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navybrat817 · 3 months

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Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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cckaisen · 28 days

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୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝓙𝓔𝓩𝓔𝓑𝓔𝓛, nanami kento !

an indulgence in nanami, his sweet intern, and their shared insanity.

ಇ. summary. fem!reader, smut, dark content, age gap (reader early 20s, nanami late 30s), mildly dubcon, power imbalance, boss/intern relationship, daddy kink, dubious morality, dom/sub elements, seduction, internal conflict, corruption. minors do not interact !!

ಇ. notes. believe it or not, i love nanami, but with that comes my desire to absolutely ruin his life. sorry hun 🩷

nanami's index and middle eagerly dip into the cavern of your mouth, swimming in your saliva as it fills up the crevice between his thick fingers. his features contort in anguish at the way your tongue swirls around him. the noise he lets out is almost wounded, bringing up his other hand to cover his mouth.

digging your knees into the carpet, you tighten your lips around his digits, sucking him in like a whore, gruesome imagery that has his cock straining his pants. every logical bone in nanami's body aches to push you away, yet here he is, ensnared, watching with a strange contained horror as you drool around him.

watching. like a monster lurking in the shadows, knees spread as he sits back in his wanton throne.

he lets your eyes roll back, thumb poking against your cheek as you suckle on his jaded fingers.

it's so much easier to keep from thinking with your satiny mouth enveloping him, soothing him in a violent sear all through his body.

experimentally, nanami pushes his fingers back just enough to trigger your little reflex, watching you gag, lashes fluttering in brief panic as he lets out this awful, guttural groan—he's endeared.

what is wrong with him? what the fuck is wrong with him...?

and why can't he stop?

he's reigned in from bliss by a slurry of soft sounds that drench his hands, the cold steel of his watch bumping your chin.

"what is it?" nanami blurts, question incongruous with his own dizzied tone.

"wanna tashte yoh..." you mumble, fluttering your lashes even though they're thick with globs of tears from where you gagged around him. "please, nanami..."

no. he can't let you. he can't. he's already let this go too far—

nanami bites the inside of his cheek. before he can even reply, you're unfurling his belt, metal clinking darkly.

"fuck..." he pants, wet hand moving out of your mouth to slide across his face. his nose-bridge glistens with your sticky saliva, "goddamnit..."

his lets his eyes shut briefly as you free him from his cotton confines. leaning forward with intent, you take his cock into your palm, noting the way your fingertips struggle to meet around him. he pants harder, gasps for breath, grits his teeth.

"s—sweetheart..." nanami breathes.

open your eyes. see how disgusting i am.

you only answer him with a soft exhale, hardly a sigh. he's alerted to the pink of your lips first as your mouth pools around his tip, and then a shaky, untried breath, and then a barrage of images strike him, a violent, vivid list of things he wants to do to you. his muscles seize up in an attempt to keep himself restrained.

strategically flattening your tongue against his tip, you watch for any kind of reaction like a hawk snatching up its prey. made-up eyes sparkle while inspecting the new crease in his brow, drowning in his destruction.

he stares at you, despairing, a large hand coming up to brush against your cheek. you lap up the affection, crooning into it, insatiable greed spilling out in the form of syrupy saliva. it dribbles messily to the base of his cock, a token of your yearning, the same that held him in his chair as you puddled at his feet.

there was nothing right about this. nothing remotely, possibly, vaguely right. nothing that nanami could scramble to find while taking advantage of your naivety, surmising that perhaps you two could be together, fleetingly, as two adults in two very different stages of life.

because it's so easy. it's so easy to take you when you're so willing, so eager. all his. you leap for his attention, at any cost—how high is never a factor in your decision. his greedy little intern.

his precious little girl.

he's cradling your head in his palms, feeling the heat pooling in your cheeks, nesting in your hair when he breaches your throat with a strained grunt.

squinting your eyes, you rush to take it all, inviting nanami to meld you to his will. he grimaces when your nails dig into his skin through his pants, imagining the terrible thoughts gushing through your mind about wanting to please him more than anything. then, pleasure lurches through him, his own body betraying his morals.

you rut your mouth up and down on him, slobber drenching his thighs. nanami's touching you, holding your head, but not for better use—his hands are hot and gentle, like sapped concrete.

"it's okay. you can be rough," you ebb him on, popping off briefly with a smarmy look. "i'm not made of glass, you know."

nanami sneers at the comment. "don't."

"what? don' wanna hurt me? c'mon, i can take it." you pepper kisses up the side of his cock, flushed and magma-hot, rubbing against your cheek.

"god," his hips roil in response to your torment, his breath labored around the words, "the mouth on you..."

"mhm. i'm good with it, right?" you giggle before getting back to your little task. in dizzying motions, you roll your tongue along him, sweet kitten licks souring his conscience, all his fantasies rolling into one diabolical act.

nanami's brain fizzles in dying sparks, eyes rolling. he attempts to let go of you in order to sink his grip into the chair for crushing purchase, but you refuse; little fingers snatch his and bring them to the back of your neck.

kento chokes on a moan as your nose brushes his pelvis, your body floundering weakly for a moment. your instinct for air is obstructed by a growing pressure against the back of your head.

"good girl, that's it..."

pride flourishes in your chest when you're given praise, panties growing stickier from under your skirt. you can't breathe, but it feels too good. the way he keeps you there, maintaining the invasion in your throat, selfish, unchecked lust bleeding out through the cracks of his dignity.

and it's too easy. when he tugs you back, lets you bob your head, gagging on needy gulps and whines, it comes so easily he hardly knows why he was ever so reluctant. so hesitant, and for what? what's the point in holding back if you want it? when you want it rough? when it's exactly what you're begging for? when it's clear that all you want is to be treated like those girls in porn, those girls with fathers who don't care for them, those girls who ask for it, who don't know any better, who get found shot dead in a ditch, legs askew and panties twisted around their ankles, one of those girls.

nanami thrusts forward. shoves his cock down your throat, really, punching a gasp from deep inside your body. he comes with a strained grunt, a ragged whisper of your name, croaked out into the cosmos.

your throat squeezes, something hot and thick gushing into the tight space. gargling, swallowing, spluttering as you thrash for air, nanami's grip slackens.

"s-stop," he jerks, gritting his perfect set of teeth until they creak under the pressure. "stop it, don't—"

the second his grasp on you loosens, the yearning floods again tenfold. in an attempt to regain his rugged affections, you suckle at his cock, panting greedily, tearful eyes wide and owlish with glutton. "d—daddy..."

nanami hisses, overstimulation pricking his nerves. in an instant, he flares up, acid in his gut fizzling, lurching at you.

a choked noise—a squeak—jumps from your spit-glossed lips at once, barely reaching his ears. you're balking at him, not in your usual girlish inflection. this was different. it was scared.

it takes him a few beats to make out the jaunted figure of his knuckles squeezing around your neck, calcifying. a milky rapture. the sight ingrains itself in his mind, carving the image of your wobbling pupils into the shadows of his careful persuasion.

that simple pleasure dissolves as quickly as it came. guilt rears its ugly head, a pit of ice settling in his stomach. nanami churns. had he just...?

recoiling at his own affliction, kento shudders, releasing you at once.

relief is immediate. your lungs swallow up all the air they can, chest expanding for a giant gulp of air. fright begins to subside, but that foreboding darkness in his eyes flashes through your mind in harsh, bright bursts. willowy fingers tremble on-top of his knee, the same that had just lured out that murk in him he desperately despised.

a necklace of torrent red rises to the surface of your skin in the wake of his foul touch. you paw at it weakly, stunned turmoil heavy in your gaze as you blink up at him.

"i—i'm sorry," nanami chokes out, "god, i'm sorry... i don't know what came over me."

"it's okay," you dispel quickly, wiping off the wet trails along your cheeks, because you liked it—his cruelty. it's been your goal since the very beginning. to break him down, to expose that carnality that simmered in his veins. you'd done just that. and even though it had only been for the briefest of seconds, the wound it left was raw, broiling and morbid.

but you liked it.

right?

"no, it's not okay. i went too far." nanami's blood pressure slides as he makes the admission. "i hurt you just now."

"yeah? so what?" you shrug a 'couldn't care less', holding his careful gaze, "i liked it."

a line of revulsion carves into nanami's forehead, deep and unmistakable. fear that it's aimed at you pangs in your chest until he suddenly groans, palming his chiseled face. thin brows sinking, that new wrinkle exaggerated by the untimely turn of events. "god, what the hell have i done to you...?"

your breath hitches at the self-imposed question. it's engrained with frustration, gaunt and responsible. so nanami of him.

and yet he leers inwardly, venom rising in his throat. "can't you see i'm ruining you?"

nanami's words teem with unvarnished emotion, corruption burbling in his deep baritone voice, the corruption you share so blindly, so willingly. it wreaks turbulence unto your vision, wetting your eyes again.

"nanami..."

"i'm so sorry," he pleads. "forgive me. i didn't want this for you. please believe me... you believe me, don't you? that i didn't want—i don't want to be like this."

you fall quiet again. you're still below him, knees starting to ache as you catch your breath.

"i'm sorry," kento mumbles, lifting you so gently upright and pulling you towards him. your head meets his firm chest as his hands come up, one cradling the back of your skull, the other at the small of your back. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so, so sorry."

"it's okay. i forgive you." you whisper, wrapping your arms around him. despite the soggy shards of concern that lay in pieces at your feet, you croon into him none the less, giving chase once again. to him. to his touch, his protection, his patience.

you want it all.

the anguish, the control, the lacerations of his love.

hurt me.

and i promise i will like it.

likes n reblogs are appreciated !! 🩷

#୭ ˚.⁺⊹ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓻𝓭 .ᐟ #cckaisen too obscene!#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

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˚ ᜔ ࣪ ✿ ࣭ ۟ bathtub.

(corioanus snow x reader)

summary: stressed about that time of the month, your boyfriend watched you bathe in awe of the red water.

c.w: period sex, sensitivity, fertile period, p in v, oral sex (f. recieving), blood, biting, praising, overstimulation, dacryphilia, petnames (doll, princess, angel), bathtub sex, blood kink, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, making reader taste herself.

a/n: i watched saltburn . need to get a bit out of my system . also i'm kinda of sleepy and shaky so there's probably a bunch of mistakes here

you hated being on your period. it always came when you wanted the nastiest things possible.

now, mourning for the loss of a contact you couldn't have now, you were deep into the bathtub, only your face was capable of beig seen inside of the bathtub alongside with the red water and bubbles.

your boyfriend was kneeling by your side, washing your hair with the upmost kindness as his fingers rubbed your scalp. god, you were crazy about him- you wanted him to fuck you, wanted him inside you, taking your pain away.

but you thought it was gross. and even if you adored vampires, you didn't want to see your boyfriend's pretty face being dirty and stick because of your blood.

"i still don't know why you don't wanna do it." he said, kissing your shoulder, massaging them.

"it's gross, coryo. you don't have to do it." you said, feeling shivers down your body. specially when his fingers travelled down to your breasts- gosh, you were so sensitive. your nipples seemed to wake up immediatly. "s..stop. stop, i'm not gonna let you fuck me while i'm like this."

"but it would help ease up the pain." he said, changing his pose to kiss your cleavage. now, he was at the side of the bathtub, your hair was wet, beautiful, some shampoo bubbles were dripping on the floor.

"coryo.." you pouted. you were almost giving in, he could see that, from your tear pooled eyes to your thighs rubbing together; you wanted this as much as he did.

"c'mon, doll. don't hold up. i know you want this just as much as i do." he said, taking off his shirt, getting into the bathtub with you, engulfing your nipple into his hungry mouth.

finally, he earned a moan out of you, your legs instantly spreading to him, his fingers didn't even had a hard time finding your bloody slick, you moaned while holding his hair, his fingers finding your velvet core and entering it easily.

there was something on the sounds of his fingers thrusting your bloody pussy so eagerly, something hungry on the way he mouthed your boob aggressively, biting it on his teeth as if it was a gummy bear, and still being so eagerly sweet in those bites, in those thrusts.

"cory!" you cried, hips bucking up to his fingers, breath hitching, and almost cumming. he could feel it in the way your cunt was clenching around him, that's why he pulled his fingers out of you. "hey.." you pouted.

for your surprise, his fingers were on your mouth now. the metallic, bittersweet taste of your blood was hot on your tongue, and even if you were humming on his fingers, unbelieving of what he was doing, you still sucked on his fingers, swallowing the taste of your own blood.

"coryo!" you called, brows knitted together while he smiled at you. "that was gross! ugh, for god's sake!"

"you swallowed it." he said, grinning darkly. you gulped down your saliva. "i didn't even told you to, you just did."

"i..."

"what a good girl." he chuckled, drowning into the water. the weight of both bodies made the water overflow, it flow off the bathtub, and even if you were surprised, your boyfriend drained the bathtub, and he had the nerve to pull your legs and place them on each side of his head.

you panicked, eyes wide open as you spoke "c-coryo, don't- it is a mess there, didn't you notice i'm on my period?!"

"i don't see how it affects me, princess" he said, kissing your inner thigh, stained with blood. "and, lucky for me, i'm a vampire"

he smiled devilishly. and although you found it was gross, he still managed to manipulate you into allowing it, and so, when his tongue pressed against your sensitive clit in the most delicious manner, you couldn't do anything other than squirm, moan and hold his hair.

but of course, he didn’t leave it at that. of course he had to finger you again, teasing you, passing his fingers through your slick, painting you with your blood; messily painting your blood on your cleavage, on your neck, on your boobs. like a white canvas, you slowly began gaining color.

and with his tongue tasting you, thrusting, licking, torturing you, your back arched perfectly as you held onto the bathtub, mewling his name. "c-cory! coryo!!!" you cried. "'m gonna- oh fuck!"

"i know, doll. i got you." and you came undone quickly, hands shaking, legs shaking, mouth held agape and still, your eyes shone when you saw him on top of you, blood on his chin, on his adam's apple, on his fingers. somehow, it was the prettiest sight you've ever seen. "but do you got me?"

you nodded, grinding so desperately on the bulge of his pants, so sensitive for him, throbbing and clenching, missing the bare contact you had with him. "yes, yes, i do."

this was enough of an answer for him to unbuckle his pants, wet from the way he drowned himself on that bathtub, his dick slapping at your clit, making you mewl at the sudden violence against your most sensitive parts; the way his tip teased your core was getting you to cry.

when he finally penetrated you, you felt like the pain, alongside with your ovulation, were getting into a fight; one seeing who was stronger than the other and for your own pleasure, it was your ovulation who won against the pain of the cramps.

