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jinnie-ret · 6 months

Text

cigarette duet

poly!stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: smoking, mentions of rehab, mentions of recovery

word count: 3k

summary: you get hounded by your boyfriends after they catch you smoking. how will they react when you disappear and go off the radar?

requested: @ihrtlix

It has been a while since I've written! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get around to the requests for this event but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Hope you enjoy! Please don't take offense to any opinions presented in this imagine. Enjoy! And if you want to be tagged in anything I write please lemme know! <3

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Perhaps you had smoked one too many cigarettes last night. Waking up the next morning after battling your stresses with the addictive feed of nicotine, your throat felt dry, hoarse, scratchy even.

"Baby, are you sure you're not sick?" Felix fussed, placing his hand delicately on your forehead to gain an idea of your temperature. "I mean, you don't feel hot, but maybe you're coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, love, just need some water," you kiss his hand that was pulling away from your face, offering a reassuring smile after clearing your throat.

And in your mind, that was enough. You didn't notice the little things that your boyfriends did however.

"Binnie, what are you doing? You look like a perv haha," Hyunjin giggled at the sight of Changbin rummaging through the laundry basket and sniffing your hoodie.

"Ssshhh, keep it down. And plus, it's not being pervy, people in relationships do it all the time. It's comforting smelling each other's clothing," Changbin righteously pointed out to his boyfriend, puffing his chest before adding, "well, normally it is..." he sighed.

"Woah that's mean, you can't say our girlfriend smells," Hyunjin pushed Changbin's shoulder, laughing again but with wide eyes this time round.

"No, no, you've got the wrong idea anyways. I think... I think Y/N's been smoking. I can smell it on her hoodie," Changbin sighed, tossing the white hoodie of yours back into the washing basket that was full to the brim. He was about to continue his spiel of conspiracies until he jumped when your arms wrapped around behind him.

"Aw, babe, are you doing the washing? Thank god for that, I was worried it would never get done," you squeezed him tightly once more before kissing him on the cheek and continuing your venture into the kitchen, Felix trailing behind you.

"I think she's getting sick, I'm gonna see if we have any meds in the cupboard, or some throat sweets at least," Felix pouted as he walked past his two boyfriends, Hyunjin ruffling his hair on the way.

Changbin threw a meaningful look at Hyunjin, alarms going off in his head because it only added more fuel to the blazing fire of thoughts in his head.

"Look, we don't know that she is smoking for sure. Maybe she's just been around some friends that are?" Hyunjin whispers hurriedly, yet this caught Seungmin's attention, and his ears too.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Seungmin casually stood between the two, grabbing laundry detergent and capsules from the cupboard to act natural yet because practical at the same time.

"I'll explain later, to all of you. I'm just a bit concerned," Changbin sighed, rubbing his hand across his face before actually making a start on the chore at hand.

It was an escape for you, much like it was for other people who smoked cigarettes. And plus, you hadn't been doing it for long. You thought what could the harm be when you didn't do it a lot? Plus, it was handy that none of your boyfriends batted an eyelid in the studio when you said you wanted to go outside for some air. In fact, it gave the opportunity for Changbin to lay out his thoughts to the rest of your boyfriends who hadn't yet heard his observations.

"Y/N... I don't think she'd do that, I can't picture it," Jeongin shook his head, shaking his hands in confusion because the picture being painted in front of them seemed very unlikely and it wasn't a nice one to think of.

"And she knows it's too risky. First of all we're idols. I hate to say it but we have to think about that first in situations like these. Even when we're drinking we've got to be careful. If you're right about this, Binnie, then..." Chan groaned, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

"But she did just go out 'for some air'," Han added on, brows furrowed as he thought what Changbin was saying was quite plausible.

"Ok. We'll go check then," Minho shrugged as he stood.

"What?" Felix too stood up.

"We can't sit here and keep worrying. Let's go check and see for ourselves. If we're wrong... And I hope we are... Then it's fine," Minho grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, scanning around the room for his boyfriends' reactions.

"And if we're not wrong, then what?" Hyunjin voiced his concerns.

"Let's just hope we're not," Chan was first to walk out the door, the rest of Stray Kids following along after him like ducklings and their mother. Apart from this time it wasn't the cute, adorable scene you'd hope for, especially because they could smell the smoke and see your lax figure as soon as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

"No. Y/N you've got to be kidding me!" Chan snatched the cigarette out of your hand and immediately stomped it out.

"Chan I-" you fumbled on your words, eyes wide as you had all eight of your lovers stood in front of you. And the way they looked at you made you stomach twist into knots you were sure you'd never felt.

Disappointment. Anger. Concern. Indifference.

"Let's talk about this inside," Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he spoke quietly to you.

Your heart was racing faster. They were going to think the worst. But you had a way out of this. It wasn't even that bad. Sure, over the past month maybe you'd have been spending more money on packs of cigarettes, yet on the inside you felt as if there were worse things you could be doing to yourself.

"Sit," Minho bluntly said, face unreadable, tone void of emotion.

And so you did.

"We'll just have a conversation about this, nice and calm, ok?" Felix nudged Chan in particular with his leg.

It seemed however that it wasn't a conversation, but more of an intervention. A heated one, at that.

"I can't be nice and calm, Lix! Our girlfriend is destroying her body, and for what?" Chan's voice rose ever so slightly, hands squeezing the arms of the chair he was tensely sat in.

"It's just a cigarette," you feebly replied. That backbone of yours was slowly wearing away the more and more anger you felt radiating off of your partners.

"Don't be ridiculous," Seungmin scoffed, "think of the damage it's doing. Think about your career."

"It's more than just the odd cigarette, right?" Changbin prodded, wanting answers to the millions of questions he had. After all, he was the first one to notice how you gradually stopped voicing your concerns to him but still sometimes had the habits that showed your anxiety.

"Well, yes, but-" you began but were cut off.

"No buts. That's... It's, you're hurting yourself, hurting your lungs. Why are you doing this, baby?" Jeongin took your hand in his, concern not the only thing glistening in his eyes, which broke your heart.

"It's just a nice distraction, that's all. It won't go on forever, I'll just stop when I want to," you shrug your shoulders, squeezing his hand to show you meant what you said.

"It's not that easy. Nicotine. It's addictive. You think you can just stop like that?" Hyunjin frowned, shaking his head.

"I know I can," you firmly said, urging them with your voice to trust you.

"I don't know what planet you're living on," Chan shook his head.

"Channie..." Felix bit his lip, feeling torn. On one hand he didn't want your boyfriend to be so tough with you, but he also disagreed with the choices you made, the ones you were making.

"No I'm sorry but Y/N, babe, you've made one of the stupidest choices you could make! Seungminnie is right, Jeongin too. It's damaging for your body, let alone your career. You keep this up, you're not going to be able to sing as well as before. And then it'll get to the point where you can't breathe as well anymore," Chan ranted, fiddling with the bracelets adorning his wrist as he didn't take his eyes away from yours, not once.

"I just told you it's not going to go that far!" your face contorted to one of disbelief.

"That's out of your control," Minho sternly redirected your attention to him.

"Wow. It's like you don't even trust me. I'm not some kid. I can make my own decisions. So what if I'm doing this for a little bit of stress relief? For a bit of fun. It helps me," your voice almost turns to pleading, wanting them to hear you out, hear your reasoning.

"It hurts you, baby. And when it hurts you, it hurts us as well," Han bit his lip after shakily speaking up. He didn't like this situation, not one bit.

"I'm not doing it to hurt you. I'd never do that," your voice wobbled, throat feeling as if it was closing up from the sob that was lodged down there.

"Too late. I mean just look," Chan emptied your handbag, empty packets of cigarettes and some not, falling out onto the floor of the studio.

"Y/N, that's a lot," Hyunjin gasped, clutching a hand on his chest.

"It's not. It's not that bad..." you denied as you knelt on the floor and tidied up the mess.

"You're in complete denial," Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! I'm well aware of my actions thank you very much!" you shouted suddenly, causing everyone to freeze at the volume you had just reached.

The guilt set in. It was never meant to go this far. It was just meant to be for stress relief. Something to distract you from the aches and pains, physical and mental. It wasn't long until you'd be performing a special fanmeeting and relearning old choreographies and a cover had you feeling like you were being worked down to the bone. Even iconic dances like God's Menu were hard to remember, and you felt like you had no chance. No choice. It was like it fell into your lap so easily.

The first time you had stood outside to catch some air, it was for that genuine reason. And you weren't alone. You didn't know if the person worked at your company, if you knew them, whatever. But their hand offering you something that could bring you temporary bliss was a solution you were grateful for. Only now, you were seeing that it was short term.

"You need help. Seriously..." Chan spat, grabbing his backpack and storming out of the studio.

"Find a way to end this, Y/Nnie," Felix mumbled, stroking your hair gently before following Chan out with a rush.

"You're all just going to go?" your voice cracked. Were they leaving you now?

"We just need some time," Changbin sighed. And then he was gone too.

"You're leaving me?" you sniffled, standing up to face your boyfriends that were still in the room.

"Not like that, baby. We're just giving you time to think about how you can stop this, ok?" Han stroked your face as he made sure you knew this wasn't the end. And then he left too, Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin leaving too.

All alone. Perhaps it was what you deserved. You relied on the cigarettes more than your boyfriends. And they were all you had left for the moment. That was when it sank in. You had to make a change. You had to stop this habit form taking over your life, from pushing away the people you love most, and from taking your life away.

•••

"She's sorting herself out at least... that's got to be commendable."

"I guess so. Let's just hope it doesn't get out that a JYP idol is at rehab for smoking."

"It won't. And she's doing well from what I've heard..."

This was the only time Han was grateful for the staff gossiping. Immediately, he felt calmer. Considering the boys had spent the last few days blowing up your phone and worrying where you went, it was an oddly relieving feeling hearing you were at rehab. They had tried asking JYP himself, asking the manager of the company where you were but all they said was that you were safe.

"I know where she is!" Han bursted through the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him as he panted out of breath.

"Woah, woah, ok, deep breaths, let's sit down," Chan, with the darkest circles around his eyes yet, gently sat Han down on the sofa. He felt awful. He thought he had driven you away from them all. From the group. From the relationship. And that had been eating him up inside. It was a wonder he could act so calm with the news of you going into rehab.

"Rehab? For smoking? I didn't even know that was a thing," Seungmin hummed in thought, his arms crossed.

"I didn't either, but I overheard the staff. They say she's doing well. It's a good thing, right?" Han's eyes stared through the souls of everyone gathered in the lounge, begging for some sort of confirmation that things would get better.

"I mean, at least we're a bit more in the know then our own fans about why our girlfriend is on hiatus," Changbin brushed his fluffy, dark hair out of his eye.

"Can't we go and see her?" Felix wondered, lifting his head up from where it rested on Minho's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," Minho quietly sighed.

"Why not?" Jeongin quickly turned to him, mouth parted in shock that he didn't want to see Y/N.

"No, he's right. She's gone there for a reason. To get better. It's what we all said to her, isn't it? We'll see her soon. And when we do... It'll all be better," Chan helped everyone see sense. He was right. You had listened to them. You went and got help and were solving the problem. If they suddenly ambushed you and got in the way of that... You'd be back to square one.

•••

Today was the day, you were finally going back to the boys. You spent a good 3 weeks at rehab, and had been advised on some good coping mechanisms to take your mind off of smoking and how to create some healthier habits. You had shown good progress and it was deemed acceptable for you to leave and spend time back with your loved ones. And you couldn't lie, you were incredibly nervous. You had dropped a text without reading the spam that littered the groupchat, notifying your boyfriends what time you'd be returning, but after that you once again did not read anything else that was sent.

"Oh my baby, I've missed you so much," Han was the first one at the door, pressing kisses all over your face as he took you into his arms, holding you lightly.

"I've missed you too," you cried immediately, despite the weight off your shoulders.

"You're good now, right, darling?" Seungmin softly tugged you away from Han, both of his hands cupping your face whilst his thumbs wiped away your tears.

"I'm better," you nod through tears, Seungmin pressing a kiss to your head and giving space for your other boyfriends to soothe you and reunite with you. It had only been three weeks, yes, but 21 days had never felt so long.

"I'm proud of you, come here," Changbin scooped you into his arms and lifted you slightly, making you giggle before your feet touched the ground once more.

"Thank you... I'm sorry. I didn't realise what I had done... How far it went, you know?" you began, looking down at the floor as Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his long arms securing you to him.

"We're just happy to see you here, honey, healthier," he whispered into your ear soothingly.

"And please talk to us in future. We had time to think after that, moment, and we know you were doing it as an escape. But we're here for you," Jeongin pecked you on the lips, your heads pressed against each other for a moment before he too moved away.

"Always, we're always here," Felix reiterated what Jeongin preached, and kisses you as well, noses rubbing against each other as he moved away, a cute expression on his face.

"Come here," Minho opened his arms, and you reluctantly left Hyunjin's arms only to be happy again in the warmth of your other boyfriend's embrace.

"Thank you for waiting, all of you," you swayed with him in his hug, until you pulled away and it was only Chan left.

He stood a few metres away, back to you, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Channie... babe," you sighed, tugging his hand to turn him and face you. His words had hurt you the most but it was also a huge wake up call. "Please, look at me, I'm not mad. I'm so grateful."

"I was too harsh with you," he bit his lip, hard, not wanting to let any tears escape.

"I needed it. Look at me now, I'm here, I'm better, and I've got habits I can stick to instead. Ones that won't hurt me. And they won't hurt you guys either," you looked up at him, one hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his face.

"I'm so glad you're back... We were worried... Lost without you," Chan admitted, staring up at the ceiling before kissing you deeply, expressing all the emotions he had held back whilst you were gone.

"It's all good now. Plus, you should all be proud of me-"

"We are proud of you, baby," Jeongin cut you off stroking your hair.

"Well, be even prouder because I know how to bake an amazing carrot cake if I say so myself," you laughed, sharing a new skill that had occupied your stress and been taught whilst you were away.

"You can bake with me now! Oh my gosh! It's a miracle!" Felix cheered, tugging you into the kitchen as the other boys chuckled from behind you both.

"I didn't think you meant this very second!"

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tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kailee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

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luveline · 1 year

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I love bombshell!reader omg they’re so cutie. Im in an angst mood so imagine reader finally being hit emotionally hard on a case and asking spencer to stay with her in the hotel?? The rest of the team tries so hard to help but only Spencer can help her omg 🥹

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Morgan has an arm around you. It's the first thing Spencer notices, and he thinks, Thank fuck. Thank fuck someone's holding you together. And then he thinks, Maybe I should be that someone.

He's never seen you shaking that hard. Your usual easy air, not unlike Penelope's, has shrunk to nought. There's no flirty smile sent his way as he approaches, no dramatic throw of Moran's arm. I'd never cheat on my baby, you'd say, though you and Spencer aren't really dating.

"You okay?" he asks.

Spencer feels powerless in the face of your despair. You're obviously not fine. Kids always hit you the worst, and so many? Your reaction is warranted if uncharacteristic.

You don't answer him. Morgan squeezes your arm and stands with a kiss to the top of your head. "I'll leave you in the best hands," he says in way of farewell.

Spencer sits in the space Morgan vacates, hand behind your shoulder, his fingers curling between your side and your upper arm. You've had blood wiped out of your eyes haphazard, crusting of crimson on your lashes like a morbid mascara. He feels like crying for you.

"Hey," he says, giving your back a slow, heavy handed rub, "Sorry I wasn't here."

"That's okay." Your voice is all shudders like a trapped moth. "I'm okay."

He steers your face to his with a cautious hand to look at you properly. With want of a better method, he takes your untouched water bottle and holds it to his sleeve, pulling it over his fingers while the fabric is still saturated to wipe away the missed blood.

You follow his touch, eyes closing with a quick, pained sigh. Like he's pricked you with a knifepoint.

"I know you think you have to be perfect," Spencer says, sleeve turning a dirty orange, "but this is enough to affect anybody."

"I am perfect," you say quietly. It falls flat.

Spencer cups both sides of your face. Your eyes flutter open at the feeling. "You're perfect. And a perfect person would handle this badly."

His hands look rigid compared to the soft slopes of your cheeks, but they're gentle.

Tears like silver line your eyes. You wear grief like everything else until suddenly you don't, a crack, a sniffle and you're turning your face into one of his hands desperately. Spencer knows what you need before you're moving, pulling you into his chest with a hand braced behind your neck.

"It's okay," he says, hoping that if he says it with enough conviction it'll be true. "It's not your fault. There was nothing else we could do."

You shake your head from side to side against his shoulder. "I should've been quicker. I knew what was going to happen, I knew. And I couldn't do anything about it, I couldn't–" Your sob is pulled from you on a hook, hard and sudden enough to end in a wheeze.

Spencer doesn't know what else to do but hug you and hope it calms you down. He's not used to being the most composed of the two of you, a disconnect between the salacious woman who hounds him relentlessly and the one who's falling apart in the circle of his arms.

You shake. Spencer rubs your back, shielding you from the cold weather until Hotch shouts for the BAU to fall in and get ready to leave.

"Will you stay with me?" you ask, pulling away from his chest reluctantly. "I don't want to be alone. The hotel's too…"

Spencer frowns, eyes closed, his face crushed to the side of your head. "Of course I will."

He knows what you were going to say. It's too quiet after all of tonight's noise. And alone, blaming yourself, he knows you'll scare yourself. Tear yourself to pieces. So Spencer sticks to you like glue from the SUV to the hotel to the jet the next morning. He'd do anything you asked him to do no matter how hard.

When you're ready, you'll fall back into your flirtatious routines. For now, Spencer takes your twitching hands under the table and holds them.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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huramuna · 9 months

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stoatfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in.

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head.

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold.

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a stoat, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him.

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be.

And so it shall be.

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children.

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was.

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late.

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice.

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet.

