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starogeorgina · 1 year

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Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest, sexual content, child birth, swearing

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen × Targ oc, Minor Aemond Targaryen × Targ oc

1.04

“Perhaps the prince would like to leave the room to give the midwives a chance to-”

“Don’t you dare fucking leave me!” You hiss, squeezing Aegon’s hand, and you stare daggers at the maester. “He’s not leaving my side.”

Reluctantly, the maester nods, swiftly leaving the room to no doubt report back to your mother, who was waiting at the door. She seemed more concerned that Aemond was nowhere to be found than you. The midwives had managed to spin your baby to the right way round, which reduced your chances of dying while giving birth breech.

Aegon hadn’t once left your side.

As the midwives ordered you to push, Aegon stood behind you, his forehead pressed against your crown, whispering words of encouragement and a promise to keep you safe while you held onto both of his hands tightly, screaming and crying as your first child entered the world.

“It’s a boy,” the midwives tell you as they wrap your screaming baby in a blanket, wipe his face, and then place him in your arms.

You sob at how tiny he is; “it’s a boy. My beautiful boy.” You stare down at him, admiring all his small features, until you feel sharp pains in your stomach and say, “Fuck! Aegon take him!”

“What?”

“Just take him!”

Nervously, Aegon takes him from your arms and into his; as soon as he does this, you grip the sheets, holding back on screaming again as you deliver the afterbirth. Afterwards, you stand up to let the midwives clean the bloodstained sheets, and you notice they keep looking at Aegon and then each other, clearly confused at why he is there.

Aegon was so mesmerized by the baby in his arms that he hadn’t noticed you’d gotten up and changed until you winced in pain getting back into bed. With a proud look on his face, he places the baby back into your arms and then kisses you on the forehead.

Moments later your mother enters the room; she shoots Aegon a disapproving glare when she sees him sitting on the foot of the bed, his hand resting on your leg, but smiles when she sees your baby for the first time. “He’s precious,” she says, brushing damp strands of hair out of your face. “I’m so proud of you, my darling. Have you and Aemond thought of a name?”

“Aeron.”

The room falls silent. You and Aegon stare at each other, and a flicker of understanding passes between you.

Your mother lets out a sound of delight. “I think the name Aeron will fit him well.”

—

Once your mother left, a wet nurse arrived, offering to take Aeron and feed him. You shake your head and say, “Thank you, but I’m going to do it myself.”

The wet nurse looks bewildered. Breastfeeding was deemed an inconvenience, and it would apparently stop you from getting pregnant again while doing it, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feed and connect with your newborn, which shouldn’t have been a problem, but the idea of it had caused the other women in the room to fluster. The wet nurse looks between you and the midwives. You became irritated and let out a sigh of annoyance.

Tracy, your handmaiden smiles sweetly at the wet nurse and says, “You may go.”

An older midwife tries to intervene. “My lady, it is known that-”

“Princess Theodora,” Aegon says sternly.

Her jaw clenches as she struggles to keep a polite smile on her face. “Princess, I believe it would be better if you hand the babe over to the wet nurse for now so you can rest.”

You had only given birth hours prior, and already they were seeking to control how you parented. If you lost control now, you would never regain it, and you would simply not allow that to happen.

“My child will be staying by my side, and his cot will be brought through to my chambers so I can tend to him overnight.”

The midwife's blank facial expression changed to one of horror. “I must insist—”

“Everyone out!” you snap.

“And if anyone has issue with the princess's choices, you can take them up with me, the firstborn son of King Viserys, or you can ask the Queen her opinion on the matter,” Aegon adds.

The midwives scurry to gather their belongings and leave. Tracy tried to hide her amusement, saying, “I will have someone move his belongings from the nursery to your bedroom right away.”

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

When the room is empty, you look at Aegon, trying not to laugh, and ask, “The first son of King Viserys?”

He shrugs, smirking, “It worked, didn’t it? Pay them no mind. He is our-your son. He’ll grow up knowing nothing but love.”

You look down at the helpless baby in your arms and tear up. You’d never imagined you’d feel so much love at once or the urge to protect. Aeron was innocent and pure, you’d spend the rest of your life trying to shield him from the badness in the world.

Aegon kisses the back of your head, saying, “I was so scared when you started bleeding; I thought I might lose you. Both of you… I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it means pretending he isn’t mine.”

His voice is weak from trying to hold back tears. It never occurred to you when you first made love to Aegon how much was to be caused further down the line. But looking at your son's small, lilac eyes, you know you wouldn’t change it.

“If Aemond ever finds out Aeron is yours, he'll burn King's Landing to the ground.”

“Don't worry, he won't find out.”

—-

“Aegon!” You empty a cup of water over him. “This is serious, wake up!”

Rubbing the water from his face, he scowls up at you. His voice is laced with irritation as he looks around the room and asks, “Where are the children?”

“In bed, it’s nighttime.”

“Unless you’ve woken me to show me your sweet cunt, I’m going back to sleep.”

He was drunk. You kneel down so you are level with him. “Aemond will be here soon; you need to go. If he finds you here-”

Aegon slurred his words and waved his hand, motioning to the chair he was lying in. “He’ll what? Assume I walked into the wrong bedchamber and passed out.”

“He’s getting suspicious. If he starts to believe the rumours…you know not to come here when he wants to spend time with me.”

Aegon sits up, his greasy hair flops over in front of his face, and he always drinks heavily when Aemond wants to try for another child. When Aeron turned one, your husband suggested having another, and just over nine months later you gave birth to twin girls, Alina and Alyssa. Of course, they shared the same father as their brother.

“Spend time with you—you mean he wants to rut into you and fill you with seed.”

You hated how crude his language choice could be at times, “You need to go now.” You scrunch your nose up when Aegon leans his head against your chest, “and take a bath. You stink of ale.”

“This wasn’t a part of our plan; you can’t have any more children. Not now.”

Hearing the pain in his voice broke you. You blink away tears that threaten to build up, kissing the top of his head, “I know, I know, and I won’t.”

Aegon had begged you to leave King's Landing and start a new life somewhere the name Targaryen means nothing, and you did consider it until rumours of you and Aegon fucking in a brothel spread. Although it wasn’t true, the rest of your family became more suspicious of the time you spent with your brother.

You watch happily as Aegon plays with your son in the garden. It surprised you how protective he was over Aeron and your newborn babies. Hearing footsteps approaching, you look over your shoulder and smile, “You look lovely today, mother. We missed you at breakfast this morning.”

“Thank you, and I was praying to the gods for guidance.”

Hearing Aeron let out a cry, you spun around fast to see your son being scooped up into Aegon’s arms. He had tripped over a small rock, scraping his knee. Aegon soothes him by stroking his hair and kissing him on the cheek. A moment later, Aeron was placed back on the ground and returned to exploring the garden.

“Where is Aemond?”

You shrug. “I do not know, but I’m sure he won’t be far.”

Most days, you just saw Aemond in passing at meal times and formal events. He only visited your bedchambers when he wanted to create another heir or was frustrated.

Your mother looked at you and then into the garden. Her face settled into one of worry. “Parenthood is hard; it takes some fathers longer to adjust.”

“I don’t doubt Aemond loves the children.”

“A mother's love is different,” she squeezes your hand. “And an uncle’s as well, apparently. They are very lucky to have so many people taking care of them.”

You frown at her; your mother's tone has changed from neutral to cold and accusing. “If Aegon wishes to tell my children about dragons, Targaryen history, and bedtime stories, even if they are too young to understand them, then so be it. It's more than Aemond does.”

“And why is that?”

Her question was simple but loaded. She wasn’t willingly blind like your father; being queen, she had learned how to be sleek, observant, and cunning. She knew the truth but didn’t dare outright ask.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

It might have been possible for you to sneak out of King's Landing with Aeron without raising suspicion; you would have claimed to be taking him with you while dragon riding, but after delivering twin girls, it became impossible. You wouldn’t be able to ride with all three children safely, and the moment someone noticed Sunfyre riding alongside Dallax, the consequences would be dire.

A knock at the door causes you to jump back just as Aemond enters the room. He looks between you and Aegon and rolls his eyes. “Lost and wondering again?”

“Piss off.”

Aemond smirks, enjoying seeing his brother in such a state. “You should sleep it off,” you say softly. “Come on, we should get you back to your own bedchamber.”

“Allow me,” Aemond brushed aside, pulling Aegon to his feet. “Come, brother, I doubt my wife wants to spend time with you at this time of night.”

You hold your breath, waiting to hear Aegon’s drunken response, but he says nothing. It’s not until you meet Aemond’s gaze that you realize it was more of a question than a comment.

You try to laugh it off as a joke. “I’m going to bathe before bed, so I'd rather you both left.”

Aegon smirks at your response.

Aemond simply nods his head, turns the other way, and leaves with Aegon without saying another word.

—

You rub at your skin, desperate to get the smell of Aegon off you. Usually you loved the smell of your lover lingering in the air, but not when Aemond was around. You always feared he’d smell Aegon on you. The thought of how paranoid you’d become almost made you laugh out loud. Most of the time, you were invisible to your husband; if you ever did leave, he would be the last to notice.

In the years you’d been married, he had yet to show any real interest in being your husband, which is why your affair with Aegon was so easy to carry on despite the guilt that occasionally overwhelmed you. It wasn’t until you gave birth that you understood your mother's comment. Aemond would always put the family name first, but Aegon would put you first.

Your relationship with Aegon wasn’t just based on sex, although he had become addicted to fucking you like he claimed he would. He would take you anywhere he could, and not just with his cock. He loved using his mouth and fingers to make you scream and beg for him. But the way he made you feel safe and loved was the best part; he adored all three of your children. Your days were spent playing with your children, riding dragons, or sitting beside him reading or talking. But you knew if anyone else found out, they would never understand.

Once you finished bathing, you waited for a couple of hours, but when Aemond didn’t return, you decided to go to bed. After changing into a nightdress and unbraiding your hair, you crawl underneath the bed sheets, feeling your eyes heavy. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

—

Feeling a dip in the bed beside you, you turn to see what's going on, and you’re shocked to see Aemond getting in the bed. The moonlight was the only source of light, making it hard to read the expressions on his face. “Aemond, what are you doing?”

You freeze, feeling his lips press against yours. “I am your husband.”

You’re taken aback by the playfulness in his voice; it's an unfamiliar sound. You remained stunned as Aemond started kissing your neck. Your shared intimate moments usually consisted of you lying fully dressed while Aemond did what he needed to quickly. The kisses shared were usually out of curiosity, and foreplay wasn’t something you’d ever done before.

Aemond gently pushes you back onto the bed before removing his clothes. He lay back down beside you and resume kissing your neck while his hand caresses your breast. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, his breath sounding ragged. “Not truly, not all of you.”

You gasped when he pulled down the front of your nightdress so that your breasts were on full display. Aemond sits back and pushes the fabric up to your hips, but for the first time, he actually looks down at your sex instead of avoiding it. He mumbled something you can’t make out then kissed you, his hand running up and down your thigh.

You cup the side of his face and sigh, “You don’t need to do this. You don’t need... do more than you want.”

“You are my wife,” Aemond says, moving to cup your warm slit, his finger teasing the entrance. “I must admit that I have neglected my duties in attending to your needs.”

Something inside you stirs—an emotion you can’t place.

“Tonight I’m going to put another heir into you.” Aemond slides a finger into you, kissing you at the same time.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you place them gently on his back. Aemond withdraws his finger and lines himself up with you, then slams into you. Removing his lips from yours, he takes as much of your breast into his mouth while squeezing the other with his free hand. You arch your back and let out a small moans he takes you roughly.

Aemond doesn’t last long and cums quickly, pressing his head against yours and breathing heavily. He pecks you on the lips, pulling out and rolling to his side. You wait for him to leave, but when he closes his eye, you realise he has no intention of going. You face the other way, close your eyes, and pray that morning comes quickly.

—

You collapse onto the bed, panting and gasping; Aemond was most definitely determined to get you pregnant. At first, you weren’t overly worried because you had plenty of time to drink moon tea, but it was now much more difficult considering he had sex with you twice since waking up.

You wanted to know what brought on this unusual behavior. You wanted to ask Aemond why he even wanted another child when he hardly saw the three he believed were his. He didn’t return from his travels for over a week the last time you gave birth; he briefly visited the twins in their nursery then left again.

“You don’t sleep well, do you?” Aemond asks while putting his clothes back on.

“No, the dreams I have keep me awake.”

Aemond looks intrigued. “Do you get them often?”

Growing up, your brothers would mock you and Helaena; they would call you weird. Of course Aegon stopped long ago; he was the only one you ever truly confided in. “Yes, I’ve been having the same one for years.”

“What do you see?” Aemond sat down on a chair facing the bed; he seemed serious. “In the past, I never listened, but I’m asking you to trust me enough to tell me.”

You feel ashamed. Aemond wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t love you or your children. “It’s hard to describe. It’s not just what I see; it’s what I feel,” You clutch a pillow to your chest. “I’m in the sky, surrounded by clouds. The sun is shining down on me, and then it disappears. Then I’m falling, and I feel this intense feeling that's trying to suffocate me, like a weight being pressed down on my chest. Then I hear it—a woman screaming. I think she’s dying because her whole world turns black.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until the wetness runs off your cheeks. Feeling awkward, you wipe them away. Aemond gulps, “I’m sorry; I never realized your nights were plagued by such images. Do you ever have other dreams?”

“Yes, I had a vision of our nephew Jace dying. So I sent a raven to Dragonstone, making sure he was okay.” It wasn't until you became a mother that you understood your family's hatred towards your nephews was pointless.

He seems surprised by your honesty. “Well, I’m sure your mind will be at rest knowing he is alive. But I don’t think you should waste your generosity on them, and I definitely don’t want Aeron interacting with bastards.”

“Your fight with the Velaryon boys is not mine, and it’s definitely not my children’s.” Aemond glared at you but didn’t argue. You let out a deep breath, feeling exhausted. “Speaking of the children, I should probably go check on them.”

“I’m sure our dear brother has beaten you to it,” he snorts. “I should thank him really. He gave me some good counsel last night, which was surprising given the state he was in.”

“What did he say?”

“Something along the lines of how ungrateful I was and that I needed to cherish you before you were gone for good. I assured him I wouldn’t let you or the children out of my sight from now on, in case you disappear,” he chuckles darkly. “But he did make me see that I need to make more of an effort, and now that I’m here, he won’t need to be around you or them so much.”

The emotion you couldn’t place before returns, but now you can name what it was.

Fear.

Horrible, agonizing fear that something terrible was going to happen.

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Locked Up | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

I apologise to all my other WIPs. Blame Kitten.

Summary: As a nurse inside Musutafu correctional facility, you’re not naive to the threat the various inmates pose, but you manage to catch the eye of one of the most dangerous- a high ranking member of Dynamight’s gang, Red Riot.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, not proof read, semi-public sex, dirty talk, manipulation, a sprinkle of degradation, potential dubcon (just to be safe- Kiri lies a lot) but tbh he just proper fancies reader, no prep, no protection, creampie, panty theft. If I missed anything lemme know!

Word Count: 6.6k.

Musutafu correctional facility was a place where some of the most hardened criminals were incarcerated. The barbed wire fence that surrounded the building was designed to look intimidating, and it did– but nothing could compare to how menacing the men looked inside. There were men from all walks of life, some that had just been handed unlucky cards in life and been led down the wrong path, others who would never step free again– sentenced to serve the rest of their lives behind bars. Others were in for shorter stays, completing the final parts of their rehabilitation programs before they were integrated back into society.

And then there were men like Kirishima Eijirou.

