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sporadicbeans82 · 26 days

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🌙☀️ alexia fic request

reader gets (lightly) injured at training and alexia takes care of her ;)

(P.S. I loved take care!!)

Headache & Heartache || Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting & injury

Word count: 2.5k words

A/N: Hola lovelies, I'm feeling a bit under the weather but decided to put this out. Hope you enjoy :)

The drill was like any other, with you playing the role of a striker. Cata Coll was in goal for the opposing team, and had been doing an excellent job of stopping the vast majority of your own shots, as well as Caroline Graham Hansen.

However, you had the feeling that that was soon to change. Your smaller team was down by a point, and you were determined to bring them level, especially with your girlfriend sat on the sideline

Your chance to score came just a moment later, as Ingrid dispossessed Lucy Bronze and ran forward to pass it on to Patri. As Patri turned with the ball, she spotted Caro with her hand raised and quickly kicked the ball.

As the football sailed over the heads of the other team, Caro quickly picked it up. She tried to stride inward from the sideline, towards the goal, but had a determined Swedish woman in Fridolina Rolfö in her way.

Caro darted to the side before kicking the ball over in your direction. The cross was hit well, and demanded you to try to run in and slide on the ground. You had one foot out to hit the football, and felt the ball connect with part of your boot.

You weren’t entirely aware of the fact that Cata had come out of her goal to try to collect the ball. As Cata stepped forward and you slid in, the two of you collided with a clashing of bodies. Your vision blackened briefly, and your limp body crumpled below Cata’s.

Several of your teammates winced in sympathy, while others darted towards you. The medical team, who had been working on Aitana’s quad on the sideline, also made their way over to the two of you.

You, on the other hand, simply laid on the ground. As you reawakened, you were aware of an intense pain radiating from what seemed to be your eye, but may have been just below it. Your memory was weak at best, and you were trying to connect the dots as to what had happened. You’re not sure what collided with your face, but the tangling of limbs atop of your own suggested that it could have been anything from Cata’s elbow to her fist to her nose.

You heard Cata groan as well, followed by a sharp huff of laughter from the other girl. Feeling a little bad, you gingerly moved the arm that wasn’t pinned down by half of the other girls’ body to pat at whatever you could reach. It was meant to be a motion of comfort, but could have also been a motion to grope the goalkeeper as you couldn’t actually see where she was– a fact which you were quite slow to realize.

Thankfully, you felt the top of her head beneath the palm of your hand and patted gently.

“Cata?” Your voice came out in a pained moan, and Cata simply made a noise in return. “Estás bien?”

“Sí, y tú?” Came Cata’s response, and you winced a little bit as she shifted on top of you. You were sure that you’d have several bruises to show for this collision within the hour.

“I feel like I ran into a brick wall!” You complained, attempting arduously to roll your eyes. The motion was too painful, however, and you briefly wondered about the damage that had been done.

“Por supuesto. I am super strong.” Cata said, and you felt her attempt to flex her arm.

A small part of you was growing nervous, especially as someone’s head was beginning to obstruct your vision. You were joking around in an attempt to calm your nerves down, but you really wanted your girlfriend at that moment. You knew that you’d sustained some sort of head injury, if the way your head smarted was anything to go by. The sun was a little brighter, suddenly, causing the piercing pain in your head to compound ever more.

Cata’s voice was almost too loud for you, and the world tilted and turned, which was part of the reason you didn’t dare move. You almost felt like you were going to vomit, and you didn’t like throwing up… at all.

Thankfully, you could hear the others’ coming towards you and Cata. The crunches of their footsteps against the grassy field gave you a sense of comfort, no matter how small.

Within another second, Alexia is leaned over you. Her lips were parted and she was panting, as if she’d run over to you. Her soft brown eyes were just a little bit worried, and a bit of her blonde hair had escaped her ponytail, trailing down her face. She had a little bit of a scowl on her face, one which you recognized as her Captain’s face.

You felt someone putting their hands on either side of your own face, the tips of their thumbs grazing against the space behind your jaw as their palms held your head in place. You couldn’t tell who it was, and when you tried to look, they restrained your movement with their hands. You felt the panic beginning to bubble again, and heard Ale speak up to distract you.

“Shhh, cariño. Do not move, it is okay.” Alexia’s accented voice spoke English in a calming manner, and you stopped trying to struggle against the hands which held you in place.

The face and presence of your girlfriend of a year was a welcomed one, further serving to calm you down. As she stooped down besides the Cata and yourself, she reached her hand out. It hovered over the skin beneath your eye, a sympathetic expression forming on your captains’ face as she made a small noise.

“Ouch. That does not look too good, guapa.” Alexia said, voice a little raspy from all the shouting she’d been doing throughout the training session. Her presence served to lighten you, and you were once again joking.

“My pretty face! Will it ever be the same, capitana?” You asked, and you saw the corners of Alexia’s lips turn upward. She could tell that you were trying to joke around and knew well enough that it was what you used to calm yourself down. She yearned to play into it, but her concern for you conquered all.

“You will always be gorgeous, mi amor.” Your captain reassured you, and you could tell that she was trying to find the proper words to calm you. You blushed a little bit at her words, suddenly yearning to kiss her, although the hands on both sides of your head would probably have disapproved of the action.

You were grateful as Ale’s hand moved from your face to grab gently at your hand. You squeezed her hand with your own, and felt her squeeze back.

She maintained physical contact even as the medical team arrived by your side, and even as Cata was moved from atop of you. Then, you were moving and sitting up with a groan.

Alexia had backed up to give the medical team the room that they needed to work on you, but her eyes watched you throughout the entire duration. Your intense collision with Cata had looked terrible, and Alexia couldn’t get the image of your bodies smacking against each other and the pained sound that had left your lips upon contact with the goalkeeper.

Her eyes scanned you constantly, looking to see if you had, in fact, been seriously hurt. As the medical team asked you about your pain and examined your head, she made sure to pay attention to what you were saying.

Were you in any pain? Yes.

Where was your pain? In your head, below your eye… a little bit of hesitation had you saying that the rest of your body felt like a big bruise.

Alexia had clocked that you had a concussion from a mile away– there was no way you didn’t, with the way Cata’s gloves had collided with your face. She noticed the way that you were squinting against the light, and the way that the skin below your left eye continued to swell and darken as the minutes ticked by.

Alexia noted down each reported pain and comment in her head, listing them down to pay attention to for later. She’d already decided that you would be coming home with her, wanting to have you close and to take care of you for the next few days.

Despite the year that the two of you had been together, the two of you still had separate homes as you were living with Claudia and, essentially, Patri as she was always around. The two refused to let you move, despite Alexia having asked you upwards of four times.

Each time you’d approached the topic with them, the two would guilt trip you into staying for another few weeks, claiming that they would miss you far too much… much to Alexia’s annoyance (and amusement).

-----

Two hours later found you hunkered down on Alexia’s couch, with your upper body laid back on your girlfriends’. The two of you were covered by a blanket, and Alexia had a small ice pack laid on your cheek, just below your eyes.

To minimize your discomfort, Alexia had set to using her large hands to massage at your head. Her fingers tangled in your hair, gentle in their ministrations against your sore skull. Her fingers were warm, and as they pushed against your skin you groaned in pleasure, causing Alexia’s smile to grow.

Your wonderful girlfriend had also made sure that her home was as dark as possible. She’d drawn the blinds on her windows and had made sure that all of the lights were off. As she’d sat back down on the couch where she’d left you, she’d been quick to pull your exhausted body against her own, which was how you’d found yourself here.

Your eyes had closed against their own volition, and one of Alexia’s arms gently circled around your body. She rested her hand against your stomach and began to stroke against the fabric of her own sweatshirt, which she’d changed you into after you’d been forced into a shower.

You were surrounded by the scent and the comforting touch of your girlfriend, which was one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. Even as your head pain worsened, your girlfriend stayed by your side, and that was how you’d fallen asleep.

-----

You awoke some hours later, warm and comforted beneath the hands of your girlfriend. Alexia had allowed you to sleep on her, despite the fact that her legs had fallen asleep a little bit as you’d slept. She’d spent the time quietly scrolling through her phone and then reading a book, although her gaze would intermittently turn towards you.

She admired the way your pretty face had relaxed during your sleep, and the way your lips had opened slightly as puffs of air were inhaled and exhaled. As you awoke, you let out a little groan of pain, and Alexia quickly, and gently, hushed you.

One of her hands wandered from where it had rested around your waist to your head. She gently pushed a strand of hair from your face, her skin grazing your own ever so gently. Your eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes and squinted a little bit.

As you saw your girlfriend, however, your face molded into a smile.

“Hola, Ale.” You whispered, voice rough and raspy from sleep.

“Hola, mi amor.” Alexia responded, eyes kind and comforting as she met your eyes. She was so gentle as her hand continued to smooth back your hair, the other hand that was on your stomach gently brushing against your skin as your sweatshirt had wandered up as you’d slept. “How do you feel?”

“... My head hurts.” You responded, hesitating as you mentally tried to figure out what hurt. Everything hurt, and there was a constant burning ache in your head. It felt as though someone had taken hold of your brain and thrown it against a wall… twice, for good measure.

“Would you like some medication, mi vida?” The pet name caused you to smile a little bit as well. However, Alexia probably could have called you a dead, decaying rat and still would have managed to make you swoon.

“Por favor.” You responded, eyes fluttering closed. However, they jolted back open as Alexia gently moved out from beneath you and you groaned.

“Tengo que- I have to go get you some medicine, guapa. I will be back.” Alexia tried hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. She had to fight back the desire to snap a photo of the way you were curled up on your side, the sight entirely too adorable to not take a picture of.

Then, she was walking away to go find the medicine which the medics had recommended.

When she was back, she expected you to be asleep. She had thought that you were asleep, if the way your eyes were shut was anything to go by. However, as you heard her feet pad gently against the tiled floors, your eyes opened again, squinting up at your girlfriend.

“Ale!” You whisper-cried, a grin forming on your face. “You’re back!”

Alexia had to resist the urge to laugh once again. She had only been gone for a minute at the most, and yet it seemed like she’d been gone for months as you reached out a hand and caught onto her sweatshirt. You tugged Alexia towards you, and Alexia allowed you to.

In her hands were a few pills and a bottle of water. She handed you the pills, and as you plopped them into your mouth, she uncapped the bottle of water and handed that to you as well. When you were done, she took both items before stooping her head low to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.

She didn’t seem to be done, however, as she began to gently litter kisses against the rest of your face, paying extra attention to your cheeks.

“Ale! What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but giggle, the movements a little bit ticklish against your skin.

“Fixing you with love.” Alexia responded between gentle kisses. Finally, the girl pressed a feather-light kiss against the bruise beneath your eye. You smiled at her, and as your eyes met Alexia couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to you, this one against your lips.

“Te amo.” Alexia whispered as she broke the kiss, although her lips brushed against yours as she spoke.

“I love you.” You responded.

You spent the next few days in a haze of sleepiness and pain, but Alexia stayed by your side throughout the process. She delivered kisses when you needed them and cuddled you close into her side, making sure to help you with everything that you needed.

If you hadn’t already been in love, by the end of the week you were head over heels for Alexia all over again.

And when you returned back to practice, Alexia even turned a blind eye to you as you sought out revenge against Cata for her reckless little dive in goal by chucking a football at her back.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #harper writes

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shadesslut · 8 months

Text

a father’s malice

Pairing: (Ex-Gf!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Angst)

Summary: After the Ghostface attacks, Y/N tried her best to move on from Ethan with raising their son, but things get harder after Ethan gets out of jail.

part 1 part 2

✮

Things were starting to go better for Y/N. It had been a year after the incident, a year of therapy sessions, and a year of Y/N trying to move on from Ethan Landry. It’s also been a year since she found out she was pregnant. She couldn’t believe it; that Ethan was a Ghostface, and she couldn’t believe that Ethan could help create something as innocent as their kid. She named him Ollie, short for Oliver, and the last thing Y/N wanted was Ollie to resemble anything like his father.

Ethan was the only Ghostface survivor in the attack and was now currently residing in prison. She had visited him twice; once to tell him how much she hated him, and twice to tell him she never wanted to see him ever again. He kept his head down during both visits, not saying more than two words. He only nodded when she told him she’d never visit him again, and his fingers instinctively twitched, resisting to reach out and touch the glass.

It was hard, but she pushed through during the past year, especially with the help of her friends. They gave her their sympathy, but they didn’t understand; they never liked Ethan, so they weren’t as upset. Except Chad. Chad was the only one who bonded with Y/N over Ethan’s betrayal, which led to Chad being Y/N’s number one supporter with taking care of Ollie.

“Can you warm up his bottle?” Y/N asked, rushing to gather all of Ollie’s necessities in her bag. Ollie’s cries echoed throughout her apartment while Chad bounced Ollie on his legs. Chad winced as Ollie’s cries grew louder, and he nodded before standing up and shifting Ollie to sit on his hip.

“Here,” she offered out her hands towards Ollie, who happily reached for her. His cries quieted, and he rested his head in the crook of her neck, gently closing his eyes. “Finally,”

Chad held the bottle of milk under the faucet, turning on the hot water. He looked back to her and softly smiled.

“Hopefully, he’ll stay like that when we get there. Speaking of, Mindy texted me saying to hurry up.” Y/N sighed, throwing the bag over her shoulder and took the warm bottle from Chad. Chad sighed, and he took the bag off her shoulder, swinging it over his. “You ready?” He asked, turning off the lamps. She nodded, and she followed him out the door.

–

Sam smiled down at Ollie, who was letting out a very contagious laugh. She continued to tickle his round belly, while Tara held up one of his stuffed animals. The sisters were sitting on the floor in their living room as Y/N and Mindy washed dishes in the kitchen.

“Did you see the interview?” Mindy asked Y/N, slowly turning her head towards her. “And the bullshit Ethan said?”

Y/N’s hands stopped, and her shoulders slumped. She only shook her head silently in response.

“He said his dad manipulated him and Quinn, and that he honestly didn’t want to hurt anyone. And he blamed Anika’s death on Wayne, so now he’s just serving time as an accomplice. Total shithow,” she cursed, aggressively drying the plate in her hand. Y/N only had a solemn look upon her face as she dried her hands.

“Do you think they’ll let him out?” Mindy asked. She knew Mindy meant well, but God did she wish she would just shut up about Ethan.

“Mindy, stop talking about him.” Chad yelled at her from the living room. Chad gave Y/N a supporting smile, to which she returned. Mindy quietly apologized, before leaving the kitchen. “You okay?” Chad whispered to Y/N as she sat down next to him on the couch, looking over at Ollie.

“I’m fine.” She told him, but he didn’t believe her. She felt her eyes start to water as she looked at Ollie. He really did look like Ethan. His soft curls pointed in different directions, and his brown eyes were bright and big, just like Ethan’s. Ollie noticed her stare, and he immediately giggled before crawling over to her, hugging her legs.

She softly chuckled as she picked him up, and she laughed as he rammed his head onto her chest, cuddling with her.

“Okay!” Tara clapped her hands together. “Time to watch National Geographic!” She said in a baby voice, pinching at Ollie’s cheeks.

“Ollie, you wanna see the sharks?” Sam asked, also making her voice high-pitched.

Ollie’s head perked up at the word, and he immediately swung his arms up and down as he celebrated. The girls giggled as they turned on the TV.

It had been an hour of the group watching shark videos, and as cute as it was watching Ollie get excited over them for thirty minutes, it got a little boring. Chad, Tara, and Mindy had fallen asleep in their spots, and Chad’s head rested on Y/N’s shoulder as he snored lightly.

Sam looked over at the two and softly smiled as the two boys who were passed out on top of Y/N. She nudged her shoulder, causing Y/N’s droopy eyes to open.

“So, we haven’t had time to talk tonight,” she whispered.

Y/N yawned, trying desperately not to move to wake up the boys. “No, we haven’t.”

“How have you been?”

“It’s been hard. I know everyone else has moved on-“

Sam interrupted her, “You don’t know that, and it’s okay if it’s true. I’m still not over what happened with Richie.”

“Really? You seem so,”

“Put together?” Sam asked, dryly chuckling. “Not at all.”

Y/N’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she looked down. She rubbed the side of her finger over Ollie’s cheek, it slightly squishing.

“What about you and Chad? I think he likes you,” Sam smiled at her, bringing her attention back to her. Y/N looked over at Chad and snorted. His mouth was wide open, and drool spilled out of his mouth and onto his shirt. She never noticed Chad’s pining over her, she only ever saw him as her comfort person.

“I don’t know. Chad has always been, well, Chad.” Y/N answered.

Sam lightly chuckled, before her phone rang. The two looked at each other with concern, but it faded once they saw Danny’s contact. Sam smiled at Y/N, before getting up and answering her phone.

