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planet-hwa · 3 days ago

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୨୧ imperfections and impurities – 성화

summary after seeing your mother for lunch one day, you're left with an enhanced view on your body: your "imperfections" — but you're lucky enough to have the most amazing boyfriend who's prepared to do whatever it takes to show you how perfect you truly are.

pairing seonghwa x reader genre established relationship, a little angst and a lot fluff + a whole lot of loving smut word count 3.5k -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ warnings MDNI !! petnames/nicknames, body image issues, hurtful comments from family, swearing, protective!seonghwa, extreme body worship, extreme praise kink, nipple/breast play, mirror sex, fingering, dryhumping, overstimulation, squiritng, pussydrunk!seonghwa, cunnilingus, nose riding, unprotected quick-ish sex [wrap it up fr!!], the most gentle aftercare — implied chubbier reader but never specified

�� i want a better body, i want better skin — you look so pretty, pretty like the wind ❞ 🎧 now playing black friday ; tom odell

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You gazed into the floor length mirror, the reflection spitting back at you an image you never enjoyed to see — yourself. The mirror began to warp your perception of what was real and what wasn’t, highlighting every flaw and imperfection you thought your body held. Pulling and poking at everything that was cast back at you: thighs, belly, chest, hips, waist and every other aspect of your body. You had insecurities, like everyone does, but you could usually contain them.

The difference between today and yesterday?

The lunch you had with your mother earlier in the day. The lunch in which she made it her job to ridicule and criticise everything about your appearance.

“Gosh dear, you’re looking a little more plump than usual.”

“That dress is not flattering your body at all.”

“Maybe you should order something small, keep that appetite in check.”

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill, as you reminded yourself of all the cruel comments your mother insisted on sharing.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to order some dinner, do you want your usual?” Your boyfriend entered the room, eyes glued to his phone as he began noting the order. Wiping away any visibility of your gloom, you turned quickly and met Seonghwa’s lifted gaze with the best smile you could.

“I’m not really hungry, but you order something for yourself.” You tried to cover up the quake in your voice, trying not to worry him, but he was too quick to notice it.

“Darling, what’s wrong, has something happened?” He quietly moved towards you, his hands magnetically placing themselves on your hips and pulling you closer. “Talk to me, angel.”

He knew every one of your emotions and how you portrayed them, reading through them like a book. His gaze followed yours, even when you tried to avoid it. He noticed the glassiness of your eyes, and how you tried to hold in your emotions that you never wanted to burden him with. You didn’t look him directly in the eyes, knowing that the moment you looked at his face, you would burst into tears. His hands moved from your hips to your own, holding them so delicately — something that you weren’t. Leading you to the edge of the bed and sitting you down, he sat next to you, eyes still locked on your face and hands softly intertwined with yours. You both sat in silence, you not wanting to talk and him not wanting to push you to it.

“Do you think I’m fat?” Finally breaking the silence and looking up at him, his face instantaneously changing from worry to slight hurt.

“Of course not, darling.” His voice was overlaid with shock and sadness, to hear you even ask him that or believe that he would ever think of you like that was crazy to him. “Where has this come from?”

“My… my mother said that I ‘looked more plump than usual’, so… I wanted to know if you thought the same-”

“Never.” He cut you off quickly. “I would never think of you like that, because it isn’t true. You know your mother has fucked up views on her own weight and she’s only pushing onto you, which is completely wrong. That woman needs serious help.”

The sudden curse and defensiveness came as a shock to you. Seonghwa: who was always quite calm and content around you, rarely swearing and always soft spoken. To hear him become so protective of you made your heart flutter, realising that he truly did love you. His rant continued on his dislike towards your mother, not noticing the stare and small smile that sat on your face.

“And to think that she would say anything about your beautiful body when hers looks like that is absolutely insane-”

“Okay baby, I get it.” You lightly chucked, tracing your thumb over his hand in a soothing motion. His eyes met yours, softening when he saw your smile and the sparkle that returned to your eyes.

“I just need you to know that I love everything about you.”

“I know,” Sending him a warm smile and watching as his eyes outlined your features. “and I love you too.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards into a gentle smile, his hand moving to cup your face before pulling you in. Your lips connected like a puzzle piece, moving perfectly in sync, soft and filled with adoration from the both of you.

“I’m serious, I love everything about you.” Seonghwa disconnected the kiss, his breath lingering on your lips before his kisses began to move around your face.

“I love your smile.” Placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Your hair.” A kiss on your jawline.

“Your neck.” Lips now on your neck.

A light whimper fell through your parted lips, head tilting to the side to give him more access. He suckled on the sensitive skin of your neck ever so lightly, sending sensations through your entire body and straight between your legs. He smiled against your skin at the sounds you made, his fingers lingering on the hem of your skirt and rubbing soft circles on your thigh with his thumb.

“Let me show you just how much I love you.” He whispered in your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck yet sending chills down your spine.

Looking deep into your eyes for any hesitation and receiving none, with a small nod he stood you up and slowly slipped you out of your dress, revealing your true form that was treasured is a lavender lace set. His gaze moved up and down your body, completely in awe and hypnotised by the sight. You could see how much he enjoyed the view yet you still felt insecure, moving your hands across and attempting to cover your stomach.

“No darling, don’t do that.” Seonghwa whispered, tugging your hands away and replacing them with the touch of his.

Soft fingertips traced every curve in your body, his eyes watching their every move as he admired the beauty that stood in front of him. He could feel the slight tension you held, lifting a hand to your chin and connecting your lips in a dance. With one hand gently cupping your face, the other snaked its way around your waist to pull you closer to him, bodies practically merging into one.

The kiss grew passionate quickly, Seonghwa’s tongue tracing over your bottom lip and requesting access which was happily granted. Your tongues moved together intricately, neither of you fighting for dominance but embracing the intimating of it. He began to trail backwards, pulling you along with him until his knees hit the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss to sit down.

Looking up at you through his long lashes, he hooked his fingers under the band of your panties, holding your eye contact and he pulled them down and let them pool at your ankles. His hand snaked behind you once again, unclasping your bra in one swift motion and throwing it across the room. The way your plump breasts bounced out was always a sight he loved, never to get bored of though that was always a fear of yours. No matter how long the two of you were together, every time he saw you, it was like the first — he fell deeper and deeper in love.

His hand palmed at your breast, cold fingertips tracing over the hardened bud of your nipple before covering it with the warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled over the bud, eliciting a sweet melody of soft moans from you, your hand cupping the back of his head and tangling itself in his long dark hair. Suckling lightly on your nipple, his other hand preoccupied itself by tightening around your waist and pulling you closer, now standing in between his parted knees. Finally letting go with a pop, he stared at the pink tinted skin he caused, a proud smirk curling at his lips before looking up at your lust-filled eyes.

“Turn around and sit on my lap for me, darling.” He requested.

Noticing your hesitance, he twirled you around slowly and pulled you down onto him, an arm wrapping around your waist to not let you leave. It was then that you realised the floor length mirror you were once staring at, forgetting it was placed at such an angle. Your naked reflection stared back at you once more, but all you could pay attention to was the head lent over your shoulder, eyes filled with undeniable lust and obsession.

“Like I said…” Seonghwa purred in your ear, placing elegant kisses on your bare shoulder. “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

Before you could protest, you felt two slender fingers dip into and drag through your folds, the affects his previous praises had on you glistening evidently on his digits. He felt your body shudder against him as he grazed over your clit, a small whimper escaping you. Attempting to avoid eye contact with the reflection, Seonghwa wasn’t impressed and quickly grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze forcefully to watch.

“No darling, I need you to look at yourself.” He began to gently suck on your neck, watching you through hooded eyes. “I need you to see your beauty.”

With a tight grip around your waist, he collected your essence and dragged it through your already soaking folds. His fingertips traced your clit softly, small shapes and circles drawing out quiet moans from your parted lips. He watched you intently, making sure your eyes never left the mirror and gazed at your curiosity growing. Your eyes looked through the mirror at where he held you, observing the way his fingers moved over you so delicately yet with purpose.

“Look at her, a goddess.” Seonghwa praised, making you wetter in an instant. “My goddess.”

Quickening his movements, a pulsing sensation began to grow in between your legs, one he could feel underneath him and it encouraged him. His thumb replaced onto your clit as he pushed two slender fingers inside of your sopping hole, the clench around them immediate and causing him to let out a low groan at the feeling. Arm sliding down from your waist, he applied a small amount of pressure on your lower abdomen, bringing in a new sense of pleasure making you moan out instantly.

A melody of moans and whimpers filtered the room as he slowly pumped his digits in and out of you, thumb caressing your clit elegantly. Your hips began to buck hopelessly against his lap, chasing his movements as your orgasm grew closer — the sudden movement causing Seonghwa’s body to twitch, his hardened length pushing deep into your back. He buried his lips into your neck, placing wet kisses along the bare skin he could reach to contain his moans.

“You’re doing so good, darling.” He could feel your body growing closer, pumping faster and eliciting higher pitched moans from you: his favourite sound to hear.

“Hwa… I-I’m so- ahhh!” The sudden pinch of his thumb pushing into your clit cut you off with a loud whimper, eyes rolling back and closing to embrace the pleasure. Your gummy walls clenched desperately around his speedy fingers, almost tight enough to break. He curled them as they reached that spongy spot that would push you over the edge. The lewd wet sounds of his fingers entering you mixed with your lustful whines, thumb flicking over your clit deliciously.

