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moonstruckme · 11 days

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Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm.

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move.

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time.

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.”

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple.

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived.

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside.

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you.

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.”

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.”

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest.

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you.

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.”

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.”

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him.

You nod, letting him take your injured hand.

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?”

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort.

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach.

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.”

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow.

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you.

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius coo sympathetically, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair.

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat.

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless.

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.”

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.”

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile.

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.”

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well.

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.”

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?”

You blink at him. “Feel what?”

“Good.”

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed.

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.”

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand.

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?”

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected.

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?”

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?”

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.”

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light.

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.”

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.”

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?”

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.”

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?”

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out.

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.”

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.”

“Not you?” James teases.

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.”

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?”

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.”

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.”

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.”

“There?” you echo.

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly.

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows.

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.”

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face.

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.”

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.”

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.”

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe.

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

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auras-moonstone · 9 months

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hi i cant tell u how excited i am everytime i get your notifications 😭😭 also i know if i send a rec you'll do an amazing job so i'm requesting one rn i hope u like it!

barista y/n and ethan landry who are coworkers after class, they're always teasing eachother and there is some (light) flirting

y/n hasn't realized yet how attractive he is, until he passes behind her grabbing her waist to get on the other side of the counter to get an order.

it's not rlly a plot but GOD i'm imagining ethan in his tight little polo shirt and the apron around his waist, his front curls w a little bit of sweat onto them while he makes coffee..... i'm so weak 😭

thank you so much😭🥺 i was so excited to write this! love the concept so so much. hope you like it 🫶🏻

glitch — ethan landry

word count: 1,747

pairing: barista!ethan landry x barista!fem!reader

summary: ethan has a crush on his co-worker, and she doesn’t reciprocate that crush until one touch changes everything.

warnings: a bit suggestive, but no smut

TRUTH WAS, ETHAN HAD BEEN SIMPING HARD FOR Y/N SINCE HIS VERY FIRST DAY OF WORK. How could he not when she had that graceful smile on her face that made every customer weak in the knees? Ethan clearly wasn’t not the exception, he could work-ship the ground she walked on. But the attraction was very much one-sided.

It wasn’t that he was invisible to her, but she just didn’t see him the way he wanted to. They did flirt a bit, but while he did it with the intention of making her notice him in a romantic way, she only did it for fun, there weren’t any second intentions involved. Besides, Ethan had to watch every day the way boys would hit on her and asked for her number and how she wrote it in the palm of their hands. It broke his heart knowing she would never see him in another light.

“How many times did you have to write your number in someone’s hands today?” Ethan asked faking a laugh as they closed the cafe.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully “Today was a chill one, so not much.”

“Have you ever gone on a date with any those guys?” he asked curiously. She never talked about going on dates, or never mentioned she was seeing or texting someone.

Y/N looked at him with surprise eyes. “Eth, please tell me you don’t believe I actually hand in my number that easily.”

“Wait what?”

The girl laughed, and punch him in the arm lightly. “You do think that! God, Ethan. I give them fake numbers. I don’t want random people texting me.”

“Can’t you just say no?” Ethan asked confused.

“I don’t want them to feel bad.” she shrugged.

“So you give them fake numbers and make some strangers let them know the pretty barista gave them a fake number?” Ethan asked incredulously.

Y/N grimaced “Okay, that sounds bad too, but I least I don’t have to see their rejected faces and they don’t get turned down in public.”

Ethan laughed, and the pressure on his chest evaporated. Was it crazy that he felt relieved by this new information? A bit. “So that means that I shouldn’t bother to ask for your number?” he acted disappointed.

Y/N chuckled. “Econ geniuses are my weakness, so I would never give you a fake number.”

Ethan blushed and shoved her “Shut up! I’m not an Econ genius.”

“Anyone who passes that dreadful class is a genius in my eyes” she said, shoving him back. “Let me give you my number, but don’t ghost me, okay?”

“I would never.”

“Good, cause you’d break my heart.” she joked, writing down her real number on his palm. Her hand felt so good on his, Ethan wished she would never let go. “There you go. Text me, we should hang out outside of work.”

“Really?” Ethan’s eyes shone and his heart started doing cartwheels.

“Of course, Eth. I actually like being around you” she smiled softly. Ethan would definitely mark that day as the best day of his life. “I can set you up with someone and we can go on a double date!” his face fell. So much for hoping. “Or, we can do something just the two of us. Now that I think about it, we don’t actually know much about the other. What a fake friendship we have.”

Friendship. That’s all he was ever going to have with her, and he needed to come in terms with it. Y/N was amazing, and he should be lucky to have her around, even if it was just as a friend.

Although, on a wednesday morning, the turning point happened. The university’s cafe was completely packed, and so they had to work ten times faster than usual. Stress filled the air of the small shop.

“Ugh, stupid machine! You had to choose this day to work like shit?” Y/N groaned, hitting the coffee machine. The coffee poured down slowly, and knowing it was going to take ages for the cup to be filled, she took one step backwards in frustration.

Ethan, who was trying to get to the other side to deliver a drink, bumped into her. Being in a rush, he almost made her lose her balance when they collided, but he grabbed her by the waist just in time to steady her. “Sorry! Are you okay?”

Y/N wanted to say yes, but she was not okay. Not because he had hurt her, but because the feeling of his big hand on her waist left her speechless. It produced a glitch on her body, a malfunction that caused her brain to not be able to utter a single syllable. She only managed to nod before setting her eyes on the coffee machine as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet.

For the rest of the stressful shift, Y/N found herself sneaking glances towards the tall boy every time she could. She couldn’t help it, her eyes diverted on their own and every time Ethan would pass by her, her whole body tensed and yearned for one more touch.

Ethan’s electric touch had been like a bug that altered her whole system. How in the world did she not notice him like that before? The way his cute polo shirt hung to him like a second skin—giving him the look of a hot nerd that Y/N was now a complete sucker for—, the way he adorably frowned in concentration as he prepared a drink, or the way his beautiful curls sticked to his forehead because of the sweat—honestly, she had no idea sweaty men could be that attractive. That’s what Ethan Landry was. He was so fucking attractive, and now that Y/N saw it, it took her lots of self-control not to push him against the counter and kiss the hell out of him.

“Tough shift, right?” Ethan said as they cleaned the now empty cafe.

Her gaze dropped down to his arms, his biceps flexed as he cleaned the counter. He was so hot. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with you today? You seemed off the entire day.” he asked confused.

“Nothing, I’m just really tired.” she said casually, forcing herself to look away from him.

“God, yes. My body is about to collapse.” he groaned as he stretched his arms. The action cause his shirt to ride up, showing a bit of his lower stomach.

Y/N’s grip on the cloth tightened as she felt the heat growing between her legs. I get it, I’m an idiot for not noticing how hot he is! Stop torturing me, she said to her hormones. “Same.”

Ethan laughed. “Seriously, what’s going on? Do you feel sick? You’re flushed, your face is really red. Do you have a fever? I can finish cleaning, you can go home, or wait for me and I’ll drive you.”

And he was so fucking sweet too. She wanted to rip her heart out and give it to him. “No, I’m okay.”

But Ethan didn’t believe her, so he walked towards her and cup her cheeks, making her breath hitch. “You’re not. What are you not telling me?”

Y/N sighed, he was not going to let go. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“I wanted to know, now I need to know. Tell me.”

“I’m horny, okay?” she blurted out in an exasperated tone. “And it’s your fault!”

“W-what?” he took one step back, eyes widened.

“Yes, you put your hand on me today and I can’t just stop thinking about your long fingers on the curve of my waist. And you won’t believe half the things I’ve seen inside my head since. You have been driving me crazy the whole day”

Ethan’s mouth was dry. At first, he thought she was messing with him, but her shiny glossy doe eyes were telling him a different story. She wanted him. “Try me. No, actually, show me.”

And it was then when the cafe’s temperature raised, when lust filled the air and their bodies turned warm with need. Five seconds later, Y/N fastened herself to him with a stitch—she grabbed Ethan by the collar of his polo, and tugged him down to met her lips in one ferocious kiss. She walked him backwards until his lower back hit the edge of the counter. He moaned both in pain and excitement.

The girl sneaked her hand down his shirt and felt his toned abs, groaning in delight against his lips. “So fucking hot. I need you.”

Ethan grabbed her by the forearms to change positions and then turned Y/N around so that her back was against his front and her stomach pressed against the marble counter.

He bit her earlobe and then started dragging his wet lips down the skin of her neck, sucking on her sweet spot. His veiny rough hands slipped inside her shirt, exploring the skin of her stomach and then they settled on her waist, giving them a squeeze. “You liked this, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” she replied breathlessly, resting the back of her head on his chest.

“Isn’t this better though?” he asked huskily on her ear as he trailed his fingers upwards, cupping her breasts. “No bra? Lucky me.”

“Eth…” she moaned, clenching her thighs, desperate have him inside her.

Noticing that, Ethan used his right leg to spread her thighs apart. “Bend over the counter, love.” he commanded, raising her skirt up to her hips and unbuckling his belt. “Be a good girl and moan my name.”

When they left the cafe, they were both still flushed by the dirty and hot encounter they had. Ethan still couldn’t comprehend how the day ended—he had walked inside the cafe that morning, the idea of fucking Y/N didn’t even cross his mind because he knew he had no chance. And now he was leaving with his hand intertwined in hers.

Y/N, on the other hand, didn’t even want to think about her life before that shift, when she wasn’t at Ethan’s mercy, when she didn’t know he kissed slowly and with passion, that he was a very dirty talker, that his touch felt like heaven, that he loved being praised as much as he loved praising, that he made the hottest sounds and that even though he had been attractively rough during sex, he was a fucking sweetheart after it, making sure she wasn’t in pain and had a good time. Now, Y/N was all about Ethan Landry.

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katnissmellarkkk · 10 months

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tis I with a prompt: I request the first time post war Katniss lets Peeta into her bed again 🥺

AN : wrote this the night you sent the prompt but I absolutely hated it until now. I finally got around to cleaning this up a bit and now I think it’s cute? Lemme know, all of y’all, if you like it! And my writing muscles are rusty so send me a prompt if you like, to try and work me out please! Can’t make any promises about what’ll trigger my brain but I can sure try! Anywaysss hope y’all enjoy this lil post-mockingjay-pre-epilogue drabble here!

I watch with dread as Peeta scrubs away the last bit of sauce still dried to his plate.

“You really don’t have to do that,” I murmur halfheartedly from where I lean against the counter, watching him.

“It’s rude to not wash your own plate after dinner,” he says, his tone somewhat coy. He’s teasing me, I realize. He’s maybe even flirting with me but I can’t be sure and even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to make of it.

“I never wash mine after eating at your house,” I mumble, mostly to myself. I know he doesn’t care about cleaning off my plate for me. I know that he knows that I don’t mind washing his plate either.

But I don’t push the point and neither does he. Because we’re both stalling the inevitable.

It’s past ten at night and it’s time for Peeta to go home now. This time comes every day and we should be more prepared for it by this point, but every single night when the sun has long since left the sky and you can barely make out five feet in front of you without a flashlight, Peeta walks out the front door and my chest aches, as he disappears out into the night.

Ask him to stay, a tiny voice that sounds weirdly like both Haymitch and my mother — at the same exact time — pressures me.

But my tongue won’t cooperate and I can’t make the words form on my lips and I feel my stomach flip as I stutter out an awkward goodbye instead.

“Goodnight, Katniss,” Peeta says evenly, his face smooth and peaceful and totally level as he reaches out and squeezes my hand before moving to grab his coat.

He’s walking towards the door and I feel the familiar dread — the dread that’s been my constant companion for longer than I care to remember — rise up in my stomach and for a split second I want to reach out and grasp his elbow. For a split second I want to grab onto him and stop him from leaving.

And for a moment I plan to ask him to stay, to come upstairs with me, to get into his pajamas and brush his teeth by my side at the sink, to crawl beneath the sheets and hold me until we hear birds begin to chirp with the morning light. In that moment I plan to ask him to do exactly what we used to do on the train, exactly what we used to do every single night, back before everything between us completely shattered beyond recognition.

My hand drops midair before I can make the contact with his arm but it catches his attention just the same.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, his face becoming concerned.

“Nothing,” I brush off tightly. Instead of saying what I’m thinking, instead of saying what I want, I just force a smile and lightly graze his hand. “Get home safe.”

At that, he shoots me a bemused look. “I live three houses from you. Somehow I think I’ll be fine.”

I nod and chuckle as he leaves, as he disappears into the night, making the shortest of journeys home, unwittingly leaving me to dwell in regret for all the things I wish I’d just come out and said.

As soon as the door shuts between us regret the size of an elephant lands on my chest.

And I know, without a doubt, this is going to be one bad night for me.

The funny thing about my nightmares is they never lose their edge. Not with time, not with practice, not with comparison. I’ve seen Cato get eaten by the mutts hundreds of times. I’ve watched Clove stab me with her knives and Brutus chase me through the jungle and Enobaria break my neck with one hand, more than I could possibly count.

I’ve witnessed my sister detonate, as if I’m still standing right there, in the city circle of the Capitol. I’ve witnessed it thousands of times since that day. I’ve witnessed it more often than I’ve managed to actually sleep since that day.

And it never gets easier. It never becomes routine. I’m never ever prepared for it.