Y/N checked her phone, the time reading 9:34, and she started to lightly shake Chad. He groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Time to go,” she whispered.

The two gave their quiet goodbyes to Sam and an angry Tara who was woken up by Chad’s voice. Two two walked in a comfortable silence to their apartment, enjoying the soft breeze that made their noses cold.

Chad sighed, setting down the baby bag on the couch as Y/N locked the door.

“Here I can put him down,” Chad offered.

“No it’s okay, you go to sleep.” Y/N said softly. Chad nodded and smiled, flicking his eyes up and down at her. He waited, like he wanted to tell her something, but instead, he whispered a goodnight before retiring to his room.

She sighed, resting Ollie in his bed, gently tucking him in as not to wake him. She laid her head on the headboard, sadly looking down at his sleeping position.

“I know you don’t understand this,” she whispered to him. “But I miss your dad.”

Ollie continued to softly snore, his chest rising up and down as he peacefully slept. She reached down and moved a few curls out of his face.

“I know you probably think Chad is your dad, and I’m dreading the day you realize that he’s not. I honestly wish he was sometimes, you know? That your real father isn’t a murderer, and someone who enjoyed hurting others. I don’t want you to end up like that; I want you to be a good person.”

Again, Ollie only snored in response.

“I love you Oliver, and I’m sorry. Sorry for continuing to love your real father.” She softly started to cry, her tears rolling off her cheeks onto Ollie’s forehead. She sniffed and wiped it off.

A loud banging on the door woke Ollie up, him instantly crying from the tiredness.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, picking Ollie up into her arms as she wrapped her hand around his head. He cried louder, and she groaned as she walked towards the front door. She unlocked the door and opened it.

“What?” She asked sternly, immediately freezing at the person in front of her.

It was Ethan, hair a little longer, face paler, wearing the exact same outfit as he wore the day he was arrested, and a hopeful glint in his eyes. He smiled widely at the sight of her, and his eyes went straight to Ollie. Y/N shifted, turning her body to create distance from Ollie and Ethan.

“H-How-“ she stuttered, eyes widened nervously.

“They let me out. Someone sent me bail money.” Ethan cut her off. He looked happy, excited. Like a husband coming home after a business trip to his family.

“Who?” She shook her head. No this can’t be real.

Ethan shook his head, not knowing who sent the money. He covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at Ollie, smiling. “Is…I-Is he mine?”

She didn’t answer, her silence answering for him. He let out a happy laugh as his eyes watered.

“Who’s at the door?” Chad groggily asked, yawning as he appeared in the doorframe. His fight or flight kicked in once he saw Ethan, and he immediately pulled Y/N behind him. “What the fuck-“

“C-Chad, hi,” Ethan nervously stammered, trying to peek around him to look at Y/N and Ollie. Y/N started to cry again, holding on tightly to Ollie.

“Don’t fucking look at her, I swear to God I’d fucking kill you right now if she wasn’t right here.” Chad cursed, grabbing Ethan by his collar once again.

“Some things never change, huh?” Ethan lightly joked at Chad.

But Chad wasn’t laughing, he threw Ethan against the wall and spat on him, slamming the door shut. Chad locked the door, and instantly turned to hug Y/N. “What was he doing here? How’d he get out?”

“He said someone sent bail money. I-I don’t know how he knew where I lived. B-But Chad,” Y/N said, looking up at him.

He wiped her tears with his thumb.

“He knows about Ollie now.” She cried.

Chad sighed, resting his hand on the back of Ollie’s head, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to either of you.”

They ignored the continued knocks on the door throughout the night. Chad had practically forced Y/N to let him sleep with her and Ollie that night. He barricaded the door with her dresser, wiping his hands on his jeans as he finished. He curled up against the two of them, letting Ollie wrap his fingers around Chad’s index finger. He looked up at Y/N, who was worriedly staring at Ollie.

“He’s gonna come back.” She whispered to Chad. “He won’t stop now that he knows he has a son.”

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll never leave your side.” Chad comforted her.

She softly smiled at him, before drifting off to sleep. Chad followed shortly after. As for Ethan, he didn’t get much sleep that night. He slept in the lobby of their apartment building on a bench. As he shifted his body uncomfortably, he felt giddy inside. He had a son, a son with Y/N. He wondered what his name was, how he would react to Ethan saying it. He smiled to himself, thanking God he was alive. Somehow, and he had no idea how, he was going to slip his way back into her life. He was going to help raise his son, and he was going to treat him the way Ethan wanted to be treated. He was going to be loved. More importantly, he was going to be protected. Because Ethan, oh, Ethan would kill anyone, for coming in between him and his family.

#scream #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #jack champion #ghostface x reader #chad meeks x reader #ethan kirsch #chad meeks martin #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x you

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cuubism · 8 months

Text

The thing is.

Hob understands that Dream cannot be hurt easily. He is an ancient, powerful, nonhuman being. Hob has, in fact, heard a story from Matthew about when some foolish human wannabe-magician had attempted to stab him when Dream had gone to retrieve a spell book that had slipped from the Dreaming library. According to Matthew, the knife had simply gone through his chest like he was made of smoke and left no mark at all.

(Hob still wishes he had been there. He’d have snapped the guy’s arm. Or worse.)

Barring luck and a magical binding, like what happened with Roderick Burgess, Dream can’t be hurt by mortal means. Hob understands this. Hell, he can hardly be hurt by supernatural means either. Only a few very powerful beings would be able to manage it, or else the very laws that govern his existence, coming down upon his head.

The thing also is.

Dream bruises so easily.

Sometimes.

Like now, when Dream is actually limping across the floor of the Inn. Long coat, which usually does not come with him to the waking world, wrapped tight around him. A dark bruise blooms along his cheekbone. Hob doesn’t understand how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be, not when Dream can take a knife to the heart like it’s a gust of wind, but the fact of the matter is that it is possible, apparently. And so Hob’s got to do something about it.

He meets Dream halfway across the room, braces him by the arms. “Jesus, Dream. Are you hurt?” Well, evidently he is. “How badly?”

“I told him he should stay home and rest,” grumbles Matthew from where he’s hopping along the floor at Dream’s side. Hob hadn’t even seen him there, he’d been so focused on Dream. The fact that Matthew’s not even riding on Dream’s shoulder is not a good sign.

“I did not want to miss our meeting,” Dream says. Which is a hell of a thing.

“Come upstairs, then,” Hob says, and doesn’t quite realize he’s grabbed Dream’s arm and is right pulling him along until he’s already done it. But Dream just follows him. Matthew follows, too, which, again, is not making Hob feel confident about Dream not being too badly injured.

“What happened?” Hob asks, as he sits Dream down on the couch, perching carefully at his side.

“A minor altercation,” says Dream.

“He was thrown into a wall,” says Matthew. “The wall cracked, by the way.”

Hob winces in sympathy. “Thrown by who? Or… what?”

Dream says, “It’s of no consequence.”

Matthew says, “I don’t know, but it had a lot of limbs.”

Hob’s kind of glad Matthew’s here as bullshit translator right now.

“How badly were you hurt?” he asks again. Not badly enough to keep him from traveling, evidently, but badly enough that he is limping. As a measly little human, Hob might find himself limping for a while just by twisting his ankle going down the stairs— but he does not like that intersection of facts when it’s someone like Dream.

“I am fine,” says Dream, and then winces as he shifts his weight on the couch.

“Bullshit,” say Hob and Matthew simultaneously, after which Matthew adds, “Uh, I mean, bullshit, your lordship.”

Dream slants a reproving glance over at him, then back to Hob. “Can I see?” Hob asks, more gently. “I’d like to help. If I can.”

Gingerly, Dream shrugs his long robe off his shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing his usual black t-shirt, and at Hob’s urging he pulls that off over his head, too, though evidently with some pain. His chest and stomach seem uninjured, the unnaturally pale and smooth skin is still just that, unnaturally pale and smooth— so Hob tugs on his shoulder. “Can I see your back?”

Dream turns, and Hob tries not to think too hard about Dream doing his bidding like that—it’s tender and troubling and arousing all at once, and he’s definitely not going to think about that last bit—and sucks in a breath.

His back is a map of bruises, nebulae arcing over his shoulders and the nape of his neck, curling down over his spine like a coiled dragon. Dream bruises prettily, even like this, periwinkle and dusk blue, the purple of sunset clouds. Another reminder of how Night, too, lives within him.

“I told you,” Matthew says, hopping up onto the back of the couch by Hob’s shoulder.

Dream makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t deny him this time.

Hob traces a light hand along his shoulder blade and the deep, spilled-watercolor of the bruise there. Thrown into a wall, Matthew had said. Ouch.

Dream shivers at the touch, and Hob says, tentative, “Do you usually bruise like that, love?”

He’s seen it before, though not this bad. Lines of strain on Dream’s hands. A red, banded mark on his arm on one of the few occasions he’d taken his coat off in Hob’s presence. He wants to hear it from Dream, though.

Dream says, tentative now, hunched on the couch like a wounded physical thing rather than what he is, “I… suppose.”

Sitting only in his tight jeans and boots, hair a mess, the mark on his cheek makes him look hunted. Hob touches that too, with light fingertips. Dream leans into his hand with a little sigh, and… oh. That’s something.

“Hey, he got the shit kicked out of him like a few days ago and just walked away like it was nothing,” Matthew complains, as if Dream’s I suppose answer is ridiculous. “And then obliterated the other guy, too.”

“Sorry, when was this?” Hob is still holding Dream’s cheek, but Dream doesn’t turn further to meet his eyes. “Why are you getting beaten up all the time, exactly?”

He’s not Dream’s minder. He’s not. He’s not. Hob forces himself to remember that fact.

“In my absence many have forgotten the might and sanctity of the Dreaming,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken there’s a little whining petulance in his tone which is… endearing, almost. “Other realms have become… impudent. Entitled. I am simply. Reminding them to show respect. Sometimes physical conflict is necessary.”

Hob sighs. “Well, Your Majesty, maybe it’s time to take a break from the ritual dueling, yeah?”

“…Perhaps,” Dream says, which is as much of an agreement as Hob ever gets.

He supposes he’ll take perhaps. Though the more he thinks about it, the more distressing it is to imagine Dream going around getting hurt. Even if he thinks he’s doing it for some important cause.

“Well, there’s not much I can do for these right now,” Hob says, and can’t keep the concern out of his voice. “Other than letting them heal on their own.”

“I see,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken his voice is small. And he reaches for his shirt, and—

“Hey.” Hob grabs his wrist. Dream freezes. “That doesn’t mean you have to leave?” He hates that it comes out as a question.

Dream wavers. Then he says, “Matthew.”

It’s loaded with more than just Matthew’s name. An order. Matthew squawks indignantly. “Boss! Come on. You’re really gonna send me back like that? When you’re like this?”

Dream just looks at him.

Matthew sighs, fluttering his wings. “Fine. Have your special private time, then.”

Special private time, Hob mouths to himself.

Matthew lifts his wings for takeoff. “You better not send him back with more bruises, Hobert.”

“Excuse me?”

Then he’s gone, winging out a window that Hob hadn’t realized was open. Maybe it wasn’t a moment ago. Who knows.

Dream looks after him, and sighs with real fatigue. “His insolence only grows.”

“Special private time?” Hob says, and Dream glances at him, and then away.

“He is under the impression that you are my…” he says, and trails off.

Oh. Well.

They’re not like that. But.

But?

Dream looks despondent now, staring off into the corner of the flat, back still turned to Hob’s chest. Hob’s become certain that he wants something, he came here for something, not just to make their usual meeting time… but he still doesn’t know what.

Probably he should ask. Not that that ever works with Dream. Probably he should anyway.

Instead he presses his lips to the curve of Dream’s shoulder, where the bruise is deepest blue.

Dream shudders, and then goes slack in his grip, his shoulders caving. “Hob…”

“Is that what you wanted?” Hob says against his skin. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Dream is letting him. “Does it hurt very badly? Is that helping?”

“It…” Dream muses, and sighs. “Is. Helping.”

Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers and turns his face enough that he can kiss his cheek, over the horrible sprawled mark of the bruise. Dream’s eyes flutter shut. He braces a hand on Hob’s thigh as he twists back to lean into Hob’s touch. Hob could use his grip to turn his head further and kiss him properly, he thinks, with a trip in his chest. Dream’s lips are right there, soft and open.

Instead, he leans his head on the back of Dream’s neck. Lets his hands fall to Dream’s bare waist, lips brushing his skin as he says, “You don’t… really bruise, do you?”

Dream still has his head tipped back; Hob’s hair brushes his cheek. “It affects you to see it,” he says quietly.

“Of course it does,” Hob says, equally hushed now. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Even,” says Dream, almost tentative, “if I am not truly hurt?”

“You are hurt,” Hob says, and finally draws the strength to lift his head from Dream’s neck. Dream is still looking at him, over his shoulder. His eyes are very dark in the dim light, rimmed red, he looks soft and fragile as a flower petal and Hob would do anything for him. “You were thrown into a wall by ‘something with a lot of limbs’, after all.”

Dream huffs. “Matthew exaggerates.”

“It’s okay if you want it to matter,” Hob tells him. That’s what it is, isn’t it? “To… be seen.” He slides his hand over Dream’s where it still rests on his thigh, twines their fingers together. A flicker of stillness runs through Dream’s body, the way a human’s breath might catch. Hob thinks he might pull away.

Instead he yields, and Hob exhales hard, a breath that had coiled far too tight in his lungs unwinding. Dream caves into him, and Hob wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, kisses the curve of his shoulder and watches a bruise disappear in the echo of that touch.

“Just wanted a hug after a rough day, in the end?” Hob says, and Dream huffs again as if such a desire is offending even to imply. He doesn’t move away though.

“Is it that easy for you?” Dream’s face is close enough that his hair brushes Hob’s temple as he speaks.

“And what if it is?” What if Hob had wanted to hug him when he first spoke of his imprisonment, and held back, and still regrets it? And what if it’s so easy to fall into it now? To slip into a world, this world where he can pull Dream into his arms, like he’s wading into the ocean for the first time, into foreign currents powerful beyond imagining but primordially known. Resonant as a familiar dream.

In some sense it would be accurate to say that Hob has known Dream all his life—he is, after all, dreams. But Hob doesn’t think of his friend as dreams. Maybe it’s a limitation of his human mind not to see the endless scale of the picture. But when he thinks of Dream, he doesn’t think of all of life or anything like that.

Instead, he goes back to their meeting in 1689. When Dream had thought he might no longer want to live, and Hob swore he saw a tear nearly break that usually stern countenance. Hob had always been fascinated by him, but he thinks that was the first moment he really saw him, beyond the cloak of distance and fantasy Dream liked to wrap around himself.

He’d like to think that Dream saw him then, too.

That’s the Dream he thinks of. The Dream he’d like to say he knows. The person, not the incomprehensible entity that Dream sees himself as. An incomprehensible entity can take a knife through the chest and dissipate around it like smoke, but not a person.

“If it is,” says Dream, pulling back to properly look at him, “then perhaps I might… impose.”

He looks so… cautiously hopeful. How can he not know already? “You think it’s possible for you to impose?”

“Imposition is easy,” says Dream, quietly. Hob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and at the same time, as if of the same mind, Dream leans in and fits his face to Hob’s palm, eyes falling shut again.

He looks so gaunt now, with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, sharp collarbones and the swooping curves of his ribs. Hob had thought it had gotten better since his imprisonment, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just that without the shielding of his shirt, and his robe, he looks smaller than Hob’s used to thinking of him, and angular and fragile. He’s still so impossibly beautiful, delicate like a tree glazed in post-storm ice.

It makes Hob feel unexpectedly bold. His heart trips over, but he leans in and kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth.

Dream makes a quiet, surprised sound. Turns his head, blind, seeking, and then their lips connect properly.

When Hob had let himself imagine the possibility of kissing Dream, he had seen a force of nature. His friend would kiss with the chill of the rain that night he’d left Hob standing behind the White Horse. With the encompassing darkness of the night sky. The full experience of him would be overpowering and that was okay, because even a taste of him had already turned the course of Hob’s life.

But this Dream caves. Tips his head back in Hob’s hand, opens his mouth under Hob’s. Stiffness bleeds from him, regality flees him, and what Hob has left in his hands is a soft, horribly bruised thing leaning in for a deeper kiss.

So he kisses Dream deeper. Swipes his tongue into Dream’s mouth. He tastes slightly metallic, like he might have bitten his tongue and bled, were he human, and he makes a soft sound as Hob breaks the kiss for an unfortunate but necessary breath.

He keeps Dream close, hand to his cheek. Dream, eyes still closed, says, “A kiss just to comfort me, Hob?”

It hurts, just a little, that he thinks so. “How about a kiss just because I wanted to kiss you? You really think I’m more selfless than I am.”

