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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 1 month

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𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

「 ✦ bucky barnes ✦ 」

╰┈➤18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all bucky barnes stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

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𓇼 video games by @twoghostsfromeden

𓆉Sam Wilson attempts to teach Bucky how to play video games, but you have a different idea

𓇼 just like dad by @ladyfallonavenger

𓆉 The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.

𓇼 coming in hot by @nexusnyx (ao3 link)

𓆉When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.

Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem.

Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.

𓇼wallpaper by @cosmicbucky

𓆉 bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to.

𓇼 consequences by @duuhrayliegh

𓇼@ellemj

𓆉 letters to santa pt2

𓆉 need and wants

𓆉 against the rules

🫧 Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?

𓆉 i hate you

🫧 y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure

𓇼 trust by @kgficz

𓆉Set during the end of ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’. You had been forced to work as a nurse for Hydra’s soldiers, you never expected The Winter Soldier to be one of them. What happens when he starts to care about you?

𓇼 glitter and goo by @welldonebeca

𓆉 When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up

𓇼 accidental pic by @mostlymarvelsstuff

𓆉Reader recives Buckys nudes accidentally

𓇼 just friends by @cadaverousnight

𓆉A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder

𓇼 @espinosaurusrexex

𓆉Worlds Collide

🫧 The world is ending. And there are two types of people: The ones that embrace the last pieces of happiness left, and the ones that just don’t bother anymore. When those two clash, there’s no way of knowing what will happen. But maybe, some hopes and dreams aren’t so different after all and the both of them get a chance at becoming more than just acquaintances.

𓆉 refuge

🫧 You had a track record of cracking tough cases, but this one proved to be your breaking point. The Winter Soldier was out there, thirsting for blood, operating in total anonymity, and leaving a trail of bodies in the cold Colorado snow. Then, just as a snowstorm was about to paralyse the town, Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep – lost, sweet, and in dire need of help. It all seems too good to be true, but what happens when his secrets come to haunt him and Bucky’s blurred past reveals a predicament neither of you saw coming?

𓆉happy little accidents

🫧 In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.

𓆉serious questions

🫧 Bucky agrees to go on a date to make his colleagues shut up. Now, he just feels sorry for the poor woman that has to spend an entire evening with him. He really tries to make it work, though, because he actually enjoys her company.

𓆉 bad boys don’t buy flowers

🫧 Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

𓆉request oneshot

𓆉 remember me

🫧 After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

𓇼 @pellucid-constellations

𓆉 unexpected

🫧 With all of his rough edges and impassive glances, Bucky Barnes looked to be the last person you’d find at an elementary school bake sale. Too bad Steve couldn’t make it, and dealing with a class hopped up on sugar wasn’t a feat you could manage alone

𓆉 i need him like water

🫧 You think Bucky’s having an affair. He thinks… well you aren’t sure what he thinks. But he must notice the living room light is left on. Every night.

𓆉 flowers in the compound

🫧 That girl from the flower shop seems to be taking up a lot of Bucky’s time.

𓆉 request one shot

🫧 You knew Bucky didn't like his arm. You just didn't know how much until he accidentally hurt you with it.

𓆉 counting

🫧 Time heals all wounds. Bucky’d been holding onto that proverb ever since blip. But time had never been particularly kind to him, so he opted to keep track of the sweet girl’s in his apartment building instead, the one that made him banana bread and took him to diners at two in the morning. Sometimes, you didn’t keep the same schedule. That made Bucky panic.

𓇼 everybody talks by @nickfowlerrr

𓇼 @buckyalpine

𓆉come back to you

🫧 What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform.

𓆉 did you hear

𓆉 40s bucky w/ nurse!reader

𓆉 sunshine

𓆉 spiral

𓆉 pick me

𓆉 untouched

𓆉 tongue twister

𓆉 wait what pt2 pt3 pt4

𓆉 can you not pt2 pt3

𓆉 choices pt2

𓆉 drabble

𓇼 aching by @bbyboybucket

𓆉After Reader gives Bucky a massage, he realizes how much he likes her touch

𓇼 tiny match maker by @jamdoughnutmagician

𓆉 Adjusting to his new life outside of the superhero business, Bucky makes the acquaintance of a very young, inquisitive girl.

𓇼 metal arm brrr by @bombsonboard

𓆉 Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

𓇼 the cards were dealt by @bucky-fricking-barnes

𓆉Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

𓇼 @holylulusworld

𓆉 a different kind of valentine pt2

🫧 Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

𓆉 happy birthday big grump

🫧 Your new neighbor is a professional grump. No reason to not be nice to him on his birthday.

𓆉 april fools day (stucky x reader)

🫧 Steve and Bucky ask you to join their prank.

𓇼 siren be bound to me by @darkdemeter

𓆉He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him.

And yet overboard and on the tide you set sail across in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul... a song so familiar yet unknown.

Forgotten. And Bucky reminds you yet again that there no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there

𓇼 to have and to hold harm by @queers-gambit

𓆉after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become

𓇼 @thighs-of-betrayal-blog

𓆉 jealous bucky

𓆉 request oneshot

𓆉 hold the door

🫧 You’ve never met your new neighbor, not until an incident happens involving the apartments elevator.

𓇼 out of practice by @drabbles-mc

𓆉 reader is a mom, bucky hasn't dated in like 70 years

𓇼 @jobean12-blog

𓆉 next door to love

🫧 When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

𓆉 this spells love

🫧 Bucky is your best friend and he really is the best but he wants more, he wants everything, but the idea that it could ruin your friendship and he could lose you is too much...

𓆉 boom clap

🫧 Before tonight you wouldn't have been able to label your relationship with Bucky but after he gets home earlier than expected from a mission and shows up at the bar everything changes.

𓆉 everything you want

🫧 there’s no one you trust more than your husband and he always knows exactly what you want.

𓇼 meet my family by @skaye44

𓆉Your parents want to meet your boyfriend Bucky which you agree, but the whole family invites itself along for the meeting.

𓇼 my sun my star pt2 pt3 by @cosmos-coma

𓆉 You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you

𓇼 @mrsbarnesblog

𓆉 my everything

🫧 The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before

𓆉 i trust you

🫧 when Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help

𓇼 5+1 by @mrs-illyrian-baby

𓆉 Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk

𓇼 just like that by @navybrat817

𓆉Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier.

𓇼 @sergeantbuckybarnes

𓆉 begin again everything i wanted

🫧 When you go to meet your friend at her work you see a cute guy had been stood up, so you’re going to be the best date of his life.

𓆉 amnesia

🫧 During a fight in Madripoor you get hit in the head resulting in forgetting the last ten years of your life. And most important, your boyfriend.

𓇼 @angrythingstarlight

𓆉 diamonds

𓆉 chubby!bucky

𓆉 more chubby baker! bucky

𓆉 blow me away

🫧 You just discovered that your boyfriend has never had a blowjob before and that’s a travesty. Good thing you’re about to blow his mind.

𓇼 @literaryavenger

𓆉 not so bad

🫧 It's Bucky's birthday, but doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.

𓆉 happy birthday

🫧 It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you

𓇼 body and soul by @theladybarnes

𓆉 Reader has a conversation with Sam that leaves her a little confused before her date with Bucky. Includes probably the best romance movie quote to ever grace films.

𓇼 you’re my desire pt2 by @marvelouslizzie

𓆉Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

𓇼 she chose me by @notafunkiller

𓆉Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

𓇼 bucky has a crush by @assembletheimagines

𓇼 buckyvision by @fictionalmemoirs

𓆉 pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt5.5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10

𓇼 @christowhore

𓆉 eye for an eye

🫧 you come home one night to find bucky in bed with another woman. after threatening divorce, he begs for your forgiveness and tells you he'll do anything. he should’ve known to always be careful with what you wish for.

𓆉 just one more minute

🫧 you grow tired of bucky constantly leaving you in dark when it comes to his feelings. finally, you have enough.

•masterlist

• marvel masterlist

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last update april 4, 2024

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes oneshot #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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marypsue · 1 year

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So if you follow me (and aren't just stopping by because you saw one of my funney viralposts), you probably know that I've been writing a bunch of fanfiction for Stranger Things, which is set in rural Indiana in the early- to mid-eighties. I've been working on an AU where (among other things) Robin, a character confirmed queer in canon, gets integrated into a friend group made up of a number of main characters. And I got a comment that has been following me around in the back of my mind for a while. Amidst fairly usual talk about the show and the AU and what happens next, the commenter asked, apparently in genuine confusion, "why wouldn't Robin just come out to the rest of the group yet? They would be okay with it."

I did kind of assume, for a second or two, that this was a classic case of somebody confusing what the character knows with what the author/audience knows. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like it embodies a real generational shift in thinking that I hadn't even managed to fully comprehend until this comment threw it into sharp perspective.

Because, my knee-jerk reaction was to reply to the comment, "She hasn't come out to these people she's only sort-of known for less than a year because it's rural Indiana. In the nineteen-eighties." and let that speak for itself. Because for me and my peers, that would speak for itself. That would be an easy and obvious leap of logic. Because I grew up in a world where you assumed, until proven otherwise, that the general society and everyone around you was homophobic. That it was unsafe to be known to be queer, and to deliberately out yourself required intention and forethought and courage, because you would get negative reactions and you had to be prepared for the fallout. Not from everybody! There were always exceptions! But they were exceptions. And this wasn't something you consciously decided, it wasn't an individual choice, it wasn't an individual response to trauma, it wasn't individual. It was everybody. It was baked in, and you didn't question it because it was so inherently, demonstrably obvious. It was Just The Way The World Is. Everybody can safely be assumed to be homophobic until proven otherwise.

And what this comment really clarified for me, but I've seen in a million tiny clashing assumptions and disconnects and confusions I've run into with The Kids These Days, is that a lot of them have grown up into a world that is...the opposite. There are a lot of queer kids out there who are assuming, by default, that everybody is not homophobic, until proven otherwise. And by and large, the world is not punishing them harshly for making that assumption, the way it once would have.

The whole entire world I knew changed, somehow, very slowly and then all at once. And yes, it does make me feel like a complete space alien just arrived to Earth some days. But also, it makes me feel very hopeful. This is what we wanted for ourselves when we were young and raw and angrily shoving ourselves in everyone's faces to dare them to prove themselves the exception, and this is what I want for The Kids These Days.

(But also please, please, Kids These Days, do try to remember that it has only been this way since extremely recently, and no it is not crazy or pathetic or irrational or whatever to still want to protect yourself and be choosy about who you share important parts of yourself with.)

#also Kids These Days please if nobody's told you: you can't send cheques through email #and if somebody sends you one through email They Are A Scammer and Yes They Are Scamming You #that's not related I just am constantly tearing my hair out about how many people of ALL AGES don't know that #something something something invoking the fuck word in the hopes it will keep this poast from search #i love how the internet has created Magic Words Of Power #unfortunately most of those words perform the action of 'summon jackass idiots to comment on your post'#i am paraphrasing the comment that was left on my AU fic because I am too lazy to go looking for it right now but #it was very similar to that wording #this is just a thing that has been rattling around in my brain and it was finally smoothed out and polished enough to come out

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amalythea · 1 month

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「 hold my hand, please, one last time.」

⤷ info: kazuha, albedo, aether, xiao, wanderer x gn!reader || angst, this is based on the prompt “can i hold your hand?” (or “can you hold my hand?”) || wc: 3104

⤷ warnings: death, this is v v angsty

⤷ extra: i wrote this a while ago back on soleillunne and decided that it was too good to be gone forever lmao

kazuha.

The battlefield was strewn with chaos, and amidst the clash of swords and the cries of war, Kazuha fought with all his might, his heart burdened with the weight of the lives at stake. He had hoped that his skills with the blade and mastery of the Anemo vision would be enough to protect those he held dear, but fate had other plans.

As the battle raged on, he caught a glimpse of his lover, a skilled warrior whose presence had always brought him comfort and strength, you. Your eyes met for a fleeting moment, and in that exchange, you understood each other without uttering a word. It was a silent promise that you would find each other amidst the chaos.

But the tide turned against you, and the enemy’s forces seemed endless. Despite your best efforts, the defenders were overwhelmed, and Kazuha found himself standing back-to-back with you, defending against the onslaught.

In the midst of the chaos, an arrow found its mark. Time seemed to slow as the arrow pierced through your chest, and the world around you faded into the background. Kazuha’s heart clenched in horror as he caught you, your strength waning with each passing moment.

“Kazuha,” you gasped, blood staining your lips. “Can I hold your hand?”

Tears welled up in Kazuha’s eyes as he clutched your hand tightly, trying to offer some semblance of comfort amidst the pain. “Yes, of course,” he choked out, his voice trembling with grief.

Your hand trembled in his grasp, and Kazuha could feel your life slipping away like sand through his fingers. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as the light in your eyes began to fade. You smiled weakly at him, a bittersweet expression filled with love and regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sounds of battle. “I wish… we had more time.”

“Don’t speak like that,” Kazuha pleaded, his voice breaking. “We’ll get through this. I won’t let you go.”

But you knew better, and as your strength waned, you continued to smile at him, your touch growing weaker by the second.

“I love you,” you murmured, your breath becoming shallow. “Always…”

Tears streamed down Kazuha’s cheeks as he held you close, trying to shield you from the harsh reality of the world around you. He wished he could turn back time, rewrite the events that led to this tragic moment, but life was unforgiving in its cruelty.

Your hand in his grew colder, and your breathing ceased. Your life force, once vibrant and strong, slipped away, leaving behind only a lifeless body in Kazuha’s arms.

Kazuha held your hand tightly, unable to let go, as if keeping that connection alive could somehow bring you back. He cried out in anguish, the weight of grief crashing down upon him like an unforgiving storm.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Kazuha felt an emptiness he had never known before. He had lost not only a lover but a confidant, a soulmate with whom he had shared dreams, laughter, and countless cherished memories.

And as the battle raged on, Kazuha clung to your lifeless hand, lost in sorrow, with a heart that would forever bear the burden of their memory.

albedo.

Albedo’s heart pounded in his chest as he cradled his you in his arms. He was just about to descend from his lab on Dragonspine to meet up with you as he promised, only to see you laying on your own blood at the bottom of the mountain. He had seen you only hours prior, he’d laughed with you, but now, all that remained was a sea of sorrow, the bitter taste of loss overwhelming his senses.

He looked down at the face that he had cherished so dearly, now drained of all warmth and life. Your eyes, once filled with light and love, now stared back at him with a haunting emptiness. Albedo’s hands trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Can you hold my hand?” a weak voice whispered, barely audible amidst the sounds of grief and despair that surrounded them. Albedo’s heart wrenched at the sound, and he quickly took your freezing hand into his own.

Tears streamed down Albedo’s cheeks as he clutched your hand tightly. “Yes, of course,” he choked out, his voice breaking with pain. “I’ll hold your hand for as long as you need, my love.”

He brought your intertwined hands to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the once-warm skin, now cold and lifeless. Memories of your time together flooded his mind – the laughter you shared, the dreams you nurtured, and the love you built with each passing day. Now, all that was left were shattered hopes and dreams.

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo whispered, his voice filled with regret and guilt. “I couldn’t protect you. I failed.”

You weakly shook your head, mustering a faint smile. “No, don’t blame yourself,” you managed to say. “You… you brought me so much happiness, Albedo. Please, don’t forget that.”

Albedo’s heart ached at the words, realizing that he had to find the strength to carry on without you. But it felt like an impossible task, as if the very essence of his being had been torn apart.

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed, his voice trembling with sorrow. “You’re my everything.”

You fingers tightened around his hand as if trying to hold on just a little longer. “You’re strong, Albedo. Stronger than you know,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Promise me… you’ll keep going… for both of us.”

Albedo nodded, his tears falling freely now. “I promise,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll live for the both of us. But it won’t be the same without you.”

Your breaths became shallower, and Albedo knew that your life was slipping away. He leaned closer, trying to memorize every detail of your face, never wanting to forget.

“I love you,” you whispered, your words fading like a gentle breeze. “Always.”

“I love you too,” Albedo replied, his voice choked with emotion. “Always and forever.”

And with those final words, your grip on his hand slowly weakened until it was gone completely. Albedo held onto your hand a moment longer, pressing it against his heart as if trying to keep your love alive within him.

As grief consumed him, Albedo felt a mix of emotions. Sorrow, anger, and a deep longing to see his lover again, even if it were just for a moment. But he knew he had to continue, to honor your memory and the love you shared.

Albedo gently laid your body down, closing your eyes with tender care. He stood, feeling the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders, but also the weight of your love, and your belief in him, pushing him forward. Though his heart was shattered, he would carry your love with him, always.

And as he walked away from that place of sorrow, he knew that the pain would remain, but so would the memories of a love that would never truly fade away.

aether.

Aether’s heart pounded in his chest as he cradled his dying lover in his arms. The battlefield around them had turned into a chaotic canvas of destruction, but his attention was solely focused on the person he held dear. You were slipping away, and he could feel your life force fading like a waning star.

“Can you hold my hand?” you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the cacophony of war. Aether’s eyes filled with tears, and he gently clasped your frail hand in his own, interlocking your fingers. His touch was warm, providing a sense of comfort amidst the pain.

“I’m here,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I won’t let go.”

Your breathing was shallow, and your once-bright eyes were now dim, but you managed a faint smile. It was a bittersweet expression, as if you were trying to convey so much in that fleeting moment. Memories of you flooded Aether’s mind, from the first time you met under the starlit sky to the promises you made to each other.

“You have to promise me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “that you’ll keep going. That you’ll find happiness again.”

Aether couldn’t find the strength to respond, his throat constricted with grief. He knew that in a world without his lover, life would lose its luster, its purpose. But he understood that you were trying to ease his pain, even in your last breaths.

“No,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I can’t bear to live without you. Please don’t leave. Not you too.”

You smiled again, a mixture of sadness and love in your eyes. “You are strong, Aether, and you will find the strength to carry on. I will always be with you.”

Aether’s heartache intensified, and he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. He wished he could freeze time, to hold you forever, but he knew it was slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers.

“I love you,” you said, their voice fading into a whisper.

“And I love you,” Aether replied, his voice breaking.

Your grip on his hand loosened, and Aether felt the last pulse of life slip away from you. He held onto your hand a moment longer, not wanting to let go, but eventually, he lowered it gently to your chest.

In that moment, as the world around him continued to rage with chaos, Aether felt an overwhelming emptiness inside. His lover was gone, and the pain of your absence consumed him. But he knew he had to honor your last wish—to find a way to live without you, to keep your love alive in his heart.

With tears in his eyes, Aether kissed your forehead one last time before he stood, facing the uncertain future that lay ahead. Your love would forever be his guiding light, and he would cherish every memory, every moment you had shared.

And as the battles raged on and the world continued to turn, Aether vowed to carry your love with him, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times. Though your physical presence was gone, your love would endure, a reminder that even in the face of loss, the power of love could transcend beyond the boundaries of life and death.

heizou.

Heizou knelt on the cold, damp ground, cradling your cold body in his arms. He had just returned home from work, when the last thing he expected to see was see you laying on your own blood in your shared home. He held you closer, your blood staining his hands, mingling with his own tears. His heart felt as though it had been torn apart, and the pain was almost unbearable.

The world seemed to slow down as Heizou stared into the fading eyes of his beloved. Each second felt like an eternity, and yet, it was slipping away all too quickly. He could see the struggle in your gaze, the effort it took to speak those final words.

“Can I hold your hand?” you whispered, your voice getting lower with each word.

Tears streamed down Heizou’s face, and he gently clasped your trembling hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. He felt your warmth slowly waning, and he held on tighter, as if he could somehow will life back into you with the strength of his grip.

“You don’t have to ask,” Heizou choked out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll hold your hand forever.”

