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cozage · 8 months

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The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 12: The Call Home

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.7k

The amount of times you were dry heaving into the toilet made you think your body was trying to delay this conversation with your father. You had to admit, you were thanking this baby for prolonging the inevitable. The thought of hearing your father and Marco on the other side of the transponder snail made you start another round of gags into the toilet.

A knock came at the door, Whitey’s friendly voice asking if you were okay.

You almost laughed at her question. How could you answer that? You were pregnant. Thatch was dead. Teach was a traitor. Ace had abandoned you, and now he was set to be publicly executed.

You were far from okay.

And yet, when you answered, you simply let out a weak “I’m fine!” Even though your heart and soul had been collapsing in on itself for almost a month now.

You and Ace were supposed to be going to doctor's visits. Your baby was the size of an avocado now, if you remembered correctly from that pamphlet the nurse had given you back in Alabasta.

You should’ve defeated Teach easily. The two of you working together would’ve been no match for him. It didn’t matter what his devil fruit was. The two of you would’ve won.

If Ace wouldn’t have acted irrationally, the two of you would still be together. The two of you would’ve been okay. Life would be a little less bleak.

But Ace never thought about the consequences of things. He only ever just did them.

God, you were so tired.

You began crying again, hot and angry tears. You wanted to scream or punch something, anything to get rid of your frustration. You wanted to create a lava flow so extreme that you created a new island from your grief.

But you couldn’t do any of that right now. You could only cry.

“I’m coming in,” Whitey said, opening the door.

“Hey babe,” she said softly. “I told you it’s going to be okay. Do you really think the Whitebeard is going to let his second commander die?”

“It’ll be a bloodbath,” you sobbed. “People are going to die regardless of what we choose to do.”

“Let’s not think like that,” she said, although she knew you were right. “Let’s go talk to Pops and see what ideas come up.”

You wiped your face free of tears and took a deep breath. You had to be composed for this meeting. You had an idea, and you knew your father would only let you do it if he thought you were in an adequate mental state. The plan was risky, but at least you were the only one being put at risk.

The snail began to call, and the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Yes?” Your father’s voice boomed from the snail. He sounded exhausted. You couldn’t blame him.

“Hey Pops,” Whitey said. “It’s-“

“Whitey!” His voice became more enthusiastic, but you could still hear the exhaustion. “Tell me you have good news.”

“I do.” Whitey nudged you, motioning for you to speak.

“Hey dad.” Your voice came out weaker than you wanted it to, but still confident, given the circumstances.

“Y/N.” You could hear your father’s voice get watery, and you knew he was just as relieved to hear your voice as you were to hear his. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Listen, dad.” You took a deep breath. “I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“If Whitey can give me Ace’s vivre card, I can intercept them before he gets to Impel Down and-“

His voice cut you off, full of rage. “Absolutely not.”

“Dad!” You cried, trying to stay calm. “It’s the best way for us to-“

“No. Your ass is coming RIGHT back to this ship and you are staying here until I say otherwise.”

“I can do it!” you argued. “I need to-“

“You are not doing it. That’s an order.”

“You know I can do it!” You screamed. You knew you were losing your cool, but you didn’t care. Ace’s life was at risk. Everything was at risk.

“I want you to report back to the ship.” You could hear he was struggling to keep his composure.

“That’s not fair!”

“I don’t want to hear SHIT about fair. What’s not fair is you keeping secrets! I have tolerated your rebellions and let you get away with far too much these past few months. But this is crossing a line. You WILL remain with Whitey until you return and then we will have a private discussion on your involvement in this rescue mission going forward. Is that understood?”

He knew. Of course he knew. Marco would’ve told him as soon as he read the report.

“Dad, ple-”

“Whitey,” your father said, ignoring you. “Do whatever you have to in order to keep her on that ship. Put sea prism cuffs on her. Throw her in the brig if you need to. But do not let her get off that ship until you are here. Is that clear?”

You looked at Whitey, your eyes full of silent begging. You needed her to fight for you. To vouch that you could succeed.

“Of course, Pops,” she said, giving you a remorseful look. “We can do that.”

“Whitey-“ you pleaded.

“Y/N.” He sounded so tired. “For once in your life, don’t cause more problems than there already are.”

His words made tears prick at the corner of your eyes. They were harsh, but they were true. All you had done was cause problems recently. For everyone around you. The least you could do was follow this one order to return home.

“Yes sir,” you whispered, and the line disconnected without further conversation.

“Im not going to lock you up,” Whitey said. “But you are going to have to stay in my view the whole time.”

You gave her a weak smile, thankful you wouldn’t have to spend your journey in the cells below deck. “Just like old times, huh? When the others couldn’t pay us to be apart.”

A wave of relief visibly washed over her face, thankful you weren’t going to resist. “Just like old times.”

You slept with Whitey in the captains quarters that night.

Slept wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t sleep. You just kept thinking of Ace, chained to a wall and being beaten and ridiculed. Had he given up on life as much as you had?

You knew you couldn’t go get him. The fleets that were escorting him were going to be full of high level marines. Even on a good day, you weren’t sure if you could do it. Trying to do it now would be suicide.

But maybe there was something else you could do. Someone else who could help. You just had to get to them.

You carefully climbed out of bed, trying your best not to wake Whitey. Every creak made you wince, but Whitey stayed asleep.

The door was the hardest part. You knew it would groan as you opened it, and there was nothing you could do to prevent the sound.

Slowly, painfully, you opened it, your eyes glued to Whitey. She stirred in her sleep a few times, but she never opened her eyes. You finally opened it enough to slip through, and you silently shut it back into place.

You quickly moved to the kitchen, grabbing food rations and other supplies that you would need. You were going back to the New World. It would be a long journey, especially with your current state. But you would do it if it meant saving Ace.

You would need a bottle of sake, and you found the perfect one. A large one from the East Blue. It wasn’t nearly enough for the favor you had to ask, but hopefully he would be gracious.

“What are you doing?”

Fuck. You hadn’t been fast enough.

“Whitey!” You turned around, her icy glare on you. “I was just-“

“Don’t lie,” she snapped.

“Please Whitey I…I need to do something.”

“Do you even have a plan?” She demanded. “You can’t take on that kind of naval power even on your best day, and you know it.”

“I’m not going to rescue him!” As much as you wanted to, you knew Whitey was right. You couldn’t do it alone.

She scoffed, clearly doubting your words. “You’re not? Really?”

“I swear Whitey. I’m going to ask for help. I know I can’t beat a naval fleet, but there is something I can do. Someone I can talk to.” You looked around desperately. “Please, just go back to bed.”

She shook her head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Whitey please-“

“I can’t let you leave after explicit instructions,” she yelled, and you feared that other people would come to investigate the commotion soon. “I’d be disobeying my captain. And you might be able to do that, but I can’t.”

Your words wouldn’t convince her. You’d have to use strength. Against your best and oldest friend.

Tears pooled in your eyes. “Please don’t make me do this.”

She closed her eyes. “You have to.”

You took your bracelet and held it across your knuckles. “I’m sorry, Whitey. I don’t want to-“

“Good luck,” she whispered, a smile on her lips. “You can do it. You can find a way to save him.”

You swung as hard as you could, aiming for the spot you knew would knock her out. Your fist and sea prism bracelet connected with her pressure point, and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

You grabbed your things and took off towards your sloop, which was still connected to the back of Whitey’s ship.

“Okay baby,” you whispered to your stomach. “Just let me get to help, and then you can make me as sick as you want, okay? Just cooperate until then. We can do this.”

You really were a terrible person. Lying to everyone around you, knocking your best friend unconscious, forcing your unborn child to go through dangerous waters with little sleep and little nutrition. You had never been this careless or thoughtless in your life.

If you kept acting like this, you were going to die. You knew that. But you didn’t care. Ace promised that you could die first. If he was moving up his timetable, so were you.

You took off on your sloop, pulling out the vivre card to follow. Onto the New World.

Onto find Shanks.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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malibuhabits · 1 year

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helloooo! another snippet from my 90’s fame au. find me on ao3 @ chevymalibu and read the tags and notes carefully!

DEAD ASLEEP (Dreaming Away Your Life)

Once dressed in his new underwear and jeans, Eddie walks barefoot towards the light gray backdrop that has people bustling around it, testing lights and cameras and other tools like their lives depend on it. He sees Vickie having a conversation with a tall and freckled girl, and since the tiny but terrifying redhead is mad at him for once again being a horrible client, he chooses to let them talk and keeps to himself. Just standing there in his boring clothes, wishing he was drinking in his hotel room instead.

He doesn't get to be alone for long, as he never gets these days, Phil already joining him with-

Okay, wow.

Steve Harrington.

Listen. Of course Eddie is familiar with him. The whole globe has been obsessed with the face that’s launched countless luxury brands and magazine covers.

Still, seeing him in real life… nothing could’ve prepared Eddie to the vision.

Thin, bony, and angular, a bit hunchbacked, beauty marks all over untainted skin. Sharp jawline, pretty pink dusting cheeks, unintentionally pouty lips. And that chestnut hair’s just as fluffy and impressive as it’s famous for.

But it’s the eyes that seal the deal. Droopy, drunken and dreamy, basically pools of liquid hazel, holding the spectators charmed and spellbound.

Maybe this photoshoot won’t be such a drag after all…

“Eddie,” Phil tells him, “This is Steve. You’ll be working together in this campaign,” as if it wasn’t previously agreed upon.

They shake hands.

Steve’s is soft and undamaged like it hasn’t done manual labor once. Eddie’s hands are calloused, firm and strong. Steve wears one signet ring on his pinky, Eddie has four chunky ones. The contrast shouldn’t be as deliciously intriguing as Eddie makes it out to be.

“Hello, nice to officially meet you,” Steve says with a hint of accent. It’s light, but it’s there. And it’s unreasonably sexy.

Eddie’s is half chubbed already.

Understandably, he can’t really be blamed for putting on his most wicked grin, showing off his famous dimples and sharpening his heated eyes. See, it’s his thing, being unapologetically raunchy. It’s his brand. People love it.

Usually…

“Pleasure’s all mine baby boy, believe me,” he practically purrs, can’t help it.

Steve gives him a look, head to toe. It’s not a polite one. It’s calculated and frosty. Stand-offish.

Says something in French to Phil who quickly claps his hands like a dorky dad breaking up an argument. “Well boys, I have a few things to put in order, so warm up a little and get more comfortable. Ten minutes tops, and we’ll start with the video and move on to the photos. Sounds good?”

Eddie notices how he casually squeezes Steve’s narrow waist before leaving. He wishes he could do that too. Wishes he could touch Steve and make sure he’s real.

He’ll get the chance to. It already feels inevitable.

He rakes his eyes down Steve’s body, only now noticing that instead of blue jeans he’s wearing a satin dressing gown that’s loosely tied. Really loosely. It’s teasing, it’s a statement, and Eddie is sure there isn’t a single person in this studio who wouldn’t kill to untie the barely-there knot themselves. Nor are there many whom Steve would forbid from doing so.

When Eddie’s gaze lands back to his face, he’s pleasantly surprised to see Steve’s eyes already on him. He’s reading Eddie’s face, gorgeous eyes darting swiftly before settling and narrowing accusingly.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?”

Eddie’s eyebrows jump high in surprise and if he was intrigued before it’s nothing compared to this. He knows a spoiled brat when he sees one.

“Apologize for what, princess?”

“For being late. It’s rude you know, or did the circus you grew up in fail to teach you any manners?”

So. Not only a brat but a full-on bitch too.

And the worst thing? It’s kinda Eddie’s weakness.