You’d heard stories about why he was inside, rumours that constantly circulated around the cold four walls that were hard to ignore. News report after report backed up a lot of the outlandish claims, things you wouldn’t even believe were true unless you’d heard them so vividly spoken so many times. He was part of the biggest gang in Musutafu, Dynamight’s right-hand man. He’d been inside almost a year, and still had six left to serve, although he seemed confident that his expensive lawyer would have him out in two.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Kirishima smiled as he stepped up to the window, his calloused fingertips brushing your hand as he took the small paper cup from you, “Stayin’ safe in here, yeah?”

He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that gave his skin a dewy glow as his arms flexed beneath the stiff polyester shirt, clearly just done with a workout in his cell. Often you’d catch him doing push-ups when you were being escorted by one of the guards to do your rounds, or doing pull-ups using the metal stairs to the upper cells. The soft grunts that left his lips did nothing to satiate the ache you felt for the man as you’d give him a subtle smile. Looks that didn’t go unnoticed by the hulking man who would often show off in your presence. Increasing his pace, or adding to his weight whenever you were near. The other inmates would catcall and heckle you whenever you were in their wings, calling out to you to show them your panties or come and give them a checkup. But Kirishima was always respectful, watching silently whenever you walked by. You were always told to remember that these were dangerous inmates, not the usual patients that you’d get when you were working at the not-for-profit, but sometimes men like Kirishima made it difficult– you couldn’t imagine him doing the things they wrote about in the papers, he just seemed so nice.

“Always,” You smiled.

It wasn’t unusual for the inmates to try and intimidate you inside the facility, a sick sense of power and dominance gained from the way that meek, sweet women would shrink away from them in fear as they gained a boost to their egos. And you could admit there were many men inside that would make your skin crawl, whether it was the reasons why they were in prison in the first place or the rumours you’d hear circling inside. Kirishima was one of those inmates that should’ve made you scared, the stories most definitely preceding him. His long rap sheet is enough to have him locked away for the rest of his life if it wasn’t for the expensive lawyer his boss Bakugou had hired. But there was something about the redheaded man that had you curious, the normal fear that whirred in the pit of your stomach was rarely there when you spent time with him– in fact, it was quite the opposite. Butterflies fluttered against your ribcage whenever you spoke to the man, almost feeling yourself receding into a cute, blushy schoolgirl.

Kirishima grinned as he raised the medication to his lips as you offered him a cup of water to wash the pills down with but he refused it, grinning as he lay his elbow on the counter to lean forward. Opening his mouth as he stuck his tongue out for you to see the back of his throat, lifting it before slipping it back inside his mouth. You had to fight the heat that rose inside you at the sight as you imagined his tongue against yours, and against other parts of your body. Clenching your thighs together to try and ignore the throb emitting from between them, but it did little to quench the ache. Absentmindedly handing a cup of pills to the next man in line as you watched Kirishima walk away, the prison-issue shirt tight on his frame as he towered over the other men.

You knew that fraternising with inmates was strictly forbidden, not only would you lose your job but it would prevent you from working in the field. But it didn’t hurt to look— his long mane of red hair flowing down his back as his natural colour grew at the roots, an indication of how long he’d been inside. Continuing to hand out medication as you let yourself daydream of Kirishima bending you over this very counter.

You were almost done with the line of inmates waiting to take their scheduled medication when you heard shouts begin to break out throughout the block, the sound of fists banging on metal as you looked to the centre of the room to see Kirishima standing tall, his muscles flexing as his normally shiny ruby red eyes darkened. Blood was running down his face as another man lay on the ground in the foetal position, arms protecting his head as other inmates kicked and punched him. A loud voice boomed over the tannoy, instructing the men back to their cells as guards rushed to the scene to try and break it up. Watching as the inmates all moved to their fronts on the ground as they continued to shout and jeer, another guard came into the small doctors' office to escort you back to the hospital wing as you nodded, giving Kirishima, who was now lying flat on the floor a final look before you followed him out.

It was thirty minutes later when there was a knock at your door, a guard escorting Kirishima into the small medical office as you looked up from the paperwork at your desk. A burly guard escorted Kirishima into the room, his arms bound behind his back as he shouldered through the door, sitting him down on a chair at the side of the room as he connected his cuffs to the back of it so he couldn’t move around. Keeping him in one spot as the guard finally turned to acknowledge you gruffly.

“He’s got an abrasion on his head, reckon you can give him the once over?”

“Uh, sure.” You smiled, filing the paperwork away for confidentiality before you stood from your desk, busying yourself with gathering the supplies that you’d need to treat him.

Situating yourself beside Kirishima as you tried to still your racing heart, now close enough to him that you could smell him. The musky scent of sweat and blood filled your nostrils as you took a closer look at the wound on his head, doing everything in your power not to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did you’d forget all those years of medical training in an instant and revert back to that blushing schoolgirl.

“Can’t I get a little privacy?” Kirishima gave the guard a look as he stood by the door.

“Ain’t no privacy in prison,” The blond guard scoffed as he crossed his arms.

“Come on man,” Kirishima almost whined, “This is about my medical history.”

“And?” The guard scoffed.

“What if she tells me I got a month left to live?”

“Then I’d be fucking lucky.” The guard scoffed, “One less asshole to worry about.”

“It’s okay,” You smiled, “You can give us a few minutes. He’s cuffed.”

The guard seemed to ponder the decision for a moment before he opened the door, stepping out into the hallway as he told you to call out if you needed anything. You waved a ball of cotton wool at him and nodded as you turned your attention back to Kirishima. The blood that had been spilling from a wound above his eyebrow had stopped flowing, leaving dried blood against his cheek and chin as it darkened and cracked against his skin.

“Thanks,” Kirishima murmured as you soaked the cotton wool bud in rubbing alcohol, “It’s nice to get a few minutes of privacy in here.”

Giving him a kind smile as you leaned forward, gently holding his chin in your hand as you angled his head slightly to get a closer look at the wound. It was a gash through the tattoo that sat above his eyebrow, the word ‘Riot’ in cursive. And with any luck, the damage wouldn’t be deep enough to scar, not that it seemed like this man cared. The marks that covered his body were all evidence of the fights that he’d been in prior to this one, an indication of just how dangerous the man in front of you could be.

“This is gonna hurt,” You spoke softly as you felt his warm breath fan against your face as he let out a soft chuckle.

“I can take it, sweetheart.” But the moment he said that you pressed the bud against the abrasion as Kirishima’s teeth clenched in a sharp hiss, his nose scrunching as you continued to dab at the wound.

“What happened?” You mumbled as you continued to clean the cut, watching it soak the white cotton wool and stain it red as he hunched his shoulders.

“Was nothing.” He mumbled.

You knew often inmates wouldn’t talk to you, often they saw you as another narc. So you were used to men avoiding the question, but you’d hoped that Kirishima would be different. He’d seemed so happy when he left you after taking his medication, and suddenly now he sat in your office after starting a large block fight.

“You got any painkillers?” He asked as you moved to pick up another cotton bud, shooting him a look from the side of your eyes as you tried to gauge whether he was really in that much pain or not, “Think they’re taking me to seg after this, I don’t think I can be comfortable in there without ‘em.”

Often inmates would fake the pain to try and score free medication in the hospital wing instead of having to trade their commissary for it, but you decided his head was probably throbbing and he wouldn’t be able to go to commissary or request them from you if he was being moved into isolation after this. So you picked up two pills as you reached up to give them to him, your fingertips brushing against his lips as you broke protocol and dropped them straight into his mouth, hands lingering as ruby eyes watched you intently. Once again his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed both without water before you’d even had the chance to offer him a glass.

On instinct, his tongue slipped from his lips as he showed you that he’d taken both and he wasn’t hiding them. But this time, having him so close had you struggling to focus. Trying to ignore the heat swiftly rising inside you as you continued working at the wound on his head.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He whispered as you smiled softly. Even in the chair he almost towered over you, his head at your height as you stood between his thighs.

“It’s not deep, so you don’t need stitches.” You plastered it up to ensure the mark wouldn’t split open as you began to clean the dried blood off his cheek, “You bleed a lot though. I don’t remember seeing that on your chart.”

“Yeah, my tattoo artist said that too.” He replied with a grin, watching as you began to fill the paperwork out about his medical visit as he took the opportunity to take in the sight of your curves.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You smiled, slowly filling in each box as Kirishima began to shake his knee.

“A few. If I didn’t have these on I could show you.” You heard him jiggle the cuffs behind him as you laughed, shaking your head.

“They were talkin’ about you.” Kirishima continued, making you pause your writing as you turned to stare at him.

“What?”

“The pricks in rec.” Kirishima continued, “Were saying nasty shit about you.”

“Like what?” You shocked yourself that the words left your lips, the morbid curiosity of wanting to find out what the other inmates thought about you even though it shouldn’t matter.

“Sayin’ how pretty you’d look on your knees, how much they wanna fuck you-”

“Oh,” You weren’t even sure what to say to that, unsurprised that men who had been locked up for long periods would have these thoughts about any woman that they saw, but it still didn’t explain why Kirishima got a blow to the head.

“Knocked that fucker out, he deserved it.” Kirishima scoffed, “He said all that shit, but I’m the one that’s gonna end up in seg. Fuckin’ assholes.”

“Why’d you hit him?” Kirishima gave you an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you joking?’

“The shit he was saying about you- pissed me off.” His nostrils flared and you felt your clit throb, he looked so angry, so possessive.

Kirishima knew he shouldn’t be doing this- you were so sweet, so innocent, so pure. It didn’t take much for him to rile you up, and it made him feel powerful. Even more so because he was in a facility designed to strip that power away, to try and strip men back to nothing. But Kirishima still held all the power, even here. Being the right-hand man of one of the most dangerous men in Musutafu had its perks, giving him the extra freedom to get away with things without putting extra time on his count. Some of the guards inside are just as corrupt as the gang he was a part of, allowing him the luxury of continuing his line of work from the inside.

He should’ve just let you be, he’d almost feel guilty for getting you wrapped up in him. But it had been so long since he’d felt his cock nestled deep inside a wet, warm cunt and there was something about you that had him desperate to know how yours felt. There were only so many times that fucking his fist would relieve that itch, and he was almost at his limit.

Kirishima knew he should feel bad for doing this, but he didn’t.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Kirishima smirked, “I know you want me, sweetheart.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you refused to meet his gaze, but your body responded to his words. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you squeezed your thighs together to try and ignore the sensation, this was completely against protocol and something you’d never done before. Of course, there was a long line of inmates that had tried- almost every single one in fact. Taking away the chance of doing something just made men want to do it even more, so you’d become used to treating men while they sported tents in their prison-issue pants– but Kirishima? He was different.

This time you wanted to.

“We can’t.” You hummed, leaning over to stack some of the items you’d used to patch him up back on the shelf as Kirishima watched your every move.

“Aww come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to feel better?” He pouted and you bit your bottom lip, you did.

“I bet you’re dripping in those little panties.” He ignored you completely as he spread his thighs further apart, as though beckoning you closer, “What colour are they?”

“W-what?” You were flustered by the question, remembering the simple pair of cream panties that you’d put on this morning. Appalled at yourself for even debating whether to answer the question as you wished you’d chosen a sexier pair to wear, the ones you had on were far more functional than aesthetics.

“Bet they’re white, huh?” He prodded, fastidiously attempting to get you to answer.

“Cream.” You mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared down at the grey linoleum beneath your feet.

“Fuck, I bet they look so pretty on you.” Kirishima continued, shifting his hips slightly on the plastic chair as he tried to relieve the tightness in his pants, “Why don’t you c’mere?”

“I can’t-” You stammered, “The guard might come back any second-”

“Just one kiss,” He teased, with his hands cuffed behind his back, he tried to pull you closer with his body as he hooked an ankle around the backs of your knees, bringing you to settle between his thighs, “Please?”

You gasped from the sudden movement, your hands bracing themselves on his shoulders as you stared into his ruby eyes. Trying to calm your racing heart as you chanced a look towards the door to the office, it wasn’t locked and it meant anyone could walk in and see you in such a precarious position.

“Come on, baby.” His lips were now hovering over yours, mere centimetres and you’d connect them, “I know you want to.”

You worried your lower lip between your teeth as your fingers squeezed at his shoulders, trying to hold on to the last ounce of resolve that you still held inside you. But it was so difficult when he was in such close proximity to you, looking into your soul with those gorgeous eyes as you felt yourself moving closer to him. It was as though you were no longer in control of your body as your eyes darted down to his lips, his tongue peeking out to wet them as he tilted his head to the side, finally closing the distance as your lips met his in a soft kiss. You hummed gently when you felt his calloused lips touched yours, feeling them curl into a smile as he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed past your parted lips to delve deeper as he brushed against your teeth, capturing your moans in his mouth as your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about doing that with you, sweetheart.” He whispered against your lips as you broke for air.

“You have?”

Fuck, you really were so cute. You sounded so hopeful, so eager as you asked for the subtle affirmation. Kirishima couldn’t wait to ruin you-

“Of course I have, baby. Have you seen yourself?” He pressed his lips to yours in another sloppy kiss, “You’re so beautiful.”

You felt giddy as his thighs moved closer on either side of yours, squeezing them gently as he couldn’t wrap his arms around you, tilting his head back as if to invite you closer. The movement allowed you to see the intricate tattoo that covered his collarbone and followed beneath his shirt. You’d seen it before when he’d been working out shirtless in the rec area, a huge dragon that spanned from his pectoral all the way into a colourful arm sleeve. The beautiful ink marred with a gunshot wound where he’d narrowly avoided death, another indication of just how much danger you were potentially in.

“Sit on my lap.”

You’d consider yourself to be such a strong, independent woman- you had to be to survive in a job like this, but Kirishima had you questioning everything as you bit your lip. Suddenly feeling so shy as you debated whether to move closer or not.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Kirishima pouted, “For me?”

“Fuck,” He rasped as you straddled him, your dress riding up as you pressed your crotch against his. Giving him the perfect view of the tops of your stockings as you tried to hover yourself on top of him to avoid brushing yourself against his cock that was currently straining through the scratchy material of his prison-issue pants as it rubbed against your bare thighs, “You feel so fucking warm.”

Even with his hands restrained he still tried to maintain control of the situation, his hips thrusting up to make you lose your balance as you were forced down onto his crotch so you could feel his hard cock against your clothed slit. Making sweet moans tumble from your throat as his tongue swiped against your lips, eagerly pushing his way inside as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands moved to the back of his head as you let your fingers comb through his long hair. Fingernails scratching at his scalp as you began to match his movements, grinding yourself down on his crotch as he groaned beneath you as you let yourself fall into him.

“Wish I could touch you, princess” Kirishima moaned against your lips, “Wanna play with those pretty tits.”

His words had you tugging his hair at the root, making him groan as you pulled yourself away from him. His lips moved forward eagerly to press wet, warm kisses against your neck.

“Can I see them, please?” He asked softly as his nose nuzzled the soft skin at the apex of your neck.

Kirishima was a monster for corrupting someone so adorable, so innocent. But it wasn’t his fault- there was no reason why a girl as sweet as you should be working in a scummy facility like this. It was like putting you on a shelf for any sick fuck to come and ruin you- but lucky for you he’d got there first. Oh, he’d still ruin you alright, but at least there was a chance you’d enjoy it now.

“What if-” You began to contend, but Kirishima was quick to cut you off.

“They won’t come in for at least another fifteen unless you make noise.” He murmured, “And I can help you keep quiet, sweetheart.”

You leaned back on his lap as you began to unbutton the top few buttons of the standard dress that you wore, exposing the plain white bra that you wore below. Every piece of clothing was to regulation, wishing you had a sexy piece of lingerie on for him to see. But Kirishima didn’t seem to mind, the sight of your plain, white bra had his cock throbbing in his pants as your breasts fit perfectly inside. Leaning forward as you pulled the fabric down, letting your tits spill from the cups as Kirishima watched them bounce slightly, your nipples hardening into peaks in the cool air of the nurses' office. A deep, guttural groan sounded from deep in his chest as he committed the sight to memory, craning his neck forward to capture one of your pert nipples between his lips.