“Cum for me, darling.” He whispered, nibbling at your earlobe before you let yourself go.

Your high crashed over you in waves as his digits pumped harshly into you, pulling out every bit of your orgasm that he could, your essence glistening along his fingers as his movements slowed. But he didn’t want to stop there, pulling out once you started to come down and replacing them on your clit. Pinching it lightly brought your body back to life before he began to rapidly circle the bundle of nerves.

Your body trembled against him at the overstimulation, your brain growing foggy and unable to comprehend sentences, only responding with audible moans and a mantra of Seonghwa’s name. He watched as the overstimulation hit you with another orgasm, clear liquid gushing out of you and shattering onto the mirror; the most beautiful fountain he had ever looked at. Seonghwa watched as your juices dripped down the mirror, an immense amount of desire flourishing within him and before you could process what had just happened, he lifted you up with ease and placed you in his previous spot, before he was on his knees and wedging himself between your thighs. Attempting to close your legs, he only gripped them tight and spread them wider.

“Please darling,” He murmured against your soft skin, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. “You deserve this more than anything.”

His deep brown eyes were clouded with desire and admiration, desperate to please you in all the ways he could. You couldn’t say no, sending him a small nod as he neared closer to your heated core. Softly kissing over your centre, he watched as you shivered at the smallest of touches before finally wrapping his plump lips around your puffy clit. You tried to subconsciously escape him but the hands on your lower back held you in place tightly, restricting your movements and pulling you closer into his face.

His tongue lapped through your sopping folds, coating it in the remains of your previous high. It swirled over your clit, eliciting new gorgeous sounds from you. Running your fingers through his long locks, the moment he sharply sucked on your bundle of nerves, your grasp on him tightened and pulled desperately at his hair. He growled into your heat at the pull, sending vibrations through your entire body. Hungrily sucking on your clit and feeling a euphoria he had never felt, he began to nibble on it lightly with his teeth, pain and pleasure mixing within you. You whimpered loudly, crying out at the unusual sensation.

Pulling away with a soft kiss, his tongue began to explore the inside, your gummies walls clenching and pulling the muscle deeper. He moaned loudly at the suction, enjoying the feeling more than you were — pushing his face closer, his nose rubbed deliciously against your clit, your hips instantly grinding against it.

“I can’t get enough of you, my angel.” Every ounce of your nectar he could guzzle, he did, inhaling and tasting his favourite flavours.

Your stomach began to coil once more, tightening as your high creeped up on you. Seonghwa felt it and started cravingly lapping at your entire core; through your folds, grazing against your spongy walls, devouring your over sensitive clit. Any area he wanted to taste, he reached for it. You grasped his hair securely, thighs squishing around his head as your third orgasm poured over you like a bucket of cool water. That luscious clear liquid spilled out of you once more, dripping down your thighs and drowning over the head that secured itself in between your legs, waiting desperately for the tsunami. Seonghwa guzzled up every ounce like a starved man, the feeling of his chin glistening with your juices inducing a new obsession — he needed you to squirt on him every time from now on.

Your breaths were heavy and unsteady as you can down from your high. You watched through hooded eyes as Seonghwa climbed up your body, lips connecting with delicacy, spit and the taste of you mixing on each other’s tongues as they danced together. One hand held the small of your back whilst the other cupped your face with such gentleness it made your heart melt for him. Disconnecting the kiss for a breath, lips only inches away, you mumbled a small “I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you too, my goddess Y/N.” He smiled before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. “But I still have so much more love to show you.”

He directed you up the bed, quickly removing his clothes, you watched as his desperate erection bounced out and hit his lower stomach, precum leaking from the reddened tip — a mouthwatering sight of his attraction to you, the only person who could make him like this. He crawled up the bed and hovered over you, eyes locked in contact before leaning down and connecting your lips once more. Kisses were passionate and desire filled, yet so gentle and soft, the ability to portray so many emotions through the simple connection was exhilarating. Hands tracing all over your body, his hips started bucking lightly against yours, aware of your sensitivity but still so desperate for your touch.

Pulling away and watching your fucked out expression still filled with lust for more, he held your face gently before lining himself up with your entrance. The slow stretch was a bittersweet sensation, ache and pleasure molding into one as he bottomed out with a load growl. He stilled himself above you, leaning down in a way to almost protect your body from the world. With peppered kisses around your face and neck, he began to slowly thrust his hips in and out of you, holding your hips with a grip that could bruise. He pushed your bodies as close as possible, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper, he couldn’t bear being any further apart.

The knot in your stomach was already building once more, his building quicker than expected as well. He didn’t realise how much of an effect pleasuring you had on him, enough for him to burst within minutes of entering you. The both of you practically molded into one, the gravitational pull closing between you with every thrust. You rolled your hips upwards to meet his movements, his lower abdomen grazing your clit so gently each time. His thrusts grew sloppier and more desperate as his high came close. Your bodies stuck together with sweat glistening over them, a thin layer shimmering across Seonghwa’s face and slipping down his neck. Pashing your lips together hastily, your tongues rhythmically danced together as your orgasms washed over you within seconds of each other.

The lewd sounds of your juices squirting out and splashing between your bodies filled the room, a melody of moans escaping your mouths that still hopelessly held onto each other. As your waves continued to wash over his lower abdomen and dripped down your thighs once again, the feeling satisfied him as he groaned deeply into the crook on your neck, hot ropes of white cum spilling into you and filling you up. His hips stuttered into you as the last of his cum seeped into you, holding himself there for a while and cuddling into your body. You both breathed heavily against each other, skin sticking together like glue but neither of you cared, too immersed in the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Sitting there for a few minutes, content with being close and embracing each other as you returned to a more normal breathing state. Seonghwa lifted his head from your neck, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before pulling out of you. He looked at the previous connection of your bodies, staring at your drenched core and watching as his cums spilled out of you. The sight made him want to devour you once more but he knew you were worn out and needed to be cared for in other ways. He climbed off the bed, quickly being stopped by a tug to his wrist. Turning around, he saw the concerned pout that sat on your face, a fear of being left alone — something he would never do.

“My darling, I promise I will be right back.” He reassured, voice soft spoken and with sincerity.

You nodded lazily and followed his figure as he wandered into the bathroom, the sound of the bath turning on echoing into the room. Waiting for the temperature to warm just enough, he walked out with a soft smile before lifting you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom. He placed you down like a delicate flower, climbing into the bubbled bath and holding out a hand for you to follow. Relaxing his back against the cool tiling and sending a small chill down his spine, he guided you down between his legs and secured his arms around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.

Placing soft kisses over the hickies he left on your shoulders, his chin nestled into your neck and rested there. His breath fanned against your cheek, the warmth creating a comfort to you as you relaxed into his arms. The two of you remained embracing one another in the intimacy of the lightly bubbled bath, sharing small words of praise and adoration held towards each other. The love you held for each other was a silent agreement, a promise to never be broken, something you could always trust to be there no matter what happened.

This was all you needed, he was all you needed.

author’s note lowkey forgot about this story for a bit so i'm sorry for the delay (i started writing it in december)... but i hope that you didn't forget about it and it was worth the wait (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ also the intro is definitely inspired by my experiences of body issues and family issues, please don't be offended ♡

p.s completely unimportant to the story but i saw harry styles live TWO YEARS AGO... how has it been two years since i saw my pookie wtf i miss him ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

୨୧ taglist + moots @betda @solaris-amethyst @hwachronicles @autieofthevalley @hwalighters @tyudeongii @e3ellie @atzlordz ♡ @dunno-wut-to-do @foulbreadpirate @hwahan @suluhwa @hwas-star @daniela-f-uwu @flwrshobi @midnightrebel1028 @kmpokjoong @arourababy @lemonkait00 @woohwababes @emmergency

(i went through my followers and tagged whoever had hwa as their profile name/pic and just said "yeah they're hwa biased")

#written by planet hwa ༉��₊˚✧#ateez #park seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #seonghwa smut

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yandere-writer-momo · 2 days ago

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Yandere Head Canons: Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

Yandere Conman x Rich Married Fem Reader x Yandere ‘Neglectful Tycoon’ Husband

TW: Yandere themes, a man trying to get you to cheat, manipulation, neglectful husband, dark themes, and unhealthy relationship dynamics that should not be romanticized

Glen Magenta had always been a conniving individual since childhood. A natural born flirt who always got his way. Hell, he hardly ever heard the word no.

He was charismatic and romantic so it was easy for him to scam rich, lonely women trapped in loveless marriages. All he had to do was say pretty words and keep them company and he was able to drink the sweet nectar of their riches…

This time, he set his sights on the wife of a wealthy business tycoon named (your name). A delicate young woman with such sad eyes. She would be such easy prey… or so he thought

He introduced himself to her as Magnus Markley, a starving artist who has been utterly bewitched by her… but rather than fall instantaneously for his charms, she simply glanced at him like he was nothing. Was she not flattered by his good looks? By his sweet words and charming smile? How? She was known to be neglected by her husband in social circles.

(Your name) was the beautiful wife of Salvatore Urso. The wife Sal hardly gave any time to and yet she had no interest in an affair.

