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theapangea · 10 months

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I love your fics omfggggg

can you do one where fwb wants to be in an actual relationship but lip doesn’t so they end things with him. then lip realizes that he loved her after it was too late. Angst with fluff at the end 💞💞

(I’m sorry this is like my first time requesting anything 💀)

Thank you so much for trusting me with writing this for you and pls do not be sorry - seriously means so much to me <3. This is a long one bc I feel there is just so much that goes into this story so I hope you like it! I went the route that Lip is kind of afraid to be in a relationship which is why he doesn't want one with the reader. Hope you enjoy my love!!

It's Always Going To Be You

Lip Gallagher x reader

wc: 2.4k

Contents: 18+/ MINORS DNI!!, There is like two paragraphs of smut and the rest has no smut, p in v, unprotected sex, idk why I had to add smut but it’s Lip so kind of makes sense, verbal fighting, swearing

Fingers digging into your hips as you continue on your euphoric ride, your juices dripping down his balls as you grind against his length. Your head is fuzzy, your thoughts scattered as Lip holds you down tightly while he increases his speed. His throbbing tip hits your sweet spot repeatedly, twitching under his grasp as the feeling is mutual. Lip watches as your face contorts into pure pleasure, riding the wave of pleasure as you both cum.

A whiny moan escaping your lips as Lip pounds hard into your core. Your heart pounding in your center as you roll over onto the bed. Falling softly onto the mattress, the sound of heavy breaths quickly overtake the room, replacing the moans that once littered the space.

Turning your head to look over at the man who just rocked your world, once again. The sun hitting his face perfectly as it shines brightly through the window, watching the sweat trickle down his temple and a playful smirk dancing along his face. His thoughts are foggy from the amazing time you two just shared.

Rolling over onto your side, your left hand snaking its way along his chest, fingers grazing over the soft skin, goosebumps trailing not far behind.

Lip takes your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze as his other hand reaches for the loose strands of hair that fall into your face, tucking them neatly behind your ear. Then pulling you closer by the chin to place a soft kiss on your lips.

You are in love.

Lip has your heart so deeply that you cannot fathom feeling anything else. His touch, his voice, his laugh, his everything making you completely head over heels for him.

Unfortunately for you, the two of you are just friends who happen to have sex with each other. Though you definitely yearn for something more.

Taking a deep breath as you work up the courage to ask, “Do you ever think about being more than just friends?”

Lip’s eyes are still fixed on yours but his face changes to an indescribable stare. The question obviously makes him think more than you would like. Humming before answering, “Uhh, not really.” Dropping both of his hands as Lip looks back towards the ceiling.

A wrenching punch to your fragile heart.

“So you just want to have sex and that’s it?” You question, your tone becoming venomous as you push back from Lip. The feeling of love slowly dissipates.

“Pretty much yeah.”

Pretty much?

Has Lip Gallagher completely lost his fucking mind?

Your body begins to shake, your blood boiling inside your veins as his words repeat over and over and over in your mind. You want to scream, yell, push, punch…cry. All of these emotions build in your body as you stare at Lip who doesn’t even look like he gives a shit.

“Fuck you Lip Gallagher.”

It is all you can muster up the courage to say. Immediately following the words by getting off the bed. Grabbing your underwear off the floor, murmuring to yourself as you struggle to put them on.

Lip groans as he lifts himself up, “Don’t be like this.” Scooting himself to the edge of the bed. Reaching out his hands towards you, his fingertips brushing against your bare waist and arms. Grazing along the skin until he reaches your hand, squeezing light with sincerity in his eyes.

He makes your heart flutter, but you can’t shake his words, “Lip, be honest with me.” Your free hand gripping the cotton fabric of your shirt, “Do you ever want this to go further than just sex?”

"Like a relationship?"

"Yes a relationship."

Hesitating before answering you, “Not really.”

Dropping your hand from his instantly at his hurtful words. Heart sinking to the very depths of the holes in your stomach, the burning sensation tickles the back of your throat as you hold back your tears. “Then we’re done.” Your tone is quiet, continuing to fight the urge to collapse, to cry into his arms as you hurry to put on your clothes.

Lip tries, but fails, to get your attention. Reaching out towards you to talk to him, but every time you take a moment to just stare at him. Your stare no longer holds the spark of love that radiates for him, but the resentment you now hold towards him. The way he just let your heart hit the cold ground without any care in the world.

And as soon as you have your pants on, you are out the door of his room. Practically running to get out of the house, away from him, away from the heartbreak.

You can hear the heavy footsteps behind you, knowing he is following close behind. His voice follows as it pleads for you to stop.

Finally able to grab your arm at the end of the staircase, the argument is in full display of his family that occupies the living room. “Why do we have to ruin what we have now?” Lip whispers.

“We don’t have anything now, Lip.” You harshly say, louder than your normal tone of voice, “It’s just sex, all we ever do is fuck and I want more.” You can feel the burning sensation come back, your eyes shifting downwards as the tears start to become too hard to hold back, speaking softly, “I deserve more.”

Ripping your hand hard from his grasp. Pausing just a brief second to look at Lip, wishing this day turned out differently. Wishing you never had sex with him in the first place. You leave without saying another word, the door slamming loudly behind you.

Lip is beyond furious with you and how you reacted. He couldn’t believe how childish you were being over something so silly, over something that wasn’t even serious. He shakes his head before departing up the stairs, before anyone of his siblings can make any sort of remarks about the shit storm that just happened.

Lip ignored the world for the first couple of days since your break up, that wasn’t really a break up, at least not to him. He constantly replayed the fight over and over again until his head hurt. Trying to understand you but he couldn’t he could fucking understand you at all.

Why did you get so mad?

Why did you want to ruin what you both currently have?

Why did you want more?

Why couldn’t he give you more?

After a couple of weeks, Lip wasn’t mad at you anymore. A little annoyed but not mad. More mad at himself and frustrated with how he always handles these situations. If anyone shows just a little bit of feelings towards him, he completely shuts down, shutting anyone and everyone out. Anyone who could break him.

Lip’s life eventually went back to normal, or as normal as a Gallagher’s life could get. But there was definitely something missing, and he knew it was you and your laugh and your smile and the way your eyes light up when you look at him.

Lip finally realized that it was never about the sex, even though it was definitely great. It was you, it was always going to be you.

He was just too much of an idiot, too heartbroken by other girls to see that you are perfect for him in every way.

He is in love with you, and finally ready to admit it.

The realization hits Lip like a ton of bricks on this hot, sunny Tuesday afternoon. The puzzle pieces finally click into place as his mind is no longer questioning his feelings. He understands how he feels and he needs to tell you right now.

No more waiting, Lip thought, it was now or never.

And he couldn’t face forever without you.

His heart beating faster, the adrenaline pumping through his body as he practically runs to your house. His feet moving quicker than ever before, his body rushing on the pure thought of love coursing through his vein.

The high races in Lip's head, sending him higher than any joint or orgasm ever could.

Lip is in love.

The rapid pounding on the front door shakes you from your slumber. It’s been a couple very hard weeks since your stupid, little break up with Lip. God, why couldn’t you get him out of your mind?

Taking a pillow to place over your head as the pounding becomes louder and louder, more and more frequent. You groan aggressively throughout the quiet house, wishing the person on the other side will just go the fuck away.

Huffing as you begrudgingly take your little heartbroken body down the stairs to answer the door. The knocking still at full volume, shaking the windows. Unlocking the door to see him…the boy who broke you. The boy who wants nothing from you but sex.

You can barely look at him, making the quick decision to shut the door. Wanting to leave him and everything about him far away from you. But before you can close the door completely, Lip jams his shoe into the open space. Pushing to try to stop you from shutting the door, shutting him out.

“I just want to talk.” He states, sticking his hand to help himself keep the door open.

Now leaning your whole body on the heavy door, attempting to close it on him, but unfortunately Lip is far stronger than you. “I have nothing to say to you,” Pushing hard until he finally loses his grip and in one final push, you close the door and lock him out.

Chest heaving as you watch him on the other side of the fogged glass. You can feel your body start to give in as he calls your name. Begging for you to talk to him.

But you physically can’t. You won’t let yourself be hurt by Lip again. You deserve better than that and if that means never seeing him again, then so be it.

Walking away from the door, back up the stairs, continuing to hear him call your name. Each time is like a knife being twisted deeper into your heart. Plopping on the bed, grabbing a stuffed animal and crying, because at this point there is nothing more you can manage to do.

Lip huffs as he tries to figure out what to do. Obviously his first attempt at talking to you didn’t work out very well but he can’t just leave and hope that some day things will work out between the two of you. He needs you to know how he truly feels.

Puckering his lips as he walks out into the front lawn, looking up towards the second floor at your bedroom window. And that’s when the idea hit, just like every classic 80s movie, just needs a little bit of romance. He looks around for a couple of rocks, taking two or three of them in his hands before tossing them at your bedroom window.

The tapping sound clicks through your room, hearing it in between sobs. Looking up to figure out where the noise is coming from as another rock hits your window. Wiping away the snot from your nose and the tears from your eyes as you stumble over to the window.

Peering out to sit Lip down below, waving up at you. Opening the window to shout, “Go away Gallagher before I call the cops.” Your voice still reminisces of hurt as you try your best to sound tough.

“I just want to talk.” Lip yells back, picking the dirt off of the rock in his hands.

“Well I don’t.” You begin to shut the window until he yells for you to stop. His voice is about to break, tugging at your heart strings. You can see his cheeks start to get rosy and the strain in his eyes as he holds back tears.

“Please stop,” He feels like he can’t catch his breath, “I just need to talk.”

You pause, staring at him as he begins to break down in your front lawn. Opening the window again, poking your head out and nodding for him to continue.

“I was- I am a fucking idiot. Because I didn’t see what we had, b-but I do now. You have to believe me.” Dropping the rocks in his hand as his palm wipes away the lone tear that runs down his cheek.

“I LOVE YOU Y/N!” His whole heart is in his words. “I am so madly in love with you.”

You can’t help but smile, smile at him for being such a dork who is shouting his love for you. Smile because it feels like you can actually breathe after so many weeks of being under water. Your lungs so full of air they could burst at any second.

“Please come down here and talk to me.”

Rolling your eyes playfully as you make your way out of your room, down the stairs and out onto the porch. A little laugh catching in your throat as Lip continues to shouts to the neighborhood how much he loves you. How much he adores you.

Only stopping when he notices you are outside. “I’m serious, y’know. About us.”

Crossing your arms over your body, as you so desperately want to give yourself to him, but after what happened between the two of you. You can’t help but want to continue to build your walls. “I don’t know, Lip.”

“I was scared. Wh-when you told me that you wanted something more. I didn’t think I could feel this way after- well after Karen. But here you were, here you are making me feel fucking stupid and like over the moon for you.” Lip rants, “I could be doing the most interesting shit, and somehow the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, and then I end up thinking about you for the rest of the day.”

“I am in love with you. I am always going to be in love with you.” His eyes are soft as he tries to study you, tries to indicate what you are thinking. Hoping that you will forgive him.

A small smile creeps onto your face as you can’t help but understand where Lip is coming from. You know what it’s like to not trust people, to want to close yourself off from others. Hell it’s easier than falling in love. But you can’t help who you fall in love with.

Taking a couple of steps closer to him, hand extending to touch the buttons on his shirt. Eyes, doe-like as they bat behind your eyes lashes. Heart fluttering as you pinch the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer towards you.

