#but in a ''you're as much as source of strength for me as I hope to be for you'' way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rockingbytheseaside · 2 months ago

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omg, I am quite literally in love with your work.

pls I cannot tell you how frickin ecstatic I am when I read your stuff 😭 like I’m Fr Rolling on the floor and stopping every five secs bc of the butterflies-

AND! I saw that your asks are open!! (If I misread/misunderstood then I’m so sorry and just ignore this) I was wondering if you could do Harbingers x reader when they find reader quietly weeping- like reader thought they were alone and didn’t wanna burden them :3 romantic if you would !!

no pressure ofc!!!! fr I love ur stuff sm like I’ve been reading ur stuff OVER AND OVER😭😭😭

(bshdhsgdhagjds Okay, let me just hold in my tears- that’s so kind of you anon! Sorry for making you wait, I hope this is something similar to what you wanted)

✦ How they comfort you when you cry

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

Sometimes, your days might feel bitter, and sometimes the weight of your inner struggles can accumulate into a somber heap of self-doubt. Whether it was a minute inconvenience that resulted in your dampened mood, or stressful memories of the past – the reasons behind it fade into insignificance. Because next thing you know, you feel your shoulders slightly shaking, and your hand reaching to conceal your silent weeping. Thus, when talking becomes a burden and your breath runs short, your beloved is the first to listen to your sniffles.

✧ Pierro’s already icy gaze becomes unreadable. Is it fear? Is it astonishment? Or is it the readiness to unleash hell upon anything that compelled you to shed these silent tears? He sees you hugging yourself, trying to shield yourself away from him. His gloved hands cautiously reach for your form, like a blanket wrapping itself around your shoulders.

“My divine one, why hide your tears away from me? Why conceal the sadness in your eyes when you silently weep? Please, grace me with your gaze and look at me.”

His voice is careful despite its deepness, suppressing his boiling temper at the sight of your sadness. He reaches for you tenderly, and when you turn towards him, you allow yourself to cry further into his chest. He cradles you silently, never once wasting breath on simple shushes or admonishments to cease crying. No, The Jester will hold you, let his lips press softly to your forehead, and let you cry as much as you need. He'll personally worship and wipe every teardrop off your cheek.

Yet despite his gentle arms, you sense him shaking. His gloved hands hold you securely, yet subconsciously gripping. Because pray to the archons above, he will not rest until the source of your sadness is annihilated.

✧ Il Capitano never saw you cry before. He saw you as an equal in matters of battles, duels, and personal life. Through ups and downs, your best and worst. And yet the imposing, mighty Captain never witnessed his beloved’s face slowly scowl and emit those saddened sobs as you're doing now.

“No… who bestowed such sadness onto you, my cherished? What sorrows are you fighting?”

He asks, half in disbelief and worry. The Captain kneels down, the back of his armored hands gracefully meeting your face. He makes sure you’re not physically in pain, his touch asking permission for the simplest caress. You might feel embarrassed to explain why you're crying, but the Captain will coax you to talk only if you bestow him this honor. Otherwise, he never mocks or admonishes you for crying – “This is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of humanity in your strength.”

To soothe you, he'd drape an arm around your shoulder, bringing the side of his coat to shield you. If you desire, he'd immediately discard his coat entirely and wrap it over your shoulders. And if you desire neither this or that, he'd silently kneel, asking for permission to pick you up in his forearms, so you may rest on his shoulder while he carries you away.

✧ You cannot conceal your sorrows from Il Dottore. He suspects you are feeling dejected before you even realize it. Should your shoulders quiver and tears well in your eyes, he'll be the first to perceive it. His already tense countenance will harden, and in short, murderous intent, he’ll ask:

“Who did this to you?”

His first suspension is that someone foolish enough dared to hurt you, and his next task is to seek out that moron. And stars above, if someone did ruin your day, the Doctor will have a new cadaver on his lab table. You'll have to physically restrain the Harbinger in front of you by putting your hands on his shoulder and explaining hurriedly that no one did anything harmful.

Il Dottore won't quell his inner rage so easily though. As you shake your head, and rub your eyes, it will require much persuasion to convince him that it’s not as dire as he suspects. Nonetheless, Dottore will keep a tight hold on your form. If he won't murder someone in rage, then he'll prepare a soothing beverage and wrap you up in a comfortable seating so you may rest your weary head. He’ll have to personally drag you to sit by his lap so you won’t desolate yourself into a depressive fit again.

“Wasting your breath and energy on crying is a futile endeavor. You'll only tire your body out… so rest in my arms before your mind starts weaving more puny sentiments.”

✧ The ever-prideful and strict Scaramouche would find himself faltering into silence when the unfamiliar sound emanates from your being. The hiccupped sounds of choked cries are not foreign to him - he recognized them very well and was personally acquainted with the physical pain of crying. But seeing the closest being, the one he calls most cherished, to unexplainable weep was a new form of pain he had never experienced.

“... Are you-? What's wrong, are you hurt? Did something-!”

An expression of shock and fear bestows the Balladeer, his hands are reluctant and afraid to cross your boundaries when you cry in front of him. His first instinct is to believe that he has erred, that he has hurt you or spoken insensitively. Anguished, his fist tightens, dreading your stern rejection. Yet, all it takes is a gentle shake of your head and a soft reassurance - no, he hasn't actually done anything wrong.

His brow will remain furrowed, and only under your permission, he would glue himself to you in a reassuring embrace. It's only after he's assured of your safety and well-being that the Harbinger begins to ease up and scoff. Maybe, just maybe, he will go and bring your favorite sweets afterward. Regardless, his hands kept cupping your face, thumbs gently wiping your tears.

“Ha, you’re that sensitive that you’d weep at the most minor inconvenience? Fine, I’ll stay here. But don’t get too comfortable. And you better stop apologizing for crying. You should never say sorry for something like that. It’s in your right to cry… Just come to me when something’s troubling you, alright?”

✧ You cannot recall a single instance when Pantalone's captivating smile ever wavered. The man has perfected his charismatic, million-mora smile that only you can discern if he’s being genuine or not. But to witness it dropping completely in a cold stare while you cried was chilling. You felt scared, as the Harbinger grew eerily silent with each slow step, he demanded:

“... Give me names and I will make sure they will disappear permanently.”

You jolted. This was bad, and it sure didn’t quell your sobbing as you hurriedly shook your head. Pantalone took a deep sigh, his brain forced to flip a switch and change to a more tender tone so he wouldn’t scare you further with his sinister rage. He will deal with the causes later. What mattered now was your shaken state. Hence, like the dotting lover he is, he softly inquired whether you wish to talk or have some privacy.

If you willingly welcomed his physical touch, then prepare yourself for a day filled with him enfolding you tightly. He will draw you near, letting you cry your frustrations out until you get fatigued and rest against his lean chest. The Regrator always fulfills his pledges, gently rocking you back and forth. He will vow to spoil you on the next shopping spree and purchase everything you desire - luxuries, clothes, perfumes, or fancy meals, all of it is yours with a snap of his fingers (even if you reprimand his indulgence). His embraces are tenacious, endless kisses raining down on your face until you plead and whine to be released from his insistent hugs.

"My heart, how can I possibly release you when you should be adorned with kisses instead of tears? I am afraid I won’t be so easily reassured until I see your smile again."

✧ Tartaglia’s highlight of the day is mirroring your luminous smile; hence when he first heard your sorrowful sniffles, it felt like a sudden dark cloud washed past him, pouring cold water to wipe his smile off in an instant. Without hesitation, his hand found itself on your shoulder as he guided you to sit first.

“Hey, hey… What’s wrong, darling? I’m here, it’s alright.”

He observes your attempt to explain the root of your troubles, but as you try to elaborate, your tears only intensify against your own will. Kneeling in front of you, his gaze was resolute - he now had a mission. He will immediately soothe your mood with tender words of endearment, lighthearted banter, and the occasional joke here and there, anything to make you crack up with that sweet smile he so adores.

Tartaglia will remind you that first and foremost, he is your Ajax - the one who will bring laughter through his playful teasing and delightful humor during your times of melancholy. The one who will cook you the best Snezhnayan Bliny better than any pancake restaurant. And the one who will always be there so you can lean your head on his shoulder and just feel his heartbeat as he embraces you deeply. In any other circumstances, he is the 11th of the Fatui Harbinger who will work and bloody his fists for your safety. However, for now, you shouldn’t occupy your thoughts with such concerns.

“Hey, it’s alright… You don’t have to feel embarrassed for crying. We all have bad days from time to time. How about this, leave today’s dinner on me. I shall cook your favorite even better than you could imagine! Or else what sort of boyfriend would I be if I’m not spoiling my darling.”

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ghoulsbounty · 6 months ago

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Hi! I wanted to request a TH/fem reader and RZMM/fem reader

Maybe like a how would they show possessiveness over someone? A little angsty bc they're big guys and they would definitely manhandle their so in the heat of the moment

How Thomas Hewitt and RZ!Michael Myers Show Possessiveness Over You

Warnings: smut (18+), aggressive sex, slight mention of dumbification, manhandling, bruising/mark making, angst, obsession, stripping, stalking, slight yandere i guess?, possessiveness, canon-typical violence, control.

Words: 2.7K

A/N: Anon, thank you so much for my first slasher request! I love these boys so much and wanted to delve into their intentions behind their protectiveness a little, cause I think it would be very different for both. This is my first time writing a headcanon, I hope I've done you proud. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Thomas Hewitt

→ Thomas's struggle with social norms makes his possessiveness glaringly apparent. He perceives everyone outside the family as a potential threat to his happiness, particularly when it concerns you. His demeanour shifts abruptly at the slightest hint of danger; his typically measured movements become swift and aggressive. Despite his efforts to restrain his emotions in public, such as at the Cele Community Centre where you and his mother work, Thomas often finds himself instinctively drawn to your side. His hand firmly grasps the fabric of your shirt, his protective stance evident to anyone who dares to look at you. His gaze sweeps the surroundings with a discerning eye, meticulously assessing each customer until you gently remove his grip and convince him to wait in the back.

→ Thomas's overprotectiveness occasionally acts as a double-edged sword, simultaneously shielding you from harm while subtly restricting your freedom. As a man of few words, he struggles to articulate the depth of his need to keep you safe, resulting in actions that may be misinterpreted as possessiveness rather than genuine concern or fear of losing you. He means well, but it can feel suffocating.

→ Preferring to keep you within his line of sight whenever possible, Thomas's protective instincts often clash with the demands of daily life, leading to occasional conflicts with Charlie over the use of his time. The older man's frustration with what he perceives as your bad influence over Thomas' attention to his work further exacerbates tensions within the household.

→ Certain areas of the house are off limits to you. The basement serves as a sanctuary for Thomas's work, and he is adamant that you are shielded from the horrors that happen inside. However, he still insists on your presence nearby, perched on the steps that lead down to the space or listening to the radio in the dining room upstairs. Your proximity seems to offer him a sense of security and focus, enabling him to delve into his his task with unwavering concentration and produce some of his best work.

→ Thomas finds solace in words of affirmation and constantly seeks reassurance from you. Despite the intimacy you share and the countless times you've assured him otherwise, he harbours an unshakeable fear that if he loosens his grip even for a moment, you might slip away from him. This nagging insecurity gnaws at him, overshadowing moments of connection, leaving him perpetually haunted by the possibility of losing you.

→ Physical gestures become one your languages of reassurance. You hold his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers as a silent promise that you're there for him. Running your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into you becomes a comforting ritual, soothing both him and you. Your touch on his chest, just over his heart, keeps his anxieties at bay.

→ Words also become a source of comfort for Thomas. You express your pride in him, highlighting his strengths and the ways he makes your life better. You tell him how happy you are to have him by your side, emphasizing that he's not just your protector but also your partner. Sometimes, the simplest affirmations have the greatest impact on Thomas. Hearing you call him "yours" fills him with a sense of belonging and purpose, and when you tell him that he's been good, he can't help but prove just how good he can be by filling you with his fingers, tongue or cock.

→ Thomas feels most valued when you grant him your undivided attention and allow him to reciprocate. He revels in spending hours between your legs, skilfully coaxing orgasm after orgasm from your willing body until you're left a whimpering, trembling mess beneath him. Despite his efforts to maintain control in your relationship, you always seem to hold the upper hand, which is why he finds solace in reducing you to a thoroughly fucked-out state on his bed. In those moments, with your mind blissfully empty and your body consumed by a primal hunger for his touch, he feels a sense of power and satisfaction unlike any other.

→ Despite this, the mounting tensions within the household, particularly with Charlie, often leave Thomas grappling with pent-up aggression. As the demands on his time intensify, with Charlie clamouring for more of Thomas's attention and you taking on additional shifts at the community centre to assist his mother, Thomas finds it increasingly challenging to maintain his composure.

→ You've become attuned to the subtle shifts in his demeanour, recognizing the tell-tale signs when he's received a stern tongue lashing from his uncle or had a particularly taxing session in the basement. Thomas' simmering rage begins to permeate his interactions with you. His touch, once tender and reassuring, now carries an undercurrent of tension. The few words he mutters in your presence are laced with frustration and discontent, rather than devotion.

→ Despite your best efforts to sooth him, there are moments when Thomas's volatile emotions threaten to overwhelm him. In those instances, you find yourself walking on eggshells, navigating the precarious balance between offering solace and inadvertently stoking the flames of his anger. You are never fearful of Thomas, but these are the times when you remove yourself from his presence when possible. That is, until you learn that the best way to calm him during these storms is with your body.

→ Thomas's heavy-handed nature becomes even more pronounced during these moments of heightened emotion. He handles you with a forcefulness that borders on brutality, moulding and contorting your body into painful positions that elicit tears of discomfort. While he typically refrains from spanking you unless requested, in these instances, his large hand comes crashing down upon your flesh with punishing force, leaving behind welts and bruises that you carry for days. Unlike his usual attentiveness to your pleasure, Thomas's focus shifts solely towards finding an outlet for his frustration, using your body as a means to an end in his quest for release. He bites, scratches, and fucks every inch of you with an almost desperate intensity, seeking solace in the physical connection between you.

→ Yet, there are fleeting moments of clarity when the clouds in his eyes dissipate, and the gentle giant you know and love re-emerges. It's in these moments of vulnerability that you offer him comfort, reassuring him that he can take what he needs from you, and that you will still love him.

→ After the intensity of the moment subsides, Thomas retreats into the solitude of the basement, locking himself away as a form of self-imposed punishment for his mistreatment of you. Despite your efforts to coax him out, reassuring him of your well-being and offering comfort, he remains secluded until he feels ready to face you once more. When Thomas finally does emerge, you're quick to envelop him in the warmth of your affection and reassurance. With a soft kiss to his leather-clad cheek, you convey your unwavering support and understanding, letting him know that you harbour no resentment towards him.