“Shit,” You whined, grasping his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards as his tongue circled the bud, cheeks hollowed as he sucked harshly. Certain he could make you cum from this alone as you kept grinding yourself on his lap, the desire continuing to build inside you as you were desperate to get off. Your hands became bolder as you moved them to the back of his neck, pushing him deeper as you began to imagine how his lips would feel on other parts of your body.

“I was right, they are fucking perfect.” He pulled away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ as he looked at the surface glistening in his spit as he moved to the other one to give it the same attention, “You’re perfect.”

You were hanging on to his every word, pleasure running through your veins as you forgot about the repercussions if you got caught, focusing only on the pleasure he was giving you. Continuing to roll your hips against his as you felt the hardness of his cock catch against your puffy clit, creating delicious friction as you used him to get yourself off.

“You feel so warm,” Kirishima groaned, jerking his hips so you could feel him push his cock against you, “Gotta help me, sweetheart, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Your mind was hazy from pleasure as you gazed at him through lidded eyes.

“Pull my pants down for me?” Kirishima wriggled his hips for emphasis as he moved back as much as he could to give you room.

Your fingers lifted the hem of his prison-issue shirt as you felt the soft black hair of his happy trail as it disappeared beneath his pants. Your fingers delicately hooked under the elastic waistband as you began to tug at the material, Kirishima lifting his hips from the chair to give you the freedom to tug his pants and underwear down just enough to free his aching cock. You gasped in surprise when you saw it for the first time, the way it flopped against his thigh a sheer indication of the weight of it as the bulging tip oozed pre. You weren’t sure you would be able to wrap your hand around it fully, never mind fit it inside you. The veins that forked along the underside only served to make him look even bigger as you wondered whether you’d get past the tip. His balls hung below, round and full with his cum as you subconsciously licked your lips at the thought of him filling you with cum.

“You think you can take me, babe?” Kirishima asked smugly, already knowing the answer. Most women struggled to take his size, and perhaps you were no different.

“Yeah,” You shot back swiftly, trying to sound confident but the doubtful look in your eyes betrayed you.

“Good girl,” He grinned, “Now take those panties off for me.”

You’d almost forgotten that you were still almost fully clothed, standing up from his lap for a moment to slip your hands beneath the standard-issue dress as the fabric slipped up around your hips, giving Kirishima a view of your cream panties as he watched intently.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned at the sight, noticing the large wet patch that stained the crotch as you tugged at the hem, pushing them down your thighs until they fell to the ground at your knees, stepping one foot out of them as you moved to get back on his lap.

“Hold on, sweetheart, hold on.” Kirishima spoke quickly, stopping you from sitting on top of him, “Spread yourself open for me, please? I wanna see-”

You felt embarrassed at the request, but somehow your hands betrayed you as you looked at the sweet look on his face.

“Put your foot here- that’s it-” Kirishima instructed you, uncaring that you’d put your heeled pump on his thigh as you moved your hand between your thighs. Your palm pressed against your mound as your fingers split into a v-shape, strings of your slick glistening as you spread yourself for him, giving him the perfect view of your bare cunt.

“Fucking hell,” He groaned, throwing his head back, “You have the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen, sweetheart. I wanna be inside you right now.”

“Oh,” You mumbled, “I don’t have condoms-”

Condoms were considered contraband in the facility, there was no need for you to be handing them out as inmates shouldn’t be fraternising, and neither should staff. Thinking that this was it between you and the attractive inmate you moved your foot from his thigh as your dress fell back around your knees.

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be fine,” Kirishima cooed, “I’ll tell you when I’m about to cum, okay?”

You bit your lip as you debated what to do, you knew the pull-out method wasn’t always effective, but you trusted him.

“Okay,” You moved back onto his lap as Kirishima smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you leaned down to wrap your hand around his thick cock, feeling the weight of it as you held it upright.

Easing your hips forward as you brushed the leaking tip between your messy folds, coating him with your slick as his pre mingled with your wetness. Kirishima hissed sharply from behind his teeth at the feeling of your hand around his cock, feeling you line him up with your tight entrance as he saw the uneasy look on your face.

“I’m sorry I can’t prep you like this,” His wrists jiggled the chains for emphasis, “Just stop me if it hurts, alright?”

He shouldn’t have said it, Kirishima knew there was no way he was going to fucking stop. Especially when there was such little time left- he just wanted to feel that tight little cunt wrapped around his cock.

He didn’t stop, he couldn’t. But it’s not like you were asking him to stop either, your cunt was practically dripping down his length, pooling around his balls.

You let out a lewd groan as you began to lower yourself on his cock, the noise catching Kirishima off guard as he began to shush you, his eyes instantly focused on the unlocked door in case the guard outside heard anything.

“Shhh, come on, babe. Do you want him to come in and see what a slut you are?” Kirishima hissed, brows furrowed as you bit down on your bottom lip hard to try and stop yourself from making noise. Tears clinging to your lashes as you tried desperately to hold back the tears, but every inch felt like your walls were burning.

“It hurts, Kiri.” You whined, trying to blink back tears as your walls burned from the stretch.

“I know, baby. I know- but you’re doin’ so good, almost there-” You weren’t, Kirishima could see not even a third of his cock had disappeared inside your cunt as he feigned sympathy. You were so wet and warm he wasn’t even sure he could last- the tightness hugging him enough to have him cumming like this. But he hadn’t worked you for weeks to get a third deep, no. He wanted all of you.

Kirishima couldn’t lie, he felt guilty when he rut his hips up into you, he did. The whimper you made when he felt you take more of him sent shameful jolts directly to his cock as he whispered for you to bite down on his shoulder to keep quiet. You complied so easily, teeth latching onto his shoulder through the starchy fabric as he felt your spit begin to slick the material. Or it could’ve been your tears- but at that moment he didn’t care.

Giving another sharp thrust of his hips as he fucked himself deeper inside your tender pussy, feeling your walls flutter around him as he began to feel the resistance start to dissipate.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, so tight.” He groaned, “Doin’ so good for me.”

The stretch was unreal, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. None of your previous partners had been this well endowed, and even your largest dildo couldn’t contend with his size.

“Fuck, give me a second, sweetheart.” Kirishima continued, “S’been a long, long time.”

You were grateful because you weren’t sure you could take it if he had just started moving. Pulling your teeth away from his shoulder to take a deep breath, holding the air in your lungs as you felt Kirishima begin to move his hips.

“Oh, shit.” You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock hit the deepest depths inside of you, certain it was nudging your cervix as he began to start a sloppy pace.

“You feel so good,” Kirishima grunted, beads of sweat beginning to appear on his brow as he positioned his feet flat on the ground as he leaned back against the chair, using the position for leverage as he began to piston himself in and out of your tight cunt.

Your nails dug into his back through his shirt as you clung to him to prevent yourself from falling backwards, your tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts as he pounded into you. His cock dragged against every inch of you with each rut of his hips as your mouth fell open in a constant whine.

“So noisy.” Kirishima teased, “My cock feel that good?”

“Y-yeah,” You managed to get out between breaths, certain the sound of his balls slapping against your skin was louder than you were but you were in no position to argue.

Kirishima continued to lead from the bottom as he used your body as his own personal cocksleeve, completely focused on his own pleasure as he felt his balls begin to tighten.

“Not so loud, sweetheart.” He whispered gruffly, “Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

You didn’t, there was too much at stake if anyone was to come in and see you in this position, but the thought of it happening had your walls clenching around Kirishima’s cock. The image of someone, anyone coming in and seeing you in such a depraved position sending you closer to your release.

Kirishima continued pounding into you from below, a sheer display of his strength that each thrust had you almost completely off his length before gravity had you dropping back down, struggling to keep your thighs on the chair as you moved your feet to hook over Kirishima’s thighs by his knees.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He growled, “Take it.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped, your walls trembled at his words as you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to your bliss.

“Fucking take it.” He snarled, tears spilling down your cheeks as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. Leaning forward to latch your teeth onto his shoulder again to silence yourself as you screamed, the noise muffled by the rough fabric as the coil broke inside you. Crying out as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure, your orgasm surging through you in harsh waves.

“Good girl,” Kirishima grunted, your walls milking his cock as he fucked you through your climax, your cunt even tighter, even wetter now that you’d found your release.

He continued his rough pace, selfishly searching for his own ecstasy as he felt himself closer and closer to his end.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” Kirishima moaned, your pussy clamping down around him, “Gonna fuckin’ cum inside this slutty pussy.”

“Wait-” You gasped, trying to lift yourself with tired arms to look into his eyes but it was too late.

Kirishima knew it was an asshole move, that he’d promised you that he’d pull out, but your cunt just felt so good wrapped around his cock. And truthfully? He’d never had any intention of pulling out- the thought of filling your cute, little pussy with his cum was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Oh, fuck.” A guttural moan left Kirishima’s lips as his balls tightened, pumping hot ropes of cum inside your quivering cunt. Painting your walls white with his release as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts inside your warmth before he stilled on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

His chest heaving as he basked in the afterglow of his release, cherishing the final few pulsations from your spent cunt before you moved your hands to his shoulders to pull yourself off his spent cock, grimacing when his cum dripped from your stretched walls and onto the linoleum floor.

“You were fucking amazing, sweetheart.” Kirishima grinned as you glanced towards the clock in panic, moving to pull his pants back up around his ass as you huffed in frustration as he made it hard for you by barely moving his hips, “I knew that pussy would be good, and I wasn’t wrong.”

“He’s gonna come back in at any minute,” You mumbled, moving to pull your panties back up as Kirishima stopped you.

“Put them in my pocket” He flicked his chin, indicating towards the cream panties that were now around your ankles.

“I can’t,” You gasped.

“Come on, please?” Kirishima gave you that same puppy dog look and it had you falling even deeper under his spell.

“What if you get caught?” You asked the question as though you weren’t already taking them off from around your ankles and slipping them into his pants pocket.

“I won’t, promise.” He stole a kiss from you as you hovered over him, “Having these will get me through seg.”

He wished he hadn’t lied about being sent to isolation, in hindsight he probably didn’t even have to. He would’ve managed to get inside your panties without the little white lie, but either way, it had worked. He leaned forward to steal one more kiss from you before you began to smooth your dress out, almost forgetting about his cum that was now dripping down your inner thigh uncomfortably and hitting the floor.

“Oh, shit,” You moved to grab a paper towel before the sound of the door opening stopped you, keeping you frozen in your tracks as you watched the guard walk in without warning.

“What? No knock first?” Kirishima snarked as the guard stepped into your office, praying that he couldn’t feel the warmth in the air or the stench of sex and sweat as he moved towards his prisoner.

“Keep telling you assholes, this is fuckin’ prison. You don’t get shit.” The guard shook his head, keys jingling in his hands as he moved to the back of the chair to unlock Kirishima’s cuffs from the chain at the back so he could stand, his hands still bound as you tried to stand in front of the mess you’d made on the cold floor, praying that the guard hadn’t noticed.

“Is he ready to go back to gen pop?” The guard turned to ask you, and you felt your heart pounding against your chest.

“Y-yeah,” You mumbled, hoping the guard wouldn’t come around your table to see the mess the inmate had made of you. Kirishima did you a favour as he walked around the table and towards the guard as he was marched out of the room.

“Thanks, nurse.” He gave you a cocky smile as he left, “I feel much better.”

Kirishima followed the guard back to the general population as he stopped by the main door, waiting for the guard to unlock the cuffs as he was finally able to move his arms back to his front. Smiling smugly as he noticed the deep red marks around his wrists from where the cuffs had rubbed from his frantic movements. Making a beeline for the phones as he tapped another inmate on the shoulder, the man instantly turned around with a fist up before realising his mistake. Seeing Kirishima behind him as he instantly hung up the phone, apologising before walking away.

Kirishima picked the phone up as he smashed the keys, dialling a number as he leaned a shoulder against the wall as the phone rang. An angry voice sounded from the other side.

“What fuckin’ time do ya call this, Kiri?”

“Hey, I’m sorry man. I was a little preoccupied.” Kirishima schmoozed, a grin on his face at the memory, his cock still covered in your slick and your panties secure in his pocket.

“Yeah, well the drop is ready to go. We’re just trying to sort someone to do pick-ups.” Bakugou grunted on the other side of the phone, “The last guy was a fuckin’ pussy.”

“You know what, man. I think I might have someone-”

“Someone on the inside?” Bakugou pushed.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Do you think he’ll do it? I can get Sero to meet him before he comes in-”

“Oh yeah, she’ll do it.” Kirishima grinned, “I know she will.”

#Kirishima x reader #Eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #Eijirou kirishima smut #Bnha x reader #Bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #tw:dubcon #trigger:dubcon #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut

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speirslore · 2 months

Text

when you get hurt hcs [officers + roe]

a/n: requested <3 usually in my writing the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in a vague way bc i know ppl have different preferences but some of these include getting shot (not graphic or anything) so ig that implies they're on the front lines

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist! @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck

[dick winters]

you hit your head prettyyyy hard, and you're out of it, probably definitely concussed

it happens right in front of dick and he tries really hard to keep calm

he wants to be strong and level-headed for you

shows more obvious affection then any of the men have ever seen from him; pets your hair, holds your hand, is always by your side

he immediately gets you a medic and transported to an aid station and doesn’t want to leave you

but when dick's back with easy, he gets uncharacteristically easily angry and frustrated...

he gets quiet and withdrawn and a little snappy with zelensky and nix... and they both immediately know why

whenever he can go see you, he's there.. he even gets behind on all his paperwork (but nix offers to help)

which dick is hesitant to accept for many reasons, he feels guilty, like he's not focusing on his duties but lew is always good at keeping the reports concise lol

very fragile with you, he isn't underestimating you but he just absolutely does not want to push you or hurt you

is a stickler for the rules, follows absolutely everything the doctor says

he has to wake you up every few hours and you keep insisting it’s unnecessary and dick is absolutely not having it

you try to get up and move around and all dick has to hear is the sheets moving and he just gives you that stare, a little bit like a disappointed mom, and you're right back laying down

he’s way more clingy than usual, wants to be by your side, subtly holding your hand

in that moment it definitely hits him how much he loves and cares about you... he hasn't really had time or space to process those feelings until now <3

[lewis nixon]

it does not look good at first

it's really scary for everyone there, you loose a lot of blood and lose consciousness

lew is not there when you're first shot in the leg and everyone is very glad that he didn't have to see it

but when he finds out... oh he is not keeping cool, is not pretending even a little bit to be okay

starts lashing out and snaps at the driver who's taking him to the hospital to drive faster, mad that they didn't tell him sooner, mad that you were injured, mad at the war, furious at absolutely everything

lew has to be monitored by dick not to go full self destruction mode and get incredibly drunk

he hates just sitting with the constant uncomfortable feeling and reminder that you're hurting

he will not leave your side at first when you’re sleeping a lot, on a lot of medicine, and out of it

one nurse does approach him when he's the only vistor in the hospital left, "sir, the visiting hours-"

he just looks up, obviously devastated, voice cracking, "i'm can't leave. you can drag me out but i'm not going, thanks."

they back off after that

does go through a phase where he hates going once you're more conscious because he kills him to see you like that and face this feels irrational guilt he feels for not being there

because he definitely has the tendency to avoid his problems and things that hurt him

but it hurts you too and you don't fully understand

you look up at dick and harry, slightly delirious from the morphine, tearing up, "does he not want to see me anymore?"

after that they do drag lew to see you and you just straight up tell him feeling guilty is pointless and not fair to himself (or you)

and then it's right back to not leaving your side and always trying to make you laugh or smile

