#get swept up again in the rush

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

i've been turning more and more inward about how i'm enjoying harry and how i'm processing the end of tour, but it feels good, for now at least. i celebrated seeing him live so thoroughly that my last time seeing him felt like the end of tour in some way. i don't want to feel like i'm missing out when i'm out with friends, like i will be during his last show, bc in a world without streams i also wouldn't see that show. i've basically been training myself to slow down and appreciate (old) content more, and bask in a show and its content for longer. or be at peace not seeing content from a particular show. bc sometimes i feel nervous about missing something, or i feel myself having fomo for a thing i could not possibly be at. and most especially, i am not missing out, bc i had so many glorious opportunities to see the tour. i'm literally having a diary moment here just analysing my behavior and my feelings about being on tumblr and in the fandom during tour bc it's been a lot but i've loved all of it. i'm so fucking happy (and relieved) i can find ways to enjoy it all in my own pace. this space has changed a lot in the last few years but the way their content hits me personally hasn't changed, unless i let it all overwhelm me and i lose sight of what really matters to me about following them. i think it'll feel great to have a break from harry on tour, and let all of it hit me. to revisit little things that happened. to go through my own photos and videos. to go back to his mvs and dive a little deeper into them, at last. maybe i'm just a little overstimulated and ready for harry to stop bombarding me with content fshdf but the way his music makes me feel and the way his goofy face makes me smile and the way his creativity and presence inspire me every day will clearly always remain, after staying strong through all of this, after all these years. thank you, dear diary, for listening. harry styles forever

[entitled-fangirl]

Sparring.

Jasper Hale x vampire!reader

Summary: As Jasper teaches how to fight the newborns, the reader and Bella talk about her past.

Words: 1,551

Warning: vampire stuff, talk of death, cursing

Author's note: I can't tell if I love it or hate it but here you go anyway!

Masterlist <3

............................................................................

The famous silver jeep of the Cullen’s pulled up as she watched Emmett be thrown into the dirt. 

The entire family turned as Edward and Bella stepped out of the car.

As they walk to the family, so do the wolves. 

Each vampire held to their mate as they watched said wolves come out from the tree line. Soft growls came from their snouts from the obvious smell of vampires.

Jasper held on to her as they did so, his arms around her waist, his chest providing support against her back. 

Edward stepped to Carlisle, “They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.”

Carlisle nodded, “At least they came. That’s enough. Will you translate?”

Carlisle stepped towards the wolves, thanking them for coming before explaining that Jasper would be the teacher in this scenario.

Jasper’s loving mate smiled. She loved sparring as a family.

…

Some time passes and the girl now sits on the hood of the jeep next to Bella. She leans over, “I’ve always found this entertaining. Watching them,  I mean…”

Bella smiled as Emmett flew threw the air once again. “I did have a question, if you don’t mind me asking…?”

The girl nods, anticipating what the human could possibly think of to ask.

“Jasper knows a lot about this kind of thing… I mean… Why is that exactly..?”

His mate shifts slightly, not expecting that question. “Well, Bella. I don’t feel that I’m the one that should tell you. Perhaps you should ask him. It’s… a horrid story, honestly. I’m not sure he’d want it out there, you know?”

Bella nods, “yeah, right. I get it… sorry.”

The girl’s head perks up at the sound of her name being called by Carlisle. “Oh, shit. My turn to go. Watch me, Bells?”

Bella grins, “Of course.”

…

Jasper stood confidently on the dirt ground, his eyes trained on the person in front of him.

His pretty mate. 

She held the same look in her eyes. 

They had sparred many times before. And they were both quite good. He taught her practically everything he knows. 

The entire family gathered around to see how it would play out. Would they go easy on each other? Who would win?

It seemed the two held that look in their eyes as well as they tried to scope the other one’s thoughts.

Then he rushed her. 

They were both incredible to watch as if they were dancing. Their bodies seemed to always know what the other would do, even when changing their fighting style. It seemed the two lovers truly knew each other in and out. 

Eventually she slipped, and Jasper seized his opportunity, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him. 

Pulled against his body, her face was mere inches from him. The tension between the two rose as his gaze fell to her lips. God, he couldn’t resist her even when he was pretending to be her enemy.

And she was no better.

She focused on the feeling of his strong grip, his sturdy fingers wrapped around her seemingly delicate wrist. 

If they were alone, this sparring match would have escalated, like it usually does when they are so. But today, they simply stared at each other. Those who didn’t know them would assume they were calculating what the other might do next, but no. This family knew them quite well. And thank god no one else had Jasper’s gift, or the tension would bring a blush to their cheeks.

She gently leaned forward, their lips brushing. Jasper tilted his head down to receive her soft lips. But they never came.

She swept his leg out from under him, pinning him to the ground as she placed a knee on his chest. 

She leaned down to his face, whispering softly in his ear, “What was that you said? Don’t get distracted?”

He smiled, letting his head fall back against the dirt. 

She would be the death of him. 

And he would love it.

…

The sparring continued the next day as she found herself sitting next to Bella on the hood of the car again.

She watched Jasper as he sparred with an admiring look in her eye. She loved the Major with all her heart. 

Or, what was left of it anyway.

If it still pumped blood, she would be able to feel it beat for him.

“Do you mind if I ask you another question? A different one, this time?”

The girl nods, “Yeah, don’t see why not.” 

Bella looks down at the dirt. “Can I ask what happened to you? How you… how you got here?”

She felt a breath come out of her unused lungs, “Oh. Yeah. ‘Course. It’s… not a pleasant story but any means… are you sure?”

The human nods, “Please. I’m trying to understand you guys better.”

The girl leans back slightly, regaining her bearings. “Alright. Well… I was born in 1941. I uh, grew up in the 50s. Not the best timing, obviously. Do you know much about the ’50’s, Bella?”

The human’s head tilts back and forth in thought, “A little. Civil rights and stuff..?”

“Yeah. Well, the Korean War was in the 50’s. There was this military guy that fell in love with me. And I to him. But… we, uh… how do I say this? He was… we were…?”

Bella leans forward, “…what? Just say it.”

“Well, we were different skin tones. And.. well, I don’t need to say much more. Anyway, there was this other man that decided he liked me. He was pigheaded and awful. I hated him. He tormented me everyday. I finally told him about the man that-“

“-what was his name?”

The girl’s head perked up, “Whose?”

Bella met her eyes, “…the one you loved.”

A deep sigh left the vampire’s lips, “…Johnathan.”

Bella nodded, leaning back again to let the girl continue her story.

“I told the man about… Johnathan and… the man began to tell everyone in town. It became the only thing anyone talked about until eventually…. Eventually...,” the girl’s voice faded out in thought. “…I’m sorry. I haven’t told this story in so long…”

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

“Thank you… uh… the man formed a mob and approached us in the park one day. Johnathan tried to protect me. And he did. Until they… killed him…” the girl stared at the ground, a somber look in her eyes. “…and the man ended up being a vampire… he changed me and… well… yeah.”

Bella nodded, “How did you find Carlisle?”

“Oh. Right. Uh, I was on the run… after I changed. I actually ran into him. Well, he ran into me. He…. He stood to where I would crash into him, so he could talk to me. He knew everything. He took me in. And I met Jasper…”

Her eyes wandered back to Jasper. His sleeves were pulled up, exposing the skin of his forearms, and the scars that resided there. He was so strong. So perfect. Her knight in shining armor. 

Bella noticed the girl’s longing gaze and smiled to herself. “…how did you know he was the one?”

The girl turned back to Bella, “Oh. You just know, Bella. It’s… ugh, it’s this feeling you get in your heart. Like you’ve finally taken a breath after being underwater for years. Like your souls have intertwined and have become one. It’s… strange to put into words…”

Bella nods, “It sounds wonderful.”

She nods too, “Oh, it is. Edward feels that way about you.”

Bella looks up in surprise, “Really?”

She smiles, “Yeah. He told me that the day he met you. Like he couldn’t think around you. You… occupy all of his thoughts. You fascinate him.”

The human grins, “And that’s how Jasper feels?”

“-How I feel about what?”

Jasper had walked up to the two, a grin on his face. He leaned against the car on his side, his arm resting over his girl’s leg. 

His mate smiled, “Perhaps it’s none of your business… girl things…”

Jasper scoffed, “Sure, darlin’. Anything you say.”

Her hand reached up to run it through his hair. 

The three sat in silence for a while before the girl broke it. “I need to go back to the house. Help me down, Jas?”

He stood, reaching his arms out, gripping her waist to help her down. She was vampire. She didn’t need help. And they both knew that. 

Bella scooted forward, “Wait, before you go…?”

The girl turned around in Jasper’s arms. “…Yeah?”

“What happened to him? …To the guy that…”

The girl’s lips pulled up into a smirk. Her head turned slightly to look at Jasper’s face that held the same knowing smirk of his own. “Well, Bella. He… got what he deserved…” 

And with that, she walked away. 

Bella gawked slightly, now focusing on Jasper, hoping he could illuminate on the situation. 

But he continued to grin, watching his girl walk away. 

Eventually, Jasper felt Bella’s confused emotion and turned to her. “I made a vow not to kill after I met her…”

Bella’s eyebrows knitted together, and Jasper’s smirk grew into a grin. 

“…But I fucking killed him.”

And with that, silence overtook the forest as he continued to watch his girl walk away.

.............................................................................

[chevroletdean]

Bean There, Done That

nsfw prompts, send in a character + a number

PAIRING: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Horny!Ben being his own warning, oral (fem receiving), mentions of male receiving oral, unprotected p in v (wrap it), creampie, hickeys and bitemarks and bruises, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk WORD COUNT: 2k PROMPT: 17) seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place A/N: In honor of my coffee machine finally arriving. After 8 days without a proper cup, I can run on bean juice again, hooray! Thanks a ton to the lovely @justwhisperingfantasies for requesting AND betareading <3 <3 <3 CREDIT & LINKS: dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ join the taglist ─〃★ Soldier Boy Masterlist

When Ben woke up, it was thanks to the waft of coffee emitting from the kitchen. Grumbling, he sat up and glanced towards the clock.

10:32 AM

Though that counted as sleeping in, he definitely didn’t get much rest last night. The clothes that were scattered all over the floor were enough proof of that. Among them, a pair of lace panties, torn apart.

Maybe he should feel bad about that one, but all he could muster was a proud smirk as he remembered ripping it off you just a couple of hours ago.

He quickly realized two things were missing from the picture— one being his jersey, which he was sure must’ve ended up somewhere among the pile; and more importantly… you.

Slipping out of bed and into his boxers and robe, Ben followed the trail of freshly brewed arabica. The sight he was met with beat any pirate’s lame treasure hunt.

You were standing at the counter, idly humming to yourself while you cut up a handful of strawberries. With your back facing him, you haven’t noticed him yet.

All the more time for him to appreciate the view.

His sharp eyes wandered up your long, bare legs, stopping briefly at the hem of a familiar shirt. Ah, so that’s where his jersey went.

The material was flowing down your body effortlessly, covering you up to around your upper thighs. He’d be lying if the idea of you wearing nothing underneath to cover the fat of your ass and your pretty pussy didn’t get him half-hard again already.

Baggy as your choice of attire was, it hung loose around your neckline. You’d swept your hair out of the way, into a messy ponytail—one he could already picture grabbing tightly to push your little mouth down his girth, much like last night.

Pink and purple constellations peeked through. Distinct marks, clearly the outline of his teeth.

He stepped closer to your unsuspecting form, hands already twitching to touch you again.

“Morning, sunshine,” Ben hummed at last, the gravel of his voice still raspy and deep from just waking up properly.

Honestly, his brain was still a but foggy, whereas other parts of his body were wide awake in comparison.

You flinched slightly, though your tension eased immediately as your eyes met his over your shoulder.

His smile was easy, his green eyes dropping to the curve of your lips. Even at the morning after he could still vividly remember them stretching over his length, glistening with spit as you had drooled all over his cock.

“What’s the rush today?” Ben asked, whilst his big arms caged you in, one hand on each side of you gripping the edge of the counter. “Didn’t want to stay in bed with me a bit longer, princess?”

“Thought I would make some breakfast,” you replied with a smile that was both shy and cheeky. “Was gonna bring it back to bed.”

He was all muscle and skin behind you, pressing against you until the kitchen counter bit into your hips.

“I think I know what I wanna have for breakfast,” Ben purred. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His teeth grazed your tender skin, teasing the bruises and lovebites until you whimpered softly.

Who knew there was an artist in Ben on top of all that superstrength? How else could one describe the canvas of your skin, littered in hickeys?

Before you even had a chance of reacting, Ben shoved the bowl of fruit out of the way and seized you by the hips.

“Turn ‘round for me, dollface,” he demanded, despite manhandling you into his desired position himself.

He spun you in his arms, then lifted you up with ease, sitting you up on the counter. The cool marble surface was a stark contrast against your warm skin, even more so as your bare cunt brushed against it and you flushed further.

Wasting no more time, Ben’s large hands flew to your thighs and spread you open.

Much like your throat, your inner thighs were plastered in evidence of last night’s escapades. A scan of the red marks at the apex of your thighs would probably run successful, if anyone were to test his damn fingerprints. No wonder, considering how hard he had to grab you yesterday, hold you down so you wouldn’t fly off the mattress thanks to his tongue devouring you.

His cock twitched in to life in his boxers just reminiscing over your taste. Definitely better than any fucking strawberry, much sweeter too.

Yeah, he was definitely right. Only breakfast he was interested in eating up was you.

“No panties, huh?,” he quipped, licking his lips.

You scoffed, though with a grin: “Kinda your fault, remember?”

“Touché, princess,” he chuckled and slipped his fingers beneath your shirt. His shirt. “Guess we’re even then, damn thief.”

“At least you can have it back,” you shrugged playfully, “my panties are gone forever.”

A laugh erupted from Ben then and a spark ignited in his eyes. “Good riddance, if you ask me,” he countered. “Not like you need them anyway, they’d only be in the way. I like you without them just fine.”

As if punctuating his statement, his fingers curled around the underside of your thighs, lifting your legs slightly. He sank down to his knees and pulled you closer, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

And, Christ, you were already glistening, straight up honey for him to enjoy. Always so eager for him, taking whatever he decided to give you like a good girl. That’s what he loved about you. It was addictive.

To your surprise, he started slow—in the beginning, anyway. His lips brushed over the inner of your thigh, almost gently, coaxing a shaky exhale from you and giving you the chance to relax in his grip.

“Thank the Lord for a good fuckin’ meal, or whatever,” he muttered, though he was talking more to himself.

You were only able to cry out weakly as he dove right in, his wet tongue gliding through your folds like he was a man starved. One of your hands shot to his head, fisting his tousled hair as he slurped away.

You moaned his name like it was something holy, although you were his altar he worshipped on his knees.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, briefly kissing your sensitive clit. “Swear, this pussy ‘s better than coffee.”

Your thighs were trembling around his head. Your body honestly still ached from hours of Soldier Boy pounding into you, the smallest touch leaving you sizzling. His stamina was downright cruel and you thought it quite unfair that he was already back to full energy while you struggled to contain your first orgasm.

He had barely touched you, but you were already embarrassingly close to crumbling.

You were sensitive still, which Ben used to his advantage.

He lapped at your core once again, tongue flat against your heat and milking you dry. Just before the tight coil in your lower belly could snap, he pulled back, leaving you all whiny and breathless.

“You know I usually like my coffee black,” he spoke as he rose back to his feet, standing tall between your shaking legs and pulling his boxers down just enough to free his throbbing dick. “But I think I wanna add some cream today.”

Ben guided the tip through your slick a few times, teasing and coating himself in your essence. You bucked your hips to meet his touch, desperate to finally feel him fill you. When he did, you gasped audibly, leaving your mouth open and vulnerable for his kiss.

You blushed tasting yourself on his mouth, still fresh and tangy.

He claimed your lips in a heated kiss, teeth colliding and tongues pressing hungrily. All while thrusting in and out of you relentlessly. He pawed at your hips, your waist, everywhere he could reach. Because what where a couple more fingerprints added to the ones that already decorated you? The evidence of you belonging to him. The more the merrier.

Though you struggled to sit upright, you knew Ben had a good hold on you. Your arms snaked around his neck and he took it upon himself to slip his hands under your ass, lift you off the counter, and carry you back to bed. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around him in the process.

Once there, the two of you collapsed onto the mattress, still a tangle of limbs, neither of you knowing where one body began and the other ended.

Ben pushed you down and slammed into you. Hard. Your back arched, your moans echoing off the bedroom walls. Your neighbors must’ve hated you—first you were robbing them of a peaceful night, now you were at it again, like rabbits.

The drag of his cock against your velvety walls was delicious, stroke for stroke making you see stars and every fiber of you tighten.

Ben’s gaze dropped down to where your bodies were connected, mesmerized by the sight of him sinking into you over and over again. As much as he had to give, you were taking all of it, which never failed to impress him. You always accommodated his size so well, getting stretched inch for inch, as if you were shaped for his cock.

“Christ on a cross, ‘s like you were made for me, huh?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, which was, bluntly put, swiped clear at this point. Fucked stupid, you didn’t have it in you to produce a coherent thought, let alone form a proper sentence. All you felt, all you were at that moment, was the impact of his hips against yours, the pleasure building in your middle.

What a beautiful mess he’d turned you into, eyes glazed over with tears pricking their corners, swollen lips parted yet only able to spill broken moan after broken moan.

When Ben slipped his hand between your lower halves and let his thumb rub tight circles over your clit, you were gone. Shuttering, you almost spasmed under him, convulsing and crying and falling apart right then and there.

You reaching your climax triggered Ben’s own peak, his hips chasing his high in the warmth of your walls. One more thrust and he followed shortly after, stilling his hips and spilling deep within you.

