#instead of prisons of nightmare | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pathologicalreid · 5 months

Note

Dude I love ur writing sm!! It’s literally so good and Buried Alive was amazing! If ur down for it (totally no pressure at all) I was wondering if u would eventually write a second part where Spencer helps the reader with the aftermath? Like maybe they struggle with PTSD or severe claustrophobia after that? Idk ur literally amazing enough I’m sure u have great ideas and again, it’s completely up to u, I was just wondering

above ground | S.R.

part one part three

in which spencer helps you cope with the aftermath of your abduction, and you reciprocate

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: hurt/comfort, angst

content warnings: claustrophobia, being buried alive, nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, death, cpr, use of pet names, mentions of drugs, therapy, suffocation

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hello anon! i am absolutely always down for spencer reid hurt/comfort!! thank you so much for asking!!! i've been super overwhelmed with all of the support i've received on buried alive and i'm so so grateful for all of the kind things people have said.

Standing in a dark room, you looked around your surroundings. There was nothing around you that told you where you were. The walls were all blank, the ground was cement, and it was too dark for you to even see the ceiling.

Hesitantly, you reached out your palm, touching the wall just for it to be met with something… damp? You pulled your hand away, and your skin came back dirty. Your stomach churned as you observed the soil that had settled in the creases of your fingerprints. “No,” you breathed, quickly moving to dig at the walls.

You felt it on your elbow next, like the dirt walls were encroaching on you. You turned around to see the dark room was just getting darker, and the walls started to deteriorate. Like an avalanche, the dirt of the walls falls to the ground, covering your feet, “No,” you cried out this time.

Digging at the walls just made your earthly prison bury you faster, so instead, you tried to climb toward the ceiling. You whimpered in defeat as you reached the previously unseen ceiling. The loose earth reached your chest, constricting your breathing. You tilted your head back in an attempt to keep the dirt out of your mouth.

Your face felt cool like a gentle breeze was being blown on it. You choked, but to your surprise, you didn’t choke on dirt.

There were hands on you, one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist. That didn’t make sense to you, someone hauled you into a sitting position, patting your back in an attempt to help you clear your throat.

The choking turned to coughing, which then turned to dry heaving off the edge of your bed. Very rarely did anything ever come out, but you kept a trash can there just in case. You blinked as someone reached over and turned on the lamp on your bedside table, the comforting hand remained on your back.

Desperately, you tried to catch your breath, tilting your head back as you tried to open your airway. “You’re safe. I’m right here, angel,” Spencer whispered from behind you, he leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades and drew hearts on your back with his index finger.

You took a deep, shuddering breath as you finally filled your lungs, visualizing the air going in and out of your body. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

Spencer continued whispering to you, not once did he tell you that your dream wasn’t real because it was real. To you, being buried alive was very real. The suffocation was real, it had happened to you.

Two months ago, you had been abducted and buried alive by a family, a mother and her two sons. All of whom were in jail awaiting trial. The two agents from the Omaha field office who had left you alone in the funeral home apologized profusely, you had a private meeting with the director of the FBI, and the BAU rallied behind you, it was nice, but none of it made the fear go away.

The first nightmare came the same night you were back in Virginia, and you had screamed so loud that your neighbors called the police. Spencer handled everything, and when the officers insisted that they needed to speak to you directly, he flashed his FBI credentials, something he really wasn’t supposed to do.

Your response was to avoid sleeping, at least at night. You stayed awake at night, reading, or watching TV with headphones on, and you slept during the day so that when you opened your eyes, you could feel the sun on your face. The problem was when you needed to go somewhere, you didn’t sleep, or when it rained, you didn’t sleep.

The exhaustion just made your anxiety worse, and Spencer caught on to it. He sat you down on the couch and held your hands, telling you that he understood that you didn’t want to feel like you were burdening anyone with your nightmares, but he needed you to understand that you were killing yourself at the same time.

He didn’t do it for everyone, but for you, Spencer took over the role of protector. He found you a therapist in the district that specialized in patients with PTSD and claustrophobia. It was an hour round trip, but Spencer was more than willing to take you the first few times.

Dr. Montgomery quickly diagnosed you with PTSD and claustrophobia. You hadn’t realized that claustrophobia was something you could be clinically diagnosed with, but the doctor told you that there’s a difference between a fear of enclosed spaces and what you had. He was straightforward, which you liked, and he told you that your claustrophobia was a response to the traumatic event that you had experienced.

A steady course of treatment that included medication and exposure therapy had slowly been giving you your life back.

But then there was Spencer.

Spencer had Morgan help him take the inside doors of your apartment off the hinges so air would flow, and you wouldn’t be afraid of suffocating. He left the ceiling fan in your bedroom on even as the weather cooled so the air never got stale.

Six weeks ago, you had mentioned offhandedly that you were having a hard time sleeping in total silence, and Spencer had come home later with a white noise machine.

When you apologized to him for needing the lights on to sleep, he responded by stringing lights around the entire apartment, telling you he read that warm light can help prepare the mind and body for sleep.

He turned in all of his PTO, even accepting some from David Rossi, who didn’t use his anyway, so he could stay home with you while you were on mandatory medical leave. He tagged along to therapy appointments, to the neurologist, and even to the FBI physician who needed to clear your physical injuries to your ribs before you could return to the field.

On his nightstand, there was a stack of books all about claustrophobia and loving someone with PTSD.

Not once through this whole endeavor did you question your relationship with Spencer, he made himself perfectly clear through his actions. He wasn’t going anywhere.

The FBI physician cleared you two weeks ago, your neurologist faxed Hotch paperwork stating you were without any deficits, and your psychiatrist told you that as long as you felt like you could avoid your triggers, you should be able to go back to work. In fact, Dr. Montgomery thought going back to work could be beneficial.

You were supposed to go back tomorrow.

Spencer was now sitting in front of you, and he offered you a small smile as you blinked yourself out of your nightmare-induced stupor and met his eyes, “There’s my girl,” he whispered. For a moment, you focused on his movements, smoothing your hair back with one hand and leaving the other hand resting on your waist. “I love you. You’re safe, you’re at home with me,” he reassured you.

You narrowed your eyebrows, “It was- I was in the ground again.” Hesitantly, you looked down at your hands, they were perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen.

“It was a night terror, angel,” he said, speaking gently to you as he reached over and pulled the strap of your tank top up and over your shoulder from where it had fallen. A night terror, not a nightmare.

Tears dropped down your face when you closed your eyes. “I couldn’t breathe,” you whimpered. Taking a gasping breath, you looked at Spencer as you tried to draw air into your lungs, “I couldn’t breathe, Spence. I couldn’t breathe.”

Quickly, Spencer pulled you into his lap and held you, “Shh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured as you set your chin on his shoulder and cried.

“I suffocated,” you whispered, it was a fact of your life, that you had stopped breathing for a period of time. The doctors estimated you had been down for almost ten minutes.

His hold on you tightened, “I know,” his voice broke slightly. “I know, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” He asked, watching you intently as he reached up and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

You blinked the last of your tears from your eyes before meeting his, “Can we go outside?” You asked him, placing your hands on both of his shoulders.

Spencer nodded, leaning over to grab his glasses off of his nightstand before standing up and picking you up as he went.

Instinctively, you yelped, but a laugh escaped your lips. It was a foreign feeling sometimes, but Spencer always knew how to elicit a smile from you. “Put me down,” you said, but your tone was light.

Once your feet were touching the ground, Spencer looked at you, “I just wanted to see you smile.” He said earnestly.

Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Thank you.” You reached over to grab your phone off the charger and slide it into your pocket before you led Spencer out to your apartment’s balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs and pulled you down onto his lap.

You let him hold you, not moving and just letting your body settle on top of his. The cool autumn air filled your lungs as Spencer held you. You let him hold you because you knew that his fear was just as valid as yours. While you were afraid of confinement because you had been confined, he was afraid of you dying because you had died.

“I can hear you thinking, honey,” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” You asked him, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together.

He sighed, “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I want to tell you not to go back to work yet, even though I know that logically it’s the next step for you,” Spencer said, you watched his honey-colored eyes as they studied your face. “And I know that you need it, you need to return to something dependable.”

You move your head so you can look him in the eyes better, “But?”

“But,” he continued, “the BAU isn’t dependable. You have this great routine that we’ve very nearly perfected and I’m so worried about you straying from it. The long hours at work could very well cause you to lose all of the progress you’ve made in the last two months,” he tells you candidly. “What happens when you need to get on an elevator, or when you need to get on the jet, and you can’t? What about when you-“ He cut himself off, swallowing thickly before he said something he couldn’t take back.

You shifted so you were facing him, shoulder to shoulder, “What is it, Spence?”

He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek with his hand, “The last case you worked on, you died. I pulled your dead body out of a casket. Fuck, Y/N,” his curse took you aback, he usually strayed from swearing. “I did CPR on you before Morgan took over,” he finished, voice growing hoarse.

Your lips parted; you couldn’t answer him. You didn’t know how to answer him, but you took his hand and selected his third and index finger before pressing them to the pulse point on your wrist. In response, he sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. You watched his lips move as he silently counted the beats per minute.

The both of you jumped when your phone went off, and dread filled your stomach when you checked your phone.

Penelope Garcia: Local case. Round table room in thirty if you’re up for it.

“If you ask me to stay home, I will,” you told Spencer, sweeping his curls behind his ears. “I won’t hold it against you, I’ll tell Hotch I need more time.”

Spencer shook his head, “You know I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision for you, and I don’t want you to make the decision for me, you need to choose what you want.”

You both went, Spencer distracted you for the entire elevator ride up to the BAU, but he was still tense. Even though he insisted he was fine, you knew him better than that.

Spencer followed you up to Hotch’s office and when you told Hotch you wanted to work but you didn’t feel ready to be in the field, your unit chief nodded and told you that you were welcome to stay in the local precinct and work on a geographical profile with Spencer.

You watched the tension leave Spencer’s body. He tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but you just rolled your eyes and dragged him to the roundtable room.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid whump #spencer reid hurt/comfort #david rossi #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid angst #written by margot #margot's asks #criminal minds angst

2K notes · View notes

ailesswhumptober · 8 months

Text

Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023

It’s finally time! These are your official prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023! We have 31 days of wonderful whump prompts. Each day has a set of 3 different prompts to choose from! Alternative prompts will be posted under the cut.

Happy whumping!

Here are the alternative prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023! There is one alternative prompt for every day in October.

AI-less Whumptober 2023

Drugging / sick / poisoned

Overworked / insomnia / Exhaustion

Sensory deprivation / overstimulation / isolation

Hiding an injury / betrayal / lying

Hostage / kidnapping / Held at gunpoint

Conditioning / mind control / forced to hurt someone else

Flatline / Restrained / CPR

Panic attacks / Dissociation / Seizure

Scar reveal / Interrogation / Presumed dead

Branding / Scarring / collar

Fainting / Paralyzed / Adrenaline

Self harm / Sacrifice / Character death

Earthquake / Flood / Crushed

Bleeding through the bandage / Field medicine / no anesthesia

Experimentation / Muzzle / transformation

Amputation/ chronic pain / Hospital

Hypothermia / heat stroke / “You look a little pale”

Fever / vomiting / Warm soup

Taken for granted/ Left behind/ “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Dehumanization/ Stockholm Syndrome/ Master and servant

Blood loss / shock / Near death experience

Whipping / Punishment / Stress position

Begging / “Take me instead” / Forced to watch

Failed escape / hunted down / Too exhausted to keep running

Nightmares / Flashback / “Why didn’t you save me?”

Magical exhaustion or injury / Curse / Came back wrong

Forgotten/ Locked away/ Immortal Whumpee

Hair pulling / Oxygen Deprivation / Sweating

“The easy way or the hard way?” / Bargaining / Forced to choose

Possession / Mind Games / Coma

PTSD / Headaches / Crying Here are the alternative prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023! There is one alternative prompt for every day in October.

