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scoupsakakitty · 2 months ago

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Misunderstanding | idol!Vernon x reader | angst,fluff

The members were scattered around their hotel suite, relaxing after their final U.S. tour performance. Mingyu was stretched out on the couch, munching on snacks, while Jeonghan leaned back in a chair with a smug look on his face. Vernon, however, sat quietly, staring at his phone.

“Vernon, you’ve been looking at your phone for, like, an hour,” Seungkwan pointed out, throwing a pillow at him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Y/N,” Vernon muttered, catching the pillow but not looking up.

That immediately got the attention of the room.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “What about her? You two seemed fine last time you talked.”

“She’s ignoring me,” Vernon admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been texting and calling, and she hasn’t replied. I don’t know what I did.”

“Maybe you did something without realizing it,” Seungkwan said, leaning forward with interest.

“Or maybe she’s overthinking something and waiting for you to fix it,” Jeonghan added with a grin.

“I didn’t do anything,” Vernon insisted. “At least, I don’t think I did. Everything was fine two days ago.”

“Girls don’t just start ignoring you for no reason,” Jeonghan teased. “Trust me, I know.”

“Just call her and find out,” Joshua suggested.

“Yeah, call her now,” Seungkwan agreed, then smirked. “And put it on speaker so we can hear.”

“What? No,” Vernon said, frowning.

“Come on,” Mingyu chimed in, laughing. “We’re trying to help. If you get stuck, we can tell you what to say.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vernon muttered, but he relented, dialing her number and switching the phone to speaker. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming all of you.”

The members immediately leaned in, some trying to stifle laughter as the phone began to ring.

———————————————————————————

Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. Her stomach churned as she saw the photo of Vernon and the girl yet again laughing together, looking like they were sharing a private moment. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Vernon’s name flash across the screen.

She let it ring a few times before answering, her tone sharp. “What do you want?”

The members collectively winced at her cold tone. Mingyu mouthed, This is bad.

“Y/N,” Vernon said cautiously. “Why have you been ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Seriously, Vernon?” Y/N snapped, her voice icy. “You don’t know?”

Vernon glanced nervously at the members. Jeonghan gestured for him to keep talking.

“No, I don’t know,” Vernon said honestly.

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Maybe it’s because this—whatever this is—clearly doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Joshua widened his eyes, silently mouthing, Ouch.

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asked, his tone edging toward frustration. “Of course, it means something to me.”

“Oh, does it?” Y/N snapped. “Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. You know what? Forget it. Go hang out with your other girls or whatever.”

The room fell completely silent, every member frozen in place.

“Other girls?” Vernon repeated, bewildered. “What are you talking about? There are no other girls.”

“Right,” Y/N said bitterly. “Not that it matters. We’re not even official, right? You don’t owe me an explanation.”

The words hit Vernon like a punch in the gut. He stared at the phone, momentarily speechless.

Seungkwan broke the silence, whispering loudly, “Say something!”

“Y/N,” Vernon said, his voice softer now. “Why are you saying this? What’s really going on?”

Y/N hesitated, her anger flickering. But instead of explaining, she shook her head. “Goodnight, Vernon.”

She hung up before he could respond.

The room was silent for a beat before Jeonghan whistled low. “That was… rough.”

“What does she mean by ‘other girls’?” Mingyu asked.

“I don’t know,” Vernon said, staring at his phone. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Well, whatever it is, she’s clearly upset about something,” Joshua said. “You need to figure out what it is before this gets worse.”

———————————————————————————

The airport was bustling as the members prepared to board their flight back to Korea. Vernon was quieter than usual, still turning the conversation over in his mind.

“Hey, Hansol,” Wonwoo said, walking over to him with his phone in hand. “You need to see this.”

Vernon frowned as Wonwoo handed him the phone. On the screen was a picture of him and a girl standing outside. The girl was looking up at him, laughing, while Vernon appeared to be smiling at something she said.

“That’s what Y/N must’ve seen,” Wonwoo explained. “My girlfriend just sent it to me. Apparently, it’s all over Twitter.”

Vernon’s stomach sank. “This is what she was talking about?”

“Probably,” Wonwoo said. “It looks bad out of context. If I didn’t know you, I’d assume it was a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Vernon said firmly. “She was just a fan. She asked for an autograph, and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Well, you need to explain that to Y/N,” Wonwoo said.

———————————————————————————

Y/N wasn’t expecting a knock at her door, and she definitely wasn’t expecting Vernon. When she opened the door, her breath caught.

“Vernon? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said, stepping inside.

She crossed her arms defensively. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

“Y/N,” Vernon said, his voice firm. “I know why you’re upset. It’s because of that picture, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t respond.

“The one of me and that girl,” he continued. “She was just a fan. She asked for an autograph, and I didn’t want to be rude. That’s all it was.”

“You’re serious?” Y/N asked hesitantly.

“Of course, I’m serious,” he said, his tone softening. “I didn’t even know the picture existed until this morning. If I’d known, I would’ve explained everything sooner.”

Her anger began to waver, replaced by guilt. “I just… I saw the picture, and I thought…”

“I get it,” Vernon said gently. “I would’ve felt the same way if it were you.”

Y/N looked down, her voice small. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Vernon said. “I hate that this made you feel like you don’t mean anything to me. Because you do.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “I do?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “And about what you said on the phone… you’re right. We’re not official. But I want us to be.”

Her breath caught. “You… what?”

“I want to make it official,” he said, stepping closer. Slowly, he reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he held her gaze. “No more guessing, no more misunderstandings. I want to be with you, Y/N. For real.”

Her lips parted slightly, her emotions written all over her face. Tears welled in her eyes as her heart pounded. She nodded, a soft smile breaking through. “Okay. Let’s make it official.”

Relief and happiness washed over Vernon’s face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. The world seemed to fade away in that moment.

As they pulled back from the embrace, Vernon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “I’m so glad I have you,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth.

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “Me too,” she whispered.

———————————————————————————

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misserabella · 2 years ago

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omg!!!! can we pleaseeee get a part 2 of come over w abby it was literally the best thing i have EVER read ilysm for making that, i didn’t know i needed it until nowhdjjsh <33333

come now

pt1 (come over)

synopsis; abby ran away. but she couldn’t keep herself away from you for too long.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, party, drinking, smoking, drug usage (weed), mentions of other girls, jealousy, hickeys, teasing, arguing, public! touching, kissing, making out, hate and needy sex, tit and nipple play, dom! abby x sub! reader, fingering (r! receiving), cursing, hair pulling, chocking, strap on usage (r receiving), recording with phone, cum eating, mommy kink, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, praising, praise kink, possessiveness, squirting…

you can feel her eyes on you. you were sweaty, dancing in between that pile of college students that needed a getaway for the weekend. you had so much alcohol on your veins, mind fuzzy and skin warm. she looked good. with a pair of green cargo pants and a tight fucking black shirt. her shiny blonde hair was down on her back, and in between her fingers stood a blunt, a glass filled with alcohol on the other hand. she was resting against a wall, two of her friends talking.

she was supposed to be paying attention, but she couldn’t catch a word when you looked like that. the party was filled with pretty girls of all years, but jesus christ, none of them took her breath away like you did.

after that night, in which she had finally been able to make you moan her name, to have you on her sheets, she had ran away, leaving before you would wake up to god knows where. now it had been a week, a week in which you’d seen abby with all types of girls.

you couldn’t help but scoff at it. of course. you were furious. confused. but at the same time you couldn’t help but want to kick yourself. it had been that easy. as easy as a little call and she’d had you dicked down. had she lied? had she just used you? you were pretty much the last girl she had not yet fucked from the whole school. maybe she just wanted to complete the list. well, now it seems like you were just one more of them.

your whole body had burned. snapping at ellie when she’d dared as ask what had happened. you couldn’t tell her that you had fucked abby anderson, even less that you had liked it.

you were burning up.

your pride eating at you to not stare. to forget about that night. and you had tried. tried multiple nights to forget about her, but al you could do would be roll on your sheets with the reminder of her touch. of her tongue.

you could cum with her name on your tongue. it was awfully easy. and you hated her to her guts for it.

abby did too. she had caved fucking in. she had gone and fucked you. she had promised herself she wouldn’t. ever. you were trouble. you made her feel things she didn’t like to feel. you made her smile when no one else was watching with your little stupidities —she was always staring at you, you just wouldn’t see it—, and made her want to punch herself at the many times you left her awake not being able to take you out of her head.

she could still remember the jealousy of the first years of high school. when cute boys and girls would approach you. she so knew you should be hers. but she was supposed to hate you. she had to. she couldn’t like you. not you. you couldn’t give her butterflies and make her go weak in the knees with just a smile. she wouldn’t have it. wouldn’t accept it.

but you had cracked her. you seem good at it.

the thought of ellie williams in between your legs, her fucking place, had made it impossible to not beg you to come to her. to tell you what she felt. she needed you. and each day, each second was torture. she was meant to break. you had broke her.

with your sweet fucking voice begging for her, your soft moans and your taste. she had tasted heaven. a very dangerous drug. and she couldn’t get addicted.

of course. she had girls asking for one night everywhere, but not even the prettiest one of them all could make her forget about you.

at how beautiful you’d sounded. how good you had taken her cock and made her cum.

she couldn’t ignore you. couldn’t fucking make herself turn to who she was before it all.

your dress was rilling up, soft plush of your thighs showing for her hungry eyes. there was alcohol shining on your lips. and she wanted to lick it off. she was high out of her mind.

but she knew. she knew she couldn’t go another day without it all.

you looked so hot on your tiny dress and high heels, sweat shining on the skin that she had branded before. she wandered if you worn anything underneath. if you’d gone out to try and drip for someone else.

she couldn’t help it. she wasn’t really paying attention to the girl that had been staring and talking to her through the whole night. her eyes were on you, and that fucking girl.

you didn’t knew where your friends were, you didn’t actually care with the buzz in your head and the soft kisses that some girl was leaving on your neck. her hair was soft, short, brown. and her eyes were dark. she was beautiful. and you were desperate. it was easy to fall on her arms with the need to forget abby.

but suddenly. there was that pine scent, and those warm hands gripping your hips. you felt on your back the hum of a harsh “go.” and next thing you knew was that ava was disappearing.

your blood was boiling as you turned around to face anderson. abigail fucking anderson. with her hooded eyes, sharp jaw and big arms. the alcohol was quickly evaporating from your blood. you pushed away. “what the fuck anderson?”

“anderson?” she inquired. “what happened to ‘abby’?” she smirked and you rolled your eyes. “i liked that better.” she leaned in, and you gasped when she got a grip on your hips, pulling you against her. “even more when you were moaning it.” your body shivered at her words, warm on your ear. “who’s the girl, hm?” she inquired, and you scoffed.

“could ask you the same, don’t you think?” she gritted her teeth, and you looked into her eyes. she was staring at the hickeys decorating your neck.

“what? you jealous sweetheart?” she inquired you, and your stomach jumped at the nickname. you could remember her telling you to cum, fucking you harsh and deep. ‘why don’t you come all over my dick, hm? let me see you fall apart.’

your cunt throbbed, and you felt your slick pooling in between your lips. fuck. no. not again.

“i’m not the one coming back to you.” you muttered on her face. and you saw a vein pop on her neck. suddenly, there was a a harsh grip cupping your jaw. she was close. so close you could almost taste the weed off of her lips.

“careful.” she warned, voice low. so low your knees almost wobbled, your throat almost got ripped with a whine.

“or what? you’re gonna beg?” you pushed her. again. just a little further. just a little more. and that’s all she needed to finally do something about it.

the hand on your jaw circled your neck, tugging you against her lips. she groaned on your mouth, and you whimpered, her tongue pushing inside as her fingers left bruises on your hip. the kiss was angry. all teeth and tongue. she felt the same. she still made your hands shake as you pulled on her hair, still made your chest tighten up and your stomach drop.

“fucking brat.” she growled, kissing down your neck, biting over the hickeys glowing on your skin. she needed to put hers over them.

“fucking dick.” you answered.

“yeah, i’m sure you miss mine, huh?” she chuckled on your ear. “fucking you open. you looked so pretty crying on it. so sweet begging…” you moaned, your hips thrusting against hers, feeling the bulge of her strap under the denim.

“shut the fuck up.” you seethed.

“why don’t you make me, pretty girl?”

you did as soon as your mouth was crashing against hers. she grunted, biting down on your lip.

“oh fuck abby.”

“was killing me seeing you with that girl. couldn’t stop thinking about her fucking you like i did, getting the chance to see how good you look when you cum, make you cry…was driving me crazy.” she confessed, making you whimper. “just wanted to come here and fuck you with my fingers. show her and everyone here who you belong to.” you moaned, her teeth nibbling at your neck, her free hand now on stomach, trailing down your stomach. “you’d like that baby?” you nodded. “i beg you would.” you whinedwhen her hand cupped your throbbing and dripping cunt. the distance in between you so little no one could see as she pushed your panties aside, thick fingers spreading your lips and glistening in your arousal. “fuuck. you’re soaked, doll.” she smirked, at the gasp you let out, at the way your thighs clenched. “is it for me?” she inquired and you nodded. “words.”

“yes, abby, fuck…”you sighed, your hips thrusting against her touch.

“upstairs.” she ordered, tugging from your hand and making you whimper when her fingers left you. she was quick to find an empty room on the second floor, pulling you inside and closing the door. it felt like the next breath you took came from her lips. she tasted like weed and alcohol. so sweet and bitter.

“take this off.” you begged, pulling from her black shirt, and she was quick to push it over her head, toned stomach and chest exposed for you to see, her tits perfectly cupped by her sports bra.

“you’re drooling.” she smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“shut up and fuck me.”

“fuck i missed you.” she muttered against your lips, and you whined. “you and that fucking mouth of yours…” her tongue pushed against yours, spit dribbling down your chin as you let her pull from your dress, leaving you in a cute set of lingerie that had her almost falling to her knees.

you were pulling and pushing at each other, ending up on the double bed, your legs at either sides of her thighs, straddling her lap.

her hands where on your hips, her lips on your breasts. you were grinding down against her, looking for some kind of friction, relief.

“wasn’t the other girls enough?” you teased her, although you needed her so bad you were hurting. in answer she pushed down your bra, taking one of your nipples into her mouth as she left a harsh spank on your ass.

“watch your mouth.”

“watch yours. last time it ended on my pussy.”

she scoffed, and now she was pushing your panties aside, fingers meeting the amount of slick that now soaked your cunt. you hissed. “you mean this pussy? the one dripping for me?” all breath got punched out of your lungs when she harshly and suddenly plunged inside two of her fingers, starting to quickly thrust and curl into you, hitting your g spot over and over again. you moaned. “what?” she teasingly asked, looking at the way your mouth hung open and your eyes squeezed shut. “what was that?” she smirked, seeing how easy you became a babbling mess for her. the wet squelches of your pussy filled her ears. you were so tight and so warm inside. “that’s what i thought.” she whispered against your chest, biting and sucking one of your nipples.

