living room.

But after the explosion, things had been different - her (right) hip had gotten worse, her limbs more fragile in their venture up the stairs. She was, unfortunately, getting older. As a result, Mrs Hudson had been getting to him later. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that. (But it still troubled his stomach.)

Sherlock blew out a breath and shook the sleeve of his robe down to cover his watch. Suddenly, the Danish pastry in his mouth didn’t seem as appealing anymore.

this ended up being way longer than i thought/wanted/hoped, so i’ve split it in two. next one will be coming up soon. thanks folks!

let me know if you’d like to be/no longer be tagged.

tags: @nathan-no @helloliriels @dragonnan @strawberrywinter4 @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @inevitably-johnlocked @meetinginsamarra @pressurepoint221 @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @gaypiningshit @johnlocky @a-victorian-girl @astudyinlaura

#sherlock fandom #bbc sherlock #fanfic #john watson #johnlock #sherlock holmes #authors #itsonlytext #no queerbaiting in this house #queer community #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #queer #gay

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 1 month

Text

The Containment Diaries: Entry 1

Pairing: Virologist!Bob Floyd x Reader AND Aviator!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Apocalypse AU: Loosely based on Stephen Kings ‘The Stand’

Series Summary: A deadly virus has escaped the research compound where you live and work as head Botanist. The military have evacuated and you and a few of the best and brightest have been tasked with finding a cure. Alongside you is your esteemed colleague and Virologist Dr Robert Floyd.

While aboard an aircraft carrier, you meet charming and boyish Fighter Pilot Bradley Bradshaw, and find yourself falling for both men.

As you navigate the cruel new world you’ve found yourself thrust into, who will you choose to keep you from losing your mind?

—————————————

Warnings: Warfare, Military Inaccuracies (I’m but a layman, I have no idea what I’m talking about) Smut, Love Triangle, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol, Breakdowns, Apocalyptic themes, Swearing. I think that’s all!

—————————————

The first siren sounded at 2:46am. The sky was pitch black and the street lamps had not yet turned on for the morning.

You shot out of bed as your phone blared, the message flashing continuously across your screen;

‘Please stay alert for the following announcement.’

You waited as the noise continued its incessant honking, your heart in your throat as you waited.

You had all been prepped for this, an impending warning. Ever since the outbreak a few weeks ago, there had been talks of nuking if they couldn’t contain it, and you had been on edge ever since.

Yesterday the military arrived, but still you were advised that it was only precautionary and they, mostly, had everything under control and contained to the Infectious Diseases unit on the north side.

Your phone flashed again with another message;

‘All personnel to meet at the South Exit. Evacuations to begin immediately. Do not stop to pack personal belongings.’

You shot out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The cold New England winters were bitter and wet this time of year.

Although you had been told not to pack anything, you grabbed a small backpack and threw in a few essentials; your toothbrush, underwear, socks, mascara (you wouldn’t go anywhere without at least your eyes on) and then you put on your sneakers before you dashed out the door of the apartment complex.

In the dark streets lining the several apartment blocks in the compound, you saw hoards of your colleagues hurriedly exiting their buildings and swarming towards the south side. Fear and impatience already thick in the air as people pushed passed one another.

The street lamps finally flickered on, usually not doing so until 5am, they must have been manually triggered for this occasion.

You noticed how everyone had the same look of worry, etched into a deep frown on their faces. Hundreds of scared adults wrapped in their warmest civvies.

You made your way down the street as fast as you could without pushing passed anyone, and noticed that the military stood either side, funnelling everyone in the same direction.

“Come on, please. My daughter works on the north side, I need to make sure she got out ok. I’ll come straight back I swear!” A man begged one of the military personnel, who held a hand to the mans chest as he pushed him back, shaking his head.

You didn’t catch the rest of the conversation as you were now being pushed by people behind you, a desperate bid to stay on your feet or be trampled by the nervous crowd.

Eventually you reached the South Exit, a series of heavy gates flanked by guarded watch towers. The compound you worked on was so highly protected that you had to have specific clearance before leaving the compound, and no visitors were allowed.

The military stood in neat lines and directed everyone to sit down in rows, tension thick in the air as everyone wondered what was happening. After what felt like forever, when everyone had filed in, the General pulled out a megaphone and drew everyone’s eager attention.

“Alright everybody, I know you must all be scared and confused. It’s very important that everyone listens and does as they’re instructed, as we have to do this quickly.” He turned around to look at his men and women as they ushered in the last few stragglers.

“I’m going to call out your names in alphabetical order, and with your name I’m going to assign you to group A or group B. Group A, when I call your names, you will get up and form a line to the left. Group B, there will be a heck of a lot more of you, so you’ll form three or four lines over to the right.” He instructed, his arm jutting out in the direction of each group.

Everyone murmured to one another, and you sat nervously as you waited.

Name after name was called out, some you recognised and some you didn’t, people shuffling left and right and forming lines. Eventually your name was called.

You stood. “Group A!” The general instructed, and you moved towards the shorter line, considerably more nervous now than you were before. You carefully stepped over hands and legs as you stumbled through the dimly lit courtyard.

Once you had reached the line, a man in uniform placed a tag around your wrist. You flicked your wrist over and were just able to make out your name in the dark.

“I heard we’re getting shipped out to sea to work on a cure.” The woman in front of you whispered loudly to her friend. You recognised her as Alberta from the Infectious Diseases department.

“Well I’d rather be shipped off than be left here when the bombs go off.” Her friend responded.

Your heart began to pound against your chest as you listened.

“Ladies, I don’t think it’s a good idea to speculate right now. Especially not when you’re talking loud enough for group B to hear you.” A deep voice drawled from in front of the two women.

You recognised the twang and turned to look at Dr Robert Floyd as he reprimanded the two scientists, who said nothing, a sour frown on their faces.

You smiled at him, almost if to say thank you, and Dr Floyd nodded at you with a soft smile back, before turning his attention to the front of the line.

You knew of Dr Floyd from fleeting glances in the hallways of your joint apartment block and the occasional times he’d visited the Botany lab for samples of plants he needed for experimental drugs. Most of all you knew of Dr Floyd through gossip that the women in your department allowed to flow freely.

The female scientists and lab techs were shameless when it came to Dr Robert Floyd, never hiding the fact that they were obviously flirting, hard, every time he passed them in the halls or when he approached them for anything work related.

Dr Floyd was extremely handsome, undoubtedly brilliant, and, probably most endearingly, he was extremely shy around the ladies.

He could be hard on his colleagues when he knew they weren’t doing what they should be, but the moment he realised he was being flirted with, Dr Floyd would shut down and go bright red.

You, on the other hand, were not shy, but tried to stay out of everyone’s way, you were not a fan of conflict which was so often rife in the compound, and you just wanted to get on with your job.

You loved plants and you were brilliant at what you did, and to add to the brains, you were also breathtakingly beautiful, which often caused jealousy in your circles. You tried to make it from one day to the next without getting on anyone’s bad side, but it also made it hard to relax and make friends when the competition was so rife.

There were not that many eligible bachelors in the compound, and even though you were not actively on the hunt for one, some of your colleagues felt that you took attention away from them, so when Dr Floyd paid you that tiny bit of attention, the women in front of you shot you a dirty look.

You stood and waited in the short line for what felt like hours, the line for group B growing ever longer. By the time the sun poked its shining head over the cascading walls of the compound, you were finally being ushered one by one into the trucks.

You noticed group B being ushered into what appeared to be school busses, and you overheard one of the army personnel speaking with some of them.

“Your emergency contacts have been notified, they’ll be there to pick you up. Those of you without an emergency contact will be provided with basic room and board until this is all over.”

You stopped listening as you reached the truck and you were helped up into the back. You were instructed to take a seat along the side bench and you’d be briefed shortly.

You sat down next to an older Doctor you didn’t recognise, who gave you a kind smile. He must have noticed you your nervous expression as he mumbled something along the lines of “We’re in the best place we can be.” To which you forced a smile back. Your pulse was so loud in your ears you could barely focus on anything as people started to file in.