You managed a faint smile, your strength visibly waning. “I… I love you,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” Heizou replied, his voice trembling. “You’re my everything, my reason for living.”

As the commotion outside your shared home began to get louder, the people having noticed the blood stains, Heizou’s focus remained solely on you. The world outside ceased to exist for him, and he poured all his love and energy into holding you, trying to be your anchor in this storm of pain and suffering.

In your last moments, you clung to each other tightly, as if afraid to let go. Heizou’s heart ached as he felt your life slipping away from him, the person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. He wished he could have done something, anything, to save you.

But in the end, all he could do was be there, holding your hand, providing them with comfort in their final moments. Heizou would carry the weight of this loss forever, the memories of you etched into his soul.

Even as people left you two alone and the world moved on, Heizou remained on that cold, damp ground, cradling the body of the one he had loved and lost, his heart forever scarred by the pain of that fateful day.

xiao.

Xiao knelt on the damp ground, his heart pounding with anguish as he cradled your shaking form in his arms. The battlefield around you was silent, the chaos of the battle having retreated, leaving behind only the echoes of suffering and loss.

Your once bright eyes, now dulled by death, stared up at him, and Xiao couldn’t bear to look away. Your hands, once intertwined in a promise of eternity, now lay limp and still. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

“Can you hold my hand?” your voice was a faint whisper, barely audible amidst the devastation surrounding them.

Xiao’s heart shattered at those words, but he gently took your hand in his own, holding it with all the tenderness and love he had for you. “I will always hold your hand,” he choked out, his voice breaking with grief.

You managed a weak smile, the corners of your lips lifting slightly. “Even in death,” you murmured, your voice barely reaching Xiao’s ears.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, my love,” Xiao vowed, his fingers trembling as he clung tightly to the hand that was growing colder by the second. “Even to the ends of this cruel world.”

Your breathing grew fainter, and your grip on his hand loosened. Xiao felt his heartache intensify, knowing that he couldn’t change the cruel fate that had befallen you.

“Thank you… for loving me,” you whispered, your voice a mere thread of sound.

“Thank you for making my life meaningful,” Xiao replied, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m grateful for every moment we shared.”

Your eyes locked for a final time, and in that fleeting moment, a lifetime of love and memories passed between you. Xiao wished he could freeze time, to hold on to this moment forever, but life had other plans.

As the last breath left your lips, Xiao leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Rest now,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll carry you in my heart. Until we meet again.”

He remained there, holding your lifeless hand, as tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the blood-stained soil beneath you. Xiao knew that a part of him had died that day with his beloved, but he also knew that your love would live on, eternal and undying, no matter the circumstances.

wanderer.

Wanderer knelt on the ground, his heart pounding in his chest as he cradled you in his arms. The world around you seemed to blur, the noise of battle fading into an eerie silence. The battle had been brutal, and he had fought with all his might to protect the one he loved, but fate had dealt them a cruel hand.

Your once vibrant eyes now glistened with pain, and a weak smile graced your lips. Blood stained your clothing, and Wanderer could feel your life slipping away.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t have much time, do I?”

Wanderer choked back a sob, clutching your body tightly. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get you help.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, but it quickly turned into a cough. “You can’t lie to me, my love.” you managed to say, your breath shallow.

Tears finally streamed down Wanderer’s face as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry if I didn’t say it often. I can’t bear to lose you.”

You trembled in his grasp, and gazed into his eyes with a mixture of love and sadness. “Can I hold your hand?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Wanderer nodded frantically, intertwining his fingers with yours. He held your hand close to his heart, hoping that somehow he could transfer strength to you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, tears pooling in your eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and full of affection, reserved only for you. “You won’t have to. Just hold on a little longer, and we’ll get you help. We’ll face this together.”

Your grip tightened weakly on his hand. “You’re my light, my love, my everything,” you murmured. “You always have been. Promise me you’ll keep shining, even when I’m gone.”

Wanderer could feel whatever was left of his heart shatter with your words. “I promise,” he choked out. “But you can’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.”

Your breathing grew shallower, and your voice became softer. “You’re strong, my love,” you said. “You’ll find a way. Remember me, but don’t let my memory hold you back. Live your life to the fullest. Find happiness again.”

“I can’t imagine life without you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “How am I supposed to go on?”

Your only response was a brief smile, and he squeezed your cold hand tightly. “I’ll never let go,” he vowed. “Not even when you’re gone.”

Your breathing slowed, and your eyes locked with his one last time. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice fading away.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his voice cracking.

And then, with your hand still clasped in his, you were gone.

Wanderer held your lifeless form closer, his tears falling like rain. He knew that life would never be the same again, that a piece of his heart had been taken with you. But he also knew that he had to keep the promise he made. With a heavy heart, he stood, carrying your memory with him as he faced the world without you, knowing that he would always carry your love and light with him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

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herlondonboy · 3 months

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arms tonite, clarisse la rue

summary: I cry in the afterlife I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive I try to escape afterlife I try hard to get back inside your arms alive VERY loosely based off of this request

warnings: mc death obviously, sad everyone, my lack of knowledge on the battle of manhattan because i read the books 7 years ago

wc: 1.7k

you sit against the ancient tree, the bark rough against your back, a painful reminder of the chaos that unfolded. your fingers clutch your stomach, the pain intensifying with each passing moment, a stark contrast to the distant roars of battle. your chest throbs where the drakon's claws had viciously slashed you moments ago.

the air is thick with tension as you watch your friends and family, armed and determined, engage in the fierce battle of manhattan. the clash of weapons, the echoes of spells, and the monstrous roars resonate through the air, creating a cacophony that drowns the world around you.

your gaze shifts from one familiar face to another, each caught in the chaos of combat. the weight of your injuries pales in comparison to the heaviness in your heart as you realise the magnitude of the conflict. the realisation that more lives are at stake than just your own sends a shiver down your spine.

tears blur your vision as you witness the sacrifices being made for the greater good. the ground beneath you trembles with the resonance of battle, a painful reminder of the fragile line between victory and defeat. you wipe away the tears, a silent vow to honour those who fight alongside you.

despite the searing pain and the exhaustion that threatens to consume you, you summon the strength to stand. your every step is a battle against your own limitations. as you move towards the frontline, determination replaces despair. the stakes are too high, and you refuse to let the sacrifices of those around you be in vain.

with each step, you feel the weight of responsibility on your shoulders. the tree, once a refuge, now seems like an anchor holding you back. but you press forward, driven by a desire to protect the ones you love.

the battlefield unfolds before you like a tapestry of chaos, but you find a rhythm within it. your own pain becomes a fuel, transforming into a relentless determination. you join the fight, your weapon cutting through the air as you face the challenges that threaten your world.

in the midst of battle, you catch glimpses of your friends, their resilience mirroring your own. the scars on your chest throb in sync with the beating heart of the battle, a constant reminder of the price of survival. yet, you fight on, not just for yourself, but for the future of those you hold dear.

the battle of manhattan rages on, a testament to the strength of the human spirit in the face of adversity. and as the dust settles, you stand amidst the fallen, a survivor, a witness to the sacrifices that define the heart of heroes.

locked in the chaos of battle, your eyes meet clarisse's across the tumultuous field. the concern etched on her face speaks volumes, a reflection of the scars left by the loss of silena beauregard. the memory of silena's sacrifice lingers, and clarisse fears history may repeat itself.

summoning every ounce of energy within you, you manage a reassuring smile for clarisse, a silent promise that you'll make it through. the connection between you two transcends the battlefield, a source of strength that fuels your determination.

as you let out a ferocious battle cry, it echoes through the turmoil, a proclamation of defiance against the forces that threaten your world. the resonance of your voice, joined by the battle cries of others, creates a symphony of resistance that shakes the very foundations of the battleground.

with renewed vigour, you charge back into the fray, your weapon slicing through the air as you engage with the enemies that stand before you. clarisse fights by your side, a formidable duo that refuses to be broken by the looming shadows of kronos.

the battlefield becomes a dance of blades and magic, each movement a calculated effort to turn the tides of war. your connection with clarisse strengthens your resolve, and together you weave through the chaos, fighting back the forces of darkness.

clarisse's concern transforms into determination as she witnesses your tenacity. the bond between you becomes a beacon of hope in the midst of despair. silena's sacrifice, though painful, serves as a reminder of the strength that arises from unity and love.

amidst the clash of weapons and the eruption of spells, you and clarisse carve a path forward. the battlefield is a canvas of struggle, but your shared commitment to each other becomes a driving force that propels you through the hardships.

as the battle unfolds, you find moments to lock eyes with clarisse, exchanging silent reassurances that you're still standing, that the darkness hasn't claimed you. the weight of her worry lessens with each shared glance, replaced by a growing confidence in your resilience.

the battle of manhattan rages on, but your bond with clarisse becomes a source of inspiration for those around you. the echoes of your battle cry reverberate through the hearts of allies, spurring them on to face the challenges that lie ahead. together, you fight not just for survival but for a future where love triumphs over the shadows that threaten to engulf the world.

tears stream down your face, mixing with the dirt and blood on your cheeks. the pain radiates through your body, each breath a struggle. clarisse's hands, stained with the battle's residue, continue to apply pressure to the wound, her movements desperate and unyielding.

"sorry," she mutters through her own sobs, her voice breaking with every apology. but despite the pain, you recognised the strength in her touch, the fierce determination to defy the cruel hand fate has dealt.

you wince as her hands press against the wound, the searing pain intensified by the pressure. your breath catches, and you find it harder to form words. finally, you manage to muster the strength to speak, "sto... stop!"

clarisse's hands fall to the side, and she looks at you with a mix of sorrow and regret. you can see the pain in her eyes as she watches you, helpless in the face of impending loss. "stop, please," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible over the battlefield's cacophony.

she apologises again, her hands cradling your head as if trying to shield you from the cruel reality. you can feel her trembling, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. in this shared vulnerability, the world around you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, painful connection between two souls entwined by love and loss.

as the battle continues to rage, clarisse stays by your side, her gaze fixed on your face. the chaos unfolds around you, a stark contrast to the stillness of this intimate, heartbreaking moment. in the hushed pauses between your sobs, you confess the fear that grips your heart, the terror of facing the unknown, of losing everything you hold dear.

"clarisse, i’m scared," you admit, your voice a fragile whisper.

clarisse's eyes well up with tears, but she brushes them away with the back of her hand. "you're not going anywhere," she insists, though the lie hangs heavy in the air, a bittersweet attempt to offer comfort in the face of inevitable tragedy.

the battlefield's rhythm continues, a cruel reminder of life's relentless march forward. you feel the grip of mortality tightening, each breath becoming shallower. clarisse leans in, her forehead touching yours, a final act of closeness in the fleeting moments that remain.

in the quiet between the clashes of war, your final breath escapes you. clarisse's hands still cradle your head, her eyes closed, as if trying to hold onto the fragile threads of your presence. the battlefield's chaos, now distant, becomes the backdrop to a heartbreaking silence.

clarisse stays there, lost in a mix of grief and disbelief. the world around her continues to turn, but in that stillness, she remains with you, holding onto the memory of love and loss amidst the echoes of battle.

clarisse, fueled by the searing pain of your loss, rises from the ground, her eyes reflecting the torment that lingers within. the battlefield, now stained with the blood of the fallen, becomes the canvas upon which she paints her grief and rage. without you to return to, her actions are untethered, reckless in the face of her newfound solitude.

she charges into the fray with a ferocity unmatched, each swing of her weapon cutting through the enemy lines. the air crackles with the energy of her relentless assault, a testament to the storm of emotions that rages within her. clarisse fights not only for victory but to drown out the haunting echoes of your final moments.

as she carves a path through the chaos, a determination burns in her eyes, a fire fueled by the memory of your courage. the world around her blurs, and she becomes a force of nature, unyielding in her pursuit of justice. her every movement is a declaration that your sacrifice will not be in vain.

the battle rages on, and as percy confronts kronos, the culmination of their struggles unfolds. in the aftermath of percy's victory, clarisse stands amidst the wreckage, alive but changed. the victory is bittersweet, and the reality of a world without you sets in.

chris rodriguez, battle-weary and scarred, kneels beside clarisse. he sees the turmoil in her eyes, the weight of a heart burdened with grief and guilt. without a word, he offers her a silent comfort, a presence that understands the scars etched into the soul.

clarisse, attempting to remain stoic, fights against the torrent of emotions threatening to consume her. but as the battlefield falls into an uneasy silence, she crumbles. tears stream down her face, a torrent of pain and regret released in a torrential downpour.

"i couldn't do it," she chokes out between sobs. "the one thing i was born to do, and i couldn't protect them." the realisation of her perceived failure gnaws at her, leaving her vulnerable in the aftermath of the war.

chris, with a gentleness unexpected from a seasoned warrior, places a hand on her shoulder. he understands the depth of her grief, having faced his own demons. in the quiet aftermath, they share a moment of shared sorrow, acknowledging the harsh reality of a world that demands sacrifices, even from those who fight with everything they have.

as the first light of dawn breaks over the battlefield, clarisse rises from her emotional abyss, a survivor forged in the crucible of loss. the scars of battle may fade, but the wounds of the heart linger, a reminder that even in victory, the cost can be immeasurable.

you cried that night. because you died in the arms of your lover, and it couldn't have been more perfect.

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #elijah writes #lyric fic #angst #YIPPEE #please reblog

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fyodere · 20 days

Text

actor!dazai au + hate fucking

I hope nobody catch us (but I kinda hope they catch us)

“she wanna go viral . . ?

keep fucking for hours

that pussy got power ”

— P POWER

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), actor!au, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a new name on acting scene, semi public sex, child star dazai, rivals with benefits, hate fucking, petnames, degradation, dazai is a sadic, unprotected sex, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Dazai was rougher.

Now you’re at the after party, all the paparazzi and interviewers are gone. You can finally relax now. At least, that was what you thought.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Dazai whispered to you and quickly vanished, you were used to his superstar behavior, but it still annoys you.

You always fight on set and hate each other. What’s up with him now?

﹙ 🧥 ﹚── author's note : OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS i absolutely loved writing the whole rivals with benefits thing. it’s just too hot. i hope y’all enjoy it <3 my requests are always open so don’t be shy!

. . . ꒰ ꐦ › ﾛ ‹ ꒱

Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Osamu Dazai was rougher. For years, you had clawed your way through auditions, rejections, and fleeting moments of success, all in pursuit of that elusive breakthrough role. And just when you thought you had finally made it, fate threw you yet another curveball: co-starring in another film with the enigmatic and notoriously difficult Dazai Osamu.

The after-party buzzed with energy as celebrities mingled, champagne flowed, and laughter filled the air. For you, it was both a relief and a moment of triumph. Landing a role alongside the enigmatic Osamu was a career milestone, but it came with its own set of challenges.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. It was Dazai, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he beckoned you with a subtle gesture. You rolled your eyes, accustomed to his dramatic antics. Despite their on-screen chemistry, behind the scenes, you both clashed like oil and water.

Reluctantly, you slipped away from the crowd, your curiosity piqued by Dazai's clandestine summons.

The tension between you and Dazai was palpable from day one of filming. Both of you were fiercely talented and fiercely competitive, each vying for the spotlight in every scene. The set became a battleground of egos, with sparks flying whenever your characters shared the screen.

Now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the after-party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. But as you leaned against the bar, nursing a cocktail and trying to unwind.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in Dazai's whirlwind scheme, the lines between enemy and ally blurring in the face of ambition. And as you stood on the precipice of this daring venture, you realized that sometimes, the greatest battles were fought not on the silver screen, but behind the scenes, in the shadows where dreams and egos collided.

Dazai was a star since childhood. After starring in a movie at the age of 5, his career was an unstoppable ascent with no contenders. Every role, every appearance, no matter how small, made the project take off. Having Osamu in a project was synonymous with success.

At least, it was until he turned 15.

At 15, Dazai found himself on a thin line brought about by the consequences of fame. Surrounded by a world of drinks and nighttime dangers, Dazai felt embraced by the dark side of fame.

At 18, Osamu stepped away from his acting career. He needed a break from the spotlight and to clean himself from all the vices he had started in his adolescence. The media portrayed him as a comet in eruption disguised as a shooting star—if the media didn't want Dazai Osamu, then it wouldn't have him. Dazai distanced himself from screens and public scrutiny.

Now, at 22, Osamu was preparing for his comeback to the prestigious world of cinema, and when the cast was announced, people were stunned. Dazai's return after 4 years away from the stage. The return was so sudden that the media had no choice but to remind the public of Dazai's difficult phase.

His return was in a minor role in a drama film, the same film where you were one of the stars. You're a model represented by Fyodor Dostoevsky who landed this role by chance. It was a simple equation: good agents, beauty, charisma, and connections. There was no way your career could go wrong.

Despite the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry, the atmosphere on set was anything but glamorous. From the moment filming began, it was clear that the animosity between you and Dazai was more than just a clash of egos—it was a full-blown feud.

Every interaction was laced with tension, each scene a battle for dominance. Behind the camera, snide remarks and passive-aggressive jabs were exchanged with alarming frequency, as you and Dazai vied for control of the spotlight.

But as the days turned into weeks, a begrudging respect began to simmer beneath the surface. Despite your mutual disdain, there was no denying the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you on screen. And as much as you hated to admit it, Dazai's talent was matched only by your own.

Yet, even as you grudgingly acknowledged each other's skill, the bitterness between you remained palpable. Every success felt like a personal affront, every compliment a thinly veiled insult. And as the pressure mounted, so too did the intensity of your rivalry.

But amidst the chaos and conflict, a glimmer of opportunity emerged. As filming progressed, it became increasingly clear that the success of the project hinged on your ability to set aside your differences and work together towards a common goal.

And so, begrudgingly, you and Dazai began to cooperate—not out of friendship or camaraderie, but out of sheer necessity. As the stakes grew higher and the deadline loomed closer, you found yourselves reluctantly setting aside your differences in pursuit of a greater good.

But, returning to the premiere of the film you were starring in: the after party was perfect. Only the most renowned people, the most coveted celebrities, all of it without any paparazzi or interviewer to disrupt the moment. That was the perfect opportunity to establish connections with the big names in the media. But, honestly, at that moment, all you wanted was to enjoy good drinks and soak in the energy of the place, having a well-deserved rest.

Navigating the treacherous waters of the entertainment industry had always been a challenge, but nothing could have prepared you for the tumultuous journey that came with co-starring in another film alongside the enigmatic Dazai. The tension between you two was palpable, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and animosity that colored every interaction.

Now, amidst the glittering lights and pulsating energy of the after party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. A chance to unwind and revel in the success of the film, to bask in the glow of your hard-earned achievements. But fate had other plans.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice sliced through the air, pulling you from your reverie. It was Dazai, his words laden with urgency and mystery. "Meet me in the bathroom," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd. His abrupt departure left you both bewildered and irritated, a perfect encapsulation of your tumultuous relationship.

You and Dazai had always clashed on set, your fiery personalities and fierce ambition fueling a rivalry that bordered on hatred. Every scene was a battleground, every interaction a test of wills. And yet, beneath the surface animosity, there was a begrudging respect—a recognition of each other's talent and determination.

But as you made your way to the designated meeting spot, the backstage area cloaked in shadows and secrecy, you couldn't help but wonder what game Dazai was playing now. What could he possibly want from you?

As you rounded the corner, you found Dazai waiting for you, his expression inscrutable. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a veil. And in that moment, you realized that whatever lay ahead, it would be anything but predictable.

You walked to the bathroom concerned. What the hell Dazai would want with you? You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of curious.

“Oh, well.” You said looking at the tall man with brown hair and mysterious eyes. “The demon prodigy want to talk to me. What an honor. Should I thank God for this?” You said with the voice dripping sarcasm as you roll your eyes.