"fuck- look at you, you're so wet" he moaned, taking your waist on his hands, holding you in your place before starting to pound inside you and god, you were so sensitible. it didn't matter anymore, when he licked your tears and kissed your lips, your legs trembled around his waist, you could feel every inch of his dick inside you, and even the slowest thrusts were making you mewl and moan around him. "god, angel, are you tighter than before?"

and you nodded. the side effect of your period was that you always felt tighter, hornier, more sensitive, more emotional; and you couldn't help but suck on his thumb as he thrusted a bit more faster and deeper inside you, kissing your temple and your lips while taking his thumb out of your lips to rub your swollen clit.

"you're so good, look at you. you're just perfect around me." he chuckled, biting your neck and squeezing your boob on his hand.

"coryo, s-slow it down, please. don't wanna c-cum yet!" you pleaded, crying from the overstimulation. you already came, a mild orgasm when he fingered you, another orgasm when he eat you out, and now that you had the sight of him on top of you, fucking you like that, you felt like you would cum just from the sight of it, specially when you looked down to see how it looked- his cock entering you so fast and yet slow, deep and good inside you.

and god! there was blood on his dick! and he didn’t even seem to care- it was like he knew about it, like he wanted more.

"i know, babe. you can cum how many times you want." he said, and you were genuinely crying from pleasure. on the other side, there was a coriolanus who thought that period sex was the prettiest form of bonding. like it was a spiritual thing-

and even when you came, being accompanied by him after a feel thrusts, cum and blood mixing together, he bathed you both and at night, he still managed to fuck you again.

he did it many times before, fucked you on your period as if it was his prize, like there was nothing better than it.

with that being said, now, he had his face buried in between your legs, sucking on your blood while you tried to work on the assignment the teachers gave you both. well, his part was done. now, his job was other;

pleasuring you and sucking the blood off you.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #period sex

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zorosdimples · 10 months

Text

MORE, PLEASE, ALWAYS, FOREVER

pairing ༄ simeon x gn!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. suggestive content, religious/sacrilegious imagery, corruption, manipulation, dubious consent, drugging. simeon calls reader “little one” and “darling.” please let me know if i’m missing anything!

word count ༄ 771

notes ༄ this is my first time posting my writing, so please be kind! this drabble is darker than what i usually write; i’ve just been thinking about simeon and corruption for months… i have fluffier pieces in the works, i promise! <3

“but s-simeon,” you whispered, afraid to raise your voice lest desire drip from each syllable—as if the angel couldn’t see your trembling thighs or the glint of hunger in your gaze. your skin glowed, he observed, all dewy with want; he had never seen anything so beautiful, so vulnerable. your chest heaved as though you couldn’t catch your breath. “you’re an angel.”

“yes?” he hummed, trying not to sound too eager—all while his blood sang for you.

your tongue wetly floundered for a response, brain unable to comprehend anything other than the fierce fire that licked at your very core. oh, if he did not relish your sputtering, dumb state. you hung onto his every word as if he would lead you to salvation.

that’s what angels were created for, right?

“angels, humans, demons—we all have more in common than you think. we all have similar urges, similar needs,” simeon stated, lithe fingers traveling down your sides to dig into the soft flesh of your hips, forcing a breathy sigh from your lips. shame would have eaten you alive had it not been for your desperation.

“but you humans are rather self-centered, no?” he asked with an experimental squeeze that had your eyes fluttering dreamily. “you assume that your corrupted moral compass applies to the other two realms.”

you shivered as simeon leaned so close that you could smell the sweetness—caramel?—that clung to his skin. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “angels, as god’s chosen creatures, are encouraged to love deeply.” his fingertips grazed your belly as you swallowed thickly. his hot breath melted your resolve while his thinly-veiled words had your nerves thrumming in anticipation.

patience was a virtue that simeon usually embodied, but the thrill you inspired within him was cracking his restraint. he couldn’t help but push: push himself, push you. he needed to hear you to say it.

he gently cradled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling your face to meet his expectant gaze. if you had been in the right state of mind, perhaps you would have noticed how his azure irises were unusually dark, pools of midnight you could drown in.

the smile that tugged at his lips was almost wicked as he probed, “what do you need, little one? tell me.”

the endearment fell on deaf ears as you leaned into simeon’s grasp like a simpering pet. your eyes flickered down to his lips instead of answering his question, biting down on your own almost hard enough to draw blood.

“ah ah,” he chided, pinching your chin, still a hair’s breadth from your face.

you looked like a wounded animal for a moment, eyes wide and shimmering, staring down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. you tried to wriggle from his grasp in embarrassment.

the angel’s grip was unyielding, though. he was certain there would be bruises on your tender flesh come morning—the thought only heightened his arousal. his honeyed chuckle, like a potent sedative, lulled your movements.

“as much as i appreciate your enthusiasm,” simeon said with featherlight strokes to your burning cheek, “i need you to use your words, darling.”

you whimpered in response. your brain was fried, incapable of intelligent thought. all you could do was feel and act—instinct usurping rationale—more animal than human. all you could muster was a breathy and pathetic “please,” punctuated by the unshed tears that sparkled in your eyes.

“please what?” he cooed with faux sympathy. his free hand skimmed down the slope of your shoulder and the curve of your arm to ultimately settle on the fat of your thigh. the movement caused a tremor to ricochet through your body.

he looked at you like he wanted to devour you, to pick your bones clean, to consume you so wholly that not even your soul remained. and maybe it should have frightened you. but all you wanted was to lay yourself bare and let the angel feast on you until there was nothing left.

“i need you, simeon,” you finally breathed, soft as a prayer.

as soon as the words left your bruised lips, he lifted you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist. you exhaled a warbled moan when he dipped down to scrape his teeth against the column of your throat. “that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he murmured into your skin.

you were too far gone to answer—not that simeon cared. he finally had you where he wanted you, writhing and whining prettily. he made a mental note to thank solomon for the spell that had his little human begging for more, please, always, forever.

#oh god now i need to figure out the tags #pray for me #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me x reader #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #simeon x you #obey me simeon #obey me smut #simeon smut #simeon #obey me shall we date #om! smut #tw dubcon #tw dark content #i’m trying my best here #please lmk if i should tag anything else!#༄ kae writes

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jesterwriting · 7 months

Text

scenario: stuck in a timeloop and the only way to restart is to die

pairing: sanji x reader, law x reader, ace x reader (separate)

contents: hurt/comfort, angst, gore, im serious about the gore tw, graphic description of death, post traumatic symptoms, maybe a touch of survivors guilt, breakdowns, time loops, if youve seen rezero you know whats up

word count: 1.6k words

note: okay if theres one thing i love, its angst and hurt comfort, and if there’s one thing i do when i write it, i go crazy with it. my hands were genuinely shaking while i wrote this. hope you enjoy! [evil laughter]

playlist: eleanor by cake bake betty

No matter how many times you died, you couldn’t help but scream when you woke up again. You lost count how many times it happened, and it wasn’t like there was any point in keeping count besides depressing yourself with your numerous failures. This was your power; horrible and nowhere near worth the cost of losing your ability to swim. With every death, you would restart back at a random checkpoint, beginning anew, able to change the way the timeline went. All it took was to die, and lord above, did you die. Sometimes it was quick, other times it was an agony that would haunt you for many loops after.

Your power left you lonely. Friendships you made in one timeline, didn’t exist in others. You remembered when you were young and greeted a friend from a past loop with a hug. Of course, they didn’t know who you were. They no longer remembered the adventures you experienced or the trials you endured, only you held those memories now. They pushed you away with a look of distress, and you cried for hours after that, burdened with the knowledge that whatever friendship you had before, was gone forever now.

You isolated yourself after that.

It wasn’t until recently that you found yourself with a crew, though no one knew of your ability. You hated talking about it, hated reliving each death again and again. Every time you felt strong enough to speak about it, you always ended up dying and resetting everything back to the status quo. You were surrounded by friends, but so completely, and utterly alone. It was a worm in your gut, chewing on you from within and tearing you apart.

Now, here you were. Dying again.

Failing again.

Your eye spasmed in your skull, the other nothing more than jelly in your socket. The taste of iron pooled in your mouth as you hunched over, organs squirming like maggots from the wound on your abdomen. Sobs wracked your body. With shaking hands, you scooped your entrails into the crook of your arm in hopes that you could put them back inside of you. They were slimy and warm, and you were reminded of eels, or perhaps hagfish.

Everything hurt. You were so afraid, you couldn’t breathe. There was a loud bang and a heavy pressure on your chest. Or maybe, your inability to catch your breath stemmed from the bullet that had pierced through your ribcage and into your lungs. When did that happen? You didn’t know, you didn’t care, all you knew was that you didn’t want to die.

Of course, you didn’t get a say in the matter. Before you knew it, your muscles were going slack and your body was crumpling to the ground. Blood poured from between your lips as your tongue wagged numbly in your mouth. If you weren’t careful, you might bite it off. It had happened before, and you died drowning in your own blood rather than to the slow drain of your wounds. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could have been saved then.

Not now, though. Your guts were supposed to be inside you, not spewed and steaming on the ground.

And, just like that, it was over.

You awoke in bed and screamed. With gasping breaths, your hands frantically felt the intact skin of your belly, and your bulletless chest. Though you were safe, the ghost of your pain lingered like a knife against your back. Sobs tore from your throat as you curled in on yourself.

It had been a long time since a death this bad. So lost in your own misery — again, again, it happened again, why won’t it stop? — you didn’t hear the door open until it was too late.

“Black Leg” Sanji

Sanji was across the room, scooping you into his arms before you were able to blink. You gasped and squirmed slightly as he rubbed your back. A part of you was still there, bleeding out on the ground, and your heart wouldn’t stop hammering wildly in your chest, even as Sanji murmured sweet nothings into your ear. Phantom pain gripped you, and your stomach clenched when you remembered just how slimy your insides were as you tried to put them back where they belonged.

“I’m here, love, I’m here.”

That only made you cry more. Your breath hitched as you gripped the back of his dress shirt in your fist and buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were hyperventilating, afraid that the bullet in your chest followed you into this loop, threatening to drag you under again. You died in Sanji’s arms once before, and the terror on his face had etched itself into your brain forever. It couldn’t happen again, you would drag yourself away to die alone under a rock if you could help it.

Sanji’s hand shook as he stroked your hair. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Finally, you caught your breath and wiped the tears from your face. With a watery smile, one you were sure was nowhere near as convincing as you wanted if Sanji’s worried expression was anything to go by.

“I had a nightmare,” You said.

If Sanji knew you were lying, he didn’t say anything. He only held you while you desperately pretended that you had stopped trembling.

Trafalgar Law

Law was the last person who you wanted to see like this. He carried too much already. You were sure that he would crumble if he knew the weight you had been carrying right under his nose. Frantic, you pawed at your face to remove the evidence of your breakdown as if he hadn’t heard you screaming moments before.

“Hey,” He said softly, crouching beside you to gently grab you by the shoulders. Law squeezed, and you took a shaky breath and remembered where you were. You weren’t dying alone in the middle of nowhere, you were on the Polar Tang, with Law, somewhere on the Grand Line.

You sniffled and cracked a small smile. “Hey.”

Unwanted visions of your previous death assaulted you from behind your eyes. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your arms snaked around your middle to hold your organs inside. It still hurt, why did it still hurt? You were safe now, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Gently, Law pried your arms from your abdomen and pulled up your shirt to inspect it. “I don’t see any external injuries…”

You watched the possibility of an internal injury flit across his face. Before the word ‘room’ left his lips, you shook your head and choked on another sob.

“I had a dream I died,” You admitted the half truth with the sour taste of bile on your tongue.

Law’s brows knit and he let out a small, “Ah.”

Awkward, not yet used to the affection you bestowed upon him so readily, he wrapped his long arms around you with a small pat on your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I died, you need to know I would never blame you.” It came out of nowhere, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The truth was, you would blame yourself, you had a lot of experience doing that, though you thought better of saying that aloud.

Law didn’t say anything in response, his thumb rubbing gentle circles between your shoulder blades.

Portgas D. Ace

“What happened? Why are you crying?” Ace was talking before he even reached you, pulling you against his bare chest before you even had a chance to realize he was here. His scent filled your nose, filled your head, until you were hysterical and pulling him as close as possible.

“Was someone here? Did someone hurt you?” With his righteous anger, his body temperature rose as harmless flames licked your fingers. All you could do was cry, so captivated with the man in front of you, your death was all but forgotten.

“No, no, I’m okay.” You pulled back to study his face, your own stained with snot and tears. He practically glowed in the moonlight that streamed through your window. Even at night, Ace shone like the sun. Your clumsy hands found his freckles, sweeping across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks to his lips. Flesh and bone, alive and whole. You sobbed harder, low keening whines ripping from your throat before you could stop them.

“Had- Had a dream you were gone.”

Ace pulled you tighter against him. “Oh, babe, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

With your fingers tangled in his hair, Ace rocked you back and forth, hushing you softly while you wished to tear open your ribcage and keep him safe inside your body forever. The only way to get to him would be to rip you apart, and even then, you would come back again, stronger than ever. No one would be able to take him from you. You had died too many times to count, faced pain time and time again, there was no torture you wouldn’t endure if it meant you wouldn’t lose your sun.

How many loops had it been? How many times have you had to watch Ace die?

You’d save him this time, you would make sure of it.

#one piece x reader #black leg sanji x yn #sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #black leg sanji x reader #portgas ace x you #.jesterwrites #had so much fun with this one

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bedoballoons · 7 months

Note

Bedo Honey's Kinktober is starting?!!!! Count me in!!! Please hesr my brainrot!!! ABO (rutting/heat season) + Mirror Wrio, Lyney, Albedo, Xiao, Wanderer!! The boys have the reader in tighthold infront of the mirror showing them all the markings they did on her body, yet purposely missing their neck! They keep grazing their teeth over it but teasingly refuse/delaying the process to bite it, just waiting for reader to beg for it maybe? HEHE

The boys are the alphas, reader is afab omega~~

~🦊🐾✨️

>////< You know it mon chérie! This brainrot...its BEAUTIFUL!! Thank you~

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Alphas and Omegas~༺}

CW: NSFW! MDNI! S*x in front of the mirror, Wriothesley has a large um...ya know, spanking, marks, hair pulling, cursing, alpha character! Omega reader!, breeding kink, fingering, rutting/heat season!, afab reader! and being rough! (Pet names: Lyney, Darling, mon chérie, Albedo: My love, love, Xiao: Mine Wriothesley: Puppy, pretty little thing)

(Includes: Lyney, Albedo, Xiao, Wanderer, and Wriothesley!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney groaned into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin with every harsh thrust of his hips into yours. He was so deep inside you that you were failing to even speak at this point, his dick hitting every spot so perfectly that your pussy was dripping with ecstasy, wetness running down your legs while you stared at your own messy reflection in the mirror in front of you..., he had absolutely ruined you already, but your heat wasn't over and despite every wonderfully deep mark on your body, he still hadn't given into bitting your neck... the mark you wanted from him...the one that claimed you as his.