Bloody knuckles

Gunshot wound

Separated from loved ones

Drowning

Blackmail

Crying to sleep

Disowned by family

Electrocution

Forced feeding

Bullied

Suffocation

Abandoned

Grief

Human Shield

Self-defense

Lab rat

Memory loss

Misunderstanding

Hypnosis

Mutilation

Mouth stitched shut

Nerve damage

Nervous breakdown

Words carved into skin

Stalked

Non-Consensual touching

Paranoia

Peer pressure

Prison

Silent treatment

Truth serum

#ailesswhumptober2023 #whump prompt #whumptober #whump #whump community #whump tropes #prompt list

3K notes · View notes

swiftispunk · 1 year

Text

what i need | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: reader has a bad day, joel gives you what you need. you know, uh, fuck it, joel miller knife play. gif source.

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count: 3.4k

warnings etc: filthy smut, knife play, soft dom!joel, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), choking, orgasm delay, mild cumplay, unprotected p in v sex, face slapping, pet names, established relationship. no direct reference to reader age, joel is canon age (50s). NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: i'm a simple woman. i see joel miller with a switchblade and go absolutely feral. posting this total sin-fest while i work on some longer-form stuff, including a few requests.

Most days you can make it through a full 24 hours without caving in.

Most days you can go about your business, forgetting that the world ended, that everyone you ever knew or ever would know is dead.

Most days have gotten easier since you settled in Jackson with Joel.

But today is not most days.

Today, Joel's out on a supply run and Ellie's out at a movie, which gives you no choice but to be left alone with your thoughts. Sleep would only bring nightmares and you feel too detached to actually leave the house and do something.

So instead you pine hopelessly in a wooden chair that had come with the house, staring out of your bedroom window until day turns to night, waiting desperately for Joel to come home.

Joel, who could always numb your fears and quiet your agony. Joel, who always knows what you need to take your mind off the grim reality of your existence.

He knows, you think, because he needs it too.

He finds you in that same spot in front of the window when he arrives, long after dark. You smile softly at him when his silhouette emerges in the bedroom door, breathing in the relief of seeing him home safe.

“Fuckin’ shitshow out there today," he grumbles as he shrugs off his jacket and boots. "Stray clicker nearly got Tommy, got so close I had to knife it just to get it off us.”

“Are you hurt?” you ask, panic flaring, as you eye him up and down, looking for damage. You hear how distant your voice sounds though, and you think Joel hears it too.

“M’fine," he assures you, crossing the room to press a kiss to your forehead. "Ellie still out?"

"Late movie, I guess." The flat tone of your voice is unmissable now. Joel catches it naturally.

"Didn’t think you’d still be up," he says softly, soothing despite his gravelly timbre.

“Couldn’t sleep. One of those days."

“You wanna…talk about it?” he asks, already guessing the answer.

“No.”

Joel hears the insinuation in your voice; this is nothing new. He wraps his arms around you from behind, his broad form towering over your, his grip locking you in place. You sigh in tandem, Joel easily picking up on your energy, and vice versa. You can feel the stress of his day in the way his arms serpent around you fiercely. If a clicker had gotten that close, that meant he'd lost control.

You ache to give it back to him.

“What do you need, darlin’?” he leans in to whisper in your ear, but he already knows.

So you stand to face him full on, with his arms still vice gripped around you, so tight you may as well be his prisoner. Joel watches you carefully as you manage to reach into his front pocket and retrieve the switchblade you know he keeps there. It wouldn't have been the one he'd used to kill the clicker; that'll have been the knife he'd unholstered when he'd first come through the door.

Still, you hold it up between your bodies.

“You stabbed a clicker?" you inquire brazenly, looking up at Joel through your lashes. "How did you do it? Show me.”

You see a muscle flex in his jaw as he ponders your request. You watch as something shifts behind his eyes the moment he decides to grant it.

Never loosening the tight grip he has around you, he snatches the knife from your hand and you flinch when he clicks it to life, the shiny blade glowing in the dim light of your bedroom, just inches from your face.

“Sliced its neck..." he begins, voice low and dangerous.

Meticulously, his eyes never leaving yours, Joel angles the blade so it ghosts just over your throat "…right here."

“Did-did that kill it?”

Joel grins at how breathless you sound, how little it takes.

“Not quite," he continues. He glides the tip of the blade down your neck so it hovers just between your breasts. "Put it in its chest, right here."

He punctuates the word with just the faintest pressure, enough that you can feel the sharp point of the blade on your skin through the thin fabric of your camisole. You stay perfectly still as he slowly follows the same line he drew before back up your neck, along your jaw and up to your temple.

"Finished it like this." He holds the blade there, the tip pressed feather light over your temple, a threat that would feel very real if it was anyone other Joel holding the knife.

“Sounds scary," you manage to choke out, heart racing and heat rising inside you.

"You scared, sweetheart?" he hums, clutching the blade tighter so you can see the veins in his knuckles straining around the handle in your periphery.

You shake your head no. Not scared, never of him. Joel's the only person left you trust. That's why he's the only one who can treat you like this.

"Bed," he orders you then, his eyes turning an even darker shade of brown as he lets you go, knife still in hand.

You sit obediently on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently as Joel strips off his shirt but stays otherwise clothed. You don't bother removing any of your own clothes yet because -

"You're gonna listen to me now, you hear me, sweetheart? Just me."

It's what you've been waiting for. To give control over to him. To submit and forget, finally.

"Yes, Joel," you swear.

He approaches you unhurriedly, reaching out to clasp his calloused hand under your jaw, angling your face upwards so you're forced to look at him.

"Clothes, darlin'," he commands you then.

You obey without hesitation, removing your shorts and panties swiftly. He watches you carefully as you hook your fingers under your tank top and then Joel suddenly stops you.

"Not that," he says, like he's just thought of something. "Keep the shirt on."

You look up at him, confusion written all over your face. Joel always liked you completely naked for him, and you welcomed it. Surrendering to him meant being totally exposed to him.

Before you can think too much about it, Joel is hovering over you, wielding the blade in a manner almost menacing. You watch with bated breath as he carefully hooks the blade under the neckline of your tank top, just above your breasts. You gasp when, with expert maneuvering, he slices through the fabric with ease, right through centre, wrecking the old shirt and revealing your bare chest beneath.

Joel seems momentarily amazed at his own handiwork, a triumphant smile playing at the corners of his lips and his cock hardening in his jeans.

"You scared now?" he implores again.

You're a lot of things at that moment but scared isn't one of them. You shake your head.

"You can talk, babygirl," Joel grants you gently.

"N-not scared," you choke breathlessly, but your eyes dart to the knife still clenched in Joel's hands, giving you away.

Joel catches it.

"Don't look at that," he chides you sternly. "You look at me."

You will yourself to look into his smoldering eyes as he trails the blade over your bare chest, delicately circling the tip around each of your nipples at a pernicious pace. You can feel how wet his careful movements are making you, but you don't dare risk touching yourself. Not until Joel says.

Your mouth falls open as he begins to trace the blade over your stomach, and you can't stop yourself from looking down at it when he hovers the tip just over your desperate cunt.

"Eyes, baby," he reminds you. "Right here."

To be sure, he holds your face steady with his other hand, cupping your jaw and letting his thumb trail over your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open even more. Out of habit, you take the tip of his digit into your mouth, never unlocking your gaze from his even when you feel him glide the edge of the blade lightly along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"Goddamn," he breathes. "Look at you, pretty girl."

You can't wait anymore.

"Joel," you finally beg weakly.

"What, sweetheart? You tell me what you want."

Your brain feels like it's turned to mush, arousal overtaking any of the dread that had plagued you before he'd come home. Before he'd started driving you wild with desire. You fight to find your words, to remember what it is you need right now.

"Can I - your dick, Joel - can I suck your dick?"

Joel tuts, grip tightening on your jaw as he looks down at you disapprovingly.

"Try again," he instructs.

Shit.

"Please," you amend pathetically.

"There's my good girl." The praise has your heart flying and your cunt dripping. "Course you can have it, sweetheart."

He lets go of your face so you can position yourself on your knees before him. You watch with cautious wonder as he takes your two hands in his, placing the handle of the knife inside them. He methodically positions them so you're holding the blade with both hands between your tits.

"You hold that right there," he orders you. "You hold that right there when you're suckin' my cock."

You wait patiently as Joel strips out of his jeans and boxers, freeing his thick cock, hard and visibly dripping pre-come. You whimper at the sight of him stroking it a few times over you, and can only imagine how you must look to him, on your knees in front of him, wet cunt throbbing with the switchblade clutched to your chest.

Joel sees you staring at his cock, and for what feels like the hundredth time, grabs your face with his hand to tilt your face up back to meet his gaze.

"Eyes here, sweetheart, m’not gonna tell ya again," he growls and it sounds like a genuine threat to your ears. You nod obediently, keeping your eyes on his as you open your mouth wide for him, unabatingly waiting again for him to give you what you need.

He's tortuous with it, of course, holding his cock by the base as he guides it slowly into your mouth, just the tip. You don't dare close your lips around it, keeping your jaw slack as he pushes forward and further into you, till he's hitting the back of your throat and tears are sprouting at the corners of your eyes.

He pulls out then and repeats the motion, faster now, and harder, his cock taking up your whole mouth, making it hard to breathe. You splutter when he fucks into your mouth for the third time, holding the back of your head steady so you can't move, forced to hold him there.

He groans when he pulls you off him, and you gasp for air, your spit trailing down his cock and onto your chin.

"Fuck, darlin', that's so good," he praises you gruffly. "You like chokin' on my cock?"

You nod, because it's true.

"I know you do," he smiles. "You can suck now, baby."

Finally. He loosens his grip in your hair, granting you the freedom to please him how you want to.

Blade still clutched to your chest, you eagerly duck forward to take him in your mouth once more, this time closing your lips around it properly, tasting his salty pre-come and masculine musk. You lick expertly along the base, bobbing on his cock, up and down, with unrestrained enthusiasm. You try your best to keep your eyes on him as you do, but even Joel seems to be having a hard time staying focused as you work on his cock, throwing his head back and losing his breath when you suck hungrily over the tip.

He growls then and his hands are back in your hair, pulling you off him completely. He reaches between you to snatch the blade back from you, a new urgency to his motions.

"You can lie back on the bed now, pretty girl," he says, voice dripping with arousal and sending sparks flying to your core.

You do as he says, laying back on the bed as Joel hovers over you, blade in hand. You can feel his hard length against your thigh, his broad chest housing you in like a solid canopy so you feel covered in him, simultaneously protected and electrified by the strong man wielding a blade over your naked body.

"Joel...," you moan when he leans down to run his lips and teeth over your jaw ravenously.

"Use your words, sweetheart, come on now," he whispers hotly in your ear in that same disapproving tone.

"Please can I touch myself?" you plead, neediness reaching a fever pitch as your neglected cunt drips onto the sheets beneath you.

But this is all part of the deal. Joel wants you to beg, and surreptitiously (or not), you want him to say no.

"Not just yet, babygirl."

Your breath stutters, even though you'd expected his response, and a desperate, whiney sound escapes you that has Joel gently brushing his fingers across your face comfortingly.

"I know, baby, I know. You're bein' so patient, though. Such a good girl for me."

His words are enough to make your pussy swell but then he's gliding his free palm over your tits, pinching lightly at your nipples and causing you to moan loudly as you rut your hips up into nothing, searching in vain for some contact on your aching cunt.

Joel hoists himself up on his elbows then, very carefully positioning the blade he's still holding at your throat, ghosting it over the tender flesh there, while his other hand slides, at long last, between your legs.

"Fuck fuck fuck," you're stammering from just the feeling of his palm resting over your folds.

Joel smiles alluringly, his eyes meeting yours in wonder.

“So wet, sweetheart," he notes, fascinated. "Barely even touched you yet.”

Knife still at your throat, he pointedly avoids your clit, skipping right over it to slowly insert one finger inside you.

"Holy shit," you gasp, back arching off the mattress. Joel, prepared for it, is protectively aware of the blade, adjusting its placement expertly as you begin to squirm under his touch.

"Stay still, sweetheart, I got a knife at your neck here," he warns you even though you both know he’d never let anything actually happen, just says it for the sake of adding a new challenge for you, forcing you to stay rigid even as he adds a second finger, fucking them in and out of you in earnest.

But it's not enough.

"Please, Joel, will you touch my clit?" you beg meekly.

Joel dips to kiss behind your ear again, fingers still fucking you incessantly.

"F'I do that, are you gonna come?" he asks you huskily, his hot breath at your ear making your head spin.