The bathroom was empty and quiet. The place reeked of cigarette smell. Dazai was waiting there with a slight smile on his face. As soon as he saw you, he quickly put out his cigarette and threw the bud to the dumpster.

“Why so nervous?” His tone was taunting. He was leaning against the wall while talking to you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You retort. “I’m trying to enjoy this after party but, damn, you really want to ruin everything.”

“Ruining it… or making it more interesting?” Dazai crossed his arms and smirked. His tone was still annoying. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Like always.” Dazai muttered. You could see he was trying to make you angry.

“I wanted to talk with you in private. Since we’re having another film together. I want to propose something to you, since our reputation is on the line…” He said slowly.

“Our reputation?” You said laughter than you planned. “Oh, please. You’re the one who couldn’t resist to alcohol at 15. You’re the one who fucked up your image to the midia. Don’t put me into your twisted games.”

“Just listen before you go all ‘I hate you!’ On me, I get enough of that from the paparazzi.” Dazai said with a fake laugh.

Dazai stayed silent for a few seconds.

“You know how the rumor mill always says we are both in a relationship?” He sighed. “That’s not a problem to me. In fact, I believe it’s even better for us. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and feed the media with the idea that we are dating—“ You abruptly cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even come with this. I get enough bad ideas from my agent. I don’t need even more.”

Dazai's smirk widened at your reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your hesitation, but think about it," he urged, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "This could be mutually beneficial for both of us. Imagine the headlines, the buzz surrounding our 'relationship.' It would catapult us into the spotlight like never before."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "And what about the fallout when the truth inevitably comes out?" you countered, your tone dripping with skepticism. "We'd be crucified by the media, branded as frauds and manipulators. Is that really the kind of attention you want?"

Dazai's expression softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "I know it's risky," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But think about what we could achieve together. With our combined talent and charisma, we could dominate the industry. This could be our ticket to the top."

You hesitated, torn between your reservations and the tantalizing prospect of fame and success. The allure of the spotlight was undeniable, but at what cost? Could you really trust Dazai to have your best interests at heart, or was this just another one of his manipulative schemes?

As you weighed your options, the air between you crackled with tension, the silence stretching taut with unspoken possibilities. And in that moment, you knew that whatever decision you made would irrevocably alter the course of your career—and perhaps your life.

For a moment, you considered leaving, quitting the project before it even began, but the thought of walking away from such a high-profile opportunity filled you with dread. Instead, you looked back at Dazai, your expression unreadable. "I guess I have no choice," you said ironically. "If you insist on being such a jerk, I'll play your game. But remember, you're the one who's going to end up regretting this. Just wait until I show my true colors, and the world sees what a fucking asshole you really are."

With those words, You turned your back on Dazai, ignoring his derisive snort as you walked out of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into your back, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made the right decision. But then you reminded herself that you didn't need to like him; you only needed to tolerate him. After all, there was no way you could afford to lose your job over their petty feud.

Osamu couldn't help but smirk as he watched you storm off, your back rigid with anger and defiance. He had never cared about your opinion, but he still found himself curious about your reaction to his antics. There was something about your fierce determination and independence that intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever decided to fight back against him.

Without thinking, Dazai grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m still talking to you, belladonna.” He smirked. “Don’t think you could run away from me so easily.”

“Huh? Get lost!” You said firmly. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You gnashed your teeth while stepping closer to him, stepping on his foot.

Dazai’s grin widened as he felt your foot press down on his foot. It was clear that you were furious, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had managed to rile you up so quickly.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you love it when I tease you like this," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's part of my charm." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think I deserve some credit for getting you to stay after all."

“Oh, don’t be so cheeky.” You said while rolling your eyes. He was still holding your arm, like he didn’t want to let you go.

"I am being cheeky, hmm?" Osamu retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you know it. Don't play innocent, sweetheart. We both know you secretly enjoy the attention I give you."

"I do not!" You spat, glaring at him. "You are such a jerk."

"Is that so?" Dazai asked, his tone still light and carefree "I am?" Osamu arched an eyebrow. "You really believe that, don't you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know you want me to keep doing it, right?"

"Shut up! I hate you, demon prodigy. You know how much I dislike you?” You said stepping on his foot even more heavily. Putting your face close to his.

Osamu laughed, the sound harsh and unpleasant. "So, you say you hate me?" He took a step closer, pressing his body against yours. "Well, I hate you too, sweetheart. But we can't seem to get rid of each other, can we?"

He moved his hand up to cup your face, turning your head so their gazes locked. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your life miserable, does it?" Your faces were to close, a single word could make your lips touch.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension as Dazai looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing its outline. "If you don't want me to keep bothering you, then you should tell me to stop. If you do, I'll back off and leave you alone."

“Just shut up.” You said and finally pressed your lips against his.

Your tongues tangled together, Dazai's fingers digging into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. He was rough, demanding, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about the kiss.

As if he couldn't help himself, he deepened the kiss, taking control of the situation completely.

Osamu gripped you tightly, using all his strength to hold you in place. When he pulled away, he let out a loud laugh, a harsh bark of humorless mirth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Osamu broke away from the kiss, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His breath was hot against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry.

Osamu smirked, the smug expression making your blood boil. “I think you're enjoying it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what? I'm going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you above your head, pinning you against the wall. “Now, let's see how long you can last before you give in to my charms, hmm?”

Dazai leaned in again, pressing his body against yours once more. This time, he didn't use his tongue; instead, he bit down hard on your bottom lip.

“Fuck…” You said between heavy breaths.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” Dazai grinned, showing off his teeth. “Keep screaming out your protests, sweetheart. I love it when you fight me like this. Makes it all the more fun.”

With that, he licked at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Then, he released it, only to bite down harder. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but it also had a strange sort of pleasure attached to it.

Osamu's hand moved to your breast, cupping it through your dress. He squeezed it gently, then twisted it, causing her nipple to pierce through the fabric. The sensation was both excruciating and exquisite.

“A-Ah! Fuck!” You yelled, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Osamu laughed softly, his smile growing wider. “You're so cute when you get mad,” he said, still holding onto your breast. “But remember, you asked for this, sweetheart. You wanted to play with the big boys, right?”

He released your breast, letting go of it. Instead, he began to run his fingers up and down your spine, making sure to tease you wherever possible. As he did so, he gave you breasts a rough tug, forcing your chest to arch upwards.

“Now, tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop?” he asked, his tone casual and nonchalant. Osamu knew that he could push you to the breaking point, but he also knew that you would never say no to him.

You were breathless, your heart racing. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered by his actions. It was clear that he enjoyed tormenting you, and you found yourself wondering if you should just let him have his way with you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible over your panting. “... Fuck. Just keep going.”

Osamu nodded, his grin widening even further. “As you wish, my dear,” he said, giving you another hard pinch between your legs. This time, however, he made sure to rub against your thigh, pressing it against your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was incredibly intense, and it left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But you didn't seem to mind; instead, you moaned softly, your body reacting to the stimulation.

Dazai's hands roamed across your back, tracing every curve and line. His fingers brushed against your skin, leaving trails of heat and desire in their wake. He grabbed hold of your ass, squeezing it tightly, before giving it a sharp smack.

“I'm going to fuck you, dear.” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I'm going to make you mine, and I'll never let you go.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers.

The sensation of his finger pressing against your entrance made you shudder, your skin feeling sensitive and exposed. It was then that you realized just how vulnerable you was in this situation, and it scared you. But for some reason, it was addictive.

Still, you didn't back away from him, even though you knew he had the power to hurt you. Instead, you just looked at him, you eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Osamu. Please, keep going.”

Osamu chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. He leaned back slightly, keeping his finger pressed firmly against your entrance as he glanced up at you.

“You're adorable when you beg, sweetheart. So cute and pathetic. But you know what? You asked for this, so you get exactly what you deserve.”

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of you, leaving you aching and needy.

Osamu chuckled, his smile wicked and predatory. He continued to tease you, gently rubbing your clit and pushing his finger deeper into you tight hole.

“You're such a good girl, aren't you?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So obedient and submissive, like a dog. Always ready to do whatever your master tells you to do. But I bet you haven't ever asked what your master wants, right? I mean, it's only fair to ask before you start serving him, isn't it?”

The moment he pulled out, you whimpered, your body desperate for more. You wanted to cry out, to beg him to continue, but you knew it would only encourage him further. So instead, you just watched him, waiting for his next move.

As he sat up, you noticed something odd about his expression—it was almost as if he was enjoying himself. And yet, there was something cruel about the way he was treating you, something that made you want to run away from him.

But you couldn't leave. Not when he had you trapped in this bathroom.

“Dazai…” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “What do you want from me?”

Osamu laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the small space. His gaze never left hers as he spoke.

“I'm doing this because I hate you,” he said simply. “I think you're a terrible actress, and I can't stand the sight of you. Plus, it's fun to see you squirm and beg for mercy.

He reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that your bodies were practically touching. He let go of you, however, and stood up, taking a few steps backward.

“Now, come here, belladonna. I want to fuck you until you beg for my cum.”

You sit down on the cold sink of bathroom and spread your legs, waiting for him.

Osamu smirked at your submission, a dark satisfaction curling deep within him. He walked towards you, his every step heavy with purpose and determination. When he finally reached you, he took hold of your hips and began to push your legs apart, making sure you were fully exposed and vulnerable.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear. “You know how much I hate you, right? Well, I hate you even more when you look like this, all pretty and helpless. It makes me feel powerful.”

With that, he released your hips and took hold of your thighs, lifting them off the ground and exposing your cunt completely.

As soon as he lifted your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your sensitive flesh. You shivered, feeling the chill of the air on your most intimate parts. Your heart raced, fear coursing through your veins. But still, you didn't try to stop him or fight back. Instead, you waited, your eyes wide and filled with fear and anticipation.

Osamu smirked once more before pushing into your tight, wet entrance. The sensation was intense, almost painful, but he continued to press forward, slowly filling you with his thick member. He gently rocked his hips, causing his cock to rub against your walls in a way that felt both rough and pleasurable.

As he did so, he couldn't help but grind out words against your neck. “Fuck, you're so tight. You'll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you bit your lip and tried to focus on something else, anything else. All you could think about was how much you hated him, how much you wanted to make him suffer. But the thought of doing so only made you feel guilty and ashamed.

Osamu moaned softly, his voice low and rumbling against your neck. His hands clenched tightly onto your thighs, keeping your legs raised and exposed as he continued to pound into your with fierce intensity. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to make you suffer.

The sound of his moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the only thing breaking the silence besides their heavy breathing. Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying himself, there was no love or affection in his actions; rather, it was all fueled by anger and hatred.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you found yourself unable to move or speak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and every time he moved, it caused your insides to writhe and protest. The thought of having sex with someone you hated so much was sickening, but at this point, you had no choice but to endure it.

You tried to bite down on your own lip, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of discomfort that were escaping your mouth. But it was no use; your moans were too loud and too frequent for you to keep quiet. And even though you knew that he would only use it against you later, you couldn't help but give in to the pleasure, however small it may be.

Osamu groaned out loud, his voice rough and strained as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was almost painful, the way he had to force himself to continue moving. But he wouldn't stop until he had finished, and when he finally did, he collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you against the bathroom sink.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you opened your mouth to say something, he cut her off with a harsh glare.

"You think you can get away with your little tricks?" he growled, his tone dark and threatening. "Well, guess again."

He felt his climax approaching, so he released all inside of you, and as soon as you left, Dazai let out a sigh, his face twisting into a scowl. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Why does she have to be so difficult? It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. This is going to be a nightmare." He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I swear, sometimes I wish I could just strangle her and be done with it."

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #dazai smut #dazai x reader #writing prompt

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 5 months

Text

Guilt (18+)

Leonardo x reader x Raphael

A/N: Spicy time!... Or, kinda... This is the first time I’m writing anything that is stepping anywhere close to the NSFW area. It is not a lot, but I hope it’s still enjoyable.

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You are in a relationship with Raphael, but Leonardo is hiding some intense feelings for you. Mainly written with Leo’s thoughts in focus.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, implied smut, angst?

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The lair echoed with the distant hum of machinery, a subtle reminder of the ever-present dangers that the four turtle brothers faced in their perpetual battles against the forces of evil. Yet, amidst the shadows, Leonardo fought a more personal and silent struggle - the tumultuous clash between his duty as a brother and the profound longing that stirred within him.

It began innocently enough, as friendships often do. The camaraderie shared within the close-knit family of mutants was undeniable, but for Leonardo, the connection transcended the boundaries of brotherhood. It was you - the one whose laughter echoed through the lair like a melody, whose presence brightened the darkest corners of their hidden world.

In the beginning, Leo dismissed these light feelings, attributing them to the intensity of you and his shared experiences. You were one of the few humans he and his brothers got to spend time with, so it wasn’t strange that thoughts like these would come up. After all, the bonds forged in the crucible of battle were bound to be strong, and so were those made in the comfort of one's own home.

But as time marched forward, Leonardo found himself captivated by the subtle nuances of your personality - the way your eyes sparkled with determination, the gentle touch of your hand on his arm, the infectious joy that radiated from you.

The realization hit him like a shuriken to the heart. Leonardo, the fearless and disciplined leader, was entangled in a web of emotions that threatened to disrupt the harmony he so fervently sought to maintain. The source of his internal conflict? Raphael - the fiery and impulsive brother who, unbeknownst to him, held your heart in a tender embrace. But as time continued, Leonardo was coming to that realization, and it hit him, hard.

Leonardo had felt it like a punch in his guts, the day he saw you and his brother on the couch. You guys were looking and talking. You giggled and bit your lip at something Raph had said, and as he put his arm around you, you leaned further into him, blushing ever so slightly. Leo had to go to his bedroom, and process through his lightheadedness, what he had just witnessed. But that wouldn’t be the last time he saw you and Raph like this.

You started coming to the lair more and more often, until it became almost everyday. But with each visit, you came less and less for Leonardo and his brothers, but Raphael. It came to a point where you would walk straight from the lair’s entrance, straight to Raph’s room. And then you started staying the night.

One morning Leonardo woke up to find you in the kitchen with Michelangelo and Donatello while cooking breakfast. Then came Raphael and hugged you from behind, before giving you a tender kiss on the lips. Leo almost forgot to breathe, while Mikey and Donnie started talking about how it was about time, and that they had been waiting for the two of you to become a thing for quite some time. Leo hoped that it would be the first and last time he would see you and Raphael in such a way, but he soon learned that it wasn’t the case. It happened more and more often, and no matter how hard Leo tried, he just couldn’t look away.

As Leonardo observed the tender moments shared between you and Raphael, he couldn't deny the undercurrent of envy that surged within him. The stolen glances, the whispered confidences, the shared laughter - each instance etched a deep groove in his soul. A conflict of interest blossomed within him, tearing at the fabric of his unwavering loyalty.

The guilt, however, was a constant companion. He questioned his motives, chastising himself for harboring such feelings for a brother's partner. Yet, he couldn't control the flood of emotions that surged each time he witnessed the intimacy that eluded him.

In the quiet hours of the night, when the lair was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, Leonardo grappled with his internal turmoil. The hum of the city outside seemed to fade, leaving only the rhythmic beat of his own conflicted heart. He sought solace in the shadows, where he could watch from a distance, unseen and unheard. But there was one night that would forever be stuck in his head.

Ever since you and Raphael had made your relationship official, Leonardo had had a hard time sleeping. Therefore one night, he decided to go make himself some tea, in hopes that that would calm him down. But as he sat down in the kitchen with his hot tea in hand, he heard something he never thought he would hear. He froze at the sound of your soft moans coming from his brother's bedroom. His heartbeat quickened and his hands shook. You were begging him to keep going, telling him how much you loved it. For a moment Leo forgot where he was and what he was doing, and imagined you underneath him, begging him and telling him how much you loved him. Then you said his name, but it wasn’t Leo’s name. It was Raphael’s. Leo froze, cold running down his back as you were telling Raph how close you were. Leo would never forget what he heard next, and how horrible it made him feel.

Beyond the door, inside of Raph’s room, he could hear Raph say all sorts of filthy things to you, and you were responding to each and every word with the most pleasurable moans.

Then Raph asked you; “who makes you feel this good?”

And you answered; “you Raphael! Only you!”

Leo left the kitchen without drinking any of his tea.

But despite the pain that accompanied these clandestine observations, Leonardo found a strange comfort in the role of the silent watcher. The dance of your fingers tracing patterns on Raphael's shell, the shared glances that spoke volumes without words, the marks Raph would leave on you whenever you stayed the night - the scenes played out before him like a tragic love story, with him cast as the silent spectator.

The ache within him intensified with each passing day, yet Leonardo remained committed to the principles instilled by Master Splinter. The code of honor dictated his actions, and he dared not jeopardize the delicate balance within the team. He questioned the selfishness of his desires, grappling with the notion that perhaps true love meant sacrificing one's own happiness for the greater good. But Leo couldn’t deny how bad he wished to be the man you would kiss in front of everyone, and how badly he wanted to be the one that made you come with those moans at night. How badly he wanted to make you feel good, screaming for him to keep going, while he gave all he had to you. But he wasn't that man...

In those moments when your lips met Raphael's, Leonardo felt a sharp pang in his chest - a poignant reminder of the line he dared not cross. And so, he chose the path of selflessness, burying his emotions beneath layers of stoicism and discipline.

His heart, however, was a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions. The love he harbored for you was a flame that flickered in the shadows, threatening to consume him. Yet, he held onto the hope that time might dull the edges of this unrequited longing, allowing him to find peace within the confines of his duty.

As the nights turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Leonardo's silent suffering became a testament to the resilience of a leader torn between love and loyalty. He yearned for a day when the ache in his heart would subside, when he could smile genuinely at the happiness shared between you and Raphael without the bitter taste of jealousy.

And so, in the depths of the lair, Leonardo continued to watch - a guardian of love's bittersweet dance, a silent witness to a story that unfolded beyond his grasp. The shadows held his secret, and he carried the weight of unspoken emotions, a master of self-restraint in the pursuit of a harmony that remained elusive.

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meazalykov · 5 days

Text

For me there is only you

esmee brugts x uswntplayer!R

warnings: this is a long one. gets a tiny bit spicy towards the end but nothing crazy lol.

Netherlands vs USWNT was a highly anticipated match in the 2023 Women's World Cup. The cheers and chants echoing through the stadium could’ve been heard from a mile away. This wasn’t normal for a group stage game. This is due to the two countries having history. The Americans and The Dutch faced each other during the 2019 World Cup final, which resulted in a United States victory.

At the end of the 90th minute, the score is 1-1. Emotions ran throughout the two hour match but one player's frustration was palpable. Y/n L/n, a rising star on the US Women's National Team, had just finished a match against the Netherlands that ended in a draw. Despite her team's efforts, the result didn't sit well with her.

In the 72nd minute, Y/n had a wide open shot inside of the Netherland’s box. She uses her right foot to take a shot and the ball skyrockets towards the crowd, instead of going inside of the goal. At the time, she put her hands on her face in frustration and embarrassment. Considering how great of a striker she is, the missed opportunity came as a shock to USWNT fans. “Don’t stress it!” Y/n felt a hand on her shoulder, hearing the voice of her team captain over the loud crowd.

As the crowd dispersed and the players stayed to greet other people in the stadium, Y/n took a moment to collect herself. She sat on the bench, head bowed, replaying the game's pivotal moments in her mind. Especially the goal she missed. The girl never missed a wide open shot before. She knows that the World Cup pressure is intense but there were no excuses for that miss.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey, tough game, huh?"

Y/n looked up to see a girl, around her age, wearing a Netherlands Orange jersey. #22. She had beautiful dutch braids that were frizzy due to the wind. Despite being on opposing sides just moments ago, there was a shared understanding in their eyes. They are athletes who know the highs and lows of the game.

