#worse than that. i’m sick all the time and it brings it out of me. the world shifts every day

[remediesremedy]

hazbin hotel characters with a partner with mental health problems

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

WARNINGS: depictions of harm to self, drugs, alcohol, depression, anxiety, burns, crying, self deprecation, sad stuff but there’s lots of comfort and love.

features: lucifer, alastor, vox

comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated <3

LUCIFER

“and then she hugged me! Charlie actually hugged me, oh it felt so nice to see her smile and she was happy to see me. it was so awesome you should’ve been there to see it, and then there was this pesky radio dem-“ Lucifer paused mid sentence, the words that were about to spout from him abruptly stopped. the door he had just opened, inhabited a lump under the covers who hadn’t yet moved.

their shared bedroom had always had happy memories, but it seemed your mind had followed you home this time, and refused to let up on tormenting you behind the closed doors of your’s and lucifer’s residence.

“Love? has something happened?” The fallen angel whispered gently, moving forward to your side of the bed, peeling away the covers from your face to reveal dull eyes.

depression had followed you all throughout your time of being alive, and even with death it had stuck to you like glue, chains bound to you for eternity. As if being in hell wasn’t enough.

“Honey? can you look at me f’me please?” He rasped, a clawed hand cupping the full cheeks of your face, feeling the lack of warmth that rested beneath your skin. Lifeless eyes dragged themselves to gaze upon the king of hell, and they almost phased straight through him. “Oh sweetie.” his heart ached, he had been aware of everything about you when you were living, never bringing up how you died or what you suffered with. and he had no reason to, you hadn’t showed any signs of falling back into depression or struggling mentally, until now.

“I’m here, i’m here for you.” Lucifer mumbled as he scooted forward to place a tender kiss on your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then both your cheeks. “can i come into bed with you?”

a small nod, devoid of any energy.

Lucifer scrambled under the covers, immediately going to scoop his lover into his arms, his strength made it easy to manhandle you as tenderly as he could into a position where your head laid softly on his broad chest. “y’know.” the devil hummed, opting to stroke his partner’s hair, “out of the billions of years of being alive. i have never, ever met someone like you.”

as if by reflex, you had scoffed, almost turning your head away from him.

a part of him panicked, his hand stilling and dipping down until it cupped your chin. “i’m serious.” he had mumbled, quieter than before, before regaining his confidence. “after i fell, i found it hard to love things around me anymore. a part of me was lost in that garden, i- the point is, i met you and my heart.” he breathed a little laugh.

“oh my dear, my heart, it has never been fuller.” he admitted honestly, his hand moving once again to caress your skin, his fingers touched you like you were porcelain. a doll, precious and fragile, but he’d have you no other way. “you are the most wonderful being i have ever met, nothing could compare to you.”

tears that had been welling up began to shed, to unashamedly trickle down his face. “nothing.”

the hands that were drawn into your body to almost cradle yourself moved swiftly, they snaked around whatever they could get their fingers on and squeezed thrice, a simple indication of ‘i love you.’

things would be alright after all.

-is very caring during episodes, finds himself almost sick with worry the more you get worse or if you don’t get better

-helps you with cleaning yourself, brings you meals if you haven’t eaten for a while, cradles you at night.

-will hide away with you until you’re ready to go out anywhere. will chaperone you everywhere if he can, stick to you like glue, always has to be touching you in some sort of way to let you know he’s there

-tries to stay awake with you when insomnia hits you, reads to you, will even sing.

-if you can’t take care of your hygiene, he takes his time washing your hair, hands massaging your scalp, humming as he drags the faucet over your head to get the shampoo and conditioner out. puts on face masks with you, showers with you, even if he has to haul you up (it’s not much effort to carry you). he lathers you up and caresses every part of you, you are his everything. will just smother you in his deodorant, you smelling like him always eases his little protective brain for some reason.

-celebrates every good day with you, a part of him breaks when good days get fewer and far between. he fears losing you, or that you’ll never get better. but he doesn’t know that being with him grounds you more than he could ever know.

ALASTOR

“hey alastor!” Charlie itched to talk to the demon, something in her eyes gave him the impression that it was urgent. Her pale hands waved at him a little too aggressively for his liking.

something was up.

he did not like that one bit.

“Charlie! what can i do for you?” His smile stretched impossibly larger, an arm sweeping to courteously gesture for the princess of hell to continue talking. he fought the urge to grit and ground his teeth, anxiety was never one of his favourite emotions to experience, for others it was.

“Alastor! Hi! Hi.” Charlie jogged to him, standing in front of the demon with a little nervousness in her step. she cleared her throat before sighing, “look i just, i noticed something off about your partner today. i don’t think they’re doing okay, and i was worried and i thought you should know so that you would have a heads up-“

“thank you Charlie.” Alastor’s words came out borderline grateful, softer than his normally charring static voice. “is that all?”

“yes! i- uh, i hope they’re okay!” She beamed, lingering for a second longer than alastor liked before getting the message to leave. As soon as Charlie’s back was turned, Alastor phased through the floor, becoming one with the shadows, after a moment of plunging into an abyss, he rose back up from the depth into his room. Nothing seemed awry, until he picked up on the sound of the shower running, the water spewed out rhythmically.

and then the radio demon noticed the noise behind the water hitting the shower floor.

crying.

The buck’s whole body froze at the foreign sound, the sobs that wracked through the air caused his smile to instantly drop. Worry clouded his senses and without feeling it, his form expanded, antlers growing larger and sharper and his eyes shone bright as he all but busted through the bathroom door, scouring the place for you. “Dear?” his voice cracked, frenzied state shrinking to his normal size as he found you curled into a ball while water hit your back.

his hands itched to scoop you up and take you to bed, but he didn’t want to make you more upset.

you had looked at him with wobbly lips and swollen eyes, “don’t look at me.” you whimpered, a fresh set of tears crashing down your red face, “i’m disgusting, i’m ugly, i’m fucking putrid to see.” you had humourlessly laughed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before another sob was pulled from the depths of your chest.

for a second time, Alastor felt himself froze, conflicted with you insulting yourself. insulting his perfect partner. disgusting? absolutely not. ugly? what a lie. putrid? how far from the truth could you be?

his claws reached to envelop your body, he almost hissed at the temperature of the water, boiling hot, enough to burn. you had been sitting there, getting sprayed by alarmingly warm water. “come now.” he started, an unusually soft tone coming from him, “you’ll get hurt if you stay under that water my love.”

“that’s the point.” you mumbled, “maybe if i’m damaged enough on the outside you’ll see how ugly i am on the inside too.”

“nonsense.” Alastor cut through your speech with an edge of anger, without another word, the demon’s hands wrapped around you, dragging your sore body from the wrath of the water. “we are going to bed, yes? and you will tell me why you think this so horribly about yourself my dear.”

“what? why aren’t you yelling at me? why aren’t you telling me i’m right?” your voice began to raise, and your face, already branded with a waterfall of tears, housed some more, fat globs of tears raced down your cheeks. “why won’t you hate me like i hate me?”

“i could never see anything apart from perfection in you my darling.” the deer murmured honestly, shimmying a towel up and down your body as quickly as possible, he wanted to cradle you as soon as he could. “you are more than i deserve. i would do anything for you.” he finished drying your body, swiftly changing you into dry and warm clothes. “and doing anything for you, entails loving you when you can’t find it in yourself to do the same. my love for you will never simmer, or dull, or lose its intensity. it will never falter, not even for a second.” something cold was applied to the raw and sore skin that was affected by the water, a paste for healing supposedly.

“the moment i laid eyes on you, i promised to protect you.” the radio demon whispered, finally able to hold you properly. he pulled the covers up before sliding both of you in, absentmindedly he undid his suit buttons, letting the fluff of his chest puff out from under his dress shirt. he laid your head on his fur, content to have you smothered by him. “so let me protect you, let me help you fight these cruel thoughts.”

“i’m sorry Alastor, i’ll try be better.” you had mumbled guiltily, nudging into his fur defeatedly.

“no no darling, no apologies, no being ‘better’. be as you are, and let me fight these thoughts with you.” his head dipped down, a smile coating his features as he softly nipped at your neck.

an airy, wet laugh left you, “okay Alastor, okay okay! no apologies.” you had agreed, hands tightening around him in thanks.

but you didn’t need to thank him.

Alastor would do anything for you.

literally.

-unused to caring for someone, unused to love and relationships as a whole. had never had any interest until he had seen you, it had opened a casket full of emotions he wasn’t prepared for.

-when it comes to your hygiene and taking care of you when you can’t, he’s very methodical, brushing your teeth for exactly two minutes, washing your body and hair stiffly. overtime he does try and show his affection through touch more, enjoys cradling you, kisses anywhere he can get his mouth on, mostly chaste kisses, not fully comfortable with long kisses of any sort.

-enjoys massaging your scalp with his claws, how you’ll finally be able to sleep while he caters to you by caressing and stroking your skin or hair. if you wander outside of your shared room, he tries to be around as much as possible, always a hand on the small of your back or a watchful eye on you.

-gets his shadow forms to take care of you and check on you when he’s in the studio or busy. cooks for you everyday, will spoon feed you, even in bed (he’ll change the sheets the day after).

-sneakily gets you to do affirmations with him, makes you stand in front of a mirror with him and says what a great couple you guys look like. tells you that he loves you in front of the mirror while holding or stroking a different part of you each time. will begrudgingly do skin care and make you do it with him, after a while you begin to enjoy it and start just doing each other’s skin care in the mirror.

-sees you nothing short as perfect, even when you can’t get up or cry for hours or don’t want to eat, even when you give up and refuse to try anymore. he finds a way to motivate you and want to try again.