"Yes," you admit.

He removes his fingers from you entirely then. You could cry at the loss.

"Why don't you come sit on my dick instead?"

A breath leaves your lungs in one quick exhale.

"Yes, Joel.”

You shakily reposition yourself so you're straddling his lap, and Joel holds your hips steady as you angle yourself over his cock, locking his gaze with yours when he lowers you down onto him.

You both moan in harmony then, Joel's cock stretching you open, your soaked cunt drenching his length.

It feels so fucking good to finally have him inside you that you forget to move.

“Ride it, baby," Joel commands you, bemusedly recognizing that you seem to need a reminder. With a feeble whimper, you begin to move your hips on top of him, holding yourself steady with your hands against his broad chest.

"Fuck, yes, darlin'," Joel groans through gritted teeth. "You look so good takin’ my cock like that.”

You try to hold his eyes but you can't help it, your head falls back at the feeling of his cock filling you up, his belly nudging at your neglected clit, bringing you to the edge he's been denying you for so long now.

“Joel - fuck - I’m -,”

Joel reaches around you to hold you steady with his hands on your back, his grip at the nape of your neck forcing your eyes back on his.

“You talk to me, sweetheart," he orders you flatly.

“I can’t - I’m gonna come, Joel.”

“Not till I say.”

You go still and he's fucking up into you then, holding you firmly against him, nowhere to go. His hand in your hair pulls the strands too tightly - it hurts - but it just makes the heat in your core burn even hotter and you can't hold it in -

“Not till I say, you hear me?” Joel grunts, sensing you getting close. It's all you can do just to nod and try, try, try not to come.

“M’gonna come inside that pretty pussy first, then I’ll let you come, okay?” Joel says, voice ragged and thrusts growing increasingly faster up into you.

“Yes, yes, Joel," you cry. "Come inside me, please.”

Without pulling out, Joel flips you both over so he's caging you in under him, pulling your hips into his and fucking into you relentlessly. He notices the blade on the bedsheets then, long forgotten now. He takes your hand in his, and clasps your fingers and his around the handle of the blade, so you're gripping it together against the sheets as Joel pounds his cock into you ferociously.

You can't stop yourself, you turn your head ever so slightly to take in the sight of your conjoined hands around the blade.

Too far gone to scold you properly, Joel uses his free hand to gently but assuredly slap your cheek, gripping your jaw and making you look at him.

He'd said he wouldn't tell you again.

He keeps fucking you like that, one hand on your jaw and the other around the blade in your hand, his soft grunts a tantalizing symphony, and you're so close to the edge you could weep, trying to contain yourself like he'd asked. To obey him.

“Fuck, you want my come, sweetheart?" he snarls as his as his own climax approaches. "Gonna fill this pussy up.”

“Please, Joel, please," is all you can muster.

He moves the hand on your jaw to coil his fingers securely around your throat, and you have to fight to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head.

And it's a good thing you do because you get to watch his face go slack the moment he comes inside you with a noisy groan, his hot come filling you up and igniting a fresh wave of ecstasy deep in your core. You want to come with him, you want to come now -

You have to wait.

Joel slowly pulls out, and you feel his come dripping out of you and onto the sheets. Still breathing heavily, Joel moves his hand back over your cunt, finally letting his fingers circle over your clit, eliciting a raucous cry from you.

You know it won't take much, but you can't - not until Joel tells you.

Joel pauses his motions and you whimper in frustration, pussy aching with the need to finish.

"You want it, sweetheart?" he breathes raggedly into the skin of your neck.

"Please, Joel, pleasepleaseplease."

He chuckles, and with nothing more than his fingers barely ghosting over you clit, he gently commands you, "Come for me."

And you do, body jerking up into his hand, a string of expletives falling from your mouth.

Joel kisses your neck softly as you finish, nipping at your earlobe and drinking in all your desperate little sounds, never moving his hand from its place over your cunt as the aftershocks pass over you.

Still in a haze, you watch as Joel retrieves the blade and smirks, a new idea seemingly coming to mind. He reaches between your legs to coat his fingers with his come and your wetness and then carefully drags the dull edge of the blade over his digits, soaking the shiny metal. Without a word, he guides it towards your lips and watches as you cautiously lick a thin stripe along the flat side of blade, tasting yourself and Joel mixed with the metallic flavour of the knife.

"Shit," Joel laughs lightly, staring at you in amazement. You smirk right back at him, relishing the awed glint in his eyes.

Then he's throwing the knife to the ground; you hear it hit the hardwood with a dull clang, and the sound is what ultimately breaks the spell.

Now Joel pulls you lovingly into his arms, and you curl into him like coming home. His strong arms around you become a refuge as he strokes your hair and plants tender kisses along your arms, your shoulders, your cheeks.

It's all part of the deal, and Joel always gives you what you need.

END.

#WELP #SORRY #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut #joel miller knife play #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #it’s after midnight which feels actually like the only appropriate time to post this #soft dom!joel miller #1k

3K notes · View notes

bubblybloob · 2 months

Text

I have a feeling, and bear with me here, that each of the voices’ own chapters are where they’re their worst selves.

Think about it. Hunted plays right in the Beast’s hands, yet he is incredibly useful in dodging Razor and kind of acts like a predator instead of prey in Eye of the Needle. Skeptic overanalyzes every minute detail that he can in Prisoner and his encouragement ends in us getting a shackle around our neck, but in Den and Eye of the Needle he is an integral part of the plan to lure the princess out.

This is why it’s hard to tell what’s really up with some voices, for example let’s look at Broken. Broken is actively working against us in Tower, yet is rather gentle in Wild. I believe the only other two instances he appears in is in the two “Everyone is here” chapters where he is overshadowed and is literally called by Opportunist the worst of the bunch in Clarity, which isn’t necessarily inaccurate but it only serves to worsen his reputation when he doesn’t seem all that bad when he’s our secondary voice to show up in Wild. Though again, Wild is our only example of him being like this, and all voices brought into the Wild seem a little too passive. I wonder if there was another chapter where he was our secondary voice and with no huge “everyone is here” event, he’d act differently.

Paranoid is a toss up because he spends most of Nightmare being unable to speak up, he’s too busy trying to keep you alive, and when he does speak he usually says something generally useful, like getting the narrator to shut up or theorizing His control over their situation. Though to be fair his whole existence as a voice of paranoia in our head gets dampened by the absolute insane situation we’re forced into in every route, so most of what he says ends up sounding relatively reasonable despite what his title implies. I’m pretty sure anyone would be paranoid if they kept coming back to life and are forced to kill the same woman who continues evolving in how she looks and behaves.

Cheated is like if Broken’s problems and Paranoids problems were mixed together. His own string of chapters is a big “everyone is here” adventure, so obviously attention gets diverted away from him to make room for the others. Even then, this is where he’s at his worst, so what about where he’s at his best? Sadly, he is actually a little hard to get given the situations you have to enact that most players won’t follow on. I myself have never gotten him outside of Razor. I wonder how much we’re all actually aware of what he’s like at his best instead of his worst.

I do remember Black Tabby Games saying something along the lines of them wanting voices to be more useful outside of their own chapters, so I wonder if that contributed to this feeling I’ve been getting from them.

#slay the princess #stp voices

754 notes · View notes

gojoidyll · 3 months

Text

unknown ! yandere x reader

someone from the penacony cast is a yandere for you. the problem is...you don't even know who they are or that they are the one who is trying to keep you in penacony in the first place.

Imagine that during your long awaited vacation to Penacony is going well but your vacation takes a quick turn for the worse when your small space cruiser gets high jacked by some low grade thugs who take it for a joyride and end up crashing it.

Low-n-behold, you are now stranded on Penacony with no money (you left all your credits on your cruiser for safe keeping and those thugs stole it before making their getaway after crashing) and no way of getting home.

And what's worse, your insurance refuses to pay you for your crashed ship. In other words, you're stuck. Which was how you found yourself working three jobs in Penacony and barely getting any sleep as you rushed to have the funds to afford your new found rent problems and the funds to fix your cruiser. You would buy a new one, but many repairmen have told you that it would be cheaper to fix the damn thing instead of buying a VERY overpriced new one.

And they were right. You checked the markets and those new cruisers were way too expensive for you. Even the used ones were something you couldn't afford.

So, with all hope seem to be lost, your shifts are work getting tougher, and your eyebags getting darker - you truly thought you would never be able to go back home and put this nightmare vacation behind you. That is until you meet the members of the Astral Express.

They were very good people. People who you became quick friends with. The MC was kind to you (but seemed to have a weird obsession with trashcans), March was always hyper but fun to be around, and Dan Heng (though the quiet one of the group) was nice and even offered to help you in some of your jobs.

And then came along Himeko and Welt who graciously offered you a spot on the team as a Trailblazer. You could take a ride with them and go home, or join them on their journey wherever it may lead.

Suffice to say, you enjoyed your time in befriending the Astral Express crew that you couldn't help but to join them. Your worries for money and fixing your old cruiser were long gone as a new chapter in your life started.

However, when a certain someone heard of your new found escape, they couldn't help but to seethe with a quiet rage.

They hired those thugs to wreck your vehicle so that you be stranded in Penacony. They discretely made it to where prices were to high for you to fix your cruiser or buy a new one. They made sure that you would stay forever.

And yet some no-name outsiders were getting in the way.

"No matter," they said, the shadows covering them, "this place used to be a prison after all. I'll keep you here one way or another."

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #sunday #acheron #sam #robin #black swan #sparkle #aventurine #gallagher

550 notes · View notes

wintfleur · 2 months

Text

thinking about Daryl Dixon dating a book worm girly . . . they would meet on the Greene farm. She was a good friend of Hershel’s son Shawn, and stayed and lived with the family when the outbreak started. She would spend most of her time with Hershel and Beth or with her face in a book . . . she would like to be alone a lot, having her own spot on the farm away from the house where she could peacefully read and not have to worry about interacting with anyone, a spot that used to be her and Shawn’s . . . also a spot where Daryl decides to set up his own small camp away from everyone . . . well everyone but her. He would be hesitant at first to approach her when he gets back from another search for Sofia, seeing her leaning up against a tree with a thick book in her lap. He’d seen her around a few times in the short amount of time he’s been at the farm, only with Beth or Hershel. He’d ask her what she wants, assuming that she was waiting for him. She’d apologize, saying that she just wanted to be away from everyone, and surprising the both of them he said with a grunt she could stay as long as she didn’t touch his shit or start reading aloud. And for the first time he sees a small smile on her lips . . . but it was quickly covered when she lifted her book up from her lap.

Time-skip to after the farm falls and before they find the prison. They would become closer . . . well as close as two antisocial and closed off people could get. It was more like they found comfort in each other’s silent presence. She was so good at being quiet and finding her way around in the woods that she would often join daryl tracking/hunting. The first time daryl sees her smile since the farm is when he gives her a book he found in the trunk of an abandoned car. Since she couldn’t carry a bunch of books since they were traveling, every time she was done with a book he’d try and search for another to switch it with . . . would let her quietly mumble about the book she was reading when she couldn’t sleep and he was on watch. Would walk next to her as she walks n reads, making sure she wouldn’t trip.

When they make it to the prison, he’d bring her back multiple books whenever he goes out looking for supplies, and over time the small desk she had in her cell was cluttered with books . . . all from daryl. He would let her ramble about her books whenever they were on watch in the watch tower, him standing up and looking out while she comfortably sat on the floor with her book. He’d realize his feelings for her at the strange and unfamiliar feeling he felt in his chest as he watched her read a book to Carl and Beth who was holding Judith.

Time-skip to when they are now together, he would come back late from his shift at the look out tower in the prison and would check on her in there cell, expecting to see her sleeping since it was late . . . Instead she was curled up in her bed, technically now there bed, reading with a lit candle next to her. Not wanting to sleep without him by her side . . . and wanting to also finish another chapter. Whenever daryl would wake up from a nightmare she would quietly read to him, taking him out of his tortured mind and into the lovely world of her book. Whenever she was too focused on a book he’d surprise her with a kiss on her cheek or lips . . . completely stealing her attention. All she would have to do is bat her eyelashes and say please and daryl would fold . . . reading to her when she’s to tired to read herself, she feels so safe and warm when she’s in his arms as she listens to him read to her . . . he always kisses her forehead when he notices she fell asleep, tucking her bookmark a few pages back, knowing that she probably wouldn’t remember the last few pages he read to her.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( take this as my application to write for twd !!! I wrote this in 20 minutes at 1am, soo it’s probably not the best I just couldn’t sleep without getting this written down. Please let me know if I should continue writing for twd . . . I’m currently rewatching the show and my love for daryl just grows stronger !!! Again please let me know what you guys think, don’t be a silent reader <333 )

main masterlist twd masterlist

733 notes · View notes

buckrecs · 1 year

Note

HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs

Winter Soldier!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees

“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.

Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.

Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

ephemeral by @earlgreydream

the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.

Purgatory by @wkemeup

While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.

a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks

the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?

Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration

Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13

One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.

Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne

A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake.

Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime

You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.

take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff

The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.

I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust

something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.

Void by @theeleggymeggy

Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.

Sweet Memory by @

SERIES

One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare

Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?

Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

Reset by @lunarbuck

The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.

Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel

With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.

Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours

While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.

Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier!bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x hydra!reader #winter soldier smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!winter soldier #sex pollen

3K notes · View notes

writerslittlelibrary · 3 months

Text

So, I'm not a prisoner? part 2

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: like, one swear word

genre: fluff, angst

words: 2554

a/n: I apologise if this chapter isn’t the best. I’m in a bit of a depression slum so I’m not really motivated to do anything right now. I might come back later and fix this chapter a bit

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

After leaving the apartment, you immediately noticed the SHIELD agents piled up outside. They must have been listening to your conversation.

Natasha led you towards a SHIELD car, opening the door for you, allowing you to get in. She got in the drivers seat, and followed by about a dozen other SHIELD trucks, she drove towards an airport nearby.

The Quinjet was waiting at the airport, Clint Barton apparently inside of it.

“I know this must be very overwhelming for you,” Natasha spoke, glancing towards you before focusing on the road again.

You stayed quiet, instead staring out the window as you watched all objects blur.

“I promise you we are going to help you,” Natasha affirmed. You turned your head, looking at her.

“You can’t honestly sit there and tell me you are certain they won’t lock me away the moment I set foot in there,” you stated, and Natasha looked at you, giving you a sad smile.

“I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you won’t be locked away,” Natasha started, focusing back on the road and taking a deep breath.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked.

“I’ll think of something. I can put you under my supervision. I can lock you in a room and make sure you can leave it with me. Anything. I will come up with anything,” Natasha assured you. You didn’t want to believe her. You didn’t believe her, yet for some reason, whether it was her tone or the way that she spoke, you couldn’t help but deep down, believe her, even just a little.

You sighed and looked back out the window, wanting nothing but to wake up from this nightmare.

Yet then again, if this were a nightmare, wouldn’t you just wake up in your old one?

Your mind was a mess, and you could hear all the voices in your head scream at you. You saw Madame B every time you closed your eyes, just yelling at you. Telling you what a screw-up you were. Telling you all the ways that you failed them.

You always hated Natasha Romanoff for being a traitor, but now you met her, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were wrong.

And even if you weren’t, you were now officially a traitor as well.

You wanted to make Dreykov proud. That’s what you were supposed to do, right? If you made him proud, you’d get rewarded. You were the pride jewel. He loved you, didn’t he? He cared about you. You weren’t some disposable Widow. You knew that. But, then again, he was the one that told you that. And could he really be trusted?

You groaned slightly, rubbing your temple with your right hand and you closed your eyes.

“Everything okay?” Natasha asked, giving you a concerned glance.

“I’m fine,” you bit back quickly, hating to look weak. Natasha didn’t take you response as hurtful. She knew you weren’t actively trying to hurt her. She understood the way you were raised, and she’d be damned if she, or anyone else, would ever misunderstand you.

The drive to the airport didn’t take long, and soon enough you could spot the Quinjet from the car.

“You brought the Avengers superjet…?” you asked, and Natasha gave you a small smile as she nodded. “That’s not exactly subtle…” you told her, yet Natasha just shrugged.

“It’s fast,” she responded, driving the car as close as she could get it to the Quinjet. Once she stopped the car, she got out, walking over to your side and opening the door for you. You didn’t acknowledge it as you got out, immediately noticing the other SHIELD trucks that were parked closely.

Some agents stood outside their cars, their hand on their weapon as they watched you.

You noticed a woman walking towards you, and you took a step back when you decided she was way to close.

The woman didn’t acknowledge your defensive attitude, instead holding up a pair of handcuffs and reaching for your hands.

You pulled your hands back, and before the woman could say anything, Natasha had noticed what was going on, stepping in front of you and stopping the woman.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, despite the fact it was obvious.

“It’s protocol,” the woman claimed, yet when she tried to step towards you again, Natasha stopped her.

“She came willingly,” Natasha stated, but the woman just shook her head.

You noticed neither of them were going to give up, and quite honestly you just wanted to get rid of the woman. And so, you took a step forward, holding up your hands to the woman, giving her an expecting look.

Natasha looked a bit shocked, yet didn’t take long to place her hand on your arm.

“You really don’t have to,” she stated, but you interrupted her.

“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you stated, and the woman nodded as she made quick work of handcuffing you.

After she was finished, Natasha gently took your upper arm, leading you towards the Quinjet. Clint Barton was already waiting on board, having a small smile on his face when he spotted you two.

“Hey kid, nice to see you turn over a new leaf,” he said, yet you just scoffed.

He didn’t seem offended, but rather just smiled and turned the chair around, facing the control panel.

He pressed a few buttons, and the Quinjet closed.

“Take a seat. We’ll be flying for a few hours,” Natasha announced, and you nodded as you held up the pair of handcuffs.

A look of shock and confusion took place on Natasha’s face, before she quickly regained herself and gave you her famous smirk.

“Damn… You’re good good,” she told you, and you gave her a small smile before you sat down on a seat.

Natasha discarded of the handcuffs, placing them in some cupboard before taking a seat next to you. “I know you’re scared, and I know you’re not showing it, and you’ll never admit it, but I promise you, I will make sure everything is gonna be alright,” Natasha said, looking forward, not wanting to pressure you.

You would of course never let her know, but you appreciated what she said. You would indeed never admit it, but you were scared.

You weren’t just scared of the Avengers, though. You were afraid of what Dreykov would do to you. You were afraid what he would think, and what he would say. He would be so disappointed. Natasha Romanoff was right there. The traitor is sitting right next to you. You could so very easily just kill her. Slit her throat. Her guard was down. She would never see it coming. Dreykov would be so proud.

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to kill her, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself debating whether you should kill her or not.

Never once in your life did you think about killing someone or not. Never once did you think about the consequences. I was always just another assignment. Another person you had to wipe from existence, and you never, ever, dared to give it a second thought.

This experience was weird for you.

You didn’t really want to kill Natasha, but yet again, you were supposed to, so why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you really cared whether Natasha lived or died. Did you?

You simply sighed and let your head fall back against the wall behind you, closing your eyes and letting your thought run through your head. What would Dreykov say? You knew what he would say. Deep down, you knew he didn’t care.

-------------------------------------------------------------

After the Quinjet landed, Natasha and Clint guided you through the Avengers tower, claiming they need to take you to an office so you could speak with the director, Nick Fury.

You, of course, knew exactly where that office was, yet you decided to keep your mouth shut and just follow them. You didn’t want to make this situation worse for yourself. You knew the entire lay-out of the Avengers towers, and you were pretty certain Natasha was aware of that.

Once you took the elevator and made it to the office, Nick Fury was sitting behind his desk, Maria Hill standing of to the side with a clip board in her hand.

There were Shield agents standing outside the door, and you were pretty sure they were there to make sure you couldn’t try anything.

“Take a seat,” Nick Fury simply said, and you looked at Natasha unimpressed, before you took a step forward, setting yourself down in the seat at the other side of the desk, across from Nick Fury.

“You understand we cannot trust you, correct?” Fury stated, and you looked him in the eyes, enough for him to accept it as a yes, apparently.

“Director Hill,” Fury then mentioned, getting up from his seat.

Maria Hill walked towards the desk, placing her clip board on it as she sat down herself. She gave you a small smile. You didn’t return it.

You were focused on your surroundings. Clint had left the room. Natasha was leaning against the wall next to the door. She probably didn’t want to disturb the conversation, yet she didn’t want to leave you alone. Maybe she just wanted to keep her eye on you.

Before Fury walked away, he turned to look at you.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he stated, before walking towards the door, leaving the room.

You turned your gaze back to Maria, who had picked up a pen, now waiting for your attention to turn back to her. Once it did, she began speaking.

“I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and you just try and answer them to the best of you abilities,” she explained, and you nodded slightly.

“Could you please state your full name and date of birth?”

“Y/n, the rest I don’t know…” you replied, and Maria nodded. “Do you have any idea of how old you may be?” she asked and you nodded, giving her your assumed age.

She wrote the information down, scratching some things out on the clipboard before turning to the next question.

“Do you know where you were born?” she asked, and you nodded.

“I was born in Russia, but I’m not sure whether my parents were Russian,” you explained, and Maria nodded as she wrote it all down.

“Have you always been in Russia?”

You shook your head, briefly telling her about certain mission you had been on that took longer than a month.

There was that time in Seattle, when you lived with another Red Room Widow pretending to be your mother. You had gone to an actual school, and you had had actual friends.

There was another time in the Netherlands, when you were with a Hydra agent. Something about a debt Dreykov owed to Alexander Pierce. You had been chosen for a mission with a Hydra agent. You were posing as a normal teenager, whose mother passed, which is why your father moved you all the way to the Netherlands. You enjoyed the learning the language, yet you found it one of the harder ones to master due to the many odd rules.

Maria wrote every single detail you told her down, not missing a single thing as she made sure everything was on paper.

After a few more questions, and many ‘I don’t know’s’ from you, Maria finally put her pen down, smiling at you gently.

“That’s all for now,” she explained and you nodded.

“Come on,” you heard Natasha say, and you got up, walking towards her.

“See you later,” she told Maria before guiding you out. Were they a thing? Did Natasha see how Maria blushed? Did Natasha notice how she herself blushed?

Whatever.

Natasha led you towards the elevator, pressing a button, then entering a code. You learned about this. To get to the living quarters of the Avengers tower, you had to enter a code. This was to prevent any unwanted visitors in the living space of the Avengers.

Once the elevator opened, Natasha led you out, guiding you towards a hallway. You followed her the entire way, making sure to walk at least a metre behind her.

You weren’t allowed to walk next to your superiors, and even though you weren’t sure what you place in this tower would be, you didn’t want to take any chances. You didn’t want to stray to far from the manners you were taught.

Natasha probably noticed, but whether she did or not, she decided not to mention it.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a door, pushing a key in the keyhole and unlocking it.

“This will be you room,” she smiled and pushed the door open. “My room is across from this one, and the only other people in this hallway are Wanda and Carol, but she is not often on earth,” Natasha explained, and you nodded as if you didn’t already know it.

You stepped into the bedroom, and it took you a moment to process the fact, that all that space, would be yours now.

“Do you like it?” Natasha asked, waiting by the door.

“It’s so… big…” you stated, slowly walking further into the room. Natasha smiled as she made her way towards another door.

“This is the bathroom. I stocked it with some basic supplies beforehand, so you’ll probably be good for a little while, or just until we get the chance to go shopping,” Natasha stated as she closed the door again.

“This is the closet,” she explained, walking over to the piece of furniture and opening it.

“Right now, there are just some things from me and Wanda that will probably be wearable for you, but we’ll get you some new clothes soon,” Natasha smiled, and you nodded.

Natasha walked over to the desk, sitting down on the desk chair and looking at the ground. It seemed she had something to say, and it would be something you wouldn’t like. You took a seat on the bed, across from her, and simply waited until she spoke.

“Now, because we do not know you, we cannot just let you roam freely around the tower. I managed to convince Fury you shouldn’t be put in a cell, but unfortunately, this door will have to be locked until further notice,” Natasha explained and you nodded.

“He’d be stupid not to,” you replied, and Natasha nodded, giving you a small smile.