Dream chuckles. “I see.”

Finally, he opens his eyes to look at Hob again properly. He looks tentatively happy now, it’s there in the slight crease at the corners of his eyes, the little spark that’s returned to them. Hob’s heart swells to see it, to think that he could do that.

“What then,” says Dream, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “would you do… selfishly?”

“Same thing,” says Hob, and kisses him again. Dream hums into it this time, pleased. “And tell you to bring me with you next time you’re asserting your dominance around the galaxy or whatever.”

“Why?”

“There’s some guys I want to throw into walls,” Hob says.

Dream huffs, but Hob thinks he looks secretly pleased. “I am not certain ‘guys’ is an accurate description.”

“You think just because the fifteen-armed thing is a lady that I won’t—”

And Dream actually laughs, a startled choking laugh. “Your definition of chivalry is—” he gathers himself— “appalling.”

“Take it or leave it, Your Majesty,” Hob says, grinning. Nothing feels better than getting a rare laugh out of Dream.

Mirth sparkles in Dream’s eyes. “I will take it,” he says, turning his head to kiss Hob’s palm, “of course. When you offer me haven and defense both, how can I not?”

Hob presses his kissed palm back to Dream’s cheek, over the dark bruise there, watching it start to fade. “Bring me your bruises, darling,” he says, “and I’ll protect you.”

Dream leans back in, and rests his forehead against Hob’s. He doesn’t need to ask for another hug. Hob just wraps his arms around him, and lets Dream’s contented sigh be its own question, and answer, at once.

#'you've written about dream manifesting physical injuries to reflect his emotional turmoil before' and i will again!#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #one short wip finished 5 billion wips to go

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sm-baby · 3 months

Text

OFF-LIMITS

freakshow AU by @hootbon

Context || The Chosen one (Part 1(??))

PRETEND MARRIAGE FIC LETS GO!! Off-limits is a non-canon sort of continuation for The Chosen One!! Also Just putting it here: Showtime is not canon in freakshow AU!! I'm just.. being indulgent-👉👈

Word count: 7750

The pacing is a little off but I'll let you be the judge...OK ENJOY BYE HUGS AND KISSES!! NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN!! also if Hoot's reading this I'm so sorry.

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There were many benefits to being the ringleader's favourite.

One of them is being proposed to, apparently.

She didn't think her body still had the capability to choke, but apparently it was all too possible. She gagged, punching her fist to her chest on the flavourly assault on her throat, hacking wheezing as the grip on the tea table tightened.

Pomni winced, eyes twitching and swallowing before sitting back down with a not-so-casual tone in her voice. She faked a laugh “Haha… what-”

“ I'm marrying you."

The man sat on the opposite side of the tea table, classy, with full manners. the way his hands were politely on the table, proper yet focused… Caine so specifically wanted the meeting in Pomni’s room... She was perfect for the setting. A doll playing tea party. Classic. Simple.

“ A-And what does-”

“ It means my brother can no longer claim ownership over you."

Pomni inhaled and stirred the tea in her hands. She fawned a fake sympathy towards his perspective humming along as if she understood his reasonings…but she choked, this time mentally.

Were they seriously still on that dumb brother’s quarrel? Ownership? She didn't think Able would want to do anything with her after their last meeting but it seems the tension she's been feeling between the both of them has been growing… Caine’s brother has been nicer to her lately, she assumes, still in the effort for him to be in her good graces… but she didn't think it would really lead to anything, nor would she let it.

“... Ha." Was all that left her. Pomni doesn't often know what to say in tense situations. She lost herself in her thoughts, cupping her tea in both hands, nervous and tense. Of course, she definitely doesn't want to do this. She was more so thinking about a way to decline him rather than a yes or a no.

Uhh… hmm..

“ You would still be performing, but this also means you get to sleep in the old manor. Or so I think that's what husbands do… unless my sources are wrong which—“

Pomni could spit out her entire drink! That changes everything! “ YES-" she slammed her hands on the table.

Caine wasn't startled, but rather, just looked at her, raising a brow at the rude interruption. he'd look down, seeing that pomni just spilled tea over herself and the table… what manners.

“ Uhh-... Yes- that- that is what husbands do, yes… “ she sat back down, her voice awkwardly lowering to a timid whimper.

The gentleman barely looked at her, rather levitated a napkin to wipe the table. It was a cruel silence, almost like he dared her to explain such rude behavior.

Pomni cleared her throat “ sorry, I-I would uh… love to be married- to-- You… ?” Is that how one says yes to a proposal?

“ Ha. It humours me how you think you have a choice in the matter. “ Caine snapped his fingers, and the napkin disappeared. If he were to be perfectly honest, he saw no qualms in letting Pomni live in the manor. He would relish in the thought of her walking past his brother knowing she was officially unattainable. A sort of trophy of sorts. A taunt mayhaps. A jest. A silly funny mockery.

Meanwhile Pomni’s brain was completely somewhere else…

To have access to the circus on the regular while having more time in the manor… no more stupid games necessary, no more-- having to kiss up and hold the balance towards both brothers! This was a win! Of course this isn't a ticket out of the circus, but she's going somewhere, and it's refreshing compared to the circles she's been running for the past few months.

Pomni looked up to see Caine, sitting across her, this time with a hand extended to shake.

As soon as she shook his hand, a ring formed around her finger, from thin air, seemingly out of nowhere.

“To show that you're reserved."

Pomni looked at her finger, and-- honestly the way he said that made her skin crawl. Caine always saw Pomni and the others as lesser than him. And the way he proposed was no different from a person booking a seat at a restaurant.

The deal was struck and Caine wasted no time to get up and leave the room. A small good bye greeting, closing the door behind him, but otherwise his business there was done.

Pomni was still sitting on the tea table, thinking to herself, staring at the ring on her finger. It was like it was part of her body. She would try to pull it off but to no avail, no budging or anything.

She grit her teeth… great.

The two went their own separate ways thinking nothing and everything about the transaction… though it must have been quite the sight to see Caine leave the room, and have Pomni follow a few moments later, now with a ring on her finger.

“ No f@#$ing way.” Jax thought, seeing the sight.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it was certainly a Caine wedding.

The ceremony itself? she could barely remember any of it. Rather, small clouds of memories that were important.

The way she walked down the aisle so stiffly, like a gun was pointed at her head. The way Caine placed a ring on her finger, Kaufmo’s death gurgles as he officiated their wedding…

There were small comforts. She didn't actually think of it as anything special— more just a necessity rather than an actual wedding, but some of her friends tried to make it special for her. Ragatha was sitting front row in support not for the union but for Pomni herself– Kinger hallucinating, holding her hand in a father daughter dance. And Gangle making the the effort of getting her a wedding gift– or what she could give anyway…which was a drawing of her in her wedding dress.

Caine wasn't even present in the after party. He just placed the setting and left the guests to their own devices. That was honestly a relief for Pomni for a short while, to be able to hang out with the closest things she had to “friends”. She had the lone memory of Ragatha and Kinger giving her a drink, and asking her how she was doing.

They've both been well aware of her motives by now. Exit, exit, exit. At this point they were convinced that was her form of insanity. But they supposed that little bit of hope was keeping her going.

Kinger turned Ragatha then back to Pomni. “ We hope you know what you're doing.”

“ I never said I did…” the bride said, her pitch getting timidly higher. “ But– it's a direction! I don't have a lot of expectations either, but…hey, I think I'd regret it if I didn't take the chance. ” She looked back up at them, embarrassed at her short rambling. “ Oh! I hope– you two are holding up relatively okay tonight?”

Ragatha chortled.

Kinger answered “ We haven't been okay for years, Pomni.”

“ Y-Yeah…I… I should have seen that coming, yeah…”

Suddenly, a slow song came on the reception.

Most of them weren't fond at the idea of a slow dance at first, but a tap from Ragatha to a ribbony friend (and a sister begging the other) later, people were on the dancefloor.

Ragatha danced with Gangle, then exchanging partners from her to Kinger. The Gangle AI found it funny to force Kaufmo and his rabbit friend in a dance. The night was going off with a hitch.

Ragatha swayed back to exchange partners from Kinger to Gangle, and the magician was off on his lonesome again. He took no offence to this, but standing in the middle of the dancefloor on his own, to a song that used to be considered romantic, he couldn't help but freeze.

He stared at one of the guests in the distance, the one who decided to sit out the activity. The one in the dark staring daggers at him as they dawned the very torso that used to bring him warmth.

Maybe…

… If she was still in there…

He could ask if—

Before Kinger could take one step further, a hand took his own, the hand of a very worried bride clearing her throat and walking him back into the dancefloor. “ Kinger, this sounds like a good song!” Pomni laughed nervously, heels clacking as she pulled him gently but insistently.

Kinger blinked, and turned to her. “...Oh! Yeah! It is!” And just like that, the old man was brought back to the dance floor.

It was almost like the poor were invited to their first celebration. Some were laughing, and there were definitely moments of teasing and natural play, but at the end of the day they knew they would be hungry again. It was an inevitability. Some chose to spend it to the fullest, some chose to wallow, some chose to make the best out of it.

Pomni struggled to keep up with the magician’s stature, but they figured it out after their earlier father daughter dance. She would be pleased to see that He was almost experienced with the way he moved.

Her dance partner wasn't all that mentally present, but she could see that he was calm. The way he listened to the music and closed his eyes was disassociated. But it was a look of contentment.

His grip was so sure yet gentle around Pomni. Holding her like it was the last dance he would ever have with someone.

She could only imagine what he was picturing in that brain of his. She dared not interrupt.

“ I've danced with someone before... I think.”

Pomni looked up at him. “ What do you mean?”

“ I don't know who that person was, but I remember feeling very nice when I was with her.”

Pomni sucked air through her teeth. She's heard… read… stories from Ragatha. Although it wasn't the most in detail, she figured out the jist just from hush-hush language she used.

She had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on. But it wasn't her business to correct him.

“ She must have been a great person.” Pomni said.

For the first time Kinger didn't feel like wood. His eyes relaxed just from that simple validation, a moment of blissful unawareness of where he was or who he was. Love spread from his heart, to his chest, to his finger tips, to the… little…friend? Yes, friend… that he was dancing with.

Pomni was well aware that she wasn't the person he was seeing at that moment. He had no thoughts, but the feeling of a powerful comfort took over him, he didn't care to take back anything else. Not his memories, not his sanity, not his mind. Like holding the hand that he once kissed. Spinning her, laughing with her, holding her close when the clock struck a romantic midnight.

He could feel a tear escape his eye.

“What about you, Pomni?” Kinger opened his eyes and suddenly realised that his hands were holding at nothing. Not a person, not anything. Kinger blinked and looked around, that blissful feeling suddenly becoming fleeting.

He was by himself on the dancefloor again

“... Pomni?”

Pomni would catch herself tripping forward. What was once the tiles that was the dance floor was now wooden, and unfamiliar. “Wh- wha- where…?”

In the blink of an eye Pomni was somewhere else. For a moment she was confused before turning around and seeing her new found husband, back turned to her, sitting, looking down from the balcony they were at.

“ Awfully rude of you to dance with someone more than your own husband.” He didn't even bother to turn to her. He was still looking down, hands on his would-be chin, sitting on a long chair made of cushion and fine wood.

“ I-I was just dancing with—”

Pomni was cut off by Caine slowly patting a space on the seat beside him. The cushion, comfortable, yet sturdy. Pomni gulped before approaching.

When she joined him she could see the view from above…it was an indoor balcony built for the rich to watch the poor.

From up high, Pomni could see the other performers, and quickly she scanned the dance floor to see Kinger, shaken, looking around and interrupting Ragatha’s dance in worry for where she went.

Pomni bit her lip and sunk down. Guilt over took her. She stood on her tiptoes, hands on the wooden railing and waved to be seen, to let them know that at least she's safe, and praying that they understood that she didn't leave them but-

Caine’s hand grabbed her arm. “ No, no. Let them figure it out.”

She froze from his touch. Caine guided her hand to make her sit down and she sunk in the seat right beside him. She looked down to read the others distress and felt immense relief when she made brief eye contact with Ragatha which then the assistant turned back to kinger, calming him down without making it obvious she's seen them.

Pomni sighed.

On her way to lean back on the chair, she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder, then pulling her to her side.

She stared at it for a moment, the arm. her body stiffened at the all too familiar touch, before looking forward, sweating, in denial at the situation.

Caine crossed his legs, an ankle on the other knee, still looking on at the view in front of them. His posture was far from hers. Swaying his crossed legs, relaxed, and confident. for a moment he looked at her and back down at the party.

Amazing reception as always, Caine. You've really outdone yourself with this one.

They stayed there in silence for a couple of moments. Caine was all too comfortable and Pomni had nothing to say to him. The groom would say that his bride looked beautiful that night, but in the most objectifying way possible. She was an accessory. She always was. Nothing different from a beautiful pearl necklace.

Maybe it was the way he was gripping her, but Pomni couldn't breathe with all the tension in the air. She let out a shaky breath, a face comparable to a cat hypervigilant towards a cucumber. Sometimes she forgets how affectionate Caine can get with her physically, and every time she just accepts it. Not like she can do anything about it really.

“ Wine, boss!” A servant walked into the balcony area. A voice so signature, and unmistakable Pomni didn't need to turn around. Caine and his bubble were inseparable except for the moments when they weren't. If she hadn't known any better she—

Pomni came back to reality.

…Wine?

“ Thank you, Bubble.”

Pop!

Caine didn't even have to lift a finger, the wine bottle was already levitating towards him as well as a wine glass, ready to pour.

“ Wine???” Pomni flinched, turning her whole body towards the bottle.

Caine blinked. “ Oh! How could I forget, you've never had this…” He thought to himself.

He would never let the circus members have wine for multiple reasons. The poor PG rating would go down if their mouths were without filter. And also he didn't need to have a bunch of wild animals run a muc and destroy the circus tent. But right then, he duplicated the wine glasses into two, pouring one for himself and for his bride.

“ Consider it a reward for being so attentive today.”

Pomni got her glass, and held it in both hands. God damn. She hasn't had alcohol in so long.

It was as plastic as expected but wine wasn't there for the texture. She was just about ready to drink the night away. Pomni tried to play it with manners but admittedly took longer sips than what she could usually handle.

They both continued the night in silence

and Pomni waited…

And waited…

And…

Motherfucker, this isn't doing anything to her!

The visible frustration was clear and Caine couldn't help but let out quiet snickering.

“ Huh—!?”

Caine snickered again, barely audible, but less is more. Pomni couldn't help but feel embarrassed. There he is again! Playing with her like always! “ You didn't actually think I would let it affect you, did you?”

“ No—! I… I didn't even think that you could--! I..!” The woman gripped the wine glass. “ ugh! ”Had it been for the fact that she had to watch herself around Caine, it would have been in pieces by now!

Caine would continue to laugh, not seeing any of the woman’s frustration as a threat. It would take a great deal to scare Caine. One could take a knife to his throat and he wouldn't take it seriously. Pomni wasn't even sure if fear was programmed in his AI.

But Pomni stared at the floor, eyes scribbled, forcing herself into disassociation to stop herself from doing something she’ll regret, and suppressing any more anger.

She hated him. She hated where she was. She hated so much of this. She had a long fucking day and she really didn't need this. She couldn't cry, she couldn't scream. She felt the strongest urge to have a tantrum in her room but that wasn't possible! She just can't win in this shit hole!

Ugh! God DAMN IT!

So much screaming went through her head, but it was nothing but silence on the outside. She was just about ready to be completely immobile for the night. Mentally skip pass the rest of the day, she could just explode and she would be okay with it.

Caine rolled his eyes and took a sip from his glass, but Pomni’s overall energy was too loud to ignore. He sighed.

The groom lifted her head up by poking a finger on her forehead, and forcing her to look up at him. “ As much as how beautiful you are pouting, it's really ruining my night.”

Silence.

“ Pomni, do you want to be intoxicated?”

Silence again.

…Caine patted her face.

“ Huh? What? Where am I?”

“ I'm noticing your desire to be intoxicated. Do you want to be drunk?”

Pomni squinted her eyes and furrowed her brows, looking at him in question. Suspicious. “ What's in it for—”

“ I will give you the ability to be intoxicated if you stop seething. I will not have this attitude on my wedding night.” Caine said, grumbling, taking another sip at his glass. “ So I ask you one last time, would you like to be-”

“ YES!” pomni cried!

Caine squinted his eyes at that reply, once again unamused by Pomni’s rude interruption. But this time she wasn't apologetic at all, rather grabbing at his collar desperately.

she continued. “ God, yes, please—”

Oh he really shouldn't be rewarding this behaviour.

And just like that, Pomni's glass was filled once again. It didn't take her long to start sipping but their mini deal came with boundaries:

(1)She is to take her time and behave while drinking.