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you.

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot.

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.”

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.”

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders.

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him.

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there.

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him.

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head.

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it.

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–”

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough.

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing

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soap-ify · 9 months

Text

nsfw , minors dni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon riley x reader | a series.

MASTERLIST — ao3

synopsis — sweet things like you aren't meant for dirty dogs like him. simon always knew that, yet he still indulged.

tags / cw — smut 18+, angst, unrequited feelings (or is it?), situationship at first, simon is a bit of an asshole (a bit more than 'a bit'), reader has bad anxiety, simon's mental state (i think it should be in the tags), hurt/no comfort, the comfort will come slowly, graphic violence, mentions of simon's past . . more tags will be added as the fic progresses.

☆ reader written with afab anatomy but gender neutral terms. also there won't be any taglists since i don't do taglists!

CHAPS.

01 — or you're a dog and i'm your man. (20.12)

02 — you believe me like a god, i destroy you like i am. (23.12)

03 — i'm sorry i'm the one you love. (04.01)

04 — so when you leave me, i should die. (22.01)

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds. (21.02)

06 — you believe me like a god, i betray you likea man.

(more will be added)

EXTRA.

panties shopping with simon.

#soap-ify navigation #soap-ify masterlist #yaaiad : masterlist #ghost x reader

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catsteeth · 5 months

Text

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 8 ✿:+ Moon Door.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-_-9

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage,

A/N: This is so late I'm so sorry yall- I was sick :-(

Word Count: 3398

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

You sat in a carriage as it rocked back and forth. You couldn’t help thinking of the first time you rode to Kings Landing with your father. And now you are going home. looked in front of you and saw the face of Petyr Baelish. That same twisted smirk he always had.

You turned your face away from him quickly. You tried to lift the blind from the window of the carriage but Petyr stopped you,

“Best you don’t, my Dear.” He said, his hand on yours, “If someone would see you they would turn you into the Lannisters.” You didn’t know which was worse, Lannisters or what scraps were left of your family in the Eyrie.

You pulled your hand away from his, “The knights and guards of the Vale will know me.” You huffed.

“That may well be true, but that is why they have sworn themselves to our house.” You held back a disgusted frown at him, referring to your house as ‘Our House’, “They are sworn to keep you safe, even if that means to lie. To say they’ve no idea where you are.”

“Does Lyssa know I am coming.” You asked as you looked down at your hands in your lap, you picked at the skin around your nails.

“She knows I went looking for you, she knows I would only return with you.” He grabbed hold of your hand. His consistent advances made you feel sick, but also, think of Sandor. Like what he’d have done if he saw this. “I would not have ceased my search for you til I found you.”

“And how does she feel about that?” You asked, ignoring his advances.

“Should she not feel happy? Contented her husband wishes to see her own flesh and blood safe?” He said with a smirk

“You see a particular side of Lyssa.” You said as you repositioned yourself uncomfortably in your seat.

“She has always been predisposed towards me.” You tried to conceal yet another disgusted expression, “It would be only fitting she saves her best self for me.”

“She's like a coin. One side is an entirely different being than the other.” That was true, she often switched from hot to cold within an instant. You always thought it was cause she was mad. It grew tiresome after some time.

“May I be curious? When you fled, what is it that you fled from, and what is it that you were fleeing to?” He asked, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“I fled my marriage. I was fleeing for my family.” Technically the last bit wasn’t a lie. Which made it easier for you to sound convincing.

“I see, to tell you the truth, that only makes my curiosity greater. Ser Cole told me you were not… cooperative in his efforts to bring you to me.” You smiled to yourself, stabbing a knight is not what you’d call cooperative either.

“I don’t trust so easily. Any man could dress in silver plates and tell me he’s a knight.” You said, “And truth be told I do not see you as family.” You said leaning back into the uncomfortable cushion of the carriage.

“And what do you see me as?” He asked, his grip on your hand tightening

You ignored him. “I want to see my family. My mother and my brother.” Not technically a lie either, only not in the way he thinks.

“I wouldn’t think you’d wish to see Lyssa. After what you’d said.” His grip loosened,

“Our blood is our blood, our name is our name.” You said, with no emotion.

“I must admit that is not all I am curious about. You fled in the midst of a battle, a great war. Not one person saw you, not one knight. That is all without mentioning that you managed to flee without a scratch to you. Completely unharmed. It would seem almost impossible without help. Strong help.” He questioned you,

“Lika is a strong horse, and fast. And I, a skilled rider.” You responded quickly,

“So I hear.” He smirked.

“Now I must be curious.” You said, “You described Tyrion bereft, positively. In your words.” You perched your lips slightly and looked down, somewhat saddened by your own words.

“He is. I have no reason to lie to you on such a matter.” He said, his smirk disappearing.

“Tell it then, all of it.” Your eyes are sharp, and cold.

“Why burden yourself with another man's madness.” He asked, almost immediately annoyed by the question.

“To torment myself with my own guilt I suppose.” You shook your head,

“He was injured in the battle.” He huffed.

“Badly?” You interrupted

“Not as badly as they say. Deeply cut across his face.” He motioned a slash across his face, “Day after the battle, he demanded the city be combed for you. He was convinced that you were taken by some Baratheon men, that you might be in the city. Dead or alive he wanted you found. Once the city was clear of any sign of you he became convinced you were kidnapped, soon to be held for ransom.” You looked back down to your nails you picked at. Feeling guilty, but not enough to go back. “You certainly convinced him of your loyalty.” He chimed in, “Or perhaps he underestimated you.”

“Perhaps both.”

As you approached the Eyrie, you were stopped when it was time to walk to the Bloody Gate.

Petyr stepped out first, offering you his hand as you stepped out after him. You took it reluctantly.

Reminding yourself to play the part.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Meanwhile, Sandor had been captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners.

While he was taken to an undisclosed location with a bag over his head, he could hear the banter of the men talking. But the sounds of them could not drown out the anxiety he had over you.

A big part of him wanted to push you out of his mind, to focus on what was happening right then and now. Focus on getting out of this situation. But he couldn’t ignore the pit of dread in his stomach.

His thoughts kept coming, over and over again, “where is she, is she okay, has anyone seen her?”

It made him feel a certain kind of frustrated anxiety, knowing he couldn’t be near you, to be sure you were alright.

He was finally taken to some filthy tavern with an even filthier bag on his head.

“What an uncommonly large person, how does someone capture such an uncommonly large person?” He heard while he was blinded by the bag over his head, until it was stripped. “Ah! Not a man at all- A Hound!” Thoros said, a man Sandor recognized instantly.

“Thoros, the fuck you doing here?” He questioned with furrowed brows.

“Drinking and talking too much, the usual.” Thoros said drunk.

Another man who had captured Sandor spoke up, “There was another with him… A woman.” Sandors gaze dropped and went towards the man who spoke up, a soft groan leaving his lips.

“You sure about that?” Thoros asked, taking another sip of his ale.

“Oh yes, no mistaking that.” The man said as the others snickered, making Sandor groan a little louder. He hated men talking about you, it made him want to break their jaw so they’d talk a little less.

“Your woman I’d assume, hard to believe but stranger things in this world.” Sandor rolled his eyes and groaned even louder. “Oh well, still a pretty prize, Lads!” Thoros shouted, making the men who captured him cheer.

Sandor saw two boys leaving the tavern, and behind them, a girl, the girl You loved so well and helped escape.

“Girl!” He shouted, stopping Arya Stark, “What in seven hells are you doing with a Stark bitch?” He questioned Thoros.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had made it past the Bloody Gate, the Knights knew who you were even though Petyr introduced you as his niece, Lennora. They did not question you, and allowed you in. Ser Donnel Waynwood going as far to welcome you back as Lennora.

After twenty more miles of travel, you’d finally arrived at the Eyrie. It felt like a small comfort at first. A sight you once truly believed you’d never see again.

Stepping into the main room you noticed Lyssa seated on the throne. Seated where you should have been.

“Sweet child,” She called to you, rising from your throne “Come…” She said as ascended the stairs coming towards you, until she wrapped her arms around you. “My flesh and blood.” She said feigning happiness at your presence.

“Aunt Lyssa,” You said, feigning the same joy.

“You’re dressed in rags, my sweetling.” She said as she examined you,

“Couldn’t stand to wear Lannister colors any longer.” You said cleverly, avoiding further questioning, distracting her with her own biases.

“Of course you couldn’t.” She gripped onto your shoulders tightly, “Those monsters tried to marry you off to that imp. The very one who killed my husband, your father.” Her grip on your shoulders tightened, “He did not force himself onto you did he?” Her eyes darted to yours, staring deepening and intensely in them.

“No- of course not. We had not wed yet-” You stammered to explain, caught off guard by such a question.

“Still, you cannot trust such men now can you?” She said, her grip loosening finally.

“No, you cannot.” You said softly

Her hands ran from your shoulders to your hands, holding them tightly, “You’ve had a hard, and brave journey, my sweetling. You must bathe and dress.” She squeezed your hands once more before releasing them.

“Yes, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, slightly proud of yourself for containing such composure.

You nodded to your aunt and turned to leave, Petyr smirked at you as you passed him to take the back steps to your chambers.

It made your stomach turn.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the hideout of the Brotherhood, Sandor was tried for his crimes. Trial by combat.

As he fought, with brutality and efficiency, he could only think of you. He needed to cut this man down, to cut him down and get back to you. To find you.

Soon enough however, he did. Nearly cutting the man in half. Lord Beric Dondarrion was dead, but only for a moment.

As Arya shouted out and screamed, wanting him to be killed and tried for the murder of her friend.

Sandor couldn’t give this too much attention however as Beric arose from the dead before everyone. Within the cave.

After such a scene, Sandor was pardoned and set free.

“You’re pardoned, free to go. But all your gold is ours, to support the cause. It says it right there on that paper, once the wars over you’ll be repaid.” The man said, giving him paper pardoning him of his crimes.

“Piss on that! You’re nothing but thieves.” He barked loudly as he threw the paper onto the ground.

“We’re outlaws, you’re lucky we didn’t kill you, or go after that girl of yours.” Some man said, stupidly.

“Try it, archer, and I’ll shove those arrows right up your arse.” He said, his voice darkening. He couldn’t stand anyone speaking of you, even if they didn’t know who you were specifically.

“You can’t let him go! He’s a murderer!” Arya screamed as Sandor’s head was bagged again as he was led out of the cave.

“Not in the eyes of God. Go in peace Clegane, the Lord of Light is not done with you yet.” Beric said, as Sandor was led out.

But Sandor did not go far.

The sun had gone and the night had come. It dawned on him you could be anywhere. And he would have no way of knowing where.

That was when he heard the brotherhood yelling out for Arya, and soon saw the girl running through the forest he was hiding in.

That’s when he realized, If he couldn’t find you on his own, he’d find another way, and he’d get some gold out of it as well.

He grabbed Arya as she ran away. Covering her mouth as she tried to scream.

“Kick all you want, wolf girl. Won’t do you no good.” He said, dragging her off.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

While you bathed, you sat in the warm water, sinking deeply into the warmth around you. You closed your eyes, you tried your best to breathe, and calm yourself.

Sandor was a strong man, a man who cut down five men, a man who cut his way through a riot, and then four men after that. You shouldn’t worry. It would be silly for you to worry. But still you did.

As you looked at your body in the water, you could see the bruises left by Sandor. By his hands and his mouth. The thumb prints on your hips and the love bites on your sides and breasts. You ran your fingers over the prints, applying a bit of pressure to feel the lovely ache. It was like he was still with you.

You ran your other hand down between your legs, your other hand pressed down on the bruise again, to feel that ache, to feel like he was still with you.

However you heard a noise come from behind the door of the bathing chambers door.

Uneasy, you got out of the bath, and dried yourself quickly and you clothed yourself in a thick, warm, robe.

You opened the door, with caution, still uneasy. You stepped into the hallway, you hadn’t seen anyone. Even though you saw no one, you still felt uneasy. Like you were being watched.

You felt that familiar cold air flow through the castle, it only made your anxiety worse. ‘Tea would help,’ you thought. So you made your way to the kitchens, the only way to get to that from where you were however, was through the throne room,

As you stepped into the large room, you could feel the breeze worsen, the air colder, and the sound of wind louder. The moon doors were open, you knew what they sounded like better than anyone.

What was worse, Lyssa was standing over them. Staring down into the nothingness below.

“How pleasant it must feel, to be clean, and back in your Arryn clothes.” She said, not looking at you, still peering into the vast nothingness below the Eyrie.

“Quite pleasant, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, cautiously

“It was so kind of Baelish to return you to us. I asked him, why, why he wished for you back. It doesn’t make much sense, you’re the only thing that could possibly stand in the way of his position here in the Vale. Of Robin's position in the vale. And yet he feels responsible for you” Her voice felt sharp and unsteady,

“Lyssa-” You tried to begin

“Why does he feel responsible for you?” She interrupted you, her gaze shifting towards you quickly.

“I am your blood, I am part Tully-” You tried your best to calm her, to reason with her.

“Yes, Eloire Tully, The sister who hated him. Toyed with him, cruel and arrogant Eloire. You look just like her, are you toying with him too?” She said, her eyes were unhinged, and she stepped closer and closer to you.

An anger sparked inside you, “Don’t speak of my mother-” Your eyes and voice filled with disdain

“Did you fuck him is that it? Like those whores in his pleasure houses-”

You interrupted her “That is a vile accusation-”

And she interrupted you, “So you know the vile things they do, the vile things he lets them do to him.” She said as she pulled at your robe, exposing your breast and your side, she could see the large bruise on your side and one on your breast.

“I knew it.” She said her eyes widening,

You covered yourself quickly “Lyssa,”

“Who did it? Who did you let ruin you, you whore!? If it wasn’t Tyrion who did it!? Unless you lied to me!” She began to grab you, grab your arms tightly.

You tried your best to pull away, “I fell from my horse, Lyssa-” You exclaimed

“You think I’m a blind fool? Who did it? Petyr? Petyr did that do you? It makes perfect sense, You're no better than those whores in those pleasure houses, to him.” She exclaimed even louder, grabbing at you harder.

“He never touched me-” You pleaded,

“Then who did it-”

“I fell off my horse!”

“Lying whore!” She held onto your tightly and tried to push you towards the open moon doors, however the struggle between you and her was almost evenly matched. So she pulled out a dagger, raising it. But you were able to hold her arm off, “Why couldn’t you have stayed with them? Stayed far and gone! I won’t let you have him! You know what happens when people get in the way of Petyr and me?” She screamed at you as she continuously tried to push you towards the open moon doors, now at knife point. “My husband- your father, I killed him, all for me and Petyr!” She screamed, her admission however sparked a new kind of rage in you as you struggled back harder. No longer wishing to escape her grasp but to throw her into the moon doors instead.

“Lyssa.” Petyr said from the doorway, “Let her go,” He said calmly. Making the both of you halt,

“You want her? This ungrateful brat? I have lied for you and killed for you! Why did you bring her here? Why?” She sobbed

“I’ll send her away, I swear it.” Petyr said,

Lyssa threw you onto the ground, cutting your forearm with the dagger she had in her hand. She dropped it to the ground as she sobbed.

“My sweet wife. Silly wife.” He said as walked towards her holding her in his arms. You began to pick yourself up, your arm still bleeding.

“My whole life, I have only loved one woman.” He said, as she smiled. “Your sister.” He said as he pushed her into the moon doors.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The next morning, Sandor and Arya had begun their journey north. Sandor had hoped that you had done as he said and made your way there was well.

As he ate, he offered a bit of the food to Arya, who simply pouted and looked away from the food. It reminded him a bit of you.

“Sulk all you want. Truth is you’re lucky, you don’t want to be alone out here, girl. Someone worse than me would find you.” He said, his voice gentler than it was the last day.

“There’s no one worse than you.” She spit at him.

“You never knew my brother. Once killed a man for snoring. Plenty worse than me, there's men that like to beat little girls, men who like to rape them. Save your cousin from some of them.`` He said lightly,

“You’re lying.” Arya said in disbelief.

“Ask her. You’ll be seeing her soon enough, you just ask her who came back for her during the riots.” He restated confidently.

“Is that the Blackwater?” Arya asked looking at a large river they approached,

“Blackwater? Where do you think I’m taking you girl?” He asked

“Back to King's Landing, Joffrey and the Queen? My cousin?”

“Fuck Joffrey, fuck the Queen. That’s the red fork, I’m taking you to the Twins.” He sounded somewhat offended.

“But why?”

“Because your mother and brother will be there, they’ll pay for you, and maybe even your cousin will be there.”

“Why would they be at the Twins?”

“Those outlaws you love so much never told you? The whole countrysides yapping about it. Your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls. Your cousin’s probably heard about it too, she’ll be heading there.”

“Why do you care if she’ll be there?” She asked, almost annoyed by his constant mentioning of you.

Sandor ignored her question, “Quit your yapping, and we might make it for the wedding.”

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens, I wish I had one of those iconic A03 author excuse notes like I got hit by a bus or was getting my PHD and that's why this chapter is late, but I don’t I was just a little sick and binged TV. But we are here now, this chapter felt a little clunky and it was definitely a challenge getting Sandor and Y/N to still feel connected to the same story. I am very excited for what I have planned in the coming chapters. K love you, xoxo Bambi ꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ Beloved Tags: @dontfollowjuststuff @helpmeescapethisreality

@merfic

@Broadsdrinkwhisky

@the-queen-of-sorrows

@eddiesbongwater

@not-neverland06

@symonedoesart

@wyvernnest

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smoooothoperator · 3 months

Text

What Was I Made For?

08: Technical Difficulties

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: angst, two idiots fighting again

a/n: Hiii, so, I had a little writers block but it's completly fiiinee.... I hope you guys llike this chapter! This week maybe you won't have a new chapter because this weekend I have a competition, so if you want to suggest things or even sending me some love I would appreciate it so much!