Instead I’m left paralyzed as the same dreams plague me over and over and over again.

Other things do change though. I used to thrash around, kicking and screaming as the dreams tortured me for minutes on end. I used to wake up, sweat covered and coiled up in my bedding, trapped in a physical sense that only manages to make my dreams even more intense somehow.

But over time something shifted and somehow, between the bomb that killed my sister and taking down Coin and the trial I scarcely remember, the thrashing stopped and the walking began.

For months now, I’ve woken to find myself in strange rooms, in small crawl spaces I didn’t know existed, inside cupboards and beneath beds no one’s ever used in guest rooms I barely recognize.

But I’ve never found myself outside before. Never, in all the time I’ve dealt with these dreams, have I ever once ended up in my front lawn.

Never, in my wildest imagination, did I picture myself waking from my nightmare, facedown in some dirt, ripping grass from the ground as I let out a rabid scream.

“Katniss,” I hear a voice softly murmur, like speaking to an injured fawn, terrified of scaring them away. “Katniss, it’s okay.”

And my lips cry for the voice before my brain fully recognizes it. “Peeta?”

“It’s just me,” he says, and I feel his hands grasp the tops of my arms, gently pulling me upright. “It’s only me.”

I pry my swollen eyes open and take in Peeta’s kind, worried face, mere inches away from mine.

“You’re here?” I croak, still groggy and confused. “What’s going on?”

“You were having a nightmare,” he explains, thumbing away my tears as more come pouring out. “But it’s over now. It was just a dream. You’re okay.” His hand cups my cheek softly, holding the weight of my head.

I nod plaintively, my body still completely exhausted despite the fact I was just asleep. “I’m okay,” I try to say but all that comes out is a guttural raspy sound and I watch as his face softens even more.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he whispers, offering me his hand.

I take it without question, but find that I’m not upright for long. The moment I’m standing, my bare feet touching the dewy grass, Peeta bends down and scoops me up in his arms.

I don’t question it though. Maybe secretly I wanted him to do that. I definitely didn’t want to wait around to see if Haymitch came outside, asking why I was screaming at this hour of the day.

Peeta carries me into the house as if I weigh as much as Buttercup, kicking the door shut behind him and walking over to the couch. He sits down with me on his lap and drops his arms, as if to let me decide the next move. I could either crawl away from him, put some distance between us, or I could remain where I am.

To me, the choice barely takes any consideration.

I curl up closer to him, the images from the dream still too fresh to handle alone. I press my face into his neck and fold myself into him and hope he reciprocates in kind.

It doesn’t take more than a second for him to respond. As soon as I initiate it, he’s there, pulling me tighter, cradling me against him, rocking me back and forth like I’m something precious to behold.

“It’s okay,” he repeats again and again and again, as if we entered a time warp and we’re back on the train, back in the Capitol in our little apartment, sharing a bed, guarding against nightmares we stupidly thought would be the height of our troubles. “I have you, Katniss. I won’t let anything hurt you now.”

I cry into the collar of his shirt, drained and shaking and still half-crazed, feeling slightly better only when his fingers begins to smooth my hair away from my face.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” Peeta whispers gently, his hand moving from my hair to my lower back, rubbing soft, soothing circles there to alleviate my trembling.

Time begins to pass. My tears dwindle to nothing. I feel the shaking come to an end. Every last ounce of energy I have left seeps from my body. My eyes grow heavy.

And pretty soon, I feel myself lifted once again, into strong, protective arms, cradling me like a baby as they carry me up the stairs and down to the end of the hall.

I’m tucked into bed gently, with the utmost care. The covers are brought up to my chin, my hair is brushed off my forehead and his fingers lightly dance upon my cheek. But it’s not enough. I still crave more.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, and my voice still isn’t mine, it’s someone else, someone who isn’t afraid to ask for what she wants. For who she wants to lay beside her in the darkness.

“Okay,” he murmurs and it sounds like a promise but as he sits down on the side of my bed and takes my hand in his, planting a soft kiss upon the back of it, I know he doesn’t understand what I’m truly asking.

“No, Peeta, that’s not what I meant,” I say, shaking my head, before pushing the covers back. “Can you get in? Can you stay with me?”

I don’t really grasp my word choice and all the underlying meanings until it’s already slipped out and too late to take back again.

But I only have a moment to be filled with regret. Because that’s how long it takes Peeta to slide in beside me.

And as I curl into him, wrapping my leg around his waist, burrowing my face in the curve of his neck, basking in the feeling of utter safety and happiness that I have never, ever found in another pair of arms, he whispers the only thing that could erase my chagrin.

“Always.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #thw #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #300 #my drabbles #my writing #drabble #everlark drabble #thg fanfic #everlark fanfiction

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Note

omg okay so I just found out about your blog and I've been bingereading your fics, and I really want to make a request hehe 🤭. I was thinking of a ghost x fem!reader where the reader likes ghost and tells him but because of him being avoidant when it comes to romance and his fear of getting close to people, he rejects her. But when he eventually realises that he loves her, he notices that someone else is already making a move on her and gets jealous. I just really want to see a jealous ghost😭 and I like the whole idea of ghost having an avoidant attachment style, it seems realistic and fitting for him. But I would like to see him overcome his insecurities and fears when it comes to getting close to people. The poor guy deserves love🥺 Thank you so much!!💖💖

The First Step (Ghost x F!Reader)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader Category: Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Jealous!Ghost, Descriptions of Physical/Emotional Abuse, Descriptions of PTSD/Trauma, Rejection, Cheating, Swearing Word Count: 3.9k+

Song Recs For This Fic: What You Know and On Melancholy Hill

A/N: Hello! Thank you very much for your request and for reading my work! I agree, Ghost does seem like the person who would have an avoidant attachment style. He definitely deserves to have someone to hold and cherish him. 🥺 I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The First Step (Ch. 2)

Ghost’s breathing stuttered as he clutched on the edge of the sink. A sharp sting radiated from his shoulder, stitches lining the curve of his muscular arm. A more dull ache rang through his chest as he swallowed thickly, avoiding his own gaze in the foggy mirror.

(1 Week Earlier)

Your brows were knitted together as you tilted your head. Your hands worked deftly to curve the last stitches through the lieutenant’s skin. His flesh still burning with pain from the knife wound he received during his most recent mission.

“How many stitches have I given you now?” you asked as you finished your work.

“Too fucking many,” Ghost grunted. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you released a soft chuckle. Ghost felt something faint stir in his chest at the sound of your laugh. You stepped back, eyeing him up and down.

“Alright, Lt. You’re good to go!” you chirped. Ghost gave a nod as he gazed over his wound. Impeccably stitched together, as always. He huffed as he slid off of the medical table. His eyes studied you carefully as you busied yourself with cleaning up. For some reason, he just felt stuck, as if his body refused to move forward. You finished washing your hands before you turned to him. You pulled down your mask, revealing a cheeky smile.

“Need something, Ghost?” you jested. Ghost blinked, snapping out of his daze.

“No. Thanks…doc,” he said as he clasped his hand over your shoulder. Your cheeks instantly flushed red at his contact. Ghost raised a brow as he slid his hand off of you. “Well, I’ll be seein’ you around,” the lieutenant nodded as he made his way towards the door. He froze when he felt you grab his hand. He shifted slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours. Your whole face was a deep shade of red.

“Doc?” he asked. You gasped and slipped your hand away.

“I-I’m sorry! I just-” you bit your bottom lip and shuffled in place. His chest grew tight as you stepped closer. “I…” you released a shaky breath as you fiddled with your hands. Ghost felt like his whole body was turning to lead.

“C’mon, (Y/N). You can tell me,” he said. You hesitantly met his gaze.

“I wanted to ask you…if you want to go out for drinks sometime this weekend?” you squeaked out. Ghost’s eyes widened slightly as time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace. A clash of hope and dread instantly filled his chest as his mind went completely blank. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Y-You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just-”

“No,” he quickly spat out. Your lips drew into a tight, pale line.

“What?” you breathed, shoulders falling. Ghost’s hands shook as he balled them up into fists, his heart mercilessly pounding against his sternum.

“I said ‘no’. Trust me, you don’t want to make that mistake,” Ghost muttered. All of the color left your face as you stumbled back.

“But it’s not a mistake!” you suddenly shouted. Ghost tried to avoid your gaze as you trembled before him. “Sorry," you quickly apologized. "I just-I like you, Ghost, and I want to get to know you more outside of just sewing you up or making sure you're not bleeding to death," you explained while nodding towards the medical table. Ghost gritted his teeth as he felt his heart sink into the churning pit of his stomach. He flinched when you brought yourself mere inches from him.

“Please, just give me a chance...Simon,” your voice cracked.

His throat hitched at the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Ghost tried to hide how his chest was heaving as he quickly spun himself around.

“My answer is final,” said as he quickly strode towards the door. He heard you choke back a whimper as he approached the threshold. Ghost’s hand trembled ever so slightly as he pushed against the surface of the door. He was tempted to glance behind his shoulder, yet compelled himself to look forward.

The door soon swung closed with a deafening thud.

(Present)

Ghost’s knuckles were turning white as he clenched his jaw. He slowly drew his attention up to the mirror. All he could see was a man torn in two staring right back at him.

“Fuckin’ git-she was right there pourin’ her heart out to you and you just fuckin’ brushed her off,” he thought to himself. Ghost gritted his teeth as he pushed himself off the sink. He ran his hands through his dirty blonde hair before grabbing his mask. He stared down at the empty eyeholes.

“It’s fine. She’s a big girl-she can handle it,” he rationalized. His nostrils flared as he tugged the balaclava over his head. "She doesn't need me," Ghost told himself.

“You didn’t really mean those words you said, did you?” his internal voice rang. Ghost gritted his teeth. He shook his head as he walked over to his locker, throwing on a fresh pair of clothes.

“You actually feel-”

“Stop it,” he scolded himself as he harshly pulled his shirt over his damp upper body. He ignored the weary glances of other soldiers as he stomped out of the locker room, making his way towards his quarters. All he wanted to do was sleep off the nonsense that was stewing inside of him.

Whatever feelings he thought he had for you, it was nothing more than a fantasy. Something to help him feel at ease whenever he was overcome with boredom. That’s all you were to him: a distraction.

A distraction when he heard your warm laugh when he would tell his corny jokes. A distraction when he imagined holding you in his scarred, hefty arms in his bed. A distraction…wondering what your soft lips would taste like when he returned from a long, grueling mission.

His footsteps slowed before he eventually came to a halt. That warm, strange feeling writhed in his chest again. Ghost felt it spread and course through every inch of his being as thoughts of you flashed through his mind like a film in full-color. His breathing stuttered.

“You actually feel the same way about her,” the voice inside him echoed.

He collapsed his hand over the place where his mouth would be. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ghost felt his eyes sting as tears glazed over them.

He loved you...he loved you.

Ghost let his hand fall from his face. He balled it into a tight fist as a renewed sense of boldness bloomed inside of him. He couldn’t just stand here dumbstruck with this realization. Ghost felt his heartbeat quicken as he rushed towards your office. This wasn’t the end of the line-he’d be sure to set things right.

A small smile graced his face as he rounded the corner. A slit of light shone through the crack of your door, and that’s when he heard it: another man’s voice reverberating from the room. Ghost’s blood ran cold as his movements slowed to a crawling pace. A flicker of your laughter spilled out of the room not long after the man’s. Ghost narrowed his eyes as he inched forward, his footsteps barely making a trace of noise. He peeked through the crack in the door.

He recognized the man-a newer recruit, Sergeant Johnson. He’s seen him before, and despite his usual friendly demeanor, something just felt off about him. Ghost’s jaw clicked as he watched the Sergeant hover near you.

“You’ve got a cute laugh,” Johnson drawled. Ghost felt a sudden feeling rip through his heart. It wasn’t anger…no-it ran deep like an open, festering wound. You tucked a strand of frizzy hair behind your ear, avoiding Johnson's gaze.

“T-Thank you,” you said sheepishly. The man wore a wide grin as he leaned his hand onto the wall, boxing you in. Your eyes widened.

“Are you free tonight?” the man lilted. Your blush rushed up to your ears as you held your hands together in front of you.

"P-Probably not. I'll most likely be busy with work," you stated. Ghost felt relief wash over him, only to feel the jealously flare up again as the Sergeant leaned in closer.

"Tell you what- why don't I get some dinner from the mess hall and bring it back here? That way you won't have to worry about leaving your office," he suggested with a smile. Ghost waited with bated breath for your answer.

"Okay," you finally replied. Ghost heard the sound of his heart cracking as Johnson leaned away from you.

"Great. I'll be back so don't go anywhere!" he said. You nodded and gave a small wave.

"Okay. See you soon," you grinned, though Ghost didn't miss the misty look in your eyes. Fuck...you were still hurting. Johnson strode towards the door, blinking when he met eyes with the lieutenant.

“Oh! You must be Ghost. Heard a lot of stories about you-good ones, don't worry," Johnson chuckled as he held his hand out. The lieutenant raised a brow before clutching the man's hand. Johnson winced slightly. "Oof, got quite a grip there," he laughed nervously.

"So I've heard," Ghost rumbled. Johnson awkwardly looked around the hallway before giving a firm nod.