After riding out both of your orgasms, he dropped down next to you. The sweat sticking to his forehead did not dull the glow of his expression whatsoever. He turned to you, as if admiring his artwork. His grin was wide and proud, the white of his teeth nearly blinding you in the best way possible.

“Gotta say, sweetheart,” he declared. “I could start every day with a breakfast like this.”

Your attempt at catching your breath was interrupted by your own soft laughter. That guy was truly insatiable. Not that you’d have it any other way.

“I guess our actual breakfast is long cold now, though,” you huffed, less disappointed and more bemused.

“Here’s a deal for ya,” Ben started with a wink. “I get my jersey back, you get your coffee. Hot.”

With a snort, you shook your head. Not only had you never seen Ben actually operate the coffee machine, ever, you also saw his offer for what it truly was. You knew what would happen if you were so much as lift the hem of that jersey again.

“And, what? Risk myself turning into another round of dessert the second I return your shirt?”

Ben’s proud grin widened, his eyes heavy on you as he scanned you from head to toe, as if assessing the suggestion. He then shrugged playfully. It definitely sounded like a win-win in his book. “What can I say, I might make myself a career as a salesman after all, don’t ya think?”

Soldier Boy (Ben) Taglist:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @angelicjackles @blueschevy @jackles010378 @jollyhunter

@justwhisperingfantasies @ladykitana90

Want to be added to the taglist? Fill out this >FORM< Want to be removed from the taglist? Send a DM Not sure if you're on the taglist? Check here

[kdyq]

A Warrior’s vigil

Ambessa x fem!reader

Context: ambessa takes care of you while your sick

The first sign that your illness came in the form of a soft cough a sound Ambessa would usually dismiss if it weren’t for how it lingered filled by a faint wince.

She turned from the window of your shared grand estate she had been gazing at the distant horizon and fixed her gaze on the source of the sound.

You, her Darling your usual high energy dulled as you’re seated in a velvet chair by the fire. “ You’re unwell..” Ambessa stated her tone leaving no room for denial.

You move your eyes from the fire and glanced up at her “It’s just a cold. Nothing to worry about” you say as your lips curling into a weak smile.

Ambessa stepped forward. Her heavy boots echoing across the stone floor. “ I don’t tolerate lies, especially from you.” She says as she place the back of her hand against your forehead her expression darking front the warmth. “ You have a fever. Go to bed, now.”

“I can mange—“ she cuts you off. “Y/N.” Her voice was a low growl not harsh but commanding “Do not argue with me.”

Within moments Ambessa swept you into your shared bedroom her efficiency t even someone meticulous as her. The silk sheets were freshly changed and the servant went rushing to fetch a physician.

You lay against a mountain of pillows as you watch Ambessa with amused and exhaustion. “You’re resting me as one of your soldiers.” You say

Ambessa raised an eyebrow as she placed a of tea and broth on the nightstand .”If my soldiers had half of your worth I would. Now drink this.”

You chuckled softly our laughter turning into a cough. Ambessa’s jaw tightened as she handed you the steaming hot ginger tea.

The physician arrived swiftly a nervous young woman who avoided Ambessa’s sharp gaze. She examined you under the warrior’s scrutinizing supervision stammering her recommendations for rest and to hydrate before scurrying out.

Ambessa stayed by your side, her usual air of dominance tempered by quiet vigilance. She brought soup, adjusted blankets, and even read aloud from one of your favorite books, though her deep, commanding voice seemed ill suited to the whimsical tale.

“You’re softer than I expected,” you teased her your voice hoarse but playful. Ambessa smirked. “Do not mistake care for softness. I protect what is mine whether from armies or illnesses.” She leaned closer her hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead. “You happen to be mine.”

The days passed, and though your fever subsided Ambessa’s attention never wavered. Even when you began to regain your strength the warrior insisted you rest with no argument.

“Ambessa, I can walk to the garden without fainting,” You protested one morning, your color returned.

“You’ll stay in bed until I say otherwise,” Ambessa replied, crossing her arms over her broad chest.

You sighed dramatically, but her eyes were soft. “You’re insufferable, you know.”

“And you’re reckless. A perfect match.”

When you were finally well enough to move about freely, Ambessa resumed her usual composure, though she still watched you like a hawk.

“You should let me dote on you sometime,” you say as you sat by the fire one evening, her hand brushing against Ambessa’s.

The warrior raised an eyebrow. “Unlikely.” But the faintest smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re lucky I’m patient,” You quipped.

Ambessa leaned in, her voice a low murmur. “And you’re lucky I’ll move mountains for you. Just don’t get sick again. It’s inefficient.”

You laughed, your laughter ringing through the room like music, and Ambessa allowed herself a rare moment of softness, her hand resting gently over your hand.

“THE END”

AN/ : OMGGGG MY FIRST STORY EVERRRR. MORE IS TO COMEEEE I’ve literally really written a lot.

[elssero]

bakugo would be the type of dad who for the life of him cannot say no to his little girl.

k.bakugo

♰ girldad ! bakugo fluff <333

he never imagined himself as a family man, he’d always had the idea that he’d work his ass off for number one and just.. do that forever?

he kept that mindset right up until he met you. pretty little thing with a mouth just as snappy as his and that was all it took for him to be whipped.

to say you swept him of his feet would be an understatement. he physically bumped into you in his agency building and in return you raised your voice at him and told him to watch where the fuck he’s going.

the rest is certainly history, he chases after you and you let him. much to his delight your married a mere 3 years later, laughing at the stupidity of your first meeting.

when discussing children you decide on one for now, bakugo grew up and only child and he quite enjoyed being the center of his parents attention, he only wishes the same for his own.

your pregnant in no time, thanks to his… persistent efforts and he can’t contain the love he has for you as you begin to swell. he completely dotes on you.

your hungry? a three course meal is on its way. your sleepy? he’s carrying you bridal style, laying you down in bed and tucking you in. you deserve only best in his eyes, just as his little girl will.

he doesn’t leave you or the baby’s side for weeks after the birth, your begging him to go back to work at this point because kirishima cannot work another 16 hour shift to cover for him.

he hates every minute he spends away from you, it’s spent grumbling about how he’d much rather be curled up in bed with you. he drops in the charts the first year the child is born but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s coming home to you- his beautiful wife and his pride and joy of a baby girl.

as the kid gets older he starts working full time again, you too go back to work a couple days a week while your child’s at school, he insists that you don’t- he takes good enough care of you right?? but you do it anyway, it’s more for something to do rather than for the income.

now spending more time away from his kid- the time he does spend with her he cherishes every minute, they’re baking cookies, he’s taking her shopping, he’s spoiling her rotten :(.

she feels a little sick and wants to stay off school? suddenly they’re both begging you to let her stay off and when you finally agree- he’s calling into work saying he can’t make it so they can spend the day together.

he helps her with quirk training when she insists she wants to be a hero just like daddy. he cries the first time he hears it, unable to control the surge of joy he feels seeing his kids face looking up at him with admiration.

he takes her into the agency to meet all her favorite pro heros- he sets up play dates with his friends kids so his little angel can grow up around kids her age.

as she grows he makes sure that they never lose their closeness- he promises her that she can tell him anything and she does, she truely the light of his life.

it’s the last year of middle school for his girl when he gets the phone call he’s been dreading for years- she got into a fight today in school, a serious one too it seems and he’s rushing as fast as he possibly can, he doesn’t even take the time to phone you because he’s so worried, he makes a mental note to call you the second he’s out of the place.

he bursts through the door and he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees that she’s okay, infact she’s not ruffed up at all- which only makes him more worried. had his kid been the one to start the fight? his little angel?

the principal explains the situation pretty clearly, the other kid involved admitted that they had been purposely attempting to get under her skin- using his name to do it.

he��s furious of course- but he can’t help overwhelming happiness that bubbles in his throat when he realises this is your first fight- a fight that you had only started to protect his name.

he thanks the principal for his time and escorts his kid out, she’s silent the entire walk back to the car while he fights back a smirk- “are you mad at me?” she looks up at him from her place in the passenger seat and he just bursts into a smile-

“let’s go get some ice cream kid- just don’t tell your mother about this alright?”

[petriwriting]

Falling in love all over again. - Finnick Odair X Reader

Summary: Finnick is with you while you recover in District Thirteen.

A/N: Re-reading the hunger games series and I just love Finnick.. I couldn't resist. Feminine pronouns for reader. Takes place during mockingjay. Reader is rescued from the Capitol.

Angst! Fluff

Your shrieks haunted the halls of the District 13 hospital. Guttural, vile in nature. Finnick found himself rushing to the source of the sounds. while terrified, he pushed forward, disregarding the voices that shouted at him to stop, pushing past the security team that tried to stop his efforts. Finnick was strong, making it through the barricade of people without any serious casualties.

He emerged into the room where you had just woken up from sedation, and his heart ached immensely. The sight of you there, thrashing against your restraints. You looked drained of color, nutrients, and life. Emaciated and with a raspy, hoarse voice, you still shouted, convinced you were going to be tortured again. convinced that the doctors were going to hurt you, that the excruciating pain might never go away.

Finnick stopped himself; security had grabbed his arm and gently urged him to leave the room. The doctors were saying you would need time, which was something Finnick felt he did not have a lot left to spare. He choked, standing there watching you struggle. You hadn't even noticed him, until you did. Your eyes locked onto his.

For a moment you saw something comforting, something real in Finnick's eyes, but the capitol's torture methods took over you, the distorted images of him hurting you came back and your body recoiled. You shrieked louder, thrashing in your restraints, distressed. Finnick felt a piece of him breaking.

"Please, Sir," a strong voice urged.

"She needs space,"

He finally complied with Security's plead to get him to leave, not wanting to cause you any further harm. As they escorted him out of the hall, he choked out sobs, and the hot tears ran down his cheeks.

. . . .

Finnick found himself back by your room, unable to sleep. He had fallen asleep for a short time with his back leaning against the wall by the door, woken suddenly when a doctor had opened it and stepped out into the hall. Finnick quickly swept up onto his feet.

"How is she?" he asked, wanting to barge in there, to see you, hold you, and tell you it was okay. but he didn't want to cause you any distress. He was terrified for your recovery and worried everyday for you after seeing what they'd done to Peeta.

"She is stable." the doctor said, taking a short breathe. "We need you to be patient." he continued. "Recovery will have its ups and downs, and we will do everything we can..."

Finnick's heart raced. The doctor made it seem like you would never come back. "When can I see her?- Can I please just sit with her?" he asked. The doctor gave a sympathetic look.

"In a few hours, when she wakes again, we can allow you visitation."

Finnick nodded, he knew he had to wait, but he still longed for you.

"It's best if both of you are well rested when you visit, " the doctor said, offering a comforting hand to Finnick's shoulder and giving him a squeeze. "I'm staying here." Finnick insisted. The doctor gave a soft sigh. "Very well." he said, nodding at him.

Finnick sat with his back to the same wall by your door all night, softly dozing to sleep for a several hours when exhaustion overtook him.

In the morning, the hustle of the nurses and doctors woke him, and his eyes fluttered open softly. He rose back up to his feet quickly when he heard the faintest calling of his name.

"Finnick," you sounded rough, you had lost your voice almost entirely.

The door slid open, and he stood in the doorway. You came too, fully, your brain feeling unclear. you stared, now conscious looking at the figure. He was unarmed. That's the first thing you noticed. You looked at him in confusion as he cautiously and gently approached you.

He sat by your bedside and looked at you; his sea colored eyes were glazed over, filled with worry and fear. A strange feeling came over you. Finnick said your name so tenderly, so gently, barely above a whisper. Do I know him? did he hurt me? Is this real? you thought. He reached his hand out to set it on your own, but you pulled away and flinched as if he was going to strike you. Finnick pulled away quickly, the movement startling you more.

They had done unthinkable things to you, and it hurt him to know that they had distorted your image of him, that they had taken the sweetest, kindest person you loved and twisted them into some kind of monster. Your memory of Finnick was vague, plagued by images of violence that felt blurry. Deep down he knew that there had to be the same girl he fell in love with somewhere in there.

He took a step back, noticing your distress. "It's okay, you're safe." He said softly. "Who are you!" you spat, anxiety rising in your chest.

"I want to go home!" you shouted.

This alerted the attention of one of the nurses, who came over and administered some kind of medicine. The liquid quickly entered your system, and you dozed back off to being half awake, mumbling and uttering unintelligible words while the nurse checked your vitals.

The nurse turned to Finnick, apologizing.

. . . .

You can hear them coming. Mutts. They stamp onto the arena's grounds furiously, and you are out running them, just barely until they catch up with you are the group. First, they tear apart Peeta, Katniss' shrill cries haunt you, then they devour her, and you turn to see the rest of your friends being attacked by the mutated beasts.

You run, your feet carrying you far enough that you are in a small wooden shack, something that's safer than being out in the open. The beasts rack the walls, beating against the now locked door, as you notice Finnick emerge from the shadows. His eyes are different. he looks cold, sober, and menacing. He lets out a growl and lunges towards you, tackling you to the ground.

His hands hold you down, finding their way to your neck as they begin restricting your airway. His expression is void of emotions. His hands feel cool, and his calloused fingers force bruises on your skin. You struggle against him, begging for your life . . .

After one week of recovery, the nightmares begin to plague you. That was the first of many to come. You woke up with a gasp, desperately trashing and trying to save yourself, Once you realize where you are, you try to rationalize with yourself. You gasp, unable to catch your breath, feeling you neck as if you are hurt, and upon examining yourself, there are no bruises. It had to have been a dream.

Finnick appeared at your bedside, scared to touch you and agitate you more, "Hey, hey," he cooed, his voice was soothing. you felt conflicted, the man in your dreams had eyes devoid of color, and Finnick's were the color of the sea, remaining calm, concerned.

"It was just a dream, you're safe." He said softly.

"You," you managed to rasp out between hyperventilation.

"You tried to hurt me," you said, tears now spilling from your eyes.

"No, love, It was a bad dream. I would never lay a hand on you." he said gently, he was being patient. It was clear to you now that he did not intend to hurt you, because if we was going to he would have tried before the nurses came rushing in to check on your heart monitor that was making a raging beeping noise.

Finnick stood by your side, looking at you with worry.

"You're okay, just try to get some more rest." the nurse said. You nodded, exhaustion once again taking you as you rested your head back against the pillow. Whatever sedatives they had you taking were working well, lulling back into a slumber, hopefully this time without nightmares.

. . . .

After another week you hadn't been sleeping well now relying on the sedatives too heavily, with fear the images from the nightmares would take you out of reality again, each one more painful than the last.

Your eyes fluttered open, nothing too bad this time. The room was dimly lit, it had to be at least midnight. The halls were quiet, your restraints were still there, for your own good, the doctors had said the previous day. You attention was drawn to the gentle snoring of the man sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

You looked at him and a sickly familiar feeling came across your chest. There was something about watching his chest gently rising and falling in his uncomfortable-looking sleeping position that seemed unthreatening.

You gazed at him, a glimpse of a memory surfacing, you could remember him, you couldn't quite place where you were, but you were standing in water and the sensation of the cool lapping waves against your body somehow felt like home. It calmed you. He was there, you recognized him, a vague figure standing with you in the water. No strangulation, no weapons, just standing in the water in his arms. You couldn't tell if that was real or not, but it seemed happy, calming, the first decent memory you had in a long time.

After a while, you warmed up to his presence, watching him sleeping, you were far too weak to do much else. you still hadn't determined if the memory was real or not.

His eyes fluttered open, and he noticed you were awake.

"Hi sweetheart," he said sheepishly with a yawn.

"Did you get some sleep?" he asked you. you reluctantly shook your head. "I can't sleep," you said, your voice was low, still scratchy but a vast improvement from before.

"Do you want me to stay up with you?" he asked. you waited, hesitating for a long time, before nodding honestly. It was nice to have another person near you, even if you weren't entirely sure who they were, you were beginning to see him as a non threat. baby steps.

After another bout of silence, your voice carried across the quiet room. "I can't tell what's real anymore," you confessed. Finnick frowned. "You don't have to right now," he said. "All you should know right now is that you're safe, and I'm here." he said. you felt comforted.

The two of you stayed up for a while, and he stayed up to watch over you as you stared at the ceiling for a while, contemplating everything, before finally feeling relaxed enough to rest again.

. . . .

After that night, you felt more comfortable, and would sometimes laugh at a small joke Finnick would make. You had even warmed up enough to allow him to sit closer to you, and after several weeks, you allowed him to hold your hand. His felt soft and warm, nothing like the memory of his hands you weren't sure you could trust.

One month of treatment and therapy and conditioning. you were starting to feel somewhat like your old self. Somewhat normal, despite your questioning of your own memory. The doctors had helped you work out ways of differentiating your memories from what was real. It was tough. It felt like a daily battle. But at least now you had someone to tell you what was real, and what was not.

Your eyes fluttered open that morning to see Finnick in the chair in by your bed, flipping through the pages of some novel he had found, pretending to read the page, skimming the words but not really reading them. He noticed your gaze and smiled softly.

"Good morning, love." he said in a quiet voice.

"Hi." you said.

Finnick just stared, admiring your beauty, yearning to have you back. He was beyond thankful you were alive and here with him, so now he focusses all his energy on your recovery.

You were lost in your thoughts for a long while. The memory of the two of you in the water kept resurfacing. Bits and pieces came back to you as time passed, now you were able to form a somewhat coherent image.

you were in his arms, on the beach, back home, in District 4. He held you while humming a gentle song in your ear, the waves pushing and pulling against your bodies, gently complementing Finnick's melody. The safe feeling warmed your whole body, and you felt a love surround you. The gentle sea breeze combing through your hair, the smell of the sea flooding your senses...

"Can I ask you a question?" you spoke suddenly. Finnick leaned forward in his chair. "Of course," he said honestly.

