#Just enough to wound her and have her out of business for a while until her wounds heal

[g3tosugu]

their reactions to you showing up with an injury

wriothesley, neuvillette, baizhu, alhaitham, xiao x f!reader

cw: mentions of blood and injuries (nothing terribly graphic), weapons, fighting, mentions of kidnapping. please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i will admit xiao's is not in keeping with the prompt bc you dont really "show up" injured but this is my post and i can do as i please teehee :3c

Wriothesley

As you carefully make your way down through the Fortress of Meropide, you keep your guard up. The wound that you sustained is causing a searing pain to spread across your side. Once you make it through the doors to Wriothesley's office, you finally collapse to your knees. "Is someone there?" you hear Wriothesley's voice ring out from upstairs. "It's just me" you respond in a much weaker voice than you anticipated. You really had spent all of your energy. You force yourself to your feet and begin the daunting ascension up the stairs. Once you reach the top, you see him sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a document in front of him. Before you can even say anything, you're falling to your knees again.

"Y/n?!" Wriothesley immediately jumps out of his chair and runs over to your side. "Archon, what happened to you? Let me go notify someone to get Miss Sigewinne" he started towards the stairs behind you. "No!" you stop him, "Please just...don't bother her with this". "Sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. Do you know how she would feel if she heard you say that?" he returns back to your side and kneels down to check you over. His eyes snap immediately to the red splotch on your right side.

"You're bleeding. We need to get you to the infirmary now-"

"Sigewinne told me there was a group of individuals she overheard saying mean things about her while she was visiting the surface. She confided in me and I comforted her to reassure her that they are foolish and don't know what they are talking about" you explain. Wriothesley stares at you as his brain connects the dots.

"Y/n-"

"Don't say it. I know. I had never seen Sigewinne so saddened before. It pained me to see her feel so down about herself over the words of some random mean spirited people. I don't want her to know I went looking for them and got hurt. It would only make her feel worse".

Wriothesley looks at you with sympathy in his eyes, "I can't say I wouldn't have had similar instincts. I’m just surprised you were stupid enough to act on them". "Thanks" you roll your eyes and try to rise to your feet again. He's quick to assist you and help you move to the couch. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get some supplies" he quickly disappears.

When he returns, he begins tending to your wounds. Once he sees the cut on your side, scrapes on your arms, the scrape on your cheek and the dried blood on your hands, he feels his body heat with anger. "I'm not the one who wanted to fight. I just wanted to tell them off. There was one guy that got physical first" you start explaining how it happened. That alone just made him angrier. He clenches his jaw and bites his tongue to allow you to keep speaking. "He told me to mind my business and that he didn't even know who I was until I told him. That's when he realized that..." you trail off. Wriothesley's eyes look up from your wound for a moment. "His brother is a prisoner here at the fortress. He told me that you had his sentence increased after there was an altercation between him and another prisoner" you admit.

"That has nothing to do with you though" he finishes bandaging your wound. He hands you one of his black button down shirts to wear since your own clothing was ruined. As you button the shirt, he searches your face. "You're not telling me something" he puts a hand on his hip. "Why would he get you involved in something that’s between me and him?" he questions. "It's not about me being involved with what happened. It's that he knows we’re together" you play with the hem of the shirt. His arms drop to his side, "He attacked you as a means of hurting me?". You nod and sigh in response. He sits down next to you and throws an arm around you to pull you into his side. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you notice the fist in his lap that is curled into a tight fist.

"Please, tell me the name of this gentleman. Because I'll be damned if I let him hurt my girl without punishment".

Neuvillette

It was your own fault for getting curious about this cavern you had found out on one of your adventure guild commissions. Now, here you are limping to the Palais Mermonia. It's later in the evening so there are hardly any people out. There was a Melusine who noticed you were injured but you told her you were going to see the Chief Justice and that he would take care of you.

You walk through the doors of Neuvillette's office and he immediately turns to face you, ignoring the document he was just glancing over. When he notices the limp in your walk he is quick to come to your aid. "You're injured? Please, allow me" he scoops you off your feet and carries you over to the sofa. When you're sitting comfortably, he kneels to the ground to examine your ankle.

"It appears it's just twisted. Best you keep off of it as much as possible for the time being" he sighs in relief. When he stands back up and looks down at you, that's when he notices the cut you have on your cheek as well. He disappears without saying a word and returns with a cloth and a bottle of some sort of clear liquid. He sits next to you and puts some of the liquid on the cloth before gently applying it to your cut. You wince at the sting for a moment and he stops, "This is just to prevent it from getting infected. I apologize if it is painful" he continues to gently dab at the injury. "I do wish you would be more careful when you're out doing your tasks" he softly lectures you. "I know" you nod, "I'm sorry". "You need not apologize to me, my dear. I am just simply voicing my concern for you" he places the bottle of liquid and cloth on the table.

"I don't want you to worry about me" you reach over and brush some of the hair from his face. As your hand falls away, he grabs your fingertips in his hand and places a soft kiss to the back of your own. "I know you don't. I don't necessarily want to worry so often either" he admits and holds your hand in between both of his and places it in his lap. "Do you ever wish I worked here at the Palais with you instead of with the Adventurer’s Guild?" you ask. "Hmm" he thinks about your question for a moment. "My initial answer would be yes. But I'm afraid it's just for my own selfish reasons so they carry no relevance" he soothingly rubs your hand.

You place your other hand on top of his, "If I didn't want your honest thoughts I wouldn't have asked. So please be open with me, my love" you cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs. "I would prefer if you worked at the Palais so I could keep a better eye on you, yes. Knowing you are away and willingly putting yourself in danger does fill me with a sense of anxiety. It's strange. In all my years of living amongst humans I've never known what it would be like to feel such strong attachments to one" he goes on. Your heart leaps at his earnest confession. "I will consider your words. I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to be in your presence more often. Either way I think we work well together and I wouldn't be opposed to working in a less physically demanding environment" you give him some hope. "My dear, you don't need to meet my wishes so easily. Please give it some more consideration before making any definitive decisions" he leans over and kisses your forehead.

"It is my duty to protect the people of Fontaine but it is my privilege to be your companion".

Baizhu

It's embarrassing really. Qiqi had encountered an issue at the pharmacy this morning when someone requested some Qingxin and for some reason there were none in stock. "Oh, um, I'm sorry...It appears we are completely out of Qingxin" she apologized to the customer. You could see how truly distraught she was at the situation so you went out on your own to retrieve some Qingxin. How were you supposed to know it was going to start raining and you would slip and fall in the mud?

When you hit the ground, the arm you had out to brace yourself with made contact with a jagged piece of stone. After washing the wound with water from a nearby stream, you tried your best to get some of the earth off your clothing. Then, you were on your way. Unfortunately, the ten Qingxin you were able to collect turned into four after your fall. They had not only been completely ruined by the mud but a couple had landed underneath you, effectively being crushed under your weight.

You brace yourself for the lecture you are more than likely going to receive from Baizhu. Walking into his home, you see him sitting in a chair looking at a book of some sort. His eyes look up from the book so he can greet you and he sees the poor state you are in. "What in Teyvat happened, my love?" he rises to his feet and places his book on the table. "Well...I was getting Qingxin because Qiqi said we didn't have any at the pharmacy and then it started raining" you take off your coat and wince at the pain in your arm. His eyes widen, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I will get started on tending to your injuries".

One quick shower and a set of fresh loungewear later, you are sitting on the couch as Baizhu tends to you. "You really should be more careful. I would hate for something truly awful to happen to you and I can't be there to aid you" he sighs as he carefully works on finishing the stitches for your arm. The rock apparently ended up cutting you deeper than you had originally thought. "I just didn't want Qiqi to be upset" you look at the ground. His eyes look up from your arm for a moment to look at your face. The genuine disappointment in your own eyes makes his heart sink.

"It was very kind of you to go out of your way to help her. I'm sure you know it also means a great deal to me that you care for her so deeply" he starts wrapping your arm in a bandage. You look over at him with a gentle smile. "She always tries her best despite her own circumstances. In a way, I'm almost envious of her" you admit. Baizhu grabs your legs and places them over his lap. He lifts the material of your lounge pants up your legs and his hands begin to knead at the flesh of your legs to soothe your aching muscles. "You know she wouldn't want you to put yourself in any imminent danger just for her sake, yes?" he inquires. You nod in response and look down in shame.

"I don't mean to make you feel bad. That is never my intention. I just wish you cared for yourself the way you care for others" he slides the legs of your lounge pants back down as he finishes massaging your muscles. "I'll work on it" you smile apologetically at him. He smiles warmly in response before pulling you onto his lap. You snake your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. His hair is freed from its usual styling and is freshly combed through. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. A soft hum emits from his throat as he turns his head to kiss your wrist, prompting you to keep your hand near. The gesture warms your heart and you gently cup his cheek in your hand.

"Who needs Qingxin when I've got the most valuable and healing flower in all of Teyvat, right here at my fingertips".

Alhaitham

The last thing you expected was to get ambushed by a bunch of eremites just outside of Sumeru City. It was a five man group of former associates of Ayn Al-Ahmar. The plan was to kidnap you and hold you hostage as a means of getting Alhaitham to fall into a trap they would have preemptively set up. Fortunately for you, Dehya was near the entrance of Sumeru City when she heard you trying to fight off the group of men in the distance and noticed a flash of a vision ability from where she stood. When she got there, you were clearly already visibly spent. There was still one man in a standoff with you. 

In your moment of weakness, you stumble forward and before you could even react, the man darts towards you and attempts to sink his dagger into your abdomen. You quickly try to defend yourself and manage to grab his wrist. Even though you have your grip on him, he uses as much strength as he can and you can feel the tip of the blade pierce your skin. You grunt and grind your teeth as you desperately use the strength you no longer have to fight him off. Dehya quickly takes action and subdues the man before he has the chance to overpower you. Now that you can finally put your guard down, you place your hand where the dagger had got you. The blood that appears on your hands as you pull your palm away makes you queasy and dizzy. "Y/n? Hey! Y/n!" you hear Dehya call out to you and see her run toward you. But it's no use. You fall to the ground unconscious.

When you awake, you look around you and notice you are in Alhaitham's living room. "You're awake" you hear Alhaitham say at your side. You turn your head and he's sitting on the loveseat across from the one you are on. As you go to sit up you are immediately met with a burning pain in your side. "Hey, easy. Don't move too much" he comes to your side and gently pushes you back down onto your back. "I had Tighnari drop off some incense to help relax your body and hopefully speed along the healing process" he explains as he carefully adjusts the pillow underneath your head and sits down on the edge of the loveseat. You look up at the ceiling, "How did I even get here?".

He sighs, "Dehya brought you. I sent Kaveh out to get some first aid supplies". "They did this because of me didn't they?" he gently places his hand over where you were stabbed. "Don't do that Alhaitham" you grab his hand with your own. "I'm not saying I claim responsibility for what happened. I just don't think it's worth being in a relationship with me" he admits wholeheartedly, but not in a self pitying way. If anything he pities the fact that you ended up in this position due to something that was beyond your control. "It's not going to take a fight with a bunch of guys, who have nothing better to do, to make me just walk away from this" you squeeze his hand.

"This?" he looks down at you. "What? I think what we have together is much more precious to me than you may realize" you search his eyes for an inkling of what he may currently be thinking. A gentle smile appears on his face. "You mean everything to me. I mean it" he brushes a small strand of hair away from your face. You feel the weight of the loveseat shift underneath you as Alhaitham leans down and places a tender kiss to your lips. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss.

"Okay! I'm back with-" Kaveh suddenly walks into the house. Alhaitham immediately removes himself from you with a grunt. "You just couldn't wait at least five more minutes before barging in here?" he complains. Kaveh places the items he was asked to retrieve on the table. "Oh, well excuse me for trying to gather the items that are supposed to help her feel better" he barks. Alhaitham just glares at him with his eyes narrowed. "Okay, fine! I get it. I'll leave you to suck face with your girlfriend" he disappears into his room with a huff.

"He's just jealous he's not the one out here that gets to kiss you the way I get to".

Xiao

Yep, you are definitely lost. All you were tasked with was going to Liyue Harbor to get some produce for Wangshu Inn. At some point down the line in your route, you came across a group of monsters and in an attempt to avoid them you went another way. Unfortunately the way you went instead ended up leading you down a path you were unfamiliar with.

A rustle in the bushes to your left startles you, causing you to trip over your feet and fall to the ground. The produce you had gathered from Liyue Harbor is now scattered on the ground all around you. As you lift your arm to start gathering the items back together, you wince and notice a pretty deep cut. You grit your teeth and try to ignore it. The rustling in the bushes startles you once again except this time, a wild boar is charging out towards you. It knocks into you and you go to take a step back to catch yourself but you fail to notice the drop off of the cliff. You slip and fall but somehow manage to catch yourself on a piece of foliage growing out of the side of the cliff edge. The arm you are forced to use to hold yourself up is the arm with the cut. Pain sears through your arm and you feel your grip slipping. Before you can catch yourself, the anchor you once held onto slips through your fingers. You are now free falling.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of Xiao and the moment you shared before you left Wangshu Inn for Liyue Harbor. He told you to be safe and call his name if you ran into trouble and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before reassuring you would be safe. "Adeptus Xiao!" you shout up at the sky as you force your eyes shut. Within an instant you feel a pair of arms around you and in the blink of an eye you are safely on the ground. You fall to your knees as your legs give out under you from the panic that continues coursing through your body.

Xiao kneels down in front of you and places a hand on your cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now" he speaks low and soft. You look at him and start to steady your breathing. "I-" you stutter, "I am sorry for being so careless". "Shh" he shushes you, "I'm just relieved you're alright". He checks you over and notices the cut on your arm and his face hardens. "We need to get you back to Wangshu Inn. Please take my hand?" he holds his hand out for you to take and you of course oblige. And almost as quickly as you take his hand in yours, you are back at Wangshu Inn.

He leads you over to his bed and has you sit down. "I'll be right back to dress your wound" he swiftly exits. When he comes back he begins cleaning your wound with a rag and starts applying an ointment of some sort. "It's supposed to speed up the healing process" he notices you looking at it with curious eyes. As he bandages your arm you study his face. "Why are you looking at me?" he tries to fight back a grin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. Adeptus Xiao" you smile fondly at him. His eyes snap up to yours and you can almost feel a pull between the two of you. You both subconsciously lean toward each other until you are just centimeters away from each other's faces. Your breaths tangle together between the two of you as he presses his forehead against yours. His hand reaches for the side of your head and he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is almost urgent. Like you don't have much time left together. Your hand lifts to wrap around the wrist of his hand that gently cradles the side of your head. When your lips part, your foreheads press together again. "You should get some sleep. It will help you heal faster" he removes his hand from your head. As you get comfortable in the bed, he crawls in beside you and holds you against his chest. "Why did you wait until after you fell to call for me?" he asks. "What?" you feign ignorance. "The marks on your hand" he grabs your hand in his and opens your palm to reveal small cuts that you obtained when your grip slipped. "I thought I could save myself" you sigh in disappointment. He kisses your forehead and tucks your head under his chin.

"I know that you are more than capable of saving yourself. But don't ever forget it is always my honor to save you. There aren't many things I hold close to me in this existence. But you are the most precious thing I will always hold close".

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette fluff #baizhu x reader #baizhu fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff

[xo-cod]

forgive the inaccuracies, idk much about babies <3 ooc/rushed :)

simon w his baby but she has a preference for one parent and it's not him

simon finally coming back to his safe place, his sanctuary, his home, all but eager to spend some needed time with his family. be had been off to a mission, the last one for a while to make sure that everything was okay. he had already been incredibly reluctant to leave you but now that you both had a baby, it was hard. not a second was spent on the field where images of the pair of you blazed through his mind, almost nearly costing his arm and leg in the process of being too distracted. it had been hell to say the least

but the day finally came, there he was finally on his way back after an intense gruelling month. simon saw you first, bundling you up close in his built arms enjoying your little chuckles that fell from your lips. removing his balaclava as he peppers tender kisses across your cheeks before your lips, his soft smile growing at how happy he was to be back. before he set you back down, eyes scouring about for his bundle of pure joy

"where is she, lovie?? i missed her so much, i got her a little trinket from the place we were deployed in, hope she likes it" he chuckled softly, opening one of his pockets to reveal the gift as he catches his baby on the carpet playing with toys babbling away. his heart was practically bursting at its seams, shedding away his utility vest and his gear to make sure nothing could hurt her before he gently padded his way over. he had different ways the evening would pan out but he hadn't expected this.

he didn't ever expect to be met with a blank stare in return

his heart dropped when he picked his little girl up, she was too busy playing with her favourite toys to even react to him. he hadn't anticipated her looking at him like a stranger. he could've cried with the way she wriggled out of his grasp and wanting to be let down as if he was some enemy. as if instead of being the protector he was now the very thing he swore to keep away from his child, a stranger.

his face like a kicked puppy when he looked at you with pure shock and pain, looking back at the baby who was eagerly crawling back to you having wanting nothing to do with him despite him trying to come closer. you could see all the happiness he previously had practically disappeared from his body, his shoulders deflating with sadness and pain

she couldn't recognise him, she was no longer a daddy's girl

"honey.... sweetheart, it's me, dad. daddy's here. c'mon, c'mere munchkin" he tried to chuckle, kneeling down opening his muscular arms only for her to blink at him and then look back at her toys again

"lovie.... what's going on?" his voice is so soft with hurt and shock looking back to you with huge shining eyes as if he had encountered the worst loss till date. suddenly the mission he had just been on was nothing, the weight of his child preferring you over him was crushing his heart into pieces he didn't think he would come back from. how he'd do any mission 10x over if it meant his child, his treasure would love him again

•••

and it remained that way for the next week, he tried his utmost best but it never seemed to be good enough for her. you tried to console him but he remained dejected, she was always wanting to run back to you. to be comforted by you and to be held by you. every time he tried to tuck her in, his efforts simply proved fruitless. she would cry and cry until you came back in and he watched from the side never feeling like he had failed so hard before in his life.

it hurt more than any of the superficial wounds he ever managed to get in battle, it hurt more than him being on his literal deathbed all those times he was caught in the cross fire. and it only propelled him further into despair when he made the mistake of googling it and realising that this phase may very well last years.

you could see him break with everyday, doubting himself as a father and as a husband. blaming himself and letting the doubt plague his heart and mind. it seemed nothing could comfort him apart from his baby that wanted nothing to do with him. he hadn't managed to hug her at all, he missed being able to snuggle her soft skin for hours. lounging around the home with her cuddled up in one arm as the other gently rubbed on the back of her head soothingly holding her close to his heart. and the thought of never being able to cuddle her without the cries that accompanied it was more than he could bear, it hurt more than anything he had gone through

that was until one night, he was tiredly going to the bathroom and pausing over the nursery. he hadn't meant to but he peeked in and saw her laying in her crib half asleep. her eyes big and brown exactly like his, blinking up slowly at the lieutenant. she was quiet apart from the small sounds she made sucking on the pacifier, a soft bunny in her hand as she peeked back at her father.

"hey baby...." he whispered so softly, he didn't even think she had heard. but her head tilted in curiosity and he chuckled, his hands coming to rest on the walls of the crib. desperately aching to feel her soft skin but too nervous to agitate her

"it's me honey, your dad. i really.... really miss you" he broke off, his heart feeling so heavy as the guilt came barreling in once more. it was his fault that he left her for a month, he shouldn't have been so surprised when he came back and preferred you. you had been there when he couldn't, she developed an attachment with you, not with him

"i'm so sorry to have left you for a month, honey. if i had known- if i thought for a second you'd hate me-" he didn't have the heart to finish the words, the guilt overriding his senses. with a soft sigh, his forehead leaned against his palm for a moment. his own baby didn't like him, he hadn't felt this low in a long time.

he promised he would never raise her in a volatile environment like he had grown up but already he hadn't been any better. he left her knowing for a month, coming back to see her favouring you. and it wasn't easy on both of you, he knew that. he knew he was being irrational but it stung more than any cut, the fact that if he hadn't made the choice to go on the mission that his baby wouldn't be acting so strangely around him.

simon didn't expect anything more tonight, too scared to touch her in case she started crying so he settled for placing the blanket back over her and heading off to bed with a heavy heart. what he didn't expect was the small coo coming from her lips, her tiny fist wrapping up over his index finger. his heart was in his throat, eyes wide at the sight as he looked back to her sweet innocent face again

"me?? you want me?" his voice was so gentle, too scared to speak loud as if this was all a beautiful dream he would wake up from. hesitantly he had reached down, his breath held as his large hands wrapped around his baby so delicately as if she'd shatter beneath his fingertips. slowly sitting down on the rocking chair, the moonlight pouting through the window illuminating her features.

how everyone around claimed she was a carbon copy, how proud he was to call her his daughter. all the moments that they shared running through his mind like a montage and she tilted her small head up at him, a gentle giggle falling from her lips before she rested her weary head against his warm chest. he could've cried and he did, gently but firmly holding her body between his hands. thanking whatever goodness he had done in his life that she was back, his baby was back. and she loved him just like before. she recognised him, she wanted him willingly. it was enough to break him out of whatever funk he had been in, trying desperately not to sob happy tears after a long gruelling two weeks.

you woke up the next morning to see simon laying on the rocking chair, one hand protectively over her small back while the other locked around her little legs as they both slept peacefully. his cheek leaning against her forehead as they cuddled up close on the rocking chair, both making the exact same sleeping face causing you to hide your growing smile and snap a little picture of the tender moment.

she truly was his little mini.

#simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley x reader

[sukunas-wife]

What about Y/N and reader having a little baby girl. Sukuna was disappointed at first because he wanted another boy. But she becomes so attached to her papa since she was a baby. Like she sees cuts on his hands (she doesn’t realize he can use RCT yet) and tries to treat his wounds 🥺🫶🏽

~🪽

I though tumblr ate your ask when I scrolled 5 times and could find it and I panicked so hard 😭 So cute 🥺 Im pretty sure we’re going with Anya, but I suck at catching her personality so I’m just going to go with general daughter reactions for this 🥹🤍🤍

(Note: I tried, but I feel like I’m always lacking in the daughter area. Maybe I need to borrow my niece ;-; also, its a little short…) finally back into it tho 😎

Your room fell silent, the cries filling the air were almost piercing. You felt like you knew this was bound to happen. Yuji was a miracle, but your second child was born a girl. You knew Sukuna had only ever cared about having heirs, so in the silence you were on edge of what he would say or do.

It was strange watching him in that moment, she was crying in his arms, he was staring at her with that black expression that always appeared like a frown. He shouldn’t have been so openly disappointed, he knew from the start when your stomach started to swell and he hadn’t noticed until he touched your round belly. The child in your stomach had not an ounce of cursed energy to leave a presence, much less for him to be able to tell what it could be. Yet he held out hope for a boy, even if the lack of his presence was due to a heavenly restriction, he could work with that. But no, the little pink haired girl crying and screaming in his arms was enough to leave him perplexed. He shook his head, handing her over to you, you watched him while you began to breastfeed your daughter.

“Sukuna..” your voice was a whisper followed by a cringe of feeling like your insides were coming out. You wanted to comfort your husband but you didn’t feel right. “Sukuna,” your lower stomach kicked in painful cramps, and everything moved in a rush. Sukuna was pushed out of the room and heard the panic of your caretakers clearly.

—- —- —- —- —-

The day had passed and he sat outside your room, they had persisted he did not pass. So he sat out there waiting until the early hours of sunrise when they brought out his daughter. He took her in his hands, you couldn’t see it past her pink hair and eyes, but to Sukuna she had your face. She was small and round but to him, she looked so similar he was in disbelief you had won over that part of his genes.

He sat there all day, holding her to his chest, while his head leaned back against the wall. His eyes were closed but he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t rest, he could tell you were alive, but it felt like you were just barely there. He looked down in his arms, the little bundle of clothes moving around slightly as your daughter moved, crying out. He wanted to hand it off to a servant as his hand came up to uncover her face more to look at her, that was until her hand slipped out taking a tight hold of finger. She stopped crying for a moment just sniffling, her little nails falling digging into his skin. “Come, stop your crying.” His free arm came to lightly run over his little wrinkly cheeks, “my child.” He was looking at her with such a soft look, the servants found it endearing. It was then he decided he would take care of her as he did Yuji, his child, his pride.

—- —- —- —- —-

Years passed, and you were outside with Yuji. Watching Anya’s big eyes growing in size as an emperor butterfly slowly fluttered around the garden. It had been a month since Sukuna had left on one of his little excursions, you were curious why his supposed two week trip became a month long trip. But you had your 13 year old Yuji who was laying in your lap passed out from his own Ventures of the day and your 3 year old girl keeping you busy, you didn’t feel as lonely as when it was just yourself. “Mama!” Your hand kept running though Yuji’s hair, “Yes sweetheart?” Your little girl came running up to you, “Papa!” You could see the stars in her eyes as she pointed behind her, past the garden. You looked seeing the all too familiar and burly silhouette in the distance. You faked a gasp, “It is papa! He’s almost home. Do you wanna go get him the sweets you made?” She perked up more, “Yeah!” You watched as she ran off inside the house singing a song as her steps padded on the ground. Yuji slowly sat up, eyes squinty as he looked around “Dad?” You laughed while rubbing his head, “Yes.”

You started to get up, Yuji rushing up and offering to help you as you struggled to get up, “my leg is tired from being in one place too long.” You laughed and Yuji grinned, “Sorry’ was tired.”

You simply rubbed his head, “It’s fine, go get your sister, she’s been away for a while already.”

Yuji ran off to find his sister while you tried to ignore the feeling in your legs. You moved closer to the edge of the garden Sukuna was approaching in fresh blood, the closer he became the more you noticed the minor scrapes and cuts on his body. You rolled your eyes with a smile, he shrugged off the top of his robes once he had realised your eyes were trained on his body. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find him attractive in this form of glory, but for the sake of your kids you wouldn’t touch his chest and give him that look. It was when he stood in front of you that your dominant hand pulled your handkerchief from your obi, your free hand cradling his face before cleaning his face of the foreign contaminant.

“I see my husband is home, sturdy, well and revelling in his victories.” You hummed as you finished cleaning his face, pulling him towards you gently so you could kiss him. As you pulled away from what was going to be a soft kiss he pulled you back in to catch your lips longer, “Mhm.” Was all

He hummed against your lips, aside from the hand on your head, two of his free hands came to your waist to pull you closer. Placing your hands on his chest you pushed yourself back a little to stare up at him, “Your little girl has been asking and crying for you to come back. She even made you a little treat everyday for when you arrived.” He hummed, eyeing you, your hands moving to rest on his biceps, “They should be here. I sent her in to retrieve what she worked so hard on.” Your head turned exposing your neck to him, his last free hand coming up to run his nails over the tender flesh, “I’m sure she’ll be back soon enough, as for now I’m craving the feeling of something else.” His hand angled your head away, teeth and lips running over the plush pulse point on your neck, until he huffed at your resistance, “how impervious.” He pulled away, hands sliding from your waist as he looked away visibly upset. You couldn’t fight the smile, “We should go, it might be a waste waiting longer out here then if we go find them.”

—- —- —- —- —-

That’s how you ended up in this situation. Yuji was sitting by his dad with a big smile listening to the story of how he single-handedly levelled another city. Anya was sitting on his lap bouncing along as his body shook when he’d let out a louder laugh or was jostled around with his movements. That was until she noticed the smallest cut on his stomach and let out a loud gasp making all of you turn to look at her.

”Papa! You’re hurt!” Sukuna looked down, seeing the small surface wound that left a red line of broken skin over his side stomach. “Oh, I suppose I a-PAPA NEEDS BANDAGES” she was rushing off feet pattering over the floor as Yuji mumbled, “But.. can’t dad use reverse cursed technique…” he looked confused as he closed his eyes tilting his head to the side. You looked at your husband who sighed with a faint twitch at his lips and placed a hand on Yuji’s head messing up his already tousled hair. “Interesting, I remember another brat with pink hair who did the exact same thing.” Yuji smiled under the weight of his fathers hand.

Anya came running in with a bowl of water spilling everywhere and other things tucked under her little arm. You watched as Ryomen steadied her after she spilt water onto his lap trying to clean his wounds as she had watched you done when your husband would crave your attention and purposely not heal his own wounds leaving you to tend to him. He cringed as more water spilt onto his lap as she un purposely smacked his stomach with a soaking rag rubbing at the small flesh wound, Yuji tried not to laugh as you laughed quietly behind your hand watching as Sukuna tried to help only for Anya to yell at him “No! I can do it papa! You’re hurt!”

The screen was cute as he cringed more at the cold water, relieved when she stopped only to become stressed when she pulled out the roll of wraps. She had seen you use those wraps on Yuji many times when he would become injured or hurt. What she didn’t see was how her father was much larger in size, those tiny wraps wouldn't circle his waist even once.

When they couldn't, Anya became frantic, rushing to jump off her father and run to get more bandages. This was until Ryomen caught her mid jump, “Lemme go daddy! Need more wraps!” He sat her back on his lap, “No you don’t brat, I'll show you something better.”

Anya looked up at her dad with glossy eyes and a wobbly lip, “Press your hands here.” You watched as he guided her small hands to his stomach over the wrap, “Put all your force behind it.” She forced her eyes closed, pressing both her hands against his stomach with all her little muscle. Using the slightest bit of his reversed cursed technique he pulled her hands away, “See.” Her eyes opened slowly and the red mark on his stomach was gone. Her eyes lit up as she looked up at him, “I DID IT!” Ryomen couldn’t fight back the twitch of his lips that pulled into a smile, “You did.” Her hands clasped together with starry eyes, her stare locked on Yuji, “I can fix you.”

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[eilidh-eternal]

You make a promise

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | CW mentions of SA, stalking, general PTSD warning for reader and Johnny |

It happened again.

You knew it would. Know that part of being a woman in this world means living in near constant hyper-vigilance; with an acute awareness of your surroundings.

Should have known better. Should have been more aware. Should have kicked and screamed. Should have fought back.

It’s disappointment that curls around your mind like a serpent and sinks its fangs in deep, floods you with venomous, paralyzing thoughts.

Paralyzed. That’s a good word for it. Pinned against that bookshelf and presently burrowed beneath the blankets in the dark, body curled in on itself with trembling hands tucked tight to your chest. Small. Meek. Trapped in a body that betrays everything you taught it to do. Disappointed that the months of training you endured in the aftermath proved useless when tested outside of a controlled environment and theoretical scenarios.

It happened again–and you let it.

“Bubby?” Isobel is strapped in her car seat, kicking impatient little feet while Johnny works to unfasten the belt across her lap.

“Yes leannan?”

“Why’re the polis here?”

His hands go still, hovering above the buckle, and he turns his head over his shoulder just enough to glimpse the two lids standing on your front stoop. The air in his lungs rushes out of him, chin falling to his breastbone as the panic winding tight in his chest slowly unfurls.

This is home. Isobel is safe. Everyone is safe. This isn’t that day, he reminds himself, but seeing them on your doorstep strikes flint against steeled nerves. The carefully compartmentalized part of his brain that he reserves for work wrestles itself free from its confines and floods his body with adrenaline. Makes the hair on his nape stand on end and the muscles in his jaw tighten until it aches from the tension.

With Isobel extracted from the car, perched on his hip and her book bag slung over the opposite shoulder, he turns to nudge the car door closed, just in time to see your door crack open. Watches the two men present their badges and a folded bundle of paperwork. Gnashes his teeth when he sees, even from the street, wide and fearful eyes that scan everything behind them. Eyes that note his presence and dart away to catalog the next detail. Trodden snow and parked cars. The woman across the street, walking her dog. Surveying your front yard with the same scrutiny he does an engagement zone. 

Isobel squirming in his arms tears his focus away from you, forces him to register the burning sensation at the tip of his nose, the tops of his ears, cold winter air surely biting into her skin just as mercilessly as it does his own.

“I dunno. Let’s get ye inside, aye? Dinnae want to find any missing fingers or toes tonight.” 

To anyone else it would look like he’s taking his time with the ice, treading carefully with the little girl in his arms so as not to send them both crashing down into the snow. Anyone else would see lids next door and mind their own damn business.

Johnny’s never been particularly good at that.

Their presence alone is enough to raise his hackles, to pull the pin from his nerves and toy with letting the hammer fall. Just enough to see if they’re as trained up as the SNP says they are. But all that’s likely to do is scare you more, and he can’t have that. He just found you, just started to get to know you. He’ll be damned if he lets another rash decision chase a pretty thing like you away. 

The thought of it twists and knots in his stomach, plucks at the out-of-tune strings wound through his heart in a weeping facsimile of something he doesn’t dare put a name to. Can’t name because it gives it too much power. Makes it too real.

It’s slow going, pretending to fumble with the keys in the cold. Feigning indifference as he grapples with “—in custody, for now—” and “—press charges?” 

The snow and ice outside is a brilliant, blinding white. Inside, all Johnny can see is red. 

Charges? What on earth happened that she needs to press charges for?

“Bubby, too tight,” Isobel grouses, and he loosens his arm around her with a sigh, lowering her to the ground to help with her jacket and boots. 

“‘M sorry, Bell. Didnae mean to squeeze ye so tight.” Curls bounce around her face as she teeters on one foot, hands on his shoulders to keep her balance.

“It’s okay.” She shifts to her other foot, pulling free of the fleece-lined boots. “Ye’re makin’ a twisty face again,” she observes, and her brows mirror the pinch of his own.

Too damn observant.

“Ah know,” he admits, and his chest heaves with another sigh, reaching up to smooth the crinkles in her forehead with his thumb. “Dinna worry about me and muh twisty face. How ‘bout some hot cocoa? We’ll warm up and then see about supper, hm?” Her face splits into a toothy grin and he softens at the sight. Lets her latch onto his hand and drag him into the kitchen.

“May we come in?”

No.

“Of course.” You take a step back, pulling the door open just wide enough to let the two officers through. Melting snow pools on polished hardwood under their boots, and you quickly herd them towards the carpeted sitting room before the water can warp your floors. You sit opposite of where they do on your sofa, big fluffy robe pulled tight over flannel pants and a pullover.

“He’ll be released on Thursday morning, unless ye’d like to go ahead with the charges for—”

“—No.” Your fingers curl into your palms. “Just the restraining order. I—” Can’t see his face again. Don’t want to be in the same room with him again. “—just the restraining order. Please.”

The shorter of the two nods and produces a pen from his coat, scribbling something in the margins of the papers he holds before sliding them across the coffee table towards you.

“Tha’s the station an’ phone number,” he says, tapping on the notes he made. “We’ll ring ye when he’s released. An’ we’ll ‘ave the protective order in place by tomorrow. He shouldnae be botherin’ ye anymore.”

All you can manage is a nod and a whispered, “Thank you.” They’re kind enough. Most people are.

Until they’re not.

——

It’s dark outside when you hear a knock at your front door, and your hand immediately reaches for your phone, breath forced out of your lungs by the panic squeezing them inside your chest.

There’s a muffled voice. A giggle, followed by shushing and shuffling feet. “Dinnae want to spoil the surprise,” you hear in a familiar lilt.

Johnny?

You draw a relieved breath and wince when your nails press into the marks on your palms, angry crescent moons, and pull yourself up off the couch to peer through the edge of the curtains.

Johnny and Isobel stand, the former holding the latter, on your stoop, small pan of… something, in Isobels gloveless hands.

Bewildered as you are, you shed the blanket from your shoulders, smoothing a hand over your rumpled jumper, and hurry to the door, fretful over Isobels fingers in the frigid air.

The door cracks open, and with it, so do their smiles. 

“Hi, bonnie—”

“—Surprise!” they say at the same time. 

You stand dumbfounded in your doorway, hand braced on the wooden frame, and Isobel holds out what might be something of a cake beneath a mountain of whipped cream towards you.

“It’s a trifle,” she proudly announces. You turn a questioning eye to Johnny.

“Didnae have the fixin’s for a proper cake,” he supplies. “Figured it would be a sort of… olive branch.”

Olive branch? Why would he need—?

Clipped memories from several days ago replay in your head. Coming home. Sitting in the car. Johnny calling after you. Practically running away and slamming the door on him. Shutting him out.

And here he stands, thinking he’s done something worth apologizing over.

“You don’t need- you didn’t… oh, come in out of the cold, will you? No sense in freezing out there.” You push the door open wider, beckoning them in.

“Thought ye’d never ask,” he teases with a wink and shuffles inside, following you to the kitchen with Isobel in tow behind him.

“Here, let’s put that on the table.” Isobel gladly relinquishes the pan and you’re relieved when you feel its warmth seeping into your fingers, a little less worried about both of their lack of proper winter attire. “I’ve never served trifle… would bowls be best?” 

“Aye, ye’ll probably need spoons too. More of a pudding than a cake,” he says as he settles himself in a chair, Isobel quick to clamber up onto his lap.

You’re surprised by your own lack of nerves. The dishes don’t clatter together when you pull them from the cabinet as they have in recent days, and you don’t feel so uneasy with your back to them. Don’t feel the need to look over your shoulder when Isobel thrums her little fingers on the wooden table, or the deep rumble of Johnny’s voice, speaking to her in hushed tones.

You’re safe here. Safe with them.

Johnny’s right about the dessert too. It’s warm, freshly made, and it’s made for a bit of a runny affair, melted whipped cream seeping into custard and some sort of cake on the bottom.

“It’s good. Thank you for, um… Thank you for sharing.” You spoon another bite into your mouth before you can shove your foot in it. Isobel seems to be in another plane of existence entirely, too absorbed with the confection smeared at the corners of her mouth. The same can’t be said about Johnny. He’s focused wholly on you, dessert in front of him a secondary matter. Tertiary, even, with Isobel perched on his knee and his arm looped around her midsection.

The warmth in his eyes has shifted, burns brighter, in a seeking sort of way. Searching for tinder to catch on. More air to billow and blaze. “Can I ask ye somethin’?”

You settle your silverware in your bowl and fold your hands in your lap, pulling the inside of your cheek between your teeth when your nails slice into your palms again. “Sure.”

The silence isn’t uncomfortable so much as it is heavy, laden with the weight of his unspoken question as he continues his assessment of you. For a moment, you wonder if maybe it’s you who owes him an apology.

“Havnae seen ye for a few days. Yer car’s nae moved and yer curtain’s been closed. And last week, when ye–” He pauses abruptly, mulling over his next words carefully. “Ye looked like a green recruit, fresh off the field.”

Terrified.

Shell shocked.

“That have anythin’ to do with the fellows who dropped by today?”

Your eyes flick between his, the bowl on the table in front of you, and Isobel–still lost in her own little microcosm. Untainted by the dark things lurking just beyond her understanding. You knew he’d seen them. Knew he might ask about them at some point. What you hadn’t expected was a trojan horse in the form of a trifle. Thought you would have more time to think of something to explain the situation away.

This isn’t something he should be burdened with. Not over you. Not when he has Isobel to look out for.

When you finally meet his eyes again they’re no less dim. Still searching for words buried beneath ash on your tongue.

“I… Yes. It did.” You swallow, shove down the knot working it’s way up from your chest. “I was followed, out at the shops,” you lie. “The man, he wouldn’t leave me alone, so… the shopkeeper called for the polis. He left me alone after that, but they still took a statement.” You glance towards Isobel again. To give yourself reprieve from the intensity of his gaze and to ensure she’s not listening too closely to the conversation being had. “Guess it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. They came by today to… to let me know he’s in custody. Wanted to know if I wanted to press charges.”

He’s quiet, unearthly still on the wooden chair, staring hard at the expression you’re doing your best to keep calm.

“This happen before?” he questions, hand curling into a fist on the table. 

“No,” you lie–again. 

He nods, a near imperceptible tilt of his chin. “Are ye filing?”

You nod in return. No need to go into the specifics. 

His shoulders relax a fraction when he looses a long breath. “No wonder ye wouldnae come near me that day,” he muses aloud. “‘M sure my givin’ ye a fright in yer car didnae help much, either.”

“It’s not your fault,” you interject.

“Maybe so, but…” His eyes drift with his words, searching the patterns of the wood grain for something. “Can I ask ye another question?” When he looks up at you again, you nod. “Promise ye’ll tell me, if anythin’ like that happens again? Dinna like the thought of ye dealin’ with it on yer own, lass.”

“Tell ye what?” Isobel queries, bowl of trifle empty in front of her, but his gaze remains firmly on you, and you don’t think he’s willing to take no for an answer.