Inches away from one another as Lip grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, needing you more than oxygen.

~~~~

“I could be doing the most interesting shit, and somehow the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, and then I end up thinking about you for the rest of the day.” - writing prompt from @dumplingsjinson - prompt list here.

I super hope you enjoyed!! Let me know what you think <3

#lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher smut #shameless x reader #theapangea #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher fanfic

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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heaven doesn't take too kindly to him breaking in a second time.

aziraphale stops them, with his blood already staining their perfect fucking floors, and his hands are balled into shaking fists, his voice projecting more authority than ever. crowley waits until they're alone in the blinding corridors before allowing his body to collapse, hissing when pain flares across his back.

"crowley-" there is a shadow in his periphery, hands reaching for him, but he flinches out of reflex more than intention, taking twisted satisfaction in the strangled noise escaping aziraphale.

"fuck off." while audibly hoarse, the edge to his words is sharp.

with his palms pressed to the floor, he gets to his knees, head hanging down as he sucks in breath after breath to summon enough focus to fix himself.

"let me help-"

"i said FUCK OFF," he spits, glancing up at him through a curtain of red waves and pain. "what do you care anyway."

"of course i care," aziraphale shoots back immediately, somewhere between offended and distressed, and oh, crowley takes the same satisfaction in that, too, no matter how bitter it tastes.

purely out of spite and to regain whatever of his pride is left, he ignores the cut still sluggishly bleeding onto the floor and pushes himself upwards, managing to stand while swaying heavily. he's a fucking mess compared to aziraphale in his pristine archangel get-up, and it lures the anger out of him with ease.

"huh, considering those are your guys you really have a funny way of showing it."

they both know what he is doing, yet the guilt carved into his face is as real as the heartbreak etched into his own. someone knows he is tired of playing games, but that is all they have left now, isn't it? stupid fucking games, as if they hadn't drowned themselves in those for millennia.

"i stopped them, i didn't send them. you know that."

crowley doesn't even attempt to bite back the hollow laugh craving to be set free. it rips through him with pain in his wake, and if he doesn't heal that wound soon the blood loss will make him pass out. how annoying.

"oh, aren't you being hilarious today, archangel. none of this would have happened if you hadn't—"

left.

thirteen months and he still cannot say it. what a pathetic little creature he is, deep down, clinging to love and having nothing but anger to voice it. he understands, he must understand.

suddenly, he is very, very tired.

"i'll be on my way. not gonna clean up though, that's on you."

aziraphale stands frozen, watching, right there and warm and real. crowley barely avoids throwing up at the thought of letting it all go for one gentle touch. in the harsh light, he seems pale, his lips bitten raw, and crowley loves him so desperately it hurts. gritting his teeth, he heals the cut oozing all over his back and nearly topples over with relief. hold me, he doesn't say. help me. come back. i miss you.

"for what it's worth, crowley, i am sorry."

they look at each other, gold and purple-blue-something new. he refuses to believe in Her after everything, but he believes that they will fix this somehow. crowley swallows and his fingers twitch at his side when the light catches on the tears gathering on aziraphale's waterline. they will fix this.

they have to.

"yeah, me too."

three word sentences hiding the one they both cannot voice, yet he finds forgiveness cannot easily be forgiven, not this time.

(it still counts)

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen

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two-white-butterflies · 6 days

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fresh out the slammer | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen always found himself running to you after his failed marriages.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/The Hand!Reader

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to.

The Dragon Prince was always an unpredictable figure. He made choices of his own, allowed his hot-blooded anger to rule his decisions instead of his mind. "Lord Otto warned me years ago, he knew that Daemon would try this..." Viserys cursed underneath his breath, it was a mere second ago when Lord Otto Hightower delivered the news about Rhaenyra's excursion with Daemon.

"I know Rhaenyra, she wouldn't do that in her own accord - this is Daemon's doing, my husband." Queen Alicent followed behind him, and you both exchange a look. Viserys takes a deep breath.

Viserys wanted to believe that his daughter was as innocent as Alicent thought but he knew that it wasn't the case. "The same blood flows through their veins, Rhaenyra and Daemon, they are both unpredictable - untamed by tradition. I would approve of this but my brother has a wife, we cannot risk offending House Royce." the King responded, waiting for your reply.

"We must do something about Daemon." Viserys articulated, "I believe that we have exhausted all our efforts into taming your brother, my king. You've already named him as the Commander of the City Watch. If that position has not taught him anything about honor and respect, I-I cannot see a possibility that anything could." you mused, his eyebrows merged into each other.

"We can send him away, force him to return to his lawful wife." Alicent suggested. "- the people at court, they'll talk about Rhaenyra, they'll bring her moralities into question. If she is to be the future Queen, then shouldn't the court respect her?" Alicent added, hoping to sway her husband into making the decision.

"It is already an endless cycle, my queen. Prince Daemon is forced into exile, he returns a few years and he does something that forces him to exile once more." you argued, on top of that, the prince was an asset to the crown - a warrior if not anything lesser.

"- to catch him would be to catch the wind." you ended and a sigh escapes the King's mouth. "- and we are still unsure if Prince Daemon was with Princess Rhaenyra. Mayhaps, it was just a whore from Lyss who bore resemblance to our princess." you defended, mentally reminding yourself to confront him after this conversation.

Viserys was silent for a second.

He takes a deep breath.

"I shall speak to my brother, confirm or derail the allegations. Then I shall call the small council and make a decision there." he concluded.

Daemon clenched his jaw, seeing you walk towards him in his periphery. A child in his eyes - decades lesser than his age, and yet his brother found you more fitting to be the Hand.

What did you have, that he did not?

"Lord Otto reports seeing you with Princess Rhaenyra late at night in Fleabottom." you opened the conversation and he did his best not to show any facial expressions. "What do you want?" his eyes narrowed.

"It was her then? I'll have you know that your brother plans to wring your head because of that." you chuckled, amused by his childish antics. Was it his first time in court? "If it is her, if it is not her, it is none of your business, hand." he grits his teeth.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Your brother will send you back to your wife. He will not grant you disbarment, nor will he grant you marriage with your niece. You are caught in a limbo, my prince." you explained his situation.

He could give lesser of a fuck.

"- but I can offer you a way out." you offered, and his pupils dilated. Suddenly piqued by your proposition. He takes a strand of your hair and moves it behind your ears. Your faces were mere inches away from each other. "A pretty lady offers me a proposition, I cannot decline." he agrees with the deal.

You stare deep into those purple eyes.

"I'm fairly new to court, they don't trust me - I've made a few enemies. Especially Lord Otto, and I know enough to know that you are smarter than you seem - that he fears you to some extent." you whispered, your voice low so that he'd have to lean closer to hear.

"You protect me, and I'll protect you." you offered. "- this thing with Rhaenyra will die down, just pretend that it was some Lyseni whore you bedded, and not your niece. You can still fuck her, if you wish, but be a little more discreet." you counseled.

"Sure." he hummed, pulling away from your body.

It's been a few months since the start of your alliance with the Rogue Prince, and surprisingly he's become a decent friend. Hilarious, when he tries. "Drink this," he placed a cup of ale in front of you. It wasn't your first time in Fleabottom, but it was your first time going here incognito beside him.

"Gods, aren't you going to help Harwin?" you chuckled, taking a slight sip of the ale. It was much too strong for your tastes. Daemon laughed in return, raising his hand and calling out to Harwin. "Are you alright?" he inquired and the man nodded his head sluggishly, fighting against the effects of alcohol.

"He's alright," Daemon antagonized, biting back a few giggles. "This is my first time seeing you loosen off. You're kind of a boring prude." he insulted jokingly, and you responded with an eye-roll. "Fuck you." your eyes narrowed.

"Seven hells, aren't you going to do anything now?" you raised an eyebrow, seeing Harwin led to the stage by a few bedwarmers. One of the girls pressed kisses on his cheeks. "I thought I was your only one," Daemon chuckled, not planning to stop Harwin from having his fun. "I thought you were old friends." you teased.

"Closer than friends, lesser than lovers." he shrugged and a laugh escapes your mouth. You always managed to laugh at his antics. He always pretended to be close to the people that hated him, sometimes even referring to Otto Hightower as the father he never had - of course, that was an insult to the man's physical features.

There was a comfortable silence between you, a silence that was only marred by the habitual sipping of ale. "You frequent these types of places?" you inquired, only beginning to realize the slight reddish tint on his cheeks.

"I used to, but not much now, they've grown...boring." he waited for the right words to exit his mouth. The truth was, he found himself slowly liking your company - liking the words that came out of your mouth, the insults that made him laugh, and the thought of fucking a woman who was only paid to moan and groan left him unfulfilled. He craved something deeper - like an idiot, he wanted a woman that understood him, that was able to shake his soul with avarice.

He needed someone like you, but he hasn't quite figured that out yet.

"The Prince of Flea Bottom, finding his own kingdom...boring." you mimicked his tone. "I've merely understood the fact that there are much better things to do than empty my spend on a whore's belly." he retorted, the conversation turning serious. "You should return to your wife and empty your seed on that belly." you teased once more, you've always laughed at the topic of his wife.

"I fucking hate you," he took a large swig of his ale. "- get me pissed enough and I'll fuck you, I swear to god." he cursed and you froze slightly. He made you feel dangerous for a moment. Like something could sweep by and take him, and you won't even have the right to mourn - you'll just watch him go, and wallow in the memory of him being vulgar with you.

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 5 days

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Bucky Barnes | Series | Loose

Part two of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You and Bucky have no idea whether you can trust each other. There is an understanding, but you're not sure of what that understanding is and why it seems to run so deep.

Warning: Angst, violence and fluff (?)

Words: 4,1OO

It is hard enough already for Bucky to fall asleep at night. Yes, it has gotten better in recent years, but there will always be that part of him – awake and aware – that registers every sound and movement, even when he should be knocked out. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that part of him sat more alert ever since you had joined the building. Perhaps because Bucky still wasn’t so confident in your allegiance.

He can’t stop overthinking it. He has seen what you’re capable of. Would you be capable of even more if people cornered you? If you felt like you had no other choice but to manipulate and kill your way out? After all, wasn’t it possible that you felt like you had moved from one prison to the next?

You’d been a delight at dinner two nights ago, but Bucky can’t turn off his brain. This is the part that made you win people over. The way you’d gotten along with Natasha like a house on fire, the way you’d shared stories like you and his team had been friends all along… Yet you had no trouble letting a side of yours slip through the cracks that tantalised Bucky beyond belief. The way you had looked at him, teased him–

The faintest rustle has Bucky shooting back to his current place in time. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. He holds his breath in an effort to hear better.

Nothing.

However, something doesn’t sit right. Something is off. He’d learned that hypervigilance was a side effect of his trauma, but he had a hard time believing his intuition would betray him like that. Not when he had relied on it so successfully for years.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he whispers to the dark ceiling.

“Yes, sergeant Barnes?”

“Is everyone in their respectable rooms?” he tries.

“I cannot divulge that information,” the voice sounds and Bucky sighs. He musters up some strength and swings off his duvet before climbing out of bed.

Yeah, he doesn’t trust you for a second.

…

Your heart is pounding in your throat. This isn’t part of your skillset – the escape and combat. Though perhaps if you do the former correctly, you won’t have to resort to the latter. Escaping the compound had been surprisingly easy, which strangely made your chest hurt. It was way too easy to escape. But it made sense. Steve had told you that you weren’t being held captive and you being here was all in good faith.

Faith you just broke by making your escape.

You probably should have been more patient. Winning their trust a bit more and then making an escape, make sure they really don’t see it coming. But the dinner had made you antsy and impatient. You had to get out.

If you’re entirely honest with yourself, you know that getting attached to a new group of people and deciding to escape then – or worse, leading them into their demise later – would be worse than getting away now that no one has attached themselves to you. Or you to them…

Breaching the edge of the surrounding forest, you finally let go of the breath you’ve been holding. You did it. Out of sight, out of mind. You’re free. No more captivity, no more expectations. All you need to do now is leave the country, change your name and possibly dye your hair. Sounds easy enough. A bit dramatic, but not impossible.

That is, until you get dragged backwards by a hand over your mouth and you lose your footing. The hard body behind you is the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the muddy forest grounds. Your breathing is ragged as your hands both fly to grab the forearm attached to the hand covering your yelp.

The metal forearm.

“Rule number one of making your escape: never assume you’re in the clear,” Bucky’s voice rumbles through the night air, his mouth so very close to your ear. “Shouldn��t have dropped your guard when you reached the edge of the forest.”

His gloved hand removes itself from your mouth, but you know better than to make a run for it, or to scream. He twists you by your shoulders and you muster some playful guilt to your face, masking your disappointment. Disappointment… but you feel strangely relieved. Maybe the largeness of finally being free felt somewhat overwhelming. Move to another country and change your name? It’s ridiculous. And that, when the people here have been so patient and kind to you…

You let out a soft laugh, “Worth a shot, no?”

Bucky studies you intently and something in your gut stirs at it. Not even Natasha seems to have as good of a read on you as Bucky does. It makes you feel naked. Makes you feel like all of your carefully crafted plans are flimsy and no good. Makes you feel like you have to stay far, far away from Bucky. Like you need to run. Now.

And how the hell did he manage to figure out you were making your escape?

You wait for him to tell you off, preach against your indolence and call in backup to shove you into something more similar to a prison cell. But Bucky sighs, disappointed and tired.

He seems so, so tired.

“Let’s go back inside,” he says and you furrow your brows at him.

His defeat has your chest clenching tightly. You want him to punish you, scold you. At least show that he cares. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe you need to know that the relief you felt from being caught is somewhat mutual in a sense. That the people here don’t just see you as a weapon, despite the burden, but that you’re someone worth saving. Worth keeping around.

Worth healing.

“That’s it?” you ask. “No scolding or punishment?”

Bucky scoffs humourlessly. “You get a kick out of punishment, darling?”

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.”

“I’m not your fucking baby sitter,” he mutters and starts walking back to the building, rightfully assuming you’ll follow. “If you want, I can ask Steve to tell you off in the morning. He’s better at that sort of thing anyway.”

Some pathetic part of you wants to sulk at his response like an ill-tempered child. “Then why come after me?”

It stays quiet for a second as you cross the field towards the compound. “I couldn’t let a poor escape plan be successful.”

You can’t help but snort at that answer and decide that fine, you’d play along for now. But you wonder if the curious Bucky you’d seen a few days ago had completely vanished since that dinner.

…

The next morning, Bucky gets cornered by you after breakfast. He looks down his nose at your defiant face.