[ron speirs]

okay so i love the angel of the company x speirs trope

by now he's the co of easy and your relationship is a widely known secret...

he assigns you and the group of other men to a patrol... it wasn't an overly risky or bad order, a standard order from sink

but you guys make contact and you're shot in the arm

it just absolutely wrecks him

the guys feel like he's just going to go across enemy lines and find the soldier that shot you himself

the rest of the guys are furious too because everyone just absolutely loves you

for a short time, he's mad at the other soldiers on the patrol and you have to reminder him they didn't do anything wrong

but ron is really just irrationally mad at himself for not being there, for not being psychic, he's just angry he somehow didn't stop this

ron is not controlling and not possessive and he knows you can hold your own but he feels responsible for taking care of you and making sure you're safe

even if he can't quite articulate all of those feelings yet

he doesn't understand all the emotions he feels and doesn't even have time to try to understand them

he listens so attentively to the doctors, he can recite everything they've said word for word

like with chuck, he demands the absolute best from the doctors

this incident shows his more compassionate side and the guys start to see how much he really cares about you... bc they're protective of you too!

you have to comfort him and his voice breaks

and he feels weak and he feels bad that you're comforting him and not the other way around

"i'm messing everything up, doing everything wrong," he says more to himself but you frown, eyebrows furrowed and everything

"you're so hard on yourself, ron. when it's not your fault, it was routine, you didn't shoot me. then i'd be really pissed." you smile and he smiles weakly... but he's on edge for a longgg time after this

[carwood lipton]

unfortunately you and lip just cannot catch a break

your leg gets injured while he has pneumonia

it's not a major injury but a bullet ricocheted off of a wall and slightly grazed you and you need a few days of staying off of it

lip really tries to be comforting

and wants to be there for you and he is!

but it's very hard for him, he just wants you to be okay so badly, even when he himself isn't okay

trying to lecture you about staying off of your leg and asking others for help but breaking out into a coughing fit and then you're trying to help him sit up and to go get some hot water for him

and then he's back to telling you to stop and starts hoarsely calling for luz

it's a MESS

but carwood is a natural caretaker and has been one for most of his life

it makes him hover sooo badly especially because since he's sick too he doesn't have a lot of work to keep him busy

but you're not complaining honestly, it's nice to have more private time and something of a break, even if you're both miserable

you get the special privilege of an actual private back bed room with a mattress and blankets

kind of a bonding experience

you just laugh because what the fuck

it's kind of romantic, first time in a longgg time in an actual bed together

you just go back and forth talking about your future and the life you want after the war

"i don't like this wallpaper," you murmur into his chest

he laughs and that turns into coughing again and you're just rubbing his back trying not to bend your leg... domestic bliss <3

[buck compton]

buck... does not take it well

he takes it extremely hard

like his reaction to joe and bill...

you have pneumonia and the peniciln you need isn't available in bastogne

and it's even worse that he finds out you're sick only a few hours after that and that you've been sick and struggling for the past few days

maybe his reaction would've been different earlier on in the war

but now, it just feels like a destructive domino effect that's sparing no one

it's obvious after all of his friends injuries and your pneumonia that he couldn't stay on the front line... his red bleary eyes and slightly trembling hands said enough

when he gets taken off the line, you're both in an aid station together for a few hours before you're both transferred to different hospital

so his presence is silent reassurance

you want so badly to comfort him but you're so sick and he doesn't want you to, he feels so guilty leaving you

but you hoarsely tell him he needs a break and to process what happened

you're feeling slightly better this day so that makes it a little better... but not that much

both of you have been through hell

but there is a light in the tunnel... or at least you feel that way

buck isn't on the front lines anymore and you both have a chance at a life together post-war

he does not want to leave you, it has to take a lot of malarkey's coaxing him and promising to update buck

[eugene roe]

gene can't decide if having medical knowledge makes it better or worse

and if being the medic and being the one to have their hands covered in the your blood, was better than leaving it in the hands of someone else

he decides it's awful... definitely worse

the very few hours he slept, it was just dreaming of your terrified face

and he wakes with a jolt and is completely miserable

and life just goes on...

a lot of pacing and murmuring

gene closes in on himself when he's upset and stressed, so he becomes even quieter than normal

and the other guys are worried like ??? do we need to intervene and lip just stops them, "leave him alone, he'll be okay."

prays for you a lot, gripping his rosary so tightly and the photo that he has of the two of you when you were still in england

when you both felt some semblance of normalcy

he can't abandon the company to stay with you full time at the aid station to his incredible frustration and disappointment

it's just hard for him to go on like everything's fine, it shatters whatever illusion he has of fairness and hope and safety

whenever someone else gets injured or they need supplies, he'll take any excuse to ride back to the aid station to see you

and if anyone else goes, they always see you and give gene an update

winters definitely notices and tries to give him opportunities to see you

likes watching you rest and sleep (because you definitely needed it, even before you got injured) in the sweetest, non-creepy way

gene loves to just sit with you, see you with his own eyes, and know for certain that you're okay

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers imagine #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon x reader #carwood lipton x reader #ron speirs x reader #buck compton x reader

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 month

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hey girly! Idk if your requests are open but we neeeeeed something for bucky from mota. maybe something like enemies to lovers with a war nurse? thxxxx

A Second Chance

Thank you so much for your request anon. I’m so sorry it took so long. I feel that I may not have the skill set to write John Egan as well as other writers but I’m hoping that I can do him justice. Also two posts this weekend because why not.

John Egan was insufferable. Y/n had decided that from the moment she’d first met him, with his cocky smile, his stupid moustache, his bright eyes and… no he was just insufferable. She’d never met a man so full of himself that he gave his best friend the same nickname, and yet Gale Cleven seemed like the sweetest man on earth.

“You’re staring again,” Rosie chuckled, looking up from his battered book ‘Of Mice and Men’ with a cheeky smile.

“Yes with utter disgust, I mean look at him,” Y/n pointed, watching as Rosie glanced over at the Major who was currently leaning against the bar, flirting with the poor barmaid who seemed besotted with him. “He’d flirt with anything that moved.”

“Including you apparently,” Rosie chuckled, “Just admit that you aren’t a tiny bit jealous. I just want to hear you admit it.”

Y/n glared daggers at the pilot who was using his book to shield his smiling face. She lurched forward trying to smack him but he shoved the book at her.

“No, no, not the moustache again,” he shielded his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he glared at her. She may have accidentally pulled his moustache once when they were arguing about the same Major and Rosie’s moustache had taken the hit.

“You know that was an accident.”

“Yes, but it’s never grown the same since,” he protested, stroking his facial hair thoughtfully. “You’re always moaning about Major Egan's moustache, I thought mine was a goner.”

Y/n sighed dramatically, slouching in her chair. She wondered if she should tell Rosie the real reason why she held such a grudge towards John Egan. That, however, would involve her confessing that she was madly in love with John.

Rosie’s eyes remained trained on his book and Y/n fought the urge to interrupt him again. Instead, she remained silent, thinking back to that night in June when the air in London had been close and hot, sticking to the sweat on her skin, the pale evening light casting shadows over the hotel room, the white sheets soft and comfortable, his embrace loving, his words kind and… all completely false.

Y/n hadn’t believed in love at first sight but seeing John Egan in his uniform, smirking at her across the crowded pub, something inside her had changed. He’d been effortlessly charming and she was eating out of his palm before the night was through.

John Egan had promised to visit her, promised he’d write, but several months passed and no letters came Y/n gave up, putting John behind her. That was until she had to report to Thorpe Abbott RAF base and ran into a particular Major.

John, however, seemed oblivious to their previous encounter, barely sending her a smile as he strolled passed with several other pilots by his side. From that day forward Y/n held a grudge against John Egan.

“Here we go…” Rosie mumbled under his breath, but before Y/n could ask what he meant a low hum came from behind her.

“Evening Rosie, Y/n,” John nodded to both of them, Gale Cleven by his side doing the same.

“Majors,” Rosie greeted them, placing his book down on the table.

“Major Cleven,” Y/n greeted Gale, her eyes avoiding the other Major. Gale glanced quizzically between the pair, before looking to Rosie for answers, but he only shrugged.

“Have I done something to offend you, Darling?” John smirked at her, leaning across the table, his moustache twitching at the corners. He had the same cocky air about him that he always wore but the added nickname just added fuel to the fire that was already burning.

Y/n snorted, “Do not think your presence has such an effect on me, Major. I’m afraid not every woman falls at your feet.”

Gale let a low whistle slip from his lips, but John just grinned, “Alright, I see someone’s a little jealous, didn’t realise I had an admirer.”

Y/n stood swiftly from her chair, rounding the table and jabbing her finger into John’s chest, “I am not jealous and why would I be? Why would I lower my standards to such an arrogant, self-centered man.” She removed her finger from his chest, turning on her heels and exiting the pub as fast as her legs would allow her.

Gale looked between Rosie and John, “Will someone please explain what just happened?”

Rosie shrugged, picking up his book and fumbling through the pages until he found his spot. John chuckled, “I think I may have offended her in some way, though I know not how.”

“You really think you offended her, huh?” Gale replied sarcastically, avoiding his friend's light shove with an amused laugh.

John truly did wonder what he’d done so wrong to offend her. He’d only known her a few months when she turned up on base dressed in her dress blues declaring she was newly assigned to Thorpe Abbott infirmary. He greeted her with a smile and she glared at him in response. From that day forward it had been an all-out war between the two of them.

Y/n had just finished tidying up the examination room when there was a light tap at the door, she called out ‘enter’, her back still turned to whoever it was.

“This is quite a nice place you’ve got here, Darling,” John declared, leaning against the doorframe, smiling devilishly.

Y/n sighed, instantly on the defensive, “What do you want, Major,” she emphasised his rank disdainfully, rolling her eyes as she continued to pack up the crate of dressings.

John hummed behind her, moving around the room until he was in front of her once more, “So…” he paused, craning his neck to try and catch her eye. “How are you finding life on base?”

That’s it, John, a nice simple question. She can’t get too offended by that, right?

Y/n all but tutted, shaking her head, “Life would be just fine, except a certain Major keeps ruining my day.” She shoved passed him, carrying the crate out of the room and down the corridor, her heels clicking against the tiled floor followed by a larger heavier footfall.

“Hey Darling, wait up. I hadn’t finished talking to you,” John protested, moving swiftly in front of her and stopping her movements.

“What?” She snapped this time, her patience wearing thin and the long list of jobs she had still playing on her mind.

John sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, “I just want to know what I did. I’ve barely said two words to you since you got here and somehow I’ve offended you. Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry, okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so exasperated but he wasn’t sure what more he could say.

Y/n watched him, her face faltering ever so slightly before the stoic expression returned. “The fact that you don’t remember makes all of this worse. I didn’t realise our night was so awful you pushed it from your mind. So much for ‘I’ll keep in touch’,” she spat, pushing the crate into him and moving on passed without a backward glance. She’d said her piece, he could do with that what he will.

John sat on the wing of Mugwump, his legs swinging in mid-air as he took a long swig from his hit flask. His mind still reeling from the afternoon's events as the guilt ate away at him.

He’d fished the letter out from his belongings, tracing over the return address. He should have realised her name was familiar, but then again he should have written her back.

John was still trying to piece together how he hadn’t realised it was her, but with the amount they’d both consumed he was surprised Y/n even remembered him. That still didn’t help clear his conscience.

“Bucky, you up there,” Gale called, glancing around the plane until he noticed the pair of legs hanging from the wing. “What are you doing?”

“I messed up Gale,” John mumbled, taking another drink. He was always impressed by how much whiskey his hot flask could hold and he was starting to feel a nice warm sensation as it flowed around his body.

“What have you done?” Gale asked, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the wing beside John. He offered Gale his hit flask but the other pilot shook his head, waiting for his friend’s explanation.

“Do you remember that night I had in London a few months ago? When I said I met this amazing woman and we had a wonderful night together, she wanted me to write to her and she wrote me a letter and I never replied,” John rambled, his tongue becoming looser as the alcohol flowed. “Well, that’s Y/n, the nurse on base. It’s the same woman, Gale.”

Gale nodded, processing his friend's confession, “Well at least now we know why she’s so angry at you all the time, you were a total ass.”

John rolled his eyes glaring at Gale, “Thanks Buck, that’s really helpful.” Groaning, John pushed himself up, balancing precariously on Mugwump’s wing. “I’ve gotta make it up to her, Buck. Women like grand gestures, don't they?”

Buck shuffled further away from the edge of the wing before standing, grasping his friend's hands, “I don’t think she wants a grand gesture, Bucky. I think she just wants you to apologise.”

Passing back and forth down the infirmary corridor, John found himself fighting the urge to make a run for it. He could easily head down the corridor and back out onto the hardstand before anyone noticed he was there in the first place.

Movement from within the infirmary caught his eye. He watched curiously as Y/n moved along the beds, sitting down beside a wounded airman, his head clad in bandages, covering the burns he’d sustained on the last mission. She was speaking quietly to him, too quietly for John to hear, but he saw the young man instantly relax in her presence. She was a good nurse and John had taken her kindness for granted. He had to make things right.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door, waiting for the mumbled reply, before pushing it open. Y/n was smoothing down some fresh bedding, tucking the sheets tightly into the bed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he interrupted, watching as her movements still and her whole body stiffened. He hated that he had this effect on her.

“What can I do for you, Major?” Her voice was plain, emotionless and her eyes seemed hollow, as though she stared right through him.

John felt his palms sweating as he spoke, “I need to talk to you, to apologise for my behaviour.” Y/n seemed uninterested in what he had to say, continuing with the task at hand, but John wasn’t about to give up on her again.

“My behaviour has been unacceptable and I know that I can probably never make it up to you but I want to try. I was not in my best form the night that we met, I was drunk and uncaring and I’m sorry I never wrote back. I intended to but I just never did, and I have no excuse, I’m just sorry I never did. You’re a great girl and any man would be lucky to have you write to them, I only wish that I hadn’t messed things up.”

John had never outed his heart out before, he’d never even revealed this kind of vulnerability to Gale, so he was a little shocked. Had he said too much? Would she hate him even more now?

Y/n had stopped her movements, still bent over the bed, her hand clutching the sheet. John watched her shoulders sag, and a long, drawn-out sigh slipped from her lips.

“It’s okay, John,” she murmured, defeat evident in her appearance. “I knew the kind of man you were when we met, I was just excited that a man such as yourself wanted to give someone like me any kind of attention.

She stood up, a few tears trickling down her cheeks, “You know the worst thing was I really did think you’d write back. That’s what hurt the most. Then when I got my orders to move to Thorpe Abbott I thought maybe we had a chance, but you didn’t even recognise me and I knew I never stood a chance.”

The pair stood in silence, the clock on the wall ticking louder than ever as time passed. John spoke up first, unable to stand the tension any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, for all of it. I understand now why you hate me so much, and I wouldn’t blame you. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Any way at all?”

Y/n’s forehead creased as she thought, her nose wrinkling as it had the same night they’d met when he’d asked her about her family. He could see it now, all the small details that he’d appreciated when he met her, if only he’d taken the time to study her when she came to base he’d have known.

Y/n shook her head, “What’s done is done. Let’s just move on and forget about it all.” She turned away, returning to the bed she’d been making, but John grabbed her arm.

“I don’t want to forget it, any of it. That night with you was one of the best nights of my life. I was free from judgment when I was with you. You never once called me Major or treated me like I was better than you, you treated me like a normal person,” John admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I’d really like another shot if you’d let me.”

“Alright,” Y/n replied, “But if you break my heart again, Major then I won’t be so forgiving.”

John chuckled, saluting her, “Anything you say, Ma’am.”