You felt someone settle in next to you, but didn’t realise who it was until he spoke.

“Hope you have some snacks in that bag. I think it’s gonna be a long drive.”

He chuckled softly, bringing you out of your trance.

“Oh.” You grinned after a moment. “No… not unless you want to eat a pair of socks?”

Dr Floyd laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“Practical, I like that.” He said as he pulled his own backpack onto his lap and pulled out a pair of his own socks. “Snap.”

You laughed unexpectedly, a loud snort escaping you, and you clasped your hand over your mouth as the whole truck turned to look at you.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, but this only humoured Dr Floyd more, a deep grin etched on his face.

“I’m Bob.” He said, sticking out a hand for you to shake. You took it.

“I’m (Y/N), but my friends and family call me Rue.” You introduced yourself.

“Why Rue?” Bob asked.

“It’s a medicinal plant I was obsessed with as a kid. I was always telling anyone who would listen about the ‘Common Rue’ and asking them if they had a headache so I could try and make them medicine.” You chuckled awkwardly.

“Is that why you’re a Botanist now?” He asked you with a furrowed brow as he studied you intently. You were surprised that Bob remembered.

“I guess so. It was either that or art, but I figured Botany would get me into more debt and take up more of my time so I chose that.” You joked, Bob chuckled again.

Just before Bob could respond, one of the army personnel climbed into the truck and addressed your small group.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen. I’m Sergeant Williams. I know this must be confusing, but everything is going to be fine. We’ve selected each of you specifically because you are the best in your field, and we need your help.” He scanned the truck making eye contact with each of you.

“The virus has been contained, for now, however we don’t know that nuking this thing will eradicate it completely.” He continued. As he spoke, people began to murmur to one another.

“I’ll need quiet please.” He instructed sternly, and the truck grew silent again.

“We’re taking you all aboard our largest aircraft carrier out in the south Atlantic sea, it’s safe and secluded and has all the equipment you’ll need.”

“Equipment for what?” Somebody asked.

“A cure.” Sergeant Williams put simply, “We need a cure. Truth be told we’ve never seen anything quite like this before. If Ebola and Rabies had a baby, even that wouldn’t be quite as bad.” He suddenly looked grave as he continued quietly. “We can try to contain this thing, kill it even, but what we haven’t told you is that we’ve been trying to do just that for weeks. We couldn’t risk letting anyone panic, so we cordoned off the infectious diseases unit and isolated anyone who came in contact with it to be sure, but it’s proving harder than it looks…” he trailed off, but soon realised how terrified everyone looked.

“However, that’s why we have our brightest and best on the job. We’ve specially selected each of you based on your knowledge and what you bring to the table, you’ll work together and before you know it this will all be over.”

“But what about our families?” Someone called.

“You’re doing this for your families! If you don’t, who do you think will be able to?” Sergeant Williams began to sweat, and as everyone whispered to one another, you sat with your head against the trucks tarpaulin wall and tried not to be sick. Truth be told, you thought you were not meant to be there. If it was only the best of the best, there was definitely some mistake. Your imposter syndrome well and truly flaring up, you thought about sticking up your hand and explaining there must have been a mix up.

But before you could, Bob turned to you with a reassuring smile, and chuckled.

“No pressure then I guess.”

—————————————-

- Entry 2 Here -

I don’t have a Taglist for this series but I will be updating my Masterlist as I go 💛

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yessirsargeantbarnes · 4 months

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Headcannons ft Din Djarin, Eddie Munson, Tommy Shelby, and Bucky Barnes.

No word count and no gender or features of reader to be as inclusive as possible <3

18+ as there are mature, suggestive, and sexual themes mixed with some fluff. Nothing too graphic in nature, but please be advised. You are responsible for your own media consumption- please be respectful and do not read/engage if under 18.

A/N: I’m sure there’s more, but these are just little thoughts I had at 5am when I couldn’t sleep. Not proofread, so sorry for any errors. Also it’s been months since I’ve written anything, so my apologies if they sick. This is literally just me indulging.

Din Djarin does NOT take his helmet off for you in a moment of lust. He waits until he knows the moment is right, saying his vows to you before asking your consent to see his face. Does this mean he doesn’t have feverish, desperate touches and whimpers aimed in your direction? No. He spends the better part of a year or so resisting his urges and attraction towards you before, in a moment of weakness, gripping at your hips hungrily after a particularly difficult bounty hunt. He wants to feel you on his lips, feel your fingers graze through his beard and over his nose, but he is loyal to his creed. He’s thought about this moment for so long he can’t remember when he first starting fantasizing about it. When the time comes, years after giving in to his urges, he grabs your face delicately in his gloved hands, smoothing over your cheeks as he whispers your name. He tells you how he knows now is the right time, he knows what he wants and how he feels. His words are soft and filled with love as he leans his head down slightly to look into your eyes through his visor. The vows you don’t understand but you can feel the weight of them roll off his tongue and know you want to say them too. When, with a shaky breath but all the sureness in his chest, he lifts his hands to release the helmet and his eyes are filled with tears. There’s a brief pause as you soak in his face for the first time before he crashes his lips against yours for the first time.

Eddie Munson is a switch and there’s no changing my mind about it. Dude spends hours at a time teasing himself to the thought of you, rolling his hips into his hand, whimpering and begging into the air calling out your name. He’s desperate and pathetic having filthy thoughts fill his head of your hands around his neck, fingers down his throat, thighs trapping him underneath you while you claim what’s yours. But after a few times of you hooking up and him seemingly getting his fill, one day it’s like a switch goes off and he’s palming at you through your clothes, shoving his tongue in your mouth while backing you against his bed. When you let out a tiny gasp, his voice is dark, pupils blown as he tells you how’s he’s going to wreck you, rip you open and devour you whole.

Tommy Shelby can’t bring himself to lay a finger on you. No matter if you’re a sweet, innocent thing, or someone familiar with his line of work. He’s gentle and takes his time with you, savoring your taste and the texture of your skin while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. If the chance arises where you ask him to be rough(er) with you, he needs some convincing that it’ll be okay and takes some time for him to actually warm up to it. It feels unnatural at first, the sharp pain of his hand slapping against your skin, but eventually he becomes more confident, seeing how your body reacts and hearing the way you moan for him. He’s never rough unless you ask, though. Always opting to show his admiration for you with a gentle slowness only reserved for you.

Bucky Barnes can come off as cocky most of the time, but in reality he is so shy he doesn’t know how to interact. You think he’s an asshole until he steps in one day to help you with something, not saying a word before resuming his previous task. Upon further observation, he’s quite kind and has playful banter with his closest friend, Steve. Those he’s not fully comfortable with (which takes a long time), he’s shy and quiet around. It must be something about knowing his history and him battling with the knowledge of his crimes that makes his words come out short and harsh. You realize after a few months just how much he’s helped with little things- catching a mug you had dropped, keeping the elevator doors open for you, saving a bit of food to make sure you’ve eaten, quickly relaying information you might’ve missed. After Steve and Sam finally convince Bucky to ask you out, he fumbles over his words with a burning of his cheeks, tongue-tied and silly and you realize he’s never been a jerk, just a little awkward.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader

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scarlxtleaves · 5 months

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name — Jay

pronouns — I'm/Him j/k he/him

preferred comms — Discord or LINE granted I'm sometimes slow with replyin' mostly due to work and at other times it's distractions like gaming. Or maybe some errands.

name of muse — Trunks Briefs

experience in RP — over ten years, started first on a site called Myspace then drifted through different other roleplaying sites and forums until I eventually gotten here.

best experiences — I once had to answer a question like this on another blog and the answer was just...man too much too ready because the experiences were countless. Whenever I meet a mun and then we just hit it off to the point we're discussing our muses for hours and hours over discord. Or even doing little mini threads on discord, those are really THE best experiences in roleplay.