VOX

(disclaimer: getting tired around this point so writing from here on in may deteriorate or lessen in quality)

meetings had been long lately, plans for vox security were kickstarting. he was so busy and it was exhausting, news commercial here, press conference there, meeting here, new tv show there. Vox was tired and he missed you.

between all his schedule and stalking the radio demon unhealthily, it seemed he had almost forgotten about you, even though you flooded his mind at every instance.

he just hadn’t done a very good job at showing how much he had missed you these past few weeks. it left you in a state of loneliness you weren’t quite used to, eyes always trailing to the cameras around the building and in your room, but familiar light of Vox watching the cameras wasn’t there. he hadn’t been checking on in, maybe he didn’t even want to look at you.

self worth was at an all time low, and your anxiety had sky rocketed out of its temporary dormancy, coming back in tenfold. insecurities were on display more than ever, and Vox was nowhere to be seen, falling asleep at his desk or at Val’s and or Velvette’s place.

it was hard not to feel so utterly unwanted.

so you did what every other sinner would do, drink, go crazy on the town and snort some things you shouldn’t have. and at the end of the night, feverish and cold, shaky and nauseous, as you looked into a camera that belonged to vox security, the light didn’t flash on.

he wasn’t there. would he ever be again?

all the substances in your system caught up to you, your stomach began to bubble with pain and you no longer had it within you to keep up the charade that you were fine. you willed yourself to cry, to do something other than rot on the floor of an alleyway street, but no tears came.

instead blood trickled from out of your nose, a telltale sign that you had outdone yourself with whatever atrocities of chemicals you had put in your body. you threw your head back, an expression between a grimace and a smile graced your face, maybe if you fucked yourself up enough Vox would finally come back to you.

needles lay on the ground, no longer sterile but it did not matter. with already shaky hands you grasped one of them, putting it at an angle to inject, you brought it down and the moment it pierced your skin, a familiar hand pulled it straight out of you with a frenzied cry.

“what the fuck were you doing?!” Vox huffed, anger and concern battling to show through his words. worry etched into his features, but you didn’t manage to spot that, only the anger.

“i-i.” no words could come out, the blood from your nose congealed and dripped down onto your shirt, and the injection site pooled with crimson blood too. how could you explain to your partner that you had planned to completely self destruct in hopes he would care for you again?

“are you a fucking idiot? oh my fucking god you’re bleeding.” his palms glided across the blood on your nose and thigh, wiping it away on his skin, his lower lip trembled as he swore at you thoughtlessly. “do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” he bit back the yell, a sigh falling from his lips as he watched your expression morph from embarrassed to complete self hatred.

“i’m sorry, im so sorry.” you whispered, wanting nothing more than to be out of the way, “im sorry that im not good enough, ill be better, i promise, don’t leave me, don’t leave me-“

Vox’s heart, what was left of it, had shattered entirely at your words. regret punched him in the stomach, weeks of little attention and this is what he says in your darkest hour? “shh, shh, of course not, no, no, i would NEVER, never leave you.” his thumbs alternated between rubbing away your forming tears and beading blood.

“c’mere baby.” his voice cracked, he offered you his embrace silently. the look you gave him was utterly heartbreaking, doubtful that he would still love you, god, as if he could ever stop loving you. wordlessly you sank into him, trying to greedily cozy up into him as much as you could, to remember every inch of him. “please, forgive me.”

the words wouldn’t formulate, too drugged up and drunk to even respond, you slumped in his arms, barely able to blink. Suddenly fingers were pinching your cheeks, “hey, hey, don’t fall asleep, i need to make sure you’ll be alright.” he spoke softly, a complete contrast to before. “i’m so sorry, i should be the one saying sorry baby. i’m so stupid, mistreating my whole world.”

the more worked up and upset he got, the more static seeped into his voice. “i’m so sorry. so sorry babe. i haven’t been around and that’s unfair on you, ill book a few days off work okay? just me and you, and i promise ill make it up to you.” his head bowed down, nuzzling against you affectionately, “just stay awake f’me, we’ll get what’s out of your system, and ill make it all up to you, i promise.”

hearing his voice, feeling his touch was pure euphoria for you, a safe haven you had missed beyond anything. “anything for you Vox.”

-is a complete sweetheart, just struggles at first if you’ve done something harmful or destructive to yourself. anything he says in the moment is not thought about and is him panicking.

-makes it up to you every time, bubble baths, washing you and taking care of you like you’re his god. keeps a first aid kit on standby, one is in your room, other first aid kits in other areas of the building too. makes sure from then on in to reassure you, to let you know of his schedule, to bring you with him as much as he can. sometimes comes back from a meeting and just naps with you until he has another thing to do.

-cannot keep his hands off you, super touchy in public now, in meetings you’re new seat is his lap. will try to lessen his schedule more, will spend a lot of his time sleeping with you when you sleep a lot, you two fall asleep spooning or just completely intertwined.

-makes meals for you when he can, hires a personal chef to keep you fed when he’s working. makes a habit of checking his cameras in your shared room a lot more, doesn’t spend as much time infatuated with stalking the radio demon anymore, he’s better at figuring out his priorities now.

-kisses your knuckles when he comes back from work, and then kisses you properly, an intimate lip locking that won’t end until you get the point that he very much wants you. tries to work more remotely, practices affirmations with you and tries to work on his reactions to stressful scenarios so he doesn’t make you feel worse.

-work is important, power is important, but you are above them both, cherishes like you are the only thing to ever exist when you’re both together.

#imagines #x reader #fluff #lgbtq #anons are open #anons open #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin charlie #angst #angst prompt #remediesremedy #author #fanfic #fanfiction #mental illness #angst with a happy ending #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x gn reader

[afieldinengland]

.

#not going to subject you to a long line of symbols about how sick and mad real life love makes me #i’m not going to talk you in circles this time. i promise. but i miss it i was sat up talking about relationships last night and i miss it. #i miss being kissed. whatever i had when i had it was something that neither of us knew how to make proper use of #it wasn’t all them— the failure the cement and kissing so hard they apologised. it’s me. i get sick when i’m in love #worse than that. i’m sick all the time and it brings it out of me. the world shifts every day #by sick i mean strange. i lie about like a sunspoilt cat and kiss a lot and cry on you and think and think and think #i don’t know. i’ve said all this before. i just want to buy two coffees in the morning and see a face in statues #bite me. can you feel that? i’m asking #look i’m talking you round in circles again. maybe i’d like to— well we can’t go talking like that #i have no idea if i’m easy to love. people have seemed very upset about it when they find out they’ve stopped #maybe i change them. i don’t know if they like that. i don’t know if i like that #i have watched lovers get dressed in sunlight. i have handed things back on riverbanks #as someone who’s probably intended to always be alone i’d just like to bleed on someone again. it’s been a while #and i can’t be too funny looking. there’s that. i can smile? #i don’t know i don’t know. there’s too much in here #i remember giving things back when they were asked for and being given what i didn’t need to have #i’m good at it. i think. i’d be a good boyfriend if you’re an insane person #i like public transport cannibalism and boys who move like dancers. i’m not selling it and i don’t mean to #my worldwise flatmate still raises a surprisingly puritan eyebrow when i mention certain things #a big big pile of sherds. but i’ve been told i’m a good kisser #and that counts for something. we do not have world enough nor time #does the twentysomething with a bad eye and leg and hip and hand entertain you

[boneblushed]

Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader

[waldau]

put a ring on it — lee jihoon | 1,236 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

can y'all tell i love this man a bit too much? like, this is way too sappy even by my standards. inspired by me forgetting my ring one morning and feeling extremely uncomfortable without it.

gender neutral reader. warnings: one gross(ish) fact about the human body.

jihoon’s not going to make a big deal out of this. he’s not going to make a deal out of this on any scale. not when this is the first proper date you’ve been on in almost a whole month.

it’s his fault, definitely, what with managing making songs and practicing for their comeback and being unable to sleep because of all the ideas buzzing around in his head. it went on till bumzu forced him out of the studio and made him take some time off for you, if not for his own sake.

oddly, the date’s going well. you look amazing, the food’s great, and he’s feeling more relaxed than he has in a while, all thoughts of deadlines pushed back because he’s worked enough to take on new projects.

jihoon knows he’s still not the best with being affectionate with you, and doesn’t match up to the way you’re so casually affectionate with him, despite how much he wants to be.

but it’s not so bad that you’d just stop wearing your promise ring, is it?

you’d been ecstatic when he’d first given it to you, pointing out how much he’d been blushing and how shy he’d been to tell you what it meant to him, and for the two of you, but now your hand looks bare without it. it looks wrong.

to make things worse, you don’t even seem mad with him. you’re talking to him like you normally do, asking him about his work and how all his friends are, telling him about how your day’s been. any other day, he’d love to listen fully to everything you have to say, but today it feels like your words are flowing in through one ear and leaving through the other.

you’ve both neared the end of your meal, and you still haven’t brought up why you’re not wearing the ring. jihoon’s sure he’s beginning to feel sick. did you just forget it after all these months of wearing it? is this your way of telling him that you’re done, you’re moving on, you have better things to spend your time on?

“do you want to go for a walk?” he asks, almost out of breath, when you finish telling him about a new movie you watched with your friends last week.

“what?”

“right now. it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together like this, and i just…don’t want it to end. if that's okay?”

you give him an apologetic smile. “i’m really tired today, hoonie. just want to go home and cuddle with you.”

ouch. okay. at least you didn’t turn him down entirely. and called his place home.

but the doubt doesn’t go away even when you’re in the car with him, singing to songs on the radio while you drive, laughing at how terrible your own voice is. any other day, jihoon would join in to tease your voice, but he doesn’t have the courage to do it right now. he watches you and thinks about what to do next, and more importantly why you’re not bringing it up.

you go into the bathroom first to take a shower, and come out wearing your sweatpants and one of his shirts. but your hand is still empty.

jihoon can’t take it anymore. he turns around resolutely to avoid facing you, trying to shut his mind before he says something stupid. the bed dips on your side and he knows you’ve turned to face him.

“hoonie?” you ask softly. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says, burrowing his face deeper into his pillow.

"are you sure?"

jihoon shrugs.

“okay, can i just…” you wrap an arm around his waist so your face rests in his neck, and he instantly relaxes against you. “tell me if this is too much.”

“not too much.”

you just stay together in silence for a while, jihoon just taking in your presence. it’s crazy how he doesn’t take more days off when it’s you he gets to come home to.

“did you know?” you ask, your words laced with a tone he's come to learn indicates you’re up to some mischief.

he shakes his head.

“earwax is a type of human sweat.”

jihoon’s broken out of his thoughts at that, turning to face you with an expression he hopes conveys disgust. you laugh loudly, poking his cheek.

“that’s what you wanted me to know?”

“just wanted to make you react somehow. tell me, what’s wrong?”

he shakes his head. “it’s nothing. i got over it.”