“You didn’t tell anyone about last night?” you ask him and he raises his brows, unimpressed.

It had surprised you that no one at breakfast mentioned anything or gave you even so much as a dirty look. Clearly, none of them are aware that you tried to make your escape last night. And you cannot for the life of you figure out why Bucky is taking it easy on you. Is he smart enough to assume that your own guilt will do more damage than he ever could? Is this part of some bigger scheme of his? Perhaps he is actually as tired and unbothered as he looked when you saw him in those woods.

“What happened last night?” he asks with a telling smirk. The current look on your face is worth the lack of sleep he had tonight. It’s too easy to rattle you. You roll your eyes and Bucky smirks even wider at that. Is he… flirting?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you try again.

Bucky remains quiet and fights to keep a straight face. He did expect your question, but why didn’t he tell anyone? Because he thought you and him would get along after those tiny moments during that first dinner. Because the team would have let you walk away. Because Bucky doesn’t want you to go. Because he thinks he can help. Help the world. Help you. He thinks he can help you. And you can help him. And–

“Want me to tell them now?” he says instead.

He barely notices the flash of panic in your eyes before you cover it with an annoyed scoff and turn on your heel to walk away. He watches you. Every step until you are out of sight.

“You said she trusts you,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind him and Bucky schools his face back to bland interest before he turns to Steve. “That doesn’t look like she trusts you.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Steve frowns pensively. “Well, speed up the process. We have an important mission and we need her for it.”

“What?” Bucky almost loses his restraint, his body flaring in alarm. “Steve, she hasn’t had any training. She was locked up for months. It’s too big of a risk–”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Buck,” Steve tells him regretfully, but instantly notices that Bucky isn’t buying it. “This is the thing we needed her for.”

“She isn’t some kind of weapon!” Bucky exclaims and he notices Natasha turning away from her conversation in the nearest common room to see what the commotion is about. He gives her a warning look, then lowers his voice. “Steve. This could’ve been me,” Bucky breathes. And there it is. Recognition flickers in Steve’s eyes. “We can’t use her like this. She’s all alone.”

Steve looks past Bucky’s shoulder as if you’re still walking away from him. Angry frown, uptilted chin and swaying hips– Bucky almost looks. Then Steve sighs and looks back at his friend. “Take all the time you need. If she’s ready, I’ll explain the mission to her. I think she might want to help.”

…

Bucky reads over the file until his eyes turn bleary. Steve was right, you will want to help.

He thinks you can handle it, but… what if you encounter a trigger on the way? What if it all becomes too much? Bucky realises he isn’t nearly close enough to care this much, and he doesn’t, but who else but him is going to care whether you live or die? Sometimes Bucky wonders if even you care whether you live or die. What would have happened to Bucky if everyone had given up on him? He knows damn well that he’d be long dead if not so many people found him useful.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Bucky never had a choice. So he finds himself knocking at your door at 10pm with the file in hand.

After opening the door, you barely manage to get a word out before Bucky extends the folder towards you. “Steve needs your help on this. It should be fine, but the choice is up to you.”

Quick. Brief. He’s just the messenger and the decision is all yours. Bucky turns and makes to walk away – before you can spot all of the thoughts crossing his mind – but your voice stops him.

“Will you be there?”

The question takes him by surprise. Turning back towards you and slowly walking to the doorframe you’re standing under, he creases his brows together. “You need me to come along?”

You shrug abashedly. “Will you?”

Bucky studies your face intently. “Yes,” he lies. He’ll figure something out with Steve.

“What if I can’t do what you need me to do?” There it is again. He doesn’t get why this vulnerable side of you keeps surprising him so much.

“You’ll be useful,” are his terrible words of comfort. He wants to palm himself in the face.

The suppressed smile you give him heats his face and he’s sure you’ll call him out on his horrible people skills, but you stay quiet. The silence grows and grows and Bucky starts to shift nonchalantly, wondering if he should walk off and let you read the file in private.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“You’re coming?”

“Yes,” you affirm and look up at him, handing the file back. “Do you not want me to go?”

“It’s your choice,” he tells you and gently takes the folder.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Some wall snaps up inside of him at that tone – at that hopeful look in your eyes. “You could use the mission to make your escape,” he says with a shrug and makes to turn away from you again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

He walks away, leaving you to gape at his retreating form.

…

The mission was simple enough.

Sam, Natasha, Bucky and you would be attending a gala. Supposedly, there is a certain divide between the guests in attendance. Your job is mainly to feel out just who will be willing to join your cause. What goes unsaid is that you’re also required to butter them up to spring into action when your team would deem it necessary.

The party is in full swing and everyone is finally losing their mask of formality and enjoying their evening. You just hit the sweet spot of their susceptibility and you sweep into casual conversation about politics. Seeing who keeps quiet, who isn’t scared to speak up, whose faces harden at the prospect of change, etcetera. All of your antennas are on and when you know people have stopped paying attention to you, that’s when you dare a glance across the room where you know Bucky is standing.

All dapper and handsome, wearing a very expensive suit.

All of you have taken thorough action to look exceptional and to blend in perfectly with the high class crowd. Being charming is easy enough, looking it was a necessity – yet, all of it does still feel very far removed from yourself. Like a betrayal to the woman who was locked up mere weeks ago. However, being a true professional, you don’t allow your thoughts to linger too much and channel back to the matter at hand.

Then you feel it.

The searing heat that starts at your legs and spreads all the way up to your chest and cheeks. Like a virus burning over your skin. And you know what it is – know who it is. So you look back in the direction of Bucky, if only to catch him in the act.

But he’s unbothered. Brooding and observing from the bar in the shadow of the room, somehow alone and undiscovered by most of the crowd (a skill you assume he has acquired over the years). And his eyes are still on you. They glide down and back up for even more emphasis and you swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Gliding a sensual hand over the arm of the man next to you, you excuse yourself with a warm smile and slowly stride over to the culprit. Bucky waits patiently, and you swear you see a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as you walk over. He hands you a spare glass of champagne and turns his back to the room when you’re close enough to hear him.

“It’s working,” he says and you swear he sounds slightly impressed.

“Did you assume I’d fuck up?” you taunt and lean over the bar, sipping at the glass flute between your fingers. Bucky turns to you and his eyes sweep over the curve of your partly exposed back, the hollow of your spine and the curve of your ass. Then he holds his breath for a moment.

“Wouldn’t be mad if you did,” he tells you and his tone sounds gentle. You know that’s why he’s here, even though neither of you said it out loud, you know he’s here to stick up for you if you can’t get it done yet. If you’re not ready to be that person again.

Just like he probably knows that you’re here because the guilt of trying to escape from your saviours was eating you alive. And you didn’t want to prove Bucky right by escaping. You had glanced at the exits a few times and debated it, yes, but then looked at your team and thought against it. Looked at Bucky and–

“We’ll leave in five minutes,” Bucky murmurs as he finishes his glass. “I noted down all the people you signed as potential allies and who definitely isn’t.”

“There’s a few we can convince to help,” you cut in.

“What? The woman who runs that capitalist shitshow?” Bucky frowns. “Nah, she’s only motivated by money.”

You smile at him knowingly. “Money is a great motivator and our movement could benefit her greatly, so you just have to nudge her in the right direction.”

Bucky studies your face then and you might have found it less penetrating when he looked at your body with that stare. That intrigue. “And you already have a plan to tip her over to our side,” he concludes.

“You chose me for this for a reason, did you not?” you ask.

His eyes drop to your mouth. “I like a woman who takes her job seriously.”

You have no idea where that came from, but decide to go along with it anyway. You smirk and empty your flute, gently setting it down on the bar after. “Here I was, thinking you didn’t like anyone,” you purr and saunter off to find your other teammates and round up today’s mission.

You turn around when you hear Bucky yelling out your name, but then the room spins and debris flies everywhere. You’d cry out if the wind didn’t whoosh from your body and your ears don’t hollow out. You want to voice your discovery, as futile as it is, but the scream dies in your throat.

Someone just blew up the building.

…

It feels like there’s ash in your mouth. And throat. Your body bleats in pain, but nothing too severely. Maybe you’re in shock. Maybe you can’t feel a limb that’s no longer there. Maybe–

The room is dark except for an orange hue that travels over the ceiling and walls every few seconds. You’re slumped in a velvet chair and your fingers pluck softly at the fabric. One by one, your senses weave together and you hear the soft sounds of someone working on something. Paper ruffling, some gentle work, someone who’s trying to be quiet. You rasp in a raw breath and see a shadow at the bottom of your vision. But your body is relaxed. Or… Well, as relaxed as it can be.

There was an explosion.

“Have some water,” Bucky offers from his kneeling position between your legs and nudges his chin to the glass at the small table next to your chair. His voice is soft, raw. And when you squint at him while you blindly reach for the glass, you see soot on his face, dust on his suit.

“Are you alright?” you ask and your voice reminds you to take the drink. The water feels like heaven in your throat and you nearly gulp down the whole glass.

Bucky pauses at your question and surely he didn’t expect that to be your first question. “I’m fine,” he grumbles and focuses on the task at hand. Which, you quickly realise, is cleaning up the wound on your thigh.

Next to him, there’s a small container with small shards of glass in there and a used pair of tweezers. You feel the prickle of the wound at your thigh and observe closely as he presses some gauze to the puncture wounds. His hands are firm and steady as he wraps a bandage around your thigh to secure the gauze. His calluses scrape against your soft skin and you almost swear he takes more time than he should securing the bandage.

You heave a deep sigh and straighten up in the chair. “Natasha and Sam?”

“Natasha was sent to hunt down the ones responsible and needed an aerial patrol, so she took Sam.” Bucky clenches his jaw and you have a feeling it took some convincing to get Bucky to not go after the bastards himself, to let Natasha handle it instead. “There were deaths, lots of wounded.”

You flinch at that.

Bucky notices it. The glaze over your eyes and the tightening of your fingers into the soft fabric of the chair. He barely allows himself to hesitate and he cover your left hand with his right one, taking your fingers and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “We got out as many as we could, no one saw the explosion coming,” he explains and hopes the information brings you some peace. He’s desperate to take that haunted look off your face, but doesn’t know how.

He gives you time then. Allows you to sort through your memories and shush them. He strokes his thumb gently and squeezes your fingers every once in a while to anchor you to here, to being safe. Your breaths go from shallow to deep as they slow. He hears your heartbeat steady and watches clarity fill your eyes again.

Fuck him. Those eyes.

“Tomorrow, we go over your list and see what we can do. Let’s get some rest for now.” He pushes to a stand and moves to remove his hand from yours, but you hold onto him.

“I’m sorry for trying to escape,” you rasp and Bucky tenses at that. He did not expect that confession. Didn’t expect an apology either – he didn’t think one was warranted.

You slowly push to a stand and Bucky’s heartbeat spikes as you wobble on your legs before you steady yourself. His eyes search your face frantically and he tries not to linger at your lips for too long. You gently stroke a hand down his arm before brushing past him in thanks, and Bucky has to take a deep breath. A flash of you doing the same thing to one of tonight’s guests comes to him and jealousy hits him, a little too viciously. Just like it did when he saw it earlier tonight.

He turns around and watches as you walk up the small bag he packed for an instance like this. You pull out some clothes and Bucky shamelessly stares while you do it. He almost sighs as the sight of that orange hue travelling over your form, most of the sleek dress still intact and definitely still doing its job of making you look good enough to eat.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he blurts. But he stands still as he watches you freeze. You slowly turn to him and tilt your head at him curiously.

Then, a slow smirk spreads over your face and your brows raise playfully. Bucky frowns as he tries to read the expression on your face, even if the lightness of it makes him want to drop to his knees in relief. This is much, much better than that haunted look that was there mere minutes ago.

Until one of your hands lifts from the bag, a small scrap of lace dangling from your fingers. “I am never letting you pack our getaway bag again.”

Bucky matches your smirk and strides over to you, close enough that you have to tip your chin up to remain eye contact. “You can choose not to wear it,” he shrugs and the nonchalant gesture makes your legs weak. Slowly, he starts unbuttoning his own pants and shirt, stripping himself of his clothes and tempting you to break that eye contact. “But we’re sharing a bed, so you decide what is less tempting for me to look at.”

It takes everything inside of you not to balk at this… flirtation. But it’s nice – so fucking nice to deflate that balloon of tension after a mission like the one you had tonight. To have banter and humour and perhaps a little friendship.

“I better not catch you looking at all,” you snipe, but have a hard time keeping the smile off your face.

Bucky smiles too then and gives you a wink powerful enough to set your clothes aflame. “Too bad. You can’t ask that of me and look like that.”

That does render you a bit speechless and Bucky takes his win as he strips himself to his boxers. Climbing under the sheets, Bucky’s powerful body shifts and ripples with movement.

This is going to be a long night.

#ok this is NOT worth the wait #but its here which is a HUGE win for me #i hope you like it #not me being way too impatient to write a slow burn #the upcoming smut better be good too #pls tell me what u think i have obviouslty not forgotten about you guys #<3 #rebellion series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #series

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gothicknightz · 1 year

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family ties | ethan landry

notes: oh boy you guys are gonna like this one. VERY MAJOR SCREAM SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!!! I cannot get any more specific than that.

part 2 out now!

When she moved to New York with her best friend, they both had planned on getting an average college education, having fun, and graduating.

That was it.

Why couldn’t it have been that simple?

The four of them were stranded in the abandoned lobby of the theatre when Sam had gotten a call from the Detective, claiming that he had done some digging into Kirby and that she was let go from the FBI a couple of months ago for being mentally unstable, and he believes she is the killer.

She quickly turned her attention towards Sam, “What?” She snapped, her arm still wrapped up from her paired attack alongside Mindy on the subway.

Putting a foot down, she crossed her arms, “There’s no way we can stay here.” Attempted to try the entrance in which they came in, to find out it was locked, “Shit.” She turned around quickly to face the, “It’s locked.”

The group frantically looked for a way out of the theatre, as they weren’t going to be trapped with the possible killers. Tara had noticed some sort of fire escape, but that wasn’t until Ghostface appeared and attacked the group, which they fought back.

Chad decided it was a good time to be a hero, as he fought against Ghostface so that the girls could run. This proved to be a bad decision for him, as a second Ghostface came up and started stabbing alongside the other before ushering the trio back into the theatre.

As the five of them make their way back into the theatre, Kirby suddenly reappears out of nowhere and claims that she was knocked out by two Ghostfaces, but the trio can’t trust her after the Detective’s claims, who arrives subsequently after Kirby.

After what seemed to be a battle for trust, the Detective shoots Kirby, revealing himself as the third killer.

(y/n) screams as she was the closest, her heart racing in anticipation, afraid of what was going to happen next when the other two Ghostfaces de-mask themselves. Subsequently, after the Detective reveals himself to be the third killer, the Ghostface wearing Nancy Loomis’ mask revealed himself.