pet peeves/dealbreakers — When people get on my ass for a response, little 'hey I'm just reminding you that you still probably have a post of ours lost in drafts or BLESS the people that link me to something I missed through the activities. Those peeps are a Godsend but the fuckers that just dick ride you for a response? They can go to tell, harrassing you for a response day in and day out like bro that'd make your reply even LESS than a priority. This shit's a hobby, not our lives.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — I don't have much of a preference, I'd say give me ALL OF THOSE but I mean if I HAD to choose one It'd be angst. Oh people that knows me KNOWS I love putting not just mine but my writing partner's muses through emotional damage.

plot or memes — Give me a meme any day. I love plotting too but with plotting comes over-excitement and there's gonna be a moment IN the story you're plotting that you just CAN'T wait to get to but your ass has to wait because LORD knows it could be after the roleplay's timeskip or even far down the line into the future. Then again even with memes eventually that thread is going to be thought about and plotted..can't win XD

long or short replies — Write what you feel I always say (and it's not cause i'm bad at long posts I swear XD) sometimes when things need a little explanation you gotta go all out and send something long but sometimes that's not the case and it's okay.

best time to write — For me it's just at the crack of 4AM or 5AM when i wake up for work and then a little after im back by evening. Those are really my best times to write.

are you like your muse?: Hmm out of the cast of peeps I got on here I'd say my temperament can be a little like Nero's. I'm generally a chill guy but you can tell I used to have a bit of a temper in the day, also I've got a pretty foul vocabulary at time, kinda hot-headed, you know how it be.

tagged: @haukaii (thanks for tagging yo boy)

tagging: @d-ensetsu , @xcelestial , @zorkaya , @belliautore , @oc-menagerie , @lobiita , @a-girl-named-angel , feel free to steal it homies

#dashgames

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peoplcshope · 5 months

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GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — Jay

pronouns — I'm/Him j/k he/him

preferred comms — Discord or LINE granted I'm sometimes slow with replyin' mostly due to work and at other times it's distractions like gaming. Or maybe some errands.

name of muse — Trunks Briefs

experience in RP — over ten years, started first on a site called Myspace then drifted through different other roleplaying sites and forums until I eventually gotten here.

best time to write — For me it's just at the crack of 4AM or 5AM when i wake up for work and then a little after im back by evening. Those are really my best times to write.

are you like your muse?: NOT AT ALL, not even a little bit, in personality he's nicer than I can ever be, temperament I'm even further behind, believe me I WISH I could be like Trunks but if I'm honest I CAN DO WITHOUT HIS TOUGH LIFE. The man may look like he's got everythin' goin' for him with how he looks, carries himself and whatnot but he's got WAY too much shit going on for me to actually want that life.

tagged: @particlecreator , @swordsxandxsakuras (thanks for tagging yo boy :D)

tagging: @acoldsovereign , @kiealer , @n3rdb0x , @hopefromadoomedtimeline , @infintasmal , @universestreasures , @eternalbxtterfly , @crimsontwins , @kaguyahiime , @ofhope , steal this one homies and tag me so I can learn a little bit bout you.

#❛ dashgames ━━ nothing heats a heart this cold.#ooc post

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willaferrreyra · 11 months

Note

headcanons for a friends-to-lovers dynamic for dating Willa? love ur writing sm :) <3

friends to lovers with willa ferreyra would include…

a/n: thank you for requesting my girl!! so sorry if this is shorter than you wanted, i’ve been suffering from some major writers block

not my gif

includes: just general fluff, small mention of sex work

- You met her at an after party for one of her plays. A friend had dragged you with them and you decided to join despite not being huge on theater.

- The theater was small and still struggled to fill the seats. You had never been to such an intimate production before.

- After the show, the small audience was invited to drinks backstage with the cast and crew. After a few drinks, you built up the courage to venture away from your friend and talk to the pretty girl drinking by herself in the corner.

- You were surprised to learn that she was the playwright and she was drinking alone because she was worried about the reviews that were yet to come in and she didn’t want to bring down the mood of the rest of the cast/crew.

- You assured her that you adored the play. And you meant it!

- Willa’s face just LIT UP. “Really? You really liked it? You’re not just flattering me like everyone else here?”

- You eventually asked her if she wanted to go someplace else to get her mind off of the incoming reviews so you two visited various new york dive bars and diners, talking and getting to know each other all night long until you eventually parted ways after a drunken trip to the Times Square McDonalds at 5am.

- Following that evening, you kept in touch. Willa liked your honesty and often invited you for dinner when she needed to bounce new ideas off of someone.

- Eventually these occasional dinners turned into weekly dinners, and the discussion was less and less centered around her plays.

- It wasn’t uncommon for her to touch your arm in a flirty way or for you to playfully rest your head on her shoulder in the taxi at the end of the night. You both blushed every time.

- It definitely took A WHILE for you to admit your feelings to each other even though you both knew how the other person felt.

- It happened one night in your apartment. You and Willa would often head to one of your apartments after dinner for a glass of wine and that night was no different.

- It had been a particularly rough day for Willa. Her writers block has been worse than usual and she just couldn’t seem to write anything this week.

- “The ideas should be coming to me now but they’re just….they’re fucking not!”

- She buried her head in her hands and you placed your hand on her back.

- “Will, this is so normal. Everyone gets writers block every now and then, you’ll snap out of it.”

- “So what if I do? The critics will just hate my work anyways like they always do.”

- You began to rub her back as she exhaled and sat up, looking over at you.

- “Do you think I suck at writing?”

- You we’re taken aback by the question, and eventually assured her that she absolutely does not. You love her writing. And you love her too.

- She thought of it as friend love. She smiled and replied that she loves you too.

- “No, Will, I- fuck. I love love you.”

- Willa’s had many paying clients say that to her over the years, but she’s never heard someone mean it. Her eyes involuntarily fill with tears she’s so happy.

- “I love you too.”

- And you kiss her. And it’s lovely. And you hold each other close for the rest of the night, never wanting to let go <3

#succession #succession fic #willa ferreyra #willa ferreyra x reader #MY BABYGIRL

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conradism · 1 year

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name. steph

pronouns. she/her

preference of communication. tumblr ims/messages, discord eventually.

most active muse. I only have Conrad for now. Sometimes I think that I'll add but I probably will just make a new blog if I do.

experience / how many years. Let's act like it was a normal amount but it might've been since I was 18 on Tumblr. Over 10 years at this point.

platforms you use. Tumblr almost exclusively. I'll act like I'm going to Discord RP and then I don't, I wish I could be better but I simply cannot.

best experience. Met my bestie @kierras on here and when she's in my wedding we are not explaining how we really met. It was just "online idk". But idk this place always keeps me coming back so clearly it's not as bad as I say it is when I'm trying to use Beta editor.

rp pet peeves. Unschockingly I get so frustrated when people hide behind a computer screen to just be a dick. And no, I'm not talking about in-character. I love dick characters. It's when you're sending shitty anons or just talking down to people like we aren't all just on here to like get away from stuff-- I just get so annoyed. If you don't like what someone's doing just like-- don't watch or interact, if it's not hurting anyone, just don't look.

fluff, angst, or smut. I'm an angst girlie, through and through. I will literally write angst until I die. Fluff is cool but I like to build up to it. I tend to angst until we get to the point that fluff feels like a reward LMAO. I don't smut -- unless it's like someone I've known for a long time and even then, it's not something I seek out.

plots or memes. I'm somewhere in between. I like to just kinda go where things take us-- I rarely will plot out a whole thread. It might just be like I'm going to put my char here and by the end they need to kiss. And then we just YOLO. And my fave is when the kiss just didn't even happen because we went rogue. LOL. Memes stress me out sometimes especially with canon chars because I feel like people judge more on them but anyways just ignore my memes, thanks.

long or short replies. if long is 3 paragraphs that's my sweet spot. I'm a one paragraph or three girlie-- rarely 2. @kierras and I have a bad habit of giant ramble threads.

best time to write. Morning before everyone is awake and messaging me. So like 5am-7am. Yes, I know that's weird.

are you like your muses. Conrad is how I sometimes view myself like internally because we both hold a lot in and don't really talk about what's bothering us until we're really upset. But really I'm just a loud and extroverted person who Conrad would be like uhhh about. Heck, I'm more like Belly than Conrad.

tagged by. @kierras tagging. @jaymaybnk @everhearts and honestly whoever wants to do it !!

