#i still have the scar on my knee from when i fell to the floor after watching the scene | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelshadowsinger · 10 months

Text

Prized Possession

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: fluff!! littlest hint of spice. like a little angst too bc they have a brief fight??? idk

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

You lose something and Azriel gets it back for you.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

im too soft for this pls its too much. i almost made this a smut but i am wholesome and refuse to listen to the little devil on my shoulder. also this is unedited

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The ground shook as the air cleaved and two bodies fell to the floor from the mass of shadow above. A wave of cold river water surged out, slickening the marble tile with a slight greenish tinge.

You were retching up water on your hands and knees, drenched hair plastered to your face and your neck. A large slice of skin was exposed diagonally across your collar from where the siren had scratched you, a red ring around your wrist quickly turning purple from where it had grabbed you and dragged you under. That was all before Azriel had dove in from the sky, as graceful and lethal as a bullet with his wings tucked tight and limbs flush to his sides. In but a flash of blinding, brilliant blue did he slay the faerie, the life just starting to leave its gaze before firm hands had snatched you and you’d slipped away into the shadows.

Now the shadowsinger was coughing violently, all the while glaring at you as he braced his scarred hands on his knees, heaved over. His large, dark wings were dripping, a mist showering over you as he shook them free of moisture. You could feel his stony stare fixed on you as the puddle on the floor gradually grew, both your bodies dripping.

The moment you regained some semblance of control you were up on your feet and jabbing a finger into the male’s broad chest, a vicious growl emitting from your mouth and your eyes ablaze.

“What the hell is your problem?!”

He had the audacity to look shocked by your outrage, a dark brow scrunching and lips pulling back to snarl something back at you but you were quicker than him.

“I had it, Azriel, what the fuck?”

“The only thing you had was a watery grave,” he instantly barked back, now standing upright so he loomed over you as usual.

Somehow he looked even more devastating fully drenched, his clothes sticking to his lean frame, revealing his rippling muscles to you with every movement. His dark locks were pitch black and curling at the tips, heavy, shiny droplets collecting at the very ends. Hazel was lit aglow beneath that darkness, his gaze lit with some unknown wrath that you didn’t quite know how to place.

It was just plain unfair how good he looked after nearly drowning.

“Fuck you,” you scoffed, even if he was right. The ache in your lungs remained from your lack of breath, the creature having dragged you underwater so deep that your ears nearly popped with the pressure.

You turned away from him as your fingers ran over your chest, toward the spot that your necklace usually laid upon. But now there was only a shallow slice where the siren had swiped it from you, and the tattered edges of your top. Tears welled in your eyes at the barren expanse of skin you felt, but you refused to let them fall in front of the shadowsinger, refused to let your anger turn to sorrow before you were in the privacy of your own room.

“I think gratitude would be more appropriate,” Azriel spoke harshly, still glowering from his position behind you. “You know, for saving your life?”

You whirled around, fists clenched at your hips. “Would you just shut up!” your hiss morphed into a gasp as you trembled with the effort of curbing the sob that tried to escape.

The haughty look instantly dropped from Azriel’s face, his eyes flicking over every inch of you to assess you for any sign of physical damage. When all he came up with was the cut on your collar and the bruise around your wrist, his brow furrowed.

You were shaking, frustration peaking as you ran your fingers through your sopping hair, starting to pace before the male. “I had it, it was right there…” you muttered to yourself, quickly swiping away a rogue tear, praying he hadn’t seen it.

The shadowsinger remained rooted where he stood, watching your display of upset with quiet intensity. After you had paced for a minute, he finally asked, “You had… what?”

His voice was deep as it sliced the silence in the room. The chill of his chambers was now starting to leech into your bones, your arms crossing over your soaked midsection.

You pinched the spot between your brow and nose bridge, willing any nearly-boiling emotions to relax to a simmer, at least while you were still in front of your long-time crush. “Just forget about it…”

You weren’t looking at him so you didn’t see the way his plush lips pursed.

“Forget about what?” he pressed. His persistence forced an annoyed sigh from you, and you shot him a quick glare before continuing your pacing.

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to shut him down again. You didn’t know why enlightening him of the true reason you were so upset seemed somehow embarrassing. Maybe it was because the male had never shown profound emotion to you and therefore cueing him in on your own felt… too intimate.

But Azriel wasn’t having it.

“If it’s really nothing—”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

You turned again, facing the male before you and gauging his stance. With one look you knew he was not dropping it. Any excuses you would attempt would be futile.

“It took… my necklace.”

You held your breath, waiting for him to explode, for him to belittle you and call you stupid and materialistic and any other insult he could produce. But all he did was stand there, and look at you.

Eventually, he said, “So you’re telling me that you nearly drowned… for some jewelry?”

Your eyes fell from his to the floor. You knew he wouldn’t understand.

“Risking your life for such a thing is extremely reckless and I don’t care to entertain it,” he stated, callous.

“It’s not just some jewelry!” you quipped, standing your ground. You didn’t care if it made you look weak, stupid. Yes, you thought he was cute and funny and usually kind, but this meant a lot to you and you were going to hold your own.

Azriel sighed, stepping closer to you. “I don’t think you understand the value of your life, or the importance of your existence in others’.”

You brushed off whatever that meant.

“It’s the only thing I have left from my mother,” you finally revealed, the words fading softer toward the end. You regretted it immediately, but you knew from the emotion that flashed in his eyes that he had heard it, and there was no taking it back now.

You had never mentioned her to him before, only the fact that she was dead and had been for a long time. And Azriel hadn’t pushed, so you hadn’t felt the desire to give any further detail.

But now he was looking at you with some sentiment you couldn’t quite place. It seemed like… maybe it was… empathy.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

You were surprised by his immediate apology, hadn’t expected it. A somber smile graced your lips and you nodded, gaze drifting down to your feet again, turning to head back to your room to wallow in self-pity. “It’s okay, it’s just a necklace.”

Three steps into your retreat Azriel cleared his throat.

When you turned to look at him he was still standing there, but he now had a little smirk on his lips as he held out a clenched fist. He released his grip and out dropped a small, silver-laced heart pendant, the chain bouncing from its coil around his fingers.

“You mean this necklace?”

Your breath was genuinely sucked out from your lungs, your eyes tearing up as you blinked furiously, unsure if he was really holding your most prized possession.

“Az,” you blubbered, choked up and your lip quivering. “That’s…” Two slow steps and then you were flying into his arms, your limbs wrapping around his torso as you clung to him and laughed.

Azriel stumbled back just slightly, unprepared for your abrupt launch into his embrace. But he quickly recovered, his free arm wrapping around you so your bottom was secured by his elbow, his hand at your waist. He chuckled as you squeezed him, fingers reaching out to stroke the pendant that now lay in his open palm, to make sure it was really here and you hadn’t lost it. Your longtime crush had saved you and somehow managed to sneakily grab your necklace at the same time.

“Thank you,” you sniffed, tears welling up with relief, “thank you, thank you so much, thank you Az.” You whispered it over and over, tucking your face in against his neck, breathing in that soothing cool cedar scent you loved so much.

The shadowsinger was blushing with your proximity and your praise, near giddy from your outright gratefulness. He allowed himself to nuzzle your ear just once, not wanting to toe the line. “Of course, sweetheart… anything for you.”

You sat back so you could look at him, your beaming smile reaching your eyes. Azriel couldn’t help but grin back at you.

“I can’t believe you got it! You’re the best, Az!” you cheered, fingers now resting on his palm, pleased to find the necklace was indeed there and not lost at the bottom of the river.

The Illyrian was basically looking at you with heart-eyes now, not used to such overt flattery. You wiggled in his grasp, totally overjoyed. The display of your content was making his heart feel funny, his icy exterior completely melting for you.

“I’m so happy right now, I could just—”

You planted your mouth on his, hands coming to cup his strong jaw and hold his face flush to yours.

Azriel went stiff, his eyes widening as his grip on you became steel. But you were undeterred, pulling back to plant a few more swift, equally-firm kisses on his lips and then across his hot cheeks and nose.

When you pulled back, Azriel was gaping at you, lips now parted and his cheeks and the tips of his ears a soft, warm pink. Your smile faded as you took in his expression, settling into the knowledge that you’d just assaulted him with a barrage of kisses.

“Shit— I— I’m sorry Az,” you laughed, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. “I just— got a bit excited, I guess.”

You shifted so he would let you down but he refused to budge, arm taut around you. His wings were held high and tight behind him, still buffering as he tried to process what you had just done.

Your cheeks were becoming the same shade as his now, and you swallowed, uncomfortable under his intense stare. You weren’t accustomed to being able to look him head-on like this; he usually towered over you. He was so handsome up close, it made your heart drop into your stomach at the thought that you had just kissed him. About ten times, give or take.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before the shadowsinger finally blinked and closed his mouth, his eyes falling to linger on your lips. You felt aflame as you watched his tongue dart out, tasting the spot your lips had just claimed. “That’s alright,” he murmured, the hand that was holding the necklace coming to tuck your wet hair behind your ear, fingertips gliding down your jaw, leaving you wanting more. “Seems like a worthy reward for returning your most prized possession to you.”

Then he was setting you down, your ankles suddenly weak as your feet touched the ground.

“Allow me,” he said and gently placed his hand on your hip, turning you away from him.

You held your breath as the rough pads of his fingers coasted up your shoulder, the familiar weight of your mother’s pendant heavy against your rapidly-beating chest while he secured the clasp. You tried to calm yourself down but it wasn’t happening, your body leaning back against him on its own.

Azriel hissed lowly, firm hands grasping the back of your forearms and holding you out, far from where your back had grazed him. “Careful— you’re not the only one excited here.”

Your face burned and your core stirred at the same time.

“Sorry…” you whispered meekly.

He sighed a soft laugh, one hand rubbing your arm. “It’s alright. You go and run a hot bath, you’re drenched and I can hear your teeth rattling from here.”

You turned and smiled smally, grateful he was offering you an escape. You took extra care in keeping your eyes locked with his, no matter how bad you wanted to look down and see just how excited he was. “Thank you again, Az. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

And with that, you slipped from his chambers, the sound of your wet feet pattering down the hallway.

Azriel watched the spot where you had disappeared around his door, his shadows now surging out and dancing around him with glee, flickering across his mouth to get a taste of you. He didn’t care that he was still dripping wet as he flopped back onto his bed, his fingers coming to trace his lips. He recalled how your mouth felt on him, closing his eyes as he tried to preserve the feeling as best he could.

“No sweetheart,” he spoke to no one in particular, a confession only the stars in the sky would hear, “you’ve no idea how much you mean to me.”

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar fic #azriel fic #angelshadowsinger #my work

942 notes · View notes

dejwrites · 1 year

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ can i, leon kennedy

you should have known something was going to happen when he showed up at your door at two in the morning.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, written with black reader in mind, established relationship (they’re exes), mentions of scars, a lil angst, profanity, takes place after re4 events but i don’t spoil anything major, reader folds immediately but who wouldn’t fold for leon, mentions of reader being a nurse, mentions of reader talking to someone—not dating but talking, slight jealous!leon, listen to can i by kehlani to get the mood of this one shot // smut warnings: missionary position, a lil bit of just the tipness…you’ll understand what i mean when you read it, spit usage, implied oral (f.receiving), clit play, fully clothed leon kinda idk man i thought the sight of him being fully clothed was hot in my head just walk with me it okay, body worship, implied marking kink, // word count: 2.6k, minors dni

A YAWN ESCAPED BY YOUR LIPS AS YOU LET YOUR SLIPPERS SLIDE ACROSS THE LIGHT WOODEN FLOORS. The sound of knocking on your apartment’s door jolting you out of sleep caused you to grumble all types of profanity words under your breath. You had finished a twelve-hour shift at your job and had the next day off—gladly you were spending that time catching up on sleep until the person behind your front door interrupted. You leaned forward to peel through the peephole, and you thought your eyes were deceiving you. You stepped back to rub the sleep out of your eyes to confirm that you weren’t dreaming that the man behind your front door was there. That this wasn’t you dreaming of him. Your eyes glance over at the clock that was on the coffee table in your living room, 2 A.M.

You looked again, and his figure was still there. He looked different from the last time you saw him. Did he get bigger? Taller? Did his hair get longer? What was he doing here? Questions swirled around your mind until the knocking happened again. You inhaled sharply, reliving that when you opened the door, all the memories of him would slap you harshly. You’ll have to face him after the breakup that left you having dazed and confused sleepless nights. When you unlocked your door and opened it, the questions swirling around your head were answered.

Yes, he did get bigger, as if he’s been working out more. Yes, it did seem like he got taller. And his hair looked like it got longer to the point that it fell in his face just a little bit. But those eyes, those eyes weren’t the same from the last time you gazed upon them. They looked mature, yet could tell so many stories from what he’s been through the last time you saw them.

“Leon, what are you doing here?”

You haven’t seen him since he decided to break off the relationship. Quoting that it’ll only grow complicated due to what he does, as if you haven’t cleaned cuts and bruises on his body due to said job. You always wanted to tell him that you were all in and didn’t mind the possible dangers of dating him.

“Can I come in?” His voice knocks you out of your thoughts, and you're staring at him as if he’s gone mad.

However, it was two in the morning, and you didn’t want any complaints in the morning from neighbors. You stepped aside to let him in. When he stepped by you, his scent made your knees weak. Maybe it was because you hadn’t indulged in that scent in so long. There were days when you would smell just like him because you lounged in his spare RPD t-shirts or cuddled up next to him after a long shift at the hospital. Now it was like a temporary mist, just a mere memory of what you two had. You closed the door and locked it, your fingers tugging at the oversized t-shirt you wore—now feeling awkward that you haven’t slipped on sweats.

“I know we left on a rather-“

“You broke up with me, and I couldn’t contact you afterward.” You interrupted. “Why are you here, Leon? To talk? To argue? To makeup? I don’t have time for this, you know.” You’re stepping further to close the gap between you two.

“To make up.”

Those words shocked you, and now you were taking two steps back to glare at him in confusion. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you searched for the words to describe how you felt about that.

“You’re insane.” You said. “You can’t just show up and expect us to just make up.”

“I didn’t expect it to be easy, Y/N.” Leon’s taking the two steps forward that you backed out of. “I know that you’re so stubborn that you’ll make me work for it. I’m shocked that you didn’t slam the door in my face.”

“Stubborn?” You darkly chuckled and rolled your eyes at his words. “Leon, I’m talking to someone, and I think we will be serious soon.”

Selfishly, you said those words to hurt him. You and this person had only been on one or two dates, and you weren’t even sure that you two would be serious. You just worked in the same hospital, but your two schedules were very rigorous—you weren’t even sure if the two of you could even work. But you had to admit; you said those words to hurt Leon. You wanted him to have that same heartbroken feeling of when he just left you and went radio silent on you.

Leon’s jaw tightens at the sound of your words. Your words pierced his chest so harshly that it felt like it was tightening. His nails dig into the inside of his palms before he exhales sharply. The space between you two can’t get closed up, and you would take a step back until you felt the arm of your gray-colored sofa.

“So, whatever nonsense you have to tell me—I’m sure it no longer matters because I’m serious with this person.” You broke the silence.