It was Ethan, (y/n)’s best friend. The friend she had planned on getting a college education and graduating with. The friend she had known for years, the friend who was responsible for their firsts.

Somebody she had trusted.

It was then revealed that Quinn was the final Ghostface, much to everyone’s shock, as they had seen and heard of the brutal murder Quinn had endowed.

The trio was cornered at each end by the three killers, with Sam slowly connecting the pieces that all three of the killers were related to none other than Richie Kirsch, one of the killers of the Woodboro Massacre in 2022.

As the trio was attacked and coerced back to the center of the theatre by the killers, the Detective sighed, “It wasn’t until I saw that photograph of what you had actually done to him, that I knew.”

“That I knew you had to fucking die- that you had to be punished, along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

Pushed and insulted by Quinn, Sam, and Tara were forced to stand in front of the Detective, with Ethan taking hold of (y/n), and holding a knife to her throat.

As the Detective went on about how he indulged in his son’s love for the Stab movies, and how they were a bit dark for him, he explained that there was no deeper bond than of a father and his firstborn.

“Despite the loss of Richie, I couldn’t have been happier after learning of a new addition to our family.”

The look on both the sisters’ faces was beyond puzzled as they watched the detective make grandiose gestures as he waved the gun in (y/n)’s direction.

“I knew it was a bit young for those two to get hitched, but,” the Detective paused, taking a breath for a brief smile, “She made it a lot easier to get us in here, and I’ve never been more proud of a future daughter in law, right (y/n)?”

The Carpenter sisters had another round of fear and shock as they turned their heads to one of the closest friends the gang had had, with even Mindy trusting them.

(y/n) was breaking away from a kiss with Ethan as Tara and Sam watched them in awe, the girl breaking into a fit of giggles and a content sigh.

“You know, Sam,” She said, turning towards the illegitimate daughter of the original Ghostface with her boyfriend slash fiance’s knife in hand, “You should really save the date.” She took a swing at the eldest Carpenter sister and laughed.

“Because it does fucking run in the family.”

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donniehere · 1 month

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐒𝐄?

pairings: ot5!txt x reader. (separate.)

genre: apocalypse au, light angst, fluff.

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of cannibalism, gore, apocalypse, zombies.

synopsis: the world is ending, humanity has entered a worldwide crisis, and you're stuck with them.

this quite literally inspired me to plan a whole fanfiction :3

CHOI YEONJUN [최연준]

↬ The both of you were neighbors, and you were the one to let him inside your apartment three days after the crisis began, and from then on, you continued on fighting back to back.

↬ He doesn’t trust anybody. You won’t get to save anybody when it comes to him, bitten or uninjured. It will be just you and him.

↬ Acts fearless around you, when he’s actually a coward and seeks your comfort nonstop.

↬ Despite the fear that consumes him when a flesh-eating monster is ahead, he continues on protecting you, making sure you’re safe and uninjured, which you appreciate.

↬ Every night, one of you keeps watch so that the other can get some deserved rest.

↬ Everytime the both of you move from one location to another, he makes sure he has some sort of physical contact with you. Whether it’s interlocking his fingers with you, or having an arm wrapped around your shoulder. He cannot risk losing you in this already fucked up reality.

A high-pitched scream escaped your not-so hydrated lips as you landed harshly on the floor, a zombie climbing on top of you, attempting to bite the flesh of your face.

Your eyes fell shut instantly, embracing the upcoming painful death that never actually came. You felt the zombie’s corpse resting upon your body and slowly lifted your eyelids. The monster’s head was now detached from the body and Yeonjun stood above you, a metal bat painted in blood held in his hand.

His breathing was heavy and sweat rolled down the side of his face. “A-Are you okay?” He questioned, arm reaching down to help you up. With a groan, you pushed the corpse off of you and shakily took his arm and he lifted you up. You huffed as he pulled you into a tight hug, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around him too, embracing him back. Tears began streaming like a river down his face, “I thought I lost you..”

CHOI SOOBIN [최수빈]

↬ You both liked each other and he finally planned on confessing his feelings by taking you on a date to the beach. However, the date you’ve been dreaming about was ruined by an apocalypse, and the both of you struggled to survive. Thankfully love was the biggest hope.

↬ You broke into a weapon shop and stole some guns and knives in order to protect yourself. Let’s say.. you were unbeatable, despite the first-time struggle.

↬ You both learned how to defeat the zombies and decided on helping as many survivors as possible. And not too much later, you already established a large group of survivors who assisted you in fighting against the cannibals.

↬ While he’s harsh on the others, he is extremely soft when it comes to you, completely melting into your touch and words of affirmation.

↬Before every fight with the zombies, the both of you share a goodluck kiss, and promise to return alive.

You watched as Soobin instructed the survivors on how to handle a zombie, raising his voice at them whenever they failed. You felt bad, but they were quite useless if they didn’t know how to fight. After the training, Soobin came up to you, and fell right into your arms. “Don’t think you were too harsh?” You mutter, hand raising to brush through his nested hair.

“They have to be mentally strong to survive, anyway.” He exhales, arms smoothly wrapping around your waist. He lifted his head from your shoulder, lips pressing against yours sweetly. He pulled back and stared passionately into your eyes. “I’m happy you’re still standing beside me.”

CHOI BEOMGYU [최범규]

Two bandmates who goofed around at the beginning of the apocalypse until realization finally hit you, and then you began appreciating each other’s presence. The rest of your band was tragically turned into brainless monsters, and you were left with no option but to murder them yourself, since Beomgyu was mentally incapable of doing so.

Regarding to that, if you’d like to survive an apocalypse with Beomgyu, you’ll have to be the one taking the lead and making sacrifices, he’s just unable to fight face-to-face with a zombie.

Shares his food with you. Whether it’s a full meal or a little snack, he still makes sure to share his food with you as a way of thanking you.

You have those little moments where you bring up memories and experiences you’ve shared together before everything began— more like, ended. You eventually end up crying in each other’s arms.

A year after the apocalypse began, you both finally returned to the band’s shared apartment and surprisingly, Beomgyu’s guitar was still there. You agreed on carrying it with you just in case, and you definitely praised the old decision.

Two survivors sat on the top of a towering building, eyes glued to the starry night-sky. Beomgyu’s fingers danced along with the guitar’s strings as you gently bobbed your head to the sounds. You felt a weight lifting off your chest. “You look beautiful, even when you’re covered in blood and dust.” Beomgyu chuckles. You roll your eyes, thanking the gods that the darkness was keeping your flushed face hidden from Beomgyu’s sight.

“You should be thankful I’m capable of protecting the both of us.” You mumble, an exhausted exhale escaping your lips.

“I’m always thankful.” He smiles, earning a small grin from you too. “You know, moments like these make me realize that despite the fact that the world is ending, everything might still be okay, as long as I’m with you.”

KANG TAEHYUN [강태현]

Best-friends who met thanks to the baseball club, and found themselves surrounded by bitten squadmates. Thankfully, you were returning from a competition when everything went down, so you were still wearing the gear and were handicapped.

The both of you stood strong against zombies, but Taehyun made sure to lead the way. He was always the one to check the hallways first, always the one to risk his life for you.

Is very protective of you, and never abandoned you. Will insist on fighting the zombies for you if it means you leaving uninjured.

You found a group of survivors in the school you were stuck in, and whenever they would spit at the both of you for being outsiders and not trusting you, Taehyun will stand up for you.

Words of affirmation. I repeat. Words of affirmation. The both of you continued on comforting eachother whenever needed, which is probably the only thing keeping you sane right now.

The rest of the students were already asleep, while the two of you volunteered to keep on watch for tonight. Taehyun was sitting down on the freezing cold, you laying between his legs, his chest pressing against your back. “Say, do you think we’ll make it out alive?” You questioned out of the blue.

“Who knows?” He sarcastically replied, not taking you seriously. His expression changed when you turned to look at him, tears falling from your eyes. “[Name]..” He calls softly.

“I’m sorry.. I couldn’t help but overthinking everything, and realization suddenly hit me. We might not make it out alive..” You choke on your own words. “Taehyun—“

“We’ll make it out alive, so stop worrying.” He directed a deep look into your glistening eyes. “I don’t care if we’re humanity’s last survivors, I promise the both of us will survive.”

HUENINGKAI [휴닝카이]

You were a nurse in a hospital, and he happened to run into you after searching for medical supplies for his friend, who apparently was injured. After you took care of his friend’s wounds, Kai dragged you along with them and kept you safe.

He has experience with video games of that kind, so he wasn’t exactly afraid, just stressed. He didn’t want to lose neither you or his friend. Unfortunately, a zombie had defeated his friend and Kai tried killing it, but got injured as a result.

You mostly took care of meals and the medication, while Kai fought. You were always concerned for his well-being, but he always gave you that short peck that calmed you down.

His love language is gift-giving. Every time he goes out in search of survivors or any sign of hope, he returns with a small gift just for you, warming up your heart.

He always finds a way to make you laugh through the harsh world, which you loved most about him. The way he could light up an entire dark world.

Kai had just returned from another mission which ended up with his arm getting scratched. You sighed, carefully treating his wound as he hissed at every slight touch. “You should be more careful.” You worriedly beg him.

“I can try..” He spoke with a soft smile. You had no idea how he was able to smile through the pain. “Also, I brought this with me.”

Your eyes jerked downwards to see what he was holding. A standing white flower. You were surprised. How come that flower is still alive?

“It was so beautiful and was outstanding amongst the dead field.” He raised his hand, giving you a full view of the beautiful flower. “It reminded me of you, since you’re able to standstill even during the strongest storms.”

DISCLAIMER: This post is pure fiction and doesnt reflect the idols' actual behaviour and personalities.

#txt #txt x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #fanfiction #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #soobin x reader #kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai #apocalypse #light angst

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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flowers ~ Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: dad!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: Aemond and his children take a stroll in the gardens.

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: none, pure fluff

A/N: Had a request for more dad!Aemond, couldn't resist!

Requests are open 💚

Aemond had spent the early morning collecting his children and bringing them to the gardens before you rose from your shared bed. It was a special day, and he wanted to make you feel extraordinary.

As the early morning sun rose higher in the sky, Aemond and his two children paraded through the gardens, hunting for flowers.

“How do you know which flowers mother likes?” Vaelora asked, her mouth twisted, brows furrowed. Aemond chuckled at his daughter’s remark.

“I discovered early on which flowers your mother enjoys. And which suits her,” he told her, clipping a dragon’s breath from a nearby bush.

Vaegon was nearby, grabbing fistfuls of golden roses.

“I enjoy these ones,” Vaelora said, and Aemond turned to her. She held a pair of blood-blooms in her small hands. “Would mother like these?”

Aemond smiled at his daughter, his first born. Aemond did not think it was possible to love someone as fiercely as he does his little family.

“She shall love them.”

Vaelora smiled, pleased at her father’s praise.

“Kepa,” Vaelora said, “when did you start bringing mother flowers?”

Aemond smiled at the question, at his curious daughter.

“When your mother arrived in the Red Keep,” he began, “we were not meant to be betrothed.”

Vaelora’s eyes widened. She had not heard this story before, though she had always been curious. Through her lessons she had learned that most marriages were made for political purposes. But she knew this was not true with Aemond and you. She could see the love you held for each other.

“You weren’t?”

Aemond hummed, shaking his head.

“But, do you know what I did?” he asked, causing Vaelora to shake her head in return, silver curls bouncing.

“I left a flower outside her chambers, on the plate she used to break her fast, on her seat during feasts,” he said, smiling at the memory.

“What flower?” she asked.

“Dragon’s breath,” Aemond said, passing one of the red flowers to Vaelora. She held it gently in her small hands, as though it may fall apart from her touch.

He could still picture it, the smile that crept to your face, the blush that filled your cheeks as flowers found you daily. You were a clever woman, you had figured out the prince’s ruse rather quickly.

“And mother liked it?”

“Enough to marry me. Enough to bless me with you,” he said teasingly, tickling Vaelora’s stomach, and causing her to giggle.

“And Vaegon,” she corrected, causing Aemond to hum in agreement, as her younger brother came to join them with fists full of flowers.

“Shall we pick more dragon’s breath for mother as well?” Vaelora asked.

“I think that is a splendid idea,” Aemond agreed, following his children deeper into the gardens.

Your son Vaegon was barely visible behind the bouquet of flowers he held in his small arms. A laugh escaped your lips.

Aemond crouched next to him, ushering him forward. Your son approached you and you knelt, pushing through the flowers until meeting his violet eyes.

“Happy nameday mother,” he said cheerfully, presenting the bouquet.

“We picked them ourselves!” Vaelora said, a proud smile on her lovely face. You took the flowers from him, taking care to press your nose into the colorful flowers, inhaling the sweet scent.

“How very sweet, my little dragons,” you crooned, taking both children into your arms for a hug. You smiled at Aemond as he leaned against the doorway to your shared chambers.

“And we have set up a picnic in the gardens to break our fast!” Vaegon said, excitedly.

“What a lovely idea,” you tell him, stroking his silver head. You stand up, taking the bouquet with you, finding an empty vase on the table. You place the flowers inside and begin to arrange them.

“Kepa says we can see Vhagar later as well, and fly across the bay!” Vaelora says, coming to your side.

“I cannot think of a more perfect day!” you tell her, taking her hand in yours as she pulls you towards the door.

“Come, come see!” Vaelora demands, clasping Aemond’s hand in her free one, dragging both parents from the room. Vaegon trails behind, and Aemond scoops him up with his free arm.

Vaelora leads you back o the gardens, where a blanket has been laid out for you to break your fast. As you sit down on the blanket Vaelora notices a dragon’s breath flower laying atop your plate, the bright red petals striking against the white plate.

You pick up the flower, a dark rouge spreading across your cheeks as you glance at your husband. Aemond’s smile is soft.

“Biare brōzi tubis issa jorrāelagon,” he murmurs, lacing his hand in yours (Happy name day, my love). The look he gives you is one of adoration.

Vaelora smiles. Though she is just beginning to grasp her mother tongue, she understands what her father means.

#dad!aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond fluff

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b1ackoutartist · 10 months

Text

Secret Parentage

natasha romanoff x reader

kate bishop x yelena belova

it´s kinda long, I´m sorry

..............................................................................................................................

The scent of macaroni and cheese wafted through Yelena's apartment, a thick blanket of comfort that wrapped itself around the kitchen. Yelena stirred the simmering pot, a relaxed grin tugging at her lips. She'd always been fond of the simple pleasures, cooking being one of them. But the sudden shrill of her phone disrupted the peaceful tranquility.

"Kate," she answered, recognition coloring her tone with a touch of warmth. The speakerphone echoed throughout the room as she returned her attention back to the stove.

"Hey Yelena," Kate's voice came through, a hint of excitement behind her usual cool composure. "Just wanted to let you know that Y/N just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl."

The spoon Yelena was stirring with clinked against the pot, the news sending a wave of delight through her. "That's wonderful! Are they both okay?"

"Both are fine and resting," Kate assured. "I'll swing by in a bit to fill you in on the details."

A silent laugh escaped Yelena, and she shook her head in bemusement. "Kate, you always sound like we're in some sort of spy novel."

A shared chuckle passed between them before Yelena's curiosity piqued. "So, the million-dollar question, who's the father? You've been incredibly cryptic about that."