#; { ABOUT STEPH }

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sqqmmy · 2 years

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first post ! i’m gonna write some steddie fluff because i need it. also i don’t know much about smoking so sorry if i got something wrong :)

———

it was around 5am when eddie woke up. by accident. he tends to wake up really early for some reason. it’s like there’s someone watching him all night and then he starts to feel those eyes while he’s sleeping so he wakes up immediately.

he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, or at least tried to. because he slept so good this night that he really just wanted to throw himself back on that bed, but he couldn’t. so he decided to take a walk.

he got out of bed, and undressed himself, only to dress himself up again but into more comfortable clothes. which were a long sleeved metallica shirt, and some baggy jeans he found lying around in the middle of his room.

without eating breakfast, he put a spliff into his mouth. because that’s honestly the only thing that keeps him going.

as the spliff hung in his mouth he opened the front door to his trailer and inhaled the morning air as he started walking down the road. he didn’t know where he was headed to, he just walked and inhaled the smoke into his lungs occasionally. eventually he smoked the whole thing and threw the remains away somewhere.

somehow, his feet brought him somewhere near his previous high school. yes, previous. 86’ was his year after all, because he managed to graduate.

as he walked around he heard a car approaching behind him, so he whipped his head back to see who it was.

and of course, it was none other than steve harrington himself. eddie laughed, as steve slowly rolled down his window and smiled. “hey munson” he said groggily.

eddie loved his voice.

“hey harrington.” eddie grinned “whatcha doing up so early in a car ?” eddie asked smoothly

“well there’s this diner that opens up exactly at 5, and all the food is fresh and good this early in the morning so” steve laughed, already thinking about devouring the food “and what are you doing up so early, munson?” steve asked smugly.

“just woke up a little bit earlier today i guess” eddie shrugged “and about that diner.. may i come with you, your highness? it’s just that the way you described the food makes my very empty stomach growl” eddie faked a british accent, bowing down in front of steve’s opened window.

“you may, my dear knight” steve replied, smiling as eddie circled his car so that he can slip into the passengers seat.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington and eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff #steddie fluff #stranger things 4 #eddie and steve #gay love #gay #Spotify

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midwestern-runner-five · 3 years

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“The new Five is…they’re brilliant. But oh Alice, they aren’t you.”

Sam remembers Alice. This is probably sometime in the 5k or season 1?

#Hi emerge from the void and I bring with me sad things #zombies run #zr #zombies run!#runner five #sam yao #runner 5 #abel township #my art #you wanna know something funny tHIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 5AM FLUFF #and I sat down and drew the pose and said #nah nvm #uno reverse #the 5am fluff will come back eventually #this Sam Yao simp can only hold off the 5am for so long

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years

Note

I love your writing! Can you please do one with Bucky where the reader gives him a gift and it’s like an iPod and the reader put a bunch of 40’s music on it for Bucky to listen too and Bucky asks the reader to dance and it’s really sweet and fluffy! Thank you!

When I tell you I RAN for my iPad to start writing this request as soon as it came through omg, I am obsessed with this one! Thank you so so much for sending me this, I absolutely loved writing it 💗

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2,925

Warnings: Loads of fluff, super duper sweet Bucky, little bit of angst and mentions of family loss. Mad cottagecore vibes. This is honestly just hella soft!

Summary: Bucky doesn’t remember much about his sister Rebecca, just that today is her birthday. Coming to terms with the fact she grew up alone upsets him so you cheer him up with an early birthday present, taking him back to the 40’s.

A/N: I noticed Bucky has a sister in the comics so I went with that! (cause it makes me so happy to know that a canon Rebecca Barnes exists). I really don’t know much about her so if I’ve written anything wrong, please let me know so I can edit her to be canon compliant 💕 (And yes, all my 40’s songs are from the Fallout 4 soundtrack, I couldn’t help it)

The sound of the rain pattering softly on the roof woke you from your sleep. You rubbed your eyes and turned to look at the thin flannel curtains, noticing they were letting in a little light. Birds had only just began to start chirping faintly in the distance, meaning it couldn’t be much later than 5am. You rolled over in the large bed, hoping to feel the comfort of your husband’s firm chest against you but as you moved, you noticed the sheets were cold. He must have gotten up some time ago.

With a yawn, you pushed yourself up, your feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the bedroom.

“Buck?” You questioned, rounding the little corner and seeing he wasn’t in the kitchen. Your brow furrowed and you headed to the living room, checking to see if he was there. It wasn’t uncommon to wake up without Bucky. While he usually slept like a log these days, he was still keen to stay in shape so he would often go for a run at sunrise but usually only on mornings when the weather was nice. His nightmares barely ever bothered him anymore. You were thankful for that at least since it meant you weren’t woken in the middle of the night to the sight of your wonderful husband trembling with grief, knowing that he longed to wake up and be anyone other than himself. It broke your heart seeing what he had to suffer through to get to this point but he was endlessly grateful that you had suffered it with him. It was tough on you, you couldn’t deny but there was no chance you would ever have let him go through any of that alone. There had been countless nights spent cradling his shaking body, humming softly to him to remind him he wasn’t still living those nightmares. Eventually, those awful nights became few and far between, his smiles became brighter, the bags under his eyes shrunk and he returned to something closer to the man you imagined he must’ve been in the 40’s.

You reached the living room door and noticed the fire was lit, warmth beaming out the room as you took in the sight in front of you. Bucky was sitting in an armchair by the fire with a little wooden box resting on his knee. The only light in the room came from the fire and what little brightness was beginning to seep in through the window but despite how dim it was you could still make out his messy bed head.

“You okay baby?” You asked with a little yawn, crossing the short distance between you, coming up to the back of the chair and resting you hands on his broad shoulders that were still covered by his pyjama top. Your fingertips ran over the seam where his skin was replaced with metal and he let out a little content hum.

“Yeah doll, you should go back to bed, you’re tired.” He soothed, bringing his flesh hand up to squeeze one of yours. You looked down and noticed his lap was littered with old photos and newspaper clippings. You had helped him collect them over the years, taking him to libraries and museums, trawling through archives to make sure he had as much in his little collection as possible. He had spent years tracking down everything he could find about his sister, keeping all the clippings in his little wooden box.

Instead of going back to bed, you lifted the papers from his lap and sat down in their place. You pulled the woollen throw from the back of chair and draped it over the pair of you before starting to shuffle through the few photocopies in your hand. Each picture showed a different stage of your sister in law’s life, from a photocopy of the newspaper announcing her birth right up to the last piece you and Bucky had been able to track down. It was just a short article about an interview she had given, talking about how Bucky had been the only Howling Commando that had given his life in service of his country.

“Just wish she could’ve known the truth. Wish she’d known I wasn’t dead all those years.” He whispered, face buried in the crook of your neck as you leafed through the delicate pages. His mother had died when he was little and his father had died shortly before he went to war. He and his sister had been separated shortly after they lost their father. “She must’ve been completely alone…. Would’ve had no family until she got married.” He mused sadly, looking at the little newspaper clipping that announced her marriage to her husband.

“Would have been a tough life Buck.” You agreed quietly and he nodded.

“Today is her birthday.” He whispered after a little silence, the weight of all that he had missed out on weighing so heavily on him.

“Tell me about her Buck.” You quizzed, stroking his flesh arm gently, cuddling up against his warm chest as the fire crackled beside you.

“I really don’t remember much about her.” He admitted quietly. “Not sure if that’s because HYDRA jumbled some of my memories or if it’s just because it’s been so long.” He was so distracted by the article in his hands. It had a tiny, grainy photo in the centre of the text, a photo of a young Bucky and Rebecca standing together in their school uniforms. “Remember Rebecca loved to go to Stark’s science fairs.” A little fond smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “God, I used to go to those with Stevie to try to get him a date. We were both hopeless.” He laughed softly, his lips pressed gently to your neck as he spoke.

“We both know that’s not true Buck, Steve said you were such a ladies man.” You giggled, holding his chin gently and pulling him into a soft kiss.