Why did that sting your tongue so harshly? Was it because it was a lie? Maybe. He didn’t need to know that because you didn’t want him to hurt you again. He didn’t even deserve to be in your presence anymore. But foolishly, here he was because you let him. You let him in your presence for what? Some petty lies to make him seethe with jealousy.

Yes, Leon was jealous. You knew him so well that seeing the way his jaw locked showed that he was in deep thought about you and this person. You knew Leon was thinking of the thought of you smiling at this person with that same smitten smile you used to give him. You knew he’d think about how you’ll give this person the same lovesick stare you formally gave him. Gosh, the thought of you giving yourself to them sexually had the brown-haired man seeing red (but he wouldn’t admit that to you).

“Are you really serious with them?”

“Yes.”

Liar.

“Even if I do this?”

You never expected to feel Leon’s lips again. The last time you felt the warmth of his lips—he was placing a kiss on the top of the temple and leaving you alone in the diner your first date was swearing that it was him and not you. So you wouldn’t say the feeling of his lips was foreign to you—he had kissed, licked, and sucked upon your bare body all before. But this just felt salacious.

You only say that because of how quickly you grasp at the leather jacket he wore to bring him closer. Your body inching closer towards the sofa behind your body with each move of your lips on each other. During the brief moment of Leon breaking the kiss slowly, you could feel small pecks upon your kiss swollen kisses as if the brown-haired man didn’t want the kiss to end. From your toes that were covered in pastel pink colored fuzzy socks to the top of your head—your body felt hot. You were only covered in just a flimsy oversized t-shirt but felt like you were running a fever. And Leon took advantage of this and the overflowing tension that was closing in on the both of you as you were in the living room. His rugged hands that were stained with vices he committed while being away is tugging the shirt over your head without care. The piece of clothing decorating the floor was similar to the rug that was in the center of the living room.

Leon’s chestnut-colored eyes are watching as your bare skin encrusts with goosebumps due to the cool air that circulates the apartment. His mouth waters the way your nipples harden as soon as you’re just exposed for him to see. With a shaky breath, you’re pushing yourself further onto the sofa and Leon took place in between the space of your plush thighs. You poorly attempted to use the sound of his belt being unbuckled and pants being pushed off frantically to silence your thoughts. Oh, we’re your thoughts playing ping pong at the moment. A mixture of ‘oh, this is such a bad idea’ and ‘it wouldn’t hurt to give him some while he looks so desperate for you’. You wanted to tell your thoughts to shut up so you can process that moment, but that was a bit too late when your blue-colored panties were being dragged down your thighs. Your pussy lips were painted with your slick and it took Leon so much restraint to not bury his face in between your thighs.

He’s tugging himself out his bottoms, but not fully—just enough to tug his hardened cock out from his boxers and have it resting on your tummy. The weight of it causes you to swallow the nervous lump that formed in the back of your throat. But your pussy ached to feel it again. You wanted him to make you feel so good like he did before you broke up. He’s pushing your knees to your chest and one of your legs plops upon his shoulder as he’s making eye contact with you. You broke his eye contact to stare at the way your gold anklet dangled just a bit by his ear. You couldn’t dare look at Leon when you let him have you like this in a matter of minutes, completely folding to let him see you vulnerable like this when you swore to never let him back into the comfort of your life.

“Look at me,” Leon’s fingers hook under your chin to guide you to look at him. “Are you serious with them? Even though you’re letting me do this?” His voice oozes with a teasing tone that you wanted to comment on.

But instead, you’re watching as he’s brushing his pink-colored tip upon your wet folds. With the mixture of the precum encrusted on it and your slick—the wet sound of him massaging his tip between your folds made your stomach form knots. Not bad ones though, pleasurable ones that you had whimpering out for more as Leon’s brushed his tip upon your entrance teasingly. His free hand that wasn’t guiding his cock to tease you until you were soaked rubbed soothing curves on the leg that was prompted on his shoulder.

“Please, Leon. Stop the teasin’,” You whither upon his grasp attempting to feel some friction of his cock being inside you.

“Tell me what you want..” His voice trails off just like the fingertips that trailed down your chest. Tracing alongside your areola and down to your belly button. The tip of his cock rested just a bit inside of you and just that little motion was driving you insane.

With a smug grin on his face, Leon’s barely putting in the effort to push his hips further inside you. He just had his tip resting inside you until he could feel your thighs quivering against his body. Instead of granting you what you want, he’s just indulging in the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his tip.

With broken whimpers, you could only rasp out. “I want you.”

Leon clicks his tongue before he’s peppering the inside of your ankle with kisses. With each kiss, you’re left breathless. When you look at him, it sees memories of your relationship being dumped upon you. The way he looked at you was the way he would look at you when you were together. So lovestruck. So smitten for just you.

“Look at you,” Leon pulls his tip which was covered with slick out. He teasingly brushed it against your throbbing clit causing a chill to travel down your spine. “So beautiful.”

“Please, Leon.” You begged, your waist moving just a bit below his grasp to feel for him. “I’m not serious with anyone. I haven’t been since we broke up.”

And that’s what Leon wanted to hear. He brought his hand up to his mouth pooling a good amount of spit in his hand before letting it coat his cock with ease. You heard Leon let out a groan of desperation as he palmed himself right in front of you before sliding into you with ease.

You couldn’t quite describe how you felt when you and Leon became whole. The feeling of his cock felt like something that you yearned for months. Your chest heaved at the feeling—at how well Leon felt inside of you. His hips pivot forward in a motion that makes your brain fuzz up. Your fingers grasp at his forearm digging into it as something to help you hold on. Your thighs spread apart so provocatively that you knew Mother Mary herself was clutching her heart. Your eyes that were squeezed shut fluttered open to make eye contact with Leon just as the sound of your thighs slapping against his clothed lower half.

Without many words, he’s increasing his speed. With your leg hooked by his shoulder and your shiny golden anklet dangling carelessly with each thrust forward. Your whimpers were like music to Leon’s heated and red-shaded ears. His callous hands grasped at your waist to pin you in place even though you were already ever so trapped under his weight. You could feel the wetness below your bare bottom staining the sofa that many months ago—he helped pick out. With your mouth gasping apart, Leon leans down to place wet kisses on your gasping lips. Not exactly muffling your moans so you wouldn’t wake your neighbors but to just feel even closer to you.

“Shit.” Leon breathes out as he tugs himself out of you before shoving himself back in to feel the warmth and tightness of your pussy again.

It was one thing you adored when Leon and yourself had sex. When he was about to come, he always ensured you came first. Even if he was on his last ounce of energy, he wasn’t afraid to let his fingers dance upon your throbbing clit to intensify the toe-curling orgasm that erupted in the pit of your stomach. That’s exactly what he did, he’s lifting his body off of you and wetting his index and middle finger. Without reluctance, he thumbs at your clit in a circular motion.

“You’re so close, I can tell how you’re squirming and how much you soaked the sofa,” Leon says through breathy groans and subtle hushed profanity words.

Tears crystalized on your lash line as you whimpered out Leon’s name as if it was the only word you knew. The way he seemed to make your lower half body go through its own wave of fireworks—you were perfectly fine with only seeing him, only having him, and much more. His hips rock forward to fuck you through the orgasm that made your toes curl and your back arch off the softness of the plush sofa below your sweat-coated body.

This wasn’t how you imagined the conversation to go, but if you were given the chance to turn back time to change the way it went—you wouldn’t.

You were seeing spots in the way your orgasm tugged you off cloud nine. Your pussy pulses around Leon’s cock as you feel the weight of his clothed body falls upon your frame. Your chest heaves upward and downward as you’re trying to regain your breath, soul, and thoughts. You could feel Leon kissing your heated skin that now was engraved with the scent of him.

Oh, Leon Kennedy what you could do to a girl like you. He would always have your heart even if you tried your hardest to tug away.

━━ ♡ tags // @eiflawriting @takemichiluvr @maydayaisha @photosbyameil @alinvert @keijimilk @minniecums @stunnababyyabyyy @persona-enthusiast @itzgabz22 @ssunster @weeb4equality @duminki-dominikano @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @doingurmom69 @elysianrosie @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @shinsousliya @its-jazz @kibouhikari92 @sailewhoremoon @privateparty3 @lisia-primary @endeavours-jockstrap @chaoticevilbakugo @dais-hime @burpzz @av-sos @holydayaria @d-vatastic-blog @k-aylla @jeonkookieworld @yo-yoyeol @anime9ja @smalland-angry @cressys @geekgirlofarchangels @d1xkrider @dani5216 @4522-08 @xnerdiebirdiex @duboius @whoatherenelly @lashaemorow

thanks for reading and i hope you guys enjoyed this. ♡

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #re x reader #re smut #re4 x reader #re4 smut #female reader #black reader #video game x reader

2K notes · View notes

sarawritestories · 18 days

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 12

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian and Y/N both have a nightmare and look for comfort within each other. Spending a week out in pure bliss of cooking, meeting with a sweet Illyrian girl and snuggling in bed the couple hit a snag in the road.

Content Warning: Nightmares that depict murder, Asphyxiation, mention of wing clipping and scars. Weaponizing trauma against a victim and cliffhanger

Word Count:4.6K words

Banner used by @saradika

A/N: the last few sneak peeks I posted about are not in here but will be in the next one, I'm so sorry this took so long I was in a funk I couldn't shake! Though I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger.

ACOTAR MASTERLST

My arms were pinned above my head with Xavier’s hand gripping both of my wrists tightly. I writhed under him as he pawed at me. “Dolls, don’t move this much.” With his free hand he gripped my neck and forced his tongue down my throat as he pressed his length against me. Tears warmed my cheeks as my moan of agony was swallowed up by his mouth. “Shhh. It’s alright, it’ll be over soon.” He whispered over my lips as he slanted them down over mine again and I began to squirm. Xavier released the grip of my neck, his leather clad finger touching down my naked body. Until he reached my clit, and I gasped causing him to slither his tongue into my locking me tightly into place as he began to play with me like a toy.

I kept my eyes open as his disheveled blond hair fell forward from his face and tickled my collarbone. He moaned in my mouth as he slid a digit inside me, and I tried kicking my legs. Only the sharp sting of his hand against my core caused me to pause. “Stay still or I will get the spreader bar.” His blue eyes bore into mine with a seriousness that chilled my blood. “Do you understand?”

I steadied a breath, “Yes sir.”

He smiled, kissing me again, the feeling of his mouth on mine made me feel dirty and made me want to shrink into myself. Having enough I bit down on his bottom lip hard. He released me and I rose to my feet and tried to flee. His hand gripped my hair and I screamed, “No!” As Xavier yanked me back and forced me to my knees. “Get off me!” I shrieked.

“Let’s fix that mouth of yours, shall we?” He pressed the tip of his cock against my lips, the precum coating them, He released my hair only to pinch my nose. It didn’t take very long for my lungs to cry out for air, and I opened my mouth. Before he could do anything, a growl emulated from the corner, “Do not touch her.” Cassian’s voice grounded out. His siphons were the only thing I could distinguish as my vision was beginning to go out of focus.

Cassian had come for me, and when I turned to see him, silver glimmered in the illumination of the moonlight, and I screamed but it was too late. Graysen had taken the steel and sliced Cassian’s wings. “Cassian!” I cried out as the assault to his beautiful wings continued. I reached out for him only for Xavier to loop his arm around my waist. “Cassian!” He groaned on the floor, blood pooling underneath him. As I made another attempt to reach out to him. To have my fingertips reach his. “Please wake up, please wake up, Cassian.” I sobbed.

Bolting awake sweat raced down my back and face as I took in my surroundings, realizing I was in my room in the cabin and not in human lands. A little voice in the back of my mind kept saying:

Find him. Find him. Find him.

Rising from my bed I padded my way to the door to go find the General of the Night Courts Armies.

Cassian’s POV

Screams erupted all around me as my brothers and I raided the camp in search of my mother. Her screams flooded the camp, and I locked eyes with Rhysand and with a dip of his chin I bolted to the sound of her screams. My lungs were burning as I pushed myself to run faster thought my mother's screams were still so far from me. The night breeze pierced my skin as I pushed forward as the outline of the camp came into view.

As I entered the threshold of the camp another bloodcurdling scream rang through the camp, no one stirred, no one came to her aid. Weaving through the makeshift cabins the silhouette of male and a kneeling female caught the corner of my gaze. I changed course and headed in the direction where my mother’s beautiful face came into view. Terror consumed her features as tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry, my sweet boy.” Her voice cracked and Cassian collapsed to his knees. Mother pulled his face close to hers, “Look at how you’ve grown, Sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” She connected her forehead to mine, and I shut my eyes and took in her scent of snow and wildflowers.

“Cassian.” The voice caused my eyes to shoot open, and no longer was my mother’s eyes looking back at me but the familiar hues of Y/N. “Cass.” Her voice was shaky, and her fear was palpable.

I felt arms loop around mine and angrily yanking me back from the youngest Archeron sister, “No! Get off me!” I thrashed as the two Illyrians pulled me away and the male that was behind Y/N lifted his battle Axe. My siphons roared to life and red power blasted from my body. The two warriors release me and I bolt toward, Y/N as the Axe slices through her neck.

I fall to my knees as the assassin drops the axe, “Long live the queen.” The male murmured barely falling to my ears as the gruesome scene laid bare in front of me.

I could feel the presence of my brothers as they approached and my tears turned into sobs as I lifted the body close to mine, Ignoring the fact her head was not attached and sobbed.

I bolted awake, sweat coating my skin and along my hair line. Pulling my hair up in a bun I sat at the edge of my bed trying to catch my breath. It took a few minutes before I took in my surroundings and realized that I was in the Cabin. Y/N’s room was right next to mine and just needing her in my arms I stood up and headed to find her.

Opening my door, I stepped out to find Y/N emerging from her room. Her face met mine and I could see the tear-soaked cheeks and her gaze met mine. “Hey.” She said tucking her bottom lip between her lips.

“Hey, you.” I gave her a small smile; I rubbed the back of my neck. “I was actually coming to find you.

“Oh?” She gave me a small tilt of her lips upward. “I was coming to find you too.”

Something warmed my chest at her words, and I held out my hand, “Come on, Princess.”

Y/N hesitated, then in a flash she slapped my hand away and wrapped her arms around my waist. Pressing her face into my chest. I heard her release a soft sigh as I coiled my arms around her. “I had a terrible dream.” She murmured.

I pressed my chin to the top of her head taking the scent in. She was here, she was alive, she was in my arms. “Me too,” my hand slides up her back and runs through her hair.

She sniffled and my body went rigid, “Graysen chopped your wings.” She whispered. She pulled back to look at them, her gaze was assessing, and I stilled as I realized she was checking for injuries.

I stroked my thumb against her cheek grabbing her attention, her eyes filled with worry. “I’m okay, Princess, I flexed my wings so she can see they are uninjured. “My wings are perfectly fine.”

Y/N nodded, “What about you? You said you also had a nightmare,” Her voice a soft whisper and she gripped my hand, her soft fingers a stark contrast my calloused ones.