“Okay. I promise.”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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[rrickgrrimes8]

Your Bear

summary: Joel Miller doesn’t just lose Sarah that night but his other daughter too. but maybe you can still be found. (part II)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader -- she/her pronouns used & AFAB

warnings: guns, violence, angst, mentions of death, birth, hurt/comfort, happy ending ;) (kinda), no spoilers for part 2/canon divergent

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open!

word count: 3.2k

Joel Miller was always a good father - no matter what he thought. He cared for his girls more than he cared about anything in his damn life. So when they were both taken from him... there was nothing left to care about.

It was Sarah first.

He held Sarah as she died. His shirt was still stained with her blood. The watch on his wrist shattered by his failure.

But his other daughter, you, looking back he can only imagine the worst.

It all happened so fast. He had Sarah in his arms she gasped for air that was growing distant by the second, while Tommy watched with a pained look.

You, however, no one was watching you. Only 5 years old - you didn’t understand a thing. And so when you heard a loud noise. When you saw your sister go down and hearing the cries of both your father and her you panicked.

You thought you were getting help. That’s what’s your dad always told you to do if something bad happened. “Find the nearest phone or adult. Call me or Tommy or this number, okay? 911. Remember that number babygirl.”

And you did.

You ran as quick as you could, which wasn’t all that impressive but it was fast enough for them not to notice you had gone.

By the time you had found your way back into town, Tommy had noticed. “J-Joel,” His voice wavered, fear taking hold. Tommy searched the clearing, calling your name.

Joel looked away from his limp daughter then. His heart was thumping in his chest. His ribs ached as did the wound on his side but nothing compared to the terror that tore through his whole body.

“W-where is she?” His eyes darted over the area but you were no where to be found.

“No, Tommy,” He sobbed already fearing the worst, “T-tommy not her, please.”

Tommy shuddered. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real. You were just here. Sarah was just here.

“Joel,” He began until he heard shrill, painfully familiar scream from off in the distance.

“No,” Joel cried looking down at Sarah, hesitating just for a moment before setting her down, “I’m sorry baby.”

Tommy was already running at that point, hoping not to be late, not like he was for Sarah. Joel screamed your name as he sprinted - he couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t lose you, his babygirl.

When he got there he saw Tommy knelt beside a bloodied teddy bear.

Your bear.

He collapsed. Knees giving way. He pulled the bear of the ground, its white fur tormented by the red hue.

Tommy shouted your name a few times. Joel didn’t have the energy to bother. His answer was here.

You were only five. You’d never have survived on your own.

And he would never survive without you, without his girls. He hugged the bear as if it was your body and he never let go.

x

“Why’d you have a bear in your bag?” Ellie teased as she caught sight of an fluffy ear sticking out.

Joel clenched his jaw, stuffing the teddy back inside. “What?” She laughed innocently, “Is it for your bad dreams? Chase the monsters away?”

The man grunted, discarding the bag on one of the chairs - away from Ellie’s view, “None of your business.”

Ellie frowned as she caught his eye. The brown was darker than usual, which was really saying something. They were empty, hollow but at the same time watery. Like he was one step away from crying. She shook the thought off - this was Joel she was talking about. Joel never cried, not in front of her - not really... She didn’t even think he could cry. But his eyes told her something else. They told an unspoken story. One she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But one, at the same time, she needed to hear.

“Sorry,” She mumbled, moving into the living room of the house Tommy and Maria had given them.

Joel sighed as she did, guilt running through his veins. “Sorry,” He called out, gruffly, stopping her in her escape. Ellie turned back waiting for him to continue. “it was...” He cleared his throat roughly, “The bear was my daughters.”

“Oh,” She whispered, looking up at the man with sympathy, “If i had known it was Sarah’s... i wouldn’t have said anything.”

Joel sucked in a breath, turning towards the cupboards behind him, grabbing a cup. “Wasn’t hers,” He corrected trying not to let his voice catch on the lump forming in his throat.

“What?” Ellie dared a step closer, “But Sarah was... is your daughter.” Joel bit his tongue, forcing himself to face her again. “Joel?”

He let out a watery sigh, eyes set on the ground, “I had... i had another daughter.” He spoke your name softly but with fear. He hadn’t said it in years - he couldn’t. He hadn’t spoken about you in nearly 20 years either. He hated to talk about you. It was hard enough letting Ellie in, letting her know about his past, about Sarah. But it was too hard to say your name. You were only a baby. His baby.

“I didn’t know. You never mentioned her,” Ellie almost felt guilty asking - like this was something she should’ve known. That she should’ve known wasn’t something you just bring up.

“Yeah,” He scrunched his face a little, the feeling of your loss rushing back.

He thought and he believed for a time that if he didn’t talk about you, about the way he failed you then all that hurt would go away. He was wrong. He saw you every night in his dreams. He saw the woman you grew up to become. He saw your smile and heard your laugh. But then he’d wake up alone. He was always alone.

The worst was when the dream felt real. You were a baby again, Sarah was young too. It was just the three of you. You’d be doing something mundane - watching TV, eating dinner, whatever. He’d have conversations with the pair of you, forgetting that none of it was real. He’d hold you to his chest, sing to you, make you laugh. He’d dance with Sarah to their beat up radio in the kitchen. He would watch you take your first steps, say your first words, form your first smile.

But he’d always wake up. He hated waking up.

“How old was she?” She dared to ask.

Shakily he replied, “Five.”

She fell silent after that. Five. Five years old. Joel lost a five year old - no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it, idiot.

Ellie thought for a moment, a question daring to fall from her lips. “But she’s wasn’t on the memorial at Tommy’s.”

Joel’s head snapped up, anger residing in his chest. Who he was mad at he didn’t know. Himself? Tommy? Ellie? You? “Tommy... he,” He huffed, “He doesn’t believe she’s gone. Holds out hope on that fucking plaque - fuckin’ delusional.”

Ellie leant against the countertop, eyes not leaving the man for just a second, “Why would he think that?”

“No body,” His voice was cold all of a sudden as if it meant nothing at all. As if he wasn’t talking about the body of his five year-old.

“But then she could be-“

“Don’t,” He snapped, “Don’t say another word.”

Ellie rolled her eyes but complied. Joel turned back to his cup, filling it with coffee he had just traded for. He didn’t speak until he was finished and even then he wished he hadn’t.

“We heard her scream... And we found-“ He grimaced, gesturing to his bag, “And we found that damn bear.”

“But,” She tried again.

“Ellie-“

“No, seriously, if all you found was a bear she could still be-“

Without another word, Joel stormed past her, ripping the bag open, slamming the bear onto her chest.

Ellie saw it now.

She understood the haunting look in his eyes. She understood the story it told. It was matted, showed its age. What once was white was red now.

All of it.

Not just a patch here and there.

Everywhere.

It reminded her of Joel.

“That look like she could be alive to you?” He shouted.

“Fuck,” She felt sick just looking at it let alone touching it.

“You kept it?” A voice called from behind her.

Joel met his brothers eyes. “‘Course i did,” He spoke defensively.

“Joel,” He simpered. They stared at each other for a while. Almost like they were having a silent conversation.

Until Joel spoke, “It’s all i have of her left.”

And there was nothing else to say.

x

Years had gone by since they had gotten to Jackson. And things were surprisingly good. Eerily good. It was the type of good that Joel knew deep down wouldn’t last. It was the type of good that only existed before this mess.

Every morning he would wake up here he had a weight on his chest. A feeling that something was going to happen. This was the calm before the storm, he’d remind himself.

He didn’t tell anyone about it. He couldn’t. He’d just sound paranoid.

Him and Ellie were on a run. It was simple - it always was. The people in charge at the commune never liked to overstep - go to far. Never liked to do what Joel craved.

All they had to do was scope out a few cabins that were spotted deep in the woods. Ellie had jumped at the proposition as soon as Tommy had suggested it. She hated being cooped up for so long - Jackson could only give you so much freedom.

And just because Ellie agreed he knew he had to as well. There was no way in hell he’d let her go out risking her life when there was no way he’d be able to save it.

Getting there was the easy part. The horses at Jackson were a godsend. When they got there the place was still. Ellie gave Shimmer a soft pat before joining Joel who was stalking up to the door. He knocked first - not out of curtesy, just to attract any infected that it may hold. Because that’s what they expected. But Joel should’ve known better.

Joel should’ve thought about their biggest threat - people.

They had only cleared two rooms when Joel felt the cold sting of mental on his temple.

Ellie gasped but kept her gun up, eyes trained on the figure that held Joel’s life in their hands. “Put it down,” The voice ordered.

“Like hell I will,” Ellie retorted, finger edging closer to the trigger.

“I said put it down or the old man gets it,” She forced the barrel against his head - so hard he was sure it would bruise.

“Jesus, fuck, okay,” Ellie mumbled, slowly setting her gun on the floor infront of her, “Just let him go?”

The woman laughed, “So you can kill me, yeah, no thanks.”

“We can work this out,” Joel tried, hands raising to show he was unarmed but it only aggravated her more. Her arm wrapped around his neck, making him stumble back into a chokehold.

“Hey!” She yelled at Ellie as she reached for a gun. The teen stopped, taking a few steps back.

“Just put it down. We can work this out,” Joel proposed, gasping as she applied pressure to his neck, “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bullshit,” She spat, breathing heavily, “What the fuck else are you here for then, huh?”

“Supplies,” Ellie told her, “We’re from a commune-“

“Ellie-“

“We can take you back there - help you. If you just put the gun down.”

“Bullshit,” The woman removed the gun from Joel’s head aiming it now at Ellie, “You’ll kill me the first chance you get.”

Ellie shook her head, going to respond before Joel gripped the woman’s arm flipping her over. She gasped as she forcefully hit the ground, splinters from the wooden floor embedded into her spine.

Her breathing picked up, hand scrambling to get to the gun he had knocked out of her hand but a foot stopped her.

Joel’s boot pressed harshly against her wrist, “Don’t.”

“Christ Joel,” Ellie huffed, “You scared the fuck out of me.” Joel watched her as she reached down to get her discarded gun. Ellie laughed as she caught her breath, “Where the hell did that come from? You’re like 80.”

“Ellie,” He scolded with a strict look.

“Right, sorry,” She chuckled.

“So this is when you kill me then,” The woman heaved, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Joel turned to her then, catching her eyes for the first time. He faltered, boot leaving her wrist as he took a step back.

She was a spitting image of... you.

No.

“Shouldn’t’ve tried to kill us, i guess,” Ellie retorted humourlessly.

“You came into my house,” She shot back.

“This is your house,” Ellie muttered, “Needs some work. Right, contractor?” She shot a look over her shoulder at Joel. The man was pale, breathless. His eyes were trained on his attacker with a foreign look she couldn’t decipher.

“Joel?”

“Name,” He ordered, gun pointed down at her but both of them could see it shake.

“What?” She coughed, struggling to understand the strangers.

“Your name, what is it?” He yelled.

“Jesus,” She almost let herself laugh - she would’ve if she wasn’t so shit scared.

Joel gave her a stern look so she said it. She spoke your name.

Ellie’s lips parted, confusion leaving her face, “Holy shit.”

Joel’s expression crumbled as did the grip on his gun, which now hung loosely at his side. “Last name?” He asked, voice a mere whisper.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Answer.”

“It’s Miller, Christ,” She answered, “What the hell is the matter with you people?”

Joel’s knees felt weak, his breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. You died. You were gone.

“Joel is she-“

“Stand up,” He told you.

Hesitantly you did as he said, struggling slightly as your injuries caught up to you. Seeing this Joel stepped forward, hand outstretched. With an odd look in your eye you took it - ignoring how the mans eyes lingered on it for a second too long.

“Are you alone?” Fearfully you shook your head. “Where?” He ordered.

You shook your head again, “Please don’t- You can’t. I was just trying to protect her.”

“Who?” Ellie spoke up, despite it not feeling like her place to be in this conversation.

“M-my,” You started but a cry interrupted, echoing through the cabin.

You didn’t think for a second before you ran out of the room. Joel cursed as you did, going to rush out after you before Ellie spoke up, “What are we doing here, Joel?”

“I-“ He paused, shaking his head and leaving the room.

“Is it her?” She questioned, following closely behind him, “Is it really her?”

He gave her stern look as he entered the room you escaped into. His eyes blurred as he saw you with a baby to your chest.

“Please don’t,” You held up your free hand, stopping them, “You can’t- not her.”

“Holy fuck,” Ellie gaped, “You have a fucking kid!”

“Ellie!” The baby fussed in your arms, cries escaping despite your comfort.

“Please leave,” You beg, “Just let us go. I know i messed up. I didn’t want to hurt you guys but i- i couldn’t let you find her.”

“It’s okay,” Joel spoke softly, a type of softness you wouldn’t expect a man like him to be capable of. He holstered his gun, carefully and moved his hands where you could see them.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” He told you, “Ellie, put your gun away.” Ellie did as he said.

“So leave,” You pulled your child closer to your chest.

“We can’t do that,” Joel said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s-“

“Ellie, don’t,” He cut her off, turning back to you, “We weren’t lying before. We have a commune - it’s safe. You’ll be safe there. You both will be.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, repeating the same question, “Why?”

“B-because you’ve got a kid,” He lied, “We can’t leave you here to die.”

“I don’t trust you,” You frowned. Joel mirrored your action, looking around the room at the makeshift cot you had constructed. He felt his heart ache when he spotted a blood stain on the carpet in the corner - you had given birth here, alone. You went through that alone.

“Please,” Ellie spoke up, “You won’t survive out here. You need somewhere safe. And maybe you don’t trust us, that’s okay but we’re honest. We want to help you.”

Hesitantly, you nodded after a few minutes, anxiety building in your chest.

Joel’s eyes were still stuck to the bloodied patch and he was reminded again of how he failed you. How he failed Sarah. He thought about that damn bear. The bear that he thought was the last part of you he had. And despite the pain in his chest and the ringing in his ears he was so glad he was wrong.

“What’s her name?” Ellie asked as she took a tentative step forward.

You didn’t flinch, you wanted to but a part of you, a naive, childish part, wanted to believe them. “Sarah,” You returned, pinching your girls cheeks causing her to smile.

Joel’s eyes filled with tears, tears he had been trying to suppress for the past 20 minutes. For the past 20 years.

Sarah. His Sarah. Your Sarah.

Ellie’s eyes snapped to Joel. He almost felt embarrassed, showing this side of him. Showing his weakness.

“She’s beautiful,” He whispered.

You smiled as he spoke, kissing the side of Sarah’s head. “She is,” You kissed her again before whispering - more to her than them, “My babygirl.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #the last of us #the last of us imagine

[apocalypseornaw]

Fantasies

Dean Winchester x Reader

You start having dreams about the eldest Winchester which puts a strain on your friendship

You groaned lightly from the tightness in your side, it was decorated vibrant shades of purple from the last hunt. All of you were currently sticking to the bunker and licking your physical or mental wounds until the next case called.

You walked out of your room trying to decide if you wanted to go in search of coffee or just wander through the stacks in the library. Sleep wouldn't find you and your mind wouldn't allow you to simply lay in bed.

You ended up deciding on a bottle of water before going in search of a book to busy your mind until maybe exhaustion would win out. You walked quietly into the library and was surprised to find you weren't the only occupant of the bunker still up.

Dean sat at the table, an open lore book in front of him but you could tell from the look in his eyes his mind was on anything but the book. "Dean?" You called and he startled slightly which honestly shocked you. No one snuck up on Dean.

He smiled when his eyes landed on you "What are you doing up sweetheart? You got pretty banged up" you rolled your eyes despite the smile slipping onto your face. Of course he was worried about your side when Sam had to put his left shoulder back into place. "I'm fine Dean. Are you ok?"

He nodded then stopped "No, I'm not. Can we talk?" You laughed lightly "We're talking now Winchester" he narrowed his eyes at you so you grinned "Sorry" then walked over to sit next to him but instead he grabbed your hand at the last moment and directed you to the table in front of him.

It wasn't unusual for any of you to end up sitting on the table during a rundown of a hunt but that was when it was all three of you and you were fully dressed. Now you were wearing the long tshirt you'd worn to bed and a pair of boys boyshorts that barely covered everything. You sat down in front of Dean and pressed your legs together, pulling the shirt down "What's wrong Dean?"

He leaned forward, tentatively putting one hand on your bare leg "You" "Me?" You asked and he nodded "Jody may have let somethings slip to me" you felt your face warm, why would she do that? You'd told her in confidence. "I know you don't feel the same about me Dean" you barely whispered, keeping your eyes down on your lap.

He leaned forward to catch your face in one of his hands, forcing your eyes to meet his "How do you know I don't? How do you know if you're not the only thing ever on my mind? How I hate you wearing this damn outfit to bed because if I ever catch Sam looking I'm gonna knock his head off. How I'd give anything to bend you over this table and show you just how much I feel the same about you"

By that time he'd moved from his chair to be standing between your legs, one hand holding your face while the other was still on your leg. You could feel your heart in your throat when you saw the hunger in those gorgeous green eyes that was watching your every move. "Show me" you whispered and a grin worked its way onto his face. He caught your lips in a bruising kiss as you felt his hand slid up your leg to your inner thigh. When his fingers brushed over your clothed core you moaned lightly and he smirked against your lips "Damn that's a beautiful sound"

He slipped one finger under the shorts and groaned when he realized you weren't wearing any panties. He plunged two fingers into you and your hips bucked up towards him. His eyes went from your face down to watch as he fucked you with his fingers "So damn pretty,coming apart on my fingers. Can't wait to feel that little pussy stretched around me"

He caught your lips again, slowly exploring your mouth with his own as he worked you closer to that edge. The moment his fingers grazed that spot inside of you, you clenched hard around his fingers and he moaned "Fuck, baby I'm trying to take this slow but you're making it hard"

You pulled back from the kiss just long enough to slip your shirt over your head, leaving you completely bare from the waist up "Take it slow later Dean but for now please just fuck me like you want me" He closed his eyes just for a second but you could see his jaw clench tightly. When he opened his eyes they were a darker shade of green and fuck his voice sounded deeper than usual when he said "Yes ma'am"

"WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY. WE GOT A CASE" Dean's voice booming through your bedroom door jolted you awake. Your heart was pounding wildly and you were fairly certain your panties were soaked. Fuck. These dreams about Dean had started months ago, they had been sporadic at best but now it was beginning to be a reoccurring thing. How the hell could you keep living in close quarters, hunting side by side when the one thing you wanted from him you knew you couldn't have?

Reality

#Dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

[jinxed-lemon]

Been thinking about Sonic and Tails and how after a few years the two of them finally feel comfortable enough to start treating each other in that mean way that only siblings can be.

He’d never joke if it was something serious- but whenever Tails gets a wound like a scratch or a bruise Sonic will give it a long, hard look while clicking his tongue and say, “I’m sorry bud, but we’re gonna have to amputate :(“ and Tails will magically pull out a hacksaw saying ‘bet’ and Sonic has to wrestle it away from him.

It’s hot outside and Sonic is too lazy to get his own drink so he stands there begging Tails to let him have a quick sip of his:

Sonic: pls just one sip and I’ll give it back

Tails: …5 seconds and that’s it

So Tails gives him the drink and Sonic is being dramatic like “thank you so much bro this means a lot to me”. And Tails stands there watching as Sonic slurps down the rest of his drink until theres nothing left and his brother hands him the empty cup back like “that hit the spot thanks dude :)”. Tails looks down at the empty cup in his hand then back at Sonic and he just full force smashes the cup to the side of his head, water and ice just splashing everywhere.

Tails is working in his lab and every time Sonic goes to visit him and catch up he will always ALWAYS leave the door open when he leaves. Tails will yell at him to leave it closed and Sonic never listens, he’ll just stand there in the door and go 🤷‍♂️ until Tails chases him around the house. Sometimes Tails will legitimately just lock the door and Sonic will scratch outside like a dog kicked out of its home.

Tails is throwing a tantrum and just being particularly snarky and Sonic will always say stupid stuff like:

Sonic: “I literally gave birth to you???”

Tails: “Mf no you did not ☠️”

They make a bet about who can embarrass the other the most in front of strangers. They’re out getting ice cream or something and Sonic is letting Tails choose a flavor at the front, and the worker is talking to them like “how nice that your brother is taking you out for ice cream”. Tails look up at her with a big smile and says, “It sure is. It’s the first time this month since he’s let me out of the house. I’ll have to enjoy this while I can!! 🥹”. The lady looks horrified and Sonic grabs Tails by the scruff of his neck and tries to de-escalate the situation.