Masterlist

previous part | next part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Tuscany was a place that brought me inner peace, childhood memories, a sense of safety.

It reminds me of the summers I spent with my grandma, sneaking into the kitchen to watch her make homemade pasta and pizza. It reminds me of being free and knowing that here I am my own person, that I can be myself and not a racing driver.

When my grandma passed away, she left this house for my sisters and I, leaving my mother with other properties, knowing how much this house meant for us and how many memories this place holds. Here we had first kisses, first love… Every inch of this house has our signature with small details: a wall piano where I used to sit with my dad to play it, a pottery jar my sister Soleil made, a painting made by my sister.

This house is my place, my safe space, my sanctuary.

And yet there he is, stepping into my space when no one asked him to be here, turning my life upside down as always with his selfishness.

“You have to leave” I said firmly, placing a protective hand over my belly.

“I want to talk, Dafne… please” he sighed, not tearing his eyes away from my swollen belly, making me turn around and walk towards the couch I occupied before he showed up.

“There's nothing to talk about, Charles” I sighed. “You've done enough. Leave me alone”

“I won't” he frowned, following me, making me hug myself. “I won't leave. Not this time-”

“Can't you see that the only thing you do is ruining my life?” I snapped, turning around to face him. “Look at what you have done! This is your fault!”

“I know!” he exclaimed, making me clench my jaw. “I know! And I'm so sorry!”

“Saying sorry won't fix this” I frowned, pointing at my belly. “Saying sorry won't make me have my career back. Saying sorry won't make me hate you less”

He clenched his jaw, but never looked away. He stayed where he was, looking at me all the time, following me with his eyes.

“I'm not leaving until you hear me” he frowned, making me groan while I sat on the chair.

“You think you can just show up here and try to be in my life after everything you did? After the panic attacks, the harassment, the constant media hounding?” I frowned. “You made me lose a man I really wanted to be with. Sebastian is more man than you, he tried to put back the broken pieces of my heart after the disaster you made. And then I had to see his heart breaker when I told him that this baby wasn't his but yours. You have an idea of how much that hurts?”

His eyes filled with regret as he clenched his jaw, but I couldn't let myself feel sorry for him. I have to be strong. For me. And for this baby.

“I know I've made mistakes” he sighed, and before he talked again he took a few deep breaths closing his eyes. “But I'm here to make things right. I came to talk things and fix this”

“You can't fix this” I said, pointing between us, fighting the tears. “You can't just show up and expect things to be okay. It's too late”

“Please Dafne…” he begged, taking a few steps closer. “I'm not asking for forgiveness right now, I just… Just give me the chance to be here, for you. For our baby”

“Our baby” I repeated bitterly. “This isn't about you, Charles! The world doesn't turn around you! This time is about me and what I need. And what I need right now is to have you away from me”

He stayed silent, with his eyes moving from my belly to my eyes. For a moment, I thought he really was going to leave. I saw him close his eyes slowly and take a deep breath, I saw that tic he has in his jaw whenever he's nervous. For a few seconds I felt relieved, thinking he was going to turn around and walk out of the backyard.

“I'm not leaving” he said, opening his eyes again. “I'm going to stay until you believe that I mean what I said. Until you decide to fix things and speak”

“You are so stubborn!” I exclaimed, frustrated. “Why can't you just respect my wishes?”

“Because I care about you, okay?” he exclaimed back, raising up his arms. “Why do you think I came here? I waited patiently until you came back to the factory, but you never came. I was going crazy because you weren't giving signals if you were alive or not. You didn't even make a statement about you retiring!”

“Do you think that's easy?” I mumbled. “Why do you think I came here? Why do you think I didn't say anything? Because this is hard for me, Charles! You have an idea how embarrassing it is for me to say you can't race anymore because you are going to be a mother? Do yu have an idea of how many times I had to answer to multiple people that I wanted to focus on racing when they asked me about my future plans, about making a family?”

“I…” he sighed.

“You have it easy” I said pointing at him with my hand. “You can keep racing, you can have as many kids as you want, after all you won't have to carry them for nine months. But I have to carry this baby, Charles. I can't race anymore, my body won't be the same”

“And I'm sorry for that, it's my fault” he sighed.

“Yes, it is” I scoffed. “If there's one to blame here it's you. I did nothing wrong. Just because you decided to not use a condom and be drunk”

“You were drunk too” he tried to attack back, but he stopped looking at the floor.

I stood up and turned around and hugged myself, looking at the sunset and taking a deep breath.

“You can stay the night” I said. “But I want you out of here before I wake up”

“Dafne-”

“No” I stopped him. “Right now you only bring me pain. If you want to fix things, go back in time and go to your hotel room instead of mine”

Laying in bed, now more than ever, only brought memories.

The room that always has been mine changed all over the years. My grandma inherited this house from her father, who was something like the lord of the land. It's a big house, and when my mother had Erica and then me, she decided that she wanted to give us a room for ourselves, making my mother know that this building was also ours.

My room was decorated the moment my mother knew she was pregnant with me, and it started to get shape as I was getting older. The bed changed a few times, the shelves were full of books and plants, the wardrobe had summer clothes, the walls were filled with pictures of all the places I had been in my life.

This room it's my sanctuary more than the house itself.

And knowing that Charles is at the other side of the door, as many other times, makes me want to stay here safe.

I heard him walking around the house like he owned it. After all, he spent many summers here, he knows where the things are here. I heard him walk in the kitchen downstairs, making something for dinner. I heard him sneeze and yawn.

He really won't leave.

I sat on the bed, rubbing my belly softly while looking out the window, taking deep breaths when I felt my cat walking towards me.

“What should I do?” I whispered, looking at my cat.

The day I found out I was pregnant wasn't the best day of my life. I had a crash that made me fall unconscious, I pushed away a man I knew I could fall in love with and be with him, I disappointed my parents.

I sighed, rubbing my belly softly, something I found myself doing more than I wanted. And somehow, I liked feeling it. I liked feeling that I was growing a human in me, it made me feel stronger than ever. If only this baby was from the man I love…

The door opened slowly, making me turn my head towards him. He had a hand on the handle and the other on the door frame, looking at me, watching how I had my sweater raised up so I could feel the skin of my stomach.

“Eh… I made dinner” he said, with his eyes fixed on me.

“Good for you. What do you want, pats on your back? A trophy?” I answered sarcastically.

“I want you to eat dinner” he frowned.

“No, thank you. I won't eat something you made” I scoffed. “And I'm not hungry”

“Oh my God, can you stop?” he frowned. “I just want to apologize, make things right! And you make it very hard for me!”

“So? I think I made it pretty clear that I don't want to have you here” I frowned.

“And what are you going to do, raise that kid alone? It's mine too, I have every right to be here” he groaned.

“But I don't want you here!” I exclaimed. “I don't want to see you. I don't want to remember every second of the day that you are the father of this baby, that you are the one that made this!”

“Well, I'm sorry! Accidents happen!” he exclaimed, raising his arms.

“Exactly” I groaned. “This is an accident. But who will be the one that won't be damaged? You. I want you out of my life”

He clenched his jaw and looked at me, shaking his head. I just want him to leave me, is it that hard?

“You can't push everyone away, Dafne” he sighed. “You did that with Sebastian. And you always did it with me. I think it's time for us to act like adults”

“Get out of my room”

“Fine. But I won't leave this house until we talk” he said before closing my door.

“Asshole!” I screamed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it to the door. “I hate you!”

“Well, I don't!”

What?

I frowned looking at the door, hugging my stomach softly.

What did he say?

“Whatever” I groaned, turning around on the bed and laying on my side, with my back facing the door. “Your dad is not good, you won't like him”

I swallowed thickly, looking out of the window and drawing circles on my belly with my nails. I'm hungry, the baby is hungry, but I won't give him the satisfaction of eating whatever he made, not even sharing the same room with him.

Charles might have been the first love of my life. But that was a stupid, childish and innocent crush.

My stomach growled in the middle of the night, making me groan and rub it softly.

I'm hungry.

I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes while I put warm socks on my feet. I got up and wrapped my shoulders with a blanket, taking a deep breath before walking out of my room.

I expected the house to be cold, like always. But it was warm. Maybe he fired the fireplace and let it die before he went to sleep.

I went downstairs and sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. The stairs were cold against my covered feet, making me shiver softly.

When I reached the last step I frowned, watching him. He was on the couch, an uncomfortable couch, hugging himself and with his head on a pillow.

“Idiot” I whisper, looking at him.

He could have gone to the room he shed to sleep in with his brothers whenever they came. But he stayed here, for what? Waiting for me to come?

I shook my head and walked towards the kitchen, sighing when I saw a plate on the counter. I sat on the chair and looked at it, biting my lip when I saw a sandwich on it.

And not a simple sandwich. My favorite sandwich.

“How the hell…” I frowned, turning around and looking at him.

How does he know that my favorite sandwich is the one that has tuna with mayo and ketchup? How?

I sighed, eating it and groaning when I swallowed it. God, it's so good.

“Is it good?”

I gasped softly, flinching. He's awake.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch? You have a room” I said, not turning.

“Just in case you walked downstairs” he sighed. “I know you, Dafne…”

“You know nothing about me, Leclerc” I frowned.

“I know that you love eating” he said, standing in front of me at the other side of the table. “I know that for dinner you always need your comfort meal, and after that you always have cookies with milk. You have been doing that since we are little”

“Fuck off” I groaned, looking away.

“I know that you love peaches, but you are allergic to the peel” he continued. “That you love the chocolate of Cadbury, more specifically the Wispa bars”

I frown and look at him. How? How does he know that? Why? Who told him?

“I know you, Dafne” he repeated.

“No, Charles! You don't know me” I said tiredly. “If you did, none of the shit that is happening between us should have happened! If you did, you would understand why I hated every second of every fight we had. Why can't you accept that I want to be someone successful? Why can't you let me be and mind your own business?”

“And do you think it was easy for me?” he exclaimed. “Do you think it was easy for me watching you risk your life every time you got into your kart and now into the cars? I knew from the start that this sport was dangerous, and when I saw you for the first time in a kart I nearly had a heart attack!”

“You are being so selfish! This is my dream” I exclaimed, standing up.

“And I tried, every time I could, to make sure you left it” he said. “I tried to fight against you to make you hate it, to make you see that…”

“What? That I'm not made for this? That this is a sport for men?”

He swallowed thickly and looked away, walking towards the window of the kitchen, his back facing me.

“When Jules died I started to have nightmares nearly every night” he whispered. “Some nights his crash on Sakura was on repeat in my mind. And then other nights that crash was happening to you. Do you have an idea of what was going on in my mind when I realized that the one that was in the barriers in Abu Dhabi was you? Do you have an idea of how hard it was for me knowing that you were unconscious?”

“Charles” I frowned.

“Do you have an idea how hard I tried to keep you safe? Dafne, I-”

“No. Don't do this. You have no right. How dare you? Why are you like this? Why the hell you have been acting all our fucking life like a jerk with me, making me feel so little, and then you come here now to say what, that you love me?” I scoffed.

But then he turned his head slowly, looking at me with those green eyes.

“No” I mumbled. “No. No, don't. Leave. Leave right now! I don't want to see you! Get the fuck out if my house!”

“Dafne…”

“No” I groaned. “You have no right”

He turned around to look at me but I just took a step back before he could reach me, walking out of the kitchen and going to the hall of the house to grab the key cars.

If he doesn't want to leave, then I will.

Even if it's two in the morning.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots @catarinemirandax

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tragedy-of-commons · 5 months

Text

lay your life down and pretty

various hsr x gn!reader | wc: ~2k

In which you die (or they've already lost you).

tags/warnings: character death (reader), it's implied in dh's part but explicit and semi-graphic in hanya's, descriptions of mara and the insanity that comes with it, hardcore angst, hurt no comfort, there may be Lore Inaccuracies

notes: this was originally supposed to be four parts. i'm sorry it's only two but it's just been uhhh... hope you enjoy & thanks for the incredible support lately <3

Dan Heng makes the best pancakes.

You’ve expressed this undeniable fact to his face multiple times, louder in their progression just to see the tips of his ears burn that endearing red. These declarations are reserved for breakfast. At this time you also chide him for trying to weasel his way out of eating the most important meal of the day!

And he’d sigh, letting you hound him about food options until he’d crack under the weight of your grin and end up mixing batter at 7:30 in the morning.

(“I tried flipping them in the air once and the pancake slapped me in the face,” you’d regaled, head resting idly on your fist.

Dan Heng stared into the black of the skillet. “...Somehow, I don’t doubt it.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” you huffed.

He almost let not-quite laugh slip then, but because of his stuck-uppery, he just managed to look peeved. “I would appreciate it if you passed me the butter.”)

Instead it is around 9:00 in the morning, and Dan Heng is alone.

He’d stayed up late the night before doing some reading, causing him to oversleep and rush the process today. He’s almost burned his hand on the stove eye twice, nearly dropped an egg on the floor, and has just narrowly avoided burning the batch. Dan Heng is not clumsy (not like you were), and he is painfully aware that he is late.

After he plates the food, the oven clock reads 9:19. He gathers everything, including two sets of utensils and one awkward wad of napkins - before setting the table by heart. Your plate goes in front of the chair closest to the window, and his goes in front of the one adjacent to yours.

The rhythm of distributing each item eventually leaves him with empty hands. Everything is ready, but there is still something colossal missing from the scene.

Dan Heng stares hard at your empty seat before taking his own.

The pancakes are blackened around the edges, but it’s nothing a good heaping portion of syrup can’t fix, and the smell that wafts upward is sweet and inviting. The sun’s rays shining in from the outside world paint the kitchen in flecks of light that occasionally catch on his arm when he brings his fork to his mouth.

Resigned, his silverware clatters noisily to the table.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I’m sorry that I was late.”

Predictably, there’s no response. Dan Heng’s throat feels like it’s closing up on him, and the syrup definitely isn’t helping. He dabs his mouth with his napkin for a good long while.

He is sorry. It wasn’t enough that he’d stayed up late the night before, but that he deliberately kept glancing at the clock and counting the hours until daylight arrived - reminding himself that if he drifted off, the next day would come much sooner.

He isn’t the type to procrastinate either. Even when you’re not here anymore, you seem to have a profound effect on his character. Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose. The sound of his voice echoing off the walls of the lonely kitchen is unwelcome. “Happy birthday.”

It’s strained, imperfect, and painful; which only serves to remind him of your insistence on celebrating his birthday as well. You had practically prostrated yourself at his feet, begging him to let you fuss over him - even if it made his vision hazy and palms sweaty. He needs to return the favor, even if the mere idea of another important date passing him up without you makes him want to hide.

So here he is.

Here he is, floundering terribly, missing you terribly, loving you terribly. Dan Heng wrenches his hand from its secure position in his lap to drum on the table.

“I got you something,” he says. “I… I didn’t know which color you’d prefer more, so…”

You’d tease him into an early grave if you were able to see the knitted oven mitt he’d picked out over two months ago. It’s an almost hideous shade of teal that he’s sure you’d love, especially since you forced him to bake with you regularly.

(He was shopping with March 7th when he’d seen it and then reflexively dumped it into his basket. His companion only asked him if he was planning on using it as kindling for the fireplace.)

Dan Heng closes his eyes and slides it over to your placement. For a second, he almost fools himself into thinking you might magically appear to brush fingers when you accept the gift with a bright smile. He has no such luck.

Your breakfast is getting colder, and there’s nothing to be done today; his friends, as much as he can say he appreciates them - also meddle quite a bit. His schedule was mysteriously cleared up and he was gently encouraged to go home and take the day off. The feeling of three pairs of eyes drilling holes into his back as he complied was a bit too potent to be coincidental.

So he sits there and pretends he’s eating with you for as long as he can. The stutters in the familiar rhythm that comes with today are things he can smooth out over time, even if it feels like a betrayal to you. You would never see it like that, which is why he can even live in a home without you in it at all.

(The oven mitt rests beside your full plate until the afternoon, because he cannot bring himself to clean up just yet. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to.)

Dan Heng is not a man who can afford to hope, but he’s already been in debt since the moment of his birth. If just one of his prayers is granted, he hopes it’s the one he runs through his mind every night:

In the next life, please let us cross paths again. And if there’s room for it, please let me love you for as long as I can.

He’s never been one for optimism, but it’s all he looks forward to.

Hanya’s hands cradle the expanse of your face.

Her fingers ghost over any healthy glow remaining in your cheeks. You’re slipping, rightfully so, but does it make her a monster if she wants to claw and rifle through the sands of time to search for any universe where you were spared from this cruel fate?

(She thinks it does.)

You can’t get the words out, but there’s a resigned film that glazes over your eyes - one that tells her that she needn’t lie about where you’ll be going. Your mouth forms silent syllables punctuated by wheezes that will surely send her careening under the depths of the unconscious at record speed.

“Han.. ya,” you croak, “Stay.”

“I will,” she promises, because she needs to - over and over, until you remember it always, even when you’re gone. Even when you’re suffering through the last moments of your fledgling life. “I will remain here.”

Her duty as a Judge of the Ten-Lords Commission is to oversee life and death on the Xianzhou. When Hanya drifts aimlessly like a spectre between inky darkness and blinding daylight, it has occasionally struck her that one day she might have to oversee yours.

Presently, your mind is being swallowed by the maw of mara, a madness that she’s all too familiar with; faced with her dull countenance, she must have witnessed thousands succumb to the fate of infernal life.

“D-Don’t cry,” you beseech. There isn’t much time until you’re no longer Hanya’s secret reprieve, but instead a writhing abomination - and she only has herself to blame. Had she not embraced you so tightly, would you be free of this curse? Would you still be smiling and dragging her by the hand through Exalting Sanctum?