“i’ll believe that when you come crawling to me for cuddles.”

jihoon glares at you. “i don’t crawl.”

“but you haven’t asked me yet, so…”

jihoon knows he’s not going to get out of this, and it’s for the best if he doesn’t. “you didn’t wear your ring today.”

“i…what?”

he knows he’s being shifty. “it’s just…you weren’t wearing your ring when we went out for our date tonight. and you didn’t wear it after your shower, either.”

“i didn’t think you’d notice,” you say.

he sighs. “i’m not…i know i’m not very physically affectionate, and this ring is my way of reminding you i’m always there. for you. so i just felt…you know.”

you shake your head and the next thing he knows, he’s being pinned to the bed while you straddle his waist, giving him a stern look.

“lee jihoon.”

“oh, no.”

“how long have we been together for now?”

“um…a year?”

“are you asking me, or are you telling me that?”

“telling. one year.”

“have i ever once hinted at wanting to break up with you for whatever reason?”

“…no.”

you show him your hand. it’s bare, but when he looks closer, he realizes there’s a skin-coloured band-aid taking the exact place of your ring.

“what…”

“little accident when i was cutting an apple for myself. it’s nothing. i’ve been wearing my ring the way you do,” you say, tugging at your chain you’ve been wearing all evening long. it’s only then that he sees his ring sitting on it like it’s always belonged there.

“i love it just as much as you do, hoonie. of course i want it with me all the time. besides, i told you you’re stuck with me forever, didn’t i?”

jihoon can’t stop smiling like an idiot. when you first met and fell in love, it was new to him, because the love he’d written about in his songs was nothing like what he felt for you. if his songs were two dimensional, loving you and being loved by you was four dimensional.

not to mention all the songs you've inspired him to write about you, songs you get to listen to when you're in his studio, on his lap. just his whole world in one room.

he’s been working to keep that feeling between you both every single day, given he used to wonder how you’d ever understand and accept the part of his life that was music. but you have. and it’s been a whole year since you changed his perception about love.

on a whim, he tugs you down by your chain to press a kiss to your lips, and it ends up with you sprawled on top of him, laughing into his neck. just a year ago, he wouldn’t even have imagined this, but now, it feels right.

because it’s you.

taglist: @bookyeom

#woozi 😭💞 #also rip to my most uninspired title ever i gave up on finding a good one #lee jihoon #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #woozi #woozi fluff #fluff #waldau writes

[lasciviouspoison]

my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3

eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.

yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.

he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.

“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”

he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.

“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.

your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”

he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.

he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.

he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.

he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.

you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“

erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.

“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.

your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.

“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.

he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.

before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.

“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.

you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.

you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.

eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.

“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.

you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.

“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.

every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.

“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.

with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”

he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.

he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.

he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.

“lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.

“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.

eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.

almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.

“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.

at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.

“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.

your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.

“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-

“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.

despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.

however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.

“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.

after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.

after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.

after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.

“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.

he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.

after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”

he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”

the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.

#eren #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager #eren smut #eren x chubby reader #eren x black reader smut #eren x y/n #damn….. i love writing for this man

[supernovafics]

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas 

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.” 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness. 

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch. 

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan. 

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock. 

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be. 

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him. 

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.” 

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words. 

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other. 

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance. 

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.” 

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.” 

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.” 

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?” 

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?” 

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs. 

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be. 

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday. 

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door. 

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.  

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care. 

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.” 

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve. 

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth. 

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve. 

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies. 

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.” 

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door. 

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.” 

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful. 

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that. 

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible. 

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you. 

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again. 

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different. 

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year. 

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning. 

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him. 

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.” 

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.” 

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.” 

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously. 

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.” 

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?” 

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.” 

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided. 

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.” 

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.” 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

[shooting-love-arrows]

Your aesthetic is just so beautiful dear!! i love how you organize everything, how pretty you write !!

Can i request maybe a yan! mortician? I don't really know the word in english waaa (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠)

kisses. mwah mwah take care of yourself ok?? 🎐

Dear Anon,

Thank you, dear. It’s really nice of you to say. Your english is very good so no need to worry. Sending you lots of kisses and thank you for the patience.  P.S I’m reminding myself to drink water regularly :)

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍! 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader [gender not mentioned/specified/implied] SYNOPSIS: General headcanons/some concerning habits of his. Tw. yandere walking red flag, creepy yandere, intentional poisoning, delusion, attachment issues (?), nudity but not nsfw. 

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who treats you like a corpse rather than a living, breathing, human being. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 is so used to being surrounded by dead that sometimes he forgets you are in fact alive. It shows during those moments when he starts doing most simple things for you, like dressing you up before you wake up; when you stay still for to long, he’ll carry you around bridal style because he forgets that you can move on your own or forgets to prepare you a portion of food, because corpses don’t eat. Those moments scares you the most, because you’re never sure if he snaps out of it.

“Hm…? Oh dear…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 muttered and tilted his head when he realized he’s been carrying you around the funeral parlor for a while. “It seems like I have done that again.” Not that he was complaining. After all, he’s got to hold you in his arms.

Who regularly poisons you. He adds small doses of the earlier crushed pills he originally brought in the pharmacy to your food. Just enough to make you sick, weak and confused. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 feels his heart squeezing painfully everytime time he sees you in this state but at the same time, he believes that what he's doing is for a good cause. You must stay in the house. It’s not safe in the stress! Not to mention those people who could harm you (or worse, take you away from him!). This just can’t and won’t happen. He’d rather be the one to bring harm to you and nurse you back to health. Your place is here, in your shared house, with him.

“It seems like you are ill again, sweetling. Lay down, you need rest.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 proceeds to tuck you in and kiss your sweaty forehead lovingly. “Let me take care of you, sweetling. I will make everything better.” He whispered into your skin decorated with glistening pearls of sweat, smiling softly. 

Who always has to carry a piece of you on him. He just can’t part with you. Be it before or after you’re officially his. He has a silver locket with a coil of your hair in it, a ribbon that fell out of your outfit tied around his wrist or a photo of you (especially the one he took of you). Those are few examples but anything that belongs to you he’ll gladly take to carry around. This way you can always be with him.

“What beautiful hair you have, sweetling.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 laughed in glee. He was in his funeral parole, staring at the coil of your hair he secretly snipped off when you were asleep. It was placed neatly in a pure silver locker he always carried around his neck. “The prettiest.”

Who has a habit of photographing your nude body. It depends on his mood whether it’ll turn sexual or not, but what doesn’t change is that he’s always in awe of your body. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 saw many naked bodies, more or less beautiful. But you…you are perfect in every way. He feels like it’s his obligation to document that beauty. So usually, you’ll find yourself lying in the coffin panelled with silk, naked as the day you were born. And so the photo session continues. And when he’s done…? 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 will lean over you, looming like a grim reaper ready to whisk you away into the underworld, and whisper sweet nothings, prizes and compliments to you while his eyes admire every inch of your body.

“Keep still, sweetling.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 adjusted his trusty camera so it’ll focus on you.  You kept shivering from the cold that keeps nipping at your skin. Not even the silk you were laying upon helped to ease your worries and shame for you had no choice but to be vulnerable and exposed towards your captor.  “Perfect. Close your eyes and stay in this position.”

Who kisses the spot on your chest where your heart beats. It happens first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. When you’re laying in bed, in your nightclothes, he’ll lower the front of yours and gently place a kiss above your heart. He imagines that it’s his way of pouring his undying love straight into your heart. It always sends a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

“I was born to love you…” kiss “I am breathing for you…” kiss “I am living for you…” kiss 

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #fanfic #x reader #imagines #yandere #headcanons #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #reader insert #headcanon #yandere headcanons #male x reader #yandere househusband #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x y/n #drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere aesthetic #yandere mortician #x you #s.l.arrows writes <3

[ventismacchiato]

42 behind the lens — curtain call !

epilogue

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

It’s at the times between recording scenes where you really get a glimpse at your lover.

His sweat stained hair and tear stained cheeks from a rather intense scene never get old. You were feeling rather fond as he made his way over to you, falling into your director’s chair and heaving a heavy breath. The only one other than you allowed to sit in it.

For a mere moment, you both simply look at each other. You guys were on break so a few conversation topics come to mind, it wasn’t often you guys got to speak as lovers rather than coworkers during work. And while they’re all things you’d like to talk to Scaramouche about, you realize you don’t need to force conversation with him.

There’s a hue of weariness that shows in Scara’s eyes, but you can tell that he’s happy. He’s doing what he’s been striving to do for all his years at university, so of course he is.

You search his dark eyes for his thoughts, too. When your eyes meet Scara’s he let’s out a tired smile.

“I missed you,” he easily says. The words come out easier than they would’ve years ago.

Your heart skips a beat, even years later.

“How? We’ve been working together all day,” you say.

“Do I need a reason to miss the person I love?” Scara scoffs, looking away from you to study the script he brought with him.

It isn’t the first time Scaramouche had told you that he loves you, but it’s never stopped holding the same weight it did the first time he’d ever said it.

It’s a rare type of love. The kind that exists so rarely for people in this industry and that lead lives similar to your guys’.

His loves makes you feel alive everyday. And Scara should know it, you should tell him more often—even if it’s rather dramatic for midday on set for their most recent project. It’s something you’d bring up at night that you two could laugh about in bed. Even if it catches Scara off guard.

But Scaramouche’s love caught you off guard, too, and every second you got the privilege to spend with him was a gift.

And as you stare at him, fiddling with the sleeves of his costume and eyebrows scrunched as he mouths his lines, you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow heavy.

“I suppose you don’t,” you reply, a minute too late, but Scara still chuckles at your response as he tosses the script aside.

“What? You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, “And I thought I was the emotionally constipated one.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, hitting him on the shoulder, “I love you, too. I guess.”

“Archons, you’re worse than me.”

“No, you were much worse when we were younger!”

“It was hot and mysterious when I did it.”

“Uh huh, just go back to set I’m sick of you.”

“Weird way to say you agree but okay.”

“Go!”

.

.

.