“oh fuck abby.” you cried out. you were already so fucking close it was embarrassing, hips thrusting against her fingers so they could reach deeper.

“this is my pussy, not yours. you hear? mine.” she growled, and you moaned. “say it. tell me it’s mine.”

“it’s yours, abby. yours. fuck!”

she cooed. “look at you. what is it, princess? so obedient… got the brat fucked out of you?” you whimpered, feeling your walls fluttering, your g spot being tortured by her thick fingers. “you’re so close already… so close to cumming all over my fingers, aren’t you baby?” you nodded. “come on, be a good girl and give it to me.” you let out this low moan as you followed her words, soaking her fingers in white strings that made her groan. “that’s it. atta girl…” so warm… she fucked you through it, making you make this little choked out sounds that had her soaking her boxers.

you were a mess, all flushed and droopy fucked eyes with glossy bitten lips, watching as she pulled her fingers out and pushed them inside her mouth, humming at the taste. you pulled from her, kissing her, her tongue letting you get a taste of yourself. she turned the two of you around, and one of your hands palmed her strap, making its back bump against her clit and her groan. you kissed her neck, biting and sucking on her skin. “oh fuck.” she sighed, bucking her hips onto your touch.

“abby, fuck me please…” you tugged from her pants, and she nodded —you didn’t need to ask her twice, she was almost panting at the thought of fucking your pussy on her cock—, kissing you as she quickly got rid of her pants and underwear, the strap already on and low on her hips. it was big, and had a lot of ridges. you almost drooled.

she didn’t wait to align herself with your entrance, lubing the tip of the strap with your cum to push inside. your back arched, the sting of her cock stretching you out inch by inch making you let out this beautiful whimper that had abby feeling dizzy. “fuck. pussy taking my cock so good. i’m gonna shape you to my dick. gonna ruin you for anyone else. you’re mine.” she pulled back, your tight walls sucking her in before she would thrust inside up to the hilt, bruising your cervix.

you screamed her name. she was relentless, groaning as the back of the strap would brush against her throbbing clit, her slick making it easy to glide through her puffy folds. you two looked like animals in heat, your hips fucking against her in need for “more, more, more…”

abby groaned, you were basically fucking yourself on her cock. using her to get off. and fuck if that didn’t turn her on.

she took her phone from her pants, the flash of the camera recording making you hum.

“look at you. riding my dick. desperate little thing…” you moaned. she was pointing the camera exactly to where your cunt stretched around the strap, to the mess you were making of her cock and your thighs due to how fucking wet you were. “i should send this to the whole fucking school. make them know who you belong to, hm?” you moaned, the thought of it turning you on so badly you almost came, nodding.

“yes, abby, fuck…”

she groaned. “tell them. tell them who you belong to.” your back arched at the feeling of a light slap against your clit, making you cry out.

“you! you!”

“that’s fucking right. you’re mine.” her thrust became harsher, the sounds of your cunt engulfing her cock making your thighs shake. it was embarrassing, how much you were enjoying this. how badly you needed her. “fucking mine.” your tits were jumping with every thrust of the snap of her hips, your voice breaking at the feeling of the tip bumping against your g spot over and over and over again…

you were a babbling mess, slurring her name. “abby, abby, abby, abby…”

“what is it, baby? gonna cum? gonna be a good girl and cum for mommy?” she smirked, biting down on her lip at the broken whine you let out. “you like that? like to be mommy’s good girl?” you nodded, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when her fingers found your clit. “then cum. cum for mommy.”

you let out a scream, your high hitting you so hard your ears rung. it seemed to never end. it just got bigger and bigger and bigger as you soaked her cock, your moans getting higher as you rode the best orgasm of your fucking life.

“holy fuck.” she threw away her fucking phone. she wasn’t thinking about sending that video. no fucking way. it was for hers to fuck her cunt when she’d get horny. it was hers. you looked so desperate. no one else could see you like this. she wouldn’t let them.

“mommy…!” you whimpered when her thrust only became harder, her hands gripping your hips in a bruising hold that had you begging it would leave marks. she grunted, feeling her high getting closer as well. “too much! it’s too much!” you cried out. you were so sensitive, coming non stop on her dick, your back arched and nipples swollen due to her sucking. you looked so fucking beautiful it hurt.

“take it.” she growled. “stop being a cry baby and fucking take it.” you gasped when one of her hands pushed down on your stomach, on the bulge her cock made. “can you feel it? feel how deep i’m in, baby? how deep i’m fucking you?” you were crying, it was too much. but at the same time not enough. you babbled her name, pushing on her hips. she manhandled you, choking you down onto the mattress. “stay fucking still.” the lack of oxygen and the feeling of her strong warm hand pressing just the right spots made you fall apart.

“abby, i’m gonna…!” you tried to warn her, but before you could, your thighs were quivering and you were screaming as you squirted all over her thighs and strap, soaking the clothes.

“fuuuuck.” she groaned, looking at you fall apart, cumming over and over and over again. your nails dug on her forearms. “gonna cum, baby. gonna fill you up.” she grunted. “gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum. gonna leave you dripping for a fucking week.” she was a babbling mess. she was so close. so fucking close. she could feel it growing on her lower stomach, the back of the strap rubbing against her puffy and swollen clit.

you nodded.

“please. please. cum inside. need it inside.” you pleaded, and that’s what made it for her.

abby soaked the back of her strap with a moan, rocking her hips to help the two of you ride your orgasms in between moans and whimpers.

when it finally was over, after what felt like hours. her hips came to a halt, deep inside your cunt. she was panting on your neck, sweat coating your bodies. you two were speechless. fucked out of your minds.

she kissed you. deep and slow. wet. her tongue was warm and lazy into your mouth.

“i meant it.” she muttered against your lips, looking straight into your droopy teary eyes. “you’re mine.”

a/n: 🤘🏻

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mt-oe · 1 month ago

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Hey dears!

Thank you so much for understanding ;; I was honestly very scared because it felt like I was making excuses. Don't worry. I'm getting professional help currently and I'm trying my best. People like you deserve the best in life.

On another note, I love this idea so much ❤ I've always wanted to write something like this but often forget to or life just gets in the way. In a way, this kind of helped me push towards that agenda.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

note/s: not proofread, implied afab reader, she/her for mizu, fluff, menstruation

"Just a little bit more."

...you told yourself for the nth time this afternoon. What could have been a productive afternoon which could have been filled with adventures in the local markets ended up with you staying indoors while your wife looked for whatever she could buy with the little money you had.

It wasn't like you wanted to stay inside. You wanted to help her. You really do. However, the past few days, your back had been acting up badly. At first it started with a dull pain, a slight throbbing pain on your lower spine whenever you walked or stood up for too long. Then, the pain started turning into a constant ache. A type of pain that felt like your spine was creaking and was about to snap at any moment until you couldn't take it anymore.

Mizu never really understood your pain. Both of you had extremely irregular cycles, her's probably worse, but her goddamn pain tolerance was something to be envious of. And whenever her periods did hurt, she was never one to dwell on the pain. This woman was immovable.

You, however, were a different story.

Sometimes you'd lay on a bed of leaves, looking at the stars with your eyebrows knitted together, teeth gritted, and a fist punching your lower stomach lightly in a steady rhythm, wondering if you were some kind of disaster in your past life to deserve this pain.

Thankfully, your wife never really judged you for that.

At first, she was insistent that you kept pushing on your travel, that it was just a little bleeding. However, no matter how cold her exterior was, her heart couldn't take the sight of your pale lips and the sound of your stuttered labored breathing. It didn't take long for her to crumble and for you to burst into tears in her arms.

After some time, both of you sort of eased into it.

Well...mostly her.

Periods never really became easy for you.

This led you to your current situation now.

The two of you had just settled in a small, fancier inn last night. Usually, the two of you would find a cheaper place to save money, but the growing exhaustion on your face and the sluggishness of your movement began to concern Mizu; thus, both of you settled on the first inn you saw.

It was slightly more pricey than the ones you usually settled in, and that made you feel a bit guilty. Despite her insistence that it was okay, you promised you'd make it up to her by helping her look for cheaper food options in the market. However, this morning, you surprisingly woke up feeling like hell. Your nose slightly congested for some reason, your skin feeling a bit more sensitive, and worst of all, your back sending waves of pain with each movement. You didn't know what was going on. You were pretty sure you were doing a good job at keeping yourself healthy despite the conditions the two of you were in.

Each gust of wind against your skin felt like a dull blade attempting to run across the smooth expanse. The congestion of your nose was making the simple task of boiling water a chore. You couldn't go out like this and both of you knew it. Even if you did try to help, you'd end up risking getting sick anyway.

After several attempts on trying to convince your wife that you were okay, that you could go with her, she finally shut you down. Her tall figure towering over you for a moment before a soft audible exhale passed through her nose. Warmth covered your being as she slowly yet tenderly wrapped her arms around you, kissing the top of your head, leaving you with no words and the silent reassurance that it was fine.

A little while later, you soon grew bored of tidying up and undoing and redoing your hair, and decided you were going to wait for her to come back. With your hand alternating between massaging and lightly pounding your back, you got up and made your way past the silent hallway, footsteps echoing, and sat down on the genkan.

It was...an odd place to stay, yes, but it was better than the lonely confines of your room.

Sighing softly, you rested your head against the cypress beam, eyes staring at the door with a sense of unexplainable exhaustion. A slight churning sensation twisted in your gut as the minutes turned an hour, and the hour turned into hours.

You knew Mizu was strong, but what was taking her this long? Yeah sure, Mihonoseki wasn't exactly known for vegetables, but buying some shouldn't take you hours.

Was she okay? Did she run into trouble? She had always been a magnet for trouble. Did she get scammed? Did she run into some prettier woman who she wanted to wife up more than you? Nononono—

'Okay, let's stop overthinking,' you thought to yourself, taking a deep breath in. Besides, your back was an even bigger problem right now.

Straightening yourself up, you slowly exhaled, closing your eyes as you took another deep breath in an attempt to ease your ache. The pain wasn't actually dissipating, but you liked to think it did.

As the cycle of you taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly continued, your body slowly started relaxing despite the miserable ache your spine was feeling. Taking another deep breath, your hand stopped massaging your back and fell on to the smooth varnished wood beneath you. The sound of the busy street or the footsteps of the guests in the inn seemed to fade in the background, your eyelids relaxing. Before you could even process it, sleep enveloped you like a blanket of comfort.

Some time after, the door slid open quietly, allowing the breeze to enter the warm constraints of the establishment. Mizu's figure entered before pausing at the sight of you curled up near the entryway. Her cold eyes softened, feet automatically carrying her towards her love with soundless steps.

A soft exhale passed her nose as she crouched down, setting the produce and herbs she had just bought down. Gently, her fingers made their way to your cheeks, caressing them as if you were made of porcelain. Her thumbs made their way to your eyelids, feeling the warmth under them. Then, your brows, gently gliding over them and making their way to your temples which she gave a soft press. A small, almost undetectable smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Mizu continued to admire your features a bit longer before deciding to stop. Taking a quick look around, she placed her purchases on your lap, moving your arms to hold them loosely, and hooked her arms under your knees and around your shoulders. She tightened her arms around you as she stood up, carrying you bridal style, adjusting to make sure you and the things she bought were secure as she brought you back into your room.

The soft plush of the futon greeted your skin as she set you down to do her own chores quietly. It was a comfortable silence. The type that she was only able to feel around you.

Soon, the sun had set but you were still deep asleep. It was starting to concern her, but you weren't showing any sign of a fever. Unable to think of a reason for your body's distress, she did the best course of action she could think of which was to rest.

A little while later, a soft groan rang through the air as you woke up. It was dark and you could barely see anything. However, one thing was apparent to you. You were no longer sitting on the genkan and the sun was no longer up. Blinking, you tried to make things out through the darkness and recognized your wife's figure.

Your eyes widened a fraction before softening. With a soft touch, your fingers combed through her hair in a steady pace. Usually, the feeling of her strands across the pads of your fingers would comfort you. However, this time, you couldn't explain it but it made you feel...guilty.

Has she been waiting for you all this time? Oh gosh, she probably carried you all the way here. "Love..." you whispered breathily before sighing. It was a small thing but a lump in your throat was forming. You felt so grateful and yet so guilty. So touched yet you wanted to sob just from imagining her carrying you.

However, the emotional rollercoaster you were in was abruptly cut off. Maybe the tea you had this afternoon was starting to terrorize you because goddamn you needed to go relieve yourself. 'Great fucking timing,' you huffed to yourself mentally. Shifting a bit, your face soured even further.

Why the fuck did your clothes feel sticky? Greaaaat. Now you were just plain annoyed.

Ignoring the ache in your back, you pushed the covers off and got up, making your way towards the outhouse. With each step, the more your discomfort grew. You couldn't really see it through the darkness but you could feel a patch of wetness on your behind and it was NOT helping your mood at all.

Leaves crunching reverberated through the air as you approached the outhouse, glaring at the squat toilet. The stench was catalyzing the growing disgust boiling in your system. At this point, all you wanted to do was piss and go back and crawl into Mizu's arms.

However, the moment you lowered yourself, an odd feeling of something jelly-like leaving you alarmed you. Your eyes widened as you froze and slowly looked down.

A clot.

Immediately, your eyebrows furrowed, panic starting to set in you. Grabbing the back of your kimono, half a gasp and half a groan disgustedly escaped you upon seeing the red taint your digits.

This seriously couldn't be happening right now.

You already felt so guilty, making your wife spend so much money on an inn and making her go out alone. Now, you had to be an even bigger burden.

Your breathing grew shakier with each breath. The guilt was starting to weigh down on you. Poor Mizu. Always having to deal with you. How could do this to her? Thoughts continued to flood your mind as tears started to line your eyes. You were feeling so many shitty things right now and you felt so fucking bad. Shit. The futon was probably stained too. You didn't even bring a cloth with you right now. Your clothes would be so fucking stained and smell so fucking bad and—

Fuck. You can't take this anymore.

Sobs softly left your lips as you stood up and glared at the ground. You couldn't even bring yourself to go back. Everything hurts. Your tummy, your back, and not to mention how sticky the drying blood was. You also felt so bad and so ashamed for making Mizu deal with your errands the whole day. Soft trembles racked your shoulders as the tears continued to drip down from your eyes.

Suddenly, you saw a pair of feet stop just in front of the wooden enclosure of the outhouse, prompting you to stop. You couldn't see the person's face and who knows what they intend to do. "It's occupied," you muttered, sniffling softly.

"I know," the sound of your wife's gruff voice could be heard. Her feet turned towards the entrance, about to walk towards it before she stopped, deciding against it. "Are you alright?"

"No," you immediately shot back, regretting it immediately. Your guilt dug deeper at how harsh you sounded but...you can't help it. You felt so damn frustrated.

A squeak reverberated through the air as Mizu leaned her weight against the wooden panel, a silent sign that she was waiting and listening. Your eyebrows furrowed while you looked at her feet, wondering how could she be so patient with you. Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, "I'm...bleeding."