"I think," you said, still unsure of the memories.

"I think you loved me."

the words hung in the air softly and fell upon Finnick like a melody.

"That's not quite right," he said. you gazed at him in confusion. "I Love you. still, always," he said. "No matter what happens." he smiled at you, wanting to cry.

"I love you," Finnick said softly, brushing a piece of hair from your face. "That is real." he said. you nodded, this time initiating contact and placing your hand over his. There was a mutual understanding that day.

"Everything is so fuzzy," you begin.

"But I remember being in the sea with you, back home, I think."

Finnick nodded. "Is that real?" you asked him, gazing into his eyes, the same ones from the memory that brought you comfort now, even if you couldn't remember much else or any other context. It came back in fragmented parts. "Yes," Finnick said without hesitation. "I remember it too."

"That was the first time I realized I was in love with you." he said. you took his word for it, why would he lie? "We had just met up when I had come home from the games; we were so young." He continued on, as you listened to his story, eager like a child to hear more.

"You told me you were scared that you'd never see me again, and you were happy I was home." You smiled softly, tears filling your eyes, flooding with a warming, loving feeling. "And I said to you," he stopped himself, smiling softly, tears gently falling from his cheeks. he hesitated, but your memory became a brighter beacon now, and you finished his sentence for him.

"I'll always come home to you."

The words caused Finnick to sob. he nodded, taking your hand and gently caressing your bony hands with his fingers.

"I'm so sorry they took you." he said with a bit of guilt.

"It's not your fault," you whispered gently.

"I thought the Capitol had taken you from me. I almost lost hope." He confessed. you stayed quiet for a moment.

"Finn?" you uttered softly; his heart fluttered when you said his nickname. "Yes, love," he exhaled, wiping his tears away.

"Will you hold me?"

and with that, Finnick situated himself on the bed next to you, close enough he could hear your heartbeat. You laid your head on his chest, that warm feeling flooding over you again. You finally felt safety, comfort and content. You realized you had all you needed.

[xichilie]

i was the one who requested hurt/comfort Brant fic. THANK YOU FOR GRANTING MY REQUEST&FEEDING MY DELULU(≧ᗜ≦) (sorry for bad english huhu T^T)

And I'm here for requesting again! Wdyt abt Brant take care over his spouse who's got very very very drunk, but his spouse who's usually calm&quiet now becomes all flirty and touchy here&there (giving him ton of kisses on his face)? And Brant's response? He's become a COMPLETELY BLUSHING MESS! Head empty bcs how clingy and affectionate she became!

But if you have another scenario let's go with yours! I just wanna see him nervous with red face honestly (sorry /j). That's all! Thank you again pookie! May your Brant&his weapon come early♡!

TOMORROW, OUR BOY WILL FINALLY HAVE HIS BANNER

I wish you and all Brant wanters, Aventurines luck. All brant wanters will be brant havers 😌🤍

_____

Drunk on Love

The fires in Fool’s Elysium burned bright, casting flickering gold across the cavern walls as the Troupe of Fools celebrated another successful performance. The air was thick with laughter, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine swirling between the revelers, and Brant was, as usual, at the center of it all.

“And then, as the guards closed in, I told them, ‘Ah, but gentlemen, surely you wouldn’t lay hands on a humble man of the arts!’” Brant spun dramatically, arms flaring out. “And just as they hesitated—boom! Gone in a puff of smoke!”

The crowd around him erupted in laughter and cheers, toasting his theatrics. Brant grinned, preening under the attention—until something, or rather someone, latched onto him from behind.

Warm arms wrapped around his waist, a face pressed into his back, and a voice—soft but undeniably intoxicated—murmured, “Brant.”

He barely had time to react before Y/N, usually so calm and composed, turned him around and clung to him.

Brant blinked. “Oh.”

Y/N was flushed, her expression dreamily affectionate, her grip firm as she buried her face against his chest.

“…Oh,” Brant repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

He tilted her chin up, gazing down at her with playful curiosity. “Darling, you look like you’ve had quite the generous helping of wine. Enjoying yourself, are we?”

She pouted. “Mmhmm. But you—” She poked his chest. “You talk too much.”

Brant gasped theatrically. “Me? Talk too much? Impossible.”

Y/N squinted at him like she was trying to solve a great mystery, then sighed dramatically. “You’re so pretty,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not fair.”

Brant chuckled. “I can’t say I disagree—”

Before he could finish, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek.

Brant’s brain stuttered.

The surrounding Fools whistled and hooted, but Brant barely heard them. He was too busy trying to process the fact that Y/N—reserved, steady, unshakable Y/N—was pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, moving dangerously close to his mouth.

He stiffened, heat rushing to his face. “Y-Y/N—”

Another kiss, this time right at the corner of his lips.

Brant squeaked.

His usual charm crumbled. He, Brant—smooth talker, silver-tongued rogue, shameless flirt—was suddenly incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Alright, alright, I think someone needs a little fresh air,” he managed, voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Without waiting for her response, he swept her into his arms, ignoring the smug looks and snickers from the others as he carried her toward his quarters.

Y/N only hummed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Brant stumbled.

The journey through the winding tunnels of Fool’s Elysium had never felt so long. By the time he reached his private space—an alcove filled with scattered notes, fabrics, and an absurd number of pillows—his heart was pounding.

He set her down gently, exhaling. “Alright, darling, let’s get you settled—”

But Y/N didn’t let go.

Instead, she tugged him down with surprising strength, pulling him onto the cushions beside her.

Brant let out a very ungraceful sound as he landed, his back hitting the soft bedding, and before he could react, Y/N straddled his lap.

Brant stopped breathing.

She leaned in, her fingers tracing his collarbone before sliding lower, over the fabric of his shirt. “You’re so handsome,” she murmured.

Brant’s brain was gone. Utterly, completely gone.

“Y-Y/N—darling, you—you’re very drunk right now,” he stammered. “I think you should rest—”

She ignored him, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched as she pushed the fabric aside, exposing the faint, intricate glow of his Tacet mark against his skin.

Y/N’s eyes widened in wonder. Gently, reverently, she traced the mark with her fingertips.

Brant whimpered.

No one ever touched his Tacet mark. It was sacred, sensitive, and yet here she was, mapping every line and swirl with delicate fingers. His entire body tensed, his skin burning under her touch.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “If you—keep doing that—I might actually die.”

She giggled. Giggled.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she mused.

Brant let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “Oh, you are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

She beamed at him, and gods, she was beautiful.

Then she kissed his forehead.

His breath caught.

Then his nose.

His heartbeat thundered.

Then both his cheeks, her lips soft and warm, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

Brant shattered.

“Alright, that’s enough, you dangerous woman,” he rasped, his voice uneven. With a dramatic flourish (that was only slightly desperate), he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him.

Y/N gasped, blinking up at him with wide, hazy eyes. “Brant?”

He smirked, though his face was still bright red. “My turn.”

He leaned down—slowly, deliberately—and pressed a single, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Her breath hitched.

Then, with exaggerated care, he kissed her nose.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

Then, finally, finally, he brushed his lips against her cheek, just barely, before pulling back with a triumphant grin.

“How’s that for theatrics, darling?” he teased.

Y/N’s face was scarlet.

Brant chuckled, pleased with himself—until she pulled him down again, burying her face against his chest with a sleepy sigh.

“Warm…” she mumbled. “Stay.”

Brant softened.

He sighed dramatically but wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, but there was no heat behind the words.

Y/N hummed in contentment. Within moments, her breathing slowed, her body relaxed against his, and she drifted into sleep.

Brant lay there for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

“…I am so in love with you,” he muttered to himself, utterly doomed.

And for once, the ever-charming Brant had no idea what to do about it.

Brant had been in many thrilling, perilous situations in his life—performing daring acts on stage, conning pompous nobles, escaping armed guards, even staring down the Dragon of Dirge. But nothing, nothing, had ever left him as utterly helpless as this.

Y/N was clinging to him in her sleep.

Not just loosely holding onto him—oh no—she had wrapped herself around him, arms tucked beneath his coat, face pressed against his chest, and legs tangled with his own. She was warm, impossibly warm, her breath tickling his skin as she sighed contentedly in her slumber.

Brant was losing his mind.

His face was burning, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drumbeat in a grand performance. He had tried—tried—to gently pry her off when he had first realized the situation, but the second he moved, she had whined softly and only held on tighter.

He was doomed.

With an exaggerated sigh, he flopped back onto the cot, staring at the ceiling of his little cavern home. "This is my life now," he murmured to himself, though the complaint held no real weight.

He glanced down at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite his still-racing heart. Her expression was so peaceful, so utterly at ease. It made something deep in his chest ache.

Carefully—so carefully—he let his hand move, brushing along her back in slow, comforting strokes. She sighed again, nuzzling closer. Brant bit his lip, trying to suppress the giddy, ridiculous smile threatening to spread across his face.

"Oh, you’re dangerous," he whispered, shaking his head in amused defeat. "Too dangerous."

But as much as he should be trying to escape, he… didn’t want to.

For all his theatrics, for all his flair and bravado, Brant was a man who had gone years without a true place to belong. He had always been the fool, the outcast, the man who danced on the fringes of society. Yet here she was, clinging to him like he was something precious, like he was safe.

He swallowed hard, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against her back.

Maybe, just this once, he’d allow himself to believe it.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

If this was the price of taking care of her, of having her trust him enough to cling to him even in sleep…

Then he would gladly let himself be tangled in her warmth for as long as she would have him.

[mattsstarlet]

𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ₊˚⊹♡

pornstar!matt and camgirl!reader relax in a hot tub after a long day out.

contains: smut (p in v), cockwarming, slight daddy kink, use of pet names, no appropriate ending.

note: i rushed through this, sorry if it’s half assed.

the warm, bubbling water from the hot tub caressed your skin, sending a wave of relaxation throughout your tired body. matt had an entire day planned out for the both of you, from where to eat breakfast to where to spend the night alone—together. the day required walking, lots of walking, and you being the biggest fan of heeled platforms wasn’t a good idea, so you were thankful when you found out the luxury hotel room that matt rented out also came with a spa.

matt held you tightly against him, his large hands roaming across your body, touching every inch of you as his lips peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder—all while you were sheathing his cock with your warm, needy cunt. 

one of his hands slid up your side, cupping your chin and carefully angling your head to capture your lips in a hot, passionate kiss. you couldn’t help but clench your spongy walls around his length, whining against his lips, inviting his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth.

 a needy whimper followed right after he pulled away just to get a glimpse of you, a string of saliva connecting both of your lips. his hand on your hip squeezed the flesh gently as his eyes traced your features.

“can feel you squeezin’ m’cock, sweet girl. y’wan’ it that bad?” he whispered, his stubble scratching along your jawline, his pink lips brushing all over the sensitive skin, grinning at the sight of your goosebumps. 

a small puff of air left your swollen lips as your wispy lashes fluttered shut, squeezing his cock once again. “pease, just… just fuck me already.” you finally spoke, a hint of desperation and neediness in your tone. 

matt grinned even wider at that, planting his feet on the ceramic floor to buck his hips up, his mushroom tip kissing your cervix. “in here?” he dragged out, his voice shaky, almost as if he were as desperate as you are too.

a tiny gasp swept past you, rolling your head back, resting it against his shoulders. he wasn’t fucking you just yet, but he was already making your brain fuzzy and warm—empty if not, all because you were desperately craving his dick—had been since the minute he picked you up at the start of your day.  “y—yeah, in here. please… daddy.”

the sudden name made matt close his eyes, clenching his jaw tightly, his grip on your hip tightening in a possessive-like manner. opening his eyes, he leaned in once more, his voice low and raspy, his breath hot on your neck. 

“are you really that desperate for cock that you’re callin’ me daddy? hm?”

 your eyes flew open once his hand harshly tugged at the roots of your hair. you didn’t have time to be embarrassed by your sudden bluntness as matt’s cock pumped into you, slowly but surely making sure to hit all the right spots. he was known to be rough and quick; you knew that, but today? today was different.

the hot, steamy water surrounding you both created loud swooshing noises each time his hips came back down. he cupped your tit, playing with the metal bar that intersected through your nipple.

 “mm-hm… daddy’s favorite pussy.” he groaned, lolling his head back, his hand never once leaving your sensitive pebble. he squeezed and pinched while his thrusts remained slow and steady. 

your body shivered each time his tip brushed your sweet spot, whining and moaning like a desperate bitch. “s-so slow…” you breathed out, your eyes falling droopy.

“m’sorry, baby. just… s’makin’ me feel things.” he moaned, adjusting his sitting pattern and hissing at the feeling of your spongy walls gripping onto him. both of his hands held your waist, grinding your hips against him. “yeah, just like that, sweetheart.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

[sjyuns]

NO DOUBT、I LOVE YOU! — ENHYPEN MEMBERS TELLING YOU THAT YOU’RE THE ONE!

hyung line!enhypen x fem reader 1000+ words warning kissing pet names jealousy drinking genre fluff, slightly suggestive mikaela’s note happy comeback! i jumped the moment niki sang the chorus. i got carried away as the members progress haha (jake i want you so bad) | collection

LEE HEESEUNG

The unfamiliar feeling of deep green envy bubbles up your chest and straight into your heart as you stare at your boyfriend — who’s familiar lean figure is nestled between Jay and another girl you’ve yet to get to know. And yet here you are by yourself, swept in coldness by the absence of your boyfriend by your side.

It was the first time you and Heeseung had argued since you got together five months ago — a rather long honeymoon phase. Your teeth gnaw fervently on your lips in slight panic, eyes glued on your boyfriend’s figure, overall too consumed with jealousy to notice his lack of comfort.

Even though Heeseung sits squished between two people, the lack of you makes his heart feel cold. And he notices the way your tongue sweeps over your lips, eyes darting away every time your gaze catches his. It’s too cute the way you’re obviously jealous.

“You jealous, baby?” Heeseung whispers, as he pulls you into an empty room, leaving his friend behind, “no need to be, you’re the only one that I want.”

Your lips part ever so slightly at the sudden confession, and Heeseung takes the chance to pull you in, placing his lips on your pillowy ones — slightly swollen from the constant biting. And the ever familiar feeling of his warmth returns back to your heart where it belongs.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, head dipped down,“I should have listened to you first before jumping into conclusions.” Soft fingertips dance against the skin of your chin as he lifts your head up to kiss you yet again. “I’m sorry baby, I should’ve told you before.”

“I love you.”

PARK JONGSEONG

Your footsteps are hurried as you rush into the nearby pub, eyes scanning around for your boyfriend, only to find him slumped in a corner — eyes half opened, slick backed hair with strands poking out, and tie half undone. His head drooping side to side as his mouth muttered incoherently.

“Thanks for coming, he wouldn’t stop blabbering about you,” Jake said, moving over to give you space to sit next to Jay. He opens his eyes at the arrival of a new touch, cheeks flushed a shade or coral red and eyes glimmering at the sight of you.

“Love,” he speaks out, face housing an uncontrollable, geeky grin as he stares into you, and your heart pumps irregularly in the name of love. “I love you,” he says, fingers tracing your features from your eyes to your lips — and it’s almost like he’s casting a spell the way his touch is so gently intricate.

“I love you, love,” this time he says it more firmly, as if it was a proven fact, something he had known for a long time. And you stare at him, entranced at his very rawness of love, smiling goofily at a side of your boyfriend you don’t see too often.

“Are you not going to say it back?” He frowns, eyebrows furrowed as strands of hair fall back onto his sweaty forehead.

“I love you too.”

SIM JAEYUN

You absolutely regret introducing your friends to Sim Jaeyun with the way they’re clamouring around him, eager to get to know him more — as if you weren’t the one to know him first. His signature styled hair and thick black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on his nose — the very features that lured you in once now irked you to your very core.

“Where did you get the hot nerd from,” your friend squeals, “can you link me up with him? Heard he’s single.” Your jaw clenches, lips tightly shut as you give her a small smile. Your heart eager to correct her yet your mind telling you to slow down, that you and Jake were nothing other than just friends.

“Sorry, think you heard wrong,” an arm swings over your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his, “this one’s got me.” The deep aussie accent puts you into a daze once again as your head swivels over to look at Jake, lips brushing against his face from the lack of space between the two of you.

“Isn’t that right, princess?” He asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. And all you can do is nod as she leaves the both of you alone.

“Jake? We aren’t in a relationship,” you state, head tilted slightly. And Sim Jaeyun has never seen someone as adorable as you look right now.

“Now that everyone thinks we are, we might as well right?” The cheeky glint in his eyes never leaving as his fingers move to tuck strands of hairs behind your ear, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back before moving closer to press his lips onto yours.

“Now that you’ve kissed me, i’m yours forever baby.”

PARK SUNGHOON

Being roommates with the devil’s incarnate might be the harder thing on earth, not to mention how insanely hot he is. The underlying tension and long gazes at each other makes it hard to breathe even in the familiarity of your own house. He invades all your senses — from simple habits of walking around topless to his teasing comments that leave you flustered.

“Leaving so soon?” Sunghoon questions as he steps into the kitchen with you, away from the dining room full of his friends. “Don’t like me that much?” He grins, sharp canine fangs on display.

“Yeah that, and also i’m tired,” you answer back, holding back a yawn of your own. Sunghoon feels his heart sink slightly at the thought of your absence in tonight’s round of gaming — the smile you have when he lets you win. “I’m going to bed now,” you tell him, turning your back around.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss,” he jokes, leaning over the counter, lean muscles on full display under the tank he’s donned. You turn back, face red and flustered at the sudden direct comment — you’ve always thought that Sunghoon was good looking, yet you’ve never really made a move given your relationship as roommates.

“I’m not giving you a goodnight kiss, Hoon,” you lament, tossing the idea of him flirting with you out of your mind. “So you want me to give you a goodnight kiss?” Sunghoon asks, his tone void of any mischief, as his eyes stare into yours with some kind of want.