Naturally he has to mock a little.

“Aren’t ya clever,” he drawls sarcastically, “were you born this witty or did daddy pay for private lessons?”

Haughty roll of eyes and an impatient sigh. “Still waiting that apology.”

continue:

#steddie #steve and eddie #steve harrington #steddie brainrot #steddie au #eddie munson #supermodel!steve #rockstar!eddie #fame au #90s au #steddie fanfiction #my writing #bratty steve harrington #snippet #famous eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie munson and steve harrington

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bre-meister · 2 years

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My Obligatory Fate The Winx Saga S2 Rant

Spoilers below the cut for those who would like to read. This is different than my usual content but I have thoughts that need to go somewhere

I’m going to just organize this in a bullet list but before I do I think it’s worth saying that as much as I shit on S1, this season was miles better but they still have things to work on.

What I liked:

RIVEN

Did I say Riven?

This man’s character growth was amazing and well handled

MUSA AND RIVEN?

Loved loved loved! Happy that they are setting them up for a healthy relationship - kind of the only reason I want a S3

The overall dynamic of the Winx was better but still has a lot of needed improvement (which I will touch on in the next section)

Trix next season??

Aisha and Grey. I really hope they redeem his character because I really did like him but I knew from the beginning it was too good to be true

Oh, and Riven

And we better get a Brandon next season because Stella needs someone in her corner

What I did not like:

Beatrix’s character was all over the place and her death was super sudden and unearned

Also it was all of them choosing to just love her after? Like don’t get me wrong she did a few good things here and there but at almost every choice she chose to screw them over… even Stella who was supposed to be her new bestie

Speaking of Stella, her so called friends were not doing it for me. Idc what Stella told them that girl was obviously not okay! Check up on her! She is your friend!

Flora was iffy for me. Very much not like OG Flora - didn’t hate her but also didn’t really like her

Tera needed her but kicked this season. Acted like an a hole and no one called her out except Riven and Flora (one of which no one listed to because of his reputation and the other who dropped it a little to easy for my liking)

I’m glad she got to live her truth and feel comfortable coming out but that is no excuse to treat people the way she did

And blaming Musa for Sam leaving? Don’t get me wrong playing with people’s emotions like that was not cool but Sam was always going to leave after Rosalind took over. It was inevitable and it was because of their dad (who was being a weak ass bitch but that’s neither here nor there)

Also hate that their making Musa hate her powers. I wish they would have her embrace them and learn how to control them and use them to her advantage during specialist training

Plus I think it would be so much smarter in this world that all fairies take some defense training but I’m not running the school so….

Rosalind’s writing was all over the place

The Silva, Andreas, Sky story line was played out way to long and didn’t really go anywhere except cause unnecessary drama

How do they know about so much first world stuff? Netflix?? TED TALKS???

What I absolutely detested:

Still hate the transformations

Fairies haven’t been able to access this magic for hundreds of years but a TEN SECOND CONVERSATION can allow Tera, Aisha, and Stella to get it on the first try???? That math isn’t mathing

The transformation sequence was dumb and cringy for it not to lead to a more drastic change (i.e like how their outfits changed in the OG)

Their wings look dumb as fuck to me still and some of them don’t seem to fit their powers or personality

I think I also hate them more than maybe I should because they look dumb with just normal people clothes

You really could have just given them an edgier version of their charmix outfits and I think I would vibe with it more (there is still time to fix it but I don’t hold out much hope)

What even are Rosalind’s powers? She was just doing everything with no explanation

VALTOR?

YOU SLANDER THIS MAN’S NAME IN A THROW AWAY LINE???

I’m sorry but VALTOR was one of the strongest Villans the Winx ever faced. Sebastian - while decent don’t get me wrong - could never hold a flame to the man that was VALTOR

The dragon flame was introduced weird and looks stupid AF. Can’t really distinguish it from the normal fire fairies

Blooms backstory

Need I say more about that?

I could go on for ages but I’ll leave it here. There were several times I had to stop the show to scream (and the only good ones was when Riven and Musa were on screen together )

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#fate series #fate the winx saga #winx club #rivusa #fate riven #riven x musa #rant post #and they call themselves friends smh #fate season 2

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yakdee · 2 years

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Let’s talk about Puen, shall we?

I’m not going to lie and say that I haven’t wanted to smack him upside the head on more than one occasion because of how confused he’s made my son Talay in regards to his feelings. But then, I think about what he said at the end of episode four and I just want to hug him:

P: I am sorry for making you feel bad. I didn't mean to play you. I just wanted to know the feeling of when I really love someone.

From what we've learned about Puen so far, we can safely assume that he has never been in a romantic relationship and doesn't know what it feels like to be in love. However, he knows what it looks like and is able to mimic that onscreen (and even with Talay, at first), making a name for himself as one of the top actors in the industry. Because of his success and stardom, I imagine that it must be difficult to find people who are genuinely interested in him outside of his profession or what they can gain from being attached to him. This is probably one of, it not the major reason why he hasn't told Talay his real name. Their conversation at the beginning of episode seven just solidified that for me:

P: People think I’m perfect. I can take care of myself. So nobody takes care of me. In reality, I’m just a man who can be weak and needs care. […] Not many people see this side of me. You’re one of them. T: Damn! I’m wanting to know now who you really are. A perfect actor who is actually pouty like a kitten. P: I’m just me.

This alternate universe has given him a blank slate to be himself with out having to mask and portray the image of “Mr. Perfect” that had been assigned to him. So it is completely understandable that he does not want to tell Talay his real name because it’ll inevitably bring everything about his former life with it — especially the parts that he hated.

With all of that said, can we really blame him? — While we're on the topic of Puen's name, here's one final thought before I go. Since telling Talay his real name will be a huge milestone in their relationship, I think it may be final step needed in their journey to becoming the each other’s portkey.

#rae watches #vice versa #vice versa the series #puen x talay #puentalay #s:vv #t:meta #text

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healthoduct08 · 7 months

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Nurturing Self-Awareness and Personal Growth in Relationships

Title: Nurturing Self-Awareness and Personal Growth in Relationships

Introduction

Relationships are complex and ever-evolving, providing us with valuable opportunities for personal growth and self-awareness. Whether they are romantic partnerships, friendships, or family connections, these relationships serve as mirrors that reflect our strengths and weaknesses. In this article, we will explore how nurturing self-awareness and personal growth in relationships can lead to more fulfilling and harmonious connections with others.

Self-Awareness: The Foundation of Healthy Relationships

Self-awareness is the cornerstone of personal growth and healthy relationships. It involves gaining a deep understanding of your emotions, thoughts, values, and behaviors. Self-aware individuals are more capable of recognizing their own needs, vulnerabilities, and triggers, which, in turn, allows them to navigate relationships with greater ease.

Self-awareness can be nurtured by:

Self-reflection: Take time to ponder your thoughts, feelings, and actions. Journaling can be a powerful tool to explore your inner world and track patterns.

Seeking feedback: Ask trusted friends, family, or partners for honest feedback about your strengths and weaknesses. Their insights can be enlightening.

Mindfulness: Practice mindfulness to stay present in the moment and observe your thoughts and emotions without judgment. This can help you develop a deeper understanding of your inner workings.

Communication and Empathy

Effective communication is a vital component of any healthy relationship. Being open and honest about your thoughts, feelings, and needs allows for more authentic connections. Furthermore, developing empathy for your partner's perspective is crucial in fostering understanding and resolving conflicts.

To nurture communication and empathy in your relationships:

Active listening: Give your full attention when your partner speaks, and make an effort to understand their point of view before responding.

Validate emotions: Acknowledge your partner's feelings, even if you don't agree with them. Validating emotions helps create a safe space for open dialogue.

Use "I" statements: Express your feelings and needs using "I" statements to avoid blame and foster productive discussions. For example, say, "I feel hurt when you don't communicate with me" instead of "You never talk to me."

Boundaries and Respect

Healthy relationships require clearly defined boundaries that protect the autonomy and well-being of each individual. Respect for these boundaries is essential. Understanding and respecting each other's limits and needs is a sign of emotional maturity and fosters a sense of safety in the relationship.

To establish and maintain boundaries:

Reflect on your needs: Take time to identify what you are comfortable with and what makes you feel unsafe or disrespected.

Communicate boundaries: Clearly express your boundaries to your partner, and encourage them to do the same. This opens the door to a mutual understanding of expectations.

Enforce boundaries: Be prepared to enforce your boundaries if they are violated. This may involve setting consequences and standing firm to protect your well-being.

Conflict Resolution

Conflict is an inevitable part of any relationship, but how it is managed can make or break the connection. Healthy conflict resolution involves addressing issues in a constructive and respectful manner, with the aim of finding mutually satisfying solutions.

To improve conflict resolution skills:

Stay calm and composed: In the heat of an argument, try to remain composed and avoid personal attacks or escalation. Take a break if necessary to cool down before continuing the conversation.

Practice active problem-solving: Instead of focusing on blame, focus on finding solutions to the issue at hand. Collaborate with your partner to resolve conflicts.

Learn from conflicts: Each conflict can be an opportunity for growth. Reflect on the issues that arise and consider how they might be tied to deeper issues or patterns in the relationship.

Continuous Personal Growth

Personal growth should be a lifelong pursuit, and relationships can be powerful catalysts for this growth. When you are committed to your own development, you can inspire and support your partner's growth as well. This mutual journey of self-improvement can lead to a more fulfilling and harmonious relationship.

To foster personal growth in your relationships:

Set personal goals: Identify areas in your life that you want to improve and work on them actively. Share these goals with your partner and encourage them to do the same.

Be open to change: Embrace change as a natural part of personal growth. Understand that your partner may evolve over time, and support their growth.

Celebrate successes: Recognize and celebrate each other's achievements and milestones in your personal growth journey. This can create a positive feedback loop of encouragement and motivation.

Conclusion

Nurturing self-awareness and personal growth in relationships is a continuous and rewarding endeavor. By understanding yourself, communicating effectively, establishing boundaries, resolving conflicts constructively, and fostering personal growth, you can create stronger, more fulfilling connections with others. Ultimately, these efforts will not only benefit your relationships but also enrich your own life in profound ways.

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quarterlifecenter · 1 year

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Mistakes Couples Make (And How to Avoid Them!)

Relationships aren’t perfect, and mistakes are inevitable. However, as you and your significant other learn and grow together, there are some common mistakes that you can avoid. Read through the list below to see how you can expand your perspective and improve your relationship now and for the long term.

Here are 5 common mistakes that couples make:

1. They talk about hot button issues while intoxicated.

If you have an important topic to address, make sure you put it on hold if one or both of you is drinking. Sometimes you may feel tempted to bring up subjects that one of you has on your mind, but being intoxicated often makes people more emotional and less tactful. Unfortunately, for many couples, discussing while drinking often escalates to arguing. To avoid this mistake, be conscious and mindful of the fact that this can happen. Remember: Don’t drink and discuss.

Before the night begins, agree together which topics are off-limits for the night and should be saved for discussion until the next day. Planning your communication in this way will help prevent any blow-ups.

2. They bring up sensitive topics without warning.

Some topics can be difficult to discuss at a moment’s notice. While you may be ready to discuss finances or having another baby, it’s unlikely your partner is in the same headspace at the exact same time. Likewise, you may not be ready to discuss traveling during the pandemic or whose family you’ll spend the holidays with when your partner brings it up.

For everyone’s sake, schedule these conversations so the timing works for BOTH of you. You want to make sure you’re both in the mental headspace to discuss these topics and that you have time to prepare and gather your thoughts.