(2)Caine has the ability to make her sober again at the snap of a finger.

(3) She may only have one glass of wine.

That was it. Truth be told, I didn't care for anything else. If she gets aggressive he could easily subdue her. If she hurt herself, as long as her dress wasn't ruined he was fine.

At first it felt like nothing. Pomni was just calm, her speech becoming slightly slurred, but otherwise it was just Pomni. She looked light weight and she was light weight.

Ah, that's more like it. Quiet.

He wrapped his arm around her again, and this time Pomni just accepted her fate. She leaned into his touch, thinking of him as nowhere different from a pillow.

Pomni’s vision could go blurry with how little attention she was paying at that moment. But she couldn't help but wonder. The blinding lights, the food, nice decor… and asked: “ Why all the effort?”

“ I don't say no to a celebration to my name! and yours I guess.” Caine mumbled that last part in the middle of a sip. “… and if my brother asks one of you, you have the right to say that our wedding was official.”

“ God, you two are such brothers….” Pomni muttered under her breath.

“ Only by code.”

The bride put a palm on her face, muffling her words. “ No… the fighting. The quaralling, the one upping… you act like little boys.”

“ …Excuse me?”

“ I didn't even think marriage can be official in the digital realm… you make the rules. Might as well make wedding certificates and it would be just as official.” Pomni chuckled. “ But you married me cuz you wanted to make your brother jealous.”

… He didn't have the energy to reply to such an immature, untrue, false, made up, retort. He just rolled his eyes. He had too much self respect to entertain such false assumptions. “ Ugh…” his face grew in disgust. Pomni without filter is worse that he thought. At this point he'd prefer if she got aggressive instead.

Time passed. Pomni wasn't very pretty when she was drunk. She'd have the ugliest laugh, and the crudest things to giggle at, though, the last one was a little amusing. But Caine was just waiting for til the moment the glass was empty so he could— pop! Snap her back to soberity.

But something intrigued him.

She started talking about his brother.

Her filter became less and less. And Caine perked up when she did. She talked badly about Able’s taste in music and art, how annoying it was whenever he visited the circus, how much she despised his very existence…

…Caine filled her glass again.

“ —a-and that nagging voice! ‘That sounds wonderful, sweetie!’ ‘ Oh, Pomni, you're so smart!’ God!”

Caine chuckled, and started leaning closer towards Pomni to hear her better.

Pomni continued,“ Oh he's so pretentious! And so-- so—”

“ Condescending?”

“ Yes! C-Condescending, patronizing, I— what am I? Nine??!”

Caine laughed! Oh hearing slander about his brother was music to his ears! And to hear it from someone to passionately-- he can't get enough! This was making his night!

“ S-say… was my glass always so full?” Pomni turned to her wine glass. She could have sworn she's been drinking for an hour at this point… she doesn't remember refilling it!

“ Hm? Oh, no no, digital hellucinations, my dear. Do carry on with what you were saying.” Caine pushed her wine glass closer to her chest, not bringing much attention to it.

“ Oh. Right. As I was saying…”

Oh Caine was having the time of his life. Smug chuckling left his teeth, absolutely enraptured by Pomni’s unfiltered bad mouthing. Shes been putting into words feelings he held for far too long. Ahh, he could stay there for hours.

“ I mean— at least you don't even-- try to hide that you don't like me. You don't act like friends with any of us.”

Caine could feel himself blush, playfully swiping his wrist at her. “ Oh you're too much.” She was praising him now? Why, Christmas came early! How can he not enable this behaviour? “ Keep going.”

The trauma bonding would further on, but at some point Pomni tuckered herself out. The alcohol was getting her, she's been talking long enough, she's been full of hate enough today. Pomni leaned her head back on the chair to doze off, before Caine shook her awake.

“ Hey!” He grabbed her face, mushing both her cheeks. “ Awaken! Tonight hasn't ended yet. We have yet to full-fill the husband/wife quota.”

“ Mmm…you're already my husband, remember? Kaufmo said so at the..the..” Pomni yawned. “Wedding.. ceremony…”

Caine groaned!

Snap!

“ Oh- damn it!”

And just like that all alcohol was erased from Pomni’s system. He also fully woke her up. Pomni can never truly escape that day. She groaned into her hands as she felt energy return to her body.

“ Come, come.” Caine got up and fixed his suit. “ Let's at least greet the guests off. Then you'll sleep at the manor.”

“ On my way…”

Alcohol truly was a temporary darling. Just when she felt her sorrows were drowned away, she came back into reality— at an even worse state.

The two teleported back downstairs to end the party. Caine announced it's end and Pomni was saying goodbye to her friends. She greeted Kinger goodnight, waved Ragatha goodbye while she was busy with (one of) the twins. Jax’s goodbye was nothing but mockery, gesturing to her like she's some little princess in her wedding dress, which Pomni froze in embarrassment. Zooble wasn't even there when she came downstairs…for the better maybe. They always made her skin crawl.

The guests were away and the two were alone once again. At the snap of a finger, Caine fixed the entire reception. Any mess, streamers, decoration, gone, as if there never was a party to begin with.

Caine fixed his coat and arranged his gloves, dusting off all the mess that came with being in the vicinity of the others. Meanwhile, Pomni was thinking to herself— something she never thought to question…

“ Hey, Caine…” she looked up at him. “ When you said ‘sleep at the manor’, what —”

And swoop! Next think she knew he swept her off her feet in the traditional bridal style position, and before she could react—snap! They were teleported somewhere else! A bedroom that was nowhere like the others.

“UH—” Before she could say anything, Caine put his arms out straight and dumped her on to the bed. Man. What a romantic guy.

Oof Pomni frowned when she was dropped head-first, so carelessly and aggressively on the cushions… she groaned in misery— before remembering where she was.

She quickly got her head up and looked around! She was wrong! This place was familiar!

“ Huh!?”

“ My bedroom.” Caine said so passively. “ Well technically now it's yours as well, but. It's mine.” It looked like his mind was occupied with something else, he was staring forward but he was not at the present moment. She knew that look, he was searching something in his database.

“ When was this??”

“ Since I told my brother you were moving in.”

“ Why??”

“ I'm ignoring you if you keep asking questions.’

Pomni looked around… this was like the guest room they made for the performers but grander. The bed was even a little higher— God forbid she falls off in her sleep.

Caine fits right in the room’s aesthetic, Pomni was completely out of place. The room’s palette was red and black, with linings of gold here and there… Caine really hadn't bothered to make it accommodating for her. She just sat there in silence awkwardly like she was just invited to a friend’s house.

Man…can she even sleep in this? She looked down on the sheets: they were red, The pillows as well. the wood was furnished black and if she looked up, she'd see a chandelier at the ceiling.

She shivered… Her old bedroom was weird, but she's spent just enough time in it to grow comfortable. at least she fit in its overall aesthetic. But she doesn't think she could say the same for this one. This whole room screamed Caine.

“ Ah. Here it is. ‘How newlyweds spend their wedding night’.” Caine said, and continued to look forward.

“ What…N...No. Caine, don't read that.” Caine really…really…did n o t need to know about human customs. She's going to die from how awkward this was about to be..

The AI muttered what he was reading, “ ‘ Spend time together, Newlyweds often feel drained after a day of celebration …’ skip.”

“ Caine.” Pomni winced. “ Caine, did you not do research beforehand-”

“ ‘ When both couples lay in bed together it's important to have both parties feel safe in each other's presence—’ ickk.. skip. Are there any alternatives?”

“ Caine, I'm going to throw up.”

“ ‘According to a new survey with over 350 recently-married couples, nearly 40 percent of newlyweds had—’...”

Caine squinted in disgust.

“ I'm not reading that.”

Pomni at this point just gave up and put her head on the pillow.

“ Seeing as none of this is applicable to us, let's just skip this step of the consummation. As much as it pains me not to properly follow the process. I'll just leave you here and you can sit out the night. Good?”

“ I-”

“ Wonderful.” Caine snapped his fingers and the two were back in their usual outfits. He was back in his ringmaster clothes and Pomni was in her sleeping wear. And by sleeping wear, it means her usual tutu. Because she does not have sleeping wear.

Caine fixed himself up and pulled a blanket up on Pomni’s body. That's good enough. Husband's say goodnight to their wives if he was correct?

Caine scanned his database again.

Yeah, he was correct.

“ Goodnight, dear.”

“ Ahh…” This was weird. “ G-Good.. Goodnight.”

And just like that, Pomni was off to sleep. Meanwhile, Caine teleported out of his room into another place at the Manor. He dusted his hands off and was already somewhere else mentally. he had other matters to attend to, another show to organize. He's spoiled himself enough with a night celebrating his name, now it was back to work. How Caine liked to work.

Morning followed and Pomni was snapped awake with a booming greeting “ Good morning, dear.”

Pomni screamed.

Her heart would beat out of her chest from the surprise-- forcing her up from her fight or flight

She flinched away at the sight of Caine's face inches away from hers. They sat there in silence for a moment… Pomni gulped, before looking pass him and seeing where she was then remembering the night before.

“Wh…” the red bed, the chandelier… “Oh.” Pomni look at her hand, the left, and saw the ring that stubbornly stuck to her finger. but before she could say anything more, the blanket was thrown off of her, a snap, and the next thing she knew she was sat on the vanity table.

Oh god-- everything was going so fast… Caine snapped his fingers again and her grooming mannequins teleported in. “ I'll leave you here to get ready. I must awaken everyone else for role call. There should be a door to the circus down the hall! Be there.”

Pomni forced a smile and two thumbs ups, then, Caine was off.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn't considered how little privacy she had now that her and Caine shared the same bedroom. Will he be doing this every morning? God, not only is it an incredibly inconvenient start of her day, it's also like having the world's most dangerous alarm clock.

Pomni put a hand through her face and grumbled, keeping herself awake— less so in the physical sense more in the emotional motivation sense. And before she knew it, the mannequins brushed her hair and did their work.

The next few days were something she had to get used to. Every morning Pomni would be greeted by a routine wake up, and every night she would be dumped back into bed, greeted goodnight, and Caine immediately leaving a second later. “Goodmorning, dear.”, “goodnight, dear.” again and again. Caine really was committed to the husband role-- though it wasn't far for AI to follow certain routines and patterns after acquiring a new set of data.

Oh how could she forget:

Able spent more time in the Manor than Caine did. She would often see him around the house minding his own business, doing his own half of work. He never tried to make small talk anymore which was a stark contrast to his overly friendly persona towards her before she got married. The sounds of violins would go quiet when she walked in the room. It was as if he could just walk pass her with how invisible she was to him. He didn't have lips but she felt that if he did, it would turn into a scowl.

Once, she remembered walking pass him in the hallway, that time she tried to start conversation and—

“ Able?”

“ Don't talk to me.” With out even turning around, his heels were already clacking away, posture more spiteful than his usual.

It was odd but Pomni rolled her eyes.

Good riddance.

During her stay though she never stopped looking for an exit. Being in the brothers’ home was a system all in itself. Ever since she moved in, Caine apparently was there more often. This made it hard to navigate but memorizing both the brother’s schedules didn't take long. Being ai they were very systematic, consistent, as long as there were no human interruption nothing was stopping them from following the same routine.

To be in close vascity between Caine and Able meant no privacy. Pomni snuck around to investigate, less she’d be caught and teleported back. She's tried most of everything, but the brothers’ Manor was bigger and more…liminal, than she thought.

For every one hallway it felt like there were 50 more. Door after door, an endless maze of nothing but unfinished projects and code. The Manor was a testing facility… a place where the brothers tested out code and concepts before applying them at the circus… there has to be something.

At some points she was so deep into it she didn't think either of the brother's could hear her. She didn't know if anyone could hear her. She could scream or laugh as much as her manic mind can get, and no one could. It was comforting in a way to finally be left alone, but dread came with it.

The dread or never making it back home. The dread of never leaving this torturous realm.

Things started to get blurry.

The wallpaper was repeating. Doors, every single one looked the same. She didn't know if one door was the other. She turned back and— did the lay out change?? The wallpaper was all so fancy and clean but headachingly repetative. The world was spinning. Her head had a pulse. Her heart was wriggling in her chest. It felt like someone reached inside her back and pulled her spine out.

She opened a door,

And another

And another.

Random generations, code and miscalculations, projects abandoned and left to dust, circus acts left to die. To die. To die. To die. She envied it. She envied the ability to die.

She got so dizzy. So frustrated, but there was nothing to break, nothing to focus on. she was on autopilot. With how she's been opening doors for the past few hours, she didn't even care to find an exit anymore. Simply open doors. Wander around. If you find an exit on the way, congratulations. But otherwise, there was nothing anymore.

One hallway had a mirror and all she could do was stare with broken eyes. What she saw, she couldn't care less about anymore…who was that she was looking at? Where was she? Who was she? How did she get here? What was her name again?

She kept staring and her eyes wandered to her hands. Amongst all the dissociation was a pit of anger in her throat. She looked at her finger. The ring. And all she saw was the very thing keeping her trapped there. The cruelest person— the cruelest thing, in the world.

Pomni started to pull at the ring.

She hated him. She hated him so much. She hated how much he toyed with her. She didn't understand how such fucked up things could even happen to a block of code, she didn't know what peice of shit of a person would ever create him. If god can be proven then the devil can be too. And he was living proof of that. The entire circus was proof of that.

Pomni grunted a tearful cry, desperately aching for the ring to come off, but it wouldn't budge. If there was pain, she couldn't feel it. She would bleed if it meant having to take it off. Pain was the last thing on her mind at that moment, just the desperate need for something, anything to go her way. Out of anything in this god forsaken realm, she wanted freedom from something, living breathing proof that there was hope in leaving, that she had a semblance of control in this hell.

“ God DAMN IT!!” The pain on her fingers were apparent, yet she hasn't processed any bit of it. “ I hate you! ” She sucked air to her teeth as tears formed in her eyes. She saw no use in keeping anything in anymore.

Tears streamed down her face with no means of stopping. Pomni, with bruises and scratches on her ring finger, collapsed with her knees on the floor, bent down, letting her tears be absorbed by the carpet. Her whimpering, cries, tears she hadn't let out in ages. She soon let her forehead touch the floor, complete and utter loss of hope and motivation.

And for a few moments she just sat there… adjusting by sitting on the floor, leaning her back on the wall, tears streamed empty emotions. Crying didn't help. Running didn't help. Screaming didn't help. And so she sat there. Like a puppet left to sit until their next performance.

That's all she was. And that's all she'll ever be.

Was she any different in the real world? She didn't care anymore.

Pomni let out her last hiccups. The floor wasn't comfortable at all…The doll stood up, body heavy. Her steps towards any door were heavy and unmotivated. The only sound echoing through the halls were the sound of her muffle heels, clacking above the carpet.

She could use some sleep.

After a long day of organising and work, Caine reached into his coat for his pocket watch. It was about time where the performers would be off to bed, and he didn't need to tell them that. This is one of the rare times of the day where he leaves them to their own. He, however, doesn't need sleep. Caine AI knows no tire. He turned his heel, ready to do more work before remembering— ah. His wife. That part of the daily routine.

See, for the past few days he's been having the formula to wake Pomni up in the morning, and putting her to bed at night, leaving seconds after. Always with his “goodnight, dear” and “good morning, dear”s that one. That's right. He was officially given the trait husband, and-- he's heard that that's what husband's do. And so he Incorporated it in his system.

Of course, even after their wedding night he never put in the effort to even think about laying in the same bed with her. First of all, he has no use for sleep. Second of all, that would be a complete waste of time and resources—He can do work simply standing up and staring into oblivion, but there is only so much he can do. Third of all, it was terribly boring. Fourth of all, he can touch Pomni but laying in the same bed for a prolonged period of time-- no amount of snaps would rid him of all her filth. And fifth—

The list can go on and on, and yet… something ached him to his core. It's been bothering him since the wedding night actually. The very act of not spending the night with her as husband and wife, that skipped a step in the process. And that bothered him more than any boundary he has up. It was part of a system, and he didn't officialize it because he wasn't feeling it that day? Caine AI, were you coded in a barn? Frankly, he was disappointed in himself for letting his ego— perfectionism get the better of him. Was he even truly husband without that final step? He felt like a fraud.

That whole thought process took place in the matter of .0001 seconds. And he was off.

He teleported to The Manor on his way to atleast clean up the bedroom first. But just when he made his way up the stairs, he turned, noticing the clearly dishevelled and previously distressed looking Pomni coming out of one of the hallways.

He squinted and scanned her.

Dirty clothes, eye bags, wet and sore eyes, sniffling, head low…

Oh. She had been crying.

He rolled his eyes. As long as she wasn't doing it on stage he didn't care. And frankly he didn't want to deal with it.

He cleared his throat to let her know that he was present, in a way, also telling her to gather herself.