→ In the aftermath of the encounter, Thomas's protective instincts kick into overdrive as he tends to any wounds that adorn your body, his touch gentle yet purposeful. It's in these moments that his true nature shines through—he may be heavy-handed and prone to bouts of aggression, but above all else, he possesses a deep-seated desire to care for and protect you, to make amends for any harm he may have caused.

RZ!Michael Myers

→ Michael's possessive nature over you begins with an intense and inexplicable fixation. From the moment his eyes land on you, something primal within him snaps, and he becomes singularly obsessed with making you his own.

→ He can't quite explain what draws him to the Red Rabbit Lounge that evening, but as he leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath after a harrowing escape from Smith's Grove, he is immediately captivated when you emerge from the back door. Unlike others who shrink away from him in fear, you meet his gaze with a calm demeanour, lighting your cigarette and casually pointing out his papier-mâché mask. Your nonchalant remark about liking the orange because it reminds you of your favourite holiday only adds to the intrigue, sparking something deep within Michael's psyche.

→ Following that initial encounter, Michael becomes an omnipresent presence in your life, a shadow that lingers at the edges of your awareness. You sense him in the periphery of your vision, catch glimpses of his shadow darting past windows, and hear the faintest rustle of his breath in the stillness of the night. He becomes your unseen companion, meticulously observing your every move. He studies your routines and habits, committing them to memory with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Always one step ahead, he waits patiently until the opportune moment presents itself to make his presence truly known.

→ Michael finds immense pleasure in the exhilarating pursuit of you, convinced that you share in his enjoyment of the chase. He keenly observes the subtle signs of your awareness, noticing the wry smirk that graces your lips when you sense his presence nearby. In those moments, he imagines feeling the same giddiness that surges through you when he lightly brushes your hair, a fleeting touch that leaves you yearning for more, even as it vanishes before you can turn around. The first time you called out to him, he battled against every instinct urging him to step out from the shadows and claim you as his own. Despite the overwhelming desire possess you, he restrains himself, savouring the anticipation of the inevitable moment when he would finally make his move.

→ In Michael's twisted psyche, you are more than just a person; you are a coveted prize that he will protect at all costs. He perceives himself as the sole rightful owner of your being, and he harbours an intense fixation on claiming you as his own.

→ As the regular patrons of the lounge mysteriously vanish one by one, leaving a bewildered community in their wake, Michael remains a silent observer, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon you. He knows all too well the allure of your presence, the captivating dance you perform for these men, reminiscent of the performances his late mother once gave. Yet, while others may see you as an entertainer, Michael sees something far deeper—a connection, a possession, a symbol of his ultimate dominance that he must preserve.

→ From the shadows, he watches as you bare your body to these patrons. To Michael, it doesn't matter whether you are aware of his claim over you; what matters is that he sees you as his, and he will go to any lengths to ensure that no one dares to challenge him. In his mind, you are his alone, and he will stop at nothing to secure what he believes is rightfully his.

→ When Michael finally decides to collect his prize, it's in the eerie stillness of the night. He patiently waits in the shadows of your home, a silent sentinel standing rigidly in the corner of your bedroom as he observes your every move. You can feel his presence, an unspoken acknowledgment that he has come to stake his claim on his property.

→ As you undress, acutely aware of his watchful gaze, a shiver runs down your spine. There's a palpable tension in the air, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. Yet, despite the unease that courses through you, there's also a strange allure, a primal instinct drawing you inexorably towards him. When you finally coax him from the shadows, he engulfs you in his arms with a ferocity that takes your breath away. The force of his embrace is suffocating, his touch demanding as he grasps and claws at every part of your body. In that moment, there's no denying the intensity of his desire, the need to make you his own consuming him entirely.

→ Michael is not gentle with you; he doesn't hold back his deep urges to possess you completely. He revels in your whimpers and the screams of his name as he stretches you open and takes what he deems rightfully his. His touch is rough, unyielding, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. Each movement is driven by a fierce need to mark you, to ensure you understand that you belong to him and no one else. Every night with Michael is filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His eyes intense and unwavering, remain locked on you, drinking in every reaction, every cry. To him, this is the final step in owning you, the ultimate act of protecting what is his.

→ Removing the mask takes time. It's one evening, after the intensity of your shared orgasms have ebbed, and Michael lies heavy on top of you. Your fingers tentatively trace the edges of the white rubber mask, sensing his body tense beneath your touch. His hand instinctively reaches out, grasping your wrist to halt your movement, but your lips find solace in the warmth of his knuckles as you plant a gentle kiss, your breath whispering a desire to see him. For a fleeting moment, there's resistance, a hesitancy borne from years of concealing his true self, before he lets you unmask him. His long hair cascades over your face as the mask falls away, revealing the man beneath. In that vulnerable moment, you stroke his sweat-glistened cheek, your fingers tracing the contours of his features as you call him "handsome", perhaps the first time he's heard the word since his mother.

→ Despite Michael's disapproval of your continued work at the lounge, you are unwilling to relinquish your independence completely. He grumbles and fumes when things don't go his way, but deep down, he appreciates your defiance, feels a strange allure in your willingness to challenge him. Although his overly protective nature remains, he secretly enjoys the way you push back against his control, finding a strange sense of satisfaction in the game of give and take between you. A hand on his chest or a kiss along his strong jawline is all it takes for him to soften, his resolve melting under the warmth of your affection. You eventually compromise, only working certain shifts and allowing him to escort you home. As if you really have a choice on the matter. Michael finds your attempts at negotiation endearing.

→ If anyone dares to come between Michael and what is his, he reacts with violent outbursts of rage. His attacks are brutal and merciless, driven by a primal need to assert his dominance and protect you. Unfortunately, you are also not exempt from his aggression, and when he catches sight of you one night, engaged in conversation with a stranger outside the back of the lounge during your smoke break, he snaps. In a frenzy of fury, he swiftly disposes of the man, his actions marked by a sickening crunch of bones as his body is hurled against the brick wall. Then, turning his attention to you, Michael's muscles coil with tension and his chest heaves with barely-contained anger. Gripping your arms so fiercely that bruises bloom in their wake, he shoves you against the wall, once, then again, as if attempting to jolt some some sense into you.

→ With swift determination, Michael hoists you over his shoulder and retreats into the shadows, his purposeful strides carrying you home. But the journey doesn't lead to the bedroom; instead, he deposits you onto the stairs with a roughness that steals your breath. There, in the dim light, he strips away the remnants of your clothing, his actions forceful and unyielding. Again and again, he fucks into you with a ferocity that leaves you screaming his name, your pleas mingling with the echoes of both passion and pain. In those moments, as his protectiveness gives way to possession and consumes you, you find yourself uttering the words he craves to hear—that you are his, and his alone.

→ Yet, even amidst the ecstasy, a shadow of uncertainty looms. You can never be certain that Michael wouldn't cross that final line, that his compulsion wouldn't drive him to take everything from you, including your life. For Michael, protection is not just about control—it's about ownership to the point of obsession. If he can't have you, no one else can either.

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kiztae · 5 months ago

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raindrops ― s.jaeyun

genre: fluff, very suggestive, boyfriend trope

wc: 1.2k

warnings: f.reader, making out ( alot), dry humping, slightly sub! or switch!jake, praise, neediness.

summary: it's cold, it's raining, you and your boyfriend like each other way too much and know just how to feel warmer admist this rainy weather.

a/n: this is pretty short, i had an impulse to write after seeing this jake concept pic and this was what came out. i could possibly write a pt. 2, if you'd like ◡̈ . i also wanted to post after ghosting this account for so long. i hope you enjoy! (ps. jake is dangerously pretty, get this man under control.)

"but it's so cold!" he whined playfully.

small droplets of water were pouring over your window as you laid down, each of your body's temperatures radiating against the other, serving as the best source of warmth in the middle of this chilly rain night.

"you're being such a baby. a cute one, but a baby." you chuckle in response, your hands tracing soft circles over your boyfriend's t-shirt covered back. "just for a little while! come on."

were you being unproductive? maybe. did it matter? no. your exams were finally over and you had spent the last days catching up on anything that was not related to your studies (thank god).

when you first tried to move your icy hands under jake's t-shirt and onto his wide back you were met with a quick yelp and a tug away from him as he whisper-shouted a "woah!" in amazement.

you both giggled it off but he made sure to grab your hands in his and kiss them gently while he cuddled you even more tightly (which seemed impossible before) as the sweet loving boyfriend he was. the same sweet loving boyfriend who while doing so prohibited you from repeating your past try for a warm up.

"i like you so much, but that is so not happening." he stared at you with a smile and then a playful squint of his eyes as he reached back for your waist to push you further against him, closing his eyes briefly while he hid his face in the crook of neck. "i can keep you warm enough like this." he muffled.

"oh please, that's just an excuse to get closer to my chest. don't think i don't know you well enough, sim." you rolled your eyes with a brief giggle and then moved one hand to his hair and started to play with it softly, admiring your boyfriend's pretty features in awe.

"hah, maybe." he replied with amusement. if you thought you liked your boyfriend too much, he was entirely drunk on you. he took in your scent, your skin against his, all of you with such intent, almost as if you were surreal and just an illusion. you were perfect. if he could, he'd chew you up.

"mm, maybe you should keep me warm like this." you sighed with satisfaction as you curled your finger on his hair with a bit more strength, earning the cutest reaction from your boyfriend, a shaky breath and his hazy eyes staring up at you.

"yeah?" he smiled, his excitement being obvious but you loved it just like that. you both always took care of each other, these moments were your favorite.

"yeah." you hooked a handful of his hair in your hand and carefully brought him up to your face with enough force to make him breathe out from the pull but not hurt him, at least not for now.

"you're so perfect." he managed to let out quietly before he smashed his lips on yours impatiently. as always, his lips felt so plush against yours, even with the almost insatiable way in which he was kissing you, he made it feel soft. his mouth quickly started to devour yours once you slightly parted it open for him, your breath getting caught in your chest with how hot you were starting to feel. you could feel his tongue brush against yours, the palm of his hand caress your cheeks, all while he grasped you so intently.

he could never get tired of kissing you. he was pretty sure it was one of his most favorite things to do, no matter the time or place. if he could have you, be with you, he would do so.

"mnf― jake―" you spoke breathlessly, your mind now lost on him and barely able to speak a few words. you don't know why you even tried to say something when you already know just how heated you both get once you start.

"babe? ha― you good?" he muttered out without really stopping to pepper you with kisses, his hands now starting to roam your body, grabbing whatever he could with pure need.

"mhm― yeah, so good." your arms wrapped themselves around his neck in a sweet embrace. the boy quickly nodded with a tiny chuckle of satisfaction, moving his hands further down to start groping your ass, filling his hands with it.

"you're so hot. god―" without even pronouncing the end of his sentence clearly, his mouth was on yours again. it was like he was eating you up, like a starved man. with his hands on your ass, he managed to start pressing you against his hardening crotch, pushing against you almost in a desperate way. "you're warm now, every inch of your skin..." he grasped your thigh with a certain force that made you whine into him, your arms closing in on him even more. his whispers between kisses and his straight up fondling of you made your actions get gradually sloppy with how good it felt to have him on top of you.

"jake― faster." you whined while one of your hands reached for his hair again, aware of much it riled him up. you weren't sure how but you already felt like you were on fire, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap any moment with the way your boyfriend's hips pushed against your center so well.

"whatever you need― fuck, i'm close. i'm sorr―" before he could even try to finish that sentence, you shut him up quickly with a colliding of your lips on his, not wanting to hear anything like an apology right now. he was just so sweet, he wanted to make you feel so good, could you really blame him?

you both could not help the constant airy gasps between kisses, your bed starting to shake in sync with jake, both of you too lost in the moment to care about anything other than giving each other pleasure.

he went to grab your waist with one hand, placing the other against the back of your head to keep you both close to each other, neither of your mouths wanting to separate. it wasn't anything new, you both knew just much you needed to feel each other's lips on yours, loving to taste each other. to eat each other up, to your last breaths.

with a few last grinds of your boyfriend's hips on yours, you both moaned into each other's mouths while your highs took you over the edge, your breaths echoing around the room with rhythm.

"i am... definitely not cold anymore." he chuckled while he pressed his forehead against yours and placed a few strands of your hair behind your ear carefully.

"yeah? so i can finally get my cold hands under your shirt?" you ask while being unable to help your cheeky grin as you still tried to catch your breath.

"oh. that was not what i was saying― y/n!―" before he could finish talking, you had already jumped the boy and swept your chilly hands on his back while you both laughed and he tried his best to wiggle himself out of your grasp.

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wannabespacesmuggler · 3 months ago

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L.H. | When You Call My Name

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Decades after the events of 1973, Logan finds himself drowning yet again at the bottom of the Potomac River. Luckily, you're there to help pull him out of his nightmare.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: depictions of drowning, mentions of death, discussion of nightmares, Logan's claws make an appearance, mentions of religious trauma and biblical imagery, mentions of abuse (it's on sight when I see you, William Stryker), mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, not really a warning but set after the events of Days of Future Past, loosely based on "Like a Prayer" by Madonna, Logan's POV, gender-neutral reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: So this one got away from me and my own religious trauma may have taken over a tad bit — sorry in advance (If you find comfort and solace in religion, more power to you. This is simply written from my own perspective and lived experience.) This came to me while listening to "Like a Prayer" by Madonna for the thousandth time since seeing Deadpool and Wolverine. Intended this to be shorter, but then I got possessed by some fanfic phantom and this was created. Super proud of the finished product though — hope you all enjoy.

As Logan’s eyes shoot open, he’s only got one thought running through his mind: his lungs are on fire. He attempts to move but is met with a sudden searing white pain shooting through his veins. His eyes, still adjusting to the eerie darkness surrounding him, search for the source of his injury. Panic rises in Logan’s chest as his gaze follows the metallic glint of rebar weaving through his body. He attempts to draw in a shaky breath, and his chest burns as water fills his lungs.

No.

It can’t be.

He’s drowning at the bottom of the Potomac River.

Logan wants to scream out of frustration, but it’s impossible. He has no more air left in his lungs, and he has no hope of reaching the surface to take a much-needed deep breath. Even if he could endure the agony caused by his body’s movements, the weight of the rebar Erik impaled him with is pinning him to the riverbed. He’s going to die here.

Cold. Alone. Suffering.

And yet, a sudden tranquility washes over his body and mind as he realizes that maybe he can finally rest in peace. He knows he placed his trust in the right people — somehow, Charles and Hank will find a way to stop Erik, and finally, the world will see that not all mutants need to be feared. He did his part — he brought everyone back together against all odds.