Sonic: ahahaaa wowie!!! Kids sure do say the funniest things am I right?? 😁

Tails: 🦊🍦

They’re out shopping and it’s kinda busy and so Tails slips away while his brother is preoccupied and leaves to go do his own thing. An hour passes by and Sonic has already left when Tails sends him a message saying “You forgot me in the store :(“ Sonic goes through the 100 stages of grief before sprinting back and freaking out thinking he’s the worst brother ever and Tails has already been at home waiting for him to get back just to laugh in his face.

Sonic is hyping up Tails to their fans and he playfully ruffles his head and goes, “Yep! He just learned how to tie his own shoes, I’m hoping that he’ll learn his alphabets soon enough. ☺️” and Tails dies on the inside bc now all these people think he’s a second grader.

Mean sibling bonding at its prime.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/jinxed-lemon/743795378027184128/miles-tails-prower-enthusiast

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic and tails #tails the fox #unbreakable bond

[bet-on-me-13]

Stranded Danny AU

Danny gets pulled into a faraway Dimension by a Villain one day, just after the events of Phantom Planet. He is barely 15.

He has no way to get back, but he does manage to unlock the power to make Portals. Unfortunately, none of the dimensions he ends up in are his own, and none have enough Ectoplasm to open portals for very long. It takes up to a week to scrounge up enough Ecto to open a single Portal into the next dimension over.

And none of these worlds have Technology strong enough to take him home either. The few times he did find some tech that could potentially get him home, it never worked or it was destroyed before he could finish it.

He spends well over 30 years of his own Personal Timeline trying to get back to his home dimension, constantly gathering scraps of Ectoplasm and Tech until the day he eventually collected enough to build a safe way home.

But time does not pass the same across dimensions.

What to him was a 30 year long Journey, was actually just 10 for his home Dimension.

And they had to move on without him.

Sam became a Business Woman who used her money to fund Nature Preservation Organizations. She hired Pamela Isley and helped her through her powers when she became Poison Ivy (still a Villain, but secretly working for Sam)

Tucker got a high ranking job at Star Labs, and helped Cyborg come to terms with his new life when he became a cyborg. He even helped upgrade his tech a few times.

Jazz became a successful Psychiatrist, and now works under Daina Lance as one of the Justice League's top Therapists, specifically their Child Psychologist for young Heroes

Ellie took his place as a Hero and became the new protector of Amity after he dissappear. After the Justice League was formed, she joined them and became one of their best members, always working and nor really taking many breaks.

They always wondered what happened to Danny, and spent many years trying to figure out what happened to him, but never succeeded. They finally began to assume that he was fully dead after a few years of searching. They had enough time to come to terms with it.

...

So one night, while a 22 yr old Ellie is resting on one of her rare days off, she gets called in by the League about a possible Dimensional Breach near her Home Town. JLD was deployed to investigate, and she was asked to tag along since she was the Resident Hero of the area.

But she refuses, thinking it's just some random ghost trying to enter the Living Realm illegally after she began regulating the Portal. JLD would be able to handle it on their own, let her sleep on her day off!

Meanwhile, JLD has located the spot where the Dimensional Breach is about to appear. They surround the Area, and prepare to interrogate whoever is about to appear, or deal with them if need be.

Space begins to tear apart as the fabric of Reality breaks apart at the seams. And from that wound in existence, an Adult Danny steps out. He is 44 years old, and looks like a less buff version of Dan without the mustache (basically imagine Danny as Ford Pines from Gravity Falls)

The JLD can sense that he is strong, but not too much so. It feels like he is powerful, but like that power has been starved for a while.

"Who are you?" Asks Wonderwoman, ready to jump into battle if needed. "What are your intentions in this World?"

Danny ignores them. He is staring into the Night Sky, eyes wide. The Constellations he hadn't seen in 30 years were there. The stars were in the right locations. He takes a deep breath, tasting the amount of Ectoplasm in thr Air. This is it. He's home. He's finally home.

"Finally" He says breathlessly. A slightly manic Grin on his face.

"What the hell does that mean?" Demands Constantine. The grin had unsettled him, and he began preparing a few spells just to be sure.

Danny ignored him again, this time deciding to close his eyes and finally eat his fill of Ectoplasm for the first time in 30 years. He was ravenous, this was the first decent Meal of Ectoplasm he had been able to have in 30 years. He was giddy, he was so happy to finally be home.

However the Heroes didn't know what was happening. All they knew was that some guy had ripped a hole in reality, said "finally" with a crazy grin on his face, and started emitting a dangerous amount of Death Energy for no apparent reason.

Constantine reacts on impulse, trying to cast a Banishing Spell on this guy.

Danny, feeling the spell begin to pull him away from his home after he had just found it again after Thirty. Fucking. Years. Does something that he would consider reasonable.

He quickly dashes over to Constantine and slams him through a tree.

This sparks a fight between Danny and the JLD. And at first he is having some serious trouble, but as he continues to feed on Ectoplasm and recover his strength, he becomes progressively more Powerful. It comes to the point where the JLD can't keep up anymore, and call in Backup.

Ellie was enjoying her night off, but the desperate Call from JLD about a powerful Entity at the edge of Amity finally got her going.

She rushes over and slams into Danny just as he is about to attack Constantine again. Neither of them recognize eachother, since they have changed since they were kids (Danny moreso) and continue to Duke it out.

Ellie is trying to banter with him, but Danny is really angry at this point. So he resorts to his final attack, his Ghostly Wail.

He levels a good chuck of the Forest, and in the end he is standing over Ellie as his anger fades. He says "Sorry" and he starts taking a look around him to see if there is anybody else.

Ellie is on the ground, shaken because she recognized that power.

She gets up, and asks "Danny?"

Danny finally gets a good look at her and says, and says "Ellie?"

Meanwhile JLD still has ringing in their ears and thinks that Ellie just called Danny "Daddy"

(Which makes sense because of the new age difference)

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Danny phantom #Dc #Dcu #ellie phantom #Danielle Phantom #Planes walker Danny #Danny is stranded on the other side of the Multiverse #He can't open a Portal to the Infinite Realms #Danny has not had a decent amount of Ectoplasm in 20 years #Aged up Characters #Angst #Justice League Dark #The Justice League #Dimension Travel #Danny traverses the multitude like Ford Pines

[butwhyduh]

honestly jdk just tim drake x reader where one/or multiple of the batfam walks in?? i just find them entertaining, or they are continually being interrupted through the day!

Warning: eventual smut and Tim is done with everyone’s shit. If it’s not the end of the world, don’t call me- level done. And you can tell it’s fanfic because Tim is actually an adult.

Tim didn’t get into shows very often. He’s busy and he has a terrible habit of falling asleep after the first 10 minutes. He didn’t want to watch the show but he was tinkering with some of his tech while sitting on the couch and you put it on. And that’s how he got sucked in.

“And Daphne said yes to that? Drew is not good enough to lie to her friends over,” he said and you started telling him the backstory.

You binge watch the next few episodes to catch up to the new season. It was a fun and scandalous show, nothing like Tim’s usual picks. And he thought it was cute how animated you were when talking about the show.

“Trevor needs to get his shit together or not only is Naomi going to leave him, he’ll go to jail,” Tim said.

“Yeah but he owes the local crime boss money and he said he’d kill his family otherwise,” you countered.

“Sounds like Gotham,” Tim quipped. You lightly smacked his arm before laying your head on his shoulder and entangling your arm in his.

“That is not comforting,” you said. “Oo they’re going to tell us who took the diamonds!”

The bat phone started ringing almost off the coffee table. You groaned and let Tim go to sit up to answer that.

“The corner of 17 and Parkway? How many combatants?” He said in Bat speak. And that’s when you knew your date night was over. He hung up and turned to you looking apologetic.

“I have to go,” he said. You sighed but pulled him into a hug.

“Be safe. I’ll be here,” you said with practices familiarity. He kissed you before grabbing his stuff and leaving. He didn’t get back until hours later with some fresh bruises and a girlfriend asleep on the couch.

It was 2 days later that you tried to continue the show. Tim had told Bruce to call someone else first. The door was locked and his phone was on silence. You’d even given him some pretty good incentives if you were uninterrupted and alone after the show.

It was all of ten minutes into the continued episode with pho takeout on the way that the fire escape window opened. In flopped Nightwing covered in mud.

“No,” Tim groaned. You huffed before pausing the show. “Do you need help?”

“Only a bit,” Dick said as the understatement of the year. He let Tim look at him to find that he was leaking blood all over the carpet from a bullet wound in his thigh. “Only a graze. Do you have a bandaid?”

“Good lord,” you replied as Tim called Alfred. You quickly grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

It was a few hours later and a carpet cleaner before Nightwing and your carpet were patched up. By that time it was the middle of the night and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. Tim promised a date night another day.

This one was a whole week later. All of the Robins had been warned under pain of torture to not talk to Tim for that evening. Because Tim was to put it mildly, frustrated. You two hadn’t had alone time in over a week.

You started the show back up with all entrances locked and phones off. You were able to watch the next 15 minutes before you heard broken glass.

“Hey did you know your window was locked,” Superboy said standing in front of the window. Tim practically growled before pausing the show to shove Kon out the window.

“I don’t know what you need but the other members of Young Justice are available. Call them,” Tim said but it was already too late. The wind had blown into the room and it was starting to snow outside so he couldn’t exactly ignore the window. Once again date night was canceled.

Tim was so frustrated that he had dreams about you in his bed. It was almost a week later and now 3 episodes behind on the show that you had another date night. He was almost willing to skip the show entirely at this point just to have alone time.

Tim had practically threatened everyone he knew with death threats to leave you both alone.

“Someone is feeling the mode,” Bart joked.

“You mean, someone needs to get laid,” Kon added.

“At this point, yes! I don’t want to see, hear, or think of either of you tonight. Unless it’s the  apocalypse, then I don’t want to even know about it,” he growled. The two other heroes howled with laughter as he left.

You could tell Tim was distracted and preoccupied by the way his hand gripped and squeezed your thigh. He gave you frequent kisses between scenes. As the episode ended, Tim pounced.

“Tim!” You gasped as he pushed you to lay on the couch before the credits were even done. It turned to a moan as his hand slid between your thighs to rub you through your panties.

“It’s been way too long,” he groaned as he kissed down your throat. He was almost never this aggressive and it was dizzying. He pushed your panties to the side to finger you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he hit deep inside you. His hips rubbed his hard cock against you. He pulled at your shirt with one hand.

“Take it off,” he groaned with impatience. Before you had even gotten the fabric over your head, he had attacked your chest. Pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while fingering you thoroughly had you whimpering.

You shoved down his pants to grasp him in a loose fist. Tim rutted into your hand while sloppily kissing across your chest.

“Please, want you,” you whined and he wasted no time sliding in. Your back arched with a gasp. His arm reached behind your back and Tim took his time with long deep strokes.

This pleasure cycle couldn’t last forever and you both finished far too soon. Tim kissed you softly and gently.

“We can continue this later. I think the food is here,” he said.

“Sounds good,” you said adjusting your clothes and sitting up. “I’ll be right back,” you added as you went to clean up.

Tim answered the door in his messied hair and haphazardly placed clothes. Instead of the food delivery guy, it was Jason standing with his food box. Tim frowned.

“What do you want?”

“Pizza anyone?”

“Leave,” tim growled, taking the box. Jason laughed.

“Interrupting something?” Tim almost slammed the door in his face. “Hey, I just need keys to the Robin motorbike,” Jason added. “Oh I didn’t know you watched that show. Can you believe that in last week’s episode, it was the mom all along. Wild hu?”

Tim sighed before throwing the keys at Jason. “Go away.” He slammed the door.

“Well that sucks,” you said across the room.

Tim locked the door and sat the pizza box on the table. “I’m gonna be honest, and that is that I really just want to finish what we started before pizza. I’m not picky where.”

You laughed before letting him grab you fireman style over his shoulder to drag you into the bedroom. There was no way you were answering the door after that.

#Tim drake x reader #friday night smut #red robin x reader #Tim drake smut #Red Robin smut #dc smut

[ephemeral--dreams]

Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words. 

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry? 

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever  bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but. 

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict. 

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing. 

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right? 

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later… 

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling. 

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly. 

"You don't listen to me," you tell her. 

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off. 

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not  that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable. 

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

#scaramouche x reader #yae miko x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #story unfolding

[sunboki]

⎯ THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING a Christopher Bahng fiction

💣 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. bodyguard au, demon au, friends to lovers, eventual smut, minors DNI

WORD COUNT. 6.6k words

WARNINGS. chan & han are demons(NO POLY), mentions of lucifer/the devil, eventual smut, descriptive violence, smoking, fighting, cursing, blood, wounds, drinking, reader gets drunk/passes out

PLAYLIST

AUG'S NOTES. this started as a random blurb while in the bathroom(tmi i know) but i just HAD to make a longer adaptation!! as usual, if you enjoy the fic please feel free to leave feedback & a reblog!ised ya’ll bodyguard chan would be back.. your wish is my command~

SYNOPSIS. A petty robbery leads to deep debt for Chan, a white-eyed demon occupying Hell. So eventually, he finds himself faced with no choice but to go job hunting. The best offer available? A bodyguard gig in the human realm. Oh, and the worst part? Jisung’s here too.

or alternatively :

When Chan had to leave Hell to "babysit" (a.k.a. protect) you in the human realm, he wasn’t expecting for things to turn out the way they did — in more ways than one.

SMUT WARNING. usage of the nickname “bunny” and “good girl”, somewhat hinted size kink, praise, dumbification, barely dubcon (reader gives consent ; nonverbal), creampie, chan cums inside (use protection ya’ll), monsterfucking! basically lmao

There’s an infinite list of reasons why humans shouldn’t associate with demons. But was it really all that important? Maybe the humans wanted it.

Or, maybe the demons did too.

Maybe, the demons didn’t have a choice.

What a funny thought.

Although, for Christopher Bahng, a demon himself, it was reality.

So the real question stood. Is it the humans that shouldn’t associate with demons, or the other way around?

The thought occurred to Chan at some point, but his head, ringing with the sound of silver coins clattering on glass surfaces, drowned out every ounce of sensibility. Blood, flesh, he was a demon. And right now, he had hell to pay as Lucifer’s underling. No pun intended.

Demons were an ideal choice for bodyguards, too obsessed with their own greed to pay any mind to the consequences, dogs to somebody else’s beckon, minds trained like hunting dogs.

Taking care of the dirty work, for a price.

A price that Chan needed, desperately. Because one thing demons, including himself, love doing is tormenting.

That is until he’s the victim of the tormenting, and all of a sudden the experience doesn’t feel too welcoming.

Raiding his home was an understatement considering they had utterly demolished every inch, not leaving a single fragment remaining in one piece. Granted, he didn’t cry about it. Instead, he lived up to his name, his title.

..Let’s just say he doubted the red stains would ever leave that shirt of his, metallic scent strong enough to make your nose burn.

Unfortunately, Lucifer wasn’t the greatest at forgiving, and he determined rather quickly this was only the start of his problems regardless of how sweetly the demon lord threatened explained he would dissolve Chan into ash if he ever got tired of him.

Alas, two weeks later, he gets a call.

Combing a frustrated hand through raven-colored locks, he holds the phone up to his ear, repeatedly snapping his fingers. The girl kneeled between his legs raises up begrudgingly, wiping her mouth and disappearing into his bathroom.

Well there goes a good blowjob.

Yet, finally, a job was proposed.

Multiple, according to the drone of a fumbling assistant. Jobs comprised of one he’d primarily work and occasional hitman gigs on the side.

Catch? The job was located in the human realm. Not impossible, but not as easy as sleuthing in Hell, where common folk were demons and not big-eyed, nosy, mind-your-damn-business-mortals.

The job in question? Babysitting. Specifically for Lucifer's right-hand man, otherwise known as the Devil’s Plaything. And, despite not being a demon, served Lucifer as if he was one. How cute.

Or as the trauma-induced auditor phrased it, “guarding” some girl.

“Guarding” was something he was mildly familiar with, but never a human. Never in the human realm. So when the suggestion was offered, Chan’s first instinct was to reject—remind Hell’s moderator that he wasn’t just a regular, but a demon of impressive status. A white-eyed demon, who, in fact, ranged most powerful of its kind.

His first instinct was also to punch the man working at the register of this putrid smelling burger joint right in the face, maybe frame his head as a part of a collection while he’s at it. Demons are creative like that.

Because being in this situation, nonetheless currently walking around in the human realm he swore to never step foot in has his stomach jarring.

“Chan, look at this! It’s called K-E-T-C-H-U-P, what a funny name!”

Oh. Yeah. The walking headache, Han Jisung. Forgot he’s here too.

Digging through his pockets for spare change, all he could find was a few meager pennie’s as the obnoxious noise of his demon-companion scarfing down a double cheeseburger had Chan’ jaw progressively tightening.

“Um, sir, that’s not enough to pay for-“ Without hesitation, Chan lifted his upper lip with his index, revealing the sharply pointed canines underneath and effectively silencing the apron-clad employee, frantically printing his receipt without another word.

Yes, apparently there are perks of being a hell-spawn.

Although, the burger still tasted like shit. What a shame.

Heading to the location wasn’t all too difficult, being that it was rather easy locating such an enormous property surrounded by tall, black hinged gates. The passcode… was another story.

Lucifer was likely laughing his ass off watching them try figuring this out.

“Okay, It’s probably like 666 or something- JESUS— you guys scare me sometimes.” Clutching a hand to his erratic heart with panic, a pacing Jisung nearly toppled over as his soon-to-be Boss suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gates slowly opening behind him.

He may not be a Demon, but by how nonchalantly he appeared from thin air, he seemed to gain some attributes over the years.

It didn’t take long for either of them to figure out why the title “Devil’s Plaything” was attached, because the more he toured them around this palace of a house, the more he told of his reasons for hiring them in the first place. Well, more like why Lucifer sent them here.

Easily speaking, his and Jisung’s role would be to protect you at all costs, considering your father’s current predicament (a.k.a coming under investigation for the bodies discovered in Hanuel Park). Not to mention the countless assassins sent on a daily basis, scouring the property for entryways.

Although he’s not surprised by their hesitance. This man, Yoon L/N, was the closest resemblance to the Devil on Earth.

He was terrifying, and coming from a demon, that said a lot.

Chan has to watch his tongue, because he’s not guarding another one of hell’s representatives, a creature of unprecedented rudeness and hatred, he’s guarding a human.

Someone who falls in love and cries, someone who can’t get away with murder when they’re annoyed and go uncharged.

Humans are pitiful. They’re emotional and too trusting and—

You step down the stairs.

They’re pretty and soft and really, really fucking pretty.

The sound of your father clearing his throat rips him from his trance, your trance.

He can practically sense Jisung choking on his laughter.

“Y/n, these are your bodyguards. Bahng, Han, this is Y/n,” He gestures, and Chan notes the gleaming watch on his wrist.

Best guess that thing’s averaging $70,000. Not to mention that this entire house, though naked to the human eye, is laced in traps.

Whether it’s the more hollow wooden plank on the floor that triggers some alarm or the multitude of switches under your kitchen’s island, the security system is certainly intact, and for good reason.

However, you couldn't have made Yoon L/n’s actions look more hypocritical, appearing so opposingly sweet.

“Nice to meet you,” You hold out a hand.

He doesn’t miss the half-smile you give him.

Shit. Don’t look at him like that.

Introducing themselves, you momentarily slip past, and in your stead, your father beckons either of them to the side.

“I’ll only say this once,” Yoon smiles, but it’s a leery smile, one that causes his gums to gradually show, like it’d belong to a murderer, a serial killer of some kind.

Fitting.

“Get her into danger, hurt her, or disobey my orders under any circumstances and I kill you, understood?”

And even though at the snap of a finger Chan could have this man drop dead, he believed him, both simultaneously nodding their heads without complaint.

Meeting eyes with Jisung, a common denominator sits heavy between them, most likely the first thing they’ve whole-heartedly agreed on this entire time.

This is gonna be one hell of a job.

.. .

District 9’s nightclubs are always a bust. If you’re looking for a drink without it being laced you might as well give up, and the only thing that keeps a person from getting swept away in the expansive sea of high heels, go-go boots, and awkward teenagers that miraculously managed to get past the bouncer is a lone, blinking red sign that reads “OUT”.

The first time you ever came here you never thought you’d be so relieved to open a squealing door.

Leaning against the side of the brick building sits the girl responsible for an entourage of drunk-calls and random texts of her location when she sneaks out.