"P-pleasmmmnm! Plea-se!" You whined out, clenching your rosey walls around him so tightly as you felt your finish drawing closer. He chuckled, his hot breath caressing your skin...adding to the heat pooling in your core, "Please what hmmm, tell me mon chérie, use your words~" He glanced at your fucked out expression in the mirror, his consistent pace becoming uneven...he needed to fill you and soon..

W-wanna be ahh! Y-yourrss pl-easahhHHHH!!~" You choked out, his dick suddenly snapping into you so hard you completely lost any train of thought, your finish hitting you so hard and his teeth sinking into your neck, claiming you while he shot his cum deep into your stomach, filling you so full...

"What a beautiful performance darling~"

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedos hands slid down your body slowly, examining you like the beautiful piece of artwork that he considered you to be, his mischievous blue eyes meeting your lust dazed ones in the mirror for just a split second, "You look so gorgeous my love, all undone just for me...mine alone~" He placed a delicate kiss on you neck, his soft lips against your skin overwhelming you with feelings from your heat....he knew you were in a crazed state and he was teasing you, giving you everything but the one thing you had been begging for...

"A-a-albedo-nggh!~" You threw your head back on his shoulder as his fingers found your overstimulated cunt, playing with you like you were some type of toy for his amusement while you drowned in pleasure, "Apologies love...what were you saying~" You gasped out, wanting so desperately to tell him, but his digits had slipped in between your sopping pretty pink folds and your mind had become nothing but mush at his disposal.

𑁍༄Xiao:

"X-xiao!" You screamed out loud, gripping the sheets in front of you so tightly your knuckles were turning white, you could see your reflection from this angle and your fucked out face matched with your whimpering moans were everything your alpha could ever want...maybe that's why he had gone into a rut, fucking you into the mattress with no end in sight.

"Call my name, say it louder s-so everyone can hear...I want them all to know you're mine, no one else's! Mine!~" His dick plunged deeper into you, rearranging your insides while tears welled up in your eyes, god he loved seeing you at his mercy like this, your tight walls like heaven around him, pulling him in so nicely.

"Xiao! X-xiao!!" Your voice followed his instructions, getting louder and louder as he muddled your brain with his cock, groaning so loudly against your neck as he delayed you of being marked by him, he wanted your sweet cum all over him first and he would be patient...for now.

𑁍༄Wanderer:

You could barely breath as your body was roughly shot forward with each powerful thrust, Wanderers harsh grip on your hips pulling you right back afterwards onto his hard cock, showing you no remorse as he fucked you senselessly. He had you bent over a table, his free hand pulling your hair hard enough your head was up, just so could watch your dirty little face in the mirror, all innocence vanishing from your features as his dick pummeled into you at high speed.

"Who's my good little omega bitch?~" He snapped his hips so forcefully you screamed, finishing for what seemed like the hundredth time as he impatiently waited your answer, "I said, who's my good little omega bitch!" He smacked your ass, your pussy throbbing from over abuse and his rut still no where near done..."Mmmmnmnne-e! M-me!!"

"That's right, you're gonna bare my goddamn children like a good little omega r-right?~"

"Nmmmhmm!"

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

Wriothesleys large calloused hands spread your thighs apart, his eyes focused on the mirror in front of you as he watched his dick slide out of your hot weeping hole, your finish mixed with his sticky white cum dripping down it wonderully and leaving you completely on display for him in the reflection. Your breathing was erratic and his big cock had left you completely weak in every way, you couldn't move unless he wanted you to now and even though your heat had already been satisfied...he clearly wasn't done..

"Awee look at my cute puppy, all put out from their heat..and yet, there's something missing, what is it hmm~" He growled against your ear, nibbling on it teasing while your body quivered in response, clenching around nothing over and over as he watched in delight, "Come on now my pretty little thing, answer me..." He slid his hand up your inner thigh, grazing your pussy just enough to make you gasp, "M-mark my n-neck, w-wanna belong to you~" Your voice was shaking, dripping with lust and it was music to his ears...

"Good puppy~"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Happy kinktober~*⁠.⁠✧

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winterarmyy · 8 months

Text

Promise Me | Part III

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 4.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst but happy ending. The anticipation, the hesitation, yup it was real in this one. Not enough dialogue in my opinion but meh my brain was not braining. Bucky's scene before their official reunion.

P/S: Yeay, it's a wrap. Sorry for the delay guys. I'm still sick but feeling better, so that's a good news! This is the final part if the mini series, I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Louisiana, 2024 �� New beginning

War after war, from one fight into another, Bucky finally had the chance to catch a breath for himself. With the flagsmashers gone and Sam being the new Captain America just as Steve envisioned, there was a moment of peace for Bucky's tortured soul to finally rest.

He sat at the deck area of Sam's ship, watching the sun meets the ocean over the horizon, occasionally sipping on his probably fifth bottle of beer.

When he drowned himself in the memories of the events that happened these past few months, suddenly the tranquil of the sunset ahead of him doesn't interest him the least; not when a certain person had been occupying his mind.

Replaying all the twists and turns of his journey fighting those rogue group of super soldiers, one person had been but remained a mystery to him.

The Deathstalker.

It was the one puzzle piece that didn't seemed fit in the picture. As if she was plucked out entirely from a different story, a riddle that would lead him into another adventure beyond the unknown.

He still remembered the way her hands trembled against his face, tears pooling in her eyes that then fell into her mask as she muttered his name again and again.

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

The Deathstalker seemed to be taken aback by his question. Her mutterings stopped and her eyes locked on his blue ones; there was hesitation in her gaze, or a contemplation of an answer that Bucky was dying to know.

"I-- i'm--" her words stumbled as her feet dragged backwards, putting some space between herself and Bucky.

Bucky's heart stammered in anticipation, he had a gut feeling that she wasn't just someone that he had crossed path with once or twice. He could tell they had some kind of a long history, a deeper connection; Where? When? He wasn't sure. He just knew it that there was something special between them, especially when she looked at him with such eyes.

But before she could give a definite answer, multiple groups of bounty hunters started to re-gather in their area. Zemo came in clutch with a car, picking up the injured Sam with the help of Sharon.

Bucky can hear Sharon's voice yelling out his name yet he didn't move an inch and within minutes they were surrounded by the hunters.

What was it that gave him such courage to court death just to hear her answer? Was it just purely out of curiosity or was it some kind of delusional hope that intrigued his soul?

Y/N looked around to assess their dire situation before gazing up at the taller. She knew this wasn't the best time for the truth and her hesitation only makes it worst.

But when, Bucky held out his hand towards her, "Come with me." there was a strong pull that made her wanted to just give in and take his hand.

And Bucky didn't know why he reached out for her, but it felt right. She glanced in between his hand and his pleading eyes, her own hand twitching, almost submitting to her desire but the last minute she decided to stand on her ground.

Y/N ended up turning her back and fled away, leaving her lover's hand hanging and his question unanswered.

Through the time that Bucky was deep in his memories, he may or may not have unintentionally bored his gaze towards Sarah's direction, which only triggered Sam into a protective brother that he is, "Don't flirt with my sister." He warned.

Bucky briefly scoffed and denied his accusations, "I'm not." He sipped on his bottle as he averted his gaze away.

The look on Sam's face seemed like he was trying to glare into Bucky's soul; he was sceptical with the his deflection. But the brunette only rolled his eyes in response as he spoke, "Seriously. I'm not interested." He continued before Sam couldn't interject, "Not that there's anything wrong with her.. it's just..."

Seeing Bucky's struggles to find an excuse, Sam curiously quirked, "It's just that you already have a girl in mind?" He suggested.

There was a hint of softness in Bucky's smile when he ran his thumb across the glossy sticker of the bottle, "I had a girl." He spoke dearly as his eyes diluted into another spiral of scattered memories of his past lover, "I had the best girl."

Since the truth that was unfolded in Madripoor, Y/N had been keeping tabs on Bucky. At first, she couldn't believe it. She had to put everything about the super soldier serum on hold, to uncover more of Bucky's survival.

As it turn out, he managed to survive the fall from the train back in 1945 and had been brainwashed into a lethal weapon for Hydra for years after that.

His identity had been a secret for decades but since the fall of Hydra a few years back, the whole world knew who the Winter Soldier was. However, the people in the underground world was much fond of his villain's name, rather than the name of a war hero when it comes to addressing him.

Therefore, the lack of use of his real name had been one of the reason why Y/N was not aware of his existence. Not to mention, when he made his first public appearance when the bombing at Washington D.C. happened, she was determined to leave anything related to her past life behind and was trying to live a new life away in Singapore.

Then, a few years after that, when she came back to New York during the first year of the blip, Bucky was unfortunately, one of the people who vanished.

But, those things doesn't matter anymore now that she knew he was alive. Her Bucky. Her James. He's alive. Y/N couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, this overjoyed. That night, she couldn't sleep very well; not when her heart was working overtime all through the night.

Ever since then, she had been lurking around Bucky and Sam most of the time. Besides, her own mission of making sure the super soldier serum doesn't fall into the wrong hands and to put an end to the flagsmasher, Y/N was also there just to see Bucky.

She couldn't help it.

Imagine living a somewhat immortal life without a piece of your heart for decades. Withering to the fact that you can never see your lover, not in life nor in death; Or spending days and nights, missing and longing for his soul to be one with yours again.

And then suddenly discovering he was still alive.

Of course, she would use any excuse to see him every single day without fail. But at the same time, she didn't want to make things more complicated than it already was. With the crisis of the vigilante super soldiers, she didn't think it would be wise to reveal herself to Bucky anytime soon.

So, she stayed in the shadows instead, refuse to make herself known to Bucky. Whether as the Deathstalker or as Y/N.

Except for that one time that she decided to help him.

Bucky looked around the parking lot, trying to make a decision on which vehicle would be easiest for him to hijack. That was when he heard her signature robotic voice, "Hey, sarge!" She yelled.

He followed her voice upwards to see her feet dangling in the air, as she sat on the edge of the metal of the fire escape stairs. He hadn't seen her since their first encounter at Madripoor, "You..." Bucky whispered quietly.

Now that he thought about it, did she just call him by his title?

She titled her head to the side, "Do you require any assistance, sargent?" She asked nonchalantly as if they have been buddies for years.

Yup, she did used his title.

Bucky's signature frown only deepened when she insinuated a jest-like tone. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to appear friendly in order to help him or slow him down. So be safe, his defence went up when he straighten his back into a stance.

When Y/N saw how his guard changed, she decided to get straight to the point, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James" she leaned as if it'll close the distance between them.

She wondered if her words trigger a memory in him; after all, she did use the similar sentence in 1943 when Steve rescued him from Hydra's captivity. But the lack of response from Bucky told her otherwise. Perhaps, it was too long of past for him to remember, or it wasn't significant enough for him.

Bucky's brows quirked when she yelled, "Heads up." and his hand rose up to catch whatever it was she threw down at him.

Y/N briefly titled her head forward as she spoke, "Far left. The black bike." In which Bucky briefly followed her directions, to indeed see a black bike parked at the spot.

Bucky wordlessly turned his head back and gaze up at her with a questioning look on his face. He couldn't see her behind that mask she was wearing but if he could, he would've see her smiling, "You need it more than I do."

It has been a few months since that night. And she was still lurking somewhere in the dark. Everywhere he goes, she will be right around the corner; watching, observing.

Even now, when she found herself standing on one of the boardwalk in Louisiana, near where Sam's boat resides. There was no denying that she was sort of being a creep, basically stalking Bucky from where she was standing.

From this distance, she could see that Bucky was having the time of his life entertaining the kids with his left arm; or maybe the kids were, when they compete each other on how long they can last hanging from the vibranium metal.

Y/N just had to smile seeing him happy like this. Her heart bloomed with warmth that she never thought she would ever had the chance feel again. Bucky looked as if he was finally at peace, and that made her doubt if it was a good idea to insert herself in his life now.

She believed that he derserve a happy ending. After all he had gone through all those years, he should be able to have the luxury of having a completely new life, a new beginning. Away from the past that are just filled with painful memories and dreadful suffering. To find love again and live a long happy life where she is nothing but a distant memory.

He deserve that.

But is that what she truly wanted?

Brooklyn, 2024 – Truth Untold

"That'll be $25, sir." The red-haired smiled as she handed Bucky his usual order. He paid accordingly as he took it off her hands and walked out of the cozy little shop at the corner of the busy city street.

His gloved hand gripped onto the stem of the bouquet, as his dark and tall silhouette slithered through the crowd. Everybody seemed to be entranced with whatever it was on the screen of their phones, while Bucky felt like he was out of place and time with arrangement of primroses in his hands.

The hustle bustle of the city slowly transitioned into a much calmer and quieter scenary. He walked passed the rusty, almost deteriorating entrance gate, nodding to the old ground keeper as he passed by. He knew he could get lost if he doesn't keep his focus, yet his eyes remained on the petals of the flowers, gambling his trust in his feet to bring him to the only spot they recognized.

"Hey, doll." Bucky greeted, gripping on the stem a little tighter as he read the name of his lover on the worn-looking headstone. Months of cleaning and tending her grave, it still looked grey and sombre compared to when he first visited; but that tends to happen to a grave is been left out since the 70's.

He lowered into a crouching position and placed the flowers in front of the headstone, "I'm sorry I've been missing some weeks on ya. Duty calls." Bucky knew that wasn't a good excuse to miss their dates but the flagsmashers events had caused him to skip this little Tuesday routine of his.

As depressing it might sound, he missed coming here.

Besides going to therapy, this has been the only place where Bucky talks the most about his feelings. Though it might be completely a one-sided conversation, but he could spend hours talking to her. Telling her anything and everything that's been going on in that pretty head of his. No matter how scrambled and messy it was up there.

Bucky traced his fingers to the words engraved in the stone; it read 'Beloved daughter, sister, aunt, and friend.' Each title were delightful as they were but then again, she could've been 'a lovely wife' and 'a great mother', but she didn't.

"Why didn't you?" Bucky whispered quietly. "I just know that men must've been thrilled chasing after you, begging on their knees for your hand." He chuckled as he remembered all those times when his friends would ogle over her whenever he brought her out for a dance, "And you'd be a wonderful mother too." Knowing her gentle nature and how the kids in the hospital adored her, he just knew she would be.

His heart pierced painfully to think that she might have grown old alone, and died without family of her own. "You should've live a happy life, y/n. Marry a good man, build a family." Tears that pooled started to drip from the corner of his eyes, each tore an aching sob from his throat, "And I wished I could've be there with you."

It wasn't rare for Bucky to cry during his visits to Y/N's grave. He is the most vulnerable when he's with her; even in death, being around her has been comforting for his soul.

Y/N could clearly hear the sound of his sniffles when she stood closer to him like this. She spend day after day, gathering the courage and figuring out what to say if she ever confronted Bucky.

But in the end, the fact that Bucky was just within her reach, living, breathing; it broke whatever plan she had in her mind.