“ Oh…” But Pomni didn't budge. She wasn't as disassociated as earlier but still had little energy to be scared at that moment. “ Hey, Caine. I’ll get upstairs soon, I just need a minute to—”

He didn't have time for this.

Snap!

The usual routine continued. He teleported her to their room, dumped her to bed and sent Pomni face down on the cushion. She doesn't think she would ever get used to that. She put her head up groggily, still too tired to even really complain, before crawling to her usual side of the bed, the right side. She let out a few sniffles of misery. But before she could tuck herself in, she realised that Caine hadn't greeted her goodnight. Or— hasn't even teleported away yet, actually…

She turned to Caine in the bedroom and would notice that he was looking at himself in the mirror. He was snapping his fingers, switching through different kinds of sleeping wear— what??

She squinted in confusion. Caine usually wouldn't stick around for any longer than a few seconds.

“ Wh…what are you doing…” Pomni said, voice clearly still sore for all her time crying.

Caine finally found pajamas that fit him and fixed himself in the mirror. “ I'm spending my time here tonight.”

“ …Why…?”

“ It doesn't concern you.�� he turned to her, and floated his way to the bed, before noticing what she was wearing. She was still wearing her uniform! Is that what she was sleeping in the whole time? Honestly he hadn't cared, and he wouldn't care had it been for the fact that he was joining her tonight. He was in classy night wear while she wore her tutu. That simply isn't uniform.

A snap of a finger, and Pomni was wearing a nightgown that matched his shirt and pants. With bags under her eyes, she looked down. She didn't have the energy to comment on it as anything special. It was nice to be comfortable for once. But there was nothing more she can say about it.

“ There we go.” Caine said. “Goodnight, dear.”

“ …Goodnight.”

He put himself under the covers, but Pomni was still staring off. Someone who cared for Pomni would ask her how she was feeling, but they were not in the room at that moment.

Pomni wasn't feeling good. She was feeling terrible. If this was any other day, she would be terrified to be sleeping next to Caine. But the fact that she doesn't feel anything strong…

She didn't have a good day… entirely honestly, she was hoping to cry herself to sleep that night. It wouldn't be her first, and it wouldn't be her last. But with the devil beside her, he had no choice but keep herself together.

Her breath was shaken. But she laid down for sleep.

A few hours passed. It felt like the longest night the two would ever spend.

Pomni didn't know if it was her nerves or the room temperature, but she buried herself in her blanket. She could close her eyes all she wanted but no amount of pretend could distract her from all the voices in her head. She wasn't hallucinating, it wasn't anything. Rather the voices were more of doubt, insecurity, and fear. It would come often, but that night was especially loud. Terribly so.

Caine on the other hand was staring at the ceiling. Hands on his chest. He's been staring in silence for hours at this point —and he had the artificial patience to go on for longer—but he found this activity inconvenient. And even worse so when he could hear his wife sniffling right beside him.

Pomni finally started shaking under the covers. Hands shielding her head-- her knees were on to her chest with how curled up she was. It hurt to be quieter than she was already being. The voices got to her and all she could do was cry at that point.

Neither of the couple could get themselves to sleep.

Caine could only roll his eyes. While he stared at the ceiling, Pomni was faced to her side, away from him, curled up cold and unrested. For a moment she looked at the hands shielding her, and the representation of her entrapment looked back. With several bruises and scratches around it, her finger still dawned the very ring that put her there.

The memory of Caine in the wedding ceremony played back-- the very moment he put the ring on her at the altar. That was the moment that sealed her fate. She wished she could take it back. The image felt like dying a hundred times over.

Caine wasn't stupid. Although he knew little understanding of the human condition his processors picked up on certain symptoms and body language. He would usually ignore them as they were a waste of energy, but he had nothing else to process other than the ceiling he'd been staring at for the past few hours.

He knew Pomni wasn't well. What for? He didn't care. All that he knew was that she was upset, and it wasn't worth his time. It wasn't anything that he hasn't already heard a hundred times from the other performers. She was going to cry again and again anyway. What was the use?

Her hiccups and sniffling were tiny compared to the rest of the room. And yet no one was willing to hear her, listen to her. Perhaps that was all she wanted. If she had someone to be there to trust-- maybe this would have been bearable. Maybe in a different timeline she would still have the strength to go on for just another day. But that wasn't realistic. Not in the digital realm. She could scream all she wanted and no one would bat an eye.

This wasn't the first time she cried tears this painful. And it certainly will not be the last.

#The amazing digital circus #freakshow au #pomni #caine #The amazing digital circus pomni #The amazing digital circus caine #tadc pomni #tadc caine #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime #showtime shipping #tadc #fic #writing

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thatfandomslut · 2 months

Text

Fighting For You

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: reader was in the Burn Book, arguing, make outs

Request:

Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 4 and piece of chocolate 7. Or: “So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me, every day.” w/ falling in love

Valentine's / Follower's Celebration requests are closed.

Regina lay in the hospital bed wanting desperately to get up. She couldn't believe that she forgot to take out the page of the Burn Book about (Y/n). While she knew she was in the wrong, it was only made worse when she realized how distinct (Y/n)'s handwriting was when she held the page up to Regina with her eyes filled with tears. '(Y/n) (L/n), even more weird and gay than Janis Imi'ike.' While she felt the insult was tamer than the others, she still knew the gravity it held (Y/n). Hurting (Y/n) felt worse than getting hit by a bus, and Regina now knew both from experience.

With a groan, she reached over to find her phone on the side table, wincing when she stretched too far. When her fingers finally caught the sides of the phone, she drew it closer and held her phone up to where she could see it. Still nothing. (Y/n) hasn't responded to any of her calls or Regina's numerous messages. She was beginning to feel desperate for (Y/n)'s attention. This was something she wasn't used to feeling as she typically didn't have to beg for others to notice her. However, (Y/n) was proving harder and harder to get in touch with. So, it resulted in her finally giving in and calling the last person she thought she'd ever call, Janis Imi'ike.

It rang a few times, and Regina was about to just end the call when she heard a confused 'hello' on the other end. "Janis, perfect," she said, smirking to herself feeling like she finally found an in. "Is there any way you can get me in touch with (Y/n)? She's been ignoring all of my phone calls, and I just want to talk to her." The sooner the better. Regina was due for another dosage of her medicine, and her medication made her incredibly loopy.

There was an annoyed sigh from the other end. Regina gave a side-eye to her phone, despite Janis not even being able to see her. "Regina, first, why do you still have my number? We haven't talked since eighth grade." She stated over the phone, hoping Regina understood how strange it was to receive this call. At the same time, there was a bit of sympathy in her voice. "As for, (Y/n), whatever you wrote about her in the book, and yes, we know you had a part in it, really hurt (Y/n). I'll talk to her, but there that's all I can do. And, I can't make any promises that she'll want to talk to you." Janis said before hanging up, leaving Regina a bit more deflated.

She knew that Janis still might not be able to get (Y/n) to call. Regina also completely understood why (Y/n) was so upset. If it was the other way around, Regina would be plotting her revenge. She knew that (Y/n) deserved her space and that she couldn't force her way in, but she couldn't lose her. The only person that seemed to be inflicting any positive change in Regina was (Y/n). Now, there was a chance she might've ruined it forever, and that absolutely killed her. When the doctors came in to give her the medication, she sighed and decided to try and sleep.

When Regina woke up, she wasn't expecting (Y/n) to be seated beside her chair. She almost thought that she imagined the girl as she flipped through her chapter book. Her vision was still too bleary to see what the book was exactly. But a smile crept on her face as she looked over (Y/n) in a sleepy haze. "You came," she said, her words slurring slightly. It was a tell-tell sign that she was drugged up on medicine. (Y/n) looked up in surprise before a small smile appeared on her lips. Regina could barely see it but she recognized the small upturn of (Y/n)'s lips anywhere. "I thought you weren't gonna come," Regina spoke, peering up at the girl.

In an attempt to sit up, she smiled wide. "I wasn't planning on coming." (Y/n)'s words almost sobered Regina up instantly. There was a look of thought on (Y/n)'s face. Regina always knew when she was thinking because her brows would furrow and she would look down to whatever was at her feet. "Look, what you did was mean, but I want to forgive you. It’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me, every day.” (Y/n) told her with a sheepish smile playing on her lips.

Regina swore that it was misty in the room all of a sudden. Her normally icy blue eyes were mellow and kind. "Okay, yeah, we'll work on it together." She said, holding out her hand. (Y/n) took it carefully, wondering if Regina would even remember this later. She wanted to say it when Regina was sober, but her thoughts were finally in one place, and the words spilled out naturally. Regina played with (Y/n)'s fingers as she danced in and out of sleep with (Y/n) in the room. While the air between them was still tense, there was a new calm that settled over the room. Regina felt more safe and comfortable with (Y/n) by her side. It almost made her forget about the corrective neck collar around her throat.

The two were fully aware forgiveness wasn't going to come overnight, nor would it be awarded just because Regina was in an accident. The two would need to work together, and when Regina felt better, there was bound to be a long discussion on the events. But, for now, (Y/n) decided it was okay to provide some temporary forgiveness as she allowed Regina to clutch her hand. The steady sound of the heart monitor beeping let (Y/n) know Regina was still there, and she fell into the same state of peace Regina was in.

#regina george x reader #regina x reader #regina george #mean girls x reader #mean girls

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Hii i recently discovered your account and i am devouring all your marauder works! They bring me so much comfort and just ahh i love the way you write! I really like emt!marauders and i was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a fic with them and a reader who has health anxiety?? And maybe she gets sick or something and they help her calm her thoughts and fears and just take care of her?? Only if this is something you would want to write ofc :) have a lovely day!! 💗

Thank you lovely <3

cw: health anxiety

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Here you go, m’love.” James sits between you and Remus, holding your tea towards you with the handle out. “Careful, it’s hot.”

You grab it quickly. “Jamie!” You suck in a thoughtless breath, setting off your cough. “Don’t—don’t burn yourself!”

You set the tea down before you spill it, James patting between your shoulder blades while you cover your mouth with a tissue.

“Easy,” he says. “I wasn’t holding it for long, don’t hack up a lung on my account.”

Remus doesn’t disagree, but he takes the offending hand and kisses James’ fingertips lightly.

You take a breath as the fit settles, picking up your tea with a quiet thanks and continuing to read on your phone.

“What’re you looking at so frownily?” Sirius asks, tilting his head where he’s sprawled out on the armchair.

“Just reading,” you murmur, but he casts a suspicious look to the other two on the couch. James leans over, peering at your screen.

He laughs. “Sweetheart, you know this stuff will only stress you out,” he says, leaning his shoulder into yours amicably. “You’ve gotta trust us, we’d be able to tell if it was anything serious.”

“WebMD?” Sirius asks.

“Healthline,” Remus replies, craning his neck to see behind James.

“I know,” you ignore the other two, replying to James, “but I was talking to my grandma today and she—” Sirius groans, letting his head loll back against the cushion. “—she said this is exactly what it was like when she had pneumonia.”

Remus looks at you evenly. “How old is your grandmother?”

You take a sip of tea, hiding behind the rim of your mug. “Eighty-six.”

He gives you a weary half-smile. “Pneumonia is a lot more common in older adults, dove. And your cough doesn’t sound like pneumonia anyway.”

“But how do you know?” you ask anxiously. Remus’ features tighten a bit in sympathy. “I just don’t want to have it and have no idea, and then it gets worse and worse and worse.”

James takes your hand in his. “That makes sense, angel, but—”

“And then while I was looking, stuff was also coming up for whooping cough, which sounds horrific—”

“You don’t have whooping cough,” Remus says.

“But what if I do?” Your voice scratches a bit, and you try to breathe more shallowly to avoid a fit. “Because if that’s what it is, then it’s super contagious and you guys shouldn’t even be around me. And you can start throwing up and—” Your cough catches up with you, and you cover your mouth, eyes watering. Remus and Sirius both wince, James’ hand finding your back again. It’s nice, when you’re sick and miserable like this, to be around people who are so accustomed to it. Who will reach for you instead of cringing away.

“It’s okay,” James murmurs, palm big and heavy between your shoulder blades. “You’re fine, sweetheart, just take a minute.”

When it ebbs, he passes you your tea silently. The honey in it coats your throat, the warmth soothing the ache in your chest.

“I just don’t want it to be more serious than we think,” you say weakly. “There’s a lot of things it could be that are worse than just a cold.”

“Baby,” Sirius says firmly. “Look at me.”

You lower your mug, finding your scariest boyfriend considering you with his usual intensity. He tilts his head to the side, brushing a piece of dark hair behind his ear.

“Did you have your jabs when you were little?”

You feel your brow pucker worriedly. “I think so.”

His tone gentles a bit. “Then you can’t have whooping cough, darling. We all get vaccinated for it when we’re small.”

You don’t want to argue with him, but your eyes flit back to your phone. “Actually, it says we can still get it even if we’ve been vaccinated.”

“But not nearly as bad,” James says, squeezing your shoulder lightly. “You’re right, it could seem like a regular cold in that case, but it really wouldn’t turn into anything worse than that. None of the vomiting or anything like that.”

You swallow, nodding. “Okay. Okay, that makes sense.”

“We know there’s a lot of things a cold could turn into,” Remus says. “Trust me, dove, we know. The reason we’re not worried is because we also know exactly what those would look like if they did turn up, and we could get you to the hospital at the first sign of something serious. Also, the serious things are less common than you might think.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason it’s called the common cold,” Sirius jokes, shooting you a wink.

You smile back, partly for his sake and partly for yours. Remus fixes you with a soft, open look.

“I promise to tell you if we notice anything,” he says, slowly, making sure you hear the weight of every word. “Do you want to talk about pneumonia?”

You nibble your lip, unsure.

“If you’re still worried about it, we should talk about it,” James says. “We don’t want you to just be stressed out and silent, angel.”

You blow out a careful breath. “Okay. I’m coughing up dark mucus and have a fever, which seems like pneumonia. How do we know it’s not?”

“Pneumonia could have mucus or no mucus,” James tells you, as though reciting from a textbook. “And as for your fever…” He takes your face between his hands, pressing his lips firmly to your forehead. “My gauge tells me it’s still not that severe.”

You grin at his antics, ducking your head when he goes for more so that he’s forced to confine his affections to your hair. He makes a gleeful sound of protest, grabbing you around the middle to get you closer.

“Don’t knock her tea,” Remus warns.

“I can run you through the checklist we sometimes use before testing for pneumonia,” Sirius offers. You nod, and he launches in. “Do you have shortness of breath?” You think, then shake your head. “Chest pain? Sweating or shaking? Fatigue—well, fatigue is a yes, right? Don’t worry, doll, that’s a symptom of everything—Chills? Nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea?”

Your mouth puckers in distaste at the last few, but you shake your head to all of them and Sirius spreads his hands magnanimously. “There we go,” he says. “If you were in an ambulance right now, we’d be telling you not to waste time on getting pneumonia tests done.”

“Plus, your cough doesn’t sound like it,” Remus adds, somewhat smugly.

“Okay,” you relent. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” James sweeps a thumb over your ribs, stamping a kiss on your temple. “You can’t help worrying about these things. We just wish the internet didn’t give you so much material, you know?” His eyebrows go up a bit in the middle and he strokes your side again, more gently this time. “You should be allowed to focus on getting better, sweetheart. All this anxiety doesn’t make for great rest.”

You let yourself sink into his side, cradling your mug in your hands. “I just don’t want to badger you guys with questions all day.”

“We don’t mind,” Remus promises you.

“And I’d like to think we have a bit more experience under our belts than healthline,” Sirius scoffs. The teasing look he sends you lets you know his derision isn’t for you. “Anyway, what does healthline say you’re supposed to do if you have pneumonia?”

You scroll down a bit. “See a medical professional.”

“Well, lucky you.”

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 20 days

Text

photograph

sirius black x reader

sirius is/was winning so fred fic tomorrow and jolene part 3 soon! this is a sad one beware. y/n is an implied gryffindor.

"i thought you'd might like to see this harry." sirius was stood in his old bedroom at grimmauld palace, holding a picture. it was the christmas holidays, so harry, ron and hermione were back. back at the order headquarters.

harry peered over sirius' shoulder to see that he was holding a photograph. a photograph which was now a little tattered due to age.

"what.. is it?" harry asked, curiously.

"the original order of the phoenix, look its your mother and father." sirius answered, and he was right. harry saw his parents smiling and waving at the camera, it made his heart ache.

to the side of lily and james was sirius, as handsome as ever, his hair shorter, and he was smiling. not at the camera but at the girl next to him. harry had never seen the girl before but he looked at her, noticing she too was smiling and waving like his parents, however she didn't seem to have noticed sirius was looking at her.