Her moth-eaten sneakers are pulled up to her chest, bleached hair messily arranged into a spiky up-do while she aimlessly scrolls on her phone. Although you know she’s noticed you by now.

“I feel like..” She sighs, black mascara smudged beneath her waterline. “I should’ve taken that Vodka shot.”

You wrinkle your nose, dropping down on her left.

It’s fairly easy conversing with Ha-joon, a girl who didn’t require a reaction or a response, who didn’t talk much but had a whole pocketful of opinions. And you listened.

She swivels her head ever so slightly toward you.

“Do you think drinking a laced shot will make my life more interesting?” Her remark scarily nonchalant, you chuckle, snatching the joint from between her thumb and index and tossing it against the neighboring business’ wall in front of you.

Unfazed, she rises to her feet, pulling a Marlboro pack from her back pocket, palm cupping the lighter’s flickering flame.

“If you count fentanyl as a good time, then sure,” Lifting your chin to cock a sarcastic brow, she rolls her eyes before abruptly snapping her fingers, remembering. The sound ricochets off trash bags stashed at the furthest end of this deserted alleyway.

“You said your Mafia-daddy hired new bodyguards?”

Ah, you forgot you mentioned that.

Don’t mind the “Mafia-daddy” part.

Nodding, there’s a beat of stillness before she lightly nudges your calf with her shoe, Ha-joon’s sign for you to list some sort of detailed description for her to piece together.

This happens every time you meet somebody new. Her little guessing game before the first impression, apparently.

And so you do, spilling information to the best of your capabilities from the fifteen seconds you met them. Their hair, height, eyes (you recall Han’s especially, huge and hypnotizing like black-holes), clothing, and all the details your jumbled brain can pour out to your overly eager, easily bored best friend.

“So this Chan guy..”

One clever glance and you’re already predicting her next words.

“Does he have a big nose?” Smirk growing the darker your cheeks redden, you pathetically groan, burying your face in your hands.

Of course she’s cornered you, because you can’t deny your yes of an answer without evidently lying and digging further into your self-made rabbit hole.

Leave it to Ha-joon to secretly slip the raunchiest sentence you'll hear all night.

Smugness gradually dissipating, the barely-blonde shuffles back down, phone screen displaying countless messages you don't ask about.

Like earlier, Ha-joon doesn’t talk much, but she has a lot to say. Additionally, if she doesn’t bring it up herself, don’t mention it.

Years by her side taught you that.

“They’re only gonna get you in trouble, I have a feeling,” She murmurs prior to taking a long drag of her cigarette, lipstick shade perfectly contrasting with the soaring puff of smoke sifting from her mouth and nose upon exhaling.

She’s always been on the rougher side. Spontaneously rough, the type that would impulsively send you a text she’s going backpacking tomorrow despite an exam scheduled, the type that would continuously run away on a whim.

In essence, everyone on campus has some sort of crush on her (apart from yourself, obviously), whether it comes down to her rumbling persona or how much of a hard-core lesbian she is, you’re not sure.

You click your tongue, glaring at her flippantly.

“And that’s not doing you any better.” Musing in regards to her bad habits, she laughs lowly, low-rise jeans bagging down by her ankles while bending closer.

Your hands brace in anticipation, coughing when she blows a heavy smoke plume right in your face.

You choke a giggle, shoving her senselessly giggling frame.

“The only thing I’m letting do me is that waitress in there,” Painted nails pointing to the entrance while making utterly obscene gestures, you dramatically gag.

Well, until she spins on her heel, fetching a plastic bag holding two bottles of Cass beer from behind a metal trash can.

You tilt your head, the girl wordlessly cracking one open with her teeth and the other using the junction of her shoulder.

‘A Ha-joon thing’, you think as she hands you a glass, chilled exterior sending an unwelcoming wave of shivers throughout your body.

Your initial response is to decline, but her index to your lips shushes your reasons.

“I know you don’t drink often, but just a few sips just this once, please?” Batting invisible puppy-dog eyes, you sigh, gulping down a haphazard swig.

Last time you had genuinely gotten drunk was back in junior year of high school, all the kids swarmed in a rando’s basement, acting appropriately irresponsible for your age.

You recall your fat crush on Hwang Hyunjin (before realizing he was actually in a relationship) being the main component in getting so drunk that you blacked out, though you’re sure the highly unflattering pictures Ha-joon took would jog your memory.

Yet just a few sips was an understatement, something you should’ve known. Because conversation turns into more conversation, funny conversation, deep conversation while your wrist unconsciously lifts to your mouth till your friend transforms into nothing but a blurry figure illuminated by the moon.

And you wonder, as you feel yourself tilt further and further toward the cement below, if Ha-joon will snap unflattering pictures of this moment too, of stupid decisions leading to stupid consequences.

Most likely.

.. .

"Mmm." You mumble, face stuffed into his sleeve as Chan carries you from the alleyway, ushering a loopy Ha-joon into a taxi with a short bow.

Clad in his work attire primarily made up of black elements, he carefully places you in the back seat of the SUV and pulls off his dark coat to wrap around your body, ensuring you're fully swaddled to secure as much warmth as possible from the biting cold.

"We're going home, so hang on just a bit longer for me." The man assures, patting your head lightly before sliding into the driver's seat and pressing his foot to the gas.

Han, who was sitting in the back beside you while Chan drove, took experimental peeks at the pink-hue decorating your cheeks (evidence that you'd be drunk) to your puffy lips pursed in a pout.

He internally squeals, fiddling with his phone in his pocket, unveiled demon tail practically wagging with glee.

"Hyung, can I? Pleasee Hyung- just one photo she looks so cute–“

“No." The older of them responds sternly, one hand clutching the steering wheel.

As much as he normally wouldn’t care, this was his- their first actual order in fulfilling their duties, and Chan wasn’t willing to pay the price of fucking up Yoon’s guidelines.

His companion huffs, deflating by your side as he directs a childish frown at Chan in the mirror, only met with an equally stern gaze reading "no nonsense".

Chan had always been one to take his job seriously, not that Han didn't, he just liked having a little bit of fun jumping from side to side across those permanent marker drawn lines.

In actuality, if it weren't for his friend, Han would've never gotten the job in the first place.

Stark glowing of your houses’ lights lining the driveway ripped away his thought process, quickly intervening when your door opened.

"I can carry her," He claims, arms crossed while the older bodyguard simply cocks a brow, an action that shouldn't have Jisung shying away like he was.

There's an immense staring contest until Chan releases a hefty sigh, gesturing for Jisung to go ahead.

"If you drop her, I kill you, then myself."

This earns a giggle while Han unbuckles your seatbelt, softly cooing with you lying in his arms.

You're cute, very cute in fact.

Very off limits, in fact, he reminds himself, grip tightening the creepier he pictures your father—and it’s the adorable scrunch of your nose in discomfort that reminds him of his strength, immediately relaxing his hold.

Like Chan said, any wrong moves and they're both off the radar in seconds. Business.

The entirety of it all was a bit hilarious considering how things were when you'd first been introduced to the two, not appearing to be the type to get drunk like this, to get drunk at all in a secluded area next to some nightclub.

Chan wasn’t wrong when he said it’s always a surprise with clients.

Well, he was referring to his hitman job then, but it's still applicable in this situation, right?

…Right?

Forget it.

Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes peel open, instantly noticing the familiar smell and interior that definitely wasn't where you'd been five minutes ago with Ha-joon.

Ah. There he is.

Chan.

Peering over where you're tucked in bed, dressed in pajamas.

Hold on, pajamas?

Scrambling up and simultaneously wincing from the throbbing headache settling a dull ring in your ears, you send him an incredulous stare, face incessantly warming the longer you think about it.

Hangovers provide another of the many reasons why you don’t drink anymore, because this hellish predicament led to a single hellish explanation you certainly didn’t want to face.

"You... My clothes.." Stumbling over how to phrase it, you suppress a scowl watching the ghost of a grin make its way on his lips. Maybe you're imagining it.

One of his veiny hands reaches up to cover his eyes, leaving you to instead infatuate upon plush lips moving when he speaks.

"My job description, along with the papers you read and signed before I was hired gave me consent, but whatever I see is strictly confidential between you and I."

Gathering your sanity, you scoff, humiliation and embarrassment flooding your system at an alarming rate.

Flopping back onto the bed, you slam a pillow over your face, muttering a "strictly confidential my ass" that he had to have heard from the low laugh uttered in reply.

He stalks over, fingertip tapping the water you hadn’t noticed sitting atop your nightstand.

Cautiously stealing a glimpse out from your pillow to see where he distanced himself across the room, you finish the cup in a swift motion, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.

“You huma- You aren’t good with your alcohol, are you?” He starts, quite entertained witnessing your annoyed gaze, one which very noticeably doesn’t stay focused on his eyes.

Sucking your teeth, you slouch, mirroring his crossed arms.

You’re fine with playing feisty, and by the awfully attractive way he’s cocking his head, he’s also willing to join this biting game.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I’m never passed out and in need of someone to call for me when I go drinking.”

At this you practically hiss, grasping any futile chance to retaliate to no avail.

Opposed to his teasing nature, he drags a stool to your bedside, insisting you drink more.

Even more opposing, a gentle hand presses to your forehead, checking that you haven't contracted a fever.

To say your heartbeat pounded didn’t credit the surprise to its full extent, and thank whatever God above the experience only lasted a few more seconds, giving you plenty of time to freshen your haywire sensibility and brush your teeth before any more soul-sucking Chan run-ins continued.

You should’ve known better than to think he’d truly leave you be though, said soul-sucking bodyguard currently propped against the bathroom’s door frame.

“How did you get into this anyway? Y’know, bodyguard stuff..” You begin to ask, voice muffled from the toothbrush deterring any fully audible sentence.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have my ways.”

“Your ways?”

Within split seconds he’s right next to you, making rather intentional eye contact through the mirror.

You inhale sharply.

“Look, sweetness, my job as your bodyguard is to keep you safe,” He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “And if I tell you, I can’t guarantee that.”

There are three things you realized in that moment.

One, Chan is so, so close.

Two, he has an unfairly gorgeous face.

And three, your mouth is smeared with toothpaste.

Great.

You’d like to admit the first night of meeting these new bodyguards, more specifically Chan, went as normal and as non-Ha-joon-influenced as possible, but this effect on you causing your bloodstream to erupt in a hormonal frenzy of attraction told you the story had just begun.

.. .

"Jisung. Hold. Still! Keep moving and this wand is going in your eyeball."

Three weeks in and one thing after another has lead you closer and closer with either of them, whether it's convincing Jisung to go on ice cream runs (where Chan always ends up tagging along) or attempting to remain focused while they help you study (more like trying not to laugh at Jisung and averting your eyes off of Chan’s biceps in that muscle-shirt of his), the three of you are practically conjoined at the hip, and not on bodyguard standards.

"Okay okay! I was itchy. Can you move the piece of hair by my eyebrow?" He whines, grasping an apologetic squeeze on your waist while you focus in his lap.

You’re currently brushing mascara through his unfairly long lashes, but if anyone saw this without knowing the situation, chaos would likely unfold.

Although for you and Jisung, it's your average Friday night spent watching the weekly scary movie he’d decided on, Insidious. One he’d been commenting on for the past thirty minutes or so about how the “representation of demon’s was wrong” while you absentmindedly agreed, looping your index around the strand before abruptly stopping.

Residing slightly above his temple lay a scar, a decently sized scar at that.

Strangely enough, it's circular, like some type of horn or something had been there at some point. Maybe a biking incident?

"Ji?”

The boy's eyes drift up to you.

"What's this scar?"

Below you, he freezes, frantically thinking up the best excuse.

Lots of options, not a lot of time to decide.

"Ah.. that? When I was younger, I developed a weird kind of bump there, 'had it removed." And thankfully, you grunt a response, resorting back to applying his makeup.

Truth be told, those scars (another you hadn't seen yet) were his old horns, forced to be removed in order to initially land this job.

It still sends shivers down his spine thinking about when they had first been cut off, the recovery process resembling something out of nightmares.

Trust, the headaches were awful.

Chan, on the other hand, could keep his, considering he had the ability to conceal them on command. For Jisung, an inferior red-eyed demon with a few years beneath him and in such desperate need for income, chose the painful way through. As for his tail, that was luckily simple to hide (much to his pleasure).

Nevertheless, you could confidently say that your test-subject could easily land a modeling career after your makeover, and by the way he kept staring at the mirror, he seemed equally as enamored as you.

Well, that’s before a jumpscare leaps upon the screen and either of you shoot up, your clumsy companion whacking himself in the face with the mirror.

Staving your giggles, you try soothing the boy; you really do, but the uncannily gory scene that decorates the screen has you cringing back, and when you look at Jisung, expecting to find him cowering, your blood runs cold.

His lips are parted, but the only thing your horrified eyes are drawn to are the hooked canines peeking there. Not to mention his eyes.

Ghastly crimson, glowing.

Except when you breathe in an unsteady gasp, his head snaps to you, sudden facade appearing unaltered, like you hadn't seen something borderline terrifying.

Softly pulling your face close to him despite the screaming instinct to flee, he observes your bewildered expression, brows taut with concern.

“Y/n?”

Sweet tone contradicting, you immediately double backward toward your bedroom door, awkwardly honing the “I’m going to bed” excuse in hopes that suffices for the night.

Frenziedly closing the door, you determine rather quickly you don’t plan to go to sleep. Not that you think you could, but because this discovery isn’t normal.

None of this is normal.

How they found your location back at the alley despite Ha-joon never contacting anyone, how you “coincidentally” walked in on Chan “washing” his hands despite the water running red. Oh and you can’t forget about the rag left behind, putrid stench characteristic to a specific substance.

Blood.

You weren’t stupid. No father disappears the majority of the year on so-called “business trips” only to come back with new cuts and scratches he makes a sorry effort denying, and no daughter of his has literal bodyguards (yet you’re not sure they’re even official bodyguards thanks to your suspicions) glued to her side 24/7.

He does something dangerous, you know without doubt. But according to this hunch of yours, your father may not be the only one tied up in illegal madness.

.. .

Slipping into the car unknown to them was far easier than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on sneaking in in the first place, sure, but upon overhearing their hushed conversation regarding some type of “target”, you assumed whatever topic they were discussing may answer a select few of your billions of burning questions.

So, crouched in the floorboard of the backseat, you try muting your breathing, noting the clutter of metal sounding from your left, whatever responsible assumed to be shoved in the trunk.

Weapons. No mistaking it.

Your discovery is short-lived however, and you flatten yourself the best you can as Han twists around in his seat to grab something, already thirty minutes into your nearly secret mission.

Shit.

His shocked scream tells you enough.

Chan is fuming.

"Jisung, you told me she was asleep. So care to explain why the fuck she's in the back of the car?"

Han frantically flails. "For the record I told you she was lying down–”

"I. Don't. Care! She's not supposed to be here and all that matters right now is that she's at home and in bed, understood?"

As Jisung's lips pull into a tight line and Chan cranks the gear shift into drive, you glance around, a sudden–though risky–idea coming to mind.

"Hey, I could always tag along?"

"No!" They both shout in unison, heads jerking back to face you as if you suggested driving off a cliff.

That sounded much better in your head anyway.

Well there goes that.

Or so you thought.

Because unfortunately for them, wherever needed them needed them urgently, and through many clearly vocalized “she is staying in the car”’s, you weren’t driven home after all.

Fluorescent green lights cast an eerie glow across the perimeter, the location gnawing at your gut. An equestrian center by exterior, though there’s something else.

Wrong. You can’t explain it, but this place is wrong.

Discreetly unloading the guns, you skin crawls observing Chan messily stuff bullets into the magazine of a M240, the mere size of the thing setting your nerves ablaze. And as rightful asking questions seems, you can’t.

That feeling from earlier glues your mouth shut, like if you spoke too loudly, someone, something, would find you.

Thick foliage lay highlighted by your headlights, paving depth into sequential darkness.

You squint, zoning in on a small expanse of branches ajar. An ideal hiding spot.

Wait.

Bright flashes of iron spur your legs into motion, the switchblade cleaning slicing your wrist while mid-duck.

It forks into the car’s interior where the trunk had been opened, your cry of pain muffled by Jisung who basically throws himself inside a stall with you, the stomping of horse’s hooves muting your ragged breathing.

Firing belonging to none other than the machine gun Chan had been wielding pierces the air outside as either of you stay pressed to the stable wall, the pad of footsteps drawing nearer, causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

This is it. You’re going to die.

Much to your relief, it’s Chan, tactical holsters slightly torn, sweat beading his forehead.

The two share a look, remaining silent before delivering an eventual, affirming nod.

Short-lived.

An additional attacker sifts from the shadows, facial expression ushering no other logic than to kill.

Manic eyes, estranged eyes.

The older bodyguard spins, successfully blocking the first hit. Supplies are scattered everywhere, horses beginning to shift uncomfortably.

The perpetrator is faster, smaller, and lands a decent punch into his abdomen. However, the attack is futile, and just before he can stake his knife into Chan’s leg does the bigger man utilize his own weapon, ammunition positively bludgeoning every square inch of the assailant in baited seconds.

You understand why machine guns are strictly used for long range now.

Immediately, soft numbness floods your senses due to Han’s hands covering your eyes and ears, and you sit there for a while, blocked from the grotesque view of impalpable violence being enacted right before you.

You’d forgotten you were huddled together on the other side of the wall, too horrifically immersed.

It's strange. So much is strange.

These two men that you've grown effortlessly close to, grown effortlessly friends with, murder. Defensively in this case, yes, but they hadn’t brought those guns by chance, they brought them by intention.

Not just a twisted hobby like dissecting animals or something along those lines, but murder.

You’re sure they have their reasons, but it's difficult even imagining it. People who are extremely gentle when with you, responsible for such doings.

Talk about a duality.

The faint clatter of gun shells rattling against the marble flooring earns a subtle flinch, Jisung's hands cupping closer to your skin.

Then you smell it, what he'd warned you of no matter the cleanliness of the job.

A metallic, burning scent of blood, causing your nose to burn and your throat to grow increasingly dry.

Your stomach churns.

"You don't forget that smell" Chan had said before leaving the vehicle, and you knew what he was referring to now.

Putrid reek of rot and gunpowder beckon your lungs into fight or flight, but you remain still, ignoring the sharp sting of your wrist, bubbling blood dripping down your arm and onto the floor below, right atop your shoe.

Faint falling of bullet shells put an end to the fighting, then you’re blindly directed out the door without so much as a glance behind you. For your own good, you assume.

Hell, you’re not certain they’ll be much left of the bodies after Chan’s wrath.

As for right now, your top priority is your wrist. Swollen, skin tainted a grueling red shade.

Speeding home, you find yourself blurily recalling events, though all the little details simply swirl into strange shapes.

Shock is what it’s called. That state of monotonous wandering, occurrence too unfamiliar to take in, senses turning off. A coping mechanism of some sort.

Blearily you see the two men, talking, stepping out of the room, grabbing medical supplies. Like you’re in a time warp, dreaming. No pain, hurt.

On the other hand, your bodyguards were frantic, spewing curses and scouring the household for proper first aid materials.

Meanwhile, Chan was finally wrapping your wound in the bandages Jisung spotted, blinking madly in hopes his fogging headspace eased up.

Demons and wounds were not a good combination. Especially not human wounds.

Uncontrollable urges instructed him to tear you apart right this minute, do something, anything to quench that inexplicably demanding thirst.

Vulnerable, easy prey. His thoughts chanted, forcing him to step out of the room for a moment to where Jisung perched, close-pin fastened on his nose to block the mouth-watering smell.

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” He heaves, carding stressed fingers through matted hair.

“What, a little blood getting to a white-eyed demon?” His companion muses, hastily dodging Chan’s swinging fist. Immune to his threats.

It’s obvious to Jisung that’s only half of the story, but he’ll wait for his superior to admit it himself.

“It’s not just the blood,” He inhales deeply, gratefully accepting the water Han offered. “It’s her.”

Go figure.

To be honest, Jisung wasn’t good at pretending.

Well, in terms of lying he was a natural (a given, after all), but pretending he hadn’t caught onto his friend’s enormous attraction to you was technically impossible.

Quite surprising though, to think such an arrogant demon would’ve ended up like this.

Susceptible, willing. For a human.

Who would’ve thought.

.. .

It’s nothing short of a roller coaster regaining your stable consciousness. Chest wracking, world spinning. You’re situated in bed, injury carefully wrapped(though you can’t recall by who).