“I’m alright.” Her brows furrowed causing a little indent on her forehead. I leaned down pressing my lips where that crease resided and pulled away. Satisfaction bloomed in me as her face relaxed slightly, the wrinkles disappeared. I took her hand in my own and I quietly led her back to my room.

“Cassian What are you doing?” She questioned me as I opened my door.

“You have ruined my sleep schedule, Princess. If it’s alright with you, I would like you in my bed.” Her cheeks tinted with the lightest shade of pink though panic enraptured her eyes, as if she was going back to a memory with Xavier. I tugged her hand lightly, “Hey no,” I leaned down to meet her eye level as my free hand gripped the back of her neck. “Come back to me, Sweetheart.” She blinked once… twice and there she was, my girl. “I just want to hold you while we sleep. Your presence comforts me.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek at the admission.

Y/N gave me one of her toothy grins, one that could make me fall to my knees. “I’d like that. I sleep better when you’re close.”

I pressed my lips to hers for a moment and then kissed the tip of her nose, “Let’s get you to bed.” I adjusted my hands to hold her back and under her knees and picked her up and held her close to my chest. She gripped her arms around my neck and her Jasmine scent immediately calmed me. “You died.” I whispered as I kicked the door shut behind me and continued and made strides to the bed. I placed her down at the edge of the bed.

Crawling in next to her, she laid her back, her kind warm eyes never leaving mine. “I what?”

Lying on my side and wrapping my arm around her stomach pulling her close. I nuzzled my face in her neck, peppering it with soft featherlight kisses moving up to her jaw and pressing my forehead to the side of her face, “In my nightmare.” I murmur against her skin. “I watched you get slaughtered in my dream. It started off with me looking for my mother and when I found her, she morphed into you.” I could hear her heart begin to race and I tried to rub soothing circles against her clothed side to calm her. “I watched you die. I just…” I paused and released a sigh, pulling away from her. Laying on my back fanning out my wings holding my hand out and felt her soft hand slip into mine and my fingers curled around hers. “I just needed a reminder that you were ok, that you were alive.”

“Darling,” Y/N whispered shifting on the bed and could feel her facing me. “Look at me.” I refused, she pulled her hand away from mine and her cool delicate fingers found my cheek and she lightly pushed my face to meet hers and her eyes held nothing, but warmth and comfort and I could feel a tug at my chest. She sat back, adjusting the pillows against the headboard as she sat back. Her hand still touching my face she lightly tugged, “Come here, Cassian.”

The tone of her voice made me move, and I braced my arms on both sides of her hips, a few loose strands falling from my bun. She swiped them out of my face and then she patted her chest, “Lie down,” My body obeyed her command instantly my arms slid around and gripped her back. My ear pressed against her breast where her heart held a steady strong beat. She was showing me that she was alive. She tugged the bun from my hair, and it cascaded down in every direction. As if she could sense my need for her touch, she began running her fingers through my hair. “Feyre would do this for me when I had a bad dream. Especially when I left Xavier. This was the best thing she could come up with to calm me.”

“Remind me to get her flowers before we go home?” I grumbled, snuggling my head deeper into her chest. “This is nice.”

Y/N kisses the top of my head and begins to hum a soft tune, after a few moments the hums turned into words, and she began to softly sing in my ear. A lullaby I was unfamiliar with. Though I can’t focus on the words as her soft melodic tone seeped into my bones and wrapped around my soul. Her beautiful voice, her fingers massaging my scalp and her strong pulse ringing in my ear my eyes grow heavy. Before slumber can pull me under, I could have sworn she whispered, “It belongs to you anyway.” Then sleep consumed me.

I stirred the next morning to find my head pressed against a pillow. I lifted my head up blinking away the sleep and found the side of the bed cold. Pans collapsing and clanging on the ground in the kitchen followed by a slew of curses had me sliding out of bed, tying my hair back and following the sound. Making sure to quiet my footsteps I leaned against the door frame leading into the kitchen. Y/N was grumbling picking up the scattered cook wearing her hair in a braid that looked disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed, and I couldn’t help but admire her plump ass as she bent over to put things away, fighting the urge to collide my hand against it with a sharp slap. As she stood, and grabbed something off the counter, I made my presence known, “What’s going on in here?”

Y/N must not have noticed I was here because she jumped and in doing so the contents of the bowl she was holding flew in the air and landing all over her. She turned to look at me and pushed out her bottom lip, “You ruined my surprise.” She mumbled, shaking her head to get the flour out of her hair; a plume of flour swirls around her.

I pushed off the doorframe and approached her as I fought the laughter from escaping my lips. I looked at the contents on the table and my chest heaved. “You were trying to make breakfast?”

The youngest Archeron sighed in defeat, “You were upset last night because of your dream, and you made breakfast for me when I was upset. I was trying to do the same.” She looked at the mess in the kitchen, “Clearly, its not working out and I woke you up in the process. I’m sorry.”

This time I do laugh, and she tucks her head down in embarrassment. I lift her face and wipe some of the flour off her face. “My sweet, Princess. You’re cute. How about this. You go get cleaned off. I will clean up here and we can cook together.

Her face lit up, “Really?” I nodded and she smiled, “I’ll be right back.” She bolts out of the room and called out, “I’ll bring you down a shirt.”

I chuckled and began cleaning up.

The smell of eggs wafted through the kitchen as Y/N whisked the mixture for pancakes and I fried our eggs. She was swaying her hips dancing to whatever melody was in her head, “Do you always do that?”

She turned continuing her little dance moves as she poured the batter onto the pan, “Do what?” Pulling away when she gets a few perfect circles on the pan.

“Dance when you’re doing something?” She looked up and the dancing stopped as she thought about it.

“I guess I never noticed before.” She placed the bowl down, and held out her hand, “May I have this dance, General?” She wiggled her eyebrows her hair neatly put up a Violet bow in her hair wearing her leathers.

I flipped the eggs and glanced at her from my periphery and her eyes shifted from playful to soft and pleading her lips pushed out in a pout. Knowing that I could deny her nothing I tucked in my wings and gripped her hand in mine and my other around her waist as her hand rested on my bicep. I began to sway with her in the kitchen, flexing my bicep muscle every now and then. “We might burn the food.” I pointed her out as spun her around and pulled her back into my arms.

“We might,” She hummed. She smiled, “But we’ll at least have some fun.”

I rolled my eyes and tapped her butt. “I don’t like wasting food, back to the pancakes, Princess.”

She grumbled and crossed her arms but made her way back to the pancakes and flipped them. Y/N proceeded to swish her hips and as we finished making breakfast, I found myself moving my hips along with her and getting swept up by the invisible beat she was dancing to.

When we finished eating our breakfast, I pressed my lips in a tight line watching as the sun gleamed on Y.N as if the mother was praising her handy work in how beautiful she made her. My lips turned upward as she furiously scratched words into her journal. She was focused and I rubbed at my chest trying to ease the tightness there. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Y/N looked up from her journal and the sun glinted around her hair like a halo, “Sure. What’s up?”

“The other day when I had to leave because there was an incident that happened at the camp.” She tilted her head and I continued, “A little girl had her wings clipped. It’s a terrible tradition my people have when a girl has their first bleed. They take away their ability to fly, so they can focus on doing housework. It was one of the first thing that was banned when Rhys came into power, but the leaders of the camps still find work arounds.”

There was a tick in Y/N’s jaw, her eyes becoming glassy. She cleared her throat, “That’s horrific. We can discuss that later though, what’s the favor?” She shut the notebook and straightened her posture she reminded me of a solider waiting for orders.

“The little girl, Grace is her name, asked if I could bring you over to visit.” I smiled as her face shifted to one of shock. “She wanted to meet the human who saved her and her family.”

Y/N stood up and pressed a hand to her chest, “I would be honored. Can we go now?”

“Of course, Princess. Let’s get going.”

We landed back into the camps and placed Y/N down and gripped her hand and walked her over to one of the cabins. She squeezed my hand and took a deep breath. Once we reached the front door Y/N knocked twice and waited as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “You, okay?”

She simply nodded and before she could speak the door opened and both of us had to look down to find Grace looking back up at us. “Hi Cassie! She ran up and hugged my legs. I pressed my hand on the back of her head, my grin growing wide.

“Hi, Little one.” I said and got down on a bended knee and held her tiny hands, “How are you feeling?”

Her eyes beamed, “I feel so strong, though my wings hurt when I stretch them. Will that ever go away?” I opened and shut my mouth unsure what to say but then Y/N cleared her throat and saw Grace realized there was another person with me. “It will pass, with time though every now and again it will throb. It will be more uncomfortable than painful.” She whispered and got down on her knee. “I’m Y/N, I heard your name is Grace.”

Grace lit up at the sound of her name, “Cassie, you kept your promise!”

I placed a hand on my chest in mock offense, “I’m sorry as your General I always keep my promises.”

Grace moved from my embrace and walked toward Y/N grabbing her hand and leading her inside the cabin and I followed behind the two girls. I was greeted by Grace’s mother, her brown hair pinned up, her wings tucked tightly, and she pressed a hand on my arm, “Thank you, General. She hasn’t stopped talking about being brave for her Cassie. Your kindness has made this whole situation easier for both of us.”

I held her hand gently in mind and gave it a squeeze, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t there sooner. I wish I could have prevented it.”

Grace’s mother provided a small, “It may not have been preventable, General.”

“Please call me, Cassian.” I smiled.

“Diana,” She returned, “Go on Gracie. hasn’t stopped talking about you bring Y/N here.”

I walked deeper into the cabin in the common living space to see Gracie drawing and Y/N coloring alongside her. “Y/N where you hurt like I was?”

I stilled and watched as Y/N’s posture stiffened though she gave a smile, “Yes, a bad man hurt me. I have scars on my back because of it. But we do share one thing in common with each other.”

Grace eyes grew wide, “We do?”

Y/N nodded her body relaxing once more, “Cassian came to help us, when we needed him most.” Gracie looked over to where I was standing. Y/N’s gaze was burning the side of my face and when I met her stare she smiled.

“He is like a knight in shining armor saving the princess!” Gracie squealed. “We were the princess!”

I smiled and walked into the room, “You sure are!” Grace ran up to me and leapt into my arms and I was quick to catch her. “Cassie, are you going to marry Y/N?”

Y/N coughed the air becoming tight with uncomfortable silence. I cleared my throat, “I have to know, curious girl, why would you ask that?” I tickled her sides, and she began to giggle.

“Well, you saved her from the bad man, and you were holding her hand when you walked in. You clearly love her.”

I looked at the woman in question her cheeks were flushed but she said, “Well, Cassian is a good male, he will always help someone in need. As for him holding my hand he is aware that I get nervous and fidget, he was trying to bring me comfort.”

Grace furrowed her brow, “But you two must get married. I know you love each other.”

Y/N smiled, “Tell you what we can revisit marriage when we come and visit again.”

Grace gasped, “You want to come visit again?”

I flicked the child’s nose, “Of course we’re coming back, I have to check the bravest female in windhaven.”

Grace puffed out her chest in pride. “I won’t let you down, Cassie.”

I nodded, “You never could!”

“Would you two like to stay for dinner?”

Grace smiled, “Yes they would,” there was no room for argument, and we stayed for dinner.

The next week, Y/N and I fell into a routine, meals together, she would go in the study and write as I went to the camps. We still had not heard from Rhys so I had to assume that they were still in the Summer Court. When I get back Y/N and I would make dinner together and then she would get into one of my shirts and I would hold her close to my chest and we would simply fall asleep.

One day I left for Windhaven to discuss some plans with Devlon and enforcing that the females are aloud to train.

Devlon crossed his arms, “They will train after their chores, Is that simply not good enough?”

I snarled, “They deserve to have the choice to not do the chores if they don’t want to.”

Devlon snorted, “Says the male who is parading human trash around, and she follows you around like a little pup.”

I bared my teeth at him, “Mind your place, Lord. She is under the protection of your High Lord. Your just mad she bruised your pride.”

Devlon lifted his chin the sign of pure arrogance, “I could care less of an opinion of someone beneath me as a human whore, who is sleeping with a bastard born brute.”

I clenched my fist as my jaw ticked, “I will not tolerate your tone, step out of line again, and I will be personally mandating all your men doing the chores while the girls will train.” I took a step closer to him, “I hear you say one more thing about Y/N Archeron, I will not hesitate to sink your teeth in. Are we in an understanding.”

Devlon walked around me and made sure to collide with my soldier, “The females will train. Get out of my Camp, General,” He drawled out my title and left the tent.

Frustration pent up I followed him out and took to the skies to head back to the Cabin.

Once I reached the Cabin, I noticed the fae lights still on, I was later than I anticipated, but I walked in and kicked the snow off my boot and slammed the door behind me. The anger stirring in my gut was festering and I didn’t want my princess to be subjected to that. I stomped up to my room and slammed the door. I sat on the bed and pressed my palm against my eyes to try to relieve the pressure that had started to bloom in my head.

There was a soft knock on my door. “Cass? Are you okay?”

“Go away, Princess.” I murmured and pressed my palm deeper into my eyes. As the door opened.

I heard her footsteps growing near her and I pulled my hands away from my face and leveled a glare at her. She paused and retreated a step, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She spoke quietly, my eyes glazed to her hands where she was picking at her nails, she was nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. I want to be alone.” I barked out. Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair.

When I looked back at her she looked stricken, as if I hit her. She pressed “Cass, let me help.”

I snorted my rage boiling over as I rose to my feet, and she took an instinctive step back. I barely registered the fear in her eyes, “Tell me, Y/N, how could you help me. You can barely help yourself. Always hoping someone will save you; Rhys, Az, Feyre, are you that incompetent of taking care of yourself. That you resorted to sleeping with an abusive-“

I didn’t get the sentence out before her hand collided with my cheek. “You know I was coming to check if you were okay. I did not expect you to be a prick. I made dinner all by myself, so you came home to warm meal.” Guilt washed over me at her words, “Whenever you feel like acting like a grown adult; come join me.” She turned and headed for the door, “I don’t need a reminder about how low and insignificant I am.” She taps her head, “I hear those words repeatedly in my head, and yet Nesta had never failed to remind me of just how worthless, and beneath her I am.” Her voice cracked and it matched the ache in my heart, “I never thought you would stoop so low.”

Looking up at me I could see the hurt in her tender eyes. “Princess, Wait.” Her shutting the door; the solitary clicks of the door meeting its latch, was the only sound in the room.

For a moment I stared at the empty space where she had stood, then I crumpled to my knees. Tugging at my hair, my brain began to whirl, Hurt, Hurt, Hurt. You Hurt her. I had made her feel the same way she felt with Xavier and Nesta. “What. Have. I. Done?” I whispered as I curled in a ball my wings cocooning me, trying to block out the sobs I heard coming from the other room.

I am a monster.

To be continued...

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff @misskennygirl @whitewolfsbitch @highladyivy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @packsvlog @heyyhelloohii @parabatai-winchester @julesofvolterra @lilah-asteria @lyanna133 @mp-littlebit @nickishadow139 @milswrites @eve175

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian fluff #cassian angst #archeron sisters #cassian #feyre archeron

222 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details.

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost.

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch.

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter.

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow.

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace.

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better.

It had been a long few months.