"Yeah, tough one," Y/n replied with a faint smile.

Y/n got up from her seat and stood across from the girl. The girl introduced herself as Esmee. She explained she was a midfielder for the Netherlands team and had recognized Y/n throughout the match.

"I have to say, you were impressive out there," Esmee said earnestly.

“Except for that missed shot, of course.” Y/n frowned at herself.

“Everyone here has missed a shot before.” Esmee’s Dutch accent comforts Y/n.

Y/n’s frustration began to melt away as she engaged in conversation with Esmee. They discussed certain moments in the match, their one clash before halftime where Esmee side-tackles the ball away from Y/n, their respective journeys in soccer, and other people they’ve known on the pitch. Despite being from different countries, they found common ground in their passion for the sport.

As they talked, Esmee revealed the reason why she came up to Y/n in the first place.

“My friend, Ingrid, told me that you were going to join Barcelona after the World Cup.” Esmee confessed. Y/n nodded her head in familiarity, the girl met some of the FC Barcelona girls throughout the competition. Ingrid Engen being one of them.

“I am. I’ve already signed the contract because my contract at Bayern expired.” Y/n smiled and looked at Esmee, realizing the Dutch girl might be joining Barcelona too.

“Wait–are you joining Barcelona too?” Y/n asked. Esmee nodded her head and smiled.

They both laughed at the serendipity of the situation.

"Looks like we'll be teammates soon," Y/n said, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

Esmee nodded, returning the smile. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

“Do you want to swap jerseys?” Esmee nodded at Y/n’s request. The American went to grab her white #17 jersey and pulled it from over her head. She passed it to Esmee as Esmee handed her the orange #22 jersey.

As Y/n slipped on her new friend's jersey, the fabric enveloped her in a sense of comfort. The faint scent of sweat mixed with a hint of Esmee's perfume lingered, adding a personal touch to the garment. Adjusting the jersey on her body, she couldn't help but appreciate the subtle reminder of Esmee’s presence. Even if the girl is standing four feet in front of her. To y/n, it wasn't a creepy fascination, but rather a fond appreciation for the new bond they’re sharing.

This interaction didn’t go unnoticed by other players and news photographers who took pictures of this interaction. Lindsey Horan, the United States captain, talked to her Lyon teammate Danielle Van De Donk. The shorter Dutch woman nudged on the blonde’s shoulder before pointing at Esmee and Y/n.

Y/n didn’t swap jerseys with opposition players often. Usually, she will toss her jersey up to a USWNT fan in the crowd after a match. The Lyon teammates giggled before returning to their initial conversation.

(pretend you’re aitana bonmati in the picture below)

wosonews

liked by arnselfan347, yn.hive, and 12,947 others

United States International Y/n L/n (Bayern Munich) is seen exchanging jerseys with Esmee Brugts (PSV Eindhoven) from the Netherlands Orange team. Both players are heavily rumored to be joining Barcelona after the World Cup. Thoughts? 🇺🇸🇳🇱🇪🇸

comments

ynbrugts78 to me this is confirmation of them both joining barcelona omg🥹

billybob27 they're both great players. barcelona will be stacked

vandedonkhive 😍😍

wosocouplespage I ship

bayernwomen.56 same icl

chelseabluezz i wanted y/n to join chelsea with mia fishel🥴

arnselfan347 spurs were trying their hardest to sign y/n. i don't blame her for choosing barcelona, thats a great opportunity too 💙

manchestunitedwomens7 esmee come to manchester united ❤️

----

It's mid-january and y/n settled into her new life at FC Barcelona pretty well. She impresses the soccer/football community with her quality and finishes in matches. Being the second highest goalscorer (behind Caroline Graham Hansen) in Europe wasn’t easy.

Esmee came to Barcelona the day before Y/n did in August. The duo couldn’t be separated on and off of the pitch. Their chemistry was undeniable, their shared passion for football helped their bond too. Through it all, Y/n and Esmee found solace in each other's company. As they trained and shared moments in Barcelona together, their friendship blossomed into something deeper, something they couldn't ignore forever.

Back on a saturday in October, the Catalan sky painted in hues of pink and orange, when their love finally came to light. Y/n looked at Esmee and couldn't resist the urge to kiss her while she was talking. She leaned in on the dutch who kissed her back immediately, as if it was a natural feeling to them. Y/n pulled back and smiled before Esmee leaned into her, being the one to Ignite the second kiss.

Y/n’s birthday is coming up in a few days and everyone on the team is aware of it. They all had a plan which involved getting “Esmee and her together.”

That’s right, the couple decided to keep their relationship away from the team. Esmee and Y/n believed in keeping their relationship to themselves before they’ll reveal it to everyone else. However, their attempts to act normal and platonic around each other didn’t work.

Ona, the second-closest person to Y/n on the team, teases her about Esmee. The entire team believes that their chemistry is undeniable too, why are Esmee and Y/n avoiding each other?

The short Spanish national went to a few of her teammates to talk about it. Salma, Lucy, Aitana, Bruna, and Mariona to be exact. At first, Aitana brushed it off as the two 20 year olds having a silly crush on eachother, until Ona explained the amount of times she saw Esmee and Y/n hug for “a little too long.”

Salma recalls Esmee jokingly tapping Y/n on the butt at training last week. When she asked Y/n about it, the American giggled about it and said that it’s just a “friendly joke.”

Mariona recalled another time where Y/n slipped up about sleeping over at Esmee’s house. The American didn’t notice her slip up, so the Spanish woman didn’t confront her about it. She decided to just let it go until she heard about others on the team seeing them flirt together.

Bruna came up with a plan that will start before the Levante game in the Supercopa tournament. At first, everyone agreed except for Salma and Mariona. Who didn’t want Esmee and Y/n to hate them for what the plan will include. However, Lucy adjusted a few things so Salma and Mariona would be comfortable with the idea, which worked.

“You know, I can’t wait for Salma to finally ask Y/n out after the game.” Bruna announced in a small training group before the Levante game. Ingrid, Mariona, Keira, Irene, Claudia, and Esmee were a part of the group. Mariona and Bruna had to tell the others what the plan between Esmee and Y/n will be. Most agreed to the plan. Ingrid was going to refuse to be a part of it, but relented.

Mariona looked towards Esmee to see the girl with her eyebrows slightly raised at Bruna, her lips were held together with a confused look. “Salma is asking Y/n out?” The Dutch asked.

“Yeah, Salma has had a crush on Y/n for a while. She has a good feeling about tonight's game and will ask her on a date if things go well.” Keira said. Esmee’s facial expression flashed between looks of jealousy and guilt.

She’s jealous because she knows the growing friendship happening between Y/n and Salma. The Dutch know that y/n would never do anything to betray her trust, but the feeling of someone adoring her just like she does made her feel uneasy.

Esmee felt guilty too because she likes Salma as a friend. She didn’t want to see Salma get rejected because Y/n is in a relationship that nobody else knows about.

“That–That's cool.” Esmee swallowed as she walked away from the group and towards the bench to grab some water. The girls giggled quietly knowing that Esmee felt jealous.

Another group away from the first one consists of Aitana, Salma, Vicky, Lucy, Cata, Marta, Ona, Caroline, and Y/n. The girl’s except for Y/n knew about their plan on “forcing Y/n and Esmee to confess their feelings to each other.”

“It looks like Mariona is flirting with her.” Ona speaks to the group as she looked towards the group with Mariona in it. Y/n didn't pay attention to what was said before until now. She curiously raises her eyebrows as everyone else looks over at the other group.

“Flirting with who?” Y/n asked. Mariona told her that she is interested in a girl named Lia Waelti, so she's confused about Mariona's supposed behavior from Ona.

“With Esmee.” Ona said. Y/n nearly coughed at this. The Spanish girls are extremely friendly and affectionate but y/n learned to adapt to it over time. However, hearing this news made the American girl’s eyebrows raise dramatically. She lowered them when she saw a few of the girls look at her.

“Oh. Does she like Esmee?” Y/n swallowed in nervousness. Lucy, who's on her left, tries her hardest to not laugh.

“I think so? She hasn’t said anything but she is overly interested in her.” Aitana said.

“Oh okay.... I’m positive it's nothing.” Y/n continued to do the stretching routine the girl’s were assigned to do as the Levante game started in twenty minutes. She did feel her mood change at the news, but nobody knew about Esmee and her. She couldn’t be mad if Mariona did like Esmee.

Two hours later, Levante is defeated by Barcelona in a 7-0 win.

Salma Paralluelo 12', 45 + 2'

Y/n L/n 24', 26', 64'

Carolina Graham Hansen 54'

Aitana Bonmati 57'

This wasn't Y/n's first hat trick of the season, but she felt relieved after the semi-final match ended. Now they''ll go play in the Supercopa Championship game.

Y/n placed on her green Barcelona puffer jacket and grabbed her pink prime water bottle, taking a good sip which hydrated her dry throat from the cold weather.

She took a deep breath before looking over to see Mariona talking to Esmee. A small lump formed in her stomach from nervousness. Y/n is confident that Esmee wouldn't do anything that she wouldn't want her to do, but the tiny bit of jealousy showed on her face.

"You should tell her how you feel." A voice broke through Y/n's thoughts. Salma's voice.

Y/n remembers that she didn't tell anybody about their relationship. Maybe it's time to tell Salma before somebody's feelings get hurt.

"We are already together." Y/n looked at Salma whose eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" Salma asked. She felt nervous as she didn't expect this news after the plan she helped create. Placing her balms into her jacket pockets, her attention is fully on y/n.

"Esmee & I met at the World Cup. We were friends but we weren't so "platonic" after we moved here. In October we made our relationship official. We were going to tell you guys when we felt like the time was right." Y/n ranted to Salma. The Spanish girl nodded her head, realizing that everything is starting to make sense.

"I'm not shocked. Not surprised even." Salma joked. The two girls broke into laughter which didn't go unnoticed by the Dutch girl who finished talking to Mariona.

Y/n, with her radiant smile and effortless charm, seemed completely at ease while talking to Salma. Esmee couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy gnawing at her insides, a nagging fear creeping into her thoughts.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering between her girlfriend and Salma. Remembering Bruna's conversation about Salma asking Y/n out, Esmee walked up to the girls before the Spanish girl had the chance to ask her girlfriend out.

"Great game you guys!" Esmee acted casual as she smiled, high-fiving Y/n and Salma. Esmee did play as a left back for all 90 minutes and assisted Aitana's goal and Y/n's third goal.

"Great game Esmee." Salma smiled back as she high-fived the Dutch back. She stepped back afterwards and looked at the duo in front of her. The happiness radiated off of her face seeing her friends who were confirmed to be in love with each other.

"Great Assists Es." Y/n grabbed Esmee's left hand and squeezed it twice before letting go.

"Y/n can I talk to you for a few minutes?" Esmee asked. Salma looked at the couple and took Esmee's question as a que to talk to them later. She said bye before walking to talk to Alexia, Frido, and Jana, who were injured and couldn't play.

"What's up?" Y/n and Esmee walked side by side as they're walking to the dressing room.

"Not much. Did you hear about any rumors coming from the girls lately?" Esmee asked. She hoped that Y/n had an idea on Salma's supposed crush on her.

Y/n swallowed nothing in nervousness, assuming that Mariona had interest in Esmee.

"Ona told me that Mariona is interested in you." y/n talked in a low voice. Esmee's jaw dropped and her eye brows raised, not expecting that to come out of her girlfriend's mouth.

"Wait what?" Esmee asked.

"Yeah. Before the game they said that Mariona was flirting with you." Y/n said. Esmee's eyes widened, she knew Mariona wasn't flirting with her at all because she already has her eyes on someone else.

"Before the game Bruna told me that Salma wanted to ask you out." Esmee confessed. Y/n nearly laughed at that information.

"Oh no never! Salma has a girlfriend in the WSL.... I can't believe the girls would tell us this." Y/n said.

Esmee nearly laughed before saying, "I believe they would. I think they were trying to make us jealous of each other."

The couple walked into the dressing room, getting ready to shower before leaving the stadium, then the girls realized that they're alone.

"You know.. your dribbling skills impressed me so much today." Y/n spoke seductively as she walked across the dressing room to Esmee, who sat down in the chair in front of her cubby hole.

Esmee held the side of y/n's toned thighs gently, pulling the girl into her lap. Obviously, this is nothing unfamiliar to y/n. She softly held the Dutch's neck, right under her braids, and softly kissed her lips.

Y/n had no awareness of her surroundings, she held on to her girlfriend as she felt her hands slide down to her butt, giving it a few squeezes. The girls made light noises.

As Esmee moved off of y/n's plump lips, going down her face then neck slowly. A few footsteps amplified with cleats approached the dressing room.

"Woahhhh!!!!!" Mariona yelled as she's the first to walk in the dressing room. Salma and Keira look over her shoulder, seeing y/n quickly stand up and walking away towards her own spot in the dressing room. Surprisingly, she wasn't embarrassed as much as anyone else would.

"I knew it!!" Keira laughed as she lightly smacked on Salma's shoulder in excitement.

Y/n look at Salma with a smirk and shook her head, Esmee looks away from the trio who walked in the room and tried not to laugh.

"We've been together since October. We confessed our feelings a long time ago." Esmee spoke with a smile, looking at Mariona. The Spanish girl wasn't surprised at all, only shocked that she didn't notice earlier.

"I told Salma earlier." Y/n commented.

"Hey, what's going on!?" Seventeen year old Vicky Lopez walked into the room with a bright smile. The curls on her head bounced as she walked towards her spot beside Salma in the dressing room.

"Oh nothing much. We just saw these two lovebirds in here." Salma talked to Vicky as she pointed at Esmee and Y/n.

"I knew it!!! They've always looked at each other with much love." Vicky responded to Salma.

After revealing their relationship to the team, everyone was happy. However, nobody was surprised. Esmee and Y/n didn't make much of an effort to make things secretive, and couples forming in Barcelona Femeni is not a rare occurrence.

Esmee and Y/n decided to confirm their relationship to social media a few weeks later.

(pretend this is you and esmee in the pictures below)

y/n.l/n and esmeebrugts

liked by aitanabonmati, alexiaputellas, and 31,623 others

for me there is only you 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

comments

salmaparalluelo lovebirds ☺️

wosonews OH MY GOD??!!!!

y/nbayernfan5 I KNEW IT OMG IM FREAKING OUT

ingrid_engen 😍🥰

y/nbrugts789 MY FAVORITE COUPLE😭💙

alexmorgan13 this is too cute ❤️

nswlwavefan so many woso couples spawn in barcelona lol 😂 so cute❤️

sophsssmith so happy to see you happy 🤩

brunavilamala 🥹

janafernandez3 I predicted it!!!!

---

an: hope you enjoyed :)

#esmee brugts #woso fanfics #woso x reader #oranjeleeuwinnen #uswnt x reader #wwc 2023 #fc barcelona #woso community #barcelona femeni

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phillydilly · 7 months

Text

We made it

⊹♡— in which she falls in love with the boy she grew up with, and they realise that the highs and lows of life hadn’t stopped them from succeeding

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of j*s Verstappen, mentions of substance abuse

When I was six years old, life led me on an unexpected adventure, a journey that would intertwine my fate with Max's in the most remarkable way. It all began on a sweltering summer afternoon as I aimlessly wandered the sun-soaked streets of our tough neighborhood. The air hung heavy with the scents of asphalt and distant hopes. My parents were both ensnared by the cruel clutches of addiction, leaving me to navigate the challenges of life on my own, like a small boat adrift in a stormy sea.

On that particular day, a strange serendipity drew me away from my usual aimless wanderings. The distant sound of a kart engine reached my ears like a siren's call, beckoning me toward the source of its excitement.

Curiosity piqued, I followed the melodic hum until I stumbled upon a makeshift karting track hidden within a forsaken corner of our neighborhood. There, in the hazy afternoon light, I found a young boy, no older than me, toiling away in solitude, his small frame dwarfed by the task at hand. He was Max, his eyes heavy with a sadness that belied his tender age.

As I approached, Max looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of surprise and weariness. "Hi," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken stories. "I'm Max. Do you want to race me in my go-kart?"

It was an invitation, a small glimmer of hope that hung in the air. But beneath the surface, I could sense a darkness, a heaviness that Max carried within him. It wasn't long before he began to open up to me, sharing the painful truth of what had transpired earlier that day.

Max had been part of a race, one filled with the adrenaline of competition and the dreams of victory. Yet, the story took a darker turn. He had lost that race, and the consequences of that defeat were more profound than I could have ever imagined. Max's abusive father, consumed by anger at his son's perceived failure, had abandoned him at the track, leaving young Max alone with the daunting task of cleaning up and packing away the remnants of their racing dreams.

In that moment, as I listened to Max's story, my heart ached with empathy and a sense of shared vulnerability. I couldn't bear the thought of Max having to endure this ordeal alone, left to grapple with the shadows of his own past. Without hesitation, I offered to help him.

Together, we folded up the discarded tires, picked up the strewn bits of trash, and neatly stowed away the racing karts. It was during this collaborative effort that our friendship began to take root, as we shared stories of our troubled pasts, found moments of laughter amidst the chaos, and whispered our dreams of becoming Formula One drivers under the setting sun.

As the golden orb dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched toward us, Max and I walked back home together. The bond that had formed during our shared experience grew stronger with each step. We might have come from the darkest corners of our neighborhood, facing adversity that seemed insurmountable, but in each other, we had found the greatest treasure—a friend who would stand by us through thick and thin.

The years rolled on, bringing with them the trials and tribulations of adolescence. Max and I continued to nurture our friendship, our shared passion for racing, and our unwavering support for one another. We became each other's pillars of strength in a world that often seemed unforgiving.

At the age of 14, we faced another turning point. Max's unwavering dedication to racing clashed with the realization that my passion for it was waning. I felt like I was holding him back, and the weight of guilt began to bear down on me.

"I don't think I want to race anymore," I finally confided in Max one day. "I think it's time for me to find something else.”

Max looked at me, his face serious but kind. "You don't have to do something just because I love it. We're best friends, and I want you to be happy."

His words offered solace, but I still grappled with the fear of losing him and the uncertainty of what lay ahead for our friendship.

High school came and went, and our bond persisted, though not without its changes. There was a subtle tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was nervous around Max, unsure of how to act.

One day, as we sat on my front porch, discussing our plans after graduation, Max turned to me, his eyes intense with emotions he could no longer contain.

"I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "But I can't keep pretending anymore. I'm in love with you."

I was stunned, my mind racing as I processed his confession. I had never thought of Max in that way, but as he spoke, I realized that my feelings were more complex than I had ever imagined.

"I love you too," I said, my own voice quivering. "But if we try this and it doesn't work, I don't want it to ruin our friendship."

Max reached for my hand, the touch of his fingers reassuring. "We've been through a lot together," he said, his gaze unwavering. "We can handle anything."

With that, we embarked on a new chapter, our friendship evolving into a romantic relationship. The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, allowing us to be our true selves around each other, without the fear of losing the connection we had nurtured for so long.

As the years rolled by, we navigated the ups and downs of life together. Max faced challenges in his racing career, but I was always there to support him, just as he had been there for me. We both graduated from college, securing jobs in our respective fields, all the while never letting go of the love that had blossomed between us.

Now, at the age of 24, we sat side by side in the grandstands, our eyes fixed on the racing track. Max had made it to his first F1 championship race, a moment we had both dreamt of since we were kids. The tension in the air was palpable, the excitement electric.

And then, it happened—Max emerged victorious, clutching the coveted trophy. Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I watched him celebrate his hard-earned triumph.

"I couldn't have done this without you," Max said, his arm wrapped around me, his voice filled with gratitude.

"I'm so proud of you," I replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek, my heart swelling with pride.