It still felt like a dream. A lucid one.

Bucky knew that was someone standing behind him; but he felt no sorts of vendetta from the person and if they mean him any harm, they would've done it sooner. He roughly stroke his palm across his face in effort to hide the tears streaks away and took a deep breath as he stood on his feet.

Whoever he had in mind, well it was definitely not that person who was standing behind him right now. It totally caught him off guard when he saw the Deathstalker standing in front of him instead of any other familiar faces.

Though her identity was still hidden, but instead of her combat attire, she was in a much comfortable clothes. Casual sneakers, basic jeans, an oversize sweater, its hood pulled over her head and a soft cloth mask covering her lower face.

Despite the change of style, her eyes were still the same. Big, brown and Bucky could only describe them to be filled with curiosity and concern as they looked up at him. He could feel the burn from the drag of her gaze on each part of his features; the softness of his lips, the red of his nose and especially the puffiness of his eyes.

He broke the silence when he started the conversation, "I assume that you're not going to fight me." He said, "At least you don't look like you're equipped for it..." Bucky pointed out the obvious.

Y/N took a few seconds of silent blinking before she responded with a shook of her head.

The lack of verbal response somehow caused him to feel slightly awkward. Rubbing the back on his neck, Bucky titled his head to the side, "So... you're here for your bike?" He asked. He still hold on to the bike that she lend to him, though it was back at his place, if that's what she wanted.

Her eyes curved into a pair of cresent moons, a side effect of a smile that Bucky couldn't see. She shook her head again to deny his speculation.

Bucky pointed out at the graveyard around them when he asked, "Uhh...are you here for a visit too?" He doubt it but it was worth to try.

Y/N looked over his shoulder, reading the familiar name engraved on the headstone behind him, before locking her eyes back to his. She shook her head yet again.

Bucky was starting to get why Sam felt annoyed with his staring problem now that he had first hand experience. Though she wasn't glaring at him like he would at Sam, but still, she was staring at him most of the time. And the lack of words made it more noticeable. "You don't talk much do you?" He asked, there was a hint of passive-aggressive in his tone.

And Y/N recognized that tone anywhere. She was surprised that that part of him hasn't change since the 40's. She remembered how Bucky would use this tone whenever he was irritated but he didn't want to be a jerk and yell out his frustration.

The fact that she still managed to notice this little quirks of his after all these years made her chuckle amusingly. There wasn't a voice changer now, it was just her voice; raw and unfiltered. And even if it was muffled behind the cloth of her mask, her laugh sounded awfully familiar to Bucky.

It sounded pretty and soft, that it tickled something in deep within his chest but not enough to trigger any memory from his subconcious, "Then, what are you doing here?" He asked curiously.

It took a moment of blinking silence before Y/N grabbed onto the fabric of her hood; she pulled it back and it revealed her slightly wavy hair dipped in raven. Bucky watched intently as her index finger slipped into the tiny slot at the side of her nose, hooking it on the fabric of her mask.

And those mere seconds of hesitation triggered the tears to form in her eyes. Her heart beating fast, tiredlessly pumping blood through the veins of her body yet her fingers still runs cold with fear.

Between the thumping sound of her own heartbeat, she might have second guessed her own decision of revealing her identity. Thinking that maybe it was best to leave the truth untold. Because what if Bucky refused to believe her?

It would truly destroy her; this time, beyond repair.

Y/N briefly closed her eyes as she breathed in, she then pulled the mask down to reveal her face. The crack in her voice betrayed the smile that curved on her trembling lips, "I'm here for you." She finally spoke.

The upward movement of muscle around her cheeks pushed her tears out, letting it flow from the corner of her eyes. She didn't dare to look at him in the face for too long, so her eyes casted downwards to where her feet dug the ground.

Decades passed and it might have been several lifetimes for Y/N since the 40's but it only felt like it was yesterday for Bucky. Especially when he had lived many years of his life to either be awake for the Winter Soldier or asleep in the freezing chambers.

All of which were just scattered of loose memories to him now. It haunted him, yes. But sometimes he couldn't tell if it was just a series of nightmares or actual reality. Thus, he tends to feel as if he had lost his sense of time. That is why he always felt out of place in the modern society.

Inside, he felt like he was still the man he was in the 40's; just thrusted forward in time. And since he started to tap into the memories of himself in those olden times, it made him felt like it hasn't been that long for Bucky since he last saw her.

Yes, he felt like it was just short distance of time but his soul certainly didn't feel the same. It had been deprived of its other half for far too long.

All the images of their time together flashed rapidly through his mind; every touch, every kiss, every laughter and even every tears they ever shared, all came rushing in like untamed waves crashing to the shore.

The beautiful strings of chaos in his head hadn't calm the slightest, in fact it pushed Bucky to move forward; to catch her silhouette before it could disappear on him like the way it always does in his dreams.

Y/N's vision was blocked when Bucky smushed her face to his chest, trapping her in an unbreakable embrace as he whispered her name, "y/n?"

Was he talking to her or was he talking to himself? Because he didn't stop muttering her name as if it was some sort of a ritual chanting.

Bucky's hand briefly roamed her body from the back of her head, barely passing her shoulders, across the spine and then folded around her waist, drawing her in; impossibly closer.

That was when she felt his body shake; much like herself, Bucky was crying for the lost time that they will never make back, for the pieces of hearts broken in those decades that they lived without one another.

Bucky had witness some unbelievable things throughout his long life on this earth; lots of mind-boggling creation of man-made technology, actual magic and sorcerers, aliens and literal Gods.

He should know that nothing is impossible. Yet, holding Y/N in his arms felt unbelievably surreal to him.

Before she managed to draw in the air, her body felt the need to melt into his form. She can feel his firm grasp around her frame, and feel how rapid his heart beating on her cheek.

At that moment, she couldn't help but to find resemblance of him to his past habits; he way he holds her, how his fingers would occasionally dance across her body, or how his nose would nudge into her hair.

Even his scent remained the same. At least the essence of it were unchanged.

Being in his arms reminded her of the whispers of promises Bucky made to her, "You promised to come home." Y/N tried to steady her breath, "You promised to come back to me."

Bucky pulled her head back, cradling her face in the contrast of his hands; one was once warm and another that felt familiar. He desperately wiped her tears away with his thumbs, almost too rough of a caress but surprisingly it brought more relief than pain to her.

Even in the sorrow and grief, anger managed to slipped through when she growled, "You dickhead, you left me behind." Though it was weak, her punches still hits the target perfectly.

Repeatedly slamming her tiny fists on his sturdy chest. The chest that were caged with heavy remorse and regret. And there wasn't really anything he could say to sooth the pain that she felt when he died.

Bucky knew that, but he had to say something, anything, "I-doll, I'm so sorry..." He was drowning her with his eyes, flooding her heart with his tears as his hand ran through her hair. Soft as he remembered it to be; at least compared from the lucid dreams she was starring in.

"Shhh!" Y/N hushed him quickly, "Just please..." her breath shuddered when she inhaled.

She didn't spend most of her lifetimes to hear an apology, not from him. If anything, he should swear on his life to never leave again, to stay this time around and always. She tugged him closer, lips hovering over each other's, just one nudge away to finally get the sweet taste of it, "...never again."

And when he kissed her, it tastes of her tears. But it was beyond fulfilling. Like their lost soul were finally being able to touch again. The gentle need, the tender crave of his kiss was enough to forge her trust back into its former glory.

And all of the sudden Bucky felt like he was drowning again; like he was desperate to breathe and she was the air. He kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he needed the taste of her lips to survive the waves; like she was his lighthouse in dark.

When they finally set apart, she wanted to speak but all she can do was croak, "Don't leave me, not again." Bucky's lips curved into a loving smile and he nods once. He folded her frame in his arms, tightly and closely; his whisper was ever-so-soft when he promised, "Never."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Did you notice two dialogue throwback from when Bucky was rescued in 1943? "I didnt come all the way here to fight with you, James" and "I'm here for you" Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading and maybe tell you what you think?

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky

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starryylies · 4 months

Text

Simon with reader who’s insecure about her acne

‘ve been insecure about mine lately so :(

Insecure! Reader, lots of self deprecation, angst If you squint, lots of comfort, Simon is the best :)

Me looking at girls with Me getting angry cuz Clear skin: (っ◞‸◟c). it’s not fair: -`д´-

“S not fair ‘S not fair ‘S not fair!!! I’m so tired why do I have to break out again, ‘ve been good and ‘m even taking the meds it’s not fairrrrrr.”

You were yelling at yourself while looking in the bathroom mirror. Having acne was such a pain in the ass.

Every girl around you was gorgeous with perfect skin and even the girls with acne looked so beautiful compared to you but no you didn’t, in your eyes you looked hideous..

you were so tired of the self-deprecation, you just wanted it to stop but your mind took control and you jus’ couldn’t help but let that faucet open leading to your eyes pooling with tears as they dropped down with the weight of your insecurity.

You were already drowning deep inside your own thoughts that you didn’t hear the bathroom door open with your boyfriend Simon riley stepping in with a look of worry and urgency on his face.

Looking at you crying ripped his heart to shreds, he quickly made his way closer to you.

“Love please talk to me what’s happened?”

he is in a panicked state trying to figure out what made you so upset, he cant bear to see you in such a sad state.

“Baby stop crying please”, he pulls you closer wrapping you in his big burly arms as his body heat transfers to you giving you a sense of comfort that nobody can provide better than him.

“Ssi m I ugly? ‘Cuz I feel so icky and gross I hate it I hate it I hate my skin. I fucking hate it I wanna rip it off ‘m feeling so fucking shitty”, you cry out in arms.

Simon is taken aback by your statement, does he not make you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? Why’d you think you’re ugly? Youre the most attractive woman he’s laid eyes on.

Simon wraps you closer now using his left hand to tilt your chin up gently so he can have a good look at you.

“Si don’t!”

You protest trying to stop him from looking at your face, you feel so ashamed and conscious by letting him see you in such a vulnerable and sorry state

plus you don’t want him to see the reddish bumps protruding out on your skin.

“m not letting you hide your beautiful face from me love he mutters.”

“How could ya even think that. Youre the most beautiful fuckin’ woman alive in this entire fuckin planet, How could you think of ‘nythin less than that for yourself.”

“But my damn acne, it’s so gross, how d’you still like me.. ‘m not pretty”

Simon gives out a scoff in disbelief, “ya think acne will make me find you any less beautiful? Is that what ya think of me? Love your acne doesn’t matter.”

“No woman compares to you love how can you fuckin’ say that, you’re the most stunnin’ girl I know love he says in a hushed tone with his right hand rubbing your back.”

“Fuckin’ hell I get it all the time too and you still like me all the same ‘ight?”

You sniffle out, “ofcourse si but it’s different-“

Simon cuts you off, “No it’s not, you’re just thinkin’ a lot with that pretty lil’ head of yours love.”

“Love, stop thinkin’ so much, ‘m not finding ya any less beautiful just because of some stupid pimples” he gruffs out.

“Thank you si, thank you for sayin that”, you whisper out.

“I love you si” you mutter under your breath clinging closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Simon pulls your head closer to his chest,

“nytime and love ya more sweetheart.”

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

(Ps: And sorry if this fic came out bad it’s my first time writing a whole thing, I’m sorry and it was rushed since I wrote it while crying.)

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds out that you self harm.

warnings: reader self harms and is severely depressed, undertones of poor eating habits but very brief, language, lots of tears, blood, angst to the max, mentions of periods.

a/n: this is the longest that i’ve posted yet since getting back into writing and i’m super happy with how it turned out! it is a sensitive topic so it won’t be for everyone. this is dedicated to all the ones who can relate to this fic. i hope you all have an eddie in times when it gets too much. please let me know what you think. it means the world and more than you can imagine.

You knew that what you did was not healthy. You knew it was sick and messed up. You knew that if anyone found out, they’d think that you were insane. The scars you gave yourself had no real reason to be there. You blamed yourself for that. You didn’t know how to deal with your issues any other way. The moment you were alone you’d drift off to the bathroom, turn the shower on and begin your twisted ritual of self abrasions.

Life for you was difficult, but still, marking your self up was no excuse. You had tried to quiet, of course. Many times you had, but it was a habit you could not break. You were too used to doing it. It was an everyday thing. It was like breathing. You breath to live. You can’t not just breath. So for you, cutting yourself was like breathing. You didn’t think you could stop. It helped you deal with your pain.

If you’d have known what the evening was going to hold for you, you would have slit your throat the moment you woke up.

Darkness clouded your mind. Sitting in class, the fog you knew well was storming your brain cells, making everything else fuzzy and hard to understand. Everyone looked blurry, their faces funny and distorted. They sounded odd. Your heart ached and sunk into the pit of your stomach like it always did. You had no way of explaining what this feeling was and what it meant, but you didn’t like it at all. Once it got you, it had you.

You didn’t try to share any of this with Eddie. You didn’t want him to know how much you struggled. Scaring him away was your worst fear. It was why you never let him see the tops of your thighs. Sex was always under the covers. Lights off. Eddie didn’t complain of course. To him, sex was sex.

And god, did you love him. You loved him with your whole heart and soul. You’d be devastated if he knew your secret. It felt awful to bare, this huge burden you carried on your shoulders. You wondered if any of your other classmates shared it too. There was a darkness in your heart that was eating you alive.

“Babe,” A warm, thick hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you from sinking to the bottom of the pool you were drowning in.

“Huh?” You said a little louder than you’d realized, blinking rapidly as your vision spun around the room. “What?”

You turned around in your seat to find Eddie’s doe eyes narrowed. “You good?” He whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve been staring at the floor for fifteen minutes.” Your class wasn’t even doing anything important. You had a sub, so everyone was doing their own studying or reading. Eddie had been talking to you until you drifted off.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with a swallow, grabbing his hand that still laid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Ed.”

“Just checking on my girl.” He gave you a wink that made you blush. “You coming over tonight?”

“Yeah.” You whispered with a fake smile, exhaustion taking over. He could see the way your lips had faltered. You turned back around and laid your head on your desk, arms being your pillow.

Eddie stared at you.

He might not have been the brightest bulb in the shed, but he knew you weren’t the happiest girl in the world. He knew you were sad and weren’t telling him about it. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to pressure you into it, but still, he was worried about you. He wished for one night that they both could talk about you instead of his problems for a change.

Maybe tonight could be the night.

•

You must’ve gotten your period, he figured. Here it was four o’clock in the morning, and for some reason he couldn’t sleep. He had gotten up to get a glass of water but stopped when he’d seen blood seeping through the tops of your sweatpants, the blankets kicked down below your feet.

“Babe,” He said groggily, giving your shoulder a light shake. “Y/n, wake up.”

You hummed back asleep.

“Y/n, I think you got your period,” He rubbed his eyes, leaning over you to switch on the light. “You’re bleeding.”