୨⎯ THE END ⎯୧

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev

author’s notes — and that’s a wrap folks! hope the ending wasn’t awkward i just wanted it to be short and sweet. anyway, thank u to everyone who read and kept up with this fic, means a lot to me that this blew up as it was smth i wrote for myself. if ur rereading this or are a reader in the future ty to you too! i appreciate the silent readers, anons, and ppl who left me sm cute comments and reblogs. u guys made writing it more fun and easier to ignore the not so nice ppl. i cant reply to everyone but just know i do read every ask and comment i get! i do hope to see u guys in my notifs in the future even if i don’t write for genshin anymore, but if not then i’m glad you gave my writing a chance <3 have a great day/night byebye

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @courtneydefender @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]

#behind the lens smau #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #genshin smau #genshin scaramouche

[matchavellichor]

Just This Once Pt. 2

dark!Ominis x f!MC - NSFW/Angst - 3.4k words

Tags: !!Non-con!!, Pining, Obsession, Drugged Sex, Somnophilia, Cunnilingus

Part 1, Part 3 ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

“You alright, Ominis?” 

“Fine,” Ominis forces a tight-lipped smile. He’s been nursing the same glass of firewhiskey for most of the evening, barely able to get it down. “Just tired.”

Sebastian gives a sigh as he stands, only wobbling slightly. He knows that look on his friend’s face, the familiar I don’t want to be here, but I’m too polite to leave. 

“Why don’t you help her back to Slytherin then? I’m gonna stay a while and she’s clearly had enough.” He nods to where their friend is warring against a black-out, slumped against the garrish scarlet cushions of one of the common room couches.

Sebastian chuckles as he helps her from her seat, stilling her wrists when she playfully swats at him and insists she’s fine. She’s deposited in Ominis’ arms before he can get a word in.

She stops her grumbling when she realizes who’s holding her up, blinking up at him for a moment before her lips curl into a pleased smile. “You’re still here, Omi?”

“Still here,” he murmurs, trying to keep his breathing even when she loops her arm with his to steady herself.

He meanders the both of them through the noisy Gryffindor common room, out into the cool, dimly-lit hallway. She hums one of the old tavern tunes the Gryffindors have been belting the entire night, slurring all the words the entire journey towards the dungeons. He bites the inside of his cheek, pretending he isn’t amused.

She leans on him, her fingers curling around his bicep for support, as she stumbles through the coiling serpent door, and that familiar ache manifests itself in his gut. 

He ignores it. He’s done a good job of ignoring it so far, hasn’t laid a finger on her—just like he promised. He isn’t a bad person, after all. He won’t do what he did to her again. It was a one-time thing, just to scratch an itch, and he’s more than capable of suffering in silence from now on, the same way he always has. 

By the time they finally cut through the Slytherin common room, he’s practically carrying her. She’s dozing off with her head on his shoulder, soft and pliant in his arms, and he feels this strange sort of tightening feeling in his chest.

He’s felt that dull, longing pain for a while. This is exponentially worse, as if his pining has finally culminated into something unbearable. He grinds his teeth and holds his breath and pretends he doesn’t feel tempted to bury his nose in her hair, to inhale until his inhibitions melt away and he does something stupid.

He sets her down on her feet when he reaches the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but has to hold her up to keep her from falling over. Her words are stumbled over, soft and broken by yawns. “D’you think…you could bring me up?”

“You know I can’t,” he sighs. “Wards.”

She frowns, looking up at him. “Then…bring me to yours?” 

He immediately shakes his head. “That’s not a good idea—”

“Oh, come on,” her fingers curl into the front of his shirt and he’s suddenly acutely aware of just how close she is. It’s suffocating, in a dreadfully pleasant way. He never thought he could find asphyxiation appealing, but he’s learned by now to not put anything past her. “Please?” 

She pleads so pretty. He thinks of how she sounded back in the Undercroft, when he had her body pinned underneath his. Heat pools in that spot just below his navel and he suppresses a shudder. He runs a hand down his face to disperse the memory, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, al-alright. Fine.”

He shouldn’t give in so easily. He finds himself in possession of very little faculties to refuse her absolutely anything.

//

Ominis mutters a few locking charms as soon as he carries her into the quiet of his empty dorm. For her privacy, he tells himself, and ignores that contrite little voice in his head that knows it’s for something more. He pretends he doesn’t feel some sick satisfaction in knowing he has her all to himself.

It’d be easy to do it all again, he thinks. Perhaps even easier than the first time, with her state.

The thought leaves his head as quickly as it comes. He won’t. He has control over this. He has control over himself, most importantly. However, the longer he’s around her, the more she presses her body into his, the less convinced he is of the fact.

He takes a sharp breath and sits her down on the edge of his bed to unlace her boots for her. Her calves are small in his hands, delicate. There’s something appealing about that realization that he doesn’t stop to dwell on. 

When he’s done, he helps her brush her teeth and comb her hair. It’s strangely domestic. Once again, he tries not to think about the warm, fuzzy feeling it gives him. He knows by now he has no right to crave such things. Wholesomeness isn’t for people who imperius and molest their friends.

He can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when she flops down onto his bed, tangling herself in silky emerald sheets. “Smells nice,” she murmurs, voice muffled with her face buried in his pillow.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever wash those sheets again.

He hovers near the foot of the bed, hands tucked chastely in his pockets, posture awkwardly stiff. He clears his throat. “You—uh, you should probably take a sober-up.”

She props herself up on her elbows to look at him, tilting her head with a pout. “That’s no fun.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

She falls back onto the pillows with a groan. “Fine.”

He kneels in front of the bedside table he shares with Sebastian, rummaging through the drawers in search of a sober-up he’s sure the brunette certainly keeps in store.

His hand brushes a familiar vial, and for a brief moment he forgets about the potion he’s supposed to be looking for, in favor of thumbing over the worn label he knows too well.

He used to take it whenever his anxiety got too bad, when sleep was scarce because of nightmares. He’s more than familiar with the side-effects—only a bit more potent than a calming draught, really. Makes him drowsy, helps him sleep.

A thought passes through his head, but this time it lingers.

He closes the drawer with his knee and hovers over where she’s still curled on his bed, the dull edges of the vial biting into his skin where he’s tightened his fist around it.

It isn’t like he’s drugging her. He takes the potion himself. He’s just helping her relax a bit, that’s all.

“Here,” he brushes a hand over her shoulder to get her attention, her warmth seeping through the linen of her blouse to his palm. He resists the urge to dip his hand under the hem of her collar, skin-to-skin. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

He pretends he doesn’t feel the little flicker of heat that manifests in his stomach when she obeys, parted lips brushing his fingertips, looking up at him through her lashes. 

He uncorks the dropper from the vial and drips a few more drops than the recommended dose on her tongue, and then a couple more. Her nose wrinkles from the bitter taste, but she swallows nonetheless. “Gross.”

He huffs a laugh, helping her lay back down. “A bit.”

“Thank you,” she sighs, eyes half-lidded. He finds he likes the dazed quality of her voice a bit too much. “You’re a savior, Omi.”

He forces a smile and swallows down the guilt he feels burrowed in his chest. His mouth tastes bitter. “It’s no problem, really.” 

He goes to tug the comforter over her body but she protests, limbs feeling too heavy to use properly. He gets a strange sort of thrill when he feels how weakly she pushes at his wrists. 

“Need—need to take this off first,” she murmurs, voice already softened.

She tugs at the laces of her bodice, but her fingers are languid and clumsy, lacking too much dexterity to untie them. The potion is fast-acting, he notes with a disgusting amount of satisfaction. She looks up at him for help, guiding his hands to the front of her blouse. He swallows the lump in his throat. “Right—uh, sure.”

He tries to still the trembling in his fingers as he unworks the latticework of ribbons, but he supposes she’s too bleary now to even notice. He helps her shrug off the garment, her arms limp when he holds them up to pull the fabric over her head. That little flickering heat in his gut is stoked higher when he notes how perfectly her two wrists fit in just one of his hands. 

He likes her like this, maybe to an alarming degree. Weak and pliant. It reminds him of her state under the Imperius, trance-like, bending to his will because she lacks the capacity to do much else.

He helps her shimmy out of her skirt as well, even though she never asks him to. She doesn’t protest. Just lets his hands adjust her as he sees fit. He doesn’t linger on the fact that she’s only letting him because she doesn’t have the power to voice any objections, much less stop him.

That tiny, wanton flame inside him has been fed into an all-consuming fire, far too zealous to allow even a shadow of guilt to hinder his actions. 

The chemise she wears underneath her clothes is sheer, barely reaching the tops of her knees. Easy to tear, he thinks as he smooths his hand down her hip, only briefly. She lets out a soft sigh and he pulls back. Still too lucid.

Temptation is a pretty thing tangled in his sheets, donned in thin, satiny fabrics.

It’d be so easy to take. The thought comes and sticks, even as he tries to rid himself of it. It’s tacky, enticing, gluing itself to the walls of his brain.

He wouldn’t even need to use an Unforgivable again, not like last time. No breaking any promises—though he notes that the thought of doing so is less nausea-inducing now than the first time. The idea more digestible. He doesn’t dwell on the implications behind that.

He unclasps the first few buttons of his shirt as he waits for her breathing to finally steady out. It isn’t long before she’s out like a light.

He sits on the adjacent bed, but only for a moment before his anxiety makes him pace the room. His thoughts are a mess, alternating between staying as far away from her as possible and sinking into her very skin. He chews on his nails while the latter begins to take dominance, until he ultimately finds himself hovering over the side of his bed.

It’s not like he hasn’t touched her before while she’s sleeping. He’s traced her features a couple times, gently, just to get an idea of what she looks like. This isn’t any different. He won’t do anything terrible.

He knows with certainty that Sebastian and their other dorm mate won’t be in until dawn breaks, he’s more than accustomed with their party habits by now. The situation is almost too perfect. When will he ever have her like this again? Drowsy and willing, all to himself, in his bed.

The mattress creaks as he sits himself on the edge. She doesn’t move an inch. His heart hammers in his chest, but he reaches a hand out anyway, tentatively running his hand down the soft outline of her figure, bathed in silk. He wants to feel her, though, so he brushes his fingertips, feather-light, where her shoulder is peeking out from under the covers.

It’s easy to not feel guilty when this is something familiar. 

Tentatively, he pulls the covers down to her waist. When she doesn’t stir, he pulls them back the rest of the way, exposing her to him. Gooseflesh prickles over her skin as it comes in contact with the cool air of the room and he runs his hands down her arms to soothe it. She’s somehow softer than he remembers, sensitive and sleep-warm.