Y/n rolled her eyes turning back to her job, but John spun her back around to face him, “I have some leave coming up to go to London. What do you say to come with me?”

Y/n smiled softly, “I’d love to, but I don’t know whether I can get the leave.”

“All sorted, it’s already been approved.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Well that’s pretty cocky of you, Major. What were you planning on doing if I said no?”

John grinned, “I would have just asked Buck to come with me, although he’s not nearly as beautiful and I don’t think I’d want to share a bed with him, he snores you know.”

Y/n laughed, moving her arms so they rested behind his neck, fumbling with the soft hair at the base of his neck. “Alright Major, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

John grinned, cupping her cheek softly in his palm, he pressed his lips down to her, his moustache tickling her lips but that was the least of her concerns. His hands moved to her hips, resting firmly and pulling her closer. He smiled into the kiss, it felt so right, bringing back all the memories from London all those months ago. He wished he’d written her back now, he could have been kissing her all this time, but at least he could make up for lost time now and he intended to.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries

#masters of the air #john egan #john egan x reader #masters of the air fic #hbo war #gale cleven #rosie rosenthal #John Egan x y/n

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neonghostlights · 6 months

Text

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Actress!Reader (best friends to lovers-slow burn)

★ A/N: Whoop, Whoop. It’s almost time for the fluff. Not in this chapter though, please read the warnings.

★ Series Summary: It’s the ‘90s in LA and you and your best friend Eddie have both made it big. The following is a series of Interviews, News Reports and One Shots showing you and Eddie’s story throughout the years.

★Chapter Summary: Reader wakes up in the hospital and some confessions are made

★Warnings: READER IS IN AN VERBAL, EMOTIONAL, AND PHYSICALLY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP (not with Eddie) SOME OF THE ABUSE IS DESCRIBED, hospitals, IV, pain, injury, car accident, arrest, death, threats of killing someone and violence, drugs, angst. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS IS TRIGGERING AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I HAVE MISSED ANY WARNINGS (18 + ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!)

★Wordcount: 2.2k

Series masterlist

Chapter Eleven: Make It Go Away

Date Unknown

You had been asleep, at least you think you were. Everything had been a blur since you got pulled out of the car.

Your back hurt. Well, everything hurt but you could really feel your back aching against the hard hospital mattress. You knew there were worse things to worry about in your life right now than the comfortability of a hospital bed but you wanted to allow yourself a little moment of selfishness.

The nurses and doctors put stuff in your IV that made you feel warm and fuzzy. Whatever it was that they drugged you up with wasn’t strong enough to make all of the pain go away or for your mind to shut up.

You weren’t even sure how long you had been here.

Days? Hours? Weeks?

There wasn’t a point when you woke up suddenly. You had just gone from a state of slumber to waking gradually and slowly. You think that your brain was still thinking thoughts when you were supposed to be dreaming peacefully, making being awake right now even more disorienting.

You could remember the accident which you figured was a good sign. If you had brain damage you probably wouldn’t be able to recall the smell of alcohol on his breath or the way he was screaming in your face while speeding through traffic. You didn’t even realize that the car was going into the incoming traffic until you saw the headlights shining in your face.

And then that’s when the crash happened.

It was slow motion, the way the car hit the other car and then before you knew it your world was flipping.

People ask you a lot of questions after something very disorienting happens to you. The worst part is they expect you to know the answers.

You hummed a sigh, rubbing the scratchy blankets between your pointer finger and thumb. You’d have to make a donation to this hospital when you got out. You’d make sure to write on the check that it was specifically for them to get better sheets.

You laughed a little at the thought of it.

It was amazing how quiet it was here compared to how loud it was before. When you first got here there were a lot of people talking to you, shining lights in your face and poking and prodding you.

Then you got moved to whatever room you were in now. Now that you thought about it, you had to have passed out a few times because of the gaps in your memories.

You do remember the yelling though. Someone had been outside of your room yelling in what you had assumed was a hallway. You figured you would just check on them after your nap.

You went to sit up. Maybe you should check on them now. It seemed like the right thing to do after all of the damage you had caused.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t do this again here. Lay back down,” a voice commanded. You felt warm, calloused hands wrapping around your upper arms, guiding you back down to the bed.

You fought them, not liking the way they were making you move in the opposite direction than you wanted to go.

It reminded you of a lot of times Collins hands had been on you. It made you panic, your breath getting faster as you tried to struggle against him.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Please,” you cried, throat rawer than you had expected. You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. The apologies had never worked before with him but it never hurt to try. Maybe he would show you some mercy after all you had been through.

The voice shushed you.

“Everything’s okay. I just don’t want you to rip out your IV.” It was soft voice, sleepy. It was gentleness and caring all wrapped into one. It was a sound you had heard all through childhood. It was a sound that you associated with home.

It wasn’t Collin.

It was Wayne.

“Wayne?” You croaked out, bleary eyes finally cracking open to take a look at the man. You felt the warmth pooling in your eyes and start to run down your cheeks at the thought of him being here.

“It’s okay, darlin. Don’t cry,” he said softly. You could barely make him out between your heavy eyelids and your tears. You felt a sob build up and release from your chest.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse popped in, speaking to Wayne in hushed tones instead of to you directly.

“Talk to me,” you begged through a whimper.

She told you what you already knew. That you had been in an accident and under some heavy medication but that you were okay. She said something about getting the doctor before she whisked out of the room quickly.

“He’s gone down stairs,” Wayne turned to you and said as soon as the door clicked shut. “He just had to go get something to eat and take care of a few things. It’s the first time he’s left you since he got here. He’s gonna be so torn up that you woke up without him here.”

You weren’t sure exactly who he was talking about but you nodded pathetically anyway.

You could see Wayne a little better now. It was dark in the room, making you think it was night time without even looking out of the window. There were little nightlights shining that gave just enough light to make out his face.

He looked tired, worn down. You hated to think you were the cause of his pain. He had more wrinkles than the last time you saw him, and a little less hair. How long had it been since you saw him? Years?

You opened your mouth to ask him the question that had been on your mind when the door opened again.

He looked even worse than Wayne. His hair was disheveled, eyes red and tired. You hadn’t seen him this messy since he got a stylist and publicist. His frame seemed so small, but his voice was undeniable.

If this was a trick of your brain it would be a sick one. You felt like you were in shock, floating out of your body at the sight of someone you had once known and loved so dearly.

But you knew all too well that that love never truly disappeared no matter how much you tried to avoid it.

“I-I heard the nurses talking and I tried to get back here as soon as I could. You’re awake for real this time,” he said as he approached your bed with a wobbling lip.

“Eddie?” You asked, thinking that this could be a dream. Waiting for the Eddie look alike to clarify that you were hallucinating and that Eddie wasn’t here nor did he care.

“Hi,” he said, confirming it was him as he took your hand in his shaking one. “How are you feeling?”

What a loaded question. How does one person feel after something like this? Was it more shocking to announce that you were more shocked to see Eddie here than to be waking up in a hospital bed.

“Confused,” you admitted, politely, like you were talking to an acquaintance and not like you were talking to your best friend of many, many years. “Why did you ask if I was really awake this time?”

Eddie bit his lip, staring down at where your hand fit into his. His thumb swiped a few times against the back of your hand and the gesture made you lower your guard slightly.

“You’ve done this a few times. You’ll wake up some and try to get out of bed or cuss me out.” Eddie smiled at what you were assuming was your choice of colorful language to throw at him. “But then you’d go back to sleep again for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You questioned, trying to push yourself up in the bed with the hand Eddie wasn’t holding onto. Your muscles trembled and protested, weak, so you gave up and laid your head back down on the pillow, turned to look at Eddie who was perched on the side of your bed.

Eddie and Wayne shared a look before Wayne spoke, “about three days.”

“Three days?” You repeated, shocked.

Eddie nodded slowly.

“Is he-,” you started but needed to swallow a bit before you could get the words out. Your mouth was horrendously dry, it felt like sandpaper and it wasn’t helping the heavy load of the words you were about to say. “Is Collin dead?”

Eddie gripped your hand a little tighter before letting it go. He ran a shaky hand through hair, not once but twice before he stood up and walked across the room.

“No. He’s not dead,” Wayne drawled from beside your bed, a concerned eye kept on you to judge your reaction.

“But he fucking should be,” Eddie scoffed from across the room, fists clenched in his side. “I wish I was able to get in that fucking place. I swear I would-”

“Eddie, that is enough,” Wayne demanded sternly, sending him a look that was silently telling him to shut up.

“Wait.” You tried to sit up again and Eddie was immediately at your side, setting the head of the bed up slightly and adjusting the pillows behind your back to make it easier for you.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“I’m gonna give y’all two a minute. This old man is gonna go get himself a cup of coffee,” Wayne said as he pushed himself up from the chair, grimacing from the pain in his knees from sitting for too long. “I’ll be back,” he said with a wave before walking out the door.

“Eddie,” you begged. “Please. Tell me.”

“He’s in jail,” he said carefully after he took the spot Wayne was in beside your bed. He reached for your hand again but you jerked away, trying to comprehend the words that were coming out of his full lips.

When you didn’t say anything, he kept going, “They took him for reckless driving, possession, driving under the influence and evading the police. I’m sure there will be more charges by the time it is all said and done.”

Your stomach turned. He had to be so mad, so mad at you. You had to get away. You couldn’t let him think that you had any part in this.

Eddie saw the panic clear on your face.

“Look at me,” Eddie demanded, voice frantic. “Has he been hurting you? Has this been going on the whole goddamn time?”

You looked at him, unsure if you should tell him the truth. It was obvious by the way you had reacted right? This wasn’t normal, none of it was. It felt strange for Eddie to not know what had been happening to you. It felt like everyone else in your circle knew but were bound not to say anything. But Eddie really hadn’t been a part of your circle in a long, long time.

It felt wrong to confirm it, fear gnawed in your gut that Collin would find out. That he would know that you had told and that your punishment would be severe.

He might really kill you this time.

Eddie knew what you were thinking. You knew he knew just by the look on your face and the fear in your eyes from being trapped in a body that was too weak to flee for safety.

He just wanted to hear you say it. He needed the confirmation to further torture himself.

Eddie could read you. He always had. Lying would be so pointless at this point.

“He left you there. Did you know that? He got out the fucking car with only a few scratches and ran. He didn’t care if the car was on fire or if you were inside. He didn’t care if he killed someone that night because he fucking ran. So don’t bother protecting him.”

“I’m not protecting him, Eddie. I’m trying to protect myself.” Your voice cracked at your admission, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Eddie was closer to you in an instant, hands wrapping around you as he pulled in close to him.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Eddie said, his own voice cracking and tears wetting your hair. “No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

“What are we going to do?” You asked, pulling away and looking into his tear soaked face. Your best friend looked like he had aged a lifetime from the worrying you had put him through. You had a feeling he had some stories of his own to tell from the time you had been apart. “I can’t go out there anymore. Everyone is going to know and I can’t take the way everyone is going to look at me or what everyone is going to say,” you were going frantic, realization setting in at what this meant for you, your image, and your career.

“I know what we’re gonna do. It’s not going to fix everything but it’s going to give everything time to calm down and give you time to heal,” Eddie told you, wide eyed.

“What?”

“We’re going to get out of LA. Just me and you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddiemunson x actress!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x actress!reader

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bunny-yan · 1 year

Text

Soldier!Yandere x GN!Reader

TW: Mentions kidnapping, language, minors DNI

—

Your vision was hazy.

You looked at the clock on the bedside table seeing multiple glowing red numbers swim around your vision, occasionally meeting before traveling to your periphery. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself, but it looked as if it was 5:24 in the morning.

Wait… 5:24‽ You had an interview you had to drive 3 hours for. You had set you alarm to wake you up at 5!

“Shit.” you muttered underneath your breath, pushing away from the oddly comfortably cotton sheets that you couldn’t think about right now. You would have to forego a shower. It wasn’t ideal, but it was either show up fresh and late to an interview that you’d automatically fail or show up on time hoping they couldn’t smell the 12 hours you’d worked the day before.

Groaning, you slid to the edge of the bed. Your feet touched cool wood, but the minute you stood up you crashed to the ground, dizziness setting in.

You couldn’t be sick. Not today. Not when this was finally a chance to have a paid internship for your future career as opposed to struggling to make ends meet with the measly tips and wages you got as a server.

You tried to pick yourself up, but your legs wouldn’t listen to you. They twitched uncontrollably. It was the first inkling that something was wrong.

The second was when the door to your bedroom opened.

Your reflexes weren’t in tune with the panic that began to set in your gut. Your head turned slowly toward the door that shouldn’t have opened considering you lived alone, but a figure made its way closer to you, the only thing you could do despite your brain screaming in alarm was look at the indiscernible person.

“You’re up.” They said simply.

The figure squatted, leaning into your space and for the first time your half-lidded eyes could see that their eyes were a piercing forest green.

A scarred hand reached up, blocking your vision momentarily before resting a cool hand against your flushed forehead. You wanted to lean away, confused about the situation, but you couldn’t help but press against the hand, begging for some relief.

“You’ve got a fever.” the deep voice said. It didn’t sound like anyone you knew. It definitely couldn’t be your ex. Wrong eye color and you’d confiscated the key he had to your apartment. And now that you were thinking about it, your fever addled brain realized that your apartment didn’t have wooden floors.

“Who are you?” your voice slurred. “Where am I?”

Were you drugged? The last thing you remembered was closing. You went outside to dump the trash and then… nothing. Had you even made it home last night? Your mind was flooded with questions that you couldn’t answer. It only served to make you more afraid.

The figure moved closer, an arm resting on your back with the other wrapping beneath your legs before picking you up easily. You squirmed in their grip, only succeeding in making their hold tighter before you were gently put back in the bed that you were just now realizing wasn’t yours.

They pulled the covers over you, pushing your shoulder back, ignoring the slight resistance you managed to put up before bringing the covers to rest right underneath your chin.

“I’ll bring food.”

“Wait!” you said, hand shooting out to grabbed his scarred one. The man flinched, looking towards the hand grabbing his. You thought you made him angry, letting his hand go, but before you could pull away he gently held your hands in his, kneeling beside the bed as he looked expectantly at you.

This was not something you were prepared for. You weren’t expecting to wake up in some strange place. You hadn’t taken any kidnapping 101 classes, if that’s what even happened. Best case scenario, you’d passed out and this guy had just been kind enough to… take you back to his place and nurse you back to health? What kind of fucked up romcom was this? Any normal person would’ve taken you to the hospital. Sure, he had yet to do anything worth reporting to the police—sans the aforementioned kidnapping—but that didn’t mean you could trust him. Even if he looked at you as if he would rather choke on needles than harm a hair on your head, you couldn’t trust him. Even as his cool, scarred hands held yours as if they were delicate enough to shatter if he held them too tightly. His green eyes were cold and yet they seemed warm as the looked into yours. It was as if he was longing for something. Longing for you. His gaze slid back and forth between your eyes and lips, waiting expectantly for what you would say with a hint of desire hidden-

WHAT? You were NOT imagining a romance between you and this handsome older mysterious stranger. You needed to figure out where you were so you could go home. You needed to get a straight answer from this guy. Just ask him where you were and figure out how to get home.

“Where are you going?”

You were a dumbass. If you had enough energy and control of your limbs you would’ve smacked yourself in the head.

His eyes softened. Rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, he said, “Soup.”

Getting up, your voice caught in your throat when he leaned over you before placing chapped lips softly against your forehead. His lips lingered for a moment, an earthy fragrance wafting across your nose as he pulled away before he left the room without another word.

You let out a raspy sigh, cursing the slow fade of your vision. You shouldn’t be as comfortable as you were. You’d blame whatever sickness you had for now. You’d figure things out when you woke up.

