#with some kind of tragedy in your heart from even before you were taken in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incognit0slut · 1 year

Text

Lock your door

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

All y/n wanted was for her coworker to pay attention to her. Spencer was more than happy to oblige. Based on;

cw: 18+ explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), face sitting

wc: 3,9k (I'm a very descriptive writer you have been warned)

a/n: (reposted because of some error) I’m currently doing an ongoing series but once in a while, I like to write random plots, thus begins another series in which will all be one-shots based on songs i currently enjoy listening to… so yeah, this will be fun.

requests are open if you have a song in mind!

MASTERLIST

“…you better lock your door, and look at me a little more…”

Y/N WASN'T A SENTIMENTAL PERSON, but there was something about the way he looked tonight.

The fluorescent light coming from the hotel room danced across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. His eyes were in deep concentration as they scanned the document in his hand, his brows furrowed every time he came across something he couldn't comprehend.

Her eyes slowly raked down toward his Adam's apples, moving further across his chest, before they glided along the length of his arm. She couldn't help but notice the mesmerizing way his long fingers trailed along the words underneath his palm.

She always knew Spencer had nice, well-kept hands, but as she continued to observe them, she noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised her, as well as the length of his fingers. But it was the veins running through the backs of his hands that really made her dry at the mouth, especially when the sleeves of his button-down shirt were folded above his wrists, showing off firm arms that didn't leave much to her imagination.

How long had she been staring at him? Gawking at him? It was hard to keep her eyes off of him when it was all she had been doing ever since she was introduced to the awkward twenty-four-year-old nerd that he was twelve years ago.

Twelve fucking years.

There should be some kind of reward for pining over your best friend for more than a decade. Y/n should be growing out of this yearning a long time ago yet somehow the more they worked together, the more it became hard for her to act as if every time his fingers innocently touched her skin there wasn’t this immense desire taking over her body, leaving her in a state of being completely swept away by the intensity of it.

Granted, Y/n knew she wasn't the only one attached to this infatuation. Words were never exchanged, although observing and analyzing people's behavior for a job helped her notice the exact same desire reflected in his eyes. She could tell in the way he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated every time he focused on her mouth.

But things between her and Spencer had always been complicated. Her early interest came unnoticed when the person he preferred to ask on a date was another one of their colleagues, and when he grew out of that brief crush and had the courage to finally ask her out, she was already in a relationship.

When that relationship ended begrudgingly and she needed a shoulder to cry on, Spencer's heart was already taken for a mysterious girl he guarded to himself. But that love affair only became a heartbreaking tragedy as it ended before it even began.

It was ever since then that Y/n made a mental note to never indulge her feelings toward one of the closest people in her life. She deemed it inappropriate after everything he'd been through, especially when he made it clear that getting involved with the opposite sex was the very last thing on his mind.

Until something shifted a few days ago.

She wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was the traveling into yet another foreign part of the country that made everything seem different, or maybe it was being in close proximity for more than forty-eight hours that had her watching him so earnestly.

But whatever it was, the sudden shift had her looking at the adorable young man he once was into this attractive, irresistible man she viewed as more than a mere friend. A man whose eyes glazed over her mouth this morning yet managed to be oblivious to how she was the one gawking at him now.

Maybe it was time to end their flirtatious dance. Maybe it was time to stop skirting along the what-ifs flowing in her mind. Y/n glanced at the man in front of her, watching the way his back hunched over the table as he buried himself further into deep concentration.

“Spence."

He hummed a soft response, his eyes still trailing the words printed on the document.

"Spencer."

He slightly tilted his head, an indication he was listening but kept himself busy as he continued his reading.

"Dr. Reid."

There was a certain cadence in her voice that sounded oddly pleasing. Spencer reacted to the low timbre of her voice with a glance, his eyes skimming along her leg which rested on top of the other, a glimpse of soft skin teasing his senses as the material of her dress lay softly against her thighs. His eyes snapped back to her face, noticing the lopsided smirk on her lips.

"What is it?"

"Aren't you going to take a break?" Her eyes shot toward the document in his hand. "You've been reading nonstop ever since I got here."

The latter statement was the one that caught his attention. "What's the reason you're here again?"

Y/n wondered whether explaining how she wanted to run her hands through his disheveled hair while he buried his face along her neck would be deemed appropriate. But she had too much pride to admit that. Instead, she uncrossed her legs with a satisfied glint in her eyes as she caught him staring.

She might not want to convey her attraction through words, but carrying out the art of seduction was a very different matter. Temptation had this alluring appeal that drew people in, a certain type of feeling that could often lead a person to do things they usually wouldn't do. And it was what she had in mind as she leaned over the table, the collar of her dress gracefully dropping with her movement, publicly displaying her cleavage.

"I thought you might need company," she simply said. "But I've been sitting here for almost an hour and you haven't engaged me in a conversation."

His eyes flared on the sensual way her breasts were pressed against her clothes before he quickly looked away. "Well, these documents aren't going to read for themselves."

She almost rolled her eyes at his response. "But aren't your eyes tired? Don't you want to take a break?"

He glanced at the stack of papers sitting on his side of the table. "I don't think that would be the wisest thing to do."

"Not even a five-minute break?"

"Especially a five-minute break."

She slumped in her chair as he diverted his attention back to his task, already engrossing himself in another document while ignoring the baffled look on her face. Was she looking at this differently? Was she wrong to think that some untold infatuation lingered between them all these years?

Y/n couldn't help but feel disappointed. Disheartened by the lack of attention, she abruptly stood up and moved along the carpet floor of his room. Her sudden movement caught him by surprise. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere that might actually appreciate my presence."

She heard him heave out a sigh as he got up from his seat. "You know you're welcome here."

"Am I though?" She taunted, her hand already on the doorknob as she threw him a look over her shoulder. "You barely glanced at me, Spence."

"I was working. You know I need to find any potential evidence from all these files."

A sense of guilt washed over her as she watched him take a tentative step forward. "I know. I just... all I wanted was for you to look at me." Her guilt-ridden concern was replaced by embarrassment when he didn't respond. She quickly shook her head. "You know what? Never mind."

An immense feeling of shame and embarrassment traveled through her body as she turned around. What else was there to do than to flee from his scrutinizing gaze? Her hand gripped the doorknob before she pulled it, ready to fly out the room when a hand suddenly hovered over the edge of the door, softly pushing it back into place.

The sudden silence unnerved her, picking the pace of her heart when she realized she was very much flushed against his body. She could feel herself trembling as her grip slipped off the doorknob. She watched the way his long fingers glided down the hard surface of the door in intense interest.

His rough hand engulfed the lock on the door and she felt his other hand grasp her hair, slightly moving it away for better access to whatever he had in mind. His tone was quiet but undeniably gruff when he mumbled, “It's not that I don't want to look at you, Y/n.”

This was not how she had expected the night would go. Well, maybe it was what she had hoped for, but now that it was actually happening, she completely froze on the spot. She didn't know what to do, the gears in her head were moving to initiate a proper reaction but immediately came to a halt when his other hand banded around her waist as he pressed himself to her back, murmuring into the slope of her shoulders.

"But a five-minute break is not enough for me…”

His breath was hot on her neck.

“…to do..."

Her head lulled back as he pressed a kiss.

"…the things..."

Her skin shivered as he flicked his tongue.

"…I want to do to you."

She watched as he turned the lock back to its place, the sound a distinct echo in the room.

Everything went completely still. The air charged with an electric sense of excitement and nervousness, the type of charge that lead to anticipation. Spencer could feel the erratic pace of his heart as a surge of arousal rippled through his blood. It was definitely not a feeling he was used to, but it was very powerful and overwhelming in its intensity as he swiftly grabbed her arm.

Y/n let out an inaudible gasp when he turned her around, not because of the way her legs were stumbling by the impulsive contact, but by the sudden grip of his hand on her waist, steadying her momentarily in the midst of her trying to register what was happening.

"Spencer," his name a sigh from her lip. A hot spike raced through her body as if she had been struck by some force. Y/n took a shuddering breath, already knowing she would be helpless against the tingling wave he was building within her.

"What happened to your confidence?" He whispered with a coy smile.

She was growing dizzy, overwhelmed with the feeling of him everywhere, with how clear his intentions had become and how much she welcomed them. "I guess you've rendered me speechless."

And then his large hand cupped her whole face, tilting her up. His fingertips felt electric, for wherever they touched her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. She was mesmerized, captured by the spell he had on her.

There was a warm gust of air over her nose as he breathed out, "Are you sure?" His nose gently brushed against hers. "I'll stop if you tell me to."

Her fluttering eyes shot up at him. "Don't you fucking dare."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as she waited for the moment to come, to explore every inch of his mouth. He finally pressed his parted lips on hers—and true to her imagination, his kiss was divine.

His lips felt soft and her mind went hazy when he started to move them. The push and pull of lips were exhilarating, the lazy mapping of their mouths molding together ascended the desire inside her. She exhaled a moan the moment he nibbled her bottom lip with a gentle brush of his tongue, her body burning with a new sense of need.

He gripped the base of her neck, keeping her locked to his mouth in their exchange of breaths, their tongues grazing, dancing, colliding with one another. And between her breathless moan of pleasure, he was making his own delightful noises, the various groans and growls coming from deep within his chest only made her beg for more.

Spencer slowly pulled away, eyes slamming shut as his forehead met hers, gasping for the much-needed air. "You," he growled under his ragged breath. "Taste better than I imagined."

Her head was spinning. How could he consume her so much? They were practically pressed against each other like hot glue yet she wondered whether there was any possible way to crawl under his skin. It wasn't enough, she craved more. More than his kiss. More than his tongue—she wanted more of him.

Y/n slightly pulled away, her hands skimming along his arms before they grasped onto the bottom hem of her dress, and without warning, she managed to pull the piece of clothing over her head with one swift motion.

Spencer stood there, utterly impressed and furthermore aroused. His eyes raked over her half-naked body with absolute adoration. "I see you've gained your confidence back."

She threw her dress to the floor. "Most of it anyway."

There was nothing more bewitching than her half-naked form, yet he wanted more of her, he needed to have her fully undressed in his arms. Spencer carefully grabbed her hand and guided her further into the room. He slowly dropped himself on the edge of his bed and parted his legs, gently slipping her between them.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his hands gliding along her skin. "Gorgeous, just absolutely gorgeous."

Her hands skimmed along his shoulders before she ran them through his tousled hair as she stood between the firmness of his legs, enjoying the pure admiration in his eyes. There was something mesmerizing in those hazel orbs, tantalizing her self-confidence as her fingers moved over to the front of her bra, unhooking the clasp before it slipped over her shoulders so effortlessly.

When she was finally free from the confinement of her undergarment, Spencer let out a satisfied sigh, because right in front of him were the most perfect breasts he could ever possibly imagine. His hand danced across her skin, feeling her body tremble underneath his palm as he let a thumb graze over her already hard nipple. The moan she let out was unbelievably exotic and there was nothing else he wanted to do than to hear more of it.

So he let his finger trail down her stomach before he grabbed the edges of her underwear and finally, but oh so slowly, pulled them down her smooth legs. Once they were off, he leisurely observed her nudity, his eyes sweeping over her wet flesh, flushed and swollen, the warmth radiating from her core made every part of him swell. He slowly guided a hand up her leg.

"Spencer," she breathed, clutching onto him even tighter. "Please."

His fingers brushed her inner thigh, so close to where she burned but not close enough for her to feel the satisfaction she desired. "Please what?"

She whimpered desperately. "Touch me."

"And where do you want me to touch you?"

"Everywhere."

What was a man to do when he was asked with such urgency? Such fervor? Spencer looked up at her and smiled, placing a gentle kiss between her breast before motioning her toward the bed. "Lay on your back."

She did as she was told and when she was finally on her back with him pressed to her side, Y/n shuddered at the touch of fabric from his clothes. There was something vulnerable about being the only one naked, yet somehow the roughness grazing her skin merely intensified her arousal.

She inhaled a sharp breath as she was met with a pair of hooded eyes looking down at her with undeniable lust. She felt electricity in her body, hormones shutting down her higher brain, and from there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. He leaned forward, a hand unhesitatingly pushing her locks out of the way to expose her slender neck. His rapid breathing sent shivers down her spine, his lips almost brushing her ear as she closed her eyes.

Spencer trailed small kisses along her jawline, down to her throat, and pressed another kiss on the spot below her ear. She let out a satisfied moan as he sucked the spot leisurely, feeling herself shudder at his touch, sending her into another trance of delight.

She writhed at the electrifying touch of his fingertips and the thread of control that seemed to remain in him snapped as he lunged at her, pressing into her mouth. She gasped at the force and like the man he grew to be, he took that opportunity to slip his tongue, tasting every corner of her mouth. Her taste overwhelmed his senses as he devoured her, hands sliding in her hair, tugging at her, twisting and moving her to his liking.

Her scent was filling his nostrils, her delicate fragrance intoxicating his brain, pulling him even deeper into the spell she was casting on him. His smile was wicked against her lips as his hand engulfed her breast, feeling her shiver underneath him, her breath becoming rapid as she felt his thumb stroking her nipple.

Her aroused nub tightened at his touch, screaming, begging for his utmost attention. He gladly obliged her desire, his mouth trailing down her collarbone, letting his tongue brush along the curve of her breast before his lips hovered above her swollen peak, ravishing it into his mouth.

She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips as the sensation shot through her body, a thrill of arousal pooling in the heat of her core. He pulled away for a moment before ravishing her other peak, gently tugging it with his teeth before sinking in her flesh with the heat of his mouth.

"Beautiful," he murmured to no one but himself as his eyes took in the sight of her naked chest. His tongue flickered out teasingly on her hardening nub before he looked straight into her eyes. "You're so beautiful."

Then his finger continued its teasing brush, gliding along her skin as she writhed uncontrollably, waiting for him to touch the place she desired the most. It was torture. Evil, wicked torture as he leisurely took his time into taunting her that she let out a frustrated sigh.

"Spencer..."

He smiled amusedly, feigning innocence. "What?"

Y/n was never one to beg. Her job taught her to stand her ground and to be resilient whenever she had to face any type of obstacle. But right now, as his touch burned her skin in ways she never thought possible, she really didn't care.

"Baby, please..."

The unexpected term of endearment sent a sensational thrill along his body before a satisfied grin stretched across his lips. "Now how can I say no to that?"

This time when his hand slipped lower, she slowly suck in an anticipatory breath through her teeth that she held until his fingers swiped achingly light over her slit. She let out an audible gasp when she felt the pressure of his fingers over her, teasing her ever so slightly as her eyes rolled at the back of her head. He ran his fingers between her folds, making her flinch at the sensitivity and without warning, without mercy, they plunge into her.