Logan knew the risks before Kitty sent him back in time, but there was no other choice. Because he also knew what the future would hold if he did nothing — he’d watch the sentinels eviscerate the last of his friends until he was the only one left. And that’s not a future he can live with. But what he can live with is no one remembering his life before 1973 as long as they’re safe — as long as you’re safe.

His body relaxes at the thought. He may not have a future with you in this new timeline, but knowing you’ll have the life you’ve always dreamed of puts Logan’s mind at ease. You’ll finally be able to live a peaceful life teaching at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters instead of being forced to play the part of a loyal soldier. Although Logan is deeply saddened by the fact he won’t be a part of this new life, he has more than enough memories of you from his timeline to keep him content in the afterlife.

Logan’s eyes flutter closed as he begins to feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. His regenerative abilities may be able to keep the rebar from killing him, but it cannot save him from asphyxiation. But before he can completely drift off, something grabs his body, pulling him towards the surface. Once free from the river’s grasp, he begins coughing up water. His body desperately gasps for air, and it feels like his lungs cannot get enough oxygen.

Logan finds the strength to open his eyes and takes in his surroundings. It’s bright — too bright. He blinks several times to adjust his vision to this sudden change. His attention gets drawn to the sound of several men talking in hushed voices. And as he looks up at his rescuers, the panic in his chest starts growing like a wildfire through his body. Logan might have let out a dry laugh at the sight if he wasn't in excruciating pain. Because instead of being met with any type of salvation, Logan seems to have been cursed with eternal damnation, no matter the timeline, in the form of William Stryker. Some things never change.

He’s younger than when Logan met him in his timeline, but as Stryker smiles down at him, Logan knows this is the same man — the same sick, twisted man he knows all too well. Panic turns into terror as he realizes what he’s about to endure. Agonizing years of torture and torment that he’ll be burdened to forget. He can’t do this again. Not after knowing a life full of not only hardship and loss but also friendship, laughter, and love. He can’t let Stryker take that from him — all those years of happiness. He can’t let him take you.

Stryker opens his mouth to speak, but instead of his condescending tone, Logan hears your voice call his name. Logan’s brow furrows at the sound. Maybe his extended lack of oxygen caused some sort of brain damage. But then he hears it again — a voice he’d recognize in any timeline. Your voice.

And suddenly, it hits him. This isn’t happening. There’s no river, no pain, no Stryker. This is a memory — a nightmare.

His eyes snap open, and his body jolts forward until he’s sitting up. He coughs hoarsely, as if his body is still trying to expel imaginary water, as he attempts to catch his breath. A layer of sweat has formed over his toned body, and his muscles flex as he rolls his shoulders back. He shakes his head roughly, trying to get a grip on reality.

And then you say his name again.

His head snaps up, and he looks at you with wild eyes. You’re standing across the room — arms wrapped around yourself tightly as you watch him worriedly. You take a hesitant step toward him. Logan’s brow furrows at your unsureness, concerned about what he might have done in his sleep. But then he follows your gaze to his extended metal claws, and your hesitancy becomes understandable. This isn’t the first time Logan’s claws have come out in the middle of the night. His eyes nervously scan over your body for any injuries he may have inflicted as he retracts his claws.

“Did I hurt you?”

You immediately cross the room as he speaks. Logan watches as you climb onto the bed and sit crisscross before him between his legs. You gently take both of his hands in yours and pull them onto your lap — the hesitancy long gone in your actions.

“No, Logan. I’m okay.”

He lets out a relieved sigh as he leans forward until his forehead meets yours. He takes a moment to simply relish in the warmth of your touch. Logan relaxes his tense shoulders and melts further into you as you draw lazy circles into the palm of his hand.

“Where’d you go?”

You pull away slightly to meet his eyes, and his breath hitches. Regardless of how many lifetimes he spends by your side, he’ll never get used to the fondness in your gaze as you look up at him. He remembers waking up in this timeline, thinking he actually did drown at the bottom of the Potomac River. Because this had to be heaven: having you tucked neatly into his chest, legs tangled up with his, steady breaths fanning across his neck. But as he felt you stir in your sleep, arms tightening slightly around his waist, he realized that this was real. He’d come to terms with his own death because at least his two hundred years spent suffering on this earth would mean something. But then he woke up from that nightmare, and he’s spent every day since then wondering when he’d inevitably be pulled out of this dream — waiting for history to repeat itself yet again. But he’s still here — and so are you.

“D.C., 1973.”

You hum quietly before bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a tender kiss to his palm. Logan waits for you to ask another question about his nightmare, but you silently return to tracing circles into the palm you just kissed. He shouldn’t be surprised; you know him better than anyone by now — better than he knows himself. You know not to push him. And he appreciates it more than you’ll ever know. After years of having his autonomy stripped away, you wait for him to come to you — allow him to open up at his own pace. Soothe him whenever he feels that he is sliding backward instead of moving forward. Healing isn’t linear. This has become your mantra for him on the nights when he’s sure that he’s slipping back into the past — when he longs for the familiarity of his vices and self-destructive tendencies. And you sit next to him with relentless patience through the highs and lows as he continues to navigate and grieve the fifty years he lost.

He’s come a long way since he first woke up. And he still has a ways to go before he can say that he’s processed everything he’s lost. Truth be told, he’s not sure he’ll ever truly heal entirely from his past. But you tell Logan that it doesn’t matter. Every time he begins to think that he’s too damaged — too broken — you reassure him that you love him as is. But he still tries to piece himself back together, for your sake. Tries to open up — to show you that he trusts you more than anyone he’s known during his two hundred years across two separate timelines. And so he continues, letting you into the depths of his tortured mind.

“I was drowning. Again. And it all felt so real. I couldn’t breathe, and I was sure I was slipping into the darkness, but then Stryker was there…”

As Logan trails off, he notices how your body tenses at the mention of Stryker’s name. Your hands tighten ever so slightly around his, and Logan lovingly sweeps his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that name holds as much weight to you as it does to him. He knows about the years of abuse you endured at the hands of William Stryker. He vividly remembers when you confided in him. After months of running into each other in the middle of the night, Logan found you silently crying with your back pressed against the railing of your favorite balcony in the mansion. Without a second thought, he slid down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He didn’t know you — not like he does now. You’d recounted how you first met on Three Mile Island when Scott and Jean brought him to the mansion. And he was thankful for the small piece of his past that you gave back to him. But under the dim light of the night sky, you revealed precisely what you endured during your years of captivity at Stryker’s facility. And that night, Logan made it his life’s mission to get revenge against the man. Not for his sake. No — for you. He would tear Stryker apart limb from limb for what he had done to you.

“You aren’t there. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Although the words are directed towards him, he knows you’re equally trying to convince yourself of that fact. He knows that even though William Stryker is long dead — after Logan made good on his promise to you — he still haunts you. Unlike Logan, your trauma does manifest in the form of nightmares but insomnia. He thinks maybe this is why the two of you work. After years of feeling alone in this world, Logan finally found someone who understands him and what he’s been through. Although your torment isn’t identical, the similarity in your stories bonded the two of you together. You help him piece together the shared fragments of your past as you heal alongside him.

“I know, you pulled me out.”

Your brow furrows at his confession. He lets go of your hands and gently holds your face. Your face flushes as he openly admires you. The faint light of the single side table lamp that Logan had left on softens your features, making you look damn near angelic. Logan isn’t a religious man, but his mother was. He was a sickly child before his mutation restored his body. His mother would often sit by his bedside with a bible in hand. And on the nights when he wasn’t delirious from his fever, he would listen to his mother read to him. One verse always stood out to him: “God is faithful, and He will not let you be tested beyond your strength but with your testing He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” She meant for the words to comfort him, but the words only angered him.

He remembers finding himself down on his knees multiple times during his years as Stryker’s mindless, faithful soldier. Praying to that same God that his mother once trusted to save her baby boy from the illness slowly degrading his frail body. He begged Him for salvation — to be given the way out that was promised in the bible verse his mother once recited. But instead of an answer, Logan was met with silence. So if the years of physical and psychological abuse he endured were nothing but a test from the Lord above to prove his faithfulness, then that’s no God worth following.

“I heard you call my name, and it brought me back home.”

God never did anything for him. He didn’t bother protecting the innocence of a broken, misguided child. He refused to provide respite from the harshness of humanity. He never offered him any form of help or guidance during his times of greatest need — but you did. Without even knowing, you came into his life like an answered prayer.

Seemingly at a loss for words due to the intensity of his gaze, you grab onto the front of Logan’s t-shirt and pull him into a tight embrace. Your hands slide under the white fabric and slide across the contours of his back. He melts into your touch — finding relief in the direct contact of your skin on his. He’s never considered himself desirable, but you hold him like he’s something to be coveted. And then you murmur his name again. It’s barely a whisper, but the sound rings in his ears because your voice is heaven-sent.

“You’re a goddamn saint, you know that?”

A melodic laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head at his words. You pull away from him slightly and tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“I’m nothing special, Logan.”

You don’t mean it in a self-deprecating way. Logan knows that — knows that you simply see yourself as ordinary. But you couldn’t be more wrong. Because you might not actually be a saint or an angel, but you are the only person in two hundred years who’s managed to restore his faith in what this world has to offer.

“Well. You’re special to me, sweetheart.”

#logan howlett #james logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #hugh jackman #x men #x men fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x deadpool #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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megalony · 1 month ago

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This is a new Dark! Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon. I hope you will all like it.

Please keep the Dark! ideas coming as I am loving writing them.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22

Dark! Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: (Y/n) decides she and Evan need to take a break when his overbearing nature becomes a bit too much to handle. But Evan will get her back in any way he can.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I- I can't do this, Evan."

Tears trekked down (Y/n)'s face despite how badly she tried to rub them away and drag her nails down her skin to somehow calm herself down. She could feel her arms trembling and her legs felt like they were turning to stone, locking her in place even though everything in her was telling her to run.

She could feel her palms sweating and each breath she took ran away from her until she was practically gasping.

Her arms moved to coil around her waist but when Evan took a step closer to her, she managed to take a step back and keep an air of distance between them.

She couldn't let him get close. She couldn't let Evan reel her back in and trap her in his web.

"Do what? You can't be with me anymore? Are you telling me you don't love me anymore?" There was an air of ridicule in his sarcastic voice and the way his upper lip curled made (Y/n) wince and coil in on herself.

"You know I love you." Defiance broke out in her body and she curled her hands into fists, cutting them through the air to wave them at her sides like she wanted to lash out and hit something.

Evan knew that. He knew (Y/n) loved him, she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone in her entire life, but she couldn't keep doing this.

She couldn't constantly be under his surveillance, being observed and watched and checked on every moment of the day. She couldn't spend each day telling him her plans so he knew exactly what she was doing and where she was going. (Y/n) couldn't be suffocated and be the source of obsession for Evan.

Their relationship was the best thing that ever happened to her, but it was also consuming and twisting and turning Evan into someone she didn't recognise. He was becoming obsessive and that wasn't the person he was when he was with everyone else.

"So why are you doing this?" The way Evan flung his fist out into the wall had (Y/n) recoiling towards the front door. She knew he wouldn't lash out specifically at her, he would never hit her. But she didn't know what he would do when she tried to walk out that door.

He could block or barricade her inside. He could grab her and hold her and effectively pin her down so she couldn't leave. He had ten times more strength and force than she did and (Y/n) didn't want to think what measures Evan would go to if pushed.

"You're suffocating me." Tears streamed down (Y/n)'s face as she tried not to hiccup through her words. "We need a break- I need some space, just for a while."

"If you love me we don't need a break-"

"I need space!"

"From me?!" Evan's voice made (Y/n) feel like she was going insane. He looked at her as if she were holding someone's severed head in her hand. As if she had said something so utterly strange and ludacris that it couldn't possibly be true.

How could she need space from him? Didn't she love him? Couldn't she see that Evan couldn't breathe without her? Let alone live without seeing (Y/n) each and every day. She couldn't leave him. She couldn't walk away, Evan needed her and he knew she wanted and needed him just as much.

"Yes." She croaked, moving her hand to brush away the tears. "You need to- Evan you need to let me do things on my own. Let me be by myself, let me think for myself and calm down, please. Please, Evan."

The way his upper lip curled had (Y/n) shrinking in on herself and she hated to see his reddened eyes streaming tears like that. She hated how distressed she was making him and how he could barely take a proper breath from the anger radiating through him.

She leaned to one side and picked up the bag she had hastily packed mid-argument with Evan. She clung to the bag like it was her lifeline, her ticket to a better space of mind and a path that would stop her from feeling confined, controlled and possessed.

"You- you want me to let you walk out and leave me? When I don't know if you're even coming back? No. Baby you can't do this-"

"I'll see you later."

"(Y/n) no!"

Shudders tore through her body and a cry broke past her lips when she heard something smash. She didn't know what it was and she didn't want to know. Her trembling body bolted out the front door before Evan had chance to reach for her and pull her back.

She wasn't walking out of his life forever. She wasn't even saying they had to break up. They just needed some time to themselves. Time to figure things out, to calm down and see if things could change for the better.

But Evan didn't want things to change.

His fist rammed into the wall harsh enough to dent the plaster and split his knuckles open. Blood splattered up the back of his hand as a scream tore past his lips.

He didn't want things to change. (Y/n) was his girl. He loved her. He loved every bone in her body and he wanted her in every single sense of the word. They were meant to be together and they completed each other. Why did she want to change that? Why did she think how he loved her wasn't right or wasn't enough?

She had to come back to him. He couldn't live without her.

The sound of her phone vibrating on the desk sent a shockwave rattling through (Y/n)'s heart.

She didn't want to look. She didn't want to glance down and see who was calling, because she already knew. The way her heart thundered against her chest and jumped up into her throat told (Y/n) all she needed to know. Instinct told her who was calling and she knew she couldn't answer. She had to protect herself and abstain from the phone.

Her hands began to scratch up and down the back of her neck, drawing lines into her skin in a vain attempt to calm herself down, but it wasn't working.

She had to look.

Her eyes darted down to the phone on the desk and she swallowed down whatever cry was burning at the back of her throat when she read the name.

'Babe <3'

She hadn't even changed his name in her contacts. That showed how much she still loved Evan and the faith she had that they might be able to patch things back together soon. Somehow.

She watched her phone, scrutinising the screen until the call finally ended and the missed call notification popped up on the screen. But almost immediately after, (Y/n) watched the texts light up her screen. One after the other. Again and again, matching all the other texts she had ignored and ceased to reply to.

Her eyes scanned the room but she could barely take note of anyone around her at work. All she noticed was the tears blurring her vision and the way her body was trembling back and forth, her lungs unable to take in a proper breath.