#yandere oc #male yandere #yan soldier #yandere soldier #yandere #asks welcome!#yandere x reader

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aliveinacoffin · 10 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Come back to bed part two

In which the bed is still cold when you lay down

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exhausted, you had ripped off your spider suit and left it laying around your apartment.

Your apartment.

The one you had in your own universe.

The sound of sloshing water could be heard from your tiny bathroom, the disgusting yellow fluorescent light illuminated you in a sickly sort of color.

The feeling of hot water, almost too hot, engulfed you in a nice warm hug. Almost a substitute for the one you had been craving from the man you desired. But it would never compare to the real one.

Lazily you washed your hair and body, hissing when you grazed over your still-open wounds. You never did go to the nurse's office, it would be too invading after such a private and heated moment. Now you were just emotionally exhausted as well as physically.

Still, you pushed yourself and moved through the motions of life, trying to get through the painful cleaning process to make the journey to your bed.

___________________________________________

The water grew cold the longer you sat in your tiny tub.

You had stopped bleeding for the most part thankfully. The effects of your day evident in the murky brown bath water, looking just as shitty as you felt.

After what seemed like an eternity, you forced your aching and hurt body out of the tub and out of the bathroom. Your head hung low you hobbled your wet body through your tiny apartment, feet dragging through the mess of your home. You could see the dust already forming on your tables and countertops, the effects of the multiverse in your home.

On the way to your room, you threw open your hallway closet and lazily wrapped your back in white bandages. You could feel the warm feeling of wetness gathering on your back, but you were too out of to care, the stinging of your eyes bringing attention to more pressing matters.

Still, you made your way to your unmade and dirty bed. Weakly you threw off dirty clothes that had been sitting since forever and wrapped yourself in the dirty sheets of your empty bed.

You froze that night, the cold bed and your even colder house chilling your fingertips and insides.

___________________________________________

You woke up to your head ringing like it was trying to explode and decorate your room with the contents of your mind.

The source of your agony was ringing somewhere in the hallway/ In more ways than one that statement rang true.

When the ringing didn't stop after a reasonable amount of time, you practically threw yourself from your bed and slammed open the door of your bedroom. Stomping out with tears in your eyes, you tried to look at the watch.

Immediately it picked up, and Lyla's sweet form appeared. Her big grin disappeared when she saw you, somewhat sweaty, back covered in blood, and extremely pissed.

Now you being mad wasn't exactly a rare sight to see, but you being genuinely, truly mad was an idea that hadn't come to fruition yet, until now.

"What do you want from me." Your voice came out in a growl, harsher than you intended but you had no regrets.

"There's a team meeting today, about the new anomaly Miguel detected. He says it's mandatory, but I'm sure you can just...catch up with an email later." She said devoid of her usual silliness.

"Great. Sent me a condensed report of the meeting when it's over, thanks bye." You hung up and chucked the watch at your wall. A heavy THUD echoed in your abode, circling around you filling up the silence that otherwise existed.

You sighed, tears falling freely as you hit your head against the floor to hunch over naked in your living room.

It wasn't the fact that Miguel was busy that bothered you, of course not. It was the fact that during the whole week, he had turned ice queen on you and completely shut you out. Snapping at you for the tiniest of reasons and completely ignoring you, if not going out of his way to be cruel. He hardly was taking care of himself, and while that worried you, anytime you tried to even help him a little he'd snarl and bite at you.

Then, when you had sought comfort from him, he acted as if you were some petulant child, something so stupid that it couldn't take care of itself.

And that hurt you in a way that broke you right then and there.

Somehow you managed to fall asleep.

___________________________________________

Something was rubbing your back. You could feel the warmth of something large running up and down your back. Your very clothed back.

Shuffling, you could feel you were wearing more clothes than you remembered, and your bandages felt neat and clean. Like someone took the time to carefully place them on you, unlike the sloppy joke you had done the other night.

You felt better too, the sweat and leftover grime from your nasty bath had been wiped way. Plus, your body wasn't as sore as it was when you fell asleep.

And you weren't on the floor anymore.

Opening your eyes, your vision was filled with dark blue. Dark blue fleece swam in front of you, clouding your already blurry vision.

"Sana sana, colita de rana." A deep voice rumbled you out of your dizziness and confusion.

You chuckled, the sound muted by your position on your stomach.

"Tha's for kids Miguel. I'm grown." You sighed out, and looking up at him you could feel your eyebags.

He looked down at you, in even worse shape than you. Deep eyebags and a sickly look on his face, lips cracked and eyes bloodshot.

"I'm just trying to make you better. I...hurt you after all." He looked at your back, hand still running gently from the top to bottom. Then back up again. You couldn't deny it, it felt nice.

"Well, not physically. You can thank a giant lizard for that."

"I won't thank him at all. He hurt something I cared for." He said, trying to lighten up the tense air.

"But not something important to you."

That made him freeze. His hand literally stopping in mid-air, face stuck in a silent shock at such a bitter statement.

Miguel started to softly say your name, but you cut him off before he could finish.

"Don't. It's alright, I can read a room." You grunted, sitting up on your knees. Miguel hands shot out to steady you but you shoved them away.

There was a pause while you analyzed his scrunched-up face, while he was trying to find words, you had found yours.

"You look like shit." He blinked at you before he laughed lightly.

"What? I'm being serious. Have you eaten? Slept? Shit even?" You weren't even trying to be funny with that last statement, he was acting like such a shit it made you wonder if he was just becoming one.

"All of the answers to those questions are different. But what about you? ¿Has comido? Have you drank any water?" Miguel's eyes turned caring and worried again, his hand immediately coming up to check your forehead.

"Stop, don't be such a hypocrite. Why do you even care? Don't you have some big bad guy to chase?" You asked, anger and sadness coming to claw at the back of your throat.

"I fucked up. I'm sorry. Please let me try and fix it, fix you." He grabbed your face, looking into your eyes.

"Why didn't you help me? I needed you Miguel, and you just shook your head at me." Your voice came out in a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder your sobs would break through.

"I tried, I was just stupid and being a pendejo. I was blinded to see you needed me." He whispered back, clearly just as emotionally, mentally, and physically drained as you were.

"No-no I'm being unreasonable. This-that was important, obviously, and you needed me to support you and I'm over dramatic. I'm sorry Miguel, I'll be better-" You started, hot tears now falling freely down your face.

"Stop," Miguel cut you off. He sighed and looked down, his hands falling with his gaze and rested in your hands. He picked one up and put it into his warm face.

"How about this." You sniffled, "Next time why don't we just let one another take care of each other."

"And to think rationally for ourselves, even if we're hurt, You could've bled out on my floors ángel." He said, face serious but his eyes showed true fear.

You laughed, wetly and grossly. "Deal. Now it looks like it's my turn to take care of you." You got up, wincing at the pain in your back.

"Amor-" Miguel started.

"My turn!" You cheered.

___________________________________________

"What was the meeting about, by the way?" Your hands scrubbed through Miguel's dark locks. Thankfully the tub in your shared home at the base was bigger, specifically for how huge Miguel was.

His head was turned away from you, so you couldn't see his furrowed brows and pained look. "Nothing we have to worry about anytime soon." He grumbled.

You stopped, squinting your eyes at the back of his head before shrugging and continuing your cleaning job, figuring Lyla would just update you later like you requested.

___________________________________________

{FILE ERASED;;OVERRIDDEN}

___________________________________________

I downloaded mystic messenger because of break and I can already tell I've made a mistake. Also Jugaste y sufri started to play halfway through, like bathtub scene ish and I almost exploded.

!REQS OPEN :D!

Taglist!:

@staple-your-mouth @allysunny @bat1212 @sashaphantomhive @arraxthatsonjah

#miguel o'hara x reader angst #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #x reader #miguel o'hara x reader fluff

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ckret2 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:

Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.

Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.

It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.

The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.

At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.

And they'd brought rocks.

####

Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:

"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.

Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.

He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.

####

Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"

"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.

"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"

"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."

"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.

"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."

"I don't wanna get arrested!"

"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."

Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.

"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"

"What do you want me to draw you doing?"

"The coolest thing you can think of."

Mabel considered that, and got to work.

The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"

Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"

Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.

"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."

"I'm not, I promise!"

"Then why do you keep staring at me?"

"Um."

"Let me see!"

"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"

Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"

"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."

Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."

"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"

"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."

"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"

"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"

"Chills."

"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"

####

At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.

"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."

####

"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.

Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."

Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"

Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"

"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"

"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"

"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."

"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."

"Aw, really? Thanks!"

"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."

"Don't do that, though."

"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.

Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"

"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."

Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.

And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.

"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.

"So brush it!"

"No. Never. You can't make me."

"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"

"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.

Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"

Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."

"I'll be right back!"

She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.

"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."

Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."

"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."

Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.

And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.

####

Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.

Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet.

"Truth or dare," Bill said.

"Dare!"

"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"

"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."

"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"

"That's easy! Gasoline!"

"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."

"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"

Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."

Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"

"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"

"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"

Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.

####

Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"

"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"

"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"

"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"

"What?"

Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"

####

It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.

Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.

They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.

"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."

Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"

Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"

"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"

Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

####

As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh right."

Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."

"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"

Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.

For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.

"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.

"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"

Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."

"Careful—"

Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.

Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"

Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.

Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.

Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"

Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—

—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"

Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.

Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"

Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.

The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.

Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"

They looked at Bill.

Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.

They bolted up the stairs.

Bill charged after them.

They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"

Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"

"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.

They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.

They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."

The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.

They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"

"Which craft supplies?!"

The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"

"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"

Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"

Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"

His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"

Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"

"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"

Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"

"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"

From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"

There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."

"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.

Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.

They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.

Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.

Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"

They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"

Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.

"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.

Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.

Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.

Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.

Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"

"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"

But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.

Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"

Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"

Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—

Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."

And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.

Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?

"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."

"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.

"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."

"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."

Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," Mabel said weakly.

Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.

From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"

"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."

Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."

Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."

"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"

"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"

Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"

Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me."

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"

"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.

"Thanks, man."

Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers. In the dark, the colors were all faded.

This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.

She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.

####

In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.

There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.

And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.

He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.

His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.

But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.

He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.

He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.

What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?

The hair. A bit of his flesh.

Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.

He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.

He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.

His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.

When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.

The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes.

He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.

He needed gold.

####

(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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littlegodzilla · 1 year

Note

Could you write Murphy with a nurse at the prison after the 2nd movie? I think he would be a big flirt.

Hi anon!!

Sorry for making you wait, here I come with your request!

Hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

*************

The Prisoner and the Nurse.

Murphy Macmanus x Nurse!Reader.

One shot. Anon Request.

Warnings: fluff and flirting. Murphy being cute.

Words: 1900.

*************

The sun is barely rising over the horizon when you park the car in your area. All is quiet, not even the birds seem to have woken up, you give your coffee the last treat to try to engage your brain and sigh turning off the car engine. Your gaze drifts forward, metal fences and a huge concrete building, rough and barely windowed welcomes you. You sigh heavily, you don't hate your job, you like it, you became a nurse to help others, but sometimes, days are hard.

When you are totally convinced that you should start the day, you get out of the car taking your personal things plus a box with new material, the prison works with Boston Central Hospital, they are the ones who supply you with drugs and clinical material when you run out, but the other day you stopped by their office to sign some reports and you took the opportunity to take some things yourself, the rest they would bring with a delivery van, as usual.

As you walk down the corridor outside, the security guards greet you and say good morning as they do every morning. You wave with a smile and enter the rough building, greeting more of your colleagues inside.

"Good morning." You say signing the sign-in sheet as you do every morning. "How was your night?"

"Quiet, there was a little commotion at dinner time, but it stopped quickly."

"Good, that means I'll have a quiet morning." You say with relief, but you see the policeman smile. "What?"

You open the security door to the infirmary and then close it behind you, it's a direct access from the entrance area where prisoners can't get in, it's always locked and guarded to prevent escapes. You leave your things on your desk and put on your work clothes. You take the box you have brought with you and look over to the area where you have the stretchers. You roll your eyes as you discover one of the prisoners there. He's sitting on the edge of one of the gurneys, waiting impatiently by the way he's moving his legs.

"What was it this time, Murphy?" you say, setting the box down on another empty gurney.

Murphy MacManus is one of the newest inmates to arrive at the prison along with his brother Connor, the twins have life sentences without the possibility of parole or reduced sentences for killing a few people. None of them were good people, but justice says murder is forbidden, no matter how many corrupt pigs you take down, so there he is. In the time he's been there, his brother Connor is calmer and more level-headed, but Murphy, hyperactive by nature, gets into more trouble and spends more time than you'd expect in your clinic, it's common to find him sleeping there when you showed up in the morning or in the middle of the day to be escorted there by the police with a face full of blood and red knuckles.

"Don't worry, lass, ya'll see the other one." He always joked, though it was never funny.

"Morning, love, ya look beautiful in the morning." He compliments you and you feel your cheeks redden.

He does that a lot too, compliments and compliments are the order of the day when he visits you. It doesn't get uncomfortable because he doesn't go overboard with them, he just does it to see your reaction and when he finds out what you're uncomfortable, he stops. Murphy has learned to read you from day one, he is observant and easily absorbs the information people offer him, even if they don't realize it.

"I just woke up, we both know that's a lie." You reply and he lets out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. "Okay, where's the fire?"

"There isn't any, I've been a good boy and I haven't fought with anyone." He says puffing out his chest with pride.

"Then what are you doing here?" You look at him raising an eyebrow. Murphy looks at you with intensity, stops shaking his legs and chews his lip nervously. You feel a shiver run through you and try to ignore it.

"I was just coming in for my usual checkup."

"Your checkup was last week, Murphy." You remind him.

"I know, I'm here for the results."

"Don't you think we would have let you know if there were any abnormalities?" you insist, but he shrugs without moving from his seat.

"Maybe I've come for something else." He insists and you look at him sideways.

"For God's sake, I'm gonna throw up." You hear a male voice on the other side of the curtain, on another of the gurneys.

"Shut up!" Murphy barks.

"Connor?" Surprised, you peek over, Murphy's twin is lying there, he does have a swollen cheekbone and a split lip, not to mention a bandaged hand. "But... What happened?" You look at him worriedly approaching him.

"It was nothing, lass, some guy got really annoying yesterday and I politely explained him to shut up." Connor comments, sitting up a little on the gurney as you examine him closely.

"So where's the other one?"

"They took him to the hospital."

"Connor!" You look at him, eyes widening.

"It was just some broken ribs!" He defends himself. "But the guy wouldn't stop crying and they had to take him away."

"For God's sake..." You snort in frustration. "Is it every day you guys have to hit someone?"

"It's not our fault, love, they just don't have any manners." Murphy explains.

"Yeah, of course..." You laugh softly shaking your head. "Does it hurt?" you look at Connor massaging his wrist gently.

"It was just a bad gesture, I'm fine." He nods, you hum and change his bandage tightening it a little more.

"Is it okay?" You look at him.

"Perfect, thanks... you can keep flirting with my brother, I'm gonna sleep some more." He tells you mischievously.

"I don't..." You stammer, but Connor looks at you with a smirk and you punch him in the arm. "Shut up." You mutter leaving him on the gurney, returning to your desk where you've left the box with the new stuff.

You know it's not right, that you shouldn't feel so comfortable with them, but they are not bad people, you have fun with their jokes and their company, it's funny sometimes you feel safer with them than with the guards when you are with another prisoner. Still you're aware that you can't have that trust and affinity with them, they're prisoners, they've killed people, that should scare you and keep you on your toes, so Connor hinting that Murphy is flirting with you should bother you more than make your stomach fill with butterflies.

"Do you want me to help you?" Murphy asks you, close behind you.

"Thanks, Murphy, but no need." You smile kindly at him, opening the box and peering inside.

He looks at you a little disappointed by your refusal, bites his lip and steps back a little, so as not to disturb you, putting his hands in the pockets of the orange jumpsuit. You sigh and look at him, it's like you left a puppy abandoned on the street in the middle of a storm.