A heavy tide of delight hit her, tension snapping inside. Strong waves emanate from her core, ecstasy racing through every inch of her body as his fingers swelled inside her wetness, moving at a rapid yet lazy pace. Her hips bucked against his fingers, following every movement they made as they stretched inside her, building the most sensational feeling throughout her body.

She closed her eyes, ready to simply enjoy the thrilling pleasure he was bringing to her when he suddenly pulled his fingers out and she whimpered at the loss. He dragged his tongue along his lips before lying on his back, pulling her along with me. "Come here."

She followed him, her legs on either of his side when he motioned her to move forward. "No," he hissed. There was a sudden shyness in his demeanor but his eyes reflected an immense amount of determination. "Sit on my face."

She gaped at him.

Never in a million years did she ever imagine those words to come out from his lips. If anyone told her that Spencer Reid, a certified genius with an IQ of 187, would ask her to sit on his face, she would've laughed. Yet here she was, crawling over him as he proved to her how lewd he could actually be.

Y/n felt the heat creeping along her cheeks as she settled on top of him, but his reassuring smile threw away any doubt she had in mind. He softly kissed her inner thigh before she lowered herself. She gripped the bed frame in front of her while his tongue flickered between her slit, and hooked his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her hot flesh like a man starved.

Oh, fuck.

She must have said that out loud as she felt the vibration of his laughter on her skin. She faintly looked down at him and found his eyes boring into hers, watching her intently as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hungrily. The view was making her dizzy. The way his eyes bore into her own as his tongue wrapped around her wetness made her grind her hips, seeking more of the fraction.

He gave a long, languorous stroke with the flat of his tongue and sucked her into his mouth, tugging ever so slightly she could feel the pull in her throbbing clit. Then he spread his mouth wide over that sensitive nub and sucked even harder, a sudden stabbing sensation making her cry in pleasure. Her whimpers and moans grew louder as the coil in her stomach tightened, his tongue moving faster while he felt her clenching around his mouth.

Y/n could hear how wet she was as he worked her sex relentlessly. The cadence of his tongue was making her delirious. The warm, delicious tingle radiating from his touch was flooding over her that she knew she was approaching the end. His growl rumbled against her wetness as she spasmed, her face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up her folds, his tongue sliding into her and pressing on the walls.

And then she shattered—breathlessly, tiredly, heavenly. Her toes curled as she screamed out his name, releasing her grip on the bed frame before burying them in his tousled hair; pulling, grabbing, then throwing herself back as the intensity of the feeling rushed in her blood. She let out a sob as he eased her through her orgasm, rubbing her thighs while they shook around his head.

Her mind went completely blank a few minutes later. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak. She merely notice her body shaking with satisfaction as he carefully helped her down, settling her naked body on top of his. The gentle sound of his breathing filled her ears as she felt soothing hands running over her.

They stayed like that, drenched in her sweat with her head on his chest and her legs draped over him. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence. "You're amazing."

She finally had the will to lift her head up and laughed. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

The indicated compliment made him smile. Silence engulfed them and at that moment it seemed as if there were a lot of things to be said, but somehow neither wanted to initiate the conversation. He pulled her closer and she leaned in his embrace—then his phone rang suddenly before she could even relax.

She groaned. "How much do you want to bet that that's Garcia?"

"Or Hotch." Spencer's hand glided down her back. "We should probably see what they want."

"We should."

But they didn't move and his phone suddenly stopped its chime. Their peace was once again interrupted by another call that came from her phone this time. Y/n let out a sigh. "We should really go."

He nodded, but before she peeled herself off, her eyes cautiously narrowed on him. She could practically feel the blood and adrenaline pumping and coursing through her vein as a rush of hesitation enveloped her. "Can we... finish this later?"

But then her heart brimmed with affection at how his smile lit up, a wide, radiant grin that pierced her skin and traveled straight to her soul. And there he was, underneath the mature lines swept across his handsome face was the adorable man her heart had always ached for.

"Oh, absolutely," he spoke, his fingers trailing over her naked flesh. "We'll definitely finish this later."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction #spotify

2K notes · View notes

millie-multifics · 3 months

Text

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 2

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Gory descriptions of injuries, angst, plane crash, cheesy behaviour.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Masterlist Part 1 Part 3

x x x

Pain and heat was all you could feel. The plane had nose dived into the dirt, its impact sending chunks of metal and glass through the air in a fireball explosion. The seat you had braced your body against was torn to shreds and regretfully the planes two pilots had perished in the destruction.

But you were thrown from the wreckage upon impact, soaring through the sky like a damn eagle, body harshly landing in the dirt with debris falling down around you. Your head hurt, blood pouring from your hair as your brain beat against your fractured skull. Lacerations, broken bones, bruises and burns adorned your body like a twisted form of art. You were sure you would be screaming if you could, the pain throughout your body being too much to bear but it was stuck in your throat, only a few tears escaping as you willed yourself to move even just a finger.

You were alive, unsure of how long that would remain with the injuries you had sustained in the middle of enemy territory.

Curt was dead, and Dickie.

Before events had taken a turn for the worst for your crew, you had seen other planes exploding in the sky, some falling from the air trailing fire and smoke.

You hoped the rest made it to their destination, you hoped Gale and your John weren’t suffering your same fate.

Picturing his face brought you a semblance of peace. Your pain fading as your skin tingled, feeling the rough finger tips of your Johns hands running over your skin to soothe your aches and worries. For a moment you cursed the forces that had brought you together only recently, an unlikely pair but very likely all together; the quiet girl who had learned all of her lessons the hard way falls in love with the rambunctious, handsome Major who refuses to settle down. Any thought of settling down with John would just be a fairytale now, one that only the stars would know. Your heart aches and for a moment you are unsure if it’s caused by your injuries or the thought of him receiving the news of this tragedy, losing his friends and his love in one foul swoop would undoubtedly break that good mans heart.

Your flight to England had been more eventful than it was meant to be, the plane carrying you and a few other nurses had to make an unexpected stop in Greenland after engine troubles

The pub you had found yourself in was mostly empty, a few soldiers sat at the bar and the ladies you were travelling with were sitting on one of the sofas while you sat at a table in the corner. It wasn’t that you hated social interaction, listening to the ladies chat excitedly about traveling to England and all the handsome soldiers they could potentially meet was all they ever talked about and you had already received your harsh dose of the realities of war. Going to England only meant you were one step closer to brutality and destruction.

You glanced as the door opened, expecting the pilot of your plane but finding a small flock of soldiers- judging by their lamb skin coats they were pilots of some kind.

As the last one entered, he shut the door behind him, softly nudging the sticky bottom hinge with his heavy boot before he turned to take in the cozy pub. As his eyes scanned the room they stopped on yours, holding eye contact with his deep grey ones for as long as you let him before you glanced down toward the knife etching on the worn wood of the table top. Slowly, you lifted your head to observe the man as he approached the bartender. The small smile he wore, teasing, nearly considered a smirk seemed so natural on him. Upon removing his hat to reveal his dark hair, a few strands fell down his forehead with a curl. There was no denying that he was pretty, and you were sure he was a charmer which meant you would stay as far away from the man as possible until your pilot returned with news that the plane was fixed and ready to complete the rest of the journey.

“May I offer you another drink?” The new voice had startled you. You had been sitting in the corner for so long in your own little reverie, tracing the markings on the table that you hadn’t noticed the man approach. It was the handsome man from before, standing in front of you with two large glasses of beer and a reassuring smile.

“I’ll have to pass on the drink,” You mentally cursed yourself for this, he was handsome and you would like to talk to the man but nothing good would come from it. “I’m expecting to be back in the air any moment.”

“I’ll assume that it was your plane on the field with half an engine in pieces? I hate to break it to you sweetheart but you are going to be stuck here for quite a while longer.”

Sweetheart. You had always disliked pet names, many of them sounding sleazy coming from intoxicated soldiers but there was something about the Major that didn’t make your skin crawl when the endearing term left his lips. You had taken note of the rank and medals pinned on his jacket as he stood in front of you.

“Of course you don’t have to accept the beer but please allow me to keep a beautiful woman such as yourself a little bit of company.”

The Major had sat for hours at your table, finishing both beers himself and bringing you a tonic when he snuck off to the bar for another drink. He had been sharing stories of his time in training, seeming to cause some sort of trouble every step of the way and when your sweet laughter was thwarted by the appearance of the pilot reporting the plane would very soon be ready to go, John felt the overwhelming need to see your bright smile one last time.

“Stay for one more song?” He had asked, his eyes shining from the pub lights and his intoxication. “You haven’t heard me sing yet.”

“You can sing?” You questioned sceptically, backing up in your chair as the man quite suddenly climbed onto the small table top. You heard him request a song from one of the other men, avoiding the unappreciative stare of the bar owner while he waited for the song to play.

“We’ll meet again,

Don’t know where,

Don’t know when,

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

His rendition of the Vera Lynn song was very much more loud and boisterous, using his volume and enthusiasm to drown out her voice from the jukebox. You grinned up at him as he jumped off the table, reaching toward the Narwhal Tusk displayed on the wall. The soldiers sung along with him as he used the tusk as a microphone, tossing it from one hand to the other when the bar owner tried to reclaim it. You watched from your seat as he hopped up onto one of the sofas, skipping along the cushions before he leaped onto the next to evade his pursuer.

“So will you please say Hello, To the folks that I know. Tell them I wont be long, They’ll be happy to know, That you saw me go, I was singing this song.”

The soldiers lifted the Major above their heads until his boots landed on the nicely polished bar top. Many of the men had drank their weight in liquor in the past few hours and were enjoying the performance just as much as the Major was performing it.

“We’ll meet again, Don’t know where, Don’t know when, But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

John finished his performance with the Narwal tusk held to the top of his head as if he were a unicorn to mock the bars owner who had yet to catch him in the small, crowded space. He smiled at you, so big, bright and proud, making it was impossible to hold back your laughter at the downright silly behaviour the handsome man had displayed for you.

“Alright you’ve had your fun. Give me that!” The bartender pulled the tusk from Johns grip, sending him a stern look as he warned him to remove himself from the pub before he filed a formal complaint against the officer. John followed the angry bar owners orders, sending you a wink while he grabbed his hat and flight jacket from the hook beside the door as left the pub.

You found him waiting outside, leaning against the wall, hoping he would catch you on your way out.

“That was quite the performance, Major.” You complimented.

He grinned, flicking up the brim of his hat to better inspect your features, now that you were outside in better lighting. Still undeniably beautiful. “It wasn’t too much?”

“I mean it was a little over the top. Was breaking that poor mans prized Narwhal tusk necessary?”

“Narwhal Tusk? I thought that was a unicorn horn.” He joked, extending his arm for you to take. “Why don’t I walk you back to your plane?”

“I think I’d like that Major Egan.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

“How many of us made it?”

“Eleven out of twenty one?

“What about Clayton? Any chutes?”

Gale sighed, thinking about all the men they had lost. “I didn’t see any.”

“Yeah.” John paused, feeling his heart pounded in his chest, afraid to ask his next question. “And Curt?”

“I don’t know.”

#mota fanfic #mota spoilers #major john egan #major john bucky egan #masters of the air #major john egan x reader #john egan #bucky egan #callum turner

162 notes · View notes

andraxicated · 11 months

Text

Pairings: blade x reader | jing yuan x reader Synopsis: After a tragedy that consumed two of his companions, the face that he secretly longed for unexpectedly appeared before him once again. But this time his heart is filled with hate. Tags: angst | stellaron hunter! reader | enemies to lovers | past tragedies a/n: can I say the stellaron hunters are the coolest faction ever. like its where badass bitches belong! | i'll release jing yuan's route some time later lmaoo i'm so bored i do shit like this | trying out my favs with fav/popular tropes while i still have the brain

During that time when Blade got caught by the Xianzhou, you felt like your heart leaped out of your chest as soon as you heard the news from Kafka, who was sporting a rather laid-back smile.

"What? Don't look at me like that. Bladie is going to be fine. He's a big guy now." she said while going through your own collection of coats, something you picked up while shopping with her and the guy that follows behind like a guard dog.

He always looked at you with a scowl when you were a new recruit. Simply speaking, if looks could kill, you'd be dead long before this unserious turn of events...where Kafka also got caught. Yet this time upon silently watching the fiasco from somewhere, you're not the least bit worried. How could you when the woman herself was smiling like a maniac as she was caught by the master diviner. You seriously think it's time for you to leave this group of wild lunatics who casually gets taken as prisoners.

As you sigh and leave, Kafka's voice suddenly rings in your ear.

"Be patient, Elio will talk to you soon about a very important mission."

A mission that entails "saving" her but unfortunately, Blade had escaped and is standing before you with the usual expression on his face. Sure, this guy probably carries a lot of baggage but you can't help but feel uncomfortable with him. Especially when a little fight occurs between the two of you about who gets to save Kafka.

"What are you doing? Elio tasked me with this. I met him!"

"..."

Then he suddenly takes off while you follow after him, taking down enemies behind like some kind of sidekick while he attempts to take the spotlight of appearing before the trailblazers. But of course, you don't let him. You remain firm in doing what Elio told you, glaring at Blade while holding off the pursuers together.

You roll your eyes as he acts a little goofy in your sight, acting all charismatic with his sword drawn and all that. You even failed to hold your laughter with the way he dove, quickly pulling out your phone to snap a photo of Blade, then sending it to Silver Wolf because you're too scared of the consequences if you dare send it to the group chat. Blade might actually kill you if that happens.

look at him, he looks so stupid

But unbeknownst to you, the general himself saw you that time, and for him, it seemed like everything stopped and faded into the background. Your swaying hair and glowing eyes were what stood out at first. But then—you also had a face that eerily resembled someone from his past.

It is now revealed to the Xianzhou that the Stellaron Hunters aren't threats. You had no reason to come back to the Luofu anymore, it's all up to their alliance on what to do with the problem they're currently facing. The Stellaron Hunters had done their part as Kafka had said, but before you could board the spacecraft, you suddenly voiced out your decision—or rather, Elio's decision for you.

It felt ridiculous, really, listening to someone and doing whatever they tell you like a dog. It didn't feel good to you but as soon as you landed in the Luofu, something pulled you to stay there just as Elio had said.

"I'm staying. You guys should go ahead."

Kafka turned to you with a little smile on her face, seemingly understanding the situation. But surprisingly, Blade stiffly turned and had an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed mad—his furrowed eyebrows were a clear indication.

"Why?!" he's a man of few words but this single question made his voice akin to a roar. Even Kafka turned and boarded the craft, leaving you and Blade alone.

"Why not? Elio told me." You lied, he never told you to stay. Yes, he had an influence with his persuading words. But naturally, you'll take this route to feed on your curiosity because it always feels like there are missing pieces inside you. "I'll be staying here and that's final. It's none of your concern." You said while crossing your arms and Blade's eyes squinted.