"Sorry for keeping you from the Doc. I'll get out of your hair," Johnson stated as he brushed past him. Ghost grunted as he followed the man with his eyes until he disappeared around the corner. He turned back to see you standing stiff as a board against the wall. Ghost cautiously stepped towards you as if approaching an untamed animal. He paused a few feet away from you.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied. Both of you avoided each other's gazes. The silence only seemed to emphasize the tension growing between the two of you. Ghost cleared his throat.

"Listen, Doc-(Y/N)," he quickly corrected himself. You rubbed your arms as you poked at the inside of your cheek with your tongue. Ghost sighed as he nervously cracked his fingers. "I just...I'm sorry for being such an arse last week," he grunted. You remained quiet, the only sound being the humming from the fan in the corner of the room. "It wasn't fair to you, and-"

"It's fine," you curtly replied. Ghost closed his mouth, his skin crawling with goosebumps. He's never heard that kind of tone come from you, the kind that cuts deep into someone like a knife.

"But-you see, I-"

"No, I see perfectly well, Ghost," your voice cracked with bitterness. Your eyes were glossy as your mouth was curved into a deep, sullen frown. Ghost felt his heart turn to stone as you stepped forward.

"(Y/N), please listen to me. I came in here because-" he suddenly choked on his own words. You released a shaky sigh as you gave him a dejected look.

"Because of what, Ghost?" you asked. He screamed at himself as tears began to pour down your red cheeks. Ghost suddenly felt a wave of dizziness crash over him, a cacophony of his own internal monologue mixing with the fragmented voices from his past piercing through his mind. The walls around him felt like they were growing closer with the intent to crush him. Everything felt like it was going too fast for his own mind to catch up.

"I..." his gruff voice trailed off. You sighed as you clutched your hair, your eyes puffy and red.

"Please, don't do this to me again," you murmured beneath your breath. Ghost's throat tightened even more.

"Just tell her! She's right there!" the internal voice screamed at him. He unclenched his fists.

"I just came to tell you that you...shouldn't go out with Johnson," he spat out. Your face shifted from a look of anguish to confusion.

"You should be with me instead," he said internally. But the words remained lodged in his throat.

"I've seen him around the base. He doesn't seem-" The sound of thudding footsteps cut him off. Johnson stood in the doorway, a bag of takeout in his hands. He frowned when he saw you wipe tears from your cheeks.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he rushed to your side. You nodded, tearing your eyes away from Ghost.

"Fine," you huffed. Johnson stared between the two of you.

"I just got some pizza-I hope that's okay," he beamed. Ghost felt like he was already being shoved out of the room. You glanced over at him one more time before looking back to the Sergeant.

"Pizza's great," you smiled as you accepted the food. Ghost slowly stepped out of the room, the tendrils of jealously encroaching into his heart. His body felt cold as he walked down the hall, a bitter taste coating his tongue.

"It's just one little dinner," Ghost told himself. But no matter how hard he tried to rationalize the situation, he couldn't stop the poison from leaking from his heart and through his entire being.

+++

A whole month has passed, and you were still dating Sergeant Johnson. Ghost told himself that it didn't bother him at first, that the whole "love realization" was just wishful thinking. But the more he saw the two of you and Johnson together, the worse the jealously inside of him festered. It corroded his heart each time he heard you laugh at his jokes, saw you holding his hand.

He was talking with Soap and Gaz in the mess hall one evening. His dark eyes followed you as you walked into the room and leaned down to Johnson's ear. He couldn't see your face, but he could tell you were whispering something to the Sergeant. He watched with clenched fists as both of you left the mess hall in a hurrty. Something inside Ghost snapped into a thousand pieces, his veins bulging in his temples.

Ghost immediately rose from his seat, ignoring Soap's barrage of questions as he trailed not too far behind you. Other soldiers looked at him like he was a bat out of hell as he stormed towards your office. His nostrils flared as he grabbed the doorknob, only to hear a harsh wail crack through the air. Ghost hesitantly shuffled at the door before cracking it open ever so slightly. Johnson stood in front of you with his arms held up as if in surrender.

"Babe, please! I can explain," Johnson said. You scoffed.

"I saw your tongue down her throat, Logan!" you shrieked. Your voice dripped with anger as you growled. Johnson huffed as he straightened his posture.

"It's not my fault you've refused to sleep with me this whole time," he spat. Ghost heard you gasp quietly as he opened the door slowly. He held his finger up to his lips and you swallowed, shifting your gaze back to the man before you. "You're a prude little bitch, you know that? Maybe if you had done what I asked of you, I wouldn't be running off to see other girls," Johnson hissed as he raised his hand. Ghost instantly launched himself forward, grabbing the Sergeant's meaty wrist.

"What the fuck-" Johnson was cut off when Ghost quickly grabbed the man by his shirt and threw him against the wall.

You yelled as you slid behind your chair, your hands clutching onto it as if it were your shield. Ghost felt satisfied with the way the Sergeant's head snapped against the hard surface of the wall, nearly putting a dent in it.

"Don't you ever treat to her that way, you fuckin' git," Ghost snarled as he shook him by his collar. Johnson's eyes popped out as he shivered in his tight grasp. You muttered a few incomprehensible words as you peeked around. Ghost's heart was pumping as the veins in his hands threatened to pop. He lowered Johnson enough so he'd remain face to face with him.

"Here's what's going to happen: because I witnessed you abusing (Y/N) and threatened to strike her, I'm going to write a very, very detailed report," he explained with a cold tone. Johnson swallowed a lump in his throat, his legs still dangling above the ground. "You’ll most likely to go to jail, Sergeant. When you do, I can guarantee that whatever happens to you there will be downright merciful compared to what I have in mind," he rumbled lowly as he curled his fist. The Sergeant's lips quivered as he shook his head vigorously.

"I-It won't happen again, I promise," Johnson wheezed. Ghost scoffed as he dropped him onto the cold, linoleum floor. The man scrambled up to his feet, his legs knocking together as Ghost pinned him against the wall, pressing his tattooed forearm against the Sergeant's throat and his legs against his.

"You should be glad I'm just a Lieutenant. Price is the one who makes the final calls around here," Ghost said as he subtly grabbed at his phone in his back pocket. He shook at it gently, hoping you'd get the message. You paused for a moment before slipping beneath your desk. He narrowed his eyes as he loosened his grip on Johnson.

“Y-yes sir! I understand completely. I-I'm sorry, really, I didn’t-”

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to, you fuckin' twat," Ghost scoffed. He looked over towards you. You whispered a few more things into your phone before pressing a button. You glanced up and nodded at him, your face still pale and wet with tears. "Apologize to her," Ghost said gruffly. Johnson's mouth snapped open in protest. "That's an order, Sergeant!" Ghost snapped. Johnson huffed before slowly turning towards you. Large streaks of tears fell down your face as he straightened himself.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he said with a lowered head. Ghost strode up and placed a hand onto Johnson's shoulder.

"Go on," Ghost commanded with a tight squeeze. Johnson licked his dry lips.

"I'm sorry...that you don't know how to attend to a man's needs," he snarled maliciously. Your eyes widened as you gasped. Ghost sneered as he grabbed the man by his short hair, readying to slam it against your desk.

"Simon don't!" you cried with outstretched arms. Ghost froze, his eyes falling on your weary face. Johnson laughed bitterly.

"Simon? What, were you cheating, too?" the man derided. Ghost's fists shook as he threw the man across your desk with a loud thud. You gasped and shuffled back before Ghost tossed the man onto the floor, his body crumpling like a ragdoll's. Johnson groaned as he rubbed a sore spot on his chin. He scowled as he wound up a fist to strike.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Price's voice boomed. All of you froze as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and eyes lit with pure rage. He shifted back as a few military police officers filed into the room. Ghost made his way towards you as they surrounded the Sergeant. You were still hidden beneath your desk, your body curled into itself.

"(Y/N)," he called softly. You peeked up at him, your eyes red and puffy. He knelt down on one knee and slowly held his hand out. "It's alright. You're safe now," Ghost whispered. You cautiously took his hand as he guided you to your feet. The cuffs clicked across Johnson's wrists as one of the officer's kept their hand on his neck.

"You can't do this to me! Do you know how hard I've worked to get here?!" he shouted as he was being roughly escorted out of the room.

Price had no words to offer, only a cold gaze that could make any person shiver. Johnson's face turned red as he protested wildly before one of the officers told him to shut it. A sense of relief washed over the room as he was finally dragged out. The Captain shook his head before setting his attention on the two of you. Price's brows furrowed when he saw a red mark on your wrist. Ghost felt the anger inside him reach a boiling point when he saw it, too.

"I'm going to fuckin' kill him," he snarled.

"Easy, Ghost," Price said. Ghost grunted as he swallowed down his rage. The Captain turned to you, reaching his hands out. "I know a lot has just happened, but we need to get as much as we can while the memories are still new. I promise you, (Y/N), that fucker's going to pay for what he did," Price stated with a nod. You sniffed before releasing a heart-wrenching wail.

You sobbed as you wrapped your arms around your shivering body. Ghost and Price exchanged weary glances as you shrank into yourself.

"Stupid git," Ghost heard his father's acerbic voice echo inside his head. His own wrist stung slightly as he remembered every terrible instance involving that wretched man. That quote about time healing all wounds never resonated with Ghost-the wounds still cut deep and ran with blood. Ghost blinked as your aching sobs drew him back to the present.

"I-I was so stupid," you shook. Ghost tilted his head as you rested your head on his chest and winced. "I should've known. I just-I shouldn't have-" you broke down, your forehead falling onto Ghost's broad chest as you and clutched his black t-shirt. He looked over to Price. The Captain gave a small nod.

"Just make sure to come to my office when you feel ready," the Captain said as he made his way towards the door. Ghost nodded as Price left the room.

You continued to stain his shirt with hot tears, your chest heaving as you trembled. Ghost felt unsure of what to do in this moment, his hands twitching at your sides as you wept. Suddenly, a faint memory popped up. Ghost leaned his face forward, his covered lips nearly brushing against your ear.

"Can I...Can I hold you, love?" he asked. Your head snapped up as your mouth flew open. You wore a look of shock on your face, your chin trembling. Ghost studied you carefully as he released an uneasy sigh. "Well, y’see, my mum-she would, she would hold me...when…” his voice trailed off as a hard lump formed in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as if to shield himself-both from the memories that pierced his mind and the act of confessing such a vulnerable thing.

His eyes snapped open when he felt you softly wrap your arms around him. You released a shaky breath as you squeezed him tightly, pressing your body against his. Ghost's hands slowly came up, his bulky arms curling around your smaller form. You were so warm-your skin soft and glowing like sunlight on a spring day. Ghost gently rested his chin on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

His breath hitched when you splayed your hand across his rugged upper arms. Ghost let his own hands fall across your lower back, his chest purring ever so slightly. He felt you relax in his grasp as the two of you continued to hold each other.

Eventually, you started to withdraw yourself from his embrace. He slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision blurred with tears. You gave him a warm, tired smile as you wiped your eyes and sniffed.

"Thank you, Ghost," you sighed. Ghost took in a deep breath as hot tears rolled down his face from beneath his balaclava. He looked down and slid his hand close to yours. You gazed up at him with parted lips before taking it into your gentle grasp. He smiled down at you as he pressed his thumb to the back of your palm.

“Please...call me Simon”.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

617 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

ok so maybe Steve's at work doing his nurse thing when who shows up in the emergency room and didn't even call to tell him that she was hurt? his favorite girl, that's who.

hmm?

AN | More Nurse Steeb!🥺🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to this, but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were dreading this moment. You really, really didn't want to be here. The temptation to just turn and run away was so high. It would have been so easy to just leave and go home…but the shooting pain in your arm told you that was an even worse idea.

The hospital was big…so maybe you wouldn't see him at all. Right? Right. Or that's what you were hoping for. The odds really were slim to none and yet… Maybe you didn't even need to go to the ER. Maybe you could just call and schedule a regular appointment with your doctor…

"Fuck," you sighed heavily as you looked between the entrance and your car. You had to do it. There was no way you could get out of this one.

Trying to collect your remaining dignity, you walked into the hospital and up to the counter. The woman behind the screen looked at you for a moment, recognizing you but not quite placing it.

"I-I think I did something to my elbow," you explained, tears already welling up and threatening to run down your cheeks, "I fell and it's stuck at this weird angle and I couldn't move it. Every time I try it hurts so bad."

She peeks over the counter before noticing the odd placement of your left elbow, "oh dear. Well, we'll get you right in with the doctor. First, let me get your name please."

You nodded and told her your first name and hesitated for a moment. She waited for you to go on and you sighed before giving her your last name, "Harrington."

And…realization hit her. She knew exactly who you were. You, him, and the disgustingly cute story of how you'd met in that very ER were well known around the hospital. You gave her a sheepish smile as she scribbled a few things down, "go ahead and take a seat. I've got everything here, honey."

"Thank you," the older woman's gentleness already made you feel better, despite your current predicament, "and umm…could we not tell him yet? Or at least don't put me in his wing?"

"I'll do my best," she promised with a knowing wink. You nodded softly before padding over to one of the stiff plastic chairs, careful not to irritate your arm further.

A heavy, tired sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes for a few moments of solace from the piercing fluorescence of the hospital lights. A dumb little part of your brain even dreamed that maybe you'd get home without him knowing anything.