“I promise I will come check on you often, okay? And you can leave the room if you are accompanied, so I will make sure to take you on some daily walks or something, alright?” Natasha explained, and you nodded, giving her a smile in return.

“I promise you, everything will only get better now,” Natasha told you, and you nodded as she got up, walking towards the door.

“I’ll get you something to eat, and some entertainment,” she explained, and she left the room.

Suddenly, you were left alone. This was your room. You made the choice. You were officially a traitor. There was no going back. You did this to yourself. You royally screwed up. Or perhaps, just maybe, you made a really good choice?...

Tags: @wandanatlov3r @tobiaslut @natashasgirlll @xanthreee

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey

484 notes · View notes

shadowandlightt · 4 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /one/ Azriel x Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut.

Be kind, I've never written for Az or anyone in Acotar before. But have been a fan of the books for years. Feedback is always appreciated

The air was chilly in Velaris. You walked along the Sidra, coat drawn in close. Laughter filled the streets as music drifted down the river bank. Everything felt peaceful. You were at peace, you didn’t fear being alone as you walked. You didn’t fear some random male coming out of the darkness. Velaris was safe, and you were safe. No one would dare touch you without permission here. You were as safe as you could be, even walking alone.

But the shadows that swirled around you ensured that you weren’t alone, not in the slightest. You smiled as one strayed from the others and carefully touched your cheek. You were never afraid of the shadows, they were as close to you as friends. Their master being the best friend that you had, aside from your brother and cousin.

“Hello,” You laughed, touching the shadow, “Where’s your master?”

You stopped on the bridge overlooking the Rainbow of Velaris, your favorite section of the town. Music floated towards you as you watched people dancing and painting in the streets. The city was awake during the day, sure, but it came alive at night.

“He’s here,” A silky voice spoke from next to you, as shadows gave way to a male.

You smile again and turn to face him, his hazel eyes shimmering in the moonlight. He takes your breath away, always. Even when he shouldn’t, even when you should see him as a brother and only a brother. He seems like more to you, and always had. Even when you were small and children, you looked at him with bright eyes and felt your heart fly when he was around.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” His voice is gruff.

“I’m safe,” you snort back, “No one would dare touch me.”

You can’t help but shiver as a cold breeze blows down the river. In an instant his arms are around you, pulling you close into his body as wings wrap around you both, closing in the heat. You lied before, now you felt as safe as you could, in his arms. You didn’t think you could ever feel safe like this again. Much less if he wasn’t with you.

“Love, you really should have an escort, nonetheless,” He chides.

“I do,” you remind him, “I have you here. And your shadows before you.”

He sighs, seeming to know he won’t win in this fight. And then he’s quiet for a moment before leaning in to whisper into my ear, “Where you go I go.”

“But whatever we do, we do it together,” I finish for him, turning in his arms.

His eyes scan yours, which you can only help reflect the love that you feel for him. He’s quiet as he scans your face. Then he slowly leans into you, lips closing in on your own.

But then you wake.

And then you remember.

And the realization comes crashing down on you, removing the joy of your dream and only leaving behind the reality of your nightmare.

Because you aren’t in the Night Court anymore. You aren’t with the Shadowsinger, or walking the roads of Velaris. No, you’re far from your home. Instead you’re stuck in a manor house, prisoner of the High Lord of the Spring Court.

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel fluff

447 notes · View notes

a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 6 months

Text

I Surrender Who I've been, For Who You Are

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of past trauma, past abuse, torture, death, some smut MDNI (18+), slow morning sex, fingering but it fades to black, mentions of sex, Ghost opening up

Words: 5.7k

Synopsis: Simon opens up to you...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 9 of The Roommate Series

Simon jerked awake and it took him a moment to realize he was in bed with you. He took a couple of deep breaths to slow his racing heart and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling to ground himself.

Another nightmare. He couldn’t remember what it was about, and that was a good thing, but he knew by the sinking pit of dread in his stomach that it had been something awful.

He grabbed his phone and squinted when it turned on to see that he had woken up at five on the dot, which didn’t surprise him considering he had never slept in since he had joined the military. Even when he was home he still got up around five and usually he would be making breakfast on most days but today was Thursday, meaning you had an early class.

He sighed and he felt that all too familiar pit form in his stomach. He tossed his phone away and rolled over to see you curled up beside him.

You were deep in sleep and yet even in your sleep you leaned most of your weight against him. Not that he minded, in fact he liked it almost too much because instead of getting out of bed as soon as he woke up like normal he got even more comfortable.

He pulled you into his chest and breathed in your scent deeply, burying his nose in the crook of your neck before he shut his eyes.

Simon wanted to keep you here. It was selfish but after everything, after coming home to you injured and after what happened earlier this week, he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to you and spend a couple hours by himself. He’d much rather spend time with you especially now that his injury was mostly healed.

He wanted to take you on more dates, it would be the best time for it since it was technically summer now, there would be more opportunities to act like a couple.

Simon ran his thumb across your skin as he hugged you closer to him.

A couple. A relationship, that was certainly something he had never done before. He had never had anything this serious in his life, any relationship in his past had been one time flings or casual hookups with the same person for a few months before they eventually got tired of waiting for him.

This was nothing like that and while that scared him he also knew that this is what he wanted. For once he knew that he belonged with you, he was confident that you were the one he wanted to be with and he knew he could live up to your expectations as well.

But he also knew that meant he needed to be more open with you.

And he couldn’t lie to himself and say that didn’t terrify him.

Simon built walls, he didn’t break them or remove them because those walls kept him safe. It was so much easier for him to keep everything to himself and deal with it on his own where he controlled those feelings and thoughts rather than let anyone know what was going on in his mind. He relied on that safety for most of his life and most of his career considering just how downhill it went, even if it isolated him.

But that safety pushed you away and suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. Suddenly it felt too lonely and his walls felt more like a prison, especially when he realized just how badly they could hurt the one he loved.

He’d never forget hearing you cry behind the bathroom door and in some sick twisted way he hoped he always remembered if that happened again.

He knew he had to be more open with you, about whatever he was feeling but also about himself too. It wasn’t fair to only show you a tiny part of Simon Riley, the part that was the “perfect” version of himself for you when he knew it would blow up in his face if he continued to keep most of himself hidden.

He wasn’t sure how to do it, how to open up to you but at least he knew you’d never have to see Ghost. That was the one thing he couldn’t compromise on because if you saw Ghost then he was sure you wouldn’t find anything good about him to stay.

Simon let out another deep sigh. He’d figure out how to do it sometime soon, he needed a plan and to prepare himself for the worst when he decided to sit you down for a talk. For now, he just wanted to spend a few more minutes with you in bed before you had to get up.

His eyebrows knitted together and he opened his eyes to a slightly brighter room as the sun rose outside.

Your alarm should’ve gone off by now, he was sure of it. He didn’t want to snoop through your phone but he also didn’t want you to be late to your class, even if you hated it.

Simon gently ran his hand up your arm before he placed a few soft kisses to your cheek. He squeezed your shoulder as he placed kisses against your skin and watched you slowly wake up from your deep sleep.

“Love.” He mumbled and you hummed as you leaned closer to him, letting him press another kiss to your temple. “You need to wake up for your class.”

“It’s summer break.” You placed a hand over his and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles.

He paused for a minute and stared at you. He’s not sure why it didn’t click that it was summer, maybe because it really didn’t matter when he was at work, but suddenly he felt warmth spread across his body. He had uninterrupted time to spend with you now, at least until Price came to check on him and bring him back to the base.

He didn’t want to think of that right now. Now he just wanted to make up for the fact he woke you up so early for nothing.

“Sorry.” Simon hummed and started to place slow, opened mouth kisses on your neck.

He continued when you let out a deep sigh and revealed more of your neck to him, a small whimper escaping your mouth when he sucked on the spot just underneath your ear.

The noises you made fueled the fire in his stomach as he began to grind his hard cock against your ass, his kisses becoming more heated when you pressed yourself against him.

He slipped his hand underneath your shirt and palmed your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers as you let out a soft moan. He ran his calloused fingers down your skin and lightly nipped your earlobe as his fingers slid into your underwear. His fingers teased your slick folds before he delved into your heat while his thumb rubbed slow but deep circles on your clit.

You were so warm and the moans you let out were so beautiful that he could imagine this is what heaven had to be like.

Simon stood in the kitchen preparing to make breakfast a couple hours later. He glanced at the clock and couldn’t help but feel proud of himself that you were still asleep. It only felt right considering it was your summer break and after the past week and half of him recovering, you deserved to rest.

He ran his fingers across the taut skin where a new scar would be added to his body. The stitches had dissolved earlier in the week and the pain was long gone, he was back to normal, or as normal as someone like him could be.

He began to make breakfast and his mind wandered.

Getting back on the mission would be tough, especially after having been abruptly taken off it, and he wondered how much the others have gotten done in the two weeks he’s been gone. He knew they got the intel they needed when he had gone back to get patched up but Price was keeping a tight lip on any info.

“No talking shop over the phone, you know that. Recover and spend time with your partner, I’ll call you when I need you.”

It was frustrating and the only thing that made it better was the fact that he had you. If it weren’t for the fact that this was an opportunity for him to spend time with you he’d be losing his mind over this.

You made it better, you always made being home away from work better and that made him even more inclined to open up.

Christ, where would he even start?

His entire life was, is, a mess, a disaster, especially compared to yours and anywhere he thought about starting felt like too much. There were so many details he wouldn’t dare tell you but how do you even go about telling someone your life has never been good until you were an adult who’s just going by day to day?

He didn’t want to scare you away, put too much on you or make you think that he expected you to carry all of his emotional burdens. Would you even want to stay with him if he told you all that was wrong with him?

What had his therapist said all those years ago? Fuck, it’s all blurred together now and it’s not like he can call her up to ask.

Simon sighed deeply and took a long sip of his tea.

Maybe he was overthinking it, maybe he was making the wrong choice. He didn’t know what was right, what was wrong, what any of this meant and he wasn’t sure if there was anyone in his life that he could ask for advice about it.

If his mum were still alive…

Your bedroom door opened and stole his attention away from his thoughts. He listened to you slowly make your way to the kitchen and a smile tugged at his lips. He was a little disappointed he wasn’t the one to wake you up again but it didn’t matter much to him as he heard you walk down the hall.

“Morning.” He greeted you when you entered the kitchen.

He peered over his shoulder when you gave him a sleepy hum and his chest warmed when he saw your bedhead. You were wearing one of his shirts and you attempted to rub the sleep from your eyes as you came up to him.

You place a hand on his bare back and Simon leaned into your touch before he pulled you into his side.

“Smells good.” You breathed out as you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest.

“Not the strangest compliment I’ve gotten.” He teased and sighed deeply when you pressed a kiss to his skin with a small laugh. “Sleep alright?”

“Oh, yeah. I slept great.”

Simon smirked and let the compliment feed his ego as he held you close to him. He finished up breakfast and went to get the plates for you both when you took his attention away by stopping him.

Your eyes met and for a moment the air was knocked out of his lungs. You looked at him with such an endearing affectionate look that for a moment he forgot exactly who he was and everything that he had come from. All he could do was remember all the times you had looked at him with the same fondness before as if he was a different man with less scars on his body and his mind.

The warmth in your eyes was all encompassing. You somehow always reserved it for him whenever you stared at him like this, when you were in his arms or halfway across the room, and it never failed to make the tension leave from his worn muscles.

It was unmistakable, what the look meant, and yet some part of him still held onto the doubt in the back of his mind because you made it look so effortless.

His throat tightened up for just a moment before he swallowed the lump and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Careful looking at me like that.” He warned softly and watched as you began to grin.

“Like what?” There was glint in your eye and he scoffed.

“Cheeky.”

He kissed your forehead and your eyes fluttered shut. He ran his fingers across your hairline before he gently caressed your face like you were made of glass. He held you close to him, caging you to his chest and you leaned into him with a sigh.

“Breakfast’ll get cold.” You murmured but made no indication that you were going to move out of his arms, in fact you hugged him closer.

“I’ll make more.”

You chuckled before the both of you reluctantly let go of each other. Unfortunately, neither of you were keen on letting good breakfast go to waste and before long the two of you sat across from each other while you ate.

The conversation was easy, it always was when it came to you, and for a moment he wondered why he ever thought that speaking to you about the darker side of his life would ever be an issue.