"marlene mckinnon" harry brought his attention away from the mystery girl to look at who sirius was pointing at.

"she was killed two weeks after this photograph was taken.. they got her whole family." sirius grimaced.

harry frowned, looking around at the picture again. he saw a younger, less rugged remus. frank and alice longbottom who were tortured using the cruciatus curse by bellatrix lestrange. the sight of their smiling faces made harry feel a pang of sympathy for neville.

but harry couldn't stop looking at the girl who was next to sirius. as he watched the picture play again and again, he noticed that she was laughing and sirius was too.

"uhh.. sirius?" harry spoke up, looking at sirius who also seemed to be staring at the mystery girl.

"yes harry?" sirius brought his eyes away from the photograph to look at harry.

"who's that girl next to you in the photograph?" harry asked, hoping he hadn't touched a nerve.

he saw sirius wince which made harry regret asking so he started apologising profusely.

"no it's okay harry, that is y/n l/n." harry recognised your name vaguely.

"who.. is she?" he asked.

"she is.. was one of my best friends at hogwarts. an honorary marauder if you will. skilled at charms and one of the funniest people i have ever met." sirius smiled fondly.

harry noticed sirius's change in tense.

"you don't have to answer but is she...?" harry trailed off but sirius knew what he meant. he nodded, sadly. harry's heart dropped, however he had realised where he had heard your name before.

harry was under his invisibility cloak, listening in to mcgonagall, flitwick, hagrid, fudge and madam rosmerta talking about sirius black.

"you say you remember him at hogwarts, rosmerta" murmered mcgonagall. "do you remember who his best friend was?"

"naturally.. never saw one without the other, did you? the number of times i had them in here - ooh they used to make me laugh. quite the double act, sirius black and james potter." madam rosmerta laughed.

harry had felt his heart dropped, at the time he thought sirius was guilty.

"precisely" said mcgonagall. "black and potter. ringleaders of their little gang."

"they'd all come in here lots. i remember. it was always the same group. that little peter pettigrew was there."

"he looked up to those two." mcgonagall sighed. "such a shame for him, poor boy."

"they used to come with a girl sometimes as well. pretty, always smiling." rosmerta said, making harry's ears prick up. they were probably talking about his mother.

"oh.. y/n l/n." mcgonagall suddenly seemed upset. harry had not heard this name before.

"she was such a talented young witch. always top of the class in charms." flitwick sighed.

"black was mad about her, i remember that rightly." madam rosmerta reminisced. "used to always buy her butterbeers, flirted with her all the time. she always had none of it, shooing him off"

harry's breath hitched.

"i don't know rosmerta." hagrid interjected "i think it went both ways."

"it was such a shame what happened to that poor poor girl. she would've been a great a witch. heavens.. sirius might not have turned out the way he did if she hadn't have died." mcgonagall's voice wobbled.

"now, now minerva don't get upset, it couldn't be helped." fudge comforted her, and your name wasn't brought up again.

""i remember.. madam rosmerta saying something about her. how she was friends with you." harry eventually spoke aloud. he had left out the parts of her and sirius and her death.

"oh we were, in fact i remember the day i first met her very clearly." sirius smiled.

you were scared, well of course you bloody were! it was your first day at a new school and you didn't know anyone. you didn't even know how to get on to the platform. apparently you were a "muggle-born." your parents weren't magic and it had come such a shock to you when professor mcgonagall showed up on your doorstep on your eleventh birthday claiming you were a wizard. madness.

you had arrived at the station, saying goodbye to your parents when you approached platforms 9 and 10. was this some sort of joke? how did you even get on?

"excuse me." you heard a voice pulling you from your thoughts. it was a woman, she was with a man and a boy who looked like he was about your age.

"would you like help getting on the platform, dearie?" the woman smiled kindly at you.

"yes please." you smiled.

"it's my son james' first year as well." you looked at the boy with messy dark hair and glasses. he grinned cheekily at you which you returned.

after the woman (euphemia, you learnt her name was) helped you get to the platform, you were left in the company of her son.

"hi. i'm james." he smiled.

"i'm y/n." you smiled back.

"you want to sit with me on the train?" he asked you, noticing your slight nervousness.

"yeah thanks." you followed james into a carriage on the train and you began small talk.

your talking was interrupted, however, by another boy entering the carriage. he was handsome, with long dark hair and a charming smile.

"can i sit here, i'm hiding from this kid severus, i spilt pumpkin juice all over him by accident" the boy chuckled.

james grins at this. "of course." he says.

"i'm sirius black." the boy smiles at james.

"james potter." he replies.

sirius turns his attention to you.

"and whats your name darling?" he cheekily smiles.

"call me darling again and i'll punch your brains out." you smile at him innocently. "but it's y/n."

sirius roared with laughter to which you grinned back.

"well y/n.. i think we're gonna get along just fine." he said. and he was right you were best friends since that very day.

sirius was smiling at the memory which made harry feel a little happier.

"were you.. dating?" harry blushes slightly.

sirius doesn't seem too bothered.

"no we weren't, my biggest regret was not telling her i loved her. especially after... it happened. lily told me she was head over heels for me." sirius faltered.

"now that i think about it.. it was quite obvious."

"AND BLACK'S GOT THE QUAFFLE AND HE SCORES!! 10 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR." you shouted into the microphone. you had been the quidditch commentator since your third year and even now, two years later, it was still a role you took pride in.

you were stood next to mcgonagall in the box when you saw a slytherin beater aim for sirius' face.

"AND THE SLYTHERIN BEATERS HAVE ATTEMPTED TO HIT THE BLUDGER AT BLACK. PLEASE DON'T, WE DON'T WANT TO WRECK HIS PRETTY FACE." you shout.

"L/N, STICK TO THE GAME." mcgonagall shouted, but she didn't seem too annoyed. the crowd laughed.

"sorry professor, sirius was distracting me." you smile and you see sirius fly near your box and grin at you.

as the game went on, you continued to make some biased comments about gryffindor. and continued flirting with sirius. it was extremely common in your friendship,for the two of you to act like an old married couple. you'd never admit it to him but you really liked the boy.

"YOU DIRTY CHEATING SCUM, YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARDS." you jeered, when you saw the slytherin chasers slam themselves in to james.

"Y/N L/N, I'M WARNING YOU." mcgonagall shouted but she was just as annoyed.

"OH BUT HERE'S BLACK TO SAVE THE DAY, ISN'T HE A CHARMER, POTTER PASSES THE QUAFFLE TO BLACK AND HE SCORES AGAIN!! JUST BRILLIANT, ISN'T HE?" you ignore mcgonagall. you see sirius blowing a kiss at you.

you laugh, and then you're nudged by mcgonagall AGAIN.

you notice shes pointing at the golden snitch.

"THE GOLDEN SNITCH HAS BEEN SPOTTED AND THE SEEKERS ARE NECK AND NECK. WHOEVER CATCHES THIS WILL WIN AND- MCKINNON! SHE'S DONE IT! MARLENE MCKINNON HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH. GRYFFINDOR WIN 270-80!!" you shout, and do a dance. sirius sees you and chuckle.

you run down from the box and straight onto the pitch and hug sirius tightly.

"you were great sirius." you smile.

"i know." he winks at you.

your cheeks heat up as you smack him round the back of the head.

"idiot!"

"she was murdered." sirius's tone in voice suddenly changed, brining harry out of his train of thiught.

"murdered for being a muggle-born, murdered for not ratting out lily and james." sirius said, angrily.

harry's eyes widened.

"disgusting." sirius looks down.

"i loved her. and they took her life from her. like they did with the mckinnons. like they did with your parents." sirius put his hand on harry's shoulder.

"the war is cruel." sirius sighs, looking back at your smiling face on the photograph. "you should tell people you love them when you can."

and with that sirius turned away from harry, harry expected this was to subtly tell him to leave. which he did. he needed to tell ron and hermione about this. as he shut the door, he could've sworn he heard a small cry from sirius.

#fanfic #harry potter #harry potter x reader #sirius black #x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #angst

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sanjoongie · 3 months

Text

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: ℙ𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕔 𝕊𝕖𝕩

🥀Pairing: Cowboy! San x wise woman! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: western au, cowboy au, witch au

🥀Trope: fwb to lovers

🥀Summary: When San comes to you, the local wise woman (read rumored witch), to get a bullet wound dressed, he's also looking to convince you to let him under your skirts, and your heart

🥀Kinks: Public sex, penetrative sex with no barrier, San's a sweetheart and a tease, yes the cowgirl position with cowboy san 😆, thicc dick san

🥀Warnings: mentions of a gun fight, bullet wound, blood, tending to wound

🥀Word Count: 1,931

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Three: mirror sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia

You were tending to your herb garden when San cantered down the road to your cabin tucked against the mountain. You raised your hand to block out the sun and knew immediately who was making so much dust your way. If you didn’t recognize his white horse dappled with gray or the way he tilted his hat, you sure recognized the big ol grin he sported, defined by his dimples.

“San,” You greeted him as he drew his horse abreast of you, dusting off the dirt on your skirts.

“Ma’am,” San tipped his hat graciously, and then winced.

You clucked your tongue immediately. “What kinda trouble did you get into now?!” You demanded.

San’s smile widened. “Just a few bandits trying to get away with Hongjoong’s cattle.”

You jerked your head to the shed you used to treat the few brave townfolk that dare come to you for any illness. They swore you were a witch but you were just educated--unheard of in these parts, but then again, that’s why you settled here.

San swung his leg over and dismounted from his horse. San clucked his tongue at Silver Light, and lightly wrapped the reins around the post before your cabin, letting the horse drink water from the trough.

“Can you even take your jacket off?” You scolded your new patient, washing your hands quickly with the lye soap you kept near the basin.

“I--” San hissed as he moved his arm again and you sighed heavily.

“When are you going to use any sense of self-preservation?” You said with your hands on your hips, after wiping them on a rag.

San paused jacket half pulled off, held up his elbows. Instead of answering your question he sent you a wounded look. “Help?”

You grumbled about men having less sense than a chicken but carefully helped him off with his heavy, long jacket. You cast an analytical eye over San’s injuries. “Lie to me, San.” It would be better if San kept himself distracted by talking.

San took a seat in the only chair in the shed and began to weave his tale. “Well you see, the bandits don’t have any wrangling experience so the herd was pretty much running with their own instincts and no matter of hooting or hollering was making those cows go where the bandits wanted them to,” San told you, more than happy to speak of a story that would probably make him look good in your eyes.

You fetched forceps to pull out the bullet clearly lodged in San’s arm and a bottle of whiskey. You splashed the forceps with some of the liquid before handing the bottle to San. He took a swig. It wasn’t his first time in your chair and it wouldn’t be the last, the damn fool. The only tells that he was hurting as you dug for the bullet were tiny creases at the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he didn’t whimper or whine, not once.

By the time you had extracted the bullet, San had told you about leaping from Silver to the lead bull’s back and forcing it to turn by grabbing the bull’s horns firmly and turning its head. You rolled your eyes and San laughed, high-pitched and light, at your response.

You dipped a clean rag in some of the whiskey and dabbed at his wound. This time he groaned and you slanted a glare his way. San pushed out his lower lip. “Come on, Darling, give me some sympathy. I saved Hongjoong’s whole herd!”

You finished bandaging his arm up. “You will get no sympathy from me, Choi San,” You refused, “And what did I tell you about calling me darling?”

San’s good arm wrapped firmly around your waist and brought you onto his lap. “You told me to never call you darling again,” He told you solemnly. “But I can’t forget about that night we shared.”

You rubbed your eyebrow. “San,” You said his name in warning, “You can’t be associated with me. The whole damn town thinks you’re a local hero. If they think you’re warming the bed of the local witch--”

“I don’t care what they think,” San said, voice getting low and husky, “I care about--”

You laughed bitterly and got up. Or tried to. San’s damn arms, one injured or not, were strong. You weren’t a frail Bank Owner’s daughter but you still didn’t stand a chance against that man. “Let me go, San.”

San sighed, defeated, and let you go. “Okay, Darling, don’t get your skirts in a twist.”

You let out a screech of frustration and stomped out of the shed, slamming the door. San’s eyes were wide at your tantrum and your reaction only made him chase after you. “Wait, I didn’t--”

You made it to the well before San caught up with you. “No, you didn’t, San, and that’s the point. You don’t think and every day I see someone galloping up that road, I’m sure it’s going to be one of the other boys to tell me you got yourself injured or worse!”

“You keep talking like that a cowboy might start thinking you were soft on him,” San teased you.

“Don’t you start!” You waggled your finger at San. San was back to grinning again and you rolled your eyes again. “You’re incorrigible!”

“My mama always told me that,” San nodded, conceding to you. “But she also told me that if I ever found a woman who had a soft spot for me to--”

“San, no,” You shook your head. You turned around to lower the bucket into your well and draw up some new water.

San’s callused, uninjured hand covered yours on the well lip. “Darling, please.”

You shook your head. “You’ll be ostracized. They’ll spit on you. What if Hongjoong doesn’t want to employ you at his ranch anymore? We can’t get married, they won’t let me within yards of that church. Any children--”

San pushed your shoulder with his good one. “Children, huh?”

“San,” You said, “I’m serious.”

San’s eyes were hooded and your stomach dipped. “I’m serious too. Let me learn your body again, Darling?”

You swallowed, the lack of moisture having everything to do with the cowboy in front of you. You put your hands on his chest, smooth over the leather vest and then pulled him closer. “You’re going to regret this.”

A slow, crooked smile pulled at San’s lips, flashing his teeth at you. “I don’t regret anything I do in life, other than when I let you push me away the first time.”

His head dipped and he captured your lips between his. His kiss was slow and sensual, giving you all the time in the world to push him away if you chose so. And when you didn’t, he tilted his head to suck your lower lip between his. You moaned into his mouth. He chuckled against your lips and pulled away. “You’re gonna have to help me with your skirts, Darling. I’m one arm down and that’s a sin when I’m finally able to fuck you good.”

Your eyes widened. It was almost high noon and almost anyone could come this way. “San, surely not out here?”

“Yes, out here,” San said, husky voice only adding moisture to your nether regions.

“I’m not going to let you mount me like a damn saloon girl!” You protested.

San tilted your head up with his good hand and kissed you again, softly. “Give me a thrill, Witchy Woman. You know half the town doesn’t dare come up here ‘cuz they think you’re going to be naked and covered in chicken’s blood. It’ll be fine.”

“Get hard at the thought of that?” You challenged him.

“Hell yes,” He chuckled.

Your eyes scanned the outdoor area. There was a real soft patch of grass near the big oak tree. “You lie down, cowboy. I’m not the injured one.”

San wrapped an arm around your waist and meandered towards said tree, unwilling to let you go farther than an arms length from him again. “You gonna ride me, Darling?”

“San,” You growled a warning again.

San laughed again and your heart beat against your chest. “If I was afraid of a strong woman, I wouldn’t have come to you the first time I got beat up after that young stallion bucked me when I was trying to break him in?”

San laid down on the sweet patch of grass in front of your oak tree. He was already hard and pressed up against his jeans, chaps only outlining his hard-on. You freed his cock, and then pulled up your skirts to slot it against your wet entrance.

You sunk down on him, slowly taking his girth. San’s hand rubbed your hips through your skirts, encouraging you to take your time. Staring down his nose, he looked delectable lying under you. His arms bulged from restraining himself, free from his heavy jacket, and only his vest covering the ample chest you knew was under.

“S-san,” You stuttered, still struggling with getting him fully inside of you.

“Your cunt’s so sweet for me,” San cooed at you, biting down on his lip, “So wet and inviting. It’s like I’m coming home.”

“Shut up,” You said half-heartedly, “Who ever heard of a cowboy who waxed poetic. Aren’t you just supposed to grunt while you fuck me?”

San chuckled. “But you’re fucking me, rememeber?” San whimpered when your walls clamped down on his length at his remark. “You like being in charge, Darling?”

“You’re hardly--hnnnffff--in any position to not listen to me--ahhhhh--” You rolled your hips experimentally and found that you were wet and opened up enough to move.

“Gonna fuck me good, Darling?” San continued to encourage you. “Fuck,” He bit down aggressively on his bottom lip again, practically sucking it in, “You really do know how to use those hips of yours.”

“Hnnnnn--San,” You whined, “You’re too--oh god--” San had tensed his pelvis muscle and suddenly you were able to bounce more aggressively against him.

“Come on, sweetness, give me everything you’ve got.” San locked gazes with you. He practically had hearts in the center of each of his irises. Goddamn it, this man was so sweet on you, and you felt your walls melt under his adoring gaze.

Your knees were getting stained by the grass under you but you were past the point of caring. You worked San’s length inside of you until the both of you were a whimpering, whining mess. You came first, shouting his name and seeing stars behind your eyelids. San felt your walls flutter around him and then he was a goner as well, attempting to hold you down on his cock as he unloaded inside of you.