“Hard to be a ladies man when your little sister was tagging along on your date.” He chuckled, “kinda spoiled the mood.”

“I bet it did.” You agreed sarcastically, running your fingers through his soft messy hair, watching his face as his eyes flitted over the paper in front of him. Eventually his little smile faded and his brow furrowed. It wasn’t hard to tell that he must have been thinking about how Rebecca would have reacted to hearing what her brother had done to Howard Stark and you knew you needed to get him out of that hole before it got too deep for him to handle. You gently gathered up all the little clippings, tucking them safely back into the wooden box and returning it to its place on the mantle. Bucky was still looking solemn so you returned to your spot on his lap and cuddled up against his large frame, nearly like you were trying to protect him from his own thoughts with your body.

“I know it’s early but I really don’t think I can keep it to myself any longer, you want one of your birthday presents?” You suggested and his little smile came back.

“Sure doll, that would be nice.” He laughed, kissing the top of your head. You bounced up out of his lap and pranced off to the bedroom, looking for the little box you had hidden in your dresser under some clothes. You returned to the living room with his gift tucked behind your back.

“It’s not wrapped yet, I didn’t plan on giving it to you early so you gotta close your eyes and hold out your hands.” You teased, making Bucky roll his eyes. He did as you asked anyway, metal and flesh hands cupped together in front of him. He looked so damn cute you couldn’t resist giving his lips a little peck.

“Was that my present doll?” He laughed, feeling you sit back down on your spot in his lap but still keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Yeah Barnes, that’s all you’re getting,” you joked sarcastically. He looked far too handsome with his cheeky grin, the warm light from the roaring fire dancing on his flushed cheeks. You loved this man more than you could put into words and you knew he loved you back just as fiercely. After building the suspense for a moment, you placed the box in his hands and he opened his eyes like a giddy child. You watched as his eyes scanned over his new gift, trying to work out what exactly it was.

“Oh! It’s an iPod! Sam has one of these!” He beamed excitedly, a little bit too proud that he had been able to figure out what the box actually contained before he had opened it. He carefully lifted the lid and pulled the iPod out, pressing the power button. You hadn’t really considered how tiny it would look in his huge hands. The screen flickered to life and he looked like a child on Christmas morning. His eyes were alight from both the bright screen and his excitement. His smile was absolutely infectious, joy radiating out of him at such a simple gift.

“I put some music on it for you babe.” You smiled, giving his forehead a little kiss.

“If you’ve filled this thing full of Harry Styles, I’ll throw it at you.” He teased quietly, trying to press the touch screen with the thumb on his metal hand, forgetting that it wouldn’t register properly.

“He’s a guilty pleasure of yours, don’t even deny it.” You laughed back, carding your fingers through his soft hair, showing him how to open the music app. “No, I put some of your music on it.” You watched as he used his flesh thumb to scroll through the list of songs. “You wanna connect it to the speakers?” You asked quietly, taking it from him and showing him how to open the settings and connect it to your living room speakers by Bluetooth.

“Pick a song, hun.” You smiled handing it back to him. He pressed the first title he saw. ‘Mighty Mighty Man’ by Roy Brown started playing and you thought Bucky’s grin was going to take over his entire face. His eyes crinkled as music boomed through your small living room.

“God, I remember this song.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. He looked so carefree and happy in that moment, clutching his little iPod tightly. You beamed at him and he looked up at you, giving you a happy kiss, both of your lips still pulled tight with smiles. His cheeks were hot against yours given how he was closer to the fire than you and his metal thumb rubbed gently against your bare thigh under the woollen throw. He let out a happy little sigh, pulling away to look back down at the rest of the songs on the iPod. His thumb hovered over ‘Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall’ by The Ink Spots for a minute before he clicked on it. As the gentle introduction started, he pulled you close to him, both of his strong arms circling around your waist. His face was buried in your hair and he kissed gently at your shoulder as you listened to the slow song together, just enjoying each other’s company and the sound of the rain pattering outside.

You couldn’t help but wonder how different his life must have been the first time he heard that song. He wouldn’t have had any idea the grief and loss and pain that was ahead of him. Far too much rain had indeed fallen on Bucky Barnes’ life.

“It’s not all been bad you know.” He whispered ever so quietly against your skin, almost as if he had been able to read your mind. “You’ve been the biggest blessing.” His last sentence was barely louder than a breath. You weren’t really supposed to hear it, it was more just Bucky’s way of thanking the universe for finally giving him something truly pure. Every now and again, on those nights he was struggling to sleep, he loved to roll over and just take in the sight of his beautiful wife tangled in the sheets. Rather than counting sheep or getting lost in his thoughts, he would quietly list the things he loved about you, almost how people talk to their plants. He hoped that by saying it out loud, even if you weren’t listening, your body would still acknowledge it and you would grow to love yourself how he did. He knew it was silly but he would far rather think about all the reasons he had fallen so madly in love with you than lie awake staring at the ceiling. He could think of hundreds of reasons, often silly little things like how cute you looked when you were reading or how endearing it was when you put your hand on your hip when you were cross at him for eating your last muffin or how slowly you had to peel carrots because you didn’t want to “lose a finger”. Every night brought some new confession because he found that every day, there was something else he could obsess over. He had never anticipated finding love like this. Not just because before he met you, he was filled with a bit more self loathing than he would ever have admitted to, but just because he didn’t believe it existed. “People don’t just love each other like they do in movies, it’s all made up.” He would argue, so cynical that anyone could ever find a soulmate, never mind one of the most notorious assassins the world has ever known. You had well and truly changed his mind. He would gladly do anything for you, anything at all. You had shown him so much love and trust and in some strange way, he felt like you understood him at times when he didn’t even understand himself. You knew what he needed because you were what he needed.

The song ended but neither of you moved to untangle your bodies, choosing instead to stay wrapped up in each other. A couple more songs played, with Bucky humming along to them gently. He couldn’t remember all the words but he got most of the tunes right. Then ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’ by The Ink Spots started and he pulled his head from the crook of your neck

“Would you dance with me Mrs Barnes?” He asked with a soft little smile, taking one of your hands in his metal one.

“Anything for you Mr Barnes.” You agreed, dragging your bodies apart to stand in front of the fire. It had died slightly but the room still had a happy glow. The rain was coming down just a little harder and it only made being inside, warm and dry with your husband even more appealing. Bucky’s hands fell to your waist and yours went to his shoulders. It didn’t take long for him to work his thumbs under your thin pyjama top, just enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against his hand. His touch was gentle and reverent, like holding you too tightly would make you shatter like delicate porcelain. Your bodies moved slowly to the music, swaying together in your little living room, hoping this moment would never end. There wasn’t much to it but you couldn’t honestly think of a more blissful start to your day. You both shuffled together, dancing slowly like you had on your wedding day (at least for your first dance anyway). The feeling of the carpet under your feet and the smell of the burning wood kept you both grounded – this was your home, the home you shared together and most likely the home you would raise your children in some day. Your body was tired and your mind was foggy but just from the sense of safety being warm and comfortable in your husband’s strong arms brought.

“Love you Buck.” You smiled, looking up at him after the song ended.

“Love you too y/n. More than you’ll ever know.” Came his hushed reply and then a little yawn.

“Will we go back to bed for an hour or two?” You suggested, running a hand up his flesh arm soothingly and he nodded, only realising just how tired he was after not sleeping most of the night. The fire had all but died, the embers glowing faintly on the hearth. He turned the music off and let you lead him back to your shared bedroom, flopping onto the bed and wrapping his arms around you.

“You’ve no idea what that iPod means to me doll. Was like being back in the forties but this time, I had my best girl there with me.” Your head lay on his chest and he cradled your face with his metal hand.

“Glad you like it baby, happy early birthday.” You smiled, drawing little shapes on his chest with your fingertips.

Bucky’s heart was so full, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. Sure he missed Rebecca and his parents but everything he needed in the world was lying there in bed with him, cuddled up against his chest. Some day he hoped you two would have your own little family when you were both ready and he would love and cherish them as much as he did you but until then, you were all the family he needed.