And suddenly it’s quiet, the muffled laughter from the dining room gone, leaving the two of you in serene tension. Sunghoon’s ring clad fingers dancing against the slight revelation of your waist, cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth between you two.

He bends down to kiss you, and it isn’t a short one off peck — it’s raw and passionate, as if he’s wanted this all his life. And when it finally breaks off, the two of you are left gasping for air.

“I like you,” he says, breathless, “actually I think i might be in love with you.”

This time you pull him into you.

© SJYUNS

[writingoddess1125]

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you. Pt. 3

THROWS OUT FRESH MEAT To YOU ALL "SUPPER IS HERE" Buy me a Ko-Fi ;3

Part 4 <- Click Here

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk xFemreader

Healthy Mix of Angst and Fluff

Buggy

It had been a week since Buggy had given you the talk about taking a 'Vacation with the boys' aka himself taking time away to help you raise the twins-

At first you didn't expect him to actually stick to it- it was a heavy order for anyone especially a pirate. However you had seen him silently preparing for the time off, piles of paperwork how payouts to his crew, budgeting for the time away and more.

It filled your heart in ways you never expected. Feeling joyful at him being so willing to do this for you and the twins. Speaking of the twins, they had been extra rambunctious it seemed. Clearly having enjoyed Buggy's time and attention too much and now that he was working that ment that the crew was at the twins mercy-

You never thought you'd see the day that the crew would miss Buggy's presents especially against two pre-teen boys.

"Miss (Y/N) can you please- Please Take the children" Cabaji said, His eyes sunken in and tired as he held Dee in one Arm and Bee in another. It seemed both had gotten into a fight again and Cabaji was in the middle.

"Of course" You giggle and thank the poor man, Taking your twins in your arms and bring them inside. Scolding both for being brats and getting them washed and fed for the night.

That night a storm rolled in. Rocking the Big Top and its crew inside, You sat there brushing out your boys hair in the Captian's quarters where you lived. The storm had set in thick, rocking the ship and pelting the crew with hail and icy rain. Buggy out on the main deck at the wheel as he yelled over the storm.

"Mom- I don't like the storms..." Dee whispered. Leaning against you as the ship rocked once again- Bee didn't say anything but his body language saying the same.

"I know sweety, but it's part of-"

"ENEMY SHIP ENEMY SHIP! ALL HANDS ON DECK!!" The announcement started from the speakers, you rising to your feet quickly as you heard the battle started.

"Boys you stay here and hide, Understand me?" You order, the twins nod quickly and do as said and hide under the bed. You grab a sword quickly and rush out the room, Locking it behind you with the key Buggy had given you.

You hold the sword as you see the first face of the enemy pirates rush down to the Lower Deck, Slicing through them with ease and continued up to the Main Deck Locking the door of the Lower Deck and rushing forward as more pirates approached you, You quickly defended yourself as you tried to stay close to the main doors. The rain pelting your skin and making it hard to see, A larger man approached with a axe. Swinging down he almost struck you as you slipped and managed to move away just in time.

"(Y/N)!!!"

Buggy yelled as he released his arms launching blades into the man's chest and knocking him back. As his arms returned to him a massive wave hit- Sending ocean water over the main deck, you saw this as the crash swept Buggy from the wheel. Running forward you grabbed Buggy sleeve and pulled him before he could be claimed by the rough waters, holding the wheel to keep from slipping.

Once the ship started to lean you pulled Buggy closer. Feeling his cough and regain his breath against you before climbing back up to the wheel to steady the rocking ship.

You saw the other shop fire more canons but the waves making them miss and fall short of the ship- The crew of the rival pirates starting to creak and splinter as the waves crashed against it.

"Retreat!!" A call of a rival pirate yelled, the temaing of their men trying to flee to the ship as the waves hit it. As the Ropes connecting the ships ripped Buggy turned hard, The backside of the ship smacking its offender as he tried to ride down the waves to clearer waters. Another massive wave came up and knocked the ship to its side, The Big Top groaning at the hit as it rode down the mountain of waves desperately.

You looked back to see the other ship heading into the opposite direction, the waves swallowing it from your perspective.

It was another 30 minutes before the storm softened enough to not be in danger. The crew both exhausted from the battle and storm it seemed, bodies of friend and foe being tossed overboard as the spinkle of rain washed the blood.

"You did good (Y/N).. Thank you" Buggy said softly, looking to you from the wheel of the ship. He looked rough- Soskes to the bone with his makeup running down his face.

"Of course" You said softly and giving him a equally tired smile.

"Captian! They got into the lower deck while the fight was happening!" Cabaji yelled out- Taking note of the damage that had been done. Your blood ran cold- Rushing from Buggy's side you ran down the stairs to the lower level, looking and seeing blood of a few fallen crewmates in the hall. Rushing to the Captian's quarters were you saw the splintered wood of the broken door, tears running down your cheeks as you felt your heart actually break. You frantically looked around- Sword still in hand as you stood in the room, it was destroyed. Blade slices through the pillows, furniture turned over.

"No- No No NO!" You screamed loudly, the reality hitting your chest making you scream out a sob.

Buggy rushed downstairs, seeing the splintered door and you sitting on the destroyed bedroom floor sobbing loudly. He ran to your side as his eyes frantically searching the envirment with the same fear as you.

"They are gone!" You sobbed, Buggy face turning to stone as he stood up- Tossing around the broken furniture and items in the room desperate to find evidence of them.

"FUCK!" He roared, anger filling his soul. He turned to your sobbing form and grabbed you by your shoulders- He looked like he wanted to scream at you but instead pulled you to his chest.

"We'll find them- There isn't any blood so they are alive" He said, it sounded like he was speaking more to himself then you.

"We'll Find them"

Shanks

It seemed Shanks had not been in Times good Graces. Not at all- What had expected to be a 6 month long Mission had been extended- drastically.

7 Years- 7 Years has Shanks been out to sea. From being turned into a Emperor of a sea, seeing the future of pirating and the slow steady crumble of the Goverment. Shanks had been stuck- but that didn't matter.. It was over at least for now-

Shanks felt his heart jumping as he saw the coast of the small village.

You stare at him shocked, before your face fell in a mixture of anger, sadness and some relief.

"You're back..." Was all you could mutter, Shanks surprised by your coldness. Awkwardly shifting on his feet.

"Well yeah! Of course I am! I came here to see You and Vivian" He said enthusiastically, you winced at his words and sighed.

Shanks feeling off about your attitude towards him- You gestured for him to follow you which he obediently did. Sitting at the dining room table

"Shanks I'm going to be honest with you- Vivian is not going to be very welcoming to you"

Shanks felt like you had just dumped cold water on him at saying this.

"What? No of course she will! I know it's been a while but I love her (Y/N) and she was my little gir-"

"For a few weeks... but that was years ago.. when she was 4 years old- Shes 11 and sees you as the dad that just packed up and left-" You said bluntly which made him bristle at the harsh words.

Shanks was ready to start in to argue till he heard the door open.

"Mom I'm home!" The sweetest voice he had ever heard called out to him. His eyes widened at this standing from his seat as he watched Vi make a appearance. In her school clothes still she had her hair in a ponytail and looked a bit scrapped up like she had been playing outside.

"Vivian" Shanks said softly, She turned her gaze to him and froze. Looking him up and down at first in shock- before her face scrunched up in a angry scowl. Adjusting her backpack she walked upstairs ignoring Shanks open arms as he stood there frozen in place.

"What the hell was that!?" He cried in shock as he turned back to you, you shrugged.

"I told you-"

Shanks stared at you in shock st this, before dashing out the back door in lightning speed. After 30 minutes he returned with a armful of gifts and marched upstairs to drop them off at her door. You knowing this wasn't going to fair well and offered him the guest room just like before.

Shanks had bought every gift he could think of- Every toy, outfit and more. All were refused and left back on his guest bed, The most he received was a cold glare from Vivian before she left the house for school or to do something away from home.

It had been 3 weeks already of Vivian giving him the cold shoulder or just being angry at him- He sat at your dining room table staring at the glass of rum he had barely sipped. Watching the liquid just float.

"When did she start hating me?..." He muttered, Hearing you chopping vegetables for dinner. You paused for a brief moment and sighed

"3 years after you left..." You admit, sliding the cut up carrot into the pot. Shanks laid his head on the table and watched you quietly, Clearly wanting you to continue.

"She waited for you. Everyday for those three years sitting on the docks... watching the horizon for you to return- and you never did... I guess finally her spirit broke and she resented you" Shanks winced at your words and rotated his face towards the wood.

He was silent for a while, before shifting up to his feet. Trying to Shank off the coming depression.

"I'll be back" He said softly, dismissing himself. His mind was racing with everything he could do, what he should have down and more. Sighing heavily as he walked towards the main town, but the sound of children caught his ear.

Following the sound he turned a corner to see a group of kids- at first he assumed they were playing till he saw a hair for a red hair and a busted up face. There stood Vivian, Her lip busted and eye starting to swell as she tried to scrap back against 4 other kids at once.

"Your Mom's a pirate whore!" A purple haired boy shouted as he pushed Vivian again, Her back hitting a trees but she stood once more.

"Don't talk about my Mom!" She screamed before punching the boy in the nose, He yelled out in pain as the other 3 kids began to jump her once more.

But before contact could be made all three were hiked up in the air by the back of their clothes. A awful feeling washing through them as this heavy pressure began to weigh on them-

Vivian looked up, seeing the ringleader standing to the side looked terrified as his 3 lackys were held up-

He looked like a demon to them all, his eyes practically glowing as he glared at the four children.

"4 little shits- wanting to jump my little girl- So ill say this now... You all better Fuck Off" The kids instantly began to cry, rhe ringleader wetting his pants and running away from the group. Shanks dropped the three and watched them scramble and run away as well. Vivian sitting on the ground still staring up at her father in awe, before trying to snap back to her irritation from before- Shanks reaching down and helping her up. But she refused him and stood on her own- Shanks sighed at this.

"Vivian- I know you want to keep ignoring me. But we need to talk" He said calmly, finally putting his foot down it seemed.

"Vi-" He said calmly as he grabbed her arm quickly before she could leave. She tried to pull his hands off angrily, Angry tears already welling up in her eyes.

"There is nothing to talk about!" She protested but Shanks didn't release his grip.

"You're mad at me I was gone so l-" She glared up at him, now tears filling her gaze and spill from her cheeks.

"I'm mad you left me!! I finally got a dad and you left me! You didn't want me anymore so you forgot about me!!" She screamed up at him, Shanks gently releasing his hand from her as he watched her.

Shanks slowly moved his cloak to the side revealing his blade, carefully with one hand undoing the tattered green ribbon and holding it out to Vivian. Her eyes widening at seeing it, and how despite the years he had held on to the old thing.

"...I never forgot you.. And I swear I never wanted to leave you Baby girl..."

"But you did!" She sobbed, fat tears rolling down her cheek. He nodded, tears running down his own cheeks reached around her neck and pulling up a chain. It was the Coin of his Jolly Roger- hung around her neck this whole time. She crutched it in her fist angrily.

"I didn't want them to find you... to hurt you or your mother- S-So this was the best to protect you" He admitted through broken cries. Vivian stared at him Biting her lip in what was assumed in anger before she left forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Shanks sobbed in what could only be described as relief and fell to his knees. Wrapping his arm around her quickly, kissing the top of her head and face.

"I missed you so much- I thought of you everyday" He sobbed, holding his daughter close as she sobbed against him.

"Don't leave me again Dad... Please" She managed to choke out inbetween cries. Shanks nodding at her words as he held her tighter.

"I will never do it again... ever"

Mihawk

Mihawk had seemed to at least temporarily take residence in your tiny home for the past month. Having taken the couch to rest at night but spent quite a bit of time with both you and Alucare- you had grown uses to Mihawk presents in your home. It reminding you of a sort of family even if you and Mihawk weren't together.

You felt Mihawk gaze on you as you moved around the kitchen, he seemed to enjoy watching you. More precisely your hips- You felt warmth hit your cheeks as you continued to make breakfast. You open up the cabinets to grab the plates, which were a bit too high up for you. You jumped once but before you could do much else you felt a hand land on the small of your back and a presents behind you. Glancing up you see Mihawk grabbing the plates for you, you blush and accept the plates as he hands to you.

"Thank you Mihawk"

"No need to thank me (Y/N)" He said softly, a hint of a smile on his lips as he met your gaze. As you opened your mouth to say something sjddently a butterknife flew through the air and stuck in the wood 3 inches from Mihawk's face making both of you jump in surprise and you squeak out a hushed scream. Turning to see Alucare, still in his sleeping clothes hair a mess and sleep in his gaze staring at you two.

"Oops My hand slipped-"

You sighed at your son and place your hand on your hips walking towards him.

"We both know damn well that was no accident Alucare!" You scolded your son who stood there calming taking it, His eyes locked onto Mihawk who glared at the boy with vengeance.

After 30 minutes of being scolded you ordered Aluecare to get ready for the day as you finished breakfast. Mihawk instead going out to the grove of trees were he knew Alucare would come to train before heading to school- On cue Alucare made an appearance and smirked at the clearly grumpy man sharpening his sword.

"Blue Balls?-" Alucare chimed, earning another frightful glare from the Warlord.

"So you are doing it on purpose-" Mihawk grumbled, continuing to sharpen the blade and stare at his spawn.

"Doing what?" the teen chimed crossing his arms with a continued stoic face.

"She was a date of mine long before she was your mother-" Mihawk brought up, pointing a finger in the direction of the house were you where.

"Ah yes Im sure that alleyway is a great dating spot" He deadpanned which made Mihawk close his mouth in a firm line. Standing up and putting his sword away.

"If you keep this up lad- you will not like me"

"I barely tolerate you now-" Alucare said with a raised eyebrow and scoffed as Mihawk smirked at him. Standing up with a nod.

"I'm warning you now boy- My only warning" He said before dismissing himself back inside.

Alucare left for school then, still with Mihawks words in mind.

That day Mihawk accompanied you with your daily errands. Getting groceries, clothes and more. You and him talk throughout the day, Blushing at his flirtatious manner for the day.

Once returned back home Mihawk had his hand on your hip as you served him wine. A pink color to your cheeks as you felt his hand upon you.

"You look really lovely (Y/N)... I'm am pleased i-" He was cut off by a loud cough, turning to see Alucare there with his face wrinkled in absolute disgust.

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at Alucare who had just interrupted him-

"Aren't you suppose to be in school?" He started as he stared at the living clone of him. Watching Alucare cross his arms and swagger to the side. You looked to the side embrassed by being caught like this, dismissing yourself quickly upstairs.

"I finished early- Just like you" Alucare said with a sarcastic smirk clearly teasing him, The Warlord glaring at his own spawn for the quip at him.

"....Did your mother teach you this level of disrespect?-" Mihawk started, as he stood up from his seat.

"Call it an inherited skill" He said calmly, watching the Warlord walk to him and stand before him. Silence falling between the two before Mihawk dismissed himself to the livingroom.

The game was set it seemed.

Alucare kept his guard up for days afterwards, seeing how calm Mihawk had been since he had cockblocked him once again. Being incredibly respectful to you and damn near kind to Alucare, at first he had been incredibly suspicious however after day 4 he had grown used to it.. That was his mistake.

You had been cleaning up something in the livinroom, you had noticed Mihawks attitude had cooled with you quite a bit. Worried you may have offended him in some way however you choose not to dwell on such things.

As you cleaned you felt a presents come behind you- it didn't take a genius to guess who. Turning to see Mihawk, seemingly fresh from the shower as he was simply in trousers and warm from the water. You blushed and turned away once more, feeling his hands on the small of your back first.

"(Y/N).." He started, his other hand finding yours as he moved the two of you in a gently sway with your back against his chest. Your resolve utterly breaking at this point.

"I feel like, I've neglected you in some way" He says softly, his lips drifting down your neck as you. You feeling weak to the knees as he did this, his fingers finding their way to your waist pulling you closer.

It was an hour before Alucare returned home, bag slung over his shoulder as walking into his home, about to call out like he normally did till be saw it-

There laid you and Mihawk clearly naked under some of the thinnest goddammit blankets in the house on the livingroom couch.

"AH FUCKING HELL!"

You heard a yell and sat up from the couch with the blanket pulled up to your bust. Seeing Alucare with a look of what can only be described as pure horror on what he was seeing his parents like this-

"O-Oh gods honey! What are you doing back so early!" You scramble red in the face as Mihawk lays there under the blankets, looking right at his son with a low smirk.

"You prick!" Alucare yelled at his father as he walked out again, wishing to burn his eyes out from what he saw. Hearing the low chuckle from his father behind him and you frantically scolding Mihawk.

He had won-

TAG LIST-

@lunanight1021 @lolavegas20 @cuteastrash @thatcharmingmushroom @marsilis @thesadvampire @amecchii @zaphira-san @matronofthevoid @mothmans-left-nipple @hoe4fiction @manyimaginativemuses @alyholmes02 @arianyo @chaoticpercy-jacksonkid @lansy-4 @skeetyeetyote @untoldshortsofthefandoms @dank-memes19

[writtenbythemoonandstars]

The festival

Content Warning: This scene contains depictions of gun violence, a mass shooting, medical trauma, injury descriptions, character death, and emotional distress. Read with care!

In the midst of the tragic mass shooting, ER doctor Robby fights to save lives—unaware that the love of his life is among the wounded. 

1.2k words

To say Robby thought he'd ever find himself sleeping under a hot pink duvet in a room that smells like vanilla and strawberries he'd probably run a head CT for possible trauma. But here he is trying to pull the owner of said sheets back into bed as she giggles. Wearing nothing but the shirt he's missing. 

"Do you really have to go?" He asks, pushing his face into her hair, kissing across towards her chin. 