She didn't reply immediately, her eyes flickering between her two feet as she thought of how to respond. After a moment of silence, she finally replied, "I know. I saw it on the sheets."

"But that's not what I'm asking," she continued, pushing herself straight. "I'm asking if you're alright." Her tone was firm but soft. You could tell that she wasn't mad. It wasn't like a 'no' you barked out sufficed. You weren't okay, and she knew that, but she wanted to know how she could help.

The question that left her lips, the softness, everything invoked another sob from you, unable to handle how loving she was. "No," you repeated, voice quivering. "I don't know what to do. I bled onto my clothes and the futon too," you started to spill.

"As if that wasn't bad enough, I didn't bring a cloth and it stinks here and I feel so guilty for leaving you to look for supplies and...and now I'm being so unreasonably emotional," you began ranting.

Mizu's eyebrows furrowed at your sentiments. She remained silent once again before she audibly exhaled. "May I come in," she asked.

You nodded even when you knew she couldn't see you before sniffling out a small 'yes'. Grass crunched underneath her feet as she walked in. In her hands was a cloth. "What's that for?" you asked.

"Lift your kimono up. I'll help you," she said, already approaching you. Your sobs reduced into soft sniffling as you lifted your kimono up obediently. Immediately, she began tying a fundoshi on you, making sure it covered what was needed before she took off her coat and wrapped it around you, hiding the blood on your clothes. Each movement, each touch firm yet soft at the same time.

"Let's go inside," she breathed against your ear, hands on your shoulders and gently guiding you inside.

As soon as the two of you were back in the comfort of your room, she immediately helped you change into more comfortable clothing, tossing the bloodied ones in a pile along with the futon covers.

Now both of you sat on her futon, a hot cup of tea in your hands while you spilled your feelings out to her. Turns out the reason why Mizu took hours in the market was because she had already suspected your period before you even realized it and had decided to buy some medicinal herbs to ease your pain. Learning this, you began to wrack up in sobs again, making her eyebrows knit together ever so slightly.

Her rough, calloused hands swiped against your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them, wiping your tears off. Your eyes look up at her, head resting against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," you sniffled quietly. "I don't know why I'm feeling this much. I swear I'm not trying to—"

Suddenly, the feeling of her pulling you closer cut you off. Your body froze for a moment and slowly, you wrapped your arms around her. You could hear her soft, slow breathing against your ear, the rhythm calming your tears down slightly.

She continued to hold you close tenderly as the time passed by, nothing but comfortable silence between you. With a soft, content-sounding sigh, she pulled away, eyebrows relaxing at the sight of you looking at her with those glossy doe eyes before she pulled you in again. Despite not knowing what to say or what to do to comfort you, she still wanted you to feel reassured that she wasn't mad nor did she feel burdened.

The comfort of her being around yours helped ease the storm of emotions boiling in your heart. As you calmed down, you felt her strength push you down carefully, laying you down to rest and joining you. With the love she enveloped you in, your eyes started growing heavy until you finally fell asleep.

It didn't matter how bothersome your period was. Mizu was always glad to be with during this time. The same way you always are when she needed you, she'll be there with you when you need her. Always loving.

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butchersboobs · 2 months ago

Text

Twist (Part Three)

A Billy Butcher POV fanfic

NSFW under the cut - MDNI

Part One | Part Two

_________

I’ve been up all night. Pacin' the flat. Swearin' at the telly. Drinkin'.

But nuffink I do stops me keep 'earin you tellin' Ollie I ain't never comin' back - it's on repeat in me 'ead, over 'n over again til I wanna punch me fist through the fuckin' wall.

The look on 'is little face… Nah, I can’t let that stand. You don’t get to pull that kinda stunt 'n get away wiv it.

So the next day, I'm back knockin' at yer door, shoulders square, ready for anuvver barney.

I expect ya t'tell me t'fuck off, slam the door in me face, maybe even call the ol' bill on me. But ya don’t. You open the door quick, lookin' like you’ve been waittin' for me t'get 'ere. “Come in” ya say, like nuffink's 'appened.

For a second, I just stand there - blinkin' like a twat. “You what?”

“Come in, Billy” you repeat, calm as ya like.

It throws me completely - but I'll be fucked if I'm gonna let you know that. I just shove me way past ya, an' 'ead towards yer livin' room.

You forget - I fuckin' know you. I don’t trust ya one bit - yer up to summink.

The place is quiet - too quiet. No Ollie running about, no squeals o'laughter. “Where’s the boy?” I ask, me voice sharp.

“He’s at preschool,” you say, closin' the door.

Me jaw tightens. I feel like I’ve been set up. “Right. So what’s this, then? Some kinda ambush?”

You shake yer 'ead, looking… sad. Guilty, maybe. Good. You fuckin' should be, after the shit you pulled yesterday. “Billy, I just… I wanted to talk.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Talk? Oh, now ya wanna fuckin' talk. After breakin’ that poor lad's 'eart?”

“I know,” ya say, and there’s this tremble in yer voice. You're fillin' up. And for a split second, I wanna comfort ya - never could stand it, seein' ya cry. But I soon fuck that train o'fort off. Fuck that.

“I know, Billy. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was cruel, and I feel terrible about it.”

“So ya fuckin’ should,” I snap, but the fight’s gone out o'me a bit.

You take a deep breff, steadyin' yerself. “God, he was so upset. He cried himself to sleep last night, thinking he'd never see you again. I can’t do it to him, Billy. I… I want him to see you. Regularly.”

Well that stops me in me tracks. “What?”

“You can see him, as often as you like. We just need to figure out some ground rules,” you say, foldin' yer bloody arms again - but it ain't in anger this time - more like yer tryna 'old yerself togevver. “For Ollie’s sake. He needs stability, Billy.”

Me anger flares up again, hot 'n sharp. “Ground rules? You takin' the fuckin' piss? You fink you get to call the shots after what you've done?”

You flinch, but ya don’t back down. “I’m trying to do what’s best for him, Billy. Can we just - can we not fight about this? Please?”

I look daggers at ya, every muscle in me body tense. Because I know yer right. As much as it boils me piss - you're right. I sigh, draggin' me 'and through me beard. “Fine. Ground rules. Whatever. Just say what you gotta say.”

And then you go straight f'me fuckin' jugular.

“I need you to promise not to tell him you’re his dad…”

The fuckin' balls on you. Fuckin'ell. I'm goona blow...

“You can fuck right off wi'that shite - are you seriously tellin’ me I’ve gotta keep me gob shut 'n pretend I’m just some random fuckin' bloke, while my son - my fuckin' son - walks 'round not knowing the troof? You’re havin’ a fuckin' laugh!"

“For fucksake Billy - let me finish” you shout back, and there's tears fallin' now. “I’m not saying you can never tell him you're his dad. I mean… just… don't tell him yet. Let him get to know you first. Let him feel comfortable. Please.”

I’m so angry I can 'ardly see straight. I need ta fuck off out of 'ere, sharpish - cos if I don't? I'll fuckin' frottle ya.

But outta nowhere, I fink of Ollie. 'Is little grin, the way he ran t'me like I was his 'ole world. I can't walk out on 'im. E's only little, I don't wanna confuse the lad.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teef. “But don’t fink I’m fuckin' 'appy about it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, wiping at your eyes.

You try t'pull yerself togevva - you gotta pick 'im up in a minute, ya tell me. And outta nowhere, you ask if I wanna come wiv ya - maybe take 'im for a burger t'the park. Me gut's tellin' me ta tell ya t'fuck off. I wanna see 'im on my terms, not yours. But then Ollie pops back in me 'ead again, an' I imagine 'ow 'is face is gonna light up, and I find meself sayin' yes.

But the second I agree, the panic sets in. What the fuck am I doin'? I’ve never looked after a kid in me life, let alone taken one out on me own. What if 'e falls off the fuckin' climbin' frame and cracks 'is bloody 'ead open? What if I feed 'im the wrong fing? What if I fuck it all up?

But I shove it down, 'ard. I'll do it fo 'im. For my boy.

—-----

We walk just down the road to Ollie’s preschool, an' it’s awkward as fuck. Neaver of us says much, there's just the sound of me bloody great clod'oppers on the pavement and the occasional cough. I can feel ya lookin' at me out the corner of yer eye, probly worryin' I’m gonna fuck it up.

You stop in front'o the preschool gates, fiddlin' wiv yer coat zip, and for a second, I fink about sayin' summink. Summink… normal. But then the gate opens, and the noise o'kids pours out. Me froat tightens.

An' then I see 'im. My boy. 'Is little 'ead bobs up, scannin' the line o'parents, and when 'e clocks me, it’s like the sun’s just come out. “Billy!” 'e shouts, droppin' whatever e’s holdin' and leggin' it towards me.

I don’t fink I’ve ever been hit so 'ard in me life - not by a punch, not by a bottle, not by anyfin. 'E crashes inta me, little arms wrappin' 'round me legs, face liokin' up up at me wiv that massive grin of 'is. “You're back you're back! Yay yay yay”

I crouch down, me 'ands on 'is tiny shoulders, and for a second, I can’t say a bloody word. I swallow 'ard. “Course I am, mate,” I finally manage, me voice rough. “I told ya I'd be back, dinni, ay?”

You’re standin' there, watchin' us, and when I glance atcha, there’s tears in yer eyes. It pisses me off a bit, but I push it aside for Ollie’s sake.

“Hey, Ollie,” you say, your voice gentle. “How would you like to go for lunch with Billy? Maybe to the park after?”

Well - 'e lights up like a fuckin' Christmas tree, bouncin' on the balls of 'is feet. “Yes! Can we, Billy? Please?”

I'm desperately tryna keep me face neutral, but inside I’m shittin' meself. “Yeah, alright, little man. Let’s do it.”

You pass me 'is little backpack, and the strap feels weird in me 'and - too small, too light. I feel like I shouldn’t be trusted wiv summink so important. “Have fun,” ya say, but yer voice is quieter now, almost 'esitant.

I nod, not trustin' meself t'speak wivout crackin'. I take Ollie’s 'and, n' we 'ead down the street, 'is little legs tryna match me stride. He’s chattin' away, excited about lunch, excited about the park, excited about playin' dinosaurs and an 'undred uvver fings I don’t fully follow.

And me? I’m just tryna keep it togevva - pretend I know what the fuck I’m doing, while 'is tiny hand in mine makes me feel like I’m 'olding the most precious fing in 'ole fuckin' world.

‐—-----

We 'it the burger joint first. Thought I’d feel a bit more confident starting there. I mean, 'ow 'ard can it be t'sit down 'n eat? Turns out, a lot bloody 'arder than you’d fink.

Ollie’s bouncin' in 'is seat before we’ve even bloody ordered, natterin' away about dinosaurs again, which ones eat meat, which ones eat plants, 'n which ones'd like burgers if they was still kickin' about. I’m noddin' along, tryna keep up, but troof be told, I’m out me depth.

“Do you like T. Rexes, Billy?” 'e asks me for the tenf time, 'is little face all serious.

“Course I do,” I say, crackin' a grin. “Mean little bastards, ain’t they?”

'E giggles, and it’s a sound I don’t fink I’ve ever 'eard before. Pure joy. It does summink to me, 'earing 'im laugh like that.

When the food comes, I figure e’ll settle down, but nope. He’s dippin' chips in ketchup, then lickin' it off like it’s some kinda game. Gets it all over 'is face. The table. 'Is shirt. Jesus Christ.

“Oi, Ollie, mate,” I say, tryna sound firm but not too 'arsh. “The chips go in yer mowf, not everywhere else.”

'E grins up at me, cheeky as anyfin, an' shoves an 'andful into his gob. “Like this?” 'e mumbles 'round a gob full o'food.

I can’t 'elp it - I laugh. “Yeah, just like that. Perfict.”

By the time we’re done, the table looks like a bloody war zone. Ketchup smeared everywhere, squashed chips scattered, and I’m pretty sure e's got 'alf a milkshake down 'is front. But e’s grinnin' from ear to ear, and I feel like I’m doin' alright.

“Ready for the park, then?” I ask, standin' up and grabbin' some napkins to clean 'im up.

“Yeah!” 'e shouts, jumpin' out 'is seat like I’ve just told him we’re off to Disney World.

We walk over to the park, and e’s practically draggin' me there, 'is little hand clutchin' mine. It’s weird, 'oldin 'is 'and like this. Feels… right.

When we get there, e’s off like a shot up the climbin' frame, shoutin' down at me to watch 'im. “Look, Billy! I’m up really high!”

My 'eart’s in my froat the entire time. E’s bloody fearless, this kid, swingin' off bars, 'angin upside down like e’s got no sense o'danger. I’m standin' there, arms out, ready to catch 'im if 'e so much as wobbles.

“You alright up there, mate?” I call, tryna sound casual while me stomach’s doin' bloody backflips.

“Yeah!” he yells back, laughin'. “I’m the bestest at climbing!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I mutter, more to meself than 'im.

Eventually, 'e makes his way to the slide, and that’s a bit less terrifyin'. E’s up and down it a dozen times, his laughter echoin' across the park. Uvver parents are 'ere, watching their nippers, chattin' amongst 'emselves. I feel a bit out o'place, like I don’t belong, to be honest. But Ollie’s avin' the time of 'is life - so I don’t let it bovver me.

When 'e finally comes runnin' back over, 'is cheeks are pink an' 'is 'air’s a sweaty mess. E looks up at me, beamin'. “That was fun! Can we come back tomorrow?”

I crouch down to 'im “We’ll see, mate. We'll see. You 'ad a good then time, yeah?”

“The best!” 'e says, frowin' 'is arms round me neck.

An' just like that, the world stops. It’s just me and 'im, an' I feel summink I ain’t felt in years - peace. Pure, unshakable peace.

“Alrigh', let’s get you 'ome,” I say, standin' up and rufflin' his hair. “Your mum’ll 'ave my 'ead if I keep you out too long.”

He laughs, grabbin' me 'and again as we walk back.

Maybe - just maybe - I can do this parentin' lark.

_________

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#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #the boys #billy butcher fanfiction #billy butcher fic #billy butcher angst #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #daddy!butcher

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magicalqueennightmare · 1 year ago

Text

One Question Answered

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

You've been avoiding Elijah since he healed you so he tracks you down but not for the reason you assume

The one side effect of Elijah healing you was that you had no excuse to stay away from the Mikaelson compound. You didn't want to drag any of them into your fight, yeah logically it made little sense to not step back and let them handle it but this was your fight. You had brought this chaos down onto the hunting community because the one thing you'd yet to even tell Rebekah was the mastermind behind trying to form a squadron of people for hire out of hunters was your ex.

You were in Marcel’s gym, something he'd worked out with Bek. It was a little crazy considering you'd been attacked by humans to be working out surrounded by vampires with earbuds in but here you were. Music blasted as you landed punch after punch on one of the heavy bags. You had people tracking Evan. He'd be found and if you cut the head off the snake that should work.