As we watched the other drivers celebrate on the track below, Max turned to me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that words could hardly capture.

"You know," he began, his voice soft but resolute, "I never would have made it this far without you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I smiled, the gratitude and love I felt for Max filling every corner of my heart. Our journey had been a tumultuous one, shaped by the challenges we had faced and the unbreakable bond that had carried us through. From a chance encounter on a karting track to the heights of an F1 championship, we had weathered every storm together. Max Verstappen had not only become a champion on the track but a champion of my heart, and I couldn't imagine a life without him by my side.

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 x y/n

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quintetz · 16 days

Text

— WHITE DRESS

˗ˏˋ THEO NOTT X READER ˎˊ˗

summary: you and your boyfriend come home tipsy (and very horny) from a party

contents: p in v, drunk sex, theo being lovey-dovey towards the end, not proof read because im lazy

Amidst your state of drunken lust, the world turned soft to the touch; and so did your boyfriend. He shivered beneath your fingertips, his heavy eyelids flickering like the dim titian flame from your bedside oil-lamp.

His hands stroke up and down the soft flesh of your thighs and under your little white party dress. “Gorgeous… you’re gorgeous…” Theo slurs. “Been waiting to take this fucking dress off you all night.”

You laugh at the slight whine in his voice and gently cup his alcohol-reddened face to pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is desperate and sloppy and tastes of the vodka the two of you shared earlier that night: astringent and intoxicating. It’s a clumsy clash of lip and tongue, and makes the both of you giggle with the awkward tenderness of it all.

He moves his hand further up your thighs, so close to your core that you can feel a white hot burning in your stomach, a plea to be touched. He brings his lips to the place where your neck meets your jawbone and sucks. His body is hot against yours.

Theo pulls his face from its place in the crook of your neck and looks at you through his thick lashes with an immense feeling in his eyes.

It’s fierce. It’s beautiful. It’s love.

He leans back into you and tries the kiss again. This time it’s slow and gentle. It’s a real kiss with real feeling behind it. His nose knocks against your cheek as the kiss deepens and he uses his weight to push you back into the plush of your bed. You blindly fumble with his shirt until you’re able to slip your hands underneath it to touch the skin of his stomach, he lets out a shuddering groan at the sudden contact and leans deeper into you; you can feel the hardness in his pants press up against your leg, it makes you yearn for him even more than you already were.

With almost frantic hands, you pull his shirt all the way up and over his head. He does the same with your dress, draping it on the frame of your bed with as much care as he can, and you help him out of his pants. The process is more difficult than usual in your inebriated state, but it’s successful all the same. You bask in each others near-naked glory for a few long moments; the soft light of your lamp blankets a warm glow on Theo’s chest and dances on the peaks of your breasts. The sweet moment is interrupted by your boyfriend’s needs: he pounces back onto you and makes a wet trail of kisses from your jaw to the hollow of your collarbone. He licks and bites and earns a soft moan from your lips. One of his hands rests on your back while the other ventures lower, giving you a quick look from under hooded eyes, he loops a finger in your underwear and pulls them down just enough to gain access to your already drooling cunt.

He slides his fingers over your wetness and slips the middle one into your folds. He smiles wolfishly, and if you weren’t so goddamned drunk, you would have slapped it right off his pretty face. He kisses you and slips another finger into your sex, your breath hitches and unsteadies as he rhythmically fucks them into you. But it’s not enough, your body years for something more.

You pull his hand away from you, and he looks at you with disappointed eyes before putting his slick-covered covered digits into his mouth and licking all of you off of them. The action makes the desire in the pit of your stomach grow in weight.

“I need you, Theo,” you whimper, ruffling lightly at the band of his underwear, “please?”

He replies with that grin you seem to both hate and love so much before opening his mouth to speak, “of course, principessa.” He fully strips down and throws the discarded garment to the ground, then spits into his hand and strokes his already hardened cock before positioning himself at your needy entrance, you whine in protest as he teasingly rubs the tip of his cock around it.

A low groan escapes his lips when he finally slides himself in—slow and steady—until he's bottomed out. The ache inside you fires up. You take one of the hands that he's using to grip onto your hips and slide it down so it's right over your sopping cunt; he rubs agonizingly slow circles over your clit and begins to move his hips.

You’re barely started yet the feeling is overwhelming when paired with your drunk-ness, and it quickly makes something bloom deep within you as Theo picks up the pace, finding a rhythm that seems to please him just as much as it pleases you. He leans down to meet you in a wet, open mouthed kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he licks into your mouth and breaths a soft groan onto your lips.

“Fuck, y’feel so good,” he moves his hand from your pussy and uses it to steady himself, “so good, baby…” his voice shakes in a way that makes you feel more drunk off him than the actual liquor in your system. He grinds into you harder, and a loud moan jumps from your lips. A knot builds in your belly; he sinks in and out of you at a frantic pace; his jaw clenches, you bite down on your bottom lip as a searing peak brews in your core.

And all at once, in a mess of shaking limbs and strained moans, you reach your climax. An orgasm as fiery as the lava looming deep beneath the earth. Theo pulls out of your cunt, grunting as he comes on your stomach; pearlescent and hot. He cards his fingers through your tender folds and licks up the cum collected on them, humming sleepily at the taste of you.

You look up at his mussed hair, his cheeks reddened by the booze and the sex, the warm light from your bedside lamp cast on his face. He slumps down beside you, catching his breath. You bask in the warmth of each other and the intimate moment of naked silence before he breaks it with an, “I love you.”

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter x reader #slytherin boys x reader

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sunshinexlollipops · 9 months

Note

i was in a middle of chapter 13 of amidst a clash of worlds and ao3 went down :) i think im going crazy without it

I am so sorry myymelancholyblues for your troubles and for ao3 crashing like a train in saint denis, i offer you this to try and keep your sanity

#luffy asks #amidst a clash of worlds #acw

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elysiumania · 9 months

Text

title: carve it to the end pairing(s): blade, reader characters: blade, reader, kafka, silver wolf word count: 9.8k+ synopsis: blade is familiar with the profound sin that encompasses his entire existence, yet he never anticipated that a whirlwind of emotions for you would also ensnare him.

In the midst of your daring mission, you and Blade find yourselves separated from Kafka and Silver Wolf, who have been entrusted with the crucial task of retrieving the coveted stellaron from the clutches of the world's sovereign. This scenario is all too familiar, as Elio, your mysterious leader, often assigns you such missions to procure the stellaron from different worlds.

The urgency of the situation is palpable, as Elio's command weighs heavily on your shoulders. Time is of the essence, and the success of your mission depends on each member's unwavering focus and commitment.

The world you find yourselves entrenched in is a labyrinth of mysteries and dangers. Its atmosphere crackles with an otherworldly energy, its landscapes a juxtaposition of ethereal beauty and imminent peril. Shadows dance along the twisted paths, hinting at lurking threats that could emerge at any moment.

In the heart of the battlefield, you and Blade move with an elegant synchrony, your every action an evidence to the rigorous training and discipline that you both possess. Your movements are precise, your coordination seamless, as if you were two halves of a single entity, united by a common purpose.

Every movement is deliberate, calculated, as you swiftly evade the oncoming strikes and launch devastating counterattacks. The air is charged with a palpable tension, your senses heightened to their fullest extent.

Time seems to slow down. Your world narrows to the immediate threat before you, the rest of the battlefield fading into the periphery. The only sound you hear is the clash of steel, the rhythmic pounding of your heart, and the rhythmic breaths you take in tandem with each movement. There is a singular purpose that drives you forward – the complete annihilation of your enemies.

In a swift turn of your body, you witness Blade parry the bullets fired to him.

Blade's presence on the battlefield is truly formidable, exuding an aura of power and confidence that commands respect. Every swing of his blade is executed with calculated precision, a dance of lethal elegance. His movements are fluid and swift, as if he were an extension of his weapon, effortlessly cutting through adversaries with a deadly efficiency.

There is a raw intensity to his fighting style, a controlled ferocity that sends shivers down your spine. He is like a force of nature, untamed and relentless, his strikes landing with devastating impact. It is a sight to behold, the embodiment of a warrior at the peak of his skill and strength.

However, amidst the chaos and violence, you can discern a meticulousness in Blade's approach. His attacks are not haphazard or reckless, but rather purposeful and strategic. He anticipates his opponents' moves, parrying and countering with calculated precision. His reflexes are honed to a razor's edge, allowing him to seamlessly transition from defense to offense, leaving little room for his enemies to counterattack.

You, too, are a force to be reckoned with. Your reflexes are honed to perfection, your aim unerring as you unleash a hail of bullets, each shot finding its mark with lethal precision. Your training and experience have molded you into a formidable combatant, a force that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies. Your focus is steady, your concentration laser-sharp as you analyze every opponent, calculating their weaknesses and exploiting them with ruthless efficiency.

As the battle wears on, a sense of fatigue begins to creep into your limbs. The adrenaline that fueled your movements earlier starts to wane, and you feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon you. Your breath becomes labored, each inhale a struggle as you try to replenish the oxygen needed to sustain your efforts.

The once effortless movements now require a conscious effort, each swing of your weapon feeling heavier than before. Your muscles ache, protesting the relentless strain placed upon them. But you push through the discomfort, your determination overriding the physical toll on your body.

With every passing moment, your stamina diminishes further. The pace of your strikes and evasions slows, each action requiring a greater expenditure of energy. Your once precise and fluid movements become more sluggish, the gaps in your defenses more apparent. But you refuse to yield, knowing that the moment you falter could spell disaster.

Your breaths become audible, each exhalation a visible cloud in the cold air. Beads of sweat drip down your brow, stinging your eyes as you struggle to maintain focus. The weight of exhaustion settles, threatening to drag you down. Yet, you find solace in the knowledge that you are not alone in this battle.

Despite the weariness that seeps into your bones, your pride and determination refuse to waver. You cannot bear the thought of leaving the burden solely to Blade, for that would make you vulnerable at a crucial moment. You know that victory in this battle depends on your firm presence and contribution.

As the enemy forces thin, a surge of determination courses through your veins. You can taste victory within reach, a tantalizing prospect that fuels your resolve. With renewed focus, you rally your remaining energy, striking back with a newfound ferocity. Each blow is a testament to your unyielding spirit, a defiance against the constraints of your weariness.

And finally, as the last enemy falls to the ground, a moment of stillness descends upon the battlefield. The air is heavy with the scent of blood and sweat, mingled with the unmistakable aura of victory. You stand amidst the fallen, your breaths coming in heaves, your body weary and battered. But within the exhaustion, there is a sense of triumph, an indomitable spirit that refuses to be defeated.

Every breath you took came with labor, as if each inhale and exhale required a monumental effort. Weary and fatigued, you turned your body to face Blade, whose face remained unblemished, betraying no signs of exhaustion or weariness. It was as if he had not engaged in the grueling battle that had left you drained and depleted.

Amazement and admiration swirled within you, mingling to form a chuckle that escaped your lips. You marveled at the strength embodied by your steadfast co-hunter, a strength that defied mortal limitations. The question lingered in your mind: Was this unwavering perseverance an inherent gift of his immortality?

Envy welled within you, a gnawing ache that intensified with each passing moment. It stemmed from Blade's indomitable will, his resolute determination that propelled him forward in the treacherous landscape of the battlefield. Yet, you couldn't help but be acutely aware that this very essence of strength—the enduring spirit that coursed through his veins—was also the source of his burden, one he carried with stoic grace.

Blade's eyes, intense and piercing, locked onto yours, their gaze penetrating through the facade of nonchalance he wore. A subtle furrow appeared between his brows. With each measured step, he closed the distance between you.

Your vision blurred, and the world around you transformed into a swirling haze, dissolving the boundaries between Blade and the backdrop. Amidst this kaleidoscope of colors, it was Blade's familiar hues that remained distinct, serving as a steadfast anchor amidst the chaotic whirlwind.

"(Name)," his voice called out, urgency lacing his tone, but you found yourself incapable of responding. Your focus shifted inward, drawn to the state of your own well-being. Fatigue clawed at your limbs, a relentless heaviness weighing down every movement, while a disorienting fuzziness clouded your thoughts.

Your body swayed, a mere puppet succumbing to the invisible forces tugging at your senses. Before comprehending the full extent of your unraveling consciousness, strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. The hold was both protective and firm, a lifeline anchoring you as you teetered on the precipice of unconsciousness.

With a final shuddering breath, the world around you faded into an all-encompassing darkness, your awareness slipping away like sand through your fingertips.

Blade's intense gaze remained fixed upon you, his eyes bearing witness to the toll that your relentless battles had taken on your weary form. He understood the limits that you, his trusted comrade, bore as a fellow hunter. Countless enemies had tested your stamina, their sheer numbers depleting your reserves as you confronted them head-on, side by side.

The signs of exhaustion were evident in the lousiness of your movements, your shoulders rising and falling in an irregular manner. Each breath became a heavy burden, weighing upon your chest. Your once fluid motions had begun to falter, slowing as weariness claimed its hold. Yet, even in the face of these challenges, you stood resolute, confronting the onslaught with dedication.

Finally, the last of your adversaries had been vanquished, leaving only stillness in their wake. Blade, ever vigilant, turned his attention towards you without delay. His piercing gaze met your weary countenance, observing a vulnerability that was unfamiliar to him. The customary smile that you often flashed at him, one that had grated his nerves in the past, was now replaced by a weariness he had not witnessed before—a new encounter, a glimpse of your fragility.

He approached you, his strides purposeful and deliberate, calling out your name to capture your attention. Yet, you remained lost in your own thoughts, your gaze fixated upon the ground as if oblivious to his voice. Sensing your imminent collapse, Blade's instincts kicked in, honed from years of battles fought side by side.

With remarkable swiftness, Blade extended his arm, snaking it around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. The impact of his swift action halted your impending fall, providing a secure anchor within the shelter of his embrace.

An irritated expression twisted Blade's features, his countenance marred by displeasure as he clicked his tongue in disapproval upon witnessing the vulnerability you now displayed. A flicker of annoyance danced within him, tugging at the corners of his being, yet an inexplicable flutter of something else lingered momentarily, a fleeting sensation that he swiftly dismissed.

He listened intently, attuned to the barely audible sound of your breathing, attesting to the rise and fall of your chest. Blade was certain that your slumber was merely a consequence of the relentless fatigue that accompanied the arduous battle you had endured. Letting out a sigh, he adjusted his stance, shifting his weight to better support you and ensure your comfort.

In the stillness, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Blade turned his gaze over his shoulder, catching sight of Kafka and Silver Wolf making their way toward him. A mischievous smirk adorned Kafka's face as her eyes fixated upon the curious and unusual scene unfolding before her.

"What happened to (Name)?" Silver Wolf inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity as she observed Blade and the slumbering figure in his arms.

"Fatigue," Blade responded curtly, his voice devoid of any elaboration.

"Oh? Did you encounter a formidable number of enemies then?" Kafka interjected with amusement. "It has been quite some time since I've seen (Name) exhausted to this extent. She usually dispatches her adversaries with impressive swiftness."

Blade chose not to respond to Kafka's remark, his gaze drifting down to your peaceful form nestled against his chest. The lines of fatigue that etched your face seemed to soften, revealing a vulnerability that was rarely witnessed. It was a sight that both intrigued and unsettled him, stirring emotions he struggled to comprehend.

"However, this scene is undoubtedly worth witnessing and quite rare.”

Blade's irritation grew as Kafka's words rang in his ears, emphasizing the rarity and significance of the scene unfolding before them. He groaned audibly, sensing the intrusion of his co-hunters into this trivial moment.

However, his annoyance escalated to exasperation as the sound of a shutter reached his ears, followed by the realization that Silver Wolf had captured a photograph of you both in your vulnerable state.

"I will send this photo to (Name)," the hacker announced, her fingers swiftly tapping on her phone to carry out her plan.

His head snapped towards his co-hunters, a glare burning in his eyes as he observed Silver Wolf holding her phone aloft, a mischievous and amused grin etched upon Kafka's face as she stood beside her, hand confidently placed on her hips.

A deep groan escaped Blade's lips, a resounding protest against the audacity of their endeavor. The boundaries of privacy seemed to blur in their presence, and he found himself grappling with the precarious balance between camaraderie and personal space.

Unperturbed by Blade's disapproval, Silver Wolf announced her intention to send the captured photo to you, her fingers tapping on her phone to execute the plan. Kafka's amusement was evident in her voice, reveling in the presumed surprise that awaited you upon awakening to a barrage of messages.

"She will be bombarded with this photo as soon as she awakens," Kafka chuckled, relishing the anticipation she held within her mischievous gaze. Her words danced with a mixture of presumption and amusement, an implicit belief that the outcome would be nothing short of entertaining.

As Silver Wolf scrutinized the sent photo, her sharp eyes honed in on a particular detail that caught her attention. With a sense of urgency, she zoomed in on the image, focusing on your arm. A splotch of crimson stood out, a telltale sign of blood trickling down your skin. Instantly, she relayed the concerning discovery to her companions.

"I believe it's imperative that we return to headquarters and bring (Name) to the healer without delay," Silver Wolf suggested, her tone laced with genuine concern. As she faced the perplexed expressions of her companions, she clarified her reasoning. "I noticed blood on her arm in the photo. It's possible she sustained a wound during the battle."

Blade's gaze snapped towards you, his attention immediately drawn to the area where the hacker had spotted the alarming sight. His eyes scanned your slumbering form, searching for any evidence of injury. And there, peeking out from the side of your arm, he spotted the crimson stain, smearing his own sleeves with your blood. A huff of frustration escaped his lips, mingled with a tinge of exasperation.

He couldn't help but ruminate on the recklessness that often coursed through you, the audacity with which you faced danger.

Indignation surged within Blade, rising like a tempest within his chest as he contemplated the dire consequences of your actions. While he grudgingly acknowledged his own tendency for recklessness, a belief that his immortal nature would allow him to withstand wounds and slashes with ease, he recognized the stark contrast in your vulnerability. You did not possess the gift-like-curse of immortality, and the wounds you sustained held the potential for far graver repercussions.

Devising meticulous plans, carefully assessing the movements and intentions of your enemies, had always been the cornerstone of Blade's approach to victory. It was a calculated dance, a strategic ballet that he had honed over time.

Yet, what gnawed at Blade's core, sparking the ember of irritation within him, was the unsettling realization that he was irked by your recklessness. It should not concern him if you were to meet your demise on the battlefield. After all, death had been his elusive pursuit, an ever-present companion lurking in the recesses of his existence, a catchphrase that easily rolled off his tongue. It was a facet of his other self, one he had sought to embrace yet had never fully attained.

And yet, the bitter taste that lingered on the tip of his tongue, the annoyance that prickled beneath his skin, betrayed a profound unease at the thought of your death. It was an incongruity that bewildered him, challenging his steadfast commitment to detachment. How could you, someone he had never truly regarded beyond the confines of a fellow hunter, stir within him such distaste for the inevitability of death?

Blade grappled with the paradox, his irritation growing in intensity. The disconcerting reality of his emotions cast a veil of unease upon his otherwise steadfast resolve. The boundaries that he had carefully constructed, separating himself from the lives of others, seemed to blur in your presence.

It was an annoyance that Blade struggled to comprehend, an unwelcome intrusion upon his carefully cultivated existence.

"We must hurry, for there may be more adversaries in our path," Kafka suggested, her voice grained with urgency.

In response, Blade swiftly and effortlessly scooped you up, cradling you in his arms with practiced ease—his hands supporting your knees and shoulders—before the trio embarked towards the waiting ship.

Their hurried footsteps resonated in unison. With every stride, Blade's focus remained fixed upon the precious cargo he carried, ensuring your safety as they made their way to the ship that would transport them to their destination.