“I’m flattered, but I’m married.” Her soft voice replied to him as she showed that expensive ring that bordered on being gaudy. Magnus thought it was hideous… he never understood why the upper class had such awful taste, but at least Mister Urso had decent taste in his woman. (Your name) was going to be more difficult to catch than he thought… but he’d make the effort. After all, he enjoyed the hunt.

Glen truly committed to the character of Magnus Markley he created. He was a romantic and easily charmed (your name)’s closest friends in her social group. They were far easier to charm like his many conquests before (your name) yet she was the big fish he wanted… she would be the richest of any woman he’s seduced over the years. If Glen was able to capture her heart, he’d be set for life! He’d never have to work again… plus her husband was never around!

All Glen needed to do was work his way into her heart… even if he had to go through other women in order to do it. His greed had no bounds

Magnus was now often in the same circles (your name) ran with. She now saw him at every social gathering as he slowly wormed his way past her defenses by getting into her friend group to find out her hobbies. She enjoyed book club? He just joined to try to find inspiration for his art! She adored bird watching with the girls? Well, he was there to find an idea to paint!

Months went by into his plan. Hours of work went into his attempts to chip away at the walls around her heart and he finally made a crack… it seemed (your name) enjoyed having a genuine friend. Not that he was truly genuine.

(Your name) sat with him as they discussed books and music. Her sad face lit up warmly as she’d shyly talk of her interests. He’s never met a victim of his that was so cute.

He could see himself genuinely being with her. She was so sweet! How could someone be so sweet? Her husband was a fool for not being with her all the time!

The more he learned about her the more he began to falter with his goal. She was once a waitress at a restaurant before Sal married her? He never knew that… he had always thought she came from money since she was so prim and proper. Sal often bought her extravagant gifts? He had assumed her husband didn’t care much for her… but it seemed he did care. Sal cared far too much for his wife to the point it was terrifying.

(Your name) shared how most of her friends went missing after a while and that it was lonely, but her husband always cheered her up. That he’d take her to the best Italian restaurants each time and then he’d take her out on their balcony and make her limoncello to sip with him as they watched fireworks together.

It seemed he stumbled across a rabbit hole he should have never went down the more he learned. This young woman wasn’t a simple business tycoon’s wife… her husband was a part of the mob.

Glen couldn’t help but want to save her. She had no idea she was associated with the mob… that she was in danger!

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be selfish. He had enough to be able to relocate them to another country, he just had to convince her to flee… but he didn’t cover his tracks fast enough. Sal already caught wind of him.

Before he knew it, he was gagged and bound in a metal chair on the back of a ship on the sea. Cinder blocks were tied around each of his legs with heavy metal chains. Sal stood above him with a cigar in hand.

“I looked into you, Magnus or should I say… Glen.” Sal told the conman as he exhaled his cigar smoke. “Real piece of work, you are. Did you think I would let you try to take my wife?”

Glen gulped as Sal held up a pistol to him.

“I-I had no idea you cared so much for your wife-“

“Care for her?” Sal chuckled as his heavy accent dripped with venom, “I’m obsessed with her. She’s my darling wife and I’ll be damned if I let some schmuck get his greasy little fingers on her.”

Glen felt tears well up in his eyes. “Please, Sal. I’ll skip town, I’ll never talk to her again-“

“Yeah right, I found your little diary filled with love notes and your plan to convince her to run away with you.” Sal stood up with the gun still pointed. “Like hell I’d let you live. Rats like you need to be exterminated early.”

Glen felt tears roll down his face as Sal shoved the barrel into his mouth.

“Such a shame I have to get rid of another one of her friends, but she’ll be okay. I’m all amore mio needs.”

A gunshot rang out in the empty sea before a loud splash followed.

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wonweige · 2 days ago

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❝ 78151920 ❞ ✶ so do i look like him ? ; not proofread — ignore typos </3 ++ reader (gn!) referred to as 'they/their/them' (reader is NOT the little princess)

she never really knew why she got such looks, but every time the little princess would walk around, head held high and a confident look of her face, the higher ups would look at her with such knowing eyes — as if they did not see her but someone she reminded them of. it made her feel a bit uncomfortable, but she didn't comment about it.

sometimes her father, the crowned prince, would give her the same looks, but that spark would always vanish. from sadness to tender love as he carries her in his strong arms, walking through the halls as she rambles on and on about her day and interests.

her father cherished her a lot, the little princess noted. more so than a normal father would. but the shower of love and tenderness was always eagerly accepted as she'd run into his arms mid-meeting or dress up in pretty outfits because her father could never ever say no to her — his darling little girl.

she just wished he wasn't so overprotective of her.

they'd both play tea party as she adorns a pretty dress, the color oddly resembling the color of the outfit worn by the person in the painting in her father's room. her other parent, she had learned. she didn't ask many questions, she saw how everyone would grow crestfallen at the mention of their name.

even her father, for as much as he tried to hide it, would grow upset, too.

so, the little princess had learned to not mention the name much. but hey, at least her grandpa told her stories! how her parent was the most gorgeous person in all of the lands, how her father was like a puppy with them, how she was the light of her parents' life.

how she had the name [color] hair, the same [tone] skin, the same [color] eyes — how she looked exactly like them.

#✦ ║ wonweige.#౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. hsr #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mydei hsr #mydei honkai star rail #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #mydei #❛　my dearest writing　❜#[ ✶ ] ⸻ reader based off of character !

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immortalmolloy · 7 hours ago

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Daniel was relieved to see that Mina wasn’t too sad after their conversation. He worried about her sometimes just like she worried about him. He was also happy to see her bonding with Lestat. Daniel knew she would never be so completely in love with Lestat but it was good for them to bond in their own way at least. “Good,” he said. “Have fun.” He kissed her quickly and kissed Lestat as well. Then he reached for Louis’ hand excitedly so that they could go to bed together.

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

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cutiecusp · 3 days ago

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Safe.

A continuation of this

A Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soaps sister fic.

What happens when you knock on your brothers door for help, and Simon answers?

Tw. Brief dv implication, sexual talk, a kiss or two. MDNI.

The rain was heavy as you ran to your brothers house, heels long forgotten, just you in a ruined dress and a bruised eye.

You don't stop as you hear him calling your name, urging you to get back in the car, that it would never happen again.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you reach your brothers flat, both hands battering down the door, hoping you were louder than the rain.

"Johnny, Johnny please!" You scream, your voice heavy with worry.

The door opens mid pound, making you stumble into a broad chest, and an accent unlike your brothers spits out.

"Oh little dove, who did this to you?"

You feel his gaze flicker down his body, his eyes stopping at the bruises on your face, the split lip, and then travelling down to your torn dress, your bare feet.

Ghost.

The one man you knew other than Johnny who would protect you with his life.

You shake, your body exhausted from the adrenaline boost, and being caught in the rain.

Ghost wraps his arms around you, gently pulling you out of the rain, passing you a blanket from the chair to cover yourself with.

You stiffen as you hear heavy footsteps behind you, the weight of them forever in your mind.

"I see, running straight into another man's arms, bitch?" Jake snarls, alcohol giving him the bravery to stand there in the doorway.

He doesn't get any further before you are shoved to the side, and a spurt of blood erupts from Jakes nose.

Ghost stands there in your place, snarling like a guard dog, shaking his knuckles.

"Watch your mouth around her." He advises cooly, taking in your (ex) boyfriend, his unnerving stare relentless in its dominance.

Jake staggers to his feet, clasping his nose.

"She ain't worth it, wouldn't give it up anyway, frigid cunt." He spits a ball of blood, landing on Ghosts shoes.

Ghosts eyes flick to yours, pushing you further in the house, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone to find some of Johnny's clothes to get warm in.

Outside, you hear scrapes and five small high pitched screams, just barely louder than the rain, before Ghost steps in, his face a cool mask until his eyes meet yours.

"He won't bother you again." He grumbles, his deep voice filling the room.

You settle on the sofa, using the blanket as a shield.

"In fact. He probably couldn't touch a woman again in his life with the way I broke his fingers." He scoffs.

Looking over at your pale, shivering form, he gives an apologetic look.

"Sorry. No filter. Johnny's not back until tomorrow evening. I'm looking after the flat till then."

You nod, you had always had a light friendship with Ghost, and you knew there was a dark soul under the light smiles you always recieved.

"Let's take a look at ya." He gestures to your face.

"Looks like he got you pretty good." He says, standing to get the first aid kit.

You swallow down your embarrassment as you felt his touch on your face.

"You probably think I'm stupid-" you began, but he silenced you with a look.

"You remind me of my mother." He states plainly, wiping down your bloody lip and smoothing a balm over it.

"She was my father's punching bag, especially when he'd had a bottle. She was funny, kind, and didn't deserve it either"

You take in what he's saying, Johnny never told her about Ghosts home life, only it was a sad one.

"One day, she snapped back. Stood there and gave it back, her face a rainbow of bruises, but she fought back." He continues softly, almost as if he's talking more to himself.

He applies more balm over the cut on your cheek, a dark glance as he noticed it matched Jakes ring.

"What surprised me at the time was no one helped. Everyone knew about it. My mum was a good person, but she had no one. You have someone. You have me. " He decides, seemingly happy with his handiwork.

You nod, unsure what to say.

"Thank you." You muster up instead.

He nods, packing away the kit, before flicking on the kettle.

You two sit in a comfortable silence, mug clasped in both hands as you relax into the sofa.

Your eyes drift shut, you feel Ghost take your cup out of your hands and place a quick kiss on your forehead.