With her phone swiped from the desk, (Y/n) scrambled from her seat and tried to make a brisk walk towards the toilets. She needed a minute to compose herself and if she didn't look over those messages now, she would only sit and stew and worry about them all afternoon. Her mind wouldn't be on her work, it would be forever stuck on Evan. As usual.

She was glad no one else was in the toilets when she got in there and subsequently locked herself in the end cubicle. The aircon was on in the toilets but (Y/n) already felt like she was starting to boil over like she was a wax work starting to melt.

Her hands shook as she unlocked her phone and tried to scroll through the messages.

3 missed calls from 'Babe <3'

*Baby we can't keep going on like this, I need to talk to you. Answer my calls, please. x

*I'm going out of my mind here, I don't know what to do. We have to talk. x

*You can't keep on ignoring me, just let me talk to you. I'll do better, I'll do anything. Please!!! x

(Y/n) wasn't sure how else she could get the message through to Evan that he was suffocating her. She told him she needed space, but bombarding her with at least five phone calls a day and a dozen messages didn't count as giving her any space.

She could understand Evan's state of panic, she really could. He was insecure in relationships and now their relationship was in limbo and Evan didn't know what to do. But if he just gave in and let (Y/n) have a few days to herself, things would be easier. For the last two weeks he had messaged and tried to call every day.

(Y/n) had the good sense not to tell Evan where she was staying, although she knew he was doing his best to try and find out where she was. If he found out, he would be round like a shot and he wouldn't leave until they were back together, one way or another.

Things were just moving too fast. (Y/n) couldn't handle the overprotective nature that flared up in Evan once he had fallen for her. He worried about her, he wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was going out with. If her phone pinged he wanted to see who was messaging her. If he didn't know where she was he would message her until she told him.

When they were together things were okay. (Y/n) loved Evan's loving nature and it was endearing how he only had eyes for her and wanted to wrap himself around her like a vine.

But (Y/n) hadn't long moved in with Evan when he started talking about the future and having a family together and wanting to get a proper home together rather than just his small apartment. (Y/n) wasn't sure she was ready for that yet. She didn't want to pause her career to have a baby right now, and she and Evan may be in love, but they hadn't been together for that long. A family was a big commitment and so was buying a home together.

(Y/n) could feel the panic dwelling up inside of her again when she reread the messages she had received today. She read them until the words were ingrained on her memory and flashed before her eyes when they closed. She could see the words dancing around in her mind and she couldn't prevent the whimper from leaving her lips.

Her body slumped down until her knees hit the tiled floor and she twisted to the side just in time to throw up into the toilet.

Walking out on Evan had put an immense strain on (Y/n)'s nerves. Her anxiety was going haywire, she could barely turn up to work without having a panic attack and the unease was constantly making her feel sick.

Tears trickled down her face and her stomach tensed and pulled inwards while her chest curved and imbedded around the toilet seat. She unconsciously started to rock back and forth as her throat burned and she felt like closing her eyes and curling up into a ball. She just wanted to disappear.

Her body shuddered and a groan ellicited from her lips when her phone vibrated on her lap again. Oh no. Another message.

Her hand trembled as she reached down for her phone and pulled away from the toilet, swiping her sleeve beneath her eyes so she could read the message clearly.

It wasn't Evan.

*Hey, we're having a little halloween fayre at the station next Saturday. It'd be great if you could tag along, we'd all love to see you. x

It was Bobby. When (Y/n) got together with Evan, she became close to his team, they were like another family to (Y/n). Bobby was always inviting her and Evan round for meals and the team invited her with them out to drinks and social events.

And whenever there was an event on at the station, (Y/n) always went along. But she had always been there was Evan's girlfriend, not just as a friend of the team.

But Bobby was asking her to go, the team wanted to see her, and (Y/n) loved the team. She wanted to see them, and if she went it might be a way to build some bridges between her and Evan and make sure things stayed okay between her and the team. Going might make things a little easier, and Bobby had asked so nicely, (Y/n) wasn't sure she could refuse.

Her sleeve swiped beneath her nose and she shifted round to sit on her bum rather than her knees which were now aching and turning numb. She leaned her weight back against the cubicle wall and tilted her head back, catching her breaths again to try and calm herself down. She would have to get back to work in a minute before anyone realised she had disappeared.

*I'll be there. x

***

The station was brimming with life and music and laughter.

It was strange to see such a place of professionalism and emergencies and dire situations seem so relaxed and laid back like this. A fayre wasn't the kind of thing one would expect to find at a fire station which was the centre of events and mishaps and stern situations and solutions.

(Y/n) smoothed down the creases in her dress and tightened her hand around her bag that hung off her arm. She could feel her nails piercing into the leather handle of her bag and she knew if she gripped any tighter there would be puncture marks forever indented into the leather.

Each breath she took seemed to run away without her and she could feel her stomach churning with indecision and panic. Adrenaline was constantly swarming through her blood. She couldn't do anything but panic.

What was Evan going to be like when he saw her? Would be be angry? Would he try and attach himself to her? Would be ignore her completely and pretend she didn't exist? Would he hound her and stick to her or make some kind of a scene? Surely not, since this was his work place and he was always professional when on shift.

(Y/n) didn't know what would be worse, having Evan attach himself to her or pretend she wasn't even here.

Her free hand started to scratch at the back of her neck as she walked in on trembling legs. Her eyes flitted about the station, taking in the little stalls lining the right side of the station so everyone would be away from the trucks and the ambulance, in case of an emergency.

People were milling about, looking at the different things on offer, the drinks, the craft stall, the pumpkin carving area, and of course the station was littered with hundreds of pumpkins all carved with scary designs. Fake cobwebs were on the stairs and little paper bats were hung high from the beams on the ceiling.

It looked enticing and spooky. The music was clearly a halloween playlist too, Monster Mash being the one that was flooding the speakers right now. The team were forever throwing parties, although not many of them happened at the station.

This was different though. This was for Halloween, allowing kids to come in and do some crafts, colour some pictures that the team would hang up on the bill board downstairs. They could carve their own pumpkins, paint them, take them home or leave them to decorate the station.

And when (Y/n) looked to the left, she felt her heart jumping into her throat when she realised who was manning the sweet station. Evan. Of course he was the one handing out sweets to the kids and telling them all sorts of fun facts he had learned about Halloween.

There was something so soft and sweet about seeing Evan interacting with kids. It was something that made (Y/n) certain that he would be an amazing dad one day. Even though he was desperate for that day to be now, and (Y/n) wasn't so sure about the timing.

She tore her eyes away from the sight before it overwhelmed her heart and she ended up catching his eye. She turned towards the right and slowly ventured over to where Bobby was sat doing some colouring with two younger kids.

"Can I join?" Her voice was soft and her smile felt more genuine when Bobby looked over his shoulder and grinned up at her. He waved her over and moved a small plastic chair for her to sit in.

"Of course. Glad you could make it."

"Hi there." (Y/n) sat down next to the little boy who couldn't have been more than four years old.

She was surprised how brightly he smiled up at her and when she softly whispered "What are we colouring?" he slid a colouring page over to her. He held up the picture of a witch on a broom that he was colouring while Bobby handed a few colours to (Y/n) and the little girl sat on his left.

"So, how are you?" Bobby glanced across at (Y/n) as she decided what colours to use and began shading a pumpkin.

"I'm doing good, thanks. How's everything here?" It was a lie. She wasn't doing well. Being so anxious and upset that she was throwing up every other day and unable to keep any food down, didn't count as good. But (Y/n) would never admit that to anyone, especially not Bobby.

She didn't want him to worry and she knew he would talk to Evan, and (Y/n) couldn't have him worrying. He had only just gone down to two phone calls a day and the odd message throughout the day. If he knew she was still panicking about being apart and the state of their relationship, his anxiety would flare up too and so would his protective side.

She was glad Bobby smiled and seemed to take her lie at face value and he didn't eye her up and down like he thought she was hiding the truth, which meant he believed her.

"The same as always, here. And you know, you can always drop by whenever you like, you're always welcome here. I know things aren't easy at the moment, while you and Buck are sorting stuff out."

(Y/n) wasn't sure what Evan had said about their relationship. She wasn't even sure what she herself would say about them if she were asked.

They hadn't technically broken up, but they weren't strictly together right now. They were paused, waiting in motion to see if things could change for the better. But (Y/n) knew this couldn't go on for much longer.

"Thank you."

She continued colouring and made some small talk with the little boy next to her. She found herself relaxing, even through the headache that burned in her temple and the sparks of panic and adrenaline that jolted through her system every now and then.

(Y/n) nodded and smiled when Bobby excused himself from the table to go and socialise with a few newcomers who were entering the station.

For a little while, she stayed content with the two children, all of them switching colours and making small talk about their favourite aspects of Halloween.

But just as (Y/n) finished her drawing, she paused and tilted her head back when she felt an all-too familiar pair of hands on her shoulders.

A shiver tore down her spine and her lungs seized up in panic when she stared up at Evan's clean-shaven face. His curls looked unruly and all over the place, like he had been wind swept or just woken up from a nap without the chance to drag a brush through his hair.

His expression was oddly calm and soft and the way his cheeks creased as he smiled down at her made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter. She could feel her heart suddenly pounding in her chest like it was making a desperate attempt to break free from her chest and reach out for Evan.

The way his fingers stroked over her shoulders was oddly soothing and his smile reassured her that he wasn't angry to see her here and he wasn't going to cause a scene either.

"Hi," (Y/n) set down the pencil in her hand and leaned back in her seat to look up at Evan properly. The smile she forced on her lips seemed to enlighten him because he took a deep breath and his own lips curved wider.

"Are you okay? I'm glad you're here."

"You are?" She couldn't help the air of surprise in her voice as she turned a little so she didn't have to tilt her head back to see him. But she was taken back when Evan let go of her shoulders and leaned forwards. He folded his arms on the back of her chair and leaned close to her as he nodded.

The way he hummed in her ear had (Y/n) shivering and brushing her cheek against her shoulder to rid the pins and needles that boiled through her skin.

"Can we talk?" Evan's voice sounded so soft in her ear, like velvet and he was calm and supressing the eagerness within him that was desperate to be around her.

"Sure."

(Y/n) nodded. She couldn't refuse to talk to him, she knew coming here posed the risk of finally airing things out and talking to Evan and that was what they needed to do sooner or later. They may as well talk now. It was a safe environment and if things got heated (Y/n) could walk away and Evan could calm down. They couldn't argue here at his place of work so it would always end up being a civil conversation.

She leaned close to the little boy on her right when he held up his finished masterpiece. "It's perfect; if you go give it to Bobby, he will pin it on the board for you."

The little boy was off like a shot with the young girl following close behind him, clearly wanting her picture to be shown off too.

Once they toddled off, (Y/n) pushed her chair back and got to her feet, tucking her bag safely beneath the table because she could see Hen walking over. Hen would know whose bag it was and make sure it stayed safe and didn't get pinched.

(Y/n) tried her best to control her breathing when Evan reached down and took her hand. His fingers slid between hers and their palms pressed together like puzzle pieces slotting into place. He gave her hand a tight squeeze before he steered off in a rather fast pace.

She thought he would guide her outside the doors to talk so no one could listen in but he would still be nearby if anyone needed him. She wasn't expecting Evan to steer her past the fire truck, down a small corridor near Bobby's office and into a room on the right.

The bunker room. It was the middle of the afternoon, no body was trying to catch a power nap right now. Everyone was out front with the visitors or cleaning up or stocking the trucks, and Evan knew this. He knew the bunker room would be empty.

It was secluded and private and gave them space and time to talk without anyone looking over or listening in. And it would give him chance to worm his way back into (Y/n)'s good graces.

Once they were inside, (Y/n) wasn't sure what to do with herself. She didn't know whether to go and sit down on one of the beds or stand near the door or lean casually against the wall. She had no idea what she was supposed to do in this situation.

So she settled on taking a few steps away from the door so it didn't look like she was hanging by to make a quick exit. (Y/n) stood beside one of the beds and let her hip slouch against the bed frame and folded her arms over her lower chest.

The smile on her face felt more genuine when she looked up at Evan and noted the way he was smiling at her. His teeth were nibbling at his bottom lip like he wasn't sure what to do with himself either.

"Are you okay?" She could guess by the constant phone calls and all the messages he sent that no, he hadn't been doing well these past weeks they had been apart. But it felt necessary to ask, to check and see if he would answer and be honest.

"I am now you're here, did Bobby ask you to come by?" Evan took a few steps closer, feeling like (Y/n) was some kind of siren drawing him closer.

Just looking at her was sending his heart into a frenzy and he knew the moment his hands found her body, there would be no turning back. He wouldn't be able to pull away from her or let her go once he had her back in his arms. And Evan knew once he was wrapped around her, (Y/n) wouldn't be able to stay away from him either.

"Yeah."

"I miss you." His voice was so sincere and quiet that (Y/n) almost thought she'd imagined it.

Her smile melted at the corners and she rolled her lips together, holding her head up straight when Evan advanced further until there was one inch of space between them.

His hands found her hips, causing her back to straighten up and she could feel his fingers squeezing into her sides. But it was his eyes that made (Y/n)'s brain stop working. Those eyes bore into her like he was casting a spell, trying to enchant her and subdue her somehow.

"I've missed you too." She dared to reach up and give his arm a squeeze, (Y/n) wanted this conversation to stay friendly and warm, unlike their last confrontation.

She could see her words ignited something inside Evan. His smile broadened from something warm to something sharp and pointed and his nose crinkled up in a way that made (Y/n) want to reach out for him.

"Will you come home? We've had space, but it's not working when we clearly want to be together. I'll be better, I swear, I'll do whatever you want to make this work."

The sincerity in Evan's words made (Y/n)'s knees quiver and she was sure he sensed it because he held her hips tighter.

"Evan… you know I love you, but-"

It was like a switch flicked inside of him the moment those words passed her lips. Evan couldn't help himself. He tugged on her hips until her chest was flush up against his and he swooped down, attaching his lips to hers. He stole the air from her lungs and sucked her lower lip between his teeth, desperate to bite down and see if she tasted as sugary as she looked.

It felt like he hadn't touched or kissed her in years. Weeks had dragged on for what felt like months. Having her back in his arms made Evan feel like he had been starved. Not having (Y/n) around was torture, and he couldn't go through that separation again.

He wouldn't let her walk away from him again, his heart couldn't take it.

He felt the way her hands moved to grip his shoulders, clinging tightly to steady herself and when she pulled back for a gasp for air, Evan dove right back down again. He reeled her back in for another kiss, worming his arms tightly around her waist with his hand planted down in the centre of her back to keep her steady.