There was a pause on the other end, Kate's hesitance almost palpable. "I promised Y/N I wouldn't tell anyone," she finally admitted.

"But, Kate," Yelena objected, her tone a mixture of surprise and a bit of hurt. "We're practically family."

The sound of a deep breath was heard over the speaker. "It's Natasha."

The name hung heavily in the air, a phantom weight that stilled Yelena's movements completely. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the gentle bubbling of the mac and cheese.

"Yelena?" Kate's voice was tinged with worry, breaking the silence.

Yelena shook herself out of her stupor. "Kate, I can't... I can't just not tell Natasha. That's not fair."

"You have to," Kate pleaded, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. "I promised Y/N."

"I don't understand," Yelena admitted, her voice trembling slightly with the strain of it all. "Why wouldn't she want Natasha to know?"

Kate sighed audibly over the phone. "Because Natasha is Natasha, and Y/N doesn't want her child to grow up with someone who... who doesn't commit, you know?"

Behind Yelena, the front door of the apartment creaked open, and in the hallway, the silhouette of Natasha Romanoff froze, the remnants of their conversation drifting towards her, tugging the ground from beneath her feet.

"Yelena, you cannot tell her," Kate's plea echoed through the speakerphone again, the urgent tension of the request clinging to each syllable.

The stress bubbled up within Yelena, boiling over into exasperation. "But Natasha... Natasha could be a great mother, Kate."

"I don't disagree, Yelena," Kate admitted, her voice softening a little. "But this is Y/N's wish. She doesn't trust that Natasha will be there in the long run, not with her lifestyle."

That hit Yelena like a punch to the gut, and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips. This was not a conversation she wanted to be a part of. Yet, here she was, stuck between the woman she loved and the sister she would do anything for.

"Kate, I..." Yelena's voice faltered for a moment before she gathered herself. "Okay. Fine. But only because I love you, Kate. This...this doesn't feel right."

She knew that this promise could strain her relationship with her sister, but Yelena also knew that she had to respect Y/N's decision. After all, it was Y/N's life, Y/N's child, and Y/N's secret to keep.

Meanwhile, Natasha was still frozen in the hallway, her mind racing to process everything she had overheard. The sting of reality hit her like a cold wave, taking her breath away. Y/N, the one woman who'd managed to sneak past her walls, the woman she had shared a single, reckless night with, had just given birth to their child.

And no one told her.

A sense of betrayal gnawed at her heart as she tried to grapple with the fact that Y/N, her own sister, and even Kate didn't trust her enough to be a part of her own child's life. It was a pain far deeper than any physical wound she'd ever endured.

The realization dawned on her that Y/N didn't just keep her in the dark; she didn't trust her enough to shine a light on their shared secret. That hurt more than anything, and Natasha was left standing in the dimly lit hallway, nursing a wound that would take more than time to heal.

Silently, Natasha picked up her keys from the small table near the entrance, the metallic jingle echoing ominously in the silence. She quietly slipped out the door, making sure to leave no trace of her presence. As she descended the staircase, her heart seemed to mirror the sinking feeling within her.

Her car, parked on the side street, offered refuge from the turmoil of her thoughts. She got in and made a snap decision to go grocery shopping, a task she'd planned to do later. The distraction was needed now.

As the cityscape passed by her car window, Natasha’s mind wandered back to Y/N. The multiple rejections stung, but she could handle that. She'd been through worse, after all. What she couldn't wrap her mind around was that one unforgettable night when the lines blurred between friendship and something more. The memories were hazy, coloured with the fog of alcohol, yet the feeling was unmistakable - a connection she hadn't felt before.

But when morning came, Y/N was back to keeping her distance, the wall between them rebuilt seemingly stronger than ever. And now, this revelation... it was all too much to take in at once.

Natasha squeezed the steering wheel, the leather creaking under her grip as she navigated through the city traffic. "I'd be a good mom," she muttered to herself, her voice a hollow echo in the confines of her car. "I’d be there for my kid."

Money wasn't an issue, she was fortunate in that regard. And love? She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she could and would love her child fiercely and unconditionally.

Natasha sighed, a long, drawn-out breath that spoke volumes of her turmoil. She couldn't fathom why others doubted her ability to be a good mother. Was her reputation that tarnished in their eyes?

She wished she could make them see that she was more than her past, that she was capable of loving and caring for a child, her child. But wishes, as Natasha knew all too well, were often far from reality.

And as she pulled into the Target parking lot, the reality of her situation settled heavily on her heart. Her world had changed in ways she could never have anticipated, and now she had to figure out how to navigate through this new reality, one where she was a mother, but not quite yet.

Natasha navigated the familiar aisles of Target, her usual efficiency replaced with a somber pace. Every shelf she passed seemed to hold a memento of Y/N, memories hidden within the mundane. The rich, dark chocolate Y/N preferred, the soft, oversized sweaters she loved to curl up in during colder months, the very specific brand of tea she swore by... each item pulled at Natasha’s heartstrings.

Without a second thought, Natasha picked up each one, letting her fingers trace over the packages as she placed them in her cart. It wasn't rational, she knew. But it felt like a silent ode to the woman who unknowingly held a part of her heart, and now, a part of her life in a way she never imagined.

As she reached the baby section, Natasha found herself frozen in her tracks. Rows upon rows of tiny clothes, baby bottles, soft plush toys, and an endless variety of baby essentials stretched out before her. Her gaze landed on a small teddy bear, its brown fur soft and welcoming.

She picked it up, her fingers running over the plush fabric as she examined it. Her heart clenched at the thought of her child, her and Y/N's child, holding this teddy bear, finding comfort in its softness the way she wished she could provide.

Biting her lower lip, a habit she indulged in when deep in thought, she made her decision. The teddy bear went into the cart, nestled between the chocolate and the sweater, a poignant symbol of the new reality she was coming to terms with.

Each item in her cart was a silent promise, a commitment to Y/N and their child. A promise that despite what others thought, she would prove herself worthy of being a part of her child's life. And maybe, just maybe, she could make Y/N see it too.

Much later that evening, Yelena and Kate found themselves navigating the sterile hospital corridors to visit Y/N once more. The glow of the evening sun filtered in through the hospital windows, casting long, warm shadows. Their steps were hushed, each tread careful, wanting to respect the silence in case Y/N was still asleep.

They reached Y/N's room, the door slightly ajar. With a cautious hand, Yelena gently pushed it open. The sight that greeted them made her heart stop.

There, cradled in Natasha's arms, was the baby. Natasha's face was soft, vulnerable, her green eyes shining with unshed tears as she gazed at the newborn in her arms. A gentle smile graced her lips as she murmured soft words to the baby, her posture protective, her aura radiating warmth and affection.

The scene was so tender, so intimate, that it took Yelena's breath away. She could not resist capturing this moment. She quickly pulled out her phone, and with a silent click, the moment was immortalized.

Kate glanced at Yelena and the phone in her hand, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and indignation. "Yelena!" she hissed, quickly pulling her girlfriend away from the scene. The glare she sent Yelena's way spoke volumes.

Yelena just grinned sheepishly at Kate, tucking her phone away with a shrug. "What? It was a cute picture."

Kate only shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "You're in so much trouble," she muttered, not really angry, but worried about the consequences of Yelena's impulsive act.

The room was filled with a hushed tranquility as Natasha held her daughter, a soft lullaby whispering through the silence. Natasha's heart swelled with emotions she couldn't put into words. The tiny bundle in her arms felt so right, so perfect that it made her heart ache.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze transfixed on the sleeping face of her daughter. "I'm Natasha. I'm your mom."

The baby let out a small gurgle, as if in recognition, her tiny hands reaching out and Natasha held her breath as she felt her finger being grabbed.

A tender smile stretched across her face, as she continued, "I want you to know, I love you so much already. You're my little girl, my beautiful miracle."

Her gaze flickered to the bag resting on the chair nearby, filled with the day's purchases from Target. "I got you something today," she said, her voice catching in her throat as she gestured toward the bag. "Your first teddy bear. It's soft and cuddly, just like you."

With that, she pressed a featherlight kiss on the baby's forehead before gently laying her back down in the crib. Her fingers traced the outline of the baby's face one last time, her heart aching at the thought of leaving. But she had to, she knew. For now, at least.

Her gaze lingered on Y/N, sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed, a mix of longing and regret shadowing her eyes. She wanted so much more, wanted to be a part of this new family she unknowingly created. Yet, she respected Y/N's decision, no matter how much it hurt.

With one last look at her daughter and the woman she loved, Natasha quietly exited the room, her heart heavy yet filled with an unspoken promise.

"I will be back," she whispered to the silent corridor, a vow hanging in the quiet air. "For both of you."

As Natasha navigated the labyrinth of city streets, the glow of her phone screen lit up the car's interior. A new message. From Yelena. She pulled over to the side of the road, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure what to expect.

Unlocking her phone, she opened the message. It was a photo. The picture filled her screen, and for a moment, Natasha could hardly breathe. It was her. Her and the baby. The soft light of the hospital room painted a warm, tender tableau of a mother and her child.

A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, her eyes welling up with emotions as she stared at the photograph. It was real. It was tangible. It was her – holding her daughter.

Without hesitation, she quickly set the picture as her background. Now, every time she'd unlock her phone, she'd be greeted with the image of her and her daughter. A constant reminder of what she now had in her life, and a promise of what she was willing to fight for.

With that, she took a deep breath, the simple act seeming to fill her with newfound determination. She put her phone away, her eyes lingering on the image a moment longer before she focused back on the road.

As she continued her drive home, her mind raced with thoughts, plans, and dreams, and her heart filled with a love she had only just begun to explore. And every time doubt crept into her mind, she would just glance at her phone screen, at the picture that held her world in its frame, and she would know that she was ready to face anything for the sake of her daughter and the woman she loved.

#black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov #black widow x reader #marvel

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twola · 8 months

Note

I’m a slut for semi-public sex and I know you’ve written multiple fics for this but what if Arthur X reader actually get caught instead of almost 👀

Caught

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

"Far enough" from camp is not far enough.

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Your giggles are drowned out by the kisses that Arthur showers upon your lips as the two of you stumble further into the wooded area outside the camp, along the shores of Flat Iron Lake.

“Think this-,” You pant, “Is far enough?”

Arthur presses his lips to your jaw, “Depends how loud you’re gonna be.” He drawls playfully as he starts to pull up your skirts.

His groan, however, is what you shush when he moves one hand between your legs.

“No drawers? You naughty little thing you.” He hoarsely grits out as he cups your whole cunt in his palm, warm to the touch and making you gasp.

All you can do is smile coquettishly as you step back from him and lay yourself down in the grass, pulling your skirts up past your hips and swinging your legs open, “C’mere, cowboy.”

Arthur is down on his knees in an instant, undoing his pants and drawing out his already hard length. At least he had the wherewithal before to strip himself of his gunbelt in his tent before finding you and dragging you into the woods as nighttime fell across the camp.

In a tangle of limbs and clothing, you moan as he sinks his cock into your heat, with the practiced familiarity of a lover, one so knowledgeable about your body that he know’s he’s wound you up enough for him.

Arthur balances on his forearms above you as he starts to roll his hips, and you throw your arms around his shoulders as you whine with each cant into your body, completely losing yourselves in each other’s passion.

Until you are interrupted, that is.

A gun clicks in between your gasping breaths. Arthur stops mid-thrust and you both slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound.

A revolver is pointed at Arthur’s frame, its barrel shaking in the moonlight. Now that you look at it, the whole gun is shaking. Actually, the person holding the gun is shaking.

You scream for a moment before Arthur places his hand over your mouth and snarls at the intruder.

“You’ve got three seconds to put that gun down and get the hell out of here, boy.”

Poor Kieran Duffy immediately points the gun at the ground and steps backward, his skin pale and his figure trembling even more than usual.

“One,” Arthur growls, pushing up on his arm to loom over you. He releases his hand from your mouth and you look fearfully at Kieran with wide, frightful eyes. Arthur places his hands on either side of your neck in the grass. His cock twitches slightly, still halfway buried in your cunt.

“Two.”

As he grits out the word, his hips press forward, and your head turns up to face him, incredulous at his audacity, but you cannot stop the moan from escaping your throat as his cock carves deep inside you, your hips being pushed forward by his own. He no longer glares at the intruder, staring down at you with a feral, dark hunger set into his features.

He takes a breath, looking back up at Kieran, who has finally found his feet and starts backpedaling. Without looking away, he draws his hips back and forcefully, quickly thrusts down into you, making your neck arch as you throw back your head and scream.

Kieran stumbles back through the bushes and is finally out of sight.

Arthur snarls again, his fingers digging into the grass by your head.

“ ‘M gonna,” he thrusts hard into you again, making you cry out, “kill that damn-” thrust, “O’Driscoll-”

Each and every roll of his hips slams you into the ground, and you shamelessly cry out each time the tip of his cock hits that spot within you, so deep you could swear you could feel him in your guts.

“Arthur-!”

He groans aloud as he grinds his hips into yours as you clutch around him, keening his name as you come. Arthur follows you over the edge, releasing deep in your cunt.

As you regain your senses, you clutch at him, rubbing reassuringly at his forearms as he pants atop you. The deep set lines of aggravation along his forehead haven’t dissipated.

“Arthur-…” you whisper softly, gently, trying to calm him down. You know that look in his eye, the look he gets when he has a job, when the ruthless outlaw surfaces.

He extricates himself from your hips and leans back on his knees, tucking himself away as he rebuttons his pants.

Arthur does not look at you as you press yourself up to sit, your free hand pulling your skirts down to your knees, at the very least.

“Arthur.” A little more force behind your voice this time.

His gaze meets yours, and you can see his jaw working as he mumbles, “Mhm.”

“Don’t do anythin’ to him.”

Arthur grunts noncommittally in response.

“Arthur.” You reach forward and place your hand on his chest, “I’m serious.”

Pushing himself up from his knees, he brushes the grass off his pants before holding his hand out to pull you up.

“Fine.”

He pulls you up and you immediately wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest in some kind of hope to break the aggravation he’s fallen into. You tip your head back and lay your chin on his sternum, trying to appear cute as you blink up at him.

He leans down and places his lips on yours as he wraps his arms around you in a conciliatory manner. You smile into the kiss.

You pull back a step and wring your hands slightly, “Promise you won’t do anythin’ to him?”

He grabs your hand and places his lips against the back of it, “Promise.”

You smile again at him, and as he lets go of your hand, you lean up and kiss him on the cheek, your lips scratched gently by his short beard.

“I’m gonna head to sleep then, g’d night, Arthur.” You say with a yawn, stepping backward away from him.

“G’d night, Darlin’.”

Arthur watches you walk back to the camp, and immediately the scowl returns to his face. He leans over to pick up his hat from the ground, places it on his head, and stalks in the other direction.

Kieran Duffy knows he’s in for it. He knows he’s on thin ice with Arthur, even if he had saved his hide at Six Points. Of all people to stumble upon… why did it have to be the damn enforcer of the gang?

He makes himself scarce around the camp that night, staying even closer to the horses’ hitching posts than he usually does, dragging his bedroll to the other side of where the horses are circled up from the camp.