3. They attack their partner’s behavior.

When you’re frustrated with your partner, you may feel inclined to accuse them of what they did. Often, we feel better after telling others what they did wrong. The result? It puts them on the defensive and makes it hard for them to be open to your feelings.

Instead, express to your partner how their action made you feel.

Instead of this: “You always leave your dirty dishes on the counter for me to clean up — you’re so inconsiderate!”

Try this: “When you leave your dirty dishes in the kitchen, I feel stressed out by the clutter in our shared space, and I feel taken for granted.”

This helps take the focus off of them and keeps it on you and your feelings. You can also ask your partner to tell you what their intention was (instead of assuming you know what their intention was). More often than not, your significant other didn’t have a malicious intention to hurt you. When you use “I feel” statements rather than blaming your partner, you open up communication so you can talk through how to resolve the problem together.

4. They hesitate to schedule sex.

Do you think about passion and intimacy as something that must be spontaneous? If so, you’re not the only one. Couples often think they’re doing something wrong if their sex life isn’t glamorous like in the movies and if sex isn’t just happening “naturally.” But that’s not how life works in long-term relationships. It’s easy for other things to take priority — work, household tasks, kids…

You schedule time for other things that are important to you: exercise, meals, work meetings, and social activities. Why shouldn’t sex work the same way? Sex is an important way for couples to connect and for you both to feel more vibrant and alive. Prioritizing and scheduling sex ensures that it won’t get pushed out of your relationship by other priorities. Having it on the schedule gives you something to look forward to, like scheduling date nights! Don’t be afraid to sit down with your partner and put it on the calendar.

5. They don’t express their needs.

People don’t always ask for what they need, even in a stable relationship. They may fear seeming vulnerable, weak, or needy or being judged by their partner. In fact, too often we fall into the mindset that a true partner will know what we need through intuition simply because they “care enough.”

Here’s the truth. Your partner can truly love and care about you and still not know what you need. And you are not forcing your partner to do something that they don’t want to do by stating your needs. As a grown and independent adult, you should feel comfortable articulating what you need. Your partner (also grown and independent) is able to decide how to respond and can articulate whether or not they can meet your need.

And don’t forget — just because you make your needs known doesn’t mean your partner HAS to do what you’ve asked. Your partner should listen and be curious about your needs, but depending on the request, they should feel free to decide whether or not they’re able to fulfill it. If you’re in a loving, respectful relationship, this is all part of ongoing effective communication.

Final thoughts

Understanding how you can avoid these common mistakes in your relationship can help you feel more satisfied in your relationship. The key? Have open communication with your partner. Relationship conflicts are inevitable, but having a solid foundation to navigate them makes all the difference.

For help, consider couples counseling with the Quarterlife Center. Visit here for more information.

If you’re interested in scheduling an appointment or you’d like more information, please contact us.

#couples counseling #couples therapy #quarterlife center #relationships #relationship counseling

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florencwrites · 3 years

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ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years

Text

❝Guilt and regret can eat a person alive. The words that died at your throat affected you far more than you would have wanted them to. How does that, in turn, impact your mission?❞

PART 05 OF ARRANGED | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING: George Weasley x fem!Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I spent the last two days rewriting/perfect-ing this chapter. At one point I actually decided to add a more bitter ending but lucky for, I think, I deleted it. I really hope you enjoy, do tell me how you liked it- my asks are always open, anonymously or not.

WARNING(S): mentions of food and drink, anxiety, blood, injuries, talk of death, mention of nausea

WORD COUNT: 2,215

Sebastian picked you up by the shoulder making you hiss. He was trying, you knew that— but the pain was too much. Your head was swirling, guilt was eating your lungs. Whispering ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, you worked on concentrating to move where he was heading.

“Stop apologising ah. Fuck—” he grunted, moving his arm to grab you by the waist helping you walk. “We’ll be there in a moment. Don’t worry, we’re safe. Ready yourself for apparating, yeah?”

You could only coerce a tight nod. Sebastian grabbed you tighter by the waist as the world zoomed. It felt nauseating. A familiar lodge soon appeared, you sensed Sebastian sag seeing Stace was already waiting by the door. She rushed up to the two of you, helping you in. Assisting you to a room, they laid you down on the bed, removing your shirt drenched in sweat and blood. Your world was spinning, you could hardly make out much except hisses and whispers from the people in the room.

Stace swore audibly and started to work on your wounds. Slowly and steadily the sting on your chest became less apparent and the one in your brain started to ring faster.

“For godric’s sake (Y/n)— I fucking care about you! I like you. I thought it was obvious. Hell— everyone knows. Fred knows, mum and dad do too and so does my rest of my family probably. So no, I do not want to get rid of you. Do you?”

You gasped loudly at a rather severe cut, the healer uttered a string of apologies. Hot tears fell down your cheeks; your mind reminded you of the events of the mission. Your last conversation with George had left you unsure— distracted. The words that died in your throat were stabbing you, all you had wanted to do was go back and make things right between the two of you. Mind not being in the mission, you let lose something you hadn’t in a while. Control. One careless mistake rolled into a bigger one and you inevitably greeted creatures you hadn’t met in a long time. Dementors.

You had well known all your faults, especially the ones that others could exploit. Always living by caring and loving a few people you could count on your hands, you thought you had minimised the pain that came with it. It was true after all, the lesser the people you cherish, the lesser weaknesses you have. But the black hooded creatures had the ability to bring out the worst of memories as well as the holes one desperately tries to hide. Perhaps even from oneself.

When you saw George as one of them, it threw you off, stumped you. And the dementors didn’t waste a second to use that against you. You had screamed defenseless, suspended mid air horrified; watching Weasley being tortured by Muliciber all over again. Only this time, it took a more awful turn. If it weren’t for Sebastian casting a powerful patronus at the very moment… Opening your eyes, you watched Stace tend to him now— face red, body with countless injuries.

“I’m sorry,” you started frantically. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he said, his voice firm; leaving no room for argument. “It was an accident, a common one. Don’t blame yourself for it— in fact we got what we wanted and everyone was safe, alive. You took the worst of it”

“But—”

“No buts. I thought we had already discussed this.”

He got up, drinking a glass of water Stace brought. You suddenly felt a rush of gratitude for the man, vision teary, he had always been there for you. Closing your eyes, you filtered out the conversation between the two people. Your energy levels were low, you couldn’t help but recount every single thing the dementors showed you. How your mum died… how you never had a choice over how you grew up… how Voldermort threatened your dad, a sinister smile on his face… your friends, all helpless… how George hated you once… how he would again if…

“Hey,” Sebastian shook you, looking over you gently. “Come on, we need to get you back to your apartment, as dire as it sounds right now. You’ll be safer there.”

Bobbing your head, you got up— Stace helped you, whispering, “careful!”. She walked you out, telling you to take care and handing you extra salve to administer to yourself later. Holding your hand for a second, she gazed at you softly and took a step back. You knew she hated it, seeing you bloody and damaged after each mission— you had heard her chiding you all too often.

The surroundings before you whirled again as Sebastian apparted. Steading yourself, you reached an all too familiar door, your heart drumming against your chest. You were dreading George’s concerned eyes when he saw you… you felt like you had failed him yet again. And there were things you wanted to make right, you knew your words stung him worse than he let on.

Knocking twice, the two of you waited. George opened up rather swiftly— you reckoned he had been waiting for you. His expression changed from confusion, to a certain panic. You avoided his eyes. He said nothing, helping you inside sharply, settling you on the couch as smoothly as he could.

Sebastian briefly explained to him your condition, sharing all the details he was allowed to. You clenched your eyes shut, not having the strength to face Weasley anymore. How were you even to tell him everything you felt? The top of your head was heavy, it was like something spread through your body viciously, drowning you.

Hearing Sebastian take his leave and the pop indicated he left, you let out a noiseless sigh. It took a while before you heard George move again. You could feel him watching you, assessing the injuries. Flinching a little as you felt the weight near you shift, you dug your nails into the palm of your hand— finally facing your husband.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey...”

The two of you fell silent, you supposed George had something to say but bit back his words waiting for you instead. Your throat was knit tight. Looking down at your hands, you gathered your thoughts, riding out the hollow from what had transpired. All your instincts told you to run away, hide yourself away from all this mess you were in; but you had to— wanted to, do what you always did. Face the situation.

“Should I get you something to eat?” George hesitated. You shook your head, food was the last thing on your mind.

“No,” you said slowly. “We need to talk.”

Something crossed George’s eyes as he sat back straighter against the cushion, glancing at you, concerned.

“You’ve just come back, we can—”

“No, let me get this out, please,” you nipped at your lips as he gave in. “I don’t wanna get rid of you.”

You uttered it out in a hurry, there were a lot of things you wanted to tell him, but the answer to his question stuck out more than the rest. The pause hung in the air, George held back patiently.

“I don’t wanna get rid of you, it’s— it’s quite the opposite actually. I have started caring about you, perhaps far more than I had expected and it scares me. It scares me because I have taken up on responsibilities that might not end up well for me at all,” you sniffed, tears itching your eyes as you took him in. “Everyday proves a greater risk to me and my life, and I don’t want you to suffer at my expense.”

“No wait—”

“—no let me finish,” you said, putting a finger to his lips, tears freely running down your face. “I do care about my life, I really do. But I have to face the reality even if it is horrendous. I like you, George. In fact it’s more than just likeness. There, I said it. And it kills me more than all of these,” you pointed towards the injuries on your body. “To see you in pain. That’s what happened today, George. I saw you and it just shook me up, as much as I want to be with you—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Everything. Everything George, you need to stay strong— and with me you won’t be.”

“Well it’s too late for that.” George moved to cup your face. You found yourself leaning in despite what your head told you. You needed it. You needed his comfort. Taking a deep breath, you began again.

“It’s not George, time away might—”

“I don’t want to! Why… why is that so hard for you to understand?” he pleaded, taking a hand into his. You rocked your head.

“Because it is going to be tough, George. I’ll constantly go on dangerous missions I can’t promise my safety on. And I know you’re already at risk because of our marriage, the least I could do is keep you safe from other things. I—”

“How is it any different from now?” he prompted. You started to speak but he continued. “I care about you, and you saying all of this won’t change that now. I know you’re worried about me, but can’t you see? I feel the same about you.”

He exhaled deeply, looking at you.

“I know it’s going to be tough but I can handle it. I promise,” he said before winking at you, giving you a wide smirk. “Besides, I already deal with you. And boy, there’s a lot going on.”

You couldn’t help the snort that broke out. Holding his hand tighter, you fixed your gaze on his face, his brown eyes shining from the orange-red flames. He looked beautiful like that, despite all that he had gone through— his face didn’t have bitterness. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you whispered, giving in after a while. You couldn’t resist, not when you wanted the same, not when George looked at you like that. “What do you want to do then?”

“Well, it’s time to make your mum’s magic recipe of course!” he said with a grin, getting up, helping you as you did the same. You raised an eyebrow. “Think we both need it.”

The two of you walked into the kitchen as he searched for the pan. You found yourself smiling at his antics. Dramatically pouring out milk, you knew what he was doing. He was trying to cheer you up. And it made your heart race.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, I’m still young and wouldn’t like to die from something so trivial,” you said pointedly, crossing your arms, deciding to play his game. George narrowed his eyes on you, feigning hurt.

“I once saw my wife make it. She knew I didn’t like sleeping potions and made this for me randomly one day,” he said mimicking your voice. You let out an ‘ah’ in response. “What did she say now? Oh— some honey to match your sweetness and vanilla to make your taste buds click. She looked absolutely adorable while saying that, but I couldn't tell her that though.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because that would have fed her ego, that’s not the best way to go about it now, is it?”