"Say it again." Each word was muttered seductively against her lips and (Y/n) didn't dare open her eyes and see how intoxicated he looked right now. She could feel the need radiating off of him in waves.

She didn't want to. She didn't want to say those three little words that had clearly switched Evan on and made him come to life. She didn't want to lead him on or carry on down this path. They were meant to be talking, not falling into each other's arms like this.

Her chest tightened and she did her best not to make a sound when Evan's hands suddenly slithered down her waist. She didn't dare think what he was doing as his lips continued to work against hers, barely letting her up for air before he consumed her again. But her eyes shot open and she made a sharp noise against his lips when she felt where his hands were wandering to.

He took great pleasure in pulling up the hem of her dress so he could worm his hands up the back of her thighs and around to cup her bum.

She tried to pant his name against his lips but she pushed up on her toes, inadvertently pushing further into Evan's chest when his fingers squeezed into her flesh and his lips parted from hers.

He began peppering little pecks and kisses down her jaw until his head was inclined and his lips were attached to the side of her neck.

(Y/n) could feel herself itching in her shoes, desperate to push him away because she could feel his teeth grazing against her skin. He was like a vampire; always had been. (Y/n) knew when he bared his teeth he was about to strike, about to sink them into her flesh and create large bruises and indents into her skin.

She couldn't let him do that. Not here, not when he was on shift and this was a party event, they couldn't be doing this right now.

"Evan…" Her hands pushed at his shoulders but it was a feeble attempt and they both knew it. Her neck was like a button and it turned off her senses. They both knew (Y/n) had a weak spot for Evan's kisses, especially when he was practically worshipping her when he was doing this.

He always knew how to make her feel like the only person in the world worth being with. It proved that (Y/n) was the only person in Evan's life; the only one in his world that he had eyes for, that he wanted to touch and kiss and pull into his arms like this.

"You look beautiful, you know."

(Y/n) knew if Evan's arms hadn't been tightly pressing into her waist to hold her up, she would of melted to the floor at the sound of his sickly sweet voice.

It made her inwardly laugh that he loved to tell her how beautiful she looked, but he was more interested in taking the dress off than he was admiring her wearing it. She could feel his right hand travelling round to give a sharp tug on the hem of her dress that was currently bunched up near her hip. If anyone walked in at this moment they would get an eye full.

"Wearing my favourite colour," His words were so quiet (Y/n) had to strain to keep her focus on him. And when he gave a sharp tug on her dress and pulled it up higher than her hip, her hand hurriedly reached down to clamp around his arm. She couldn't have him taking her dress off here. Anyone could walk in. He was still on shift. People would start to wonder where they got to.

She could feel herself becoming light headed and she leaned forward to drop her head onto Evan's shoulder. With her weight pushing forward on him, it allowed (Y/n) to nudge him back a few steps so she wasn't leaning against one of the cot beds anymore.

"Can't just stand there and not touch you." He murmured into her neck, but this time, there was a growling edge to his voice that had pins and needles flowing through (Y/n)'s blood.

"We're s-supposed to be talking," (Y/n) squeezed his shoulders to try and catch his attention. But she switched to cupping his face in her palms instead so she could reel his head up to keep them both level and keep his lips away from her neck.

"We are talking," He paused to steal another kiss, earning a quiet groan from (Y/n) in response. "Come on, say you'll be my girl again."

"Okay. We can talk at home." Her thumbs brushed across Evan's sharp cheekbones that always felt like they could give paper cuts if pressed hard enough.

She watched the light sparkle in his eyes and it made her feel even more lightheaded than before. Her head seemed to spin around her and she swayed back and forth until Evan moved his hands to hold her hips again. She could feel her dress ruffled around her hips and pulled up high on her thighs from where it was still trapped between Evan's fingers that were woven into the fabric and clamped down on her hips.

"You'll come home, tonight?"

"What time do you finish?"

It wasn't worth trying to talk this out with Evan here and now, the only thing that was guaranteed to happen was for someone to walk in on them having relations while Evan was still on shift. It would be easier to go home and talk when he finished work, besides, most of (Y/n)'s things were still at the apartment. It was her way of showing him she wasn't walking away and never coming back. They could talk through everything tonight and sort things out properly. They would have all the time in the world to talk tonight.

She felt hum mutter "Six," against her lips before he was pushing her back and (Y/n) was far from stupid, she knew he was aiming to push her down on one of the beds. But she tried to plant her heels into the floor and push on his shoulders.

"We need to- Evan- Evan no, we have to get back out there." Her fingers squeezed tightly into his shoulders and she tilted her head back out of his way to make the message get through. She had been lenient, but she wasn't going to compromise his job and get him into trouble if someone caught them.

And she was still feeling like her head was swimming through a fog and leaving her far behind. If she laid down on one of those beds, (Y/n) knew she might not get back up again.

Evan pressed a lasting kiss to her lips and wove his arm around her waist, tucking her into his side before he finally let her move. When they moved towards the door, he was ignited with adrenaline and excitement when (Y/n) held his hand.

He loved the feeling of her head leaning on his shoulder and the way she pushed her weight into him when they walked out the room. He couldn't stop from glancing down at her, supressing a chuckle when he watched her try to sort out her dress and smooth out the creases he had caused. He much preferred to see her dress bunched around her hips, showing off her underwear that was probably skewed out of place too. But he wouldn't want anyone else getting that lovely sight.

He felt even more invigorated when (Y/n) didn't let go of his hand once they were back on the station floor. He loved how she seemed to cling to him tighter and lean her weight onto him like she didn't hold the strength to keep herself upright. He wanted them to be like this all the time.

He wanted to kiss her every chance he got and feel her huddled up into his side for as long as possible.

"We thought you'd got lost." Eddie looked the pair of them up and down with one raised brow and a coy smile when he walked past them, clearly aiming for the locker room to go grab something. He patted Evan's shoulder as he passed while (Y/n) leaned a bit more into Evan.

The anxiety she felt when she turned up here had dwindled down significantly, but she still felt uneasy. It was probably all the adrenaline she'd been living off for the past few weeks, and the fact that she hadn't eaten tea last night or breakfast today. She had been too nervous and pent up.

And now, knowing that later tonight she and Evan would have to talk properly before anything went back to a sense of normality between them, (Y/n) could feel her mind racing again.

Just the thought of what they would talk about tonight was overwhelming and it was combining badly with her twisting, tensing stomach.

"Let's grab a drink."

(Y/n) let Evan steer them both towards the drinks table towards the back of the station. She tried to force herself to smile when she saw Hen stood at the drinks table, pouring some juice into plastic cups decorated with skulls and pumpkins.

But her smile didn't reach her eyes and the more they walked, the more dizzy she started to feel.

By the time they got to the table, (Y/n) meshed her face into Evan's bicep and leaned heavily against him until she was sure he was holding almost all of her weight up for her. She felt like she was tilting forward, like she was stood on a ledge about to fall off and one more inch forwards would make her topple over. She didn't feel well.

She was sure Evan said something, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of her blood surging through her ears, hammering away like a drumbeat.

"You okay?" Evan looked down at her as she clung to his left arm, seemingly refusing to look up at him. Was she worried what the team would say or think? Did she suddenly not want to be at the station anymore?

He moved his right hand to cup the side of her neck, tracing his thumb along the edge of her jaw while he cautiously tilted her head back. Evan's eyes narrowed when he looked down at (Y/n). Tilting her head seemed to make her sway and he could feel her head lolling backwards, causing him to tighten his grip on her neck to try and hold her steady.

She didn't look very well and Evan wasn't sure she was actually looking at him. Her eyes were constricted and looking off into the distance rather than looking up at him.

"I th- I'm gonna…"

A groan burst past Evan's lips when (Y/n)'s head suddenly bashed into his chest and her weight fell forward into him. He let go of her neck in favour of binding both arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest so she didn't slump down to the floor.

She'd fainted.

Evan felt her head loll into his chest before she seemed to slump to the right and her head lolled to one side.

"Fuck." He switched one hand to grab the back of her head, holding her in place against his chest while he bent down until he was knelt on the floor with (Y/n) slumped up against him. His thumb stroked her skin and he carefully laid her down between his thighs, her back up against his chest and her head pressed against his arm.

He stroked his hand up and down her chest while his other hand pressed against her temple. She wasn't flushed or burning up and he could feel her breathing steady, her chest rising and falling against his hand.

"Is she not feeling well?" Hen left the table in favour of kneeling down beside them and she reached out for (Y/n)'s wrist to check her pulse. While Chimney steadily aimed their way with one of the medic bags in hand.

"Clearly not," Evan muttered quietly as he moved his hand to rub up and down her arm to try and stimulate her and bring her back around.

He could feel relief swelling up in his chest when (Y/n)'s head turned a little into his chest and the quietest murmur passed her parted lips. She was starting to come around. He looked over at Hen when she found the blood pressure cuff in the medic bag and took a reading. And Evan was glad she did that while (Y/n) was still out of it; he knew she hated having that done, it always made her feel lightheaded and nervous.

"BP's quite low, maybe a trip to the doctor might be a good idea."

Evan was suddenly glad (Y/n) had turned up today because he just knew if this happened when he wasn't around, she wasn't likely to tell him about it. That was why he liked to know what was going on when he wasn't home. What if something like this happened when she was out and he had no idea? If something happened to her and Evan didn't know where she was then he had no way of getting to her.

He had to know these things, Evan had to know so he could always have control over the situation.

***

"Okay, well we've had your blood results back, and your BP is steadily climbing back up which is good."

"I told you I'm fine." (Y/n) looked from the nurse across to Evan as if the pair of them were in on a cahoot to keep (Y/n) here. She told the team she didn't need to come down to see a doctor, she said she was fine and she just felt a bit unsteady. No one took no for an answer. When she could barely stand up, they practically carried her to the car and told Evan to take her to the doctor to be sure.

She had been glad Evan was the one to bring her down because he caught her again when she blacked out as soon as the needle was in her arm for her bloods to be taken.

She felt silly, coming down here when she was just anxious and pent up, there was nothing wrong with her and she felt like she was wasting their time.

"Yes, well, liver and kidney function is all good but you are lacking a few vitamins and you're very low on iron."

Her eyes glanced to the right to look over at Evan who gave her a pointed look. That may not be something urgent but it was clearly a good job she came down to get checked out.

"But there is a reason for that, your results show that you're pregnant. Congratulations."

(Y/n) felt like her head was swelling up with air and she planted both hands down on the bed either side of her to keep herself sitting upright so she didn't suddenly topple down. It was a good job she was sitting down because she knew her knees would of given way at that news.

Pregnant.

They were having a baby. One of the reasons she and Evan had argued was because this was the path he wanted to go down and although (Y/n) wanted kids, she thought it was rather sudden. They hadn't long moved in together and Evan had frightened her talking about getting a house together.

But if she was pregnant now, then a house was clearly the next step that they were going to have to take sooner rather than later. They couldn't cramp a baby into the bedroom with them at the apartment, there was only one bedroom after all and they would need space with a baby around.

She barely felt Evan's hand cupping the back of her neck, but she leaned into his touch when he smothered his lips against her temple. She could feel him smiling into her skin and the quiet laugh he let out made her heart jump and pick up pace and she was glad she wasn't on an ECG monitor for that to show.

"We're having a baby."

When Evan perched down on the side of the bed just as the nurse left them to talk about 'the good news', (Y/n) curled her hands around his arm and leaned into him. She laid her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

A baby. Evan was good with kids, this was the life he'd always wanted and he was going to be amazing with a baby of their own. As long as that possessive, controlling streak within him didn't flare up and get worse now that she was pregnant. And it couldn't get in the way with a baby around. (Y/n) couldn't be telling Evan her every move and have him becoming angry or overwrought if he didn't know where she or the baby were at every moment of the day.

Evan kissed the top of her head again and again, unable to wipe the smile off his face. This is what they talked about. Granted, they had differed in opinion on this subject, but they would be in full agreement now. This is what they wanted. This is all Evan had dreamed about.

He wanted this to happen. He had been praying for this to happen. He knew (Y/n) hadn't thought about having kids yet, the reason she had been saying they should keep using protection- something Evan had forgone quite a few times for this very reason.

"A baby," (Y/n) uttered as a small smile pulled at her lips when Evan held her tighter and pecked her temple again. She had no idea. She didn't even suspect she might be pregnant.

This was a good thing. It had to be, didn't it?

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #dark! buck #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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yurozo · 2 months ago

Text

ink-related natural disasters (leon kennedy restaurant au oneshot)

summary: it's your first shift, and leon's been asked (ordered) to show you the ropes (fuck up tremendously in front of you on numerous occassions). no warnings, gn!reader.

a/n: my first request!! i hope you guys like it :D if y'all want me to continue the restaurant au let me know!

"does the cheese pizza have dairy?"

it's only half an hour into his shift, and leon's already contemplating on the different ways that he can permanently end his career in food service. lighting himself on fire in the middle of the floor is currently the most viable option, the candle is right there and if he moved his arm down just far enough-

"yes, ma'am. the cheese pizza does have dairy in it," he answers instead, mouth pinched into a thin smile. the pen between his fist cracks a little at the last word, earning a much easier end than the man holding it.

"then i won't get it," the woman says, looking back down at the menu with a huff. "i'm allergic."

for all of leon's strength, he can't help the little sigh that comes out of his mouth then. the man sitting at his table gives him a sympathetic look, and it's only then that leon does actually feel a bit bad.

not only does he have to deal with a woman who apparently never passed third grade english, he's currently responsible for training the new person coming in tonight. in all honesty, he's not quite sure why wesker gave him the responsibility. he's certainly hasn't been here the longest, not the most strict, and about three shattered glasses currently in the garbage isn't exactly giving a testimony to his self-assurance.

he's fucked. leon's going to have some half-baked college kid show up, stand behind him ominously all night, and ask questions until his head hurts. wesker didn't even allow him the chance to say no-- just glaring through the world's darkest sunglasses before storming off to his own office.

the only hope for him is that the tips are decent enough for him to put up with it.

the woman sitting in front of him, who he has so aptly named public enemy number one, finally finishes her order. leon offers a quick goodbye, snapping the notepad shut with his best attempt at a smile. he walks away, looking for the next open source flame is until he freezes right as claire walks by him.

what might just be the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his life is currently at the front entrance.

you're there, chatting with jill at the hostess stand with a nervous smile on your face and a notebook tucked to your chest. as cliche as it is, the restaurant really does seem to come to a standstill-- conversation seems to dim, everything seems to move in slow motion, and leon suddenly feels like air isn't getting into his chest.

if you're actually the new hire, he is truly and royally fucked.

claire giggles to herself as she finally breezes past him, muttering something under her breath that goes completely over his head. he couldn't give less of a shit what she's saying, because now jill's pointing at him, and you're looking at him with a smile and bright eyes.

it's a miracle he isn't a puddle on the floor yet, but that's neither here nor there. not when you're now walking towards him, and leon still hasn't thought of something cool to say.