Maybe Arthur wouldn’t find him if he stayed real quiet in the night.

“O’Driscoll!”

Maybe he was the unluckiest goddamn fool in the world.

The aforementioned enforcer of the Van der Linde gang stalks toward him, anger radiating off of his frame. Kieran is able to make it all of two steps backward before the wind gets knocked out of him. Arthur slams Kieran back into the tree behind him, his hands clamped on Kieran’s shoulders, easily holding the smaller man inches above the ground.

“If I even see you lookin’ in her direction, O’Driscoll - you’re gonna wish I let Bill geld you.” Arthur snarls at Kieran, who nods, terrified, his hat falling to the ground and rolling several feet away on its rim.

“Got it?” Arthur pushes Kieran’s shoulders back into the tree again, unimpressed by his lack of answer.

“G-got it, M-mister Morgan.” Kieran stutters, and crumbles to the ground as Arthur lets go of his shoulders.

“You should be thankful I promised her I wouldn’t hurt you, O’Driscoll. She’s a far better person than I am.” Arthur turns dismissively back to camp, leaving Kieran a stuttering heap of unlucky limbs against the trunk of the tree.

Kieran lets out a long breath, watching Arthur return toward the lantern lights of the camp.

Unlucky fool indeed.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #twolafic #rdr2 #prompt request

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multi-fandom-imagine · 5 months

Text

Day 27: “The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today.”

Fandom: Call Of Duty:Modern Warfare 2

Character: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Naughty or Nice

Warnings: p in v, reader getting stuffed.

A/n: idk I'm tired and bad at tags, this is also very short cause I am very tired.

Simon seemed to notice that you tended to get riled up around the Holiday, he didn't mind it of course. He loved you and it's not like he was about to deny sex from you. Tilting his head to the side, he watched you parade around wearing one of his shirts.

Gaze darkening the man walked over to you placing his hand on your hips drawing you in as his lips pressed into your neck.

“The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today.”

A little giggle escaped your lips as you titled your head back. "Really? You want sex now, 141 will be over in a few hours and i still need to stuck that fucking thing."

Giving your neck a nip, he then pulled back as his lips pulled into a smirk. "A quickie can't hurt."

"Then we better make it quick."

Simon's eyes darkened with desire as he held you close, savoring the feeling of your body against his as he let his fingers message your hips. "Oh love, you have no idea what I have in store for you." His voice dipped as he then caressed your cheek his touch gentle yet possessive " I'm going to fuck you so hard, love. Make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else...you won't even be able to walk."

His voice dripping with anticipation as his hands then roamed your body as his touch ignited a fire within you. His fingers tracing the curve of your spine as his lips left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he whispered in a low, demanding voice.

"I cannot wait to hear you sing my name."

He expertly unbuttoned his pants, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. With a firm grip on your hips, he positioned you above him. The man happy you were not wearing any panties. Your wetness sliding along his length. He groaned as he slowly sank into you, the feeling of your tightness enveloping him.

Simon's grip on your hips tightened as he guided your movements, setting a rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

His lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his thrusts became more urgent, driving you both closer to the edge. The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of sex and the symphony of your lustful cries.

As the pleasure built to its peak, Simon's grip on you became almost bruising, his thrusts growing frenzied. With a final, primal groan, he released inside you, his hot cum filling you completely.

You clung to each other, panting and sated, as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. Simon pressed gentle kisses to your temple, whispering in your ear."You're mine. And I'm not letting you go."

Laughing weakly, you let your fingers glide across his cheek as you looked into his eyes. "I think we should have that party tomorrow."

Grinning, Simon placed a kiss to your neck. Still buried deep within you he reached for his phone as a moan left your lips. "Smart idea love."

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strawberri-blonde · 7 months

Text

02 - Devour Me - Neteyam

02 - eating out : gotta love October for all the horniness it brings out of us!

Photo credits to @woistmeinavocado

Summary: Neteyam gets his ears pierced and you can’t handle yourself

Warning: Smut, Neteyam devours your pussy.

Masterlist

The aroma of the freshly cooked food lingers in the air, playfully teasing your senses. The scent of sizzling meat and herb-infused bread fills the atmosphere with a mouthwatering fragrance. The forest comes alive with the cheerful chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of animals, creating a symphony of nature's melodies. The tranquility of the day momentarily shields you from the bustling village nearby.

You're not one to sit idle, continually seeking ways to ease your restlessness. With the afternoon to yourself, you channel your energy into adding the finishing touches to the tent's interior. Colorful beads adorn the entrance, and baskets filled with flowers and dried fruits are thoughtfully placed around your cozy home.

As you put the final touches on the evening meal, the peaceful ambiance allows you to immerse yourself in the moment fully. So much so that you didn't hear Neteyam's infamous whistle he let out, knowing he was close to home.

As you fluffed up the last fur pillow, a tiny squeal escaped from your lips as you felt a large hand caress the back of your head from your position on the floor. "Someone's been busy." You tilted your head back to see Neteyam towering over you with a huge smile covering his features. "Sorry, my yawne; I didn't mean to scare you."

A matching grin enters your face while Neteyam bends to sit next to you. "Here." You plopped the pillow beside you so he wouldn't sit on the hard surface.

"Thank you, baby." Your hand reached towards his thigh, needing his touch from not seeing him all day. "You really are making this feel like a home." An instant lavender hue flushed your face.

Neteyam let out a giggle, kissing your face everywhere but your lips. "Teyam." You groaned out with a pout, and it made him greedy. He loved how you both couldn't get enough of each other.

"What yawne?" He slowly teased his lips as he kissed the corners of your lips. "Need something?"

Your hand trailed up his thigh to his chest. "Neteyam, don't tease. I did all this work for you."

His fangs nimble on your soft skin before finally, captivating you in a much-needed kiss. Your breathing hitches as he pulls away, and you notice something.

"Oh, Eywa, your ears." Neteyam chuckled at your shocked expression. You continue to blush as you stare at the newly pierced ears of your beloved mate. His ears are now adorned with elegant blue beads, just like yours.

He sees you staring and grins widely, seeming quite proud of his decision to get his ears pierced. You carefully run your finger along his ear to not hurt him, feeling the rough texture of the piercings against your finger as you brush away a strand of hair. "Do you like them?" You kiss his ear gently in response and tell him how beautiful he is. Your emotions run wild, and you cannot contain yourself from embracing him tightly and covering his face with kisses.

"You look so handsome, Nete." Your eyes are still glued to Neteyam's ear, fascinated by the rough texture of the earrings against your finger. You suddenly realize that you smell the fantastic aroma of the food you made for the two of you. You lean away reluctantly and turn around to grab an empty bowl, filling it with all fruit, bread, and roasted fish. Meanwhile, Neteyam is staring at you with an adored look. You blush and hand him a bowl of the delicious meal you've prepared. "Here, Nete." You say, your eyes now trained on him as you wait for his reaction.

"Yawne, that smells delicious. I can't wait to dig in!" Neteyam's voice is a melodic baritone, and a wide, mischievous smile accompanies it. Your eyes are drawn to the tiny beads on his ears, and you can't help but imagine how his face would look wearing a lot of jewelry.

You giggle and kiss him on his soft lips before grabbing yourself a bowl as well. You both moaned as the taste. "It's so good, yawne." He reaches out and takes your hand in his. You smile at each other, and your hearts beat in unison.

You stare at Neteyam lovingly as you hear him compliment your hard work. You blush, feeling silly that you are so obsessed with his earrings. To cover up your embarrassment, you focus on the dinner you have prepared.

The warrior noticed this and laughed, "I'm glad you like them, Y/n. To be honest, I was scared that you would like them?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at the comment. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know." He gets bashful and says, "I actually want to stretch my lobes, like my mom."

You wipe the corner of your mouth, then lift your intertwined fingers, pressing kisses to his blue skin. You are surprised to hear him ask about stretching his ears. You thought the little studs he has on now looked sweet, but you are open to the idea and think it would make him look even more handsome than he already is.

"Really? I think it would suit you." You offer him a smile and watch him take another bite of the food. You tell Neteyam that he 'looks even more handsome with the piercings in his ears.' The little blue beads highlight the color of his skin and bring out his robust facial features.

Neteyam grins cheekily at you, delighted to hear you say he looks good. He finishes his dinner quickly and leans over to kiss you again. There is something more passionate and intimate to this kiss compared to others you have shared in the past; perhaps it is the new look and style to his ears.

You did like how he looked with them—just seeing them made your insides tingle. You enjoy the new look on your mate and are eager to show him your appreciation.

A moan escaped his lips as you nibbled on his top lip. Hearing his response, you pulled back, mumbling, "So sexy, yawne." You captivated his lips onto yours, crawling into his lap.

Neteyam's hands gripped your thighs almost greedily, but you didn't mind. "Y/n." The warrior groaned, making you break the kiss to his eyes and see the same fire and desire in them.

You can't contain your feelings any longer, and you grab Neteyam in a tight embrace. You kiss him passionately and feel the rush of emotions as your tongues explore each other. Your hands explore every part of his body, caressing and driving him wild with desire.

"I need you, Teyam." Without warning, Neteyam grabbed you around the waist and pushed you onto the soft mat of your home. "Teyam." You squealed out, having him hover over you.

His kisses became hungry, and your insides warmed as you ran your hands along his broad chest and pulled him closer. You can feel his excitement, and his breath is warm against your skin. "If I'd known getting my ears pierced would've made you this insensible, I would've gotten'em sooner, my love."

You couldn't help but admire his handsome face as your eyes darkened. You reached behind him, gently gathering his hair in your hand. Then, you used the twine from your wrist to pull his hair back, revealing those blue beads for you to see. "Well, now that you know," You lean forward and kiss his cheek, jaw, and neck. "Why don't you give me a show and have yourself dessert?"

Your seductive tone had Neteyam chuckling darkly. He then looks at you with a playful grin, "What kind of show do you want to see, my Yawne?"

"You know what I want." The desperation was evident in the air. Your hands clawed at his broad shoulders to show him how much you wanted him, but Neteyam already knew.

His nostrils flared at the delicious scent of your arousal, causing a growl to escape his throat, sensing vibrations through his body. "Well, yawne," you gasp at the sensation of his body on top of yours.

"Teyam." You whined out as he licked a bold line up from your collarbone to your neck, stopping just under your jaw where he stopped to nimble on your skin.

"You still haven't told me what you want."

Your moans echoed through the tent, and your loincloth began to stick to you from your wetness. Your hands grabbed his queue at the base of his skull, edging him to grind against your throbbing heat. "Please eat me, Neteyam. I need to see your new earrings in action. Need to see that pretty face devour this pussy."

"Fuck, my sweet girl." His hand flew towards your touch on his queue, tapping you to let go, and you did so eagerly. Meanwhile, Neteyam’s lips never left your body. His lips felt warm as they applied hot, wet kisses to your skin. His ears flexed, twitching as versions of his name spilled from your gaped mouth. Your legs grew antsy as they needed him to hurry up and get where you needed him the most. “My needy girl.” His large hands pushed back the decorative chest piece made from purple leaves.

“Um, hm.” You nodded your head down against the floor of your shared home; then you felt his thumbs circle your perky dark blue nipples. “Oh my.”

Seeing that your head was thrown back, Neteyam moved his hands towards the waistband of your loincloth, then ever so gently blew a slight breeze on the sensitive bud, sending goosebumps to litter the skin. Then, suddenly, he bites down on your mound, having you jerk your head in his direction. Your pussy throbs in pain from the need, angry that she wasn’t getting any attention.

“That’s right, Y/n don’t be rude.” Your face displayed a bewildered expression, with furrowed brows and wide, searching eyes filled with desperation. Your lips were slightly parted, making them look so kissable. “If you want a show, you must watch sweet girl.”

Without warning, Neteyam shifts the furry pillows you both sat on for dinner. He moves the one you usually sit on under your head, but not without cradling the back of your neck, pulling your queue from under you to prevent you from wiggling on it to the point where you might hurt yourself.

Pressing a longing kiss to your lips, he puts his cushion under your waist, closer to the base of your tail near your butt, to give him better access. After the warrior was confident that you would be comfortable, he lowered himself between your legs, finally giving you what you so depressingly wanted.

His tender kisses trail up and down your thighs, making you mumble, “Such a tease.” A toothy grin took over his features before he flicked his tongue against the cloth fabric, keeping him from the sweet goodness of your heat. “Fuck.” Your breathing got fast and heavy, and your eyes locked down on him as he quickly untangled you from the material feeling you bare to him.

“How did I get so lucky, huh, Y/n?” your hands gripped the pillow behind you as you couldn’t believe the sight. Neteyam’s eyes were so dark, so full of desire, that there was the tiniest bit of fire surrounding his pupils. His lips were swollen from the constant kisses and seeing him with his hair pulled back, which he rarely does. It was too much. Then, let's add those blue beads pierced in his ears. They made him look more mature, and more decorative. They had you swimming in your juices.

“I’m the lucky one.” Animalistic gasps left your mouth as he kissed the junction between your leg and your awaiting folds. He then spits his saliva onto your cunt, making all sorts of aired breaths escape your throat to release in the lust-filled air. “Definitely the lucky one.”

The tip of his tongue barely caressed your velvet lips, like he was holding back to teeter you over the edge, driving you wild. “Tease.” You mumbled, earning the corners of his lips to curl up in a sly grin, but your mate didn’t say anything. Neteyam only continued to flicker his tongue softly against your growing wet need.

Then suddenly, he licks up from your wet opening to your throbbing clit. “Fuck.” You moaned, looking again into his eyes, making the moment even more intense. His tongue sped up slightly, covering you in his salvia. “Teyam, please, kiss me.” His non-existent eyebrows raised, giving you a sinful look.

Without much debate, the warrior shook his head, having his tongue wiggle more into your folds, making you spew out moans. Finally, his soft wet mouth closed around you, sucking on your soft skin, making him groan that sent such vibrations onto your clit. One of your hands left the pillow to reach for the top of his head.

Neteyam didn’t mind having your nimble fingers in his silk braids. Knowing that he was turning you on to the point where you couldn’t contain yourself made him feel more like a man than when he got his Ikran. Or when he killed a Talioang all by his lonesome. None of it made him feel like a warrior more than having you scream out his name.

So, when it came to eating your pussy, Neteyam always took his time to work you out. For every open mouth kiss, he placed on your cunt, his tongue explored more parts of you, finding all the nerve endings that drove you crazy.

Broken moans were the only thing escaping your throat as his large hands slipped for your thighs to slip under you to palm your bottom. “Yeah, grab my ass baby. Yank my tail.” His tongue slipped inside your warm vaginal walls as he palmed your butt so tight you were sure you'd have bruises tomorrow, but you always wore Neteyam’s markings with pride.

The warrior pulled away, making you groan in frustration, but it was quickly replaced with a yelp as you felt his hand grab onto your tail, pulling on it and making you fully submit to him. Your bent legs spread open, allowing the large man to have all the room to devour you completely.

As his hot mouth returned to your cunt, your shared tent filled with your moans. His tongue lapped up your juices, swirled around your entrance teasingly, and slipped it into your swollen walls. “Neteyam.” You moaned as his tongue fucked itself inside of you. Your walls clenched around him from the delicious sensation.