Doubtful.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Well," the doctor, an older man with a calm aura - which did nothing to help your nerves - was almost silent as looked over your x-rays and studied the findings, "you've got yourself a dislocated elbow."

"No," you groaned as you looked at the ceiling. How could you be this clumsy and unlucky?

"Yes," he pointed at your arm, still stuck at an awkward angle as if to prove his point, "and that is nothing to scoff at."

"Umm, how do I fix it?" you asked softly, trying to ignore the throbbing, "can it be fixed?"

“Oh yes,” he seemed unphased by your question, as your panic had increased, “most of the time it can be corrected without surgery-”

“Without? S-so you mean you there’s a chance I would need surgery?” your lip trembled with effort as you tried to cry, “what are the odds?”

“The first thing I’m going to do is to try and set it back into place and then we’ll immobilize the arm for now,” he looked up at you for a moment and saw the distressed look on your features, “meaning you’ll be in a sling for some time. It’s imperative that you keep as still as possible for now. In a few weeks we’ll see how it’s setting and how your range of movement is. And onto physical therapy.”

“Physical therapy?” alright. This had to be some sort of cosmic joke. The last time you were in the ER was when you’d broken your ankle a few years ago. That had almost ended up with surgery and absolutely had required physical therapy, “oh.”

“It’ll be okay, Mrs. Harrington,” he insisted, “I’ve seen these before and while inconvenient, rest assured you’ll make a full recovery.”

“I-”

“I’ll send in the nurse and have them set you up with a sling and the dos and don’ts and talk to you about painkillers,” he gave you a pat on the opposite shoulder, “I’ll see you back in about two weeks. Any questions you have the nurse will be able to answer.”

“Okay,” you nodded and slumped your shoulders as you watched him go. Steve was going to lose his mind when he saw you, “fuck me.”

After a few minutes of terse silence, a few gentle knocks came at the door. You confirmed they could come in and regretted your decision as soon as you did. It wasn’t just any nurse that happened to be assigned to you. It was your husband.

“Steve?”

“Baby?”

“I-” he’d all but dropped your charts and came over to you, his hands finding your face as he studied you. He’d read over your chart to read the doctor’s diagnosis, but had neglected to read the name. Otherwise he would have known it was you. As soon as you looked in those big, soft eyes all the unshed tears rolled down your cheeks, “I-I fell.”

“Honey,” he closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, whether of stress or relief you weren’t sure. He tenderly brushed away your tears before placing a kiss to your forehead, “it’s okay. I know it hurts, but don’t cry…please. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it better.”

“It hurts so bad, Stevie,” you wanted nothing but for him to wrap you up in his arms, but were also terrified of hurting your arm further, “I’m so stupid, ‘m sorry.”

“You’re not stupid and there’s nothing to be sorry for,” he gently shushed by putting a finger to your lips, “I’m glad you came in, okay? I know how stubborn you can get, my clumsy girl. But I’m here to take care of you.”

“I asked them not to send you,” you sniffled, laughing ever so softly as he shook his head in amusement. He tutted, but it was nothing but warm and affectionate, “didn’t want you to worry or panic.”

“It is my job to take care of you,” he insisted softly, “both here in a professional capacity and everywhere else as your husband and best friend. Will you tell me what happened, angel? How did you hurt yourself so badly?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” a pout settled on your pretty, soft lips and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to them, “it’s silly.”

“I won’t laugh,” he promised, “scout’s honor.”

“You were never a boy scout, Steve.”

“Still counts.”

“Does not-”

“You’re stalling,” he insisted, already guessing your little ployl, “just tell me what happened, baby.”

“I was in the backyard and I went to move one of the lounge chairs off the deck and one thing led to another and I lost my footing and slipped and tried to stop my fall with my hand and then hit my elbow and the thing I knew it was lots of pain and I couldn’t move my lower arm,” you replayed the events in your head and silently cringed at yourself, “and I came here.”

You looked up and found Steve’s brows knitted together as he kept his eyes on your chart. He was silent, but then you could see the subtle shake of his shoulders. You used your good hand and slapped his arm, “Steve Harrington, you’re laughing! Don’t laugh at me, you said you wouldn’t!”

“Honey, honey, honey,” he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m not laughing at you…I’m just amused by the situation.”

“You wouldn’t be laughing at another patient!”

“Other patients aren’t my wife,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to meet his, “and I love you more than anything, so it’s affectionate teasing.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you huffed, but there was no malice behind your voice, “now make it better…please.”

“I will,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I promise I’ll make it better, sweetheart.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Ugh,” you sighed for what felt like the millionth time as you tried to move around to get comfortable. You were exhausted - tired and worn out from your accident and the excitement of the day, but sleep had proven to be elusive. The worst part of all, there were only certain ways you could lie down to keep your arm still and without causing too much pain. None of the positions were working. Steve was lying in bed next to you, attempting to read but you were sure he wasn’t doing much reading from all your huffing and puffing. You turned your head and gave him an apologetic look, “sorry Stevie.”

“It’s okay,” he promised as he dog-eared his page and snapped his book shut, setting it on the nightstand, “I know it’s difficult to adjust to, baby. Let me try and help.”

“This sucks,” you huffed before looking over at him, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles, “I’m never doing anything else again for myself. It’s proven to be a bad idea.”

“I’d say the broken ankle worked out pretty well,” he grinned as you looked at him in confusion, “more or less. I got to meet the girl of my dreams right there in the ER.”

“And to think, if I hadn’t broken my ankle we’d have never met,” you said, touching his cheek with your good hand and giving him a soft smile, “the injury sucked, but the man I got out of it is pretty amazing.”

“Who knows,” he shrugged with a small smile, “maybe something good will come out of this too. You’ll just have to get better first. That means listening to me and taking it easy and -”

“Asking for help,” you finished softly, “I will, Steve. I will. But I have a request for when this mess is all healed…”

“Go on, I’m curious now…”

“Can we get a dog?” you asked with wide, curious eyes as his face softened. Of course you would use this for something like this. Truth was, he wanted a dog too, but it just never had been the right time, maybe now that dream would come true, “pretty please, Stevie?”

“We’ll see,” he promised and you could tell what he meant, which only caused your smile to grow, “we’re focusing on you first.”

“Fine,” you agreed happily, “but right now I just want to sleep.”

“C’mere,” he got out of bed and came over to your side, gently helping to move to the side he occupied just moments earlier. It was warm and smelled like him, which was immediately comforting. He adjusted your pillows and fluffed them, making it so you could lie on your side, but keeping your elbow propped up so you wouldn’t jostle or hurt it, “better?”

“Much,” you agreed as he slid into bed next to you, “and now I can sleep facing you. That makes me feel better.”

“Me too,” he promised softly, “plus, the view’s pretty fucking stunning.”

“Steve,” you playfully chided him, “I look and feel like a mess!”

“A beautiful, wonderful, amazing mess,” he joked, “that I love so very much. I promise it’ll be okay, angel. I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you leaned in as much as you could and he met you halfway, kissing you softly and gently, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington. You’re my savior, I swear.”

“I love you, clumsy girl,” he whispered against your lips, “I’ll always take care of you. I swear it.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #nurse!steve #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery x you #st

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leaentries · 4 months

Note

Please can we talk about Nico when his gf is having a bad body day, just feeling a little sad/insecure. (me atm)🥺

I love how your blog is for chubby girls btw💗

my heart ❤️ he would be so sad and his big ole brown puppy dog eyes would get so big

here’s a lil blurb to kick off my return to writing 🕺

also i’m writing this on my phone so the format might be slightly different…sorry😋

your mind was cloudy, the world just seemed darker today. something about the way your outfits clung to your body just didn’t seem right.

your floor was littered in different items of clothing, having tried on what seemed to be everything hanging in your closet.

tonight was the first night in a long while that nico was able to plan something nice for the two of you. making reservations at a fancy restaurant, booking a hotel room for the night, the whole nine yards. you should be happy, ecstatic that you are finally getting your boyfriend all to yourself, but, in this moment, all you wanted to do was cry.

tears threatened to spill as you stared into the mirror. the fabric of the dress hugging your body in all the ways you hated, you felt suffocated.

you choked back a sob as you violently unzipped the dress and threw it somewhere amongst the rest. sitting on the edge of your bed, clad in nothing but a bra and some panties, you looked helplessly at the tsunami of clothes. you wanted nothing more than to feel beautiful in your own skin. to feel worthy of going out with nico.

the salty drops cascaded down your face faster than you could will them away. you were lost, not knowing what to do from here. a loud knock echoed through your apartment, drawing a small, “Fuck,” from your panicked lips.

nico was here and you weren’t even close to being ready. dread filled your chest knowing how excited he is and how his beaming smile is what’s gonna greet you the second you open the door. you quickly grab the nearest oversized sweater, throwing it over your head as you make your way to the entrance.

you take a deep breathe before gripping the metal handle and carefully opening the door.

your heart melted and broke all at the same time. nico stood tall, dressed in his all black suit, the one he knew you loved, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you felt a new batch of tears quickly begin to build in your vulnerable state.

you didn’t want to ruin nico’s night with something a minuscule as being insecure. you wouldn’t hurt him like that. before your tears could fall, you plastered on a small smile, letting nico walk in the apartment.

his happy features dropped slightly upon seeing your sweater, “What’s wrong, schatzi? Why aren’t you dressed?” his tone filled with worry.

you shook your head, opting to give him a little fib, “I’m just having a hard time finding something that fits tonight, Neeks.”

He smiled cheekily, taking it upon himself to place the flowers in a mason jar, “Let me put these in water first, then I will come help.” You gave him a slight nod, before returning to your cluttered room. A deep sigh left your lips, realizing that Nico is gonna see the inside of your brain that now lays upon your bedroom floor.

“Oka- Whoa.” nico’s words died in his throat as he glanced around the space.

You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed at the mess. “I know, I know! I just couldn’t find anything to wear! and i felt like i needed to try on everything and nothing worked and-” Nico cut you off.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not judging. I think you forget I have a sister, i’m not new to this.” He walks in, eyes scanning the pile carefully. He picked up a black dress, once that just-so-happened to match his suit. “Here!” he flashed his dimples at you, “This is perfect. Put this on, f’me, schatzi, you’ll look beautiful.”

You gently took the dress, clutching it to your body.

He placed a quick kiss to your temple before walking out, “I’ll wait outside the door, just shout if you need anything.”

You stripped yourself of the sweater, pulling on the black dress. Normally, you’d admire the way the intricate details of the fabric or the way it tied gracefully in the back, but you only found yourself criticizing as you stood in the floor length mirror once more. Your eyes dragged over each spot you hated.

The way you thought your legs didn’t look quite long or skinny enough, or the way your tummy wasn’t flat. Even the way your hip-dips stood out more prominently in your opinion, it all just seemed overwhelmingly visible. Too lost in thought, you missed the door opening and a certain swiss making his way into the room.

Nico’s eyes focused on the way yours filled with disgust at your body, the way you were picking at every inch. He wasn’t oblivious to your insecurities, although he would never understand why you felt that way. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous and genuine woman he’d ever met. You were perfect and even better, you were his.

He took his place behind you placing his hands gently on your hips. You jumped slightly startled by his sudden appearance.

“This is more than just finding an outfit, schatzi.” His eyes meet yours through the mirror, “What’s really going on?”

His soft words broke the damn that you’d been trying so hard to keep from cracking. Your head dipped down as a sob left your throat. Nico immediately moved to stand in front of you, pulling you into his chest.

His hand came up to stroke your hair softly, as you cried into his shirt, “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby.” Nico tried his best to console you, whispering comforting words into your ears.

“C’mon, take some deep breaths for me.” He pulled your head from his chest, hands moving to cradle your face. He began to breathe slowly, encouraging you to breathe with him. One you had regained some air, you looked up at him.

“M’ sorry, Neeks.” You sniffled, “I’ve just been having a bad day and I kept putting on different outfits, but I just felt…” You trailed off, trying to find the right word. His big doe eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I just feel ugly.”

Nico felt his heart physically throb. How could his beautiful girl see herself as ugly? Doesn’t she know that he wishes he could see her for the first time, just so he could fall in love with her all over again? Nico was at a loss for words. He genuinely couldn’t grasp how someone, let alone yourself, could ever think you were ugly.

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the simple word that left the man’s mouth.

“…No?” You were confused.

“Listen to me,” He turned your bodies back to your original position, “You see these legs? These are the most gorgeous, most soft, most warm legs that I could ever want. The way they work as a perfect pillow,” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Or the way that they wrap around my head.”

Your breath began to pick up as he began to list off every part of your body and the reasons why he loved them. He picked apart your insecurities and replaced them with love and desire.

“But more of all, this girl.” His eyes rose to meet yours once more, “This girl is the most beautiful and precious person that I have ever had the privilege of knowing. This girl is my girl. My pretty girl.”

You felt a new flood of tears, this time because of the vast amounts of love radiating from Nico.

“Thank you, Neeks” You felt the need to thank him, thank him for dealing with you.

“Don’t thank me. I would give up anything just for the opportunity to tell you how pretty you are.”

His hands began to untie the back of the dress, only stopping when your hands came up to hold his in place.

“What about dinner?”