You saw that he has his fists clenched, veins popping out as you raised your brows, also getting mad at whatever show he was putting on.

"What is it to you? Can't the Stellaron Hunters function without me?" And when he doesn't reply, you just roll your eyes and waved to leave.

Blade watches you go farther and farther until you're a dot in his sight, just like the moment when you followed after the woman who made him suffer over and over again. Your cold lifeless eyes and your face lined with blood as you watched the life drain out of him will forever be a memory that haunts him.

You weren't one of them. But when he saw you once again in this lifetime, he decided...that you'll also have to pay the price.

#ok bye im tired #who did this to you is coming soon #i refuse to remove that from the narrative #honkai star rail headcanons #blade x reader #blade x reader angst #blade x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail blade #honkai star rail #hsr angst #hsr x reader #blade x y/n #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

552 notes · View notes

theunbearableweightofpedropascal · 5 months

Text

Mother Knows Best

Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: (angst, fucked up family dynamic)

A/N: This is the dress I had in mind in case my description doesn't do it justice. All credit to the artist here. and hair inspo (top right). Also I'm not sure why I keep writing that Blaise hates yellow but it feels right, idk.

Summary: With your parents abhorrent views you doubt they could choose a decent partner.

Word Count: 5.6k

The wizarding community was small which meant that Hogwarts was even smaller. Thankfully you had been able to slip under the radar, which in hindsight was easy since your classmate was Harry Potter. Either way, people wrote you off as timid and boring but the truth was far worse.

Growing up everything seemed fine you came from a prestigious family that was more than respected. With that came expectations as you were told but understood, you made sure your magic was comparable to no one. You had practiced so much that there were cramps in your hand and wrist regularly. However, the expectations that your parents meant were far more nefarious than being a prefect.

For your sorting ceremony, you had come from a family of Ravenclaw’s and Slytherin’s so when the hat called out Hufflepuff it seemed a slight pause was taken. There wasn’t explicit disappointment written on your father’s face but you knew what he would have preferred. But in his words at least you weren’t Gryffindor.

Motivation thrummed through your body to make up for less than adequate house. You’d managed to become quite knowledgeable on many subjects, even things as taboo as muggle studies. You’d never dared to take the class but had read a few books out of morbid curiosity. There was never anything explicitly anti-muggle spoken about in your household but deep down you knew better. The kind of family you were born into would never be outspoken about that sort of thing, it’s unbecoming in your mother’s words.

After the death of Cedric Diggory, more talks of he who shall not be named permeated the community. Some believed it was an unexplainable tragedy while others were in complete denial. Not only were you disgusted by what they did to him you also felt sad for Harry, it was crystal clear what happened. Your parents on the other hand seemed unaffected, that should have been the first sign but you were too busy giving condolences to Harry.

Next was the stream of people they contacted in the coming months. At first, none of them rang any alarm bells but more and more suspected Death Eaters would permeate your childhood home. A small riff formed between your parents and you, the seemingly loving people who raised you held such nasty views. Visits to your childhood home soon became limited to mandatory holidays under the guise of you studying for your O.W.L.s.

Soon enough you could see exactly where they stood and it terrified you. There wasn’t anyone you could turn to without fearing it would get back to your parents.

……..

On your scheduled visit home you were indifferent to finding certain members of the Ministry leaving your parent's home. However, as your father stood before you in the foyer expectantly you couldn’t help but wonder why. Usually, it would just be your mother receiving you due to the constant stream of ‘meetings’ your father held. No words were exchanged between you two before he gestured for you to follow him to his office.

The once warm memories that this house provided now gave way to shivers down your spine. It felt like the closer you were to approaching his office the harder your heart thundered in your chest. Uneasiness settles within you because of your father’s seemingly cold nature.

Inside his office, he gestured to the seat across from his chair and your heart sank. Although you didn’t feel at home anymore, you didn’t have the heart to fully distance yourself. For so long all of your work was due to upholding the family name and reputation and if you let that go there was nothing else. Your mother gave nothing away while she stood off to the side.

“As you know darling a war is brewing, and now is the time that our Dark Lord needs his loyal correspondents.” His hands on your shoulders send a cold shiver over you. “And it worries me that my daughter seems to sympathize with mudbloods.” Even though you couldn’t see his face you could only picture the defeat on his face.

“I-” Before you could attempt to defend yourself you were interrupted.

“I thought I had made my expectations for you obvious child.” Your father’s fingers dug into you causing a grimance across your face. “Only for you to embarrass me after I put all of my hopes and dreams into you.” Tears well in your eyes from the pain of both his words and his harsh grip.

“Have I not given you everything?” In spite of how you’ve felt about his purist ways, his words cause you to scramble to reassure him. After all, you didn’t put in as much work as you had to disappoint him.

“You have and I-” The words become stuck in your throat because of how much you are trying to say at once. “I’m so sorry.” Shame has your head hanging low while your tears wet your pants. “I saw Cedric as a friend and I let my judgment get clouded.” Sobs wrack your body and your father lets his death grip go to comfort you.

“It’s okay darling sometimes we become a little misguided. As long as we find our way back that’s all that matters.” The same hands that caused your breakdown are now nursing you back with slow circles. Your breathing begins to even out and your father takes that as his cue to continue with what this meeting is really about.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that, I wanted to talk about what we are gathered here for.” His hands clap together in what you assume is excitement, and a glance at your now-smiling mother confirms it. “Tonight we are celebrating your impending nuptials.”

Never has your head swiveled so quickly, you weren't privy to any marriage conversations. As far as you knew you weren’t promised to anyone but you knew better than to question anything in this moment. From the corner of your eye, you see your mother leave the room and the thundering in your heart amps up once again.

“And what better family to be joined with than the Zabini’s?” Your mother is the one to drop the name of your future husband as she glides into the office again. Behind her, you see the infamous Zabini’s. Everyone is familiar with the Zabini’s, more specifically the rumored black widow Domenica Zabini. Her track record of 7 dead husbands speaks for itself. There was nothing short of perfection about their appearance, not that you expected less.

The joy on your mother’s face feels like you’re in an alternate universe, one that involves a happy family. Somehow you didn’t see the gilded cage that had slowly been closing until it was too late. If there was food in your stomach it would have been thrown up by now.

“Don’t play coy darling, they’ve come all this way to meet you.” As if your breakdown didn’t just happen your mother ushers you out of the seat before urging you closer. “This will be good for you, for us.” The low tone of her voice leaves no room for opposition.

Domencia’s keen eyes take you in and you almost can’t believe this woman killed her husbands. There’s nothing overtly cunning or evil-looking about her presence as one would think. Her son, on the other hand, had a menacing demeanor for someone who you’d never heard utter a word. Since Hogwarts was small his best friends Theo and Draco more than made up for his silence.

His brown eyes are calculated while he takes you in and your heart betrays you by skipping a beat.

“You’re even more breathtaking in person.” Were the first words you ever heard him speak and you hated to admit how your whole body fluttered. The low register of his voice made it feel like only the two of you were in the room despite your parents lurking off into the corner.

“So the mythical Blaise does speak?” You keep your voice low like his.

“Considering you are my future wife I’d say it’s imperative.” And just like that the reality of your future comes crashing back to you.

Blaise gently grabs your hand and brings it to his lips before running his thumb across your knuckles. His eyes never leave yours and you can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to disarm you. Either way, you remember to keep your guard up around him.

“Is there anywhere for us to talk, privately?” Although you doubt your parents can hear you he still goes the extra mile to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Your eyes dart around the room in an attempt to get out of the situation you’ve landed in.

“Afraid you’ll actually come to like me, sweetheart?” Blaise, as observant of ever, notices your hesitation to him despite his very convincing charm.

“No.” Even you weren’t convinced by your answer however, you refused to give him the satisfaction.

An amused smirk plays on his face and he finds himself more than pleased with this arrangement. The air between you was thick with undeniable tension.

“You know,” Your mother places her hands on your shoulders gently but that doesn’t stop the small wince on your face, “You should show Blaise around the grounds since he’ll be around a lot.”

“That would be lovely.” His award-winning smile splits his face in agreeance with your mother.

Seeing no way out of this you tell him, “Stay close to me.”

Many would say that your familial land is almost as grand as Hogwarts, but that only applies if you enjoy greenery. The house is incomparable to the vast amounts of land you can explore and observe. Your mother favored her garden and maze, so much so that the familial home was inconsequential to the lands she demanded.

“I take it you weren’t as up-to-date as your parents led me to believe?” Now that you two were truly alone Blaise saw no need to hold back.

“I wasn’t but I can’t say I’m completely upset with their choice.” The truth is they went far beyond your expectations.

“So I still have a chance?” He pulls back before the two of you are more than a couple feet from the house. “I must plead my case.” His general nature gives you pause, you’ve never met someone so magnetic.

“And what exactly is your case?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“We could make this a long engagement, I don’t mind a wait. Frankly, I enjoy your presence and I wouldn’t mind growing from that.” His hands reach for yours, and somehow it doesn’t seem desperate.

“You’re making this feel so easy.” As much as you wanted to reject any man sent your way through your parents, Blaise was different. Not to mention you weren’t in a position to bargain.

“I don’t want to force you, but I will promise absolute devotion.” This time when he kisses your knuckles there’s no prying eyes, making the moment much more remarkable.

Truth be told above all else you wanted someone exactly like Blaise, but your parent's involvement sort of ruined the moment. Emotionally you were still reeling from your father’s outburst, and you know it won’t be the last. If you could keep him off your back with this there would be less pressure surrounding any future mistake.

But that does peg the question of how you’ll fare should this relationship get serious. Would you be the first of many wives for Blaise? The thought sent a chill down your spine and there’s no way you could outright ask. For the time being you decide being a team player is most important and string Blaise along until he tires of you.

“I would love nothing more.” Maybe you laid it on a little thick but Blaise doesn’t seem to notice or care.

………….

With news of you and Blaise’s engagement spreading amongst the parents, you knew it wouldn’t take long for the gossip mill at Hogwarts to circulate. By the time you return from your visit whispers follow you through the corridor.

“So you wanna tell me why everyone is talking about your engagement to Blaise?” Madeline, your closest friend, saddles up next to you as you barrel down the hall.

You slow down your fast pace to pull her into an empty classroom. “I knew my Father held some anti-muggle ideals but now he’s talking about doing the Dark Lord’s bidding. I went home this weekend to find out they had me betrothed to Blaise Zabini.” Your hands find their way to your face in an effort to rub the emotional distress out. “Not to mention he completely freaked out on me for expressing my sympathies for Harry. Mads I’ve never seen him like that, it scared me.”

“Godric,” She made her way to stand beside you before rubbing your back in gentle circles. Madeline was first assigned as one of your dormmates, she took it upon herself to adopt you. She'd seen first-hand the immense pressure your parents put on you, and in turn the pressure you placed on yourself. “You know you’re always welcome around mine?”

Although you did know that it would only prolong the inevitable with your parents. Nevertheless, you thank her and rest your head on her shoulder.

“The worst part is the fact that I don't completely hate Blaise, I mean he would be perfect if my parents hadn’t been the ones to arrange it. Now it feels tainted you know?” Your eyes are glued to the floor while you pour out everything you’d had to hold in this past weekend.

“Of course, not to mention his mother has an interesting romantic history.” You are glad that you’re not the only one who noticed.

“But he’s so gorgeous.” You tilt your head away from your best friend with a whimsical sigh.

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Her agreeance has you craning your neck to blink in surprise at her.

“Not too much, he’s still my fiance.” Playfully you narrow your eyes at Mads before bursting into laughter with her joining you.

With your spirits back up the both of you head back into the hall and make your way to the grand hall. Studying would help in taking your mind off of everything else, somehow it was relaxing. The table was decorated with textbooks as you and Madeline delved into your academics.

“You look even more radiant when you’re focused.” That low drawl had your head quickly swiveling to meet Blaise’s eyes in surprise.

“There’s a lot I need to stay up to date on.” Your answer must have been enough for him to take a seat next to you. But you don’t let his presence deter you from your agenda. Madeline squirms in her seat across from you to get your attention only to give you a knowing look.

“I’m sure there is,” He lets his eyes fall over your form, and warmth spreads throughout your body at his brazenness. He clears his throat before continuing, “ My mother’s hosting a party next weekend and I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of being my date?”

From the corner of your eye, you could feel Madeline’s widened eyes taking in this conversation. You’re not sure why you expected Blaise to ignore you once you returned to Hogwarts, but strangely you’re pleased he didn’t. Finally, you set your quill down to properly address him.

“I would love that,” You school your features to not look as giddy as you feel. “Any specific dress code requirements?”

“If you don’t mind I got your measurements from your mother and had a dress commissioned.” He had the gall to look sheepish.

“And what if I find the dress ugly? What if I had said no?” The questions fly out one after the other.

“Your mother promised me you had no shortage of beautiful gowns, and if you had said no I would have found another way to gift it to you.” His eyes peer down at you while you bashfully glance towards Madeline. Once he leaves you know you’ll never hear the end of this.

“Well thank you,” For once you are truly rendered speechless and there is no other feeling more embarrassing.

Blaise, as observant as ever, senses the end of the conversation and readies himself to leave. Before he completely takes off he places a folded piece of paper in your palm and closes it. When his back faces you you let your eyes wander after him with a stupid smile splitting your face. You realize too late that once he reaches his table his friends have already caught you grinning like an idiot. They proceed to clap him on the back and you quickly face Mads only to be met with a teasing grin.

You resign yourself to laying your head on the table until the smile on your face calms down. When you unfold the piece of paper you find a rough draft of a fluffy green gown. His penmanship impressed you but his eye for detail on the various layers of dresses solidified your opinion.

…………

The box holding the dress Blaise commissioned is sitting on the ottoman by the foot of your bed. It was a deep emerald green with a light green bow wrapping around it. Your mother delivered it with a bright smile as soon as it arrived in the morning. She was adamant about opening it but you wanted to wait, even if the anticipation was killing you too.

Your parents were attending as well but they had been rather agreeable lately. Just as you assumed once you showed interest in being with Blaise they seemingly backed off. The last thing you want is a repeat of what happened.

With the sun setting you begin taking down your hair, and the curls bounce as you rub oil on them. You deliberately save the front braids for last while you finish individually placing each curl. The front of your hair is parted to the right side, and you begin gathering half into a small ponytail. You decide to leave a small piece of hair out from the right side that is curled away from your face.

A smile graces your face at the finished product and you turn to the box that’s been calling to you all day. The note attached to the bow was the first thing you read.

I hope the dress is up to your standards -B.Z.

You place the note on your bed and untie the bow before lifting the top. A lavish hunter-green bustier greets you, before fully pulling it out you take note of the silver and black jewels lining the entire top. You carefully grab the strapless top to pull it out of the box and a gasp involuntarily leaves your mouth at the mass of the dress.