You are fast asleep soon enough, too asleep to hear Ghost pull out his phone and call in a favour.

"Gaz? Gonna need info. Jack Darrington. And a clean up crew." He listens for a few minutes before hanging up.

"You'll always have me." He says out loud to you as he slips out into the night.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

@kaeyasfuturewife @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fanfiction #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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messenger-of-babel · 2 days ago

Note

Could you write about the sweetheart grips? Soldiers in ww2 used to put photos of their lovers on the grips of their guns and I think that would be cute with Jason.

Eye for An Eye

Summary: Jason keeps a photo of you in his gun to keep you close to him, even in his hardest moments. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: dear anon I really, really wanted to make this sweet. But then I got an angst idea and- I tried to do it justice without too many tears. Forehead kisses for you because as soon as you sent this in I legit thought about this idea for like three days straight I fell in love with the concept. I might use it again for other Jason fics you got me hooked (I was a MASSIVE military history nerd). Warnings for description of violence and injury, character death, some choppy writing. Back onto my angst train, I'm so sorry y'all (I'll write this concept sweeter sometime, I SWEAR).

ALSO HAPPY 100 POSTS. It's crazy when I remember I'm still a baby blog. <3

Enjoy~! RiRi xoxo <3

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Bruce had never been one for guns, and while Jason was Robin, he hadn't either.

He didn't consider himself a particularly violent child or had any real craving to use weapons. After all, he never really hit anyone who didn't deserve it, and he got great satisfaction of getting back at people who thought they could hurt innocent civilians just because they were bigger and older than him.

That was until he was taken by Joker and showed just how much hurt someone older and bigger than could inflict.

April 27th, the date that the Joker killed Jason Todd.

Now, he couldn’t imagine his hands without the comforting grip of his pistol. The grips were designed just for him, slotting into the contours of his fingers and worn away in the areas he instinctually rubbed. They were wide so they sat snug in his large palms, with a coarse texture in the areas he habitually flexed. The grip allowed it to stick to his gloves for a steadier shot while it would simply irritate anyone else who tried to hold them.

Everyone knew that those guns were Jasons, but nothing said it quite like the new addition of the faded photo tucked into the grips. The colt's had originally come with wooden handgrips, which were quickly removed while he made his modifications.

"You know the Bat isn't gonna be happy with you getting another set of guns." Dick calls out, approaching his worktable in the cave. Jason just grunts at him over his shoulder, making sure he keeps the screws where he can see them.

"Bruce can honestly suck it up." he huffs, the mention of the Bat souring his demeanour immediately. Jason had wanted to do this in his apartment for this exact same reason. He knew Stephanie would annoy him with questions if she caught sight of him, and that Tim would interject constantly with 'improvements' he deemed necessary. Duke he could deal with, and Cass would leave him well enough alone.

Dick and Damian just managed to piss him off simply existing sometimes.

Mostly when he was already in a bad mood.

His older brother trots down the stairs, a frown forming on his face as he puts his hands on his hips to observe.

"Quiet." Jason mumbles flatly, knowing the older vigilante was giving him a disapproving stare. Dick ignores him, eyeing the photo tucked up near his water bottle.

"Jason," he says, voice a warning tone.

"I said quiet." he cuts off, wiping the area down with a damp cloth. Dick just sighs behind him as Jason gingerly picks up the photo, rubbing his calloused thumbs over it. Dick wants to say something as he eyes the photo but can't bring himself to speak above the block in his chest. He watches the tension ease from his brother’s shoulders, the muscles that had been stiffly held by his ears for weeks. The scowl he wore softened slightly, and he could actually hear him exhale for once instead of wondering if his chest actually was moving or not. Instead, Dick sighs in reluctance, giving in. Dick watches him with sad eyes, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. "Don't forget to, you know," he leans forward slightly and draws a circle with his finger on a certain point of the photo. Jason's face ripples with a flash of pain, but he watches his younger brother grit his teeth and nod.

"Look after yourself, Jay." he murmurs, pulling back. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jason waits a little bit before turning back the photo, ensuring that Dick had left the cave. A still silence settled over the dim space once more. It didn't help the hum in his head, making his fingers and muscles shake, the white noise refusing to settle in his conscious. He gently drew on the photo of you with pencil, tracing the shape that he needed for the grip and ensuring that you weren't cut out by accident.

It was a favourite photo of his, taken at one of Bruce's galas. He hadn't wanted to go, hardly showing to the events in the first place. "Full of rich idiots trying to get even richer." he had told you, tossing a look over his shoulder to you. You were standing at the door, holding the invite that had been slipped through the mail slot. You waved the thick cardstock, a small smile on your face. "Aw, but I was kinda looking forward to going." you say, looking over the details. "I think it'll be fun."

"The only one who thinks those things are fun are Dick and Steph if she's around. Tim will get bored and probably turn into a loan shark if left unattended too long. So yeah, fun." he grumbled.

"What about Dami?"

Her turns around, eyebrows raised.

"I’m sorry?" he asks. "When did we start calling the demon child, Dami? We're on nickname level now?"

He hates how his heart flutters in his chest when he hears you laugh, melting away his annoyance.

"He's sweet, just a little prickly. like you." you grin, coming to wrap your arms around his neck, pecking him on the lips.

"Yeah, he's sweet to you, he's a little shit to everyone else." he grumbles.

"Sounds like someone else I know." you tease.

He can't help but grin, sighing out through his nose softly. "Fine. we can go." he grumbles, knowing he won’t be able to stay mad at you for long.

The photo he traces was from that night, you tucked into his side. You're staring at the camera with a sparkle in your eye, lips pulled back into a wide grin. You're wearing black to fit the theme of the ball, with red accents, matching him. He’s got his arm around your shoulder, taking the photo with you pressed up against him. He thinks you look stunning, eyes twinkling at him from the page.

He takes the exacto knife and gently runs it over the image, cutting himself out so that he can focus on you. The piece pops free, and he trims the edges. His heart thrums as he slides you onto the handle, fluttering with a tame delight.

"Don't forget to, you know..."

Dick’s voice floats back into his mind, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards once more. Reluctantly he pulls your photo from the handle and reaches for a screwdriver to his left, bringing it above the paper. He feels like he's about to stab you, the way the metal tip hovers above the image smiling back at him.

But he does it, heart clenching with each scrape across your eyes, slowly erasing the twinkle he loved so much. There's something sickening about the feeling of scratching your face out, the gritty sound of the photo tearing and leaving white streaks in its wake making his stomach flip. Finally, it's done, stark white lines blotting out your gaze. All that's left is the upturn of your lips, and the soft smile you wore.

With a heavy sigh Jason slots it back onto the handle, placing the clear protector over you. At least nothing could damage you more than he already had. He told himself it was for the better, as he cleaned his hands on a nearby rag and bit the inside of his cheek. You weren't the most supportive of his guns, but you liked that they kept him safe. You had had a few conversations with him about it but never an argument. He wanted to keep you close, but he knew he wasn't going to be an idiot about it. He wanted to protect you, hide your identity from any eagle-eyed thugs.

"Besides," he thought to himself. "Don't want em seeing what I'm about to do."

Maybe it was for the best that he covered your face for this.

His body hums with adrenaline, still alone in the Batcave. With scarred fingers he screws the cover onto the grip, clear cover sitting flush and keeping your photo secure. Jasons tosses it a few times in his hand, getting used to the feeling of the new colt pistols and making sure you weren't going to shake loose. When he was content, he looked over his shoulder, scanning the shadows for movement.

He knew that Bruce would condemn his actions, he didn’t even need to ask on that front. Dick would be understanding but try to hold him back, and Tim would try to talk him out of it. The only person he felt that silently agreed with him was Damian, the pair of them fostering an unlikely bond in the last few weeks.

Everyone in the manor knew what Jason was thinking.

What Jason was doing spending his nights in the Batcave, the one place he had grown to hate ever since coming back.

What he contemplated as he haunted the halls of the manor, the place he often traded in for the comfort of his downtown apartment.

Everyone knew what Jason was going to do tonight, yet none of them were game enough to say it out loud or stop him.

Therefore, Jason took their silence as compliance because he knew somewhere deep down, they wanted him to do it.

Or was he deluding himself?

He shook the thought from his head, holstering the newly decorated pistol. He was already dressed and strapped for this mission, no turning back now. With heavy hands he donned his helmet, taking a deep breath as he pushed Jason aside to become Red Hood. The air was still, as if the Batcave was filled with spirits watching him in silence as he mounted the bike and pressed the key for the garage door, speeding out.

He was already haunted by too many ghosts.

The streets of Gotham were relatively quiet, the usual alleys he stalked devoid of the thugs he would have expected. It seemed that even the city was holding its breath, civilians tucked safely inside. He knew where he was going.

He had been receiving mocking invites in the mail for the last week, notes attached to crime scenes in a gory fashion just to mock him. So really, it was no surprise when he arrived at Gotham cemetery, parking outside and not even bothering to kill the engine. He wasn’t going to be long anyways.

Just past the cemetery was the crumbling shell of Arkham, ivy covering the brickwork and roof caving in. His boots crushed broken panes of glass as he entered the decaying mental hospital, leaves scattered through the building from wrinkled trees that had cracked through the floors. He slowly made his way to the upper floor, where he had seen the lights.