He smirked at you, “Screw dinner, let’s just go to the hotel room.” You turned in his grasp as the dress slowly fell to pool at your feet. Nico tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth at the slight of your exposed skin. “Because right now I want nothing more than to spend the night between my favorite pair of legs.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x chubby!reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x y/n #nh13 #njd #new jersey devils #leawrites💋

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underoossss · 2 years

Text

let me look at you for a bit . s.h

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

hurt/comfort

warning: season 4 spoilers, angst, descriptions of a nightmare, blood, an injury, tw death mention. THERES FLUFF I PROMISE.

AN: first time writing for steve but i had this idea and just started writing so here we are, i hope you enjoy! feedback and reblogs are always nice✨✨ thank you @sunflowerspidey for always being my cheerleader and cheering me on to post my stories🥺💖

masterlist

---

Steve doesn’t know how he ended up in the woods, but he is, barefoot, muddy and running around trees. He gets a terrible sense of dread in his chest, like something is missing, something is wrong. Thunder booms in the sky, it makes him pause and look up. He sees red thunder, dark clouds and particles swirling in the air, all collectively telling him he’s back in the upside down. Maybe that’s where his dread comes from but knowing where he is doesn’t calm him down. No, there’s something else to it.

STEVE! He hears you call somewhere to his right, and he’s immediately on high alert. But the woods are too dark and he can’t see you. Everything clicks in a second, he was running because he was looking for you, you’re lost in these woods with him –though he doesn’t know why or how the two of you got there. It’s enough to get Steve running again, in the direction he heard you from moments before. He runs and runs, calling your name, minding the vines, and wondering if he ever told you about them. He really hopes so.

STEVE!

This time his name sounds closer, and after running past some trees ahead, he finds you. He stops abruptly, taking in the scene in front of him. You’re muddy, just like he is, but you’re struggling to shake yourself away from a tree –it’s pulling you towards it, holding on to one of your legs and an arm. Dark and gory vines circle your wrist and ankle, and your face is contorted in pain, as you try to pull yourself free. Steve says your name again, and your head snaps up from your struggle. Your eyes widen immediately when you hear him. He rushes to your side in an instant, kneeling in front of you.

“Steve.” You say his name in wonder, like you thought he wasn’t going to find you.

“I’m here, baby. Stay still, let me help you.” His eyes roam your face for any other injury before getting to work on your wrist.

The two of you work together, both squeezing and pulling on the vine to create enough space for your hand to slide free. Steve helps you stand, then starts stomping on the thick vine pulling on your leg –hive mind be dammed– until it loosens just enough for you to pull your foot up and away from the vine.

You stumble forwards to him and he’s quick to catch you, arms around your waist to hold you to his chest. “Are you hurt?” You ask, looking up at him —there are tears in your pretty eyes, and he is quick to wipe them away.

His worry won’t stop his eyebrows from furrowing deeply but he shakes his head nonetheless. “No, but we need to get out of here. Now. Can you walk?” He lets go of you and holds your hand instead.

You look down at your ankle, moving it tentatively and only wincing slightly, “Yeah, my ankle doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Ok let’s go, there should be a gate on the lake.”

Steve starts to lead the way to where –he hopes– the gate is still located, when he feels your fingers abruptly slip from his. He looks over his shoulder to ask what’s wrong only to find you floating a few feet away from him. Your hands are clutching at your throat and you’re gasping for breath, struggling to breath. The figure standing behind you makes his blood run cold.

“Steve.” The figure speaks in a deep and chilling voice. “Did you think you were going to win twice?”

As the creature takes a step closer, where the red thunder shines some light on his face, Steve comes face to face with Vecna. He is just like how Max had described him –slimy, scarred, and terrifying. Steve feels his hands shake, he has nothing to fight with, no fire and no weapon, so he decides to trade. You’re becoming purple by the second, and if anyone should get away from here it’s you, not him.

“Take me instead. Let her go and take me instead.” Steve says, trying to keep his voice from wavering but his fear isn’t for himself. It’s for you.

Vecna growls but moves his hand so that you’re able to breathe. Steve steps forwards then, ready to catch you in case the not-quite-a-man in front of him just drops you to the ground. You manage to let out a series of coughs followed by a broken –Steve, no– before Vecna pulls you backwards again. The sound of broken skin and a scream pierces Steve’s ears.

Steve can’t register his own scream as his time with you comes to mind in tiny glimpses of his memories. All while he sees one of Vecna’s claws piercing your back and protruding from your front. He sees you in his car, wind blowing your hair as you sing along to Blondie at the top of your lungs, one of your hands clutching his in the center console. Another flash and there you are, stargazing with him, the stars reflecting on your eyes as you point different made-up constellations to him. Another flash and he sees you dancing to yourself in his kitchen, prepping snacks for a picnic with the kids. Now, though, the you that’s in front of him seems to lose color with each second that goes by. He realizes then that those past moments –barely two years– are all he’ll get to have with you.

Vecna disappears and you fall to the ground, coughing and clutching your bloody front. “No, no, no, baby, you’re going to be okay.” Steve says. He falls to the ground next to you and pulls you into his lap. He discards his shirt and presses it to your bleeding wound grimacing at its size —you’re losing too much blood.

“Steve.” You say breathless, wheezing like each breath is a battle. Tears gather in your eyes and run down your cheeks, two shiny streams that make Steve’s own eyes water. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’m going to get us out of here and we’ll fix you up.” He moves to stand with you in your arms, but you whimper in pain at the movement.

“Steve, you have to leave me and go.” You raise a week hand to his cheek, move your thumb to his trembling lip. “Save yourself, please.”

He lets out a shaky breath and shakes his head no, but you shush him as best you can. “I wish we could have had more time.” You say, so softly he almost doesn’t catch it, your eyes falling closed.

Steve breaks then, whatever was left of his composure gone, his tears fall freely, and a sob shakes him from head to toe. “I can’t leave my girl behind; you know that. Baby…” He let’s go of the shirt to gently hold your face, smiling shakily. His whole frame trembles with fear when you can’t find the strength to open your eyes again. “Baby, please stay with me. Don’t– Don’t leave me.”

“I love you.” You whisper, and Steve feels the way your last breath leaves your body. It breaks something in him he doesn’t think anything will ever fix.

A soul wrenching sob escapes him as he leans down to press his forehead to yours. His tears mix with your drying ones as they fall on your cheeks. He hates that he feels the warmth of your body disappear with each passing second, and it only shatters him even more.

“Come back to me, please, come back.” He repeats over and over again as darkness starts to engulf both of you, blinding him, and filling his whole body with even more fear than before. It should have been him… It should have been him instead of you.

----

“Steve.” Your voice is soft as to not startle him further, but your grip on his shoulder is firm. “Steve, please wake up.”

Steve wakes up with a gasping breath, eyes opening wide as he sits up. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in. His eyes scan the room, the lamp on the nightstand that’s casting a soft golden glow over everything, the blanket covering him, and then you; looking soft and worried and alive. The relief is enough to make tears blur his vision until they’re falling down his cheeks. He looks away, relieved but embarrassed. It had all been a nightmare and it had woken you up.

“Hey.” You whisper, placing delicate fingers under his chin and gently turning his face towards yours. You press your forehead against his and you move your face gently to brush your noses together. “You don’t have to tell me, but it’s okay to cry Steve. What’s that you always say? Don’t hide from me.”

Steve leans back and looks into your eyes, melting at the sight of them, of you. So pretty and worried and caring. His eyes want to take you in and memorize you all over again, memorize the healthy glow of your skin and the soft smile on your face. The way your breath is so close to him and how it still makes him shiver. He nods and uses one of his hands to brush his tears away. “Just… come here, please.”

He beckons you closer and you go to him, happily providing the physical comfort he needs. Your arms go under his and around his waist as you climb into his lap, where Steve holds you like you might disappear any second. His arms are around your shoulders, keeping you as close as he can. His breath is warm against your neck, where he buries his face, breathing you in and matching his breaths to yours.

“You’re okay.” You say, placing kisses on his shoulder when you feel a few silent tears fall onto your skin. “We both are.”

“I dreamt I lost you. I thought I was back in the Upside Down… it felt so real.” He says after some quiet moments, his arms tightening around you. “But you’re here.”

“I am.” You tell him. “And in Steve Harrington’s arms no less. I’d say I’m pretty safe.”

“Pretty safe huh?” A soft chuckle escapes him, and he kisses your neck in quick succession. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“Shh.” You shake your head and hold him closer. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. I’m always here for you.”

Steve nods against you, his shoulders slowly relaxing with every breath. Your hands move from the top of his back, down to the bottom, drawing a path along his spine. You want to take all his worries away, like he does when you feel scared or anxious. Steve always shows a brave and barely shakable exterior, but you know he can’t always be like that –no one can. You’re thankful he lets himself be vulnerable with you, so that you can comfort him at times like this, so you can let him know he’s not alone. A soothing touch has always calmed the two of you down, even if it’s the squeeze of a hand –it’s a comforting reminder that you have someone on your corner.

You soak up his body heat despite the warm summer night, breathing him in, until his body starts to go limp with exhaustion against you. “Come on, handsome. Let’s lie down, we can leave the lamp on.” You tell him softly before a yawn makes it way pass your lips.

Steve maneuvers you both back into the mattress so you’re both comfortable but he’s still holding you close. He props himself up on one elbow and rests his other arm around your waist, while you lie on your side, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. The fear and sadness that had shone in his eyes when he woke up are long gone, replaced by nothing short from reverent adoration as he looks down at you. He moves the hand on your waist, to you face, running the back of his knuckles down your cheek before he places it where it was before.

“You should try to sleep.” You whisper, battling against the sudden sleepiness that tries to shut your eyes closed.

“Nah,” Steve shakes his head and smiles softly. “Let me look at you for a bit.”

You get the urge to hide your face against the pillow but decide to indulge him with a sleepy smile. “Alright.”

“You still like Blondie, right?” He asks, keeping his voice low. His thumb rubs circles over your sleep shirt, the soothing motion pushing closer to sleep’s arms.

Despite your drowsiness though, you catch a hint of worry in his words that makes you think back to his dream and subsequently the Kate Bush loving teenager that brings her Walkman wherever she goes. He wants to know if he’ll get you back with Blondie if you end up cursed.

You open your eyes to meet his cedar brown ones and smile. “Yeah, I do.” You say, before your eyes fall closed once more and you hum your favorite song. Color me your color baby, color me your car.

Steve chuckles and ducks down to press a fond kiss against your forehead. “Good.” He mutters. “I love you.”

You move closer to his side, and you hear Steve sigh at the comfort. “I love you too. Sleep, okay?”

The last thing you feel is another kiss on your skin –this time on your cheek– and Steve settling next to you. He doesn’t turn off the lamp, and you don’t mind.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst

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harrywavycurly · 11 months

Note

I’ve been contemplating serial killer!Eddie. I love him soooo much (even tho he be a murder bby) and would most likely fall for whatever he says cuz I be naive, don’t get me wrong, but I just can’t imagine being completely blind to what he’s up to. Like…I don’t mean knowing exactly what he’s doing, but there’s gotta be some little tells that just makes you go “hm…that’s weird” or “that doesn’t add up, did he just lie?”. And maybe sometimes instead of shrugging it off, those little worries just nag too much in the back of your head that you feel you need to have a talk with Eddie. I mean, the kind of conversation where you come home early, probably a bit unannounced (you usually give him a call when you’re about to clock off work) —maybe even when he has a victim guest over, yikes—and just worried out of your mind because these feelings have really been bothering you for a while. They keep you up at night wondering what Eddie is doing…is he seeing someone else? Are drugs or other illegal things involved(😏 there is but ya don’t know that)? Why has he been so secretive lately?

And could you just…imagine Eddie actually comforting you. He feels bad that you’re actually upset so he starts saying all the right things you need to hear and doing all the right things you need him to do (while his guest is just chilling out, mind you). Just trying to make things right because he loves you so much and doesn’t want you to be upset (but especially doesn’t want to expose you to what he’s really been up to—he knows that would be “the end” to the relationship and that would kill him). What would an actual argument be like with serial killer!Eddie? Normally, I’d say pretty terrifying cuz serial killer + anger = not too good ending, right? But, would it be different since it’s Eddie?

Hiii babes!! I hope you like this, but remember it’s an argument so it’s not super fluffy🥺💖

-find all things Serial Killer Eddie here✨

TW: Yelling, mentions of blood and Eddie is a serial killer

Tag List: @clairesjointshurt @sofaritsalrightt @squidscottjeans @stardustmunson @amberpanda99

*You finally ask Eddie the question you’ve been dreading*

You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you hear the front door open and close letting you know Eddie is home. Eddie smiles as he walks into the house and sees you sitting on the couch in the living room, he drops his keys on the table by the front door and hangs his jacket up on the coatrack. You stand up so you can turn and face him and the look you give him makes the smile instantly drop from his face.

“What’s wrong baby?” Eddie feels his heart sink to his stomach as the possibility that you found out his dark secret begins to creep into his mind. You take a step closer to him and his eyes go wide as he sees a shirt in your hands, a very specific shirt he was wearing while doing not so nice things to a man named Jeffery about a few days ago.

“How long have you been cheating on me?” Eddie wants to let out a sigh of relief but he knows better so he just takes a small step towards you with his hands reaching out for you. “And please don’t fucking lie to me Edward.” It’s the way you say his name with almost a hint of hatred that makes his heart want to break.