Flowers made of sheer fabric litter the waist and sage green fabric lines the sides of the dress. Layers of tulle overlap with leafy designs that feature silver accents. You had never seen a dress as beautiful as the one in front of you, Blaise clearly had an eye for fashion. The drawing he gave didn’t do the dress enough justice.

Progressively you place the dress on the floor and step into it. Perfect is the only word to describe it as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. Even in low light, the jewels sparkle enticingly and you note that he used his house color on you. You do a spin before heading to your jewelry box, only to find that you missed a matching necklace and earring set at the bottom. The dangly earrings remind you of snowflakes and the necklace matches the gems atop your dress.

“Please tell me you’re rea-” Your mother bustles into your room but pauses mid-sentence at you. “My, you look stunning.” She slowly circles you before noting the jewelry in your hand and she gestures for you to face the mirror. She delicately takes out your stud earrings and replaces them with the one Blaise gifted you. When she reaches into the box for the necklace a gasp, much like your earlier one, leaves her red-tinted lips.

“When he asked me about your measurements I never expected this.” She circles her arms over your head to gingerly lay the necklace over your sternum. Her polished nails circle your shoulders for a gentle squeeze, “Let's finish up before your father storms in here.”

She sits you down on your vanity chair before pulling out a brown lipstick and gloss. You tilt your head back to allow her an easier time and her sweet perfume fills your nostrils. Once she finishes she steps back to admire her handiwork with a smile. She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your father’s call.

“We are now thirty minutes late,” The both of you share a silent laugh before heading downstairs to put on shoes and meet your father.

………..

Blaise is bored out of his mind waiting for you, he was surrounded by friends but it was clear he was anxiously awaiting your arrival. Although he thought you would like the dress he couldn’t be sure, maybe it was a bad idea to not consult you.

“Oh cheer up Zabini your girlfriend’ll be here soon.” Theodore’s quip was met with laughter from Draco.

“Not girlfriend, fiancee.” Malfoy corrects Theo before Blaise can open his mouth to say the same thing. While they laugh Blaise rolls his eyes before scanning the hall once more. Theodore could sense how his friend felt despite him trying to downplay it.

“Is there an actual ring or is this a vocal agreement?” Draco decided to push his limits

“There’s plenty of rings but we aren’t there yet kind of like you and Astoria.” Draco rolls his eyes at the reminder of his love life. “And who knows when a woman will become agreeable to your presence Nott.”

Both boys exchanged looks of amusement at Blaise’s snappy tone.

Time seems to stand still when he spots you at the entrance of his mother’s grand hall. His heart thunders as he realizes you are wearing the dress he helped create. The low light of the room captures the shimmering jewels that line the dress and he can’t recall anyone as lovely as you. For once he is rooted in place unable to fulfill the greeting he had prepared.

“I think I understand now mate.” Theodore is stumped in place as well when he follows Blaise’s line of sight.

Everyone in the hall spares a glance at you, how could they not? The dress gives the illusion that you are gliding across the floor. His mother intercepts your family and focuses on you. It’s obvious she’s fawning over how alluring you are. Your eyes scan the crowd scantily and Blaise takes that as his cue.

“I’ll catch up with you two later.” He doesn’t spare his friends a glance as he makes his way through the crowd to you.

When your eyes lock with his he internally melts, the closer he gets the more you steal his breath away. A symphony with booming music plays in his head to match his beating heart.

You straighten your posture when Blaise stands before you in a three-piece emerald green tailman suit. His hand collects yours before bowing to kiss your knuckles, and after he comes up you curtsey before him. Your dress pools around you in the most elegant way before you slowly come up again. It was nearly impossible to rip his eyes away from you but he had to greet your parents before whisking you off.

“Would you mind excusing us?” Blaise’s polite manner brings joy to your mother’s face and approval to your father's.

“Of course not,” Your mother and Domencia are quick to shoo you and him away.

His hand glides around to the small of your back while he guides you to the refreshment table. The array of food makes it hard for you to pick anything and he senses your indecision. He hands you a plate to pick as much as you want.

“Thank you, for the dress it really is amazing. Your drawing was beautiful but I never expected anything like this.” The sparkle in your eyes is all he wanted to see.

“Anything for you.” His declaration left you speechless once again so you focus on picking your food.

He then leads you to your table to eat but you hesitate before moving to sit. Blaise angles your body and dress to sit comfortably in his lap. Your stomach flutters for the umpteenth time and you try to look anywhere besides his face.

“This was your plan all along huh? Create this elaborate dress so I’m woefully dependent on you.” You begin trying the various foods on your plate while Blaise watches you.

“If I’m being honest I wish I had come up with that, but I did want to see you in a beautiful gown. Maybe steal a dance or two.” His complete focus was on you enjoying your treacle tart.

“Nobody else is dancing though,” You spare a glance around to find everyone mingling while the live band plays quietly.

“So?” His head was being cradled by his large hand as he searched your eyes.

“You must be the fiancee, we’ve heard so much about you.” Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott step into view on the other side of the table.

“I kind of miss Zabini when he was quiet and mysterious.” Theodore jokingly pouts his lips at Blaise before taking his seat.

“Fuck off,” Blaise tries to look annoyed but everyone catches the slight crack in his face.

“The only Blaise I’ve encountered is the lovesick puppy variant.” The boys roar with laughter at your one-liner.

“As much as I love this conversation, I should probably do a couple of laps around the room,” He places his hands on your hips before addressing you, “You think you’ll be okay with these vultures for a couple of minutes?”

“I think I’ll be alright,” The mischievous grin on your face convinced him and you stood up so he could fulfill his hosting duties.

“That's the spirit,” Malfoy clapped his hands at your willingness to entertain them. “Shall we get you a drink to catch up with us?”

“As long as it’s fire whiskey.” Your agreeance has them flagging down the nearest server for a round of glasses.

Surprisingly talking with Draco and Theo is easy, mostly because they’ve been shit-talking Blaise. You keep your intake of whiskey to two glasses to keep your wits about you. This wasn’t that kind of party.

They tell the story of how Blaise was knocked off his broom by an ex-girlfriend's spell. A re-enactment of how he flailed for 30 feet ensued but luckily the table was toward the back. You’d been breathing in short bursts for the past few minutes and you hope for a reprieve.

“Alright if you all don’t mind I’ll be stealing her for a dance,” Blaise’s hand stretches out to you before he calls, “M’lady.”

One last giggle escapes from your lips when you place your hand in his and slowly rise from your chair. On the way to the middle of the floor, you realize the band is playing a much louder tune than before. Blaise’s steps slow and his hand guides you around to the front of him while your dress flows flawlessly.

Each of you repeats the bow and curtsey from earlier but this time you keep eye contact. Once both of you are upright you wait for the musical cue to begin your first step. When the violinist begins their solo you step forward attaching one hand to his right shoulder and the other in his left hand. His hand envelops yours before sliding down to the small of your back, just above the flowers.

Just like you thought you two were the only ones about to dance, and people were quickly realizing that.

“Don’t look around, I want to see those beautiful eyes aimed at me.” With warm cheeks, you gaze up at Blaise who smiles back at you taking the first step in the dance. Completely confident in your steps, you follow his lead while he guides you in circles.

“This dress is the best gift anyone’s ever given me and don’t even get me started on the jewelery, thank you.” You step back as Blaise raises his arm to spin you, showcasing the multiple layers of tulle whirling around you.

“Does this mean I need to begin drafting another?” The moment you step back into each other’s space it feels as if the whole room is empty save for you two.

“If I could make a request, would you mind yellow?” The slight grimace crossing his face makes you laugh.

“And your very first flaw rears its ugly head.” You swallow the chuckle that wants to escape so that you can back away from Blaise once more. This time you both take a step to your left before holding your palms close but not touching. With your left hand behind your back, you keep your eyes on the only person in the room as you walk in a circle.

“Where would I even wear another dress like this?” Events like this don’t exactly happen every week.

“I’ll plan another party for you.” His words cause your heartbeat to thunder in your chest you almost thought he could hear it.

All playful banter between you ceased and all that could be heard were the strings of violins increasing in tempo. At the same time, you turn so that your right hand can hold a sliver of space between them. Something within his eyes made a jolt run through your body as if you took Amortentia.

With the tempo slightly decreasing it was time for you to stand side by side, facing the fireplace and his hand guiding you backward. Now that the both of you are facing each other once again you circle the other in a figure-eight motion. If you were thinking about anything other than Blaise you would feel ridiculous but there was nothing else running through your mind.

His mouth firmly remains in a smile and yours mirrors his if the strain in your cheeks had any say. Your dance comes to an end when you face each other before your last curtsey. Applause fills the room and you remember you’re not alone.

“I think it’s time for a tour.” Blaise bends down to speak lowly into your ear and a shiver runs down your spine.

“I would love that.” You place your hand on his bicep and follow his lead out of the ballroom.

The corridors are dim with only candles lighting your path. Your heels click rhythmically in time with Blaise’s steps, echoing off the walls.

“You’re enjoying yourself I take it?” Even though he meant to sound sure you could hear the doubt in his voice.

“I love it, I love this dress, and spending time with you isn’t terrible.” Everything about tonight has been great and you were starting to come around to the idea of actually being with Blaise. Maybe the deal with his mother’s dead husband had a logical explanation.

“That sparkle in your eye tells me it’s a little better than terrible.” He slows to a stop before sliding his arm around your waist. An alcove that has stained glass lets the moonlight shine through allowing the colors to reflect off your skin.

“It would kill me to admit my parents are right.” Your whisper causes the biggest smirk to split his face and you almost retract your statement.

“It would kill me if you were to let that stop you.” Both of his hands find themselves planted on your waist playing with the jewels.

After a moment of looking at you his thumb and forefinger lift your head so he can press his lips delicately to yours. You tilt your head to kiss him back while your hands find purchase on his biceps. The way his thumb caresses your cheek makes you lose all inhibitions. Suddenly your hand wraps around the back of his neck to bring his lips closer, your poor dress getting squished in the process.

It felt like the two of you were molded together, if someone walked past they wouldn’t know where you end and Blaise begins. A groan sounds from him as he slides his hand from your face to the back of your neck, balling his fist full of your hair. When he pulls a gasp leaves your lips and allows him to slide his tongue in.

“Godric, save that for the honeymoon.” Theodore’s voice and Draco’s laugh feel like cold water being poured over you. Blaise’s hand leaves your hair but stays around your waist while you keep both of your hands at your side. Lip gloss makes his lips irregularly shiny and you're tempted to wipe it but you're interrupted.

“Your mother’s asking for the both of you, so we did you a favor and came ourselves.” Draco smiles before raising his glass of fire whiskey and tipping it back.

You and Blaise begin leading the long trek back to the ballroom.

“They’re going to breed like gnomes.” There was no telling who mumbled that out but it resulted in laughter spilling out from everyone.

#blaise zabini x female reader #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin #harry potter fanfiction #hufflepuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #hufflepuff reader

162 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 9 months

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 14.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Your sickness came and went with the wind, almost as if Jeongguk's soup was some sort of magical brew that could save the universe in one fell swoop.

The days after that were simply transcendent. You were slowly coming to the realization that Guk will probably be the first and last great love of your life.

Until you got sick again.

It didn't make any sense, it came out of nowhere and it was more fierce than the first bout of illness you had almost two weeks before that.

You were bedridden for a day, violently ill two days after that and even now it's difficult for you to function.

Namjoon had to buy and set up a computer for you in the empty office that had sat alone in your mansion for years now.

Jeongguk has been ever patient and kind, loving like you cannot believe and incredibly accommodating.

It's really strange for you to feel so well taken care of especially when you're retching over the toilet making ungodly noises at the crack of dawn.

The past couple of days your boyfriend has been begging you to go to the doctor and finally you've heeded it.

You never enjoyed going to doctors, it's as if they got their licenses just to give out bad news. Nevermind the fact that the offices always smell weird and the air within them is practically palpable.

You don't know why all doctors need to give bad news but even today you've heard something grave.

So now as you sit alone in the garden maze of your mansion, you can only stare straight ahead.

You're dumb.

It's that simple.

You're impulsive.

You're fucked.

You've been a shell since the doctor spoke to you. Your heart had been beating so fast and so hard that you can still feel how your chest thuds painfully.

But now, you're simply a shell, void of any emotion.

There's an evening haze that lingers over the bushes of roses before you, it's thick and heavy like you'd lose the sight of your hand inside of it.

You simply stare at the sight before you, allowing your skin to become damp by the small droplets of dew that swirl within the thick layer of fog.

How did this happen? How did your life become the way it is now? What did you do to deserve this?

Once again, the walls Jeongguk fought to break down are immediately patched up and even thicker than before. It's a tragedy, really.

Or maybe the tragedy is finding love in your heart for him.

When your phone rings, it tears you from your mind numbing thoughts.

With lazy eyes and the tilt of your head, you look down to the ringing device beside you.

You have no feelings, no emotion. You want nothing more than to crawl into your bed and just wither away.

"Yes?" you answer, picking up the phone and lifting your hand into the thick haze before you.

"Madam, there's a Jeon Jeongguk here at the gate for you."

He'll never know why you're breaking it off. He'll never understand.

You, yourself, will never understand.

But the mistakes you've made with him are far too many to count.

To let yourself become lost and loving under his spell… It's unforgivable. To let yourself make such a mistake with him is… earth shatteringly impressive.

"He's not welcome here anymore. Please take him off the list. Jimin Park and Taehyung Kim too," you chirp, ending the call without another word.

The world around you is quiet for a moment, it's peaceful and lulling you into its clutches of madness before your phone begins to ring once more with a confused Jeongguk who could only want an explanation.

Silencing your phone, you stand. Your long black silk robe meets the soft, dewy grass underfoot and solemnly you make your way back to your mansion.

You can hear Jeongguk shouting your name in the distance, you can hear the horn of Taehyung's car blaring to no avail.

Once you're back in your sterile house and you close the back doors, the world is silent once again.

Jeongguk sits on his couch, arms folded as he stares at the screen of his phone.

It's almost as if he's trying to will it to give him a phone call with your name on it.

He doesn't know what went wrong.

What did he do? What did you find out at the doctor?

Hawking jumps up beside him, obviously missing the body who has been coddling him the past month. Guk can find no easy way to move, he feels sluggish and torn.

The Great Dane has to forcibly worm his strong head onto the escort's lap to even get some sort of attention.

"What'd I do?" Jeongguk asks his pet sullenly, burying his face into the top of his dog's head.

He was gone from your sight for all of four hours and now he's single and alone.

"Fuck!" he seethes through his teeth sharply, earning a weary puppy before him who he apologizes to for scaring.

He fucking loves you, he's all in in this relationship but to have no way of even contacting you? It's tearing him apart.

He knows you blocked his number, he knows you took away his privilege to get into your gated community, he knows it all.

But he doesn't know why!