"Okay, I'll tell you what's there, the quantity and you mark it on the delivery note." You tell him pointing to the paper. "Okay?"

"Sure! We make a great team, you'll see."

Connor on his gurney, rolls his eyes rolling over trying to get some more sleep. All the inmates there have tasks and duties throughout the day, always imposed by the warden or the guards, but they always seem to do as they please. You read the names of the medicines and utensils you have brought with you, Murphy at your side hums for you to continue as he makes marks on the paper you have given him, verifying the contents and the exact amount. Some things are missing and others you've been given more than you asked for, but that's okay, you know you won't have to make a long list for the next order and if you have an emergency, you'll have plenty of supplies to spare.

"Thank you, Murphy, you've helped me a lot." You tell him sincerely, he smiles happy to be of help, like a puppy when he learns a new trick and gets a treat for it. You laugh softly and stretch to place the new boxes of bandages on their corresponding shelf.

"Wait, lass, let me help you." He moves quickly and stands behind you.

Taller than you, he reaches for the box without much trouble, your hands touching, his fingers brushing your skin to remove the box and put it back in place. You freeze, his body pressing yours against the table, you feel his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin transmitting to yours, his heavy breathing brushing against your ear, giving you goose bumps. Your heart starts pounding as you hold your breath, but you don't say or do anything, you let him slowly pull away and when he does, his fingers run over your head and down your side, an unnecessary touch, of course, but the butterflies inside your stomach don't let you think straight. You turn slowly, his body still very close to yours, you look sideways at him discovering a shy smile on his mouth, but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Murphy..."

"Is everything all right here?" The warden's voice pulls you out of your reverie and you quickly push the prisoner away from you. "Nurse... Are these guys giving you trouble again?"

"No, no, Connor had an accident yesterday at dinner time, sir and I was giving him a check up." You explain quickly trying to regain your composure.

"Ya, I heard about his "accident" as usual causing trouble... And his brother? He looks pretty healthy to me."

"Murphy was helping me with the inventory." You say sincerely. "I brought some stuff and medication that was running low and he helped me set it all up."

"An inmate with access to medication and sharps? I don't think so, miss, you should be more careful." He reproaches you and you lower your gaze, embarrassed. "You were recommended for this job because you were professional and above all smart, don't make me regret my decision." He warns you. "Never trust them, they are here for serious crimes, you never know when they might act again and you are vulnerable... you would be their first target." He makes you understand and you nod your head.

"Of course sir, I apologize, it won't happen again..." You assure him by nodding your head.

"Alright boys, take the MacManus brothers back to their cells, they have outdoor yard duty today and their mates have already started."

"But sir, Connor MacManus has an injured wrist..."

"Well, he has the other hand." He shrugs and you open your mouth to protest again.

"Don't worry, lass, it doesn't hurt, we can work." You're cut off by Connor getting off the gurney. "Thank you for your care, come on Murph."

The two brothers are handcuffed by the guards to be escorted to their cell to get their things and get to work with the rest of their ward mates. Murphy looks at you one last time, his face has darkened a bit, he seems annoyed that you have been interrupted, still he gives you a soft smile by way of farewell. You look away, wanting to ignore him. The director is right, they are dangerous people, you can't let those sweet, kind eyes soften you.

You know it's not right, but you still can't control the butterflies in your stomach.

The End.

Hope you liked it!

See you in the next stories!

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69 @phoenixblack89

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #ask me #one shot #ask requests #anon request #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus #murphy x reader #fluff #flirting #the boondock saints #connor macmanus #connor and murphy

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novasintheroom · 2 months

Text

065. Responsible

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.3k

♡ Warnings - none

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Part 1 ---- Part 2 ---- Part 3 (you are here!) ---- Part 4

It doesn’t take long for the cult to fall back. Especially when they’re greeted with tens of guns pointed at them. They’re more known in these parts than Vash thought; Gerard’s Way is no fan of their neighbor. The town takes you and Vash in immediately, directing him to the local doctor and nurse. They’ve dealt with ‘runaways’ from the cult before, too.

Vash carries you into the doctor’s office, and it’s all a blur after that. The doctor takes you, shouts him out of the building so that he’s not in the way, and the mayor and sheriff question Vash for the next two hours about what happened. The answers are rote, monotone; his thoughts are a thousand miles away, just in the next building where your life hangs by a string.

Mayfly…my mayfly…he can’t stop thinking it. His girl. His best friend. How could anything so cruel happen to you? How could he let it happen?

You don’t wake for a whole week.

In all that time, Vash doesn’t leave your side. Vash, again, overthinks. This is why. This is why I should never let anyone get close to me. It’s all his fault. His cowardice. He’s responsible for it all. If it had just been him in that town, he would have gotten away. But you, you’re with him. You travel with him. He’s supposed to keep you safe. What kind of man is he if he can’t keep you safe?

A rotten one, he thinks, staring down at your prone form in bed, I should have never gotten into a relationship. I should have just left you before we got too far. You’d be safe then. You’d be whole. You’d be awake. Vash doesn’t let himself cry. He doesn’t deserve it. Even when Doctor Ren gives him worried glances when she checks on your vitals, his eyes remain dry.

Your face is bruised and scabbing - the rest of you not much better. Ren reports that you’re healing well over the days, but Vash still hears the shallow breaths that escape your lips. His chest feels like a hollow cave. He doesn’t deserve to be here with you. He’s the reason for all of this. Him and his bad luck.

He does his best to keep you clean and comfortable. Applies balm to your lips to keep them from getting chapped, brushes a cool cloth across your face to get rid of any sweat or grime. You hum when he does this, and it sews a stitch in the hole of his heart. An idea slowly forms on the fourth day, while he helps the nurse lift you to change your sheets. What if he…just left? You’re not a drifter like him. You have a degree, an ability to get a job in any major city if you wanted. It’s only because of him you’re even out here.

(That's a lie, but it's all he can think.)

If you wake up, he thinks, I’ll end it. We’ll be done. You’ll be safe again and won’t have to worry about getting hurt because of me anymore. Despite his resolve, his ears nearly ring from the thought. No more banter with you as you travel to the next Plant or town. No kisses under the suns, or waking with you curled into his side. Being alone. All alone. He sighs into the bed sheets and tells himself, again, that he doesn’t deserve to cry. And he doesn’t deserve you. He’ll leave, and that will be that.

That resolve crumbles the moment you open your eyes.

On the seventh day, in the middle of dozing, a hand rests on his head and gently brushes through his hair.

Vash jerks up from the bed, alarmed. Who -? But it’s you, with your eyes squinted shut and lips quirked to the side. You try to speak and end up coughing.

Vash’s chair screeches with the force he stands from it and rushes to get you a glass of water. The glass pushes to your lips, and you drink slowly. When half the cup is gone, you signal that it’s enough for now. He puts it down on a nearby table and takes your hand in his. A kiss is placed to your fingers. “Mayfly,” he mutters.

Birdie, you mouth, still getting your voice back. You clear your throat and try again. “Where are we?”

“Next town over. Been here a week.” He gently squeezes your hand when you make a sound of surprise.

“Shoot. No wonder I feel so…” you gesture, trying to find a word but failing. An eye opens wider, and you look him over sleepily. “What have you been up to?”

“He’s been sitting here, moping, not eating,” Doc Ren enters the room, donning her stethoscope and pressing it to your chest without preamble. She nods after a moment. “You sound good. Better than I hoped, really.” She looks over to Vash. “I’ve said it to you, but you’re both lucky you escaped those loons. They could’ve done a lot worse. You look worse than you are.”

You won’t comment on the doctor’s bedside manners. “Thanks, Doctor.”

She goes through some simple tests for the next fifteen minutes. Stitches are fine, breathing sounds normal, heart is strong and healing from the stress of it all. When she leaves to the next room again, Vash places his head carefully on your stomach. You look down at him, giving him a sleepy smile. “Missing your cuddles, birdie?” Your hand comes up and brushes through his hair, down his cheeks, over his lips. “My poor pretty bird.”

It strikes a chord in him; the simpleness of your affection, the sweet love in your gaze. A shine of tears appears in his eyes, and he smooshes his face into the sheets as the sudden sobs wrack his body. You make a sound of alarm, both hands now smoothing over his head, his shoulder, saying softly how you’re okay, everything’s okay. And he thinks, how could he ever consider leaving you in any way? He loves you too much.

“I th-thought you weren’t – “ he hiccups and tries to brush his tears away. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not with you in the state you’re in. But the tears keep coming. “I thought I was too late. I thought you were – “ He can’t even say it out loud, like its taboo, like it would speak it into existence again.

And you, gentle, sweet you, shush him and tug on his coat to bring him closer. He obliges, careful of where he places his hands as he comes close and presses his forehead to yours. In the small dimness of the hospital room, his Plant lines flash a moment, echoing across your skin before disappearing. A feeling of warm peace overwhelms him, and the tears stop. You’re here. You’re alive. And you still love him.

“Vash,” you whisper, having felt his turmoil in that moment of connection, “none of this was your fault. Okay? None of it. I don’t blame you for any of it.” You nudge his forehead with your own and look into those sad, blue eyes. “If you need to hear it, I forgive you. But I never blamed you for any of it.”

The tears return, this time of relief. He sighs, the breath fanning across your lips. Lowering his head into the crook of your neck, he promises, “I’m never leaving you alone again. Not for anything.”

You reach up and run your nails through his undercut, eyes closing sleepily. “Not even for bathing?” you tease, and laugh and kiss his cheek when it flushes red.

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #reader insert #self insert #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #nova writes #trigun x reader #150 bullets

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s-creations · 5 months

Text

Hues Chapter 3: Mush-Fever

Mario forgets. Just because they're in a new place…doesn't mean old problems disappear.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario & Luigi (Nintendo), Wario & Mario (Nintendo), Waluigi & Mario (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Mario needs help, Luigi's not feeling great, Wario and Waluigi are not overly great with the whole 'comforting' thing.

‘Top story this morning: we’ve officially entered into Mush-Fever season. A few reports are already coming in of Toad’s being checked in. Medical professionals are warning that this season’s gonna be a rough one. It’s advised that you keep an eye out for early symptoms and call your doctor immediately if you suspect someone’s sick.

Early symptoms are:

High Fever

Extreme Fatigue/Constantly Sleeping

Loss of Appetite

If someone starts sprouting abnormal growths, call it in immediately. Better to be safe than sorry.’

Mario let out a wide yawn as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Barely taking in the news report that was on the television. Really just wanting background noise while he tried to wake up.

Normally, Luigi would be up and about before Mario. But everyone was still recovering from King Boo’s attack a few weeks prior. And if everyone else was still shaken just dealing with the Ecto-Ghosts, Mario couldn’t even begin to imagine how Luigi felt.

So, if Luigi wanted to lie in bed, Mario was going to let his little brother sleep for as long as he needed. Left to battle through his morning slog alone

Mario perked up when the coffee announced it was finished. Pouring the wonderful caffeine into a red mug, topping it off with milk and sugar before shuffling into the living room. Nursing his drink as he watched the screen flash before him. Still not really taking in the information that was being presented.

A familiar chill fell over Mario. Giving him ample warning before Polterpup phased through the ceiling. Who let out a small whine as they sat next to Mario.

“Hey doggie, you sleep well last night? …Do ghosts sleep?” Mario frowned softly in thought as Polterpup nudged his arm, whining again, “What’s up pup?”

The special pup jumped from the couch. Turning back to the human, letting out a bark before pointing towards the stairs. Still confused but realizing that something was wrong, Mario was up.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Mario’s eyes followed Polterpup as they floated up the stairs. Soon close behind, finding said pup now sitting outside of Luigi’s room. Polterpup nervously tapped the ground as Mario walked closer. The hero gently knocked on said door.

“Hey, Luigi, you doing okay? Polterpup came down to get me and they seemed really upset about something. …Luigi? …I hope you’re decent, cuz I’m coming in.”

“Oh, hey, you’re still asleep? You’re sleeping the day away! Come on, how about we get started, yeah? …Luigi? You need to get up.”

“Lu?”

“Weegee?”

Even with the mask that was covering the lower half of his face, it was clear that Luigi was in pain. Skin pale, breathing harsh and shallow, eyes screwed up in pain, hand clutching desperately to the sheet covering him. Numerous Toads, masks tied around their heads to cover their mouths, were rushing around. Not just focusing on Luigi, but also the other patients resting in the beds. Occasionally, a Toad would pluck off a few green mushrooms from Luigi’s skin. The human wincing every time his skin was pulled.

Mario could only watch from the wide window. Stuck in the hallway as his eyes remained on his brother’s tense form. Hand pressed against the cold glass, feeling as if he was about to break.

He couldn’t do this again.

Not again.

“He’ll be okay,” Peach kept her voice even, knowing how hard this was for Mario. A small smile on her face in an attempt to offer comfort. “Luigi has the best people looking after him. This is a common illness, it happens every year. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The last sentence caused more damage than help. Mario reached up to pull his cap down over his eyes. The hand pressed against the window turning into a fist.

“Mario-”

“Common doesn’t mean non-deadly,” Mario choked out.

“Luigi will be fine.”

“You can’t promise that. Not…Not with how he is…”

Peach bit her lip, “Why don’t we go and-”

“I can’t leave him.”

“...You can’t do anything here, this isn’t helping you or Luigi.”

“Don’t!” Mario pulled away, eyes blazing, “Don’t…say that. You don’t understand, you can’t understand… Just leave me alone.”

He marched over to the bench located on the opposite side of the hallway. Eyes going back to the window, even if he couldn’t see Luigi anymore. Remaining tight as he stared the pane of glass down. Peach remained frozen for a few moments before nodding.

“Very well… If you need anything, I believe it would be best for you to find a Toad. They’ll be able to help you find what you need.” And with that, she turned. The clicks of her heels soon gave way to silence, leaving Mario to these thoughts..

As the silence settled in, so did Mario’s realization as to what he’d done. He let out a low curse before throwing his hat onto the ground in frustration. Digging his fingers into his hair. Vision blurring. Hoping the external pain would drown out the internal pain.

It didn’t.

Letting out a heavy puff of breath, Mario sat back up. Leaning against the wall while furiously rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. Sitting as such before picking his hat back up, shoved it back onto his head. Uncaring that it now lay lopsided on his head.

Eyes flickering back onto the window, his heart sank further. Knowing Luigi lay just on the other side. Out of reach for him to help.

The disgusting feeling in his stomach seemed to grow.

“Excuse me.”

A green-capped Toad jumped hearing the new voice. Peering up to see the Kingdom’s hero. Who looked a little worse for wear. “Oh, hello Mario! What can I help you with?”

“I don’t suppose you have a phone I could borrow?”

_____________________________

Wario and Waluigi barely gave notice to the passing glances sent their way as they power walked down the castle halls. Fully focused on their goal. Practically skidding to a halt upon their last turn. They cautiously peered around the corner to find Mario sitting on the bench. Staring at the ground, hat in his hand, looking wilted.

“Don’t say anything stupid,” Wario whispered to his brother.

“You’re one to talk.”

“You threw him into the lake last time he was like this.”

“He deserved it.”

“Just…don’t, okay.”

“Whatever.”

Neutral ground decided upon, they slowly walked forward. Mario barely flinched as Wario claimed a seat next to him. Waluigi deciding to stand by the window instead, looking into the medical wing. His frown seemed to deepen upon finding the state Luigi was in.

“You rang?” Wario teased with a smirk. Only to falter when Mario didn’t respond. “...Hey, Luigi’s tough, he’ll be fine.”

“People get this illness every year. It’s more annoying than anything,” Waluigi added, “Greenie will be sleepy for a while after this. But otherwise, he’ll be fine.”

“Weegee’s not like other people…” Mario mumbled weakly.