“I’m not cheating on you sweetheart.” You just shake your head as you toss the shirt at him making it land at his feet.

“Then explain why there’s a mysterious red stain on the collar of your shirt that looks an awful lot like a tacky shade of red lipstick.” Eddie bends down and grabs the shirt so he can look at the collar and when he sees the few smeared drops of red he can’t help but roll his eyes because how the hell did blood manage to get on his collar he could’ve sworn he was careful. “Don’t roll your eyes at me like I’m crazy.” Your voice is dripping with hurt making Eddie instantly regret his actions.

“It’s just blood baby.” You take a step backwards when Eddie takes a step towards you with the shirt still in his hand. “I swear I’m not cheating on you.” Eddie hears you sniffle letting him know you’re close to crying so he takes a few more steps and grabs your arms before you can move further away from him.

“It’s just blood? How did blood get on the collar of your shirt Eddie? Please explain that to me.” You pull your arms out of Eddie’s hold and cross them over your chest as he lets out a sigh and runs a hand over his face.

“I work at a plant baby and things happen, I must’ve cut myself or something.” Eddie knows by the way you roll your eyes that you’re not buying his excuse. “It’s not lipstick.” He snaps making you jump a bit since it’s very rare Eddie ever speaks to you in a harsh tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You turn and head into the kitchen making him take a few calming breaths before he rushes after you.

“I’d know if you cut yourself.” You begin washing the dishes in the sink as a way to busy your mind and keep yourself from crying. “Just tell me the truth Eddie.” He watches you grip the edge of the sink as your shoulders drop. Eddie slowly crossed the length of the kitchen so he’s standing right behind you.

“I’m not cheating on you Princess.” Eddie reaches out and gently places a hand on your shoulder so he can turn you around so you’re facing him. “It’s just blood.” Eddie feels his heart drop when he sees a few tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t know how it got there but I swear that’s all it is.” He explains as he reaches up with both hands to cup your face so he can wipe away the tears from under your eyes with his thumbs. “I love you so much.” You reach up and place your hands over his that are still on your face.

“I love you too.” Your voice is low as Eddie leans down and places a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Eddie just shakes his head as you look down at your feet now embarrassed that you even accused him of doing anything bad in the first place.

“Don’t do that.” Eddie drops his hands from your face so he can place them on your shoulders as he bends down so you’re now looking him right in the eyes. “You had every reason to be upset okay? I’m the one who’s sorry I should’ve explained the stain to you the moment I got home and needed it cleaned.” You let out a sniffle as you rest your head on Eddie’s chest making him wrap his arms around you.

“I love you.” Eddie smiles at you when he looks down and sees you looking up at him.

“I love you too baby.” He responds before placing a kiss to your lips. Eddie feels the guilt begin to sink in as you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to pull him closer to you, he tries to shake it off as he gives you a squeeze and places a kiss to the top of your head. He knows one day you’re going to accuse him of doing something horrible and he’s not going to be able to lie his way out of it because it’s actually going to be the truth.

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gaysindistress · 7 months

Note

I love u like I’ll get on my knees 😍😍😍😍 CAN U PLEASEEEE PLEASEEEE do TFAWS!Bucky x Latina reader?? maybe more specifically Brazilian?? we need some rep 🥺🥺 HAHA actually though like reader is good friends with Sam and Sam introduces them? Please, and thank u the dead love of my life

AHAHHAAHWH MY FIRST REQUEST!!!! thank you so much love!!

Okay okay so here’s a little Drabble for ya! I feel like this could be a full one shot?? Maybe after my follower celebration that starts on Friday! Also I wrote this on my phone so I apologize if there are any spelling/grammar errors.

Anjo -Portuguese for “angel”

mãe - Portuguese for “mom”

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 1.2k (this was only meant to be 500ish words…)

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

“Please tell me that you didn’t text him,” My coworker asks with an edge of dread and disgust in her voice. For the last two hours of our shift, Lilly has been on me about the guy who left me his number yesterday.

It had been a slow day with only regulars really coming in so a decent looking young guy walking in felt like Christmas. Lils was on it and immediately put on her best flirt, fluttering her big eyes and matching lashes at him when he ordered. I wanted to laugh at the scene but that died when he flashed a smile my way and handed me his number. It was quickly followed by some passing comment about how he hates it when girls throw themselves at him. I had half a mind to throw his coffee on him but I knew my boss would have my head. I settled for plastering a fake smile on my face and saying “Vai pro caralho.” Of course the ignorant asshole thought I was being nice and winked at me. It took all of my strength to not shutter in disgust.

“You should know me better than that,” I throw back at her, “from that 2 minute interaction alone, I can already tell that he would talk about himself the entire date before saying something borderline foul like how Latinas girls are his favorite and he can’t stand white girls .”

Lils snorts as she takes a sip of her coffee, nearly choking and sending the hot liquid flying over the freshly cleaned counter. I arch a dark brow at her which makes her laugh even harder.

“What? Am I wrong? You can’t tell me that he wouldn’t have pulled out that high school Spanish to impress me.”

“No, no,” she stutters, wiping the coffee up, “it just caught me off guard is all. Wait, didn’t you say something to him in Spanish before he left? What did you say?”

I narrow my eyes at her, “Vai pro caralho? Babes you should know better.”

She looks at me in horror, “oh my god it was Portuguese, wasn’t it?”

I nod as she profusely apologizes, “I am so sorry, Y/N. Oh my god I’m not better than that asshat. Ugh, what does that mean though?”

The front door opens before I have the chance to speak and the little bells above alerts us to the one regular that never fails to put a smile on my face. Sam had been coming in since before I started working at Brewed Awakenings but after that first interaction, he came pretty much daily. He even got Sarah his sister to start coming in and within a matter of a few weeks, I was invited over for Sunday dinner.

“It means Go fuck yourself,” I tell Lils as I round the counter with a bright smile and wide arms. Sam matches me and wraps me into a tight hug.

“Good morn, Anjo. How are you?” He asks as he squeezes me into this chest.

I pull back and give him my best angry mãe look we I demand to know where he’s been for the last few weeks.

He holds his hands up in defense as he says, “put those eyes away, Anjo. Im sorry okay? I was on official business and I didn’t have time to swing by to let you know but I’m back.”

I don’t let up my expression at first and lecture him some more, “You better be. You were gone for like…”

I pause for dramatic effect to pretend to count the time while walking back around the counter, “6 weeks. I was about to send out a search and rescue team to find you. Ridiculous.”

Sam chuckles while shaking his head at me. He steps to the side to reveal a man that’s been standing behind him and one that I hadn’t noticed before.

A damn attractive man.

Albeit a bit judgmental given the looks he’s throwing at the both of us.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” Sam tries but stops when I shot him another mãe look. He quickly changes the subject, clapping his hand on his companion’s shoulder and introducing him, “well this is Bucky. He’s the reason I was gone so if you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at him.”

Bucky.

He looks familiar but I can’t quite figure out why. The massive resting bitch face forced me I stop the search before offering him a bright smile as I repeat his name.

This seems to…irritate him? I honestly can’t tell with the stone wall of moodiness and brooding that lives on his drop dead gorgeous face.

“Well welcome in Bucky, I’m Lilly but everyone calls me Lils and this is y/n,” Lils jumps in with an equally wide smile. His dark eyes flicker between us but hover half a second longer on me. He utters a low “thank you” and looks up to the menu.

Sam rolls his eyes at his short answer but his ever present smile never fades as he orders his usual, a large hot mocha with soy milk. I’ve tried to get him to switch to coconut or even hemp milk but he refuses. He always gives me the whole speech about how “soy is the closest to real milk and if I’m going to drink alternative milk, it has to be close to the real thing.”

“And for you?” I turn my attention to Bucky while Lils starts on Sam’s order. He looks me with slightly wide eyes, a little startled it seems that I’m still talking to and looking at him.

He freezes for a moment, “uh…um a large house coffee.”

“Of course,” Lils jumps in once again and slides a cup across the counter to him. The loud volume of her voice causes him to flinch and Sam instinctively steps in front of him. He takes the cup without another word and fills it while Sam pays and throws a shamelessly flirty smile to Lils. She mocks faintly in a fit of giggles and winks at him.

Sam turns his attention to him and subtlety jerks his chin towards the door, wordlessly asking me if I’ll walk them out. Lils caught it too and rolls her eyes before shooing us out the door.

“She means no harm. She’s just…cheery,” I tell Bucky when the door closes behind us and we step onto the side walk, “I can tell her to tone it back for when you come in next.”

Sam chuckles under his breath and tries to hide a smile behind his cup but fails miserably. Bucky shots him another one of those bored looks and rolls his beautiful eyes at him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he finally says to me and actually makes eye contact with me, “Y/N.”

I offer him another wide smile and stick my hand for him to shake. He glances down at my watch and rings before taking my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. Don’t let Sam fill your head with too many tales and I hope to see you soon.”

The man in question basically squawks in protests as I hug him goodbye and disappear back into the coffee shop.

About an hour after I get home, I get a text from Sam saying something along the lines of “Robo cop liked you and asked for your number.”

Moments later a D.C. number sends me a text and I quickly save it under “Bucky (aka Robo Cop according to Sam)”

That’s when it clicks who he is; Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Solider and the most attractive man I’ve ever met.

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angelbaby-fics · 2 years

Note

HAIIII! HUGE fan of your work 💗 May i pwease request a Stucky x little!reader fic where your a Target (or any huge store liek it) with Steve and you been bad all week so you can’t get toys, so you start being bratty and run off and then once he has a whole goose chase to find you, and he says the dreaded “just wait til bucky hears about this.” with timeout and spanking ends with fluff! SORRY IF ITS TOO MUCH ! Feel free to skip! Have a wonderful day !

Crime And Punishment

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I love this request omg 🥺 also for future reference I just personally don't write spankings but you didn't know so thats ok! I hope you still like it despite that!! 💕💕

You stomped proudly across the linoleum floors, your sneakers lighting up with every step. You usually liked to sit in the basket of the cart as one of your daddies pushed you around the store, but today you were eager to show off your new shoes. The shelves around you were stocked to nearly overflowing, but you had your sights set on just one thing. As you rounded the corner into the next aisle, you zeroed in on the boxes of Calico Critters all stacked in a row. Shaking your hand free from Steve’s firm grasp, you began to skip your way over to the shelf, reaching out and nearly grabbing the nearest box to you when suddenly a tug on the strap of your overalls pulled you stumbling back.

“Hey now, you know better than to run away from me in a big store.” Steve said, coming up from behind you and placing a big hand on your shoulder.

You turned your body towards him, but kept your eyes on the toys.

“Dada look! New furniture for my babies!” You said, reaching out to the rows and rows of colored boxes with a grin, but Steve only shook his head.

“Not today, baby.” Steve replied, knowing you well enough to know what you were going to ask without you even posing the question.

Your stomach dropped and your smile disappeared. Surely Steve wasn’t going to let you leave the store without a little treat, was he? Maybe he thought you were asking for the whole shelf, which, to be fair, was something you would do. To show how reasonable you could be, you grabbed a smaller box of accessories and held it out towards Steve.

“Just one, dada?” You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster, But Steve wasn’t letting up.

“No, sweetie, not on this trip.” He replied, the patience starting to drain from him as evidenced by his less-than-enthusiastic tone of voice.

You stomped your foot in frustration.

“And that's exactly why.” Steve said with the kind of sternness that you rarely had to hear but you hated all the same. “You’ve been acting up like this lately and I’m not going to entertain it anymore. Now put it back and let’s go.”

He was right, you had been acting quite spoiled lately. It wasn’t entirely your fault; Steve and Bucky were weak to your pleading and had a bad habit of giving you everything you asked for. They’d sat you down earlier that week to let you know that from now on, special treats and toys had to be earned, and so far, you weren’t taking that transition well. Even when Bucky came home one day with a big box full of stickers, and Steve spent hours drawing up the perfect chart for you to track your good behavior, you just didn’t want to have to wait until your chart was full to get a new set of clothes for your Calico Critters. You decided to pull out your secret weapon.

“Pretty please, Dada? I’ll be really good, I promise.” You asked, your eyes wide and watery. Your lower lip jutted out as you made eye contact with Steve, expecting his stern face to break like usual, but it never happened.

“Just drop it, honey. Please don’t cause a scene here.” He glanced to the side, almost regretting his decision to stand firm. “But… I said please!” You tried to reason, but you couldn’t help your frustration coming out with a whine in your voice.

“And I said no! Now put it back.” Steve raised his voice, not loud enough for the whole store to hear, but enough to turn the heads of the other people occupying the store aisle. You felt all their eyes on you, and immediately felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. With a caregiver as famous as Steve Rogers, you knew that you, in some capacity, had a reputation to uphold. And now all the local shoppers could see that Captain America’s little one was behaving like a brat. Shame filled your belly as your pleading eyes turned to actually tearful ones. The box still in your hand, your only goal now was to get away from all the people around you, so you turned and bolted down the aisle.

Steve sighed. He knew that this new rule was going to be hard to enforce, and he expected at least a tantrum or two on your end. You’d never been this naughty before, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He abandoned the cart at the end of the aisle so it wouldn’t block anybody’s walkway and muttered a quick “sorry” to the other customers before chasing after you. Once Steve emerged from the aisle, he looked around, scanning as much of the store as he could see with his enhanced vision until he spotted the lights of your shoes glittering from under a rack of clothing. He marched his way over and pushed a chunk of hangers aside to reveal you huddled in on yourself, the toy box still in your clutch.