Even Jimin and Taehyung can't even see you. What did he do wrong?

This feeling, this is different than when he was with Chloe. By the end of his time with her, he was a ball of angry and violent energy. Now, he's just an emotional mess who's scared and confused, heartbroken even.

"Let's go to bed," he breathes to Hawking, shaking his head.

You're going to work from home from now on.

You decided this almost immediately when you woke up the next day.

You weren't sick, you didn't feel any illness but you're not ready to face the world. Once you're outside of the gates of your community… anything could happen.

Grabbing your glass of orange juice, you sit down at the large desk within your home office. It's quiet in here with memories of Guk helping move stuff floating around the room like spiritual shadows.

Even when you woke up this morning the regret that lingered through your limbs was monumental. Jeongguk must be losing his fucking mind over you.

To have no explanation given, to rip yourself away from him so fast… you're causing him so much pain.

Chloe hurt him and betrayed him, that relationship made him into nothing. It brought him to lengths you wouldn't wish on anyone. And you're doing something almost as evil to him now…

He fucking loves you and you're… gone.

You can feel bile wanting to retch from you like you're a possessed demon and you can only think that this is what you deserve.

Turning on your computer, you stare straight ahead at the little teddy bear that sits atop the new couch by your desk.

Guk bought it and left it for you, a sweet secret present you very much adored.

"I thought you could use a friend while you work. Every time you look at the bear, it'll remind you of me and I'll always be with you."

With a whimper, you bury your face into your hands.

You hate this.

But most of all, you hate yourself.

Jeongguk bursts through your office doors with tired eyes that hold venom and fire within the pupils. The security couldn't stop him even though he had his access restricted and with a heaving breath he fixes his leather jacket.

"Dude," Namjoon guffaws, stepping out of your office.

"Where is she?" Guk inquires, waltzing with quick, angry steps towards your office.

"She's not with you? She didn't come in to work today, I dunno," Joon replies flippantly, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

When security arrives, your co-worker seems to grasp the situation just a tad bit better. He holds out his finger, telling them to wait as he takes in your disheveled boyfriend. "What happened?"

"She went to the doctors and then she fucking blocked me from everything and took away my access to see her! I don't even… I don't know what I did! I didn't do anything for her to act like this towards me!"

The blonde haired man before him fixes his glasses and he thinks carefully for a moment to weigh his options.

When you were with Guk, you were better. It's just that simple. Anyone could see it. You had a soul, you had emotions, it was really nice to see you in a comfortable light for once.

But you are casting him away… there's something wrong.

Namjoon has known you for years now and he knows that you're impulsive, he knows you're almost too ready to let things go at the drop of a hat but not with Guk.

You're invested -- were invested.

He can see just how broken and lost the escort is and even though he disliked him not too long ago… he can't help but feel bad for him.

"I'll pay Y/N a visit, see if she's okay and get some answers," your co-worker promises.

"Really?!" Guk gasps, widening his eyes.

"Yeah, I'll see what's up," Joon assures him, putting his glasses back on.

"Thank you!" the escort cries, coursing his fingers through his long black hair.

Namjoon hasn't been to your mansion since that fateful day, the day he realized he had absolutely no chance with you.

It was a cold slap in the face when he walked in on you. He finally understood in that minute that all the hoping he'd done for years now meant absolutely nothing.

You weren't his to have and it was that simple. And although it hurt him deeply to come face to face with reality, he's still your friend, he's still an adult. He still cares for you.

When he pulled up to the gates of your community, he was immediately let in.

Joon is confused with how to feel, if he's being honest. Should he be happy that he's still on the guest list or should he be offended that you don't care nearly as much for him as you do for two other people you only met a month ago to take away their visiting rights? It's hard for him to process.

On the other hand, he's incredibly worried about you. You were fine just two simple days ago and now you're locking yourself away in the black, sterile mansion once more.

Your co-worker can only think the news from the doctor is grave. He hopes you don't have a month to live or something like that because he won't handle it well at all.

He still fucking loves you, for God's sake.

All of this weighs heavily on his mind and shoulders as he steps up the stairs to the large glass doorway of your house.

Joon thinks about ringing the bell before he simply opens the door with the spare key that you haven't moved since he last let himself in.

If he rings the bell, you might simply decide not to answer at all.

Letting himself in, he calls your name which is drowned out by the loud opera that screeches throughout the house.

This is bad. Opera is a coping mechanism for you.

Namjoon creeps through your house quietly, hoping to not scare you if he sees you. He's almost positive that you're not in the mood for visitors.

Stepping up to the speakers that forcibly shake the floor around it with how loud the bass is, he lowers it.

That should get you to come out of whenever you're hiding.

He waits patiently for a moment before you appear in the hallway with curious eyes.

Joon in all his time has never seen you like this, you're wearing Jeongguk's hoodie and a pair of leggings that seem like they just came right out of the package.

When your eyes meet, you deflate visibly and trudge back into your office.

Joon follows after you, sketching your appearance into his mind like a quick artist.

You have bags under your eyes and yet they're puffy like you've been crying oceans and oceans of tears.

When he steps into your office, he watches you sullenly lay back down on the couch, clutching a random stuffed teddy bear.

"Y/N," Namjoon whispers softly, almost as if he's talking to a wounded fierce animal.

"What?" you breathe, your voice is hoarse and monotone.

"What's going on?" he inquires, sitting down on the Persian carpet beside you and unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Nothing," you mumble stubbornly, letting your eyes flutter shut.

You're not yourself, obviously.

You bring your knees to your chest, hugging the teddy bear tighter and Joon can't help but feel his heart thud painfully at the sight.

"What'd the doctor tell you?" he inquires softly, pushing stray hairs off your wet cheeks.

He won't ask about Jeongguk just yet, he can see the emotional turmoil you're stewing in and bringing up the man might just break you.

"Nothing," you repeat monotonously.

"I'm here to help, sweetheart. Talk to me," the blonde man practically begs, leaning back against the couch to give you your privacy.

He stares at the intricate paintings along the wall as his temple connects with the top of your head sweetly.

You find some sort of ease with the touch and you sigh softly.

You sit in silence for a bit, listening to the now soft opera screeching into your ears. Once you say the words it'll mean that it's true. Are you ready to speak them?

Taking a deep breath, you just decide to say it.

You tell Joon the doctor's orders and he turns his head towards you with wide eyes.

"Are you serious?" he gasps, looking down at you.

You simply look up at him with broken eyes that scream that this is the truth.

"Y/N… you have to tell him," Namjoon whispers, coursing his warm thumbs over your cheeks.

"No!" you gasp, sitting up sharply.

Joon breathes a heavy sigh, standing up only to sit down beside you and pull you into his chest.

"You can't hide this. It's wrong," he coos softly.

The feeling of his suit fabric against yours is oddly comforting and your eyes snap shut.

The weight of telling someone else feels relieving but now that it's out there in the open… it makes an Earth sized hole in your soul.

"He'll hate me," you announce after a moment.

"He hates that you've cast him away," Joon replies simply.

"You saw him?"

"He came by the office earlier. He's a mess without you," your co-worker murmurs.

"I'm a mess without him," you say honestly.

"So what are you going to do?"

In all actuality, you don't know what the fuck you're doing. You don't know how the fuck to proceed with your life. You wish you could just stay in your mansion everyday for years to come. But it can't be that simple.

With a sigh you bury your face farther into Joon's chest and sob softly.

"I don't know," you cry out, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

<---------- Last Chapter Next Chapter ------>

#at your service #chapter 14 #chap 14 #jungkook fic #jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #dom!jeongguk

136 notes · View notes

dreamerdoesthewritething · 1 year

Text

Got a random hit of inspiration for a LSK x Reader thing. I write for me, so with anything I write, the Reader is almost always AFAB, unless specified otherwise.

Hope you like it~! <3 ;3

-------------------------------

You couldn't believe the news.

It had to be a mistake.

The government wouldn't nuke one of their own cities, no matter what. That's terrorism. That's un-American. That's unspeakable.

Yet that's exactly what the newscasters across all stations were reporting. The government had wiped Raccoon City off the face of the planet, along with anyone still alive within its limits.

You didn't live there, nor did any of your family members or even your friends. The only reason you care is, aside from it being a tragedy, one of your childhood friends works there. In fact, he was supposed to have started only a week ago.

Knowing the kind of man your friend had become, there's no doubt in your mind that he was there. He sought out Raccoon City specifically because of the trouble surrounding it. The bizarre murders in a nearby mountain area. That was where he wanted to be after he graduated from the police academy. You remembered everyone trying to convince him it was better to stay near home than to go somewhere so dangerous. He was too stubborn to listen.

Now, he was--

The tears started falling and wouldn't stop. You collapsed on the floor. Everything stood still, yet it would never be the same again.

The nation mourned, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, and you grieved right along with it. You hadn't grieved this much in your life. It's the first time someone you loved was taken from you. Your family and friends were there for you as much as possible. You didn't want professional help. Maybe you should, though, people said. A loss this heavy...

He was your best friend growing up. You were there for him when his family was murdered. Your parents took him in, gave him a place to stay so he wouldn't be alone. When the nightmares would get too rough, you'd crawl into bed with him and fight them off, comforting him by holding him and running your fingers through his hair. He'd loved that, and even though he asked you to stop once you guys weren't little kids anymore, there were nights when he'd be at his own home, struggling to sleep, and would call you up and say nothing but you knew what he needed and you'd come right over to do it again.

People teased, insisting that the two of you were more than friends. Rumors of you sleeping together were constant. Heaven forbid a boy and a girl hang out without there being something going on between you. That's what he used to say. You valued your friendship so much that you never told him there was some truth to it.

Then again, just about everyone who saw him felt some special way about him. That's probably why your peers bullied you so much. They saw you as an obstacle to his affections. Attacking his best friend to try to win his heart never made any sense to you or him. If anything, it made him like them less. He also never cared for those who would suck up to or attempt to use you to get closer to him. He always could see right through those kinds of people.

Why were you thinking about this now?

A month had passed since the Raccoon City incident. How had time gone by so fast? You were staring up at the ceiling in your bed, wearing the same clothes you wore the day before and the day before that. You took a leave of absence from work. You barely ate. Hell, you barely left this bed. Why should you? Your best friend was dead. It was the fault of the Umbrella Corporation who started a viral outbreak. It was the fault of the government who chose to eradicate the city a little too quickly, without giving those still alive enough time to possibly evacuate. It was your fault for not fighting harder for him to find employment in a safer city.

You kept having horrible nightmares of what happened to him. Zombified. Mutilated. Turning to pink mist as the warheads dropped. Screaming. So many times he'd be screaming. Every time. You were constantly being showered in his blood, his remains, his death.

You didn't tell anyone about these dreams. They'd push you even harder to go to a therapist. You didn't want to be on more prescriptions. You're fine. You just needed time.

It's like you were waiting for something. What was it?

Maybe you really did just want to die, too.

What a dark thought. No wonder everyone was worried about you. They should be. But you swore you weren't suicidal, because you knew he'd never want you to kill yourself. How many times had he told you that on your bad nights, the ones where the bullies got to you a little too much and you couldn't stop the thoughts that they were right about you, the ones when you couldn't fight them alone? He'd held you and ran his fingers through your hair and reminded you how much you were loved. How much he loved you. As a friend, of course.

Yeah, you were such close friends that your way of comforting one another was the same, too. The Cuddle-Stroke, as you once called it. Then he told you never to say that again, flustered as you laughed your ass off. Silly teenagers. You considered referring to it by initials, but the number of things CS could stand for if someone heard you might raise some alarm.

But damn, you could really go for some CS right now.

Before you could start crying again, your doorbell rang. Who could it be at this time of night? Not family. Your parents had keys to your home and the others knew better than to show up uninvited, especially nowadays. That last part applied to your friends, too. Criminals don't want to draw attention to themselves, so it couldn't be one of those...Could it?

Better safe than sorry.

You grabbed the bat you kept at your bedside for such moments as these and quietly headed towards your front door. The chime of the bell echoed through the house again. You wished you had a peephole in the door so you could see who was there without opening it. You didn't have that option.

Taking a deep breath, you threw the door open and readied your weapon only to immediately drop it as you, too, dropped.

Had you really lost it?

It couldn't be him. You must be hallucinating.

Either that or you were dreaming.

The hands that touched your shoulders felt real enough. They lifted you back onto your feet, never letting go as you were brought back into your house. They proceeded to close and lock the door before guiding you towards the living room.

The man they belonged to was saying something, but you couldn't hear it. It was like you were under water. Your head was swimming. Your heart was racing. Your stomach hurt. Nothing made sense.

He realized you were lost. He felt lost himself, but less so than you. Before coming here, he discovered just about everyone he knew thought he was dead. That he died with Raccoon City. They weren't completely wrong. His heart still beat. His brain still worked. His body wasn't dead or undead. But a part of him had died that horrible night.

Apparently, a part of you had as well.

There was only one thing he could think to do in a moment like this. It wouldn't undo the month of grief. Nothing ever would. But it was the only way he knew he could get through to his best friend, to snap you out of the shock of seeing him in the flesh.

He sat down on the floor in front of your couch, pulling you down with him into his lap. Your head founds its place on his chest. You practically melted into him. He began stroking your hair, running his fingers through it gently and slowly.

Gently and slowly, you started to become grounded again. You weren't in a dream. You weren't hallucinating. He really was here, alive. Somehow. A miracle, maybe?

What the fuck did it matter? Your best friend lived! He didn't go up in flames in Raccoon City. He came back to you. He really, really made it back home.

Why did it take so long?

You wanted to ask. You wanted to get mad at him for putting you through so much suffering. You wanted so many answers, so many things. He had to know that.

But you thought about what he must've been through, and you held your tongue.

"I missed you, Leon," you said, the first time you spoke in days.

Your voice cracked, you sounded miserable. Oh fuck, you were crying this entire time, weren't you? This was not how you pictured your reunion at all, though to be fair you never thought you'd see him again in this life. You probably smell like shit since you've been in the same clothes for at least three days and haven't showered. What does he think of you, seeing you like this?

"I missed you, too," he said.

Like yours, his voice cracked. You forced yourself to look up at his face. He was crying, too. Not bawling, but tears were falling from his eyes, leaving a trail down his cheeks. He was fighting to keep a neutral expression and failing. The light no longer shone in his beautiful blue eyes like it once had.

Oh god, what had happened to him?

He wanted to apologize for making you wait for him. He wanted to apologize for all the grief, all the tears, all the things that happened since he chose to go to that damned city. He wanted to explain why he was gone for so long, why he didn't contact you as soon as he was able. It wasn't because he didn't want to. He simply couldn't. There was so much he couldn't say or do.

All he could manage now was, "I'm sorry."