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damnedparker · 2 years

Text

transatlanticism

pairing: tasm (andrew garfield) peter parker x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: heavy grief talk. sad peter. sad reader. lots of talk about gwen. post tasm2, you're in college. major hurt/comfort for the both of you. fluff but in a sad way? lol. you, peter, and gwen were all close in high school. peter and gwen still dated. you and peter are dating.

summary: the first anniversary of gwen's death has arrived with a cold wind and a blanket of grief for both you and peter. but you have each other for warmth.

i couldn't seem to fall asleep so this came out of that. it's 5am, i did proofread and slightly edit this but otherwise it's pretty raw. my heart hurts and i need to give peter so many hugs.

named after this song. if you wanna listen while you read. i basically wrote this while having it on repeat.

As soon as you woke up and rolled over to find Peter staring blankly at the ceiling, you knew something was wrong. It only came to your sleepy brain once you went to check the time, and your eyes glanced at the date.

It had officially been a year since Gwen had died.

Leading up to the date, Peter had been having more and more off days, so you knew today would be really hard for him. It would be hard for you, too. The three of you had been inseparable in high school, even with Peter and Gwen dating, they never made you the third wheel. And you never felt that way. Maybe Peter got a little too touchy with her when you hung out, but Gwen was always quick to put him in his place.

God, you missed her.

"How long have you been awake, baby?" You spoke softly, not wanting to be too loud. As if it would disrupt the quiet, or break the fragile tension that seemed to hang in the air at the unspoken anniversary the two of you were painfully aware of.

"Couple hours. Couldn't get back to sleep." He never took his eyes off the ceiling, letting out a sigh through his nose. You nodded. After a few moments, you gently, carefully pressed your hand into his where it was lying face up next to his head on the pillow. He didn't pull away, just gave your palm a firm squeeze. To say I know and I'm glad you're here at the same time.

Another few minutes passed as you just watched Peter get lost in his thoughts, the only sign he was still aware of you and his surroundings being his thumb. It was rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand, every so often dragging rhythmically up and down the side of your hand instead.

"You hungry, bub?" You whispered. Peter seemed to consider his feelings for a moment, clearly lost thinking about other things.

"A little," he paused, finally turning his head to look at you. His warm brown eyes, usually crinkled with a sleepy grin in the mornings, were instead still soft, but swam with emotion. It hurt your heart. "Pancakes?"

"Sure," you gave him a weak smile, half-assed but only what you were able to manage in the heavy air. He returned a similar expression. Another squeeze to your hand. You pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before slipping out of the covers to get up. The laminate was cold under your feet, sending a chill up your spine and matching the one that had settled over your heart. You pushed it to the side and made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Wash your face. Wake yourself up a bit.

Routine was supposed to be comforting, right?

Eventually, you arrived in the kitchen and threw together some pancake batter, having memorized how to by now with how Peter seemed to be obsessed with your pancakes. You were thankful that learning to cook was working out, since otherwise the two of you would be drowning in ramen and takeout. Well, more than you already were as two nineteen year old college students living on their own.

As you were locked in a staring contest with the skillet on your tiny little stove, you nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter pressed himself against you from behind, his arms coming to hold you tightly. He left a kiss on your shoulder before mumbling into the fabric of his old t-shirt you had claimed as pajamas months ago.

"Smells good, baby," he took a deep breath, steeling himself in your presence. Something to ground him. Keep him moving forward. "Can I help?"

Breakfast got made in relative silence, the clinking of utensils and sizzling of bacon the soundtrack to the task at hand. You were just glad Peter was up and around. The last time it was this heavy was the first month after her death. He hardly left his bed, and if he wasn't there, he was clinging to you, holding on to your very presence to remind him to keep moving. You both shared your grief, finding comfort and solace in each other than eventually bonded your friendship even closer than before. And a few intense moments later, you supposed you were dating. There was no "will you go out with me?" or any formal question, it just kind of happened. Suddenly, kissing goodbye was normal. Holding hands. Not being able to sleep without the other.

It didn't come without guilt. From both of you. But talk after talk, you both knew in your hearts that it was what you needed. Gwen was special, always would be, especially for Peter. She had a hold on his heart that would never go away, but there was more than enough room for you. He knew his heart would always be held in both of your hands, but he knew it would be safe. No matter how much hurt seeped into it whenever he thought about Gwen. You were always there. And you understood.

The two of you decided to eat on your small balcony, overlooking New York as it woke up for the day. Peter rested his head on your shoulder, a position you would never believe was comfortable considering his height, spending more time poking at his eggs than eating them. It took forty minutes for him to finish his plate, when it usually took about five to scarf down the food. But you didn't mind. Never would. You were glad you got to come to terms with waking up for one of the worst days of the year with him. Just his weight against you settled the pain in your heart to a dull throb. More present than ever, but bandaged up with the knowledge that it would get easier.

As Peter rinsed off the dishes to place in the sink to wash later, you leaned against the counter, watching his hands as he worked. The two of you had the day off, no responsibilities to take care of, so you were trying to figure out what to do so you wouldn't just spend the day sad in bed.

By the time he was finished, you were so caught up in planning you didn't hear the water shut off, or notice Peter wiping his hands dry on a towel. You only noticed when he pressed close to you again, kissing the side of your head. You let his arms come to wrap around you, reaching up to hold the arm of his around your front.

"I need to shower," he seemed to say absent-mindedly, until he directed his next words at you. "Will you...?"

"Of course, Pete." You knew what he meant without saying it. He didn't want to separate from you, even for a moment. Alone with his thoughts, especially today, was a dangerous game he didn't want to play. And part of him felt protective over you, when the ghost of his past failures felt like it was breathing down his neck.

The shower was filled with gentle touches and soft music. Something slow, quiet, and comforting to match the care each of you took to help wash the other's hair, your bodies. Peter began to press kisses across the planes of your skin, chaste, but still loving as ever. Until he got a little too close for comfort with a still soapy part of your shoulder, which left him spitting and scowling. The first laugh, in a day that felt so void of such joy, escaped your lips before you could stifle it. Peter's eyes softened back into that warm, content glow at the sound. Even with the bitter taste of soap lingering in his mouth, he couldn't help but grin. A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest, one you could feel from the hand still pressed against it. He chased after your laughter with a kiss, one that made you pull away too soon for his liking, although the giggle that tinkled out of you sent a comforting warmth down to his toes.

"You still taste like soap."

He just grinned and left a wet kiss on your cheek instead.

After your shower, the blanket of grief having been lifted just a bit to give you some air, Peter asked you to go with him to visit Gwen. You agreed, of course. Peter had never gone with you to her grave; the two of you had always visited separately. You knew it was something deeply personal for him, as it was for you, and you had never pushed that boundary because there was no reason to. But this step he was taking made you proud of him, and made yourself feel secure, knowing he trusted you this much to let you in. And you felt immense relief, knowing you wouldn't have to go alone. Visiting alone always left you in tears that seemed to not be able to subside for days. And you're not sure you could get past that on your own anymore. Especially today.

It was cold outside. Overcast. Not freezing, but enough to make your bones ache a little and your body shiver if the breeze hit you right. The cemetery was a bit of a walk from your apartment, sure, but Peter's hand in yours helped make it worth it. He made simple conversation as you went along, every so often swinging your hands just so between the two of you. A habit that not even a somber mood could break. It was comforting.

His soft chocolate curls shifted in the light wind as you waited for the crosswalk together, and you couldn't help but stare. That worried crease between his eyebrows was still prevalent, had been ever since this morning.

"You're staring." He interrupted your train of thought.

"You okay, bug?"