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days.

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth.

Hell, he really must be tired.

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough.

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home.

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks.

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before.

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face.

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly?

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful.

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one.

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.”

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow.

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech.

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?”

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office.

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer.

All of it is uneventful.

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three.

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.”

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top.

‘Save for Simon.’

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly.

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet.

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine.

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen.

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.”

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.”

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home.

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily.

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second.

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.”

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper.

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points.

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened.

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?”

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression.

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…”

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception.

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two.

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it.

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision.

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?”

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?”

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe?

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul.

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away.

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up.

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt.

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life.

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @john-pricee, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce

1K notes · View notes

mikeysw1fey · 7 months

Text

falling for you

pairing: tara carpenter x female reader

warnings: embarrassing y/n.

a/n: the requests are being written guys i apologise for the time it’s taking

The first time I see her is on my way to my bio lecture. She was walking in the other direction, books tucked comfortably under her arm as she laughed with some curly haired girl.

It was crazy how fast I managed to fall for her, both physically and mentally.

Stumbling forwards I brace myself for the pain as I land face first into the concrete. “Oh shit are you good?” I curse whoever the higher power of this world is as the girl rushes over to my side.

“I’m good, just clumsy.” I manage to laugh through my embarrassment as I push myself to my knees, wincing as I run my hand over my face. “Your bleeding.” She contradicts monotonously as her eyebrow raises.

Seeing her up close made me want to fall over again, her perfect brown eyes that could swallow me whole and her nose adorned in little freckles that made a trail all the way down her cheeks. “Did you get a concussion or do you always stare this hard?” She asks scrunching her nose slightly.

“Neither?” I chuckle awkwardly willing the floor below me to open up and take me away from this pride shattering situation. “Ok, well if your ok then I have a class to get to. Try not to hurt that pretty face of yours anymore alright?” And with that she sends me a smile and a wave before heading back to her curly haired friend and continuing on her path to class.

………

“You fucking fell over in front of her?”

“Shut up ok, I didn’t mean to.” I hiss at my best friend Charlotte who doubles over in laughter earning a glare from our bio teacher.

“Oh that’s beautiful. I wish I was there.” Charlotte cackles wiping a tear from her eye. “Did you at least get her name?” She asks still recovering from her laughing fit. I run a hand down my face once again forgetting about the cut running across the side of my cheek. “Fuck ow.” I inhale sharply making sure it hadn’t re opened before turning back to my friend. “And no I’m a fucking idiot. You know this. I can’t talk let alone flirt with pretty girls. Especially ones who flirt back and call me pretty.” I sigh and rest my hands under my chin. “Besides this campus is massive, I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

Charlottes eyes roll playfully. “Your life is sad. So pathetically sad.” Her hand rubs my back as she turns her attention back to our teacher.

………

With an aching head I manage to sit through the rest of my classes for the day and answer the many many questions on what happened to my cheek. None of which I answered honestly.

And with my last class over I go to head back to my apartment with Mac Miller blasting in my ears but a light tap on my shoulder forces me to pull out my airpods and turn around.

“Hi, sorry for interrupting your music session, just wanted to make sure you were ok after your… fall, earlier.” The same short brown eyed girl from earlier smiles up at me, her eyes lingering on my cheek.

My heart skips a beat (or five) and my hands rush to tuck my stray hairs behind my ears. “Oh uh that’s ok. I’m alright just got this to deal with when I get home.” I shrug nonchalantly as if the cut on my cheek didn’t make me sob in a bathroom for ten minutes.

The girl laughs, a sound that makes me believe I just ascended into heaven. “Yeah you better make sure that doesn’t scar. Although it’s a known fact that chicks dig scars so.” She smirks cheekily and winks.

“My names Tara by the way.” She extends her hand and I take it slowly. “Y/N. My names Y/N.” I shake her hand gently, our hands remaining intertwined for longer than is considered normal.

“You know how to take care of your cheek?” Tara asks leaning on her tippy toes to get a better view of the wound. “Uh, I’ll just have a shower and hope it gets better I guess.” I laugh awkwardly as Tara shakes her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“This might be forward but can I come to your apartment? Just to make sure you treat your cut well. I’ve had my fair share of wounds I know what to do with them and I’m sure you don’t want your face scarred forever.” Tara shrugs before looking down at her shoes that dig awkwardly against the pavement.

“I’m ok with it. So long as you don’t plan to murder me.” I chuckle causing Tara to place her attention back on me, her eyes rolling playfully. “Please, I’m five foot basically nothing. I think you’ll be fine.” She retorts as the two of us slowly begin walking towards my apartment.

“You never know. They say the small ones are the ones you need to watch out for.”

……

Arriving back at my apartment, Tara is quick to ask where my bathroom is before tugging me towards it. “Have a shower and hope.” She scoffs as she mocks my earlier words. Shoving me against the bathroom sink, although she apologises at the unnecessary force used, Tara rummages through my medicine cabinet until she finds what she’s looking for.

Antiseptic.

“This is gonna hurt.” She smiles apologetically before moving to stand between my legs, her brown eyes catching mine. “Is this alright?” She asks, slowly reaching up to grip my jaw. “Better than ok.” I scrunch my nose up as she blushes before letting out a whine as she finally presses the liquid to my wound.

“I knew you were trying to kill me.” I breathe, trying my hardest not to look like a wimp. Tara’s eyes flicker to my own filled with worry before returning to my cheek as she dabs away. “Trust me, this is the least painful part.” She chuckles. I don’t reply, simply fixated on her concentrated face.

Once again I find myself following her trail of freckles and losing myself in her brown eyes. Only this time I don’t have a concussion to blame it on when she catches my stare.

“So what’s the excuse this time?” She whispers, her nose basically brushing mine as she gazes up at me.

I can’t reply, my voice stuck in my throat as her dimples appear following her toothy grin. Mustering up as much courage as I possibly can I let my hand fall upon her waist pulling her further into my legs. “I don’t have one.” I manage to breathe out as her breath hitches.

I watch as Tara’s eyes fall to my lips, her tongue running over her own. “Just kiss me.” I whisper surprised at my own confidence.

But confidence is key as Tara’s lips connect with my own, her hands leaving my jaw to tangle themselves in my hair as I squeeze her waist gently.

Capturing her tongue with mine is something that I had yet to even imagine, the feeling of euphoria rushing through every nerve in my body.

Only when breathing becomes a problem do I pull back and grin at the flushed face of the brown eyed girl before me.

“Your beautiful.” I sigh moving a hand to her cheek and caressing it lightly. Her lips twitch upwards as she shrugs. “Your cheek is still not treated. Let me finish my job and we can finish this later.” She teases softly before leaning in to peck my lips once again.

“And I promise you. We will.”

#wlw post #lesbian #fluff #jenna ortega #scream #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter

535 notes · View notes

dumbificat · 4 months

Text

Day 11 -> xiao + christmas miracle

☆ - xiao h/c fluff | wc: 623 ♡ - non-graphic descriptions of a wound/blood | gn reader ♪ - note:: day 11 of my event ! one more to go… i’m sorry again about the delay but i hope you enjoy nonetheless <3 ★ - taglist -> @https-furina @ryuryuryuyurboat @imapencil @mccnstruck | join my taglist

soft, icy crystals of silken snow fell from liyuen skies, a crisp blanket over wangshu inn. said inn had never appeared so serene before; there was a gentle whisper of the wind that breezed through leaves, the divine light of the moon a stark contrast to the deep inky black of the winter sky.

you were sat, awaiting your lover’s return. on the table- two plates of freshly prepared grilled tiger fish, made just for him. the favourite meal of your favourite guy, just in time for the festive season. they were cooling quickly due to his absence, yet you didn’t want to eat without him. he was late. later than he usually was when his duties would keep him out for longer than intended. worry clawed its way into your heart, ripping any semblance of hope to shreds. it made its way to your head, screaming at you to go find him.

right as you were about to move from the table, there was a smoky flashy. wisps of anemo disappeared as quick as they came, leaving in their wake your beloved xiao.

you rushed towards him, arms wrapping tight around his. you peppered his face with small kisses, doing more than enough to convey your worry to your adeptus. you pulled away, hands shifting to his shoulders, to ask,

“xiao, where have you been?”

to this, he winced, and that’s when you noticed. his hand was clutching his side. traces of blood seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt and onto the scarred skin of his hand.

you gasped, shocked still. it took a second to realise he was still bleeding while you stood before him, so you rushed to move him to a chair. seeing the urgency in your eyes, he followed without complaint, knowing any resistance will just worsen the pain. you hurried over to the cabinet, returning to your lover with bandages and disinfectant after washing and drying your hands. he rested awkwardly on his side, jaw clenched and eyes shut tight. gently, you reached for his hand, disinfectant at the ready.

the wound was, admittedly, not terrible. not as bad as one would assume, what with it being more of an unfortunately placed graze than anything. a deep, stinging graze. but not bad. regardless, you dressed the wound to the best of your ability, a skill you’ve been practicing since you fell in love with the yaksha.

with your main concerns put to rest, you remained on the floor, hands resting on xiao’s knees. you gazed up at his face expectantly, his eyes now open, but averted.

“darling..? are you alright?” receiving no response, you followed his eye-line, having completely forgotten what was on the table. there was… your stone cold dinner. before you could voice your apologies, xiao spoke up,

“don’t worry, my qingxin. im sure it was delicious, your cooking always is. i appreciate it still,” despite his shaky breaths, you could hear in sincerity in his voice. you looked to him, his favourite smile on your lips.

“here, for you,” he hands you a small qingxin, its petals somehow still pristine, “i picked it for you before the fight. i’m… surprised it lasted this long.”

“it’s a christmas miracle…” he offers a rare smile, placing the pretty flora behind your ear before reaching for the back of your neck, pulling you in. wanting to avoid any strain, you leaned up the rest of the way, meeting his lips in a sweet kiss.

his injuries may not have been lethal, and as regular an occurrence they may have been, you were glad he was still there with you to spend christmas together. you’ll have to thank your lucky stars for the miracle of him.

thank you for reading day 11 ! please reblog with tags if you enjoyed :)

link to event post

154 notes · View notes

lotus-n-l0ve · 9 months

Text

𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

— James Lee x Female Reader

SYNOPSIS : When James Lee's girlfriend feels a little neglected.

WARNINGS : Kissing, neck kisses, making out, don't you dare press 'read more' and then report the fic. Please. I'm begging (⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠-̩̩̩⁠)

NOTE FROM LOTUS : I was gonna make this a Samuel fic and then changed it to Jake, then Daniel and then finally settled on James Lee. This might be ooc for James but......I just don't give a fuck. Anyways the fic is under the cut. The divider is from here.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 // 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Your eyes opened with the chirping of the morning birds. You blinked your eyes to adjust to morning brightness. As your vision cleared, it fell on the pink beauty asleep on the other side of the bed. Your lips curl up into a smile. Seeing him in the morning was pretty hard these days.

You lift your hand, running your fingers on his face and feeling the softness. Despite being the legend of the first generation, he somehow has managed to keep himself scar free.

You threw off the comforter and climbed up over him, straddling his waist, the cold breeze of AC hitting you instantly. The loose pink shirt of James you had on, barely helping. Your hands grazed over his toned chest as you started placing kisses down his throat. His skin felt cold against your hot tongue.

"What are you doing first thing in the morning?" DG or rather James mumbled, still half-asleep.

You sit up straight, leaving his neck glistening with your saliva. James stared at you with a soft smile on his face, not the swooning one he shows his fans or the menacing one he gives his enemies. A smile only reserved for you.

"I missed you James. You are barely home these days." You spoke softly, an invisible pout evident on your lips.

James, a name no one calls him anymore, not even Charles Choi who knows everything. Now he is DG, the infamous K-pop idol.

"Seems like I neglected my baby, hmm?" James said as buried his hands under the soft cushiony pillow.

"Sometimes I wonder whether I'm your girlfriend or that boy, Daniel Park." You leaned in, chest pressed against, "Tell me, are you cheating on me, Mr. James Lee?"

James gave you a look, "Maybe."

"Oh! come on James." You whined and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

His chest vibrated as the room filled up with laughter. Strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Few minutes later you found yourself sitting on the kitchen island watching your devilishly handsome cook breakfast for you.

Who could have thought the legend himself, James Lee would be cooking in the kitchen instead of taking over the world. James had thrown on a pair of black sweatpants. His back muscles flexed whenever he moved. Your eyes ranked over his back and all the events of last night flashed in your head.

James plated the food and brought it up to you, placing it beside you on the island. He grabbed your knees and parted them before settling himself between your thighs. You silently wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

James picked up a strawberry from the pancake and held it before your lips, "Looks like my baby is still mad as she has not talked to me once. So what can I do to amend my mistake?"

You bit the strawberry and spoke between chewing, "I don't know. If I tell you everything, then what will you do?"

James threw the rest of the strawberry in his mouth and picked up a moresel of pancake with the fork. It was dripping with honey, just the way you liked. He touched it on your lips. You held his eye contact as you took the pancake in your mouth, licking the fork in the process.

Honey dripped from your lips, over the chin and then down your throat. James followed the glistening path. The fork dropped on the floor as James placed his tongue flat on the base of your neck. His tongue glided up, licking off all the sweetness of the honey.

Your eyes closed and you leaned your head to the side, giving him more space. Your legs threatened to close around his waist and fingers intertwined with his pink locks. James licked the corner of your lips before taking them in his.

His one hand slid up to the back of your neck, thumb caressing over it. Your lips dance in sync. James squeezed your neck, making you gasp. He took the chance and entered his tongue in your mouth. It glided over every corner of your mouth.

You broke the kiss when you left out of breath. James buried his head into your neck, his nose gazing on your neck, and pulled you in a hug and you followed his lead.

His muffled voice broke the silence, "How about I take you to Kyoto. You can visit that Ninomaru-Goten Palace you were talking about. Just you, and I."

"And no Daniel?" You tried to suppress the laugh.

James held you firmer, "Just you, and I. No one else."

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

#lookism imagines #lookism x you #lookism x y/n #lookism x reader #lookism fanfic #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism james lee #lookism dg #Lookism deigo Kang #james lee x reader #james lee #dg x reader #deigo kang #deigo kang x reader #lotus writes

278 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

I Guess I'm in Love [one shot]

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 764. Short but lovely.

Warnings: pure and disgusting amount of fluff with a tiny bit of implied smut.

Summary: Bucky can't help but reflect on his love for Reader on their lazy Sunday afternoon.

Authors Notes: So this is a request that @playboystark sent in forever ago and I'm finally finding a few minutes to write it. I hope you like it! This will be in Bucky's P.O.V. and it's based on the song I guess I'm in love by Clinton Kane so give it a listen to get the full effect!

The soft breeze blew through our opened window, dancing with the long curtains, as I laid in bed with her head on my chest, fingernails trailing down the bareness of my skin. I held her tighter, her smell engulfing my sense of smell and I fluttered my eyes shut at the familiarity.

Roses. She knew how much of a sucker I was for that smell and made everything about her that smell.

There was a tune playing throughout the speakers in our shared home as I adjusted the sheets over our naked bodies, the actions of our lazy Sunday replaying in my mind.