You couldn’t help it. Seeing his relaxed expression, the joy, after everything that just happened… Moving closer to him, you pressed your lips against his. George was surprised at first, but soon grabbed you by your waist pulling you towards him, a hand tracing your back, reaching your neck holding you in place. You tugged at his hair, they were surprisingly soft against your fingers, making him release a soft groan. Drawing back for a moment, you stared at his blown eyes knowing yours must look the same. He kissed you again, even harder this time, moving his mouth against yours sucking at your bottom lip. You melted against him, hardly having time to breathe.

The sound of milk fizzing made the two of you break apart, George rushed to close the stove off, you put a hand to the wall to steady yourself. The world around you felt fuzzy, in a good way for the first time that day, you observed George as he made quick work of the mess the spill created. When he turned to you, he was smiling.

“I knew the potion worked magic, but damn I wasn’t expecting such great results and so quick!” he joked, making you let out a giggle. “Well Mrs. Weasley—”

“Mrs. Weasley, huh?” you teased, making a faint blush rise on his face, enjoying how he struggled with words.

“If you prefer your name—”

“Nope,” you clicked your tongue, watching him squint at your smug expression. “Just wanted to see your face.”

“You, ma’am, are a pain in the ass.”

“Oh I love it when you call me ma’am!”

“Okay. Now you’re gonna get it,” he said, making you widen your eyes and sprint out of the kitchen. George chased after you, laughing loudly. You fell on the couch as he hovered over you, a light expression on his face.

You knew you were in for a long ride.

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

heaven

bucky barnes x fem!reader x sam wilson

⎢ masterlist.

word count: 1.781.

warnings/tags: NSFW, +18!!! threesome, fingering, unprotected sex, language, mention of bodily fluids.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

You weren't drunk enough to blame alcohol for letting Sam invade your mouth with his expert tongue. The music outside of the random room you found maintained you with your feet on reality somehow, to not think it was a dream. A good dream. Even if you were focused on the way he was making you feel and the heat he was causing between your legs to burn down your soul, Bucky's fingers rolling the dress' straps by your arms until it fell to the floor kept your attention on him too. From one second to another, you were naked among the only two men you desired in your life —your boyfriend and his new best friend.

You couldn't help but moan pleased when they pressed you against their bodies and Bucky's huge hands made their way to your hard nipples. He squeezed your breasts slowly, delighting himself with every touch and the sound of every gasp dying on Sam's tongue, still dominating yours masterfully. You ran out of breath at the feeling of their rock dicks being rubbed to your ass and pussy respectively. You were in heaven between those two men.

“Tell him what you want, doll”. Your boyfriend murmured hoarsely into your ear, touring the shape of it with his teeth, causing you goosebumps all around.

“Ca— Can you…? Fuck…” You whined through your parted lips when Bucky dug his incisors in your shoulder. “Sam… I… I wan— want yo— shit… I've fantasized of you… fuckin— fucking me with your fingers”.

“That's what you want, uh?” He inquired rhetorically, pawing your sides roughly as one of his hands toured your right thigh straight to your cunt barely covered by a thin thong. Soaked.

“Please…” You begged, placing your arms around his neck.

Sam licked his lips, not needing to look at Bucky for permission. What you didn't know is that ten minutes ago they had a conversation on the terrace to make that happen. No one could deny that you'd die for Bucky's love. He was everything you had, and you were everything he had. But, when both of them appeared in your house really fucked after a mission, you started to feel some kind of desire for Sam. Only desire. Your heart was occupied with your boyfriend.

You came back from your thoughts as soon as the second man recently involved moved the small string aside. He played and teased your folds using the fingertip of his index digit, making you toss your head back to Bucky's left shoulder. Your boyfriend drunk delighted the crying you uttered inevitably when Sam slammed his finger into your tight walls, clenching around him. While the soldier was being all sweetness and delicacy, kissing you slowly, the pilot started to fuck you hard adding a second curled finger. And God blessed the loud music outside to cover your wrecked moans and your pleads.

“Does Sam make you feel good, doll?” Bucky purred with his eyes fixed on yours, watching you gasp in sync with the palm crashing violently against your pussy.

The three of you knew you hadn't much time to be disappeared before someone suspected, and the fierce pace of thrusts to your g-spot had you shivering under Bucky's grip.

“Oh, fuck, Sam”. You sobbed, not being able to form a proper sentence.

As your boyfriend guided his lips to your neck —sucking a hickey there to mark his forever-territory—, the pilot was back to attack your mouth. Your fingers were tightly nailed to the back of his head, starting to rock your hips looking for more friction against their sensible cocks. The grunts coming from them filled the room.

“Shit… you're gonna make me cum in my pants”. Sam growled, landing his free hand in your ass, squeezing it and forcing you to move it faster against Bucky's dick, being a bundle of moans dying on your neck.

“Got'a better idea…”

As you heard your boyfriend chuckling petty onto your ear with his orbs fixed on the dark ones of his friend, you knew they were going to ruin you.

“Listen to me now, doll. 'M gonna leav—”.

“Plea— Please, Bucky, don't”. You whined, not knowing how much you could handle the way Sam was impaling you by adding a third finger, making you cover your mouth with a hand or the whole compound would hear you.

“I can wait for you”. He hummed, turning your face towards his. “But I wan'you to show him how good you make me feel… And I'll give you a reward later”.

You were conscious that it didn't matter the times you begged him to stay, they had made a decision before coming into that room and that was what was going to happen. Bucky placed one last kiss full of love and tender at the moment Sam gave a break to your abused cunt, and you watched him leave after checking there wasn't anybody around, placing well his jeans in the zone of his bulge crotch.

“We can't stop if you don' want to continue”. Sam mumbled then, holding your hand to bring you closer.

You were panting trying to recover your breathing, pouting at him inevitably. As soon as Bucky left you alone, you felt a slap of reality and insecurities straight to your face. And he noticed it, gently wrapping your lower back with his arms since your legs were shaking and too weak to stand by themselves.

“Look at me”. He asked you then, showing you a fleeting smile barely curving up his lips. “Bucky wants it and I do too. But it only matters if you want or not. This… This is like a test, alright? You try and if you like, and if you want, we'll repeat. Bucky, you and I”.

You nodded hardly swallowing, sure that you'd make it up to your boyfriend later. You weren't in love with Sam, only with Bucky and you needed to demonstrate it to him. You glanced at the pilot unzipping his pants to pull them down along his boxers, letting his painful erection spring free to his abdomen still covered by the white shirt he was wearing. Your right hand gripped his sensitive skin, licking your lips at the sight, pumping his glorious dick slowly, as Sam made you walk backward to the immaculately done bed. He sat first, not being in need of telling you what you had to do next.

He watched you pull down by your thighs your black thong till it was thrown on the floor, before heading to his lap and sitting on it. Sam's cock was thick and long, pretty similar to Bucky's, so you knew it will cost you a second to fit your clenching and abused cunt around him, but you were too anxious for being fucked by him that you didn't care. You practically bounced on Sam, ramming his hardness into you beyond your limits. He was fast enough to make you drown the loud cry out in his mouth, crashing his lips on yours.

He filled you completely, gripping his hands in your hips slightly painful to urge you to move, to dance your body. And you did it with nothing but whines and gasps.

“You're so… tight, baby girl”. Sam grunted rolling his eyes white. “Oh, fuck…”

You still couldn't believe what was happening between those four walls. You were impaling your cunt once and once, with any mercy, using your boyfriend's best friend's dick. And you liked it. You loved it. Sam was making you feel really good. Not the same way Bucky used to do, but enough to put you to beg him for letting you cum. You needed it, and you wanted him to flood your guts too.

“Ple— Please… Please”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the tears of pure desperation run down your cheeks.

“C'mon, my sweet girl… cream my dick…” He whispered with such a honeyed tone, almost hurting you by the way he had to nail tighter his fingertips in your buttocks. Painfully pleasurable.

You couldn't contain the orgasm anymore at his petition, looking for his mouth to invade yours again by using his tongue to drown the delighted scream he caused on you, while the ecstasy hit your body wildly. But Sam didn't stop from forcing you to keep jumping onto his twitching cock, pushing you down strongly and feeling him almost touching your stomach when his seed was spilled inside your clenching and glad abused pussy.

“For the fuc— fucking love of… God”. He roared in a broken tone of voice.

Your thighs were quivering at both sides of his legs, your lungs were emptied and your mind went completely blank.

Once you made sure to look like anything happened, you left the room before Sam —ashamed but satisfied—. Trying to walk normally, as your legs were still feeling weak, you looked for your boyfriend where he told you where he was going to be waiting for you. In the desolate kitchen. You glanced at Bucky sipping a glass of whisky, suddenly fading away your embarrassment and your insecurities with a smirk towards you, stretching his cold hand to hold yours and push you to his warm body.

“Did Sam fuck you good, uh?” He wanted to know humming, gently caressing your swollen and somewhat darker lips with his iron thumb. You nodded in silence, stealing the glass from his other hand to drink it in just one gulp.

“Can yo… Can you take me home?” You murmured in a plea, almost pouting at him.

“Hey, hey… Listen”. His tone changed in the blink of an eye from seduction to concern, placing his index finger under your chin. “You don' have to demonstrate me anythin'… God… I've never in my life felt so damn turned on than tonight… Watching you being fucked by Sam while you were looking at me…”

“You… You didn't leave bec—”.

Bucky interrupted you by freeing your hand from the glass, wrapping his left around your throat, and nailing the other in the center of your ass, directing his middle finger to that tight unexplored hole under your dress.

“I wan'to repeat, doll”. He purred in your ear, causing you to gasp against his by the pressure in your entrance. “I wan' Sam and I to fuck you at once… I wan' you to suck my dick —your dick— as he eats your sweet, little pussy… Fuck… Fuck, I'm hard only by imagining it, doll”.

“Buck…” You sobbed tightening your fingers in his shoulders. “Take me home… I beg you… Please”.

a / n: i'm thinking about turning this into a polyamorous relationship, and therefore into a series. what do you think?

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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mystic-sky · 3 years

Note

One shot wherein the s/o of Gojo Satoru gets injured trying to protect him and brought to the hospital but doesnt die. With a mountain of angst pls. 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

Word Count: 1.6k

16-year old Satoru had never known much about compassion, or any crucial emotions that would’ve paved the way for him to be a brilliant jujutsu sorcerer, through and through. He lived life as he went, nonchalant and never dispatching empathy in the moments it mattered most. You appeared like wildfire, ringing out so many emotions from him all at once. You were placed on his team without warning, and he felt like you were just another nuisance for him to have to pretend to worry about. You were undeniably cute though, which was the only reason he ever made conversation with you from time to time. But even though he flirted with you, he was always sure to remind you that he was always better, stronger and more talented.

One day, to his surprise, you gave him a piece of your mind when he tried to pursue you. You told him to learn some manners, some compassion, and to come back when he wasn’t an asshole. You expressed that he was arrogant, and all but so many people would tolerate him the way some teachers and his so called “team mates” did.

“No ones going to fall in love with you for real if you keep being a jerk.”

That was when he first learned of rejection. He was so used to having everything he wanted. It didn’t register in his brain the first time that you didn’t like him. He picked on you more because of it, unfortunately. You were thick skulled, and headstrong. You were charming for someone who started out so weak. He watched as you worked hard, and never asked for help from him or Suguru, or Shoko unless it was for the sake of the mission at hand. You were extremely talented. Just a late bloomer.