You had to show patience but the longer he was out there poisoning people against decent hunters the better a chance someone got hurt and that person may not have an original vampire ready to feed them blood to speed up the process.

You'd avoided direct conversation with both Elijah and Klaus. Klaus was simple enough to avoid, offer of a decent bourbon warmed the hybrid out of conversation. Kol would let it go when you said you would ask for help if you couldn't handle it.

Rebekah was pissed you'd lied to her initially about why you needed your Nova put into storage for a while and even more pissed you wouldn't give names to who had attacked you. Elijah, well he was even worse. You weren't sure what had changed between the two of you but the last couple weeks had been tense to say the least.

When you couldn't manage to avoid him he would of course question if you were ready to tell him who'd hurt you. More than once he'd cursed your tattoo and it's warding for taking away his ability to compel you into telling him.

When you'd accused him of not respecting boundaries he'd rebutted that it wasn't crossing boundaries to make an attempt to keep you safe. That had been days ago. You'd steered clear of the compound choosing to see Rebekah somewhere else or not at all.

—--------------

The only reason you were at Marcel's gym was because it was the only place nearby you could walk into to work off stress with no questions being asked as to why you were there.

You weren't sure where your head was but when someone pulled your earbud out of your left ear you spun around mid punch. Elijah seemed slightly amused as he easily grabbed your fist before it could make contact with his jaw “Decent hit considering” you narrowed your eyes at him and it was only then you'd noticed the gym was empty.

“What are you doing here Elijah? Rebekah said you were out of town” he shrugged almost innocently “I assumed the best way to get your guard down was to make you think I wasn't in town. You've been avoiding me it seems” you moved your hand which was still in his “Can I have this back?” He smirked slightly “Are you going to try to run to not talk to me because we both know I can catch you”

You shrugged “Why would I run when I know for a fact it would be useless” he finally let go of your hand and gave your earbud back. You took it and turned to your bag that was sitting on the floor nearby. “Well I'm not running and you wanted to talk” you spoke over your shoulder as you squatted down to put your earbuds in their case. You stood up and faced him before starting to unwrap your hands. You suddenly felt out of place standing there in an oversized shirt and Nike leggings while he was of course dressed impeccably.

His eyes roamed across your body and you felt heat rise to your face, your heart pounding in your ears. He had a habit of making you forget when you were supposed to be putting room between the two of you “I'm not here to pursue the conversation of who attacked you. I trust that should you get in over your head you'll ask for assistance”

—-----------

Elijah relished the moments he managed to render you speechless. From the moment he'd met you the ability to seemingly always have a retort waiting was something he admired about you. Even when you were uncomfortable in a situation or nervous you hid it well.

Now, watching you standing in front of him fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, he had the urge to say anything he could to make your heart race again. The sound was music to his ears. “Then what are you here for Elijah?”

He smiled slightly “While I'm not here to discuss that matter I am here for a different one” your eyes narrowed at his words, distrust clear on your face but another emotion showed there also. You were trying to hide your attraction to him but he could see it. The way your eyes tracked him, how your heartbeat increased if he touched you even innocently. It intrigued him to no end. Many years had passed since a woman demanded his attention in this way.

“Considering you wouldn't answer my calls I thought I'd try my luck face to face. Would you accompany me to dinner?”

—--------------

Did Elijah just ask you out? No, there was no way. He must have meant dinner with his siblings or another ball he wanted a plus one for. “What do you mean?” You asked rather lamely, wishing you were wearing anything besides your workout clothes with your hair up in a lazy braid.

He gave you that smile that made your stomach flip. Damn he was gorgeous. “My darling little hunter, will you go on a date with me? Was that plain enough to make my intentions clear?”

Could a brain really short circuit? Had it not been that you knew for certain that the blood Elijah had given you had indeed cured you of any of your injuries you would've been certain the taser had caused brain damage. Who knew maybe it had? “Intentions clear” you finally spoke after a moment, feeling your head spin a bit.

“Is that a yes or a no?” He asked, causing a nervous laugh to slip out from you. What was your life at this point? You nodded slowly “That's a yes Elijah. I'd love to but can I ask one thing because of something Kol and Rebekah both said”

“Which is?” He asked a bit cautiously at the mention of his younger siblings. You knew you should probably let it go but this question had been weighing on you along with the Evan situation. “They said blood sharing was a thing, like vamps didn't do it lightly and that you normally would only open a vein to save one of them. So why heal me? Why willingly give me a part of you when my injuries weren't life threatening?”

He crossed the space between the two of you, raising a hand to cup your face much the same way he had when he'd healed you and it took everything in you to not turn into his touch. His dark eyes bore into you and yet again you found your heart racing “Because seeing you injured and in pain infuriated me. Someone hurt you and had you not already lived a life filled with resiliency those injuries may very well have been life threatening. If spilling some of my blood spares you pain I'll gladly do it however many times it's necessary”

You swallowed hard before saying “Still doesn't answer why. I'm nothing special. I could be replaced a thousand times over” he shook his head, his fingers lightly lifting your chin where you had no choice but to look him square in the eye. His eyes flicked down to your lips as he spoke “I have met many people who may have been expandable, you however are not. That's why I healed you, there was no other option”

Was it lust, attraction or pure stupidity that made you close the space between you and him? The moment your lips brushed against his you could feel the tension that had long since hung in the air between the two of you threaten to burst.

One of his hands went to the back of your head holding you in place while his other went to your hip, fingertips almost bruising with how close he pulled you to him. Your hands went to his shoulders, trying to find something to ground yourself as heat washed straight through you. A light moan fell from your lips into his as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, tongue dancing across yours.

Your fingers found the back of his head, desperately tugging at the carefully styled locks. He groaned into your mouth and you felt a fresh wave of desire hit you. His hands went down to your thighs easily lifting you into his arms. You gladly wrapped your legs around his waist, never breaking free from his lips even if your lungs were beginning to burn with the need for air.

He moved across the room, bracing your back against one of the mats that lined the wall as he broke free from your lips. Your chest was heaving as he continued his assault down your jaw to your neck. You felt your heart jump when he gently nipped at the sensitive flesh of your neck, causing your back to arch off the wall pushing you into him which caused his body to react,he shifted his hips against yours. The feeling alone was enough to pull a deep moan from you. Your hands went under his jacket, fingers digging into his shoulders through the soft material of his shirt.

The sound of two throats clearing causing you and Elijah to break away from each other. You glanced over his shoulder to see Rebekah and Marcel standing in the entryway of the gym. “I had no clue you two were talking again” Rebekah greeted cheerfully as if she hadn't just walked in on you and one of her brothers.

You groaned lightly as Elijah buried his face in the skin at the bend of your neck. Seeing him so damn disheveled and knowing you were the cause was enough to make any woman have a strange surge of pride. You grinned at Rebekah over his shoulder before he leaned up to place a chaste kiss to your lips before lowering you to the ground.

Both of you quickly rearranged whatever clothing was out of place before turning to face the newcomers. Rebekah was barely containing her laughter. “I'll see you at nine?” You asked and he smirked slightly “I'll see you at nine”

You watched him walk out and looked at Rebekah “Not a word” Marcel chuckled as he walked further into the gym “Never thought I'd see Elijah so worked up over a human and he picks a hunter”

Rebekah shook her head at Marcel then looked back at you “So I'm assuming that display means you're now dating my brother?” You shrugged, still a little dazed “I have a date with him” she smiled brightly “Brilliant. Let's go shopping for you a new outfit then”

Home

#elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals fanfiction

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valentine-cafe · 5 months ago

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. ˚◞♡ 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝒈𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ verse 209 hǎitāo ꒱ demon x reader, resistance rebel x reader, mercenary x reader, cw: reader is dead ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. in which hǎitāo laments about the second lover he could not save

“Can you come home?” a soft voice whispered, calling a lover home quietly. solemnly.

letting go of the microphone bubble and sending the voice message through. haitao waits for an answer.

the man waits for an answer that he knows there will be no answer from the other end.

how long had it been again?

two years?

four?

no part of the already tethered and traumatised mind could remember exactly when its other part went. like an angel you flew into the night.

the most beautiful soul a reaper could have come across and held in cold hands slipped as quick as it came.

ears still catch onto laughter from the past, from you. happily singing along to music while grabbing him and dancing him around to cheer him up.

though he had not always been the most expressive man. you, you had made winter days felt like those of summer. where flowers bloomed, the sky vibrant and the rain comfortable.

tears no longer felt frozen and melancholic. but brimmed instead with joy, dripping down onto soft skin like droplets of the morning dew into clear river water.

it was all murky now, paradise had been lost long ago.

ironic, so bitterly sweet and ironic. he was the one to reap your soul too and he could not even remember when you died.

he should, he knows. he had been so busy as of late. doing anything and everything to keep you and the past out of his mind. not to run from you, not to lose his memories of you.

never you.

he wanted to forget you were dead.

he sometimes pretended you lived. that when he came home, you’d be there. waiting for him with opened arms. silly shaped cookies and tea, plants all watered and alive, refreshed. but he was only ever met by the dead and dried visage of what once was every time he came home.

“can you can— can you come home? i miss you, i am scared of being alone.” his voice wavers. another voicenote sent through to your old number. the profile picture of you is still there.

you are still here. you are in his gallery folder, you are on pictures in the apartment, hung on the wall with pride. for him to always see that smile of yours, the beauty and light you exuded from within and without.

he loved your smile.

gods. he loved your smile.

the first time you smiled at him is something he will never forget. it had made his entire body melt, and at first he hated it because he was scared of it.

but how could he dismiss it when you had been so caring, you had been there to help patch him up. a member of the resistance. you had punched one of the opponments right in the face when you saw him getting attacked.

he does not remember what he told you after that made you smile and laugh. probably some sarcastic bullshit that had pulled itself out of his bloodstained lips at the time.

but when that sweet laughter had pierced his ears for the first time. he felt something he had not in years. a comfort, a place of solace and rest. he could listen to your laughs like they were symphonies composed so intricately that the world would sigh in relief.

your smile was something he always looked forward to seeing. the way the corners of your lips would curl just before the smile itself came was one of the few pleasures of joy he had ever had in his life.

but the joy was gone. a window left open and never closed, letting in the snow and the frost of the biting winter, and the lone reaper to freeze until his entire body and heart are riddled so cold and frozen that it will no longer feel love again.

you are dead, and it is a fact he can’t accept. no matter how hard or how much he tries, he does not want you to be.

he curses death, despite knowing not to.

death. it all has it’s place in this world, and she only does her work.

yet, to lose you?

to lose you so early?

it felt like he a joke. hands losing grasp of something important and stripped of his permission to love. all of his pent up hurt only bottled more. and there was no rim for the dark water to spill over.

there’s always quiet space for wonder in the bleak apartment, no longer is light lit. nor is food brought to the fridge. a blanket of dust and web covering it.

haitao is barely home anymore. it does not matter being home if you are not there.

he can sleep in his car.

or at the couches at work.

showers can be taken there too, it doesn’t matter.

luu’leriel is just as quiet. only seeking to kill and feed when he comes out.

“you left so early, i never got to give you the ring i bought for you.” he whispers into the microphone.

pinging your phone once again, with a voicemessage to never be received nor heard.

he sometimes wonders if you come by when he doesn’t know it? your soul? do you watch him? should he start trying to lift spells— no, no. you deserve your privacy. he always gave you privacy. that does not get to change now just because you are gone.

“i just uh. . .” he trails off and sits down on one of the kitchen chairs. the one you’d always sit on. one of your old pillows in his hand, held close to a soft breathing chest that sometimes would stutter to hide sobs.

“just- just i’m sorry. it’s all my fault” he chokes, tears streaming down his face. telephone slid onto the table, while an arm comes up to wipe away at swollen dioxazine eyes.

“is my fault.” he sobs and leans back into the chair, clutching tightly onto the pillow.

if he had been able to save you that night during one of the missions to retreat enigma from valence. if he had told you to stay home instead. or stay at the base to help patch up any hurt people.

you could have been alive

you would be with him

he shouldn’t have ever let you go with him.

there laid a certain anger amongst sorrow and grief towards you. so carelessly rushing after him and the other leaders, without his knowledge.

you’d wanted to help on the field. and when he found out he had an argument with you.

that hurt the most. the argument.

“i didn’t even get to say sorry.” the hiccup that made itself present in his throat transitioned into a sharp cry.

“gods i’m sorry, you just wanted to help. i don’t wanna be angry with you, you don’t deserve that.” he splutters. nose sniffling profusely. and drying itself in the pillow, along with the tears that spilled like they never had.

“can you please come home so i can say sorry and we can be okay again.”

the screams are deafened out by the heavy silence of the kitchen. nothing but static noise of the radio in the living room making itself present.

“can you please come home and just tell me this is a bad dream. because i don’t know what’s real anymore? i don’t wanna lose anyone again.”

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ daydreams — haitao 209 ꒱#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster x reader #terato #teratophillia #oc x reader #original character x reader #x reader #reader insert #grim reaper x reader #demon x reader #haitao 209 #angst #monster angst #asterism

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littledollll · 1 year ago

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hi hi i would absolutely adore if you could write an agere fic with larissa and a reader who regresses to 9-11. go wild :3

Office day

A/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written for littles on the older side or like bigger than toddlers at all. It's definitely a little harder I think but I had fun with this, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none?

_______________________________

“Momma momma momma!” Bright and early Larissa was shaken awake by your somehow overly energetic self. It’s 4:53 am. How the hell were you near ready for a marathon right now?

She had no idea where you came from but you certainly were running from somewhere and ended up crashing into her half-awake self at full speed.

She groaned as she felt your weight over her body before she even got to open her eyes. Eyes half closed, her hands cupped your face gently, giving you a little pinch before she leaned up to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Sighing as she reached over to turn the lamp on, she addressed you. “And what’s got my little darling so energetic today? I’m impressed you were even up before me.”

“I dunno! I just woke up! I slept very very well actually and wasn’t sleepy at all when I woke up.” You so happily explained, and Larissa only slightly envied the idea of actually feeling restful. “That’s very good, but momma isn’t feeling quite as energetic as you, dear. Can we use our inside voices when it’s early in the morning?”

She was always so gentle when she spoke to you. It was near impossible to actively go against her wishes or requests.

“I have a feeling a little one like you isn’t going to work today, hm?” Larissa muses as she finally feels a little more awake. Sitting against the headboard, she pulls you to lay your head on her lap and starts very carefully brushing through your hair. It almost made you fall right back to sleep.

“Hey! I am not a little one. I'ma big kid.” “Oh yes, very big, my love. But certainly not big enough to work.” She says again. More as a fact than a question. You nod in agreement.

There were a few minutes of peace and quiet. Something that was basically a sacred ritual for the two of you never to be disturbed. A second to breathe and just exist together in the quiet and calm of the morning, despite your energy and her lack of the very same. It was the perfect start to the day.