I found myself becoming obsessed with the feeling of her head on my chest and she carefully traced the scars on my shoulder where flesh met vibranium. She knew about my past, everything I had done as The Winter Soldier, and even if I hated myself for it, she didn’t. She loved everything about me, the good and bad. There were plenty of times she could have left after many nights of nightmares but she refused.

Her love for me was bigger than the tragic memories.

I had lost hope after Steve left to go back in time, leaving me alone. But when she came into my life, hope began to fill my veins; hope for a happy ending finally. I never believed I deserved one but she began to prove me wrong.

Any time I began to over think any small thing, I looked into her bright eyes and I couldn't stop myself from catching a breath because she made me lose it all over again. When I look at her, that’s the end of all of the bad thoughts.

Years together and I can’t stop the nervousness or butterflies in my stomach when we stare at one another.

Her soft lips kissed the scars, something she had always done, and I wrapped my arms tighter around her while my own lips brushed a kiss to her forehead. The smile that graced her beautiful features awoke those damn butterflies once more.

It had been years of loneliness and heartbreak but the second she came into my life, everything changed. She worked at the local coffee shop and was there every time I had gone in for a coffee and to read. After the second time, she had memorized my order.

Small black coffee with a chocolate croissant.

The moment I realized I was in love with her was when she had my order waiting for me, seconds before I arrived at the shop.

She had become everything I wanted when I thought I couldn’t find anyone.

Her petite fingers traced the graying stubble along my chin and I fell into the touch, a large smile on my face.

“We should probably get up,” I muttered against her hairline. “Alpine hasn’t been fed.”

She groaned while burying her face deep into my neck. “But I’m comfy.”

A sly smirk pulled at my lips. “How about I bend you over the bed and fuck that pretty little hole again?”

Her eyes met mine, lips parting as she mimicked a fish, the words feeling foreign on her lips.

God, I love the way she couldn’t find the words to say.

Our Sunday afternoon had drifted fast into the night and we were seated on the floor of our living room, two large pizza boxes that were empty sat a few feet from us. The television played one of her favorite movies but that did nothing to stop her from fidgeting, her nerves getting the best of her.

“Doll, you need to sit still. It’ll be alright,” I assured her with a squeeze to her knee.

She shook her head. “I can’t! We leave tomorrow for Greece and I suddenly remembered there’s a list of things to get done.”

We had this vacation planned for years and now that it was fast approaching, she was a nervous wreck. But I didn’t mind. I was so in love with her that I would run anywhere with her because the two of us were enough.

“Come here,” I pulled her into my chest with my vibranium arm and she quickly melted into my embrace.

Whenever we were in one another’s arms, it felt like home. No matter where we were. Everything I had gone through in my life, good or bad, I knew it was all worth it because it led me to her.

We shared a deep kiss, one that others would say belonged to two people who were so in love with each other.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes and yn #bucky barnes request #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes and you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert

649 notes · View notes

dabislittlemouse · 8 months

Note

"Ain't my blood, stop fussing!" + Dabi ((congrats on 2000 followers!! Feel free to make this as dark as you like >D ))

"𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠!"

(Yandere!Dabi x Reader, tw: blood, beheading, gaslighting, MDNI +18)

That night when you returned home from work, something felt out of place. Call it a gut feeling, but something definitely didn’t feel right. Your apartments lights were on, much to your surprise, because you’re always careful to turn off everything before leaving the house. No way you could’ve forgotten to turn all the lights off.

Someone’s inside.

Swallowing hard, you climbed the stairs, hands already sweating and heart pumping in your chest. You had an idea who it could be, but still the thought of him breaking in your apartment so easily and waiting for you there made you shiver. The raven haired villain had been stalking you for a while, like a lingering shadow behind you, teasing you whenever he got the chance. But he never had the chance to enter in your apartment, hence the reason why you always feel safest there. Well, used to.

Turning the knob, you opened the door slowly, a weird rotten smell already filling your senses and making you nauseous.

“What the hell?” you pinched your nose, confused until you saw it: a trail of fresh blood on your carpet, making it’s way to your room. Panic filled your mind, your eyes widening.

“Dabiii?!” you shouted his name almost naturally, this could be nobody’s doing but his. He came out of your room, his coat off while crimson blood covered his shirt and half of his face. You froze, letting out a terrified shriek.

“Ain’t my blood, stop fussing!” he scoffed, smirking playfully. “Don’t you worry doll, I’m all fine”

As if you were worried if he was fine or not. And the thought of that not being his blood made the situation way worse.

“What have you done?! How did you even get inside?!” you said, examining all the mess. “And where did this blood come from?!”

“Tch, so many questions. Check the bathroom for me will ya?” he responds nonchalantly. The bathroom? It sounds dubious at best.

“Why.. what’s in there?”

Dabi remained silent. He did hear your question of course, but he already gave you a clear hint. He is not the type to always talk too much. Scoffing in annoyance, you headed for your bathroom, the disgusting smell getting stronger. You hesitated at first, staying behind the closed door, preparing yourself for whatever could be inside.

A dead animal? A dead person? Maybe a burglar broke in and Dabi killed him.

Pushing the door open, what you saw still had you not prepared. It was your friend. His head was cut off, placed right on your skin, while the rest of his body lay to the ground, blood staining the entire floor.

The scream you let out would for sure wake up the entite neighbourhood. For that reason Dabi was quick to put his scarred hand on your mouth, muffling your terrified screams and cries.

“Shhhh it’s okay. You don’t like my gift?” he whispered in your ear. You fell on your knees, the grotesque sight of your poor dead friend had you hyperventilating.

“This bastard here had the audacity to knock at your door earlier, with a bunch of stupid flowers on his hand. Made me wanna puke. Can you imagine? How could I not kill him right there and then?!” Dabi continued, with disgust in his voice.

Your friend was a nice guy you met at work. You had been hanging out together lately after work and he was fun to talk to. It felt nice to find a good friend, and the gesture of him bringing you flowers was really sweet. Little did you know that you had put your friend in a great risk, Dabi had seen everything.

“He was my friend you fucking monster!!! He had done nothing wrong why did you do this?!” you screamed at him, getting away from his grasp.

“Your friend, ah? You are oblivious!” Dabi laughed. “Didn’t you see the way he looked at you? The way he looked at what’s mine? That was no friend sweetheart, that little shit really thought he could have a chance with you. But not on my watch. I’ve tolerated you a little too much, Y/N”

You made a run for your front door, to get the hell out of here and call the heroes or the police. Unfortunately the door was already locked now.

“I don’t mind you running, cause I love the chase. But now I’m in no mood for games” he grabbed your wrist harshly, pulling you closer to his warm body. The blood smeared on your clothes too, making you grimace in disgust.

“This is clearly your fault, princess. You didn’t set him boundaries, and look where that got him” he smirked, loving the way you were crying out of anger at his words. Dabi knew everything he said and did was vile and unacceptable, but he was a selfish bastard and didn’t care one bit.

He had made it his life purpose to break your mind, break your body and make you his on every aspect. So even when the day comes that he would let you go, you’d refuse and willingly come back to him instead, like the obedient little thing you are.

#2k milestone event #jabberwocky-92 #I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere dabi #dabi x reader #x reader #dark fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere fic #touya todoroki x reader #mha smut #bnha smut

176 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Trauma : Batboys x PTSD!fem!s/o

platonic version was here, but since @ultravioletqueen asked me to make a bit more advanced in terms of relationship here's how I see the romantic verse. And I took a bit different approach to this one.

Please, be aware that my knowledge about PTSD is limited, but I know about panic attack and anxiety so the story may be a bit more of the second kind.

Also, I'm biased towards Jay and I'm not sorry for that.

DICK

"I'm back!" his yelling came from the door and judging by the tone someone may think that he was gone for a week not just for an hour-long shopping. But when she did not response straight away some strange feeling grew in his stomach. "Y/N? Baby?"

'I...... I'm here......." the faintest of the voices came from the kitchen and he rushed there, still in his jacket and shoes, not caring about the risk of sploching the floor.

"It's happening again?" he asked, falling onto his knees on the floor next to her and she just nodded "Oh, my baby, you poor thing. Can I hug you?"

"Yes, please" she clung onto him with all the force she could gather in this weakened state, sobbing and shaking while he was rubbing her back, holding her tightly against his chest and kissing the top of her head repeatedly.

"I'm sorry" she cried "I'm sorry, it just won't go away after all this time. I'm sorry there's something wrong with me, that I'm broken. I'm sorry...."

"Stop it." she whispered, tightening the grip, but making sure it was stil comfortable for her and not suffocating. "You're not broken. You're just scarred and it makes you who you are. It makes you the person I love. The sensitive, helpful person who despite everything see the good in the world and fights to make it a better place for people. The person I chose to be with."

"Dickie....." she cried even more, hiding face in his shirt.

"Sh..." he cooed "Let it out. Let it all out. I'm here for you, love."

"But....."

"You don't have to talk. Unless you want to. Do you want to?"

"No."

"Then I'll just stay with you. For whatever long you need me. Hopefully, forever?"

"I don't ever want you to go." with every shook of her body, his heart skipped a bit. She shouldn't have been through all this pain and trauma, but there was no way he could change the past. The only thing he was capable of was making sure that the future held as many positive feelings and memories as possible.

"That's good. Cause I am one hell of a hard one to get rid of." he smiled. "Let;s get you off this floor and to bed, all right?"

"Mhm....." she muttered and Dick just picked her up, bridal style carrying her to the bedroom, covering with blanket and snuggling next to her in attempt to provide her with love, comfort and safety.

JASON

"Why are you up?"

"AH! What the fuck Jay?!" the cloth she had in one hand fell to the floor as she used the fork she had in the other as a potential weapon.

"It's 2 am. Why are you up?" Jason asked again

"And why are you here?" she crossed arms over chest, pouting, eyeing him up and down, still in his Red Hood gear "shouldn't you be patrolling?"

"I was in the neighbourhood. Saw a light here and came to check on you, you're welcome."

"Well as you can see I am perfectly fine, so you can go back to whatever you were doing....." she turned around towards the sink and resumed her cleaning fit. At 2 am. Jason's eyes travelled around the counter, crammed with dinnerrware she was frantically washing. Something was definitely wrong.

"Y/N" he spoke softly

"What?" she snapped, harsher than intended and the sound of her own voice made her sigh and rub the forehead "I told you I'm fine."

"Come with me" he tossed her the spare helmet lying on the shelf, nearby and she involuntarily caught it. At the same time he threw away his Red Hood helmet and jacket and changed it into civilian counterparts.

'Where.....?

"Just come with me" he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out, into his motorcycle, forcing her to sit behind him. "Just hold on tight, all right, sweetie?"

They were speeding throught Gotham's streets, Jason focused on the road and Y/N's embrace on his waist. She was having an episode, he could tell. And damn the patrol, she always came first to him. So he dropped everything to just get her into the top of the highest building in Gotham. To get some perspective.

"Jay, why are we here?" she asked, voice trembling, looking down at the city, filled with lights "Wow. I never thought Gotham could actually look this beautiful. But still, why are we here?" she slightly moved away from the edge of the building. It was high and she did not want to fall off.

"When I came back from the death" he started, taking a place next to her reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers together "I had flashbacks of what happened with Joker. Heavy ones. And the only way I knew how to deal with them was running away. As far as possible. So this...." he waved his hand around "was my safe place. Somewhere I came to calm down, somewhere peaceful and quiet and out of everyone's reach. No one knew about it, so they were out of my hair."

"But now I know....."

"You're the exception to every rule I set for myself."

"Jason....." she muttered, moving closer to him, resting head on his shoulder and feeling his arm sneak around her waist.

"And then you came into my life and became my anchor." he continued "I didn't need this place anymore. Look, baby, I know what it feels like to relive the past, all right? And I don't want that for you. So that's why we are here. To get away." he kissed top of her head affectionately "I won't let anyone hurt you, hope you know that. Even if that means saving you from yourself."

"Jay....." she whispered again, tilting her head up and their gazes met.

"Yes, princess?"

"I love you....."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

TIM

"Bruce, please, please, don't make me attend the gala."

"cut it, Y/N. You are going. You are the only one that I can actually believe will not turn it into a circus show.

And just like that, poor girl ended up at the annual Wayne Gala, dressed up from head to toe, feeling like a kid in her mother's clothes. Pretending to be someone else, someone confident, elegant, laid-back and maybe a bit conceited. She was Wayne Enterprises top employees, she should have known better than to beg Bruce to cut her some slack.

Instead, she was doing rounds and rounds, talking to potential investors, trying to charm her way into their hearts. All with the brightest smile on her face. The smile that could never reach her eyes, which slowly started to give away how terrified she truly was. It was suffocating.

"If you'll gentlemen excuse me for a second." she grinned politely finishing one of her countless converstations "I need to go to the ladies room."

While the guest just nodded in understatement, Bruce was far from letting her get a break.

"Y/N." he appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her elbow "There's one more group I need you to charm, all right?"

"Bruce...." she whined "please...."

"Just this one. I promise, Y/N."

"All..... all right" she stuttered and putting on her proffesional face approached three older men standing by the window. At first, it was easy to cover up for her shaking hands and trembling legs but then one of her interlocutors used some ill-fated words which triggered memories from the past.

"What do you think about that Miss Y/L/N?"

"I......" she tried to form a sentence but it felt like someone punched the air out of her lungs and like the world was spinning. However, just one glance at the man in front of her told her he did not notice a thing. Damn it she was good at pretending. "I think....."

"I think it's a proposition worth considering, Mr Jacobs." a warming touch to her forearm, a soft voice in her ear and the sense of someone's calming presence next to her grounded her immidiately. She sighed deeply and Tim squeezed her hand reassuringly, almost like he was trying to say I'm here now. He noticed her symptoms even from the other side of the room.

"Mr. Drake. Such a pleasure to see you. I was just explaining to this young lady here......"

"Y/n is an exeptional mind. My father and I really trust her opinions so if she thinks it's something to invest it, we surely will. Now if you excuse us, I really need to take something up with my girl." his hand travelled up to her waist when he slowly led her out of the prying eyes of the guests to the more secluded part of the manor.

"Are you all right, Y/N" he asked sitting her onto the stool and handling her a glass of cold water which she gladly accepted, sipping on it.

"I'm better now." she smiled faintly "how did you know?"

"'Cause no matter how many people I was talking to tognight, my focus was on you. Like always" he looked down, cheeks a bit flushed with the confession. "I know about your triggers, I know you asked Bruce not to come here tonight and I just ......"

"Tim. Tim, look at me." he raised his head to face her, face turning even more red when she cupped his cheek gently and rested her forehead on his "have I ever told you how great detective you are?"

"I don't mind listening to it a couple more times." he leaned into her touch.

"I can keep telling you that all night if it means we don't have to go back there."

"I'm pretty sure the other members of the family can handle this for a while, don't you?" he smiled and leaned forward to close the distance between them.