He asked you why you became a sorcerer one day, much to your surprise. You explained it to him and from that day on, he wasn't so much of an asshole towards you. He’d learned of admiration, but considering he was so cocky, he never did tell you that. Instead, he went from saying things like “Leave this to us” to “I’ll leave this to you.”

Maybe you do or don’t realize that he finally acknowledges you as strong, but you do know talking to him was 40% more bearable when you reached your third year of high school.

That same year, you lose someone who was close to you. You had no control over it. The way it happened, the result was inevitable. It had nothing to do with weakness or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There are some outcomes in life that are meant to happen- and no one is ready for it. All he knows is that he didn’t like how it made you feel. He couldn’t give you a rebuttal on how it was possibly yours or someone else’s shortcomings that fated such a thing to happen. Instead, you both sat on the steps of the school long past curfew, sharing ice cream while he watched you cry. Neither of you spoke. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. He also knew he shouldn’t leave you there. He hoped his silence and presence would convey something, along with the free ice cream. This was the night Satoru learned sympathy.

He never wanted you to feel that way ever again. He became a bubbly force, always in your face. He smothered you with activities, sweets, things that became memories to deter you from your loss, and somehow amongst it all, you forgot that you hated him.

Some years had gone by. You'd become a fine jujutsu sorcerer, with the help of Satoru and so many others. You’d acknowledged him as a friend and possibly something more due his flirtatious personality. He had became someone who filled the void of the person you lost, showing you that life does in fact go on.

“It took you way too long to kill that thing,” he rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you a special grade jujutsu sorcerer? Get it together (Name).”

He playfully scolded you. “You literally stood there and watched me do all the work.” Your clothes were stained of blood, but you weren’t bothered entirely. You were looking for something to wipe your hands with, shaking them violently at the ground.

“What can I say, you’re truly a site to behold.” He winked, dwindling a handkerchief in front of you. The flutter in your chest was erratic.

“Nonetheless, I knew you could do it. I was just here for moral support.” He grinned, patting you on the head.

“Satoru,” You say, turning towards him and sheathing your weapon. “You’re really important to me. You’ve had my back since we went to Jujutsu Tech and then some. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you for always being there for me.”

“So, thank you.” You say, offering him the warmest smile and making his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t known what to say. You hadn't ever put him on the spot like this before, which is what it made it so easy for him to be around you. You never praised him for anything, yet here you were thanking him, smiling at him like you loved him or something-

Did you? He wondered. He didn’t undertsand what it was he felt when he started to ponder the idea of you loving him. You never once complimented him on his looks, nor had you ever reciprocated his flirtations. And here he was, actively being your friend because he admired your character. He didn’t even know himself anymore.

“Stop staring at me like that and say you’re welcome.” You sass, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re freaking me out.”

“We’re friends. You don’t have to thank me for that.” He said cockily, getting right back in character. That night, he realized what it meant to love someone.

He got home and laid in bed, trying to draw the line in his head between how he loved you and how he loved kikufuku. Then he tried depicting the differences between his bromance with Geto Suguru and his friendship with you. He knew he liked being around you, and whatever goals in life he would eventually pursue- he wanted you to be there too.

You never once made it obvious that you liked him back in any sort of way, and it ticked him off. He would spend some days doing everything in his power to get a reaction out of you, even a kabedon, to which you burst out laughing in response. Satoru had never actually experienced true defeat until that moment. You had became one of the most precious things in the world to him, but he thought you were so dense and oblivious it pained him. He wanted to give up on pursuing you, but no one else in his entire life had ever made him feel anything. All these emotions he discovered were extensions and results of you allowing him to integrate himself into your life during your darkest moment. You had thanked him for being there; he wanted you to say so much more.

So when you leapt in front of him, coughing up blood in his direction and shielding his body, there wasn't a reason he could summon for it. What made him feel sick to his stomach is how you managed to smile whilst being impaled by the horns of the curse behind you. The rough taste of iron plagued your tongue and blood plopped from your lips and down your chin.

He caught your body with one arm, cradling you, before using his free hand to clutch the creature’s skull. He smashed it instantly, blood spattering all around your bodies.

“Why did you do that?” He found himself panicking. He knelt down, stripping himself of his shirt and attempting to suppress the bleeding. “You’re not weak and you’re not stupid- why?!”

“Because, Satoru, I love you.” You say through blurry eyes. He’s petrified. Satoru Gojo did not know loss or grief. He was sure to feel it if you died right there in his arms. He already killed the curse that fatally attacked you. If you died, what would his purpose beyond that be? The only thing he hadn’t done yet was tell you he loved you. He knew in that moment that he loved you. But before the words could fall from his lips, your body went limp in his lap.

“No...” He took hold of you, immediately teleporting to the nearest hospital. If you died, he would blame it on his own incompetence. He’d flaw himself for this moment alone and take responsibility. He found himself praying to whatever God there might be, begging them to spare your short lived life. Not without him saying it back.

After multiple surgeries and blood transfusions, the doctors had informed him you were going to live, but recovery would take some time. Your cursed ability was able to delay the blood loss and neutralize a bit of the damage just before it became entirely fatal. He was thankful, the most he’s ever been for anything.

“I told you, you’re not weak,” he stared down at your comatose body. “You may make stupid decisions. But you’re not helpless.”

His voice cracked a bit whilst saying this, as he knelt beside you. He would stay with you endlessly through your recovery no matter how long it took. Nothing else mattered.

He was going to tell you that he loves you too.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

We Don't Talk (About That) [Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader]

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: Affection has never been Cassandra's strong point- neither the giving nor the receiving of it. But when it comes to you, she's determined to try, regardless of the obstacles in her path. Notes: Spiritual sequel to Everybody Talks Too Much, but they can be read in any order. Reader is selectively mute, but ends up talking in this one, partially due to being high on a fever, oops. The reader in this one is also a lil bit sassier than some of my other ones, hence why it has tentatively earned my "blunt teeth sharp tongue" tag.

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

“Seriously? You’re wearing white for this?” Cassandra says, eying you with a look of disbelief. All you can really do is shrug in response. After all, your hands are occupied with your current task: Wiping blood off of the corridor floor. That didn’t leave much room for miming, or writing anything down. “You’re going to fuck up your sleeves, you know that, right?” Another shrug, this time with an added humming noise, just for fun. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why Cassandra was hanging out, let alone why she cared if you got your shirt dirty. It’s not like she would be the one to do the laundry. More than that, she was the one who had decided to punish a maiden in the middle of the hallway.

Still, you would never think to voice your questions, or otherwise indicate your feelings. Not that you had feelings about her, or anything, the mere idea of that was ridiculous. For a completely unrelated reason you find yourself glad that she could not see your cheeks from where she stood. Glad I don’t talk, you think, otherwise I’d probably say something really stupid right now. Instead, you focus on your work, scrubbing hard at the floors. Despite your companion’s warning, not even a single drop of blood ends up staining your clothing. That’s why I rolled up my sleeves first, babe!... And that’s why I don’t talk, you think, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

“That was fast. Sure you didn’t miss a spot?” Cassandra asks, stepping over to where you had cleaned. Before you can protest she’s leaning down to examine the floor. Which would, you know, be fine. If she didn’t have blood (and dirt, and who knows what else) on her gloves, that is. Groaning, you try to slap her wrist, temporarily forgetting your place. Next thing you know she’s pushing you to the ground, on top of you with her hand posed to strike. You flinch, instantly, clamping your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable. But, just as quickly as she had gotten on you, she climbs right off, refusing to meet your confused gaze, refusing to answer your unspoken questions. “You’re lucky that mother thinks you’re useful,” she spat, leaving you with one last angry huff.

“What the fuck?...” You whisper, as soon as you think she won’t be able to hear you. Of all the things she could have possibly done in response… this was the only one you couldn’t justify. There’s only one thing that could possibly help you cope with your confusion: Cleaning. Thankfully, the same person who had just flipped your mind upside down had also left a few boot prints in her path. Humming softly to yourself, you get right back to work, gleefully ignoring what had just transpired.

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

“Why do they do that?” Cassandra snapped, storming into the library, immediately demanding her older sister’s attention. However, Bela does not respond, merely looking up from her book with an eyebrow raised. Frustrated, Cassandra sits down at the table before slamming her fists onto it. At this, Bela sets her book to the side, realizing that she couldn’t ignore this tantrum. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Yes, I do, because they’re the only person you’ve given a damn about in a decade, maybe longer,” Bela replies, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have any clue what you’re complaining about this time. What did they do, hmm? Did they brush their hand up against yours? Make a heart with their hands again? Oh, let me guess, they smiled when you walked into the room.” At this point, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable, much to her own frustration. How often had she come to her sister, in confidence, to have this very conversation? Countless times, and never once with a clear goal in mind.

Just a head full of thoughts of you.

“They touched me,” she admits, after a few seconds of agonizing silence. The words feel heavy and wrong on her tongue, like they were coated in syrup, too sweet to be anything other than sickening. “Slapped my hand away like I was a kid sticking a fork in an outlet, for fuck’s sake! Who do they think I am?” Now those words felt better. Angrier- left a worse taste in her mouth, but easier to swallow.

“That depends, were you trying to stick a fork into an outlet? Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do to impress them,” Bela teases, laughing even when her arm gets smacked in retaliation. “Maybe you should just ask them, then, if you can’t fathom why they might touch you. Or you could simply wallow in self pity for another decade, pretending to hate their guts when really you’re desperate to get laid?”

“When did you get so rude?” Cassandra snaps, standing up with a scowl.

“Oh, probably about the eighth time we had this talk?” Bela replies, quick as a whip, smiling all the while. If she was going to have to endure this sort of thing this often, she might as well have some fun with it. But this appeared to be the end of this particular conversation, with a miffed Cassandra making her exit, once more leaving Bela to read in peace… for a while, at least.

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

She can’t find you. She’s looked just about everywhere, asked every maiden she’s come across, and all any of them had to say were nervous apologies. Where were you? Why were you absent, now of all times, when she had finally decided to speak to you? Curse my luck, Cassandra thinks, barely restraining herself from wreaking havoc on her surroundings. Though maybe they’ll show up to take care of my mess, she muses, then thinks better of it when she imagines your exhausted expression. After all, there was only one place left for her to look: Your personal quarters. If you weren’t there, then, well, there’d be a new problem entirely.

“They better have a damn good reason for hiding away,” Cassandra mumbles under her breath. Then she’s opening the door to your room, not bothering to knock. What could you want to hide from her anyway? “Oh shit.” Evidently she hadn’t thought this through. There you were, asleep in bed, shirtless, a washcloth on your forehead. Every muscle in your body seemed to be shivering, and the occasional weak murmur leaves your lips. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Cassandra to act. Clearly you’re cold, hence the shaking, regardless of how warm it feels to her. So she’s grabbing a blanket from your dresser, quickly covering you with it. “Is that better?”

You don’t respond. Not that she truly expected you to. But the way you continue to shake has her even more concerned, and a trace of panic starts to set in. She searches for other blankets, laying them on top of you, confused as to why you aren’t getting better. C’mon, asshole, she thinks, I’m trying to help you! As if summoned by her frustrations, a maiden soon swings the door open, freezing in place when they see her. Instantly she’s whirling around to face them, a cruel remark dying in her throat. Of course it was one of her mother’s favorites. Eventually, she would have to find someone else to take her frustrations out on.