That woke you up. “Huh?” Your eyes went wide and you sat up. “Oh,” You gasped upon seeing the red leaks of blood seeping from your sweatpants. An inhumane shock of terror left your throat and you leapt from the bed to disappear into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Eddie, thinking it was your period, thought it was a little funny, even if he was exhausted. He got up and followed you to the door. “Baby, hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll get some new sheets from the closet, alright? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You didn’t respond. He waited for a moment to see if you would. He even knocked a few times before giving up and switching out the sheets on the bed. In fact, he did a lot before you actually came out. He changed the bed entirely, knocking again until you muttered a shaky response that you’d be out soon. He bit his thumb nail and paced for another five minutes before he went out for a smoke. He remained seated on the bed when you finally came out.

When he saw you, he knew something was deeply wrong. Your face was white and you were visibly shaken. Your face was stained with dried tears, your eyes bloodshot. Your heart felt like it was broken. This was too close. Nobody had ever gotten this close of finding out. The idea of him knowing made you feel sick. It was your burden and yours alone. It was yours. As sick as it was, it was who you were. Who were you if you didn’t do this? You were so used to it. It was routine for you. Half of the time you did it just to….well, just to do it, to feel something. You were addicted.

“Y/n,” Eddie glanced you over. “what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He stepped toward you, grabbing your elbows lightly. “Hey,”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to bed.” You dismissed, now wearing a pair of dark leggings.

“Wait— babe, you’re crying,” He followed you to the bed, watching as you fixed the blanket over yourself. “Are you sick?”

“No, Eddie, I’m fine.” You adjusted your pillow, your body shutting down into survival mode. You needed the situation to be dismissed, shut down. “I’m sorry about the blood, was just my period.”

He sat down on the bed by your thighs. “Don’t be sorry bout’ that, honey. Just want to make sure you’re alright. You need anything? You want some water or something?”

“Eddie, I’m okay.” You stressed, laying down and turning your back to him. “Just forget about it, please.” Your voice broke.

He absolutely did not want to forget about it, not with the way you were trying not to cry. He sat there in the same spot for almost three minutes, eyes glued to your cheek. “Y/n,” He said again. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You groaned into the pillow. “Damnit, Eddie, lay down!”

“See, I know you,” He shook his head. “You would never be this bothered over your period. Hell, last month you chased me around with your tampon!” He said bewildered, chuckling slightly. “Something else is wrong and you’re not telling me, and when something makes my girl cry, I want to know what it is, so tell me what’s got you so worked up, huh?”

You let out a sob and curled into yourself. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. God, you were so stupid. You shouldn’t have cut so deep.

“Baby,” Eddie frowned, leaning down to lay his torso on you, his chin laying on your shoulder so he could look at you. “Did I hurt your feelings today? Did I say something?”

“No.” You cried into your pillow. “No, Eddie, it’s not you. I promise, it isn’t you.”

He thought maybe he should just drop it, let you go to sleep and maybe it would be okay in the morning, but you were still crying, little puffs and pouts here and there. He couldn’t just dismiss that.

“It’s me.” You found yourself saying, out of the blue.

“What?” He missed what you had said. “I can’t hear you, honey.” He strained his ears to hear you.

“It’s fucking me!” You sobbed into your pillow, chest heaving with a heavy breath that made him jolt. “I’m the fucking problem!”

He had no idea why you were so upset. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped harshly. “Y/n,” He cooed, shushing you gently. He scooted closer, holding you tighter to place a kiss on your temple. “I’m here, baby. Shh, shh, I’m here.”

You let go, sobbing in his arms and into your wet pillow, you broke down in sobs. Most of it was just because you were purely exhausted and you were emotionally drained, depressed. This week you were in a deeper funk than what you’ve normally been in. You hadn’t been eating properly to start. Your showers consisted of laying on the floor and imaging yourself drowning. The idea of Eddie knowing your secret made you want to die, yet you spoke anyway.

“I’m so sad.” You whimpered while Eddie rocked you in his arms, his hands stroking your hair.

He’d thought maybe you’d fallen asleep. You’d been quiet for several minutes. “Why, baby?” He kissed your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” You thought, a crinkle in your nose as you tried to reason why you felt the way you did. “Something is wrong with me, Eddie.”

You were starting to scare him. He’d never heard you talk like this before. He swallowed hard, batting his eyes across the room like his answers were a poster on the wall. “Y/n, if you tell me maybe I can help you.”

God, was help possible? Could you stop? Did you even want to? Who were you if you didn’t have that one constant in your life?

The idea brought on a wave of fresh tears, your lips turning down in a blubbering frown. “You’ll think I’m disgusting.” Your back shook against his broad, bare chest. “You won’t— you won’t ever look at me the same. You’ll think…fuck, you’ll think I’m disgusting.” You sobbed broken-hearted.

Eddie started at your face, features masked in concern. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better, and his mind was flashing the worst things that could’ve made you so upset, his imagination getting the best of him.

“Sweetheart, I promise whatever you think I’m going to say or do isn’t true.” He leaned over to wipe a tear. “I’m going to love you no matter what you say. That’s how this works, remember? Please, baby, tell me. You’re worrying me.”

Guilt made your heart pound. You let out a long mewl, curling up like a cat so you could cry. Eddie still didn’t let you go. This was your nightmare, yet you, yourself, were making it come true.

“I didn’t get my period.” You said with wet lashes.

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes down at you.

You let out a sob, holding a hand to your stomach. “I mean, I- fuck, I didn’t get my..my- period!” You hyperventilated through your breath.

“Shh, calm down, sweetheart, you don’t have to rush,” He soothed you, rubbing your arms. “Come on, sit up with me.” He gently lifted you by the torso, your hair cascading down your back. You looked like a scared little girl. Your eyes were wet and your face was soaked like you’d been laying in the rain. Eddie sighed, his mouth in a frown as he tried to help you.

“Breath, honey,” He fixed your hair, smoothing it down in rough places.

“I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, grabbing his hands tightly, squeezing them.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, angel. Just want you to tell me what’s got you so upset. What is it that you want to tell me?” He knew whatever it was, you wanted to tell him. And deep down, you did. Maybe that was why you couldn’t shut the hell up.

“I’m so scared.” You shuttered a breath. “I’m so scared that you’ll…what you’ll think of me.”

His heart was beating loud in his chest. “You said that you didn’t get your period,” He tried to question you gently. “What does that mean?”

Did you really want to do this? Did you want to just let it all go within a blink of an eye? Truthfully, yeah. Yeah, you did. You couldn’t do it anymore. At least not alone.

You sat up slightly, fingertips grabbing the waistband of your sweats as you tugged them down to your knees. You didn’t look at him as you sank back down to sit on your ankles.

“I cut too deep.” You wept, staring down at your thighs. It was your canvas, your target area. They were scared on every inch. Some white and faded with age, some angry and red.

When Eddie saw them, it connected all dots instantly. His eyes widened in horror at your legs. They looked absolutely terrifying. He couldn’t help let out a gasp. “Oh, god, y/n,”

His large palms ghosted over them, and he leaned down so he could examine them closer. “Jesus,” His own eyes blurred with tears, his bottom lip quivering with emotion.

“I know,” You shook your head shamefully. “I know, Eddie, but I can’t help it.” You lifted your head up as you shuttered out a tearful breath. “I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. It’s the only thing that helps me.”

“God, y/n,” He traced your scars with his fingertips, jaw fallen slack in shock.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You bawled. “I’m so…I don’t know, I’m just- just- so miserable and it’s the only thing that seems to help. I’m just so used to doing it and I don’t think I can stop!” You blubbered, snot dripping onto your cupid’s bow and dipping into your lip.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Oh, baby, come here.” He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. You crawled to him immediately. He cradled your back as you threw your legs around his waist, your chests flush together in a bear hug. You sobbed into his shoulder, his kisses peppering your neck. “I’m here, I’m here.” He repeated.

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Your body wracked with moans and groans of heartbreak, but you couldn’t deny the amount of relief that left your soul. It finally wasn’t alone on your shoulders. “God, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Eddie hushed you. “You have nothing, nothing at all to be sorry about. I should be apologizing. I should have realized. I had no idea you were unhappy.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Your voice muffled against his skin. “I don’t even know why I’m sad I just- I just am! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Stop saying that.” He held the back of your head with his palm. “How you feel is perfectly understandable. I’m glad you told me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Baby, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone, but I’m right here now, okay? I’m gonna help you through this. I’m gonna help you rise above this because you’re so strong and you don’t even realize it. But you’re my girl and I know.” He rocked you in his arms, cradled you like a baby as you cried. “I know, baby, I’m here, I’ve got you honey.”

“Please, help me.” You fisted his curls, your chest hollow, yet heavy with emotion. “I need help.”

He nodded, whispering soothing words of encouragement as he fought off a wave of tears. “You can get past this. I did.”

You pulled away, your face an absolute mess. Red, snotty and tearful. Your lips pulled down in the deepest of frowns. “Oh, Eddie,”

He turned his elbow in a 90 degree angle, and angle you’ve never exactly examined, and cried when you saw the faded white scars. You went right back to his chest, holding him like a teddy bear. “Oh, Eddie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

He held you close and kissed your shoulder, allowing one singular tear to spill that you didn’t have to see. He stopped when he met you. You were his saving grace. He’d be sure and do the same for you. His angel baby.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons

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sovksluv · 20 days

Text

Eurydice

𖤐 . pairing - death cure!Minho x fem!reader

𖤐 . summary - someone dies basically so yeah

𖤐 . content includes - um major character death !

𖤐 . word count - 493

𖤐 . taglist - @sluttysammyy @delilahandfiction

𖤐 . a/n - sorry this is so short, but i also randomly got this idea (instead of working on all the asks i have 🧍🏻 ) (also thank you for all the asks i have <3 ) REPOST BECAUSE EURYDICE DID NOT DESERVE TO FLOP LIKE IT DID

"no, no, no, no, no. hey-hey. you're okay. c'mon you're okay." he stuttered, inevitable tears leaving burning streaks down his face, though he ignored them. "hey, hey. baby you- you're okay. just-" he inhaled shakily, his breath getting caught in his throat. "look at me, baby. just look at me. you're okay."

he was beginning to believe that the repeating chants were more for him rather than you, the rational side of his brain rapidly failing, eyes constantly blurring and glossing over. Minho held your body close in his arms, his left arm gently cradling your head, which was shaking with his own nerves.

"Minho," you whispered out, barely audible with a sickly paleness to your face, small sticky streaks of blood seeping through the corner of your mouth. there were bullets firing, screaming, shouting, bombs going off, flames exploding from every corner, but the booming sound of his own heartbeat in his head overthrew all other noises.

Minho quivered, mouth dry, empty, despite his head running with thoughts moving thousands of miles a second, quickly flooding in one after the other. he allowed his eyes to droop down to your torso, the metallic crimson already engulfing most of your white undershirt, taunting him with its intensity.

it was unfair. your being had plagued his mind, being the only thing that kept him going. you kept him company in his dreams, distracting him from what they really were - nightmares. but nothing could distract him from this one. this very real nightmare. after six long months of torture, nothing had compared to this. finally being able to hold you in his arms again, only for it to be the last time.

from the moment you reunited, the two of you had yet to lose physical contact, swearing you would never let each other go again. that is why the moment Minho felt your hand abruptly pull from his, he knew it was time. he knew it was over. the ghost of your warmth lingered deep in his soul as the coldness drowned yours, your body succumbing to the inevitable darkness the moment the two of you were presented with the brightest of lights.

your path to forever freedom had been carved, ready for you, yet here you were, on an unexpected secret passage suddenly disrupting your long journey, where your story was coming to an end. the yells of anguish and silent sobs from your friends had no place in Minho's crazed mind, being too occupied yet utterly empty, despite everything he longed to say.

you were so close. one step away from the life you were destined to live together. but fate had been decided, your string had already been cut. and now the small threads of your yarn of life pooled on the ground as the blood seeped from your wound, the shattered body of your lover left to wash away the pieces and walk away without you by his side.

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 months

Text

~ As Sweet As Sugar | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, the in-laws (again), talks of marriage, mentions of divorce, business talks, mentions of large inheritance, love confessions, sweet Kook, enamoured Kook, this is a pretty soft chapter tbh, Jimin and Namjoon feature in a scene (we love these two), implied smut at the end, OC is wiped by JK, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Jungkook makes a decision that would change his life forever but he can't regret it when he know he'll have you in the end. Promises are made, love gets sealed, because a caramel isn't always as sour as it seems.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hello, darlings! Welcome to the final chapter of "Sweet Marriage"! I hope you are excited to see how (y/n) and Jungkook will solve their marital issues O.O

Drabbles for this AU! are open, sweet ones! My inbox is open to all of you who'd like to request a continuation or would like to see in-betweens of this story. Now, without further adieu, happy reading, darlings!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

What kind of caramel has a sour exterior yet a sweet centre? Is it worth the experience?

You sat in the passenger's seat while Jungkook drove to his parent's house. You were tense, he could sense it as well. From the begining you had tried to get along with your in-laws, something he thought was going pretty smoothly to be honest until Jungkook's mother crossed the line.

A silent gasp left your lips when Jungkook's hand rested atop your own. You looked at him only to marvel in his side profile.

"You are tense."

Your gaze lowered at his acknowledgement, you didn't want to speak just how much it bothered you had to go to his parent's residence in fear of making him angry or worse, to see you in a bad light you certainly weren't in.

His hand squeezed yours and you looked up at him only to meet his dark eyes for a second before his gaze returned to the front.

"I promise this is the last time we are going to my parent's house. I just need to sign some documents."

You leaned back on your seat, your eyes focused on the road as you let your mind wander around what had happened five days ago. You felt stupid to some point for doing Mrs. Jeon's will without consulting your husband. Not that you needed some kind of permission from him to do anything you pleased but more so as to include him in a decision that was going to affect the both of you as a married couple.

"I know, Kook."

You replied back in a soft voice, mind already lost in memories from that day and the following day you had lived next to your husband. The next morning after you told him your secret, Jungkook wasn't by your side and you felt how the world fell over you.

Fear took hold of you that moment, you could still remember how scared your had been when he wasn't in the bed, his side was also cold to the touch. You remember standing up in a rush, nearly tripping down with the sheets tangled in your body before you bolted out of the bedroom.

Jungkook was in the living room, his eyes lost in the horizon as the sun was painting the sky in beautiful hues of orange, pink and blue. He turned to look at you, his heart trembling at the distress drowning your (e/c) pools before he stood up and was quick to approach you.

You were in his arms the next second. Your face buried in his chest as you blinked back tears you didn't know had gathered in your waterline. Jungkook didn't say anything, he simply held you tighter when he felt you relax in his hold.

"You weren't in bed."

You said, matter-of-factly and he sighed, resting his chin at the top of your head.