Instinctually he reached for his gun, and he felt his heart calm sliding his hand over your picture secured into his sweetheart grip. He hadn't felt this anxious fighting in a while, unused to the way that his pulse thudded against his neck or the dryness that crept into his mouth. The corridor felt like it stretched on forever, making his vision swim trying to reach the light at the end.

Candlelight flickered weakly at the end of the hall, luring him in like a moth. As he stepped in he took note of it, hand tightening. Jason knew he was going to play with him, taunt and torture him. The images of you taped up on the peeling walls were enough. Photos that spanned back months, photos of you on dates, at work, in his car, in your apartment, blurry photos of you and him in his bed. His thumb instinctually placed itself over your eyes, despite them already being scratched out.

He didn't need you seeing the messy patchwork of your life.

Jason didn't even mind the photos, knowing the sadist would be doing something like that. What he did mind though were the images of you from three weeks ago, the same images that Dick had refused to let him see, that Tim wiped off the Batcomputer hard drive and Babs had removed from the GCPD database. The ones displaying the blood, the bone, the bruising.

Your eyes, unseeing.

Everything that was so familiar to him, but so foreign on you.

Everything that that one curved piece of metal had caused way back when, stained a dark brown. The same piece of metal that was sitting in the middle of the desk at the centre of the crude shrine, drying with a fresher coat of oxidised red.

He felt his heart rise to his throat, but he wasn’t sure if it was bile in his throat or the taste of blood from his bitten lip. His grip turned white, muscles flexing under the skin and pressing unnaturally hard. He felt the green tinged mania inside him rear its head, threatening to take over his mind and act purely on instinct. The Lazarus pit clawed and pulled at his soul harder that it had in years, gasping at him like a beggar, screaming for a shred of violence to feed it.

He knew the game. He knew all of this was to provoke him, try to get Jason to release the rage inside him. The monster wanted to see him squirm, see him struggle to keep himself in check. He wanted to watch Jason Todd fight against the Red Hood, watch the Bats moral code play out on his face.

Well, Jason wasn't Batman. He wasn't Bruce.

As soon as a skinny figure moved from the shadows to his right, his pistol was out in a flash. His free hand ripped the mask from his face, jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed, but he felt more relaxed than he had been in ages.

He was no Batman. He was Jason Todd.

And Jason was going to do the one thing Bruce had always been too much of a coward to do.

With one crisp bang the clown couldn’t get a single word out before he was splayed on the floor. As Jason stepped over the body he regarded it apathetically, barely biting down the urge to step on it. The bastards’ lips were pulled back in a wide smile, even in death. Maybe he had expected Jason to do this, maybe it was his last hurrah as an asshole, but Jason didn't care.

He didn’t even feel scared at the idea of the aftermath as a retraced his steps out of the abandoned building, mounting his still-running bike.

There hadn't been a single gloat before the gun cracked through the night, not a single joke or pun or taunt to leave the devil’s mouth. Bruce might have entertained it, let him play it out, but not Jason.

For Jason, everything that needed to be said had been said in actions.

The air was strangely cool, devoid of the humidity that nomrally hung in the streets. The city itself seemed to be sighing, taking a breath like the chord holding the city on a leash had been cut. He relished the feeling of it on his skin, the cracks in his suit letting the breeze run across his knuckles and where his mask met his neck. He imagined the cool fingers were you, cradling his face and whispering for him to take a rest, and he let his eyes flutter closed briefly.

As he hit a red light he took a pause, reaching his hand down to pat where you were, tucked tightly under his hip. He didn't care what the reaction was going to be when he reached the manor, or the screaming match that was likely going to destroy what was left of his relationship with his pseudo father. All that matters is that he had done right by you, that he had done what he wished someone had done for him.

April 17th, the night Jason Todd killed the Joker.

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blushsturns · 2 days ago

Note

Hiii could you do a Chris version of the fic where reader does the trend of not saying ily back and he starts crying after she leaves?

title: love you back

word count: 1717

matt’s version is here!

Your boyfriend Chris was lying next to you on the bed, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled up against your chest. You wrapped your arms around him to pull him even impossibly closer, your head resting comfortably on his chest. You took in a deep breath to take in his intoxicating scent, a satisfied hum leaving your lips. You loved laying here with him, cuddling him, and being close to him at all times. It was nice that Chris was also clingy with you, so the relationship wasn’t one sided.

“Do you have to go film a car video with your brothers, baby? Do they really need you there?” You whined out, your bottom lip jutting out into a small pout.

He looked down at you, his ocean blue eyes filled with sadness, his fingers moving up and down your lower back in a slow, comforting motion. “I know, baby. I wish I could skip out on this one. Luckily, it’s just a car video and nothing too crazy. You gonna be good when I’m gone?”

He flashed you a small smirk after he spoke, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully. His hand moved underneath your shirt from behind to begin running his fingers against your bare skin causing a soft shudder to run down your spine at the sensation. “You know I will. I’m buried in homework, literally.”

The homework that you have been neglecting has been piled up next to you on the bed. At this point, you both were probably laying on the papers, but you didn’t care at this very moment. You wanted to spend as much time with Chris as possible.

Just when you thought you had more time together, Chris’ phone rang with Nick’s name displayed on the screen. Chris groaned in frustration, pulling away from you to immediately answer it. “Hello?” Pause. “Yes?” Another pause. He looks at you, mouthing Nick’s name as if you didn’t already see his name pop up on the screen. “Okay, be there in 10. Bye.” Chris sighed hard as he set his phone down next to him, pulling his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands moving into his hair. “I’m sorry I gotta leave, ma.”

You immediately shake your head and move your body over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, placing your hand onto his thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll be here when you get here back. Give us, and me, some good content, okay?”

Chris looked at you with a widening grin on his face, a soft chuckle emitting from his lips. “That I can do.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Okay, baby, I’m gonna go before they cut off my head, or my dick. Maybe both. I’ll pick up some takeout on the way home.”

“My man.” You say simply, and proudly as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering there for a moment before pulling away. “Now go before they really cut off your head and your dick. You need those, and honestly, so do I.” You flash him a small smirk before allowing a soft giggle to emit from your lips.

Chris lets out a soft chuckle and nods his head, getting up from the bed and grabs his phone, slipping it into his pocket. He leans down to place his index finger underneath your chin to tilt your head up, your eyes locking together in a brief moment before he presses his lips back against yours sweetly. You kiss him back softly, smiling against his lips before allowing him to pull away and he walked over to the doorway before turning to look back at you. “Alright, ma. I’ll be back before you know it. I love you.”

After you hear him say I love you, you debate if you should pull the little prank on him that you saw earlier when you took a break from your homework. It was a video of the girlfriend not saying I love you back to the boyfriend and he genuinely got so confused about it. It wasn’t like you to not say it back, and you already knew Chris would notice it right away, but he’s messed with you before, why not get him back?

“Have a good time filming, baby!” Was all you said back, flashing him a small, innocent smile as you stared up at him.

Your eyes stayed locked onto his face the entire time as you noticed his facial expression changed. He went from smiling, to suddenly he was confused. His eyebrow arched up in a confused motion, looking down at you. “Ma, I said I love you. Did you hear me?”

You nodded your head at his words, biting gently onto your bottom lip as you looked at him. You felt bad, but you wanted to play along with the little joke to see what would happen. Chris was always full of jokes and even pulled some pranks on you and always fell from them, but you never really pulled anything on him before. You get most of your material from TikTok and you doubt that Chris has seen anyone do this to their significant other before. “I said have a good time filming.” Was all you replied back with.

He immediately walked back over to the bed and sat down next to you on the bed. He grabbed your hand in his, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His face filled with worry, concern, sadness. It made your heart ache immediately seeing him like this and you knew you couldn’t play around much longer if he was going to be this upset about it. You never wanted to upset him, ever. “Baby, what’s wrong? I said I love you and you didn’t say it back, did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You immediately said, shaking your head and squeezing his hands back. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”

“I feel like I did. It’s not like you to not say I love you back, especially not when one of us are leaving to go somewhere.” Sadness filled his voice, his thumb running across the back of your palm, which usually relaxes you, but you felt the guilt inside of you eating you alive as you tried to keep up with the silly little prank.

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all, baby. I promise.” You squeezed his hand tightly, scooting closer to him as you kept your eyes solely focused on him.

“But you didn’t..say.. do you love me?” He looked at you with tears welling up in his eyes and that’s when you knew you couldn’t play around anymore. You didn’t like to see Chris upset. It wasn’t often when he showed his emotions like this, but he wasn’t afraid to show them which meant that he was genuine and true about his emotions and didn’t care who saw him cry, even if it made him feel vulnerable.

You nod your head immediately, your heart aching as you notice a tear had fallen down Chris’ cheek. You used your free hand to lean over to wipe it away, feeling like you were on the brink of tears yourself. “Baby, I was kidding. Of course I love you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.” You squeezed his hand tightly, playing with the ring on his finger. “So, I saw a video of a couple not saying I love you back to the other and thought it would be silly to do to you. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was supposed to be funny.”

Chris looked at you the entire time as you spoke, his eyebrow furrowed up in a confused manner, pressing his lips together in a firm line before opening his mouth up to speak, “Is this you getting me back from the silly little pranks I pulled on you like when I told you that the store didn’t have your favorite lipstick when in reality I forgot the name of it and didn’t wanna ask you without looking suspicious?”