“How about you get out of your pjs and stay in my office when it’s time for work? I’ll pass it as a sick day and you can keep momma company.” She suggested quietly. Of course you sprung up at the idea of it, your energy resurfacing. Immediately jumping up to get changed so you could spend the day completely with her for once.

Larissa gives herself props later for telling you to get ready first thing in the morning because it takes you forty minutes to pick out an outfit that you’re just going to sit in, hidden away at the office.

“Little love, come get your breakfast.” You hear Larissa call from the kitchen and scramble to just chose something and walk out.

“You look very nice, that whole hour it took you was definitely worth it.” She mused, a soft smile on her lips as she tilted her head your way. You so rudely glared at her, making her fake a gasp and put her hand to her chest in feigned surprise. “Look at you with your little attitude. That doesn’t seem like something a big kid would do.”

That only earned her second glare, and she couldn’t help but chuckle as you joined her for breakfast, forgetting your previous attitude. “…thank you momma.” You said after a moment. Larissa only hummed, standing up and placing yet another kiss this one to the top of your head. “You’re very welcome. Wash your dishes before you leave, ‘big kid’. I have to go punch in.”

You pouted and grumbled but Larissa left no room for arguing as she swiftly left the room.

The rest of your day was spent with her just like promised. You roamed her whole office in the span of the whole day. You sat, walked, and laid down practically everywhere. Contrary to her who was stuck at her desk, occasionally taking a walk around the school to make sure everything was in order. Which you happily joined her for.

She reminded you to get off her desk just about a million times only for it to go ignored or forgotten about in just a second.

“Can we order out today?” You asked, praying to every and any higher power that Larissa would agree, and practically cheering when she did. Thinking about it for only a moment, she nodded soon after.

“I guess we could.. sure, darling. I don’t feel like cooking anyways.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” She looked quite happy at that, chuckling as you jumped off the desk to hug her. “Well thank you, dear.. now settle down for just a few minutes so momma can finish up and we can leave soon.”

#larissa weems #cg!larissa weems #Larissa x little!reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa wednesday #agere #gwendoline christie #larissa weems wednesday #larrisa weems #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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hii i really love ur fics, ur so good at writing🤍🤍🤍🤍 I wanted to ask if i could request one where it’s cassian x reader and they’re in a lowkey relationship bc reader is rhysands sister. one day reader gets so turned on by watching cassian and forgets to shut her mental shields. Both feyre and rhysand hears every dirty thought ab what she wants cassian to do and rhys gets surprised and pissed and just literally wants to die😭😭👀

Personal Thoughts

Cassian x reader

A/n: thank you anon! I hope you like this

Warnings: slightly suggestive and some blood/violence

As you stretch by yourself as you watch Cassian and Azriel spar. You look to the other side of the room and see your brother and Feyre stretching together. You smile at how cute they are together. You hope one day you and Cassian will be like that.

Your relationship is still so new. You’ve only been dating for a few months now but you’re infatuated with each other. No one else knows and you two want to keep it that way for a while. Rhys can get a little to over protective of you and the rest of this family is so gods damn nosy. Honestly it’s a miracle no one knows yet.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Cassian staring at you. Mother forbid you take your eyes off of him for more than two seconds. You roll your eyes at him and he send you a small smirk as he slowly takes his shit off.

Cassian flexes and picks up his sword, spinning it a few times before taking a defensive stance in front of Azriel. Azriel forces Cassian to pivot. He flares his wings and his back muscles flex. You didn’t even know he could do that.

And his ass! His ass is so gods damned perfect you just want to squeeze it. You stare absentmindedly taking in the fight. All you can think about is your date last night. He took you out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and when you got home he absolutely ravished you.

His head was between your legs for what felt like hours. And he took his time exploring every inch of you. When you two were done Cassian drew a bath for the two of you. He treats you like the princess you are and shows you nothing but respect. Cassian truly is a gentleman which you think a lot of people over look.

As you keep going through your memories you feel a familiar presence. It’s Rhysand looking at your memories with you. Shit.

Before you can push him out Rhys pulls back. You look over at him and his face is crimson with anger. Clearly he didn’t take into account how happy you were with Cassian. And how dare he look into your personal thoughts without permission! He always asks.

Rhys runs at Cassian tackling him to the ground and pinning him. Azriel jumps back, confused by the situation unfolding in front of him. “Rhys what the hell-“ he’s cut off by Rhys’ fist. A crunching sounding from his nose.

You jump up and tackle Rhys off of Cassian. “Those were my private thoughts! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream in your brothers face. “I wish I could burn my eyes after seeing that shit!” “Oh grow up you big baby!” You start to fight Rhys. His mistake is that he doesn’t take you seriously and you land a few good punches before Cassian picks you up and pins your arms.

Azriel holds Rhys back while Feyre stands to the side with her hands held out in both directions. Rhys gives Cassian a death glare. “Are you serious? My sister?” You look at Cassian and he goes slightly pale. “While you were intruding did you not feel my happiness? All the joy he brings me?”

Rhys’ jaw works as he tries to hold in his anger. “Rhysand.” Feyre says sternly. “Apologize to your sister. That was so wrong.” His face softens when he looks at her. You can tell they’re speaking mind-to-mind the way his expression changes.

“Look again Rhys.” You snap. You let him in and show him the overwhelming joy of being with Cassian. The love that he gives you everyday. Cassian lets go of you, confident you won’t try to beat your brother again. “Cassian,” his head snaps toward Rhys, “if you hurt her I’m going to kill you.” He nods, “I would never do that. I love her too much.”

You stand there stunned, looking up at his bloody face. “I love you too.” The words just flow from your mouth without even thinking. You hadn’t said that to each other yet. You smile at him and rise to kiss his cheek. Cassian smiles back at you, reaching out to hold your hand.

You hear Rhys make a fake puking sound. “Hey I don’t do that to you and Feyre.” “Feyre’s not your sister.” You stick your tongue at him. “I’m happy for you two.” Feyre says with a smile. “And don’t listen to your brother, he’ll come around soon.”

“I’m sorry.” Rhys says in your mind. “Yeah, yeah just don’t do it again or I’ll snap your wrists.” “Ouch. Are you this violent with Cassian?”

Azriel, Rhys, and Feyre head inside and you turn to Cassian. “Oh baby, your nose. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Cassian rubbed at the dried blood caked in his nose, “I’m fine sweetheart. You don’t have to take care of me.” You roll your eyes and pull him toward the door. “You’re taking a bath. And I’ll even rub your shoulders like you like.” Your tone slightly teasing.

Cassian kisses the top of your head. “You know now that I’m thinking about it, I’m so sore from training and Rhys beating me up. I might need more than a shoulder rub.” He smirks at you.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian imagine #Cassian blurb #cassian fluff #cassian fanfic

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domainedewinter · 9 months ago

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A night to learn - Part 1/2

Summary: Aemond woke up in the middle of the night to hear his brother running from the house, again. He found him and decided to give him what he needed to keep him with him.

Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, , fingering, oral m receiving, toxic behaviour, SoftDom!Aemond, MxM, begging, nsfw.

Rating: 18+, MDNI

English is not my first language.

Like many nights, Aemond had heard the front door close, trying to be discreet, and while it worked with their parents, it didn’t with him.

Their mother, Alicent, must have been in a deep sleep after drinking several glasses of wine to help down the sleeping pill—the only source of sleep—she took every night, and as for their father, he was too sick to notice anything, delirious in the medical room allotted to him on the other side of the enormous Targaryen estate.

Aemond hated knowing his brother had gone out again, ready to mess around; he would drink too much, sleep with anyone, and be rude to far too many people.

Aemond stared at the ceiling for a moment before sighing and extricating himself from the welcoming warmth of his duvet. If no one else could keep his brother on the straight and narrow, he had to do it. It wasn’t his role as the younger brother, it wasn’t his role at all. But the jealousy and hatred he felt at the mere thought of foreign hands on Aegon’s body were enough to make him get up.

He dressed quickly, all in black—as almost always—pulled on his boots, and started their father’s car, driving to the city center. Finding Aegon wasn’t difficult since he had recently installed a small, invisible, yet effective piece of software that gave him his brother’s precise location at any time of the day or night.

A nightclub- Of course-, built on two floors. That’s where Aegon had been for almost an hour now, and even in such a short time, Aemond was convinced he’d had enough time to drink or consume some substances capable of altering his faculties and his already poorly sharpened reasoning.

He entered the establishment without any problems, the bouncers stepping aside when they saw him arrive; if his appearance wasn’t enough to get him in, his name was.

Targaryen was a name as feared as it was respected, and Aemond had no qualms about using it, mainly to fetch his brother.

After wandering through several rooms—the GPS location was precise but not to the point of indicating which floor he was on—Aemond finally saw him; he was dancing among other people, his skin glistening with sweat and his eyes closed as his body swayed to the repetitive rhythm of the entrancing music. Aemond should have gone down, cut through the crowd, and taken him away in a minute, but he found himself momentarily paralyzed, hypnotized by what he saw. His elder brother danced with disconcerting ease, moving to the notes as if they were part of him, something Aemond was utterly incapable of doing.

But seeing the many other pairs of eyes fixed on his brother, he frowned and approached. Another was quicker, and before he could grab Aegon, a boy with brown hair was dancing with him, his body pressed against his brother’s.

His brother.

Anger electrified his being, setting his blood on fire and burning his whole body.

Without warning, Aemond seized the other boy and punched him in the face. A fight broke out, and Aegon stepped back, watching the scene as a confused and almost amused spectator.

When the other stopped getting up, simply raising a hand in a sign of surrender, Aemond looked up at his elder brother, his gaze on fire.

“Fuck, Aem, you should relax and... what are you doing here?”

“Shut up and follow me. We’re going home.”

“Home? You must be kidding, I just got here! You don’t like this kind of place, fine, go home and read and forget about me, I won’t be bored here, someone else will take care of me...”

The insinuation behind his words only sent Aemond to another level of anger, and this time he grabbed his brother with force, by the too-large and open collar of his T-shirt, pulling him violently against him. He could smell the vodka and peach, the syrup Aegon preferred with alcohol, he was so close to him, and it made him want to taste his lips.

Not now, he reprimanded himself mentally, not here.

“If you think I’m going to let the first jerk who comes along put their hands on you, you’re delusional. So now you’re going to do what I say and follow me.”

Even if Aegon had wanted to argue and refuse, he had no choice, dragged by force into the cool air that hit him. He was thrown by Aemond onto the back seat before shivering, looking up at him. But the little pill he had taken and the alcohol didn’t allow him to be lucid, not even conscious during the long minutes the return journey lasted.

“Get up. Follow me.”

The voice of his brother pulled him from the thick, cottony sleep he had sunk into. Blinking several times, his bewildered gaze landed on Aemond, who lost patience and grabbed his wrist. He pulled him out of the car, and Aegon, nearly falling, caught himself as best he could, almost ending up in Aemond’s arms.

“Take it easy, I didn’t do anything, no need to be mad...” he mumbled before meeting Aemond's single, furious eye, so angry it made him look away.

He didn't like how his younger brother managed to make him feel so vulnerable, inferior, and powerless. He had been the one to frighten him when they were children and now felt that the tables had turned; Aemond no longer feared him in the least, and worse, Aegon now felt a certain fear in return.

The younger's hand grabbed his face, forcing him to look at him.

“I am the only one to decide if I’m angry about having to search the whole city for my idiot brother who doesn’t have enough sense to take care of himself,” he began, whispering menacingly, pinning him against the car. “I get to decide if waking up in the middle of the night to babysit your sorry ass is a valid reason to be pissed.”

Faced with Aegon's feeble, uncertain growl, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“So now you're going to follow me, and we’re going to settle this once and for all.”

Aegon didn’t know what his brother meant by that and could only nod painfully before being roughly released. He did as he was told, following Aemond with minimal stumbling, guessing it would only anger his brother further. Once at his bedroom door, he reached for the handle, but Aemond was quicker. He grabbed his hand.

“Tsk tsk,” Aemond hissed, tilting his head to the side. “In mine.”

It wasn’t the first time Aegon had gone into his room—he would even come directly to Aemond's bed when too drunk after a night out—but the tone with which he ordered it sparked a strange feeling of unease.

“Listen, Aem, it’s fine, we’re home, you don’t need to take care of me and—”

This time, Aemond’s patience seemed to evaporate; his long, slender fingers tangled in Aegon’s messy hair and dragged him to his room. He threw him onto the floor, starting to remove his leather jacket, smiling slightly at seeing him on the ground, a flash of fear crossing his eyes.

“What’s the matter, brother, is something scaring you?” Aemond knelt to his level and placed two fingers under his chin. “Is it me you’re afraid of?”

“Wh- Don’t be stupid, I have no reason to be afraid of you,” Aegon replied, lifting his head as much as he could but still trying to back away as much as his uncomfortable position allowed.

“I’ve been taking care of you in many ways for a long time, my dear brother, but it seems I’ve missed the best way to do it. Because that’s what you’re looking for every night, isn’t it?”

Not understanding where Aemond was going with this, Aegon furrowed his brows, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother’s too-bright eye, hanging on his words, what he thought he knew about him, understood about him.

Because usually, no one understood him. Why would it be different coming from his younger brother?

How could this calm, composed, attentive, and studious young man, loved by their mother in a way Aegon could only envy from a distance, even begin to imagine what Aegon felt and desired?

Kneeling between his older brother’s legs, one hand firmly gripping Aegon’s tousled hair and the other sliding down his back, Aemond leaned in until their lips barely touched, then slowly let them glide to his ear.

“Attention. You waste your nights roaming these empty, meaningless places, hoping someone will give you that; attention, the very thing you can’t find here. And you hope one of those beings will take an interest in you, see you, maybe even understand you, but I think that desire is a bit too utopian—even for you.”

A shiver ran down Aegon's spine, momentarily stealing his breath, only to return in rapid, jagged gasps. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared Aemond might hear it, and if not already, the sound it made against his chest would betray him.

Aemond's sharp and angular face reappeared before his eyes, sharper than ever, more alive and burning than anything Aegon could recall. “You know I’m right, and it’s such a shame. None of them deserve your nights, your time, your energy, and... your body.”

As he said this, he pressed Aegon closer, causing Aegon's cock to harden involuntarily as Aemond's body nestled between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’ve found the solution. You won’t have to desperately seek attention from strangers anymore. You won’t have to because all my attention will be on you.”

Usually so eloquent and talkative, always ready with a stupid or hurtful remark, Aegon found himself speechless. His lips were parted, his eyes darting between Aemond’s single eye and his thin, moving lips. But before he could make a move, the pale pink lips he was staring at pressed against his.

The kiss was wild but not clumsy; Aemond knew exactly what he was doing, devouring him and claiming his mouth as if it was his due—which he probably thought it was.

Initially letting Aemond lead, Aegon eventually clung to the back of Aemond’s neck and his long, silky hair, groaning and moaning against his lips, letting his tongue dance with his.