"Yes." She replies. "And you have to go save lives." Turning and kissing his lips. "I'll see you later? For Pittfest?" 

"Ah… I forgot to tell you." Robby sighs, looking apologetic as he sits up a little causing the duvet to reveal his bare chest. "Jake is taking some new girl he met at school." He kisses the pout off her lips. "Why don't you just stay home? I'll be off by seven. We can get take out… a bath…" His hands running slowly up and down her arm. She looks tempted to say yes but then sighs and shakes her head.

"I can't. I'm working it." It's her first big gig. Years of building a big enough social media rapport to get a deal for an event as big as Pittfest. "But call me whenever you have a few seconds." She smiles. One last kiss before she gets up to get dressed. 

When he knows Nick Bradley is braindead he calls but it goes to voicemail. A text follows, "Sorry. My partner flaked." with a sad face emoji following. "call later!" and a heart. 

When they lose the little girl who'd drowned trying to save her sister he gets another voicemail. No text follows this time. 

But an hour later, "so sorry babe, it's chaotic out here. I'll call you in 15." She never does. 

After he talks to Heather and she all but tells him he could have been a father years ago he sends her a text to call when she has a chance. 

This day… He's so glad it's almost over. 

Until it's not. 

He feels like the ground has been pulled out from under him when there's news of a shooter at the festival.

He calls. No answer. He calls again. Nothing.

Robby forces himself to work. He has to. Slapping yellow, pink, red… black bracelets on countless victims.

But none of them her. 

It feels like a lull in the ER which can only mean the worst in this situation when a truck pulls in to the ambulance bay. It's Jake. And Leah. "Jake." His voice loud. Sharp. He's quick to be by Jake's side. 

"Robby! Leah got shot. It's really bad-" His voice cuts off with a sob. "I've been putting pressure on it the whole time. She was talking just a minute ago-"

"That's good." He nods. Robby and a few other doctors help them out and into the ER. He tries to ask Jake if he'd seen his girl but then he's swept up in trying to save Leah and make sure Jake gets checked out. 

It's Jack Abbott that's out in the ambulance bay waiting for more people when he spots a woman walking-- limping--  with her hand pressed tightly to her shirt. Maybe if she wasn't covered in blood maybe he would have recognized who it was sooner. "You shot?" He rushes up. She walking so that's a good sign for now. Yellow bracelet. 

The woman nods. Jack gently removes her hand, it's just barely grazed though will need stitches. "Come on. I got you. You're safe." 

Robby is too busy giving CPR to Leah he doesn’t see the love of his life covered in her own blood walking right past him. Though she seems to out of it to notice he's right there either. 

Jack helps her into a chair. "I- Is Mic- Dr. R-Robby here?" He looks up at Jack. And that's when he recognizes her. His eyes widen. 

"I'll get him as soon as I'm done." Jack nods once. 

The only reply he gets is a distant look over his shoulder. 

"You're safe now." His words firm. He knows she probably can't even hear him but he knows this kind of trauma. 

"I saw him." Her voice haunting. Something he'll never forget. "He was as close as you are to me. His gun-" She chokes on her words. Jack finishes her stitches quickly. "I saw so many people-" Tears mixing with the blood on her face. 

Jack is not equipped for the emotional kind of procedures he knows only Robby can provide for her. A gentle hand on her shoulder and a sad smile before he's rushing out of the room.

Dana giving him a look, begging for his help. Leah's gone… 

"Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl-" Giving his colleague and old friend the morbid speech that finally gets him to stop. "Trauma 2." His voice right in Robby's ear, cutting off the guilt filling his body. "She's okay?" 

"Define okay?" Jack tilts his head. "Just a graze to the shoulder. Already stitched up." 

"I'll talk to Jake." Dana supplies for him. 

That's all Robby needs before he's running down the hall. Shucking his PPE and gloves off. 

There's mascara running down her cheeks. The light blue glitter he'd watched her meticulously spread across her eyelids mixed with the blood all over. Her blood. 

She's sobbing as soon as she sees him. Her face tightly against his chest as the relief floods the room. She's alive. Robby tilts her face up towards him. Carefully rubbing the tears, makeup, and blood across her face. "I love you." He whispers. "I'm so sorry." 

Which only brings more tears down her face. "I was so scared." She whimpers. "He- he was right in front of me." She shakes her head. "His gun it-" Robby tugs her face back to his chest. His hug fierce. 

"Let me clean you up?" He gets a nod in response. 

Despite the chaos and more victims along with the residents and med students that need his help he needs this moment with her. A washcloth is wiped carefully across her cheeks. Revealing the bare pretty face he knows. The one that shouldn't be covered in blood. 

"Is Jake okay?" Even in her worst state she always caring about everyone else first. A kiss is pressed to her forehead. "Yeah, baby, he's okay." 

"And the girl?" A shake of his head and the sad look on his face quiets her. 

"When everything happened I- I tried to find him but I-" Robby shakes his head. "In that situation you do what you have to and you survived. That's all that matters." 

She nods. Sniffling.

"I've still gotta help-" As much as it pains him to leave her alone now he has to finish his job. "I understand," waving him off and he'll never understand what he did to deserve her. "Go up to the family room. I'll come find you after."

"Could I borrow your phone? So I can call my mom?" She asks before he leaves. 

He nods, pulling it out. "Not sure if it'll have much service but you can try. You may have better luck with the landline." He frowns. Wishing there was more he could do.

His hands are back on her face. Gently holding around the back of her neck. Pushing her hair back. "I love you." Because Robby just has to say it again. 

"I love you." The whispered response comes. 

---

Hey! It seemed like a lot of people liked the last story I wrote for Robby on here so I pumped out another. This is also unedited...

And like my last work I used she/ her pronouns and 3rd person pov but I used no names and less physical descriptions so you could imagine yourself if you wanted to.

I do have another work nearly finished that is much lighter than these last two that I can post soon as well. Hope you enjoy!

[cinnamanz]

# HEAD OVER HEELS .ᐟ — yu jimin

pairing — yu jimin x female reader

after most of her relationships ending up in heartbreak, jimin foolishly swore to never fall in love again. you, of course, just had to charm her.

"god, what the fuck am i doing here?" truly, jimin didn't know how she got here, getting dragged out of her bed and thrown in minjeong's back seat like some modern day kidnapping. “of all places?”

minjeong only sends her a small smile, eyes flitting over to where the school's volleyball team warmed up before the last match of the regionals. "you needed to get out of bed. thank me later."

jimin rolls her eyes as ningning and aeri arrive with popcorn in hand, passing them to a beaming minjeong along with her wallet. "oh, you're here! what a miracle!"

"oh, please." jimin shrugs off a laughing aeri, while ningning scans the older's outfit, baggy sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, along with her glasses and hair pulled up into a messy bun.

ningning clears her throat. "so... how- how are you dealing with all... this?" the break-up was recent, a mere two days ago, and clearly, jimin wasn’t taking it well. everyone around her treaded carefully with the situation and handled it like a fragile piece of glass, and she’d had enough.

“shit. but i— ugh, i don’t want to talk about it right now.” jimin responded, noting how the court in front of her was the finals game of the volleyball season, the famed university they went to playing against their notorious rival. “let’s just watch this. that’s why you brought me here.”

minjeong nodded in understanding, though the rest of the girls seemed concerned and stared at her for about a few seconds before following suit, ningning already reaching in the bowl of popcorn in her hand, before passing it along. “who do you think’s going to win?”

minjeong hummed as she grabbed a handful of popcorn while aeri scrolled through her phone, snapping a quick photo of the court and posting it on her story. “i think we’ve got this in the bag. we did well throughout the season.”

“mm, but we’re talking about—” as the two droned on about volleyball, jimin couldn’t help but be zoned in on the player with her hair up into a ponytail, swept back tightly as the ball between her hands spun and was sent flying through the air and across the other side of the court, a loud bang echoong in the gym.

“hey, who is that?” the words have left her mouth before she could fully realise that she’d stood up from her seat and leaned over the railing, peering down at the player.

“hm? oh, her?” a small smile stretched itself across minjeong’s lips. “that’s y/n kim. vice captain of the volleyball team and right-side hitter. she’s got a mean right arm.”

“huh.”

“why, interested in her?” aeri’s voice pipes up as her eyes raked over jimin’s figure that leant over the railing, looking wholly interested in the warm-up session. “i’ll give it to you, jimin. you’ve got great taste. but… y/n, hmm, how do i put this? y/n is kind of your cliché jock. she’s real sweet though.”

ningning’s lips puckered into an ‘o’ shape, fingers snapping. “oh, right! you had that month long situationship!”

jimin raised a brow. “you did? how come i’m only hearing about this now?”

ningning flashes a sheepish smile. “well, we kind of were keeping it in the down-low.” god, this was interesting. but jimin would rather die than admit that she’d found ningning’s situationship with you (who she thinks is quite attractive) morbidly intriguiing. the girl’s had a lot of them, so why should the one with you be any different?

“see, the whole time we were talking—”

“heads!”

oh, shit.

pacing in front of the nurse’s office with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the nurse’s ice pack pressed on the back of jimin’s head. god, you did damage.

“i am so, so, sorry. i didn’t mean to hit you, nor did i know that the ball was going to bounce off the floor too hard and hit you on the back of your head.” you’d rushed out in a breath, all panicked and— it’s kinda cute.

“it’s fine.” jimin had dismissed your words like it was nothing, which it probably was or she was just so sick of your antsy behaviour and the hit on her head had taken a massive toll on her that she wasn’t bothered at all to do anything about the forming lump on her skin. ouch.

“really. calm down.” god, who knew that when minjeong had dragged her out of the house and flung her into her backseat that she’d end up sitting in the nurse’s office longer than she’d stayed at the gym.

“i’m just— this has never happened before and i feel so bad because it looked like it hurt and—”

“—y/n, calm down. i’m fine. you need to take deep breaths.” what was meant to be a simple statement ended up with the other girl obeying, earning a raised brow from her. why are you obedient? it was odd, or maybe she’s just been around too much distasteful mem that such a simple action made her heart warm.

“i’ll stay here with you until you’re feeling better.” you’d mumbled after taking deep breaths, pulling up a chair and sitting near the edge of the chair.

“what? you’re going to miss the game! and it’s against our rival school—”

“— it’s fine. i’d rather look after someone i injured than play against those egotistical bastards.” your eyes are sparkling and oh my god why do you look like a golden retriever? no wonder aeri had interest in you.

she huffs. “fine. have it your way.”

your team ended up losing that night by just a smidge. though, on the bright side, you got a pretty girl’s number!

“this is the third time this week.”

“maybe she likes you.”

“or she feels bad about hurting you?”

“no, i think it’s because she likes jimin.”

“guys, please.” jimin raises a hand to quiet to girls, shoving the chocolate box and flowers in her bag as she slammed her locker shut, hastily speedwalking down the hallway.

“hey— jimin, wait up!” the three struggled to keep up with jimin’s pace, who was seemingly eager to get out of school the moment the bell rang, feet gliding across the polished floors like a woman on a mission. which she was, in a way.

“why are you walking so fast—”

oh, you’re there. oh god, you’re there.

you leant on the side of your motorcycle, looking like every other walking toxic red flags yet something from the way you’d perked up upon seeing her enter your line of vision made you a whole lot distinguishable from the rest.

“jimin!” oh, god. oh, hell no. god, you smell good. wait, you’re right in front of her?! “care for a ride?” and how is she supposed to say no to that?

you’d been driving around for twenty minutes now, her arm still wound tightly around your waist as she pressed her body against your back, heart pounding harshly against her ribcage and she couldn’t differentiate if it was from the fast pace that you’re cruising the highway on or from the lack of promixity between your bodies.

after what seemed like ages, you’d come to a slow stop and her arms slowly unravelled around your mid-section, standing on wobbly legs as she struggled to hold in the puke from the fast speed. oh god, jimin. keep it in.

she was too busy trying to keep her lunch in her stomach that she’d failed to notice you setting up a picnic under the tree that overlooked the hill they were on, shooting her an oh-so-sweet smile that she’d flopped onto the fabric like a fish out of water.

god, the view was gorgeous. “uh, i brought you here because i still feel bad about hitting you with that volleyball.” you don’t really beat about the bush, huh? “and i was hoping that bringing you here and asking if i could continue to keep giving you flowers and chocolates would make up for that night?”

jimin blinks, the situation all too sudden yet somehow exhilarating with the way you were practically *fussing* over her while she’s too busy flushing and struggling to get ahold of her shit. “i, uh, sure.”

“great!” there’s that smile.

days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and oh, before jimin knew it, she’s horribly head over heels for you. no wonder you attracted so many people. you were so incredibly addicting that once she got a taste, she couldn’t get enough.

fuck. no, no, no, no. she can’t fall in love again. no, it’ll just end up like last time. no, but you’re so sweet, and nice, and caring— but the last guys were like you too. the only difference is, you’re not a guy. you’re not some foolish guy who’ll play around with her feelings and give her false hope. you’re actually considerate, and you actually care about what she thinks, and you actually put her first for once in her life.

god, this is quite literally the bare minimum and, what the fuck is that beeping?

jimin heaves a deep gasp and wakes up, body taut as she sat up hastily on the bed, space empty beside her, wide eyes blinking as she was left to simmer in silence before tears built up in her eyes and oh, she’s crying. were you all just a dream?

the door creaks open and you walked in, dressed in the baggy pyjama she’d bought you a few months ago for your birthday, your lips parting for a yawn that was interrupted upon seeing her figure swaddled in blankets that stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights, tears drying just a bit. “jimin?”

you were here. you were here with her, with your arms wrapped around her body and comforting her, whispering the sweetest of nonsense as she melted against you. christ, she’s horribly head over heels.

guys i'm not gna lie to yall rn but idek what this oneshot what supposed to be. i js like of sat on the couch and js started typing whatever came to mind.

masterlist.

[parkerslatte]

Clouded | Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: blood and injury. mentions of torture. beron in general.

Summary: Y/N works as a servant in the Forest House when an unfortunate encounter with Eris leaves her without her job with no valid reason. When she is at her small house, Eris shows up covered in blood. Truths Y/N has wanted to know for years come to light.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

•••

Y/N tried to carry herself with as much grace as she could muster. At least if she looked like she belonged, people would respect her more. Her servant clothes were ratty and torn, Beron had no care in the world to use his money to supply the servants who weren’t typically seen around the Forest House in a lavish uniform. The only reason Y/N was walking around the house was because her friend had gotten sick so Y/N took on her duties as well as her own. 

The hall was empty when Y/N entered it. No voices were to be heard so Y/N relaxed her shoulders. All she needed to do was get to Beron’s personal kitchens and collect all of the pots and pans to be swapped out with new ones. The only thing Y/N wanted to avoid on her way there was—

She collided with a firm chest and before Y/N knew it, she crashed to the floor, knocking all of the air out of her. 

“Of course it would be you I run into,” a voice sneered. 

Y/N finally looked at the person she collided with and her worry turned into anger. “Out of everyone, why have I been cursed to see your face this early in the morning.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “What are you doing in this part of the house? The last I heard you work four floors below where no one is witness to your unsightly appearance.”

“I am doing my friend's work while she is sick,” Y/N answered. “I guess it is a foreign concept to you. Both work and friends.”

Eris offered a sarcastic smile in return. “I see your comebacks have changed.”

“I see you have changed, for the worse,” Y/N muttered. 

Y/N remembered centuries ago when she once considered Eris a friend— perhaps even more. She thought he was the most amazing person ever. What a huge misjudge of character. 

Y/N held out her hand. “The least you can do is help me up.”

Eris looked around the hallway for a brief moment. Y/N sighed. Of course he would look before being caught touching a simple servant girl. 

The moment their hands touched, Y/N gripped onto Eris’s hand tightly before pulling harshly. The heir of the Autumn Court was swept off his feet and came tumbling to the ground. 

Y/N only intended for him to fall down next to her— not on top of her. Eris’s elbows were braced on either side of Y/N’s head as he saved himself from his entire weight pressing on top of her. His body was perfectly slotted between her thighs. His face hovered over hers, so close she could feel his breath brush her face like a gentle caress. 

Y/N met Eris’s eyes and her heart skipped a beat. She had forgotten how beautiful the colour of his eyes were. 

“Y/N, I—“

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Eris rushed to get up from Y/N. The moment he was on his feet and straightening his jacket, Beron walked around the corner. 

Eris looked down at Y/N, a scowl on his face. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

Beron cleared his throat. “Eris, is this vermin bothering you?”

“No,” Eris said quickly. “She isn’t.”

“But, you mentioned—“

“I will escort her out, Father,” Eris said and gripped Y/N’s upper arm. 

Before Y/N could say anything, Eris dragged her down the hallway and out of sight. Once Y/N was sure they were alone, Y/N pulled her arm from Eris’s grip. 

“Eris, get off me!” Y/N exclaimed. “I need to get back and do my job.”

Eris only gripped her arm once more and pulled her into a small storage room. He pressed his back against the door. 

“Eris,” Y/N said. “I need to get back to work.”

“No you’re not, Y/N,” Eris said. “You are leaving.”

Y/N scoffed. “I am not leaving. If this is just for pulling you down to the floor and harming your ego—“

“It isn’t about that, Y/N!” Eris snapped. “But you are leaving and never coming back here again. If I ever see you in this house ever again, I will banish you from this court myself.”

Y/N’s heart dropped. “Eris…”

“Go, Y/N,” Eris said. “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

Eris opened the door and gestured for her to step out. Y/N followed, her gaze cast down to the floor. 

“I am sorry, Eris,” Y/N muttered. “But I need to keep this job. I cannot afford my house without it.”

“That is not my problem, Y/N,” Eris replied, straightening his jacket once more. 