“That’s it, Darling, you milk me dry. It’s all for you,” San groaned loudly, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He was smiling like he was a cat with milk, however. “With that orgasm, I’ll be rolling out of your bed tomorrow morning, good as new.”

Your eyes widened at his declaration. Before you could protest, San shook his head. “I’m staying and you can’t talk me out of it. You gotta take care of me. I’m injured.”

You sighed heavily but this time it wasn’t serious at all. “You really are incorrigible, Choi San. What am I going to do with you?”

“It’d be nice if you fucked me when the sun is pretty and setting but that might be wishful thinking on my part,” San mumbled with an adorable pout.

🥀Day Three: mirror sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #atz smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader #topaz's work #ღatz

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Pernille's Princesse

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: A look back at your birth from Pernille's perspective

It was, ultimately, a good idea to visit the Wolfsburg team.

Pernille was feeling terribly bad, all fat and bloated. She feels restless too, which is what actually prompts her to drag her heavily pregnant self to the training grounds to get some fresh air.

She's talking with Nilla Fischer, Magda's national teammate, when it happens. She sucks in as pain flares before something that she's been predicting will happen soon, happens.

"Are you okay?" Fischer asks, having caught the wince.

Pernille grabs her upper arms. "My water just broke," She says plainly," Did you bring your car to practice? I'd appreciate it if you drove me to the hospital."

"Oh..er...yeah, sure."

Pernille keeps a tight hold on her emotions as Nilla bundles her into the car and sets off to the hospital. Mainly, because she knows that after she's made this phone call, she'll have to be the calm one of the pair.

"I'll be there soon," Magda's voice says in greeting, a hint of laughter within it," I'm just about to get on the plane."

"You need to call Emma," Pernille says casually even though she's gritting her teeth and squeezing Nilla's wrist over the gear stick.

"What?"

Pernille thinks that Magda might be a little slow today. "You need to call Emma." Her words are short and sharp and it's all she can do from screaming from pain. "And tell her that you'll be sitting the next few games out. You're busy."

"But I'm not?"

Pernille wants to scream and cry but she's trying to stay strong and not have a breakdown in Nilla's car. It doesn't quite work because she snaps at Magda. "You are! Because I'll be damned if I push your baby out and you run back to England a few days later."

She can hear Magda's sharp inhale of worried breath. "But...You can't be having her now! She's early!"

"By two days!" Pernille hisses as another contraction hits her. "I'll send you the hospital address. I don't care how you do it but if you miss this, Magda, I will not be happy."

She drops the call when Nilla pulls into an empty parking space, leaping from the car to help get Pernille out.

"Worried mama?" The receptionist lady asks as Nilla flaps about trying to get Pernille seen.

"Worried friend," Pernille replies as she fills in one last form, handing it back over the counter," The other mama is on a plane to get here right now."

The receptionist winces in sympathy and flags down a nurse to take Pernille to her room.

Nilla comes with her but after a few hours and a text from Magda saying she's landed, Pernille kicks their mutual friend out.

"You're hovering and it's stressing me out!" She snaps as another contraction comes through. "Go and wait outside for Magda!"

Nilla leaving gives Pernille time to calm herself, taking in long and soothing breaths as she rubs her stomach. "Come on, princesse. Just stay like you are for a bit longer or I'll have to kill your Morsa."

She doesn't need to worry though because, no sooner has a nurse confirmed that she's only five centimetres, does Magda arrive.

"Am I late?"

Pernille's lying back on the bed, hand still rubbing circles on her stomach. She deadpans," Does it look like you're late?"

Magda relaxes significantly before saying with a hint of laughter," I think I scared Nilla. I left all my luggage with her."

Pernille waves a hand dismissively. "She's got spare keys. The nurse said I'm only five centimetres dilated. We could be here for a few more hours. Have you called Emma yet?"

Magda's guilty face says everything.

"We have time," Pernille says," Call her now and tell her."

She's right, of course, because your grand entrance to the world doesn't happen until early in the morning. It's absolute hell pushing you out and Pernille's ninety percent sure that she's absolutely wrecked Magda's hand from how hard she was clenching it.

She definitely screamed as well and she also doesn't want to think about the fact that the doctor had a view of her the whole time.

"You did it," Magda says as Pernille slumps back against the pillows," She's here."

Pernille can hear you screaming and she smiles, absolutely exhausted. "She's here."

She watches as the doctor passes a bundle wrapped in your baby blanket to Magda.

You've gone quiet and you're absolutely beautiful, Pernille notes, when you're unwrapped and placed on her chest.

You're rooting immediately and Pernille can do little but stare in awe at you.

●～●～●～●～

Getting you home is easy and Pernille makes Magda drag the cradle into the main bedroom, so they can get you easily at night.

"Look at those legs go. You're going to be such a good addition to Sweden when you're older."

Pernille rolls her eyes as she sits up in bed, having taken a power nap. "You mean Denmark. I'm not raising my daughter to wear a Sweden jersey."

"We'll see."

Pernille picks you up and marvels, not for the first time, at how easily you fit into her arms. She moves to the rocking chair and places you in Magda's arms.

You both look so sweet together, so soft and loving that Pernille has to take a picture - immortalising the moment.

"That's getting framed," She says with a grin," I think I'll put it on my bedside table. So I can remember this moment with you and the princesse." She crouches down to make you wear the hood, caressing your cheeks.

"We need to give her a name soon," Magda reminds her but her eyes haven't left you," We can't keep calling her the princesse."

Pernille thinks of the list they made, the one taped up to the fridge door. They had been going back and forth for weeks. She bites her lip as the name she had heard recently comes to mind.

She hums. "I know it wasn't on the list," She says finally," But I like y/n."

Magda repeats it with a smile, looking down at you. "Is that your name? Are you a y/n?"

You kick your legs, slamming them into Magda and Pernille smothers her laugh.

"That's a pretty powerful strike, princesse." Magda looks up at her. "I think she's giving us her approval."

"I think so too. y/n Harder-Eriksson."

"y/n Eriksson-Harder."

Pernille scoffs and rolls her eyes. "We've got another day before the trip to the embassies. We'll argue about her last name later." Her hand ghosts over your head. "What matters right now is princesse has a name now."

"It's a very pretty name."

#woso x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #hardersson x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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bethsvrse · 2 months

Note

Hey do you take requests for Timothee Chalamet? if so I'd love one where he's sick from eating too much chocolate on the Wonka set and the female reader takes care of him

PAIRING Timothee Chalamet x fem!reader

A/N I love Timmy sm, hope you enjoy it!!!

WARNINGS mentions of vomiting/over eating. Shitty dialogue.

There were groans coming from the bathroom, waking you up from your sleep. You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you reach over and grab your phone from you bedside table. Turning it on, you winced at the light, quickly turning down your brightness. Once that was done, you checked the time.

4:27 am. A ghastly time for anyone to be awake. You turned off your phone and went to go snuggle back into Timothee, only to realise that he’s not there, which causes you to also realise the reason why you awake.

Another groan came from the bathroom. You sighed as you stood up out of bed and curiously walked toward the ensuite. Opening the door, you were once again, blinded by a light. Blinking away the brightness, you looked around the bathroom only to find Timmy leaning over the toilet.

You suddenly felt more awake, and you immediately kneeled down next to him, pushing his hair back. Timmy groaned again before vomiting once more. You rubbed his back in sympathy, “it’s okay baby, let it out.”

Timothee groaned as he pulled his head out of the toilet, “go back to bed, Y/N/N. I’m okay.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew Timothee had an issue with letting people help him. Being with him for 3 years, you can’t count the amount of times you tried to help him with things and him denying the help.

“Timmy, your obviously not okay. Please just let me help.” You tell him as you cup his face with your hands. He puts his hands on top of yours as he nods slowly, before gagging and throwing up in the toilet once more. You stand up and walk over to the sink to wash your hands. After you do that, you grab a face washer from one of the drawers and wet it.

You walk back over to Timmy with the washer in hand. He looks up at you and you almost cry with how much pain he looks to be in. You give him a small smile as you wipe his face. You flush the toilet, and stand up once more. “I’ll be back in a second, okay baby?” You tell him, only receiving a small nod in return.

You walk out of your guys bedroom and into the kitchen to grab a bucket. When you return, you see Timmy leaning against the bathroom door with a frown on his face. You give him a small smile before placing the bucket next to his side on the bed. “Did you brush your teeth?” You ask him and he nodded, crawling into bed with you. He snuggles his face into your chest before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“When did you start throwing up?” You question.

“I don’t know.” Timmy tells you. “I first threw up yesterday morning, but today my stomach is just not agreeing with me. I threw up twice before you came to help me.” He says.

You rub his back in sympathy. “Maybe it’s from all the chocolate you’ve been eating. I noticed you only had dinner on Monday but go through like, several packets of chocolate.”

Timothee looks deep in thought before agreeing with you, “your probably right…”

“I always am.” You tell him with a small laugh before getting comfortable yourself. “Maybe you should lay off chocolates for a few weeks.”

“Yeah, probably.” He mutters. You can feel Timmy’s body start to relax before you hear small snores from him. Leaning over, you turn off your bedside light, before falling asleep yourself.

A/N call me Bill Denbrough cause I dont know how to end a story!!!! 🤙

hoped you liked it though anon 💕

#bethsvrse #fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #x reader #reader #anon ask #anonymous #willy wonka x reader #wonka #wonka 2023

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lalacliffthorne · 7 months

Text

failed dates suck. unless you have three roommates who squash every bit of sadness (and potentially the shitty date).

(is this the next/first official part of the whole modern!roommates!batboys-series already? it looks like it... also this turned out a lil more emotional than I had planned lol)

Letting the front door shut quietly behind me, I sank back against it, closing my eyes for a second and breathing out. There was a soft twinge in my chest, and I was ready to just sneak past the living room and -

There was a deep call of my name, and with a wince and a soundless curse, I slowly pushed off the door and trudged towards the living room. Stopping in the door, I felt my heart skip a little harshly when I found all three of my roommates lounging in front of the TV.

Damn it.

"Hey." Cassian looked over the backrest of the couch, and his brows rose. "Wow."

Despite the twinge in my chest, I felt my lips curve upwards.

"Look at you." Rhys leaned back, sending me a wicked grin. "You look gorgeous."

I huffed, grumbling a soft "Don't sound so surprised." as I slid my bag off my shoulder to drop it to the floor.

"You're back already?"

Azriel's deep voice caused something to swerve just a little in my chest, and when I raised my eyes, they met his. He was lounging in one of the armchairs, a crease between his brows as his gaze slowly moved over my face.

"Yeah, shouldn't you be at dinner somewhere?" Cassian smirked and sent me a wink. "Unless you skipped a few steps and went right to do the deed, which honestly, no judgement -"

I kicked off my sneakers and felt my lips curve softly, breathing out.

"He didn't show."

The grins slid off Cassian's and Rhys' faces as I trudged towards them, my silky dress sliding over my skin.

"What?" Cassian's voice suddenly sounded dangerously low.

I just shrugged and sent him a soft grin, stepping over Rhys' legs and plopping down onto the cushions. For a second, my gaze met Azriel's, and the small twinge in my chest did a little dip at the way his face suddenly seemed to have frozen over.

"What do you mean, he didn't show up?" Rhys slid his arm off the back of the couch, his violet eyes piercing as he stared at me.

Exhaling softly, I pulled the pillow away from his side and hugged it to my chest, propping my chin onto it as I looked over at him, feeling one corner of my lips rise gently.

"Exactly what it suggests. We were supposed to meet at the restaurant. I was early, went in, got the table. He didn't show." I furrowed my brows, huffing gently. "Didn't even text with a shitty excuse." Raising my gaze, something skipped softly against my ribs.

Azriel was watching me, all six foot something of him gone from lounging lazily to alarmingly still. His eyes were dark like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous.

"That motherf-" Cassian broke off, and when I blinked and tore my eyes away from Azriel's, he was staring at me, looking torn between sympathy and something that was raging like fire in his warm eyes. Rhys' gaze on the other hand was steely, no trace of the wicked smile that usually preceeded precise words able to cut down even a grown man with a few sentences. Instead, he looked like for once, he'd go straight for broken bones.

Feeling something warm spread gently in my chest, I shrugged a little.

"It's okay." Wrapping my arms tighter around the pillow, my lips curving softly, I furrowed my brows lightly. "Didn't even really surprise me."

Cassian's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his deep voice rumbling through me. "Why?"

I just shrugged lightly, sending him a lopsided smile.

"Experience." Breathing out, I shook my head, feeling my brows crunch a little. "I'm really just mad at myself for wasting my own time like that." I propped my chin onto the pillow. "I don't know, I guess I just - didn't really expect anything from it in the first place, but it still gets me. And I didn't even really like the guy that way, I just -" I hesitated for a second. Silence answered, but I could feel three pair of eyes on me, warm and steady, causing me to keep going.

"I just went because -" Feeling a knot form in my throat, I faltered for a second before mumbling: "Can't find anything when I'm not looking." Swallowing against the sudden weight on my chest, I blinked before raising my head and grinning lopsidedly. "Maybe all these failed attempts are a sign. Maybe something's wrong with me, or I'm just not - meant to -" The words died in my throat, and suddenly, I felt my eyes burn a little.

There was the sound of steady footsteps, then someone crouched down in front of me, and when I raised my head, my throat closed slowly.

Azriel's eyes pierced mine, golden and firm. Then he reached out, and my bottom lip began to wobble a little when he carefully wiped away a tear I hadn't realised was rolling over my skin.

"Sweetheart?" Rhys' voice was quiet but steady, and when I looked over at him, vision swimming a little, he raised an eyebrow gently, his eyes twinkling softly. "You are."

I sucked in a softly trembling breath, more tears beginning to run over my cheek, and Rhys' lips curved as he reached out to wipe them away with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. A wet giggle broke from my throat, and I sniffled, hastily wiping the back of my hand over my nose.

"I know it's stupid,", I whispered.

Cassian huffed. "Bullshit." His warm hand rubbed over my back, and when I looked over at him, he glared playfully, a small crease forming in his cheek. "And if you ever say the way you feel about something is stupid again, we're gonna have a serious problem."

Another tearful giggle left me, and with a soft smirk, Cassian pulled me into his chest, wrapping me up in his arms and propping his chin onto my head.

"Nothing's wrong with you,", he mumbled softly, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. "You're exactly right the way you are."

My breath hitched and trembled as tears rolled over my cheeks, and I squeezed my eyes shut quickly, something warm blooming under my ribs, swelling so powerfully, it almost ached.

Slowly, very slowly, my shuddering breaths ebbed off. Cass was rocking me a little until I giggled softly, sniffling as I mumbled hoarsely: "I soaked your shirt."

I felt Cassian grin into my hair. "Well -"

Rhys snorted the same moment I groaned softly and hit Cassian's side weakly, causing his chest to shake with deep laughter.

Grumbling under my breath, I slowly peeled myself out of his arms and pulled up my shoulders, wiping my hand over my cheek and sniffling again.

"I'm gonna get some ice cream,", I mumbled, my voice still a little thick. Rising heavily, I slipped past Azriel, feeling something warm in my chest when Rhys nudged my leg gently. Kicking back softly and feeling a quiet, sniffled giggle leave me, I started to trudge towards the hall.

In the kitchen, I tried to wipe the residue of mascara off my skin before tugging a container of ice cream out of the fridge and spoons out of one of the kitchen drawers. Pulling myself onto the counter, I exhaled slowly, my breath still a little shaky as I pulled the lid off the tub and buried a spoon in the ice cream.

The cold sweetness slowly melted on my tongue as I dangled my legs, looking down at the dress I was wearing and scowling a little.

What a waste of an outfit.

Sticking another spoonfull of ice cream into my mouth, I raised my head when the floorboards in the hall creaked, and something hopped gently against my ribs when Azriel appeared in the door. The warm, dimmed light in the kitchen made his eyes look like melted caramel, a strand of hair dropping into his forehead as he halted for a moment, gaze moving over me perched on the counter, the slits in my dress baring my legs and causing me to shiver a little as I dangled them.

"Want some?" I held up the container. I didn't blame him for staring. I probably looked a right mess. Hair tangled, dried tearstains on my cheeks, probably still mascara smudges everywhere and eyes red.

Azriel blinked before raising his gaze, and something seemed to soften in his eyes.

Walking forward steadily until he was standing between my knees, Az pulled the ice cream container from my hand, setting it down onto the counter next to me and raised the piece of clothing in his right hand.

"Arms." His deep, low voice sent a shiver down my spine I blamed on the cold counter under my thighs, the usual crease between his brows smoothing over a little as he looked at me calmly.

Holding my hands towards him, I felt my lips curve into a soft, crooked smile when Azriel started pulling the arms of the black hoodie over my fingers.