She shifts in her sleep, but he isn’t deterred like he usually is. He knows that with the effects of the potion she won’t wake, at least not fully. That familiar course of adrenaline courses through his veins at the thought of not having to be as cautious as he usually is. Being able to touch at will. It’s exhilarating, in the most terrible way possible. 

He bunches her chemise over her waist in one pull. The material glides over her skin with ease, and she gives little protest, nothing more in the way of a soft exhale, a gentle murmur. The sound courses through his very core, all the way south. He’s sick with curiosity about what other sounds he can coax from her, fingers hovering over the bare expanse of her midriff.

He’s filled with the urge to know her in all the ways he hasn’t yet, having kept all his prior explorations strictly above-belt. The unknown beckons to him, every inch of her he hasn’t touched or tasted, teeming under his skin until it aches. 

He runs a thumb across the hem of her knickers, gentle, patient—even if at the moment it’s like he hasn’t the faintest idea of the definition of the world. It doesn’t take very long for him to exhaust the small amount of hesitation he does possess.

He shifts over her on the bed, climbing down her body, hands trailing adoration on her skin with exploratory curiosity. He digs his fingers a little too hard into her hips and she lets out a whimper, soft and barely audible. He finds he quite likes the sound.

She squirms in place, hips shying away from him in her sleep and he hushes her, soothing the skin with soft, little circles stroked by his thumb.

He presses his lips right above her navel, trailing kisses down her stomach, and she keens under the sensation, stretching like a purring kitten. He smirks against her skin. So receptive, even unconscious. 

As he trails down to his destination, he noses softly at every curve and bow he can reach, slow and appreciative. She’s gorgeous, all soft features and gentle silhouettes. He finds himself wanting to run his tongue over every contour until he memorizes her with his mouth.

He treats her as if he’s at an altar, kneeled in not only solemn adoration, but grave penitence for what he knows he plans to do with her. He supposes it’s always best to pray for forgiveness, then ask for permission. 

When he gets to the hem of her knickers, he plies her legs wider to accommodate him, pinning one of her thighs to the mattress. She obliges so easily, limbs loose and limp, so he tugs the other over his shoulder. 

His breath hovers over her clothed core and that familiar contrite little voice murmurs a flurry in his head. He finds it’s so much easier to tune it out now, especially as he presses his mouth to the gusset of her knickers for the first time and his brain whites out in bliss.

He wouldn’t be able to suppress the groan he lets out if he had all the willpower in the world.

It isn’t long before he’s hastily pulling the thin cotton down her thighs, any sort of barrier between them a personal affront to his sanity. Something tears but he finds himself in no capacity to care. She does little to stop him, only shifting futilely in her sleep, but he has his arm anchored across her thigh to still her squirming.

He licks a stripe with the flat of his tongue, just to finally taste her, to acquiesce the pounding in his ears and that familiar rush of blood south. She tastes like heaven, and he knows that after all he’s done it’s the closest he’ll ever get.

His fingers dig into tender flesh so hard he’s sure he’ll leave marks as he starts to lap at her in earnest, unable to stop himself. Breathy little sighs hitch in her throat, turning into soft moans as he takes his time, exploring every millimeter his tongue can reach.

“S’gorgeous,” he slurs, lips sticky against her cunt. “Gods, you taste so good.”

He wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, and the noise she lets out is almost enough to make him finish in his pants. He can tell her brain’s struggling to breach consciousness, hips rocking languidly against his mouth, the softest murmurs escaping her lips. He pays little mind to them, continuing to devote himself to tasting her fully.

He takes one of her hands that are pawing weakly at the sheet beneath her, placing it on top of his head. Her fingers immediately find purchase in his hair, eliciting a groan from him as he circles her clit with his tongue in tight little circles.

Her breathing is stuttered, uneven. “Om–Omin–”

“That’s it, angel, say my name,” he hums, her voice making him throb in his pants where he’s been rutting mindlessly against the mattress. “You sound so pretty. Fuck, my sweet, sweet girl.”

Her fingers tighten in his hair, a bit too softly for his tastes due to her semi-lucid state, but enough to earn a moan from him nonetheless. He feels the muscles in her abdomen tighten when he braces a forearm across her middle to pin her to the bed, stilling her helpless writhing, and he knows she’s close. He doesn’t plan on stopping until she’s coming on his tongue, no matter how much she begs.

Feeling her try to resist him makes him ache in his trousers, her hands pushing weakly at his head. He latches his mouth to her clit and sucks until he feels her heels dig into his back and a sob is torn from her throat as she’s pushed over the edge. 

He grinds his hips into the mattress as he rides her through her climax, grunting expletives against her skin. Her chest heaves, arms loose at her sides as she hiccups through tears, coming down from her high.

Her legs tremble around his head and he kisses the insides of her thighs, listening to her breathless, incoherent little murmurs that he can’t quite make out. He can’t help the blissed satisfaction he feels, thumbs rubbing soft circles on her hip bones. 

He climbs over her, chin sticky as he leaves kisses in his ascent. “I know, baby, I know,” he hushes when she squirms, voice hoarse. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

He wipes the wetness from her cheeks, damp lashes fluttering in her attempts to gain some viable form of consciousness. He smiles to himself knowing the effects of the potion will keep her perfectly limp and drowsy for him.

He noses at her temple, stroking her hair while he waits for her breathing to steady out again. “Was that good, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

She doesn’t respond, and he knows her brain is too addled with sleep and endorphins to even hear him. He rambles praises anyway, lips pressed to her forehead, his heart so full in his chest it might burst.

“I love you,” he whispers, collecting her in his arms and tucking her into his side, even if the rational part of his brain advises against it. He can’t help but want her close. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

The inside of his trousers is sticky with the evidence of his own climax, but he can’t be bothered to feel the shame he normally feels, too caught up in the feeling of her body against his. He plants kisses to the crown of her head and pretends he’s holding her because she wants to be held.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs sometime after into the stillness of her soft breathing, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. He isn’t, not really. Being sorry implies he won’t do it again. Something he’s able to admit by now he knows isn’t true. “I’m so sorry.” 

He closes his eyes and pretends he is. 

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt fanfiction #dark fic

[haithamuse]

₊˚✧ A KISS SAYS MORE THAN A THOUSAND WORDS.

ft. alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno

cw. fluff 'n smooches, smidge of angst if you squint for tighnari, cyno's is a lil bit short, intentional lowercase

a/n. esther in her sumeru era (real); first time writing for kaveh n tighnari

ⵌ ALHAITHAM — kissing the worries away

you can find alhaitham with a frown more often than not. it always brings a smile to your face when you see him deep in thought, whether it be due to his research or another book he’s reading. in your eyes, it was kind of adorable. if you were to say it out loud though, he’d just scoff at you, “stop being ridiculous.”

but you don’t deter and instead lean in to plant a kiss on his forehead, the creases on it seemingly melting away. “you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that all the time”, you giggled.

you never knew that this little action would leave an impact on your lover, but alas — he was full of surprises.

“oh, don’t give me that look.”

“how could i not?” your eyebrows furrowed even tighter at alhaitham’s plea. “this is madness. i don’t want you to get hurt!”

your lover’s gaze softened as he cradled your face with his hands. “you trust me, right?”

“of course i do!”, you replied in earnest without missing a beat.

alhaitham’s lips curled into a smile at your eager confession. he leaned forward to lay his lips on your forehead, the action so full of tender care and love. a simple and yet intimate gesture, with a promise buried within it — that he will come home to you, no matter what.

“then i don’t want to see any wrinkles on your beautiful face when i come home.”

ⵌ KAVEH — kissing in public without any shame, not afraid to show off his love for you

kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve, for better or for worse. while some certain people think of it as one of his greatest weaknesses, to you it’s the thing you love the most.

once you got the news of your job application being accepted, your first thought was to seek out your boyfriend and tell him the amazing news.

kaveh was caught off guard when you ran towards him at full speed, barely being able to catch you as you leapt into his arms. he didn’t have the time to scold you and tell you to be more careful, not when you radiated such vibrant energy and met him with a huge grin on your face. kaveh simply couldn’t do anything but return with a gleeful smile of his own.

“i got the job!”, you exclaimed a little too loud, as the passersby gave you weird looks. but neither of you cared.

“of course you did!” kaveh matched your enthusiasm — he didn’t doubt for a single second that you wouldn’t get it.

he also did not hesitate for the slightest bit as he pressed his lips onto yours. kaveh had no shame, his kisses were always full of vim and vigour. it didn’t matter if you stood in the centre of sumeru’s market amidst a bunch of people — he’d never hold back when it came to his love for you.

“i’m proud of you.”

ⵌ TIGHNARI — kissing you to comfort

forehead kisses were tighnari’s favourite form of showing his love to you. it’s such a simple gesture, yet feels incredibly intimate. he always makes sure to face you when giving them, so even if it’s just a quick peck, it still feels like he’s taking a second to give you his full attention.

when you feel sick or unwell, his entire love, affection and care for you seep through his actions. “stay put”, tighnari orders you in a stern voice. however, his actions are tender and soft as his lips linger for just a second longer on your forehead. “don’t make me come back because collei tells me you’re out and about.”

tighnari’s kisses bring comfort not only to you but to himself as well. you make him feel safe and he wants you to feel the same with him. and how could you not? especially when he holds you in his firm embrace — first planting a kiss on the top of your head and then on your temple, whispering against it in a hushed voice, telling you everything is going to be alright.

ⵌ CYNO — kisses that say ‘i love you’

cyno is a man of few words. it’s not that he doesn’t know what to say, but rather that he prefers to show than tell. the same goes for your love life — you could count on one hand how many times you’ve heard him say ‘i love you’ out loud, but you didn’t mind.

because the way he kisses you tells you enough. cyno kisses you with tender care, yet fiery passion. it’s as if he was drinking out of a glass that’s will break if he got too greedy, dancing the fine line and testing the limits of how far he could go.

he never leaves the house without kissing you goodbye. “i’ll be back by dawn”, sealed by locking his lips with your own — i love you.