The doorknob rattles, and in walks Chan, except, you don’t feel happy, relieved.

Scared. You feel extremely scared.

“What- What are you?” Waver revealing your anxiousness, you curse the subtle tremble.

He smiles.

“Aren’t you a perceptive little one,” His voice dips lower, and as he edges closer, you find yourself pressing further into the pillow behind your head.

“I’m sure you’ve had your suspicions, so I’ll make it easy for you.” He lifts his curls, two perfectly placed horns residing there.

“We’re demons. He and I are different species, but both demons.”

Demons.

Demons.

Instantaneously, a tidal wave or realization crashes salty water into your lungs, expertly piecing your observations together. Red eyes, horn-like scars.

How had you not caught on earlier?

Momentarily, you meet his eyes. Still brown, although you wonder how deep of a red they’d stain, glaze over stunning vermillion or dusky cinnamon tones.

“Species?”

He hums.

“Red-eyed are the best at persuasion, that’s Jisung. I’m a white-eyed demon.”

So neither crimson nor cinnamon, you decide. Perhaps pale, opal color.

“White-eyed demons are usually Satan’s lap dogs, but what lots of people don’t know,” You crane forward to hear his next words, and he leans in as well. “Is that we’re also the most desired species, the most lustful.”

Lustful.

The words don’t truly sink in, and by the time they do, it’s impossible to rip the mischievous look from his eyes.

"What’s that supposed to mean.." You grumble, avoid his darkening stare.

A subtle tap on your thigh has your attention immediately shfiting, your entire body instinctively jolting.

"You want me to show you?" He begins with a laugh, a low, husky laugh that has your stomach tying knots. Not the usual, squeaky laugh, but one that's different, very different. "But if you say yes, I’m sure no one else can satisfy you the way I can."

Your expression pinches with annoyance, a bit offed by his sudden cockiness.

Granted, he looks heaven-sent despite being a demon, and you doubt he'd be any different in bed, but c'mon now, you have a right to be suspicious.

"And how're you so sure of that?" Leaning back on your arms where he sits in front of you, you fixate on the way kinky locks perfectly line the crown of his head, one particularly messy strand tipping over to linger above chocolate pools for eyes.

"Sweetness, Jisung are I are carved out of sin, there's not a particle in our body not built to fuck."

God. Hearing "fuck" come out of his mouth shouldn't have been that attractive. Chan had always been well-mannered, well-spoken, so to hear him say something vulgar for the first time, nonetheless "fuck", effected you more than you'd like to admit.

Slowly, oh so slowly he crawls on the bed, kind tip of his head betraying sinful intent.

“You want this?” He whispers, and your arms immediately wrap around his neck, tugging him into your lips fervently, needily, with a short nod of approval between sighs and stifled groans.

Your wrist aches, but from how heated this kiss is becoming, that matter is the least of your problems.

He feels like fire, tastes like it, nectarine on your tongue.

You waste nimble time undressing, suppressing a high-pitched mewl the longer he sucks deep purple love bites into your neck and down your collarbones, likely to be bruised tomorrow.

He’s careful, learning your body, your sounds. Touch light as a feather, not enough.

He’s big, that’s a given. Head red and angry with thick beads of precum apparent, you can’t possibly think straight, his name the only sensible word falling off your swollen lips.

Chan Chan Chan.

Brows knitting as his fat head bumps your entrance, you murmur pleas, practically delusional on his pleasure, his love.

Most desired, you understand what he meant by that.

“Feel good? Yeah? That's a good girl."

You can feel your entire body keen at the praise, utterly blissful from how amazing he was making you feel.

The stretch of his fat cock has your common-sense threading dangerously thin, head falling back, fingernails raking his back. Delirious.

When he actually started moving? Yeah, you’re convinced you paid a visit to cloud nine, fucked-out brain recognizing only the squelch of your bodies connecting and the squeaky, absolutely desperate sounds he’s pulling from your throat.

Not to mention his voice, accent thickening tremendously the longer he ruined your drooling cunt.

His, his, his.

"Shit- you feel fuckin' divine," He kissed the sweaty skin of your calf hiked over his shoulder, ankle held by a strong hand while the other occupied your hip, squeezing and kneading with each heavy thrust.

Chan wasn't lying about being carved out of sin, fucking like an absolute animal to the point tears began welling in your eyes, overstimulated and euphoric beyond belief as your hands shakily reach upward.

Obediently, he lowers himself, letting you hold his face for some sense of security while feeling so vulnerable.

You pathetically search his eyes, head thrown back after one particular roll of his hips that earns a rumbling moan from the man.

Each time he bottoms out it feels like you're losing it, rubbing that gummy spot that makes your heels dig into his shoulders and your moans transform into high-pitched cries, shuddering.

"Channie- Oh fuck Channie- I can't It's too much-"

Practically gasping for air to ease the buzzing fuzziness blinding you, you cherish the equally mind-numbing kiss he soothes, pressure in your lower tummy building and building at a flying pace.

"Yes you can, bunny. 'Need to cum? C'mon, cum for me, 'atta girl." He tuts, slowing himself down with each squeeze of your cunt signaling your approaching release.

Torturous.

Nothing like this, never in all his life had he felt something like this. So delicate and fragile as you look up at him, glossy dolly eyes far too tempting.

At this point it was an obligation to stuff your pussy full.

Rolling your puffy nub in tight circles, your thighs twitch, gripping the pillow behind your head like a vice as the sharp knot in your stomach finally snaps and a near pornographic sound rips from your throat, back arching off the bed.

The sight of you has his eyes nearly rolling back, so ruined and angel-like. You're a white rose in a field of wilting grasses. Bloomed in his ill-fated fingertips.

His pants stifle, big hands holding the back of your thighs spread for him. His pace stutters, and with a gritted whine of your name he slams his hips, painting your aching cunt white.

The last thing he anticipated visiting the human realm was to find himself in this situation.

And whether he liked to admit it or not, if the Devil had your father wrapped around his finger, you had him tied up without a chance of escape.

So while you both scrambled to clean up your evidence and not fall over your own feet hearing Jisung clumsily drop a clattering frying pan in the kitchen, he thinks, if only for a second, he’d be okay with it.

Being yours, that is.

FIC TAGLIST. @y-ur--i @atinism @darknova2319 @producedbyhanjisung @knightoftime21 @leonswifesstuff

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#stray kids fluff #straykids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids smut #straykids smut #skz smut #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #bangchan smut #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut

[tomblythismyhusband]

delirious [tom blyth x fem!reader]

[summary]: tom blyth x fem!reader | anon request | After a rough motor cycle accident, your best friend Tom finds himself in the hospital. When you go to see him he’s drugged on pain meds and confesses things that he wouldn’t have said sober.

[warnings]: 18+, MDNI, language, friends!to!lovers, drug use, blood, injury

[wc]: 1.7k

[note]: let me kiss his wounds please [thank you anon for the request!!!!!!!!!]

You paced around the busy hospital waiting room, nails between your teeth. Biting your nails was an old habit that you’d kept at bay until now. You just couldn’t help it. Your chest felt heavy with anxiety as you walked restlessly.

Being at the hospital was not how you expected your Thursday night to go. Around 5:00 PM you received a call that your best friend(and… crush), Tom, was admitted into the hospital after having a nasty motorcycle mishap which resulted in a broken leg among many other scratches on his body. You’d always told Tom how much you hated that motor cycle of his. You could practically see yourself now, standing in his kitchen lecturing him on the dangers of the vehicle while he shrugged off your words with a smirk.

God- how much you wanted to tell him “I told you so”.

What was taking so long? When can I see him? You wondered as you let out a deep sigh of frustration. You decided to go to the front desk again. The first time you went- well they told you to wait, but you needed to see Tom desperately.

Tapping your foot, you waited in line behind two other people. Finally it was your turn. The desk lady gave you a bored look and before she could even greet you you cut her off.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I need to see a patient. He should be under the last name Blyth.” You said urgently.

The lady blinked, then let out a sigh of annoyance. “I can check with the nurses to see if he’s okay enough to be seen. Now please- go sit.”

You stayed in front of her desk, lips parting. “Please I really need to now-“ You started to protest before the lady held up a hand, signaling you to stop.

“Sit. Please.” She said fiercely, causing your cheeks to heat with slight embarrassment at your persistence. You nodded quietly and walked back into the waiting room.

You plopped down into one of the gray cushioned seats, uncomfortably shifting to calm your nerves. After a few minutes of waiting a nurse finally came in and called your name. Finally the torture of waiting was over.

You jumped up from your seat and rushed over to the nurse that called your name. She was a short woman, plump, she looked warm and loving and with the amount of stress weighing down on you, you were tempted to give her a hug. She had a clipboard in her hands and looked at you expectantly as you approached.

“Y/N?” She said sweetly looking at you.

You nodded your head, folding your arms to hug your torso. “Mhm.. That’s me.”

The woman flipped through some papers on the clipboard she carried and squinted as she read. She then looked back up at you. “Tom’s alright, just a broken leg and some other scratches.”

“Can I please see him?” You asked urgently. You were tired of asking this question at this point. Just let me see the goddamn guy.

The nurse frowned. “Oh honey… he’s on so many painkillers right now- I don’t think he’d even know what was going on.” You shook your head, frustrated.

“No- please. Just let me. I can’t wait anymore.”

The nurse flipped through some of the pages on her clipboard again before nodding and giving you a small smile. “Alright… I’ll take you to his room.”

Your heart leapt with triumph as the nurse slid her keycard in the little reader next to the door that would take you back into where the patients were. You followed the nurse closely, almost out of breath on how anxious you were to see him.

The long fluorescent lit hallways of the hospital were enough to make you feel a bit uneasy as you rapidly approached the wind of the hospital where Tom was being held.

When you came to his door the nurse nodded and motioned a gentle hand, telling you it was okay to open. You creaked open the door slowly, you could hear the TV playing some sort of sports game from the inside.

Your eyes then landed on Tom, lying in the hospital bed, with his finger clamped to a heart monitor. The subtle beeping of the monitor made you thankful that he was even alive. As you stepped into the room you could see some of his injuries more clearly. Tom’s face was scuffed up, but the most noticeable thing about it was the split lip that was all irritated and bloody. He must’ve hit it on his helmet when he fell. Tom’s leg was already put in a cast and elevated, and there were bloody marks on his hands.

The stupid bastard must’ve not worn his gloves like usual. Shit.

But even all bloody and scratched- he still managed to look gorgeous.

You crept closer to the side of his bed. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing the planes of his face. He looked so peaceful at that moment. You turned to the nurse who was still standing in the doorway, watching.

“Would it be okay if we were alone for a moment?” You asked quietly. The nurse though for a moment then nodded.

“20 minutes.” She said with a tone that said “don’t you dare argue with me”.

You hated that she was giving you a time limit but you would take whatever you were given at this point. You watched as the nurse left, closing the door gently behind her.

Finally alone, you directed your attention back to Tom’s restful state. You took a hand and gently brushed the curls off his forehead. You watched as he stirred, a throaty moan escaping his lips as his eyes fluttered open.

“Hey..” You said softly, removing your hand from his face. You didn’t know if it was pushing things to even lay your hands on him, but you were worried about your best friend.

Tom mumbled back incoherently for a reply.

“You ok? You know I told you this motorcycle thing was a bad idea..” You couldn’t help but take a jab at him for the motorcycle, though he might not even remember it because of all the drugs he was on at the moment.

Tom gave a wry smile in response.

“Y/N…” He murmured, looking up at you dreamy eyed. Fuck- he was high out of his mind.

“Tom.” You said back softly. A part of you wanted to start scolding him but you knew right now wasn’t the time. You heard the beeping of his heart monitor increase and your gaze flicked to one of his hands which he was trying to move.

“Hey- rest, don't move.” You whispered, placing one of your hands on his to stop him from moving it.

Tom’s face melted into a grin. “Y/N…” He said again, but this time his skin seemed to flush with color.

You nodded curtly. “Yes- it’s me.”

Tom blinked at you for a second. You couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind at the moment.

“God- you're so beautiful.” He murmured, his blue eyes stuck on you.

You felt the breath sweep out of your lungs. What? Beautiful?

“Uh- Than-“ You started before Tom’s slurring voice cut you off mid sentence.

“I wish you were kissing me right now.. Did you know that?” He murmured. You gazed at his face, a lazy smile spread upon his lips. You were taken aback by his words. He was just high.. he didn’t mean it. Right?

“Tom.. you're on a lot of meds.. you're not thinking straight.” You said softly, rubbing a thumb over his hand gently, as if you were soothing him.

Tom attempted to shake his head, the soreness of his body making him wince. “No.” He murmured.

You cocked an eyebrow. Almost nothing coming out of this man’s mouth was making sense.

“No….? What?” You asked, trying to get clarification. Tom’s face was still in a dreamy expression as he looked at you.

“Y/N… I love you.. I want…” He trailed off, eyes fluttering. Your heart began to thump in your chest, warmth bleeding throughout your body. You’ve had a crush on Tom for what seemed like forever and now… now he was saying exactly what you’d dreamed about. The words coming from his lips filled you with happiness, but you didn’t know if you should take them seriously. He was high after all.

You shook your head slowly. “Tom you don’t mean that..” You whispered.

Tom looked at you for a moment. “I’ve never.. meant anything more in my life.. I want you Y/N.” He slurred.

You leaned closer to him, your hand still on his as your faces became mere inches apart. “Can I kiss you?” You asked gently.

“Please.” He murmured back, his eyes drooping shut. You tilted your head closer to his. You could feel the steady breath of his mouth featuring against your own. Finally you closed the gap in a gentle, slow kiss. Tom led out a sound of need as you kissed him. The heart rate monitor near the bed was going off its rocker.

“Beep-beep-bee-bee-be-be-be-e-e-e-e”

When you finally pulled back, Tom looked up at you with a dazed expression. It pained you that you could kiss him harder, but you took in the face that his lips were still tender from the fall.

You spent the next few minutes numbing sweet nothings to him and kissing his face whenever he begged. Then your eyes flicked up to the clock. It had almost hit the 17 minute mark, meaning the nurse would be back soon.

You bent down and gently placed a kiss on Tom’s cheek. “I’ll be back later… you need to rest.” You whispered.

Tom sighed, taking a sluggish hand up to cup one side of your face. “You’ll come back…. right?” He slurred, eyes full of hope.

“I’ll come back..” You repeated, nodding into his hand. You then pulled away, standing up straighter as Tom’s head sank back into his pillow. You took your hand and brushed his hair off his forehead again gently. Tom closed his eyes and slipped into a restful sleep, his hands back to his sides.

You knew you would come back. There was no doubt about it. A part of you wondered if Tom would even remember his confessions, or even the kisses. You really hoped he would. You wanted him to.

When the nurse came back to get you, you gave Tom one last kiss on the forehead. You walked towards the door and looked over your shoulder one last time to look at his sleeping figure. A small smile was placed on his face.

He knew that you’d kissed him again.

#tom blyth x fem!reader #tom blyth x yn #tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fic #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth smut #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #billy bonney x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #billy the kid

[murdrdocs]

FORMIDABLE COOL. ethan landry

about. blinded by your attraction and romanticization of college, you don't realize that ethan landry isn't who he says he is until it's too late

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+ fem! reader, mean!ethan, ghostface!ethan, p n v, manipulation (!!),, choking/breath play

wc: 1.4k+

→ kinktober masterlist

Out of everyone else in the friend group, it’s easiest for Ethan to get close to you. 

Unsuspecting you, wide eyes and hopeful glances at anyone who looks your way, the desperation to live out your ‘college fantasy’ leaking from every single pore in your body. The stench of your sheer desire pulls him in, it urges Ethan to switch from that shy and dorky facade he’s put up around Chad and his friends to a more confident flair, the ego he uses while he’s behind screens on forums online. 

It’s frighteningly easy to get you to give in. All he has to do is smile and look at you twice, and suddenly you’re spreading your legs for him in a movie theater, some new film you originally seemed thrilled to see entering the third act without either of you knowing any of the key plot points. 

It’s after the first time that you cum on his fingers that you’re infected. His own personal love fool. 

Truthfully, after you meet him for the first time, taking part in an insufferable ice breaker in a group of five other people, your name has inched its way up the Bailey dead pool, sitting pretty right below the other five of the friend group Ethan is steadily infiltrating. 

You have the urge to eat, breathe and sleep Ethan Landry, your awe filled eyes glazing over any possible red flags in his behavior. You’re too busy forcing yourself into his lap and curling your hands into his hair to realize that he’s been blowing you off more often recently. You’re too busy bouncing yourself on his cock to notice the bruises he has along his back and shoulders, inflicted from someone other than you. You’re too busy grinding your face up into his mouth to take in his constant lies, times, dates, and actions that don’t line up well enough. 

It takes you impossibly long to even start to notice his act, to start to take in the inconsistencies of his character depending on who you’re around. It’s Mindy who brings it to your attention first, coming to you as a caring friend, voice softer and rash opinions heavily watered down as she approaches you like she would a wounded animal. And when you flip out on her, denial heavy on your tongue which seems drier than usual, she only smiles at you sadly and watches as you run back to Ethan, another lie inevitably fed into your welcoming ears. 

It all comes to a head on your floor. 

Worn down hardwood creaks with each shuffle. The material is rough against your bare legs. The playlist you had going has ended, leaving nothing but the soft breaths from you and Ethan to fill the silence of the bedroom. 

Your questions are spoken into the air, answered by Ethan like he’s your savior. Like he can control you. And he can. 

He has. 

His hand around your neck, his cock entering your walls over and over, the pace steady and slow, each thrust harder than the last, sending you up the wood, the rough scratch of it against your back. The words he has spoken to you – his confession – reverberate through your body, bouncing around your mind all the way down to your lungs which scream for the need of constant airflow. 

Sensing your state, his hand loosens just enough to allow air in, the rough palm still circling around your neck as he refuses to let you go completely. You fear he’ll never let you go. But even more, you fear that you don’t want him to.

You don’t realize it, but hot tears are sliding down your cheeks at this point. It’s not until he points them out that you start feeling the emotions connected to them, shame and embarrassment and guilt planting itself in your brain, manifesting throughout your body. 

“Why’re you crying, sweetheart?” His voice wobbles just enough to show you that he’s affected, too, but definitely not in the same way. He has a smile on his face, borderline villainous, opposite from the sweet and charming smile you’re used to seeing from him. Sweat beads above his eyebrow, a testament to the chase he’d led you on, followed by the slow fucking he’s been giving you for God knows how long. 

Your eyes pinch shut, a pitiful attempt to dry your tears up without the use of your hands, rendered useless and bound between your bodies. It doesn't work well, and you flinch when you feel a drop of Ethan’s sweat land on your cheek, mixing with your self-created fluid. 

You’d assumed the question was rhetorical, a taunt to remind you of your inferior status in this fucked up relationship. It’s not until he hums questioningly that you realize you’re expected to respond. 

Your eyes pinch together tighter and you shake your head, only making Ethan chuckle. 

“No? You don’t know why you’re crying?” Nothing from you. You refuse to give him more, especially when you’re already letting him abuse your cunt. Because that’s what you’re doing. 

You let him lay you back. You let him peel your legs open. You lifted your hips and moaned approvingly when he slid your panties off and inserted two fingers into your entrance. 

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” The authoritative tone is more attractive than it should’ve been, and it has you instantly doing as told, eyes opening to look into those same dark brown ones you used to love so much. 

“Why’re you crying, baby?” he asks you again. “You knew it – this – was all an act, didn’t you?” 

And when you think back, you think you did know. You deluded yourself enough to think that this was sincere, genuine, your college dream. The thought heats up your neck, it stirs something unpleasant in your chest, it has you letting out a desperate cry that quickly slips into a pleading moan. 

His hand squeezes at the sides of your throat, thumb sticking under your jaw to lift your head. “Answer me.” 

Your nod suffices as an answer, especially when more tears slide down your already blotchy cheeks. His grin grows, spreading to either side of his face, reminiscent of a cheshire cat. 

Satisfied with what you’ve given him, he plants a kiss at the center of your forehead, and you curse yourself for melting into it. It’s the last act of physical kindness he gives it, because he’s instantly gripping your hips, hiking your legs up around his waist, and fucking you with no mercy. 