Upon reaching their destination, Blade carefully set you down upon the bed in the clinic, relinquishing his hold as the healer swiftly took charge. His piercing gaze lingered upon you for a fleeting moment before he pivoted on his heel, preparing to depart the room.

“You’re leaving?”

Kafka's sudden question halted Blade in his tracks, prompting him to turn his gaze toward her. A hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes, awaiting her explanation.

"There's no need for me to linger here," he stated matter-of-factly.

"You're not going to look after (Name)?"

The inquiry caused his eyebrow to arch in mild confusion. "And why should I do that?"

"You already know that yourself, Bladie," she stated with a playful tone and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Blade's frown deepened, his irritation bubbling to the surface.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted, a note of finality in his voice. "And I have no interest in delving into whatever it is."

With that, Blade turned away, cutting off any further discussion. His steps carried him away from the room, leaving behind the enigmatic conversation. But, even as he walked away, the lingering words and insinuations gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, an unwelcome intrusion into his otherwise focused mind.

Blade found himself genuinely perplexed by Kafka's implications, unable to grasp the underlying meaning of her words. However, he couldn't deny the undeniable truth that it irritated him when it pertained to you. From the very beginning, since the moment you had invaded his mind, you had become a persistent presence, governing his thoughts and actions through your infuriating actions.

Within the recesses of his being, a tempestuous whirlwind raged, its origins elusive, its nature enigmatic. It swept through his soul, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions that clashed and clashed like thunderous waves against rugged cliffs. It was as if a churning vortex had taken residence within him, disrupting the tranquility he had come to know.

This enigmatic sensation, like a riddle without a solution, perplexed him, refusing to be neatly categorized or defined. It twisted and turned, defying his attempts to grasp its essence, teasing him with fleeting glimpses of comprehension before slipping away like smoke through his fingertips. It was a phantom, taunting him with its complex nature.

This inexplicable connection with you contradicted his stoic nature, defying the boundaries he had meticulously established to safeguard his emotions. The turbulence it caused within him was an unwelcome disruption, disturbing the delicate equilibrium he had carefully maintained for so long. Yet, despite his disdain for this unfamiliar sentiment, he couldn't escape its hold.

For now, Blade chose to bury those uncertainties, channeling his focus back to the tasks at hand. The path of a hunter was one fraught with danger and uncertainty, and he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by unexplained sentiments. With a steady stride, he continued his journey, suppressing the whisper of concern that followed in his wake.

“We have a new member in our team,” Kafka announced, looking at her side where a woman stood. “This is (Name). She will join as soon as Elio instructs us.”

As Kafka made the announcement, introducing you as the newest member of their team, your presence drew the attention of the group. All eyes turned towards you, including Blade's, who observed the exchange with a stoic expression.

Silver Wolf, brimming with an air of confidence, rose from her seat and approached you and Kafka. She introduced herself with a cool demeanor, extending her hand for a formal handshake. You reciprocate the gesture, a warm smile gracing your lips as you accept her greeting.

"(Name). I am pleased to meet you," you replied, your tone reflecting sincerity and openness.

Beside her, Kafka took it upon herself to introduce Blade, her words tinged with a hint of playful warning.

"And this is Blade. He's got a few quirks, but he's a pretty decent guy. Just make sure you don't rub him the wrong way. But please beware around him," Kafka introduces him on his behalf, with a casual tone.

She conveyed his complexities, acknowledging the challenges that might arise when interacting with him. Blade simply nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze steady as he absorbed the introductions.

Taking the initiative, you extended your hand towards Blade, your gesture mirroring the earlier exchange between Silver Wolf and yourself. With a gentle smile, you spoke, voicing your hope to maintain a positive rapport.

"Blade, it's a pleasure to meet you too. I hope I can avoid getting on your bad side," you said with genuine sincerity, the sparkle in your eyes hinting at your lightheartedness.

Rather than accepting your extended hand, Blade's reaction was one of dismissiveness and disdain. He emitted a snort of irritation before abruptly turning his back to you, retreating to his designated place. It was a deliberate gesture, a clear message that he had no intention of entertaining any further interaction or connection with you.

From that moment onward, a peculiar dynamic unfolded between you and Blade. The intensity of your gaze, your unwavering attention directed towards him, became a persistent source of irritation and anger. It was as if your eyes bore into his very being, their weight an ever-present reminder of your presence.

Whether in the midst of missions or within the confines of the headquarters, your stares persisted, unabated and noticeable. It was a lack of discretion that only heightened his vexation, making it impossible for him to ignore the density of your steady focus.

Initially, Blade had chosen to overlook your behavior, granting you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that it would soon wane or change. He had granted you his patience and considered it a passing phase, a temporary inconvenience. However, as the days wore on and your behavior remained unchanged, frustration welled within him, igniting a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

He had expected the glue-like hold you seemed to have on him to loosen, to fade away. Yet, to his dismay, it clung to him with unrelenting persistence, defying his attempts to shake it off. The irritation stirred within him, his patience waning, as the boundary of tolerance grew thinner with each passing moment.

The sudden aggression in Blade's actions shattered the fragile calm that had previously enveloped the hallway. The forceful slam against the wall resonated through the confined space, echoing with a resounding intensity. His arms flanked your head, his piercing gaze meeting your bewildered self with an unsettling mix of intensity and rage.

Caught off guard, you found yourself pinned against the unyielding surface, your movement restricted by the sheer force of Blade's hold. The abrupt halt in your path to your room left you suspended in a moment of uncertainty, as you struggled to comprehend the reason behind his unexpected and aggressive actions.

“What is your scheme, huh?”

His voice, husky yet dangerous, sliced through the air like a blade. His inquiry demanded answers, seeking to unravel the motivations behind your actions, or perhaps to assert dominance over the situation. The solemnity of his words filled the space, leaving little room for evasion or half-truths.

As Blade's intense gaze bore into your own, his indignation smoldered beneath the surface. The innocence reflected in your eyes, an aspect he vehemently abhorred, only served to further stoke the flames of his anger. It was a stark contrast to his own nature, an antithesis that rankled against his very being.

You responded, your voice steady yet laced with a hint of composure.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you declared, your words echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Blade's growl reverberated through the air, a primal display of dominance and power. The impact of his hands against the wall echoed his warning, a reminder of what he was capable of should he be further provoked. But, despite his fearsome actions, you remained steadfast, your unwavering gaze fixed upon him, as if seeking to untangle the enigma that resided within his soul.

His voice, dripping with darkness and cruelty, lashed out at you, laying bare his frustrations. The intensity of his stare pierced through you, the weight of his words bearing down upon your shoulders. He acknowledged the patience he had shown thus far, acknowledging the restraint he had exercised in the face of your relentless scrutiny.

"You have persistently fixed your gaze upon me, which has been rather vexing. Consider yourself fortunate that, despite my reputation for impatience, I have displayed remarkable restraint and refrained from terminating your existence due to your incessant and intrusive stares."

In response to his threat, you remained resolute, your voice steady as you spoke. "Then, I am thankful that you haven't taken my life yet.”

“Tell me a plausible reason to refrain myself from ending you.”

"I want to know more about you," you admitted, your voice holding a mixture of curiosity and determination. It was a risky statement, one that defied his expectations and pushed the boundaries of his guarded existence.

His piercing gaze bore into you, intensifying with disbelief and a hint of warning. The depths of his glare seemed to echo a sense of cruelty and danger, as if he dared you to challenge his skepticism.

"Don't test me," he scowled, his voice laced with an edge of threat.

"I beg to differ," you retort. "You remain an enigma to me, a puzzle that has piqued my curiosity. It was relatively effortless for me to become acquainted with Kafka and the others, but you, on the other hand, prove to be a unique challenge. Perhaps it is your distant and aloof nature that sets you apart, or perhaps there are deeper underlying factors at play."

"You previously mentioned your desire to avoid antagonizing me, yet it appears that you have now succeeded in doing so."

Blade's words dripped with venom, his threat drifting through the charged atmosphere. The darkness that shrouded him threatened to consume the space between you, leaving little room for leniency or understanding. It was clear that he believed you had crossed a line, evoking the wrath of his ire.

With a heavy sigh, you faced him without fear.

Blade's disbelief was palpable, his features contorted in a mix of incredulity and frustration. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, and his clenched jaw revealed the inner turmoil as he fought to rein in his rising anger. With one final glare, he abruptly withdrew his body, releasing you from the oppressive presence he had imposed upon you.

"Your reasons for joining the Stellaron hunters are not my concern," he declared, his voice laced with an undeniable edge of irritation. "Keep your intrusive curiosity to yourself and refrain from bothering others. I have no interest in knowing anything about anyone, including you."

The finality in his words echoed through the space, underscoring his disinterest in delving into matters beyond the immediate scope of their shared mission. It was a clear message, signaling that further attempts to breach the walls he had erected would be met with resistance and hostility.

With that, Blade turned away, leaving you to absorb the weight of his rejection and the boundaries he had firmly established. The tension between you hung in the air, an unspoken barrier that seemed insurmountable.

As he strode off, a cold and distant aura enveloped him, shielding him from the intrusions of curiosity and connection that you had attempted to breach.

The surreptitious glances you cast in Blade's direction did not escape notice, despite his prior warnings and threat. Nonetheless, he begrudgingly acknowledged that the frequency of those glances had diminished compared to earlier encounters. When accompanying other hunters on missions, it granted Blade a fleeting respite, a temporary reprieve from the occasional scrutinizing gazes that seemed to dissect him from afar.

Yet, upon your return, you would invariably greet him with an amiable smile and a friendly wave, seemingly oblivious to his prior admonitions. Blade, resolute in maintaining his distance, opted for complete disregard, refusing to acknowledge your presence or partake in any form of interaction.

However, when circumstances dictated that the two of you found yourselves on the same mission, the task became increasingly burdensome for Blade. Not due to any perceived deficiency on your part, but rather because of the unyielding intensity of your penetrating stares. They bore into him, as if endeavoring to unravel the enigmatic cloak that enveloped his very essence.

In response, Blade's glare would intensify, a lethal warning etched within his gaze. It stood as a silent plea for you to desist in your unyielding observation, a plea that fell upon deaf ears. Despite his explicit caution, you persisted in your pursuit, undeterred by his unspoken signals.

There arrived a moment when Blade's anger and irritation reached a boiling point, overpowering his self-restraint. In an uncontrollable surge of rage, he found himself unsheathing his sword, employing it as a tangible manifestation of his pent-up emotions. It was a perilous act, a palpable reflection of his internal struggle, as he fought to regain dominion over himself in the face of your relentless actions.

However, even in light of his aggression, you remained undeterred, unflinching in the face of the menace he presented. The clash between the two of you transformed into a battle of wills, an unyielding pursuit on your part juxtaposed with his unwavering resistance. The tension between you surged, leaving behind a trail of disquietude and exasperation in its wake.

Intrigued by Kafka's insatiable curiosity, she felt compelled to confront Blade about his abrupt outburst. Approaching him with a mixture of fascination and concern, her voice held a subtle undertone of intrigue, as she sought to crack the reason behind his aggressive actions.

"Why did you resort to such measures, Bladie?" she inquired, her tone infused with genuine curiosity.

The embers of Blade's anger still smoldered within him, evident in the acerbic manner in which he delivered his words.

"That woman certainly knows how to stoke the fires of my fury," he growled, bitterness dripping from his voice.

Kafka's eyes narrowed, fixating on Blade intently. She meticulously assessed the situation, scouring for any visible signs of harm inflicted upon him, only to find none. There had to be a catalyst, a trigger that had prompted such an instinctive and volatile response from him.

Based on her astute observations, Kafka deduced that your actions had not warranted such an aggressive reaction. Puzzlement tinged her words as she probed deeper, yearning for clarity.

"From what I witnessed, (Name) did nothing to incite your anger. Or am I missing something?"

Blade's head snapped towards Kafka, his forehead furrowing with a blend of frustration and defensiveness.

"She persisted with those vexing stares, despite my explicit warning," he retorted.

A playful spark flickered within Kafka's eyes as she observed Blade, a subtle amusement tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Ah, I comprehend now," she replied, a trace of understanding seeping into her voice. "So, that is the crux of the matter."

Blade huffed, his frustration unabated. "If she refuses to desist, I shall not hesitate to end her myself," he declared, his words carrying an icy finality.

Kafka's amusement only intensified, her expression transforming into one of playful intrigue. She appeared to find the entire situation rather entertaining, studying Blade with a blend of fascination and amusement. It was evident that she had gleaned something deeper from the intricate dynamics between you and Blade, something that transcended mere annoyance.

With the threat hanging palpably in the air, the tension between you and Blade reached an unprecedented apex, the consequences of your unyielding stares teetering on treacherous ground. The ball now rested in your court, presenting you with a pivotal choice – either relent and abandon this perilous path or persist with an unwavering determination, willing to face the consequences that lay in wait.

The passage of time transformed weeks into months, and yet, there remained no trace of your return from the mission undertaken alongside Kafka. Blade found himself ensnared in an unfamiliar state of tranquility, relishing in the absence of your persistent stares. Initially expecting your reappearance after a mere week, he had braced himself for the resumption of your penetrating gaze. However, the passing months painted a contrasting picture, shrouding your whereabouts in mystery.

Inquiries gnawed at the fringes of Blade's consciousness. Could the mission truly detain you for such an extensive duration? It seemed implausible that you and Kafka, both formidable in your own right, would succumb to failure or meet your demise at the hands of adversaries. Blade intimately understood the strength and cunning of his comrades. Furthermore, the absence of any official proclamations from Elio only heightened his conviction that your mission endured.

Despite his profound antipathy towards you, Blade could not dismiss your capabilities. He was not petty enough to overlook or disregard the skills of another, even if he harbored personal disdain. Reluctantly, he acknowledged your competence, recognizing that you were not to be underestimated.

Yet, amidst the tranquil days, thoughts of you infiltrated Blade's mind akin to an unyielding anchor rooted deep within the ocean floor. Rare was the occasion when he allowed himself to be consumed by thoughts of another, especially one who irked him to the core. The frustration and anger that simmered within him escalated with each passing day, a constant reminder of the enigma you had become in his existence.

Blade grappled with reconciling these conflicting emotions, struggling to comprehend why you had managed to etch yourself so indelibly in his thoughts. He battled against his own resistance, resenting the intrusion of your presence monopolizing his mind. It was a vexing state of affairs, leaving him wrestling with an amalgamation of sentiments he had long sought to suppress.

As the months gradually wore on, Blade found himself increasingly exasperated by the lingering presence of your memory within his thoughts. The weight of your existence persisted like an anchor, impeding the tranquility of his mind. It posed an enigma that defied resolution, a puzzle that exasperated him to no end.

Blade's ruminations incessantly revolved around the void created by your absence, compelling him to ponder over the intricacies of your mission and the current state of affairs. Despite having access to the contact information of all the Stellaron hunters, he deliberately abstained from possessing any trace of your details. The contempt he nurtured towards your presence rendered any form of direct communication superfluous in his discerning eyes.

His inclinations inclined towards solitude and seclusion, seldom initiating contact with his fellow hunters unless exigencies dictated such action. He refrained from extending his reach to others or responding to their messages unless they pertain directly to the ongoing missions at hand. Blade discerned no necessity for casual conversations or trivial exchanges that deviated from the intended purpose.

"I am aware that your perpetual annoyance and anger are constants, but on this occasion, they seem to possess a heightened potency compared to prior instances, even in the absence of any discernible source of provocation," Silver Wolf remarked, her voice resounding within their customary resting room. Engrossed in her gaming pursuits, she paused momentarily after completing a round.

Blade cast a sidelong glance at her, his irritation apparent. However, he chose to remain silent, maintaining his comfortable position on the couch as his gaze reverted to fixating upon the aquarium wall situated before him.

"Even in your current relaxed state, I can sense the presence of your simmering irritation permeating the room, you're aware of that, aren't you?"

Silver Wolf let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping in response to Blade's unresponsive demeanor. But just as the air left her lungs, a familiar sound filled the air, slicing through the silence—her phone's ringing tone. It was Kafka on the line, and without hesitation, she swiftly accepted the call.

"Hey."

"Hello, Silver Wolf! I'm out shopping today since it's our well-deserved rest day for both (Name) and I."

Silver Wolf caught a movement from the corner of her eye, prompting her to turn her head and meet Blade's gaze. He had straightened his posture on the couch from his relaxed position, his attention now fixated on her. A shift in his demeanor was apparent; he seemed alert and engaged as he observed Kafka's video call.

"When will you be back?" the hacker inquired.

"I'm still waiting for Elio's instructions. He mentioned that we should remain here for a while longer, as there's an upcoming mission on the horizon."

"And where's (Name)?"

A soft rustling sound reached Silver Wolf's ears once more, drawing her attention. Her gaze shifted to Blade, noting the subtle change in his posture. He now leaned forward, his upper body hunched over with elbows resting on his knees, his hands intertwined together. His focused stance mirrored his intent, as if he hung onto every word exchanged during the conversation.

"(Name) is currently recuperating in a small hospital. She sustained an injury during our mission, though thankfully, it isn't too severe.”

"Tell her to rest well.”

"Of course.”

With the call concluded, she pocketed her phone and shifted her gaze towards Blade, her eyes searching for any trace of empathy or understanding. Yet, his response was a mere scoff, accompanied by a dismissive comment.

"Weak," he uttered, his tone laced with disdain and Silver Wolf only released a defeated sigh.

With the homecoming of weary hunters, an air of relief and delight enveloped the headquarters. Genuine smiles adorned the faces of Silver Wolf and their comrades, manifesting their sincere joy as they warmly welcomed your return from the arduous mission. The unity and camaraderie among the team were palpable, tangible evidence of the bonds forged through shared trials and tribulations.

Blade trailed behind Silver Wolf, observing the scene with a detached interest. His gaze fleetingly brushed over the joyful countenances and animated conversations, until it settled upon you—the very source of his vexation. There you stood, radiant with an effusive grin, your hand extended in a friendly wave.

In that moment, an unfamiliar warmth stirred within Blade, threatening to breach the fortress he had meticulously erected around his emotions. It was a sensation alien and disconcerting, a stark departure from his accustomed state of detached coldness. Its presence vexed him to no end, this inexplicable emergence of nascent sentiments that simmered just beneath the surface.

He endeavored to quell the burgeoning warmth, dismissing it as a transient aberration in his otherwise composed and chaotic existence. Yet, with each subsequent encounter, every instance where your firm gaze locked onto him, the intensity of this sensation surged, chipping away at his steely resolve. Frustration surged within him, further aggravating the already tempestuous storm of his emotions.

Blade fought against the onslaught of these unfamiliar sentiments, unwilling to succumb to their influence. He clung to the familiarity of his annoyance, his irritation serving as a shield against the disconcerting stirrings within his heart. But deep down, he knew that ignoring these feelings would only fuel their fire, intensifying the turmoil he sought so desperately to quell.

As the days unfolded and your presence remained a constant in his life, Blade found himself increasingly entangled in a web of conflicting emotions. The war between his irritation and the burgeoning warmth waged on, leaving him with a sense of frustration and a growing awareness of the enigma you had become to him.

In the midst of the chaotic battlefield, where danger lurked at every turn, a pivotal moment unfolded that would test the depths of your connection. As the clash of weapons echoed around you, a swift and unexpected strike found its mark, piercing Blade's chest with a searing pain.

In that instant, your instinctual response kicked in, overriding any fear or hesitation that threatened to consume you. With unwavering determination, you raced towards Blade, your steps propelled by a surge of panic and concern. The gravity of the situation urged you to act swiftly, to protect him from further harm.

Despite the formidable adversaries that interposed themselves along your path, your singular focus remained unwaveringly fixed upon your wounded comrade. Each opponent that dared to obstruct your passage fell swiftly and decisively to your calculated strikes. Guided by a relentless sense of urgency, you traversed the battlefield with unwavering resolve, your purpose anchored in reaching Blade's side and attending to his injuries.