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#genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham headcanons #kaveh headcanons #tighnari headcanons #cyno headcanons #alhaitham fluff #kaveh fluff #tighnari fluff #cyno fluff #✰ — esther's works

[catscidr]

Could you make a scenario with sick reader and Yandere doctor please 😭

need him to walk into my room in a nurse outfit and take care of me when i get sick... but Alas he's not real... woe is me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)..... WHATEVER i can always write about him anyways so im WINNING EITHER WAY...... (inhales copium) ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: yandere dottore, he's a little overbearing, reader has a cold. that's pretty much it (lmk if i missed anything!) includes: gn reader, dottore, iota (youngest segment) wc: 1,3k

Ooohhhh he would be mad. Not in an explosive way, but in a “I’m not mad, just disappointed” way except he IS mad, he’s just really good at keeping his emotions under wraps. You know this, too. He made sure that you did. 

It didn’t matter what kind of illness you came down with; a common cold, the flu, something worse? He’s freakishly good at reading you, and he didn’t need to hear you blowing your nose or sniffling every other second to know you had gotten sick. The skin around your nose blossoming into a darker, reddish tone and your eyelids drooping just a bit lower than usual was enough for him to know you weren’t telling him something you should have. 

It also didn’t matter if you didn’t even see him- he had eyes everywhere, quite literally. It was rare for you to be anywhere in the palace or the lab without one of his clones attached to your hip, whether it be a younger clone tagging along to do something more interesting than breaking open a ruin guard, or an older clone staying by your side, taking a break from work to enjoy your company. 

So, of course, even if the doctor happened to be especially busy when you suddenly caught a cold, you’d still be stuck with him being the equivalent to a mother hen because of how seriously he took your health. 

Usually you didn’t mind his attention, you’d even bask in it, but this time you couldn’t stand it. Your state had been manageable for the past two days and, thankfully, Prime and his clones were none the wiser to your nose overproducing snot nor the way your eyes had more crust around them when you woke up in the morning. But you feared that today would be the day he’d catch you and promote you to being his bedwarmer- literally. Last time you got sick and went to him for help you felt like you were in urgent care, forced to stay in his bed, having at least two of his segments stay with you 24/7, making you eat four meals a day despite your lack of appetite and desperate need for sleep. 

You could insist all you want that you were fine, that you just needed to vegetate in bed for a day or two and you’d be back on your feet in no time, but no, he refused to have any of it. He’d ask who’s the doctor here? in the same condescending voice he used whenever one of his lackeys displeased him (and you’d reply with you didn’t even graduate if you weren’t so tired), and then would throw you over his shoulder to bring you to his spotless bedroom so you could rest while he keeps an eye on you.

The one thing you were happy about was how Dottore wasn’t prone to blatant violence. Nothing physical, at least. When needed, he would slip medication into your water to help you sleep, would graciously lift your sleeve to give you a shot while you were knocked out cold and give you special medicine to make sure you had all the vitamins you needed. He wouldn’t do any of that if you had cooperated with him in the first place, though; so, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him. At least not for long. 

Like clockwork, you were currently going through that same order of events. 

In retrospect, it was a bad idea to indulge Iota and go out in the snow to make a snowman with him- but how could you resist him! The lab could feel so stuffy as it was, and the additional smell of blood covered up by strong cleaning agents only did so little to help you resist his pleas. So, you grabbed Dottore’s Harbinger coat and got yourself dragged outside by the small but mighty youngest segment as he eagerly talked your ear off about having a snowball fight, making a myriad of snow angels and other winter activities you weren’t familiar with. 

After getting absolutely pelted with snow (Iota was good at snowball fights, surprisingly) you hung up Dottore’s coat to dry and made your way to the bathroom to wipe off any snow and water that had gotten on your skin despite the large, fluffy cloak you wore. Iota waved you off with a boyish grin and a taunting better luck next time! as you watched him saunter off into the direction of his creator’s lab. Your fingertips felt cold but as you dried your skin thoroughly you felt your body gradually warm up, and that was enough for your standards. 

Placing the towel on a rack to dry, you then headed over to your room to relax your aching muscles after the remarkably intense snowball fight. You laid down underneath the covers, grateful to be able to take a nap. However, when you awoke about two hours later, you thought you felt your arms weighed even more than before, and your head throbbed an ache that wasn’t there previously. And surely, a day later, you find yourself sneakily throwing away your used tissues somewhere that Dottore won't find them, else he subjects you to his overbearing methods of... curing you. 

You did your best to make your footsteps as careful and light as possible, lowering the chances of one of them finding you with a trash bag full of snot-filled tissues. Unfortunately for you though, maybe you should have worn something other than pyjamas because, as luck had it, although a segment hasn’t seen your physical state, a patrolling agent did. 

He spoke into a walkie-talkie quietly enough that your ears didn’t pick up the sound of his voice and, as you're about to step outside to throw the trash bag out, you feel a hand on your shoulder. A cold, gloved hand that you could recognize anywhere with your eyes closed. You halt your movements as the (not so) mysterious figure behind you stays silent, waiting for you to say something first. 

Your shoulders slump forward in defeat, and you sniffle. “I don’t wanna be locked up in your room again,” you say quietly, voice slightly slurred from your cold. He scoffs, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently enough for it to be comforting. “Maybe if you didn’t try to go outside while having a cold I would reevaluate your options,” he sighs. “Alas, you leave me no choice. What were you thinking?” Dottore turns you around and frowns, tilting his head to the side. If you were anyone else you would have been dead where you stood, but here you are; wearing one of his old shirts and a loose pair of sweatpants, one of your hands gripping a trash bag, and the other wiping your nose. You stand awkwardly, looking away sheepishly, not particularly enjoying being caught red-handed like this. 

“It would be unhygienic to keep all of those used tissues in my room,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug. He holds back the urge to sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, mask lifting just a tad from the action, and exhales slowly. You would be the death of him eventually, he thought tiredly. 

Dottore bends down low enough to grab the bag from your hands and looks over his shoulder, tossing it to a poor unsuspecting fatui soldier. The soldier in question stumbles back slightly, just barely keeping themselves from tripping over, as Dottore signals for them to throw it away themselves. You don’t have the time to speak up before the person scurries away. 

“Next time don’t be so obvious,” he says quietly enough that only you can hear him. He bends his torso forward slightly, holding his face leveled with yours. “And next time you decide to get sick,” he begins with a raspy tone, holding your chin up with his palm, “come to me immediately. Lest you want me to wrestle you into my room again.” 

You’d be blushing if you didn’t know what was going to happen. Dottore straightens his back and outstretches his hand to you, looking at you from below his mask. Defeated, you interlace your fingers with his and jut your lip out as you hold back the urge to whine. A small smile graces his face as he guides you back to the lab. 

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup! #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x y/n #il dottore x you #il dottore x gn reader #il dottore x reader

[danikamariewrites]

First off, I always love reading your work. Makes me smile when I’m going through it 🫶🏻

Could you do rhys x reader or maybe a batboys head canon for how they’d take care of you while life seems to be out to get you? Like every time you think your problems are solved, something blows up in your face? Maybe like something breaks in your flat, and then something crazy happens at work, and then like you get sick or something and reader is just super down and rhys/batboys are trying to bring her back up? Taking care of her and stuff?

Sorry if this is too confusing or similar to anything you’ve had before, my brain is a little short-circuited tonight lol and I’ve been kinda going through it so I can’t think straight

Dry Your Tears

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I dream of the three of them taking care of me. Also I’m sorry babe, I’m also going through it so we’re together on this

Warnings: Tamlin being mean to reader, anxiety, and fluff

Your luck for charming High Lords and their advisors has finally run out

You were on a roll on your little tour of Day, Winter, and Summer

But coming home from other courts empty handed sucked

Especially when it was the spring court

With Tamlin finally back in power with a group of advisors and his court put together he’s been full of himself acting all high and mighty

Yesterday was your first time there since the court was put together

Of course it was all males who didn’t respect you one bit and Tamlin was no help either

The spring high lord was very condescending and it brought out your insecurities about your place in the court

Tamlin also targeted your relationship with the boys, pointing out other flaws there

You slept in your own bed once you arrived at the town house since you left Spring so late

As you fell into a fitful sleep you dreaded the paper work you had to do in the morning

The next morning you found a note on the kitchen table from Rhys that read, Sorry we missed you darling. Emergency in Windhaven. We’ll be back tomorrow morning. We love you very much

You frown at the note but smile at the little heart drawn at the end

After breakfast you set out to do paperwork with infrequent visits from Amren about updates on court matters

Getting to the Spring Court report drained you

Just thinking about it makes your skin itch

You get up deciding to take a walk to clear your head

The walk didn’t help. It simply made things worse

There was too much around the town house that didn’t feel right to you. Like you needed to reorganize

But now you wanted new furniture and things bc the throw pillows didn’t look right and the couch looked too old

To distract from that you went into the kitchen to find a snack only to realize none of the boys went grocery shopping (who are you kidding it’s Nuala and Cerridwen that do it)

You slammed the cabinet shut

With the slam of the cabinet a cough crept up your throat

It was dry and you felt like you couldn’t breathe

You shouldn’t have traveled to Winter then Spring

Ignoring what the cough meant you remembered your report for Rhys and stomped back to your office

The report took way longer than you would’ve liked

Thinking about Tamlin and his comments about your relationship made you blood boil

As your anger washed away it turned into anxiety and sadness and doubt

Are you capable of this job if these males get to you so easily? Is your relationship and mating bond with the boys going to last?