You rolled your eyes as he reminded you of the story from part of your Christmas gift last year. Typical Chris to not just ask you, or someone else and instead just not get it because he didn’t want to get the wrong thing. He meant well, and made up for it, but still. “I guess it is.” You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

His body seemed to relax, the tension in the room had faded and his cheeks were slightly blotchy from crying, but his blue eyes were bright and full of warmth and happiness, rather than the sadness that had filed them minutes prior. “What am I gonna do with you, hm?” He smirked at you as he licked over his lips, pulling his free hand over to grip your chin with his fingers with a bit of force, causing a soft gasp to emit from your lips. “You gonna make it up to me, my little jokester?”

You loved when he was a little rough with you, especially when you knew the reasons behind it. “And just how would I do that that, baby?”

He grinned at your question, keeping his grip on your chin so your eyes can lock together in an intense gaze, his voice teasing, filling with need and desire. “When I get home, you’re all mine. No homework, no videos, no distractions. You’re mine and you’re going to make it up to me. The only thing I want to hear come out of that pretty mouth tonight is how much you love me, and how I make you feel. Understood?”

You nodded your head slowly, a soft whimper leaving your lips at the tone of his voice and the feeling of his grip against your chin. His hot and heavy breath lingered against your lips; your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the anticipation between the two of you. Your core felt hot from the excitement filling throughout your veins.

“Understood, baby.”

Tonight couldn’t get here fast enough.

notes: thanks for the request! send any requests, comments, etc to my inbox!

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#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo blurb #sturniolo blurb #sturniolo fic #sturniolo fanfic #blushsturnsღ

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 days ago

Text

This is really, really, really long…

A lovesick Joaquin was a sight to behold Sam figured as he watched the new falcon practically brimming with joy when you stepped into the room, and while she was already smiling before but Joaquin’s face might as well have been split in half with how widen his smile had become within a matter of seconds, Sam would be surprised if in the end his cheeks didn’t end up hurting by the end of the day.

Sam could read Joaquin like a book -a short one- as he always wore his emotions on his face no matter how often he tries to disprove this observation from him, all the while his face and body language contradicts his words, especially when your name was brought up. All of a sudden his posture was straightened, chest was puffed up like a prideful birds and his dark eyes would eagerly scan the entire room for you, only to deflate and dull when Sam doubles over in laughter.

‘You’re so whipped for them man it’s not even funny at this point.’ He says between fits of laughter, his abdomen aching with each full body laugh that came out of his mouth.

‘That wasn’t cool Sam, not cool at all.’ Was all Joaquin replied with, feeling a little silly for falling for an obvious prank -that and remembering that you were out on a rather simple solo mission- but his mind, heart and soul were that infatuated with you to a degree where all he needed for a good day was to see you.

If there was anyone aware of his own tell tell signs of being a lovesick idiot besides Sam, it was Joaquin and he couldn’t help but internally groan every time he was with you, knowing he was bound to do something stupid that would be clear enough for you to know his feelings as if he has written: I like you very much, and I would’ve done something more romantic then this, but please spare me and go out with me? Onto his own fucking forehead.

He can’t help how he feels but he swears that if he saw himself outside of his own body somehow, then he would wished to die as he could already see that he was far from subtle, especially with how eager he was to find his arm over your shoulder or grab you by the elbow when you were walking close to the road before switching sides with you. And that’s not to mention how eager he was to partner up with you on missions to the point where the team expected you two to be partnered together; Joaquin could still remember the knowing look upon Sam’s face whenever he did this, something that made him wonder if the rest of the team knew of his feelings, and something deep down told him that they did but didn’t say it like Sam did.

Sam pats him on the shoulder one he had recorded from laughing, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘Aww is someone sad that they’re not here and won’t be back until later this evening,’ he then narrows his eyes as he leans towards Joaquin, who tries to lean away from him but finds his attempt in doing so useless, ‘are you going to be first in line when waiting for them so you can hug them first or?’

‘I’m glad my feelings for them are amusing to you man.’ Joaquin says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Sam only squeezed his shoulder, his teasing smile became reassuring, having already done enough testing of the poor man for a day. ‘I’m just trying to have you attempt to actually say something to them about your feelings instead of looking at them like a lovesick puppy!’

Joaquin raises his brow. ‘And teasing me about my feelings is your best solution?’ He asks sarcastically, which makes Sam give him an unimpressed look. ‘Just tell them when they get back or me teasing you will be the least of your issues.’ He says rather pointedly, as though it was a promise he’d keep if he didn’t uphold his end in all of this.

Joaquin groans, throwing his head back. ‘And how can I when all they have to do is batt their eyelashes at me and smile and suddenly I’m weak in the knees, it’s difficult, nothing will happen between us.’

Sam makes a face at this and remarks ‘it’s only difficult if you keep trying to finds ways in making it difficult, someone in love would leap at the chance to be with that person, not run away from it and make excuses.’ Sam then puts his other hand on Joaquin’s shoulder, looking him deep in the eyes so he knew he had Joaquin’s full attention. ‘So are you going to let the love of your life walk out of your heart and into the arms of another because confessing was too difficult for you, or are you going to finally allow yourself and them the happiness you both deserve with each other?’

Joaquin didn’t need to think all too deeply about it, he never did when it came to you as there was not a doubt in his mind that could have him questioning or second guessing himself, especially for when it came to matters of the heart as he often lead with it as much as his mind. The fear of rejection was strong but he knew Sam was right in what he says, he could claim that confessing would be the death of him but that would only be him speaking with fear, not his actual voice.

Joaquin’s actual voice would tell him to confess because he wouldn’t know unless he tried, he wouldn’t know whether you felt the same towards him or not, and making assumptions that you didn’t on your behalf wasn’t helping and might as well have been an insult towards you. He would speak truthfully from his heart and not let anything cloud his judgment, not even the hypothetical scenarios where it could all go wrong could deter him from speaking the truth, and all it took was for Sam to be serious with him about it.

‘No, I won’t.’ He says and Sam smiles, knowing that he finally gotten through to him.

‘Good. Now why you standing here for? Go get them!’ He then exclaims as he all but practically shoved Joaquin out of the room and in the direction that he knew you’d soon enough take when come back from a mission, wanting to destress from it all by changing in your comfiest clothes. Meanwhile Joaquin was trying to keep his resolve as he planned on meeting you halfway when he saw your figure from afar, a smile stretching across his lips as though it was second nature.

‘Joaquin?’ You asked.

‘In the flesh.’ He says as the warmth feeling started to blossom within his chest as he felt light on his feet as though he might start floating, but that was the usual feelings he got from being within your presence. ‘So how was the mission.’ He adds.

‘Nothing worth being haled a hero for. Only a simple get in and get out with important information that could destroy or save humanity depending whose hands are on it type of deal.’ You shrugged before deciding to change the topic of discussion. ‘How are you? I didn’t keep you waiting long did I?’ You added, wanting nothing more then to hear his voice after going long without it, even if it was a small mission it didn’t change the fact that you missed Joaquin’s ability to make them go by faster.

Joaquin chuckles as he steps towards you. ‘Not at all. If anything you have me at the best possible time, which so happened to be right now.’ He adds a little clumsily but it only made your smile widen as you took a step forwards him, solely for the purpose of being close to him and nothing more.

‘What is it that you’ve got on your mind that it can be only said right now pretty boy?’ You asked as casually as you could as to stop yourself from saying something stupid, not wanting to let your mind misread the situation before he could say what he needed to say.

Joaquin scratched the back of his head as he began to shifted his weight on one foot to the next, a habit you’ve noticed that only happened when you were near or complimented him in any capacity, it was cute but it made you wonder the reason behind such sheepish behaviour, when you knew the man was far more confident. Was it you? You couldn’t help but internally scoff at such a selfish thought, no matter how much you wanted it to be true.

‘I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date?’ He asks you, all the while his heart within his chest was now in his throat as his hands became clammy with nerves, his feet feeling like lead that rooted him to the floor making him unable to move even if he wanted to. You hummed playfully. ‘Depends on who the person I’m going on this date with is.’

‘Me. It’s me. so go out with me before I start listing off 101 reasons why I think we’d be great together.’ Joaquin responded almost immediately and the sound of your laughter man the man feel as though he was on cloud nine, so when you reached out to touch his arm reassuringly, Joaquin swore he saw the rest of your conversation in some sort of outer body experience.

‘Yeah I’ll go out with you, as long as I still get to hear this 101 reasons though because I wanna cross reference some things to my own 101 reasons we’d be good together just to be certain.’ You replied, squeezing his arm as you leaned to kiss his cheek before passing him by, making sure to look back at him as you add over your shoulder. ‘See you then pretty boy!’

Joaquin only smiled dopily to himself as he pumped the air with his fist. ‘Fuck yeah!’ He says to himself as he all but walks past Sam with a swagger in his step, his mind completely elsewhere for him to realise that neither of you had chosen a time or a day for your fate.

#joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #Joaquin Torres imagines #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 3 days ago

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father. l Joel Miller

Summary: life decided to surprise you

Warnings: angst, sad, some fluff, anger, crying, worries, vomiting ; Ellie appears there, mention of pregnancy

A/N: ok so, i've been planning this for a while now, i hope you'll take this chapter well and have mercy on me. i'm waiting for your opinions. thank you

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was still early, the sun had only recently begun to slowly break through the curtains of your bedroom. The silence in the room was broken only by your steady breathing as you curled up in a deep sleep, unaware that Joel was no longer asleep.