"I woke up early, I didn't get much sleep."

You took a deep breath, inhaling in his scent, taking in his presence.

"I thought you had left."

The sound of your voice so fragile pulled at his heartstrings that a lump began forming in his throat. He pulled back only for one of his hands to cradle your cheek in his large palm while his eyes gazed into your own with countless emotions.

"Never. I could never leave your side."

You blinked and the memory dissipated from your mind like fog when the sun came out. You sighed, silently playing with Jungkook's fingers that were still in your hold, completely unaware of his soft smile upon your gentle touch.

"We are here."

His deep voice snapped you out of your little paradise where only you and your husband existed. He turned to look at you with gentle eyes that nearly melted you in your place. He smiled as if to comfort you; which it did.

"This won't take long, I promise."

You nodded before his hand left your own as he exited the car, making a sudden coldness invaded your body. You couldn't fully describe it but it felt as if your heart was enveloped around ice when you weren't near Jungkook, however the slightest touch or simple glance from him were enough to set you aflame.

He opened the door for you and you stepped out of the vehicle. His hand found home in between your fingers as he led you silently toward the front door.

"Young master, welcome."

Spoke the maid at the entrance. She bowed at Jungkook and you with stiff movements that made you take a deep breath. This is it. You thought to yourself as Jungkook gave the maid a simple nod before asking in his professional voice. He was here to deal business, nothing more, nothing less.

"Is my father in his study?"

"Yes, young master. He's waiting for you. Mrs. Jeon, would you like me to take your coat?"

You turned to look at the elegant maid with kind eyes yet your voice came firm as you spoke your next words.

"It's alright. We won't be here long anyway, but thank you."

The maid bowed down to both of you as Jungkook led you through the house and up the large staircase toward his father's study. His steps were determined, strong and confident. You followed next to him, your hand still clasped in his.

Jungkook had you as his equal in this situation were his future was on the line while you had him as support to the thorns that wanted to hurt your marriage with your sweet husband whom you loved so very much you feared your heart would explode with the amount of love you held for the man walking next to you.

The double doors were opened by two maids and you and Jungkook entered your father-in-law's studio hand in hand. Tension immediately rose in the room. You practically could cut it with a knife. Mr. Jeon stood up from his chair, a shiver ran down your spine but if it was due to the chilly room or the coldness of his eyes, you couldn't exactly tell.

"Welcome. This will be short, I only need you, Jungkook, to sign some papers and then this scandalous situation will be over."

You felt Jungkook's hand tighten around yours, his father's words spurring emotions in his heart he rather kept hidden. You squeezed his hand back in silent reassurance which made him physically relax a bit yet not completely.

"Where do I sign?"

Asked your husband in a detached voice. He was here for an entirely business deal. No emotion was carried by his voice and the tension rose once more in the room, like icicles trying to break the peace that surrounded your marriage with Jungkook.

Mr. Jeon sighed before his eyes lowered, his hands opened a file only for then to turn it upside down so that Jungkook was able to read it properly, he put an expensive black pen next to it and the coldness once more invaded the place.

Your husband let go of your hand as he walked toward the mahogany desk. His steps were large and precise, without hesitation. You found yourself admiring the control he had over his emotions, of his actions. Of how people viewed him. Even when he was in the presence of his own parents.

How sad it must have been for him to wear that mask required by society in front of his parents as well. It must have been tiring. The thought crossed your head before you could stop however, you came to notice how relaxed he was in his home with you. How domestic he appeared in your eyes. Then again, who said you weren't also wearing such a disguise?

You made eye contact with your father-in-law as the shuffling of paper echoed around the walls. You could read in his dark eyes the challenge he carried within him, the arrogance. The slight disappointment he had in Jungkook when he didn't divorce you. The frustration cursing through his veins was obvious to your eyes that only held love and support toward the man who had married you.

"So, according to this, I will no longer be the heir of the company?"

His father nodded, his hands clasped in front of him before he spoke in a monotonous tone.

"Yes, Jeon Enterprises will pass to your Cousin Marlene, I believe she is now in the States. She's already been notified of this."

Silence stretched in the room once more as your eyes focused on your husband. Your heart thumped in your chest ever so quickly you were scared the two men in the study could hear its frantic beating.

"You'll keep your current position but you'll work for us. Are you sure you want to do this, Jungkook?"

But your husband paid him no mind. He wasn't going to be controlled like a puppet. Not anymore. Not when his future, you, were on the line. Never. Jungkook signed the documents, the scraping of the pen over the paper reached your ears and your heart fluttered at his actions.

Jungkook put the pen aside and straightened back to his full height. His eyes pierced those of his father with no emotion at all.

"If that is all then we'll be on our way. My wife and I already have plans."

The older man let out a deep sigh, looking at his son with melancholy or disappointment, you really couldn't tell. Butterflies flew in your stomach when Jungkook called you like that. "My wife." His. You were his just as he was yours. Tangled with the ribbon of fate and tied with a knot of love.

"I'll let you know if there's anything more but for now, that is all."

Jungkook nodded, turning around and when his back was towards his father, he offered you a soft smile. Kind in its nature. Happy in its existence. You smiled back as he walked to you and his hand found home around yours.

"Let's go."

And with that, he led you outside of the study and through the hallway. Mr. Jeon was left in his expensive and luxurious study, pondering if what he had done had been the right decision. It wasn't his fault Jungkook had fallen in love with you and it wasn't your fault that you were sterile. Was it really worth it to discard the company from his son's rightful heritage only for a drama his wife made?

But there was no turning back. There was nothing to be done if he were to feel guilty about his choice. Because as the owner of Jeon Enterprises, Jungkook's father had in him the power to leave the company to whoever he pleased. Was it really worth it?

"Jungkook."

Mrs. Jeon spoke as she stood next to the large staircase. Her piercing eyes went from Jungkook to you and back to him. You squeezed your husband's hand in reassurance. You were next to him, just like every future time he'll have to face anything, you'll stand next to him as his wife.

"Mother."

You felt how the tension rose once more between mother and son and you straightened your back before saying in a steady voice.

"If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Jeon, there's an appointment we need to attend to. I hope we'll meet again under better circumstances."

She eyes you up and down and you feel how she scrutinised you with her gaze alone. But you weren't going to back down. You had your husband next to you and he had you as well. You sent her a polite smile and she nodded in a stiff manner before you turned to the staircase and pulled on your joined hands with Jungkook before he followed you down the marble stairs with his mother's eyes piercing the top of your head as if she could burn you with her anger cursing through her veins.

"You will regret this, Jungkook! You'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. Jungkook didn't need their fame, he didn't need their support anymore and there was no point in keeping a relationship with the people who brought him to this world if it was going to be so toxic he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

He had you know. Your presence, your existence was like a new and fresh breeze on a spring day. You brought him hope, you gave him your heart and with it, your love. Your trust. Your life was in his hands. Just as he had given you his heart ever so willingly; without an ounce of hesitation in his actions, in his words, in his thoughts about you. His lover. His wife. His (y/n).

You stood in the lift as it went up to your shared apartment. Your hand was held in Jungkook's larger palm as his thumb ran delicate circles over your knuckles.

You still were surprised at how easily he had given up on his inheritance because of you. Because he loved you. Because he wanted you. He cherished you and gave you your place as his wife. You didn't doubt you would have done the same had you been in his shoes.

The feeling of your heart thumping against your chest for the man you had married made you smile softly. At him. At his love. At what had been built between you both where nothing existed, not a castle stood. A castle of love.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Jungkook's hand squeezed yours in an involuntary way but it made your cheeks heat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. The both of you walked out of the lift hand in hand and down the large corridor that led to your shared apartment.

When you two rounded a corner, you had to suppress a gasp as you nearly collided with two other men who were walking at a fast pace from the other end of the corridor. You recognised them vaguely, as if you had seen them before but couldn't quite place where. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook tensed ever so slightly at the sight of his friends and coworkers.

"Jimin, Namjoon. What are you both doing here?"

Now you knew where you had seen them. Both Jimin and Namjoon had attended the small wedding ceremony between you and Jungkook nearly a year ago.

"I... well, you see-"

"We visited a friend, Kook. I'm glad to see you, you haven't been at the company for some time now."

The shorter one spoke. Jimin, you remembered his name was Jimin. The man had a pleasing smile over his plump lips and you also noticed he had recently dyed his hair a sandy shade of blond that suited him perfectly.

Jungkook nodded, eyes going from Namjoon to Jimin and then back again.

"How are you, Mrs. Jeon? We haven't seen you since forever."

Spoke Namjoon and you smiled. Reminiscing how you both had shared talks about different books and art, you being a writer yourself he valued your opinion greatly.

"I've been fine, Namjoon. Thanks for asking, I hope everything's going well at the company?"

Your question made them nod and Jungkook bit his lip, this interaction was lasting more than it should have. To begin with, it shouldn't have occurred in the first place. This could totally ruin Jungkook's plans to spend the evening with you.

"Oh, yes. Please don't worry about that but do tell Jungkook here to stop pestering us about the monthly reports already! We have a big loan already!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Jimin's comment, the sound resonating across the walls. Jungkook sighed loudly, visibly irritated by his friends who teased him in front of you.

"Yeah well, keep going like this and there'll be no salary increase for you both."

Jungkook began walking once more, tugging on your joined hands as you laughed out loud at the scared face Namjoon made and the eye roll from Jimin.

"See you guys around!"

You were able to say that before Jungkook dragged you into the apartment and closed the door behind him leaving Jimin and Namjoon standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Do you think he'll do it?"

Asked the taller man as they both began walking down the hall and towards the lifts. His hands shoved into his trouser pockets and a relaxed expression over his face.

"He better do it."

Jimin pressed the button to go to the ground floor, a hand running over his hair as he frowned slightly.

"He better do it, hyung, or I swear I'll kill him."

Namjoon laughed and the elevator's doors closed. Leaving behind nothing but silence in the empty hallway.

Jungkook had taken your coat from you before he had disappeared into the kitchen saying he was thirsty. You sighed in content as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on the entrance table before you walked away from the door wearing your comfortable slippers.

"Kook?"

You asked, but he wasn't in the kitchen and you frowned at his absence. Silence engulfed the flat and you walked to the living room and the dining room but he wasn't there.

"He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, now can he?!

You muttered to yourself as your feet carried you to your shared bedroom. The door was slightly ajar so you pushed it with your palm and gasped at what you saw inside.

"I thought it would take you longer to come here."

Jungkook said and you stepped forward, eyes roaming around the bedroom. The curtains were pulled to the sides, the mesmerising sunset painting the sky tinted the room in a soft orange hue it warmed your heart instantly.

There were red rose petals on the ground, and the bed was dressed in black sheets with white petals on it. Transparent balloons filled the ceiling as they floated up and you couldn't help the smile that graced your lips.

"Kook, what's this?"

He walked over to you, standing at arm's length as his eyes lost themselves in your own. His heart was beating wildly in his chest; he feared you could hear it. His hands were behind his back as he looked down at you.

"Jimin and Namjoon took longer than anticipated."

You laughed, so that was why Namjoon seemed so nervous at the beginning. The sound of your laughter made butterflies swirl in his stomach, the sight of you, bathed in the golden light of the sun, smiling up at him was enough to send him to heaven.

"(y/n),"

How delicious it was to hear your name coming out of his lips. You looked at him with a soft gaze he thought he'd melt right then and there.

"my beautiful wife."

You blushed at the compliment, breaking eye contact as you looked down in a futile attempt at hiding your flustered state. He chuckled, finding the situation so beautiful in its own existence. Wishing he could frame this precise moment and look at it forever.

His hands untangled themselves from behind his back, one was shoved into his trouser pocket while the other lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers. The moment your eyes met his once more, you felt like melting against him. It was perfect.

"I love you so much, sweet one. So, so much."

You swallowed, feeling his words through your heart as it skipped a beat.

"I love you as well, Jungkook. With all my heart."

He smiled. the bunny smile you loved so much. That smile that was the source of your happiness. That smile that was only his.

"We have faced so many things together."

His hand moved and cradled your cheek, the touch burning you while freezing you in your spot at the same time. You wanted him. In every sense of the word. He did things to you that you had never felt before. He made you feel loved like no-one else had done, he made you feel cherished, wanted, needed. And you could only hope he felt the same way. Because you loved him, you cherished him, you wanted him and needed him just as much.

"I wish we had met under different circumstances but that doesn't mean I am not grateful for what he has grown to be as a couple."

Your hand came up and covered the once that cradled your cheek, your hand over his sending tingles all over his arm and to his body he felt fuzzy, happy to just be with you. To just have you in this moment, exactly like this.

"I have grown to care for you like I have never cared for another woman in my life, (y/n). You are everything to me. Everything, sweetheart. I cannot imagine my life without you."

Your eyes began to water at the sweet words dripping from his lips. Coated in sugar, meant to wash away the sour taste left behind by life itself.

He sighed and took a step back, his hand left your cheek and you instantly felt cold at the loss of his touch. Jungkook looked at you with soft brown and big eyes before he knelt down on one knee. His right hand picked up a small box from his trouser's pocket and you nearly gasped when he opened it.

"We are already married and the promises I made to you on our wedding day are still fresh on my mind. I will fulfil them as my duty to you as a husband but this ring, love, this ring is a promise to you as your lover."

You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop it from trembling as a little tear rolled down your cheek at his words.

"I promise to love you until my last breath. I promise to cherish you as my wife. You will never need anything, your desires are my commands, (y/n). You rule my heart like a Queen rules her kingdom. Now, I ask you with all the sincerity in this world: will you love me as well?"

A sob escaped your lips before your hands went up to cover your mouth. You nodded fiercely as you tried to wipe your tears away. He smiled, standing up and taking the ring out of the small velvety box. His larger hand took your left one and he slid the ring on top of your wedding band. A seal to his love. The two rings even matched.

"Yes. A million times yes. I love you, Jungkook. I love you with all I have in me, with everything. Forever."

The next moment, his lips were on yours. Your hands rested on his shoulders as he cradled your face, his lips dancing with yours in the steps of love.

The kiss was sweet. As sweet as sugar. You poured all the love, all the longing, all the desire into that kiss while Jungkook let his emotions flow into that single act of love. He allowed you to feel how his heart beat for you, how his mind wouldn't stop thinking about you and how his hand itched to touch you.

Your hands ran to the back of his neck before they were running through his dark locks. A soft groan escaped his throat when you tugged on his hair slightly. You moaned as his hands slid down your cheek and towards your waist, pressing you against him.

Passion bloomed in that moment. Starting with a sweet kiss and ending with the promise of eternal love.

Jungkook guided you to the bed, the back of your knees hit the bed and he pushed you down on the mattress gently, hovering over you without breaking the kiss.

Perhaps sour caramels do have sweet centres after all.

As sweet as sugar. As sweet as love. As sweet as life.