“Please, Eris,” Y/N begged. “Out of everyone in this house, you are the one who knows of my situation.”

There seemed to be a flash of regret across Eris’s face but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a sneer. “Y/N, I do not care about your situation. If your father were any smarter then he wouldn’t have gotten himself in debt before he passed, leaving you to pay it all off.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears. “I hate you, Eris Vanserra.”

“I hear that a lot,” Eris said, looking away from Y/N. “It doesn’t sound any different when you say it. Leave, Y/N, before I need to force you.”

Eris sauntered down the hall, leaving Y/N alone in the centre of the grand hall, tears falling down her cheeks. 

***

The following day, Y/N spent hours looking for jobs in the nearest village. Conveniently no one was hiring. The moment she was home, Y/N spilled out all of her savings onto her bed. Although she had already paid over half of her father’s debt, she still had a long way to go. Paying only half had taken her nearly a century with the wage she was on. 

Y/N sighed and slumped down into the small tattered armchair. She loved her father dearly, she always had and she grieved him more than she cared to admit. But she hated him sometimes. She hated him for leaving her with the burden of his debts. 

Before she and her father were cast out in the Autumn Court, her father was well respected amongst the nobles and often spent his time with Beron and his other advisors. He often brought Y/N along and it was there she first met Eris. The heir was an only child at the time so was often bored of playing on his own. It didn’t take them long to form a friendship. They were attached at the hip…until the long awaited consequences of her fathers debts caught up to him. 

Beron offered her father a job in the house to earn money to pay his debts, probably the only kindness Y/N saw the High Lord give at the time. Only it wasn’t a kindness at all, it was simply a death sentence. Beron was well aware of her fathers debts amongst the other nobles and allowed him to fight in his army, completely untrained and unarmed– leaving Y/N completely alone. 

At first she thought she could rely on Eris and she could, until his brother came alone when they were twenty. It was as if a switch flipped within Eris. He went from Y/N’s best friend to someone she hated and despised. He was cruel and cold, despite the fire coursing through his veins. Y/N hated that she still saw him occasionally around the Forest House…well, that wouldn’t be a problem now. 

Y/N tried not to cry as she looked at the money on the bed. She barely had enough to pay for her food for the week. There were times where Y/N debated running away, she debated leaving Prythian completely, somewhere where Autumn had no ties. She could start a new life– a happier one. 

But something always pulled her back. Y/N didn’t know what but she needed to find out. 

A loud thump echoed through her small house. Y/N stilled and didn’t move. What if it was someone trying to claim their money now that they knew she wasn’t protected by the walls of the Forest House? What if they weren’t there for money at all?

Another loud thump, this time more desperate. 

Y/N carefully slid her dagger out from its hiding place and slowly walked to her front door. 

Another thump more desperate than the last. 

“Y/N…” Eris’s voice weakly called out. “Please…let me in.”

Y/N walked faster over to her front door and opened it with a scowl. 

Her dagger clattered to the floor. 

She let out a gasp. 

Eris collapsed into her arms.

***

Y/N panicked as she rushed around Eris to clean up all of the blood covering his body. And from the scent of it, every single drop was his. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow as she cut away his white shirt. Well she assumed it was originally white. 

His pale torso was coated with a layer of blood, some had dried but most of it seemed fresh. The deeper wounds still bled freely. 

Y/N wasn’t sure what to do. She could only heal small wounds and gashes, that was only what her father had taught her. This was extreme but they were too far away from a proper healer. By the time they got there, Eris would be dead. 

“Come on, Y/N,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this.”

She worked on stopping the blood flow from the large open gash in his side. She wiped away all of the dried blood surrounding the area. The gash wasn’t as large as she originally thought but it was deep– too deep for her to deal with. 

Tears pricked Y/N’s eyes. Not only would she be an outcast from the village because of the debt she owed but now she would be an outcast because she let the heir to the court die. 

“Eris,” Y/N whispered. “Please stay with me. Don’t you dare die on me. Not today.”

***

Most of the larger wounds on Eris’s body were cleaned and were slowly beginning to heal. The smaller cuts and bruises were only faintly there now. Y/N’s hands were still stained red from Eris’s blood. She hadn’t moved from her position on her coffee table since she finished sewing up the gaping wound in his side. Y/N was sure she had never been so scared in her life. What would have happened if she wasn’t able to help Eris? There were instances where she was sure he was going to die right there on her couch. Y/N shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. Eris was alive, the clear rise and fall of his chest gave that away, no matter how shallow it was. 

Despite her uncomfortable position atop the coffee table, Y/N didn’t move, didn’t blink as she watched Eris. His wounds had slowly begun to heal but she still did not trust her own healing abilities fully. If any of the wounds got infected whilst they healed, Y/N didn’t want to wake to Eris dead on her couch. 

Y/N let out a yawn but continued to keep her eyes open. 

***

When Eris finally awoke, it was to a shout of pain. He shot up from his position on the couch, ripping open the wound Y/N had so carefully stitched. His hand flung to his side, pressing down to slow the bleeding. 

Y/N ran into the room, panic flooding her eyes. Eris was confused. Why was Y/N here? His heart beat faster as he surveyed the room. It had been many, many years since he had last been inside this small cabin but he recognised it instantly. Eris only began to panic even more. 

“Of course you wake when I was getting a drink for myself,” Y/N said, sitting down on the table in front of him. “And you ripped your stitches open.”

“Y/N,” Eris gasped. “What am I doing here?”

Y/N wiped her hands down her face. As she shuffled closer, he could identify the dark circles under her eyes that he knew were not there the last time he had seen her. And as she shuffled closer he only now noticed his lack of shirt, bare skin exposed to the air. Shame instantly rose within Eris. 

“You turned up here yesterday evening,” Y/N said, a haunted look in her eyes as her gaze drifted to the side. “You were covered in blood– your blood.”

Eris gulped down air as he pressed on his wound harder, he could feel the blood begin to slither between his fingers as he tried his best to keep it within his body. 

“Here,” Y/N said, the softest Eris had heard her voice in years. “Let me help.”

“You’ve done enough,” Eris said, letting his facade and walls turn to steel. “I can deal with it from here.”

The moment Eris went to stand, he collapsed instantly. Y/N rushed to his side and helped him settle back on the couch. The bloodstained couch. It was a wonder how he was even alive.

“Let me help you, Eris,” Y/N said, more firmly this time. A tone he was far more used to.

“Why?” Eris scoffed. “Because you care about me?”

“No,” Y/N said. If she had any idea of the dagger that word sent to his heart. “I don’t need the heir of Autumn to die on my couch. I’m already an outcast in the village already.”

Eris's eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Y/N.“

“I’m glad I could help you Eris, but why are you here? You threatened me with banishment not even a day ago and now you show up here begging for help,” Y/N said. 

Eris sighed. “I don’t know why I ended up here, Y/N.” It was a lie but Y/N didn’t need to know the truth— at least not yet. 

“Then what happened? You nearly died on me multiple times,” Y/N said, her voice catching. Eris fought the urge to reach out. 

“I can’t say, Y/N,” Eris said, looking at his bloody hands. 

Y/N scoffed. “Eris, you show up on my doorstep close to death and you cannot tell me what happened?”

Eris squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t, Y/N.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” 

“Both,” Eris said, meeting her eyes again. 

Y/N sighed. “Let me see your wound back up.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I need to leave,” Eris said. 

He tried to stand but the moment he tried, he grunted in pain. His side felt as if it were on fire. 

“Eris, you need to have this stitched again,” Y/N said, shuffling closer. “It won’t heal properly otherwise.”

Eris held her gaze. He could see the gleam of the unshed tears lingering in her eyes. Eris knew they weren’t for him. They were because of him. If he had died within her house, he didn’t even want to imagine what the rest of the village would say about her. He didn’t want to imagine what his own father would do to her. Eris only knew it would be far worse than what was done to him. 

“Fine,” Eris said and allowed himself to pull his hand away from the wound. It was still bleeding but not as much as before. 

Silently, Y/N moved to his side, sitting down on the dried blood. Eris cringed. That was his blood covering the couch. It was his blood covering her dress. 

Eris could barely feel the needle stitching his skin back together. All he did was stare forwards at the small table in the centre of the room. It was the same table as the last time he was in this house, Eris noticed. 

***

511 Years Ago

Eris laughed as Y/N pulled him into her house. It was late at night and the house was empty, her father was working late and Y/N took it upon herself to drag Eris back here. 

“Y/N, why have you dragged me here?” A twenty year old Eris asked as a nineteen year old Y/N dragged him down to sit on the couch. 

“It was your birthday a few days ago,” Y/N said. “And I know that you didn’t do much for it because your mother and father have been fussing over your mothers pregnancy. So…”

Y/N reached into her small bag and pulled out a small box. She handed it to Eris. 

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Eris said. 

“Well I did,” Y/N said, casually holding onto his arm. 

Eris slowly opened the box and was greeted by the sight of the most beautiful ring. 

“I had it engraved!” Y/N said excitedly. “I know how much you love to be around me…”

Eris rolled his eyes but didn’t object. 

“So,” Y/N continued. “You will always have a piece of me with you. I asked for the gem in my necklace to be split into two.”

Eris read the engraved text on the inner part of the ring. 

“For the days you feel alone…”

“I have a matching one,” Y/N said, taking her own ring out of her pocket. 

“All you need to do is touch the gem embedded in the metal and I will feel it,” Y/N said. “The same with me.”

Y/N slipped her own ring onto her finger. It was thinner than Eris’s ring yet just as beautiful. She lightly ran her finger over the gem and Eris felt his ring heat up the smallest amount. 

“Y/N…” Eris said, looking at the ring in his finger. “How much did you spend on this?”

Y/N shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

Eris looked at Y/N, many emotions overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t find the words to say. Despite having a good relationship with his mother, she had never gotten him a meaningful present before. His father never really cared about birthdays so Eris rarely even got a ‘Happy Birthday’ from his father. 

But this gift from Y/N trumped any other gift he had received before, or will ever receive. He felt a tug and his breath was gone for a brief moment. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Eris said, his finger gliding over the small gem. 

Y/N smiled. “You’re welcome. Now you will always know I am beside you.”

Eris couldn’t think of anything to do but pull her into him, wrapping his arms around her body. Y/N’s arms snaked around his neck, embracing him tightly. 

The scent of her overwhelmed Eris. Her scent was once he could always pick out in a crowd of a thousand. It was comforting for him, it made him feel safe, loved. 

“Y/N…” Eris began, afraid for the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Y/N’s body went rigid before she pulled away from Eris, an indescribable expression on her face. Eris’s heart sank. 

He quickly avoided her gaze and shuffled uncomfortably on the couch. “I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything.”

Just as he went to stand up, Y/N gently clasped his hand. “You love me?”

Eris met her gaze once more. “I do. I have for a while now, I just didn’t want to complicate things. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Y/N shook her head. “You haven’t lost me as a friend, and you never will.”

Eris offered a stiff smile. “Well I would prefer it if we just completely forget that this ever happened between us.”

“Why?”

Eris shuffled. “Because you don’t return my feelings.”

Y/N smiled, soft and gentle. “I never said that.”

Eris’s heart skipped a beat. 

Y/N laced her fingers with his. “I love you too, Eris. I never said anything because I thought you would never return my feelings.”

A sigh of relief slipped past Eris’s lips. “You love me back?”

“Of course I do,” Y/N said, positioning her body closer to Eris. “How could I not?”

Eris smiled. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”

“I do,” Y/N said and soon enough her lips were pressed firmly against Eris’s. 

***

“Eris,” Y/N said. “Eris!”

Eris snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention away from the table in front of him. “Yes?”

“You’ve been staring blankly at the table ever since I began stitching up your wound,” Y/N said. 

Eris looked down and noticed she had already finished. He barely felt it at all. “Thank you.”

Y/N nodded before moving away from him. Despite the fire coursing through his veins, Eris suddenly felt cold. 

“Now are you going to tell me what happened?” Y/N asked as she wiped the blood from her hands. 

“No,” Eris replied, grunting in pain as she shifted positions. 

“Still so stubborn,” Y/N muttered.

“I need to leave,” Eris said. “I don’t want my mother wondering where I disappeared to. And I have other matters to finish.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Y/N said. “Not until you are fully healed anyway.”

“I am leaving, Y/N,” Eris said.

“You can barely stand without causing pain,” Y/N commented.

“I can,” Eris said. 

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “Prove it.”

“Fine,” Eris said.

This time Eris did manage to get to his feet but the pain all over his body made him sway in place. He felt as if he were being beaten all over again. 

“See,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Sit back down, Eris.”

“I’m not staying here, Y/N,” Eris said as she took an excruciating step towards the front door. “I can’t.”

“Why? Afraid being seen with a servant girl will ruin your image?” Y/N spat.”

“Don’t,” Eris hissed.

“Don’t what?” Y/N said, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Eris said. “You are so much more than that.”

“As if you believe that, Eris,” Y/N scoffed. “For years you have looked down upon me for being a worker in the Forest House. You have sneered at me in the halls. You have constantly belittled me whenever someone sees you talking to me. You act like I am the scum of the whole of Prythian. I can’t believe I loved you all those years ago.”

Loved. 

Past tense.

The one word cut Eris deeper than any other wound on his body. Of course he already knew that Y/N no longer loved him but it didn't hurt any less to hear it come from her mouth. 

“I have my reasons for everything, Y/N,” Eris said, closing his eyes, wishing he were anywhere else. 

“It would help a lot for you to justify them,” Y/N said, her voice cracking. “You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. I always imagined what our life would be like together. I pictured it every day. The day my fathers debts were made public, you comforted me, you stayed with me for those first few weeks when it was the hardest. It was in those moments when I realised how deep my love went for you. Everyone else abandoned me, but you stayed.”

“But the moment your brother Tycho was born, everything suddenly shifted. You became a completely different person. You became cruel, distant and cold, not just toward me but to everyone who was close to you,” Y/N said, her eyes brimming with tears. “You became a stranger to me. I thought it was just the stress and gave you the benefit of the doubt but the moment my father passed away and I heard you laugh with your father about it, I knew that beautiful heart inside your body had turned to stone.”

Eris squeezed his eyes shut. “I had my reasons.”

“As you’ve said, but I deserve to know the reason why the Eris standing before me right now, killed the male I was once in love with.” Y/N’s voice broke and Eris dreaded to find out what he would find if he opened his eyes. 

“I can’t–”

“That is bullshit, Eris,” Y/N exclaimed. “I deserve to know why the male bleeding in my living room replaced the one who I shared so much of myself with.”

Slowly, Eris opened his eyes. Tears were streaming down Y/N’s face. Eris’s heart clenched as he fought the instinctual urge to reach for her. 

“It was because of you,” Eris confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did all of it to protect you from my father and my younger brothers, everything.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked. 

“I have already told you too much, Y/N,” Eris said. “I need to go before my father finds out where I am.”

As Eris turned, Y/N suddenly gasped. 

“Eris,” Y/N said. “Your back…”

He knew what she could see. The scars that littered his back were his own secret, one he preferred no one else knew about, not even his own mother. When Eris had received the beating from his father, he was shocked to discover that he wouldn’t be adding to the collection on his back, but on his torso and chest instead. 

“I told you I needed to protect you from my father,” Eris said before limping out of the small house. 

The moment the cold air hit his skin, Eris hissed in pain. He was more aware of every cut and wound on his body. 

“Eris, don’t walk away,” Y/N begged as she followed him.

“Y/N, go back inside,” Eris said. “And don’t ever talk to me again. I can’t let him anywhere near you.”

“At least stay until you are healed,” Y/N said. “Your power is drained. Are you really going to walk all the way to the Forest House from here? You could die in this cold.”

“Better out there than in your house,” Eris said, each step felt like a rain of daggers. 

“Eris, please just come back inside,” Y/N said. 

“Y/N, the longer I stay here, the more danger you are in,” Eris said. “My father has most likely already sent my brothers after me. I cannot be seen with you. It will only confirm his suspicions.”

“What suspicions?” Y/N asked.

The more Eris walked the more he could feel his energy drain. He dragged his feet along the path to the gate of Y/N’s garden. His legs began to get weaker and weaker and his head spun. He had lost too much blood to be up on his feet this fast. 

“Please, go back inside,” Eris muttered.

“No, what suspicions, Eris?” Y/N asked. 

“Please…” Eris said, feeling himself get weaker. 

He buckled under his own weight and fell onto the cobblestones below him. He could barely lift his arm up. The sound of Y/N’s quick footsteps echoed on the ground and she appeared in his vision. 

“Y/N,” Eris mumbled. “Please, just leave me here.”

“No,” Y/N said. “I told you to stay inside but you didn’t listen.”

“I can’t be seen with you,” Eris siad, his vision becoming blurred.

“I don’t care, I am not leaving you here to die. I won’t let you,” Y/N said.

“I can’t let you get close to me,” Eris whispered. “It was the only way to stop it.”

Eris couldn’t stop the words falling from his mouth. Everything he never wanted to say aloud was coming to light. 

“Stop what? You are not making any sense right now,” Y/N asked and Eris felt the warm caress of her hand on the side of his face. From what he could see, Y/N looked concerned, all the hatred for him had seemed to be wiped clean from her face. 

“Stop the bond snapping,” Eris mumbled, leaning into her touch. “You are my mate, Y/N.”

Eris’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt himself drift into unconsciousness. 

[jesuistrestriste]

nsfw (18+) cw : switch(sub leaning)!art donaldson, switch!fem!reader, art is a sensitive softie, dry humping, cumming in pants, mutual orgasms, fluff, porn with some plot

wc : 3.3 k

"Did you have fun?"

Art's words sound out softly against the background hum of his car's engine. You rub your hands together between your thighs, trying (and failing) to properly warm them up after being in an ice rink for over an hour. You look to him from the passenger seat and smile at his slightly eager-to-please tone, your cheeks burning from the cold. You should have worn a scarf.