DAMIAN

he's obviously aged up

Sounds of punching and kicking were echoing through the training room in the manor. Y/N was not the one to use it very often since she as far from strength workout focusing rahter of speed and flexibility, but being in a very complicated relationship with the youngest son of Gotham's richest came with some benefits. Like now, when she was struggling with her PTSD and anxiety hitting on her again. Being the fighter she was, she decided to hit back. Literally. By putting on leisurewear and stand against some virtual opponents. Little did she know that there was a quiet figure standing behind her back watching her every move. She should have sensed him, she was trained it that, but once her mind started working against her it was like she was transferred to another reality. Only her and her memories, pain, fear and all the bad emotions. Maybe that was why despite being in quite good shape she was panting, sweating and shaking more than usual.

"I hate you...." she cried kicking another AI opponent "I.... I hate you...." single tear flew down her cheek but she not let any other appear.

"I don't think they care about your hatred" Damian smirked moving towards the center of the room "you should really control your feelings here Y/n."

"You don't know...."

"Oh I know. I know you are way to much in your head right now."

"Do you?" she scoffed, standing in the power position dead set on not letting him intimidate her.

"I do." he nodded, turning a bit more serious "And I mean it, if you don't get your ass out of your head you are going to hurt yourself. Or worse, get hurt. Or, the worst, humiliate yourself."

"Watch your words, Wayne!" she clenched her fists, anger seething through her every pore.

"Look at yourself" he smirked "wrong posture, overwhelmed with feelings, missed punches. Don't you think you should have just stick to being ordinary girl? Batman seems like too high tresholds for you."

"Is that what you think?" her eyes widened. Damian was not exactly known for his social skills, but she thought he might treat her differently. After all they were toghether, so why? And to add up to it, they were alone. There was no need to show this side of him, it was Y/N who he was talking to. And those words of his hurt. Probably more than she wanted to admit. And it made her face the reality or rather crash with the reality. Was she really not good enough? Subconciosly she started to recall all the latest things she did to help Batman and Robin and could not remember any mistakes. "Dami?"

"Of course not." he spoke calmly approaching her.

"So why did you say it?"

"Tell me where are you?"

"What?" she frowned. He did not make any sense.

"Where are you?" he repeated, eyes fixed on her confusied face

"At the manor?" she hesitated, not sure where all of this was going.

"And where were you a couple minutes ago?"

"Oh....." now she realised. What he said and most importanly how he said it, had one single purpose - bring her back. Make her think rationally and logically. And it did.

"Look, Y/N. I've been trained by the assassins, I'm still learning about.... you know....relations. But I try, all right?"

"I know you are. And I ....."

"Let me finish" he cut her off. "If there's anyone I want to learn with it's you, ok? But for now, I can only do as much as helping you ground. By being harsh sometimes. And.....I'm sor...." he stuttered "Nah, I'm not gonna say it."

"I don't want you too" she laughed wholeheartedly "that would be so out of character."

"You want to spar with me, Y/L/N?" he asked handling her some weapons and gently brushing his fingers over hers.

"Coming from you it sounds like a proposal."

"Don't get ahead of yourself Y/L/N".

286 notes · View notes

eleanor-bradstreet · 10 months

Text

Take Me Instead (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x gn!Reader Modern AU Rated/warnings: T - language, robbery, gun use, blood Word count: 3k

Summary: You and Anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

Author's Note: This is a belated birthday gift prompted by the fabulous and talented @broooookiecrisp and a game of prompt roulette that gave me: sad, Anthony, "take me instead". I hope you enjoy my dear 💙 Kudos also to @sorryallonsy who found the perfect header image!

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was something you saw in movies, not something that happened in real life, and certainly not to you. When the doors to the bank were pulled shut by three men who then dropped to their knees and started opening their duffel bags, your immediate thought was that they must be maintenance workers of some kind. Then when the sound of a gunshot tore through the marble lobby you froze with panic, unable to react at all. But you didn’t need to because Anthony instantly wrapped himself around you and pulled you to the floor as other patrons started to scream.

“Stay down,” he urged, his voice the only steady thing within the chaos. Though he was curled over you, you could both look around to see what was happening. The men at the door had risen wearing ski masks and holding assault rifles. A fourth man, the source of the fired shot, held a pistol in the air at the teller window. There were ten or so people in the lobby, all of them instinctively cowering. All the staff of the bank seemed to have disappeared and you guessed were hidden in their own corners. Directly across from you a woman huddled under a counter clutching a boy who looked about nine years old. He was still but his eyes darted wildly.

At the shouted insistence from the four imposing men everyone fell into an ominous silence. You realized you were trembling with fear and adrenaline only when your husband squeezed you tighter. The warm weight of him against your back felt like the only thing keeping you from flailing with panic.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered into your hair, his voice tight. You gave some semblance of a nod. You needed to stay focused in the moment, to do what he told you, to think of a way out, to at least get descriptions of the criminals. But all your mind would do was berate you for ending up in this situation. What were the odds that you would be in this bank at this precise moment? You and Anthony had been downtown, due to meet his brother for lunch at the cafe across the street when you remembered you still had money in your bag from your recent trip abroad. You were just there for a quick exchange, likely the first time Anthony had ever set foot in a bank for a purpose other than closing a multimillion dollar transaction. But he had tagged along, playfully pawing at you while you waited in the queue. Then hell broke loose and now that chance errand may have rerouted the course of your lives. It lit a spark of anger within your fear.

“Where’s the manager?” barked the man at the window. Unlike his companions he wasn’t compelled to hide his face. Red-haired with a scarred and stubbled face and broad build, he seemed to be the leader.

Everyone stayed silent. No one moved.

He seethed as he surveyed everyone lying on the floor. Then in a few brisk steps he was hauling the little boy out of the woman’s arms as they both screamed. He brandished the gun to make her let go, then held the boy in front of him with the weapon angled to make his intentions clear. “Where’s the fucking manager?”

Before you could react, Anthony pulled away and started to rise to his feet, moving toward them. “Hey, hey! Let him go.”

“Shut the fuck up!” So focused on the scene in front of you, neither of you had noticed one of the other men moving up behind, but he suddenly appeared beside your husband, flipped his gun and cracked him in the jaw with the butt of it. You bit your tongue to keep from screaming as Anthony staggered and fell back to one knee. “Stay down!” The man struck him again on the shoulder so that Anthony pitched to the floor, lying perpendicular between you and the robbers, just out of your reach.

You watched him spit a patch of blood onto the marble then wipe the crimson from his split lip with a swipe of his thumb. Your brain was static, a roar of furious and terrified cries that you were just managing to keep at bay. He turned to you, his deep eyes reading yours and you knew he could tell. He gave the barest hint of a nod. Reassurance. Strength. Insistence. You needed to stay quiet. You treasured the fact that you were able to read each other’s thoughts through your eyes alone, but you could never imagine that facet of your love would prove so vital.

The leader chuckled then continued to wave his pistol threateningly toward the boy who had gone pale, looking desperately back at his mother. “I’m going to need someone to help us into the vault or else things are going to go poorly. Do you understand?”

Across from you the mother crouched, looking ready to pounce at a moment’s notice but emitting a stream of quiet whimpers. She never blinked as she watched her son.

Footsteps broke the horrible silence and all eyes turned to a small middle-aged woman who appeared in the doorway of a side office. She walked forward slowly, hands raised in the air and shaking, but she spoke clearly.

“I’m the manager. I’ll take you to the vault. What…what do you want?”

She halted feet away from the men and the leader lowered his gun but never let go of the child. “We want access to the deposit box for one Jack Featherington.”

Your blood ran cold. Featherington? You knew the family. Longtime neighbors and friends of the Bridgertons. But you didn’t know a Jack. The chances of multiple unrelated Featherington families seemed slim. Who was he and what could he have that they wanted?

“You can’t…you can’t open it without his key. That’s how it’s designed.” The manager explained, tremulous.

The leader smirked. “Oh, we are well aware of that. Jackie boy has been evading us and we need some leverage to rat him out.”

Just then the wail of sirens could be heard narrowing in around the building and you felt a fraction of relief. Someone had managed to ring a silent alarm, or make a call, or someone outside had heard the commotion. Help was just beyond the doors.

“Right on schedule.” The leader smiled, dragging the boy to walk with him as he moved to the center of the lobby, explaining his plans with all the fanfare of a carnival barker. “Alright ladies and gents, here’s the good news. We aren’t interested in hurting anyone.” You heard Anthony snicker as he licked his lip. “We’re going to let you go.” A low murmur of surprise rippled across the floor. “All you need to do is tell all the news cameras and the good officers of the law outside that we need their help finding the lying Lord Jack Featherington and his keyring. Understood?”

You were breathing fast, trying to process what he said. You would be let go. This was just a spectacle, a bargaining chip in some grander criminal scheme. You weren’t targets, you were useful collateral. Maybe you could even help the police by contacting the Featheringtons. It would be over soon.

The leader moved back to the manager. “Okay, you’re staying to let us in and…” He paused, thinking as he looked across the lobby once more. “Well, we need an insurance policy so I think you’ll stay too.” He wrapped an arm around the boy’s neck, grabbed the manager with his other hand and began to pull them both toward the back hall. For the first time the boy screamed, kicking his feet as he struggled against his captor. His mother wailed.

“Let the boy go!” Anthony roared, rising to his knees.

The second man snapped to face him. “What did I tell you?” You barely saw the slight tilt of his weapon, barely heard the high pitched pop, but then Anthony fell back clutching his side and your lungs knew before your brain did that he had been shot. You screamed and the sentiment was echoed by the other hostages. As you crawled to your husband’s side you were deaf to the fact that the leader was shouting furiously at his colleague. All you could see was the stunned look on Anthony’s face as he sat up and pressed a hand just above his left hip, bringing it away bloody.

Your heart beat double time, every sense heightened as you took his hand in yours and saw the light reflecting off the wet smear on his palm the same way it glinted off your wedding rings. You sat next to him, hands roving aimlessly, clueless as to what you should do. “Oh my god, Anthony… no…”

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “It just grazed me, I’ll be alright.” He tried to flash you a winning smile but you saw the grimace underneath it. You weren’t a doctor but judging by how fast the dark stain was spreading across his shirt, you knew he was lying about being grazed.

Seeing him wounded somehow organized the panic in your brain. You were still frantic but you were going to make a plan. You were going to get him out alive. “We have to leave,” you whispered urgently. “They’ll let us go. We have to get you to a hospital. I won’t let you die…”

His brows darted up with concern and he leveled his eyes on you. “Hey, hey, look at me. I’m not going to die. We’re going to get out of this and it will be the maddest story we ever tell. You understand?”

You saw how the love still overcame the pain in his features and hot tears started to mount in your eyes. You would find a way out together. Of course you would. You nodded, chin trembling.

The felons seemed to resolve their spat and the leader turned back to address the room again. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you lot stay down. We’re headed to the vault and taking these two with us. They get released when we get Featherington’s keys. You tell them that, yeah?” Once again he started to drag the manager and the boy down the hall.

“Stop!” Anthony shouted, pressing a hand tight to his wound.

The man who had shot him rounded on him for the final time, growling. “You motherf…”

“Take me instead.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. So simple. Spoken so calmly. Everything within you sank. “Anthony, what?! No…” You whispered frantically, gripping his arm.

“Oh, fuck off.” the man scoffed, moving to tower over you both with the gleaming metal of his weapon hanging inches above your head.

Anthony looked up at him with steely resolve, undaunted. “Take me. I’m worth more than every other person in this building combined.” His eyes flicked to the side then he added quietly, “No offense.”

The thug snorted. “What are you, Duke of Sussex?”

“Viscount. And I run a company. A large company. Look.” Hissing in pain as he moved, he reached into his blazer and produced his card, handing it up with bloodied fingers.

At the back of the room the leader had paused, watching curiously. “What’s it say?”

“Anthony Bridgerton. CEO, Bridgerton House Enterprises.”

The way the leader’s eyebrows raised, you knew he recognized the family name and the pit of dread burrowed deeper into your stomach. “Fucking hell, looks like we bagged a silver tuna.” A smile broke out across his face to rival a cheshire cat.

Now Anthony was removing his watch, gasping as he struggled with even the smallest movements. He held it out to his attacker, further incentive to accept his offer. It was his Omega De Ville, an obscene six-figure wedding gift from his friend Simon. “Here, take this,” he rasped. “You could buy a bloody house with that. Take me and let everyone else go safely.”

“No!” You pleaded aloud, holding tight to his arm. You didn’t care anymore if you upset the man floating a rifle over you both. You’d rather be killed or dragged away with your husband than have him do this. Even though you knew he was right. Even though you knew he was doing this to save an innocent child, to save you, to save everyone. Your heart wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes.” Anthony affirmed, not even looking back at you. He still addressed the criminals. “I won’t struggle. I can’t struggle now that you’ve fucking shot me. And if you wanted national attention… Taking me will get you global. All the bargaining power you could ask for. Whatever you’re getting out of Featherington, you could double it with the ransom my company will pay.” He was using that tone, that suave confidence that wooed all his business partners and had wooed you. You of all people knew how irresistible it was. You loved and hated him equally in that moment.

The gunman stared, dumbstruck. He turned the watch over in his hand, seemingly impressed, then called over his shoulder. “Boss?”

It didn’t matter how many prayers raced silently through your heart, you already knew how this was going to play out.

“Grab him.”

You sprang forward, flinging your arms around him and finally allowing yourself to weep. “Anthony…no…” He had only been yours for a year. One year as your husband. One year of a life he filled with bliss. It was not enough. You couldn’t let it end now, and not in this way. You would offer yourself in his place except no one had the leverage he did and that was precisely why he was doing this.

He pulled back and brought a hand to your cheek. You could feel the warmth of his blood streaking your skin. “I will see you again, do you understand?” His voice was low and you could hear the slightest tremor in it, a fear he would expose only to you. “This is just temporary. The police know what to do and we’ll both be alright.”

“I can’t leave you,” you insisted, tears running down your face. But you knew you were overruled so you tried to memorize everything about him in that moment. The precise shade of his brown eyes, the callused tips of his fingers as they brushed your skin, the warmth of his breath, the flecks of grey in his beard. An enduring memory that would be replaced when you held him again.

“Stay with my family,” he choked. “I will see you again. I love you.”

“Alright, alright…” The robber rolled his eyes then clapped a hand on Anthony’s shoulder, gripping into his clothes and starting to drag him back toward the leader. He gasped and fumbled to stand as he was pulled along but always ended up falling back, clutching at his side. The red-headed man shoved the boy toward his mother who threw herself around him and sobbed. It was as if the ability to cry was predicated on having your loved one in your arms because as soon as Anthony left your grasp you went silent, keeping your eyes on him as steadfastly as his were on you. The leader seemed pleased with the trade off and ushered the quivering bank manager to walk in front of him down the hall, keeping his gun pointed at her back while his cohort dragged Anthony at the rear. A parade of fear headed toward an uncertain end.

They rounded a corner and were out of sight, leaving a trail of blood behind them. You were frozen, blank, your body refusing to leave even though your mind knew you should. But once again someone came to your aid. The mother, one arm locked around her son, wrapped the other around you and dragged you to your feet. You knew she was whispering gratitude and reassurances but you had fallen deaf. The remaining two men with guns herded your band of hostages out the front doors and quickly locked them behind you. You vaguely registered the crowd gathered around the building - a police barricade, ambulances, news vans, a sea of onlookers. After stumbling down the steps with the woman and her son you were swarmed by people in uniform. Someone draped a blanket over your shoulders while an EMT began wiping the blood from your hands and face.