You acted without thinking, and suddenly your positions are reversed. His head on your chest, you running your fingers through his hair as you hold him there. He's much tenser than you were. Even this couldn't relax him the way it once did. What did they do to him?!

"It's okay, Leon. It's not your fault," you said. You swallowed the sobs that threatened to erupt during that last sentence. "It's not your fault," you repeated.

Of course he knew that. Didn't make him feel any better.

"You're alive," you said, and for some reason your voice dropped to a whisper. Like it was some kind of secret between the two of you.

"I'm alive," he said, matching your tone.

Words wouldn't come to you. He couldn't say what he wanted. So you just held him. He loosened up a bit and held you again, too. No words needed right now. He was alive. You were with your best friend. That's all that mattered.

That's all that mattered.

#dreamer writes #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #death mention //#suicidal thoughts //#ask to tag if needed

176 notes · View notes

anxiety-elemental-kay · 6 months

Text

TriMax Volume 10: Haunting The Narrative That Doomed You by Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Still catching up on those meta posts before the end of October CAN THEY DO IT???

I've seen various of interpretations and arguments about the exact cause of Wolfwood's death. (Aside from heart failure/drug overdose.) Was it adhering to strictly to Vash's ideals? Was Chapel right in saying Wolfwood was foolish to try to live up to the morality of an immortal being?

Here's the question I would ask: If Wolfwood didn't want to adopt Vash's ideals, if he was willing to kill LR, what would have changed? Why was it important that Wolfwood tried to change before he died?

Wolfwood tries several times to disable Livio in that fight, up to and including shooting him directly in the heart, and even blowing up Razlo with a magazine (what's the word for that??) of machine gun bullets to reduce him to gooey chunks. After a while it's impossible to tell that Wolfwood was ever trying to save LR.

Absolutely none of the things Wolfwood tries kills them. Considering that LR goes on to get impaled by Elendira several times (and not the fun kind boo) it's difficult to imagine what Wolfwood could have done to actually kill Livio. So what would have been different?

Livio might not have stopped Razlo from killing Wolfwood if Livio thought his brother didn't value his life, didn't want to save him. Would Livio think to stop Razlo otherwise? Why would he? Even if Chapel still died, what would've happened to LR, when they had nowhere else to go?

This fight was always going to happen. Knives was never going to spare the orphanage, so Wolfwood would always go and try to save it. Chapel was out for Wolfwood's blood and was determined to use his brother to get his revenge.

Unless Wolfwood brought Vash with him from the start, I don't think that fight could've ended any other way. That's Wolfwood's fatal flaw, he still tried to do everything on his own even though there were people who loved and cared for him. It wasn't trying to break away from his violent past that killed him, his self-isolation did.

That's where the tragedy of his death lies. It didn't need to be this way. It was always going to be this way.

Wolfwood goes on to haunt the narrative that doomed him. Even though he died, the choices he made outlive him, and become his legacy.

Livio breaks away from Chapel, and follows Vash. Livio gains support from not just Vash but the colonists who knew Wolfwood. He's able to grow into his own person and make his own choices, things denied to him since he was a child taken in by the Eye of Michael.

If Wolfwood hadn't tried to spare Livio, could Vash have later brought himself to kill Legato? Could Vash bring himself to kill if Wolfwood never tried not to? If not Legato wouldn't have stopped at Livio, his determination to break Vash and prove his loyalty to Knives was too great. How many others might have died, if Vash hadn't broken his vow to Rem, to uphold his vow to Wolfwood?

I don't quite know how to conclude this post, aside from this: there are a lot of ways to kill of a major character, many of them Very Bad. I'll spare you the rant of a bitter ex-WoW player (rip Vol'jin you deserved better), but I'm sure everyone here can think of an example of a character killed off for cheap shock, because the writers didn't know what to do with them, or some other bullshit. That's not what happened with Wolfwood.

If you're going to kill a character in your story, this one of the ways you make it work: you give them a legacy, you let them haunt those that outlive them, you bring their story to an end, even if it's a tragic one. If there is an afterlife in Trigun, I know for sure Wolfwood is at peace.

#trigun #trigunbookclub #kay writes things

49 notes · View notes

quinloki · 4 months

Text

Positively Victorian Again

Sabo x afab reader

Cw: oral, fingering, glove kink, implied power dynamics, noble Sabo tones, ~ unedited, apologies for any major errors.

Notes: Not really a part two to Positively Victorian, but kind of a part two xD idk I need to just make this vibe a full on story at some point.

It’s a reward for both of us. His words rang in your head as you saw the state of the seat you were to take.

Plush and beautiful, rich hand carved wood, everything you could expect down to the small details of a seat meant for a noble to use during a long opera.

Except for the small fact that most of the seat was missing. Barely enough for your ass honestly. There was almost no back to it, but it was obvious both from the design and your outfit that your skirts were meant to go around it.

Aside from the required items to keep the shape and style of your layered, expensive dress, you has nothing else on beneath it. At Sabo’s request, of course, but when he had invited you to the opera, you had expected him only to tease you during the hours long production.

With words.

Moving the skirts with practiced ease you settled onto the strangely comfortable seat. You had to place your legs on the sides of the chair, in order to put yourself in a comfortable position, and you were acutely aware of how bare you were beneath it all.

“This box,” Sabo begins, sitting down beside you, and keeping his voice low. “Is a bit of a tragedy. The acoustics are almost as good as those from the stage. Normal conversation carries down to the seats below quite easily.”

He leans closer, speaking quietly into your ear. “It would be imprudent for me to nap on your skirts, my sweet dove, so when i find rest beneath them, do keep your… complaints quiet.”

You can feel your heart race at the implications, and take a minutes to calm yourself before replying.

“Naps during a show are imprudent on their own.” You tease. “Aren’t you meant to teach me manners, young lord?”

Sabo smiles, bright and charming. “Consider it a test.” He says, taking off his hat and stepping around behind you. “Control of one’s expressions and emotions are paramount.”

“Wait, where are you go- Sabo the play hasn’t even started.” You nearly hiss the words, a little bit of panic as he’s already lifting your skirts to sneak his way under them.

“Do keep your eyes forward,” he admonishes softly, leaning forward and kissing your neck softly and swiftly. “The second act tends to drag a little, and curious eyes will certainly wander during that time.”

“It’s three hours.” You nearly whine, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll count how many times you cum, so just focus on the play.” He promises, disappearing under the seat and your skirts easily.

With a resigned sigh you shift your attention to the stage. You aren’t surprised to feel warm, gloved hands, against your legs. Of all the tricks he would pull to cause you to make noise, surprise wasn’t one of them.

His hands moved against your ankles, calves and thighs like he was mapping them out and committing their every curve to memory. It was pleasurable and relaxing and even as it had you needy for more, it allowed you to focus on the play.

If only a little.

Gloved thumbs slipped over bare labia, waxed smooth from a “punishment” a few days prior. Sabo had warned you about the price for stepping on his shoes while the two of you practiced dancing. The lesson had been useful, but it had also brought your relationship to a new level.

“I think I’ve moved my feet out of the way enough,” he’d said with a reluctant smile. “So do be careful going forward.”

You’d grinned. “I wondered why, no matter how I tried, I still hadn’t stepped on your foot… young lord.”

Sabo had paused the dance to regard you a moment, and you’d taken that chance to purposefully step on his shoe, grinding the toe of your shoe into his, defiant grin on your face.

He’d resumed dancing afterward, voice low and eyes sharp. “If my sweet dove desires punishment, she need only ask.”

You felt the shiver roll through you as he spread your labia apart, breath hot against your soaked folds. His fingers shift, gloved digits moving between your thighs, fingers hungrily pressing and sliding over the hot, slicked, tender intricacies of your vulva.

Your fingers tense, gripping your skirts as you try to keep your focus on the stage. You can feel him keeping you open, exposed, and you’re certain he’s simply staring.

A single finger against your clit pulls a soft shuddering breath from you, and your legs tense as it swirls in a lazy circle. For long minutes he teases you this way, and you can almost move the sensation to the back of your mind to focus on the stage.

Though not much interesting is happening now. A tepid conversation.

As the tension of the conversation builds, the tempo of Sabo’s finger rises, pressing heavier and rubbing you faster. With a little bit of dread you realize this bastard has the play memorized.

When the conversation on stage reaches its grand reveal, his fingers push into your pussy, rushing a soft gasp out of you in time with the surprised gasp of the theater crowd.

And so the play goes. Sabo teases you as the tension in the play builds, pleasing you roughly here and there as there are reveals and other peaks within the story. He edges you as the characters experience frustrations, and buries his face into your cunt suddenly, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers pump inside you.

The powerful orgasm hits you as the lead soprano’s note fills the theater. Your stifled moan is swallowed by the powerful sound - not that Sabo grants you any mercy afterward. He’s never satisfied with just one, pulling the first rush into a second.

Leaving you to sob with the audience as a sad scene in the third act leaves everyone in tears. Yours are from overstimulation, legs trembling as the third orgasm seems to earn you some small reprieve, Sabo’s tongue licking you clean gently, instead of rushing you to another crescendo.

Two more slowly built up orgasms leave you breathless and exhausted as the play starts to wrap up. Sabo come out from under your skirts, tidying himself a little, and putting his hat back on as he sits down beside you.

His gloved are obviously stained and wet, but he makes no move to take them off as he grips the arm rests of his seat. He gives you a kind, knowing smile, as the curtains fall and helps you stand so you can give the same ovation as the other opera goers.

“Good job, sweet dove.” He says, taking his hat off no using it to shield the both of you from the rest of the theater as he gives you a kiss. “Perhaps we could have an encore on the ride back home, hm?”

#positively Victorian #positively Victorian again #sabo one piece #revolutionary sabo #x reader #reader insert

40 notes · View notes

calisources · 4 months

Text

THE CW'S REIGN SEASON THREE QUOTES.all these sentences were taken from season three of the historical fictional show, reign. change pronouns, locations and names as you �� see fit.

Elizabeth's real war is with me.

I am just as strong and as stubborn as Elizabeth. I will not live in fear of her!

Are you trying to blame a woman for a man's choices?

I hope your wings are strong, you vulture. You will be circling for quite some time.

You must wed again. You must love again.

I will take back what is mine, and if you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me.

An outsider? That's because I am.

No matter what you might think, I can't just force men to fall in love with me.

I am a queen, about to marry a broken prince for power.

It's time to accept my fate.

I will not be chased out of my country before I've even retuned.

I will fight fire with fire.

The day may come where we may find ourselves on the battle field. What would you do then?

Impressive. Where did you learn to shoot like that?

Well, King Francis was right. Now that I've seen your abilities with a bow, I certainly won't be crossing you.

I will rip out his heart as he did mine.

Help me bring all of my people together, or may God and your queen have mercy on your soul.

I will dismantle her power bit by bit. Every choice I make, who I fight, who I support, who I marry, will be in service of taking her throne.

Who cares about right or wrong if you're dead?

Why would my presence startle you? Oh, because you married my lover.

You startled me.

You are offering me a kindness and consideration I have rarely shown you through the years.

I feel love toward my dead brother and anger that people think you could harm him. Those feelings lead me to stand here with you.

Like a queen men would die for.

Honestly, Mother! How many people have you killed?!

I am their Queen. Their whispers are treason.

It is a fact of our time. A man rules his wife. Even if his wife is a queen.

What's the cost of a king's life?

Show people you are worthy of the post you hold, and no one will remember how you rose to it.

To marry you is to defy my king, to risk Catherine's wrath and the judgment of my friends, and yet... you make me feel stronger than I've ever felt before.

Do you treat all your political hostages so kindly?

It's incredible, really. I march to my execution very soon, and yet you are the one to be pitied.

There can only be one queen. And I had to choose mine.

You may not be king, but your actions reflect on Francis, and he has the weight of thousands of lives, just like this one, on his shoulders. Be wiser next time.

God, I wish mother were here. She manages tragedy with ruthless clarity.

I'm a princess!

Stop saying you have no choice, Charles. You're the King!

I never said I was a good man, but one can receive good advice from a bad person.

Without him the nights are long and lonely. I can't imagine what they must be like without the man you truly love.

This idea of yours. A bloodless defensive, it's a delusion you talked yourself into.

And because you value power more than anyone else, you will always be alone.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

30 notes · View notes

goldensunset · 1 year

Text

what if you were an edgy teenage boy who was by nature rather lonely and aloof but you did have this one friend and you used to hang out with him and talk about cool chill stuff together and you didn’t really have any other friends but it was okay because he was enough for you but one day when you were planning to meet up with him he died suddenly in an accident and this horrific tragedy badly emotionally scarred you and you blamed yourself for his death and so you vowed to never open up to other people or get attached to them again because friendship is just pain and both of you might end up getting hurt by it all so you became truly cold and selfish and all alone and started to resent humanity and you thought you were twisted and evil and unfixable but you were really just fifteen years old AND THEN one day you woke up in a strange version of your world and you found out you were dead and had to play this weird purgatory death trap game but you were really good at it for some unusual reason except you had to partner up with this girl and like open up your heart and soul to her and that was very hard for you for the aforementioned reasons and you slowly started to bond with her and help her sort through her own issues with her self esteem and your frozen heart began to melt so that within the span of a week you went from being willing to erase her soul to being willing to play this death game again just for her even though you yourself wouldn’t have been too terribly upset if your soul got erased but she was your most precious thing and you kept going because you had to win this game a second time in order to save her since being your most precious thing meant she was taken away as your entry fee in order to promote character growth AND THEN your second game partner was this really annoying snobbish boy who kind of just reinforced all your prior beliefs about humanity but you were trying your best to grin and bear it because that girl had taught you that there was beauty to be found in life and you had to make an attempt to trust other people plus also even if he had been the literal worst her life was on the line here and also most potentially terrifying of all that boy was actually surprisingly a lot like you with how lonely and withdrawn from other people he was but also he was just so suspicious and then you found out he was the one who killed you and he didn’t confirm or deny anything

*INHALE*

but then later you found out that it was a lie and he was innocent plus he sacrificed himself to protect you at the end of this second game so you felt bad for having suspected him the entire time and you blamed yourself for his death because you felt like he sacrificed himself as an attempt to make amends with you after an otherwise unstable partnership because of your refusal to open up and trust him so your heart felt like a tar pit AND THEN you had to play the game for a third and final time and you were convinced that this time you would have to face this all alone because all your friends were gone but even so you marched on for their sake and it looked like it was about to be game over for you and like it was all for nothing but then this other boy you’d had a few mostly unfriendly interactions with in the past few weeks gave up everything he had going for him and put his existence on the line to swoop in out of nowhere and save you even though he was supposed to be your enemy and you thought he hated you but he was actually grateful towards you for a small gesture you once did for him while expecting nothing in return and both of you were very relieved to see each other and to get to be friends even if neither of you were the type to really admit that out loud and you worked together for the last week to try to help him save his sister whose sudden erasure you had witnessed while trying to sort through each other's trauma and then the two of you eventually met up with the girl from before and so the three of you headed towards the endgame together fuelled by the powers of friendship and violence AND THEN you found out that the boy from earlier that you thought had died to save you had actually been alive all this time and he had only faked his death and had been off and hiding somewhere and you were absolutely overjoyed to see him again but this happiness only lasted for a brief moment as he quickly revealed himself to be the angelic being that was actually in charge of this death game in the first place and on top of that he had in fact killed you but had been meddling with your memories the entire time to throw your suspicion off of him and he had killed you for the express purpose of using you as a pawn in this game because he had made a bet with his vice president or whatever about whether or not humanity could be redeemed