“What’s on your mind?” You wondered.

He must’ve been staring off into space or maybe you just knew what to look for when he thought a little too hard. It was too early in the morning for a talk like that. He’d rather wait until the day was almost over so if it went wrong at least he wouldn’t have ruined a good day like today.

“What do you want to do today?” He changed the subject.

You hummed, your eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion at his dismissal of the question. You stared at him and he stared back unphased but amused as he saw you debate in real time on whether or not you wanted to press him about what he was thinking about.

Simon continued to eat and raised his eyebrows to silently ask you to say something.

“I need to get a birthday present for my friend.” You said and he nodded. “So we can go shopping and you can tell me what you're thinking about.”

“Would you believe me if I said nothing?”

“Absolutely not.”

He sighed and shook his head but he didn’t feel annoyed. He knew if it came down to it, you wouldn’t pressure him to speak about whatever he was thinking about. It bothered him but he would tell you eventually, once he got the courage to do it and because he made a promise to you.

You gave him a smile, a warm one, but he saw the hidden mischief behind it. There was no avoiding the conversation now, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to avoid it anymore anyway.

“Later.” He promised and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. “What?”

“I thought it’d take more convincing.” You said and he shrugged with a small smile on his face.

“You’re persuasive.”

You gasped and he watched your eyes twinkle as you came to the realization that you had a lot more power over him than you had originally thought. He could see your confidence peak more and more as you stared at him with shock while you slowly became elated over the idea of convincing him to whatever you wanted him to do.

“So what you’re saying I could ask you to do anything?”

Simon had to stop himself from telling you the truth that yes, you really could ask him to do anything and he’d do it. It was almost scary how willing he was to do anything for you just because it was you but he would do it without much thought, especially if it meant you were happy.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He shook his head but you were grinning, much like how Soap did when he got an outrageous idea and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of dread.

“Sorry, but all I’m hearing is free lunch today.” You teased and he rolled his eyes as if he’d let you pay for your own lunch anyway.

The two of you finished breakfast and before you could snatch the empty plates away from Simon, he had already put them in the sink and began to wash them. You gave him a playful glare, one that he returned before he nodded towards the door.

It was surprising how willing he was to go shopping nowadays if it meant he got to spend more time with you. He couldn’t believe he was trying to get you to hurry and get ready so the two of you could do it together.

“Go get dressed.” He told you so the two of you could get started on shopping.

“Help me.”

Simon’s eyes shot to yours and he stopped what he was doing.

You had a glint in your eyes as you looked at him through your eyelashes. There was a deep desire within them, something that could only be attributed to lust as you lightly dragged your fingernails across his skin which left goosebumps in their wake.

You grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the door.

He followed you without hesitation.

Simon stood in the store with you later, confused as to why you had immediately gone to the toy section instead of anywhere else in the store since he was sure that the friend you were getting the present for was at the same university as you.

“What are we doing in the toy aisle?” He practically glared at the toys on the shelves on either side of him.

“My friend likes these stuffed animals.” You explained as you sifted through the stuffed animals in front of you without a care in the world.

He grunted and stepped closer to you, his eyes fixated on the various toys around him. Most of them were generic, Barbies and other dolls with all of the accessories they’d ever need, random toy animals and of course the stuffed animals you were looking at. He was sure that the next aisle over had even more options for children to play with and he felt himself tense up slightly at the idea.

This was the first time he had been in the toy aisle since Joseph.

So much had changed. There were so many different toys than what he could barely remember and yet he couldn’t help but think that his nephew probably would’ve loved to play with all of them.

He clenched his jaw and turned his attention elsewhere before a lego set caught his eye.

It was small, nothing spectacular compared to the other ones on the shelf that he could see, but it still caught his eye. He never had a lego set growing up and he knew for a fact that if he had seen the one he was staring at when he was younger he would’ve begged his mum to get it for him only to be told no.

In hindsight, it wouldn’t have survived in his house if he had it anyway.

“Did you play with legos when you were a kid?” You asked, your voice pulling his attention away from his thoughts.

“No.”

He turned to you and saw that your face had fallen into a slight frown. You glanced between him and the lego set, your eyes having a sort of soft sadness in them that made him clench his jaw slightly.

He didn’t mean to be short with you but he wasn’t ready to tell you all about why he never got to play with legos as a kid in the middle of the store. No one in public needed to know what his home life used to be like.

“What kind of toys did you play with?” You wondered.

“Figurines.” He lied and looked at the toy animals across from him. “I read more as a kid.”

“That reminds me that you need to get more books, you read them all.”

He hummed and nodded, ready to let you change the subject as he watched you pick out a stuffed animal you thought that your friend would like. He followed you to the check out before you somehow convinced him to drive the car closer to pick you up at the doors instead of having you walk to the car with him.

Before long, the two of you were back at the flat after having an early lunch he of course paid for even when you tried to argue that you were joking about it beforehand.

Now he sat on the couch with you watching the horrible TV show you liked but his mind was elsewhere.

Simon still found himself stuck inside his thoughts, playing over the idea of telling you or not, to the point he was thinking in circles not getting any closer to an answer. Nothing sounded right, not telling you felt like he wasn’t being truthful but telling you felt like maybe it was just too much.

He didn’t realize how quiet he’d gotten until you placed a gentle hand on top of his and leaned some of your weight against him.

You had a concerned look in your eyes when they met but he gave you a small reassuring smile before he took your hand in his. You didn’t look that convinced even when he gave your hand a squeeze.

“I might have something to cheer you up.” You offered and he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not upset.” He said, which wasn’t a total lie since he was more confused than anything.

“Can I still try?”

“Depends on what you have.”

You jumped up from the couch. He watched you curiously as you rushed into your room before you returned with your hands hidden behind your back, much like how you acted when you were giving him the joke book for his birthday.

He gave you a suspicious look and tried to peek around you to see what you had, but you moved it out of his view each time he leaned forward.

“This is not pay back for driving me around today or buying me lunch.” You prefaced and his eyebrows knitted together.

It wasn’t until you pulled out the lego set he had been staring at earlier that his eyes widened slightly and he gave you an unsure look. You however gave him a warm smile before you held it out for him to take and sat down next to him when he did.

“Why?” That was the only thing he could ask you as he stared at the box before he looked at you.

“Because I like you.” You said and he felt his chest tighten. “Everyone deserves to play with legos.”

It took everything in Simon to not drop the box on the floor and kiss you until both of you were about to pass out. How could you say something like that so easily and be completely serious about it as if it were some natural fact about the world. Your words calmed him and riled him up, it caused a torrent of different emotions inside of him that felt so overwhelming good he had no clue how to deal with them.

You were everything to him and he was so afraid of losing you because of who he was.

“You’ll help me, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Simon wasn’t sure how long the two of you sat there and worked on the lego set. He had a lot more fun with it than he would’ve thought even as he followed the instructions and listened to you talk. He wasn’t sure why sitting next to you and playing with legos of all things made his chest feel warm and made him truly understand that his feelings for you were deeper than anything he had ever felt before but he couldn’t have been happier.

You made him feel so safe and so loved. He knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Can I…I want to be more open with you.” He began and you gave him your full attention. “But I don’t want it to change anything.”

“It won’t.” You said confidently and for a moment he felt a twinge of anxiety hit his stomach.

How could you be so sure? What if he told you and you decided he wasn’t worth it?

“You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Your words repeated in his head and the anxiety settled. He had to trust that you were truthful when you said it, that you really meant it.

He set the last of the lego set down and settled back against the couch, his attention on you as you did the same. He watched as you kept a short distance between the two of you and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for that.

“We go at your pace.” You told him. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re uncomfortable.”

Simon nodded and thought for a moment. He had no idea where to start, how to talk about it without sounding utterly insane but all he could manage was speaking matter of factly about it.

“My father was abusive.” He practically blurted it out.

You had a serious look on your face and though your eyes went sad he didn’t see pity in them, and somehow that made him feel better. You didn’t say anything as you patiently waited for him to continue.

“He used to torment me. I was always too afraid to stand up to him or to fight back. I joined the military to get away but I always wanted to help, and I was able to get the job that I have now because of that. When I came home it was worse than before…I wasn’t scared anymore and I was finally able to kick him out and never had to see him again.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dead.”

You nodded and he was grateful there was an ounce of remorse for the bastard in your eyes. Instead, you placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly across his muscles as you went silent again.

“I stayed after that. My brother was an addict and I couldn’t leave ‘em so I helped him get and stay clean, helped my mum too.” He went on and leaned into you when you began to trace patterns into his tattoo.

“That was good of you.” You told him with a proud smile that warmed his chest.

“Before long Tommy met his wife and got married, then he had Joseph. I had a nephew who had to be the best kid I’d ever met even when he acted out. For once in my life I had a family that felt good, because life was good.”

Images of Simon’s happy family replayed in his mind. His mum who always treated him kindly even when he would have his moment, even when she had been under extreme stress because of his father. Tommy and the way they finally got close after everything and how trusted him enough to let him babysit Joseph. Images of the kid who always wanted to be around him, who looked up at him as if he were the coolest person in the room.

They were far from perfect but they were his family.

He couldn’t help but wonder what they would’ve thought of you. He could imagine his brother teasing him about how you were “out of his league” or how his mum would fawn over you at every chance she would get, pulling you to the side with Beth and telling you all of the embarrassing stories about him she could.

Simon’s face had fallen and you stopped tracing his tattoo.

“They would’ve loved you.”

Your eyes widened and your face fell. You looked almost panicked as you stared at him. He could see you thinking up every possibility, hoping that you were wrong about what you knew he was implying as a deep sadness crept into your eyes.

“Are they…?” You barely spoke above a whisper and when he nodded you immediately grabbed his hand. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”

Simon held your hand firmly. He felt the heavy weight of grief push against him like many times before. It happened years ago now but sometimes it still felt like it was recent. Normally he wouldn’t feel so upset but maybe it was because he was finally talking about it to someone else, with you, that it began to open old wounds.

“I went back to work once everything was normal. I was asked to help for an op and there were these two soldiers with me when it went south.” He trailed off and suddenly his voice was lost.

Panic hit his chest and he swallowed hard. He balled his hands into fists as he tried his hardest to hide the fact that he was beginning to shake.

How could you love someone who went through what he did? His scars never bothered him until this moment, until he realized that once he told you where most of them came from you might not look at him the same way. You might look at him like he was broken and not worth the hassle even when he was going to spare you the details.

What happened to him doesn’t happen to regular people and you deserved someone a lot more normal than him.

You caught his attention when you gave his hand a comforting squeeze. When he looked at you, your eyes were reassuring despite the sadness in them and you rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was soft and warm. “We can stop.”

He shook his head. Even if he was afraid he knew he had to say something, if he didn’t then he’d regret it later on.

Before he could think, Simon pulled you into his lap and hugged you. He let out a shaky breath when you hugged him back, your fingers carding through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

He held you like this would be the last time he would be able to. He stayed quiet for a long moment so he could just sit in your presence as he waited to get enough composure to continue.

You waited too. You didn’t say anything as you continued to play with his hair.

“I was tortured for months.”

You shot up and he felt his heart go into his throat. You stared at him with horror as tears immediately filled up your eyes while you stared at him in disbelief.

You shook your head as you held his face delicately and your thumb caressed the scar close to his eye. Tears began to fall and intense grief flashed across your face, like you were mourning his death, before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

He watched you cry and watched your heart break for him. Guilt rose up inside him and he rubbed his thumbs into your hips.

“I’m sorry-”

“No. Don’t you dare apologize.”

You sobbed softly and you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes. Unfortunately they wouldn’t stop so instead you pulled him back into a hug that he gratefully accepted.

He knew you didn’t want him to feel guilty for telling you and he knew that you were trying hard to stop yourself from crying. He knew you too well to know that you were crying because you were upset that something bad had happened to him which would’ve been endearing if it weren’t for the fact that he felt incredibly vulnerable right now.

He was glad he had you. Just having you in his lap was enough to make him feel safe.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away from your eyes. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Simon held you tighter. You began to run your hands through his hair again and he slowly found it easier to breathe despite the shakiness in his chest.

He didn’t deserve it. You believed that, of course you would and for once he actually believed it too.