"Yeah," you hum, "I did.. I haven't been ice skating in forever, it's been years.."

He laughs softly and nods, almost sheepishly, "yeah, same.."

-

It's the end of November, nearing the start of December, and tennis season is well over. Art still goes to the indoor courts pretty consistently, but he's decided to shift all of his focus to you now that he has the free time to spare.

The two of you met about a month and a half ago; he'd been rushing to meet Patrick at some restaurant near campus, and he had slammed right into you when he'd been looking down at his phone to text Pat back. Wide blue eyes met yours and his tender hands had come up instantly to steady you on your feet as he stuttered out at least five 'im so sorry's. Somewhere in between those apologies, he'd gotten ridiculously lost in your features. The way your lashes batted up at him, the soft smile on your lips, the way you chuckled at his idiotic carelessness.

And you had forgiven him pretty quickly, so that helped.

The whole thing was incredibly cliche; the both of you could see that now.

He'd gotten your number that day only because he had practically begged to get you a coffee sometime to make up for the whole ordeal. His wind-swept blonde curls and furrowed brow made him look just like a dumb little puppy, pleading with you to keep him and collar him, so it wasn't hard for you to rationalize giving him your digits then and there. He seemed genuinely sweet, unlike so many other guys at Stanford. You'd give it a shot.

Seven dates later, and you two were officially toeing the line between "what are we?" and "let's move in together". Art, in particular, was completely infatuated. He would always look at you like you were the only reason he was breathing and moving. It was a little bit insane how hard and fast he fell for you.

And so he resisted the urges.

The ones that would coil in his lower stomach when he held your hand, and the ones that would throb in his veins when he pressed his lips to yours. All of them. He'd move at your pace. He wasn't one to push.

-

You nod and smile, before you pull your clasped hands from your lap and attempt to blow hot air in between them. Art's car was taking longer to warm up than normal.

He watches you for a moment before he shakes his head and tugs his hands out of his coat pockets.

"I told you to bring gloves," he jokes lightly, reaching over to envelop your hands in his warm palms, his calloused fingers curling over yours.

Your face heats slightly, and you chuckle as you look down to his grasp on you. After a long beat, your eyes raise to look up to his again, and he swallows thickly before his left thumb strokes over one of your knuckles. The little touch, the gesture, is so him. Always wanting to provide and comfort, but never wanting to risk shaking the foundation.

He’s never made the first move, it was always you.

"Thanks," you breathe out, your gaze darting just momentarily down to his pink lips.

It's hard for you to ignore the way he quickly wets them while the tense silence hangs in the air.

Art's feeling a steady thrum of tightness in his chest. How is it that he still gets nervous around you? He's kissed you lots of times before now.

And yet, here he was: still shy, still tense, still nervous.

"No problem," he whispers, hearing his heartbeat pound in his ears, "is.. is this better..?"

A gentle nod from you is all he perceives before he feels the warmth of your lips press against his own, and the tension that’s been brewing all evening finally reaches its boiling point.

He melts into it instantly, into you; leaning in to breathe into your open mouth when you pull back for just a moment to tilt your head the other way. His hands leave their position around yours, and move to clutch your waist as he pivots in the driver's seat to face you more. He's never felt so on-edge in his entire life, the sensation of a familiar sort of hunger starting to ignite in his belly.

Your touch moves to the back of his head, pulling off his thick beanie and tossing it to the back of the vehicle as you kiss him with rapidly increasing passion. You feel his tongue slip out to lick over your bottom lip, and you slack your jaw to let him taste you better. He laves his soft tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth. You swallow that noise down, and the next one that comes right after; just like you always do.

He tastes faintly like sweet peppermint gum, which he had been anxiously chewing earlier on this particular date in order to self-soothe. You had just looked so pretty with the cold first nipping at your skin when he came to pick you up; it scrambled his brain on the spot.

"Ahh," he whines shakily as he feels you tug his head back, your left hand tenderly fisting his curls, "hngh.."

You hum and smirk before you lean in to lick over his neck. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop any more needy sounds from spilling out, and his hands pull at the sides of your coat. Shit, he can feel himself swelling in his jeans. For a second he thinks the zipper might pop.

Once your tongue finds his weak-spot, right below his ear, he's jerking forward in his seat and letting out a choked moan. His hips rise desperately, trying to seek out some sort of friction, but all he can feel is his cock rubbing against the inside of his briefs — not nearly enough to put out the fire in his gut.

"You okay?" you breathe out lowly between kisses to his pulse, "this okay?

He nods feverishly. A reflexive buck of his pelvis follows suit.

"Can we... I dont know-" you whisper against his skin, and Art thinks he might die. He's so keyed up right now, he'd do anything to get to feel you under all of the layers.

"Please."

And there it is. He couldn't even stop himself before the word was already out and drifting into the minimal space left in between your bodies. You pause your lips and pull back to look to his eyes.

A hand moves from his hair to his cool cheek. "I- I'm ready to do more... If you are too, I mean.."

He's nodding before you even finish; and his pupils dilate into big, black, iris-eclipsing saucers as his brows pinch up and he whispers back to you.

"I want to touch you," he trembles, "I really, really, really wanna touch you..."

You feel a sticky heat cling to the inside of your panties.

Ugh, he's always good at making you feel this way, even if in the past it was relatively unintentional. Sometimes he's been too innocent for his own good.

"Can I?" he whispers, breaking apart your thoughts, like the very syllables have been beaten out of the depths of his desires.

You let out soft sigh through parted lips, taking in the look on his face before you're crawling over the center console and into his lap. Your body settles comfortably over his thighs, and then your head bumps up against the roof of the car. You make a slight noise of surprise, ducking down with a soft giggle, and Art's right hand instinctively raises to protectively cup the spot on your head that had hit the interior. He looks up at you, letting out a breath of a laugh before lifting his brows to wordlessly ask if you're alright.

You kiss him again instead.

He gasps and swallows as he feels you further straddle him, and his hands move to start unzipping your puffer as he kisses you back. It's easier said than done when his hands are shaking, but he manages and then helps you shrug off the coat before it gets tossed into the oblivion to meet his hat from earlier.

A string of spit connects your mouth to his as you pull back, and he drinks in the sight of you above him; your thermal long-sleeve clinging to your skin so tight that he can see the outline of your bra underneath.

You lean in once more and kiss his jaw twice before letting your hands wander down to help him take off his own jacket. Once it's off and on the car floor with the other pieces of discarded clothing, your palms move up under his shirt to caress his bare skin. You feel his abdomen shudder as your nails graze the pale flesh there.

"Where do you want me?" he asks breathlessly, his eyes already glazed over with arousal and a wish to please you.

"Anywhere.."

".. Here..?"

His hands reach up to palm your breasts over your top, and he relishes in the soft moan it elicits from you. The sound of it rings out in his head and then he can't help but whimper as he leans into your body, his cheek to your jaw. Art's hands slither hastily under your shirt and then to your back before he fumbles with the clasp of your bra. You smirk softly and fondly as you feel him struggle, and you decide to maneuver your touch up to the back of his neck. Your fingertips tease the back of his hair. Teasing turns to stroking, and suddenly you're petting him to ease his nerves. If he had a tail, it'd definitely be wagging; you can feel him buzzing with eager energy all over.

Once the bra is popped open, he gently pulls back to look up to your eyes and then he's huskily whispering up at you, "can I take this off of you?"

"Yeah, take it off-"

He doesn't waste a second once he sees you raising your arms, nearly tearing the top in the process of getting it up and over your head. The bra comes off quick right after; he doesn't even notice that it's red (his favorite color). With how much is going through his head, it's a miracle he can even manage to undress you without losing it...

The moment that you're bare in front of him from the belly-button up, he sags back in his seat and takes you in. His lips parted in a gentle 'O'. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he moans lowly, his palms pressing to your lower stomach before they slide up and cover your soft tits, "you're so beautiful, oh my god.."

You moan when you feel him start to knead your breasts under his tender touch, nipples pebbling in response, and you roll your head back with pleasure.

"You're.. s-so sweet," you groan.

He squeezes your chest again before he leans in and presses a kiss to the right side, and a kiss to the left (it's only fair). He looks up to you through heavy lids before he surges forward with a renewed sense of passion and attaches his lips to one of your nipples.

"Shit-!" you gasp, and your hands tighten in his blonde locks, "ugh, don't stop, Art.. that feels nice.."

He moans around your squishy flesh and then his eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue over your bud and suckles. His mouth is warm and wet and perfect. His teeth brisk your sensitive skin.

A sharp moan slips from your lips in response, and then your hips jerk over his quickly. Just once; just enough. It's denim on denim, thick fabric dulling the sensations, but god- the pleasure bites perfectly at the both of you.

Art can barely process how good it feels before he's drooling around you over his tongue and rolling his own body up, trying to meet yours again. Wordlessly begging you to keep going.

Please, please, please do it again.

You breathe heavily and then rock down over his lap again, chasing the stream of electricity that it sends up your spine from your cunt. There's a mess of slick seeping from you as you push your clothed clit against Art's bulge, humping him like some sort of depraved teenager, but it's going to get you there.

Hell, it's getting you there quicker than you thought.

"Ooh, fuck," he hiccups out against your skin, releasing your breast from his mouth as his eyes fly open and then promptly roll back into his head, "ohh god, oh g-god.."

You rock a bit faster over him, a little moan escaping with each needy motion, and you move your hands to hold his shoulders for leverage. You feel him wrap his toned arms around your middle.

"Sh-Should I move too?" he gasps.

You can feel his thighs quivering.

If you really focus, you can even feel his dick throbbing in the confines of his pants.

"Yeah, ohh, yeah.. yeah, move, move.”

In an instant, Art's hips are grinding up to meet yours while his hands move urgently to hold your waist. He buries his face into your neck and tries to bounce you on his lap in his grasp. Up, down, up, down, over and over and over. Like he’s fucking you; buried deep inside your oozing pussy.

"you feel so good," he breathes out, hardly taking enough air into his lungs to get the words out, "this feels... f-feels so good.. ohhh-"

A few stuttered whines slip from your mouth and then you're working harder to press yourself further down over his erection, trying your best to relieve the scorching heat building in your core. More, more, more, you just need more.

"fuck me..!"

It tumbles from you unexpectedly, and the young man under you chokes on a guttural groan that's already halfway out. His nose crinkles with pleasure, and he swivels his hips harder to rub his boner against your crotch. He tries to speak, he really does, but all of the words get swept away on broken, strung-out whimpers that clog his throat.

You two are fogging up all four windows in his car, and anyone who's looking on from the outside will know exactly what's going on just from the shaking alone.

"Shit, you're gonna make me—“

Art cries out as he digs his heels down into the mat below the pedals; his toes curling as he registers the rapid feeling of boiling tension brewing in his balls, seeping out and pulling his limbs taut against yours. He's so close.

"—you're gonna- 'm gonna come—“

He tries to warn you, shuddering when he hears you squeal in response, and he has to force his eyes open and crane his neck back so that he can savor the sight of you falling apart on top of him when he tips over. A small part of him wishes he was being hugged by your tight, gummy walls; but this was perfect for now. It was what you wanted, so it was what he wanted too.

"Fuck, Art! I'm almost—!"

The sound of his name coming out of you like that sends him spiraling, his cock pulsing in his boxers with want.

"Me too, me too, oh god, pleasepleaseplease-"

You two are rutting and thrashing against each other like a couple of animals, breathing heavy and moaning as you both try to maintain eye contact in those split few seconds before everything fades away.

"Can I come?" he trembles, and you can see wetness glistening over his lash line, threatening to spill. He can’t say it now, but he's barely holding it all in.

For you, he'd wait.

Even if it felt impossible.

You speed up your humping, the seam of your jeans slotting perfectly against your swollen clit as the warmth of his cock sends you hurtling towards the finish line. You nod down at him, moving your hands from his shoulders to his flushed face, "yes, god, please come with me!"

It only takes three more snaps of his pelvis against yours before the both of you are gasping and crying out simultaneously as the hot coils burst loose; Art's back arching up from the seat as you curl over his chest and yelp. He's moaning, voice cracks and all, as his legs shudder under your seat over them. His hands fly up to hold you close, almost like he's scared you'll somehow slip away.

"fuckyesfuckyesfuckyes, please, god, i'm coming so hard..!”

He whimpers helpessly, feeling sticky heat bloom against his kicking length as each wave of his orgasm floods his system. It's wholly all-consuming, his vision whiting out around the edges before he has to squeeze his eyes shut and give up the sight of your face as you climax. He thinks he might legitimately pass out.

You're left wheezing over his lap, groaning pitifully as you feel a wave of slick and wetness drench your underwear while the height of your own peak ebbs, and you finish yourself off fully against his thigh as you come down. One of your hands reaches down to rub yourself over the soaked fabric, and you twitch before falling forward into his frame.

You both jolt a bit while the aftershocks keep you feeling pleasantly numb, but it's blissful.

It's completely and utterly blissful; it just feels right.

Him being so close to you, you being so close to him. Sharing something so deeply intimate and yet feeling so comfortable and so safe— it was like something clicked into place.

One of Art's hands reaches to your upper back, rubbing it comfortingly as he tries to steady his breathing.

".. Woah," he whispers in awe, fingertips tracing soothing patterns on your skin, "that was.. really.. haah.."

A little shiver passes through him and he then decides to cut himself off before he lets slip something dumb and ruins everything.

You gain some semblance of consciousness back and lift your head upright slowly, gazing down to him. His hair’s a mess, his blue eyes shining with low lids, and his bottom lip looks freshly bitten.

"That was really good," you chuckle breathily, finishing his sentiment for him. You were good at that- helping him feel whole.

He just nods and you get to watch his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red.

"I... I was thinking.." he starts, only to shy away from your gaze by looking down.

"Yeah..?"

You stroke his hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead.

"Well, I just, we've been, like, 'seeing each other' or whatever," his eyes reluctantly raise again to look up into yours, "and, I just thought that.. we might..."

"We might...?" you smile as you urge him to speak up for himself.

He can only muster a soft, shy chuckle at first.

"I just thought that we might be.. together.."

Your breathing catches, only for a moment, as the word—and the weight of it—sits heavily in the dense air being kept trapped in by the car's doors. Art swallows thickly.

"You wanna be together?" you whisper, barely audible.

He seems hesitant to answer that.

But he does anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

A soft smile creeps onto your face, and then you lean in to brush your lips against his. He closes his eyes in preparation for a kiss, but it doesn't quite come. They flutter back open, and his fingers twitch idly on your lower back.

Please say something, he thinks. He's holding his breath.

You murmur against his mouth, delicate and earnest, with a shrug almost gracing your shoulders as you speak to him. You want to let him know that he doesn't have to be scared to tell you what he wants.

That it's okay.

That you want the same thing.

"Okay.. then let's be 'together'.."

[thesecondhandwoman]

TRAINING FOR TWO

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Ambessa notices that you have been struggling to defend yourself and decides to teach you some self-defense moves. What starts as a serious training session quickly devolves into a sweetened moment between you two.

The late afternoon sun hung low over the sprawling city of Piltover, casting a warm, amber glow over the courtyard where you stood. You had always known the city was beautiful, but today, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, it seemed even more so. It was a soft, peaceful evening, the kind of tranquility that made it feel as though time itself had decided to slow down. But beneath this calm exterior, there was a tension within you—a nervous flutter in your chest as you prepared for your first real training session with Ambessa Medarda.

Ambessa was a legend in Piltover, a force of nature in every sense of the word. Her presence alone commanded respect; her battles were whispered about in hushed tones, filled with both awe and fear. You, yourself, had always been captivated by her—her strength, her poise, the way she moved through the world like a blade cutting through air. But it wasn’t just that. It was also her complexity, the way she could be cold and calculating one moment, and then fiercely protective the next. She had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room, even when she was surrounded by others who may have seemed to deem that tile more, all the way from her soldiers to the council.

And now, she was standing just a few feet away, her eyes focused entirely on you, waiting for you to get into position.

“Ready?” Ambessa’s voice was as calm as always, but there was an underlying sharpness to it that told you she was watching you carefully, studying your every move.

You straightened your back, trying to ignore the sudden wave of nerves that rushed over you. “I think so.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her eyes swept over you, her gaze assessing in that way she had, making you feel like an open book in her hands. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. She had an uncanny ability to make you feel seen without feeling completely exposed either.

“Good. Let’s start with the basics then,” she said, stepping forward.

As always, her movements were fluid, almost hypnotic in their precision with each and every step of her feet, every swing of the arm. It was to the extent where you could feel the air shift around her as she moved, as though the world itself bent to her will, which made it both inspiring and a little intimidating.

Ambessa placed her hand on your shoulder, her touch steady and warm, grounding you. “Stand tall,” she instructed, her voice low but steady. “You’re not just moving through the motions. You’re making the world around you move with you too.”

You nodded in response to her guidance, shifting your weight and trying to steady your breath. This wasn’t just about learning how to fight. It was about finding your own strength, a strength that, up until now, you hadn’t been sure you had. Ambessa was showing you how to pull that strength out of yourself, how to turn your body into a weapon without ever losing sight of who you were. Something that you have noted she may have learned from her own regretful experience, but you tried to wash that away as Ambessa began to move again, snapping you out of the growing depth of your thoughts.

Instead, you followed her lead, moving into position, trying to mimic the graceful yet powerful stance she demonstrated. The sound of your feet shifting against the cobblestones was sharp in the quiet of the courtyard, but Ambessa’s gaze never wavered.

“Good,” she said, her tone warm with approval. “Your stance is solid. But—” Her eyes flicked to your feet, then back to your face. “You’re too tense. Relax your shoulders. Feel the ground beneath you, and let the movement flow through you.”