“It’s not my blood,” you insisted, finding your voice again as your senses slowly returned. “They shot him. They shot my husband.” You grabbed the nearest police officer and turned them to face you. “Please, he’s in there now. You have to help him! At the very least ask if you can send in medical help. He’s bleeding and…”

Then you heard someone shouting your name. Frantically, repeatedly, growing closer. You spun to see a man struggling and held back by a pair of officers. Benedict. He had been waiting for you both across the street and had no doubt seen the chaos erupt. You ran to them, hastily explaining he was your brother-in-law. The officers relented and you rushed into his arms, the two of you clinging together so tightly it was hard to breathe. He felt like an anchor to your sanity, a reminder that not everything in the world had gone unrecognizably sideways. Anthony’s words echoed in your mind, “stay with my family”, and you knew it was the only way you would have the strength to face this trial - together.

You leaned against Benedict as officers and EMTs circled you, taking your story, bombarding you with questions and confirming the details over and over. They promised they would get Anthony back. They promised he would be alright. They promised they would work to end this soon. But their promises held little weight next to the one that would haunt your every moment until it was fulfilled. If Anthony had promised you would see each other again, you were going to hold him to his word. He had kept every promise he had ever made to you. All you could do was trust he would keep this one too.

No tags for prompt roulette, just for dedications and co-conspirators 😜

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #gn reader #modern au #whump and angst #angst

199 notes · View notes

delusionalmultifandomwriter · 3 months

Note

Please do a fic where adult jason todd gets comforted under/hidden in Batman’s cape!! the softer the better

your wish is my command (i missed the topic a little but it is super soft so i hope you like it anyways)

requested?: yes (i am so excited about this, ahh!)

words: 1848

Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Joker, Orphan

Oneshot, angst, hurt/comfort

TW: throwing up, violence, implicite self-harm urges (this got a lot darker than i planned it to be)

credits: the dialogue parts of the italic are from Batman: A Death in the Family

Have fun, thank you so much for requesting!

Ressurection is not exactly healthy. Which is not too surprising but still. The Lazarus Pit healed Jason's body, the scars were still there but very pale and barely visible anymore.

But the inner scars stayed, even after Jason and Bruce figured themselves out and came to terms with eachother again. Jason suffered from PTSD, who wouldn't after getting beaten up with a crowbar? The nightterrors and the coldness that randomly appeared every now and then were the worst.

This week started off with a night terror. Nothing uncommon, it happened all the time to almost all off them. Jason was at his own place where he was alone. Maybe he woke up his neighbours but at least not his family. He didn't like them worrying about him.

"What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand? The crazy laugh echoed through the hall. Robin helplessly tried to craw away, his hands restrained behind his back. His breath whistled as he spit out some blood and mumbled a curse. The Joker chuckled evil and leaned down. A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory. Robin leaned up and spit the Joker into his face. The clown smashed Robin's head into the floor, his senses got flooded with the distant metallic feeling of a concussion. Nausea instantly hit him.

Jason shrieked awake. Nausea instantly hit him. He jumped up and nearly got tangled into his blanket. He stumbled into his bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet.

Jason hated throwing up. Especially after a night terror when his mind was already full of thoughts. He leaned against the shower glass still sitting next to the toilet and waiting for the nausea to pass. After a few minutes he slowly got up and scooped some water from the washbasin into his mouth. Jason winced, his throat was raw and still shut tight.

He shivered, the bathroom floor was cold. Jason stumbled back into his bedroom. He grabbed the blanket from the floor and slowly made his way into the living room. He sat down against the heater with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He fell asleep exhausted on his carpet floor.

He was drowning. Breath. He needed air. Needed his lungs fill with oxygen. Cloth. There was cloth over his face. His mouth was dry. The sweet smell of death. He ripped the cloth from his face and threw up green, stale water. Flight! Where was he? He turned around and ran off. People. He took them out. The moves where in his muscles. He pressed his thumbs into the eyes of one of them. A tunnel. A cave. Darkness. Away.

The Joker escaping Arkham was nothing new to Gotham. Nothing new to the Batfam and nothing new to Jason. It happened a million times before but it still put Jason on edge ever since that night in Sarajevo.

He thought he was better. He thought he could conquer the Joker and arrest him again. It was a simple mission. A simple task. Then he met him in a warehouse in the Bowery. The green hair was brushed back, the purple suit dirty with some blood stains on it. The clown turned around and laughed at Red Hood hysterically.

And, hey, please tell the big man I said… "hello".

Jason saw red. He lunged at him and slammed the Joker into the wall, punched him in the face, once, twice. He could break him. He was not Robin anymore. He was taller than the clown now. Stronger. He could give back all the pain. He would give back all the pain. He slammed his knee into the Joker's ribs, a sharp crack echoed through the warehouse.

"Wow, that looked like it really hurt." Jason growled deeply as he lifted the Joker up a little and pinned him against the wall. He pulled him away and smashed him against the wall, the Joker's head lulled foreward a little as he coughed.

"Whoa, now, hang on. That looked like it hurt a lot more." Jason shouted angrily as he threw the Joker on the floor. "Now let's try and find out what hurts more?"

"A?" He kicked the Joker into the stomach. "Or B?" He striked out again.

"Red Hood!" Batman. Jason's head snapped around. "Orphan, stay here until the GCPD arrives." Batman ordered, Orphan appeared from the shadows behind the older man.

Jason finally snapped out of his murderous frenzy. His eyes went wide as he saw what he did. The Joker layed in a puddle of blood, his nose was broken pretty obviously and he was coughing and whincing weakly. Jason backed down when the clown started to laugh madly. Red Hood turned around, pushed past Batman and flea from the area.

The thoughts were flooding over Jason as he ran over the roofs. He was out of breath but he kept running and running until he fell to his knees. He leaned against a brick wall and ripped his mask off of his head. His face was wet with hot tears, smeared over his cheeks and neck. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to calm his breath.

He needed to get air into his lungs but his whole body blocked against taking a deep breath. Jason panicked. What had he done?! He disappointed Batman, he promised to be better than the Joker. He wanted to be better. His family would abandom him, what else should they do? He was supposed to be a hero. He sobbed violently, black spots started to dance over his vision. He couldn't breath. Jason felt like he would die here, alone on some roof, alone in this world.

Jason felt someone shake his body. "Jason." A deep but very calm voice called out to him. Jason panted desperatly as his lungs filled with air. Not enough to live but enough to survive.

He was lifted up a little and after that leaned against a soft wall. Soft wall. There are no soft walls, at least none that Jason was aware off but he was too close to fainting to truly bother about the existence of soft walls. Jason started sobbing again.

"Jay, come on. Breath." The voice said desperate. A strong hand was harshly rubbing his back. Jason inhaled the air shaky, his body was trembling.

"There you go chum, okay." Bruce. It was Bruce. Noone ever called Jason chum before. Jason was suddenly embarassed and violently tried to dry his tears up, rubbing on his skin roughly with his gloved hands. Bruce gently took his hands in his and Jason's head slupped against Bruce's chest.

Then Jason started babbling. "I'm sorry, i didn't mean to... he... i, i couldn't." He sobbed again. "The memories, they come back... the Joker... i can't stop it." Jason needed to hurt, he needed to feel something. He tried to pull his hands from Bruce' grip but he held them tightly.

"Jason, look at me." Bruce growled deeply. Jason looked up and as their eyes met, he couldn't find any angryness, not even disappointment. He looked back into his lap and sobbed quietly but his breath, although shaky, evened out a little.

"There you go. You are fine, Jay." Bruce said. "You can breath, you are okay." Bruce always was repetitive with his comforting but it didn't really matter to Jason because he was there, he held Jason in his arms and he was not angry. Jason could stay with his family, he could come back.

"You called me chum." Jason mumbled weakly, his voice was still filled with silent crying. Bruce chuckled deeply. "I guess that is true." Jason felt the hand on his back, he shivered a little as the cold hit his body. "Cold?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded softly.

Bruce leaned up a little and deattached his cape from his shoulders. He wrapped the thick, black fabric around Jason and bundeled him up tightly. Jason exhaled shaky. The bone aching cold disappeared from his body and the shivering slowly but surely passed. His muscles were burning, feeling weak like he could not move anything. Jason blinked drowsily. His sobs died down and just like that, his eyes closed.

Gotham City was no place for a kid. Not even a well-trained and resilient kid like Jason Todd. It was raining tonight, the wind whistled through the city. Robin sat under Batman's cape like an owl baby, as they observed the Iceberg Lounge. They had been sitting there for hours but Robin wasn't cold. He was warm. Wet from the rain but warm. He would totally catch a cold but not tonight. Not right now. Right now he was warm, close to Batman and sucking up his body heat. Nothing bad has happened to him yet.

When Jason jolted awake, he was no longer on the roof. He inhaled sharply, as he felt a hand on his back. "Hey, you are safe. It was just a nightmare." Jason turned around to see Bruce, leaning against the head of the bed with his laptop on the nightstand. The older man gave him a worried look. Jason looked around confused. This wasn't his bedroom. It was Bruce'. The kingsize bed spoke for itself.

Jason looked down at himself, he was wearing a black t-shirt and red and black sweatpants not in his Red Hood suit. "I'm fine?" He mumbled. Bruce smiled at him, it was weird to see him so relaxed. "Yes, you are." Jason nodded slowly. Bruce leaned down to the floor and put something heavy on his lap.

"Here, Tim got you this. You looked like you liked the cape a lot." Jason lifted the heavy thing up, it was a weighted blanket. He wrapped it around his shoulders. "Did i fall asleep?" He asked confused. "Right after i wrapped the cape around you. Dr. Thompkins said you where hypothermic and severly sleep deprived. What the hell happened?" Bruce asked concerned

Jason shrugged and layed back down on his stomach with the heavy blanket around him. He was still tired, his body was grounded now and he wanted to sleep. Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sleep, we can later talk about you not reaching out for help" He finally said. Jason rolled his eyes. "As if you are better." He grumbled.

Bruce nudged Jason playfully. He gently rubbed the younger boys back. Jason sighed as he moved a little closer. Bruce pulled the other blanket over him a little and Jason was finally warm. "You scared the living hell out of me." Bruce said while he layed down next to Jason. The younger boy moved a little closer and Bruce continued to gently rub his back.

"M sorry." Jason mumbled sleepily. "Didn't mean to." He looked at Bruce with half open eyes. He buried his head into one of the pillows and Bruce smiled as he watched how relaxed and content Jason looked. He leaned over to kiss Jason's hair.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Sleep tight, chum."

-----

Same shit on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55397161

111 notes · View notes

websterss · 8 months

Text

𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝟏/? — 𝐖𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: Omg maybe the plot of better than the movies but reversed? like it’s Wes trying to get with Liz so he asks Reader for help.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,541

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Wes Bennett x fem!reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! @raggedyoldwitch here it is, love you lmfao!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You expected a lot of forecomings in life. Many a few involved getting selected as the head of the prom committee. Being at the top of your classes. Even managing the yearbook committee too. A busy life to you meant a happy life, it distracted you from your tragic reality, and it also saved you from getting through school without a social life. You expected it. You did. You saw it coming. You just wish what you could have seen coming was Wes Bennett soaking wet from head to toe outside your door in the middle of the afternoon. You had to blink a few times because this felt too good to be true.

“Y-Y/n, you’re looking well.” He threw up three fingers in greetings. That boyish grin you always had a hard time looking away from was plastered all over his stupid face. You looked down and cleared your throat before answering and said.

“Bennett. To what do I owe this–“ You gestured to him in general, trying to play along but your wall broke down immediately in displeasure, so you cut it short. “What do you want?” You quirked a brow at him. Still keeping him cold and drenched on your front porch. You felt your heart flutter hearing him chuckle.

“To the point I see. Remember that time I helped you walk back home after you fell off your bike and scraped your knee and you said if I ever needed anything to just ask?”

“Wesley we were nine…” You stare at him dumbfounded.

“So you do remember! By any chance…does your offer still apply to this day? I mean I helped you after all!” He defended.

“You pushed me off my bike and took off on it to chase after Liz.”

“Then I came back for you…” He said.

“After I wouldn’t stop crying!” Your eyes grew wide. “You bribed me with five bucks just so I wouldn’t blab to your mom.”

“And look at you! Y-You’re all better now. Beautiful and all grown up.” Oh, how you would have loved to have been called beautiful any other time, but not when he was just trying to be cute. You continued to watch as the rain pelted over his curls. It was a nice scenery.

“I have the scar to prove it.” You scoff.

“Which only shows just how strong you are. You survived! Can I come in?” He nodded past your shoulder dispersing the dispute and changing the subject. “I’m taking a shower out here.”

“Wha- No!“ Your mouth is left agape.

“Come on. You owe me!”

“I do not-”

“Wesley?” Your aunt cut you off as she approached you. “Oh my god Wesley. Oh my look at you all grown up. How are you?” She greeted him with a smile.

“Wet.” He squinted at you with a smirk. He fights a chuckle as you roll your eyes at him. He curled in on himself. The cold was starting to get to him.

“Don’t let him in, you'll catch his idiocy.” You warned, slamming your hand out to block the doorway. “Hear it’s contagious…” You shrug.

“Y/n let him in!” Meg shoved you aside. You stumble off balance catching yourself on the table beside the door and glaring at her. “S-Sorry.” She grimaces then turns back to the giant who walked through your threshold. The sloshing from his shoes makes him look down. He meets your annoyed gaze and grimaces. He takes off his shoes and starts looking around.

His eyes caught on to the mantle of pictures. He walks over to the middle of the living room. He inspects the frames that hold memories of your late parents. Some of you as a child and some with your aunt. He smiles at them, tapping a light finger to the glass, and backs up. His eyes now find the piano sitting in the corner. He slowly walks over to it

“So this is casa Y/L/N huh? It’s nice!” You watch as droplets of water continue to drip down onto the floor. You roll your eyes knowing Meg would make you mop it up later and throw a towel at him. It startles him but he catches it in time. “T-Thanks.” He laughs, and goes to rub the cloth against his head, then wraps it around his shoulders. “Nice piano by the way. You play?”

“No.” You walk away and up the stairs. Wes watches for a few seconds then tails it after you. Your soft climb was overcome by the loud thumps of the giant trying to catch up to you. You walk over to your room and plop down at your desk where you resume doing some homework. Wes stops at the doorway eyes taking in the fairy lights, the vinyls hung up on your wall under a record player, and various polaroids taped to different walls. The hues of green and yellows and whites combined satisfied his brain. It felt cozy, especially after seeing the fuzzy blanket at the edge of your bed.

“I’ve never been in a girl's room before. Not bad...” He walked over to your tall bookshelf. Poking and prodding anything that caught his attention. He uprighted a face-down frame on your top shelf. He brought it down to his view and looked it over. It was you and your parents. Your hands pulled down on a yellow beanie over your eyes, he swore he remembered you wearing it when you were kids but he wasn’t sure. Your smile was affectionate, it made his lips curl up. Your parents had each pressed a kiss to your cheeks. It was a cute picture of you, but it did make him want to ask why you faced it down. Was the memory of them hard to bear, hard to look at? He sighed and put it back. He was about to go for a collectible item when your voice scared him.