“I will not send you there,” she breathes, “You are not deserving of—”

The agonizing cry you let out next is still beautiful. Even now you can mitigate the emptiness that’s dug its claws in her heart so deep that it’s become symbiotic with the organ. However, instead of the empty, Hanya feels its distant relative: the pins and needles. The hollow white noise crackles until she’s pierced with an arsenal of skeletal knives.

She could take it, and she would take it, if it meant that you weren’t about to die and then awaken again as a monster that desecrates the very concept of you.

She releases your now matching tear-stricken cheeks before seizing both of your arms. The thrashing has crept in, meaning that there isn’t much time before you start sprouting leaves and weeds like a statue abandoned by its devotees.

A sharp inhale through clenched teeth. “You have… to. M’gonna hurt—” you convulse in her grasp, “—somebody...”

Of course you’re worrying about others right now. Kindness is a relic of the past that you’ve somehow managed to exhume, restore to its full glory, and gift to Hanya like she deserves to touch others’ lives in the same way you have.

Every shopkeep knows your name, face, voice, and smile. Your warmth is infectious - even before she knew you in person, she knew of you by word of mouth. Xueyi had told her that the reason Huohuo was so resolute in her duties lately was because of “the person who defeated a bunch of reprobate hooligan bullies tormenting her”.

If her big sister held you in high regard, she figured you were one she wouldn’t mind exchanging greetings with if you ever crossed paths. However, the thing about you is that you always give more than you take; you too eventually gave her your smile over tea, your opinion on her writing, and a perspective from the light she usually only smothers upon first contact.

It seems that it was just a matter of time before Hanya extinguished you.

“You are not ready,” she begs pitifully, “You are not!”

She knows it’s never about being ready. Bad things always happen to good people - to sons, daughters, friends, big sisters, and lovers.

Lovers.

The word is foreign on the tip of her tongue. It’s strange to be actualized and even stranger to ascribe that label to your relationship, but Hanya doesn’t know what else to think when the knives stab her over and over to the elegy of I love you, I love you, I love you.

The trek from Fyxestroll Garden to the Alchemy Commission is sizable. The Dragon Lady could see you and do her best, but she’s seen where that’s led; best efforts gone to waste, inconsolable loved ones given false hope because they were too stubborn to let go.

Is that what she is? Too stubborn to let you go, even when she’s brought this karma upon you?

(Yes, something ugly whispers, this is your penance. Now it’s theirs too.)

“I...” you let out a strangled groan, and when your chest jerks upwards, it barely registers that you brush your lips against hers. There’s tears and snot everywhere, and you’re getting stronger - too strong for her to hold. Hanya’s forearms ache with the strain as gingko leaves begin to ravage your humanity and rip you apart.

The transformation process is cruel, but she promised to remain by your side. Twigs protrude from your neck, nestled between thorny brambles that poke and prod. You are not a Cloud Knight, so your screams aren’t muffled by armor - or muted by the numbness she feels when dealing with other cases.

It’s too real, it’s too much, and it’s not enough.

Drowned out by the previous mantra of I love you, the background vocals of I’m so sorry peter off into whispers that are soon lost among the sickening squelch of Xueyi’s blade cutting through you in one clean motion. The tip of the sword rests over Hanya’s heart, stained with your blood.

“...That’s not them anymore,” her sister says. It’s off-kilter, the way her brow is furrowed in a silent apology.

One can only hope.

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee

#—stellaronhvnters.#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #hanya x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr hanya x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #danheng x reader #dan heng hsr x reader #hanya hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr hanya #honkai star rail #✧ my works

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dez78 · 6 months

Text

I need you, darling

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Blood (18+)

Additional Tags: Astarion being angry with you, Scared Astarion, Romanced Astarion, Boi is worried sick about you.

Summary: A battle goes to shit and Astarion is the first to notice.

(Not my gif)

As you were trekking the wilds with your companions, you stopped because something lurked ahead.

"Be careful, soldier." Karlach warned you. Your eyes were careful, tracing every shape in front you.

"Astarion, you smell anything?" Gale joked with a smirk, Astarion scoffed at him, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm not some type of blood hound!" He said offensively as he turned his nose up. Gale smirked as he waited patiently.

"The blood is average, so it's probably humans. Likely bandits or traders." Astarion replied after a silence.

You treaded carefully, watching the trees with your peripheral vision. Your companions at your back, watching every direction, weapons drawn.

Just then you heard the buzz of an arrow as it whizzed past your head, clipping your hair.

"Archers!" Gale cried, you and your companions took cover then.

"Bandits." Astarion scoffed.

You used your tactics to take out the archer, using your own crossbow. You pierced his throat with a bolt.

"Nice shot, soldier!" You heard Karlach complimenting you. You smirked cocky as you bolted out, a bandit surprised you and took a slash at you.

Your quick reflexes responded, you snapped your hips, the blade missing your most vital organs or so you thought. You were quick to cut his throat. He bled out, falling to the ground, grasping his throat.

Your companions charged out then, Astarion used his dual daggers to slice through the enemy, Karlach used her axe to crush her enemies, and Gale stood back blasting fire.

You used a dagger for the last bandit, throwing with precision and ending his life by getting him in the eye. You smiled victoriously.

Then you winced suddenly, you looked up just as Astarion turned around. The wind had shifted, and he picked up a sweet scent. Karlach and Gale approached.

You stumbled as you looked back down, despite being covered in bandit blood and the men on the ground, bleeding on the forest floor. Astarion knew your scent.

You looked down, your tunic starting to soak as fresh blood gushed from an open wound. You thought the blade missed, but it was apparent that in fact did not.

"Y/N!" Astarion rushed over to you.

"Oh shit, you're bleeding, soldier." Karlach noticed a few moments after Astarion.

"We need to get to camp." Gale suggested.

"I'm fine." You muttered, Astarion wasn't having it.

"You've done one dumb thing today already." He snarled as he picked you up. He carried you back to the camp. Gale and Karlach hot on his heels.

You faded in and out of consciousness, all you saw was Astarion. His face was washed with panic, dread, and concern.

"~Stay with me, my love.~" His voice sounded so far, yet he was right above you. Before it went black you heard the fear in Astarion's voice as he spoke,

"~Don't leave me. I need you, darling.~"

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

When you came to, you were at camp.

"She's awake!" Gale cried; the companions rushed over to you. Astarion hadn't left your side.

"What happened?" You asked groggily as you sat up, rubbing your throbbing head.

"You stupid, girl!" Astarion suddenly snapped at you, your heart twinged as you looked up with sorrowful eyes.

"You could have died, you idiot!" He was livid as he fumed. You winced from his raised voice, looking like a kicked puppy.

Astarion relaxed and took a deep breath,

"I'm sorry. I was just worried sick about you, I-" He pursed his lips, you looked at him, still hurt.

"I thought I lost you." He breathed out in a shallow breath. He bowed his head, on the verge of tears.

"Everything we been through, and I thought that was the last of you. As soon as I smelled your blood, I was full of dread, fearing the worst." Astarion explained. He took your hands in his.

"That was a stupid thing to do, but you're not stupid or an idiot. I just couldn't imagine the pain if I had lost you. I-" Astarion explained, he stopped again.

"I care about."

"I love you."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, he had never said those words before without it being some kind of joke. You looked into his eyes and saw the concern and sincerity. He meant it. He loves you.

"Please, for the love of the gods. Please, be more careful next time. I don't think my fragile heart can take that kind of pain again." Astarion pleaded with you, his eyes were genuine, and his voice was shaky. You nodded your head slowly as a smile crossed your lips.

"That's a good girl, darling." Astarion said softly as he leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate tav #astarion #astarion romance #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #y/n #astarion x y/n #angst #love confessions

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thegnomelord · 7 months

Note

"the man you knew is dead, you killed him"

GNOME IM GONNA STRANGLE YOU WITH MY 8 LIMBS.

no but fr tho I'm a big loser when it comes to angst and like AaUAUSYRRRRGGGHH

Your comfort fluff fic with hound and the 141 and the hound in the shirt in price im

Altered my DNA it was that good I'm so

I feel like Hound won't be able to trust Price 100% like he used to and that's so augggggg

5W+1H Hound trusting Price like aurh

But I feel like whenever we get to that point where Hound can finally look at Price with something other than void n emptiness n shit it's gonna be so sweet

-🐙 (sorry for submitting so much I'm just obsessed)

It's fine octo! Ya'll are just fuelling my hyperfixation and helping me come up with more ideas for the fic lol.

I can just imagine when Hound finally looks at Price, really looks, it's at his lowest point, maybe after something traumatic, and he doesn't know who to trust or what's 'right' and just gets overwhelmed, chest and shoulders trembling and eyes stinging to hold back your emotions because you're Hound damn it, you're not allowed to cry like this, crying won't get you anything, you need to be strong.

But big, ugly sobs break through your resolve. And Price is there, gentle hands pulling you down into a hug. And you just break, hugging him tightly and cry into his shoulder, trying to get out 'I'm sorry's through your hiccups, his shirt getting drenched in your tears and snot.

And Price is just soothingly rubbing your back, muttering "It's okay, you can do it, let it out."

#WHAHAHAHA I'LL MAKE YA'LL SUFFER WITH THE FIC #AND MYSELF SINCE I"M A WHIMP #gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #male reader #x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x male reader #🐙anon #good dog fic #Hound-reader

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mytheoristavenue · 2 years

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Can you maybe do one of one piece men hearing their shy s/o yell at them for the first time? Or first time their shy s/o acts bratty ? Can be fluff , agnst or NSFW, whatever you'd like my love. I'm sure it'll turn out good , I loved your other ones that you've written!! ❤️❤️ BTW that sanji speaking French got my good 😫😫🤌 *chefs kiss*

I'll do all three! I hope it's alright that I only do Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Usopp for this one! Since I'm going to do three separate scenarios for each, it would be a lot of work to do that for as many characters as I included in my last post! If I missed anyone you specifically wanted, let me know!

Straw Hat Men + Shy!S/O Yelling for the First Time 🍋

Summary: How your Straw Hat boyfriend reacts to hearing you raise your voice for the first time in an angsty, fluffy, and NSFW scenario.

Waring: NSFW, MDNI, fluff, angst, fem!reader

Note: I did mark this one with a lemon as I usually do with NSFW content, but only 1/3rd of it will be! The different scenarios will be marked with a '💕💔🍋', for fluff, angst, and smut respectively. If you've seen any of my masterlists, they also operate under this same key.

Monkey D. Luffy:

💕 Your least favorite part of being a pirate was the fact that your boyfriend was your captain. If you could leave and join a different crew without it being a relationship ending action, you would most certainly consider it. It wasn't always bad of course, but with it was bad- it was awful.

As your lover, Luffy was stubborn, but as your captain it was ten fold. once he settled on a bad idea, there was no changing his mind, no matter how much your opinion as his partner mattered to him. Typically, it was something you could look pasted, but you had to admit, his last bright idea had left you bitter with him, and the way he hounded you for answers as you why you were ignoring him was doing him no favors.

"Awe, c'mon, babe!" he giggled, wrapping his elastic arms around your waist, pulling you back to him after you'd walked away from him. "I'm sorry you got all wet!" he offered, only receiving a sharp glare form over your shoulder.

Earlier that day, he had decided that everyone would go into the town to do some shopping on the island you'd ported on. You picked out a lovely floral sundress, and worn it out of the store after buying it, excited to show him how pretty it looked on you. To your surprise, and later anger, he enthusiastically scooped you up and tried to swing you along with him back to the Sunny, only to miss. Not only did you both collide with the ship's hull, but you also fell into the water, making his survival your responsibility.

"Luffy, that dress was very expensive. I rarely buy myself nice things, and the one time I did, I didn't even have it for ten minutes before you ruined it." you pouted quietly, still unwillingly wrapped in his arms.

"I'm sure it's not ruined, babe, we can wash it." he dismissed, making your blood boil. You couldn't contain your frustration at him.

"No, we can't!" you snapped, pushing him away to glare at him with hands on hips. "It's silk, you can't just toss it in the washing machine! I has to be professionally cleaned, and you just had us set sail away from the only place I could take it to! Who knows how long it'll take us to find another island with a dry cleaners', and even if we found one tomorrow, it wouldn't matter! The stain is already set!"

Luffy simply blinked at your ranting. He didn't understand any of what you'd just said. He wasn't even entirely sure what silk was or why it was so different from regular fabric, but he could recognize that he'd upset you, which he felt bad for. "Awe...I'm sorry babe." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck shamefully.

"You should be!" you huffed, crossing your arms and turning your back on him.

"Tell you what," he smiled, wrapping his arms around you again, this time laying his head on your shoulder. "Next time we port, we'll go out- just you and me and I'll take you shopping again. I'll have Nami set some of my money aside and it'll me my treat. And I'll see if Franky can build something that can wash silk." he negotiated, melting the tough coating around your heart. "We'll get you all the expensive clothes you want, and that way, you'll be able to to clean them if you need to."

"Luffy..." you swooned, turning in his arms to face him. "You promise?" He nodded with a ear to ear grin, and you threw yourself into his embrace. "Oh, I can't stay mad at you, you're too sweet!"

💔 The second time Luffy heard you raise you voice at him, it was a gut wrenching scream, accompanied by tears. The part that disturbed him most, however, was the fact that it wasn't really at him, but more for him.

"Stop it!" your voice rang out across a smoking battlefield, crack and desperate. "Please, stop, you'll kill him!" You were yards away, but you could still see the light leaving your boyfriend's eyes as he laid motionless on the ground from where you were being subdued.

The marines had ambushed the crew while at an island you'd stopped at for supplies. Kizaru stood over him, glancing over at you when he'd heard, his signature smug grin unfaltering as he made his way over to you. "That's the point, dollface."he cooed. "Dead or alive, or so the saying goes."

"P-Please," you negotiated. "Please, you can have me instead. I-I'm worth something right?" You struggled to remember your current bounty.

"You want me to give up one of the most wanted men on the seas," he chuckled, looming over you. "For a measly ten million berries?Honey," he smirked, eyes darting to Luffy, still unmoving, and back to you. "The only thing that makes you worth anything is your value to him. Now that we've got Straw Hat, we don't have a use for you."

"That's...not true..." a broken and tired voice graveled from where he once lay. Your hopefully eyes snapped to your partner as he slowly rose to face the admiral in your stead.

"Luffy!" you shrieked, relieved tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Still kickin', huh?" Kizaru laughed, turning his attention back.

"That's not true, (Y/N)." your captain continued, entirely ignoring his enemy, yet still walking towards him and not you. "You're worth so much more than being my girlfriend. You're a Straw Hat, and that means so much more!"

🍋 Luffy had never known you to be the most verbal person when it came to physical pleasures, and the silent sighs and tiny gasps became a common song that he learned to enjoy above all others. that was until he heard what you were really capable of.

"Oh, fuck, Luffy!" you cried, tossing your head back in eustasy. He froze entirely for a moment, gazing up at you in awe as you rode him, bouncing with delight, and cursing his name like the sailor you were. You were so entranced that you failed out notice his lack of participation as he watched you put in all the work he normally would.

Hearing those loud, dirty words tumble over your lips did something to him- snapped some sort of line that tethered him to his control. "(Y/N), baby?" he spoke lowly, breaking you of your spell. You immediately began apologizing, bringing your hands to cover your blushing face, only to be caught by the wrists. "What have you never moaned for me like that before?"

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me!" you sputtered, humiliated by your lewd behaviors.

"Well," he decided, guiding your trembling hands to his hair, before winding his rubber arms around your waist and clenching your doughy thighs as hard as he could without doing actual damage. "We're gonna fuckin' find out!"

Roronoa Zoro:

💕 You had been ignoring Zoro all day long and it was starting to drive him crazy, though he wasn't going to let you on to that fact. He eyed from from across the deck as you chatted with Nami about something he didn't care about. Anytime you would catch him looking at you, you'd huff, turn your nose at him, and make it a point to very sweetly ask Sanji for something. Every time, the doting chef would give into your every whim, bringing you parfaits, making you something special for lunch, or even a fancy glass of water with cucumber and mint. Finally, your boyfriend decided he'd had enough.

"Why are you acting like such a brat today?" he grilled sternly, looming over your lounge chair as you tanned. "You better not be trying to make me jealous of that damn cook."

You gasped dramatically, sharing a shocked looked with Nami, before you both rolled your eyes at him. "You've got some nerve calling me a brat." you spat back at him, turning your attention back to your magazine.

"Well, you're acting like one!" Zoro protested.

"Yeah, well," you huffed. "At least Sanji's nice to me and gives me attention when I want it!" Nami silently agreed with you, nodding her head as you spoke.

"Oh my God," your boyfriend groaned, rolling his eyes and slumping his shoulders. "Is that what this is about? Damn, you're so annoying."

You scowled at him, throwing your magazine onto the floor in a fit. "No, Zoro, you know what's annoying? Trying to spend time with your boyfriend, only to get passed up for lifting stupid weights!" you shouted, collecting the attention of many of your nakamas, which embarrassed him quite a bit. "All you do is work out or clean your damn swords! I wake up, and you're not in bed because your training, I go to bed and- same thing!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry I have to train to keep you protected you highness!" he snarled back at you. "It's not like I've saved your life or anything."

"Oh, thank you for not letting me die! Boyfriend of the damn year!"

"Jesus Christ," he growled, finally giving in under all the stares of his crewmates. "I'll skip work out tonight and we can cuddle all night, okay?"

"Okie dokie!" you beamed, demeanor immediately shifting back to the kind, sweet girl everyone knew you as. Zoro sighed, exhausted by your manipulation tactics; he needed a nap.

💔 Zoro's body froze solid, hearing you're voice from a location he couldn't pinpoint. His mind went into fight or flight mode as the fear and desperation in your voice struck him like a pendent in a church bell, sending vibrations all throughout him. "Zoro!"