Finally arriving at his side, your hands descended upon his wounded chest with an unyielding grip. Worry danced upon your countenance, etching a crease upon your brow and compelling your teeth to gnaw on your lip. Clutching a tightly held handkerchief, you applied firm pressure to his wound, striving to staunch the torrent of blood that threatened to steal his vitality.

Blade, despite his internal resistance to your ministrations, could not help but perceive the genuine concern etched across your visage. The furrowed brows, the resolve that emanated from your eyes, and the sheer intensity of your actions conveyed volumes, surpassing the need for any spoken words in that critical juncture.

"Blade, we must attend to this injury quickly!"

Your voice quivered with genuine concern and panic, causing Blade to momentarily recoil, caught off guard by the sincerity emanating from your words. The urgency in your voice and the unmistakable tremor in your tone pierced through his defenses, reaching a dormant place within him that had long remained untouched.

Perplexity enveloped him as he struggled to comprehend the depth of your distress over a mere wound, particularly considering his own immortal nature. Yet, as his gaze remained fixed upon your countenance, a subtle yet undeniable transformation transpired within him. A tingling sensation rippled from the pit of his stomach, coursing through his chest—a foreign and unfamiliar sensation that evoked curiosity rather than repulsion.

Blade caught a glimpse of something he had long denied himself—the touch of genuine concern and the presence of someone who genuinely cared. It served as a stark contrast to the scorn and condemnation he had grown accustomed to receiving from others. For the first time in centuries, there was someone in close proximity, tending to his well-being without reservation.

A tumultuous dichotomy of irritation and acceptance rose within him, engendering a tangled tapestry of conflicting emotions. The familiar irritation that had once consumed him began to dissipate, gradually replaced by a growing appreciation for your presence and the concern you exhibited.

Though the intricacies of his shifting emotions eluded full comprehension, Blade acknowledged the faint stirrings of comfort that arose in your proximity.

"What happened?" Kafka's voice interjected, causing you to whip your head in her direction. The perplexed look on her face mirrored your own surprise, as she observed the perturbation etched on your features.

"Blade... he got stabbed! We need to hurry and bring him to the healer!" Panic laced your words, urgency driving you to take swift action.

Kafka's eyes followed your hand, which was placed on Blade's chest, the rise and fall of his breath now a matter of concern. Slowly, her gaze ascended to his face, a mixture of irritation and nonchalance evident in his features. Then, her attention refocused on your frantic self.

A few moments passed, during which Kafka's gaze seemed to penetrate the situation, processing the scene before her. Suddenly, a burst of laughter erupted from her chest, echoing through the tense atmosphere.

"Why are you laughing? This is not a laughing matter, Kafka!" you exclaimed, your frustration palpable as you glared at the wine-haired beauty.

Blade let out a low groan, vigorously slapping your hand away from his chest. His unexpected display of aggression surprised you, especially considering the wound he had sustained. It was as if the act of being stabbed was nothing more than an ordinary occurrence for him, leaving you even more baffled. Was that the reason behind Kafka's laughter?

Your confusion deepened, and you couldn't make sense of the situation.

"Oh, (Name). I thought you knew," Kafka chuckled, her laughter now laced with a sense of amusement at your bewilderment.

"About what?"

With a brief glance at Blade, who was sheathing his sword with his back turned to them, Kafka's words carried a hint of knowing.

"Bladie is no stranger to mere wounds or injuries. That particular wound is insignificant to him. He is impervious to any harm inflicted upon his physical form. In fact, he transcends the limitations of us human beings; he is immortal, my dear (Name)."

WIth Kafka’s revelation your treatment of him immensely changed. As well as Blade found himself caught in a flurry of contradictions, torn between the desire for your absence and the inexplicable irritation when you complied with his wishes. Your change in treatment, while seemingly what he had wanted, now left him more unsettled and furious than ever before.

He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way, and it frustrated him to no end. The inexplicable emotions that welled up within him whenever you were around were foreign and unwelcome. It was as if the walls he had erected around his heart were slowly crumbling, revealing a vulnerability he had long suppressed.

The sight of you flashing smiles at others, tending to their wounds with genuine concern, ignited an unfamiliar sensation within him. He detested the repulsive sensation that surged through him, the possessive instinct that flared up whenever he saw you caring for someone else. He loathed the fact that you had this effect on him, making him question his own emotions and reactions.

Blade couldn't fathom why he cared, why he was bothered by your interactions with others. He was the immortal, the one who had long shut himself off from emotional attachments. And yet, here you were, weaving your way into his thoughts and emotions, stirring up a turmoil he couldn't escape.

With each passing day, the irritation only intensified, creating a storm of clashing emotions within him. He was more furious with himself for feeling this way, for allowing you to affect him in ways he had never experienced before.

Kafka, with her keen and perceptive eyes, couldn't help but remark upon Blade's discernibly heightened irritation—an observation that had not eluded her astute perception. Driven by her insatiable curiosity, she promptly broached the subject, seeking to unravel the enigma of his unusual demeanor. Yet, true to his character, Blade responded with his customary dismissiveness, casually brushing aside her concerns without proffering any elucidation. With an air of nonchalance, he redirected his attention to the task at hand, leaving the mystery of his behavior to linger in the air, unresolved.

Time seemed to elude Blade as he stood in his room. Lost in a labyrinth of thoughts concerning you, he found himself unaware of the passing hours, each moment consumed by you. A soft groan of frustration escaped his lips, acknowledging his own inability to pull away from his thoughts of you.

Feeling the weight of his restless mind, Blade resolved to take a moment for himself, to release some pent-up tension and clear his head. With purposeful steps, he made his way towards the nearby shower, where he could let off some steam. As the water continued to cascade over his form, Blade attempted to center his attention on the sensation of droplets caressing his skin, hoping it might serve as a distraction from the turmoil that roiled within his mind. Allowing the warmth to envelop him, he sought to ease the tension in his muscles, striving to liberate himself from the grip of his incessant thoughts.

Shaking his head, he endeavored to clear his mind of these unwelcome musings.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself, perturbed by the uncharacteristic surge of emotions that enveloped him. He had prided himself on being an unyielding and emotionless immortal, impervious to the influences of the world around him. Yet, there he stood, beleaguered by persistent thoughts concerning a mere mortal such as yourself.

With a resigned sigh, he turned off the shower and stepped out, enveloping his form with a towel. Gazing at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, his crimson eyes reflected a blend of irritation and confusion. The unanticipated unraveling of his self-control by your presence bewildered him, leaving him grappling with emotions he could not completely understand.

Clasping his fists, he felt a surge of anger stirring within him. He could not afford to be ensnared by distractions, especially with perilous missions on the horizon. He must reclaim his focus and staunchly set aside these unwelcome and perplexing emotions.

Blade was clad in nothing but a short pajama, a towel casually draped over his shoulders to catch the lingering droplets of water. As he moved towards his bed, the resounding knock on his door demanded his attention. Curious and somewhat irritated by the intrusion, he opened the door, only to be taken aback by the sight before him—you standing there, an unexpected presence in this hour.

His surprise was evident in the slight widening of his eyes and the subtle raising of his brows. He couldn't fathom how you managed to leave the infirmary, where you were supposed to be resting. He silently calculated the time since their arrival, and the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—five hours had passed.

"Hello," you greeted timidly. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"What brings you here?" he asked, irritated.

"I just wanted to express my gratitude for carrying me back to headquarters... and, well, apologize for any inconvenience."

"There was no other option. Kafka and Silver Wolf couldn't have taken you to the infirmary, could they? So, there's no need for thanks or apologies."

His blunt words briefly caught you off guard, causing you to blink before mustering a small smile.

"Oh." You blinked, mustering a small smile. "You're right. In that case, I'll take my leave now."

With a respectful bow, you turned on your heels, preparing to depart from his presence.

Blade's unwavering gaze remained fixated on you as you turned to depart, yet his eyes were subtly drawn to the exposed nape of your neck, igniting an inexplicable and unfamiliar sensation within him. The sight stirred something indescribable, a strange blend of emotions that only added to his growing frustration.

A maelstrom of confusion engulfed his thoughts as he questioned what was happening to him. Was he losing control, his once-steadfast sanity slipping through his grasp like elusive sand? The enigmatic emotions that besieged him intensified, leaving him grappling with a turbulent turmoil that defied understanding.

Just as the sound of heels clicking heralded your departure, Blade's trance was abruptly shattered. A primal force took hold of him, compelling him to act instinctively. In a moment beyond conscious contemplation, he seized your wrist, pulling you into his room with an abrupt force that elicited a surprised yelp from you. The door slammed shut behind you, sealing the two of you within its confines.

With an aggressive demeanor, Blade pinned you against the wall, his imposing figure rendering you feeling confined and vulnerable. His arms effectively caged you on either side of your head, while his intense gaze bore into you menacingly.

“W-What?”

Evident confusion colored your countenance as you cautiously questioned Blade, uncertain if your presence had once again provoked his irritation. His crimson eyes bore into you menacingly, wordlessly refusing to offer any response, leaving you to draw in a sharp breath, attempting to steady yourself. The charged atmosphere weighed heavily, prompting contemplation on whether a hasty escape was prudent. Yet, deep down, you recognized the futility of such an endeavor, as Blade's unmatched speed and strength would swiftly thwart any such attempt.

Summoning your courage, you made another attempt to prompt him, your words quivering slightly as they escaped your lips.

"Is there something you wish to say to me?" Despite the trepidation that tugged at your composure, you endeavored to maintain a composed facade, resolute in concealing your vulnerability.

Blade's response came with a visible grimace, his frustration unmistakable in his words, "You have persistently become annoying."

As he dipped his head, intensifying his scrutiny upon you, you valiantly struggled to keep your expression relaxed, even as your trembling hands betrayed the true depth of your emotions. The fearless front you displayed appeared only to further kindle his anger, intensifying the storm of emotions that swirled within him.

You are maddening.

"What did I even do?" Your voice took on a challenging tone, akin to that of a young cub ready to fight and growl. Intensely, you locked eyes with Blade, seeking an explanation for his behavior and his cryptic words.

"I should be the one saying that," he responded, his baritone voice carrying an edge of frustration. His answer only deepened your bewilderment, leaving you more perplexed than before.

"Huh? I don't understand—" you began to speak, but Blade's growl cut you off, silencing your words.

“What did you even do to me? Do you have another ability that can control emotions without our knowledge?”

His sudden accusation threw you off balance, as he insinuated that you possessed an ability to control emotions unbeknownst to anyone.

Your eyebrow arched in surprise and disbelief at the preposterous notion. You couldn't fathom what had gotten into Blade to make such an accusation, but you knew you needed to explain yourself, to set the record straight.

"Blade, I must admit I'm quite baffled by your accusation, as I genuinely don't know what you're referring to. I assure you, I haven't been doing anything to intentionally irritate you," you calmly explained with unfaltering eyes. "In fact, I've been following the caution you advised me about. So, I'm at a loss as to why you're upset with me once again."

Blade was right. Your compliance with his previous warning seemed to be the catalyst for your altered treatment of him. But what baffled him even more was why this change had only manifested recently, not from the very day he initially cautioned you.

Moreover, why is he justifying himself and becoming frustrated yet again? The question rings within him, echoing like an elusive whisper in the depths of his mind. He yearned to understand the source of his inner turmoil, to unravel the feelings that are sprouting in him.

The air was charged with an unmistakable sense of unease, and you could feel the weight of his emotions, veiled behind his crimson eyes. The conflict within him seemed to mirror the battle within your own heart, yearning to bridge the gap between you and find a common ground.

As you continued to gaze at him, a sliver of vulnerability flashed across Blade's hardened facade. It was fleeting, like a flickering flame, but enough to hint at the complex emotions that churned beneath his stoic exterior. His frustration seemed to be rooted in something deeper, something he struggled to put into words.

"You're well aware that I could wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze out that life of yours, aren't you?" he murmured, his lips hovering just above your ear, causing a shiver to course down your spine.

“Y-You’re crazy…”

He retracted his head slightly, fixing you with a sharp and penetrating gaze. The subtle quivering of your lips did not escape his notice, and a silent challenge passed between you both. His eyes traced a path from your intense gaze, skimming over your nose before finally lingering on your lips—a peculiar fixation, as if he had stumbled upon something mesmerizing and peculiar. An unusual urge seemed to flicker in his mind, an impulse to sink his teeth into your soft flesh until it bled.

Blade's tongue darted out, leaving a glistening trail across his lips as he raised his gaze to meet yours once more. The crimson hue of his eyes gleamed with a dangerous allure, veiled by a haze of emotions not easily discernible. Your jaw involuntarily dropped, unable to contain the wild pounding of your heart. The tension crackled with intensity, enveloping you both in its all-encompassing grip.

Every fiber of your being urged you to step back, to flee from the enigmatic danger that lurked in his captivating gaze. Yet, an inexplicable magnetism held you firmly in place, as if some invisible force bound you together.

The air hung heavy with anticipation, each passing second stretching into what felt like an eternal moment. Words seemed superfluous, for the unspoken language between your intertwined gazes conveyed more than mere sentences ever could. The space between you two became charged with a palpable energy, akin to the approach of an electrifying storm—impossible to ignore, as it enveloped you both in its relentless and tantalizing embrace.

"B-Blade—"

In an unforeseen twist of events, Blade's lips collided onto yours with a fervor that left you wide-eyed and breathless. The abruptness of the action rendered you momentarily frozen, unable to process the torrent of emotions and sensations that surged through your body.

Far from tender, the kiss bore a fierce and almost desperate intensity, as though it carried the weight of his very existence. It seemed as if he sought to carve himself upon you, as if this act of intimacy represented the last defiant stroke in a battle he waged within himself.

A sharp whimper involuntarily escaped your lips as he bit down with force, the metallic tang of your blood mingling with the taste of his kiss. The stinging sensation jolted you, yet you found yourself unable to push him away, as his strength overwhelmed any feeble attempts to resist. Instead, instinctively, you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, seeking to anchor yourself amidst the swirling chaos.

When he eventually withdrew, your breaths intertwined within the tensed air enveloping you both. His crimson eyes bore into yours, a tumultuous mix of emotions reflecting in their depths. Words eluded you as your mind grappled with the tangled array of feelings that engulfed you.

All was a blur, your heart pounding in your chest, mirroring the adrenaline-fueled rush of your thoughts. You felt like an unwitting participant in a dance of fate, entangled within a complex web of emotions that seemed to defy all rationality.

Blade's actions left you dazed and vulnerable, your thoughts in disarray. However, beneath the veil of aggression, you couldn't help but sense a raw vulnerability in him, a vulnerability that mirrored the turmoil of your own feelings.

His intense gaze bore into you, searing into your very soul, as he uttered those few words that carried a world of meaning.

"You make me go crazy."

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #blade x reader #hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #blade x y/n #hsr blade #star rail

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voidpetrova · 8 months

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possessive — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: possessiveness, p in v sex, dumbification, slut-shaming, aggressive sex — smut

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: jeremy's always been an angry guy, but his possessive side only came around when you were in the question

✧.*

the flickering candlelight danced across the elegant walls of the salvatore boarding house, setting an enchanting ambiance for the night's festivities. laughter and music intertwined as guests mingled, their conversations filling the air. among them, you stood as the center of attention, a radiant presence that drew everyone's gaze. the occasion was one of those rare mystic falls gatherings, and you had arrived with your boyfriend, jeremy hilbert, by your side. the two of you shared a connection that transcended the ordinary, a bond strengthened by shared experiences and the supernatural world that often encroached upon mystic falls. as you navigated through the crowd, your fingers entwined with jeremy's, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the curious stares directed your way.

soft strains of music cascaded through the room, lending an ethereal quality to the atmosphere. the flicker of candles cast a warm glow, illuminating the ornate decorations that adorned the boarding house. your heart raced as you felt jeremy's reassuring grip on your hand, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the sea of faces. the two of you exchanged knowing glances, a silent reminder of the unspoken connection that bound you together.

as the evening wore on, your conversations with various guests flowed like a river, ranging from mundane pleasantries to intriguing anecdotes about life in mystic falls. it seemed as though the entire town had converged under one roof, sharing laughter and tales in an attempt to momentarily forget the shadows that loomed on the outskirts of their reality. amidst the chatter, your eyes occasionally met jeremy's, each exchange an affirmation of the unbreakable bond that had brought you here.

however, the tranquility of the evening was destined to be disrupted. a figure emerged from the crowd, a familiar face that stirred a mixture of emotions within you. matt donovan, his dark hair tousled and a mischievous glint in his eyes, approached with a swagger that exuded confidence. his gaze lingered on you, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. jeremy's grip on your hand tightened subtly, a subtle indication of the tension that was building beneath the surface.

“hey, (y/n),” matt's voice was laced with charm, his eyes never leaving yours. “looking stunning as always.”

you offered a polite smile in response, keenly aware of jeremy's watchful gaze. the air between the three of you seemed to crackle with an unspoken challenge, an underlying current of rivalry that had existed since long before tonight's gathering.

jeremy's voice cut through the tension, his tone firm yet controlled. “matt.”

their gazes locked, a silent exchange of unspoken words that spoke volumes. the room around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the charged energy that surged between the two young men. it was a clash of pride, of emotions that ran deep, and an underlying possessiveness that had ignited the moment matt's eyes had settled on you.

matt's grin widened, undeterred by the palpable tension that hung in the air. he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive murmur. “you know, you look absolutely stunning in that dress.”

before you could respond, jeremy's grip on your hand tightened further, his patience evidently wearing thin. “come on now, matt,” he taunted, his voice carrying a steely edge. “my sister didn't want you, what makes you think my girlfriend will?”

matt's amusement flickered, replaced by a flash of challenge. “i think getting both of them to scream my name would be an easy task.”

time seemed to slow as the situation spiraled further. the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable collision of emotions. in an instant, jeremy's restraint snapped like a taut wire, and his fist collided with matt's jaw in a burst of raw anger. the impact reverberated through the room, the sound of the blow momentarily drowning out the music and conversations.

gasps echoed in the wake of the punch, and suddenly all eyes were on the escalating confrontation. matt stumbled back, his expression a mix of surprise and indignation. a storm of emotions danced across jeremy's features—anger, frustration, and something deeper that he struggled to contain.

“'biting off more than you can chew,” jeremy's voice was tight, his words a thinly veiled warning.

the tension hung heavy in the air, as if the very room itself could barely contain the weight of the emotions that surged between the two young men. without another word, jeremy turned on his heel and stormed away, his exit marked by the clatter of a chair knocked over in his haste.

you didn't hesitate. the urgency of the situation propelled you into action, your steps quick as you followed his retreating form. you found him in a dimly lit corridor, his back against the wall, his breathing ragged and his fists clenched at his sides.

“jeremy,” you breathed his name softly, concern etching your voice.

he looked up, his stormy gaze meeting yours. in that moment, the pretense melted away, and you saw the vulnerability that lay beneath his tough exterior. without a word, you closed the distance between you, your hands lifting to cradle his face, fingers brushing against his cheek.

the silence between you was laden with unspoken emotions—the weight of the night's events, the simmering tension, and the undeniable connection that had drawn you together. without hesitation, his lips met yours, a kiss that spoke of desperation, longing, and the unspoken truth that had been hanging between you. the world seemed to fall away as the kiss deepened, the corridor fading into insignificance as your hearts beat in sync. In that stolen moment, you found solace in each other's arms, the chaos of the evening giving way to something infinitely more profound.