He rested his head on his hand and watched you closely. The strands of your hair spilling over the pillow, he saw how your chest rose with your gentle breath, noticed the delicate movements of your body and felt your warmth.

God, he loved you so much, and at the same time he had been feeling a strange fear. It all started almost two weeks ago when he made himself some coffee in the morning, and after entering the kitchen you immediately ran to the bathroom.

"It must be yesterday's stew." You mumbled when your stomach had already calmed down, and Joel insisted that you should stay at home that day.

However, the situation repeated itself several times. Joel was on patrol at the time, but Ellie told him about it, warning him that you forbade her to tell anyone about it, especially Joel.

"It could be something serious." she mumbled, clearly concerned that she was breaking her promise to you. "I don't want anything to happen to her."

It worried him, and even more so because you pretended that there was no problem. Joel wasn't stupid, so he let every thought come to his mind, even the one that scared him the most.

"When was the last time you bled?"

You looked at him in surprise, fluffing the pillow. "What kind of question is that?"

He picked up the sheets from the ground that were supposed to go to the wash and shrugged. "I just wondered. Didn't you think that maybe..."

He noticed how you frowned and tensed up. Apparently you didn't let that thought get to you, but Joel did. He had been a father before, he knew perfectly well how pregnancy went and was a good observer.

"Maybe what?" you asked quietly.

"I think you might be pregnant." he finally said and you chuckled.

"Please." you snorted, "That's impossible."

"Why?" He put the sheets on the bed and rested his arms on his hips. "You're nauseous, more sleepy, your breasts...are bigger. Baby, have you considered that you could..."

"No!" you interrupted him firmly "I know pulling out isn't the best method of contraception, but we're careful." Joel raised his eyebrows and you groaned "Why do you even have to bring this up?" you sat down on the bed, burying your face in your hands.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard..." he said, coming over and sitting next to you, he stroked your back slowly "But... I remember what it looked like, and now I see it on you. We should check it out and..."

"No!" you interrupted him abruptly and stood up unexpectedly "I'm not pregnant. It's just some stupid virus or something. I'm tired and that's all."

The tears that appeared in your eyes hurt him. The thought of pregnancy, of a child, was painful for him, but then he realized what you could feel. You knew about Sarah and that he had lost her. You had to find out since her name was in Tommy's house. However, you never talked about it, you never asked him about that life. And now...

You must have been terrified and you didn't allow yourself to think about this possibility at all.

The next few days passed by avoiding the topic. Joel knew that you were vomiting, although you tried to hide it. He saw how you were fighting sleep. You were so incredibly stubborn not to admit to yourself what he was trying to tell you. So he had to take matters into his own hands.

You slowly opened your eyes and stretched. You didn't even have time to greet him when three pregnancy tests appeared before your eyes.

"I got them on the last patrol." Joel announced "Please, just do it. If it's a virus, I'll leave you alone. I want to make sure you're safe."

You wanted to rebel, you wanted to talk him out of this stupid idea, but you gave in. It made no sense. So you disappeared into the bathroom for the longest five minutes of your lives.

Joel knew he'd never forget the look on your face when you opened the door. Your eyes were wide, and your face was filled with terror and shock. He'd barely taken the test from your hand when you'd slumped to the floor, tears streaming down your face.

All three were positive.

It was like a punch in the gut. He'd guessed that might be the case, but the reality had overwhelmed him.

"I can't, I can't, Joel..." you repeated as he stared at the result, unable to gather his thoughts, "God, what have I done!"

"Honey, it's not just you..." he said sitting down next to you and taking you in his arms, but nothing reached you.

No words from him, no comforting. You cried until you got tired and fell asleep again.

"A baby? You're having a baby?" Tommy looked at Joel in surprise "Wow! I mean... That's great, right?"

It was late. Jackson was shrouded in darkness when Joel appeared on his brother's porch. Despite the invitation, he didn't go inside, he was too shaken to even sit down.

Now that he had confessed to his brother what you had found out that morning, he felt the reality starting to creep in.

"I'm too old for this." he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief "I can't believe that.. Shit! Do you know what I put her through? I was stupid to think that I could have a normal life, that we could pretend that..."

"Fuck, Joel!" Tommy hissed, looking at him angrily "What are you talking about?! You love her!"

"So what?!" he snapped "That won't save her and...the baby."

He was furious. He clenched his hands on the porch railing, not even knowing what he expected. The strong need to throw it all away made Joel go to his brother, but he didn't support him. No, he told him that what he was so afraid of was wonderful.

"Would you marry her if the world was different?"

The question surprised him. He looked at Tommy, confused.

"It's a simple question." Tommy leaned back next to him and folded his arms over his chest. "Would you marry her? Would you like to have this child then?"

He slowly nodded.

"You think you don't deserve a normal life, but that's not true. You have the right to be happy, and she gives it to you. I'm sure she's scared too..."

"She's been crying nonstop since this morning, she hasn't eaten much…" Joel replied. "I'm scared, you know. I don't want to lose her… Her and the baby."

"When Maria was pregnant I was scared too. But we have a really good doctor in Jackson. We have the equipment."

Joel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt like Tommy had lifted some of the burden off his shoulders and filled his heart with a little hope.

"Please don't tell anyone in Jackson." he said finally. "Let's keep this between us for now."

"Sure." Tommy patted him on the back. "Of course, she won't be going on patrols anymore. I'll find someone else to take her place."

"Thanks."

It was earlier when he went down to the kitchen and noticed with surprise that Ellie was preparing tea and breakfast. She bustled around without a word and put everything on a tray as if she wanted to take it somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Joel asked, and the girl almost jumped.

"What does it look like?" she snapped. "I'm making her breakfast. She hasn't eaten since yesterday. I don't know what's wrong with her, but if she keeps this up, she'll spit her stomach out. Maybe she should see a doctor, eh?"

"The doctor probably won't help her now." Joel snapped, pouring himself some coffee.

Ellie put the pan in the sink and looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked "Don't tell me she's pregnant or something."

Joel swallowed a sip of coffee, but didn't answer. He also didn't see Ellie's eyes widen with excitement.

"Oh, fuck!" she screamed excitedly and immediately fell silent, scolded by Joel's look. "Really?! Shit, dude! I thought you knew how this would end, but you're so crazy about her that I'm not surprised. A baby…"

She took the tray in her hands, but immediately put it down as if something had occurred to her.

"That's why she's crying so much," she said worriedly, "I saw her eyes. She hasn't left the room since yesterday."

"She's..." Joel didn't know how to put it all into words, it was so surreal, "It caught us off guard. We don't know how to deal with it yet."

"What do you mean?" Ellie grimaced, "You love each other, you're going to have a baby. It's pretty simple."

He raised a hand to stop the girl, because her stream of thoughts was slowly overwhelming him. "It's not that simple, Ellie. Bringing a child into this world is risky."

The girl shrugged. "But you're his father, right? You'll keep her and the little one safe. This kid really hit the jackpot. I know what I'm talking about! I don't know my father or mom, but you two are doing a really good job."

It was late when Joel took you to the clinic two days later. The streets of Jackson were dark, and Dr. Morris opened the door for you without unnecessary remarks. You didn't want anyone to see you, you didn't want anyone to know.

Even though you weren't crying anymore, everything still seemed unrealistic to you. At first you denied the thought of pregnancy, then you blamed yourself, and none of Joel's words could change that. Even though it was hard for him, he finally accepted it. You would have a child, he would be a father again.

Maybe Tommy was right? Maybe he had a chance for a little happiness in his life? He had Ellie, who was like a daughter to him. And he had you. And you were everything. With you, he felt as if you took his heart in your hands and took care of it. He couldn't imagine any other life than with you. What if the world looked different? Yes, Tommy was right. He wouldn't hesitate. Even though Joel had already been burned once, and even though his heart was broken, with you he wanted to try again.

"This might feel a little uncomfortable." Doctor Morris said as you settled down and pulled your shirt up, the cool gel covering your lower abdomen. "Don't worry. It'll take a moment."

You nodded. Your hand nervously gripped the edge of the couch, but Joel noticed and took it in his. He was sitting right next to you, and now he kissed your hand and stared at the screen.

"Okay." The doctor pressed a few switches and ran the probe over your skin. "We've got everything here... Give me a second. Oh, yes! Here it is."

He pointed to something small inside your uterus. "It's still tiny. This could be week five or six."

You started counting quickly in your head. It had to have happened before Shane's wedding. Maybe when you came back from one of the dances? Maybe when Ellie was staying over at a friend's and you and Joel finally had the house to yourselves? You looked at him and saw that the same thoughts were swirling in his head.

And then the doctor pressed something and you heard a strange sound. A steady, regular, clattering sound.

"The heart is beating strongly." Morris smiled "It should come in mid-winter, I think. Everything looks fine now."

It was only when you both left the clinic and the door closed behind you, only when the cold wind swept your face, that you felt that it was all real.

Joel placed a hesitant hand on the lower part of your back "How do you feel?" he asked.

"I have no idea, really." you replied "It's... It's overwhelming and it's so hard for me to believe it."

"Me too. I didn't think I'd ever face something like this again, but with you... With you I could do it."

You looked at him, you knew that it must have been hard for Joel too. Neither of you planned this, you didn't even talk about it.