"hi," you greet him softly, quickly rattling off your name and qualifications while leon is still a million miles away. "you're leon, right?"

he blinks at you slowly. "huh?"

"leon." you clarify, the slightest hint of a grin curling at your lips. jesus, you're cute even when you're clearly pitying him. "jill told me that i'm supposed to shadow you on the floor."

"i'm leon." the words leave his mouth a little too fast, the syllables blurring together in a barely perceptible haze. he gives himself a mental smack on the forehead. "i'll take care of you."

at least he has the mind to smile, even if the plastic of pen number two shatters completely in his fist.

he learns four things about you in the span of two hours. one, that you're incredibly smart. after about three tables you've already picked up on the general routine, the menu prices, how to describe food that you don't even eat.

two, you have a great sense of humour. or he's just on a roll with his jokes. regardless, you've laughed at every shitty one-liner that left his mouth tonight, and leon feels like he's on cloud nine.

number three, you're gorgeous, and in a way that everyone else is noticing too. tables are significantly nicer to him when you're standing politely behind, as if they too want to be on their best behaviour to win your approval. get in line, he always thinks bitterly.

and finally, you're friendly in a way that almost infuriates him. mostly because he can't tell if he's actually winning brownie points with you, or you're just entertaining the man training you. every piece of information about yourself is carefully folded and tucked away in his brain for safekeeping, just in case its the former.

"you know, i should set you up with my daughter, i think you'd love her." the old lady at his table speaks up, reaching across the table to pat his arm. "she's a real gem."

"okay," leon sighs, "how about instead, i get you that appetizer?"

you stifle a laugh behind him, but he can still feel the puff of air on his back. leon can feel you move behind him until your head is peeking over his shoulder, pretending to be very interested in whatever he's writing on the ticket.

you're so close-- he can feel your hair brushing against his cheek, feel the warmth of your shoulder right against his back, and thats when disaster strikes.

ever so glorious pen number three creaks under the weight of his grip, before pronouncing its death by exploding ink all over both his hands and the ticket. all he can do is mutter some half-formed apology to his table before running to the bathroom with his metaphorical tail between his legs. you follow closely behind, but not before giving the customers an apologetic smile and a sickly-sweet apology.

again, infuriating. been here a couple hours and you're more of a natural than he is.

any hope of brownie points with you is draining alongside the ink dripping onto the ceramic. when he looks up at himself in the mirror, he can't help but internally cringe at his appearance. fully-formed eyebags, hair tousled from a nervous habit he's too tired to break, and now ink all over his sole work shirt. he's been looking like this in front of you this whole time, no wonder you probably think he's truly lost his mind.

you appear behind him through the mirror, just over his shoulder again. "you really should take it easy on the pens. they didn't do anything wrong."

a half-hearted laugh rings between the both of you. you reach for the paper towels to start getting some of the blue residue off. the way you touch him is soft, way too caring for someone you just met. he thinks that's the part he likes the most so far.

the heart on your sleeve, not too unlike his own.

"so much for taking care of you, huh?" he chuckles, staring down at the way your hand is holding his with the other rubbing the ink off his palm.

"you did great, don't worry," you smile, glancing up at him. "let me return the favour."

still trying to will the blush off his face, leon furiously uncrumples the ticket and sticks it in front of luis.

"sancho, what the hell is this?"

"it's the order for 37, what does it look like?" he barks back, a little too harshly for something that is most definitely his fault. if luis is offended by his tone of voice he certainly doesn't show it, just tilting his head at leon like he's got him all figured out.

"it looks like you wrote this with the pen in your mouth," he laughs, sticking it above him anyway. "what's got you so distracted?"

before leon can give him some sort of half-witted answer, ada steps up to the counter, glaring at the piece of paper above her like it personally offended her. "you're an idiot, kennedy."

leon just sighs, "tell me something i don't know."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil imagines #restaurant au #ali writes #leon kennedy oneshot

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colourstreakgryffin · 10 months ago

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I saw you're taking Hazbin hotel requests so I thought I'd shoot my shot! So reader is a young boy who also died around Alastor's time(Early 1930s) . He's so confused and overwhelmed by how fast everything is progressing. So when he hears Alastor humming/singing a song from the 1930s he feels a sense of comfort and familiarity. Bonus if it also happens to be their favorite song! Take your time and you're amazing!

Oooh! Fourth Alastor request and I am having such a great time with this! This man is so fun to write for! After I finish here, I am gonna go cook some Jambalaya then pop it into my pentagram and summon Al so he can cook me!

Alastor- Night & Day

Like the beat, beat, beat of the tom tom…

when the jungle shadows fall

like the tick, tick, tock of the stately clock

You don’t recognise anywhere you are… this place. It’s hot, dark, dangy and uncomfortable. There’s nothing here resembling Earth and it’s shaking you to your core. Not having the strength nor confidence to move anymore from the alleyway you were just dropped into upon arriving here from the pentagram in the dark sky. Everyone is too much for your young mind. Well. Other than that, those lyrics…

As it stands against the wall

Like the drip drip drip of the raindrops

When the summer shower is through

So a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you

That song is a symbol of comfort for you. Night & Day by Cole Porter. Something your mother use to sing to you every night before bed, the sound of pretty rain hitting your open window as that beautiful sweet woman would sing over and over again, all without it growing repetitive, until you fell asleep. Having wonderful dreams all the time

Even though you’re scared out of your mind, you begin to walk out to the streets. Packed to the brim with all kinds of weird-shaped adults but you avoid most of the them, weaving through this thick crowd to find the source of the soothing lullaby of your whole life and the voice singing it. It sounds dapper, transatlantic, if not an old radio. Is it coming from a radio?

Night and day, you are the one

Only you beneath the moon or under the sun

Whether near to me, or far

It's no matter, darling, where you are

I think of you

It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Running around to find where that wonderful singing is coming from and it feels like the person is constantly teleporting, no adult should be this frustrating to find. Or, you’re just too overwhelmed from being dropped into literal Hell to even realise your coordination skills are as dropping as you did. Your mind is racing to come to terms with what’s going on

This isn’t New Orleans at all… and not a single trace of your parents around. Are you alone? No. No. You don’t want to be alone, you’re too young to be alone. Is everybody here too evil to care about a literal child Sinner being stuck on his own and having to fend for himself in ways he doesn’t know how to…

By all the unholy gods. Somebody help

Day and night, night and day, why is it so

That this longing for you follows wherever I go

In the roaring traffic's boom

In the silence of my lonely room

I think of you

The loud noises of talking, of the wall of built-in weird flat devices screeching and echoing, the patter of footsteps. It makes you want to hide away and sleep to try shake off all the distress and overwhelming feelings you are being tormented with but that song is way too recognisable and comforting for you to ignore so you just keep pursuing it

Maybe, it’ll be pointless and the singing source will be from a Radio of your year but it almost feels like the song is organic and from a person. That means there is an adult of your time here. A man from the 1930s, Hell, he may be somebody of your family! That’d be wonderful and your hopes are high that when you do find the source, it’s somebody you’ll get to embrace and talk to

Day and night, night and day

Under the hide of me

There's an oh such a hungry yearning burning inside of me

And this torment won't be through

Until you let me spend my life spreading love

A flash of bright red crossed your eyes when you finally had managed to shakily but stubbornly and determined, pasted through the big careless and if not almost hypnotised by the running TVs crowd, and continued down the road in half sprints. Following a array of melodically humming, recreating the beat and rhythm of the song as it seems the source is quite invested in such a song

It felt like forever following a mere sound across the city’s streets but there he is. The source of the singing, he’s so close that you can finally reach a arm out and take his hand to catch his attention

Day and night, night and day—

The man instantly mutes his singing. He is tall, in a nice fancy coat with long hems at the bottoms, with a pair of what seemed to be tall deer ears on the top of his head and his pale face branded with a permanent toothy grin, he looked both menacing but yet friendly. Turning around to face the nine-year-old Sinner running around the Pride Ring’s own Pentagram City’s streets to chase the source of a song of familiarity and now has chased and caught his hand, Alastor reacted rather friendly and understanding to be presented with a child of his own era

Leaning down to be kneel before this young confused on-the-verge-of-crying boy, the Radio Demon says smooth and curious with that same radio effect almost overlapping his charming transatlantic accent, placing his free hand on your little shoulder

Something about Alastor reminded you of a popular figure from New Orleans you’ve met before

“Greetings there, young man… tell me, where are your parents?”

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benevolentbones · 4 months ago

Text

as i lay bleeding | spencer reid x reader

warnings: angst!!!!!!! character death, mentions of injury. gender neutral reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: risks in the field suddenly become very real

a/n: hope you enjoy:) i love writing angst. reblogs & comments appreciated <3 requests open

it was a given statistic that those who worked for the fbi had a lower mortality rate, they would often get injured on the field, times those injuries would result in death.

you had seen deaths occur on the field, you had heard the news of other members in different departments passing during active cases. but you never thought you’d be lumped in with the large sum of losses the fbi had each year, well, until now.

all you could see was the grey sky, murky clouds floating across the monotone heavens. you laid flat on your back, when you tried to move your whole body felt like it was lit aflame.

you let out a breathy wince, hastily trying to find the source of this pain. you shifted your left arm, dragging it against the concrete to move it over your abdomen.

as your soft fingers reached your wound you let out a pained gasp, feeling something large jutting out of your left side. you pulled your hand back, every movement aching, lifting it up to your line of vision.

bright red stained your fingers, dripping down your forearm and staining your, now torn, white shirt sleeve. a jagged breath escaped your lips as you tried to move, once again not succeeding.

so you laid there in a pile of broken glass, on the concrete staring up at the moody sky, bleeding out.

within seconds a lean figure was by your side, you shifted your gaze from the sky to meet big brown eyes. he cradled your head in his hand, moving his other down to your injury, his hand hovered shakily over the large piece of glass soaked in your blood.

“spencer…” you mumbled out, your eyes going in and out of focus, he turned his attention back to your face, he was clear he was trying to mask his panic, you could always see right through his façade.

“hey- you’re okay- you’ll be okay.” his voice was laced with concern, his head quickly whipping around his surroundings for anyone to come to your aid.

“i need a medic! agent down-“ he yelled out, his voice strained. you couldn’t hear much else going on around you, a few distant voices calling back.

you reached your left hand up to rest against his cheek, his eyes glued on you. as your strength weakened, your hand slipped, leaving a red stain on his face.

“sorry..” you mumbled out, making an attempt to wipe away the blood but making it worse in the process,which spencer replied with a choked out chuckle.

even as you lay there bleeding, of course you would find something to be apologetic about. that was just how you were, and he loved that about you.

“you’re okay- hold on. the medics are on the way-“ he couldn’t hold back the wobble in his voice, you knew by how he acted, that he was struggling to maintain his composure. you could feel his hands trembling as he applied pressure to your wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

"spencer" you whispered, your voice barely audible, "i'm so tired."

his eyes widened, panic evident. "no, don't say that. stay with me. hey- keep talking to me."

your vision started to blur, and the world around you seemed to fade away. "it's okay, spence. i'm- i'm glad you're here."

the panic that you once felt about dying slowly slipping away, being replaced by a comforting feeling, but maybe that was just because spencer was with you.

tears streamed down his face as he shook his head, refusing to accept what was happening. "no, you're going to be fine. just hold on a little longer." he chewed on his lip, letting out a breathy gasp “please.” he whispered out.

you tried to muster a smile, but it came out as a grimace. "promise me something."

"anything," he replied instantly, his voice cracking.

"promise me...you’ll look after kevin- i know you don’t like him but.." you referenced the cat you brought into your relationship with spencer, that little ginger fur ball was your absolute baby, you needed to make sure he would be taken care of.

spencer let out a low chuckle, of course you would bring up that dumb cat of yours. “yes- but i won’t need to- you’re going to be okay..” his voice breaking completely. "please, just stay with me. the medics are almost here. you can't leave me."

your eyelids grew heavier, and you could barely keep them open. "i love you, spencer." you managed to mutter out, your eyes fluttering shut for the last time.

spencer's heart shattered as he felt your body go limp in his arms. he clung to you, sobbing uncontrollably, praying for a miracle that he knew deep down wouldn't come. the sounds of approaching medics and shouting voices faded into the background as his world centered on the devastating reality that he was losing you. that he lost you.

morgan ran over, skidding to a halt beside spencer. he took in the scene quickly, seeing the blood, the glass, and the lifeless body in spencer's arms. he knelt down, placing a firm hand on spencer's shoulder.

"spencer," morgan said, his voice gentle but urgent, "we have to let the medics do their job."

spencer shook his head violently, his grip on you tightening. "no, no, they can't help now. they’re gone, morgan. they’re gone." his voice broke completely, and he buried his face against your shoulder, sobbing harder.

morgan's heart ached at the sight. he pulled spencer into a rough embrace, feeling the younger man shake with grief. "i know, man, i know," he said quietly, his own voice thick with emotion. "but you need to let them take them. you can't stay here."

spencer resisted for a moment longer, then finally, reluctantly, let go. the medics moved in swiftly, but spencer didn't watch them. he couldn't. instead, he clung to morgan, who held him up, supporting him as his legs threatened to give out.

"they asked me to look after kevin," spencer whispered, his voice barely audible. "they were worried about the cat."

morgan managed a small, sad smile. "that sounds like y/n. we'll make sure kevin is okay. right now, we need to get you out of here."

spencer nodded numbly, allowing morgan to lead him away. as they walked, he glanced back one last time, seeing the medics covering your body. his heart felt like it was being ripped apart all over again.

"i loved them so much," spencer said, his voice breaking.

"i know you did," morgan replied, his grip on spencer tightening. "and they knew it too. they loved you just as much. remember that."

together, they walked away from the scene, spencer's sobs mingling with the sounds of the bustling crime scene, his clothes stained crimson, one of the last reminders of you.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna @cynbx

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds requests #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #requests open

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yan-lorkai · 6 months ago

Note

Hi Lorkai! I know you have so many requests and you're busy, so it's okay if you'll ignore this one. But it would really mean the world to me if you made this one for me, since i'm going through really hard time in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart 🙏🏻🥺❤️

Can you please write about Alucard being very protective and caring for his reader!Darling, who's been suffering from mental abuse from her alchoholic father for so many years? Sometimes this trauma comes back, leaving the reader a sobbing, trembling mess, unable to catch a breath.