"I wouldn’t.” You hadn’t even turned around to see what he was doing.

“It’s cool.” He argued.

“And one of a kind.” That was all you said.

Wes stuck his tongue at you. Then reached for it again. He was caught off guard by a stuffed bear that collided with the back of his neck. He laughed and moved on to something else. That being your pictures.

“Quite the photographer I see...” He reached up to touch the string of lights and walked over to the headboard, most of your pictures lay above your bed.

“I like capturing moments.” You scribbled something down and read off your textbook.

“You don’t say...” He smirked turning his head to view each four walls covered top to bottom. Your room was practically a gallery. No space was left untouched by a picture. Except by your door of course. He looked back to your hunched-over frame. Wrapped up in your schoolwork made him smile. Anytime he’d see you around you were constantly doing something. He actually wondered whether you ever took a break. He smiled as his eyes roamed over you. You grew up beautiful, he wasn’t lying when he first saw you open the door. He cracked his knuckles as he worked up the courage to ask you for that favor. That was why he was here after all. To ask for your help. “Hey, Y/n...”

“What is it, Wesley?” The edge in your voice told him not to keep you too long.

“You know Liz right?” Wes panics as he sees your back straighten up. Your eyes meet his as you turn around in your chair. Scaringly slow. He tenses up.

“Liz Buxbaum? Our neighbor Liz, who we’ve known since childhood.” You laugh at his question. Wes rolls his eyes.

God, am I going to regret this?

“Do I know Liz? The girl you’ve had a massive thing for since the second grade. The one you spend your time bothering and annoying. That Liz? Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You’re horrible a person.”

“I know it keeps me awake at night.” You swivel in your chair. The giggle you release makes his heart skip. A feeling he didn’t know he could have for you.

“You know what forget I asked-”

“No, wait- I’m sorry! Why are you asking me if I know Liz weirdo?” You let go of his arm you grabbed onto.

“I need your help.” Wes breaks down his barrier. He almost looked nervous.

“Wesley Bennett needs my help. That’s a first!” You lean back amazed.

“Y/n!” He whines. Literally.

“Okay, fine what is it?”

“I have a proposition for you.” Wes rubbed his hands together which caused you to pull a face.

“I’m a woman with self-respect, Bennett…” You feign offense by placing your hand on your chest.

“Favor then, god! What do you take me for Y/L/N?” He scoffed.

“You really want to know?”

“No, now shut up and listen.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair. You were curious, to say the least. Whatever favor he needed sounded serious, but then again when was Wes really serious? The only time you’ve ever really seen him be serious was when he was around Liz– Oh. You were starting to guess what the next words that would spill past his lips were going to be. Wes never usually conjured up a conversation with you. This was all new territory you were treading and fast. But if you were being honest, when would a chance like this ever happen again? So you’d take anything that he’d throw at you.

“You’re a girl right?”

Except that. What?

“What?”

“Shit that came out wrong, obviously you are, but that’s not what I came here to ask. Say. Look–”

“Is there a point to this?” Wes could see your eyes beginning to screw together, you were getting upset.

“I need your help with getting with Liz.”

Oh yeah, you were definitely screwed now. Anything but that, you pleaded. You could feel the thousands of arrows hitting you square in the heart right about now.

“Huh?”

“I need your help to get with Liz.” He repeated.

“Heard you the first time bud, Just don’t understand how I fit into this equation?” You gestured between the both of you.

“She thinks I’m this colossal asshole.”

“You torment the poor girl, Wesley. What’d you expect?” You exasperate in shock. “She embraces you with open arms and kisses?” You spin back around and face your notebooks.

He gets up and leans over your desk. “How do I change her perception of me? I’ve tried. Trust me I have, we just bicker back and forth. We’re literally a reality of her make-believe romance tropes.”

You peer up at him, giving him a once over then ponder what trope. “Oh no, you’re a living breathing enemies-to-lovers trope. May your chances with Flower Princess die!” You give him the sweetest grin you can muster. Wes looks just about ready to smack you. It was a funny sight, his stupid face all annoyed.

“You need to help me.”

“Why should I?” You look at him incredulously.

“The bike thing…” He tried cramming that back into the conversation again. You weren’t having his bullshit.

“You pushed me off it!” You exclaim. The audacity of this man.

“I was sorry!” He leans down and exclaims just as loud as you did in your face.

“No. I don’t owe you shit, Wesley Bennett. You made your bed, now lie in it. You want Liz to like you, be nice to her!” You slammed your books closed and stood up, closer and in his face more.

“Y/n please…”

“What help would I even be?” You shrug.

“Liz has always floated towards you since we were kids. You’ve indulged her state of thinking, that movie cliches could be connected to real life. You know her.”

“So do you.” You smirk. “But you understand her Wes. You’re trying to convince me that I have this sort of in with Liz, that I can connect to her in this special way, but it’s not even like that.” You shake your head.

“Please.” He sighs.

“No. We’re not even friends Wes, What makes you think I’d give you the time of day?” You take your books and walk over to your bed, wanting to be sprawled out as you try to finish what was left of your homework.

“I really haven’t been good to you huh?” Wes straightens up and walks over to your bed, he kneels down to be eye level from where you lay. Your eyes soften as he looks up at you. “How about another proposition then?”

“What now?” You groan.

“If you help me with Liz, then I promise to be a friend to you.”

“You could be a good friend without any terms involved.” You suggest with a pout.

“This is all I ask of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Please.” He begged softly.

“Fine-”

“Oh my god really?”

“-On one condition.” He was not expecting you to lay down your own terms, but if it got you to help him then so be it, he thought.

“What’s that? He blinked up at you.

“You have to promise...that we'll remain good friends after all this.” You say earnestly. You were a little disappointed when he brushed it off so easily. You figured he was only attentive to details when Liz was involved in the equation. Sadly, not for you…In this moment you were thankful he did not notice a change in your demeanor.

“Can't promise what I've already set in my heart." He smirked. "Once we get Liz to fall in love with me, I'll be the best friend you never had.” He nudges you playfully on the shoulder.

“Ouch.” You feign offense. He chuckles.

“I owe you, Y/L/N. Seriously.” Wes looks down at his intertwined hands. His sincerity was too much for your beating heart. You needed him gone before you'd jeopardize his plan. Your friendship. You sharply inhale as you look away from his eyes.

“Can you get the fuck out now, some of us actually take school seriously, okay?” You laugh as you push him back. He stumbles onto his ass, then springs up. His taller form towering over you now.

“Thank you!” He grins boyishly. Rocking back and forth as he backs out of your room. He starts overdoing it with the blow kisses. You swat the air as if to fan them away. This makes him laugh, and then he makes his leave.

“Yeah, whatever…”

“See you at school, Y/L/N.”

Oh, you were most definitely, positively screwed. You fall back onto your pillows, grab your squishy, and slam the frog into your face. Nothing but muffled groans of annoyance could be heard, as your aunt Meg paused in your doorway. Mortified.

“You okay?”

“Boys are stupid!” You screech into your squishy. “Why do they exist, Meg? I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I hate them…”

“I’ll make us some cocoa.” She gestured over her shoulder, even though you couldn’t see her do so. She nodded and with that, you were all alone once again in the grave you just dug for yourself.

#wes bennett #wes bennett imagines #wes bennett imagine #wes bennett x reader #wes bennett x fem!reader #better than the movies #bttm imagines #bttm x reader #wes bennett oneshots #better than the movies imagine #my gif #writings by juls

119 notes · View notes

ourautumn86 · 10 months

Note

That cliffhanger at the end of part two of new blood is definitely a gut wrenching one for sure. Will there be a part three? Hoping Ellie and the Reader can get away from Abby and the others and that Abby won't kill her sister. Your writing is so good.

new blood pt3

ellie williams x fem! reader

summary; abby finally finds you. measures have to be taken. paths will part ways. people will be left behind…

cw for this chapter; blood, weapons, chains, hostages, fighting, broken bones, threatening, mentions of abuse and imagery (abusive parent), angst angst angst!!!

You grunted due at the new punch that crushed your cheek and made your mouth fill up with warm blood. You spat and coughed, staining ellie’s shirt. You were as you had been found, naked legs trembling and bruising against the harsh cold floor.

You scoffed, a broken smirk showing on your face.

“Does it feel better? Does hurting me make it feel better? Gives you peace?”

“Shut up!” you groaned at the new kick on your stomach. “Where is he?” Abby inquired, and you smirked.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you?”

She gripped your hair. “Where. Is. He?”

“I don’t know.” you said, once again, like you had answered the last 20 times she has asked you.

“You’re lying.” she said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe. Are you gonna beat the words out of me? Like your father did?”

“He was your father too. How can you be helping the man that killed him?!”

“He was not my father!” you screamed, and she fell silent. “He destroyed me. Look at me.” her eyes where nowhere near you, avoiding your scars, the scars that her father branded on your skin. “Abigail! Look. At. Me.” you ordered, and smiled when she finally looked at you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” you inquired, tugging at your restrains as you looked at your arms. “You know I almost died for this one?” you said, your eyes on the large gash on your forearm, which went through your skin and cut your veins. “He left me on the floor to die like some dog. I almost bled out. Thank god he hadn’t given me water for days and my blood was too dry or else I wouldn’t have made it.” you laughed, a broken laughter that made Abby’s arms grow on goosebumps. “And now look at you…” your eyes met her blue ones. “You’re doing the same exact thing. Just like two peas in a pot…”

“Shut the fuck up!” she yelled at you.

“Or what?” you inquired. “Or what?!” you repeated. Her friends were silently looking to the two of you, guarding the doors. Better not get into family discussions. They knew how Abby could get when pissed off. “You’re gonna kill me?” you teased her when she pushed off her belt her gun, pointing it at your head. “Go ahead. Follow his steps. Pull the trigger.“ you encouraged her, dragging your knees and crawling until the gun was fully pressed against your forehead. “Finish what your father started. Pull the trigger. Kill your sister.” she didn’t move. “Pull the fucking trigger Abigail!” a bullet broke the air, just like it did your skin. Your cheek flooded in crimson form the cut the bullet had left behind. It had graced you.

She looked into your eyes. And without a word stepped away. You laughed.

“You’re gonna leave me here?” you scoffed as you watched her go towards the door. “Gonna run away from me, Abigail?” you screamed, and she stopped, not facing you as she opened the door. “You need to stop running from the truth. The truth about your father being a fucking drunk, and the fact that he wasn’t a good man, Abby.” she stood there, silent, but still moved and closed the door behind her, leaving you in the darkness, like she had done before.

The floor was not comfortable, that’s for sure, but you’d grown used to it. You were the one who took the beatings and grew up sleeping on rags. You looked like your mother, or that’s what your father always told you before he’d beat the shit out of you. You didn’t know why. Why he hated her so much. Maybe cause she died and left him all along? Had the love he’s had for her made him bitter?

After years… You truly never thought about it anymore, although you’d catch yourself looking at your reflection and wondering what was that thing that made the two of you so alike. Was it your nose? Your hair? Your smile?

You groaned when you felt a pair of hands on you. “Fuck off Nora. I already told you everything I know…”

“Shhh…” the chains around your hands fell, and you opened your eyes to meet those emerald ones you’d found yourself growing attached to.

“Ellie…?” your voice came out as a whimper, your eyes feeling warm with tears.

“I’m here.” she whispered, holding you tightly to her chest when your hands reached out for her, nails digging on her clothes as you clung onto her. “I’m here baby, I’m here…” you sobbed against her lips as she kissed you, tears pricking your eyes. her hands cupped your cheeks, her guts burning at the sight of your beaten up pretty face and bloody appearance. She was gonna kill then all. “I’m gonna take you out of here.” she promised pecking your lips and you nodded, groaning when she shifted your body so she could take you in between her arms. Your whole body ache and burned. And she was sure you were running a fever. “I know baby, I know…” there were tears falling down your cheeks. You were sure you had a few broken ribs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” she was so careful holding you, touching you… It was something you’ve never experienced before. It was breaking your heart.

“Where’s Abby?” you questioned, your arms surrounding her neck.

“Joel’s taking care of her.” your body froze and next thing Ellie knew is that you were fighting her hold to free yourself. “Woah, woah. What are you doing?”

“I need to see her…” you groaned when your feet touched the ground, your whole body shaking in pain. “Abby!” you called out for her, staggering as you walked.

She tried to stop you, but you followed Joel’s voice the best you could, creaking the door open to find Abby down on her knees, a deep cut gushing from her forehead.

“Stop.” you ordered when you saw him pointing his gun at her. Joel’s eyes shifted towards you as you fell down on your knees in front of your sister, shielding her with your body.

“Move out of the way, y/n.” Joel said, not moving, and Ellie took out her gun to point it at Joel.

“Joel put the gun down.” she said, and her heart cracked when he looked at her.

Tommy pointed the gun at Ellie. “Ellie. Don’t.” he said, and her hands shook.

“Please.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you protecting her after all that she has done to you?” Joel inquired you, his shoulders tense, his aim on point.

“She’s my sister.” you simply answered, ignoring the way Abby looked at you. The way they all looked at you. “She’s the only family I have left.” “If you want her dead you’ll have to kill me first.”

Joel looked at you. They had the rest pinned to the ground or unconscious. They must have caught them off ward. Abby was smart and sharp, she must have been fast enough to fight. But not strong enough.

“y/n…” she called out for you, and you hissed.

“Shut up.” you said. “Joel… Let them go. This is your chance to change what you did all those years ago… You don’t need more blood on your hands.”

“They’d only come back after us.” he muttered, the gun pointing straight in between your eyes as she cocked it.

“Joel.” Ellie pleaded.

“I need to do this, Ellie. To keep you safe. To keep all of us safe.”

“They won’t. They will leave and never come back. You’ll never hear from them again.” you promised.

“And how do you know that?” your chest rose with a deep breath.

“Because I’ll go with them. You’ll never see us again. I’ll take them as far as I can and leave all of you alone.” you promised.

“No, y/n, you can’t...” you ignored Ellie’s hurt voice, her green emerald eyes. Because you knew that if you didn’t you’d never be able to leave. Everyone was looking at you. Sad eyes and clenched fists.

“I promise.” you repeated, looking into his eyes. It seemed like years have passed until he finally lowered his gun. And you could breath again.

“Get out of here.” he said and you nodded.

“Thank you.” you groaned as you pulled Abby up on her feet, swinging one of her arms over your shoulders as she was too dizzy to walk by herself. You tried really hard to hide your tears. You looked at Ellie, who was already looking at you, begging, pleading for you to not go.

“y/n…” she took your hand, holding onto you. You were freezing cold.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered as you let go of her touch. It was killing you. You looked away. “It’s for the best.”

And maybe it was. But what you’d never forget was the way your heart broke for leaving the person that made you feel loved for the first time in your life behind.

a/n; this was short but it was needed! hope y’all liked it! <3

244 notes · View notes