He lost all sense of time when Aemond pulled back, his breath also a little short, his features adorned with a more serious expression than ever, like a predator.

Aegon had never seen him like this; he hadn’t realized his brother had grown so much, had changed, gained confidence and maturity, become so attractive and more self-assured than he had ever been. It unsettled him, but he didn’t have time to say anything as he was violently flipped over, ending up still on his knees but bent over the bed, his face on the soft sheets smelling of linden and mint.

In less than a second, Aemond was behind him, his own hardness rubbing against Aegon’s ass, making Aegon bite his lip to stifle a moan. Aemond's mouth attacked his neck, probably leaving purple marks, maybe even bloody ones at times, but Aegon didn’t care; his mind was lost somewhere between desire and shock, still not over what was happening.

“Since you often tell me about your nights of debauchery, I know exactly what you do to others, but, Aegon, I have a question that’s been bouncing around my head for a while.”

While one of his hands was on Aegon’s, the other began its descent along his ribs to gently but possessively caress his stomach under his T-shirt. Aemond felt a distinct shiver on Aegon's soft skin and smiled against his neck, biting again. The moan it elicited from his brother was his reward, prompting him to repeat the action several times.

His wandering hand brushed against Aegon's needy cock but denied him that pleasure, opting instead to grab his ass with force.

“Are you a virgin... here?” he asked, running his fingers along his brother’s ass, leaving no doubt about what he wanted to know. “Has anyone ever taken you? Has anyone ever claimed you? Tell me, Aegon, have you given your pretty little ass to a man?”

At first, Aegon refused to answer, biting his lip harder, but when Aemond's hand caressed him more intimately before moving to his belt, Aegon tried to stand, only to be pinned back against the bed.

“Answer me.”

Aemond's voice was cold and authoritative—just like him—but his body was so warm and desirous, the contrast nearly made Aegon tremble.

“Why do you want to know? It’s none of your business, I—”

Aemond bit him again, all the while stroking his brother's hard cock after unzipping his pants and slipping his hand inside; of course, Aegon hadn’t bothered with underwear, and Aemond found his warmth unexpectedly, to his delight.

“It is my business. You are my brother. So if someone has defiled you, I want to know.”

His strokes quickened, but when Aegon's pleasure was about to burst in his hand, Aemond stopped all movement, smiling sadistically against his ear.

“Answer me.”

Aegon groaned, collapsing helplessly against the bed as he tried to move his hips for any contact with Aemond's hand.

“No.”

“You’re being very stubborn for someone in your position.”

“No, I mean... no, no one has ever fucked me.”

“Oh.”

This revelation stirred a strange sensation in Aemond’s lower abdomen; he had never been harder than at this moment, thinking of his brother's virginity.

“Well, that’s very good. Something in you remains pure and untouched... and since nothing seems to calm or reason you, nothing is ever enough for you, it’s my turn to try and channel that overly fiery spirit in you.”

Aegon was about to turn his head to respond, to try to understand, mostly to try not to understand the implication, but two fingers entered his mouth before he could do so, moving in and out against his tongue. Docilely, he began to suck them, Aemond's other hand resuming its gentle, languorous rhythm on his painfully aroused cock.

His younger brother knew exactly how to play with him to silence him and bend him to his will, and even though the alcohol had numbed his thoughts earlier in the evening, Aegon now found himself sober from any substance since Aemond had started tending to him, and worse still, he felt he was becoming drunk on his brother’s ministrations.

#aemond smut #Aegon smut #house targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aegonxaemond #mxm #mxm smut

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flowersandskeletons526 · 1 month ago

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"Figure It Out" - Warriors concept album fanfic

I said I was gonna do more with the polycule and dammit, I did! Little longer than I usually write for one-shots but I had to. Enjoy!

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It started years before Swan ever met Mercy. It being the crush.

It began with Ajax. Ajax, who was already well established as the resident hothead of the Warriors, even in the early days after Cleon found Swan under the boardwalk. She terrified Swan when they first met, loud and brash and quick to temper. She looked at Swan like she wanted her dead for the first few months, especially after Cleon named Swan as her second. Swan did her best to just avoid Ajax as much as possible until the death glares turned to bickering and the bickering turned to banter with just a few venomous barbs thrown in to keep it on brand.

She still remembered the first time Ajax truly smiled at her. They’d been going back and forth as usual, both in a good mood so it was limited to playful jabs. Ajax went to punch her in the shoulder, all in good fun, and she caught Ajax’s fist mid swing on instinct. Ajax had only seen her scrap a few times at that point and got a strange, curious look on her face. She threw a slow hook with no intention to actually connect. Swan caught the punch again and got her first look at what a real, happy, genuine grin looked like on the enforcer.

Maybe she lost some wrestling matches on purpose because she liked the way Ajax’s eyes lit up when she celebrated victory. Maybe she stared a little too long when she pinned Ajax, watching the way she laughed as she called her surrender. Maybe she thought that the late night chats and the play fights and the rare softness in Ajax’s expression when she looked at her could mean something, but in the end, she gave it up.

When Rembrandt arrived, she knew she’d made the right choice. She saw how hard Ajax fought for Rembrandt from the second she brought her home. She saw the way Rembrandt looked at Ajax with those wide, bright eyes, the way Ajax smiled at her so helplessly, how Rembrandt had Ajax wrapped around her finger from the very start. Swan still noticed the same things she always noticed about Ajax, but she didn’t let herself linger on it how she used to. She was content knowing Ajax had found someone who made her so happy.

And then she began to understand exactly how Rembrandt had gotten such a hold on Ajax.

To start, Rembrandt was objectively gorgeous. No one would disagree on that fact. But she had a subtle sort of draw to her, too. Swan first noticed it when Rembrandt made her sit for a portrait, claiming she was the only Warrior that Rembrandt had yet to finish drawing. Something about Rembrandt’s quiet, observant gaze studying her and how the artist reached over to tilt her chin up or move a lock of hair left her with such a severe internal panic, she avoided Rembrandt for days afterwards.

Rembrandt also had a funny habit of forgetting the concept of personal space when she got excited. Normally this was directed toward Ajax or sometimes Cowgirl, who had no concept of personal space period, but not always. When they watched any of Rembrandt’s comfort movies together, she would explain in intense detail how artistically flawless she found certain shots or sequences and lean into Swan almost the same way she leaned into Ajax, tucked under her arm and fidgeting with Swan’s fingers while she talked. Swan couldn’t forget the feeling of Rembrandt’s fingers intertwined with hers.

When it was the three of them together, whether they were hanging out at home or out on a mission, she took notice of how the couple looked at each other. She noticed it was the same way she looked at both of them. And she shoved that shit into the deepest recesses of her mind because falling for one friend was bad, and falling for two was worse, and falling for the two of them that were already in a relationship with each other was just about the worst feeling in the world.

The night from hell further cemented her belief that those feelings would never crop up again. Meeting Mercy all but guaranteed it.

She was happier with Mercy than she had been in a long time. They clicked in a way Swan never thought she would with anyone after giving up on her past feelings. Mercy made her feel safe and protected in a manner Swan exclusively reserved for everyone but herself. She was loud and headstrong and excitable and loving and Swan couldn’t help but love her. Through all the turmoil and trauma and infighting after that night, Mercy was always there to be her rock, even before she could admit to herself that she needed one.

Life was good with her in it. She had Mercy, and Ajax and Rembrandt had each other, and after everything calmed down and they were as normal as they could be after Cyrus’s summit, life was good.

So why did her heart still hurt so much when she saw Ajax and Rembrandt together?

She didn’t really notice it until she was sent out on a tagging mission with Rembrandt. It had been raining for the past week so they had a lot of catching up to do. Months had passed since Rembrandt had that awful fall when she and Mercy got jumped, and as much as the tagger would refute the accusation, she still wasn’t back to the level she used to be. She rushed through her work, determined to get as much done in one night despite Swan’s insistence that she slow down. Coming down the ladder from the fire escape, she slipped.

She never hit the ground. Swan caught her, already prepared to help her down, but Rembrandt broke. Pulling Rembrandt into an alley, she held her tight for a long time, whispering gentle reassurances as Rembrandt covered her mouth to choke back violent sobs. She buried her face against Swan’s chest and clung to her with everything she had.

“Sorry,” she whispered when she calmed down enough to speak. She still hadn’t let go. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Swan cooed, combing her fingers through Rembrandt’s hair. “Let’s get you home.”

She lifted Rembrandt in her arms and carried her the whole way back to her and Ajax’s apartment. Ajax came bolting down the stairs when Swan rang the buzzer. She took Rembrandt from Swan, even though Rembrandt insisted she was okay to walk now, and Swan followed the two of them back up to their apartment. She lingered awkwardly by the door while Ajax talked to Rembrandt and made sure she really was okay, because Ajax had always been more worrier than warrior when it came to her. Rembrandt insisted she just wanted to go to bed.

Wordlessly, she went to Swan and pulled her into a long, lingering hug, hiding her face in the crook of Swan’s shoulder. Swan tried her best to ignore the fact that she really, really didn’t want to let go. After Rembrandt left and they heard the bedroom door close, Ajax turned to Swan, brow furrowed and eyes downcast.

“Cleon’s gonna kill me if I leave either of you two alone right now,” she mumbled, “so… you want a beer?”

They sat close beside each other on the couch with their drinks, closer than they’d been comfortable enough to in a long time. Swan took a deep breath.

“Has she… Is she still having nightmares about it?” she asked haltingly.

“Not often,” Ajax said. “She hasn’t spaced out in a long time, either.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. Thanks for getting her home.” Ajax swallowed hard and clenched her jaw, turning away from Swan. “Listen. I know things haven’t been easy since, y’know, since that night. And I know I haven’t really done anything but make it worse. I wanted to say thanks for not hating me after everything and… I’m sorry.”

Swan blinked. “You’re apologizing?”

“Yo, fuck you, man! I’m trying to be emotionally intelligent for once and you-”

“No, no, wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” She watched Ajax’s expression shift, her features softening as she leaned her head back. She still had a scar above her eye from when Swan busted her eyebrow open in a fight. She deserved it, sure, but it didn’t stop Swan from regretting it now. “I haven’t done much to make it easier, either.”

“You did better than me.” Ajax shook her head and took a long pull from her drink. “How’s Mercy?”

“She’s good. Cleon’s talking about making her the head scout.”

“That’d be a good fit for her. Girl’s quick.”

“Yep.”

“She treats you good, right?”

That threw Swan for a loop. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

“Good.” Ajax took Swan’s hand, squeezing it tight. She met Swan’s eyes. Swan’s chest felt hot and tight. “I’m… I’m glad you… I’m glad you finally have someone who makes you happy.”

Swan could tell Ajax wanted to say something completely different. She’d known her long enough to understand that. She just couldn’t fathom what else Ajax could want to say.

“And, y’know,” Ajax continued with a light tone, “if she didn’t treat you right, I’d have to fight her, and that would suck because she’s actually pretty cool.”

Swan laughed and tried to forget about it. But in the end, she couldn’t.

She couldn’t ignore the way Ajax softened after that night. She couldn’t ignore the lack of venom in her voice anymore, even when she was truly pissed off at something Swan did. She couldn’t ignore how both Ajax and Rembrandt seemed a lot touchier than normal, always reaching over to absentmindedly hold her hand or put an arm around her as they walked if Mercy wasn’t doing that already. She noticed Rembrandt smiling at her more often when she thought Swan wasn’t looking. She noticed Ajax always looking away or leaving the room entirely when Mercy would kiss Swan in front of her.

She noticed all those old feelings that had been buried for years come brutally flooding back and she absolutely hated herself for it. She just prayed she could get them to go away before Mercy found out.

In the end, Mercy figured it out on her own.

Sitting in their bedroom one night, waiting for Swan to get ready for bed, she asked, “How long?”

Swan frowned as she turned to look at her, her shirt halfway over her head. “How long what?”

“How long have you liked Ajax and Rembrandt?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you talking about?” Swan demanded, her pitch betraying her. She hated how high her voice sounded when she lied. “I don’t… I’ve never… I don’t have feelings for them. I love you, I would never-”

“Swan, stop.” Mercy flashed a soft, calming smile. “I’m not upset. I just want to know.”

Swan’s throat tightened. Her eyes stung as her pulse hammered in her ears.

“I thought it would go away,” she choked out. “After they’d been together for a while. It was a silly crush from a long time ago, that’s all. With all the fucking fighting after the peace meeting and Ajax and I trying to kill each other and Rembrandt’s accident, I thought… I was over it. I’m trying to get over it. And besides, even if I ever wanted to say something, they’re fucking engaged now. What if I fuck that up?”

Mercy took a deep breath. “I like them, too.”

Swan’s world rocked. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Mercy whispered. “Like, a lot.”

And suddenly it all clicked.

When Rembrandt had leaned in to light her cigarette off Mercy’s because her lighter was dead and Mercy ended up with a blush that lasted all day.

When the four of them were out together and Swan and Rembrandt had gone to get drinks, how they came back to the corner booth and Ajax and Mercy were sitting a lot closer than before and chatting idly with easy smiles on their faces.

The lingering hugs. The gentle brush of an arm or hand as they walked. The fact that Rembrandt’s sketchbook was suddenly exclusively Mercy’s portrait and Ajax hadn’t had an unkind word about her in weeks and the looks and the compliments and everything.

Swan flopped onto the bed beside Mercy and covered her face with her hands. “What do we do?” she groaned.

“I have no fucking clue,” Mercy said with a sad laugh. “Do you think they like us back?”

“Do you think they do?”

“I don’t know! You’ve known them longer than me! Is this how they are with the others?”

“No! It’s how they are with each other!” Swan uncovered her face and turned to look at Mercy. “Run it back. So you and I are dating. Those two are dating. We like them and they might possibly like us and all four of us have just been pining for weeks.”

“This is confusing.”

“No shit.”

Mercy inhaled sharply. “Do we tell them?”

And that was how Swan ended up at Rembrandt’s door about to make either the best or worst decision of her life.

“Everything’s okay, right?” Rembrandt asked as she sat beside Swan on the couch. Cleon had Ajax out on a mission so it was just the two of them in the apartment. “I mean, you just said you had something to talk about over the phone, so I was a little worried.”

“Sorry about being cryptic,” Swan mumbled. “I, um…”

Just say it, Swan thought. Rip the bandaid off. You can do this. You took on an entire city trying to kill you and got home alive, you can confess your feelings for your best friend.

“I like you!” she blurted out. If she and Ajax had one thing in common, it was that neither were very good at words. That had always been Rembrandt’s forte, but now she couldn’t stop the multiple years’ worth of repressed feelings spewing from her mouth. “You and Ajax. I have for years. Since, like, pretty soon after you joined, and even longer for her, and I tried to ignore it because you two have always been so happy with each other and I didn’t want to fuck up that or our friendship or the crew if I made a mistake. But after everything, the feelings still haven’t gone away and I literally cannot get it off my mind. I’ve tried but I can’t. I just keep looking at you two and seeing everything I want and I… I couldn’t stop thinking about it all.”