I have always seen Alucard as my source of comfort and understanding, and as we have seen in Hellsing Ultimate, even he sheds tears when his traumatic past haunts him in his nightmares. That's why I like to imagine he would treat his beloved reader with great care and gentleness, trying to do everything in his power to keep his Darling safe and reassured that he'll always be there for her. He doesn't want the reader to suffer alone the way he did.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡A/N: Hi, darling. I'm truly sorry to hear that you're going through such a hard time right now and I want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk and vent. I'll hope that this can help you, even if only a little. I'm also sending you lots of strength and positivity! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

You clutched your chest, feeling your lungs rise and fall at a frantic pace, a rhythm you couldn't control no matter how hard you tried. Every breath you took felt like fire, scorching your lungs, your throat and your eyes. You knew you needed to breathe, to calm down, but you couldn't remember how. Was this a panic attack? Or was it a heart attack?

Were you dying? Were the screams still echoing through the hallway? Or this was only a nightmare?

You wanted to scream, to let the tears fall, but everything felt frozen. Reality seemed to blur and warp, too real and yet not real enough. The burning sensation intensified, consuming you, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. It felt like the world was closing in, trying to crush you, leaving you powerless and desperate.

If you could find the words, that's how you'd describe the sensation - a brutal, unyielding force.

A noise beside you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, and you suddenly sensed his presence. Your beloved's presence, dark and oppressive yet strangely comforting, surrounded by shadows and having a startled expression on his face. You turned towards him, desperate, searching for the air that escaped you, searching for the comfort only he could give you.

The comfort he always gave you. Always present to soothe your fears and worries, always there to wipe your tear and hold you for as long as you need. Nothing, not even Integra could tear you two apart if you were having a bad time.

Alucard spent years dealing with his problems, completely alone. He forgot how the feeling is but he still remember the anguish, how draining it was, how difficult. There was no way he would let you deal with this alone.

"Darling, you're exhaling too much. Focus on my voice." Tears streamed down your cheeks, and he wiped them away with his gloveless fingers. His figure wavered before you, but his presence was unmistakable, his familiar cologne grounding you. "Breathe in, through your nose, little one."

Your eyes widened as the world seemed to crash down on your exhausted mind. You felt trapped in darkness, fumbling blindly for the light, searching for cracks on the walls and beneath doors. Searching for a way to stop the voices and the screams, wincing when Alucard's hands rested gently on your shoulders.

Stumbling through the tunnel's darkness, you saw no light, no end, no switch to bring relief. No tool to fix what was broken. Cold sweat clinged to your skin as you struggled to call for him.

His touch cool and steady, he knelt before you while he watched you. Watched pain and shame painting your face, how you bit your lips till they were bruised and bloody, eyelashes wet from your tears. "Listen to me," Alucard repeated softly, his voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Breathe in, through your nose, slowly."

You tried to follow his instructions, drawing in a shaky breath through your nose. The air felt thick, like it was fighting you, but you persisted, clinging to his voice, clinging to him as if without him beside you, you'd die. Alucard's presence was a safe haven, a stark contrast to the darkness that had you snared.

"Good," He murmured, his voice soothing. His hands were twiching, wanting to hold you but hesitant to do so. You needed space to breath and smothering you on his chest wouldn't do you any good. "Now hold it for a moment."

You held your breath, feeling your heart race as you struggled to maintain control. Alucard's fingers traced small, comforting circles on your back, trying to keep you on the present moment and not letting you sink back into your nightmare where you saw your drunk father pacing around the kitchen, slamming everything on the counter and screaming.

This was over, this was the past and here is the now, the place where you didn't have to fear.

"Now, let it out slowly, through your mouth." He whispered.

You exhaled, your breath trembling, but the burning began to ease just a little. Alucard's eyes, crimson and intense, never left yours. "Again," He urged gently, holding your hands tenderly.

You repeated the process, inhaling deeply, holding it then exhaling slowly. It was difficult and hard, relapsing every few seconds whenever your conscious remind you what your father used to scream. Yet each breath brought a tiny bit of relief, the panic slowly losing its grip though it's tendrils were still curled around your throat, holding it. Alucard's presence anchored you, his shadows swimming around you and all over you, like a giant blanket, enveloping you.

"That's it," He whispered, his voice like a soothing balm. "Keep going. You're doing well."

With each breath, the burning in your chest and throat began to subside. The world started to come back into focus, the overwhelming blur receding.

"You're safe, darling." It was true. With him, you were always safe. Always loved and protected. And you never knew fear from the day you started calling him yours. Your lover, your adorable vampire. "I'm here with you."

You nodded weakly, the tears still streaming down your face, but now because of the relief you felt. Alucard's words, his presence and his unwavering support slowly pulled you back from the edge. Like he did once, like he promised to do again and again, no matter how many time he need to.

After a few more breaths, the darkness wasn't completely gone but it was tolerable. You looked up at Alucard, exhaustion evident in your eyes as you let your head fall into his neck.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice hoarse. Tired.

Alucard gave you a small, reassuring smile. "You're never alone, darling. Nothing can hurt, everything is fine now. You can rest now."

He gently pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you in a protective hold that felt like a fortress protecting you against the chaos within and around you. His embrace was firm, tender, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours.

You let yourself sink deeper into his arms, feeling the remnants of fear and panic gradually receding. The sensations that had overwhelmed you - burning lungs, blurring vision, the oppressive weight of dread - began to dissolve in the cocoon of his hug. The profound sense of safety and comfort he provided overshadowed everything else.

The world that had seemed so overwhelming and distorted slowly began to right itself. Colors sharpened, sounds became clearer, and the crushing weight on your chest lifted, replaced by the gentle pressure of your heart beating and Alucard humming slowly.

And for now, that was enough.

It was enough to be in his arms. It was enough when he pulled you to lie down again and arranged the covers around you. And it was enough when he let a little kiss on your temple, so reverent, so warm. For now, your heart was buzzing with warm feelings, your worries forgotten while you stared at his very beautiful red eyes.

#yandere hellsing #yandere hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard x y/n #hellsing ultimate alucard #hellsing alucard #yandere hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x reader #tw yandere #lorkai imagine

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kalki-tarot · 1 year ago

Text

Your Shadow aspects you need to work on to meet your FS. 🥀

1 - 2 - 3

Disclaimer — The images I used to select a pile were sourced from Pinterest, I hope the reading will resonate with you. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from my readings. I'm just a beginner and these readings are just for fun.

Check masterlist for more !

Pile 1

Death, wheel of fortune, queen of swords, the chariot, ace of wands, the emperor, king of swords, the lovers, 10 of pentacles.

The most prominent thing I see here is your obsession for fairytale romances, basically you are having unrealistic expectations etc.

This behaviour leads to you to watching a lot of tarot readings, like alot of them!

The high priestess in the bottom of deck tells me you need to learn how to identify and work with your own intuition. You need to develop it for your own good.

Don't be dependent on tarot readings or fiction romance.

You maybe have an image of a rich handsome ceo in your mind. Idk if it's right or wrong to imagine that or set expectations around it but the tarot the deck is showing me exactly this issue.

Please be reminded that a perfect love story in not perfect. It has ugly fights and a lot of things like that.

I'm not saying you don't deserve a love you desire, I'm saying not to be too obsessed with these unrealistic expectations.

Start working on your intuition, meditate, be in nature for sometime. It'll guide you, you'll be your own guide. Take tarot readings as a possibility of the future. Don't let anything take your power.

You'll surely have a love story, with passion and romance if you trust your intuition.

Pile 2

King of wands, ace of pentacles, strength, devil, the empress, queen of wands, 10 of pentacles, 3 of swords, 2 of swords, 2 of wands, 7 of pentacles, death

I feel like you're in a soulmate connection or a twinflame journey. Are you seeing 22 or 222 or 2323 alot?

Do you recognize your talents and creativity, pile 2? If not then start doing it. Nurture your divine feminine side. Keep yourself in check. It will align you with meeting your future spouse.

Don't be too harsh on yourself, it's okay to not be able to follow the same timetable or routine everyday.

Why are you restraining yourself to a point that it's hampering your spiritual growth?

You were born with these talents you have, keep doing it. Allow yourself to feel and do things what make you happy and peaceful.

I'm aware of the heartbreak or painful time you faced in the past. I know it's stopping you from loving yourself, but see the bigger picture.

You need to make a choice, it's in your hands. The choice to either be stuck in the past or move forward with a free and energized spirit on the road of success.

Work on your plans, carry them out in the reality. Plan and succeed. It's your destiny to reap the benefits of your hardwork.

Allow yourself to go through this transformation in life.

Pile 3

Ace of wands, strength, 10 pentacles, ace of pentacles, 7 wands, the lovers, 4 or cups, death, queen of cups.

You need to balance and keep check of your emotional health. You are too sensitive emotionally. You need to master your emotions.

I think it's because of someone broke your heart romantically or you were in a toxic relationship which made you like this.

Please remember how much potential you have carrer wise. You are much more capable of everything, more capable than you think.

You have a tendency to repeat this cycle where someone tells you something critical, you take that seriously, you blame yourself for being this way here and in your love life too and it just keeps going in a circle.

I think you need to rewire this pattern of self blaming. You are not what you think you are. You are much more tha that. You are meant to live a rich and abundant lifestyle, so focus on that. Love will itself find you.

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 1 month ago

Text

Mine to Protect Part III

@thetrueghostqueen Thank you so much for your wonderful request for the birthday prompts! I truly hope you enjoyed the story! Even though it turned out pretty big 😅

Source for Pic

Mine to Protect

Word Count: 4408

Tags for the whole story: Highlander!Kid; Fem!Reader; Alternate Universe - Scotland 13th century; Gore; Blood; Violence; Death; Mild Angst; Fluff; Nudity; Cursing; Sexual Tension; Explicit Sexual Content; Protective!Kid; Possessive!Kid; Soft!Kid; Feral!Kid; Jealous!Kid; Happy Ending; Sort of Enemies to Lovers; Teasing; Banter; NSFW; MDNI; Mature Audiences;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your father and his allied clans are at war, and you're a liability. When you're assigned a guard to protect you - against your will - you do everything in your power to infuriate him. The problem is that he can be more infuriating than you, as you're about to find out.

Notes: Final part everyone. I hope you enjoyed this! It really wasn't supposed to be so big... but then there were so many little moments I wanted to include... Thank you for reading!

Part 3 of 3

You avoid the wedding conversation with your father like the plague, but you chase Kid’s company like a hunter tracking deer through the glens. More than once, he tumbles into your sheets –sometimes you don’t even make it that far. He has you against doors, walls, on the ground, under the shade of trees, anywhere –everywhere!

You now know the shape and contour of all his scars and muscles. The way they ripple as he uses them to handle your body effortlessly, the way they tense when he’s lost at the edge, spilling his release into you, or the way they soften as you search for the warmth of his embrace afterwards.

He’s told you about many of the scars. He’s even told you how his left arm was rendered almost useless during battle. He has opened up to you, and you to him, sharing all your worries over your people, sharing how you’ve lost your brother to brigands when you were young and vowed not to be a helpless noble girl –he assures you, you’re not.

Things happen easily between you and Kid, even though you still disagree on many things and keep fighting like cats and dogs. Most of those fights end the same, with both of you lost in a mess of tangled limbs.

You’ve fallen.

So hard it hurts. And it’s scary as hell in more ways than one. Not only do you not know if Kid feels the same for you, but you also don’t want your heart and emotions to be so tied to a single person. Because, at this moment, it feels like you might die if something happens to Kid.

You can’t hold back that conversation anymore, so it takes a particularly cold night –a bit warmer now that you and Kid have exercised– when you’re lost in his embrace, to peel the words from your lips.

Kid’s arm grips you, his hand securing you tightly by the waist, and you absentmindedly realise that he never holds you differently. It’s always with strength, a fierce claim, or a desperate need to protect. Your fingers trace the scar on his chest, as you usually do, and that always brings a soft smile to his lips as he relaxes his breathing.

After a while, he speaks. “Yer awfully quiet today. Ye must tell me what I did tae get ye tae shut up.” He chuckles. “I might need that information for other nights.”

But you don’t reply. Not with a chuckle, nor with a witty response as he was expecting you to.

“Lass?” He opens his eyes and lifts your chin with his fingers to inspect your face, and you sigh.

“What are we, Kid?” The fear of his answer grips your heart in its clutches holding it ransom.

“What do ye mean?”

Sitting up and crossing your legs on the bed, you lock your gaze with his. “This, us. What are we?” You gesture between your bodies, impatience oozing from your pores.

Kid sits up as well, running a hand through his fiery, slightly damp hair. “Lass… we… we’re us.” He shrugs, and you sigh again. Talking about feelings with Kid is like pulling a sword from solid rock. Clearly, he senses that you’re upset, because he tries again. “I care for ye.”

“I know that.”

“Good. So, that’s it.” He reaches for you, but you swat his hand away.

“Is that all? You care?”

“We have fun, aye, lass?” He smirks at you, trying to lighten the mood, but he’s not even inching closer to where you want him to be.

“Aye. Fun. You care, and we have fun. That’s all there is, right?”

Kid tenses, and the ticking in his jaw alerts you that he’s finally taking this seriously. “There cannae be anythin’ else, can there? Yer a noble lady, I’m a hired sword.”

You nod. In your head, you know that, technically there can’t be anything more, but in your heart, there are infinite possibilities. What you wanted to hear from him is that he more than cares, that he is willing to fight for both of you. You want to hear him say that he’s fallen for you too. You don’t expect him to be romantic, he was right all those nights ago, you don’t need to be sweet-talked. But you want something real.

“Is that what ye wanted to hear? That we’re nae good tae each other? That we cannae work?” He slams a fist on the bed, and you know he’s not angry at you, really, it’s at the situation.

“No, Kid. What I wanted to hear was a bit of fight in you.” You get up, pull your dress over your head, and your feet through your boots. “Because you fight so hard to protect me from outside threats, when the biggest threat to my heart is right here in my room.”

The hurt in his expression is a mirror of your own as you make your way to the door. But it’s not over yet. There’s something else you need to tell him and this was why you asked him what you were. To see if you and he were worth fighting for.

Your hand hovers the doorknob and you don’t look back at him as you deliver the news. “My father has chosen a suitor to marry me. I have no say in the matter. We are to be married within a month.”

As tears fill your eyes, you leave the room without looking back, not knowing what Kid feels about the news or if he’s as devastated as you are.

-*-

You will never know how he felt about the news you delivered, because by morning, he’s gone. Just gone, without a trace, without a goodbye, without a word. Why does your chest ache so much when he took your heart with him?

Your father merely assigns another guard to you, but since you’ll be married within a month –securing a formidable war alliance that comes with soldiers and money– and leaving his house, he simply assigns one of his personal guards to shadow you.

This guard is quiet, slow, and an idiot. You lose him on the first try.