He had told himself so many times that he somehow deserved it, he must’ve done something to cause his father to treat him that way, that he must’ve done something horrible to end up on the end of torture for months on end. He had to because that only happened to the worst kinds of people and yet…

He didn’t deserve it.

He took a deep, shaky breath and hugged you closer to him. A massive weight lifted off of his shoulders and he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he blinked away the tears.

“I’m better than I used to be.” He assured you with all honesty. “Some days are just worse than others.”

“And that’s okay.” You placed a warm kiss on his temple. “I’ll be strong when you can’t.”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat and he cursed under his breath.

He pulled away from you and locked you into a deep, tender kiss. You were still crying but he didn’t care as he held onto you as if you were his saving grace.

You kissed him back just as fervently, caressing his face and holding him as if you were protecting him from the world.

There were so many emotions swirling inside of him that he wished he could tell you how much he loved you, how far he was willing to go for you and everything he’d do for you.

He’d tell you ten times over, he’d tell you everyday if he could but the words always died in his throat before he could even open his mouth. He hoped you knew even without the words. He hoped that everything he did to try to show you how much he loved you was enough until he could finally say it.

Every kiss he gave you meant: I love you.

Link to part 10

A/N: I hope this didn't come off as trauma dumping but I think the only way Simon would feel comfortable enough being vulnerable with someone would be to just explain what happened but also yay we're healing. Also not my best in the series but this is also the best I could do after being burnt out. I hope you guys like this

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags:

@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @alastorhazbin @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mw2

782 notes · View notes

yanderehsr · 6 months

Note

Hii! Could I please request Venti, Aether and Wriothesley reaction to an escape attempt? If not its fine dw, please feel free to ignore my request. And make sure to drink enough water <3

Sure, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapped reader

Venti: As soon as he doesn't feel your familiar warmth when he wakes up he knows something is wrong, he is searching all of Stormterrors lair for you. He panics, where are you, please come back.

Venti will search for all of Mondstadt, and if you aren't there then he will abandon the country he's the archon of to search for you. You aren't leaving him, not ever, and when he finds you he'll make sure you can't walk away from him ever again.

"Hello there honey, did you have a good time away from me?... Try that again and I'll remove your legs instead of just breaking them... I-I missed you so much"

Aether: How, how the hell did you get out of the Serenitea pot, for a while Aether wont trust anyone, not even Paimon, what if they let you out, what if they made you leave him, he doesn't care what he is doing, he could be in the middle of saving a nation, he will find you.

This is Aether's worst nightmare probably, you left him just like his sister did. This fuels not only his resolve to find you, but also the resolve to find his sister quicker, he wants to introduce you to her so you three can travel to other worlds together, he can hardly wait.

"There you are, do you have any idea how long I've searched... now will you come along willingly or do I have to drag you back"

Wriothesley: The first thing he does is search his entire office, he doesn't want to panic. When he doesn't find you he will get worried, did you get kidnapped, did a prisoner take you to get to him, did you leave him of your own volition, either way he will get you back.

Wriothesley knows that you couldn't have left the Fortress of Meropide without him knowing. He will make an announcement, anyone who finds you and brings you to him will have any one of their wishes fulfilled by him, it's only a matter of time until you are brought back to him.

"I have to admit I'm dissapointed, I thought better of you then to run away from me, hope it was worth it because you aren't leaving my office or my side for quite some time"

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere venti #yandere venti x reader #yandere aether #yandere aether x reader #yandere wriothesley #yandere wriothesley x reader

605 notes · View notes

novelconcepts · 11 months

Text

There’s a line from American Gods I keep coming back to in relation to Yellowjackets, an observation made early on by Shadow in prison: “The kind of behavior that works in a specialized environment, such as prison, can fail to work and in fact become harmful when used outside such an environment.” I keep rotating it in my head in thinking about the six survivors, the roles they occupy in the wilderness, and the way the show depicts them as adults in society.

Because in the wilderness, as in prison, they’re trapped—they’re suffering, they’re traumatized, they’re terrified—but they’re also able to construct very specific boxes to live in. And, in a way, that might make it easier. Cut away the fat, narrow the story down to its base arc. You are no longer the complex young woman who weighs a moral compass before acting. You no longer have the luxury of asking questions. You are a survivor. You have only to get to the next day.

Shauna: the scribe. Lottie: the prophet. Van: the acolyte. Taissa: the skeptic. Misty: the knight. Natalie: the queen. Neat, orderly, the bricks of a new kind of society. And it works in the woods; we know this because these six survive. (Add Travis: the hunter, while you’re at it, because he does make it to adulthood).

But then they’re rescued. And it’s not just lost purpose and PTSD they’re dealing with now, but a loss of that intrinsic identity each built in the woods. How do you go home again? How do you rejoin a so-called civilized world, where all the violence is restricted to a soccer field, to an argument, to your own nightmares?

How does the scribe, the one who wrote it all out in black and white to make sense of the horrors, cope with a world that would actively reject her story? She locks that story away. But she can’t stop turning it over in her head. She can’t forget the details. They’re waiting around every corner. In the husband beside her in bed. In the child she can’t connect with across the table. In the best friend whose parents draw her in, make her the object of their grief, the friend who lives on in every corner of their hometown. She can’t forget, so she tries so hard to write a different kind of story instead, to fool everyone into seeing the soft maternal mask and not the butcher beneath, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the prophet come back from the religion a desperate group made of her, a group that took her tortured visions, her slipping mental health, and built a hungry need around the very things whittling her down? She builds over the bones. She creates a place out of all that well-intended damage, and she tells herself she’s helping, she’s saving them, she has to save them, because the world is greedy and needs a leader, needs a martyr, needs someone to stand up tall and reassure everyone at the end of the day that they know what’s best. The world, any world, needs someone who will take those blows so the innocent don’t have to. She’s haunted by everyone she didn’t save, by the godhood assigned to her out of misplaced damage, and when the darkness comes knocking again, there is nothing else to do but repeat old rhymes until there is blood on her hands just the same.

How does the acolyte return to a world that cares nothing for the faith of the desperate, the faith that did nothing to save most of her friends, that indeed pushed her to destroy? She runs from it. She dives into things that are safe to believe in, things that rescue lonely girls from rough home lives, things that show a young queer kid there’s still sunshine out there somewhere. She delves into fiction, makes a home inside old stories to which she already knows the endings, coaxes herself away from the belief that damned her and into a cinemascope safety net where the real stuff never has to get in. She teaches herself surface-level interests, she avoids anything she might believe in too deeply, and still she’s dragged back to the place where blood winds up on her hands just the same.

How does the skeptic make peace with the things she knows happened, the things that she did even without meaning to, without realizing? She buries them. She leans hard into a refusal to believe those skeletons could ever crawl back out of the graves she stuffed them into, because belief is in some ways the opposite of control. She doesn’t talk to her wife. She doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not about what’s underneath the surface, because that’s just a mess, so instead she actively discounts the girl she became in the woods. She makes something new, something rational and orderly, someone who can’t fail. She polishes the picture to a shine, and she stands up straight, the model achievement. She goes about her original plan like it was always going to be that way, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the knight exist in a world with no one to serve, no one to protect, no reason propelling the devastating choices she had grown comfortable making? She rechannels it. She convinces herself she’s the smartest person in the room, the most capable, the most observant. She convinces herself other people’s mysteries are hers to solve, that she is helping in every single action she takes. She makes a career out of assisting the most fragile, the most helpless souls she can find, and she makes a hobby out of patrolling for crimes to solve, and when a chance comes to strap her armor back on and ride into battle, she rejoices in the return to normalcy. She craves that station as someone needed, someone to rely upon in the darkest of hours, and she winds up with blood on her hands because, in a way, she never left the wilderness at all.

How does the queen keep going without a queendom, without a pack, without people to lead past the horrors of tomorrow? She doesn’t. She simply does not know how. She scrounges for something, anything, that will make her feel connected to the world the way that team did. She moves in and out of a world that rejects trauma, punishes the traumatized, heckles the grieving as a spectacle. She finds comfort in the cohesive ritual of rehabilitation, this place where she gets so close to finding herself again, only to stumble when she opens her eyes and sees she’s alone. All those months feeding and guiding and gripping fast to the fight of making it to another day, and she no longer knows how to rest. How to let go without falling. She no longer wears a crown, and she never wanted it in the first place, so how on earth does she survive a world that doesn’t understand the guilt and shame of being made the centerpiece of a specialized environment you can never explain to anyone else? How, how, how do you survive without winding up with blood on your hands just the same?

All six of these girls found, for better or worse, a place in the woods. All six of them found, for better or worse, a reason to get up the next day. For each other. And then they go home, and even if they all stayed close, stayed friends, it’d still be like stepping out of chains for the first time in years. Where do you go? How do you make small choices when every decision for months was life or death? How do you keep the part of yourself stitched so innately into your survival in a world that would scream to see it? How do you do away with the survivor and still keep going?

They brought it back with them. Of course they did. It was the only way.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers #yj meta #long post #shauna shipman #lottie matthews #taissa turner #van palmer #misty quigley #natalie scatorccio #the question not being how do you survive the wilderness. the question being how do you come BACK.#the way each of them tries so hard to keep moving forward #unable to untangle the girl in the woods from the adult suffering in polite society #how the world doesn’t want to hear about the pain or the night terrors or the sleepwalking or the addiction #the world wants the bright colors and the flash-bang headlines #the world doesn’t want who they are. who they had to be. it wants pretty perfect tragedy #that specialized environment lives on in each one of them every day #but it’s not a place anyone else can ever go #how do you feed that for so long and then just…stop?#constantly thinking about nat saying we didn’t make it out. none of us.#because no. no they didn’t. the girls died the minute that rescue chance did. what came back was risen from those ashes

1K notes · View notes

multific · 3 months

Text

My Heart in the Palm of Your Hands

Astarion x Reader

Looking into his eyes you often felt a pull. He was cunning, handsome and charming. He wasn't afraid to show off his body and frankly, he shouldn't be.

In your eyes, he was perfection.

You loved his eyes the most, they told stories even with the most simple look.

Astarion and your heart got tangled during a very eventful mission.

And after, no one could separate you.

He liked to watch you from afar, observe you to see what you were doing, and analyse your movements.

Even now, you found him doing it even if he was only sitting at arm's length.

But now, you also found adoration in his eyes, the purest love.

He was no longer calculating his next move, he was no longer burdened with his past, he was free.

Free from Kazador.

Free from torture and fear.

And now, he was in love.

One could argue that love was just a different word for his prison, but Astarion would never agree.

At first, he was only meant to seduce you, to get you on his side and help him.

And yet, it became real, too real for him.

He kept finding himself to be smiling at you, he worried about you and in the end, your nightly meetings became more and more meaningful.

The sadness from his eyes slowly disappeared, and instead was filled with love.

The nightmares that kept him up at night became the sweetest dream with a simple promise, you.

One late night, you both walked in the moonlight and he suddenly stopped.

He held your hand in his and smiled at you.

"You hold my heart in the palm of your hands." he said as he turned your palm up and held the back of your hand with his palm, as if you were holding something.

And you swore, for just a second you could feel his heartbeat in the palm of your hands.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

381 notes · View notes

nyrandrea · 7 months

Text

Restless

Summary: As your sleepless nights start to catch up with you, you turn to a certain vampire who might just be able to help.

Also available to read here on A03!

Word Count - 2.7k

Enjoy!

xxx

Sleep had always been something of an illusion to you.

Each night, as the world succumbed to slumber, you lay in your bedroll, with eyes wide open, gazing at the twinkling stars of the endless night sky. It was as if the world had pressed pause, leaving you to confront the shadows of your own thoughts. Your insomnia was a relentless adversary, a cruel warden that held you captive in the prison of wakefulness.

The nights stretched on endlessly, and as the hours ticked by, your exhaustion grew more profound.

Your mind raced with thoughts, a relentless carousel of worries, hopes, and regrets. You would toss and turn, your body tangled in the sheets, seeking elusive comfort. Come morning, the birds seemed to mock you, a constant reminder of the passage of time that slipped away while you lay wide awake.

By the time everyone else was up and refreshed from a good night’s sleep, you were still lying flat on your back, your bloodshot eyes stinging as you stared up at the pale morning sky.