Combined into a sweet marriage of eternal devotion and beautiful love.

~Masterpost

March/03/2024

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

Drabbles are open for this AU!

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leviathanspain · 2 years

Text

please leave

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: his betrayal could only hurt so much

pt two

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you watched him caress her jaw, his face unmoving as she leaned in for more. you could quite literally, not believe your eyes. watching as daemon kissed rhaenyra, their silver hair shining bright in the brothel, even if the darkness covered everyone’s faces, theirs were like shining pools of fire.

you sucked in a breath, and pushed past the others behind you, the suckling noises, the moans, the groans, it all seemed to be drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

you felt a hand grab your shoulder, and pull you off onto the wall. you panicked, afraid of anyone discovering you, so you clutched your hood, the only thing shielding the fact that you were the king’s heir.

you met the gaunt face of your personal guard, “luras.” you panted, your heart had leaped into your throat until you saw his face, and he grimaced, “let’s go.” he didn’t sound angry, just stern and almost relieved.

as you returned to your chambers, you tore the hood off and you angrily began to toss the things in your room. your books found themselves on the floor, half in the fire, your goblets of water were tossed towards the walls, your sheets were in shreds. a child’s tantrum, you threw; screams bounced off the walls, angry of his betrayal.

daemon ripped your dress at the seams, your back was against his chest, his erection rubbing into the flesh of your ass. he was kissing you on your neck, your head thrown back in pleasure as he took you for his own.

daemon gripped your hair tightly, moving you forward slightly as he finally let his cock bury itself in your cunt.

you moaned loudly, and he pulled you back against him, “you’re mine. only mine, and forever mine.” he whispered heavily against your ear. you could only moan as he began to thrust up into you, his other hand on your throat, constricting your breathing.

you hadn’t known when you had fallen asleep. but you found yourself face down on the concrete floor of your chambers, tears dried on your face.

“my princess.” your maid walked into the room, a gasp rolling off her tongue as she witnessed the mess you had left. she looked around and back at you, your anguish unwavering as you stood up. you brushed your dress, and you sniffled.

“clean it up, and have my dragon prepared.” you used your best tone of command and watched as your maid nodded, dipping her head as she exited the room.

the doors opened up and you turned around, expecting your maid.

daemon targaryen stalked into the room. his short blonde hair was messy, his clothes were still unchanged from the night before and he had a hungry look in his eyes that you knew far too well.

“what do you want, daemon?” you glared at him, and watched him walk towards the bed, “my sister wasn’t enough to satisfy you? you wanted to real thing i suppose, not the keychain version.”

daemon scoffed slightly, “i didn’t know you’d be so upset about it. i thought you’d be happy that i’d given that cunt a break.”

you shook your head, “get out. rid me of this disease your presence brings.”

daemon laughed, “seems like disease already hit this room. your tantrums weren’t always my favorite.” he whispered, quietly, leaning into you.

as much as you wanted to step back, push him off, the urge to fight was gone and you felt yourself lean back into him.

daemons forehead touched yours and for a moment, you lost your composure, letting the tears that welled go, staining your cheeks subtly.

“you hurt me.” you admitted, “and i cant find it in me to forgive you…” you continued and felt daemons hand on your cheek, caressing you just as he did you sister.

the realization had you lurch and you immediately pulled away, “leave. please leave.”

daemon looked at you and had an unreadable expression on his face. “i’ll leave because you asked, but you are mine, just remember that everytime you think you can make demands.” his tone was pure rage, rage at your rejection, and rage that he had you so close, yet now you pushed him so far.

as he shut the door, you let yourself fall onto your bed, tears falling down harder.

#daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon angst #house targaryen

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konigsblog · 1 year

Note

May I please have Headcannon about yan 141 + könig and graves with a darling who commit self die after they've been kidnapped? To make it worse, they find a note saying "if I can't be happy, you cant. You did this to me, now suffer the consequences. If my loved ones ask about me, tell them the truth" or something along that. If this makes you uncomfortable I totally understand and you don't have to write it. Eat, drink something, and I hope you have a good day/night

(thank you<33)

yandere 141 + könig, alejandro and graves with a darling who commits suicide

warnings: obvious trigger warning for suicide, failed suicide attempts, description and mention of self inflicted harm, physical abuse, fighting, profanity, yandere behaviour, depression, description of suicide: i do not promote any behaviour that i have wrote about,

please if you're thinking about suicide, tell someone. it's never too late to change your mind, it's not worth it. please if you feel like you need to call someone im going to link some hotlines to call here. you're not alone in this world and know that theres a future for you and people who care for you. whether or not you suffer with self harm of suicide thought, never feel like you are worth less, unworthy for love, ugly whatever you think, suicide is not the answer and this post is to raise awareness for the signs of suicide and self harm. if you think someone is self harming or at risk of suicide, look at symptoms of them; i'll link symptoms here.

masterlist

ghost

it was a saturday night, your thoughts overwhelmed you as you picked up a blade and rolled your sleeves up. tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of unworthiness and hopelessness drowned you. it was washed over you like a giant wave as you cried until you physically couldn't anymore.

he was away, out with his team at a bar. you had been in an argument and he didn't bother to tell you 'goodbye'.

your headached as you reached for his bedside table, inside the draws was a pistol. you picked up a sheet of paper on the way as well as a pen.

you began to write. “simon, i can't deal with this anymore. my future, and my life was ripped out of my hands because of your selfishness. you couldn't bare to be alone and your life was already ruined to begin with so you had to go ahead and ruin someone elses. you don't think nor care about others, it's what you think that matters. even through our arguments and screaming matches that made my heart break, i still managed to stay as long as i have. i just can't do this to myself anymore, i don't want to live like this, i don't know what made you think this was right but it's not.

fuck you simon.”

your tears made everything blurry yet somehow you got everything off your chest. the gun was staring at you, begging you to do it.

your fingers wrapped around the gun as you placed it in your mouth, pulling the trigger.

simon on the other hand, was getting bored. wanted to go home to his darling. he opened the door, silence made everything eerie and uncomfortable. your usual laughing and smiling when you were on your phone was gone and replaced by discomfort.

he called out your name, multiple times yet you didn't answer.

the door to the bathroom was open, the light was on and a pool of blood surrounded your body. it was gorey, simon fell to his knees as his eyes watered. "no, no, no..." he uttered out as his breath became shakey.

his eyes drifted towards the note, as he read it.

he felt his own heart break at the words, the feeling and emotion that was poured into the letter. once again, he was alone.

soap

you felt tears stream down your face, staring at yourself in the mirror and wondering what you'd become. bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, terrified of the man who laid beside you.

a headache bloomed as you picked up the blade once again, cursing yourself for going back to this.

you rolled up sleeves, bruises scattered around your wrists from the handcuffs that were left on for hours at a time.

the blade dragged across the skin, pressing down watching as blood seeped out from the cuts. you stared at the scars, cutting were they once were.

droplets of blood landed on the cold, bathroom tiled floor. your felt fuzzy, and dizzy as tears blocked your vision. you pressed deeper, watching as you hit beans. the satisfaction of it, the pain of it.

you dragged the knife upwards whilst it was in you, causing a huge gash. you choked on a sob as the pain fogged your mind. tears streamed out your eyes.

pulling down your sleeves, you walked to the kitchen. your medication, you avoided eye contact with johnny as he watched something on his phone, too busy to care.

the stairs creaked under your weight.

the bathroom door was locked shut, you poured the whole bottle in your hand, water helped to wash it down.

you stayed there, minutes passed, you felt your heart ram against your chest. dizziness blinded you, the cuts on your arm ached.

meanwhile, johnny felt worried at the silence. the silence was too much, he walked up the stairs to see the bathroom door shut. he knocked twice, calling out your name. no response.

he kicked the door open to see his your lifeless body, your sleeves were stained red. he pulled them up to see lines and scars of self harm.

johnny began shaking you as his hands trembled. he checked your pulse, nothing. tears poured from his eyes, his bottom lip shook as he held your dead body, a corpse.

his arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as he cried into you.

a note on the toilet seat lid, the date proved it was pre-written. it was assigned to him. “johnny, i can't continue on like this. i don't want to live like this, this isn't how 7 year old me imagined their future. from the bruises on my wrists and ankles, the bags under my eyes and the newly prescribed medication, i clearly cant take this anymore. i know you tell me that, 'i just want the best for you.' but i don't imagine the 'best' meaning me crying every night, wishing to be home.

goodbye, john.”

his heart tore into two as he read every word. he shouted at himself, the droplets of blood stained on the bathroom floor as a permanent reminder of who he was, and what he'd done.

price

drunken confessions came from your mouth as you told him about your self harm, how you wanted none of this, how you wanted nothing but to go home.

john sighed, his voice trembling as he told you, "it'll be okay." it never helped, not enough. he promised to give you whatever you wanted but when the only thing you wanted was to go home, he never complied with you wishes.

he was away, deployment, you cursed yourself out for letting him do this, for being so weak you. your hands gripped the mirror smashing it against the wall, watching as it broke into shards. months and years of built up rage, bottled up feelings came crashing down on you.

you fell to your knees, curling yourself up in a ball. the future you once imagined; meeting a nice man, marrying him and starting a family, getting a your dream job.

a shard of glass was in your hands as your looked at your thighs, tears dropped against them, you began to cut. the more you cut, the closer you felt to being away from him.

you winced as you stood up, in his office were stacks of paper, you took one.

you were heading downstairs to the kitchen to get a knife. you stood there, the coldness of the kicthen gave you goosebumps. the knife was large and sharp, enough to impale someone.

slowly, the knife sliced against your arms and thighs before you held it against your chest, the tip facing it. slowly, and painfully, you pushed in inside. blood splattered against the kitchen floor and cabinets. the once white walls stained with blood.

you fell backwards, head dizzy before you fell unconscious.

john drove back to his house, with an odd gut feeling. something was wrong, terribly wrong.

as soon as he opened the door he was hit with a disgusting smell, it was the smell of decomposing.

there sat in his kitchen, your decomposing body that radiated a horrible smell. tears prickled in his eyes, his hands shook, on top of the counter was a note, addressed to him.

“dear john, i told you about my self harm, my feelings and i poured my emotions out to you. i felt worthless in this world and didn't feel like this was right. everytime i begged for you to let me go, you ignored me or shouted at me for being, "selfish". it's not selfish, nothing here is selfish but you. you used be for your own satisfactory. you killed me, slowly. you're the reason for this.”

a feeling of guilt set his chest. the dried up blood on the floor, the knife in your chest and scent of a dead body was all his fault. he never bothered to give you the help you need. although his reassuring was something, it wasn't enough.

now you were dead, and all he could do was look over you lifeless body as he cried.

gaz

betrayal is what you felt. you felt betrayal everytime he spoke. he convinced you to love him, telling you that one day he'd let you go if you pleased him now.

now you realised the truth, and argument started. you began to shout at him, cursing him out, calling him 'selfish' and other profanity.

kyle retaliated, yelling back at you. it became physical fast, you kicked him in the balls, hard. he lunged at you, punching you hard watching as the blood trickled down your face, mixed with your tears.

you scratched him, your nails dug in hard and enough to draw blood. you crawled backwards, making space between the two of you. you coughed up blood, it splattered on the floor as you wiped your nose to see blood. the deep scarlet liquid covered your face.

he panted, staring at you.

you quickly rose to your feet and locked yourself in your shared room as he banged on the door, yelling at you to come out and calling you; "cunt" "whore" and a "bitch".

the draw opened with a creaking sound, a pistol stared back at you, along with sheets of paper and a couple pens.

you quickly scribbled out how you felt, everything you felt, from your emotions to your dreams in life, something that you'd never be able to do because of him, his selfishness. you weren't stupid, you would never be free.

the gun was placed in your hands with a tight grip, your finger pressed the trigger as your face blew up with blood and gore.

the gunshot was enough to make kyle start panic, now he was banging against the door yelling your name as fear took over his body. his hands shook, he kicked the door one last time until it flung open.

you sat in a pool of red liquid, the bruises and scratches on your face were no longer visible as the gorey mess of your face was gone. he couldn't make out were your nose or eyes were, there was too much blood.

his cries choked in his throat as he shook you, desperate for anything although he knew you were gone. the rise of your chest no longer happened, the beat of your heart was gone and he felt his own heart being tore apart.

he noticed the paper and grabbed it, through his shaking hands he read: “i can't do this anymore, i genuinely can't. you promised me to let me go at some point, i'm a fool for believing you. who was i to believe you out of all people? i don't want my living moments to be like this, i didn't want my life to end because of you. but unfortunately, you just had to make that happen, didn't you? you have to deal with the consequences of your own actions, this was because of you. all of it was because of you.

sincerely yours,

[name]”

his next few hours were spent cleaning up the blood that stained his carpet, the image of your lifeless and dead body forever ingrained in his brain.

alejandro

although he promised you that he would love and care for you, it wasn't enough.

there you sat, on the bathroom floor. your medication in your hands, a piece of paper and a pen again the cold, tiled floor.

your eye bags were huge from restless nights, crying and arguing with him, begging him for mercy and to let you go. your throat ached from the screaming matches. your headache pounded and your heartbeat rammed itself against your ribs.

the medication in your hands would be how you finally escape him, something you had been thinking about for the past several months.

you took multiple at once, clearly enough to harm yourself. in the meantime, you had a blade sitting against your thigh and your sleeves rolled up. the scars presented themselves to you, scaring your body as a permanent reminder of your mental state.

it took everything in you not to do this years ago, your parents crying when they found you unconscious, rushing you to the emergency room where you were saved. the look on their eyes,, they felt guilt wondering if it was them, wondering where they went wrong. you managed to tell them everything that worried you, everything that bothered you, telling them that it wasn't them but it was you.

now you knew that if alejandro took you to the hospital, they'd find you, the missing girl whose case when cold. leaving your parents once again, heartbroken.

you scratched on the piece of paper, everything. from how much you missed your parents to how much you hated him. you felt like a little kid again, getting into a petty argument with your parents and refusing to talk to them only them coming down once they bribed you with something. god, how you wished you could go back and never meet alejandro. it was a mistake, something that should've never happened.

once you'd finished your writting, you began again with the blade. thinking back about how you promised your parents not to do it again only made your eyes burn with more tears.

your throat ached as you cried, the pain but satisfaction from the cuts, the deep cuts that poured the familiar red liquid out.

your head began to feel sore, a headache pounded, your nails grew purple at your body temperature, your skin became ill looking, you shivered.

the muslces you used to fight him off you felt weak as you could barely managed to pick up the blade and continue, you felt your soul being sucked out of you.

slowly, you fell unconscious.

the click of the door opened, the many locks shutting after themselves as he called your name out only to be met with silence, he continued, as a deep feeling of worry set in.

he ran upstairs, seeing the light from the bathroom. the door creaked open, you body, lifeless with cuts along it.