"...Not really." A squeeze to your palm. The crosswalk light changed and the two of you moved along with the handful of other people going the same direction. Peter was quiet for a moment before returning the question to you. "How are you doing?" You just gave him a weak smile in lieu of a reply. He understood immediately, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The two of you reached Gwen's resting place with no troubles, having been there so many times before. You gently placed the flowers you'd brought, ones Peter helped pick out, in front of the stone. Peter pulled you into his side, arm grasping onto your waist under your jacket snugly. You just rested your head against his chest as you both stood there, letting yourself finally remember and grieve. It was as if a brick smashed through the wall you'd been meagerly holding up all day, tears spilling from your eyes and over your cheeks without pause. It wasn't a sob, or a loud cry even, just silence until you took in a heaving breath that Peter took as confirmation you had let go. He had, too, nearly the same time as you, the memories and image of Gwen in his arms, no longer bright and eager and full of quips to give him at any notice. He took a deep breath as the tears rolled down his own face, fully pulling you into an embrace that you both needed. He rested his chin on the top of your head as you both just cried. No words, just sniffles and the rustle of fabric underneath his fingers in an impossible attempt to pull you so much closer. The way he needed.

"I miss her so much, Pete." Your voice came out cracked, broken, and watery. Any words of comfort died in his throat.

"I know," was all that came out. Hoarse. "I do, too." He murmured, burying his nose in your hair. He hugged you even tighter, anything to press you as close as possible to him. Peter didn't know what else to say. Especially not when you looked up at him with such teary eyes, chest heaving, trying to even out your breaths. He hated this. Hated knowing you felt the same pain that lingered in his chest on bad days, and even crept up sometimes on good ones. It was something no one deserved to feel, especially not you. Not you when all you did was try and heal him. Give your heart and bare your soul without any doubt, because you trusted him. He felt the same with you, but he wished he could fix this. He was never any good at helping situations that can't be fixed with webs, spidey sense, math, geometry; not even a hug. It sent him into despair.

You sensed yourself that he was tumbling down that rabbit hole again, and you reached right down to catch him with your hands still at his neck, still in his hair, and your eyes holding his in a desperate, loving gaze. Peter somehow found the ability to form words now, crawl up and out of that hole, although he couldn't help feeling that they were useless.

"Are we ever going to be okay?" His voice barely reached above a whisper, matching the light breeze as it drifted across the graveyard. Shifting the trees, blowing the petals of the flowers so tenderly placed at the grave next to you.

"Mostly," was all you could muster. It was the truth. Grief lightened, it slowly drifted away, but never fully released its claws from your heart. You both knew that. Even just a year let you feel that.

Peter shut his eyes, pushing his forehead against yours in an attempt to be as close as possible. He shielded you from the cold, hands warm underneath your jacket as he clutched you near.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #ag!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker angst #my fics #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x you

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illumilu · 3 years

Text

there’s only one bed” - illumi zoldyck x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe makes the world go round. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this way too long again, but who cares?? this time it’s with illumi! aka loml ...

summary: after a lengthy car trip, you arrive at the hotel with illumi, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. including: you dreaming abt him when he’s literally right in front of you (embarrassing). this is part two of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka is already written and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! only on your part though, since illumi is basically awkwardness personified... no nsfw <3

illumi zoldyck:

- the trip to the hotel had taken 6 hours. 6 hours in which you had fallen asleep multiple times, cramped your legs, somehow made every sleeping position dangerously uncomfortable, cracked your neck and twisted your back, possibly to the point of no return.

- for mr zoldyck, or rather, “illumi”, as he had instructed you to call him, the trip was no problem. his upbringing, which consisted of mainly torture, included staying awake for as long as a fortnight at a time. 6 hours may as well have been a few minutes.

- “the silent son of the zoldycks” was his reputational nickname, or, rather, “lifeless koi fish”, as your friend, hisoka, enjoyed calling him. either way, illumi was not going to let a car ride tire him.

- when you had first met him, he had scared you. a lot. the entire “trained dangerous traumatised assassin” storyline was one that felt like a threat. you were undoubtedly taking a risk by working with him, but it was one you were willing to; it may have been twisted, but murder was your forte, and you were searching for a partner.

- over time, you had grown to be less intimidated by him.

- you were now colleagues with him, working on a new assassination.

- shockingly, planning murder took time, and who better to plan it with than the assassin himself? you had spent the past day on a “business trip”, paid for by illumi’s grandfather, where you sized up the area and familiarised yourself with yorknew.

- all for the big night.

- tonight was the day before the murder of the ten dons.

- illumi and kalluto would carry out the murder, while you made sure everything went smoothly, via a small mic attached to his clothes. the entire operation was based on trust, and would therefore be executed like clockwork.

- you had taken the necessary mental images and kept the targets in mind; all that was left was a night at a pre-booked hotel and then it would be go-time.

- you had assumed that the hotel would be high-class, with doormen, perhaps some marble flooring and pillars - it was the zoldycks who were paying, after all, and you knew they had money to spare.

- “we’re here.” illumi stated blankly, face reflecting in the window. admittedly, he did look a little bit like a koi fish.

- you nudged past him to look out of the window, leaning over to get a good view.

- oh.

- it seemed you had made quite the overestimation. it was a simple, plain building with a few stories. no doormen or extravagance could be sighted.

- you supposed keeping a low profile was important, but the depressing accommodation was somehow making you wearier.

- the two of you didn’t exchange any conversation on the way up to your room, but you were used to that.

- you and illumi had met around 5 months ago, and most of it had been comfortable silence. you hadn’t expected it to be like that - in all honesty, you had expected him to kill you - but illumi seemed... calm around you.

- it was probably because you shared such an odd passion with him; the logistics of murder. you assumed it gave him a chance to loosen his harsh demeanour and enjoy himself. the both of you had worked on multiple murders together, focusing on theory and planning, but this was a huge assassination. nevertheless, you knew he could pull it off; illumi was smart, you had to give him that.

- finally, you arrived at your hotel room, sighing from the lengthy stairway winding up to your unnecessarily high room. you assumed it was for safety purposes, but for god’s sake; why did safety have to be so enervating?

- illumi pushed the door open, and you walked in with him. finally, you could catch some rest.

- except, you couldn’t.

- a singular bed placed in the middle of the room.

- “why.” you thought to yourself tiredly.

- you stood there silently, waiting for him to say something.

- then, you remembered that he was illumi. he obviously wouldn’t see anything wrong with the situation.

- the bastard.

- it didn’t help that he gave you no visible reaction when you stared at him with your face scrunched up expectantly, as if to ask what his plan was.

- “is there a problem, y/n?” illumi asked, his tone flat as usual.

- you took a deep, worn out breath, clearing your throat.

- after a bit, you shook your head. this was strictly professional. illumi wouldn’t do anything, because he was illumi. nothing would happen.this was an important night, where rest and a clear mind were essential. blame it on the fatigue, and nothing else. you were just exhausted. there was nothing else to it. nothing.

- “no. i’m just a little tired.” you dismissed.

- a silence skimmed past.

- “my grandfather... he often tends to be absentminded. occasionally, he forgets to do certain things, or plan them correctly, i suppose. you could say this is a prime example of such.”

- “zeno forgot another goddamn bed, hm?” you laughed nervously.

- illumi stared at you once again, blinking a few times, in a methodical manner, face neutral and robotic. you smiled awkwardly and remembered that he was not one to laugh at jokes. or anything, for that matter.

- you wondered if he laughed at bloodshed. or maybe hisoka.

- “i’m going to... go to set up my stuff now.”

- turning your back to illumi, you winced at the uncomfortable air. even after all your time with him, you never learnt to stop trying to lighten the mood. the mood was literally just always unnatural, in some way. that was another one of illumi’s specialties.

- after some time, in which you had finalized tomorrow's plan and each changed into comfortable clothes, you watched illumi tie his hair up from across the room.

- his hair had always fascinated you.

- you had always wanted to touch it. honestly, even when you had first met him, apart from his magnetic eyes, you had been drawn to his hair. you imagined it felt like silk sheets, caressing over one’s hands as smoothly as honey. you were glad he grew it out; in fact, upon seeing his teenage photos, you had laughed so hard you ended up getting a nosebleed from hitting your face. illumi had been left in confusion for a while.

- you realized how random you sounded. why were you reminiscing so much?

- shaking yourself back to your senses, you admired as he artfully twisted his hair into a loose bun, strands of hair cupping his elegant, pale face.

- what a beautiful koi fish.