"(Y/N)?!" he called back, spinning as he took in his surroundings. He could see so many people, but none of them were you. Where were you?

"Zoro!" Suddenly, you broke through the crowd, making a mad dash for him, leaping into his arms before he could register it. "Oh my gosh, I thought I'd lost you!" you cried into his chest. "I was so worried!"

He was still frozen, for the first time in his life unable to act. "Y-you were worried about me?" he stammered, having trouble wrapping his head around the idea.

"Yes!" you replied, nuzzling into his throat. "There's marines on the island, and when I turned around and you weren't there I thought you were in trouble!"

"If that's the case, you should have gone back to the ship." he scolded you lightly, trying to mask how much his heart melted at your concern. "Now we're both in danger."

You shook your head quickly. "No, I'm not going anywhere without you! We'll go back together!" You insisted. "What if you get lost again?"

His stern face softened into a loving smile, reflecting his feelings in the moment, before grabbing you by the hand. "Fine, let's go. You lead the way."

🍋 Zoro had never heard anything more lewd that the sounds he was extracting from you now. You were laid out in his arms, across his lap, his fingers reaching for invisible buttons inside you, making your tummy do flips. Each breath you took was ragged and punctuated a needy whine. Typically, you sang a song of soft hums, using his name as a refrain every so often, and he did adore that, but nothing could compare to the arousal he got from hearing you curse.

"Shit, Zoro, I-I-!" you were beyond the point of forming fully coherent sentences, most of them fading after a few words. His own breathing quickened as he worked you better and better by the minute.

"Yeah, baby," he groaned, his face contorting into a frustrated snarl. "Tell me all those dirty words you know."

God Usopp:

💕 "I said I'm sorry!" he squeaked, following you out of his workshop and into the bathroom. "It was an accident!" You ignored his pleas for your forgiveness as you walked up to the sink, leaning over to dip your head under the faucet. He had been showing you his newest star, when he shot it at a shelf, which in turn shook, knocking a bottle to toad oil onto your head. Your silence terrified him as he stood idly by watching you try to rinse it from your scalp. "I-If you let me take a bath with you, I'll wash it all out-" His nervous negotiations were cut short by your harsh glare.

He wrung his hands, pacing back and forth as you disrobed and slipped into the washroom, heading straight for the shower in the corner. Reluctantly, he followed you, fully clothed, unsure if he was meant to or not. "I really am sorry," he admitted, stepping up behind you as you say on the stool and poured a bucket of water over your head. "Here, let me." he insisted, thoroughly rinsing your hair before massaging product into it. You wordlessly allowed him to was the oil out of your hair, enjoying the quiet of the moment, until he ruined that too.

"A-Are you gonna break up with me?" he piped up anxiously.

"No!" you shouted with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm not going to break up with you over this, Usopp, I'm just mad!"

"Sorry," he replied, embarrassed at his silly question. "Thank you..."

"For what?" you snapped, wishing he would simply stop talking for a few minutes.

"Giving me another chance." he answered quietly. You felt your heart tear a bit at his insecurity.

"Usopp, I would never leave you over something this small." you confirmed, glancing at him over the shoulder. "I know it was just an accident, and I forgive you. I just need a few little quiet time to cool off."

He nodded, prompting you to relax as he lathered your scalp. Within minutes, you were putty in his hands, and happy as a clam again.

💔 The way his name came out of you mouth tore Usopp apart. Though you weren't together yet at this time, he still held so much undying love for you, but his pride had gotten the better of him. He ignored your sobs as he walked away from the crew, choosing a broken ship over everyone who cared for him- including you.

"Usopp, you stop right there!" you commanded, tears steaming down your face as you struggled to run after him. You'd seen him respond when Kaya did this, and you genuinely thought it would work, but obviously, given the circumstances, his love for her was much stronger than what he had claimed to have for you. "Please, come back! Usopp!"

You tumbled to the rocky shore of Water 7, having tripped over your own feet, your vision too obscured by tears to see straight. "Please!"

"C'mon, (Y/N)," Nami sniffled, pulling you to your feet only to hold you back from pursuing him further. "He's made his choice."

🍋 Usopp marveled up at you from between your thighs as you sat perched atop his face. As you rode, bucking your his against his chin, you failed to notice the escalation of your volume, but he didn't. He adored your shy, soft moans- even thought of them in his sleep but this was entirely new, and so much better.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you chanted. "Love riding your pretty face, baby!" He melted beneath you as you writhed, crying out in ecstasy, using him the way you wanted. He watched as you raised your arms, tangling your fingers in your hair. "Wanna cum all over your face!" you sighed, entranced.

"Do it, angel." he purred, voice muffled by your heat as he ate his fill. Your eyes shot open as you realized your dirty thoughts had spilled into the open air.

"Oh my God!" you squealed, instantly pushing yourself away form his face, leaving a snail trail down his chest to where you currently sat at his pelvis. "I'm so embarrassed, I'm so sorry!"

Usopp's fingers delicately laced with yours as he pulled at your hand. "Get back up here," he cooed, guiding you back to your previous position. "Please cum all over my pretty face."

Vinsmoke Sanji:

💕 You pouted in the corner of the dining room as Sanji served dinner, setting your plate down in from of you, and delicately tying your napkin around your neck as he always did. "What's wrong, Mon amour?" he asked, softly petting your hair, only to have you turn your nose up at him. The rest of the crew looked on in curiosity as the chef continued to serve, all the while struggling to get you to give him time of day.

After the meal was finished and everyone else had left the table, you stayed to help him clean up as usual. "Mon trésor, talk to me." he insisted. Once again you ignored him, prompting him to take the dishes from your hands and set them aside, before cupping your cheek to ensure that your focus was only on him. "What's the matter?"

"Oh nothing," you scoffed. "Just wish I had a boyfriend that was only my boyfriend is all."

Sanji stared at you blankly, puzzled by your sudden aggression towards him. "I'm all yours, amour, why would you think otherwise?"

"You seem to be pretty friendly with every other girl you come across," you muttered bitterly.

"Are you jealous?" he smirked, only to find that, to you, this was no amusing matter.

"I shouldn't have to be!" you snapped, sniffling a bit. "I shouldn't have to feel like I have to compete for your attention..." He stood in front of you, lips ajar from surprise at your level of emotion on the matter. After a moment, he softened, pulling you into his chest.

"This world is full of beautiful people, male and female," he soothed as you resisted the urge to cry in front of him. "We can never simply turn off our attraction to people, but at the end of the day, you should know that you take up all the space in my heart."

"Some apology," you scoffed, trying to push his affections away.

"It's not an apology," he corrected. "Though, maybe it should be. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, amour." he cooed, petting your hair and letting you be frustrated with him. Sanji was never one to try and sort out a problem immediately. He knew emotions took time to ease through, and how unhealthy rushing that could be. "Would you like some time to yourself?" he offered, pulling away from you to look into your eyes. You shook your head lightly, before nuzzling back into his chest. "Would you give me a chance to make it up to you?" You nodded shallowly, your hair getting mussed and collecting static from his shirt.

He smiled sweetly, parting from you, and holding you at arms' length. "Tell you what," he began, glancing over to the sink full of dishes. "Give me a few minutes to clean this up, you go get in the tub and wait for me."

💔 You stood in the pouring rain, outside looking in on a private moment. Sanji, the man who'd sworn his eternal love for you was there, embracing his wife to be the day before their wedding. His face was battered and bruised as he whispered to her. "Let's get married tomorrow."

Against all your better judgement, your shattered heart forced agonized screams from your throat as you sobbed, slamming your fists on the glass. Your shoulders shook as the rain mixed with your tears as they slid down your face. Just beyond, you watched as Pudding, the woman who'd taken your place nearly jump from her skin, fearfully snuggling deeper into his embrace as she eyed you as if you'd hurt her.

Sanji however never bothered to look. He heard you, he was just choosing to ignore your cries, no matter how deeply they bothered him. He could feel his decisions effect you in the form of guilty sweat dripping down his spine. Eventually, he turned his back to you, pulling his bride away as they exited the room. He couldn't stand the pitiful sight of you any longer, lest he begin to weep himself.

🍋 Sanji stared down at you, love and passion exuding from his pores as he made love to you. He held your legs securely over his shoulders as he eased in and out of you, counting how many times your breath would hitch before you could exhale. "Me prends si bien, chérie." he purred, leaning into your ear, nearly folding you in half.

"S-Sanji..." you whimpered, face numb from the overwhelming pleasure you were under. You couldn't hold back the way your volume was increasing, no matter how humiliating. He was worth being embarrassed for.

"Oui, mon amour?"

"F-Feels so good!" you affirmed, the need to feel useful swallowing you whole. You wanted to be an active participant, not simply a toy, but the way he loved on you left you paralyzed. "Wanna make you feel good too..."

"Tu me fais me sentir divine, chérie." he soothed, letting go of a weighted breath. "Continue juste à chanter comme ça pour moi, d'accord?"

Translations:

Mon amour/amour = My love/love

Trésor = Treasure

"Me prends si bien, chérie." = "Taking me so well, darling."

"Oui, mon amour?" = "Yes, my love?"

"Tu me fais me sentir divine, chérie." = "You make me feel divine, darling."

"Continue juste à chanter comme ça pour moi, d'accord?" = "Just keep singing like that for me, okay?"

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece hcs #one piece fluff #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #usopp #vinsmoke sanji

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 months

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Hello, this might be unusual but can you make a story about the reader x Donna. Reader a BSAA agent(a great soldier) she is a member of the Hound Wolf Squad and is task by Chris Redfield to infiltrate the village and annihilate any BOWs. She ended up getting captured because Miranda knows she here. They had a meeting on what are they gonna do to her and Miranda said that Donna should take her. Donna took her to the manor, reader found the whole olace creepy but as soldier she quickly plans to escape. She observe the house, investigate it, she did everything to get information about the Lords especially Donna because her mission is to kill them. In Donna's POV she hates her, because she infiltrated her village, and she knows that she's going to hurt them especially Miranda. Weeks later nothing happened, a miracle happened because the two had gotten close. Donna hates that she's falling in love with her. The truth is that she has orders to kill Reader but now she couldn't do it because her heart says so. Reader got a message that they are going to attack and she prepared secretly but was conflicted because she cares for Donna and doesn't want to hurt her. Reader help her squad kill all of the monster, most of people is gone in that place. Reader goes to Donna's house to kill her but found her sitting on her chair without her veil on, she's crying because she felt betrayed and hurt, she also confess her feelings for her, reader points the gun at her but her hands are shaking but then she threw the gun away because kisses her and confess her own feelings. Reader persuaded her to come with her in the outside world where she lives, Donna didn't hesitate. After the mission at the BSAA HQ reader convinces the higher ups to not execute Donna, she made a deal that they can still observe Donna for precautions but gets to live with reader. Donna experience the outside world and loves. She and reader happily live together.

Note: Additional information

Reader lives in a apartment in New York.

Donna's scar was removed by the professionals at the BSAA because she begged them to.

While they live together, reader tells her all of the things she needs to know about living outside the village, the technologies, and etc

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like and sorry for the delay, and for the language mistakes!!! :))))

Outside the village

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, BSAA agent! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word count: 7.196

Summary: You have a job to do, but you were not capable...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Another day, another day you were locked in that place. It didn't matter how many times you had tried to escape, how many ways you had tried to get rid of your captor. You simply couldn't run away, and little by little, you began to lose hope.

You weren't just anyone. You weren't a damsel in distress. You were supposed to be able to escape, to face every possible danger. That was your duty as a BSAA special agent, as a member of Chris Redfield's squad.

Your mission was simple, perhaps too simple: infiltrate that mysterious village, testing ground for someone who called herself Mother Miranda, and study the place.

It wasn't like your other jobs, biological weapons were everywhere. You had to fight to survive in a place like that, but you couldn't. They caught you.

That sinister priestess and her four loyal servants judged you, thinking about what your fate was going to be. You could have died in many ways, but you didn't. Apparently that fungic witch thought it would be fun to leave your life in the hands of her sinister Lords. They all screamed, almost fought to possess you, to torture you.

Sometimes you would have preferred to be the main ingredient in the castle's wines, or to be turned into a metal monster. That was much better than your uncertain fate, in the hands of the strange woman in black and her puppet, in the hands of Donna Beneviento.

Your life, your fate was entrusted to that woman with a veil on her face, that silent woman, apparently calm, the complete opposite of her maddening puppet. Even at first you thought it was a joke, but you remembered the monsters resembling terrible werewolves, and you realized that it was not.

You weren't chained, or locked in a dark, small basement. No, you were free, or almost. Your training made you run away as soon as you set foot in that creepy mansion, but it didn't take long for you to realize that you couldn't, you just couldn't.

Surely due to the pollen of those horrible yellow flowers, in conjunction with those strange powers that Lady Beneviento possessed, you were unable to leave the house. Monstrous creatures, traumatic episodes from your past, all that stuff awaited you behind the wooden doors. You knew they weren't real, but the irrational fear they caused you, was.

Giving up on your escape attempts became your best option. Furthermore, it could be a good opportunity to learn more about those people, about that mysterious lady in black. If you found a way to get that information to your squad, you could surely be satisfied with your work.

You found nothing in your research, nothing relevant, just a portrait of a beautiful woman, who was probably your own captor, and hundreds of books that talked about the properties of plants.

If you had to describe that woman in black, the only word that came to mind was: ghost. Yes, she was like a ghost, like a shadow that followed you in the darkness, but she couldn't catch you. You only saw her during the hours when your stomach was protesting hunger. It didn't make much sense in your head, why feed your enemy?

For days on end, you tried to get any words out of her mouth. You screamed, you cried, you even begged, nothing. Only the puppet, Angie, seemed to be able to communicate with you, and she didn't exactly say nice things. Your curiosity and interest seemed shared. That black shadow that you thought you imagined was there, watching you, watching over its prey, but without interacting, without running towards you and devouring you without mercy.

After several weeks of failed conversations, you decided to give up and not try anymore. If you wanted to know anything about Donna Beneviento, you would have to find out on your own.

“Okay, let's see,” you said, searching that dark office. Your probation wasn't so bad after all. You were almost free, almost.

Your hands ran through the dusty books on the shelves. Nothing interesting, just books about plants, about their alkaloids. It seemed like a dead end, just like your life was at that moment.

You sighed listlessly, wondering like every night, if Chris and the others were looking for you, a mantra that you repeated over and over again so as not to break down.

Your fingers noticed something different between them, a book that seemed different from the rest, without a title, without the hard cover that its companions had.

With a frown and a small glance around you, to avoid black shadows, or spy puppets, you took out that small, old book, studying its flowery cover.

“Donna Beneviento, 9 years old,” you read on the small sticker on the cover. A triumphant smile appeared on your face, but it faded as soon as you turned the pages.

It looked like a little girl's exercise book; mathematical operations, sentences with excellent handwriting for such a little girl, nothing useful.

“Wait...” You whispered when you reached the last page. Moved by your curiosity, you approached the desk, to the small light that illuminated the room. It seemed that the writing was more improvised, not as careful, but it was the same handwriting, the same words in Italian that you deciphered little by little.

The farmer's daughters have picked on me again. They say I'm a monster. Josef told me that nothing was wrong, that I could connect me with the other children. Lie, lie, lie.

I will never be like the others, not in this way. I don't want to, I can't talk to them, I only have Angie, she's the only one who doesn't laugh at my scar, she's the only one I can trust. Josef always says that she is good, and that she takes care of me. Angie helps me to talk to him. She helps me not to feel alone.

I miss my parents...

“Wow... A scar? Is that why you don't let yourself be seen?” You asked quietly, blinking, looking for a second part of that improvised diary.

“What are you doing, stupid stranger?!” The puppet's screeching voice interrupted your investigation, climbing towards the desk, closely followed by the lady in black, who lunged violently towards you, snatching the book.

“I, I'm, I'm sorry, I was...” You stammered fearfully. It was not common to see Donna so unhinged, with her breathing so labored. She stepped back, holding the book tightly to her chest.

“Stupid!” Angie shouted, annoyed, speaking for her owner, who was still trembling with fear. You were supposed to be the one who should tremble.

You didn't know if that was the final moment of your life, if your curiosity surpassed an invisible line that made the lady react, in the worst possible way. But no, you couldn't die, you had to survive, you had to reunite with your squad, you had to come back home.

In such a tense scenario, there was only one thing you could do. Violence would be of no use to you, you had nothing to do against those hallucinations. You would have to try... To reason.

“Oh, hey, no, nothing's wrong...” You murmured when you heard sobs behind that veil, surely due to the intrusion into her personal life, into her apparently painful childhood. “You know, children also laughed at me at school.”

Your words barely had any effect on her nervous breathing. You were going to die.

“Shut up, you stupid gossip stranger!” Angie rebuked you.

“It's, it's true,” you said, taking a breath, facing a fight you couldn't win. “I know what it’s like, really.”

The lady in black shook her head, but she made no further attempt to back away. Maybe she was listening to you.

“I don't believe you,” Angie said, with a different tone, with that tone that wasn't Angie's, but Donna's. “You are a liar, you want to deceive me.”

“No, no, I...” you said, putting your hands in a position of surrender, trying to empathize with your captor, with the woman who sustained your life. “I always played with the boys at recess, I never liked things… Let's say girl things. Maybe, maybe I didn't have any physical defects but... I was still the weirdo in the class.”

That explanation changed something. The sobbing stopped and her grip on the small book lessened.

“You have no idea...” A hoarse, soft, and unfamiliar voice whispered. You looked askance at the doll, it hadn't been her. Donna had spoken. “You don't know what it's like to be terribly alone!”

Those screams made you cringe. Well, you had gotten her to talk, but that wasn't a particularly good thing.

“Maybe I know,” you said with more confidence, with the security that moving her consciousness produced in your body. “You don't know me, Donna.”