You cum with the sound of Ethan’s balls slapping against your skin, mixed in an almost beautiful harmony with your quiet sobs and the unabashed squelching of your cunt around his cock, a cacophonous edge to the sounds that perfectly represents your relationship with Ethan himself.

#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #ethantobr! #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut

[cupid-styles]

sunshine girl*

Harry and Daisy decide to go steady, but not everyone is supportive and Daisy's insecurities are starting to get the best of her.

70s!harry and virgin!fmc | Content warnings: outdated views on virginity and the LGBTQ+ community, pubic hair talk (if it's not your thing that's fine!), drugs, smut!!!! (dirty talk, a little bit of anal)

Word count: 6k (a third part is coming!)

Part one |

"Harry, would you mind not groping my best friend when I'm around?"

A furious blush flowers over Daisy neck at Willow's commentary, but Harry simply rolls his eyes. Five years apart, he's used to his sister's relentless teasing and mocking words, but it's a new phenomenon for Daisy. She's accustomed to Willow always being on her side and treating her with love and kindness, regardless of what she's doing or who she' seeing.

It was safe to say that the newfound romance between Daisy and Harry took some getting used to. 

"Willow, would you mind not being such a heartless little brat?" Harry bites, and Willow immediately raises her middle finger to shove in his face. 

"I told you guys, I don't care if you're banging or whatever, just don't do it in front of me."

"Enough," Daisy finally speaks up, leaning forward and shrugging Harry's arm off of her shoulders, "I'm gonna stop hanging out with both of you if you keep freaking out on each other every time we're together."

She stands from the worn couch in Harry and Willow's living room, zeroing in on the siblings.

"Willow, you know we're not 'banging' so stop saying that. Harry, try to control yourself a little better. Hug it out and make up by the time I'm back for the shindig after work, alright?"

They both nod their heads, looking like wounded puppies. They're not used to Daisy taking such a stance, but over the past month, her and Harry have been seeing each other more regularly. They immediately agreed that it was important to let Willow know — neither wanted to hide this from her, and while they hadn't expected her to jump for joy, they had anticipated a bit more support.

Instead, when Daisy and Harry were shuttered away in his bedroom, listening to records and making out, Willow treated her like any other one night stand. She flared her nostrils and made impolite comments, always huffing about the way he touched her, even though they weren't even officially dating. Daisy didn't know what they were, but she did know one thing: She was still a virgin, and it gave her insane amounts of anxiety.

It had nothing to do with how Harry treated her. In fact, he handled her with the utmost amount of respect and sweetness. It had only been a few weeks since their first physical encounter, but even then, he'd been so gentle with her — after he made her cum, he guided Daisy's shaky legs to the bathroom and ran a shower for her. She'd felt awkward about taking a shower together, so he sat on the covered toilet seat while they talked about anything and everything. Afterwards, he dressed her in one of his favorite worn-in band shirts, propped her up on his fluffiest pillows, and ran down the street to grab them burgers from his favorite diner. 

It was barely two days before Harry stopped into the record store during her shift, asking if he could come over after she was done.

They hadn't gone on any dates yet, but in complete fairness, it was hard to do. Harry worked every day and Daisy often worked closing shifts, which meant she wasn't finished until midnight. On those days, Harry would meet her outside and walk her home. And on the rare occasion when neither of them were working or busy, they were cooped up and tangled between bedsheets, wanting nothing more than to lick into each other's mouths. 

Daisy likes Harry. A lot. And she knows that he had admitted to having feelings for her too — it's what caused the whole thing to start, after all — but he hasn't made a move to shift things to relationship territory, and she's too scared to do it. What if he changed his mind? What if he wanted to keep things casual and physical? What if... what if he didn't want to date a virgin?

As she steps into Sam's Records, she sighs and shakes her head, willing the negative thoughts to physically leave her brain. She shoots a small smile at Warren, her coworker who's high out of his mind most times than not. Daisy swears that he emits a permanent scent of weed, seeping from his pores regardless of whether or not he's smoked.

"What's happenin', Daisy?" Warren greets as she slides onto the barstool behind the cash register. 

"Not much. How's the shop been so far?" 

Warren shrugs his shoulders as he continues shuffling through the shipment box of new records, "Pretty decent, couple of college chicks came in for the new Bee Gees joint. A kid was asking when we're getting the new Styx record, so I'm gonna ask Sam about it later." 

Daisy nods and begins to straighten up the front of the store. Warren isn't nearly as organized as she was, but she finds comfort in the routine of piling Rolling Stone magazines, emptying ash trays, and changing out the music. She was putting on Rumours for the billionth time when Warren whistled out, "Dais, lover boy alert!" 

She knows before she turns around that Harry's walking into the store. Warren started referring to him as "lover boy" after he saw Harry leaning over the front counter to press a kiss to Daisy's cheek a few weeks back.

Daisy smiles to herself when she sees him, long legs clad in swishy burnt orange bell bottoms and a ringer tee stretched over his chest. A cigarette hangs from his lips but he's quick to remove it when he focuses in on Daisy, a bright grin on his face. 

"Hey, pretty lady," he greets as he stubs out his cigarette in one of the ash trays. 

"Hey yourself. Didn't I just see you?" She giggles and Harry shrugs his shoulders, his smile shifting to a guilty smirk. 

"Yeah, but my sister was there. Wanted to get some time with you without her." 

"H..." Daisy sighs, her eyes darting to the front door when the bell jingles, signaling the entrance of new customers. "This whole act is getting old."

"'S not my fault she's miserable no one wants to jive with her."

She sighs and shakes her head. "You have to let it go. In her defense, I was her friend first. Us being... a thing has to be kinda weird for her, don't you think? It's alright for her to bug out a little."

Harry shrugs his shoulders as he lifts his hand to run it through his hair. Daisy had convinced him to let it grow out just a tad bit longer, the ends now meeting the bottoms of his earlobes. 

"Whatever, Dais," he mumbles, "You psyched for the joint tonight? It's been a minute since we've hosted." 

"It has been, hm?" Daisy agrees, "It'll be groovy as long as you let me play some ABBA." 

Harry grins cheekily and lets out a laugh. "Only for my disco queen." 

She tries not to blush as he leans over the register to press a quick kiss to her mouth, but not before his lips linger alongside her ear. "Did I mention how totally foxy you look today? My pretty bunny in those tiny denim shorts." 

"Harry," she murmurs in fake shock, though the giant smile plastered across her face gives her away. "Go home, you'll get me when I'm done with my shift here, okay?"

"Far out, Dais," Harry says with a grin, stepping away from the counter, "Make sure you walk over with Warren, capiche? You know I don't like you leaving work alone at night."

"10-4, captain."

He chuckles and nods a goodbye to Warren on his way out, a pep in his step as he thinks about spending the night with his sweet little disco girl. Daisy has the same love struck smile on her face. 

. . . Sam's Records closes at 11 pm. After that, Daisy has to lock the doors, count the day's earnings, put it in the safe, sweep, and clean up the shop so tomorrow's opening employee — a sweet girl named Penny, who spent the last year following Led Zeppelin on tour — could start the day with ease.

It's helpful to have Warren there, who's quicker at dealing with the cash, and they're able to make it out of the store by 11:45. Daisy's nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet as Warren locks up, feeling as if her heart has strings that are tugging her in the direction of Harry. 

"God, you two are really obsessed with each other, huh?" 

Daisy sucks her teeth at Warren's comment, though she knows it's all in good fun. He lights a cigarette as they begin the short distance to Harry and Willow's place. 

"How did Will take the news that you're banging her brother?"

There it is again — the assumption that her and Harry are just sleeping together. Sure, they do stuff together, but it seems like all anyone thinks is that they're with one another for physical intimacy. And even if that were the case, why hasn't Harry made a move to take her virginity yet?

She swallows roughly at an attempt to push down her insecurities, instead focusing on the cracks in the sidewalk and the thin smoke coming from Warren's cigarette. 

"She's warming up to it,"  Daisy replies, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I think it's been an adjustment, but I can understand why."

"For sure. Willow's always been protective of H, it makes sense that she's not totally digging it."

"It's me, though," she protests, "She knows I won't do anything to hurt him."

Warren shrugs. "Yeah, maybe. But they've always been attached at the hip. Like, when we were in fifth grade, Willow cried almost every day at school and the only person that could calm her down was Harry. They'd call him at the high school and he'd come all the way down every time and the second she saw him, she stopped. They have a special bond, that's all."

Daisy's an only child, so it's hard for her to grasp such a tight knit relationship, but she gets it — she's been living in San Diego alongside the Styles siblings for years now, and she's seen that trust and love firsthand. She doesn't fight Warren on it, instead letting silence take over as they approach the familiar apartment, where Thin Lizzy's "The Boys Are Back in Town" is playing from the interior. 

"Looks like Harry still has dibs on the tunes," Warren smirks, stomping out his dead cigarette.

There are a few familiar faces out on the deck, all of who are currently taking smoke breaks. Daisy flashes them a friendly smile and Warren stays behind, likely to make a dent in the stash of drugs he brought in his bag. Nevertheless, she trucks on through the thick smoke enveloping the apartment — as usual, Willow and Harry never keep things casual when they host a party.

The place is flooded with people and it seems like there's drugs and booze everywhere: Girls are dancing in the living room over people snorting lines off the coffee table and the town's Dead Heads are perched on the couch, pupils as large as dinner plates. She doesn't care much for the atmosphere, though she does recognize Mitch, one of Harry's co-workers, in the corner with his girlfriend Sarah, each with cans of Bud Light in their hands. 

Daisy is about to make her way over to them when Harry suddenly appears, a large grin plastered across his face when he zeroes in on her. 

"Dais!" he exclaims, ambling forward to wrap his arms around her form. She giggles at his wide smile, her insides melting at his excitement to see her. "You made it."

"Of course I did, silly," Daisy laughs, pulling back slightly. He keeps an arm around her waist so their chests are flush against one another, and she notices the glazed over twinkle in his eyes; a true Harry identifier that he'd been hitting the bong in her absence. "Got this shindig started without me, did you?"

"Please, you know my night's never complete without my sunshine girl." 

She grins so hard her cheeks ache and he leans forward to press a quick kiss to her nose. "Interested in a little grass, lady love?"

"Sure," Daisy nods, "Where's your sis, though? Wanna make sure I say hey before we spark up."

Harry shrugs his shoulders as his grasp on Daisy's form relaxes. "Dunno. Haven't seen her in a bit."

She sighs and nods, forcing a small smile onto her lips. "Head on over to your fire escape and I'll meet you there in a tick, 'kay? I just wanna find Willow."

She can tell that he's not thrilled by this, but maybe it's the weed, or even her attempt at scolding him from earlier. Whatever it is, he nods, compliant in her ask, and gives her hand a small squeeze before scampering off in the direction of his locked bedroom.

Daisy heads for the kitchen first to grab a beer, knowing she'll need a little bit of liquid courage to meander through the crowded party looking for her best friend. There's a couple making out; one cornering the other, who sits atop the kitchen counter, and Daisy makes a mental note to tell Harry to wipe it down tomorrow once they're done nursing their hangovers. 

With a can of Miller in hand, she scopes the small apartment. Normally, Willow and Daisy are side-by-side at these things, splitting joints and schmoozing with strangers. Willow is naturally more extroverted than her; she's always suggesting they play Spin The Bottle or 7 Minutes in Heaven with their newfound friends while Daisy finds a nervous excuse to refuse. She's grateful that she has Harry now and doesn't have to sit there, watching Willow be more courageous than her.

Even on Daisy's tippy toes, the brunette is nowhere to be found. She rolls her lips into her mouth as she decides to check the bathroom, but all she finds is a line of girls actually trying to use it. She meanders to Willow's bedroom, which is always locked during parties, but gives it a try anyway. She gently raps her knuckles against the wood, pressing an ear to it. 

"Will? You in there?"

She doesn't think she hears any movement so she tries again, but she can't be sure with David Bowie's loud voice crooning through the apartment. She goes to knock a third time, but the door is ripped open before her hand makes contact. 

"What?" Willow hisses out before she realizes it's Daisy. Her eyes widen and she quickly closes the door a smidge, blocking Daisy from looking inside. 

"I was looking for you," Daisy says slowly, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I just got here and you weren't out there..."

"Um, yeah. Migraine. Sorry." 

Willow's being weird, and not just in the weird "I-don't-like-you-being-with-my-brother" way she's been lately. The best friends never have secrets or hide things from each other, but something about this feels like uncharted territory. 

"Are you alright?" Daisy asks softly as she reaches out to gently touch her elbow, "Do you need water, or company?"

"I'm fine," Willow quips, "I'm just not into all this tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Daisy doesn't get a chance to ask another question before Willow narrowly slides behind the door, shutting and locking it in a flash. Her heart tugs at the girl. Her gut says that something is off, but Willow's never lied to her before, and she doesn't even want to think that's a possibility. She chooses to believe her and instead makes the short trek to Harry's room, doing their secret knock — three slow raps followed by two quick ones — to let him know that she's here. 

Over the past few weeks, Harry's room has become a safe space for her, and she physically feels her worries melt away when he opens the door and pulls her inside. She giggles when he presses her up against the now-locked door, placing his hands on either side of her head to cage her in. 

"I haven't had you to myself all day, sunshine." He mutters, leaning forward to gently nip at the skin below her jaw. 

"You're insatiable." Daisy mumbles, leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck. She plays at the loose curls gathering there, soft and silky from the shower he took this afternoon while she laid in his bed, reading a Judy Blume book. 

"'m not. Just obsessed with you." 

Her stomach flutters as their lips make contact. The kiss feels like home — soft and sweet as their mouths meld together, quickly picking up pace as eager tongues dance for dominance. Harry always wins, despite a solid fight put up on Daisy's end. 

She puts her hand to his chest and stops them before they get too carried away, though half of her mind drifts off to the orgasm he gave her last night; two of his fingers steadily pumping into her and stroking at the sensitive spot inside, his dirty mouth whispering promises of pleasure into her ear. 

"Willow was locked away in her room. She was acting kinda weird... did you guys have a fight before this?"

Harry's lips are spit-swollen and the color of a muted cherry red as he shakes his head. "No, she was pretty jazzed about tonight. We split half a bottle of wine and watched the news together." 

"Oh," Daisy says softly, insecurity quickly creeping into her brain. 

"I'm sure it had nothing to do with you, bunny. She might've not been feelin' well or something, don't get it twisted in that pretty head."

She nods, convincing herself to believe him. He knew her better than anyone else, and Willow did say she had a migraine. She breathes deeply and allows herself to fall into Harry's embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne, woody and sweet, instantly soothing her. 

"C'mon, let's go sit out on the fire escape."

Harry tugs at her hand and she follows him, pliant in his suggestion. They climb out the window and onto the grated structure. It's early September but the San Diego air is still thick with humidity, coating Daisy's exposed legs and arms. She slightly regrets picking out a suede mini skirt this morning, but when she grabbed it, she remembered that it was one of Harry's favorites on her. 

It's quiet between them as Harry digs in his pocket for a joint and his lighter. The party sounds miles away now, and Daisy leans her elbows on the steel banister, taking in the inky night sky. Out here, it really did just feel like her and Harry were the only ones who matter. 

Harry sparks up and takes a deep drag before passing it to Daisy. She readily accepts it and sticks it between her lips, inhaling with fluttered eyes. She can feel Harry watching her but all she cares about is getting to the relaxed, floaty state he was already in. 

"You're so pretty."

"You're so high." She smiles lazily and opens her eyes, handing it back to Harry. 

"Maybe, yeah," he smirks, "But I think you're a stunner regardless of how stoned I am."

Daisy shakes her head and he steps closer to her form, placing a hand on her hip. "Lemme smoke you up, sunshine," he mumbles, and she nods. They do this every time — the first time they smoked together, he found out mellow weed highs made her even more sensitive to his touch, and now, he couldn't help putting his hands all over her.

Harry takes a deep inhale of the joint, holds it, and pulls Daisy closer. Their chests are flush against one other as he fits himself between her parted legs, a hand on her hip to keep her in place. She parts her lips just enough for the smoke to form a steady stream from his mouth to hers as he exhales, sealing it with a firm kiss.

As soon as they meet, everything in her body is screaming for him. She needs to touch him, she needs to feel him, she needs to be connected to him. 

Quickly, slow kisses intertwine with undertones of want, and it's apparent that Daisy is just as needy as ever, even with mutual orgasms provided on a near-daily basis. Harry wants to tease her for it, but he's a little too far gone now, too; seeing her in the late summer night, sticky skin, a mini skirt, and a poor excuse for a lace top covering her upper body. The warm lust between them is palpable as his tongue pokes around the inside of her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip and squeezing her side with a familiar desperation. She's panting, struggling to keep up, but trying her absolute hardest not to get left in the dust. 

"Can I make you feel good, bunny?" Harry breathes into her mouth, trailing his fingertips along her midriff and dancing along the waistband of her skirt. She's ready to nod and provide consent until the big storm cloud of insecurity suddenly overtakes her thoughts, self-deprecating insults about her virginity status becoming the only thing she can focus on. 

"Dais?" Harry backs away just slightly, enough to take in her facial expression. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to—"

Daisy refuses to have another bad thought as she cuts him off and mashes their lips together, messy and wet. Her trembling hands find the bottom of his tee shirt; a woman on a defined mission as she pulls the fabric upwards, her palms pressed against his stomach. She goes to peel the shirt off him when he breaks their kiss again, much to her dismay. 

"Hey, what gives?" Harry asks softly, leaning down a bit so they're eye level, "Not that I don't love this, but you're moving mighty quick here, sunshine girl."

She resists the urge to huff in frustration, instead letting his shirt fall back down to his hips. "I just... want you, H. You dig?"

Harry chuckles, his eyes crinkling at her attempt at casual sex talk. "Yeah, I dig, but I thought we established that ages ago." 

"Well, I wanna like... you know, pop my cherry tonight." 

His eyes widen and his hands drop from Daisy's form. He's never heard her refer to her virginity in such a crass way, even if it's the slang everyone uses. Besides the fact, he's shocked she suddenly wants to lose it at a party with nearly 30 people on the other side of the door. 

"Dais," Harry's eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, "You deserve more than just 'popping your cherry.' Are you spaced out or something?"

She shakes her head quickly, determined to get what she wants. 

"No. I wanna lose it tonight, I'm tired of being a virgin and you haven't made any moves to take it so if you don't want to, it's groovy—"

"What on earth are you on about?" Harry questions, "Why wouldn't I wanna sleep with you? I thought— well maybe I was misinterpreting things but I thought we were, like, going steady, I know I haven't asked or anything but I was preparing to. Honest."

Daisy's face warms at Harry's admittance. She blinks her eyes a few times as she processes his words, her bottom lip dropping open. "I'm... I just thought you've been with so many people, maybe you didn't want the responsibility of being with someone who... hasn't, y'know?"

Harry sighs and nods his head understandingly. Stubbing the joint out on the cool banister of the fire escape, he reaches forward to envelop her form in a tight hug. Suddenly, her senses are invaded by Harry, and she basks in the feel of his arms around her and his comforting scent. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't more upfront about what I wanted," Harry mumbles into her hair, "But I do want you to be my girl. As for the whole virginity thing... I never wanted to pressure you. You never seemed like you were in a rush to lose it, and I wanted us to build up to it, I guess. Make sure you were comfortable before we did it. But you'd be totally out of your mind to think I had no interest in doing that with you, baby."

"I wanna be your girl," Daisy murmurs before pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. "And I want you to be my first. I've never felt more comfortable with another person before." 

"Yeah?" Harry asks with a teasing smirk, ducking down to look at her, "You're my girl, then. I will be your first, but not tonight. You deserve so much more than a rendezvous at a party, silly girl."

"Shush," Daisy says, growing bashful at his words. "Soon, though?"

Harry chuckles and nods. "Yeah, sunshine. Soon."

. . .

Harry and Daisy spend the rest of the night in his bedroom, high off the joint they smoked and their newly established relationship. 

Even when Harry's tuckered out, fast asleep next to her in bed while the party simmers outside, leaving only the too-drunk and quiet trippers behind, Daisy can't believe it. She keeps replaying the conversation in her brain, amazed that he somehow likes her enough to be her boyfriend. She feels so special. 

And while his soft snores offer a comfortable rhythmic sound, it's not enough for Daisy to ignore her parched throat. Carefully, she untangles herself from the sheets and tiptoes out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. She's prepared to make a quick trek to the kitchen when she sees Willow emerge from her own bedroom, followed by a blonde girl Daisy faintly recognizes from the neighborhood. She goes to say hi, relieved that Willow may be feeling a little better, but the words get stuck in her throat when the blonde grasps at Willow's hand, spinning her to press a kiss to her lips. 