- most people couldn’t compute that illumi had true, human feelings. after all, it would be hard to believe a man like him felt anything. but, of course, he did, unhealthily so. he channeled all his trauma and hurt into his villainy, and received happiness from his villainy, anger from his villainy and occasionally fear from his villainy. however, there was one emotion he could never grasp. he hated himself for it, but soon realised he could manipulate his hatred into villainy, too.

- illumi was a man who could manipulate anyone or anything he wished.

- except himself.

- internally, he had always felt at a loss whenever he confronted his emotions. but, after he had met you, something had changed. as he caught you staring at his hair through the hotel mirror, he couldn’t help but feel something small stir inside of his stomach. not evil, not happiness, not hatred, not anger. perhaps, friendship?

- this tinge of new emotion inside of him initially made him feel uneasy, but that worry morphed into giddiness, a childish high buzzing somewhere in his core.

- eventually, he stood up to face you and suggested going to sleep. you checked the time on the wall clock. 8 in the evening. well, illumi had always been particular. you agreed that rest was essential for tomorrow.

- you hesitantly took the left side, and, upon seeing your choice, illumi followed to lie on the right.

- after a few minutes, you looked back at him, noticing illumi fell asleep abnormally quickly. you furrowed your brow quizzically at the rock-like manner he was in. frankly, he looked like a plank when he slept. you almost laughed, but held it in for his sake.

- he had a very specific sleep schedule, as did the other zoldycks. he could go to sleep immediately at his own command, and stayed perfectly still as he did so. he woke up at 5 in the morning every single day, without fail, almost like he had some sort of alarm clock planted in his body.

- looking at him lying there like a block, you smiled softly. illumi was quite the conundrum to you. you often speculated whether he ever got what he deserved; love, affection, anything really. you knew about his past from when he had told you nonchalantly, within a few weeks of your acquaintance. you always hoped he’d find someone to love him, but doubted whether people would bother looking beyond his bleak surface, and into his excellent mind. lost in thought, you found yourself getting drowsier. you also fell asleep generally quickly, limbs aching from the stupid car ride.

- the night passed.

- illumi was the first to wake up at 5am, stoic and in the same place he had fallen asleep in. no surprise there.

- but you.

- that was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened.

- he did not expect you to be lying on him lazily, snuggling into his body, arm and leg comfortably wrapped around his side. you were breathing lightly, face burrowing onto the ridge of his chest.

- i suppose you didn’t expect to be there either, which he realized, but the point still remained.

- why were on you his chest.

- “y/n.”

- no answer.

- illumi could have pushed you away; in fact, he could have blown you 983 metres away (his personal record).

- but he didn’t.

- it wasn’t the thought of disturbing your comfort that stopped illumi from hurling you into oblivion. it wasn’t the fact that he explicitly enjoyed it, either. he remembered that the mission was today; if he were to wake you, and you hadn’t slept enough, you wouldn’t be at your upmost performance.

- the murder of the ten dons was his priority, right? yes. it was. there was no doubt about it. that was the only and final reason he wouldn’t wake you. end of discussion.

- so, illumi stayed there, waiting for you to wake up and get off of him. 30 minutes passed, and he watched you for every single one.

- hard as it was to admit, watching you rise and fall in sync with his chest made the spark of emotion in his core grow fervently. what had that foreign feeling been? yesterday, he had settled at friendship, but now he wasn’t so sure.

- you looked so peaceful while you slept. less confusing. he remembered the time you had accidentally complimented his hair when the two of you had first met. he had found that amusing. he remembered the time you got a nosebleed from hitting your face too hard - it was after laughing at his teenage pictures, which perplexed him greatly. he remembered the times you two had sat together, working and theorizing on missions, accidentally meeting eyes or brushing hands. one time, you had dipped one of his pins in ink and scratched his name on some paper “for fun”. you had handed it to him and, for some unknown reason, the scrap was still tucked safely in his wallet. your unrivaled intelligence, your idiotic sense of humour, your smile, your lack of common sense, your twinkling eyes that so ironically contrasted his, everything. everything crossed his mind while he lay there.

- illumi found it strange how people remembered the oddest things at the oddest times.

- why did he think of that now, as you were sleeping? even worse, on the day of a meticulously planned assassination. why couldn’t he manipulate his emotions to stop fluctuating around you so much?

- it all frustrated him.

- why had he let you call him by “illumi” so quickly? mr zoldyck would have been fine. and why had he been so lenient with your antics? no one else got to touch his pins. why did he feel like keeping you on his chest forever, and keeping you safe? most importantly, why was he thinking about you so much?

- his contemplation came to a halt when he heard you stir a little in your sleep.

- finally, you’d wake up and he could forget about this entire problem.

- he watched you, expecting you to get up soon.

- you began shuffling around, brushing against his chest, and soon your eyes fluttered open, hazy and glazed over. it almost seemed like you were still in a dream, in some sort of half-sleep.

- “huh?” you whispered quietly, still lying on illumi. you looked up lazily, meeting eyes with him.

- “oh... i get it...” you hummed quietly, falling back onto his chest.

- he furrowed his brows.

- “why are you here?” you hugged him from the side, softly laughing at your ridiculous dream. he tensed up at you embracing him, but soon relaxed after realizing what was going on.

- illumi looked at you, one eyebrow raised. did you... think you were dreaming?

- to be honest, he found it kind of entertaining, the way you were fawning over him. if he let you stay there, he could figure out a lot of things about his newly found emotion. it could be worth it. just not today.

- illumi came back to his senses fairly quickly; you were obviously awake now, so why couldn’t you get off of him already?

- “y/n.”

- “mmm? what? so serious all the damn timeee, illum-”

- “you aren’t dreaming. get off.”

- SHIT

- SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

- you jolted off him immediately, staring down at illumi zoldyck.

- the real illumi zoldyck.

- oh my god what. what. what. what.

- every nerve in your body began to panic, and, in the stress of trying to find the correct words to say, you just ended up making some sort of incomputable “aaaahhh” noise and jumping off the bed.

- illumi had finally gotten up and was now staring concernedly at you.

- an awkward pause.

- “let me just start by saying i did not-”

- “y/n. we have more pressing priorities for today. i don’t care.”

- illumi zoldyck had lied. even to himself. he did care. and so what if he ignored it until it festered so intensely inside of him he couldn’t do anything but tell you? he cared about you. and he knew it.

- “ok. you’re right. you’re right! illumi. one question. was i like that the whole night?”

- “i don’t know. i woke up at 5 and you were there.”

- you looked at the clock. it was 6am? what had he been doing for an hour? you opened your mouth to ask but closed it soon after. you recalled your thoughts about illumi growing up void of affection, or love, or appreciation.

- some questions were best left unanswered.

- “how long was i... mumbling like that?”

- “a few minutes.”

- you gulped. there were a few things you had to come to terms with. shutting your eyes firmly, you apologised profusely, annoyed at yourself.

- “y/n. i don’t care.” he lied once again.

- “you’re right!” you rambled - “the ten dons are today! it doesn’t matter what i said... none of it matters, we can both just forget it!”

- you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone.

- “so all we need to do is go over the plan one last time, get kalluto, and then we’ll carry it out, and soon enou-”

- “stop it. you’re wasting time. just go and get ready.”

- you sighed and smiled weakly. on the inside, you were sure your soul had died a little.

- while you left to change, overcome by embarrassment, illumi lingered by the bed for a few seconds. he tried to push down whatever he was currently feeling, but it was no use. the feeling in his core had risen up to his throat, a burst of something waiting to leave his lips.

- for the first time in a while, illumi zoldyck smiled. not at murder, or at power, or fulfillment, or achievement, or even villainy.

- illumi zoldyck had smiled at the thought of you.

- let’s just say illumi had trouble focusing on his mission.

i am honestly so fucking sorry you had to read that whole thing. the way i am literally in love with illumi zoldyck and ended up writing 2857 words bye bye bye i’m so sorry!!! PLZ what?? anyways,, i feel like i heavily underwrote hisoka now, since i did such a prologue thing for this! honestly i feel like this one came out a little boring, im sorry again AAAAA just agh; chrollo should b coming when i have time but i have exams rn so idkkkk hh

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

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