Your hips circled against his damp face, and you couldn’t help but sink your head back into the pillow, barely looking at his performance when you felt his nose nudge your clit. But you mustered through the overwhelming sensation, worried that he might stop if you didn’t look at him, and you couldn’t let that happen.

You had slipped away from the top of his head towards your nipple to squeeze them in your hands, letting out more moans as his tongue slipped out of your cunt to circle your clit.

Neteyam saw this and moved his hands from under you to throw your legs over his broad shoulder to slip his fingers to circle the sensitive buds of your nipples and pinch them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Neteyam, so good, baby. Make me feel as unreal.” Your lower half twitched in pleasure as the warmth in your abdomen began to form.

Your breathing hitched as his mouth swallowed over you entirely. His left hand remained on your breast while the other returned to your ass, giving it a form slap. “EYWA!” you screamed out from the sensation, and his tongue rolled your clit over and over, making juices leak on your home's woven mat, and some ended up on Neteyam’s cushion.

The way Neteyam worshipped your body became too much; your orgasm was approaching. His hand slipped away from your breast, sensing that you were close.

Neteyam’s tongued continued to suck and slurp at your clit. Without warning, the warrior inserted his two fingers into your cunt, where you immediately clenched around them and arched your back.

“Neteyam, I’m so close.” You whimpered as your body was convulsing at the hands and mouth of your mate.

His fingers plunged into you at a steady pace, and his tongue was sending you to your great mother as his face nestled itself into your messy cunt. Your mouth opened, letting out broken moans as your climax finally took over your nerve-endings.

Your body continued to shake in his grasp as the euphoric feeling of your orgasm washed over you. “Tey-” you managed to squeal out before your vision got a little blurry, and your body stopped all its movements, feeling his touch's lasting effects.

Neteyam made sure to lick up all your sweetness before he gently settled the lower half of your body on the mat, then crawled over your tired body, kissing your skin softly before reaching your peaceful features. The future leader of the Omatikaya always loved seeing your face after he’d made you cum. No matter how tired you’d be after the long hours of lovemaking, a silly grin always covered your face.

As his wet lips contacted yours, your hand flew towards his face, tasting yourself on his tongue. As your tongues lazily kissed, you groaned in his mouth, making him pull away to offer you a mischievous grin. “You ready for more yawne?”

You didn’t say anything but grinned back at him, pulling him into a kiss, trailing your hands to trace the tops of his ears, making sure not to touch his freshly pierced skin. “As long as you keep these earrings and your promise to make the gages larger, you can have me every night for as long as we breathe.”

His dark blue eyes glisten in anticipation as he stares into yours. He leans in and presses his lips against yours once more. He pulls away, breathless. "Promise." He whispers seductively, gazing into your eyes, his voice a little breathless. "Every night for as long as we breathe." Your response intrigues him and arouses his desire even more. He leans in and kisses you intensely, his hands sliding along your body. The heat is unbearable, and the passion is electric, making you both so happy that you have each other for life.

Happy Day 2 of Kinktober 2023. Would you be able to give me some read recommendations, or is there a specific day you'd like me to write? Maybe, I can make it happen if I still need to write for that day.

~ Caroline

#neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #neteyam sully imagine #avatar neteyam #neteyam sully smut #neteyam suli x reader #lunaskinktober2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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actual-changeling · 7 months

Text

they meet up alone for the first time since- since. a roof top, to escape the bustling street below because the bookshop is full of broken dreams and bittersweet memories.

aziraphale is late, quietly showing up behind him before hesitantly walking and stopping on his left. for a moment, the air tastes like the first approaching thunderstorm and desert sand, like blooming plants and fresh apples.

for a moment, they're back on the walls of eden and familiar strangers.

"well, that could have gone better," aziraphale eventually mumbles, and crowley has to suppress the urge to throw him a glance and sigh.

"we saved the world, didn't we?"

his response is dry, tense with the weight of unspoken and spoken confessions, crackling like static between them and raising goosebumps on their skin.

"we did," he stops, clearly holding back more, and crowley's pulse quickens under the tenderness of his gaze, unseen but felt all the same. "crowley, there's something i want to say, and i- can you look at me? please?"

there was a time when he never stopped looking at him, following him with his eyes whenever he could see him and with his heart when he couldn't, yet when he takes his shades off now, turning to face him, crowley almost walks away.

sparkling hyacinth blue eyes, grey as storm clouds when they need to be, bright as a midday summer sky when he laughs, and so, so, so familiar.

so, so loved.

he expects stuttered words and apologies, expects anger, maybe, and stoic heartbreak. what he doesn't expect is for aziraphale's pupils to swallow his irises whole as his hands fly up to grasp his shirt and pull him into a kiss.

even caught off-guard, crowley melts into it immediately, reaching for soft cheeks and the nape of his neck, and this- this is coming home. not earth, not the bookshop, not the bentley, nothing except for the happy little sigh he can taste on his tongue and the heat of aziraphale's skin against his.

compared to their first kiss, it's impossible tender, still desperate but for entirely different reasons, a hello instead of a good-bye.

they pull back just enough to lean their foreheads together, breathing each other in, and crowley cannot help himself.

"i thought you wanted to tell me something?" he quips, his voice trembling and sounding adoring rather than teasing, but aziraphale lets out a tiny chuckle regardless.

"i did, but then i looked at you and just couldn't help myself. still, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry for hurting you. i'm angry you hurt me, but i-"

crowley tenses, muscles tight in an instead, but aziraphale stops himself in time.

"ah, i suppose i should find a better phrase, huh?"

"i'm sorry, too, aziraphale. angel." the smile tugging on aziraphale's lips encourages his to do the same with ease, and although a part of him is terrified down to his very essence, he inhales shakily and adds, "my angel."

no sudden rain appears, and isn't needed, not this time. nothing is perfect or easy, the opposite, really, and they both know it; there are dozens of lifetimes worth of pain to heal.

but when aziraphale kisses the happiness off his face and leaves his own behind, humanity below them, around them, crowley thinks of a garden, an apple, and knows that he was right.

if it led them to this, to each other, he did the good thing, after all.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #me? writing something HAPPY??????#yes. i need to stop listening to this song. im dying

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orangeave · 5 months

Text

not even ghosts are this empty

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: you dug a grave for two but you lay in the casket alone.

words: 1.2k

orange speaks: part two to the great war, with more angst (whoops?). hope y'all enjoy.

Plumes of smoke echo slowly out of your mouth, the blunt in your hand burning the edges of your fingers. You make no move to ease the subtle ache, secretly enjoying the weight of the blisters that form in their wake. A cough flowers in your throat when you inhale the sharp sting of night air afterwards but you hold it in place, forcing it to expand downward to create a rattle in your chest. It encompasses the entirety of your ribcage, swallowing the meat of your organs whole.

The sensation is fleeting and you mourn it as it fades. There’s an emptiness that follows, one you’re making an unwilling acquaintance with since you left Wednesday’s dorm those short months ago. Time has been infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, passing by in hiccups of memory that never truly stick.

The first few days following that night go by in denial, refusing to believe you had lost her. A hollow ticking resounding in your ears proves it to be true; vaguely signaling a countdown that tells you that you now carry a solar flare where your heart should reside, and it’s only a matter of time before it implodes.

Loving Wednesday isn’t easy but neither is letting her go, and when the denial dwindles into tormenting acceptance, you are left with only the ghosts of her. They haunt each corner of your existence – both mental and physical – creating dark circles beneath your eyes that resemble tattoos more than they do skin.

You attempt to exorcise Wednesday from your being and the vacancy within you becomes a cathedral; you pray at its illusionary, cobblestone steps but you are bent at the knees before a false god, incapable of offering reprieve. Wraiths have risen in relief’s stead – fallen too far to be ghosts any longer – and they are starving, snarling at the altar of your shortcomings. You will find no peace here when your body, laden with a lifetime of grief that ages you, is pirouetting upon crumbling earth.

Resorting back to the roach in your trembling hands, you yearn for it to bring some semblance of life into the space you ache to fill. As you exhale, a shadow gathers in your peripheral in the shape of a girl you cannot escape.

“I see you’ve come to dislike functioning lungs.” Wednesday dishes out, coming to stand by your sitting limbs that stretch out into the pond in front of you. Fathoming why she’s here, in the spot that once belonged to the two of you, is something you can’t grasp.

Casual conversation is the last thing you want to participate in. It feels cheap; hollow. You deserve more than astute observations and meaningless slights. Something she’s averse to giving you, it seems, and the part of you that continues to die in its place hates her for it.

Youthfulness is forgotten when you are a rotting carcass forcing itself to breathe to a tempo that no longer comes naturally, dangling on flimsy strings that Wednesday commands, waltzing to the tune of her desires. A puppet master is what she is and you find no solace in this dance, not when the past lingers so close to the surface; of who you were to each other but will seldom be again.

“Something like that.” You monotone, a slight shrug lifting your shoulders.

There’s a tense set to her own shoulders at your response, the lack of expression in your voice pulling her entire body taut. A vengeful part of you revels in it, only to diminish into nothingness just as quickly, as everything else before it has.

Your desolate eyes finally raise to meet Wednesday’s, causing hers to widen almost imperceptibly. They trace the heavy bags beneath your lashes then down to your still shaking hands and you come to understand her astonishment because up till now, you’ve managed to avoid her – a feat you were proud of.

“Y/N…” She murmurs, reaching out for you. Wednesday’s fingers barely get the chance to brush against your arm before you’re recoiling away from the touch, water splashing up into your lap from where your legs hang in the pond.

Oh, god.

There’s something to be said about the inbetween of dreams and reality; a certain dissonance that easily perpetuates the disruptive cognitive faults which riddle a half-aware person that the past haunts. Nightmares of memory which lead to dark, twisting backdrops that muddy the truth and serve to create monstrosities of unchecked thoughts.

Falling asleep has always been a terrifying experience for you. In a moment's notice, you are suddenly the backseating, side character in the fluttering reel of torment plagued by the emergence of day. You have absolutely no control over the fate of each suffering you were forced to face and only hold the capacity to watch as it unfolds once again.

You are not asleep but you have spent the past months half-awake, and Wednesday’s touch yanks you right back to that night where your roles were in reverse. The details are still so fresh and it’s too much. It’s not fair the hold she has on you even now.

“No, you don’t get to do this. Not now.” Your voice cracks, clumsily lifting your limbs from murky depths and rising to your full height. Water cascades down your form, leaving you shivering in the night air. A gasp chokes in your throat, panic seizing you and the ticking in your ears reaches a deafening roar. “I- After all this time, why now?”

Wednesday hesitates, the pause hanging in the air between you.

“Say something!” You bellow, panic turning into anger at her silence.

She shrinks back as you close the distance between you and it is wholly unlike her but you ignore it, invading her space.

“I will never be good enough for you, will I?” You unevenly gasp out, realizing a long forgotten truth, “I plead, and I bargain, and I sacrifice, in the name of love. To heal the cracks in our façade but you stand before me, stoic as the day I met you, and give absolutely nothing in return.”

Her eyes follow your stance, expression shuttering to impassive and unseeing – hollow in a way you’ll never be able to change. All the anger drains out of you and when she goes to finally respond, mouth tentatively opening as she comes to know the sickness sinking beneath your mirage that you were never able to cleanse, you simply shake your head.

In loving and losing her, you have lost yourself. You no longer know how to breathe air she does not exhale and disgust flares at who you’ve become; at who you’ve let her make you. Some cowardly thing, bent to the whims of a devil in the disguise of a god.

Love is a fickle thing, so easily transforming into a monstrous being when betrayal hangs heavy in the space once wrought with the finer side of a bottled heaven. The feeling you welcome in love’s place should terrify you – for a moment, it does – but power is a corrupter in the hands of a widow.

The implosion within you is beautifully damning – strings held in commandeering fingers snap, the corpse of you reborn in the ash of your submissiveness; flesh of the burnt coagulating into an armor made to pressurize the weight of your footsteps until the force of them cracks the earth, widening the gap of reality between the duality of life and death till it is but a mere phantom pain.

Say, what’s a soul really worth?

You’ve already lost everything, what’s a little more?

(– vultures have come to feast upon your bones; only the vulture is you and you’ve gorged upon yourself.)

#wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagines #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega

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laluvlidovezgal · 5 months

Text

DESTINY.

TW! cursing, death.

angst! centric.

g. satoru x gn. reader.

DESTINY. that capricious force akin to the bittersweet conclusion of tragic fates, had long since wielded its cruel hand.

yet, amidst the delicate interplay of life and death, a singular anomaly emerged—satoru gojo—an irresistibly peculiar being adorned with gifted endowments bestowed by the very heavens themselves.

he, the self-proclaimed harbinger of destiny's blessings, carried within him a profound sense of purpose and significance.

alas, it is a lamentable truth that even the possession of such a grandiose title holds no power to rescue or shield those in need.

forlornly, we witness the bitter reality that the mere proclamation of a lofty designation cannot serve as a panacea to alleviate the trials and tribulations of others.

"don't even try closing your eyes."

young, naive and foolish. the honoured one beseeched, his countenance etched with an unmistakable worry—bereft of the customary shielding of sunglasses that customarily veiled sight of his otherworldly irises of azure.

his resplendent eyes—now bared—gleamed with a mesmerizing confluence of sentiments.

it was an unprecedented spectacle, witnessing him so palpably anxious and emotionally invested.

deep within, he harbored a profound remorse, cognizant of his inability to employ a reverse technique—that elusive skill—to aid you in this despair-induced juncture.

"shoko's on the way. she'll heal you."

"quit being so damn stubborn and listen to me."

he assured confidently, his typical arrogant utterances suffused with both conviction and hope.

yet, as he spoke—it appeared as though he inadequately grasped the gravity of your state or purposefully averted his gaze—fixating instead upon the illusory prospect of an inevitably fruitless convalescence.

no, you’re not dying.

he mindlessly repeated to himself—as if caught in an bewitching refrain that echoed ceaselessly within the chambers of his delusions.

the words—like a hypnotic melody—entwined themselves around his thoughts, weaving a tapestry of false reassurance.

in the grip of his illusions—he clung to this fragile mantra, desperately seeking solace in its rhythmic cadence.

yet, deep down, a flicker of awareness whispered of the truth obscured by his fervent repetitions.

reality—unyielding and immutable—loomed ever closer, despite his desperate attempts to stave it off with a haunting refrain.

with a blend of earnest gravity and feigned jocularity—despite the quivering timbre of his voice—he appended,

“don’t you dare die, or ill never let you live it down.”

his eyes bore into yours with an unwavering intensity that seemed to penetrate the tumult enfolding you—unveiling a vulnerability he seldom divulged to others.

in that gaze, the tenacity of his resolution and the profoundness of his connection to you became palpable—as if the burden of your well-being rested solely upon his shoulders.

“live it down, you say?..”

a desiccated chuckle escaped your lips as the wretch persisted. how imbecilic could this fool possibly become?

“satoru..”

not long after, your body convulsed with a fit of coughs triggered by the mere act of speaking, the fragility of your condition became starkly apparent.

yet, even still—it was unmistakable that he clung to denial, unabashedly rejecting the unassailable truth.

yes, you were dying—indeed, you were teetering on the precipice of demise.