“Lady Cassandra? What are you-” Cynthia, senior staff member of Castle Dimitrescu, veteran of more than five years, starts to ask. But once she spies the pile of blankets on top of you… well, her eyes go wide. “Damn it, my Lady, you’re going to kill them!” With that said she’s rushing forward, setting down a basket of who-knows-what on your nightstand, before quickly removing the extra sheets. Half confused, half furious, Cassandra stands nearby, unable to decide how to react. Perhaps noticing this, Cynthia is quick to explain her actions. “They have a fever, the worst one I’ve seen in all of my years here. They may be shivering, but trust me, their skin might as well be on fire.”

“I was just trying to help,” Cassandra defends, words rushing out before she can stop herself. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Clearly, and I don’t blame you. Let’s just be glad that I came to check on them, hmm?” Cynthia suggests, giving an oddly motherly (i.e. reassuring) smile. On one hand, Cassandra doesn’t appreciate being talked to like this, at least not by someone other than her mother. On the other hand, well, she is glad that she hadn’t accidentally killed you. Taking a moment to let her heart rate slow back down, Cassandra moves to lean against the wall closest to you. She can’t help but frown when she sees the way your eyes flurry about beneath their lids. What are you dreaming about? Is it a nightmare, she wonders, or something softer, like you deserve?

“Can… can I help?” She asks, voice hardly more than a whisper. It was too late to save herself from embarrassment, but it wasn’t too late to contribute to your recovery. Or at least that’s what she hoped. There’s relative silence for a few moments, as Cynthia thinks over her words, swapping out the damp washcloth on your forehead all the while. When she finally replies, she does not look up from her task. Always the professional.

“Stay with them. If they get worse, come find me immediately. If they wake up, try to get them to drink some water, and ask if they’ve been injured recently. I couldn’t find any wounds on them, but this mess reeks of an infection,” Cynthia says. Opening the basket she had brought in with her, she removes several bottles from within, examining their labels with a tight-lipped frown. “None of these will do shit- pardon my language, my Lady- if it’s an infection, but it should help them fight off the fever until I can get them some proper antibiotics. Well, until the Duke can, that is. Make sure to ask them if they have any allergies to medicine before you give them anything, and please read the directions. They only need to take one kind of pill, alright? I only brought a few kinds in case they can’t have certain ones. Is that clear, Lady Cassandra?”

“Crystal clear,” she chimes, only briefly looking away from you. It’s enough for Cynthia, however, and she leaves with a simple bow. Once more alone with you, Cassandra approaches, gently taking your hand within her own. “You’d better wake up soon. I don’t want to have to babysit you all day…” Doesn’t want to, but would, if that’s what you needed. Wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. At most, she’d make someone fetch her a book to read while she waited. Except… now that she glanced around your room, she found that there were some things to keep her entertained. Like your beloved notepad.

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

What do you mean? I don’t think she feels that way about me. Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t like anyone. Because I pay attention to her! It’s not hard to know what she does and does not appreciate, you just need to observe her. No, not like that, don’t be gross. Keep teasing me and my cheeks won’t be the only thing around here that’s red. Oh fuck off, fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you owe me one. Then the page ends, with the next two having been torn out. A few letters here and there are still legible, on what little remains of the missing pieces. Lov- and want her- and wish. Try as she might, Cassandra cannot find the rest of the pages. What had you possibly written that would make you discard all evidence? It’s not like anyone normally went through your notepad. Had you predicted that one day Cassandra would do this?

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She growls, dropping the object with an angry sigh. “Who the hell were you writing about? Who were you fucking talking to? Why won’t you wake up, you goddamn asshole?” Through all of her shouting, you do nothing but shake in place, shivering against a non existent cold. Several hours had passed since Cassandra’s arrival, without you doing so much as batting an eye. Slowly but surely, she was being driven insane, exhausted from worry and jealousy alike. Strange how the most obvious answer eluded her so consistently… Yet hope does not entirely abandon her, as eventually her tantrum manages to pierce the haze around your overheating mind.

“Shhhhhhh. Please,” you mumble, eyes still closed, hardly aware of anything around you. All you really knew was that someone was being insufferable. Hell, your fever was driving you wild, and you didn’t even think about the fact that you hadn’t spoken out loud in front of anyone for over three months. Later, after you recovered, you would be glad that it was Cassandra who finally heard your voice. “Inside voice, mhm? Sleepy time…”

“Did- did you just?” Cassandra asks, stunned, shaking her head as if it might make her realize she was dreaming. But no, this was real, and you really had just spoken to her. It’s enough of a shock to render her speechless for a minute or so.

“Thanks, babe. Need to sleep this off. Or… no, wait, I was supposed to tell someone something?” You ramble, trying to sit up, a hand instinctively going to hold your head. The washcloth falls off of you, and you stare at it in confusion. Before you can start questioning the nature of it’s (or your own) existence, you are distracted by Cassandra, who has traded her own perplexion for determination. Next thing you know, you’re quietly sipping at a glass of water. Exhausted, despite having just been asleep, you eye the nearby medicine with curiosity. “I’m… supposed to tell Cassandra something, maybe? Fuck, why is it so warm in here?”

“You have a fever, dumbass,” Cassandra replies, once more finding her voice, still too overwhelmed to process what’s happening. “Look, you have to take something for your head, okay? Then we can… then we can talk about your feelings all you want, okay?” Maybe she was being a bit presumptuous about what you needed to talk about. Or maybe she was just, for once in her life, being hopeful. Regardless, she presents the medicine to you, getting ready to ask about allergies. Before she can, however, you’ve silently reached for the Ibuprofen and started opening it up.

“This’ll do. For the head, not for talking. We don’t-” you pause to take the pills, gulping down half a glass of water with them- “we don’t talk about that. Feelings. Makes her get mad, and I don’t want her to be mad,” you say, shuddering a little at the thought.

“I won’t get mad this time. Besides, you don’t normally talk at all,” Cassandra replies, rolling her eyes again. Finally, for the first time since waking up, you take a good, long look in her direction. Suddenly you’re putting the pieces together, groaning in protest when you do. How had you not realized? How deep into this fever were you?... “Don’t tell me you just figured it out, ‘babe’? I’m amazed you’re functioning at all right now.”

“Fuck you, Cassie,” you snap, mostly teasing. If she wasn’t freaking out about what you had said, well, then maybe you didn’t need to say much more at all. “You’ll still like me when I’m awake enough to be too scared to talk, right?”

“Honestly?... I was hoping this would be more of a permanent thing,” she admits, refusing to meet your gaze as she puts away the unused medicine. “But I guess I can live with being the only one who knows what your voice sounds like. So don’t you dare fucking talk to anyone else, alright?” She’s joking now, too, sounding more relaxed than she usually was. Even with your body fighting against itself, you can’t help but laugh with her. Then she’s slowly sitting on the edge of your bed, next to you, watching you with adoration clear in her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, right? Because if you die on me, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“With you as my nurse? I’ll be lucky to last the night,” you joke, pretending to whimper when she gives you a playful slap on the arm. “Nah, nah, I’ll be alright, just as soon as I get some rest. Probably. Maybe you should, uh, stay with me? Just in case.” Next thing you know, Cassandra is pushing you down against the mattress, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then she puts the washcloth back on you, making sure it’s still somewhat cold. Without another word she settles in, leaning against the backboard of the bed, close enough for you to feel her warmth, but far enough that she wouldn’t risk raising your temperature. “Goodnight, Cass,” you murmur, before letting yourself drift back to sleep...

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #blunt teeth sharp tongue #that means the reader is a tad sassy #not quite unhinged tho #a nice middle ground in this one

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gothhisoka · 3 years

Text

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 (𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

Title: Worship

Pairing: Chrollo x Femreader

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI, 18+, explicit content

Word Count: 3116 (I promise it is worth it. Oh god is it worth it)

Note: This is from my cross-published fanfic called Hunter University! It is available if you click here on Wattpad and AO3. My fanfic is x OC, but I upload x Reader versions of some chapters here on Tumblr. In short, it is a dark academia college AU with Chrollo as the main love interest.

Background: You are an artist in college and Chrollo is your fellow classmate. You just returned from a night out at a ball, drunk. Chrollo appeared at the door to your dorm room as he promised he would after you danced with one another at the ball.

Chrollo was surprised you looked so intact. He was sure you would come waddling to the door in pajamas as you did the last time he visited your room. Although it had been an hour since the ball ended, your makeup hadn't smudged a bit. Sure, it was faded, and your hair was significantly messier, but overall you looked as remarkable as you did at the start of the ball.

Your tired eyes widened with surprise at the sight of him. He was just as unimpaired as you were. Though now he was missing his suit jacket. His hair had become slightly disheveled, losing its styled waves. He still had on those signature silver rings and little cross earrings.

You attempt to soak in his sight with your intoxicated brain. He looked even more captivating in this particular state.

“Hi…” was all you could utter.

“Can I come in?”

You realized he was waiting for your permission. He didn’t need it.

You stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. Your room was the same as the last time he saw it, with your drawings hung on the walls and lights strung above the desk. Their small bulbs reflected against the night-stained window.

Upon shutting the door, the tension noticeably rose. It was dark in the small space and you were alone. Chrollo took his black dress shoes off near the door, placing them neatly side by side.

So he plans on staying. You tried to hide a smile. The hour of his visit was surely suspicious. There could be only one thing on his mind.

"So what're you doing here?" you spoke nonchalantly, acting like you didn't just fantasize about what could happen in the next few minutes.

Chrollo opened and shut his mouth, his response escaping him. He turned back to you and used his eyes to convey a craving far deeper than any words could admit.

"I said I would come to find you, didn't I?" He said lowly.

He had begun to walk around the room, absentmindedly stopping at a piece of art from time to time. You were too tired to care. The collection included nature scenes, portraits of people he didn't recognize, anatomy studies, and...

He paused, noticing a drawing on the wall behind the place where the door would otherwise be covering.

It was a full-body anatomy study of yourself. To be specific, it would fit further in the category of a glorified nude. It was on a miniature piece of parchment sketched in charcoal. It was obviously you: the woman had your (hair color) hair and distinct mouth and nose. The paper was hardly noticeable amongst the scatter of papers. You wouldn't see it unless you had a careful eye such as that of Chrollo.

You hardly noticed when he reached the particular spot on your wall. Your tiredness had waned significantly with Chrollo's entrance, but it still fogged your mind.

Additionally, you had long forgotten about your secret behind-the-door location for your drawings that were not meant to be seen by a single soul.

Chrollo attempted to hide a mysterious smile. He turned to you, “You draw wonderfully.”

“Thanks?” you reply, with more question in your tone than you hoped to show.

The heat in the room shot through the roof. You were sure if you checked the temperature it would be well above its normal chilly state. Perhaps it was the heat in your cheeks that was causing such a change.

“So…” he began.

“So,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact. Please, just let it happen already.

You thought you had a good idea of why he had come to your room at one o'clock in the morning after a night of drinking and questionably close dancing. You couldn't be certain, though, because that was just how he was: unpredictable and exceedingly complicated.

You didn’t think him so complicated as to not be able to admit why he was at your room, though.

You waited as he thought about what to say next. This is taking too damn long.

Luckily, you prepared an excuse. You never failed to come ready for something you could expect. And this, the direction in which your encounter is headed, is inevitable. You had been rehearsing the line in your head for the duration of their conversation like reviewing terms for a test.

This was the only way to test if your assumptions are correct.

Blame it on the champagne if I am wrong. But I really hope I'm right.

You look directly at him. Time to be daring.

You took a breath and did your best to look directly at him, "Well, I actually do need some help. You see, this dress is quite difficult to take off by myself..."

Walking towards him, you place a hand at the hem of your dress. Your delicate fingers wrap around its lacy fabric.