*INHALE*

and if the answer was no he was gonna destroy the whole city as opposed to his vice president who was gonna brainwash everyone and he had picked you as his proxy because you represented his belief that humanity was in fact irredeemable and you had just won the game for him by undoing the brainwashing power and yet ironically the nightmare death game had made you a better person and now your opinion of humanity had improved drastically but regardless it seemed like all hope was lost and the city was about to be destroyed with everyone in it except the boy for some strange reason decided he wanted to play one last game with you in the form of a gun duel and if you won and erased him you would get to take his place as the angelic ruler of this place and do whatever you want with the city and if you lost you’d be erased along with all your friends and the city and it seemed like the obvious decision there was to just shoot him and win but your heart was breaking because no matter how much this boy hurt you no matter how much you’d changed you still understood what it felt like to be him and especially after all that time you had spent with him and spent mourning him and drowning in regret at not having been able to bond with him more during the time that you had thought he was dead you still cared about him so deeply even knowing that he had lied to you about everything you just couldn’t bring yourself to kill him and you broke down crying and he coldly shot you just as he had before BUT THEN you woke up some time later back in your own world alive and unharmed and you were confused and just full of so many intense emotions and eventually you realized he had changed his mind and spared your life because your genuine change of heart had inspired a change of heart in him in turn and since you had been chosen specifically to represent him as someone so much like him then the fact that you could change and grow as a person was proof that maybe there was hope for him as well and you showed him that there was worth and beauty in humanity after all even though horribly and ironically he could never join you ever again and be your friend in your world because as the angelic being who ruled over the afterlife he was duty-bound to this position for the rest of his existence until someone else took him out and took his place so in a way him giving you the chance to erase him had been him expressing how tired he was of living on this way in this miserable purgatory even though he presumably had ascended to this position by his own volition it really did seem like he regretted his choice and now wished he could join you and your friends in the world of the living but he was eternally cursed to merely silently watch over you from above with jealousy and you got to meet up with all your other friends and live happily ever after with them but you also had to live with these lingering emotions for the rest of your life. wouldn’t that be wild lol

#i’ve been working on this post for at least a month or two i’m not sure why #i think it was originally in response to dehliadelights’s ask but then i decided to go with a summary of the reapers’ game #as opposed to all of twewy itself #absolutely nobody asked for me to summarize the plot of twewy in a long post. but i did #the world ends with you #twewy #mine: twewy #subaseka tag #long post #neku sakuraba #shiki misaki #daisukenojo bito #joshua kiryu

198 notes · View notes

rillils · 4 months

Note

what hurts me most is thinking abt people realizing just how YOUNG bucky actually is

it's so fucking unfair, it just breaks your heart to even think about it, doesn't it?

consider catfa. here you have a young man barely into his late 20s, when you're technically a fully grown adult, but really you're most likely still trying to get your shit together, you know, still figuring out how Adulting™ really works - and then it's one tragedy after the other for him

Bucky has his whole life ahead of him, and instead of getting to choose a path of his own, of building a life for himself, he is:

drafted into a war he never even wanted to be a part of

captured, forced into hard physical labor and ultimately experimented on against his will

kinda roped into going back to the front lines after being rescued (not against his will this time, but let's face it, there was no way in hell that he would have gone home while Steve was still out there putting his life on the line)

captured once more when his whole team thought him dead, tortured in every possible way, taken apart, experimented on some more, quite possibly put on god knows what kind of substances, either to further improve his physical performances or to aid in keeping him docile and easier to manipulate - or, well, for both of those reasons I guess

brutally stripped of his identity, his memories, his free will, his humanity, and reshaped into a killing machine, a weapon to be used whenever necessary, and, as they say, put away wet. and then rinse and repeat for sixty-nine years.

the truly horrifying part is that they didn't just hurt him, they also forced him to hurt other people. people whose lives were taken by his own hands, when he was barely even an unwilling passenger in his own body. so here he is, just… grieving,

both for himself - the years he lost to torture and brainwashing, and can never get back again; and the life he could have had, with all the people he loved, in the place he used to call home - and for all the victims of the Soldier and their respective families, left to mourn their loved ones, often without even knowing why.

he could have lived a normal, quiet, happy life, but all of that was taken away from him.

BUT but but butt butt

here's the thing.

actually, here's a couple of things.

you see, pieces of crap like Endgame will try to convince you that, if things didn't go exactly your way the first time around, you should just give up on your future altogether and fuck off to the past, where you can live out an unhealthy fantasy and have a creepy, dystopian-coded life as-- well, not even as yourself, just as somebody else wearing your own face.

don't listen to pieces of crap like Endgame, they give the shittiest kind of advice.

because! because even after everything he went through, Bucky's still alive! his life isn't over. and that's the beauty of it! he SO can still be happy, and do all the things he didn't get to do back in the day. sure, the timing might not be what he originally thought, back before the war, but just because his plans got derailed doesn't mean that he can't build his own life now. and that's exactly what he's going to do, one step at a time - and YES, with Steve by his side, if I get any say in this (and this being my answer to an ask on my blog, I get all the say lol)

so I hereby declare that Bucky gets to be as fucking happy as can be! like, SO MUCH FUCKING HAPPINESS, YOU CAN'T EVEN QUANTIFY IT. so much fucking happiness, you'd think he might get sick of it!!!! but he won't!!!!!!

I think he does find that calm he so desperately needed. I think he gets to find himself again, gets to meet all the parts of him he thought he'd lost, the ones even he had forgotten. I think, he even gets to meet some new sides of Bucky Barnes he hadn't had the chance to discover yet.

I think he learns that some days are worse than others, and on those days, he learns to show himself a little kindness, and a little forgiveness for not being who (he used to think) he was supposed to be, and a little love for who he is.

I think he also learns that, while there are some bad days, and there will always be, most of them are actually, surprisingly, good days. I think he learns that he has the right to have good days. I think he learns that he deserves to have good days. I think he learns that it's okay to feel good; that there's nothing silly or lazy in just sitting outside in the sun, and basking in its warmth like a happy little lizard, and wishing you never had to move from that spot at all.

I think he gets to be the nerd he always was deep down; science nerd, space nerd, book nerd, any sort of nerd flavor he can find the time and will to explore.

I think he gets to build a home for himself, with the man who always meant Home to him, more than any house ever could.

I think he gets to wake up to good-morning kisses, and to good-morning fingers carding tenderly through his hair, and good-morning playful groping under the sheets, and good-morning "sorry I just kneed you in the groin, lemme kiss it better for ya", and good-morning giggles because Steve's bedhead achieves epic levels of Bird's Nest first thing in the morning, and good-morning pretty eyes looking back at him from Steve's pillow, drinking him in like no sight in the world will ever be as heartrendingly beautiful as Bucky waking up next to him in their big, big bed, and good-morning "how do you want your eggs?", and good-morning "let's skip eggs and have french toast today", because today, today he's feeling good.

and that's only the start, honey 💕💕💕

#stucky just stucky #personal #bucky barnes #stucky #i got carried away fjdhsk SORRY MY BAD HONEY #*flies into the sun*

26 notes · View notes

an-angel-in-the-garden · 10 months

Note

Hi there! If your still doing Hellsing imagings would it be possible to do headcanons of Alucards reactions to a ghost or a banshee? Thank you have a good day!

I'm so down for that! I do still write for Helling and it will always have a place in my heart. I wasn't sure if you wanted anything romantic so these are kind of romantic but could be taken as platonic.

A Banshee

I think as a whole he would find it pretty interesting but lets narrow down the whys and hows

To start with there aren't that many supernaturals just running around anymore and Alucard mostly deals with Ghouls or Vampires

He's always curious to learn more about the world and this would be new to him, not unheard of but new

There's something about you that keeps him interested

Its starts with the weeping, he's not used to the sounds of mourning anymore yet you weep so often both for the dead and those who shall die

You were likely found thanks to said weeping it's hard for people to just ignore and after so many people saying they hear it before a tragedy Integra decided it needs to be dealt with

He's given the job for an obvious reasons and he's hoping this could be fun

Seeing you is another story though, from the moment your eyes meet he's starstruck.

From the tear streaks to the long nails it's clear your something already dead but you don't seem angry or like you want to fight you merely weep

The sound is both painful and beautiful, it's a haunting melody that leaves him feeling more empty then normal

Something about how you talk, how you almost sing for the dead at times makes him unable to try and kill you so he offers you a deal

Come back to Hellsing manor with him, work for them and in exchange you can live and weep as you wish

After that you become a protector for the Hellsing group, singing and weeping for them and those they kill

Always a warning of the bad to come

Some are still scared of you but Alucard finds peace around you, with you he feels more alive in some ways he hates it in others it becomes a small slice of heaven when things feel lost

So I know this took a long time and I do apologize for that. I had some trouble writing lately. I feel like I have more ideas now so I'm gonna try to get more out though I don't know when. I really hope you enjoyed it even though this was more simple than I first had in mind. Also I graduated this month! So that's been really fun. Have a lovely day or night~ Lilly

#reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader x #hellsing imagines #hellsing x reader #alucard imagine #alucard x reader

73 notes · View notes

blackwolfstabs · 4 months

Text

Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @silliestgoosever

HAUNTED

"Even wolves bleed like sheep..."

fandom: Scream // Epiphany AU by @silliestgoosever // (parker's version) characters: Sam Carpenter, Christina Carpenter, & Tara Carpenter WARNING: contains angst, minor gore, & verbal abuse

Sam hissed as the warm steam from her shower cleared to let the cold air of the air conditioning burn her right eye. Her blind eye…

It seemed like she got soap in that eye every fucking time she took a shower. It seemed like every time she “got used to” being blind in that eye, something would rip her back to reality, cursing her with how it got that way and all the damage that she’d suffered with it.

It never got easier to re-live. The fight, the words, the curses, the blame, the guilt, the pain… All the pain that her mother had caused. Physically, mentally, emotionally—all of it. It never got easier.

She pulled a comb through her hair, before grabbing a dry washcloth to press it against her stinging eye. If Christina was going to take half of her vision away, she should’ve taken the nerves with it too. It watered against the contact, making her grit her teeth as she wiped it and tried to blink away the sting.

“You’re pathetic!”

A voice—a very familiar voice—hissed behind her.

Sam froze. Her heart skipped into a race, and she felt every muscle in her body tense. All of it. All of it hit her like a hurricane at once. It was the Cat-5- kind of hurricane that destroyed everything in its path in a single second and left the tragedy behind. It had winds that howled the foulest of words and rain that downed out even the loudest, most desperate screams. It was ruthless and held no remorse in the strength that it held.

And that hurricane was named Christina Carpenter.

She swallowed, not realizing that she was shaking, until it was pointed out.

“You always trembled when I was around,” the teasing began. “I always thought it was out of anger, but now that I know just how much of a coward you are, the truth really was that you were scared of me.”

She could hear her own breath shudder as she stared at the wall.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you, Samantha? Just like you were afraid of your father, when you started having visions of him.”

She sounded so evil. So vile . So savagely in love with the idea of making her own daughter suffer for the decisions her parents made.

“Turn around and face me, Loomis ! You’ve still got one good eye, I know you can see me!” There was a fleeting moment of tense silence, before the woman growled, “Let me see that reward I gave you for showing me who you really are…”

How could she turn around after hearing that? What was she, a sad, obedient dog that did whatever her master wanted, no matter how demeaning, infuriating, or humiliating? Yes. She must be, because the next thing she knew, she was staring at herself in the mirror with her mother’s mirrored eyes glaring at her in disgust and prideful hatred.

She was standing right behind her. She was standing there, like she was some fashion designer that had just groomed their chosen model for a show. Some show… It was a horror show that left Sam’s stomach churning with nausea.

But she couldn’t look away. And Christina just grinned.

“Look how weak… how despicable…” Her hand came up to lightly graze over her daughter’s eye, “How revealing…”

Sam yanked her face away, flames of shock setting her body on fire as she felt the touch, as if she wasn’t dead and actually standing right behind her. However, her shoulders were grabbed and held in place, and the manifested woman snarled.

“Look at yourself, Samantha!”

And she reluctantly did so, thick blood covering the entire right side of her face and the lower left side, running into her blind eye, which seemed to sting a thousand times more than the soap did. She had to fight back a cry of pain as it dripped off her chin and onto the bathroom floor, leaving her world to regress back to that night. She couldn’t stop the tears that flooded into her eyes at the disbelief.

No. This wasn’t real. It was her doing all of this.

She tried to wipe some of the blood from her cheek, but nothing came off on her hand. The pain was there, the touch was there, the voices and the haunting looks were there, but the real world wasn’t.

It was all because of her.

“Y-you’re not real,” she finally managed to speak. “You’re only in my head, just like he was.”

But her mother denied it. “Oh, I’m very real. Who else could’ve done this?” She hummed as she snaked her hands around the younger’s waist and grabbed the hem of her shirt. “I carved you up nicely, didn’t I?”

Sam swallowed back the nausea threatening to crawl up her throat. She nearly gasped at how cold the woman’s fingertips were as they curved beneath her clothing and brushed her warm skin.

“Even wolves bleed like sheep…”

Christina pulled her shirt up to expose the other scar she’d cursed her with, which was now gushing blood, just like her face was. Then, she took one hand and dipped two fingers into the crimson liquid to start drawing over her bare stomach.

Sam’s tears fell. She shook in her mother’s hold, paralyzed and unable to fight back small whimpers as she watched the blood trail being made on her torso, like a map of death. “No…”

“Yes.” The older Carpenter leaned in close to her ear. “Let those tears fall. Show me just how miserable it is to live with these scars on your body, blood on your hands, me in your head, and Billy in your heart.”

“No!” The victim managed to break the spiritual spectrum for a moment, ripping the hands away from her abdomen and pulling herself out of the hovering presence that held her captive. She looked over her shoulder, and there was nothing there. She dropped her gaze to her torso, and it was free of smeared blood. But when she met the mirror, Christina was still there with her glowing eyes that were full of insanity, bloodlust, and hatred for the one staring back at her—her own daughter.

“You can’t escape it, Samantha. No matter how hard you try, I will always be in every dark corner of your mind.”