“Come on.” Steve commanded, his hand outstretched but not at all inviting. You pushed yourself up and walked towards Steve, who hooked his arm around you and sat you on his hip, no longer allowing you the chance to run away again. He grabbed the toy box from your hands a bit rougher than he meant to.

“Am I in trouble?” You whimpered as Steve carried you back to the abandoned cart, clearing a space amongst the items and lowering you, still gently as always, into the basket.

“That’s up to Bucky to decide” He replied coldly. “Now I don’t want to hear another word out of you until we get home.

You both knew that Steve didn’t have the heart to follow through with punishments the way he should, and you both knew that Bucky did. If Steve were the one to do it, you’d probably be able to get away with a 30 minute timeout, and probably not even have to serve a full sentence. Bucky, on the other hand, had far less tolerance for misbehavior, and Steve tended to allocate the punishments to him. It was like a good cop/bad cop situation but with dadas.

You sat in uncomfortable silence as Steve picked up the last few items on his shopping list and proceeded to the checkout. He made short but friendly small talk with the cashier while you fiddled with your shoelace. The friendly employee noticed your poor mood and offered you a lollipop from behind the counter, but Steve declined on your behalf before you could accept it. He paid for his items and took all the bags in one arm, guiding the cart into the station and lifting you to his hip with the other.

The ride home was equally tense, with Steve opting for a podcast he knew you’d find boring instead of the radio or your favorite playlist. The entire way back to the compound, you sat anxiously running your hands up and down the straps of your car seat and occasionally glancing at Steve in the rearview mirror. You hoped to find some comfort in his face, but he just kept his mouth straight and his eyes on the road. When your car pulled into the garage, he unstrapped you from your car seat without a word and carried you and the groceries to the elevator before setting you down to walk into the apartment on your own.

When the doors opened into your home, Bucky was waiting with a smile to welcome you in and help put away the groceries, but his smile dropped as soon as he saw Steve’s angry face and your terrified one.

“Bedroom. Now. Bucky and I need to talk first before we decide what your punishment will be.” Steve commanded, and you gave him one last pleading look before trudging to your room.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, his voice full of concern.

“That one,” Steve replied, not bothering to check if you were still within earshot as he began stacking frozen foods into the freezer, “threw a fit in the middle of the store for everyone to see. Completely disrespected me and all the good behavior we’ve been trying to instill.”

“I see,” Bucky nodded, “and what did you do about it?”

“Well I- I didn’t do anything.” Steve faltered, looking to the ground. “I just sort of yelled. God, I should have handled that better.”

“No, Steve, it's okay,” Bucky reassured him. “You were right to talk to me about it, it's good that we work this out together. Now, tell me everything.”

As Steve recounted your incident in the store, you sat on the floor of your room, your back against the wall and your head in your hands. This was it, you just knew it. There was no way your daddies would want to take care of you anymore after you’d disrespected Steve like that. You braced yourself for the moment they would come into your room and tell you to pack up your things, never to see them again. The minutes felt like hours as your thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper into despair. When the knock finally came to your door, you couldn’t even muster the courage to tell your daddies to come in.

“Sweetie? It’s Baba, please open up.” Bucky spoke through the door, but you were too anxious to move.

“We just want to talk, honey.” Steve chimed in, his voice far softer and sweeter than it had been earlier in the day. “Is it okay if we come in?”

You nodded, then realized they couldn’t see you, so you choked out a hoarse “ok” and the doorknob turned.

Steve’s already broken heart cracked a little more at the sight of you cowered in your room. He felt so bad for losing his temper in the store. Not wanting to scare you more, the two men remained in the doorway. They wanted nothing more than to just run over and cradle you and forget the whole thing, but they knew that in the big picture, this was a family discussion that needed to happen.

“Before we start, do you have anything to say to us?” Bucky asked, and you nodded eagerly before spilling out all the words that had been stuck bouncing in your head all afternoon.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I threw a fit in the store and I’m sorry I ran away. I love you Dada and I love you Baba. I love you more than all the toys in the world! Please don’t make me go away forever!” You dissolved into tears, hiccuping the last words of your speech.

If Steve and Bucky even had any more heart left to break, it was in microscopic pieces right now. Steve was the first to come to you, pushing past Bucky and scooping you into his arms and holding you fast against his chest.

“Angel, we would never make you go away if you don’t want to.” He reassured, kissing your tears away as Bucky joined the two of you in a hug sandwich.

“We love you more than anything in the world,” Bucky added, “and all we want is to talk, so we can keep loving you, and so you can keep loving us too. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sniffed, your face still buried against Steve’s shoulder.

“We’re so proud of you for apologizing, doll.”

“And Dada wants to apologize too.” Steve added.

“You do?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I do. I’m sorry I raised my voice at you in the store.”

“And you snatched the toy out of my hand.” You whispered quietly.

“I did, didn’t I? Dada can be a little scary even when he doesn’t mean to be, huh? I’m so sorry, sweetheart, do you forgive me?”

You nodded again.

“I forgive you too, angel.” Steve hugged you even closer, careful not to break you with his strength.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we do still need to discuss the consequences of today’s incident.” Bucky interrupted the moment.

You sighed, knowing that just an apology wasn’t going to be enough, but still hoping your good behavior would lighten your sentence. You readied yourself for the possibility of losing screen time for the foreseeable future, or going to bed before sundown all summer long.

“We were discussing in the living room,” Bucky began, “and we think it would be fair that you go to bed early tonight, and no dessert after dinner.”

Your head perked up from Steve’s chest.

“That’s all?” You asked, hoping this wouldn’t make them reconsider and add more time to your punishment.

“Not quite.” Bucky continued with a smirk, and Steve looked at him incredulously.

“Buck, that’s all we discussed. What else do you have in mind?” “As punishment for shouting in the store, Dada must give his baby 25 kisses. Does that sound fair, baby?” Bucky turned to you with a grin.

You giggled and nodded.

“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that judgment.” Steve said, before swooping in to attack you with sweet and sincere kisses.

With caregivers like these, you made a promise in your heart to never disobey ever again… or at least try really really hard to be good!

Taglist: @babybatdani @cherryynoirr @simpingbutch @xxxqueenlaufeysonxxxxo @mogaruke @flthyhrts @mariexoxosblog @stuckysgirl27 @midnight-dreams-23 @mischiefsemimanaged @0witchtrials0 @my-river-lilly @erynnnn @tired-spider-siblings @tamzindouglas @st3rgirl @rach2602 @bradfordmyworld @keirabux @teddybearsgrr @sleepybabyxo @bunnyweasley23 @simpforsebastianstan06 @angies1021 @acahope311 💕

(join here!)

#little!reader #bucky x little!reader #stucky x little!reader #steve x little!reader #chloe's fic

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asumofwords · 9 months

Note

Alright anon, I'm willing to sacrifice myself so here's a mini scenario.

You woke up, breathing heavily, tears streaming down your face and you immediately snapped your head to the direction of aemond.

He was laying there, eye hooded, looking at the ceiling, you felt your heart stop in your chest, thinking he was dead until you noticed how his chest rose and fell, and you sighed out of relief.

He turned his head to you, realising that you're awake, but he quickly noticed your panicked state, brows furrowing, “What's the matter?” he asked, voice laced with concern and care, the same eye which you saw the light fade away from, now glinting in the moonlight.

You sobbed “i-im sorry-” voice croaked and he took you immediately into his arms, “whatever for?” silently hushing you, you remained silent, and just shook your head, not wanting to remember the nightmare, “A nightmare?” he asked and you nodded, but he didn't pry any further. But then you felt the situation weigh upon you, knowing he was still going to war with your parents, and your heart beat against your chest in a furious pace.

“I've decided to renew the terms.” he says, out of nowhere and you look at him confused before it dawns on you.

The treaty.

He was going to renew the terms.

“I have realised, we have too much to lose, I cannot bear the mere thought of losing you or our child for this childish vengeance of mine.” he spoke, “It doesn't mean I forgive your family, I do not. I'm only doing this for you, our child.” he clarified, and you nodded, but you had already asked for star fruit, so dread weighed upon you. “I have sent a raven, they would receive it by the morrow.” he told you and you gulped.

“I will rule half of the realm, while your mother rules the other half, our heir shall rule a united one.” he tells you the terms, and you look at him, hoping your mother would agree.

And agree they did, you asked aemond to let you visit your mother to talk to her in person, to which he surprisingly agreed to, letting you mount on vermithor and leave for dragonstone, placing an utmost trust in you, your parents couldn't believe their eyes when they saw you.

They quickly assumed the worst but you explained everything clearly to them, you knew they would be disappointed that you loved aemond, after all he had done to you, but they understood, rhaenyra was happy to have her child back, but it was time for you to go back to kings landing, promising that you would visit often, your mother kissed you three times on the forehead and your father gave a tight hug, and a kiss on the forehead before you left.

Everything was fine, the tensions were still there but not to the point there would be a new war, you didn't know what made aemond change, but you were glad he did.

And so, a few moons later, your son was born, he bore heavy resemblance to his father, especially his eyes, and you came to love the same shade of purple again.

And aemond also got his tiddy milk 😍😍😍😍

IK THE PACING WAS TOO QUICK AND UNREALISTIC BUT THIS WOULD'VE TURNED INTO A 7K WORD FANFIC OF SF&A IF I LET MYSELF GO COMPLETELY HAHDWJDJW, I rushed the ending sorry guys 🥺

BUT HE GETS HIS BOOB JUICE YIPEE HURRAY!!! EVERYONE CHEER!!

I wanted to elaborate on the boob juice part in detail but like I said, this would've been a 7k long fanfic of a fanfic if let go....

And Aemond got his TIDDY milk

Bitch I’m screaming

Why was this so SWEET GO AWAY 😭😭😭😭 my heart is aching

You better be writing your own work with this talent !!!! 🖤🖤🖤

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wispstalk · 1 year

Note

feel free to ignore this if you don't want random prompts, but i'd love to see a glimpse of Tanis at the palace if Martin had lived 🥺👉👈 does Cat come with them?

It was foolish of Martin to dismiss the tailors. It rankles to have them dressing him, as if he hasn’t put his own damned clothing on each morning. Well, he hasn't, of late; he's been sweating through the sheets and babbling half-mad into a darkened chamber. But let him have his pretenses, he thinks, let him cling to the illusion that he is something more than a doll to be preened and polished and propped on an imposing stone chair.

This first brush with Nibenese formal dress proves harrowing. Only two days out of that grand and dreary sickbed, his shaking limbs will not obey him. Just when he thinks he’s got the sash right, it falls from his shoulder, pooling ruby-red on the floor. He can’t bend to get it, not without the cane, which he left across the room. It wouldn’t do, Ocato said carefully, for the people to see their new Emperor so frail.

“Stubborn as ever,” says Tanis, from where he glowers in a gilded chair, already in his finery. “I’ll call the tailors back.”

“Don’t.” Martin gathers yards of linen into his arms, tugging sharply when it catches; realizes with dismay that Cat has pounced upon the trailing hem. “I’ve half a mind to throw this in the hearth and be crowned in my bedrobe.”

“If I have to look the part,” Tanis replies, the words pushed out like splinters, “so do you.”

“It’s an empty title, Tan, nothing is expected of you. Purely ceremonial. It’s only meant as an honor.”

“Honor,” he spits. “Yes, they’ll honor me so they can stomach me; they’ll have me kneel as if I’m the one indebted, and swear this and that, and make some holy vow to that dragon god of yours, the one that nearly cooked your brains—”

“Tanis.” Martin pulls fruitlessly at the fabric. Cat sinks her claws in, shredding the fine weave.

“I told you I’d swear no vows to the Empire. I told you. Higher and deeper, priest, once they've got their hooks in—”

“Tanis.” Cat has her prey in a death roll now; her back paws kick furiously at the gold tassel trim. “You needn’t accept Ocato’s offer.”

Gingerly, Martin lifts one foot to kick at the air, in hopes of shooing her off, but his bones scream in protest and his knee buckles and he realizes with resignation that in a moment he will be a puddle on the floor, just like the ruined cloth—

“But I will accept.” The voice sounds just above him. A hand catches his arm as he’s halfway down, pulls him back to standing, guides his shaking fingers to the handle of the cane. “Because you asked me to.”

With a deft and practiced hand— only one, the other arm is in a sling, silver silk to match the trim on his elegant suit— Tanis folds the cloth to hide the snagged threads and circles him, winding him up like a drop-spindle. The Emperor’s vestments are draped and tucked and secured, the tassels sit exactly as they should.

Tanis inspects his work, mouth tight. Then he looks Martin full in the face. “Do it here,” he says, his expression solemn. “This way I’ll— just do it now.”

And while Martin stammers, the other man— the storied Hero of Kvatch, the Arch-Mage looking every bit a dread sorceror in his dark suit and spangled half-cape— drops to one knee and bows his head, the very picture of chivalry.

Then he opens his mercenary mouth. “And don’t go calling on that old bitch Akatosh. You tell him to keep his grubby claws to himself from here on.”