Rembrandt stared at her with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. She didn’t move a muscle for what felt like an eternity. She took a sharp breath to say something, closed her mouth, and finally, just when Swan was beginning to regret being born, she asked slowly, “Does Mercy know?”

“Mercy is the one who suggested I tell you. She likes you guys, too.”

She barely finished the sentence before Rembrandt tackled her onto the couch.

She ended up on her back with Rembrandt straddling her, pinning her down by her shoulders. “It took Mercy telling you for you to finally figure this out?!” she exclaimed. “How are you worse than Ajax when it comes to feelings? I’ve been trying to get you two to figure your crushes out for years!”

“You knew?!”

“Jesus Christ, yes! Fuck!” Rembrandt leaned back, still on top of Swan but letting her prop herself up on her elbows. “I knew it would take Ajax a minute to actually understand what she was feeling but with you, I…” She shook her head. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want either of you two to feel weird about it. I thought that maybe one of you would say something and we could at least start a conversation about it but you never did. And then with Mercy showing up and you being so happy… I thought you moved on. You really still feel this way?”

“I never stopped feeling this way,” Swan admitted. She hesitated. “Ajax likes me back?”

“I think Ajax liked you long before I joined the Warriors. She just didn’t know how to say it to you. Why do you think I made the first move when she and I got together?”

“And you-”

“Uh, yeah! Have you not been listening to me?” Rembrandt raked her hands through her hair. “Shit. This is the gayest thing that’s ever happened to me and I figured out I liked girls when I was ten. What the hell.”

Swan laughed. She flopped back on the couch, and Rembrandt leaned forward to rest her forehead on Swan’s chest. “I have to tell her now, don’t I?” Swan asked.

“You don’t have to. I would like it if you did,” Rembrandt said. She lifted her head enough to look Swan in the eye. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with this, but I’d like if we could maybe talk about it, at least? The four of us?”

Swan nodded. “I’d like that, too.”

“Ajax is supposed to be home later tonight, if you want to talk to her now. You could call Mercy over?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Swan called Mercy and recounted the conversation. Rembrandt gave her privacy for that. Mercy was ecstatic; Swan could almost hear her grin over the phone. After Swan ended the call, Rembrandt came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. Swan turned in her embrace and returned it, and they held each other close for a long, long time before moving to the couch. Rembrandt tucked her head under Swan’s chin, clinging to her like she was dreaming and might end it if she let go.

When Mercy arrived, Rembrandt was the first to get up. She launched herself at Mercy and practically glued herself to her as Mercy laughed. Mercy tangled her fingers in Rembrandt’s hair and held her tight, swaying gently. Rembrandt pulled back, pressing their foreheads together, and Swan just barely heard her whisper, “Thank you.”

The three of them sat cuddled up to each other on the couch while they waited for Ajax. Swan and Rembrandt told Mercy old stories from the earlier days of the Warriors: successful missions, happy times hanging out, crazy adventures they’d been sent on. Mercy would periodically butt in with the ever present question, “You guys didn’t realize it then?” And Swan would blush and look away while Rembrandt laughed.

Rembrandt got up to meet Ajax once she finally came home. Ajax gave her a confused look upon seeing Swan and Mercy on the couch, and Rembrandt replied with a gentle kiss and a nod towards Swan as she stood. A tiny part of Swan regretted this, seeing the way they acted so softly with each other and had an entire conversation with just their eyes, but Mercy squeezed her hand and she knew she was making the right choice.

Ajax stepped up to her and waved her towards the bedroom. Swan stood awkwardly in the center of the room as Ajax closed the door. Hyping herself up in her head, she decided on her course of action. She’d never been good with words, and neither had Ajax, so she had to approach this differently than she did with Rembrandt.

“So,” Ajax said, “did you need to talk to me or-”

Swan surged forward and kissed her.

Ajax froze. Swan thought maybe she came on too strong and leaned back. But then Ajax was pulling Swan against her by her hips and returning the kiss just as fiercely, and Swan was tugging at Ajax’s braids and biting her lip and Ajax’s strong grip was on her waist and keeping her as close as possible and wait, wait, this was getting a bit handsy for a confession. Maybe rewind a bit.

Swan moved her hands to Ajax’s collar and pushed her back just far enough to break the kiss. “I like you,” she said breathlessly. “So does Mercy. And Rem likes us back and says you do, too.”

Ajax blinked, still stunned. Her brow furrowed. She grabbed Swan’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length to look her in the eye. “That’s what this has been?!” she asked a little hysterically, and Swan thought it sounded like a question meant more for herself than anything. “Like, all of this? That’s what this is?”

“Took me a minute to figure it out, too. Rembrandt’s been waiting for us, apparently. I didn’t want to fuck anything up if you guys didn’t feel the same way so I never said shit.”

“When did… did you… when did you know? Wait, hang on, Mercy likes me? Mercy likes us?”

“She’s the one who suggested I tell you guys. She figured out I still like you two and called me on it.”

“Why didn’t you say something before now?”

“You guys were happy. Why didn’t you say something?”

Ajax thought for a moment. She looked around the room, anywhere but at Swan, and then sat on the bed and tugged Swan down to sit next to her. “Kinda figured you hated me,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Swan forced herself to keep her eyes off Ajax’s scar. “Can’t deny we’ve spent the last few years mostly beating on each other. I mean, yeah, I enjoy the sparring and the play fights, but I didn’t know if that meant to you what it felt like to me. And then after… after that night, all the times we’ve tried to kill each other since then, and you being so happy with Mercy.”

“You being so happy with Rembrandt. Getting engaged.”

“I thought something was starting between her and Mercy. Kinda hoped…”

“Hoped she’d bring it up?”

“We’ve all just been waiting for the others to say something, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“Can’t believe the three of us never did anything about it. Can’t believe Mercy broke it out of us.”

“Only took a few years.”

Ajax angled her body in towards Swan. She took a deep breath, held it, and faced her. “I saw the way Rem looked at you, sometimes. And the way you looked at her. I thought I was reading into things too much.”

“We’re kinda dumbasses, aren’t we?”

“Leave it to the artist to figure out our feelings before we do. She’s always been good at that.” Ajax tangled her fingers in Swan’s hair and brought her forward to rest their foreheads together. Swan gripped her shoulder tight, fingers digging into her skin, because they were still themselves and couldn’t help a minor play fight, even now. “We’re gonna have to talk this through. The four of us.”

“Rembrandt said the same thing. Should we go tell them?”

Ajax flashed a crooked smile, gentler and kinder than she’d been in a long time. Swan saw in her then that woman that had first smiled at her, the woman that always had her back even when they fought, the woman who made it clear that no matter how much they whaled on each other, they would never let anyone else get the chance to do the same. “Probably,” she chuckled, “before they think we’re fighting.”

As Swan stood, she pulled Ajax into one last hug. “We need to get better about feelings,” she murmured.

“Yeah. We’ll work on it.”

They walked into the living room hand in hand. Mercy and Rembrandt were still curled into each other on the couch, Rembrandt resting her head on Mercy’s shoulder and speaking quietly against her neck, Mercy laughing as she smiled so helplessly back at her. That was the look when it came to Rembrandt: the half-lidded eyes, the smile just turning into a grin, the utter devotion ready to follow her anywhere. Swan and Ajax had worn that look for a long time and Swan understood now exactly how down bad Mercy was. Thank god she’d had the nerve to say something.

They looked up as Swan and Ajax entered. Swan caught the flash of fear that sparked in Rembrandt’s eyes as she extricated herself from Mercy’s embrace, flexing her hands at her side. Mercy stood behind her and put an arm around her waist in support.

Swan and Ajax shared a look, smiled, and lifted their intertwined hands to show their partners. Rembrandt laughed in delight as she jumped on them, putting an arm around their necks and pulling them down to meet her, tears of happiness starting in her eyes. Ajax kissed the top of her head and then leaned over to kiss Swan’s temple, as well. Mercy hung back, letting the three of them have their long overdue moment together. Rembrandt reached over and dragged Mercy into the middle of the hug, pulling her down for a quick kiss that left her red in the face and stuttering. Swan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay,” Rembrandt said, a little breathless from laughing, “seriously, we will need to talk about this. It can’t be a one and done, everything’s perfect type thing.”

“Agreed,” said Mercy.

“That being said…”

Ajax grinned. “You guys want to stay over tonight?”

Swan and Mercy said in unison, “Yes, please!”

#writing #fanfic #warriors concept album #warriors musical #ajax warriors #rembrandt warriors #swan warriors #mercy warriors #ajax x rembrandt #swan x mercy #remjax #swercy #ajax x rembrandt x swan x mercy #polycule #mutual pining #repressed feelings #fluff #only fluff

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liminsendhelp · 9 months ago

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Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

This chapter contains references to blood and meat and torture. Angst. Our main character is getting worse.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

You, no joke, wanted to scream. As you suspected, the TF141 hadn't been at the base for over a month. They left at night, and you stared at the tail of the helicopter for a long time. You didn't even go out to say goodbye to it. Not having the right to do that was depressing, but sobering. You managed to forget reality.

Over the days, you could chase away thoughts of Price. He was there for you. Now you were starting to realise with horror that you were worried.

You sat down with your victim friends, wrapping a net of understanding around them to get to the bottom of it. You gossiped with your secretary, clearly wanting to get you into bed after realising you were single and not quite heterosexual. You were still training, just without John Price. Day in, day out, day in, day out. So after a week, bored with no grams of infused black humour around, no fair grades, no adorable buzzing and warm cow eyes, no four fuckers you swore you couldn't stand, you began to hate the world even more. Everything seemed bland.

"I swear I'll kill someone." You say at the table on a Monday morning. The sacrificial lambs around you, grinning sweetly as you burn holes in the idiots at the other tables. "You can't." "I have the guts." "And the skills?"

You turn your head sharply towards the black-eyed girl across the table. She's always so genuinely right that at first you don't even realise the suggestion in her words.

"Really?"

And she…nods. The other victims at the table nod, too.

So yeah, you're not bored anymore. You're hurt and hurt every day, now you're also angry. They come to the hall in the mornings, someone new every day, in shifts so that only one person is not in place. They torture you in fights, stances, kicks, punches, somersaults, jumps, reflexes and planks. And you keep quiet. Because you know, each to their own degree, that you are motivated by only one desire - to prove their weakness.

They're scared, sometimes. From the outside, you look empty. Like a shell of a person, not yet torn open to release a ripe monster. They let you joke and chatter, and you stay silent, focused on not hurting anyone. Exactly until you're knocked down time after time, your nose, your lip smashed, hurt. Until you're humiliated. That's when you stop thinking and start killing. It's probably the same therapeutic experience for them. They're trying to put themselves in their past place, the victim's place, and control their loss.

Because you're repulsive, fierce. Your body is big and soft, strong unpredictably, fast desperately. You feel no pain while you're held in a grapple. As opposed to your hips choking you, you squeeze your hands on their throats so hard they almost pass out. When they throw you over their shoulder and you instantly spit out your mouthpiece, ripping the t-shirt on your sparring partner with your teeth because you don't have time to get your hands on it. And if you get clipped, you fall over invariably with a roll to your feet to saddle up and bash their head against the floor.

Because you are violence. Ordinary, domestic, smelling of cheap beer and domestic tyranny. They could be the same if they saw entirely the norm they are prescribed in the morning as a cure for dissent. After all, the victim has two choices. Either kill or die.

"You've got to stop doing that. It's just a workout, no one's going to hurt you more than they need to." "I know. Sometimes, just, you know… No, just forgive." "Tough childhood, huh?"

You don't stop the play. Knowing you're just taking your anger, frustration and stress out on them, you cover yourself by pretending you're out of control. Like you remember how to let it go. But they feel pity. They don't see the rotten fangs beneath the lambskin you barely pulled on. And the days go by again, and you find entertainment again, and you start to trust more and more again. And the confessions pile up on you, and the tape recorder in your pocket won't stop writing, and the secretary helps you get to the right documents. She thinks she's doing a great job with you. You're just hoping for a chance to dig deeper.

You want to find something new, not just to gather statistics, but to run an arse-blowing campaign. Let everything burn with fire while you air your dirty laundry in public. You won't admit, even to yourself, that you just need a surprised expression on Price's face. And after, of course, approval. As if yes, that's what you could have found, just you. To help them throw the rats off the ship.

And to have Ghost. Satisfied only that his hopes were fulfilled.

One pat on the shoulder. One dry nod. You're not asking much. You'd like more.

…

It's fucking hot in here. In the stifling heat, they sat in the basement of the manor. Kings of our world. Their guards piled up near the secret passage in the catacombs.

There are five groups in all. The first will start firing, a diversionary tactic. The second wait inside the walls of the house. The smallest group of all, necessary for the right direction of movement. The third are in the woods surrounding the estate, clearing the field of local patrols. Fourths. "The Attic. Gas on the upper floors, with them, to prevent anyone escaping by helicopter.

And their group. In the basement, with the fuming air, waiting for the team. Each of them wouldn't mind finishing things themselves. But no, it has to be done quietly. Somehow John knows, senses something's going to happen.

Something's already happening.

The signal for action, the steady breathing, the orders. One single wound, and it's a tangential one. It's all coming out really quietly and quickly. Through the same hot catacombs, they lead the cartel goons to armoured trucks with not very friendly guards inside.

Everything goes quietly. The only thing that could ruin the operation is that the Attic group fails to shoot down the almost-mafia-head's helicopter in time. The smoking structure falls not into the woods, but exactly into the right wing of the estate, only to crash and tear up the ground beneath it. But even that doesn't stop the operatives from pushing the fugitives to the basement. All four teams, leading the disarmed and bound defendants, successfully convoy the men to the underground prison. Anxiety not subsiding, John puts a hand to his chest, in the place where a slim book from her collection would be hiding beneath his body armour if… if he asked directly. He would do so before the next mission, and carry a piece of literary reproach close to his heart. Yes, that's right, as soon as he gets there. And will sign an authorisation to access information about himself in case he dies. For scientific purposes. Then it won't make any difference. And no arsehole's gonna take that psychopath's rights away from her. Ghost will see to it that his will is carried out.

The initial interrogation entrusted to their care goes unnecessarily smoothly, too. John blushes away the smiles he sees on the faces of the cartel gangsters so as not to lose his temper.

Three hours later they're recalled to base, and that seems odd to him too. His gut doesn't fail, half an hour later the order changes, they're being redirected. Just their group.

"What's wrong?"

Laswell looks at him from across the table. New mission, heightened urgency, out in five minutes, helicopter will be arriving shortly. John glumly rereads the short brief.

"Something's wrong."

…

Something's wrong. You haven't seen Him in a month. Idiot soldiers, higher ups, yes even your lambs have been quietly alarmed. Dead. That's fine. You hadn't dismissed the possibility, and you were already grieving for Him endlessly. You had no right to show any emotion. You just knew that there were no more people in the dining room who seemed to be predators. You just saw that you had no place in that silence. So work. Work again. Bad habit. If he's dead, you have no-one to be ashamed of where you stuck your nose in.