The older two exchanged glances. Wario replied with, “How about we go stretch our legs, yeah? Get some fresh air. I don’t think sitting in a dingy hallway is doing you much good.”

“Get away from here for a while.” said Waluigi.

Mario wasn’t given a chance to argue back. Wario already wrapping his arm around the younger’s shoulder and leading him away. The view to the medical window blocked by Waluigi. Who gave a ‘Don’t even try it’ look when the hero turned back. Mario frowned but didn’t say anything, merely faced forward again.

The hero winced as he was brought out into the sunlight. Hating how bright the world was compared to his dark mood.

“You’re not taking me back to the lake, are you?” Mario mumbled out.

“No…but that does beg the question of what we are going to do.” Wario answered.

Waluigi let out a heavy sigh as he took the lead. “Thank Grambi one of us has a brain.”

“Hey now-”

“Don’t even argue with me. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you don’t have to be rude about it.”

“Yes I do. It’s part of my charming personality.”

“You call that charm?”

“Far better than what your skills are.”

Mario couldn’t hold back a smile as he listened to them argue. Or, he supposed, their version of brotherly banter.

Entering the town proper, the group of three strolled through the main shopping district. Wario mainly focused on the number of food stalls, which didn’t seem to bother Waluigi all that much. Mario quietly noted that a few were pieces that he’d tried and liked before while others were very new to his rather limited palette.

It was hard to tell what was safe for a human to eat. But there hadn’t been any scares yet.

Wario and Waluigi were eventually carrying a number of bags in each arm.. Mario was still confused as to what they were planning. But listened with interest as the brother’s conversations turned from food selection to childhood stories as each choice seemed to bring up a new memory.

Where they’d gone to school and subsequently expelled from. Where their first business was. Both legal and ‘entrepreneurial’ related. Where they would meet up with Peach when the princess would sneak out from the castle for a break.

One of those places was a familiar one. Mario mentally commented that it was the same tree they’d taken Peach to on their first outing as a full group. He watched from the truck of said tree as the other two set up their small buffet. The hero feeling a small flicker of warmth enter his chest.

“...Is this a date?” Mario smirked at his question.

Waluigi let out a snort while Wario rolled his eyes. The oldest walked over to Mario to ruffle the hero’s hair. “As if you could afford us. Come on, you got some new things to try.”

Even with the worry weighing heavily in his stomach, Mario felt himself begin to relax. Starting to laugh more at the brother’s jokes and antics. Absolutely thrilled by the new things he was trying. Happy to have a moment when his mind wasn’t focused on the stress.

The afternoon cooled out to a calm evening. Mario and Wario leaning against the tree as they watched Waluigi, who had been pulled into a game by a group of younger Toads. All clearly enamored by the long legged creature that just towered over them and who could casually kick the ball around. It was a few minutes into their next round when Wario broke the quiet.

“So, how are you feeling?”

The uncomfortable feeling settled back into Mario’s stomach. But it wasn’t as heavy as it had been just that morning.

He shifted to pull his knees to his chest, arms crossed over them. Pausing to really think about the question and answer with, “...Better, I guess.”

“Yeah? Listen, I know this is all still new and a little…scary. You two are finding something new thrown at your feet practically every day. Even your days off don’t feel that fulfilling. But we were saying those things to make you feel better. Luigi will be fine.”

The hero let out a low hum in acknowledgement.

Wario frowned softly. “Do you believe me?”

“I mean…” Mario let out a heavy sigh, “I get it. We’re in a place that’s aware of what the problem is and how to help because they’ve seen it before. It’s common.”

“...But.”

“But no one’s been there when Luigi was fighting for his life. I told you before…Luigi was really sick when we were younger.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wario nodded slowly, “Bad immune system, right?”

“Yeah, bad enough to…to almost die a few times.”

“Wait, what? You said he was cared for and got better, what do you mean he almost died?”

“I said he got better, but he was always teetering on the edge,” Mario sighed softly, “There were a lot of scares growing up. I had my fill of watching Luigi through glass when we were back on Earth. You can say that this Mush-Fever is common, that everyone gets it. But Luigi’s been taken down by the cold too many times to make anything ‘common’ seem safe.”

“A cold?”

“Um…I’m not really sure how to say this… It’s just Earth’s common illness. That doesn’t mean Luigi could fight it off like anyone else.”

“But…he’s doing better now?” Wario asked slowly.

“I mean, yeah…”

“I have a feeling you’re not telling me the whole story.”

Mario frowned softly. “Our parents were really worried about Luigi growing up. Even after the doctors told them Luigi would be fine. It was just a scary start, nothing to worry about. Except every time he was sick, he found himself in the hospital. Going outside was a gamble. I felt that…if I wasn’t careful, something small could kill him.”

“I made a promise when I was younger that I would keep Luigi safe, no matter what. That I would never, ever, see him again behind a window. I thought…I thought I was doing fine and then…”

Breathing shaky, Mario rubbed his eyes furiously, attempting to hide his tears. But Wario saw right through it. Wrapping an arm around the other tightly so Mario could lean against him.

“Just let it out, you’re okay,” Wario mumbled, “You’re okay.”

Despite Wario’s words, Mario pulled himself together quickly. Sniffing softly as he pulled away. “I can’t let anything happen to him. I’ll do anything to keep him alive…even if I can’t be.”

“You’re not serious…” Wario whispered, swallowing weakly, insides turning to ice.

“If it means Luigi’s safe, I’d happily trade my life for his.”

Wario’s eyes looked up to Waluigi. Who was now showing off how far he could kick the balls the kid Toads were playing with. “Yeah…I get it. But still, you know you have us, right?

“I know… I still feel weird asking for it.”

There was a painful stab to the gut hearing that. Wario shifting nervously, “...Take it from me, asking for help isn't that bad of a thing. Besides, I thought you were past this? You came to me to talk about your relationship with Peach.”

“I can’t ‘fix’ myself overnight. It’s still a struggle.”

“Fair.”

Mario let out a choked gasp as he was pulled into a loose headlock, “Hey!”

Wario didn’t miss the laugh that escaped the hero. “Look, if you can come to me for help, then you can go to Peach. She’d probably be the better person to go to, honestly.”

“If she takes my apology.”

“That bad?”

“Oof, that’s unfortunate. But she’s taken mine, she’ll take yours.”

“You’re not dating her.”

“...You’d better have a good plan in place.”

“Oh, thanks! What welcoming words you’ve offered me just make me feel so happy.”

Wario couldn’t hold back his laughter as Mario rolled his eyes.

_____________________________

Peach let out a relieved sigh as she was given a thumbs up from the Toads inside the medical wing. Giving a small wave as her reply. Merely happy to see the patients inside looked far more relaxed than from that same morning.

Luigi appeared to finally be resting peacefully. A comforting red returning to his cheeks.

A cleared throat pulled her attention away from the window. Finding a sheepish looking Mario standing beside her.

“Hey…”

“Hello. You’ll be happy to know Luigi is past the worst of it and is on the path to a good recovery.”

Mario perked up at that. Quickly stepping closer to the window. Letting out a sigh of relief seeing Luigi’s calm and sleeping form. “Thank you for looking after him…and, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you this morning.”

Peach offered a sympathetic smile. Letting out a slow breath before saying, “My mother died of an illness that no one knew the origins of when I was just barely a teen.”

She could see from the corner of her eye that Mario flinched. The human was clearly scrambling to figure out what to say next until Peach gently took his head.

“I’m not looking for an apology. This morning was not good for you and you were not in a…good place, emotionally. My comments this morning were not well placed, and for that I apologize. I didn’t want to hear warm regards and standard pleasantries when she was on her deathbed. I’m sure you had your fair share growing up as well. It’s never fun to be the one that has to watch and wait.”

“...I’m sorry for your loss.” Mario eventually said. Flushing softly when Peach placed a gentle kiss on his temple.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.”

“I am still sorry for this morning. I…forget that, just because we’re someplace new, not all of our old life was left behind. Wario was right when he said Luigi was tough. He’s been through a lot over the past few months and I guess that gave me a false sense of comfort. Because…I thought something like an illness couldn’t take him down again.”

“Even with your titles and what you’ve both been able to accomplish, that doesn’t make you invincible. We’ll just be better prepared for next year to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Mario smiles softly, “Yeah…next year.”

“Now, with that all out of the way, would you like to see Luigi?” Peach laughed softly as Mario perked up in interest.

“Really?”

“He’s not contagious anymore. There’s no issue.” She couldn’t help but laugh again as Mario rushed in. Following in soon after, checking in on her citizens while watching as Mario pulled up a chair next to the bed.

Mario grabbed onto Luigi’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling softly.

#mario #luigi #mario and luigi #wario #waluigi #wario and waluigi #princess peach #mario x peach #slight mareach #s-creations #fanfiction #yellow purple red green #yprg

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the-roo-too · 1 year

Text

signal -> classmate! oh haewon

-the 6 step guide of confessing to your crush

warnings: it’s very rushed; i lost motivation at the end 😭

genre: grain of angst, fluff

notes: i love haewon

1. begin the process

sunny day, what a beautiful time to be alive. at least it would be beautiful if you weren’t currently on your way to the nurse’s office.

you got hit by a ball after staring at a certain someone for far too long during p.e. the girl that attacked you was getting scolded by the teacher (you felt a little bad for that- hence you were the one not paying attention) while the cause of the problem was trotting after you.

“…you should be more careful. look around every once in a while or you’ll get hurt more.”

‘i was looking at you.’

“i know. i just thought i saw mrs kwon on the field.”

‘smooth.’ you mentally cheered for yourself.

“kwon yuri? wasn’t she taking a absence? if she’s back already i should probably report to her…”

‘not smooth.’

“o-oh well, maybe it was someone else?” you didn’t have to look at her face to know she wasn’t convinced.

“are you any close with mrs kwon?”

“i guess… i go to her for piano lessons every thursday, why?” you weren’t that close with the teacher, but could probably be called one of her favourites.

“she asked me to make a report of the orchestra’s activities this semester. if she comes back unexpectedly, could you let me know? give me your phone, i’ll type in my number.” your steps halted. she turned to look at you with confusion painting her face.

“number?”

“yeah, so you can text me if mrs kwon comes back. is that okay?” you could only pray she couldn’t see the reddening of your cheeks.

“yeah, it’s cool.” it’s very cool to get your crushes number.

2. get rejected

“let me get this straight.” lily moved her plate away to focus all her attention on you. “haewon gave you her number all by herself? months of pinning just for that?”

“i mean, she wants me to contact her if mrs kwon comes back earlier from her leave, not to chat casually…” as if on cue, you phone let out a low buzz, informing you of the new notification.

“ooh~ that might just be the love of your life!”

“i will remind you that my friendship with jinsol is quite solid and i can tell her about your little crush on her anytime.” earning a eye roll from the older girl, you unlocked your phone.

much to your surprise, the text was actually from the number labelled as ‘oh haewon’.

“i was right!”

“hush for a second, will you?” biting your lip, you opened the notification.

‘mrs kwon texted me she’ll be coming back next week.’

“oh.”

“ouch… rejected before you could even try.”

“lily jin morrow.”

“i’m sorry.” she laughed.

“i’m calling bae.”

“i said i’m sorry!”

3. restart the process

mrs kwon did came back earlier than expected. for you it only meant that your piano sessions will be back. for the others? every band suddenly had to rehearse.

they probably delayed practicing when suddenly the head of the section came back.

mrs kwon came back on friday, couple days later you were packing your things after your usual practice. the teacher left already, probably needing to see some pour soul who was failing the semester.

“i’m really sorry i can’t stay with you and help. i tried to get mom to pick my brother up but she won’t make it in time and i can’t just leave him like that…” you looked away from your sheets to see two figures approaching the classroom.

“i understand, yoona. i won’t hold a grudge because of that, don’t worry. family emergencies happen and it’s very much normal. go, i’ll fill out these by myself.” the taller out of the two figures moved away.

that left you alone with the girl. she hadn’t noticed you yet, as you awkwardly stood next to the piano in the room. she suddenly looked up.

“oh, hi y/n.” at first you were surprised she actually knew your name. on the other hand, it wasn’t the first year the two of you were classmates.

“ye- um, yeah, hi.” you waved lightly.

“did mrs kwon leave already? i wanted to hand her the paperwork today but if she’s not here…”

“she’ll be back after finishing with the upper grade. that shouldn’t take more than an hour.” haewon threw a sceptical gaze at the pile of papers in her hands.

“there’s no way i’ll fill all this out in an hour. they are due today so i might finish them at home and send mrs kwon the scans.”

“maybe i could help you?” her eyes held no emotion as she turned her head. then suddenly, her face looked softer.

“your help would be greatly appreciated. sit with me.” she patted the chair on her side. gladly, you walked over to join her in filling out the paperwork.

maybe in a normal situation you wouldn’t be glad to have to work on so many pages. but now, that haewon was so focused on filling out the forms, you could stare at her in peace, without worrying a ball would hit you again.

4. fuck it up

one might wonder does the lighting strike the same place twice, but you just proved that the ball can in fact hit the same person twice.

twice can you also be led to the nurse’s office by the same person. so many coincidences in your life, maybe you should start listening to twice?

“how do you expect to be any help to me if you’re constantly getting hit?” you laughed lowly in response.

“it’s you who insisted on keeping the window open… n-not that i blame you of course!”

haewon stopped in her tracks and sighed. “is everything okay?”

“what?”

“we aren’t necessarily close, but i’ve noticed that while interacting with me, you seem more distracted. does my presence bother you?”

“n-no, it’s not-!”

“if you would like to put a stop to our friendship-“

“i like you, haewon!”

5. hide

“y/n…” lily sighed, putting her hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner. you ran away from haewon and the older girl was the first person that popped into your mind.

“i fucked up, didn’t i?”

“…i mean, you haven’t seen her reaction?” even she wasn’t sure of her words.

“lily, you’re really bad at comforting, you know?”

“…yea.” you shook your head. the situation seemed bad, you just confessed to a girl that was trying to end your friendship. and she barely knew you.

“it couldn’t be worse!” groaning, you hid your face in your palms.

“it actually could?” lily received a sharp glare from you. “i’m just saying! besides, your phone’s been buzzing for the past five minutes.”

“that’s always a bad sign…” just as you took the device in your hand, someone called your phone.

‘oh haewon’

“…are you sure you want to pick that up-“

“um, hi haewon?”

“i like you too.”

6. smile and wave

you sat with your best friend in the cafeteria. while she was busy staring at a certain girl a couple tables away, you glanced at your phone every few seconds. noticing that, lily let out a mocking sigh.

“if i knew you’d be so busy when you get a girlfriend, i wouldn’t help you.” she whined.

“help me? when did you help me?”

“my mere presence was a blessing.”

“the so called ‘blessing’ doesn’t seem to work on you tho. bae still hasn’t fallen for your charms.” you mocked the older girl, receiving a angry ‘yah’ from her.

“what are you fiddling with that phone of your for anyways?”

“…haewon said she’ll pick me up for our lunch date.”

“aww! it’s a special occasion?” as if on cue, you felt a hand being placed on your shoulder. with a smile you looked up to meet your lover’s gaze.

“we’ve been together for a month today. ‘monthiversary’? i think that’s what they call it.” said haewon. both you and lily snickered quietly. “not important, let’s go love. the more time we get, the more we can-“

“just go!” the eldest of you groaned again. “stop rubbing it in my face that i’m single…”

“yeah, we’re going. see ya!” you smiled at the girl and waved. haewon took your hand in hers. she also gave you a smile of her own.

and even though you stared at her again, no ball came to hit you this time.

#haewon #nmixx imagines #nmixx x reader #bae #lily morrow #jinni #jiwoo #kyujin #sullyoon #oh haewon x reader #haewon x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #oh haewon

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