“And why would I want to know you?” She asked, still upset. It was a strange question, almost as if she really wasn't able to understand the conversation. “You are my prisoner.”

“Well then you should chain me and lock me in some dark room, because as long as I'm still standing, I will look for a way to escape and rest assured, one day, I will defeat you and your entire cult.”

“I will never let you go,” she whispered in a dark, menacing voice. You didn't shrink that time, you stood up to her, nodding, crossing your arms.

“I find it very ironic that someone who says has suffered so much, causes that same thing in people. I don't pity you, Donna, you're not better than anyone, you're a... A monster.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, sobbing again, terribly offended by those words, by that same insult that she suffered in her childhood.

Your expression softened. No, you couldn't use those weapons against her, it wasn't fair. Suddenly your childhood, the mocking laughter of your classmates passed through to torment you for your mistake. You sighed and closed your eyes.

“Actually, I don't think so,” you said in a whisper, trying in vain to forget your harsh words. “At least you are the one who feeds me and I am not your food.”

She calmed down, nodding, but her sobs betraying her sadness.

“Do you like being here with me?” She asked with a different tone, playing with her hands. Another question seemingly out of context, for which you had no concrete answer.

“I don't... I don't know what to say to that. I’m your prisoner, you said it,” you answered honestly.

“Would you prefer to be the prisoner of one of my siblings instead of mine?” Donna asked again, with a strange curiosity, taking a step closer to you, as if her mood had suddenly changed.

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head and remembering that strange judgment and those aberrations produced by the fungus.

“Maybe you'd like to have dinner with me, so you can tell me more lies about your childhood,” she told you ironically, making you widen your eyes.

Well, it was progress. If you got along with your captor maybe... No, (Y/N), you weren't going to get out of there.

You nodded and followed her out of the office, towards a dinner that was anything but quiet.

Contrary to what it seemed to you at first, that dinner marked the beginning of an even stranger stage. Donna was no longer a shadow that stalked you in the darkness. She was there, with you, keeping you company, having tea with you, as if you were a visitor, a distant relative who had come to visit her.

It was an unusual relationship, but it was a relationship. Maybe you were getting too used to those conversations. At night in the darkness of your room, the portrait on the staircase appeared in front of you, moving something inside you, a feeling that you repressed again and again. No, you couldn't begin to feel those things, you didn't want to feel something for that woman, you couldn't.

Donna seemed different too, sometimes wanting to talk, sometimes running away from you mid-conversation. It was like something was torturing her, almost like… Like she felt the same as you. No, it wasn't possible, she didn't feel it, you didn't feel it, you couldn't.

After a couple of weeks, routine came into your life, almost as if you had forgotten why you were there. You lived with Donna, in her house, you ate, you laughed, you had everything you needed to forget about your old life and you had... Well, you had a strange woman by your side, for whom you felt equally strange things.

One night, when you were drinking tea in silence, a silence that was becoming more and more comfortable for you, a horrible sound of a ring interrupted.

“Phone, phone...” Angie hummed, to which Donna snorted, standing up from the couch and looking at you from under her veil before disappearing down the hallway that led to the elevator.

Why would she want to go down to talk on the phone? There was one on a nearby table. What would be so important that prevent you from hearing it?

Your BSAA instincts woke up after that curious hibernation caused by your captor. You had to know who was on the other side. Surely it was important to your research.

Making sure there were no puppets on the sight, you got up, leaving that book you were reading on the table. The phone kept ringing and your chance to listen was very close. Carefully, waiting for Donna to reach the device below, you picked it up, making as less noise as possible and controlling your breathing.

“Donna, I’ve heard that the girl from the BSAA is still alive,” an evil voice, which you recognized instantly, made you almost give away your presence. Miranda.

“Yes, Mother Miranda, she is still with me,” Donna responded, with an unusual tremor in her voice.

“Oh, Donna... Why is it so difficult for me to get you to follow my orders?” The priestess reproached, which made you frown.

“I was watching her, Mother Miranda, I don't think she represents a trea...” The lady in black said, stuttering. Your brow furrowed even more. She wasn't supposed to say that, right?

“Shut up! I don't have the mood for your nonsense, Beneviento. Are you so stupid that you don't even know how to kill that girl? Or are you playing with her?” Miranda said, with an annoyed tone, which made a knot settle in your stomach.

“No, Mother, (Y/N)...” Donna muttered, confused and terrified.

“(Y/N)? Since when is that nosy stranger (Y/N) to you? Donna, you're making me angry, and you don't want that, do you?” The witch interrupted again, making the lady sob again.

“No, Mother…”

“Well, stop being stupid and finish your damn job. I want that bitch dead tomorrow, you hear me?” The blonde threatened, making a shiver run through your body.

“But, Mother, I...” Donna protested, confusing you even more.

“No buts, Donna! Oh, this is the last time I trust a nutcase like you a job. I'll go do the work myself,” Miranda hissed.

“No, no, please, Mother!” Donna screeched, making you pull the phone away from her ear. “I, I will do it, I’m not going to fail you”

“Are you sure?” The witch asked, with a tone that betrayed an evil smile.

“Yes, Mother,” Donna said. “I will finish her right now.”

After that last sentence, the phone was hung up and your nerves began to make your body tremble.

At what point did you feel sorry for that woman? You shouldn't do it, she was the enemy, a dangerous madwoman, a... A monster. Your heart beat furiously, hurt to see what she was really like. She never cared about you. She never felt the same as you. She was going to kill you.

But once again, your survival instinct acted in your place. It didn't matter how horrible the images from your past, those hallucinations, were. You would have to escape, or you would die, or she, the woman you were beginning to love... Love, yes love, was going to kill you in favor of her Goddess. You were never more than a prisoner.

Before the noise of the elevator made you react, you were already walking towards the exit, closing your eyes as you opened those doors, waiting for a horrible landscape in front of you. There was nothing, just the snow glistening in the moonlight. You were free. Surely Donna hadn't found out, she hadn't paid attention to keeping you. It was your last chance.

Looking at that estate for the last time, feeling the dagger of irrational betrayal in your back, you ran away, crying for that stupid disappointment, for that love that you lost without even wanting to feel it. No, she wasn't Donna, she was a monster. You shouldn't love a monster.

When you arrived at that ominous clearing, next to those disturbing tombs, your haste and disorientation made you trip over something, or rather, someone.

“Shit,” you said, as you fell into the cold snow, when the cold of your disappointment and your feelings materialized in the form of frozen snow on your face.

You turned around, keeping some of your cool. You had to escape, Donna didn't love you, she would kill you.

That unknown figure took shape before your eyes. It wasn't a tree, nor a grave. It was a person, a uniformed person that you soon recognized.

“My God…Oliver?” You said, discovering the badge that dead soldier was wearing on his chest. He was your partner, not your best friend, but your BSAA partner. “But, but, what are you doing here?” You asked, searching his body.

“Alpha to Gamma, I repeat, Alpha to Gamma, the target has been annihilated. I had nothing to do, over...” A voice came from the soldier's walkie-talkie. You couldn't help but smile when you recognized it. Chris, it was Chris.

“Chris? Chris is that you?” You asked, pressing the button. If you could contact him, it meant he was in the village, they had come for you, or so you thought.

“Who are you?” Your boss asked, suspicious, as always.

“My God, Chris, it's (Y/N)” you responded, elated, happy because your hopes of getting out of there were getting closer and closer.

“(Y/N)? No, it can't be possible, confirm your unit code for me,” he demanded, making you snort, always looking at the door of that elevator, making sure your death wasn't close.

“Fuck...” You muttered, tired of formalities. “2141994X,” you said loud and clear, causing a sigh of relief to be heard on the other side of the walkie.

“Are you alive? You don't know how glad I am to hear you, (Y/N),” Chris said, laughing as always. “We thought the wolves had eaten you.”

“They almost did,” you joked, searching the soldier's body for weapons, grabbing a gun and a knife. “What are you doing here?”

“The headquarters has given us permission to bomb the village. Most of the monsters are dead, and the civilians have been evacuated.”

“What about Miranda?” You asked, looking for the soldier's phone, which still had some battery.

“Target down, soldier,” he replied, relieved, which made you feel the same way.

“Good, good,” you whispered without pressing the button. “What are my orders, captain?”

“Withdraw, soldier, I will send a helicopter to your location,” he responded. “Is Oliver dead?”

“Frozen, captain...” You whispered, searching in his vest for what you assumed you were going to need. “I have his flares.”

“Perfect, with that we can locate you, throw one and...”

“Wait, they're not all dead yet. I have something left to do, captain,” you said, with the image of Donna in your mind, of her betrayal, changing that forbidden love you felt for revenge. “There is one Lord left.”

“Can you do it by yourself?” Chris asked, out of courtesy, you were one of the best.

“Perfectly, over and out,” you said with a somber voice, checking that your poor companion's gun had bullets.

Yes, you wanted revenge, it was your duty. Everyone was dead, there was no Miranda, no Lords and soon, there would be no village. Only remained her, only the last of the biological weapons remained. She had to die, that's how it had to be. That's what you wanted. What you wanted, your heart was screaming at you to come to your senses, so that you wouldn't do it. It was you or her, there was no turning back.

With one kick, already equipped with weapons and protective equipment, you burst into the old mansion, which seemed to be in complete solitude. You carefully pointed the gun forward, looking for any danger, acting like a true soldier, one without a heart. The portrait on the stairs made you take a breath. Your feelings clouded your actions. No, you had to do it, you had to do it.

A sob interrupted the cries of your conscience. A black figure rested on the table, sitting in a chair, with its head buried in its arms. Donna.

“Freeze!” You shouted, pointing directly at her. The woman turned around slowly, still crying. There was nothing anymore. There was no black veil that prevented you from seeing her face. Yes, she was the woman in the portrait, that beautiful woman.

A horrible scar occupied the right side of her face, weeping, tear-filled face.

“Don’t, don't move, Donna,” you said, trembling, but holding the gun steady. She looked at you and cried even harder. Not even Angie was there, she was resting under the table, inert.

“Why did you leave?” She asked with a voice broken by crying, with a marked and evident accent, with a disappointed tone, broken with pain.

“What?” You asked, shaking your head, approaching slowly, the gun pointed at her head. You were ready to pull the trigger, but your body wasn't so ready. She was beautiful… She was… Fuck, (Y/N), you really loved her. “You were going to kill me.”

“I don't...” Donna murmured confusedly, not giving importance to your weapon.

“Cut the crap. I heard the conversation you had with Miranda. I know you were going to do it,” you said through clenched teeth. Her gaze turned dark.

“If I wanted to do it, I would have done it already,” she said, getting up from the chair and facing you, not being aware that at any moment her life would end. “You have abandoned me”

“Me? You kidnapped me! I was your prisoner!” You shouted angrily, getting closer, putting the barrel of your gun on her forehead.

“Do you think you would have been able to get out if I hadn't left you to do it?” She asked, lowering her head and closing her only eye. Those words made you shake your head, confused.

“What? Did you let me out? You just accused me of having abandoned you,” you whispered, tired and nervous. You had to end it, you had to, but you didn't want to.

“I would rather lose you than kill you,” she whispered, recognizing something in her words, feelings very similar to yours. “You can't blame me for feeling betrayed.”

“Can't I? Donna, I…Okay, that's okay, I have, I have to finish that,” you said, shaking your head. “Everyone is dead, Miranda no longer exists and you…”

“I'm the only one left,” she said listlessly, sighing, recognizing her fate, something that made the gun in your hand start to shake. “I guess that's what had to happen.”

“What? I'm holding a gun to your fucking head, and you just give up?” You protested, feeling angry not for her, but for yourself.

Donna nodded, bending down to pick up her doll and hug it childishly.

“Do it, (Y/N), do your job,” the doll maker whispered, closing her eye and trembling in fear. You shook your head but after a moment of hesitation, the gun returned to her forehead.

“Shut up, don't... Don't tell me to do it, Donna,” you said, not being able to stop a tear from sliding down your cheek. “Tell me that you want to live, that you don't want me to kill you, please...”

“I'd rather you do it yourself, (Y/N). I'm too in love with you to want to fight. I would rather die than live a life without you.”

“What?” That was all you could say.

She confirmed to you that she felt the same, that the fear of falling in love with her enemy made her behave erratically. No, Donna wasn't going to kill you. She had saved your life, sacrificing the love she felt, how happy she seemed at your side, just so you could live.

“No, you can't do this to me...” You sobbed, your finger on the trigger.

“I just wanted you to know it. I don't want your pity, (Y/N). I couldn't die without being honest with you, now I can do it calmly.”

A burst of hatred came to your gaze. You hated yourself, you hated the BSAA, Miranda, everything around you, even yourself. You, an impressive soldier, one of the best in the squad, succumbing to love for her enemy, for a biological weapon.

“Tell me not to do it,” you said with a sinister voice. “Tell me not to do it!”

Donna didn't respond, she simply took a deep breath and with the hand that wasn't holding the puppet, she placed the gun in her face, caressing your hand in the process.

Your hand shook, your finger placed on the trigger, as you closed your eyes. The crying made you move, but your emotions stopped you from shooting. Instead, in a fit of fury, punctuated by an angry scream, you threw the gun across the room, cupping the woman in black's face with your hands and doing something you had long wanted to do.

Your lips collided with hers in a messy, improvised but passionate way. She followed your kiss awkwardly, surprised, dropping Angie and hugging your waist, not wanting to be separated from you. The salty taste of your tears mixed on your lips, which moved with eagerness, with hunger for affection, with that love that you could only express with that improvised act.

“Donna, I... I love you...” You sobbed, not stopping kissing her, wanting to merge with her and be one, not wanting to think about your duty, about the BSAA, about Miranda. None of that existed in that room, only you, only those kisses that had been waiting for a long time.

“I love you...” She repeated, caressing your cheek, your whole body, not letting your lips go, in a fierce fight to express even more love.

An untimely crash caused you to hug her protectively. The whole house shook, a blinding glare came through one of the windows. Time was up. The village would be destroyed.

“What was that?” The lady in black asked, allowing herself to be protected by your arms, which stabilized her body after that tremor.

“Shit, Chris...” You muttered, thinking about what your next step was going to be. On the vest that you stole from your partner, that flare stood out, that signal to be released. “Donna, listen to me. You can't stay here... They're going, they're going to destroy the village. You have, you have to come with me. I will get you to safety.”

“With you?” She asked scared, taking refuge in your arms when more tremors shook the mansion.

“Yes, with me...” You sighed, kissing her again. Her face was confused but, after another terrible explosion, she nodded slowly. “Come on, run, to the door!” You shrieked, dodging the pieces of plaster that fell from the ceiling, taking one last look at the Angie doll.

“Gods...” Donna said, horrified by the sight of the helicopters surrounding the town, destroying it in front of her shining eye.

“There is no time!” You screamed again, dragging her by the hand to a safe place, where you lit the flare and shook it vigorously, hugging the woman in black, who was crying inconsolably. She had lost everything.

One of the helicopters approached you, launching a ladder.

“Come on, go up,” you said, extending your hand as you climbed the rope ladders until you were safe, until both of you were safe.

“It's good to see you, soldier!” A happy Chris said when the door closed, and the helicopter began its journey. You shook his hand, still hugging the woman in black, who was trembling.

“Captain, a biological weapon!” One of the soldiers screamed, pointing his rifle at Donna, who took refuge in you, scared.

“It's Donna Beneviento, one of the Lords!” Another of your former companions yelled, making Chris's smile fade. He took out his gun while you put a hand in front of him to ask for calm.

“No, no, wait,” you said with a tone of voice that was too weak. “Don't shoot, don't shoot!”

“Stand aside, soldier, we have a job to do,” Chris said, trying unsuccessfully to get you away from the brunette, who was moaning in fear and trembling, trembling too much.

“No, wait! It is not what you are thinking!” You screamed, trying to calm that hustle and bustle that you caused.

“What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You put a threat on the helicopter, have you gone crazy?”

“Listen to me Chris, she's harmless,” you said with a broken voice, unable to keep your eyes on all the weapons pointed at Donna.

“Captain, give us the order! We have her in range,” one of the soldiers said.

“No, she is mine...” Chris whispered, removing the safe of his gun.

“No, please!” You screeched.

“Move away, (Y/N),” your boss threatened, narrowing his eyes.

“No!” You shouted, quickly thinking of anything that could dissuade them. “Is this how you solve problems?”

“What?”He asked confused.

“Have you forgotten about Piers? He got infected too, he was a BOW too! Would you have shot him?” You asked, showing off those beer nights, in which you and Chris shared experiences.

“He was important to me!” Your captain screamed, hurt by that low blow, which you took advantage of.

“And she is important to me,” you said firmly, making Donna look at you with a confused and grateful expression.

Chris sighed, lowering his gun and running a hand over the back of his neck. After a moment of unbearable tension, his gaze relaxed, gesturing to your companions, who looked confused.

“Lower your weapons,” The captain sighed, to which they obeyed. “I hope I don't have to regret this, (Y/N)”

“You won't do it,” you said, ready for the worst.

Chris nodded, obviously suspicious.

“Sedate her,” he ordered her men, who immediately took Donna away from your arms, which made her get terribly nervous, moving desperately.

“(Y/N), aiutami, per favore!” She screamed uncontrollably, trying to get away from the soldiers.

“Be still, damn it...” One of your companions muttered, trying to stick a needle into her neck.

“Enough! You're scaring her!” You screamed, also fighting against the soldiers. “Chris!”

“I'm not taking any risks, (Y/N). Those are my conditions.”

You bit back an insult and sighed, pushing your way through the tangle of soldiers so you could cup Donna's face in your hands and reassure her.

“Come on, Donna, calm down, nothing's wrong... I'm here with you...” You said, closing your eyes, helping her to breathe, to calm down, while the needle sank into her skin, making her eye dance and collapse in your arms.