You tried to take a deeper breath, relaxing as best as you could, but the tension in your body seemed determined to stay attached, like a child clinging to their mother’s leg in a taunting manner.

Ambessa noticed it immediately, of course, and stepped forward, positioning herself behind you with the grace of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. She placed her hands on your shoulders, her touch firm but gentle, guiding you with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. “Don’t fight it,” she murmured. “Trust yourself. Trust me.”

Her words were quiet but carried weight, like a promise wrapped in steel. There was no mockery in her voice, no impatience—just pure belief in you. The warmth of her hands on your shoulders grounded you in a way nothing else could. You let your muscles relax under her touch, the tension melting away bit by bit until it barely remained, finally releasing you from its agnozing grip.

“That’s better,” she said, a hint of approval lacing her voice. “Now, remember, the goal is not to overpower your opponent. It’s to redirect their force. Use their own energy against them.”

You nodded, the weight of her words sinking in as you absorbed the lesson. Ambessa was not just teaching you how to defend yourself; she was teaching you how to read the world around you, how to flow with it instead of resisting it, especially when you encountered dangerous circumstannces.

“Let’s put it into practice,” she said, stepping back to give you space. “I want to see how well you can hold your ground.”

Your heart began to beat faster. You knew what this meant. The training was about to get real. Ambessa’s eyes darkened with focus, her stance shifting to a more offensive one. There was no fear in her expression—just the quiet confidence of someone who had already won the battle before it had even begun.

You braced yourself, watching her every movement, trying to predict what she would do next. She came at you quickly, her body moving like liquid, and before you could even react, she had swept your legs out from under you, sending you sprawling to the ground.

The impact was sharp, the rough stone scraping against your palms as you caught yourself, but before you could get your bearings, Ambessa was there, her hands on your arms, steadying you.

“Up,” she said softly, pulling you to your feet with a strength that belied the gentleness of her touch. “You’ll fall a thousand times before you get it right. And I’ll be there to catch you every time.”

You blinked, stunned by her words. You had expected some reprimand, some sharp criticism for not reacting faster, but all you got was understanding. It made all of the other training by Ambessa seem confusing, since you had seen her train other people, as strict as ever, but she wasnt with you.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” Ambessa continued, her voice soft but firm. “You just need to keep trying. And when you fall, I’ll be here.”

You couldn’t help but softly smile at that. There was something comforting about her presence, something that made you feel safe even in the chaos of training. It wasn’t about the perfection of your movements—it was about your willingness to stand back up, no matter how many times you fell. And you intended to keep doing it, even if you had the slight expectation of falling more than you patience may want.

Ambessa stepped back, watching you closely, her gaze never leaving your face. “Again,” she said simply, her tone laced with quiet determination and order.

You took a deep breath, wiping your palms on your pants, and braced yourself once more. This time, when she came at you, you were ready. You didn’t wait to be knocked down—you moved with her, shifting your weight and redirecting her force. The movement wasn’t perfect, but it was better than before by a lot.

Ambessa’s eyes sparkled with approval, and a soft smile curled on her lips. “That’s it,” she said. “That’s exactly what we are wanting.”

You couldn’t help the rush of pride that surged through you. You were learning, growing—and it felt good. It felt right.

For a few moments, the two of you continued the sparring, each move more fluid than the last, the rhythm between you like a dance. But as the training went on, something shifted. There was less focus on technique and more on the quiet space between you—on the unspoken connection that had always been there but had never felt so palpable.

Then, in a particularly quick movement, your foot slipped on the stone, and before you could regain your balance, you found yourself tumbling forward. You barely had time to react before Ambessa’s strong arms wrapped around you, catching you effortlessly.

“Careful,” she murmured, her voice a mix of playful teasing and genuine concern.

You blushed at the feeling of her solid, trained muscles, caught in her arms like a clumsy mess, but her hold on you was steady, unwavering. She lifted you gently, a soft laugh escaping her lips as you tried to regain your composure yet looked so flustered.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

It was a simple gesture, but it sent a warmth spreading through you, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no training, no struggle—just the two of you, in the quiet of the evening, her arms holding you close.

“Mm, do you intend to always catch me? Even when it gets annoying?” you asked quietly, your voice barely being above a whisper.

Ambessa’s gaze softened, her hand brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear as she looked at you with that fierce tenderness that only she could have. “Always,” she said, her voice steady and filled with a promise that you could feel sink deep into your bones. “Even if it seems like you’re the one teaching me how to fall.”

You chuckled a little at her tease, smiling up at her again. You seemed a lot more relaxed, nearly forgetting about the main purpose–fixing up your training–as you wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her into you, chest to chest.

Ambessa couldn’t help but smile at the gentle yet intimate act, allowing you to pull her in just enough that she could capture your lips with her own. Her hand met your cheek again as your lips moved with one another, her tongue slipping into your mouth a little to show just how passionately in love she was with you in this moment.

However, she forced herself to slowly break it, eyes fluttering open again to meet yours. She softly smiled and rested her forehead against your own, kissing your nose as the pad of her calloused thumb grazed your cheek in gentle strokes.

“Now let’s get back to training, love.” She whispered.

[elixirfromthestars]

Tulip

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: On a night when the past weighs heavy on Bucky, fate brings him to you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): established nickname -> tulip / fluff / mentions of grief

a/n: After seeing how much people loved Biker Bucky in Usual I decided to share more of their story with you all 💕 This is going to be a bigger collection of fics, so I will have an official taglist for it and there's more info on that here. That taglist in this fic is not related to the tags on here. The tags on here were for just for fun!! Hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, & reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

next in their story ♡ // the whole collection ♡

It was one of those nights where Bucky was irritated without reason. His face was etched into an intimidating scowl as he looked at nothing in particular in his bar. The laughter was too loud, the clinking of glasses irked his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, and his heart felt heavy. Almost as if one of the men in his bar were pressing down on it with their heavy boot. 

Bucky was getting tired of this. Of having these moments where his body thrummed with discomfort and his fingers found the familiar grooves in the wooden table he sat at—etching the oak with erratic lines until his nails were chipped and uneven. He could already hear the shit Sam would say as soon as he saw the added marks. 

Bucky was getting restless—reluctantly so.

“Hey, Buck, one of the—”

“‘m goin’ out for a ride.”

As soon as Steve came over to give Bucky an update on the business, Bucky stood up from the table and dismissed himself. Steve held back a sigh, his lips forming a tight line as his best friend blew him off. He didn’t take it personally, at least not tonight. More than anything Steve was worried for Bucky. It was never easy seeing him fall into this state once a year. 

Bucky always got like this around the anniversary of his father’s death. 

Steve and the rest of the crew exchanged wary glances as Bucky pushed through the bar in a rush. His hands at his sides flexed as he sought out the comfort of his bike. He took out his leather gloves from his jacket—dark and weathered from years of wear—and slipped them on before mounting his Harley. It thundered to life underneath him, the deep rumble easing the tension in his shoulders. 

He pulled out of his parking space, the blacked-out engine chrome gleaming under the streetlights. Bucky had no set destination, just a familiar path he had taken hundreds of times while on patrol. One that transgressed the entirety of the small town he lived in. 

The small town he and his gang protected. 

Bucky twisted the throttle, the Harley's roar echoing through the quiet streets as if warning the town of his presence. He drove down the roads at a steady speed, letting the breeze brush through his hair like a soothing balm. Hoping the night and his Harley would take away the hollow ache in his chest. 

He couldn’t keep thinking of his dad. Not right now. There was too much going on in his life. 

Bucky wouldn’t allow himself to be swept by the bittersweet memories. There were dozens of problems at the bar he needed to solve, rival gangs were stirring up trouble in neighboring towns so his people depended on him now more than ever, and his Ma and Becca relied on him as the sole provider.

Giving himself a moment to grieve—to feel—was a luxury he couldn’t afford. 

After a full loop around the town, Bucky decided to survey the downtown area once again. It was nearing ten at night and the majority of the businesses were closed, and yet he was still adamant about getting a good last look before he returned to the bar. 

He witnessed the usual: Yori and his son closing up their family-owned restaurant for the night, Mr. and Mrs. Fury bickering on their walk home, the savory aroma of Stark’s Pizzeria wafting through the air as he drove by, and a stack of wooden crates dancing in mid-air. 

Hold up. 

Wait a minute.

What?

Bucky had to do a double and then a triple take to make sure his eyes weren’t tricking him. He hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol tonight, and yet he began to gaslight himself into thinking maybe he had. 

That was until you appeared from behind the wooden crates. Huffing out in annoyance and setting them down on the bed of an old pickup truck. Glaring at them as if the fury behind your eyes would suddenly make them ten pounds lighter. 

Bucky stared at you from afar perplexed and yet with a ghost of a smile on his face. He had never seen you in town before, meaning you must have moved here not too long ago. A faint memory of Sam telling him a new shop owner was coming into town crosses his mind, but Bucky couldn’t remember all the details.

With a multitude of other things on his mind, he hadn’t been paying attention at the time. 

The Harley’s rumble softens until it comes to a still as Bucky parks it on the street opposite you. He sits on it for a moment watching you, searching his brain for the finer details of what Sam had mentioned, but nothing comes to him. He’s left to find out more about you in the here and now. 

Bucky suddenly catches the determined expression on your face as you go to pick up three of the wooden crates again. His eyes widen and before he even registers what he’s doing he swings off his bike and jogs over to you.

“Here let me help,” Bucky doesn’t ask or wait for a response as he easily takes the crates from your arms, lifting them as if they weighed nothing. You watch him in startled awe, wondering where this incredibly strong stranger had come from. Hand on your heart to calm yourself down from the sudden intrusion on your solitude. 

“Oh! Um…you really don’t have to—” 

“‘m already carrying ‘em, dollface. Jus’ tell me where to put ‘em.”

Bucky’s voice was calm and collected, but on the inside he wanted to ask you what the hell were in these crates. He’s used to carrying heavy boxes of supplies for his bar, but even then he’d use a hand truck to haul everything in. To think you were trying to carry all of this by yourself…he didn’t know whether to be impressed by your determination or laugh at your stubbornness. 

The wooden crates obstructed your view of each other—and he’d never admit it—but they covered enough of his eye sight to where he had to tilt his head to watch his step.

“Here, let me guide you,” you placed a tentative hand on his arm, trying to ignore the way his bicep flexed under it. There was fragile cargo in those crates and you needed to make sure they got into your shop safe and sound. Bucky showed no signs of rejecting your guidance. 

You carefully led him inside, sliding away any obstacles from his path with your feet. You were still adding the last touches to the decor so there were tools, supplies, and different sized cardboard boxes scattered across the floor. You were able to direct him to a spot in front of the main counter where he could put the crates down—the one area clear of anything.

He placed them down gently before turning to face you. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat the moment his eyes met yours. Your pretty irises glimmered with sincere appreciation coupled with a soft smile that caused an unfamiliar warmth to spread through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that. His brain has gone fuzzy, words evading him. Almost like a part of him that had been dormant for far too long was yearning for him to not break this gentle moment with you.  

You on the other hand were enchanted by the color of his eyes. A rich blue you tried to pinpoint through the catalog of flowers in your mind. Could the color be matched to a morning glory? A harvestbell? A brunnera? Forget-me-nots? Delphiniums? Hydrangeas?

The longer you thought the more you concluded no flower seemed close enough to the particular shade of blue that was looking right at you.  

“Thank you,” your voice was far too quiet for your liking when you broke the silence. You brought Bucky back to the present, yet not from the trance you had him in. He was particularly invested in the curve of your lips when you spoke and the way your eyes held his like you had known him all your life. 

Bucky cleared his throat, propping his arm on the counter in a nonchalant manner, “Not a problem—looked like you could use the help.” He topped his cool reply with a casual shrug and smirk that made it seem like he did this all the time. 

“Was it that obvious?”

“For a second there I thought those things would crush you.” 

Your sheepishness melts away into a laugh. The sound leaving your lips before you could stop it. You imagine what you must have looked like struggling with those heavy crates. The mental image of it is enough to fill you with mortified mirth. 

Your laugh elicits a soft chuckle from him—the first proper laugh he’s had in about a week or two. 

“‘m gonna go get the rest for ya…” he pushes himself off from the counter, but his voice trails off by the end when he realizes he never asked for your name. A heartbeat passes and with one quick lookover your frame a nickname falls effortlessly from his lips. 

“Tulip.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest. You know exactly why he called you that. You were wearing denim overalls self embroidered with a multitude of small tulips adorning it in a range of colors. As if that weren’t enough tulips, you had two small pink tulip hair clips on either side of your head, pinning your hair away from your face. 

“I-It’s Y/n, actually.”

“Pretty thing like you—Tulip suits ya.” 

The nickname already had your heart fluttering, but the wink that followed his compliment had you weak in the knees. This man was handsome—deadly handsome. You had sworn off men for a whole year and counting—and now this man presented himself into your life tempting you to throw that oath away until it was nonexistent. 

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to help with the rest um…”

“Bucky. The name's Bucky. And I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry ‘bout it, Tulip.”

With an emphasis on the nickname he’s chosen for you, he makes a smooth exit, the smirk never leaving his face as he saunters back and forth from the pickup truck and carries in crate after crate for you. You distract yourself with miscellaneous tasks around your shop. Yet, your eyes drift to his form here and there greedily taking in his display of strength. 

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky notices, and every time he does he unknowingly straightens up his posture. Trying to make it seem as though the crates were as light as a feather.

When’s he’s all done—after ten crates in total—you’re behind the main counter, arranging a small basket of goods as he approaches you. 

“That’s all of ‘em. Mind me askin’ what’s in ‘em?” Bucky motions over to the crates at his feet with a nod of his head. You present him with a basket of sweet spreads encased in decorated mason jars—the covers all distinctly patterned with different florals. 

“They’re my homemade jams and honeys. As a thank you for helping me carry all those crates in here, I’m giving you one of each,” you hand him the basket and his features soften. His fingers hovering over the rim of the basket like he doesn’t believe he deserved such kindness.  

“Tulip, ya really don’t have to thank me for helpin’.” 

“I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry about it, Bucky.”

When you echo his words from earlier and use them on him he lets out a breath of a laugh, a grin of disbelief on his face. He didn’t expect that. Having his words used against him in a good way.

He was used to the opposite of that.

You were something else and Bucky liked that. He liked that a lot. Especially the way you said his name, it sounded sweeter falling from your lips. As if his name were made out of the same sugary sweetness the goods in the basket were. It caused a stutter within his chest he wasn’t used to. 

No one’s ever given Bucky butterflies this quickly–or maybe ever like this in his life.

For the next twenty minutes you both dove into small talk to get to know each other better. It started off as a pretext of a friendly conversation between two business owners, but it quickly became something more. You confirmed Bucky’s assumptions about you being a florist when you chatted away about your shop. Your outfit and the floral mosaic that decorated one of the walls—the one you told him your aunt had hand painted—was enough for him to put the pieces together. You learned that Bucky owned a bar a few blocks down, one that he ran with his childhood friends. He had served the military with a lot of them and even knew some of them since he was a young boy.

As if the leather jacket, the leather gloves, and the motorcycle parked outside wasn’t enough to tell you—he clearly was a biker. You knew as much when he had this passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about him and his bestfriend Steve fixing up motorcycles since their high school years. He saw the same passion in your eyes when you told him the story of how your aunt had awakened your love for gardening. The very catalyst of events that led you to move into town and end up on this night here with him.

Both of you offered a part of yourselves in that conversation. An exchange that might seem small to others, but that to the both of you meant so much more. For you both had closed a part of yourselves off for quite some time. 

For entirely different reasons, but with a similar outcome nonetheless.

“Let’s make a deal. I get to keep callin’ ya Tulip and you can call me for help anytime ya need it,” Bucky offers this after you explain to him that your aunt had only been visiting you and left a few days ago. Leaving you to finish up the preparations for the grand opening of your shop in a few days time.

“Tempting offer…” you start, pretending to think about it and hiding your delight at the thought. In reality, you could use the help, and seeing more of Bucky was an added bonus that was hard to refuse. You wanted to get to know him better—you couldn’t deny that—and this seemed like a perfect place to start. 

Plus who were you kidding, you enjoyed being called Tulip. 

“Alright deal,” your smile matches his when you agree. Bucky was in the same boat as you. Not knowing where this could go, not dwelling on what the future may hold, but certain that he wanted to spend more time with you. 

Reluctantly, Bucky pulled away from the counter,“Well I gotta hit the road, the guys’ll be wonderin’ where I’ve been.” The vibrations in his pocket from his phone notifications told him as much. 

You hid your disappointment behind a grateful expression,“Of course. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks again for the help, Bucky. Let me know what you think of the spreads!” 

Bucky grabbed a hold of the basket of sweets, and slowly walked backwards towards the exit as he wanted to keep his eyes on you for as long as he could. Every fiber of his being fighting to stay.

“Anytime, Tulip—and I’ll let ya know. Have a good night.”

“You too, Bucky. Drive safe!”

Bucky walked back to his Harley smiling like a teenager with a crush. His every step feeling lighter than earlier in the night. Whether he recognized it or not that day, it was all because of you. There was just something about you that was refreshing to Bucky, like the morning air after a night of heavy rain. The first rays of sunlight after a cold winter’s night. The cool breeze that brings you back to life on a hot summer’s day. 

That was you. 

You were the morning air, the sunlight, and the cool breeze. 

He didn’t know it yet, but in due time he would. 

In due time, you would be his Tulip. 

tagging some lovelies who asked to be tagged & others who seemed eager to read more ♡ ♡ ♡

@fanfictionreaderfan @nicksolemnlyswears @tilltheendofthelinebuckaroo @princessjellyfishlove @thewritergremlin-rae

(these tags were only for this fic and not for the full collection, so if you'd like to be tagged for the full thing let me know!!)