Medical records label rape as "sharp pain in the lower abdomen." If the victim couldn't remember anything because of the opium, it was labelled "poisoning", if she recognised her attacker it was "cramps due to stress", if she saw but didn't know her attacker it was "suspected ulcer".

The latter cases had additional captions. "Sent for gastroscopy/ultrasound." eaquals to "investigation cited". Positive and negative results respectively implied a found and not found rapist.

Need I mention that ulcers were almost never detected? The patients turned out to be completely healthy. What distinguished rape cases from real cases of GI problems was the number of days off officially prescribed to the patient. More than three days was a bell; more than a week was a bell. There were two cases that imprinted themselves on your memory. The body, accustomed to cruelty and injustice, analysed the data on two month-long leaves and jerked. The first name is classified. The second was a woman who retired a year ago.

Thousands and thousands of military personnel. Only fifteen cases you could pull evidence from.

Fifty suspicious coincidences you couldn't explain.

Hundreds of rapes that never reached you.

And that's considering that any sexual encounter here was severely punished. Rape didn't just mean getting fired. A man would just disappear. He'd go on a mission and never show up. And this, of course, after months of boycott. No one would touch him, no one would communicate with him, no one would treat him as a human being. Rumour. The same rumours. Ghost stood hawkishly guardian of this policy. Of course, the command took liberties. The mass of nurses interviewed laughed coquettishly and outright bawled as they recalled advances from half-dead military men (it's worth mentioning that most of them were still alive). But no one confessed to the relationship, only discussed the varieties of genitalia that had passed through the strong hands of the medics. You didn't bother to use your knowledge of medical records. Anxiously smoking a smoking cigarette butt outside the medical block, you stared at the wall.

He was smiling so sweetly. Like a bear.

"What, Capitainess, are you sad?"

The sweet German woman - your secretary's best friend - was somehow luscious and unpleasantly warm. She smelt of blood all the time, and worked four-handedly at donation and "in confidence and as needed" in pathology.

You remain silent, examining her sly expression. It's not that you don't get along, quite the opposite. Which is why you allow her to mock you a little. To try and bite you. "Do you think yours will be here soon?" "Anticipating the autopsy already?" You mutter. "Oh, yeah, I love marbled beef. Did you see those shoulders? That dad bod." "He doesn't have any…" You begin, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "Gotcha" she exclaims victoriously and your smile becomes much more noticeable than it was a second ago. "So you're looking at him!" Instead of answering, you toss your cigarette into the nearest rubbish bin and wait for the continuation.

The continuation doesn't come for several minutes as you stare into the surprisingly clear sky. Your hands are in your pockets, your lip between your teeth bitten to a bloody pulp.

"Is he alive?" You whisper. "Most likely. I've been here five years. Rumour has it he once commanded an operation right after he was rescued from captivity. And, I know you're not kidding yourself about that, but he really is a threat. A lethal one. He'll get out on his own." "Or he'll be dragged out." "More like dragged away." It sounds from behind you. You turn around to see an aggressive soldier handing you a cigarette. You smoke in silence. He claps you on the shoulder. "They're supposed to decide tomorrow whether they're sending my unit on its first operation. Nothing much, since the strongest positions are occupied by… whatever they're occupied with." "Back-up?" It's probably the simplicity of your interest in his answer. For a second, in those clear colours of the sun, you seem a little smaller, weaker. The desire to help rears its head. "Not only." He replies. You press your lips together.

The situation only gets more tense. The groups are coming back. Everyone is coming back. Gaz returns in such nervous overload that he can't unclench the hand he's been pressing against Soap's wound. He is silent and doesn't laugh. You look at him quite close, hiding behind the doctors and nurses. That white coat of yours, that skill of yours, that fucking charm of yours. The sight of Gaza is stupefying. The sight of Soap, pale, hooked up to a life support machine, terrifies you. The same iceberg, knocking you cold every time you see the last shots before the cameraman dies. The second before the explosion, those not yet shot run in silent panic. The second before the beast attacks. The recording cuts off only when the battery dies, already after the owner's screams have ended. The second before the shrill sobs of a girl being raped in a circle. That moment of helplessness behind the screen when you see and can't stop watching. When you are a participant and a perpetrator.

Gaz has been silent for a week. Soap is still in a coma. You move the laptop into the medics' lounge. On the floor by the socket, all black and dirty. You've lost seven kilos from the stress. On the floor next to you is one of the nurses' old thermos. You drew a small abstraction of stars and lines on her ankle with a black marker. The drawing is almost washed away, but you see its outline when her feet in crocs stop next to your knee. She shares a meal with you every day. You don't thank her, but you slip her a candy bar or ten quid or a sticker drawing. Your paper now has more than just a skeleton, it has substance. It's almost a good research paper. When you're allowed, you visit Gaza. Sometimes it's ten minutes, sometimes it's half an hour. On the first day, you simply reach out for him to put his palm into the embrace of your cracked fingers. His skin is just as rough and cold, but you can feel the pulse, and that rhythm lets you live, too. Now you come in with a book. You read Oscar Wilde's De Prófundis. Gaz is still silent, but his eyes warm and sparkle as he laughs from your sincerely-sarcastic-outraged intonations. Towards the end of the week, the book is finished, your paper has been sent to Dr Moon for another review, and your anxiety makes you stay on your feet steadier and fiercer. You dread going to sleep and finding out one of them is dead. Their faces looked like a mess when they arrived. Maybe they'd explain it to you, but you've already formed your own opinion. Your hands shake from the slight rise in blood pressure when you do more than just manipulate digitised information, but a real invasion. But. What were you supposed to do? The stolen medical records give insight into the anamnesis. Gaz doesn't speak for a reason. His tongue was cut off, not cauterised at the root, just wrapped in thin wire. The repair was emergency and only affected the major vessels. You think that's a good thing. If he heals well, he should be able to speak again. He'll probably have trouble recognising taste, but he'll be able to function almost fully. Two, three, five months and he'll be good as new. Soap's situation is much worse. Couple of shots to the torso.

Shattered lung, broken ribs, almost hit the heart. Second bullet punctured the liver. The third one tangentially grazed Soap's head. No brain damage, but damage to the skull. The injuries are severe, though not irreversible, but it will be difficult for him to regain his fighting ability. He'll be given an honourable rest. If he does come out of his coma. If he survives.

But he wasn't tortured. Most likely the macho man got out and sat in ambush, devising a plan to free himself. If Gaz was rescued by his forces, you weren't even going to give Soap an extra beating for kamikaze behaviour.

Moreover, you're on the verge of not doing the same.

But you're in luck. After a week in which you've never once been able to check on either Gaz or Soap, a wave passes through the entire base. It starts with the cobble-faced faces of the convoyers and the bags over the heads of the prisoners, and ends near you when one of your victim friends, bows.

"They'll be interrogating the ones who captured Cap and Lt."

A black veil rises before your eyes.

#limin #tf 141 #simon ghost riley #price cod #captain john price #captain price #price #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #don't pet the flea cat #dptfc

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vashsmunch · 2 years ago

Text

Where do we go from here? pt.1

Vash x GN Reader

Synopsis: basically, you and vash are roommates who met by him crawling up to your door injured one night, praying you wouldn't kill him. you treated his wounds and have basically been his personal nurse ever since, as he keeps doing dumb shit. but the entire time, you always wished it was something more.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, self worth issues

A/N: i previously posted this on ao3 but decided to bring it here too ^^ pt.2 is going to be VERY nsfw but i’m not done with it yet so

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You overdid it again." You sucked your teeth in disappointment as you unwrapped Vash's bandages. They were dirty and stained, even though you had replaced them just that morning. Grabbing the disinfectant, you applied a generous amount to his chest.

He let out a soft hiss, his stomach tensing up in discomfort. He looked up at you with a guilty smile and apologetic eyes. "I know, I know. To be fair, I didn't know that they would have rifles there." He winced again as you dragged a cotton ball across his wound, trying to soak up as much blood as possible. It's good that his body rejected bullets; otherwise, you'd scold him way more.

You glanced up at Vash with a chastising frown. It was always concerning how much he insisted on fighting others' battles. "That excuse doesn't work the 98th time, you know," Sighing heavily, you started to wrap him in fresh dressings, a firm grip on his chest to prevent him from moving too much. He constantly ended up hurt one way or another, and while you knew that being a plant gave him good wound regeneration, he always refused to use it. Instead, he came into your room, hobbling through the door, the same dopey grin on his face every single time. You've started to wonder if this was some idiotic ruse by him to spend more time on your bed. Not that you minded, but still.

There was always this air of uncertainty when you would change his bandages. The injuries would vary in location, depending on what stupid antics he decided to pull that day. His chest, shoulder, and sometimes even his leg. Those days, the tension was at its highest, your face too close to his lap and his arms resting beside your head to brace himself for the pain. You would try not to stare as he sat there, pantless, trying to distract yourself by intently looking anywhere else but his crotch. He had never made a move on you, so you felt like it was crossing some boundary the two of you hadn't even gotten close to yet.

Shaking your head, both in contempt of his injuries and your foolish thoughts, you stood up and stretched. "You're all good now. Just try to be careful next time. Please." It wasn't as if you despised spending time with him (or feeling him up, for that matter). Just so much worry plagued your mind every time he went out. He always came home injured, but that wasn't the only thing on your mind. What if he never came home at all? What if, one day, you find out he's gone, killed by some bounty hunter, and then that's that? Forever left pining after some fugitive you just so happened to fall in love with.

Vash the Stampede, the most wanted man on the planet, yet he's half naked in your bedroom.

You turned around to leave when suddenly Vash grabbed your hand. A shiver ran up your spine, and your body was suddenly on fire. Your mind raced as you tried to distract yourself because you had just figured he didn't see you that way. He'd never really touched you in a platonic or romantic way. Sure, you would give him playful punches on the shoulder or even a hug if you felt brave; but none of these advances were ever returned by him, leaving you disappointed at times. But as you stood there, completely frozen, doing everything to forget that he was touching you, you felt a shift in the air.

"Hey... You know that I don't do this to worry you right?"

You looked back to see him staring at you, his face contorted with an unreadable expression. "I mean, I would be pretty concerned if you were; I wouldn't like having to pick up your crumpled body in some sand dune because that's how you like to entertain yourself." Your tone was light, but an air of seriousness was behind it. There probably wasn't anything you could do to stop him from risking his life, but it always left a bad taste in your mouth. If you were a better fighter, you could help him. But you weren't, and it always left you worriedly sitting at home, waiting for him to return safely.

Vash's grip tightened as he kept looking into your eyes. His gaze was unrelenting, and you started to feel uneasy. For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped. What was he thinking about?

After a while, he finally spoke. "I really did miss you today. A lot actually." You scoffed, looking down at him with disbelief and disdain. If he genuinely craved your presence that much, you'd think he'd actually see the advances you made on him. With all the playful touching bordering on flirtatiousness, there's no way he didn't feel the tension as well.

You tried to shake your hand out of his grip, but he firmly held on. "Do you mind? I have other things to attend to." With a harsh tug, suddenly, your faces were inches apart. You were instantly hot with embarrassment, not used to being so close. At least not with Vash's eyes, mouth, and lips-

Shaken out of your stupor with a low whisper of your name, your attention flashed back to him. "Don't go. Please." He was looking at you with need, an expression you weren't used to seeing from him. It was bordering on pleading and... desire? Your eyes suddenly flickered down, acutely aware of his bare chest. It was riddled with scars and metal plates that were used to replace the missing flesh. It was a kaleidoscope of pain and selflessness; more than anything, you wanted to take that burden off his shoulders.

You noticed he was breathing heavily, and you glanced back up to see his cheeks flushed with red and the grip on your wrist getting tighter. Was this actually happening? It all felt like some kind of fever dream, and part of you wanted to test whether it was real. With a sharp inhale, you pressed your lips against his, and as quick as it started, you pulled away, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes were wide, mouth agape as he stared at you. Shit. You drew back slightly, laughing nervously as you looked away, his gaze unrelenting. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me," You started to loosen his hand on your arm, the cool metal strikingly contrasting the lava-like heat rushing through your body. Turning towards the door, you berated yourself silently for misreading the situation. Of course, he didn't see you that way. There's a reason why he never returned your advances. This was a mistake.

Suddenly, he was pulling you back in, lips latching onto yours with animalistic desire. It was like he was afraid if he let go, you would disappear forever, and he kept trying to pull you as if trying to close the space between you two, even though there was none left to spare. You instantly eased into him, and his grip loosened as he reached up to cradle your face, finger rubbing your cheek. The two of you eventually pulled back, taking in greedy gulps of air as you stared at each other but still dangerously close. He looked so beautiful, his blonde hair a mess, and his lips red from the kiss.

He was still cupping your cheeks as he murmured quietly. "Are we okay? Is this okay?" Vash looked at you with an expression that feared rejection and, at the same time, wanted every single part of you. It made your heart melt.

"Mhm." You smiled as you felt him let out a soft sigh of relief. How long has he felt this way? And why was he so irritatingly stupid enough to keep it from you? One of his hands drifted down your cheek, slowly reaching your shoulder and chest before settling on the side of your hip. He slightly tugged at you, implying he wanted more. You gently pushed him back, straddling his legs as you looked at him, waiting for his expression to change to regret. It never did. Instead, he sat you on his lap, a sheepish smile on his lips.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his. You felt him tense up, his grip on your hips tightening as you spoke in a low tone. "If you wanted this, why did you never tell me?" Now that the initial shock was over, you were filled with a sense of disappointment. The lonely evenings you had spent worriedly waiting for him to return home, anxiety filling your body as the night grew closer. For so long, it felt like he was trying to keep his distance, as if he was afraid to get too close. But now you two were closer than ever, and as much as you wanted this, wanted HIM, you were scared it wouldn't last.

It was quiet for a few seconds as you waited impatiently for his answer. Eventually, he whispered, his voice laced with sadness and regret. "Being with me is dangerous. Too dangerous for me to put you at risk for. I felt like if I kept you at a distance, maybe I wouldn't feel so bad about being here with you, even if it was selfish," His fingers traced circles along your sides as if trying to comfort you and himself. "I don't think I can keep doing this, though. It hurts too much to be away from you. I tried distracting myself with all of these fights, all these battles I knew I couldn't win, just to find some excuse to run back to you when I got hurt."

Your eyes started to burn, and you felt yourself about to cry. You grasped at Vash's head, hands scrambling to find purchase in his hair to pull him closer. Anything to distract yourself from the tears about to flood your vision. He sighed heavily as he pulled back to look at you, eyes filled with guilt. "I want to be selfish with you now. I'm sorry I wasn't before, and I'm sorry I left you alone all those nights. But I'm here now. If that counts for anything, I'm here now."

#vash x you #vash x reader #vash hurt/comfort #trigun #trigun stampede

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