Chrollo looked amused. He sizes you up, looking from your hand holding the hem of your dress to your unfazed expression. Unfazed, yet your cheeks were slowly turning a shade of scarlet. Nice try, Chrollo thought.

He gestured, "Turn around."

You obeyed. You desired something far more than the unzipping of your dress, but you were not presumptuous enough to say it. The expression on Chrollo's face told you that he was hoping for the same thing. He hid many emotions well, but being turned on wasn't one of them.

Chrollo brushed your hair away from the zipper, delicately placing it over your shoulder. His fingers purposefully grazed your back as he did this, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His hands moved to the zipper, carefully pulling it down. It went past the clasp of your bra to your lower back. There was complete silence. Both of you were still. Are we still hesitating?

Chrollo was the first to move. He pulled you close to him so that your back was touching him. His left arm wrapped across your chest possessively, holding you in a tight embrace. With his other hand, he brushed your hair back from your ear. He smelt of sweet alcohol. Clearly, he was slightly drunk as well, for the next words he said couldn't be uttered by a sober man.

His whispered breath tickled your neck, husky with the threat of sleep, "I want you so bad right now."

You tensed with a sudden surge of desire. Your impression had been right. He let his strong arm remain around you, patiently waiting for a response.

You choked out your reply, "The feelings' mutual."

Under his touch, your streak of audacity from earlier dissolved into compliance. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to submit to his words.

With complete control, Chrollo took your shoulder and turned you around. Your dress was now loose on your shoulders. He placed his hands around your hips firmly. He looked at you under his thick eyelashes and slowly leaned in. The pressure was growing to an unbearable level, but he still wouldn't go all the way.

Then his lips crashed against yours with the force of weeks of pent-up desire. This kiss didn't speak of courtesy, of patience. This was raw passion. It was furious and messy. you preferred this to sensitive steps around the intensity they both craved.

"You must still be drunk," you said playfully as you both pulled away to catch your breath. You held your hand to Chrollo's chest. His heart was beating surprisingly fast.

"If I'm drunk, then what are you?" Chrollo said with a lazy smirk.

"I'm drunk as well."

Chrollo threaded his hands through your hair, pulling the long strands through his fingers. He pulled you in close again with his hand at the back of your head.

You opened your mouth to allow for Chrollo's tongue to slip in. He lessened the intensity and slowly moved his tongue against your own tongue and lips. You couldn't help but let out soft moans that made Chrollo weak at the knees.

He pushed you against the wall to deepen your kiss. Drawings fluttered down, becoming detached with the sudden movement. Including that drawing.

Chrollo pulled away, much to your shock. You were left panting with reddened cheeks. Please don't let this end now.

He displayed a shit-eating grin. Even with his ego, in the current moment, his expression made you melt. His face was inches from yours, looking down into your (eye color) eyes.

He shifted his gaze down to the floor and said, "Nice drawing you have there."

You finally noticed what he had been so smug about. Shit. Your face flushed ten different shades of scarlet.

Chrollo leaned in as he did before and murmured in your ear, "I wish I could see the real thing."

You failed to not show your excitement. The way your eyes lit up exposed you. "I can arrange that."

At that, Chrollo leaned in again, this time moving to your neck. His lips fluttered down your throat to your collarbone. You leaned your head back and tried to control your uneven breath.

His lips reached the edge of the neckline on your dress. He raised his eyes to meet yours, asking for permission to go further.

You let out a breathy, "Yes. Please."

What you wanted to say was, Please, take me now.

It could be too soon for him. But based on how this was going, you expected it was leading to something more. Whatever that was, you wished you could know right now. The growing tension between your thighs began to ache.

Chrollo slipped his hand across your skin to the hemline of your dress, moving it completely off of your shoulder and down your arms. Your black see-through bra was now in full view. Your nipples grew hard at the sudden exposure.

At least I went with my fancy bra. You suddenly grew very shy. The last time you went even this far was years ago.

He evidently liked the lingerie for his hands immediately traveled to your breast to caress it as he continued to kiss you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck. Your heart fluttered at his words.

Chrollo then moved his lips progressively further down as he slipped your dress off of your body. Soon your underwear came into view, then your feet. He helped your step out of the dress.

"Your turn," you said, unbuttoning his shirt. All the while he continued to distractingly leave lazy kisses upon your face, one on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

After an agonizingly long time, you pulled off his shirt. Fuck.

You knew he would be defined. But him, this boy standing in front of you, resembled more of a greek statue than an actual human. It looked like his body had been sculpted by the finest stone on earth. He had a six-pack, defined pectoral muscles, and prominent collarbones. His biceps flexed as he leaned his hand against the wall, bracing himself. It was you who needed to brace yourself. Your breath hitched again at the sight of him.

You ran a hand up his firm body as you planted your lips upon his once again. This time Chrollo put his hands beneath your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft skin. He picked you up easily.

You wrapped your legs around him as he brought you to the bed, kissing him all the while.

He dropped you down gently, releasing his grip off of your thighs. You took this time to look up at him and admire the beauty of his aroused state. He had a dangerous and wild look, with tousled hair and a constant smile playing at his lips. His heavy-lidded eyes were lazily focused upon you.

You continued to make out on the bed, its white silk sheets creating an angelic halo around you. Chrollo couldn't stand looking at you like this, underneath him. It was far too much power for one man to hold.

You reached to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. You threw it to the ground. Chrollo immediately began to touch your naked tits in a way that made you want to dissolve. He moved in circles around your nipples first, watching as they grew harder under his expert touch. Then he moved his mouth to the sensitive area, playing with you and biting slightly. You audibly moaned at the gesture. Damn the neighbors.

Chrollo sensed your desire to take it further. He looked up, grey eyes filled with lust, "Y/n...let me pleasure you."

It wasn't the suggestion you were expecting, but you were satisfied nonetheless. You didn't care about anything in the world besides what he could do to you at this moment, whatever it may be.

"If you say my name like that you can do anything you want to me," you said breathily. It was exactly what he needed to hear.

Chrollo smirked and moved to take off your soaking underwear. Under his pants, his dick grew visibly harder. He threw the underwear onto the floor.

Gently placing his finger at your throbbing core, he began to stroke. Upon receiving his touch your back arched involuntarily. You were beyond eager.

"Fuck... Chrollo..."

This served as encouragement for him to insert his finger deeper into you, curling it slightly. It hit your g-spot repeatedly, eliciting ungodly sounds from you.

As he was doing this, he slowly positioned himself on top of you, grabbing onto the bed frame with his spare hand. He just wanted to look at your face as you opened your mouth in delight.

He inserted one more finger which caused your arousal to heighten. God, he really knows how to do this.

Just as you felt the heat in your core escalating, he slid his finger out. You whimpered in protest.

Chrollo looked down at you with a wicked smile. "Beg for it."

Oh fuck.

You gladly would. It was more your instincts speaking than any coherent thought.

"Please... Chrollo..." you said between breaths.

You wanted to not only plead for him, you wanted to worship him.

"More."

This is what you had been missing out on all those weeks. And oh god, did you eat it up.

"FUCK please do that again," you exclaimed.

It was enough to convince him. Chrollo moved his face towards your slickened pussy.

Is he about to...

He pushed his hair back out of his face with his clean hand, his forehead tattoo revealed. For only a second, he raised his eyes to gaze into yours. You fell for him all over again at that simple glance.

Then he entered you. His tongue made you want to weep. He devoured your insides, soaking up the salty juices. You couldn't help but hold his head, pulling it closer to your body. You ran your hand through his soft black hair. There was so much heat between them that you were both perspiring.

You began to shudder." I'm going to... oh... fuck," you gasped.

You felt the sweet release of cum spread below you onto the sheets and Chrollo himself. You felt self-conscious for a moment. That is until Chrollo began to lick up your juices. He ran his tongue up your soft thighs.

"You taste so fucking good, darling."

Chrollo looked at you like he had fallen all over again as well. You grinned back at him. Your cheeks grew even redder, if possible. Your heart screamed to continue but you were too physically exhausted to move. Still, wouldn't Chrollo want his turn?

You laid there, naked and panting on the silk sheets. Chrollo flopped next to you, unaffected beside his flushed cheeks and a wide grin.

The lights were still low in the little room. Looking out the window, you saw that the sun had yet to rise. This was a positive fact because the only thing you needed to do now was to sleep. And preferably, cuddling with the boy next to you. You hoped he would stay. It was more than hope, really. Your body couldn't spend any more time away from him after that.

Damn. He was good. He was really, really fucking good.

He knew his way with words, to begin with. He said exactly what needed to be said to escalate your arousal. You wanted to worship those fingers, the way he so expertly felt around you like he had memorized a map. And his tongue was even more worthy of revere.

You flipped over to your elbows. Your breasts brushed against the bedding, noticeably making Chrollo gulp. You boldly reached to touch the front of his pants.

"You don't want a turn?" you smirked.

"This was more than enough for me."

He stared into your eyes as if he was calculating a complex math problem rather than looking at the person who just received the best head of their life.

You yawned, despite yourself. Your body ached with all the action of the night.

"Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be here."

Those were the last words you heard before your eyes drifted shut. Exhaustion stilled your naked body. Chrollo reached over you to turn off the bedside lamp.

He wasn't nearly as tired. He could've gone for a couple more rounds, perhaps take it a step further if you so desired. But he knew you needed the sleep. Most of your makeup had rubbed off, displaying the dark circles under your eyes.

He slipped off his pants and threw them onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. He found the soft sheets and pulled them across you and himself. The bed was small but cozy. His strong chest was flush against your back.

Your (hair color) hair smelt of a summer day, like sunlight and wildflowers. He took this opportunity to feel up the rest of your glorious body. He ran his hand lightly from your shoulder to your hips, to your thighs. All of it was angelic to him.

He moved you closer with his arm, protectively wrapping it across your front. Somehow holding you like this felt far more intimate than any sexual activity. The way the moonlight graced your skin was majestic.

How had he fallen so hard, so fast? It was unlike him to act with such recklessness.

Through it all, he still had his mind. you had no way to tell the extent of his feelings. He made sure of this. His libido could act one way, that was clear from tonight. But he was an expert at controlling his outward emotions. You would never know. If you did, it would be over for him. All the planning will be for naught.

He closed his eyes before he could fall upon any more worries. He had already pondered the issue for many sleepless nights.

He fell into a dreamless slumber with you safe in his arms. You both slept soundly until the sun peeked through the window.

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hoodieofholland · 3 years

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Okay, what Im requesting really angst so I get if you don’t want write,

boyfriend!Tom starting to feel things to his co-star while y/n is waiting for him to come back to her and when he coms back he tells her the turth. She runs pf with tears and have a serious car crash and Tom regrets what he did and blames himself for her injures.

(Oh god I love jerk Tom so much)

(love your writings <3)

a/n: took a little while to write this, but it's done, finally! Hahah. Feels like ive been writing a lot of angst lately lol, what you guys think? Thanks anon for requesting, hope you like it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, heartbreak, mentions of blood, car accident, language.

Broken. That’s how you felt, staring into those brown chocolate eyes, full of regret, guilt and fear. Your heart clenches inside of your chest, desperately trying to find some sort of comfort while your heartbeat only seems to increase each second you pass looking at him.

“What?”, your voice is cracked. Your eyes are glistening with the threatening tears.

You still can hear the reverberation of his words inside of your head: I think I’m having feelings for someone else. Someone else. His co-star. Tom had just admitted to you he was having feelings for his co-star.