Willow doesn't notice Daisy standing there with wide eyes. She doesn't know what this implies, if Willow's gay or straight or whatever, and she doesn't care. She knows not everyone is understanding and welcoming in that way, and it pains her to think that her best friend would hide such a big secret from her, or receive hatred for the person she likes. She's seen her fair share of same sex hookups at the disco, where men or women try to be together in secret, and she's never thought too much about it. Not until right now, when she sees her smacking lips with another girl right in front of her. 

Daisy doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. Instead, she quickly turns on her heel and goes back to Harry's room, locking it quietly. With a spinning head, she doesn't even notice that he's awake and watching her, his eyes puffy with sleep. 

"Y'alright?"

She nearly jumps at the sound of the voice but forces a tight smile on her lips. She doesn't want to — no, she's refusing — to reveal this information to Harry. It's not her secret to tell, if there's anything even to it.

"Yeah. I needed a drink, I didn't know you were up."

Harry hums and stretches his arms out, propping himself up against the mess of pillows behind him. "Come back to bed?"

Her heart flutters at his request, adoring the way the words sound leaving his mouth. Without a second thought, she's climbing back into the cotton wonderland of sheets and pillows, breathing in his scent as he wraps his arms around her body, pulling her closer. 

Tangling their legs together, Daisy presses her head to his chest. She places a hand to his stomach and feels his slow breathing. They're quiet for a little bit and she assumes he's fallen back asleep until she feels his length hardening beneath her thigh. She swallows, biting her lip as she contemplates mentioning it. 

"Sorry," Harry eventually mumbles out, pressing a kiss to her hair, "Just ignore it, it'll go away on its own."

"We're not even doing anything." Daisy teases, lifting her head to press her chin into his chest. He places his hand at the back of her head and smiles. 

"You're in my shirt and a tiny little pair of panties, cuddling me, looking adorable as shit. You get me going regardless of whether or not we're doing anything."

"You like when I wear your clothes?" she presses, sitting up slightly to balance on her knees. Slowly, she splits her thighs to straddle his waist, fitting her core on his stomach.

"Of course," Harry mutters, tugging at his own hair, "You look smokin' in anything, but something about you wearing my shirts..." his fingers dance over the skin of her thigh, lifting up the worn fabric of his Peter Gabriel tee. He zeroes in on the pale pink underwear covering her modesty and he breathes out, feeling his briefs constrict his plumping cock even more. 

"And what about these?" she asks, dipping her fingers underneath the elastic waistband of her underwear. "Do you prefer me wearing them? Or do you like when you can see everything?"

"Depends. Think this little pussy is gorgeous regardless... but I especially love when you get so worked up for me that you're dripping in your panties, getting them all sticky with the sweetest little wet spot," he mumbles, thumbing over her clit through the material. "Looks so incredible, I just wanna bury my tongue in you until you can't take it anymore."

"Oh," Daisy breathes out, bucking her hips in a failed attempt for more friction between her legs. Harry smirks as her eyes begin to close. He pauses his movements and lifts his thumb to his mouth, coating it in spit before returning to his original movements, forming light circles through her underwear. 

"I bet you'd like that, hm?" He pushes, applying more pressure to the bundle of nerves, "You'd have to push me away. Can never get enough of the way you taste, especially when you start squirting... it's the hottest thing I've ever seen, bunny."

"More," Daisy whimpers, taking a shaky hand down to her lower half. She moves the strip of fabric covering her pussy to the side, revealing her plump, glistening lips. She parts them carefully, forming a V with her fingers, her pearly clit begging for attention. 

"Take 'em off," Harry instructs, breathing shallowly as he takes in the appearance of her pussy. When they first started being physical together, she was embarrassed by her pubic hair, explaining that she knew fully grown bushes were "in" but she wasn't sure what she liked. She was nervous about it and wanted to please Harry, who simply encouraged her to experiment with different styles and find whatever made her feel the best. It was 1976 after all, and he was exhausted by anti-feminist rhetoric that would ever make his girl feel bad. 

Lately, Daisy settled for a trimmed bush above her lips. It looked manicured and neat, and she discovered both her and Harry loved having enough hair there for him to tug on when he was going down on her. He hadn't yet told her that he was also obsessed with the way her juices stuck around, making her even wetter. 

Once Daisy strips her modesty of her underwear, anything's fair game. Harry uses one of hands to firmly grab her ass as he situates her over his brief-covered cock, making her stomach twist with nerves. 

"Not gonna put it in, sunshine," he mumbles, his length twitching at the sight of her pussy spread open over his underwear, "Just wanna grind with you a little, alright? Make us both feel really good."

Daisy nods eagerly, rolling her hips against his. She whimpers at the sensation that offers a semblance of the friction she'd been desperately searching for. He pulls his cock out of his briefs and pushes it between her lips, making them both groan out.

"There you go," Harry encourages as he gently bucks upwards to meet her motions, shifting his cock against her clit, "Show me you deserve to cum on my cock. Show me how much you want me to fuck this tight little pussy."

Daisy lets her head lull to the side, her eyes squeezed shut at his dirty words. They always get her impossibly close to coming, feeling as if the pleasure-filled feelings are finally going to bubble over and spill. 

They're moving in sync with one another, her hands flat on his chest, moaning at their closeness. It feels so good, and she wants to tell him to slip his cock in, to fill her up and fuck her until she can't remember her own name, but she knows he won't; instead uttering something about it not being the right moment. 

"Shit, I'm close," Daisy mumbles out through swollen lips. Her right hand is moving to her pussy to rub her clit in small circles and Harry's jaw falls slack as he watches her. He gives her hip a squeeze and folds his legs at the knee, pushing her down to her tummy so their chest to chest. 

"Know my dirty girl needs a bit more to cum, hm?" The question is rhetorical but she nods helplessly anyway, shuttering beneath his grasp. He trails daft fingers to her backside and grabs one of her ass cheeks so her tighter hole is exposed. She groans into his skin but he removes his hand, giving her butt a firm slap. 

"Shush, sweetness." Harry instructs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Before Daisy has a chance to whine, he's back to circling the tight rim of muscles, reaching downward to collect some of her dripping arousal from her inner thighs. Daisy can barely focus on all of the different sensations, and once he presses the tip of his thumb into her ass, she's a goner. 

"Fuck, Harry—" she moans as her holes pulsate, her asshole squeezing Harry's finger. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters, using his other hand to grip her hip, keeping her firmly in place. Seeing and listening to Daisy cum is enough to get him there — his own personal wet dream, he swears — and it's only a few moments after her orgasm has passed that he's spitting out a heavy load from his cock, covering their bellies with his warm cum. 

Simultaneously, their bodies come to a stop, and the only sound is their choppy breathing. Gently, he pulls his finger out of her, giving her thigh a small squeeze. He feels that she's slowly starting to go lax, and he wants to clean her up before they go back to sleep. 

"Up, sunshine," Harry mumbles against the shell of her ear, "Need to get you clean."

Daisy nods, slowly rising from his chest. She glances down to see the mess they've made and bites her lip, feeling the familiar stirring in her core again. 

"And you call me insatiable," Harry snickers, making her roll her eyes. She climbs off of him with sore thighs and he gets up, grabbing a dirty tee shirt to clean them up. 

She's quiet and missing the usual glow she has post-orgasm, making his stomach twist slightly. "Everything alright?" He asks, moving the soft fabric between her legs to wipe up her arousal. 

Daisy hums, though it's not much of an answer. The second they reached their peaks, images of Willow kissing that girl re-entered her brain. She feels shitty for using Harry as a distraction from what was bothering her to begin with. 

"Was... were you comfortable with all that?" Harry presses, and it's only then that it dawns on her that he thinks he's the problem. With wide eyes she nods her head, grabbing her — his — tee-shirt from earlier, sliding it over her body. 

"It was amazing, H," Daisy answers, crawling on her knees to reach where he's standing over the bed. She shuffles forward and presses a kiss to his lips, wishing that she could tell him what she saw. "Let's get some more rest. Please?"

And Harry can hardly deny her, especially when she looks so tired and fucked out. He pulls on a clean pair of briefs and climbs back into the bed, taking his position as the big spoon. His body wraps effortlessly around hers, like two puzzle pieces begging to be clicked together. 

"Night, Dais." He mumbles, pecking her shoulder. 

"G'night, Harry."

Part three | Series masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles fan fic #fanfic #harrys house #harry styles writing #harry styles concept

[cherry-pop-elf]

hiya, i was wondering if you could make a headcanon sorta thing with the weasleys and them realising they’re in love with reader

Gasp, that sounds so fluffy. I MUST!

Weasley siblings the moment they realize that they are in love

Warnings: Only really for Bill honesty. I have to make it from his werewolf wounds. So medical gore warning. Bullying as well, with some scared Ron. Because it will involve spiders.

William ‘Bill’

The moment his working eye was able to focus, he was able to see you. See you there. You were fast asleep next to him. Curled up in his side, with your arms tucked in on yourself. That way you wouldnt mess with his bandages and wounds. He was in so much pain, and could hardly breath, but you were there. He was able to see your hands were slightly red, seeming to be irritated. Thats when he noticed the bowl of water on his bedside table. Along with a bloody rag. You must have been busy with washing his fresh wounds, while he was knocked out. You were taking care of him, until you needed sleep as well. That warmed him, as he was clearly taken care of. Especially given where he was. The Wolf Ward. A place for people suffering werewolfism are stayed. People tied to beds, chained, hooked to IV's, near death, already dead, so many cases. Yet.....Here you were. You stayed. You stayed, made sure he was taken care of, and made sure he wasnt alone. You loved him. Loved him so much, despite the risks. Even as far as sleeping in the same bed as him. That was when he knew it. Knew he was in love. His breathing was able to move easier, as he wrapped his arm around you. Hurt like hell, but worth it. Worth it, as he was able to see you smile.

Charlie

"What?” He blinked, as he stared out his bedroom window. Looking down to see you there. “You heard me. I’ll cause a distraction. I know you are packed. Go on and go-!” You called, as he was jaw dropped. He had been arguing with his mother for ages about this. Molly didn’t want him to have such a dangerous job. But of course precious golden child Bill got to be a curse breaker. One would argue is even more dangerous. Despite the letters of people wanting him to work in Romania, his mother refused. Over and over again. Seems like someone had other plans. You. You knew this could be the last time you see him, but you just couldn’t let him rot away in England. So, you hatched a plan. You would distract Molly, and give him enough time to sneak into the fireplace and get to Romania. “You are bloody insane….I like that-“ Charlie had to smile, as you would run around to the front of the house. Leaving Charlie to make sure he was properly packed. While he made sure his dragon hide gloves were inside, he could hear you knocking the front door. The familiar creaks of his mother leaving her room, and heading to the front door. He tossed his bag over his shoulder, and hurried down the stairs. “Where is the floo-?” He hissed. Of course she would hide it. Making sure he couldn’t sneak off. Course, you were smart enough to think ahead. “Oh come in. I’ll fix you something. Poor thing out in the late night cold. Come on-“ The moment she stepped to the kitchen, you ran over to him. Handing him your bag of floo. “Go go-“ You whispered, as he stared into your eyes. His heart never felt so full. “Better promise to visit-“ And before you knew it, he was kissing you. Kissing you goodbye. You were dazzed, only to snap back when the flash of green of the fire place echoed. “What was that-?!” Molly called. “NOTHING-!” You squeaked, with your face flushed. Left Charlie in a sappy smile, as his new chapter begun. With you in it.

Percy

“Leave him alone!” Percy heard you shout, as he was currently being dangled from his ankle. For being a prefect, he sure did not get treated as such. Was ambushed by a gaggle of Slytherins, younger then him no less, and now he was up in the air. Unable to grab his wand, as he just did not have the core strength. Another taunt at him. “Oh? What will you do if we don’t?” A bully asked, as you kept your fists tight. Percy didn’t want you to fight for him, but you were willing to even though you knew you would lose. And lose you did. Hard. Least in the chaos, Percy was able to escape. Running off to get a teacher, and catching them red handed. Needless to say, suspension will not be to light. Now, there you two were. Sitting in the medical wing. Both sharing a bed, as you two sat together. “You didn’t have to-“ He muttered, as he fidgeted with his bandages. “Yeah I did. Someone’s gotta. Bill and Charlie were busy.” You tried to play off, before you felt his hand holding yours. “Still. Pretty stupid…” He grumbled, but you returned the hand holding. “Someone’s gotta be stupid, so you don’t have a stick up your butt.” You smiled, as he rested his head on your shoulder. Comforted, and at peace.

Fred

“Wicked-“ Fred whispered, as the two of you were huddled together. Hidden away in a corner of the Three Broom Sticks, as you two were bonding over the map. Able to just people watch so happily. George had been given detention, and Fred was able to have a reassuring comfort in seeing him on the map. Knowing he wasn’t anywhere dangerous, given what happened to Ginny. It also was comforting to be sitting with someone as well. The two of you just snuggled in the tavern, during a winters day. It was soft. Different from the normal madness he’s used to. It’s different, and he liked different. Different also meant a change in habits. Such as feeling you rest your head on his shoulder. Trying to snuggle closer, to get more warmth. He couldn’t help it, as he wrapped his arm around you. Just you cuddling, and oblivious, as you watched the map. So curious by it, as he was more fascinated by you now. Taking advantage of how distracted you were. Maybe quiet moments were nice. Couldn’t help but rest his head against yours, and take in your scent. A quiet moment. A moment to think, and he was thinking hard. Maybe he wanted more quiet moments like this. Couldn’t help his smile, as you pointed at a name on the map. Making up some speculation on why they were there at this time. Had him laugh, and just melt into the moment. Yeah. He wanted more of this.

George

“George George Georgie Georgie Georgie-!” You just wouldn’t stop shouting, as you were soon crashing into him. Right when he left the shop he was in. Having been helping his younger siblings with getting school supplies. “Hey-! Who says I’m George-?!” He joked, as you didn’t let go. “Because you are actually nice-!” You tease, as he was hugging you back. “Also you have a mole on your neck, Fred doesn’t-“ You whispered. That had him blink, as he reached to said neck. “Ha-! Made you look-!” You giggled so deviously, before he pushed you away. He was cackling though. “You got me, I won’t lie-!” He snorted, as you two were just in giggles. It was so nice. He liked to laugh, and sometimes laughter from someone who wasn’t identical to you was nice. You felt as natural to laugh with as Fred. That’s something special. You don’t come across that easy. He knew you were special, and that simple moment was nice. “George-! Help-!” Ginny called, as she struggled with her supplies. “Coming Gin Gin-!” He would hurry over, with you in toe. Instantly helping, all the same. He couldn’t stop his smile, as he watched you help Ginny out. Shit, he was in love. And he knew it.

Ron

“HELP-! PLEASE! SOMEONE-!” Ron was screaming bloody murder, as he was cowering in the corner of the stone corridor of the courtyard. A decently large spider was keeping him trapped on a bench, and trying to hide his body as much as he could in the corner. He was in tears, as he was trying to hide from the spider. Luckily, you could hear him. “IM COMING RON-!” You shouted, as you ran across the stones. Coming into view, and seeing what was distressing him. He was already expecting you to yell at him for being such a baby about it. You didn’t, but instead you focused on getting the spider away. You pulled out your wand, and remembered what Hermione taught you both. “Wingardium Leviosa-“ You called, and lifted the spider into the air. You then made sure to make as much distance from Ron as you could, and let it escape into the wild. Other side of the courtyard, and outside a window. That way it would return to the forest. Once done, you hurried back. Quick to hold Ron. “It’s ok, it was a big spider. Spiders can be pretty dangerous.” You comforted. Not teasing him, or calling him a baby. Not making fun of him, but actually took his fear seriously. The relief was in his tears, as he held you back. Holding you tightly, as you pet his hair. You understood it was a fear, and fears were serious. He was so relieved. You were his hero, and he owed you for it. His guardian Angel. “Thank you-“ He hiccuped, as you kissed his head. “You would have done the same, shush.” You tease, as you didn’t discount that he can be brave. That was the kicker that sparked something inside of him. He was smiling, as you held him. For as long as he needed. You cared about him, and he was sure caring about you.

Ginny

“Do you think I’ll ever become a Quidditch player-?” Ginny asked you, as you two were busy in class. Was History Of Magic, with Professor Binns. Boring as hell, so it wasn’t like you two were paying attention. “Yeah, doubting yourself?” You asked, as she played with her Quill. “Maybe…” She mumbled, before plopping her head on the table. Ever since that incident in the chambers, she got depressed far easier. Bill said that’s often a side effect of being involved with a long term curse, or being exposed to a Horcrux. Curse breaker stuff, so you didn’t really focus on it. Well, until Ginny needed help. She needed a cheerleader, and like hell you wouldn’t grab your Pom Pom’s and cheer. “You’ll be an amazing Qudditch player. I know it. The best even! You’ll make history.” You beam, as she watched you. Unable to really hear you, as she sighed. So, you did what you’ve seen her brothers do. You hugged her, and refused to let go. “Get off me-“ She whined, but you refused. “I shall suffocate you, until you say uncle-“ You warned, before she started to giggle at you. “Seriously, stop-“ She pleaded, but was giggling away. “Not until you say you are the best quidditch player ever. I mean it, I’m stubborn-“ You warned, as she threw her hands up in defeat. “I yield I yield. I shall be better than the likes of Viktor Krum, even-“ She spoke with sarcasm, but it’s a step. “Nope, you gotta mean it.” You refused, as she giggled again. “Eh, you’re comfy.” She retaliated, as you two ended up in a cuddle bundle. She was able to smile, and mean it. Was hard to do, since that incident. She liked it. Liked how you were able to do it so easy for her. Had her heart all a flutter. Guess that’s another thing she will need to ask her older brothers about. What to do when someone gives you butterflies?

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[bhaalble]

Indulgent as the concept of Gortash mourning Durge is I tend to resist it a little in my own canon. Largely on the back of "Orin told me how she humiliated you". Two things can be true at once: Gortash has a lot of history with and affection for Durge. And Gortash plans to WIN. His plans for the moment need the alliance of Bhaal's Chosen. For the time being: that Chosen is Orin. Its why he works with her without much complaint after Durge vanishes, why he has the line "we agreed not to meddle in each other's affairs" ready to go when Durge asks him why he never looked for them. This is also why I believe he makes beating her a requirement for properly reviving the old alliance (the vows are renewed, but you're not getting any active help from him until you work out succession issues with your sister). He would prefer it be Durge! But he can't afford to publicly move against Orin. In the event that Durge loses he'll be in breach of contract enough that she'll have the go ahead to kill him. He'll hedge his bets rather than risk backing the wrong horse, because he knows too well the consequences of getting on the bad side of Bhaal's champion.

What compels me, though, are the little potential moments of self-betrayal. The flickers of wounded ego when he sees them with their companions, and the smugness when he reveals who they are. Did they really think they knew a thing about you? The poor fools have been wandering around with a lion thinking its a house cat. They don't know what it really means to stick their hand in your jaws and emerge unscathed. No one but him ever truly has.

Nostalgia and some kind of unnnameable complexity when he hears from his sources that you've been busy in the hells. A reminder of where this all started....and his old host dead at your hands. Did you remember, he wonders, the little things he'd let slip about his time in the House of Hope? Was it on your mind when you did your bloody work on Raphael? He wonders what it would have been like to see it. If you would have let him come with if he had known to ask. Hardly your first journey to the hells.

Not his only parental figure you encounter. Its when he realizes you're at his parents (seen through the eyes of his Steel Watch, he can't resist checking in from time to time. He assures himself its to make sure the wheels are still in motion) he feels real dread. He never told you the Flymms were alive, much less tadpoled. But is the prickling he feels fear that you'll uncover something? A childish irritation that you might break his least favorite toys? Or shame that he's not there to soften this revelation for you, that his humiliating origin is known while he can't say a thing to paint over it as inconsequential?

The unexpected pride he feels when you return with Orin's blade. Even addled and physically deteriorated by everything that was done to you these last months, you triumphed. No more looking over his shoulder for Orin's blade.....and, he realizes privately. All those pretty words he's said about a future ruled by the two of you may suddenly not just be words anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something like destiny at work here.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #enver gortash #dark urge #dark urge spoilers #durgetash #goretash