there existed naught but remorse and lamentation.

"stop talking! for fucks sake, y/n—“

he inhaled a tremulous breath, as if seeking composure amidst a tempestuous tempest raging within his soul.

his eyelids clenched shut with an ardent fervor, as though he were frantically endeavoring to elude the clutches of reality in one final, desperate gambit.

“please—just..”

“just listen to me, and do as I say. please.”

with each uttered word, a sense of desolation burgeoned, casting a somber shade upon his countenance.

“y/n..”

yet, these words bore a weight surpassing mere despondency. every syllable dripped with a venomous essence, tainted by a profound self-abhorrence that seemed to turn inward.

it was as though his very voice had transformed into a conduit for self-loathing, a vessel through which frustration and disillusionment coursed.

he berated himself for completely contradicting his egoistical claims.

he despised—loathed himself.

he detested his own folly, castigating himself for what he perceived as a feeble inability to lend aid. the underlying contradiction between his self-aggrandizing proclamations and his actual capabilities stoked the fires of his self-directed animosity.

within the depths of his being, an infernal tempest raged, a battlefield of inner turmoil where he grappled with the demons of self-hate. the echoes of his own voice reverberated, seemingly magnifying the intensity of his internal strife, amplifying the magnitude of his self-loathing.

he loathed the hold you have on him, stirring up a storm of emotions within his being. the turmoil you evoked within him was a source of deep resentment.

but above all else, what he despised the most was the inexplicable extent to which he cared for you.

he despised the fact that, despite everything and anyone else, he couldn't help but like you, adore you, and ultimately choose to love you.

the intensity of his hatred stemmed from the realization that his heart had chosen a path that he had not intended to follow. he resented the vulnerability that loving you exposed within him, and the power you held over his emotions.

in the depths of his inner turmoil, he grappled with conflicting emotions. while he may have wished to resist and deny the depth of his feelings, the truth remained that his heart had made its choice, despite his best efforts to resist it.

this contradiction between his hatred for the circumstances and his genuine affection for you created a profound inner struggle, intensifying his frustrations and exacerbating the complexity of his emotions.

it frustrated him, angered him even, that his emotions had become entangled with your presence. the vulnerability that accompanied this caring, this attachment, felt like a weakness he resented.

in his innermost thoughts, he grappled with the paradox of his feelings. the profound disdain for the impact you had on him clashed with the undeniable truth that his heart held a deep and unexplainable affection for you.

it was a conflict that gnawed at his core, leaving him torn between his aversion and the undeniable pull of his care.

"oh?..what have we here...”

despite the gravity of your state, you conjured the wellsprings of fortitude to articulate phrases—effectively jolting him from his reverie, as he clung to your every word like a vital thread. each syllable echoed with a poignant cough, reverberating through the fragile contours of your agonizing form.

the inexorable verity loomed, an inescapable specter—your grievous wounds would inevitably claim your life, a harsh reality especially within the realm of sorcerers from which there was no evasion.

and so, in a hushed whisper, your voice tapering off amidst another bout of coughing, the violence of it serving as a stark reminder of your vulnerability. yet, deep within, you harbored a profound cognizance of the path that lay ahead.

"satoru gojo... of all people.”

you provocatively taunted, your words imbued with both resignation and a trace of sorrow.

in that very moment, you apprehended the cruel irony of their circumstances, the whimsical caprices of fate that had entangled their lives. the weight of your impending fate pressed upon you, and you couldn't help but ponder if it would elicit any emotions within him.

"--are you going to cry?”

with a subtle curl gracing the corner of his lips, he meticulously observed every movement, every flicker in your eyes, and every breath you took. he made a conscious effort to etch each detail into the recesses of his memory. It seemed as though you possessed an uncanny ability to perceive his emotions with remarkable clarity, despite his best efforts to conceal them.

however, as his expression shifted to one of solemnity, a faint trace of melancholy colored his features.

the question you posed had struck a deeply personal chord within him, one he never anticipated having to confront.

your words resonated within the sixteen-year old male, his unwavering gaze fixed upon yours. a sense of anguish mingled with the realization that you, y/n, had seen through him like an open book.

unable to suppress the tears that welled up in his eyes, he swiftly brushed them away, striving to maintain a composed facade.

"no, of course not.”

his response emerged, delivered with the expected composure and confidence. yet, a glimmer in his eyes betrayed the facade, hinting at an inner turmoil that consumed him.

the conflicting emotions etched upon his countenance, the raw sorrow intertwined with resolute determination, were familiar sights you had come to recognize during your time together.

at the very least, he had been stirred by the irony of the situation. but what lay beneath the surface?

his lips curved into a solemn smile, though his eyes conveyed a different tale altogether.

he couldn't help but smirk slightly in response to your teasing, his unwavering irises never once straying from your perfect ones. how dare you utter such words...

you managed to elicit a smile from him, causing his typically smug facade to momentarily contort into a faint frown, though his expression swiftly returned to its customary coolness.

the gravity of your condition had not escaped the impact it had on the sorcerer standing before you. however, it appeared that the full severity of the situation seemingly had yet to fully dawn upon his young fellow. and with mere moments remaining before your impending demise...

"me? cry—over you? what a joke.”

he retorted, pausing momentarily. his smirk faltered—as if on the precipice of speaking with a tone devoid of jest—as if the barriers he had erected had momentarily crumbled.

"do not flatter yourself. tears may suite me, but I don’t need that amplifying my perfection.”

regardless, his voice remained low and harsh, devoid of the usual playful edge and trademark amusement that characterized his interactions with you.

though the expression in his eyes remained unaltered, a certain stiffness was evident in his speech, as if he were still uncertain where else to direct his overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

as he continued to observe you, a solemnity settled over his previously neutral features. you could sense his burgeoning grief, his thoughts racing against the inexorable passage of time, yearning desperately for even the faintest glimpse of a solution.

his response was a feeble attempt to mask his emotions, his voice quivering, and his eyes still shimmering with unshed tears.

though his words denied it, his body language spoke volumes.

his pretty cerulean irises glistened with unshed tears, his heart pounding in his chest. he had anticipated her demise for far too long, believing he had grown accustomed to it, deeming it an inevitable outcome.

but now, as your final breaths escaped your lungs, the weight of your departure struck him with the force of a thousand bricks, reality seeping in for the first time. he had failed. his overwhelming pride and hubris had blinded him to the possibility of defeat. he had failed his long-time peer—his classmate, his friend.

the weight of failure bore heavily upon him, for he believed he had let down the one person who held the most profound place in his heart—the one he cherished above all others romantically, the soul he held dear.

the depth of his love for you only amplified the agony of his perceived failure. he blamed himself for not meeting the expectations he had set, for not being able to provide the happiness and fulfillment you deserved. the pain of falling short in your gaze was an unbearable burden he carried—leaving him haunted by the knowledge that he had failed the one person who truly held his heart.

"...yes, i am going to cry, you idiot."

contrary to his perception, it was not you who struggled to accept your fate, but rather, it was he who clung to seemingly everlasting denial.

while he grappled with the reality of the situation, you had long since come to terms with the inevitable outcome. you had made peace with the circumstances that destiny had dealt, finding solace in the acceptance of what lay ahead.

the dichotomy between your acceptance and his denial created a rift, deepening the emotional chasm between you.

despite your readiness to face the truth, he remained entrenched in a state of refusal, unable to confront the impending reality.

the exquisite interplay of sentiments, wherein the embrace of acceptance magnified the enigmatic dance between your emotional odysseys, illuminated the paradoxical tapestry of contradictory.

eager to traverse the expanse, he yearned to forge a bridge, yet were ensnared by the magnetic allure of diverging destinies—proximity rendered illusory, a poignant dance of nearness and seeming remoteness.

while your hearts may have harmonized in tempo, the dissonant discord into the fabric of your emotional realms served as a haunting refrain, a vivid reflection to the divergent trajectories of your conclusions.

if only the revered one possessed the authority to sculpt fate with a touch of influence, weaving threads of destiny like a master artisan shaping the sinuous hell of time.

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nanamikentoseyebags · 8 months

Text

Addicted to your light

He hopes you know his whole world is now reflected in his heavenly blue eyes. Look closer, it's you. Always has been.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: fluff, suggestive themes, use of blindfold, basically satoru and reader's first time together, nothing explicit though

a/n: i got affected by @rossithepixie fic where satoru puts his blindfold on you. here he finds another use for it 🥴 a special thank you to @vagabond-umlaut who read it first 💛

The day gives way to night, as the thick veil of the darkness blankets the walls of the room. The only sources of light in the guise of the young pale moon curiously peering in through the not completely closed curtains, and the small, quaint lamps on the oak bedside tables reveal the mysteries of two stained hearts that try to find their way home. In the subdued, soft lighting two silhouettes sit opposite each other on the king-sized bed. And in the complete silence that reigns here, one can hear their ragged breathing, the hot waves of air leaving their parted lips.

The whole space’s palpably electrified with eager anticipation mingled with infinite tenderness and an overwhelming desire. The threatening mixture that swallows them both not leaving a single chance to escape this sweet torture. And it seems that every atom of their being is transformed into a vibrating movement, fused with an unknown craving that fills their heated bodies.

Your clothes are long forgotten somewhere, discarded on the floor on the way to the bedroom, ready to become a tomorrow’s reminder of this very night. Sitting there on the soft walnut colored silk bedsheets wearing nothing but your underwear, you don't feel any cold; rather, your whole skin seems to be set ablaze, with the heat running through your entire body and waking up all the butterflies that have been sleeping peacefully in your stomach. And he doesn’t even touch you yet.

Satoru looks pretty calm, too calm for your liking. Behind this habitual grin you can’t even discern whether he feels at least a bit as anxious or giddy as you. So your gaze shifts to his torso, causing you to swallow hard, as your eyes flick from his broad chest adorned with crescent scars to his defined abs. The lack of clothes gives you a perfect opportunity to admire his sturdy figure without any shame. Illuminated by the soft yellow light, his snow-white skin takes on a golden hue, like a bronze-carved Apollo, who only smiles softly, as if knowing how breathtaking the sight of him can be. You cannot see his eyes, like treasure sought by pirates hidden behind a black satin blindfold, but you can sense his intense gaze moving slowly along all of your curves, tracing all of your skin, not stopping for a second.

And so you give in, jump in with both feet, unable to languish in anticipation and delay the moment any longer, you move closer, your slightly trembling hands gently reaching for him.

"May I?" a quiet plea comes out of your lips in a whisper, your fingers gently touching the velvet skin of his cheek, slowly moving to his blindfold. Satoru nods weakly, swallowing, feeling your hands gently, as if it might hurt him, untie the knot, and slowly pull the skin-cooling material off his heavenly blue eyes.

You see the stars. He still hasn't touched you yet, but you could swear you see them when your gazes meet. It feels like finding yourself in outer space with no protection and no way to take that much needed breath, hanging weightless, surrounded by celestial bodies and running out of air. Yet you can’t help but marvel the beauty before you, knowing goddamn well that this starry blanket might be your last memory. And you would agree to do it again, just to feel the sense of lightness once more, just to get lost in his light, just to see the world centered in him and hidden behind these two orbits.

He sees the sun. He still hasn’t touched you yet, but he could swear he feels its burning touch when your gazes meet. It feels like floating above the ground not the way he used to do but lifting to the unpreceded heights, striving to reach the biggest star, sense its warm embrace and get lost in its heat, knowing goddamn well that its gentle hold might be the last thing he’ll ever feel. And he would do it again, like Icarus flying up too fast and too close, letting you scorch his wings, letting you take away his strength, only to bask in your presence, only to have a chance to marvel your blinding beauty a little longer, only to make sure you know that his whole world is centered around you and can now be seen in the reflection of his two orbits.

“You’re so beautiful…” he exhales quietly either not fully trusting his voice or in fear of scaring the moment off. His hand flies up to gently tuck your hair behind your ear, a light touch leaving a barely perceptible trace on the curve of your neck. With his fingertips he feels the myriad of goosebumps covering your flawless skin in an instant, and he cannot believe it’s him who does this to you. He lets out a shaky breath, realizing how every inch of his body is shivering at the sensation of the satin fabric you're slowly sliding down his neck. Satoru thanks all the gods above that it's you who's doing this to him. Though no one else ever could.

“Close your eyes,” he commands in a low voice, leaning closer, his hot breath dancing across your skin. You obey pliantly, your heart flutters at his words as he suddenly takes advantage of the situation. Satoru’s delicate hand finds its place on the back of your neck, making you lift your head just a little bit. With your eyes shut you feel him leaving a small peck on your temple, then softly kissing your closed eyelids and traveling down to your desperately waiting to be kissed and already slightly parted mouth. Gojo makes sure he left the proclamation of his love with the softest brush of his lips on every millimeter of your face while his thumb gently caresses your jawline. He pulls back for a moment, trying to capture in his mind how divinely beautiful you are in the moonlight before drawing you into a deep yet full of fondness and promises kiss. And your worlds collide the moment your lips meet. And if the big bang that started it all for someone seems like a controversial theory, it has now become an absolute and irrefutable truth for the both of you, as it’s just claimed the new beginning. With him being so painfully soft and his lips molding just right against yours and his feather-light touches, treating you like you’re made of the daintiest porcelain, you feel like falling apart right here and right now. With you being so painfully gentle and your fingers tangling in his snow-white hair, treating him like he’s worth of this universal tenderness, he feels like falling apart right here and right now.

Satoru pulls away slightly, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips. You don't dare to open your eyes, feeling the thin fabric slowly slip from your fingers. He gently kisses the corner of your lips, unable to resist, before you feel the pleasant coolness of satin on your eyelids. His fingers gently, with apparent skill, fasten his blindfold around your head.

“Relax for me,” he whispers noticing the way your breath hitches and your chest heaves frantically, “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” his thumb stroking the pinkish apple of your cheek.

“I wanna see you…” you say under your breath, covering his hand with yours.

“You will,” he murmurs and takes your hand in his, kissing your fingers, “but for now, I want you to feel it, okay?” is more of a statement said in a saccharine tone, yet you utter a quiet “okay” surrendering completely to his captivity. His arms encircle your waist before gently lowering you onto the cushioned bed.

“I want you to feel all the love I have for you,” he repeats breathlessly, his fingertips grazing your hips, still unable to believe that you let him touch you, let him kiss your perfect skin, let him get lost in you.

And he’ll spend the whole night showing you how pure and overpowering his love for is, how addicted to your light is, and he is not afraid to burn in doing so.

thank you so much for reading! comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💛

tags: @rossithepixie @pastelle-rabbit @solanaearth @a-nuisance-called-sam @nanamiiss @4sat0ruu @pupkashi @gennysuga

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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