You needed to shake this off. You closed your side of the bond as to not worry your mates. They don’t need to worry about you right now

You kept stewing in your anxiety and anger for the rest of the day

Amren left at 5 so you had dinner alone with what was left in the house. You’d go shopping tomorrow when your head was clear and you weren’t pissed at the fact that the boys forgot

Sleep evaded you that night as you wished your boys were here to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you

Your cough kept you up all night as well

By the time the sun was up you were curled against against the headboard. Your eyes watering from that dry cough you’ve developed. You didn’t feel like moving, you were too tired. Too tired to even greet your mates at the door

Cassian’s heavy, booted footsteps come up the stairs first

Tears pricked your eyes from exhaustion and anxiety

Azriel silently pushed your bedroom door open, making his way over to your bed. “Hey princess, whats wrong?” You sniffle and start to cry harder into his chest

Without hesitating Az picked you up, rushing you to your shared bedroom. Rhys and Cass stop unpacking and move to comfort you

“My darling, why are you so upset?” You look up at the three of them with the saddest look on your face. Cassian wipes your tears with his thumbs giving you an equally sad look

You look back at Rhys tapping your temple for him to look at your memories. Rhys nods and you close your eyes

He shares your memories of the Spring meeting and your day yesterday. When it was over you opened your eyes to see Az and Cass fuming. Rhys was giving you a sympathetic look. “Darling, no. You do not listen to a word they say. You do not believe them. Everything they said was a lie, alright.” Rhys said firmly, cupping your face in his large hands

“You are our world, sweetheart. Don’t think for a second that you aren’t important.” Cassian stressed, kissing your forehead

The next few days are spent taking care of you and cheering you up

You read together, go out for meals, shopping for clothes books and anything else your heart desired or whatever the boys felt like spoiling you with. The boys even did the grocery shopping

They take turns holding you on their laps, keeping you tucked into their chest as they tell you stories from camp or when they first fell in love with you and other relationship stories

You have to admit, it was hilarious to imagine the people of Velaris staring as their High Lord, the General, and Spymaster food shop

Laughing about it did make you feel better

They spent the next few nights worshiping your body. Paying attention to every part of you that gets a reaction. Working you up to the most earth shattering orgasms you’ve ever had

By the end of the week you had put Tamlin and his court out of your mind, feeling overjoyed at the amount of love your mates show you

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #bat boys acotar #bat boys x reader #bat boys #bat boys x you #poly!batboys #poly!batboys x reader #poly!batboys x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand headcanon #azriel headcanons #Cassian x you #Cassian x reader #Cassian headcanon #Cassian acotar

[maybankswhore]

Hi, could you possibly write a fic about rafe/jj looking after the reader when they’re on their period? I’m on my period rn and I’m cramping so bad 😭😭

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

pairing(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you get your period and jj makes it his mission to make it as easy as possible.

You’re biggest pet peeve was being on your period. For some reason , you’d always get the worst of it. Especially the first two days.

You bled the heaviest , cramped the hardest. The whole day was just absolutely exhausting and no matter how much pain medication you took , you’d almost always end up free bleeding on the toilet for hours at a time hoping to pass the time.

Starting your period the morning you and the rest of the Pogue’s were supposed to go out surfing made your mood even worse. You had gotten a new swim suit for the day and everthing and now you had to cancel. You had texted Kiara telling her to let John B and Pope know you weren’t coming , her obviously understanding the situation. You also knew JJ would be disappointed because he wanted to start helping you learn how to surf— beings that all you did on surfing days was tan because you didn’t know how.

Finding a comfortable position in your bed , you pulled out your phone and pressed JJ’s contact. It didn’t take more than two or three rings for him to answer. “Hi , baby! Sorry I’m running late. Pope was being a shit head and wouldn’t leave work.”

You smiled lightly at Pope’s disagreement in the background.

“No , J that’s okay. I’m not feeling too good today so I’m gonna stay home.”

“Not feeling good? Are you okay? You sick? Want me to come over and bring you to the doctor?” You could hear the concern in his voice , picturing him furrowing his eyebrows at you. It made you grin a bit , hearing him so worried about you.

“I’m not sick. I started my period and you know how that goes. I’m grouchy and sad.”

“Okay so I don’t need to bring you to the doctor but I’m still coming over.”

You rolled your eyes. “JJ! You’ve been so excited to get the Pogue’s together for this. Don’t skip out just ’cus of me. I’ll be fine , I deal with it every month.”

“Sure but we can get together some other day. I’ll see you soon , baby!” He said , hanging up the phone before you even had time to open your mouth and argue.

You sighed and put your phone down , snuggling up into your comforter.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until you were woken up by JJ knocking on your bedroom door , lightly saying your name. Stirring , you groaned when the pain almost immediately hit you— feeling swollen and achey.

“Sorry to wake you.” JJ frowned at himself , placing the plastic bag down on your nightstand and immediately attaching himself to your side. He knelt on the side of the bed you were on , brushing hair away from your face. He sighed at your pale complexion and tired eyes , obviously seeing the affects it was having on you. It came every month and JJ knew it was normal , it still didn’t stop him from feeling bad and worrying about you each time. “Wanna take a bath? I’ll make it extra hot.”

You grabbed his hand that was now cupping your cheek and kissed the palm tiredly , nodding. “Thanks , J.”

He was always so catering to you , on the whim , on his knees at your beck an call. It didn’t matter how much you would stomp your feet and demand him to go about worry about something else— JJ was always all about you , all of the time. And the week of your period he was extra caring and compassionate towards you. Whether he’d simply watch a sad movie with you so you could cry and let all of your emotions out , or watch a show that’d get you all riled up and heated ( secretly giggling at your angry face ) , he did it all and you appreciated it with your whole heart.

JJ pressed a soft kiss to your head as he went to run the water for you as you managed to stand yourself up and find some fresh comfortable clothes to change into , hoping to ease some of that ickness you felt.

As you went into the bathroom , JJ was sitting on the toilet seat waiting for you. His hand checking the water every couple seconds to make sure it was just right. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “I got some pads from the store. Figured you can wear them at home. I heard tampons could give you like. . . electric shock or something if you use ’em too long so I don’t want you risking it.” He proposed , motioning towards the box on the counter.

You giggled as you undressed , feeling comfortable to take your time and not rush , knowing that right now— JJ found you beautiful and all , even if you felt like you were the most bloated and disgusting creature. The look in his eyes said it all.

Sighing contently as you sinked into the bath , your eyes fluttered closed allowing the warmth to soothe your achey muscles. “You know it isn’t electric shock and that only happens if you wear it too long.” You hummed , peeking at JJ through slotted eyes.

“What happens if you fall asleep with it? Or you forget about it?” JJ listed off. “I think you should just wear those when we go to John B’s or something.”

You rolled your eyes at his over protectiveness , but you secretly loved it. Your left hand reached out to his that rested on his leg and held it tightly , rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Thanks for coming over. I know you were really looking forward to going surfing with everyone.”

JJ smiled at you sweetly , lifting your hand up to kiss your palm. “You’re more important.”

Lulling your head to the side , you just stared at him as he patiently waited for you. You couldn’t believe how lucky you got to have someone like JJ. He was always so caring and compassionate , giving you anything you ever needed. He supported you , encouraged you to do the things you loved and to take chances you normally wouldn’t. He’d sit on a ceramic toilet for days on end if it meant he got to spend time with you. “I really , really love you.”

“I really , really love you , my sweet girl. Once you’re finished we can go back and lay down. I have all of your favorite things and Kiara had some medicine she gave me to give to you.”

“We’re watching Taylor’s documentary on Netflix!” You clapped , rushing to bathe yourself now , excited to munch on all your favorite snacks.

JJ groaned. “That’s the third time this week.”

“Okay? Third time’s a charm!”

#jj maybank #jj obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks headcanons #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj x y/n #jj maybank x y/n

[greymoonfeelings]

Getting Sick (of You)

whumpuary: #7 alt 5: fever

and the suggested prompt “Well, I am pretty irresistible”

summary: Jake gets the “man flu” and insists on taking you down with him

word count: 1k

•••

“Jake, you need to stay home.”

You look at your fiancé, concerned as he coughs for what seems like the hundredth time that morning.

“I can’t. I have training today.”

“You can’t train if you’re sick,” you reason.

“Sure I can, it’s just the sniffles.”

“You’ve blown your nose more times than I can count and you just had a coughing fit from walking up the stairs.”

“I’m fine, darlin’. I can handle it, but it’s cute that you’re worried.” Jake leans in for a kiss but you push him away.

“Sorry mister, but you’re not coming anywhere near me with those germs.”

“It’s nothing! Allergies at most!”

“It's not allergy season, Jake and I know for a fact that if you get anyone else in your squad sick they’re going to kill you.”

“I can’t miss today. I want to be the mission leader.”

“You’re almost always mission leader, I think you can afford to miss out just once. You won’t even be allowed to fly if you can’t pass the check-up and right now you’ve got the lungs of a 70-year-old smoker.”

Jake resigns to your orders, calls his base, and then heads back to bed. You tuck him in like a child, kissing your fingers and pressing them to his warm forehead.

While he sleeps you clean every surface of your shared home and cook some simple chicken noodle soup.

---

An hour later, you hear Jake call your name from the bedroom.

“What is it?” You peek your head through the door, noticing Jake’s disposition seems to have gotten worse. There’s a pile of tissues in the trash bin and the box looks close to being empty.

“My throat hurts,” he croaks.

“Aww, my poor baby.” You playfully pout. “I’ll be right back.”

You return to the room with a tray in your hands balancing the soup and a bottle of medicine. You place it across his lap as he adjusts himself to sit up against the headboard, securing a plush blanket around his shoulders.

“Take some of this.” You pour out a tablespoon of purple medicine and bring it to his lips.

He makes a sour face as he swallows. “Grape is the worst.”

You roll your eyes at his antics. “Eat your soup, it’ll get rid of the grape flavor and help your throat.”

Jake diligently eats all of the comfort meal, grateful for the way the warm broth eases his sore throat.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Will you lay with me?”

“I can’t get sick, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Please, sugar? Just for a little bit? I’m so cold.” He pleads, putting on a show by shivering under the blanket.

It’s hard to say no when he looks so miserable. His big hazel eyes stare up at you, filled with hope and his blanket is wrapped around his head making him look so innocent.

“How could I say no to you, baby.” You caress his warm cheek and press a kiss to his lips.

You move around to your side of the bed, laying down against your own pillows. Jake gets comfortable against your chest, burrowing the side of his face into your soft breasts.

You turn on the television, letting the old reruns of Golden Girls be your entertainment as your hand runs through Jake’s messy hair. Soon, the two of you are peacefully falling asleep.

---

You wake up to the harsh morning sun flooding your bedroom. You desperately search the nightstand for your water bottle. Your throat is dry and sore but no matter how much you drink, the feeling doesn’t go away. You glare at the man snoring loudly beside you, knocked out from all the cold medicine.

Getting up from your bed, you shut the curtains and rummage through your bathroom in search of some medicine for your headache. Before you can make it back to your bed, your vision goes black.

You come to with a very nervous Jake in your line of vision. He’s got you pulled against his chest, desperately calling your name as he dabs a cold cloth against your cheeks.