“Darling, it’s time to get up,” Astarion said, standing above you with hands on hips, his expression somewhat bemused. “Honestly, you’re so lazy, just like Gale.”

He muttered that last part, glaring towards the wizard’s tent as a rumbling snore emanated from it and echoed throughout the camp. The vampire suddenly smirked, and you rolled your head to follow his gaze, only to see Karlach sneaking towards the tent with her hands out, ready to pounce.

The snoring was cut short with a high-pitched scream, followed by a roar of laughter, and a lot of cursing on Gale’s part.

“Good, at least that’s one of you up,” Astarion said, turning back towards you. “Now, are you going to follow suit? Or am I going to have to stoop to Karlach’s tactics? Brash as they are.”

“Hey! My tactics are quite refined, thank you very much,” Karlach rebuked, stabbing a thumb in Gale’s direction, the poor man stumbling to find his cloak. “Got him up, didn’t I?”

“That you did, darling.”

“I’m up,” you muttered hoarsely, wincing as you slowly pushed yourself up off the ground, your body feeling about a hundred years old. “I’m up.”

“Oh dear,” Astarion grimaced. “Looks like someone didn’t get their beauty sleep last night, hm?”

His tone was light but there was an almost... concerned note to it, as if he was prodding. You felt a pang in your chest; he only spoke the truth; your eyes, once bright and expressive, now bore the heavy bags and dark circles of sleep deprivation. Your skin had dulled and paled considerably over the past few weeks, and your hair was dishevelled and unkempt.

You almost certainly looked as bad as you felt.

Part of you wanted to blame the group: Astarion for nearly sucking you dry of your blood, Karlach for being so damn loud all the time, Gale for making demands of you every ten minutes, Lae’zel for very nearly causing fights everywhere she went with her brashness, Shadowheart for her condescending demeanour and Wyll for craving validation from you every time you had a chat with him. The only sane person here seemed to be Halsin, and even he was starting to grate on your nerves for just looking so damn well-rested and perky.

The other part of you wanted to cry, to apologise for being such a failure and run away into the woods to never be seen or heard from again and just succumb to whatever fate the mind-flayer parasite had in store for you.

Instead, you forced a smile, and lied.

“Just had a nightmare, is all.”

“Hm,” Astarion hummed, a simmering concern etched into the lines of his face. In that moment you felt a soft push in your mind, and the tadpole behind your eye squirmed as if responding to something. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions, a palpable tension that seemed to hang between you both.

It was only when you winced that the vampire averted his gaze, and the unseen force retreated from your mind.

“Terribly sorry,” Astarion said as you rubbed your head. “It would seem that my worm wanted to talk with yours; perhaps it was... concerned. Ooh, do you think that they’re best friends?”

“I doubt it,” you muttered, a little annoyed at his giddiness. “Maybe tell yours to mind its own business next time.”

“Of course, apologies again,” he said with that smooth voice and puppy-dog eyes of his, it was enough to make your irritation melt away. “But should a nightmare ever arise in that darling head of yours again, just know that you can seek me out.”

You blinked, a little surprised at the open invitation. You couldn’t quite tell if it was genuine; it was always hard to tell with him. The only times you had ever been intimate was whenever he sought you out for a bit of casual fun. He seemed confused as to why you never wanted to initiate, but you tried to explain that while you enjoyed your time together, you never wanted to invade his privacy as you respected that camp time was everyone’s chance for a bit of peace and were entitled to such.

This only seemed to confuse him further.

Still, this had to be a big step for him, to ask you to his tent -his sanctuary- and you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“I-I will,” you stutter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, my dear,” Astarion smiled. “Now, shall we see what chaos today brings for us? It’s been far too long since we’ve had to kill anyone.”

You bumped his shoulder playfully. “We killed that group of bandits only yesterday.”

He returned the gesture with a sly smirk. “Exactly.”

During the day, you continued your journey with a fragile facade of normalcy, sipping on coffee like it was the elixir of life, desperately trying to stay awake. Your interactions with others were tinged with a weary detachment, as if you were viewing the world through a foggy pane of glass.

Emotions played hide-and-seek within your very soul. Frustration lurked just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. An innocent quip or question would trigger an unexpected wellspring of tears, followed by nervous laughter, leaving everyone in the group perplexed. You merely brushed it off as the tadpole messing with your head, but even that raised a few eyebrows as nobody else was acting up—it was a good thing you were persuasive.

You tried to avoid battles wherever and whenever you could, opting to take the longer roads or attempting to sweet-talk your way out of a sticky situation. However, some fights were unavoidable, and this was when your sleep deprivation was really put on show for everyone to see; your movements were sluggish, enemies were able to get more hits on you and you had to be helped back up to your feet on more than one occasion.

The others insisted on setting up camp a little earlier than usual so you could rest and, despite your trying to tell them that you were fine and wanted to keep going because these tadpoles weren’t going to remove themselves anytime soon, they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

So, here you were again, on your back, staring up at the stars. Another night of having an existential crisis while everyone else slumbered on peacefully. Rinse and repeat.

You had tried everything to conquer your insomnia. Experimented with herbal teas, soothing music, you had even consulted a sleep specialist back in Baldur’s Gate who prescribed a cocktail of medications. But the battle persisted, night after night.

Sitting up and rubbing your dry, stinging eyes, you decided to try something else.

As you crept through the camp, you were careful not to wake anyone else up as you approached Astarion’s tent, tentatively peeking in through the flap before reprimanding yourself; even though he had invited you, boundaries were important, you couldn’t just go barging in. So, you gently knocked on one of the wooden beams that supported the tent.

“Astarion...?” You softly whispered, waiting for a response.

Only silence followed.

You knocked again, wincing slightly at the louder noise you made. For a moment you thought about abandoning this whole silly idea and going back to staring into space for the next eight hours, but desperation made you persistent.

Mercifully, you heard a faint shuffle come from inside the tent.

“Come in,” Astarion’s husky, muffled voice answered.

Nervously, you slipped inside, and a wave of warmth immediately washed over your face as you were greeted with the sight of a bare-chested Astarion sitting cross-legged on his bedroll. You were grateful he at least had pants on, otherwise you would have been out of there like a shot.

A mischievous smile spread across his face as he watched you squirm uncomfortably. “Whatever is the matter, darling?” His lips formed a perfect pout. “Come to ask me for a little cuddle to chase the bad dreams away?”

Your nostrils flared as you glowered down at him while he smirked smugly back up, because of course he would tease you about something like this. You should have known that he wasn’t going to take you seriously.

“Forget it,” you said, making a sharp turn to re-open the tent flap. “I-I never should have come here, I’ll just... leave you be.”

You missed the flash of panic on his face as he quickly got to his knees to reach out and grab your wrist before you could make it out.

“Wait!” He said, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry, come back in, please?”

You slowly turned your head.

“I promise not to tease you.”

Begrudgingly, you allowed him to take your hand and escort you back inside, guiding you to sit down beside him on the floor.

“You’re having trouble sleeping again, I presume?”

Nodding your head, you squeezed the bridge of your nose and sighed, trying to swallow down the overwhelming urge to break down in front of him and cry in pure frustration.

“I... I’ve been struggling with insomnia for a while now.”

Astarion scoffed. “Well now, that’s a revelation.”

You had half a mind to slap him.

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “No teasing, of course, but come on darling, it was pretty obvious from the start.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your gaze cast downward, wondering why you even came here in the first place if he was just going to insult you.

“You’re still beautiful,” he said, softly caressing your jaw to angle your face towards him. “Very beautiful indeed.”

Your heart thumped wildly as the tip of your nose brushed his, and you would have crumpled into his well-tuned act of seduction if it were not for one burning question suddenly on your mind.

“How do you do it?"

“I- do what?”

“Elves don’t sleep, right?” You said, blinking curiously. “How do you... not sleep?”

“We uh... meditate, darling. Wait, how do you not know this?” he asked, pulling back with his eyebrow raised. “You must have seen me doing it at some stage or another.”

“...I always just thought you pretended to sleep,” you hummed in thought. “Now that I think about it, the way you lay down was always kind of strange looking.”

He snorted a laugh at your brutal honesty, and feeling a jab of guilt, you tried to back-track on your word vomit.

“Sorry! Um… no offence?”

"None taken, darling,” he said, waving a nonchalant hand. “I can see why my eloquent poses would look strange to you, but for elves, meditation is a common practice. Helps us to… calm down; be in the moment, as it were.”

A comfortable silence fell between you.

“Could you show me?”

Astarion gave you a questionable look. “You want me to show you how to meditate?”

You nod vigorously and cross your legs with your arms resting on your knees to show that you’re serious. It takes you a moment to figure out which fingers were supposed to touch together but you get there eventually.

With a bemused smile, the vampire shrugs. “Alright, I've had stranger requests.”

You wanted to question that but put a pin in it for another time.

"Are you ready?" Astarion asked. You nod, your heart fluttering with both anticipation and trust. “Now, clear your head.”

You give him a dry look.

He rolls his eyes back. “Yes, admittedly a little hard, what with the little residents living up there but just... trust me, alright? Close your eyes.”

You complied, and Astarion began to guide you, his words soft and rhythmic, like a gentle lullaby. "Breathe in deeply," he said, his own breath aligning with yours. "Feel the air fill your lungs, expanding your chest, and exhale slowly, try to let go of any tension."

You followed his instructions, your breath matching his like a perfectly choreographed dance. With each inhale and exhale, you felt a growing sense of calm washing over.

"Thoughts may arise, like passing clouds," Astarion murmured. "Acknowledge them but let them drift away. Return your focus to your breath.”

You found yourself navigating the currents of your thoughts with newfound ease, like a sailor guiding a boat through calm waters. The more you let go, the more profound your sense of inner stillness grew. You felt the weight of your worries begin to dissolve. The burdens of your leadership, of the mind-flayer tadpoles and the problems that came with it seemed to retreat into the distance, leaving you with a newfound clarity.

"Good," Astarion whispered. "Now, focus on your body. Notice any tension, any discomfort. Let it go with each breath. Feel your body becoming lighter, more at ease."

Minutes passed like hours, and the tent seemed to fill with an ethereal stillness. You and Astarion remained connected through your breath, it was as if time itself had become irrelevant, and you were both suspended in a moment of pure existence.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders and neck melting away. It was as if the cares of the world were simply slipping through your fingers.

Slipping...

“...Darling? Are you-? Oh.”

Astarion’s eyes widen, and he winces a little when your head falls into his shoulder. He catches you gently by the arms, so you don’t slip and go face-first into his lap; it was a delicious thought but for another time, when you were conscious and ready.

But right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with you. He certainly knows he can’t hold you like this all night; it would be uncomfortable for both of you. His eyebrows crease as he frowns while he tries to slowly lower you to the ground.

To absolutely no avail; unconsciously you end up pulling him in closer.

“Oh, for Gods's sake,” the vampire huffs incredulously. “What am I, some sort of glorified teddy bear?”

Half-asleep and still nestled into Astarion’s chest, you mumble something incoherent in response, your breath warm against his skin. You snuggle even closer, your head burrowing into the crook of his neck.

For a moment, Astarion felt a flicker of irritation, his desire for a good night's rest warring with his affection for you. He yearned to stretch out, to find the perfect position that would allow him the bliss of undisturbed meditation. But as he looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, all traces of weariness and anxiety erased, he just couldn't bring himself to disturb you.

Reluctantly, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer still. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of your breath, the slow, rhythmic cadence of sleep. The warmth of your body against his own gradually seeped through the cracks in his defences, and his irritation gave way to an overwhelming tenderness.

In that moment, he realised that the inconvenience of being your living pillow was a small price to pay for the privilege of holding you close, of being the one you sought comfort in. As you drifted further into slumber, Astarion closed his eyes and surrendered to the serenity of the night, the gentle weight of your devotion for each other enveloping you both, anchoring him in the moment and reminding him of the beauty in life's simple, sweet sacrifices.

xxx

Yyyyyeah I know this one has the same beats as 'Everything's Fine' but what can I say? I'm a sucker for begrudgingly soft Astarion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Let me know what y'all think!

Links to my other Astarion works

'Everything's Fine'

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #my writing #tw insomnia #fanfiction #baldurs gate 3

624 notes · View notes