You and Tom have been in a relationship long enough to know this would inevitably break your heart into pieces. Those words didn’t even make sense to you. Though both of you were feeling a little off lately, like your relationship wasn’t the same anymore, you were sure this was just a phase, you were willing to bring you two back on track. But right now you could see you were the only one with hope and this made you feel ashamed of just standing in front of Tom, feeling extremely exposed and weak.

He sniffles, averting his gaze to the ground. “I- I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to blurt it like that, it’s just-“

You blink your tears away, your whole body shaking slightly, not under your control anymore. Your hands close into fists as you try to control your emotions and the unbearable pressure on your chest. “What is it, Tom? What is happening? I- I can’t understand, I thought-“, you didn’t even know what to say. You bite your lips to prevent you from crying. “Since... since when, Tom?”

He breathed out, cheeks buffing as he runs his hands through his curls. “I don’t know. Honestly”, his voice was full of sadness, “I just- I realized it today”.

You feel your knees getting weaker. “Did you-“, you gulp, too afraid to ask, “Did you cheat on me, Tom? Did you do something with her? Did she touch you? Did you touch her?”

Though you knew pretty well none of that was important anymore, that betraying your feeling while still together was equally as bad as kissing or sleeping with someone else, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that physical contact would make the whole thing worse. You couldn’t stand the thought of being there, waiting for Tom to come home and maybe have a nice dinner so you could enjoy time together and make things work out again, while he was out there fucking another girl.

But he shook his head no, and you released a sigh in relief. He had a frown between his brows, genuinely hurt by the path of that conversation. “I’d never, y/n”, he rubbed his eyes. “I know this doesn’t make me a better of a man, but I- I swear to God I just realized it now. It was today, when we were filming and... and I couldn’t go another minute without telling you this. This is so fucked up and I am so fucking sorry, but I thought that it would be better for both of us if I just told you this and-“

A sob coming from your parted lips breaks his attempt to explain, watching you fall apart for something he has done. Tom didn't stop loving you. It felt different, but he still cared about your feelings and how you'd deal with the fact that your relationship wasn't working anymore. He felt guilty and even disgusted at himself for breaking your heart. But that didn't stop him neither.

"Can we talk about this, darling?", he mumbles, trying to reach your hand, but you step back, body trembling as you fight back the need of giving in to his embrace.

"Don't. Don't call that", you cry out, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks now. "Fuck, Tom, what did I do? I didn't deserve this. I- I was by your side, I never left. I knew this day would come, but I was trying my best..."

"It's not like that, y/n", he mutters, feeling defeated. He didn't intend to take it this way. He never wanted to make you cry. He promised he would never make you cry. "I've tried. And I love you, I love you so fucking much, but I... I don't know what happened".

You wipes the tears away furiously, too frustrated to care about the look on your face right now. You just didn't want to look fragile, or broken, or weak - all of the things you actually were feeling like.

You look at him clearer, the man you so desperately love, the man you most felt affection to. Tom was everything you always dreamt of. If there was a man you could say you trusted in, it was Tom. And he betrayed your feelings.

It wasn't his fault and you had to admit that. He fell for another woman. He just didn't feel the same about you anymore, and though you were suffering, you couldn't blame it on him. It was just human nature. Life itself, playing tricks on you, when you so certainly believed to have found the love of your life.

"I know", you say through hoarse voice. "I can't blame it on you. It's not your fault. I just- I thought we could work this out, y'know? Thought you wanted this with me". You give him a sad smile and couldn't help but let more tears roll down your face. You felt pathetic and you were sure you looked just like that.

Tom swallows the thick knot on his throat, chest aching at the sign of you. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think about anything good enough.

Ashamed of your position, you nod a couple of times for nothing in special and make your way to the front door.

"Wait! Y/n, what are you- where are you going?", Tom shouted, eyes wide as he tried to take your arm. You pulled it from his reach and raised your hand to prevent him from coming any closer.

"I'm leaving. What else do you expect me to do, Tom?" With bloodshot eyes, you stare at him, lips pressed tightly in a thin line, holding everything in you to not make even more a fool of yourself.

"I don't know", he almost whispers.

You can't seem to contain the growing anger inside of you for his words, sobbing a little more as you try to come up with the right thing to say. Why does he have to do this to you?

"Guess what? I don't know neither. All of a sudden, my long-term boyfriend told me he is falling for another girl. Do you know how much it costs me to look at you right now, Tom? I can't even- I fucking hate you right now and I know it's not even your fucking fault, but I can't help it!" You scream, hand covering your mouth as you try to regain some composure. "Just leave me fucking alone, Tom!"

Without another word, you run to the front door, yanking it open and slamming it shut, letting your whines finally scape through your gritted teeth.

---

Tom checked his phone one more time before slipping into the covers and lay down on his empty bed, facing the ceiling for a long enough time to get sick of it.

His mind was running wild, thinking about the things he said to you, and the thing you said to him. It was hard to face the fact that he made you cry and feel miserable. Tom never intended that. He knew both of you were slipping apart, gradually giving your relationship an end, but that was a whole different level.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the moment you stormed out the door, thinking about the feeling he had previously in the morning, while working with his co-star. It wasn't the strongest thing he felt in his life, it wasn't even near to the things he felt when meeting you, but he knew he should be honest with you from the moment he realized there was something going on.

But even know, he felt like he messed it up real bad.

Tom has been calling you since you stepped out of the house, but you never answered, or called back. He left a message in your voicemail, asking you to come back home so you could talk. Aware of the fact that this had no coming back, Tom just needed to look at you one more time and apologise for being a dick. He couldn't afford to have you out of his life.

And then his phone rang.

He was quick to pick it up and press to his ear, waiting to hear your voice, but what he heard was something much more unexpected.

"Hello, can I please speak with Thomas Stanley?", an unrecognizable voice came to the phone and Tom sat on his bed.

"Uh, yes, it's me. What's the matter?"

"I'm calling because you're at Miss y/n y/l/n's emergency contact. She was brought to the hospital after an accident, a car crash. Miss y/n is passing through an emergency surgery right now and I need to inform someone in the family..."

The woman kept talking, voice too steady for something so breath-taking. Tom was surely out of breath. For a few seconds, he felt like he had gone blind, not able to see anything besides a black spot in the darkness of his room.

He couldn't believe he was hearing that. It couldn't be real. He tried to come up with any excuse, with some explanation, but everything that ever crossed his mind at the moment was the sign of you laying flat on some ciment busy street, blood coming out of the corner of your mouth and eyes wide open with no brightness on them.

"Sir?", the woman spook again and Tom was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Can you give me the address?", he jumped out of bed and started to look for his keys frantically. The woman gave him instructions and he quickly made his way to the living room.

"Fuck... where 'my fucking keys!" He yelled desperately, throwing the pillows on the sofa go the ground to look better. "Fuck!"

Tom sat on the couch, heavy breathing making his whole body shake. His hands holds his head and his eyes go wide. He felt a heat rise in every part of his body, but mainly on his chest.

It was his fault, he knew it. You were supposed to be at home, you were supposed to stay with him. You were going to have dinner together, and you wouldn't be driving before having a car crash.

Why did he mess up? Why did he say those things to you? He shouldn't have let you go outside in that state. He shouldn't

Tom heard the front door crack open, and he raised his head with silly hopes of you stepping inside and all of this being a fucking cruel joke, but instead, it was Harrison passing by.

"Tom, I was just going to- Dude, what happened?" Harrison puts a worried face when he saw the bloodshot eyes, trembling lips and shaking hands, all parts of Tom's nervousness.

He almost couldn't put his voice to work, and if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to reach out the hospital in no time, to make sure you were fine, maybe he wouldn't be able to say a single word.

"You gotta drive me. I can't- I can't find my keys. And she needs me. I need her. I need to find her, Haz. She- fuck, she needs me and I can't find my fucking keys", he said in desperation, letting himself become a sobbing mess in front of his friend.

---

There was no small talk between the two of them whilst the drive to the hospital. It seemed like you have done a long way from home; the distance was killing the eye browned boy.

All that was on his mind now was the thought of you - moments you've spent together, days of happiness and things that he loved about you. He remembered the first time you met, the day he asked you out and the first time he heard you say you loved him. He questioned himself when was the last time you said that, when he heard his name coming out of your lips with an "I love you" next. He couldn't remember and he felt disgusting for that too.

Because Tom realized in the way to the hospital that he couldn't live without you. If you were gone, there would be nothing. He never thought about this day, never thought that one day he'd be losing you, but the bare possibility of this happening made him realize he wouldn't stand it. He needed you, in more ways than just one.

"She'll be fine, Tom", Harrison told him for the third time, when they were sitting in a corridor, waiting for a doctor to call for Tom when you were brought to the room.

"'S all my fault. Shouldn't have fought her. Shouldn't have let her think I didn't love her", Tom muttered more to himself, voice hoarse.

Tom was bouncing his leg rapidly, eyes closed tightly an heart aching for every second he spent without any medic information.

"Mr. Holland?" A voice came next to him, a doctor, a comphreensive smile on his face, which eased Tom a little bit. "Miss y/n is in her room now, you can check on her".

Tom got up immediately, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans while walking down the aisle with the doctor to your room. When he reached the place with white walls, white sheets and an audible beep from the machine that was monitoring your heartbeat.

"She's asleep right now, might wake up in about an hour or so. Then a nurse should come check on her", the doctor says, reading through some papers on his clipboard. He sighs lightly and look at Tom, whose eyes are glue on you. "I might say she was lucky, Mr. Holland. It was a serious accident, and others victims didn't have as much luck as Miss y/n", he friendly pats Tom's shoulder. "Don't know what you believe in, but I think you should be thankful. She's a strong girl, she'll be fine", he smiled and after a few seconds, left Tom and you alone in the room, closing the door behind him.

Tom was hesitant, taking small steps towards your bed as he looked cautiously every part of you body. You had some big injuries on your face. There was a bandage on your nose, which was broken when you entered the emergency. Your lips had cuts and there was a purple spot on your forehead and around one of your eyes.

Tom felt sick to his stomach thinking about how much pain you had gone through the last hours. He stood beside your bed, taking your fragile looking hands on his. It was bruised too, and Tom pressed a very light kiss to your palm, letting a silent tear roll down his face till reach his chin.

"I'm so sorry, my love", he whispered with a croaky voice. "You'll be fine, it's gonna be alright", he reassured, more to himself than to you, who was drifted on sleep now, too far from the chaos that was going on outside.

Tom sniffles, rubbing a hand on his wet nose, and blinks a couple of times to get rid of his tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know it's my fault. And I was wrong".

He breathed out, looking at the ceiling as he remembered your conversation that evening. "There's no one I love more than you, y/n. It was dumb of me thinking that there's anyone I might be in love with besides you. It's only you, love, you're the person I can't live without".

Tom felt like a kid, crying over your hand, squeezing it ever so lightly and praying that you might hear his apologies and his pleas.

"And it was unfair of me not putting as much effort as you in this relationship. This is my fault too. But I love you, and I don't care about anything else, your love is the only thing I'm going to focus on when you wake up".

Tom realized that nothing was more important than your relationship to him now. Not even work, which has taken so much of his time that he was slowly slipping apart from you. Not even whatever feeling he fooled himself to believe in. It wasn't true. It was his fear of not being in love with you anymore, of being too far to bring you two together again. But by that moment, Tom knew he couldn't be afraid of nothing else than losing you. And now he just prayed that you could forgive him and the things he said, while he left himself fall in tears and regret.

********

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches @miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough @nsxvision

@xoxohollands @siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #boyfriend!tom #actor!tom #tom angst #angst #hoodieofholland fic

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