Though you don’t wander too far alone. The streets are growing more dangerous, and this guard isn’t Kid. You don’t trust him to find you anywhere and everywhere, as if you were connected by more than duty.

You refuse to cry.

You know you have many, many tears to shed, but you gave yourself one night to do it. The night he left you, and that was it. No more tears, no more broken heart. And though it all seems easier said than done, you manage slightly.

You set up a food delivery system with some of the citizens on the keep’s grounds, so you can be safer and still help them, and this has kept your mind and hands occupied. But the end of the month approaches, and so does your wedding.

You can’t stop thinking about Kid and how he makes you feel and it’s nearly impossible to think of giving yourself to another man. Be it body or soul. You’re Kid’s. And that’s it.

Days without him seem colder and drag on slower than before. Training doesn't feel the same, and every time you lie in bed you still feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around you. You've found yourself glancing over your shoulder more than once, hoping he's there, just around the corner, with his scowl in place, a witty remark at hand, or a biting word.

But he's not.

And so, you tread on, day by day, night by night, forcing your heart to harden, to stop caring, to just let him go.

Until you feel him. It's that prickling sensation at the nape of your neck, the tingling that bristles your hairs and almost stops your heart. This time, when you glance over your shoulder, he's really there, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to run to him and jump into his arms.

Gods, you've missed him.

He looks… haggard. His hair is duller, matted and dirty, there's dried blood on his skin and clothes –you're too scared to ask him if it's his, so you don’t– and there's darkness in his eyes, so much darkness.

“Kid…” You barely utter, your heart too shattered to let your mouth part with any more words, lest he take them as ransom and use them against you.

“Forgive me, lass. I've been gone longer than I meant, aye?” His voice seems drained. He looks exhausted, and you want nothing more than to scream at him for leaving you without a single word, for making you suffer beyond human understanding. But none of what you feel matters when he looks ready to drop dead from exhaustion at any second. So you drag him into your quarters and draw him a warm bath without uttering another word.

He sits in the tub as you pour warm water over him, loosening the grime and blood so he can scrub it off. You don't speak. You're too afraid that the first words out of your mouth will be angry and accusing, and now’s not the time to fight. For what it's worth, he doesn't speak either. Whether he's respecting your silence or simply too tired, is anyone's guess.

When the water rises enough for a comfortable bath, you wet the cloth and hand it to Kid, but he doesn't make a move to take it. His eyes are droopy, and his head lolls back and forth until he finally leans it against the rim of the tub with a groan and a grunt.

You sigh as your heart clenches, and you kneel beside him, running the wet cloth over his arms first, scrubbing off the caked mud, blood, and whatever else he dragged on him from wherever he was. When you reach his hand, his fingers curl slightly, seeking your touch, trying to hold you and you give everything to stop your tears from falling.

Gods, how you love this man.

He slumbers for a bit as you clean most of the grime off, but when you reach his chest and your hands find the familiar scars, his eyes slowly open, watching you. You're frowning pretending not to notice him observing you, but you grumble something unintelligible when you find three new scars –badly healed– on his torso.

“Where did you go…?” The question slips from your lips against your will in a quiet whisper. You're not even sure if he heard you or if he'll answer.

“Behind enemy lines, tae the north.”

The cloth slips from your hand, and you fumble to secure it again, your mouth open as wide as your eyes. “Beyond the borders? Into enemy territory? Kid! You could’ve died!”

His smirk barely curves his lips, but it's there. “Would've been worth it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You growl, scrubbing harder and making him wince.

“Ah, I've missed that filthy tongue, lass.” How can your heart warm at such words when you want nothing more than to yell at him for having left you? “I got what I went in for.” He dips his head back into the water, using his hands to try and comb through his matted hair. When he rises out of the water, his exhausted gaze falls on you, waiting for your questions.

“What did you go in for?”

“Information. War information that’ll make the clans turn tae yer da’s side without ye havin’ tae marry.” A chill runs through you as you stare at him. Is he serious? Has he risked his life just to get you out of an arranged marriage? Does that mean… does he love you back? Are you more than just ‘fun’?

You swallow the lump in your throat and try to make your tongue work past the dry, sand-like feeling in your mouth. “You still left me behind, without a word or a goodbye. Without a warning. I was alone!” The sigh that parts your lips is filled with sorrow and resignation. “We'll speak about this after you rest, you're in no condition to argue.”

He chuckles as you force him to lean forward –with a harder shove than you should– so you can clean his back. “Oh, but I've missed arguin’ with ye.” You purse your lips, drawing back an angry snarl that only makes him chuckle again. “Think about it. Would ye’ve let me leave if I told ya my plan?” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean, I would've left just the same, but ye would've tried tae stop me. Or worse, ye would've wanted tae go with me. It was better this way.”

“Better for whom? Because I was left thinking you'd abandoned me, right after I poured my heart out to you!”

Kid's face falls again. “Better than tae worry about me. If I died, at least ye could've forgotten me if ye hated me. It would've been a lot harder tae forget me if ye still cared.”

I still care.

You think the words, but you don't say them. Instead, you hand him the cloth. “Finish up, Kid. I'll go grab you some clothes from your old room. It hasn't been touched.”

-*-

When you return he's clean and dry, a towel wrapped around his waist, and you lower your gaze before you get lost in the body you know so well. Handing him the shirt and breeches, you return to your room, waiting for him with a tray of food and ale, so he eats and rests, because he looks like shit.

He follows you wordlessly after getting dressed and eats the food ravenously, which makes you wonder how long it’s been since he last ate. By the time he finishes, he looks ready to fall down again. You lead him to your bed, setting him down in the place he's slept more times than you can count, and securing the blankets around him. As Kid closes his eyes, you sigh, turning to leave, but his arm loops around your waist, and he drags you to bed, your back firmly against his chest, as he pulls you closer and drapes the covers over you too.

“Kid…” You start to protest. He needs rest and you don't trust your heart enough to be this close to him and not break. He still hasn't told you how he truly feels. He said he missed your remarks and arguing with you, but he didn't say he missed you.

“Stay.” His voice sounds hoarse and pained as he pulls you impossibly closer, burying his head in your hair, inhaling your scent in deep breaths.

You relax in his hold. It's not like you want to leave anyway. You've never felt safer than in Kid's arms, you're just not sure if you feel loved.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, lass.” The whisper of his words kisses the back of your neck in warm breaths, and your heart clenches. “I'm shite with words and feelings, ye know that… but… dinnae think for a minute that I left because I dinnae care. I left because I do care.”

He's still not saying it.

“I know you care, Kid.” You sound weary and resigned. Perhaps you're asking too much. It's obvious he cares deeply, or he would've never gone to the lengths he did for you.

“It's more than that.” You can almost hear the strain in his voice as he forces the words out. “I knew I could never fall for ye. I'm a guard, yer a noble lady. How could I… love ye if I'm no’ worthy? Yer da would hang me for ever touchin’ ye…” His chuckle is just a rumble against your back. “If he knew how much I've touched ye, my head would roll.”

You hold back a smirk. All your life you've defied your father and his rules. Kid would never be the exception.

“But I've come tae realise that I cannae live without ye, nor do I want tae.” He sighs and rolls you, motioning for you to turn to him, so you do. Your cheeks are hot and flushed and your heart is hammering violently against your chest. His fiery eyes are droopy and tired, filled with so much exhaustion that is physically noticeable. But he needs to get his words out. His fingers tilt your chin so he can stare right into your eyes. “I've realised that if lovin’ ye is a risk, then I'm ready tae bet everythin’. And that's why I had tae go. Because I love ye.”

A ragged sob breaks through your defences and tears down the dam you've built to hold your tears in since Kid’s return. Tears spill from your eyes in fat droplets as Kid pulls you to his chest, his hand resting on the back of your head, comforting you, cradling you. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to.

He's said it all.

You spill all the tears you vowed not to cry when he left, all the pent-up emotions that you’d stored safely away in a dark corner of your heart come crashing down with the force of a tidal wave, destroying everything in their path. And Kid holds you through it all. Your lifeline, your anchor, your everything.

He doesn't utter any more words, and he's right, you know he's shit with feelings. But his actions have always spoken much louder than words. He holds you tightly, clearly fending off all the exhaustion in his weary bones just to comfort you. His lips press softly against the crown of your head, again and again, in an endless torrent of kisses, like he can't get enough of you. His hand rubs your back up and down in soothing motions as your heart explodes from all this love. It's overwhelming, overpowering and somehow, still not enough.

Eventually, you pull back from him, tilting your head upwards and watching him through wet lashes. “Gods, Kid. I love you too. So much. So, so much.” The warmth in his gaze overpowers the tiredness as he lowers his face, mouth hovering just above yours. “Yer mine.” His words are a claim and he delivers them softly, like a man who is sure of what he's saying.

“I'm yours.”

With the softest of grunts you've ever heard him release, Kid takes your lips in his. You melt into him, this kiss insurmountably different from all the others you've shared. It's soft, steady, and tender. It's not filled with brimming, raging fire or fueled by desire. It's intimate and filled with promises. It's perfect.

When you both pull back, he cups your cheek and rests his forehead against yours, eyes hooded as exhaustion finally overtakes him. “Stay with me.”

“Aye, Kid.” You don't really know if he asked you to stay the night or to stay forever, but it doesn't really matter when the answer to the question is the same, right?

-*-

As dawn approaches, you leave Kid to rest in your bed as you get changed and ready. Then you gather the papers Kid brought with him, the valuable information about the war front and you grimace. The papers are bloodied and dirty, a testament to what he's been through, but they are readable. In fact, it serves the purpose best like this, so your father can understand what he's endured.

You march into your father's quarters, and his guards have the gall to try to stop you from entering. “Either of you touch me, and you'll meet my wrath.” Your fiery reputation is well known in the keep and after exchanging glances, the guards step aside. With a deep breath, you burst into the war room where your father and his advisors are already gathered, though they seem to be discussing how juicy a piece of boar meat is, instead of actual war business. They startle at the noise of the door banging, and you stride towards your father with pursed lips and purposeful steps, daring anyone to stop you.

Nobody does.

“Here.” You shove the plate of meat aside –almost dropping it on the floor– and slam the papers in front of your father with a loud bang. “You'll be interested in these, Father.” You watch as he cleans his greasy fingers on his cloak and picks up the parchment, curiosity lighting his eyes.

You have to suppress a grin when his eyes widen and his mouth opens in surprise. “This… how? This information can change the war… it can bring us the support we need. This is vital.”

The advisors look at your father, then at you, also filled with curiosity. “Aye, Father. That information can sway the clans to your side and bring you the numbers you need to finish this. All without me having to marry.”

A triumphant smirk curls the corner of your lips as all the men gathered around the table begin talking with one another, discussing outcomes and probabilities, finally forgetting the food and actually delving into war business. Your father passes the bundle of papers to the advisor on his right and pins you with his stare.

“How did you get these?”

“Remember Eustass Kid?” You can’t help the way your voice softens at the mere mention of him.

“Aye, the sword I hired to protect you. The guard at the entrance reported that he returned yesterday. Was it him?” He seems incredulous.

“Aye. He risked his neck for that.”

Your father scratches his chin, the weight of what Kid did hanging heavily on his shoulders. You’re pretty sure he’s already considering how much gold he can be parted with to compensate him. But you’re about to help him solve that problem.

“I will not marry the laird.” You state. You don’t ask, you simply inform your father of your decision because you know he cannot deny you that, not when he doesn’t need a marriage alliance anymore.

“Fine. I barely know how I convinced you the first time. You’re free, lass, to do whatever you want.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, but you don’t let your nerves show. Not now, when you’re so close. “But I want to marry, Father. Just not him.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he returns his gaze to a paper that wandered back into his hand, looking as though he has more important matters to discuss than your marriage. And he does, and this reminds you of all the headaches you’ve brought upon him, all the troubles you’ve stirred up while growing up. You know you were not an easy daughter, but you know your father loves you, in his own way.

“Who, then?”

“Kid.”

He lifts his eyes from the parchment in front of him to stare you down again. “The hired sword? Not a laird?”

You nod. Your throat suddenly feels too tight to squeeze any words through.

“Impossible. You’re noble, and he’s… not. I was willing to grant you a marriage of your choosing, but I thought you wanted someone of your standing.”

You knew this was coming, so you take a deep, calming breath. “What I want, Father, is someone who fights for me, someone who is willing to go behind enemy lines and risk his neck for me. Someone who loves me so much, that he’d burn down the world for me, if only I asked. He has proven his dedication to me –and to you– a hundred times over.”

“He’s just a mercenary” Your father’s voice rises, and the room stills. “You need a leader by your side! Someone who knows the people and how to lead, not just fight!”

You place your hands on your hips to hide the trembling in them. “I know the people well enough for the both of us. I love the people more than anyone in this room.” Your voice starts to rise with each word. “Gods, I’ve done more for the people and the land than any of you combined! For once, just for once, Father, let someone love me! I deserve to be happy, too!”

Your father stays silent for a moment, his throat bobbing up and down as his thick brows furrow in deep thought. His eyes scan the information laid before him again, as if weighing everything he has and what he’s willing to lose.

“Very well. You can marry him, if that’s what you truly want.”

-*-

You barely make it past the hallway outside the war room before you feel a familiar prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Kid’s waiting for you. He looks better, more like himself, but there’s still weariness in his eyes and a sort of darkness in them that can only come from claiming someone else’s life –and gods know he’s done enough of that for a lifetime.

“Lass, I knew ye’d be with yer da.” His gaze softens, however, when you meet. “Did he call the weddin’ off?” The hope in his voice mirrors the one that fills your heart.

“I’m still marrying.”

“The fuck ye are! He lays one finger in yer direction, and he’s dead. I’ll fuckin’ kill him and his entire clan if I have tae! Fuck! I’ll just grab ye and we’ll run. I dinnae care where–”

“Kid!” You take one step towards him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at the intensity of his feelings. Placing your palms on his heaving chest, you look into his eyes with nothing but love. “You would really burn down the whole world for me, wouldn’t you?”

His hand brushes your cheek gently, a contrast to the beast of a man he is. “Just say the words, lass. I’ll do it.”

“I’m marrying you, you insufferable man. There’s only you.”

He lets out a string of curses in his thick brogue, and you barely understand a word, though you know they’re all directed at you. “Ye wanna kill me. I already knew ye wanted me dead, lass!” Then he weaves his fingers through your hair and pulls you closer, lowering his face until his lips hover over yours. “Damn brat.”

“I love you, Kid.”

“Aye. Me too. Ye’re mine, always.”

“And you’re mine.”

The smile on his lips mirrors your own as they touch again in that soft, gentle dance you’ve come to know as love.

THE END

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