he shivered as he held you body, the coldness of it reminded him of the winter, the wind that blew in his face making his teeth grit.

the note laid ahead of him, his name written all over it.

it began, “alejandro, no matter how much you saw you love me it'll never replace the pain you've caused. the feeling of unworthiness that i felt many years ago, the promise that i gave my parents is now broken. but they'll never know that, your self-centred behaviour is enough to make someone kill themselves. look what you've done, are you proud of yourself? i hope you are.”

a blanket was put around you after he out you in the recovery position, he began dialing a number, asking for an ambulance.

the flashing red and blue light, the police and ambulances sirens caused pain in his ears as handcuffs were placed on his wrists and an ambulance had to attempt to save you on scene.

the last thing he saw was your eyelashes flutter open, eyes red from crying. you both made eye contact, a deep feeling of regret made his heartbreak. atleast his darling was alive, but the idea of them being without him made him cry himself to sleep every night, similar to what you did.

könig

your face was wet with tears, könig was on deployment and you couldn't help but feel the familiar feeling of unworthiness and sadness. you wanted nothing but to be free.

the lack of human interaction caused you to crave it more, tears drowned you as you cried. you felt hopeless for falling in love with your kidnapper, the man, the giant who took away you life for his own personal benefit.

you cursed him out for doing this, pushing him away and isolating yourself in shame. you heart ached at the thought of your old life, the life and dreams you once had were gone and shattered. impossible for you to carry out any goal you had while being locked away.

you tried everything, making new goals, arguing and begging to be freed, but nothing could shake the feeling of shame. you felt dirty for falling so deep inlove with him.

now you were sat in the bathroom, knife in hands, slicing away your thighs as your vision made it blurry to see, cuts were misplaced, not like you cared.

on the note, you wrote a letter for könig, a letter that went into great detail about your emotions, how worthless you felt and how scared you were. how tired and terrified you felt every night and say, how when you did fall asleep, you hated waking up, feeling a lack of hope everytime you awoke.

slowly, you dug the blade deeper. the deep crimson liquid that was sure to stain later. for könig to be crying his own eyes out, for him to curse himself, for him to finally see what a monster he was. that's all you wanted, your new goal, you wanted him to look in the mirror and see what a fucking monster he was, the true demon he had buried beneath him.

your vision became more fuzzy and dizziness gave you a raging headache a headache severe enough to cause you to vomit. you leaned over the toilet seat and began to puke, the roughness of your throat burn, the stomach acid burned your throat causing a bit of blood to come out along with the vomit.

tears made your face puffy, your nose was snotty as you felt weak once again, both mentally and physically. you fell backwards, your head smacking itself against the rough and cold floor. the temperature of your body reminded you of the snow you played in. how and your friends threw snowballs at eachother, ending in giggling fits aa you dad tickle-attacked you while you waited for the hot chocolate to be made.

your throat felt raw, the lack of energy causing you to pass out.

könig entered the home, the home had a sense that something was wrong. he quickly walked upstairs, calling you out before he found you on the bathroom floor.

he shook you, shouting your name before he began to proceed with cpr. his eyes glanced down at your thighs, the bloodiness of them. the open wounds that laid atop of them.

his own eyes became wet with tears as he proceeded with cpr.

you woke up, confused and already cursing your body for letting you wake up, cursing yourself for surviving. the bed dipped down as someone say down caressing your cheek. the familiar accent had your hair standing up. "schatzi...?" his voice was soft, accent only slightly visible.

finally, your vision came back to you. you looked up at him, his face was puffy and he had the note you wrote to him in his hands. your thighs were wrapped with gauze and you were wearing his shirt, clearly because it was more than a couple sizes too big.

"k.. könig?" your voice was hushed and you choked on your words before they escaped your mouth. könig leaned down to kiss you, "maus, please..." he cried into your shoulder, his weight pushing you down as he laid on top of you. both you cried, you could never escape the giant and once again, your dream was crushed.

graves

the torture you received from this man, both mentally, emotionally and physically. he cursed others for doing the same as he did, a total hypocrite.

he was away on deployment, he wouldn't be back for another week and during this time you felt your mental health decline rapidly. not because you missed him, but the lack of human interaction as a whole and emotional abuse cause a feeling of loneliness that was indescribable. you couldn't control your hands as the shook rapidly.

your brain ached at the thoughts and memories you once had, you felt yourself slip into a deep depression you once tried to get out of. your eyes burned and tears felt like acid as the poured down your cheeks and some into your mouth.

hands held your head, the gun beside you along with the note that had been written in advance for about a month or so. nothing could shake this feeling, nothing.

even if you got out of your kidnappers grip alive, it would be met with amounts and mounts or money owed to therapy. your parents wouldn't recognize you, your sunken eyes, bruises and scars that layered your skin.

they wouldn't be able to take in all the information or help you, you'd be too far gone and in need for help that you'd cling to anyone you saw but phillip.

if the gun had words, it would be begging you to do it. or maybe that was your mentality saying that, maybe you wouldn't.

but, you picked the pistol up placing the muzzle against your chest, it pointed itself against your heart. the idea would've caused you to shutter but now, you wanted nothing but to be gone. your heart to explode.

the trigger was pulled, a choking noise gargled in your throat as the blood trickled down your chest, your shirt ripped and toren. blood escaped your mouth as your eyes became blurry.

graves, or phillip, on the other hand, had no idea about this. he assumed he would come back to order your around and shape you into his perfect housewife, not to find you with a bullet in your chest.

his heart ached whwn he say you, the decomposing smell made his stomach turn as his brain yelled at him to do something. he did nothing, he couldn't call someone because then he'd get caught. selfish, he only cared about himself. you made sure to tell him about this on the letter.

he read it, it started with: “phillip, you've ruined my life because of your own selfishness. you don't care nor love me, you only wanted me for your own personal benefit and pleasure. if you actually loved me you wouldn't ridicule me, mock me when i cry, or insult me everyday. i wouldn't be forced to live like this, but because of you i am, or was. now i'm dead, you're probably reading this with a feeling of anger, knowing you have no one to yell at everyday.

i'm glad you don't, fuck you, phillip.”

now he sat beside your body, shaking, trying to convince himself that he wasn't selfish, that he was okay. the same gun was now pointed at his own head as he joined you in the afterlife.

you'd never escape him.

again please; call, message or tell someone. suicide is not worth it.

434 notes · View notes

twola · 8 months

Note

#72 “Did you just… wait, you love me?” like in a scenario where his crush confesses him

“You goddamn imbecile.”

Arthur sucks in a breath as you press the alcohol-soaked rag to the graze wound on his head. He winces against the pressure as you dab at the angry, broken skin.

“What in god’s name we’re you thinkin’, you moron…” You grumble under your breath, stopping down in front of him to clean his wound under the soft lantern light in his tent. His blue work shirt is stained red from his blood.

“Now come on, that ain’t fair.” Arthur snaps back, eyebrows furrowing as you dab at the wound near his temple.

“You’re an idiot-”

“Don’t lecture me on how to do my job-” He growls back, getting just as agitated as you seem to be.

“No, you just run off without any thought about your own safety, you’re gonna get your goddamn head blown off - ”

“I do what I need to do, woman -”

“Christ, would you just shut up!”

Arthur clams up immediately as you throw the bloodied rag to the ground in a fit of frustrated rage.

“I can’t keep watchin’ you come back hurt like this… you-” You fail to stifle a sob, angry tears flowing down your cheeks, “You’re gonna get brought back to me dead ‘nd I’ll never” -hic- “-have told you I love you, you goddamn fool of a man!” Your foot stomps on the flattened grass within the tent.

His jaw hangs open as your eyes water over and you turn away, cheeks ablaze.

“Did you just… wait, you love me?”

“Yes, you foo-”

For being wounded, you’re surprised at his speed as he grabs you, whips you around, and presses your lips to his in a desperate kiss. His arms wind around your frame, near crushing you to his chest as he presses his tongue into your mouth. You finally find your bearings and dig your hands into his shirt on his back, afraid that if you let him go he will disappear into the night.

He groans into your mouth as he pulls you back to his cot, sitting down and pulling you to straddle his lap. Suddenly kissing him is more important than breathing - and you whine in return as his hand find your hips and pull them down to press upon his hardness, having roared to life beneath you.

He breaks this kiss to say something but you surge forward again to catch his lips, rolling your clothed cunt against his cock, making him groan again.

Arthur starts yanking at your skirts, pulling them upward to paw at your rear, and you begin to pant as you work his suspenders down his arms. It’s like you have tunnel vision - the rest of the world melts around you and the only reason you have to exist is to be filled by him.

With the strength you are completely unsurprised by, he whirls you down to lay in the cot, your skirts falling past your hips to lay limply around your waist as he looms above you. With one knee balanced on the edge of the cot, he quickly undoes the buttons of his pants and fishes his cock out, hard and weeping already for you.

You’re trying to shimmy your bloomers over the swell of your rear when his big, warm hands join yours, peeling the fabric down your thighs with one of them, the other immediately cupping your cunt.

You gasp, and he immediately leans down to kiss you again. Your knees fall open as he settles above you, and he removes his hand from between your thighs and presses the head of his cock against your opening.

He draws away slowly, his eyes those damned pools of blue you can’t help but drown in - his pupils blown, his breathing heavy.

“Say it again.”

You wind your arms around his neck and the head of his cock slips though the rim of your cunt. With a breathy gasp, you answer him.

“I love you.”

He presses inside. Slowly, gently, one of his hands winding gently into your hair as he holds himself above you in the cot.

When finally his hips touch yours, his eyes flutter closed for a moment, and when they open again, he moves to press his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.”

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

195 notes · View notes

muneca-lemon-steppa · 4 months

Text

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

---

Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #tom hardy #Interviews for New Beginnings

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

Eddie, school, kitten

Mostly Eddie with a lil bit of Reader 💚

Warnings: none

WC: 1k

—

It started out like any other Hellfire meeting. Eddie got to the drama room fifteen minutes before the rest of the guys to set up. He’d been meticulously working on the campaign since last week’s meeting ended, plotting and planning each evil plot twist. He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even register the soft mewing until he glances at his Dungeon Master throne.

There, lounging on the worn velvet seat, is a small, gray kitten, licking at its front paw without a care in the world.

Eddie looks around the otherwise empty room, searching for its owner. “Is this…is this someone’s cat?” But there’s no response.

“Oookay,” he mumbles under his breath, turning his attention to the throne’s new occupant. “Uh, hi. I’m Eddie. You’re, uh, kinda in my seat.” Unsurprisingly, the cat shows no reaction to Eddie’s introduction, continuing to groom itself. “If I sit next to you, you’re not gonna scratch my eyes out or anything, right?” Eddie chuckles, continuing to set up while trying not to disturb the guest.

He reaches into his tin lunch box and pulls out a leftover pretzel. “Here,” he says, holding it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. “We can share.” The kitten sniffs at the snack tentatively before taking a tiny nibble. “There ya go,” Eddie smiles. “Can we be friends now?”

The cat meows as if answering his question, making him laugh again. “Methinks you need a name.” Eddie muses, scrunching his face and tilting his head in concentration. “How about…Gandalf? Y’like that?” Gandalf purrs approvingly, and Eddie nods. “Great; Gandalf it is!”

The fur on Gandalf’s back stands up as the stampede of Hellfire members approaches. Eddie scoops him up, holding him close to his chest. “Hey, keep it down!” he hisses, petting Gandalf affectionately. “You’re scaring the baby!”

“The…what?” Dustin asks incredulously, raising his eyebrows before spotting the animal in Eddie’s arms. “Dude, why do you have a cat?”

“Didn’t you have a demodog once?” Lucas reminds his friend; Eddie makes a mental note to follow up on that statement later. “Okay, but actually, why is there a cat here?”

Eddie shrugs. “Dunno. He was on my throne when I showed up, and he stuck around.”

“Does he have a name?” Mike pipes up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I named him Gandalf,” Eddie proudly announces, scratching underneath Gandalf’s chin. The kitten nuzzles into Eddie’s finger and gives it a little lick. “Yeah, you like that name, dontcha?”

The campaign plays out like usual, save for the meowing cat perched on Eddie’s lap for the entire game. At one point, he even lifts Gandalf up and acts like he’s the DM, which makes everyone laugh.

“What are you gonna do with Gandalf?” Gareth asks as they clean up, pointing to the snoozing feline. “You gonna keep him?”

“Nah,” Eddie shakes his head sadly. “Wayne’s super allergic.” Honestly, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. He can’t just leave the little guy here alone for the weekend; no one will be around to take care of him. And if he leaves food for him, there’s a good chance that mice will get to it first.

Before he can come up with a plan, the door swings open, nearly knocking Mike over. “Hey, this is a closed meeting!” he complains, but his whine is drowned out by the sound of your voice.

“Oh my God, Marley!” you cry out, tears of joy pooling in your eyes when you spot your kitten in the tattooed arms of Eddie Munson. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“This is your cat?” Eddie’s crestfallen, realizing how attached he’s become to Gandalf–Marley–in a short span of time.

You nod enthusiastically. “We just got him last week. He must’ve crawled into my backpack this morning and gotten out when I put it down during drama class today,” you explain. “The only reason I knew he got in there was because my after-school snack was nibbled on.”

“Pretzels?” Eddie asks.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” He waves off his comment. “He’s a really sweet cat. And I think he’s my good luck charm. First time in ages that these little weirdos didn’t beat my campaign.” He hands Marley to you, and you catch the despondent expression etched on his face.

“Thank you for taking such good care of him,” you say softly. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Eddie,” he introduces himself, pinching his eyebrows together when you laugh. “What?”

“As if I don’t know the guy who’s constantly giving speeches on top of the cafeteria tables,” you tease, rubbing between Marley’s ears.

A blush creeps into his cheeks and he smiles back at you. “It was my pleasure.” He tries to sound nonchalant as he says to Marley, “Thanks for keeping me company, little guy.”

“Looks like you two really hit it off,” you giggle. Eddie just nods, giving Marley a little pet. You watch his ringed fingers stroke the kitten’s fur, and you press on before you can lose your nerve. “Listen, if you ever wanna stop by my place and visit him, you’re more than welcome.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, though you’re not sure if it’s the prospect of seeing you or Marley. “That would be awesome!” He cocks his head. “I can give you guys a ride home, if that’s okay.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to consider his offer. “What do you say, Marls?” You lift Marley so he’s eye-level with you, and he presses his cold, pink nose to yours. “Okay, he approves. Just gotta stop by my locker first.”

“Well, since we’re not going our separate ways yet, I’ll just…” He takes Marley from your grasp and snuggles his face into his back.

You laugh again, rolling your eyes playfully. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eddie trails behind you. You’re a few steps ahead, but you still hear him whisper to the cat, “Maybe you can help me ask your mommy on a date.”

—

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #bug's 2k celebration

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