“The holy vow is— well, it’s the crux of the thing, I’m afraid. Who do you suggest I invoke? Azura, or—”

“Oh, get on with it, for fuck’s sake,” Tanis mutters.

Martin can make do with what he’s given. “Tanis Irathi, do you swear,” he intones gravely, “this and that?”

Tanis shoots him a befuddled glance— then bows his head once more, hiding a grin. “And the other,” he affirms.

No sword with which to strike these heroic shoulders, so he taps his cane to either side of Tanis’s neck. “Let this be the last blow you receive unanswered.” No gods to bear them witness, so he proclaims: “Arise, Champion of Cyrodiil, and go forth and defend the helpless, for Fuck's sake.”

No courtly crowd to hail the new-made knight as he stands, only their laughter ringing off the grand vaulted ceiling. They clutch each other and cackle like a pair of gulls. It's laden, this laughter, with absurdity, with victory, with sheer relief. Battered beneath all their frippery, with only Fuck to call upon in their times of need; and yet, here they are. If not whole, at least alive.

Cat watches the commotion with eyes wide and ears flicked back in alarm. What a sight they must be, the Emperor and his knight.

#tes oblivion #elder scrolls #martin septim #hero of kvatch #oc: tanis #ray writes

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lumiereandcogsworth · 2 months

Note

also, idk if april's fools day was a thing back then, or if the french would've been celebrating but hey, a man turned into a beast so I will ask, do they celebrate april fool's day, and prank each other?

okay so, not only did adam and belle definitely know about april fool’s day, but one strong theory of the day’s origin is actually IN FRANCE!

there’s mystery as to where it came from, spanning all over europe from the 14th to the 16th century, but one prominent theory is that it had its beginnings in france, in the 1582. it started when the council of trent called for everyone to switch from the julian calendar to the gregorian calendar. in the julian calendar, you start the year at the spring equinox, which i guess is april 1st. the gregorian is what we use, starting the year on january 1st. but since news spread a lot slower, there were many communities that were still using the julian calendar for years and years. so it became a joke that they were “april fools,” and eventually the day became a silly day for foolishness and pranks. one noted prank was having a paper fish placed on your back and being referred to as a poisson d’avril (april fish) - which was basically calling someone gullible. what a roast.

now as for my beloveds! i’ve always headcanoned that belle pranks adam sometimes… just because his grumpy face is so cute 🥺🥺🥺 adam definitely hates pranks, and DEFINITELY hates april fool’s day. i don’t think belle ever does any mean pranks, because that’s just not her style, but she’d definitely do very obnoxious ones, and absolutely get the servants involved. things like sending adam on a wild goose chase when he’s looking for her. every servant he asks gives him a different location that she ISN’T. causing him to wander in circles all over the castle, tragically looking for his wife😭 she also does things like mixing up the order of his shoes on the shelf on his dressing room, and hiding his ink jars so he can’t finish any of his work 😮‍💨 just little annoying things to drive him crazy 🥰🤗

i think belle gets it from her father. i imagine when she was growing up, april fool’s day was always a very silly day for them lmao.

but honestly i think the real trouble starts when adam & belle’s SON gets older. i think he’s a big prankster and definitely takes this day too far sometimes. like he’d make everyone think a horse somehow escaped from the stables, when really he just hid her safely somewhere else. if he happened to be away (at school or what have you) he’d write ridiculous letters, saying he’s eloped with a spanish princess who visited the city! congratulate us!! (belle immediately knows it’s a prank because she sees the date on the letter and she KNOWS her son just wouldn’t do that. but adam definitely has a moment where his brain has a 404 Processing Error.)

maurice also definitely did stupid shit like bringing chickens into the west wing, and one year he literally brought a COW into the BALLROOM. adam nearly had a heart attack from this one. he was so upset he made maurice clean the entire ballroom floor BY HIMSELF. “go ask the maids where the cleaning supplies are, you’ve got til the end of the day.” LMAO. teenage maurice is a crazy kid. he keeps those parents of his on their toes! obsessed with him frankly.

he was also a very pranky kid toward his sisters. mainly renée, since she always had such big, annoyed reactions to his shenanigans. juliette was either like :/ or :( and that just made him feel bad lol. but reecy loooooves to push renée’s buttons, and i’m sure she dreads him on april fool’s day every year😮‍💨

#i think it would genuinely be so funny if maurice & eloise got married on april 1st #like what if i made their anniversary april fools day. i think that would be very funny personally #or maybe their first kiddos is born on that day…. that’s cute too.#*kiddo #anyway reecy boy is the april fools day king 👑#much to his family’s dismay 😔#thank you!!!!! love being a tiny little historian 🤓#batb headcanons #batb 2017 #adelle #maurice #oc writing #alex tag #answered

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heisenberg-simp257 · 2 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you could make a lil story based off these lines? 22, 26, 27, 28, 29?

I love your Heisendad! 🥺🥹

Sure!💖 and thank you! So do I😁

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Moments of Reflection

A look into one of Heisenberg’s most precious memories.

#22 “Dance with me.”

#26 “Pregnant? Are you sure?”

#27 “I want a baby.”

#28 “Thank you for giving me a family.”

#29 “Nine months pregnant and still looking lovely.”

It was a tough life, out here in the mountainous region of Romania. It was a tough life regardless of all the lycans, other bioweapons, and Mother Miranda watching over you. However, despite that harsh lifestyle, you still found happiness.

You found Heisenberg.

He was one of the four lords, one of Mother Miranda’s dreaded creations. But he wasn’t like the others, you learned this after an encounter with Lady Dimitrescu. Heisenberg saved your life, after a heated argument with the lady herself. You never understood why, and he never really gave you a reason. The metal man just took you to the “safe haven” of his factory.

From there, your guy’s strained arrangement turned into a relationship which then turned into a marriage, or what you guys called being married. He was your husband, that’s all you knew.

And now, here is a story from your lives...

Heisenberg had something on his mind, something that was bothering him. He was fixing up some faulty wiring in one of his work rooms, which he soon realized was not a smart thing to do when you were deep in thought.

“Shit!” He whisper-cursed after shocking himself. Heisenberg dropped the tool he was using in shock, berating his leather gloves for not protecting him further.

“Are you alright?” Your voice floated in after hearing him shout.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine.” He simply said, brushing off the pain he felt. However, you could tell that it wasn’t just the shock that made him seem out of it. As he tried to go back to work, you entered the room further.

“Something on your mind?” You asked him while folding your arms.

“No.” He said gruffly without looking at you. It was his defensive that proved you were right. You let out a sigh.

“Karl, come here please.” You said gently, in your tone that usually got him to do what you wanted. With a sigh of his own, Heisenberg removed himself from the wires and came over to you just as you turned on a radio, in which some nice music came out of.

“Dance with me.” You said fondly, and the man before you rolled his eyes with a smile. However, he simply complied because he knew you were just trying to be nice. But he never was much of a dancer.

“So, are we going to talk about what has got you in such a funk?” You tried asking again, and you felt his hand squeeze your own when you asked that as the two of you danced simply to the music.

“No...it’s stupid.” He eventually said, still tense. You were pleased to receive more words than his last response, but it still wasn’t the answer you wanted.

“Karl, we can discuss anything together. Please, don’t hesitate...I want to help...We’re a team.” You said sweetly to him before pulling yourself closer, the music fading. Heisenberg hesitated a bit, his breathing speeding up as he looked anywhere but your eyes.

Then, he finally responded.

“I want a baby.” He said in such a quiet manner that you barely heard him. However, you did hear him, and the realization of what he said caused you to be stone still.

Lord Heisenberg wanted kids? Seriously? Now?

“Told you it was stupid...” He muttered before pulling away from you, seemingly embarrassed by what he just admitted to you. However, you quickly wrapped yourself around his arm to stop him from moving.

“That’s not it. I’m just surprised is all. I didn’t take you as the type of man who wanted to be a father.” You told him, and your husband softened slightly, so you loosened the grip on his arm.

“I’ve always wanted little monsters of my own...then Miranda took me away and turned me into a freak...I thought it was best to let that dream die...But then you came around, and I thought it might be possible again...” Heisenberg told you, his gaze staring far off at the wall. His confession broke your heart, and you laid your head on his shoulder in a loving manner.

“If that’s what you want, then it’s what I want as well.” You told him softly, and you could feel his head turn to look at you.

“You sure?” He asked, wanting to be absolutely sure that he wasn’t forcing you into this. Maybe in the past, but he cared deeply for you, and wanted to rise above the stereotypes people put on him.

“Let’s make it work. We’ll be the best parents ever.” You said, moving your head so you could give him a smile. With the softest grins you’ve ever seen on him, Heisenberg leaned down to kiss you.

He was grateful, so grateful, that you would be the one to give him what he lost the hope of ever having. So, with newfound determination, you guys decided to try for a baby...

...it’s been a couple months since then.

And while you didn’t tell Heisenberg yet, you were certain you were pregnant. Not only was your behavior changing, you were feeling sick, your body getting sore, and the obvious bloating in size, but you also missed your cycle which was a giveaway. That said, you waited a couple weeks and kept an eye on it.

Nothing changed, in fact, you gained more weight, and your stomach began to look rounder.

Now, you had to tell your husband.

“Karl? Are you in here?” You called into one of the rooms. The response you got was muffled but there, so you went in. There was Heisenberg, deep in thought, and working on one of his soldats.

“I have something to tell you.” You said to him in excitement, but he didn’t look up.

“I’m busy, Y/N. Could you make it quick?” He said, and you just rocked on your heels. He would regret those words after you said your news.

“I’m pregnant.” You simply said, and the room got so quiet that you could practically hear the wind howling outside. Heisenberg was stone still, only moving his head to look up at you. He seemed in shock, or that his body was moving on autopilot as he stopped what he was doing to move in front of you.

Finally, he said something.

“Pregnant? Are you sure?” He asked in surprise, hands gently coming to hold your waist. It took him a minute, but he finally noticed the swelling in your stomach and the glow you held.

“I think so.” You said with a grin. It’s not like you had a pregnancy test out here with you, and The Duke only carries so much with him. However, Heisenberg seemed to have an idea to make sure, and pulled you to the back room.

It was a medical room, and as you stared at in wonder, he pulled out a dusty looking machine that looked like it was for scrape than actually usage.

“Is that...an ultrasound machine?” You asked him in disbelief, wondering why he would have it. He nodded.

“Ultrasound is for more than just seeing babies, and I used this one to view the organs of my possible soldats. However, when I went to just using corpses, I stopped using her.” He explained while dusting off the machine and powering it up. You were amazed that it still worked. So, you lied on a table that was usually for dead bodies, and let your husband play around with the machine.

The blob you saw on the screen made his face light up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh my god...” He breathed, watching as the black and white fetus moved slightly as he pressed down on another spot on your stomach.

“This is...incredible.” You added, and he simply nodded.

After a couple more minutes of watching your guy’s baby, you decided enough was enough, so he stopped. Then, he moved to help you sit up by grabbing your hands. However, before you could fully stand, he wrapped you in a hug. After pulling away, he cupped your face in his hands.

“Thank you for giving me a family.” Heisenberg whispered to you, gently bringing his face to yours so your noses would touch. You smiled at his gratitude, even more so when you took in the fact that you guys would be a true family.

However, you guys still had months to go before the baby arrived. And looking at this factory, there was plenty of things that needed to be done. Heisenberg will soon realize that he was probably way in over his head. If he thought Mother Miranda was evil, just wait till you’re nearly full term...

...months have passed since that day.

Now, you were nearly nine months pregnant, around 39 weeks to be exact. Let’s just say you were heavy, hormonal, and so done with it. Heisenberg wasn’t much help either.

Not that you could really blame him.

The poor guy knew next to nothing about pregnancy. There was no one he could ask, and no books he could read. He just had to deal with any cramps, mood swings, or contractions came your way. You didn’t blame him for being paranoid because he had no clue what to expect.

All he did know was that nine months was eviction day for his kid.

“How are you feeling?” Your husband said to you after walking into the bedroom. He said that now nearly every time he saw you, and you tried your best to be kind each time.

“I’ve had more contractions, but otherwise...” You answered with a shrug. With the end in sight, you could go into labor at any second. No wonder Heisenberg has been around you so much.

As he nodded to your words, you looked down at your belly. You missed being able to see your toes, but it couldn’t be much longer. Lost in thought, you lifted up your shirt to just below your breasts in order to expose the skin of your belly. You slowly ran a hand over it.

Heisenberg wolf whistled from the sidelines.

“Nine months pregnant and still looking lovely.” He complimented with that smirk of his. You kept your hand on your stomach as you looked over at him with a playful glare. He simply laughed, and you rubbed your belly, feeling the child kick.

Then you felt the muscle beneath the skin tighten up like a drum.

You groaned in pain when another contraction hit you. They’ve been on and off all day, but this one felt like a period cramp times ten. Heisenberg noticed this, and was quickly by your side.

“Is it time, do you think?” He asked you, not really sure what to do. You were about to answer him, but then you felt water rush down your legs. You also thought you felt baby’s head for a second, but that feeling disappeared.

Well, Heisenberg had his answer.

He was about to go through one of the messiest and most stressful moments of his life. But, seeing the reward he gets out of it, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Miranda may’ve made him into a freak, but it was only in this life where he got to meet you.

And where he got to have a daughter.

#resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil village imagines #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine

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