"You know, I might be a little emotionally messy right now, but I do know how to put on a hoodie."

Azriel threw me a glare that made me giggle softly, and one corner of his lips quirked.

Pushing the soft material up my arms, he pulled it over my head, and something tipped over in my chest when a wave of a familiar scent washed over me, cedar and pine cologne mixed with something warm and clean.

The hood got caught on my head as the fabric pooled over my body, and the shadow of a crease formed in Azriel's cheek when he reached out, gently pushing it off my head. His fingers brushed against my cheek when he carefully tucked a strand of hair that was stubbornly sticking over my forehead behind my ear, and my breath hitched a little. Then Azriel took a step back and gently nudged his head towards the hall, the crease in his cheek deepening just a little.

"C'mon. Those knuckleheads can't decide on what to watch."

Breathing out, I slid off the counter, picking up the spoons and the ice cream before moving to push past Azriel, but he reached out, his fingers wrapping gently around my wrist.

My heart skipped a little and my gaze darted up, and Azriel's eyes moved over my face, deep and warm in the light. Then he blinked and mumbled, his deep voice low and dark: "Only an absolute asshole is stupid enough to stand you up." His fingers gently tightened their grip around my wrist as he dipped his head to stare at me firmly. "No one like that gets to dictate how you feel about yourself."

Something tipped over in my chest, rising, and I swallowed harshly as I stared up at him.

Azriel's thumb brushed slowly over my skin, then he carefully let my hand slip out of his and straightened. His gaze dragged over my face, then he blinked, and suddenly, one corner of his lips curved.

"Also Rhys just got Mor to tell him who that guy was." There was a glint in his eyes that was nothing short of lazily wicked, and my heart skipped high as my own grew wide.

"Crap." I just caught the light smirk forming on his face, then I darted past him. "Rhys?!"

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

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dindjarindiaries · 24 days

Text

Wounds Unseen

summary: You and Hunter help each other through the fallout of Omega’s capture on Pabu.

pairing: sergeant hunter (tbb) x reader

tags: season 3 spoilers, angst, injuries (incl. blood), trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.298k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You bit your cheek to try to keep yourself silent as you limped over and over on your injured leg. The skin hadn’t stopped burning or bleeding since the blaster bolt caught it, but that didn’t stop you from walking on it and ignoring the pain as you tried your best to find Crosshair.

You had seen it all happen. The distraction, the attempted shot, and the long arc the tracker made before it ultimately missed the ship created an image within your mind that was hard to get rid of. The way your heart had fallen into the pits of your stomach was even harder to ignore.

It had broken you, but there was no doubt you weren’t nearly as broken as Crosshair was. That weight was sitting firmly on his shoulders. And Hunter…

He didn’t even know.

Neither did Wrecker, who was still unconscious in Shep’s safe room. You tightened your jaw at the thought of it. He would be devastated, but he would keep himself strong for the sake of Omega and his brothers. He had done it before for you and Hunter. You could only hope that he had taken the time to process it—and that he would do so again.

Chaos was still ensuing all around you, but you were set on your own mission. The pain hiding at the edges of your senses threatened to creep in and drown out everything else. You pushed it back, intent upon focusing on your family instead. You weren’t far from where Crosshair had made the shot.

The closer you got, the more you began to realize you weren’t the first one to find him.

Elevated voices got louder as you picked up your pace as much as you could manage. There was no mistaking the sound of Hunter’s rage, which bit through each word he spoke—or yelled. Crosshair’s responses were full of his own venom, but it was undoubtedly aimed towards himself.

Either way, they were taking their devastation out on each other, and you couldn’t sit by and let it happen, especially not when you thought of how Omega would react to it. You winced as you went even faster, never stopping until Hunter and Crosshair were in full earshot.

“Whose fault is it now?” Hunter snapped at Crosshair as you struggled down a nearby staircase. He gave Crosshair’s armored shoulder a rough shove. “Who’s the one that let her go?”

“Hunter!” You called for him from where you had just stepped off the last stair. You swallowed back a cry of pain and made your way over to them.

“This was your choice, Hunter,” Crosshair snarled in response. “You were the one who left her to me. I did the best with what you gave me!”

“My choice?” Hunter scoffed and tightened his fists at his sides. “My choice, my order, was for you to stay with her and Wrecker! It was one simple order, Crosshair!” Hunter pushed off Crosshair’s chestplate that time. “And you couldn’t even follow it!”

“Hunter!” The adrenaline thankfully helped in hiding your pain as you stood close to the two of them. Crosshair had kept his helmet on, but Hunter’s was off, and his gaze was sending his brother threatening daggers. Both their armored shoulders heaved with visible anger. You set a hand on Hunter’s and held it tight. “Stop.”

“We’ve never been keen on following orders.” Crosshair’s tone was almost smug, but you read it well. He was masking his own pain. “What else did you expect? Stormtroopers would have found us there eventually. Omega decided to focus on the bigger mission.”

Your lips tightened at the slight waver in his voice. When you looked at Hunter, he lacked any of that same sympathy towards his brother.

“Not only did you let her do that, but you also didn’t hold up your end of the plan.” Hunter stepped closer to Crosshair and jabbed a gloved finger into the center of his chestplate. “You are the reason she’s there, now, and I won’t ever let you forget that.”

“And how did getting that shuttle go?” You tensed as Crosshair began to deflect his unbearable pain. “I wasn’t the only one who failed. We all did.” Crosshair pointed his finger towards Hunter’s head. “That’s what you should remember.”

Hunter’s anger boiled over. He reached an arm back and you leapt forward without thinking. “Don’t—!”

At the same time you leaned onto your injured leg, Hunter stepped forward with his, causing his leg to hit yours just inches from your wound. You cut yourself off with your own cry of agony as your leg gave out underneath you, and you fell to the stone at Hunter’s boots.

He immediately knelt down at your side, his hands holding your shoulders before one of them cupped the side of your face. “Hey, are you okay?” He was breathless in his worry, all the anger having fled from his gaze as concern poured over in the warm depths of his eyes. Hunter gave you a worried once-over, his hand moving from your shoulder to your leg. “I’m so sorry.”

There was a hand placed on your shoulder from behind, and you looked briefly to see Crosshair knelt behind you with his helmet tilted in his own concern. Despite the pained furrow in your brow, you nodded at him and turned back to Hunter. “It wasn’t you.”

You exhaled and shifted, biting back a growl as you showed Hunter your wound. His eyes widened to double their usual size before they snapped back to your own gaze. “You got shot?”

“Barely.” You gritted your teeth as you sat up more. Hunter’s gaze fell back to your injured leg as his thumb brushed mindlessly over your cheek. “It looks worse than it feels.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re lying.” He sighed, a worried crease still knit in his brow as he put his helmet back on and began to help you up. “We need to get that patched up while it’s still fresh.”

Crosshair stood with the two of you, but he refused to look at Hunter as he spoke solely to you. “How can I help?”

You offered him a small smile. “Can you stay with Wrecker? I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes.” You deflated and let your gaze fall away from Crosshair’s visor. “Especially with…”

You trailed off, and silence sat between the three of you for a long moment. Crosshair eventually nodded and shuffled away, heading back the way you first came. You closed your eyes and leaned more into Hunter, who took the extra weight with ease. His helmet looked over at you. “Are you sure you can walk?”

You nodded, offering him the same smile you had just given Crosshair as he started to crutch you to a safe place. The most reasonable place for you two to go would have been where Wrecker still was, but Hunter clearly had no desire to be anywhere near Crosshair—and you wanted the privacy to get through to Hunter, anyway.

Hunter’s hand tightened on your side when you winced while going around a corner. “How did it happen?”

You tightened your jaw and considered your words, but the truth was what he deserved. “I was laying down cover for Crosshair.” Hunter physically bristled at your words. “I was too focused on looking between him and the ship. I missed the trooper who was hiding in my peripheral.”

Hunter sighed and gave your leg another glance. “Looks like they got you good.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “They still partially missed.”

Hunter huffed in amusement at that. “True.” He brought himself closer to your side. “Let’s just be glad it wasn’t the Imperial shadow going after you.”

Silence fell over the two of you for the rest of your journey. The chaos returned the closer you got to the homes of the Pabu islanders, causing your stomach to turn in guilt. You couldn’t imagine how it must have made Omega feel. It was no wonder that someone like her would turn herself in to make it stop.

You and Hunter eventually arrived at one of the unoccupied homes that Shep had made available to you. When you stepped inside, your chest lit aflame with anger at the sight of everything being turned over. There was no doubt the Empire had searched this place, just as they had with everyone’s homes.

It no longer felt like the secret safe haven you and Hunter got to sneak away to. Just like the Marauder, a loss you weren’t close to processing yet, this had also been taken from you. And Omega…

That was a void you refused to acknowledge just yet.

Hunter moved away from your side to lift a chair up from where it had been knocked onto the floor. He then held you by the shoulders and eased you down onto it, urging you to keep your injured leg straight before he knelt down in front of it. Hunter was swift in removing his helmet and his pack. He sifted through its contents and pulled out the medpac.

As Hunter began to work, he tightened his jaw and spoke in a low voice. “I should’ve been there.”

You shook your head at him. “You were doing your part.” When Hunter didn’t respond, you set your hand over his, which had been offering him stability. “Crosshair didn’t mean what he said.”

Hunter gave you a quick warning glance, but it wasn’t threatening. The devastation in his gaze spoke for him.

“And I hope you didn’t mean what you said to Crosshair.”

Hunter continued his work on your wound even as he distanced himself from you. His hand slid out from under yours. “So, you’re taking his side?”

You sighed heavily. “There’s no side to take, Hunter.”

Hunter gave you an incredulous look. “He let her—.”

“He didn’t let her do anything.” You circled your jaw at him, conveying your severity. “Omega was going to turn herself in no matter what Crosshair said. She was set on it.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “You say that like you were there.”

“I was.”

Hunter froze where he was, and a flash of betrayal lit up his brown gaze for a moment. It struck your heart, but you didn’t let that show. It was only after a long, tense pause that Hunter spoke in a chilling voice. “Then you let her do it, too?”

“I was with Wrecker, and they were also there. Like I said before, Omega was going to do it no matter what.” You glanced down at your lap, remembering that last embrace you had given her. “She wanted to get the coordinates to Tantiss. Not for herself, but for all the clones who are trapped there.” You scoffed and picked at the material of your pants. “She’s braver than any of us.”

When you gained the faith to look at Hunter again, you were devastated to see him kneeling there with his head hung low. His eyes were closed as if he was in pain. “There wasn’t anything we could have done?” His voice was hushed.

You lifted a hand to the side of Hunter’s face, urging him to look at you again as you caressed his flushed skin. “No, there wasn’t.” Hunter leaned into your touch and closed his eyes again. “Crosshair tried to talk her out of it. He was just as reluctant as any of us would have been.” Hunter reopened his eyes at that, and you ran your thumb over his cheek to soothe him. “And then he alone had to be responsible for the last part of the plan.”

Hunter’s gaze began to dart around the room as he cursed under his breath. He was gentle in holding your wrist to drop your hand from his face. “He’s already been worried enough about his shot with his hand.”

You nodded, grimacing with him as he processed everything. Hunter brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, his armored shoulders rising and falling in a deep, heavy breath. He then shook his head.

“I messed up.” Hunter scoffed at himself. “Again.” You pulled the corners of your mouth tight in sympathy for him as he went on. “He’s already blaming himself, and I made it worse.”

You brushed some of the tufts of hair away from Hunter’s face, making him glance up at you again. You offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s not too late to make it right.”

Hunter returned your smile, but only for a moment. “Right. But first,” he turned his attention back to the medpac, “I have to make this right.”

You chuckled at that, just to wince when Hunter began to clean the wound. He let you hold his wrist while he worked, and you squeezed it any time the pain was too much. He would pause and give you time before trying again.

It reminded you of the times you would patch him up on the Marauder, both during the war and after. The thought of the ship made your heart sink yet again. It wasn’t just a ship to all of you, or even just a temporary home.

It was one of the last pieces you had of Tech.

“I can’t believe the Marauder’s gone.” Your voice was a haunted whisper as you spoke.

The genuine sadness in your tone earned Hunter’s gaze. “I know.” He set a comforting hand on your non-injured leg. “It’s gonna be an adjustment.”

Sudden emotion began to well up in you. “I just… it always made me think of…”

Hunter’s eyes glazed over in understanding as he rose to his feet. “I know.” He repeated the words in a softer tone than before. Hunter held you against him for a long moment, your cheek pressed against his armor as he set a gentle kiss on your head. “At least Omega kept his goggles safe.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and willed the tear that hung on your lashes not to fall. Your voice was a broken whisper as you went on. “I miss him so much, Hunt.”

Hunter held you closer. “I do, too.” His own voice wavered, a rare occurrence for the one who always made himself so strong for the sake of his squad. “Things would be very different if he was… still around.”

You heaved a deep breath and stayed close to Hunter until you gained the strength to break away from him. He knelt back down to your level and wiped away the single tear with his thumb. You noticed he wasn’t far from shedding a tear himself. You shifted your focus onto him as you held his face between your hands. “How are you feeling about it?”

Hunter’s brow wrinkled together. “About what?”

You resisted the urge to scoff. “All of it.”

Hunter parted his lips to speak, then stopped. His gaze fell, and he circled his jaw the way he often did when he was struggling to maintain his composure. You ran your thumbs across his cheeks and waited patiently for him. His voice was a shattered remnant of himself when he spoke. “It feels like we just got her back.”

You eased your forehead against his and nodded. “I know,” you repeated Hunter’s own words from before. “But it was only a matter of time until they caught up to us.”

Hunter closed his eyes and held your wrists like he would fall away from the galaxy if he let go. “I can’t believe we have to do this again.” He shook his head, minding yours that still rested against his own. “We have to live this nightmare again.”

You sat in silence for a few moments before you dared to respond. “Omega’s strong, Hunter. She’ll be okay in there.” You took a deep breath. “But we have to make good on the plan. It’s not too late, yet. We can still find Tantiss.”

Hunter opened his eyes and looked at you with defeat. “How?”

You offered the most encouraging smile you could muster. “We’ll find a way. We always do, somehow.”

Hunter’s gaze searched yours as he tried to convince himself of your words. Eventually, he began to break into the smallest of smiles. “This is why you’re Sunny.” He lifted a hand to brush his thumb over your lips. “Our bright light in the dark.” He leaned closer at the same time as you, his mouth nearly on yours as he whispered one last thing. “My Sun.”

He closed the gap, letting the two of you indulge in the sweetest possible source of relief, comfort, and love. It was always those moments that allowed the two of you to escape the cruelty of the galaxy for even just a small sliver of time, where all you had to conceive of was one another and the affection you so deeply shared. It had taken a long time to get to that point, but now that you were there, neither one of you would ever take it for granted.

You pulled away with lingering lips, reluctant to let go of the moment as you faced reality once again. “We need to get back to Wrecker and Crosshair.”

Hunter exhaled softly and nodded to agree with you. You brushed a fallen piece of hair out of his face as he went back to finishing the dressing on your wound. He worked quickly with the clarity that your brief display of affection had provided, and soon, he was crutching you back to Shep’s.

Some of the chaos had died down, with the Imperial forces having abandoned the island—and leaving it to burn. You scoffed to yourself at the mere thought of it. The livelihood of all the islanders was destroyed, and the Empire couldn’t have cared less. Knowing Omega was in their “care” made you sick.

When you got to Shep’s, you were disturbed to see that Wrecker still hadn’t woken. Crosshair rose from his place at Wrecker’s side, his helmet removed and his gaze fixed on anything and anyone except for Hunter. You shared an understanding glance with Hunter as he set you down beside Wrecker. He nodded and gently squeezed your non-injured thigh before turning to his brother.

“Crosshair.” Hunter cleared his throat as Crosshair met his gaze. “Can I speak with you, outside?”

Crosshair gave you a quick look, and you nodded in reassurance. He repeated the gesture to Hunter and let him lead the way outside. Hunter didn’t take them far, and they were only partially out of your view from the doorway. While you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you watched to see how it all would go, your hand resting on Wrecker’s boot for comfort.

Their rapport looked much calmer than before, and your chest began to warm when Hunter set a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. You were shocked when that gesture turned into something more, with Hunter offering his brother a comforting embrace. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself as they stayed there for a while.

You all had lost a lot that day, but there was no one person to blame—no one except the Empire. Now that you were united once again, they didn’t stand a single chance, and you were relieved that you helped Hunter to understand that. Hemlock could watch his back, but that wouldn’t be enough. None of you would stop until Omega was free, once and for all.

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#all i want is to give this man a hug okay!!!!!! that's what he deserves. all of them tbh #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch fanfiction #dindjarindiaries

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