Once asleep, she was placed on a stretcher and covered with a small blanket. You sat next to her, holding her hand under the annoyed looks of your mates.

Chris sighed and sat down next to you, still looking at the hand you were holding, trying to figure out what kind of connection you had with Donna.

You glared at him, still not forgiving his lack of heart. He smiled, shaking his head and pulled out a folder with some old papers, searching through them for something.

“Donna Beneviento,” he said, reading one of those papers with a mocking expression. “Descendant of a noble Italian family. Unable to communicate with people, suffering from severe mental illness...”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked annoyed.

“Wait, I'm not finished,” he said amused, gesturing with his hand for you to shut up. “The experiment with Cadou was favorable. She retains her human appearance despite the scar that has grown on the right side of her face. She is mentally unstable and underdeveloped. Donna is capable of causing hallucinations and can control her dolls from a distance. Ugh, (Y/N), you've chosen the wrong woman.”

“You know that's the type of women I like,” you said, squeezing Donna's pale hand tightly, which you refused to let go.

He nodded, extending the paper towards you.

“This is Miranda's report about her. Apparently you're right. She doesn't pose much danger, as long as she stays stable,” Chris said, while you read those horrible words.

“Leave that to me,” you commented, sure of what you were saying, making your captain laugh with amusement.

“What are you up to?” He asked curiously, bringing you a bottle of beer, which you reluctantly took.

“Donna is coming with me. I'll take her to my house,” you said, having already thought about what your plans were.

“The BSAA is not going to like it,” Chris commented.

“Since when do you care about the BSAA?” You joked.

“I'll have to make miracles, (Y/N). I don't like talking to those damn bureaucrats,” he said, looking out of the corner of his eye at Donna, who remained asleep, almost angelically.

“I'll take care of that,” you said, leaning your back against the wall of the vehicle, relaxing after everything you had experienced.

The trip was slow, but finally, you arrived at the HQ. There, you had more problems. You had to beg for Donna not to be executed. Luckily, Chris was on your side now. The conditions were simple, but acceptable. Donna would stay there for a while, long enough to undergo whatever tests the BSAA wanted, then she would be free to leave, as long as she remained contactable.

To separate from her hurt you, but there was no other choice. After a few months, in which you thought that the deal you made no longer existed, that call came.

“Donna...” You sighed, smiling when she crossed the door of the facility, guarded by a couple of agents. She didn't seem the same. Her black dress was gone, replaced by clothing that was too big for her. It was even a tender sight. But it wasn't the only thing that had changed.

That horrible scar on her eye was tremendously reduced until it was almost imperceptible. She apparently begged base doctors to remove it. You couldn't blame her for that, but honestly, you didn't care about that scar at all.

You threw yourself into her arms, covering her with kisses all over, letting her do the same as she told you how scared she had been, how much she had missed you. There was still one trip to make, and it was the most important one: the travel to New York, where you lived, where she would live with you.

“And... Here we are...” You said, extending your arms as you opened the door to your small apartment. “I know, I know, it's not a big deal but... Well, it's something.”

Donna walked in quickly. The poor thing was very scared by the city. All of this was new to her, perhaps too overwhelming.

“You live here?” She asked curiously, fascinated by all those new things, still with a hoarse voice and an involuntary tremor in her hands.

“Yes, well, I try to,” you joked, taking her hand. “Donna, I have something for you,” you whispered in a funny voice, to which she smiled tenderly.

“A surprise?” She asked excitedly, with that innocent look. You nodded, biting your lip and kissing her quickly before walking towards your room.

Searching your backpack, you found the desired object, looking at it suspiciously, and you headed back to the small room, where the former Lord wandered studying all those strange things.

“Look what I have, does it sound familiar to you?” You said, extending your hands that grabbed the old puppet, Angie, that you rescued that night, at the last moment. You knew how important it was to her.

“Gods... Angie...” Donna said, with tears in her eye, running towards the puppet and hugging it in her arms, crying with happiness. “Angie…”

“I saved it just before we left. You don't know what it has cost me to hide it from them,” you joked, putting a hand on her shoulder, making her look at you with deep gratitude before putting a hand on Angie's porcelain face.

“What happened? Who turned off the light? Where I am?” The squeaky voice of the doll made you squint. Well, you assumed that would happen, Angie would come back to life.

“Angie, (Y/N) saved us, we're in New York,” Donna explained. “We are going to live with her, outside the village.”

“New York?” The puppet asked, jumping from the arms of its owner and running towards the window. “Ohh…. Look Donna, look how many cars... And how strange they are...”

The lady approached with the doll, looking out the window. You stayed leaning on a beam, watching her reaction and sighing in relief. Everything would be much easier for Donna if she was next to her doll and, above all, by your side.

But a frightened gasp brought you out of your thoughts. Donna's face suddenly changed to a scared one, turning away from the window, as if she didn't want to see it. You approached, hugging her waist and resting your head on her shoulder.

“What's wrong, honey?” You asked softly, placing your lips on her neck. She grabbed your hands, holding you close to her, not wanting you to be separated from her.

“It's just... All of this... I'm, I'm scared, (Y/N). I never left the village and... There are, there are so many things that I don't know...” She sighed, breathing hard, making you alert.

“Don't worry, that's what I'm here for,” you said softly, turning her around so you could kiss her on the lips, making her sigh. “I'll help you, okay?”

She nodded with a shy smile, letting herself be guided to your small couch, sitting down and watching the TV curiously.

“That's the TV, I guess you've seen some before, right?” You asked, turning it on with the remote, which caused Donna to look at the screen, surprised.

“Yes, but... Not so... Bright...” Donna said, without looking away from that strange screen.

“There is a channel about cooking, I'm sure you'll like it. I assume you still like to cook, right?” You said amused, dialing the number with the remote.

“Of course,” she said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “I loved cooking for you...” She whispered, afraid that your days of captivity had been torture for you. They weren't, at all.

“I'll let you do it whenever you want,” you joked again, nudging her. Just as you intended, she laughed too. You had been waiting to hear that laugh for so long... “But not today, honey, today the bar on the corner is cooking.”

“I can cook,” she said, without stopping to look at Mrs. Moira's recipes. She seemed quite entertained, which made you find the strength to leave her alone.

“No, you should rest and adapt. Don't worry, I'll be right back,” you said putting on a jacket. She looked at you scared, leaning on the couch.

“Wait, no, don't leave me alone, please...” Donna begged with a sad voice, comically peeking out from the sofa.

“Don't worry, Donna, nowadays no one is alone... Which reminds me of...” You said running back to your room to get another important thing.

“What's that?” The brunette asked, curious about what you were carrying in your hand.

You smiled, sitting down next to her again and handing her the curious object.

“This is a telephone, a mobile phone. Take it, it's for you,” you said while she looked at it with a curiosity that made you have to hold back your laughter.

“A phone? But, but it doesn't have cables,” Donna said confused, looking at the phone carefully.

“No, it doesn't have cables, but you can call with it, and do many more things, look...” You said, pressing the button that turned it on, making her curiosity increase.

“It's, it's like a television... A smaller one, of course,” she said, amused.

“Well, at this rate it will be someday,” you said, laughing, helping her handle. “Look, if you tap here, you go to contacts and… There's my number, just tap here and you can talk to me.”

“Wow... So I can talk to you whenever I want, wherever I want...” Donna sighed, tapping on the screen to corroborate your words.

“You see? A certain Donna is calling me, do you know who she could be?” You said, showing your own phone.

Donna nodded, amused but curious, looking at the back of the phone.

“What is this?”

“Oh, that's the camera, you can take pictures of whatever you want with it,” you explained, to which she nodded, scratching her head. Maybe it was too much information.

“ You mean photographs? With this?” She asked confused, frowning. You nodded, taking the phone from her hand and pointing the camera at you.

“I'll show you,” you said, smiling and getting closer to her. “Come on, smile Donna.”

She obeyed while you took the photo, but not before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“It's us...” She said with a smile. She was really fascinated.

“You see? Should I put it as your wallpaper? The truth is that the photo is very nice, don't you think?” You asked, fiddling with the phone.

“Wallpaper?” She asked confused, to which you went pale. Little by little, (Y/N)

“Umm, well, it's so whenever you turn it on you can see this photo, would you like that?” You asked shyly, touching the settings.

“Yes, yes,” she said, nodding excitedly. “I would like to see you anytime, (Y/N)”

You smiled tenderly, handing her back the phone, God, you were madly in love with her.

“You are very sweet, you know that?” You whispered, kissing her lips as a thank you for her words, perhaps letting yourself go a bit.

“Hey, hey, Donna, take a photo of me, please, please,” Angie hummed, climbing into her lap and interrupting that romantic moment,

“Well, I think I'll go get the food,” you said, rolling your eyes, while Angie had fun with the phone.

You never thought it would end like this, under those circumstances. It was going to be difficult. Donna had a lot of things to learn, and for that she needed you, almost as much as you needed to see that smile every day.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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superums · 5 months

Text

niran "bua" Pruksamanee x tank! reader

gn!reader. fluff. alight angst. slight ableism (its in passing). no y/n or name usage. established relationship. reader is an overwatch agent. usages of thai, tell if they're wrong pls :3. no pronouns besides one mention of the word 'woman'. no gendered terms. both reader & niran are 28-31. you're a tank though its not explicitly mentioned.

colored text: niran. you.

sorry i've been gone from so long i started playing baldurs gate😭

general headcannons

you used to be a famous boxer. you were on billboards, headlining major fighting events, making tons of money goes pay-per-view fights—you were a star. you loved hearing your fans chant your name, telling off hecklers in the crowd and the adrenaline running through your veins you left the scene.

during your professional career you used to watch the news and wish you could do something about the things that were going on in the world.

you wanted to help badly but you weren't super human nor did you have any smarts to make up for it. you were just a boxer with a mean right hook.

then your life seemed to change for an instant—you lost both your arms a terrorist attack. it happened quickly; one minute you were fighting at the heavyweight championship the next you were screaming at the top of your lungs as smoke clouded your vision.

you ended your career not long after. you felt like a shell of yourself, not only because of your new disability and the phantom pains that came with it, but also because all you know is fighting.

the prosthetics the doctors offered you didn't feel the same. some couldn't hold a punch, others were hallow and the force of your you exerted would smash it into pieces without you trying.

for a while you were hounded by paparazzi, every time you were in headlines they would run up to you and say things like "it must be hard for you to go from on top of the world to nothing all in a year" or "i pity you really."

you tried to get used to the comments but no matter how many times you tried to swallow the humiliation you felt it just wouldn't go away.

after viral picture of you at the beach without your prosthetics on where people called you everything but a child of god you just decided to go far away from everyone.

you moved to a cabin on a prairie. being so far and out of the way it was a miracle you found him, or well—he found you. he came when you were close to giving up on your dream of fighting ever again.

you were sitting on your porch when you saw him from the corner of your eye standing at your warn down shack. he might have been trying to break into your house or knock you out you're not sure but you offered him a place to stay.

it might've been crazy, to let a stranger live in your roof but it was a decision made out of loneliness. he said his name niran. you let him stay with you. at first it was just for a couple of days; but then it turned into a week, then a month become months.

after a while finally he told you why he was trying to break into your house to begin with.

"i'm a fugitive." came out of his mouth as you both sat next to each other. his cold metal hand would be on top of yours if it was still there.

you turned to face him, calculating what you should say next. you've only know him for a month, its too short to know someone but you felt like he was the nicest person you've met. "i have a price on my head in a few places... seventeen to be exact...." he continued; voice getting lower as he continued. his brown eyes searching for anger or disgust on your face. instead he was met with a mix of curiosity, confusion and maybe a little fear.

"w...what for? if you can say." silence filled the room for a bit, niran was fidgeting with his prosthetic before opening his mouth again. "i...i made a new form of life, i want to heal people."

his voice wavered a little. back then his mind really didn't understand why but in his heart wanted you to accept him, not because he was alone—but because he loved you.

you accepted him without a second thought and after that you let him stay with you. over the months he started to have feelings for you; seeing your smile, the soft voice that was so much different from the one you used in the ring. seeing how you talk to him he might have fallen in love with you as soon as he met you.

you let him advance his technology in your basement and in return he gave you new arms out of hard light.

you knew you liked him but after that; giving you a second chance with arms you could feel things with, if you didn't love him then you definitely loved him after that.

with the new pair of new arms you felt indebted to him. you started training very soon after you got used to your arms not only because you missed it but because now you feel like you have to protect him from vishkar.

when you started dating he's so sweet to you. i'm a strong believer that niran is soft with his lovers even if he is a bit of a flirt. he never rushed things with you, always going slow with everything

it took him weeks of not months to kiss you for the first time, he didn't want to rush anything with you especially when if you're still vulnerable about your situation.

he set up a lovely picnic when he realized he so desperately wanted to kiss you. a large pink tree stood in the large plot of land you call a backyard. he planted plants both real and artificial— hoping it conveyed his love for you well.

he held your hands, his flesh and cybernetic hands held yours with such softness. as he led you to the picnic blanket you felt like you were in a movie; the baby pink tree pulsated and it made you feel gooey (in a good way), the phantom pains you experienced seems to disappear in that moment, leaving just you and niran.

as you both ate he talked to you like about his day how he planned this for months. at some point in your talk strayed away from normal topics, you felt his flesh hand caress your jaw only then you noticed how close you two were; niran peering down at you.

"i've been thinking..." he whispered, you twos lips almost gravitating towards each other—stopping when you two were only a foot apart. "i want to take things slow, not to rush you.." the tree pulsed again as you stared into his eyes, his voice so gentle with you as if you'd break if he talked louder than a whisper.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, you heart warmed at the words; you didn't even speak instead you leaned in more until your lips touched. it was a kiss you of a movie, his cybernetic hand went to you back as his flesh one held your jaw. passion flowed through the two of you and its all you've ever wanted; a movie like kiss with niran.

i imagine he's very passionate when it comes to you. when he kisses you it's almost like it'll be his last; he puts his hand on your chin and cradles your head literally every time it doesn't matter whats going on

his nicknames for you หัวใจของฉัน, ดอกไม้ของฉัน, love, darling and rose

translation: my heart, my soul

he wants his pet names to represent how deeply he loves you and if you don't speak thai he'll use the most intense words he knows.

you're devoted to not only loving but protecting niran! you've tried to train him for the worst case scenario of vishkar coming; and you've come to realize he's a lover not a fighter

so when he told you he was going to join overwatch you told him you were going to follow him and were prepared to argue with him if he said other wise but instead he told you "i was hoping you'd say that"

in game head cannons

while niran flirts with the roster in a joking way just know he seriously means it when he's talking to you! some moments playful and fun while others are more... intense

you: *sigh* it's so cold, i don't know how you're dealing with this

lifeweaver: lets hug! we can warm each other up!

you: *sigh*... it's so cold, i don't know how you're dealing with this

lifeweaver: i just imagine you and i feel so warm (sexual innuendo)

he thinks it's funny to mess with you even if it's in-front of your friends. down worry in reality he wont say things like that too loud... just between you two.

when you get elems he has multiple voice lines where he's in absolute awe in what you can do and they vary on how many kills you get.

1-2 kills usually gets a "you're so cool~" or "you're blooming!" while 3-5 gets a "it's amazing such strong actions can belong to someone so gentle."

i imagine being life gripped feels the same as being dropped from a super high place almost like a roller coster so maybe you have voice lines where you express you hate getting pulled

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: ah! it feels so weird when you do that

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: im gonna hurl..

if you're critical when he pulls you however your tone changes to something more thankful and sweet

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: you love me! you really love me!

reference

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: oh niran, i could just kiss you right now!

reference

you two probably have skins that match for sure. you have an epic that just a recolor of your normal skin but its mostly white and you have baby pink forget-me-nots made out of biolight in your hair.

when he eliminates you he's always so cheeky about it. he says "*laughs* forgive me my love!" and "ยกโทษให้ฉันดอกไม้ของฉัน"

translation: forgive me my flower

when he kills you via melee however he always says "*gasp* you must train some more!" and "it looks like i'm the strongest now! *giggles*"

when you send him to the spawn room his voices lines always make him seem more in love with you than upset. he says "*sigh dreamily* oh i love that in a woman" , "such brute strength makes me love them more..." and "พวกเขาทําให้ฉันกระเด็นออกจากเท้าของฉันอย่างแท้จริง!"

translation: they knocked me off my feet literally!

#overwatch x reader #ow2 x reader #overwatch fanfiction #lifeweaver x reader #niran pruksamanee x reader #overwatch x you #📓💭🪷

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abrcmswrld · 10 months

Text

Treacherous | Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: Reader and Mike have been best friends since childhood. After a fight, Reader is given a surprise visit.

Warnings: General Angst, General Fluff, a suggestive make out scene in the nude but nothing too crazy, mentions of feminine clothing in one part but overall gender neutral

Author's Note: IM EDITING THIS RN SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND LIKE DUMB STUFF This is my first fic for Mike so bear with me! I tried so hard to adhere to the movie timeline but if it seems shaky please just ignore it lmao. I'm also bad at pacing sorry. I’d love to make this a series cause I’m in love with a good friends to lovers trope.

Mike had always been a bit of a mess. All of the time that you've known him, this has never changed. You can recall times on the playground of boys calling him names for his sensitivities. How were they to know the gravity of his situation? How were you to know? But you always felt called to stand up for him either way.

So you'd hound them off. You'd grab his hand and pull him off the dirt and to a quiet corner of the playground. The two of you would sit on the wooden border, picking at the grass and watching the other kids play.

His sensitivities would quickly turn to a certain hardness that you'd never fully come to understand, even in your late twenties. He'd open up the tiniest bit in high school, after his mother had passed away. He was only 17 years old. You were still children.