“just had to wear this, didn't you?” his tone was boiling with agitation, his touch just as aggressive. his lips grazed against your jawline, tongue pressing on the curve of it, right under your ear. “you like having everybody watch you? think about doing the things that only i get to do?” nobody could blame him, you really did look gorgeous tonight. your black, silky dress clung to your thighs, way above your knees. there was a cut in the valley of your cleavage, but the whole thing clung to every curve of your body.

you whimpered as his hot breath fanned your neck, goosebumps littering your skin at his possessive touch.

“i was hoping you'd notice,” you admitted breathlessly, your voice laced with a mixture of honesty and a playful hint of mischief. his agitation was palpable, his touch bordering on possessive, and it only ignited the fire that had been kindling within you since the moment you arrived at the party.

his lips continued their tantalizing journey, leaving a trail of searing kisses along your jawline. every brush of his tongue against your sensitive skin sent shivers down your spine, a delightful ache that only grew as his breath ghosted over the curve of your ear. your breath hitched, caught between the sensation of his lips and the sensation of his words.

the heat of his touch was electric, fingers gripping your hips with a fervor that left no room for uncertainty. his possessiveness was an unspoken promise that sent your heart racing, his actions speaking louder than any words could convey. and as his lips lingered just below your ear, your name left his lips in a whisper that was as much a plea as it was a command.

“jeremy,” you moaned softly, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of his touch and the overwhelming emotions that had taken hold. his name became a prayer on your lips, a name that held a promise of connection, desire, and an unspoken understanding that defied the chaos that surrounded you.

his lips found yours once more, a fervent kiss that captured the raw intensity of the moment. it was a collision of pent-up emotions, a meeting of lips that sought not only solace but also a connection that went beyond the surface. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, as if the world around you had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in a realm where everything else ceased to matter.

he wasted no time when it came to ridding himself of his dress pants, kicking them off right before his boxers followed. you watched in awe, wet lips parted as you tried to steady your breathing, as you watched the way his dick slapped against his stomach, hard and red—precum dripping down the head.

“normally, we'd take it slow,” he began as he spread your legs open with his bare knee. he couldn't wait, the adrenaline rush hadn't worn off, and it was mixing well with lust and desire. “but tonight, no. little attention whores like you don't deserve any mercy.”

you barely had time to react, no time to prep yourself for what was coming. for a split second, you could feel his thick head push apart your lips, loosening the beginning of your entrance. that bliss didn't last long, not before your pussy engulfed his entire dick whole. you both groaned at the same time, relishing in the way he fit you perfectly, in the way he split you open, in the way you swore you could see the outline of his dick in your stomach. it was all too much.

“look at you,” he cooed in a mocking tone, smiling devilishly at the way you clawed at his biceps, at the way you clenched around his length. “barely started and i've already fucked you stupid.”

you whimpered at his words, unable to deny at how wet they made you. his hand made its way around your neck, choking you roughly as he brought your face up to his, breath hot against your neck. “scream for me, doll. let them know who's slutting you out.”

you couldn't help but oblige, chanting his name as tears pooled in your eyes. his pace was rough and quick as he pounded into your tight hole, a contrast to how you usually made love. no, tonight, jeremy was riled up and furious. he was furious constantly, and you were his muse. his prodigy. nobody got him this way the way you did, it was amazing. he knew how to channel all of his anger—his dick began to quiver inside of you, brushing up against your sweet spot as you continued screaming his name. he loved knowing that just about everyone could hear you, matt included. it was enough to send you both over the edge.

you cum, unable to fight your urges. you cum hard and pretty, eyes shutting tight and gasping up into the dark, empty abyss above. you slowly come back to awareness with the sensation of jeremy's thumb, moist and glistenong from your body, sliding up your jaw and his hand snaking around the back of your nrck. he’s got one side of his face pressed against yours, gnawing carefully at the bottom of your ear with his teeth and still grinding into you, pushing you over the edge.

“oh doll, you needed that one,” he tells you right into your ear. “that was a good fucking one.”

#tvd #the vampire diaries #jeremy gilbert x reader #jeremy gilbert #jeremy gilbert smut #matt donovan #smut #x reader

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ahqkas · 1 month

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HEART TO HEART ; arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuela, charles smith

SYNOPSIS! how love feels like with him

In the vast expanse of the Wild West, loving ARTHUR MORGAN feels like a journey of ragged battles, a tale woven with threats of wounds and roughness that winds through the wild landscapes and starlit nights. To love Arthur is to stand by his side through the hardship of his outlaw life, to not be afraid of being hurt and to cherish the moments you’ve got to be blessed with.

Affection with Arthur doesn’t come easy, but is expressed through simple actions amidst the clash of your worlds. The reassuring touch of his hands against your shoulders that lingers to the skin of your fingertips. The warmth of his gaze that follows you anywhere you go, casting a light of protection over your body and soul. The genuine smile he gives you over a game of blackjack beneath you or a flickering campfire that’s between you two, the smile only you seem to receive.

Arthur cares fiercely and if you were to end up hurt by someone’s hands under his watch, it’d be over his dead body.

Love with JOHN MARSTON comes roughly at first but despite his stubborn nature, he truly loves you through thin and thick. He’s all teeth and claws whenever there’s a sign of danger near his loved ones. He’s not a flawless man, no. Stubborn and impulsive, that’s what he is at most, yet courage and loyalty bloom in his heart.

The outlaw consistently puts himself into harm’s way to ensure your safety and well-being. Although he often doubts himself on this one, he won’t give up without a fight.

To love John is to accept his soul and believe that whenever action he makes it’s for the best.

Like the unpredictable beat of hooves on a dusty road, love with JAVIER ESCUELLA puts you both through a rocky story, as dramatic as promised. The horse can be agitated, its hooves urgent. But the horse can be calm, its hooves steady. Javier’s love comes determined.

A sanctuary is a place of refuge or safety where people can retreat to find peace, reflection, and protection, whenever it’s within the reach of a physical space or within their own consciousness. His care is your sanctuary, sheltering you from the outside’s wrath. He brings out the good in you and your mind feels at ease whenever he warms up your heart.

Javier’s love speaks volume, a language specifically made to become understood by you only. Warm hugs, a gentle caress of your cheek, intertwined fingers. It’s non verbal, but you understand it all too well. Carrying your stuff, saving some of the warm stew for you, cleaning your weapons. You don’t need words to communicate.

A blooming flower with its unfolding petals brings out the same feeling in you as the love of CHARLES SMITH. Like the flower, your love with Charles went through the same process of growth and now you’re left cherishing the outcome of the nature. Every petal shows a page of depth, intimacy, and connection you feel between you.

His empathy and understanding makes him a safe haven for you, the comfort that hangs to him calls for you one too many times. He listens without judgment and offers kindness.

Charles goes out of his way to help you out in any situation, whether it’s by taking care of you after a rather close call or stash a dozen of poisoned arrows to your bunch, always lending you a protective hand.

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hier--soir · 9 months

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tender is the night [for a broken heart]

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: ex-boyfriend!joel miller x f!reader summary: a birthday dinner gets interrupted by a drunk ex, who still can't say the words you need to hear. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] jackson era, ex-boyfriend!joel, crying on your birthday, angst, insecurity, joel can't express how he feels, nothing is resolved at the end, a drunk teary dilf. word count: 2.6k masterlist a/n: ouch. was in the mood for angst and hopelessness apparently? it hurt to write so it very well may hurt to read. enjoy!

The table was a disastrous mosaic of dirty crockery and full glasses of wine. Countless empty serving bowls were strewn to the far edges of the wood. Plates crusted with sauces and relishes were framed by purple rings where wine had stained the table. A Victoria sponge with the words ‘another year!’ written across it in a cinnamon dusting—because “we couldn’t figure out how to make icing”. Amidst it all, candles rested on simple saucers, wax dripping down their sides as small orange flames sent plumes of smoke towards the ceiling.

Those glowing flares sent shadows flickering across the table. The light reflected shards of yellow and white on the faces of your friends, highlighting drunken smiles and heavy lids over shiny eyes. Hushed conversation on one end of the table mirrored by raucous laughter and jeering on the other; the people closest to you, come to spend an evening together in celebration.

You were happy. A tingling sensation resided within you, vibrating in the space between the tips of your toes and the top of your skull. And yet, you couldn’t shake the ever-present reminder of something being missing. Or, someone, rather. A large, person-shaped hole existed in the room – in the space beside you. A cold patch of air that should’ve been warmed by an additional body. An empty chair at the the table, with no one to fill it.

The sharp clinking of a fork against glass caught your attention. Sydney was perched at the head of the table, messy haired and wide eyed. Unbeknownst to you, she’d taken the time to retrieve a fresh bottle of wine from the kitchen, and now stood over the group, crooked teeth on show as she beamed in your direction.

“Sooo,” she teased, dragging the word out and wiggling her eyebrows jauntily. “We’re here to celebrate a very special person.”

A chorus of cheers and whoops rung out along the table, and that warm feeling of happy, I am happy simmered in your chest again. A—dangerously full—glass of wine was held in your hand, and you sipped the crimson liquid leisurely, savouring the taste as it swum down your throat and into your full belly.

“Our dear, dear friend,” she said your name softly. “You mean so much to us all. No words could describe how grateful I am to have found you in this disaster of a world, and how pleased I am that our paths crossed after so many years of solitude.”

Jesse leant in from the seat beside yours, circling a lanky arm around your shoulders. You dipped your head in his direction to offer up a shy smile.

“You deserve nothing but the best,” Sydney continued, her eyes softening. “Here’s to another wonderful year with you, my friend. Happy birthday.”

You raised your glass into the air, laughing as your friends lifted their own to meet it. Glasses clashed in a boisterous toast, wine sloshing over rims, creating a new pattern of imperfect blots on the table.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckled, motioning for them all to settle down. “This means so much to me, really.”

You paused, soaking in the sight of their faces. Soft lipped smiles and bright eyes, gazing at you with nothing but love. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for the cake, for the wine. It means the worl—"

A sharp knock at the door cut you off.

All heads ticked in the direction of your entryway. Eyebrows drew together, friends glanced around, assessing who was missing from the table. A short, wary giggle loosed from your lips as you placed your wine glass down.

“I’ll, uhh—” you rose from the table. “I’ll go see who that might be.”

Before you’d taken a single step, you noted your pulse quickening.

He wouldn’t, you thought lamely, walking slowly towards the door. Surely, he wouldn’t.

Not today, of all days.

Not after months.

But you were lightheaded from the wine, the critical thinking part of your brain thoroughly fogged. And so you gripped the handle and tugged the door open without properly preparing yourself for if it was him, and then—

He would.

Today, of all days.

After months.

He would, and he did.

You balked at the sight of him. The cool evening air rushed in through the open doorway, and you could see dried yellow leaves smattered across the front porch – victims to the Fall weather. You noticed his boots first, unable to drag your gaze from the ground. Bulky, black boots that stood on the faded wood of your porch decking, crushing those flaxen leaves beneath them.

“Darlin’.” That deep, ache-in-your-stomach-inducing, nauseatingly familiar Texan drawl.

You recoiled at the sound of it, instinctively taking a step back into the house and away from the door, away from him.

He mirrored your movement, feet dragging his body a tedious step forward, until he rested atop the welcome mat. The thick, sour smell of liquor wafted through the air, and the tip of your nose scrunched at the overbearing scent. You finally allowed your eyes to drift up his body; past the wrinkled blue jeans, the dark green flannel, to rest on his face.

His beard was unkempt, curly hair unruly and a little longer than you’d seen him have it in all the years you’d known him. Dark irises bordered by bloodshot whites rested in the middle of his face, framed by heavy blue under-eye bags that hinted at a blatant lack of sleep.

As you took in his appearance, Joel spoke again. “Happy birthday.”

His words had a slow, lilting slur to them, and as he stood there a soft, dopey smile stretched across his face. The crow’s feet by his eyes made your stomach twist into knots, and had you fielding an onslaught of memories of how you used to lay tender kisses against the wrinkled skin, whispering how much you loved those marks.

You were aware of how chatter at the table had died down, silence descending upon the house as your guests comprehended who was at the door.

“Joel,” you cleared your throat in an attempt to mask your tone of stilted surprise. “I—”

“How are you?” he took another step forward, scraping his shoes on the mat as if he were about to step inside.

Instinctively, you shot a cautious glance at your friends. Jesse had risen from his seat and was watching the interaction warily. He’d had his fair share of troublesome run ins with Joel lately and was on guard in an instant.

You ignored his question. “What are you doing here?”

“I was…” he paused thoughtfully, tongue darting out to wet his cracked, pink lips. “Could I come inside for a minute, sweetheart?”

The sound of glass breaking snatched the response from your mouth, and Joel’s brow pitched down in concern. The pair of you looked in towards the table, where a red-faced Sydney was clambering to collect broken shards of a glass that had been knocked to the floor.

“Oh,” Joel’s voice came quieter this time, sounding somewhat dejected. “You have guests, I-I’m sorry to, uh, to intrude.”

“We were just having dinner,” you said quickly, heat soaring through your skin as you noticed how his face had fallen, drunken smile nowhere to be found.

It hurt how much you wanted to reassure him. How you wanted to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, to tell him that you would never celebrate your birthday without him.

Except you couldn't say that. Didn’t reach out to touch him, or to reassure. Instead, you let your words hang in the air for him to interpret as he wished.

“Right,” he nodded quickly, eyes glazing over a little.

The air felt thick with tension, a heavy silence permeating between the two of you and the guests around the table. Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to gage your reaction. Your chest felt tight, every breath painful as air clawed its way in and out of your lungs.

“Hey,” rough fingers grazed your cheek, and your breathing hitched. “Why're you cryin', sweetheart?"

You hadn’t noticed the tear falling until he swiped his thumb below your eye, brushing away the wetness. The feeling of his skin on yours after so long caused a thick set of tears to fill your eyes. You swallowed them down quickly, sucking your lips into your mouth as you tried to keep it together.

Through blurry eyes you could see the concern on Joel’s face. He still looked so handsome. Even when it was clear he hadn’t been taking care of himself, even when he was drunker than all hell – he was so beautiful that it hurt.

“Why today?” you cursed internally at how feeble you sounded.

His hand dropped away, lips forming your name in a soft exhale.

“Don’t,” your voice hardened. “Just—tell me why you’re here, why today.”

“Let’s not fight,” he said faintly. The breeze shifted towards you, carrying the heady scent of whiskey that coated his breath. “Not on your birthday.”

“We aren’t fighting.” Your fingers sought out the doorhandle again, using it’s sturdy weight to ground yourself.

He was practically swaying on his feet, broad torso tilting slowly from side to side. “Feels like we are,” he confessed, thick eyebrows drawn across his forehead. “Y’hardly look at me anymore when I pass you in town.”

The dull ache in your chest intensified as you noticed tears glistening on his waterline all of a sudden, poised to fall at any moment.

“Joel, I don’t…” you sighed softly, eyes glancing out to the empty street as you tried to steady your breathing. “There’s nothing to fight over anymore – it’s done. It’s been months… I have nothing else to say about it; about any of it.”

He was silent for a long moment, cracked lips pursed as he digested your words.

“I’ve missed that,” he finally murmured.

“What?”

He hiccupped softly. “You sayin’ my name. S’my favourite thing in the world.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, although your heart stuttered at the words. “Can I get someone for you? Ellie?”

“No, don’t—” another hiccup “please don’t tell her.”

“You’re drunk,” you admonished, quiet enough that your friends wouldn’t be able to hear.

His fingers gripped the lapels of his jacket, drawing it tighter around himself. He seemed shy beneath your gaze – almost unsure of himself, now that he was actually stood at your door.

“I miss you,” his low voice cracked and trembled. “Thought about you all day, couldn’t stop myself from comin’ over.”

You shivered, wrapping your arms around your torso to protect from the cool wind.

“And?” you rasped wetly. “You still can’t say it, though, can you?”

He stared at you, glassy eyed. His mouth opened, and the words, “I need you” tumbled out.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you scowled, eyes widening in desperation. “Why the fuck did you come here?”

“Where else would I go?” he implored. “Just wanna be wherever you are.”

You fell silent. Your heart thrashed inside your ribcage, striking rhythmically against your sternum in sharp jabs. It felt as though the crack down the middle of your heart, the one that you’d been working tirelessly to mend, was torn back open, a fresh wound once more.

“You know how I feel about you, darlin’,” he tried, taking another step forward.

“No,” you hissed, feeling almost hysterical as you held a hand out to stop him. “No, I don’t. For years I tried to figure it out, Joel, years, and I’m still at a fucking loss.”

“You’re the one who wanted time apart,” he bit, top lip curling in frustration.

“I never wanted whatever,” his hands gestured wildly between the pair of you. “this is. Never wanted to be away from you.”

You stared listlessly at him. “Yes,” you nodded. “I wanted time apart, because you needed to figure out what you wanted.”

“I know what I want,” his eyes blazed. One of his hands pushed forward and hovered over yours for a moment, dark eyes gaging your reaction before he allowed the digits to rest over yours. He squeezed your hand once, softly, and then held it. “You know it’s not easy for me to… to say these things.”

“It’s not easy,” you choked out. “To share two years with someone and then—fuck—to hold my heart out on a platter, to tell you that I loved you, over and over again, and never once hear it in return." Your chest heaved with jilted breaths, eyes widening as you spoke. "And it was okay, at first; I understood. I know what you’ve been through, but… it scares me, Joel, not knowing. And I trust that actions can speak louder than words, and that you have shown you care for me but… but maybe I’m weak – because I need to hear it. I need to know.”

A tear finally spilled, cutting a fierce line down his cheek, and disappearing into his beard.

It felt like you were baring your insides to him for the millionth time. Spilling your guts onto the ground before him and foolishly hoping that he would help to tuck them back inside where they belonged. Hot, red, pulsating matter that ached for him to take it in his hands, to caress it carefully, and whisper that yes, after all this time, he loved it.

You’d almost forgotten that a room full of people could hear your every word, and yet you found yourself uncaring.

Let them hear it, you thought. Let them see your love, your earnest, your honesty, and let them ache with you as it was not returned.

“Baby,” Joel squeezed your hand again, voice low like a warning. “I do, okay? I do.”

Please don’t do this, his eyes were screaming.

“I don’t want to have to beg you to love me, Joel.”

“Let me come inside,” he pleaded softly, through steadily falling tears. “Let me stay with you. I’ll show you, okay? I just need some more time, sweetheart, please.”

You smiled sadly and raised your clasped hands to your mouth, pressed a delicate kiss to his palm. A glistening streak painted his skin where it had touched your tear-stained face.

And then you let his hand go. Watched it drop down to his side, palm still held up to you. As if that were its naturally resting state whenever you weren’t holding it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said, voice thick.

His fingertips grazed your shirt as he reached out again, but you had already taken a step backwards, out of reach.

“Pleas—”

“I love you,” you murmured brokenly. He finally fell silent, wet eyes widening at the words; at the simplicity with which you’d spoken them. “Please get some sleep.”

Joel blinked, wiped tears away with a rough hand. Nodded twice, torso swaying precariously as he spun on his feet to leave. You watched his back retreat, a fresh set of tears spilling onto your cheeks.

He paused then, only once, at your letterbox. Fingertips trailed over the lettering that spelt your name, and he spared a single glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear over the soft Fall wind.

And as he departed, boots leaving your porch to stamp heavily across the grass and onto the road, that feeling of loss returned.

So short lived was its departure, and his return. Yet as Joel ventured into the darkness, avoiding the shining light of streetlamps, his absence curled around your being once more, greedily slinking into the space where he had stood.

You met it fondly, embraced the cool feeling as it floated over your skin, stroked your hands and face and held you in its grasp. Something to sit with – something to remind you, as you waited.

And you knew you would. Wait for him, that is.

As long as it took, you would wait, against your own better judgement.

For you loved him. Even when he couldn’t say it back, you loved him.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #my writing #tender is the night [for a broken heart]#joel miller angst #joel miller hurt #ouch #tender is the night

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