“Jesus, angel, you scared me.” You can tell from his voice that he’s still congested and lacking energy.

“What happened?”

“I heard you hit the floor. You passed out.” Your fiancé helps you to sit up slowly.

“You got me sick,” you scowl.

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Jake holds the back of his hand up to your head and feels it flaming hot. “Let’s get back in bed.”

Normally, Jake would carry you but his body aches, and overworking it will likely send him into another coughing fit. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you back to the plush king-sized bed.

---

Jake calls Phoenix and for the next few days, she looks after the two of you. She goes a bit overboard, dressing in a hazmat suit and spraying Lysol everywhere, but she was not about to get sick because of Jake.

By the end of your colds, she’s fed up with her coworker’s constant complaining.

“I can’t believe Hangman has a girlfriend and I still end up being his mother.” Phoenix groans as she brings in another jello for “Princess Jake” as she had started calling him.

“It is all Jake’s fault. His stupid pretty face looked all pathetic and I just had to give him a kiss.“

“Well, I am pretty irresistible.”

“It’s those damn puppy dog eyes.” You shake your head at him threateningly. “Now stop stealing all the blankets.”

“Get your own,” he whines.

“Those are mine!”

Jake pokes his head out from under the covers, looking at the plush fabric he’s currently cocooned in. The side of the sherpa blanket facing outwards is covered in pictures of Jake’s face, one of the presents he got you for Christmas the past year.

“Sorry.” Your fiancé smiles at you sheepishly before rolling closer to you, effectively undoing the tightly wrapped blankets. “C’mere, sugar.” He gathers you in his arms and wraps the blankets around both of you.

You snuggle against his bare chest, reveling in the warmth radiating from his body.

“You guys make me want to vomit.” Natasha gags before she turns and leaves the room.

#heather writes #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #whumpuary2023 #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you know any fics similar to The Mating Privilege or I Don’t Like the Way She’s Looking at You? Just some stories where Derek isn’t the *best* mate/bf/husband etc or they have to pretend to not be together and ends up with stiles feeling neglected or ignored.

I’ve also read “how I long for yesterday” and “worth it” for those that want something similar but not quite what I’m looking for!

First of all. "How I Long for Yesterday" is my fic. So this made my day.

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss

(1/1 I 6,017 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won’t fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead. He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words ‘Derek blew me off for Isaac’ over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

Worth It by dragneels

(1/1 I 1,670 I General I Sterek)

He hadn’t thought even for a second, instincts roaring, and jumped in front of Derek, taking the blow. And then he got lost in the darkness. also known as the "stiles telling derek that he's worth everything" fic no one asked for

***

As the seconds tick by by Halevetica

(1/1 I 3,972 I Not Rated)

When Derek picks up a new contract, he starts showing up late and missing important dates making Stiles feel unimportant. Derek is sure the contract is worth it, but Stiles doesn't understand why.

I'm Torn Do I Stay Do I Go by Adaline_Stilinski

(2/2 I 6,963 I General)

Derek had been focusing on making alliances with other packs around Beacon Hills to protect his pack but in doing so he started to neglect Stiles and there relationship. Stiles get's sick of it and decided to leave for some time apart is it going to help be like the stories Stiles reads and write about how distance makes love grow or will they both realise that there better apart. Will tragedy bring them together

Aberration by JackalPinesOfHouseEvergreen

(11/? I 29,415 I Teen)

Derek is a hot-shot lawyer who is very focused on his work. Stiles is his loving husband who does his best to fit into Derek's high-class family. He's hit some major roadblocks though. He feels neglected and unloved, and worse when Derek ditches him at his own family's parties which leave him humiliated as he tries to appear like their marriage isn't failing.

As an old member comes during some important werewolf ceremony to stir the pot, Derek's relationship with his family and Stiles is tested more than ever. Derek's world has been rocked and turned upside down.

And Stiles? Stiles is trying to find out who he is in the absence of the one he loves. As much as he believes in Derek and in their relationship, Stiles needs to find his self-worth that got lost along the way. Remember the fire he had inside of him as he got in the face of those that looked down at him, the fierceness of his intelligence that made others fear and respect him. Remember how fun life was...

Derek and Stiles drift a bit as Derek realizes he has to woo Stiles again, because he will not risk losing the love of his life. Not again.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc

(12/12 I 35,380 I Mature)

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Til We Ain't Strangers Anymore by WriteByNight

(7/7 I 35,994 I Explicit)

Stiles should've expected Derek to suddenly disappear since the werewolf was in the habit of taking off without notice. However, Derek always showed up when they needed him.

As the weeks pass by, Stiles is no longer confused and a little hurt. What started as heartache begins to get worse the longer Stiles goes without seeing Derek. Eventually, his body begins to shut down and his only hope seems to be Derek...but nobody can find him.

There's no cure for a broken heart. Except, maybe, the cause for the broken heart himself.

- - -

Or the one where Derek takes off without warning and Stiles finds out he could be Derek's mate and the distance between Derek and Stiles, along with Derek's refusal to develop the bond, is slowly killing Stiles. Without Derek, Stiles will die, but no one knows where he is or how to contact him. And Stiles is barely keeping it together.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #failwolf #mates #anon #angst

[lou-struck]

Dream Eaters Part 1

Obey Me! x MC!

Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan

Part 2

Part 3

~ How they react to a lower-level Demon giving Mc nightmares intentionally.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, and nightmares. Nothing too visually graphic.

Lucifer~

As soon as your screams of terror reached his ears Lucifer sprang from his desk and ran down the hallway with unholy speed. Fearing you're in danger he breaks down the sturdy door to your bedroom. Instead of seeing an intruder, he sees your trembling form curled up on the mattress as your chest heaves in exhaustion.

“MC?” he says softly approaching your like he would a wounded animal. Once he is right in front of you, you blink as if just noticing he is in the room with you. Tears pool in your eyes as he lifts you carefully in his arms and you cling to him tightly. And carrying you back to his bedroom. Where he gently placed you on the bed and looked you over.

“Are you unharmed?” he asks as you nod, voice too horse to speak from all the screaming.

“Was it a nightmare?” another nod.

“You’ll be staying with me tonight, please try and go back to sleep he says gently kissing your forehead. He moves to turn off the light but you grab his wrist.

“I’ll keep this one on,” he says softly pulling you to his chest hoping that you’ll sleep through the night.

~

The next morning as your body rests he gently grabs your wrist to place a kiss to your hand only to see a faint outline around your wrist. It is more than a stay mark from a pen or a bit of dirt, it has a sinister aroma that makes him sick. It belongs to a lesser demon.

Wanting to get to the bottom of why some other demon has marked you with its energy he cleanses it with his magic engraving the scent to his memory when he does his rounds at RAD.

Excusing himself from his Student Council duties he follows the scent to the men’s restroom lingering just outside the door to hear the conversation a boastful demon is having with its companions.

“That Human exchange student is delicious. How could Lord Diavolo bring something as sweet as them down here and not expect us to go wild.” The biggest one says licking its chops. “Humans are so vulnerable to dream feeding all I needed to do was mark em up and I score.”

“So that’s what happened?” Lucifer says coldly, stepping into the bathroom. The demons shudder at the intensity of his rage and drop to their knees in blubbering forgiveness. Their pleas fall on deaf ears as Lucifer sentences them to punishments far worse than what he does to his brothers. No number of insecure apologies will make up for the look of fear you had in your eyes.

By the time Lucifer sits down for dinner, there is blood on his shirt collar, but no one pays it any mind.

Mammon~

There are nights one Mammon’s sin gets the best of him and he becomes way too greedy for your proximity. His feet carry him to your doorway on his own. Of course you know of this little habit of his and keep your door unlocked for him in case he wants to come by and stay the night with you.

Settling into the sheets he hold you close to him and is finally able to shut his eyes after a hard day.

Suddenly he is awoken by the harsh thrashing of your limbs as you seem to be clawing away at something that isn’t there. Your breath comes out in ragged gasps as he tries to shake you awake as gently as he can. 

It isn’t till he sees the tears streaming down your face that he tries a bit more aggressively finally pulling you from whatever nightmare that had consumed you that night. 

“Mc, it’s just me, the Great Mammon. I’m here for yeh, Was just a bad dream.” 

When you look up at him and begin to relax his heart flutters a bit but he continues to hold you, rocking you back and forth until you’re able to get yourself back to sleep.

But it doesn’t stop.

You wake up three more times that night and Mammon knows enough about dream-eaters to know that this is most likely intentional.

Mammon knows just how easy it is to get Demons to turn on eachother for a little grimm so he does just that. Through a series of bribes and a few death threats he is able to corner the Demon who has been feeding on his Human. 

Once he finds them he shows the miserable creature exactly why he is the second strongest avatar of Sin.

Leviathan ~

As a night owl himself he didnt think that you staying up all night in his room was anything out of the ordinary. But when he noticed that even after he turned off his game to try and get some sleep you still played through the night clutching the controller with a death grip as your eyes blink to stay awake.

Your eyes while beautiful look fearfully exhausted, almost as if you haven't slept in days. His concern for you overpowers his incecurty to ask as he takes the controlled from your hand to ask why you haven't gone to sleep yet.

When you explain to him that you are afraid to go to sleep because of persisting nightmare that play behind your eyes his heart sinks. In the old day lesser demons called dream eaters would plague others with fearful nightmares as a form of torture. and the fact that it is happening to you makes him sick.

You're his Henry, the one person who understands him and doesn't judge him for being an Otaku. His blood runs cold as he helps keep you up through the night so you dont have to deal with the nightmares. As you mindlessly mash buttons he searches through his computer for any information on dream eaters and how to track them.

Hacking into the RAD student directory isn't hard either, he is able to locate possible suspects who have the ability that has caused you so much pain. He looks at each profile till one in particular stands out. Without a doubt he is the demon who is feeding off of your nightmares. The next morning Levi actually gets dressed to go to RAD to find this troublesome Lesser Demon and give you a much deserved good nights sleep.

Let's just say Henry 1.0 got a tasty snack down in the catacombs after Levi was through with him.

#obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me x mc #om! x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #omswd #obey me levi hc #omswd headcanons #om! mammon #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #levi x mc #lucifer fluff #lucifer x reader #leviathan x reader #levi x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan fluff #levi fluff