The terror that she felt so strongly only seconds ago was drowned by a river of lava that burned fear to ashes and left nothing but rage and resentment. “I already got rid of one person who tried to control me—”

“You got lucky that time,” she cut her off. “Your mother, who you knew all your life until that night, isn’t that easy to ignore, and you know it. That’s why you can’t look away from what I’ve made of you. You can’t get rid of me.”

Sam stared her mother down, seething while her right eyelid twitched. It made her enemy chuckle. And that infuriated her. How dare she? That woman could mock her all she wanted. She was dead , so the war was already won. “I won’t beg you anymore,” she growled coldly. “Stay out of my life.”

Those 5 simple words combined in that simple sentence made Christina’s eyes go cold—colder than they already were. Then they lit up with hatred. Even though she was just a reflection in the mirror, she lunged forward. “You’re nothing, you hear me?! Nothing but a Loomis!” she screamed so loud that the reflective glass seemed to shake on the wall. “You know that you’re just like me, you’re just like Billy, and you know damn well that you’ll end up killing Tara, too! Your sister, the only person who could ever love you!”

“Liar!” her daughter bit back. That was the quickest response she could get out. She was rabid with insulted rage. She was already partially blind, but she couldn’t even see straight at this point. All she saw was red, and it wasn’t because of blood, this time. She was sick of being yelled at, and accused, and ripped apart by the tormentors who were biologically her own parents. Fuck that. She had endured too much. She didn’t want to take it anymore. “You’re wrong, Tara means everything to me! I would never fucking hurt her!”

“Did you forget? You already have.”

Sam’s blood went from fire to ice at the realization. She had hurt her. By leaving… She left all those years ago, and that was why Tara got hurt in the first place… to get her to come back to Woodsboro.

Christina chuckled. “You see? We’re the same, you and me.”

No. Fuck that. Things had changed. She loved Tara. And Tara loved her. “We’re nothing alike!” the younger Carpenter spat. “You’re pure evil!”

“Maybe. But I’m also dead… which means you can’t stop me.”

Every thing she said, there was a comeback. Every defense had an offense. Every truth had a dare.

“The day will come when you’ll hold Tara’s dead body in your arms, and there will be no second chances, no more I-love-yous, no more trust, and no more Sam Carpenter. Just Samantha Loomis.”

It was so painful. Sam didn’t think she had ever been as tense as she was right at this moment. Lies. All she could think of was the word lies . She wanted to say more. She wanted to argue. She wanted to rip out her tongue and shove it down her throat so far that she could grab a hold of her intestines and pull them back up and apart from what held them in place.

But she was dead. So, there was nothing she could do but take it.

Christina knew her daughter was totally defenseless, looking like she was about to burst into tears again. And that thrilled her. It was refreshing and empowering, just like that night. Every time Tara was mentioned, it got to Sam deeply and emotionally.

It was priceless.

“You can never give her what she needs.”

Something snapped. Sam could feel it inside her. She went blind, totally blind as a guttural scream echoed off the drywall and her fist was thrown into the mirror.

Cracks.

Then shattered glass.

All in the blink of an eye.

The sound of shards falling from their placement, into the sink, and all over the floor snapped Sam out of her rabid trance. She was panting, her left-eyed vision settling on her fist that was still jammed into the mirror. Her arm was trembling and she could see fresh blood starting to accumulate on her knuckles.

Christina was gone. The pain and the threats were gone. It was just her in the bathroom, alone, her damp hair bringing cooler temperatures to her face, while the realization that she had just punched the mirror and broke it processed in her head.

—

Tara threw the door to her room open and made it to the bathroom door, which was still shut. She knew Sam had been taking a shower, but the sound of an animalistic scream and glass shattering overpowered the music coming through her headphones. She knocked on it. “Sam?”

There was no answer.

“Sammy, are you okay?”

Still nothing.

This made her anxiety rush in with no hesitation. She didn’t even bother to try again as she let herself in, nearly busting the door open. “Sam—” She froze only a step into the room.

Sam was sitting on the floor with shattered pieces of the mirror scattered all around her. Her head was hung, and she was holding her hand—her right hand.

“Sam…?” Tara wanted to go to her sister’s side, but she didn’t have any shoes on, and the tile was littered with small pieces that could easily get stuck in her feet.

Sam finally looked up from staring at the ground. It was slow and almost eerie the way she did it, but the relief that came over her little sister’s face when she realized that she was conscious and could hear her pulled her out of the shocked trance. Somewhat, at least…

As much as locking eyes made her nerves tempted to settle, the younger Carpenter was nearly horrified at the loss of control she must’ve experienced that caused her to break the mirror. “What are you doing?” her voice almost cracked as she said it.

Great. After all of that, she had just scared Tara. She swore she’d never be someone her baby sister didn’t want to be around, yet here she was, surrounded by her own unstable, toxic behavior.

No. That wasn’t her. That was Christina trying to take her by the reins and control who she wanted her to be.

But she had to be honest.

“I’m fine, Tara,” she assured her. Her voice was quiet and tired with a small rasp from her previous yelling. Then, she looked away. “She, uh…” Her scarred-up face stared back at her in one of the large pieces of reflective glass. “It wasn’t real…”

She was still confused though… “What wasn’t real?”

The witch’s horrid design on her face was what held Sam’s attention. She hadn’t been real, but she had felt like it. The words, the blood, the touching. Being a canvas was something that still made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Sammy?”

“Our mother…”

Tara blinked from her older sister to the glass on the floor, and then to the place where the mirror used to be. At first, she didn’t understand, but then it all made sense. “You saw a vision of her?” she asked, feeling confident in the answer but wanting to hear it for herself.

However, Sam shook her head. “It wasn’t a vision, Tara…” She watched the blood trickle down her knuckles.

“...it was a nightmare, while I was still awake.”

merry christmas josey! it was a pleasure to write something from your AU. i hope you enjoy it 🎄✨🎁

- parker (BWS)

35 notes · View notes

pandorahex · 7 months

Text

The Sorceress

by Pandora Hex

This story got away from Me a little bit, in the best way possible. In many ways, it's taken Me just over 33 years to write - I hope it's good. It's not as erotic as I usually write here, but there are times you'll get glimpses of sensuality.

Content warnings for cult mentions, emotional abuse, allusions to hypnotic abuse, depression, transgender themes, emotions.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

This is a story about a wicked sorceress, the hearts she stole, and the challenges she met along the way.

It’s got heartbreak, tragedy, loss and betrayal. Deception, too.

But it also has happiness. It’s got joy and passion and love. So much love, you wouldn’t believe it.

For a long time, the sorceress didn’t know her destiny. She didn’t know about the spark of magic, or about her own pleasure. She was ordinary, and she spent a lot of time forcing that to be true.

But magic isn’t easily contained. It sneaks out, in little ways.

Consider that young boy. It started with stories. Juvenile at first as you’d expect, knights and dragons, a childhood home exaggerated to be a mansion… no, a castle… no, a glorious palace!

He’d always scowl when he got carried away like that. No, he was nothing special.

He’s a little older now. He hasn’t written a story in years, ever since he shared the one about a princess fighting a vampire king and later found it in the bin.

He fits in, likes normal things, he has friends; he’s happy.

But that’s not really true, is it?

In an entirely different realm, the sorceress weaves her words into the threads of every discussion she comes across. Flitting from place to place, enchanting with her voice and her presence, and knowing with absolute certainty that this is what she was made for.

He logs off and ignores the hole in his heart. He has martial arts practice, he agreed to go to a birthday party for somebody he barely knows, he has a paper route to do, and he lies about how much he makes so he can spend the extra on…

The sorceress gasped when she first saw herself. The wig was terrible, the dress from the back of a wardrobe, out of style years ago.

But none of that mattered. The spark of magic ignited, and there was plenty of fantasy and imagination to kindle the flame.

“I wish you’d let me cut your hair.”

He was a bit too old for a paper route now, and the kind of wigs she wanted were getting a bit pricy. Why not just grow it? And it suited her.

“People are going to think you’re a girl.”

A lump in his throat. They won’t.

He was doing great. Top of his class, even a little popular, in the way that some nerdy boys could still pull off. He just knew the right things to say, how to present himself. The mask never slipped.

He skipped every swimming lesson, and wrote stories in detention.

She’s smiling behind the darkness in his head. If he’s popular at school, they love her even more in that other world.

The sorceress, who dazzles them with descriptions of incandescent magic, of subtle invocation, of the passion and excitement in her heart.

It’ll be years before she understands what those compliments really meant. What they thought she was. He talks to a guy on a school trip, and they sneak off to the bathrooms.

She asks him to call her a good girl, but quickly corrects himself in the momentary confusion.

People look at him a little funny after that, but not for too long. And he hardly cares anymore. She’s happier in the other world. Where she can talk now about everything that’s happening to her, she’s been granted access to those circles which tantalised her for so long.

But she’d already had glimpses of it, in private conversations, in that bathroom on the school trip. It had been calling her name, even if she didn’t have a real one yet.

It was, frankly, hypnotic.

He was independent now, full of shame. This wasn’t how a man was supposed to be. He shouldn’t be craving the things he was craving. And he should be going to his classes. Why couldn’t he make himself go? A year sped by. Failed out on the final exam by one point.

He’d wasted so much time on fantasy. It was her fault. He cut her hair, he threw away her clothes and she wept with every knife he stabbed into his own heart.

He logged on this time, he was in that other realm. It felt.. familiar and different at the same time. He made new friends, found a new home. And after a while, he found something incredible.

A soft, fluffy, white pup. With the bluest eyes, pretty round face.

They talked every day. They spent every hour playing games and watching robots fight, roleplaying and falling in love.

On their first date, the pupy wore the gothiest, laciest dress he’d ever seen. He got to find out, on the back of a bus, that she wasn’t wearing underwear.

He had a good life. He’d thrown everything that reminded him of the sorceress away and didn’t think about it much. Snatched moments in B&Bs, hotels, rented apartments. He was happy and comfortably ordinary.

She hadn’t cut her hair again though. It grew back fast.

He had no idea where it came from. It was a night like any other, he was playing with his pup. Completely from nowhere, the magic flared into life again. There she was, in all her glory, all curves and happiness, in a sleek red swimsuit.

Her pup was the most loyal, most loving, kindest and devoted pet a woman could hope for. Their bond only grew stronger after that moment. She explored more, became the woman she really was.

She didn’t know she’d done it at the time, but this was the first captured heart, treasured and held close.

We used the word before: hypnotic.

It had always been part of her fantasies, but here she was, using her voice and her words to enchant people, to let them enchant her.

To let them tell her to do things. Think things. To ignore some things. Oh dear.

Doing what Crimson said was bad. But it felt good. Until it didn’t feel good anymore. She had to get out. Her magic was stymied, for a while. But she’d found something else in that excitement, something truly important.

A smiling, confident, clockwork doll.

They escaped that cult. She still feels strange using that word. They found their own spaces for a while, the sorceress and the doll. Life went on. She got to be her own person again, always weaving in and out of tantalising scenes and situations.

The vampire was enticing. She had an energy, an allure the sorceress couldn’t help but desire. It was the vampire who invited the sorceress in, and they grew close.

But she didn’t understood her own magic properly. Not yet.

Maybe it was something left over from the cult. But it was her own fault. She hadn’t been able to see it. As much as hypnosis had given her, it was taking away from her too. She wasn’t seeing these precious gifts the way she ought to. She’d hurt people. Treated them wrong.

The scar still glows on her heart.

I promise you, dear reader, that there is a happy ending. But the next part might lead you to think that things couldn’t possibly have gotten better. I want you to bear in mind as you read, that the sorceress’ tale has many more chapters yet.

The vampire and her family cast the sorceress out. She sealed her magic, so she couldn't hurt anybody again. She cut her hair.

Her hair though. Nothing would ever take that away.

She spent her days in darkness and sadness, other than the brief windows with her loyal pup.

In one of these moments, curled up in sadness, the sorceress felt a presence, looked up and saw a hand, held out to her. A solid, ball-jointed hand.

The doll gave her a gift that has never faded. Hope, recovery. Maybe redemption.

And slowly, the magic began to burn again. Only embers; we remember that magic has a way of sneaking out. She began to share her hypnosis again. Carefully, deliberately.

Her doll always supporting, conditioned and brainwashed through passion and effort and love.

This time had been on purpose. Her second captured heart, treasured and held close.

The sorceress went through many changes in her time. She was slime, she was a robot, a kitten, a demonic force. But none of those masks fit better than the sorceress.

So she discarded the mask entirely, and found that what was left behind was Her.

She poured Her entire heart into Her new passion, and the magic only grew more incandescent, harnessed but all the more magnificent for being under Her control.

By chance, she met the vampire again. The vampire didn’t recognise Her, and once upon a time that would have been a relief. But the sorceress knew, and She spoke with Her doll. She laid her heart open for the vampire, admitted Her failings.

And they spoke for a long time.

They’re probably laughing and talking about kink even as you read this. The vampire gave Her forgiveness. The scar on Her heart has almost faded now.

She only continued to grow, more powerful. Happier, more passionate. Able to sprinkle in some of that spicy darkness now and then. You’re used to that though, by now.

She was even able to find time to be normal. But even then, She was Herself.

She tried streaming. She’d loved streaming, years before, hours and hours spent with Her pup, laughing and loving and making fun of games. But somehow, they hadn’t had time for it for a while.

She started checking out other people’s streams too.

And one day, as if She’d slipped down a secret tunnel into a world she hadn't found before, She found the funniest woman She’d ever met. Her laugh still echos in the sorceress’ heart to this very day, and She's blessed with her light every day. But we're jumping ahead.

They laughed, made crude jokes, talked about their lives. They laughed about how they each thought the other was "The Cool One". They laughed about their shared tastes and they laughed about whatever they could find to laugh about. Before long, those laughs were moans.

And in very little time at all, the sorceress crafted the funniest woman in the world a set of wings, and showed her how to fly. Another blazing bond of love, touched as always with a delightful helping of brainwashing and conditioning.

Love blossoming more all the time. A third captured heart, treasured and held close.

She's captured lots of hearts now, though briefly, always giving them a touch of affection before handing them back. This story doesn't tell you about those who were in Her orbit only for a little while, taken away by chance, choice or fate.

And it doesn't tell you about the hearts She has yet to capture, or might be in the process of capturing right now. In many ways, this isn't really a story. It's only Chapter One.

So I won't say The End… but this is an ending. I hope it's a happy one.

Thank you for getting this far, My dear reader. A good story should always end with hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, for laughs and loves that will lift you up. I'm supported by so many who lift Me up every day, and I strive to lift them too.

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, know only this: I am rooting for you. I know that no matter what pain is in your heart, no matter what evil lurks there or around you, you are worthwhile. Strive, and win.

With hope, Pandora Hex, Wordbender.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

29 notes · View notes