You have memories of standing uncomfortably in the dress your mother had insisted you wear to the funeral. You didn't know how to approach him then. He sat alone in a chair on the far side of the funeral home, a blank expression on his face. You couldn't say a word as you took tiny footsteps towards him. And he didn't say a word either, just looked up with bloodshot eyes. You'd hugged him then, feeling his shoulders shakes against you.

Soon it was time for the two of you to start thinking about college and your lives outside of the scope of small town high school. Talks of plans to find something new and excited were quickly stomped out by the failures of his father. You can recall a 23 year old Mike begging for your company on late nights when his father's drinking had reached a climax.

And you'd gladly show up for him. Abby was only six by that time, and Mike was all she had. Mike spoke about his father with disdain to you. Never crying the way he had as child, but you could see a sad anger within the conversations. And really, you couldn't blame him.

You can remember a night on the roof of your childhood home. It wasn’t your first time sneaking Mike through the window of your bedroom. It was a cold December night, and you were home for the holidays.

“I don’t think my dad’s coming back.”

Your knees were pulled up and under your chin as you rest your head and listened to his worries. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t been back for three days and I think this might finally be it.”

You furrowed your brows and met his gaze.

“I’ll move back here.”

In that moment he had begged you not to. You were so close to finishing your degree and he insisted that he could not be the reason you didn’t finish. So you heeded to his wishes. You finished your final semester.

In the 6 months that you were gone after that night, his dad had not returned. Mike had stepped up to be a guardian for his sister. Family court would later assure this in legal documentation.

You had hugged him tightly the first night you were home and assured him that you would be there, for the both of them.

━━━

You would prove that to him when his original babysitter had ghosted him.

“Probably got tired of not being paid.” He had said when you asked why.

You don’t ask for pay. You had a day job that kept you stable enough to live. And as Mike’s hours were night shift, there was really no problem with the arrangement.

It would go on for a few weeks. You hadn’t seen pay, but you didn’t mind. Mike would cook you breakfast when he got home. That was payment enough for you.

But you could notice he wasn’t doing well. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had confided in you about the actions of his Aunt Jane. He showed you the papers with bold letters proclaiming a request for a change of custody. His stress and worry made sense to you now.

He would have to prove he was fit, a big ask in a court setting, especially for someone like Mike. You had encouraged him the best you could.

But everything had come to a head on a night when Mike had intended to actually pay you.

He woke you from your light sleep on his couch, alerting you that he was home. He sat his tired body on the recliner.

“There’s a 20 dollar bill in my jacket pocket.”

His eyes are closed as he speaks. It seems the night has been a rough one for him. “You don’t have to, but thank you.” You find the jacket lying on the kitchen table. You feel slightly bad as you reach your hand in to find the bill, but your guilt falls into confusion as your fingers brush the tiny bottle inside.

You let your eyes travel over the orange bottle in your hands. You furrow your brows. You turn to face the recliner he sits in.

"Mike."

He turns his head to face you, tired eyes falling on yours. He sees the bottle in your hands and you can see a sense of uncertainty and dread fall across his features.

"What are these? Sleeping pills?"

He immediately tenses, as if he had been avoiding this topic with everyone. But he responds quietly, “Yes.”

You fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Realistically, there was nothing wrong with sleeping pills. People use them all of the time to sleep. But Mike seems hesitant to cover the topic of these pills and why he uses them.

An additional concern comes up in the way he had stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Why was he taking them to work? You hate the way your thoughts sound like the micromanagement of a mother, but all you can see is the bright yellow of the custody papers and Abby’s sweet face in your mind.

“Have you been taking these at work?”

He’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for you. You sigh as you sit the bottle down on the kitchen counter. You’ve known he wasn’t well. The incident that had gotten him fired from his last job, the dark circles under his eyes, the hardness about him, it all worried you. But you had always chose to let him live. Let him make his mistakes.

“Mike, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He lets out a spiteful scoff as if the conversation is beneath his worries at the moment. He lets out a shaky sigh. “I feel connected to him there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

There’s no doubt in your mind who he is referring to. His baby brother. The one he couldn’t save. You let him continue.

“If I can put myself into the right state of mind, I can see it. I can watch it over and over. And if I try hard enough maybe I might see who took him.”

He voice drifts off to a quiet and weak tone, “That’s all that matters to me.”

You can tell he’s hurt by the way that his voice comes out strained and weak, and it hurts you too. It’s not as if you couldn’t understand the pain of the situation. He’d cried to you all those years back when it first occurred. What you can’t understand is how he could let it ruin his relationship with Abby. Abby who is alive and well. Abby who, even if discreet, sees Mike as the moon and stars.

“And what about that little girl who sits around and draws you all day long?”

It makes you feel like a bitch to even say such a thing to him, but if it gives him a shake maybe it’d be worth it. “What about her?”

He stands still as a statue, emotions shifting across his face as he processes the words you’ve shot at him. You’re sure they strike like a bullet. His mouth opens and closes again, so you speak again.

“I know how badly you want to bring him back, Mike. To bring him back and be able to pretend none of that ever happened.”

He furrows his brows and you can the see the hurt flood his expression.

“But you’re going to lose them both if you don’t get your shit together.”

You sigh. You hate the way you sound like a mother scolding a child. You take a shaky breath. “Do you think that this job is really good for you? I mean-“ He cuts you off with a scoff and a laugh.

His tense attitude has you uncomfortable and defensive. You hate the way your voice becomes strained as you speak. “I just think it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I need this job, otherwise I’m never gonna see her again.”

And of course you know that. He needs a job to look good for a court that’s supposed to be able to decide if he’s right to take care of his sister. But what good does a job do on paper if the court can clearly see the way his mental stability is shaky? He hesitates and meets your eyes with a tense look as he speaks,

“You’re here to babysit Abby, not me.”

You stand silently in front of him for a moment before grabbing your coat. You turn toward him. You can see the quirk of regret on his expression, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t take it back.

“It’s gonna take more than a shitty job that drives you crazy to keep her. I think you should find somebody else to babysit Abby.”

There’s malice in your tone and you hate it. But you can’t make excuses for him. You ignore his voice as he says your name quietly. You just let the door close behind you a you walk to your car. You wait for the door to open again behind your back. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you either. In fact, you don’t hear from him for another week and you wonder if he’s already replaced you and plans on holding the grudge.

You assume he must have. He must have found another babysitter for Abby. It seemed he was saving money to actually pay whoever took that role.

You can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more sad as the week goes on. You find yourself worrying more and more about Mike. And Abby. There’s no doubt in your mind that Jane was still adamant on proving in court that Mike was an unfit guardian.

You don’t know why you feel as though your presence could somehow remedy that. You don’t know why you feel an ache so deep in your heart. Friendship breakups are common. But Mike was different.

You still don’t let yourself text him. You would give him the power to choose that route. To choose you and the friendship you had given him since you were both children. And by the end of the week you have to force yourself to sleep.

And by the end of the week you get what you had secretly hoped for.

━━━

The knock on your door is urgent. You're half asleep as you rise out of the comfort of your bed. Your feet press against the cold floor as you rush to see who it could be. As you glance through the peephole you're met with those familiar black curls.

You open the door swiftly, shivering at the cool breeze that flows in. He looks like hell. Abby stands at his side. You're stunned, "Oh my God." You open the door wider and usher the two of them in.

Abby seems to be physically uninjured, while Mike's face is bloodied and bruised. You whisper to Mike,

"What the hell happened?"

He looks to Abby before he answers. "Abby should get some rest while we talk." You nod immediately. "Of course. She can sleep in my bed while I patch you up."

You lead the young girl to the bed and ensure she's tucked in. She thanks you quietly before you leave the room. You grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom cabinet on your way back.

"Sit."

You point Mike in the direction of the couch. He winces as you wipe the open cuts with alcohol wipes. You raise an eyebrow, “ You look like hell, Mike.” He scoffs in response.

“So you gonna tell me who did this to you, or am I just gonna have to keep wondering?”

Mike hesitates. You stop your movements to look at him with concern. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” You sigh,

“Mike, I know you. Just tell me.”

And so he does. He explains everything down to the little details he can remember. It sounds crazy, it absolutely does. But you can’t bring yourself to think he’s faking it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.” He points in the direction of the room Abby was soundly sleeping in.

“I believe you.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a large breath. You continue to clean the cuts along his face and head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He nods. There’s still an awkward tension between the two of you. He’s upset with himself for letting you leave the way you had, and you’re ashamed of yourself for letting him push you away. You break the silence at the same time,

“You know-“

“I’m sorry-“

You can’t help but laugh a little, and he smiles weakly back at you.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You continue.

He shrugs. “You were just looking out for me. I understand that now.” It means a lot coming from Mike. He’s stubborn, not usually one to admit when he’s wrong. It makes the moment all the more sincere. You smile slightly, letting a hand brush his cheek where a bruise is blossoming under the skin.

“I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t care about you.”

He nods slowly and leans his cheek into your caress. You can feel the warmth of his hand as he lets it fall to your hip. His voice falls to a whisper.

“I care about you too.”

You smile and swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, where the plush skin has split from impact and smeared blood across his pale chin. He groans as he leans up, it’s only then that you notice the large gash on his side.

He attempts to stand, hobbling on his injured leg. “Mike,” He turns toward your bedroom, ready to grab Abby and get out of your hair. When he turns his back, you can see the blood seeping through his shirt and the large tear across his back. You grab his hand,

“Mike.”

He faces you again, letting a quick glance fall to your now connected hands. “Let her sleep, she’s alright. Let me help you.”

He stands awkwardly in front of your bathroom counter. His muscles flex with each touch of your fingers around his wounds, his fingers gripping the counter until his knuckles are white.

“I think it’d be best if you took this off.”

You’re awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his long sleeve shirt. He meets your gaze in the mirror and you feel small. Your voice is nearly a whisper, “I- I just can’t see.”

You stare at the floor as he pulls the shirt over his head. The gash is messy, but not deep enough to require stitches. Regardless, it’s covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. You usher him to turn, and you see that the cut on his side is not better.

He can see the way your eyebrows screw together. “Is it that bad?” His voice has a touch of dread hidden in its tone. “I mean,” You glance at him.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to clean them or they’re gonna get infected.”

He swallows and nods. You walk to the shower, turning the knobs and adjusting the water to an appropriate and comfortable temperature. You clear your throat, “Here. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you…do your thing.”

You turn on your heels to give him privacy. As soon as your fingers touch the metallic surface of the doorknob, his hand catches your free hand, pulling gently. You turn toward him, meeting his eye. He pulls you closer and carefully pulls you into an embrace. You’re worried you’ll catch his wounds with your hands so you let them hover above his skin, not actually touching. But you want to.

You can feel his breath on your neck where he’s buried his face. He speaks into the sensitive skin, “Thank you. I don’t thank you enough.” That’s the moment you finally let your hands rest on his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mike. I do it because I care about you.” You gently brush your fingers across his upper back, avoiding his cut. “Besides, you’d do it for me.”

He pulls himself from your neck, and you drop your hands from his back gently, expecting him to pull out of the embrace. But he stays close to you and only pulls back enough to see your face. Your cheeks are so hot. You can feel it and you know he can probably see it. He keeps his hands at your sides, just above your hips in a way that feels respectful. You allow yourself to put your hands on his forearms, thumbs resting in the bend of his elbows.

“Your water is gonna get cold.”

It’s a whisper as it comes out. He simply nods but doesn’t drop his hands from your sides. You smile shyly at him.

“Come with me.”

Your face is instantly hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the steam that’s building in the room and around the two of you. With your eyes wide and your mouth opening but no words coming out, he looks at you with hesitation, like he can’t believe the words actually left his mouth.

You can see the fear building on his expression the longer the silence drags on. Thoughts are racing through your head. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of this. You loved him. There’d always been a flutter in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks that let you know that perhaps it could be more than a friendship. You want that. But is this really how it’s going to happen?

You imagine the two of you going from childhood friends to becoming well acquainted with each other’s bodies in the span of one stressful night after not speaking for nearly a week. But there are no alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

So you kiss him. With his arms still around you and the heat from his bare chest creating a sense of protection from everything. With the whirl of water hitting the tub filling your ears. With the image of Abby sleeping soundly in your bedroom in your mind.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a sense of longing you’ve not seen on him before. You don’t want to say a word, not right now. It’ll be complicated. You know it will be. And you’ll have to have that conversation eventually, but right now the only thing you want is the heat of the water and the silk of his skin against yours.

So you finally unwrap yourself from him to begin working the buttons on your shirt. You’ve turned your brain off momentarily. Your fingers are on autopilot as they remove each article of clothing. If you allowed yourself to think, you’d surely turn in on yourself from the shame.

But when you’re finally bare and displayed in front of him, he doesn’t speak. He only looks with a fondness in his eyes that goes beyond a lustful stare. He slowly works his pants off his injured figure, wincing in the process, and soon he’s just as bare as you.

You’re shaking and cursing yourself internally for doing so. God, why were you shaking? You know he notices as he reaches his hand out to touch your arm lightly, grounding you in reality, and speaks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. More than okay.

The water feels heavenly as it beats against the skin of your back. Mike hobbles into the shower after you. He’s hesitant as you usher him to switch with you. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s necessary.

Your fingers lightly brush the wound on his back. He'd already been wincing slightly from the sting of the water, but your touch has him tensing immediately. You grab a cloth and dampen it enough to be effective in cleaning the general blood and grime from the afflicted wound.

The moment your cloth cover hand touches the wound, he cries out through closed teeth, "Fucking- fuck!" His hands are planted against the shower wall in front of him. He bites his lip, holding in the whimpers of pain, trying his hardest not to wake Abby.

"Shh. It's okay, Mikey."

You let a gentle hand fall to his non injured side, brushing his skin. You're trying to sooth his tense and pained form as much as possible.

Soon enough you have both gashes cleaned up and ready to be bandaged. Mike turns to face you in the shower. His face still has a slight touch of discomfort to it, but he smiles weakly at you.

“Thank you.”

You smile back and nod. You’ve hardly said a word outside of attempting to sooth his pain with sweet words. The cold is starting to seep in from the tiny crack in the shower curtain. You can feel tiny goosebumps beginning to form on your skin. He frowns slightly and breaks the silence again.

“Did I cross a line…with this?”

Your head is already shaking before you can even comprehend the question. Like your body knows the answer before your mind does. “No, Mike.” He hesitates in his response, standing still and quiet before stepping towards you.

He seems to be able to move around a little better. You’re not sure if it’s the water cleaning the previously irritated wounds or if it’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. Either way you’re thankful as his hands are grabbing at your face and pulling you into another kiss.

It’s sloppier than the previous kiss you had shared, and he’s pushed you back so far that your back is hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. A fog has taken over your mind as you reach around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the plush muscle of his back.

The feeling of his tongue swiping into your mouth has sent you entirely mad. You’re whining slightly at the feeling and your eyes are half lidded. You can’t even think of the fact that this is your childhood best friend kissing you. Making you shudder. You can’t find it in you to care, you want him.

“Mikey…”

It’s a whispered moan as you let your head fall back against the tile, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his wandering mouth.

Despite his injured form, his hands are tight around you. You'd thought of this before, in the heat of the night alone in your high school bedroom, hormones taking over completely.

You'd imagined the strong grip of his hands and the contrast of his plush lips. The bite of white teeth and soothing warmth of the hot water.

It’s absolutely divine, you think. He is divine. You know you’ll have dark bruises on your neck from the way he bites. You can’t help but run a hand through the hair on the back of his head and tug slightly. The moan is elicits rumbles through your neck and you want more.

You’re absolutely drunk off of the feeling of his body being this close to yours, nearly intertwined. You don’t even think when your nails swipe the cut on his back. That is until he lets out a yelp in the crook of your neck and promptly jump back.

You’re wide eyed immediately, realizing what you’d just done.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

You can still see the remnants of a wince on his face but he laughs. And you find yourself letting out a nervous laugh with him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

You laugh again, holding the palm of your head to your forehead.

“We should probably get out. It’s getting cold.”

You nod.

━━━

You manage to sneak past Abby’s sleeping figure long enough to grab old clothes from your room. You find yourself thanking the universe than Abby is a heavy sleeper.

You’re also thankful that you hadn’t given Mike back an old t-shirt that he had left in your home years ago. He smiles at you when you hand it to him. He puts it on and examines the familiar print on the front.

“You’ve been holding this one hostage, huh?”

You gently nudge his shoulder and let out a chuckle. “Shut up.”

You’ve layered blankets in the middle of your living room floor. You speak as you lay pillows down on the makeshift palette. “Abby is sleeping peacefully, I’m not letting you drive home tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on my tiny couch.”

You point exaggeratedly at the “bed” you’ve created for the two of you. “Ta-da.” You let yourself fall back onto the layers of pillows and blankets. It’s surprisingly cushioned. You sigh. “Actually not that bad, Mikey.”

He watches you with a smile from his seat on your couch. “You’ve really out done yourself.” He slides off the couch and into the layers of blankets and pillows next to you. He turns to rest on his uninjured side, facing you. It’s dark in the room, but you’ve left one lamp on. You can see his features glow under the warm light. You brush a hand on his cheek lightly.

“I’m glad you didn’t die tonight, Mike.”

He snickers, but you’re serious. The thought of his face on the news, just another tragedy at Freddy’s, haunts you. “I’m serious.”

He simply stares at you. “You’re not gonna go back there, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna take care of her. I can’t keep a job.”

Your thumb brushes at his cheek, soothing his tension. “I’ll help you. When have I ever left you alone in this?” You shiver as you think of the only time you’d walked out on him after that heated argument. You push the thought away and close your eyes.

“Really love you, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

You open your eyes hesitantly and you can see the shine of moisture in his. “Love you too.”

You place a kiss on his lips. It’s chaste, but full of a deep warmth. It leaves you wondering what comes next.

You tuck yourself in close to him.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff

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