"Do you want this baby?" you asked quietly.

He was silent for a moment, but finally those brown eyes that you loved so much looked at you and you knew. "I would like to have everything with you. No matter what you decide, I will always be by your side, baby. We will handle it."

"I know..." you smiled slightly and reached for his hand.

For the first time, he touched your belly with the thought that your child was inside. Safe and sound, not knowing how scared his parents were. But Joel felt it, he felt that warm feeling again that slowly filled his heart and gave him hope.

He could have everything again. With you.

"I'm so fucking scared." you whispered.

"Yeah, baby. Me too."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #short stories from life #short stories from life series

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bandsofmarv · 2 days ago

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I would like to make a request where Reader and Bucky just met. Reader visits Bucky in the compound and sees Bucky with Nat and is sad because she thinks there is something going on between them or Bucky is in love with Nat and withdraws. Bucky misses her and shows her that she's the only one he's interested in?

Hey guys! I’m back :)

Love this idea! Hopefully you like :)

Favourite widow

The first time you met Bucky Barnes, something clicked into place—like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing. He had been charming in that quiet, brooding way, his smirks rare but worth every moment they appeared. There was something unspoken between you both, lingering in stolen glances and casual touches that lasted just a second too long.

It wasn’t love, not yet. But it could be. Or so you thought.

Because now, sitting in the corner of the compound’s lounge, you watched as Bucky stood beside Natasha, laughing at something she said. His usual serious demeanor softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. Nat playfully nudged him, and he responded by leaning in, murmuring something only for her to hear. The sight made your stomach twist.

You should’ve known. Of course, he’d be into Natasha. She was beautiful, confident, and had history with him. And you? You were just… there.

So, you did what you always did when something hurt—you distanced yourself.

You stopped seeking Bucky out, stopped lingering near him in training, stopped waiting for those soft, lingering looks. You convinced yourself it didn’t matter, that whatever spark had been there was just a fluke, a fleeting moment you’d imagined.

Bucky noticed almost immediately.

At first, he thought he was overthinking it. But after days turned into weeks, after the way you pulled back from him completely, he knew something was wrong.

So now here you were, alone in the kitchen late at night, stirring your tea absentmindedly when a deep voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You avoiding me, doll?”

You nearly dropped your mug. Turning, you found Bucky leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. His brows were drawn together, lips pressed in that familiar frown you’d come to know.

You forced a casual shrug. “Been busy.”

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, stepping closer. “You barely look at me anymore. Did I do something?”

The frustration in his voice made your throat tighten. “No, Bucky. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?” You hesitated, staring at your tea as if it held the answer. Maybe it was stupid, childish even, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I just didn’t want to get in the way,” you muttered.

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “In the way of what? You exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “Of you and Nat.”

“Me and Nat?” His lips parted in disbelief before he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Doll, there’s nothing between me and Nat.”

You blinked. “But I saw you—”

“We’re just friends,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His voice softened. “She was giving me advice. About you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Me?”

He nodded, blue eyes never leaving yours. “I thought… I thought we had something, but you started pulling away, and I didn’t know why. I missed you.” His voice was quieter now, a little unsure. “Still do.”

Your breath hitched. “Bucky…”

He took another step forward, so close now you could see the flecks of silver in his stormy gaze. “Tell me I didn’t imagine it,” he murmured. “Tell me you felt it, too.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I did,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Bucky exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding. Then, without hesitation, he reached for you, fingers gently curling around your wrist. “Then let’s stop pretending,” he murmured.

And when his lips brushed against yours—soft and certain—it felt like something finally falling into place.

Just you and him.

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #marvel smut #bucky x yn #marvel fic #angst bucky #bucky x fluff #bucky barnes x fluff #fic request

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dismalflo · 3 days ago

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hiii! love your poly! marauders fic, love how you write them

i wanted to request a poly! marauders x reader where the r gets into an argument with their family and the boys comfort r? or anything else poly!marauders

ily

hi anon! hope you enjoy!! <3 i liked writing this one but struggled a little bit with the ending.

poly!marauders x reader who has a frustrating call with their mother ✩ 1k words

cw: modern au, hurt/comfort, reader has a complicated relationship with their mum

The boys are exactly as they were when you left to answer your phone. James and Sirius are a tangle of limbs, giggling and curled up on the big sofa, their laughter filling the air. Remus sits on the loveseat, scrolling through the movie catalog on the TV, your blanket draped over his lap, waiting for your return.

“Everything alright, poppet?” Sirius asks, concern flickering in his eyes. You hate that it’s Sirius who asks—if anyone understands a difficult family, even if this isn't the same, it’s him. He seems to see straight through you.

“Yeah, all good, Siri,” you say, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes as you sit down beside Remus. You tuck your legs underneath you, a stiffness in your posture that betrays you. You think you’ve managed to avoid the conversation, convinced you won’t have to talk about your mum and the hurtful things she said.

You miss the way the boys are exchanging looks with each other, able to read you like a book. They're having a conversation made up entirely of facial expressions. They’re all looking at you with concern, even as you focus on the TV, biting your lip, lost in thought.

It’s Remus who breaks the quiet. “Stop biting your lip, dovey,” he murmurs gently. “You’ll make yourself bleed.” He takes a breath, as if steeling himself. “What was that about?”

You sigh, your gaze falling to your lap as you absently twist your fingers together. “Oh, it was just my parents asking me to visit,” you mumble, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You look so sad though, gorgeous” it's James' heartbroken tone that makes your head snap up.

His expression is equally as sad as his tone, it makes your heart squeeze. When you make eye contact with the boy, you flush and you know you're caught.

“Well she asked me to come home and i was trying to explain that I couldn't just drop everything i have going on here but i would when I can” you pause for a breath, “she just kept interrupting and the she… she”

The words get stuck in your throat as tears fill your eyes, you look at each boy and see they're all sat at attention now, looking doubly concerned for you. Remus moves his hand to sweep over your back in soothing motions, encouraging you to keep talking.

“She called me a useless disappointment,” you whisper, voice cracking. “She said she didn’t know what happened to me, where she went so wrong.” The tears are flowing freely now, and you can’t stop them.

There's a sharp breath from Remus next to you, as if he's feeling your pain for you, before he pulls you into his chest, his arms circling around you protectively. James is quick to follow his lead, sitting next to you both and stroking your leg soothingly.

“Well, fuck her,” Sirius says, standing abruptly, his voice low but fiery. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Sirius…” James hisses, his expression warning. He knows you don’t want to hear curses aimed at your mother.

Sirius immediately softens, crouching down in front of you. “Sorry, doll,” he says, his voice gentler now. “What I mean is… you’re the most incredible person I– any of us have met. If she doesn’t see that, it’s her loss.”

You swallow thickly, still feeling the sting of the words. But as you meet Sirius’ eyes, something in you starts to soften. His words are genuine, no hint of sarcasm or condescension—just the truth, and that makes your heart ache in a way you're not quite prepared for.

“That's what you all think?” you ask.

"Of course," Remus says softly, pulling you just a little closer in his arms, "you’re everything we could ever ask for, dove."

James’ hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You are not a disappointment," he says firmly, his voice low but filled with conviction. “You’re perfect.”

The warmth of their words wraps around you like a soft, comforting blanket, but the ache still lingers in your chest. You swallow hard, trying to push the lump in your throat away, but it’s a losing battle.

“You really mean that?” Your voice comes out small, unsure, as though you need their validation more than you care to admit.

James’s grip on your hand tightens, a reassuring pressure that makes you feel anchored in the moment. He’s looking at you with that soft, earnest look and his eyes are filled with astounding sincerity.

"Absolutely," he affirms, his voice steady.

Sirius is still crouched in front of you, his face a mix of concern and something fiercer, something protective. He lifts a hand, reaching out to cup your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that have continued to fall. "She’s wrong, doll." he sounds desperate now, “I promise you, she's wrong.”

You let out a shaky breath, and for the first time since the call, you find yourself able to smile—small, but genuine. It feels like a relief.

"Thank you," you whisper, voice trembling but grateful.

Sirius smiles softly at you, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. "Anytime, doll.”

The ache in your chest starts to fade as you take in the soft smiles of the three of them, their eyes all focused solely on you. You let out a long, steadying breath and snuggle closer to Remus, who gives you a reassuring squeeze.

When Sirius moves, ready to go back to the big sofa, confident that you’re well taken care of, you reach out to stop him, a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Can we all sit together? Just for a bit?” you ask, your voice a little bashful, a touch of insecurity creeping in.

Sirius smiles that soft, affectionate smile of his. “Of course we can, poppet.” Without missing a beat, he plops down into James’s lap. James huffs in mock exasperation, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

The quiet of the living room, cuddled up with the boys, feels safe. And for the first time since the start of that call, you allow yourself to relax, to lean into them, and let the weight of the world drift away, if only for a moment.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! i appreciate any feedback <3

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lifeasadorkwithnolife · 1 day ago

Text

Too Late (Azriel x Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2

Azriel and Y/N finally talk, and she realizes that maybe the feelings weren't one sided after all these years. Is it too late?

You tried to grow used to the life at the house of wind, but you could feel the awkward silence fill up every room you entered. Feyre was friendly, but you could tell she didn’t agree with what you had done. You spent a lot of time with Cassian, who was the only one who would really talk to you, Azriel hadn’t spoken to you since that night.

“Hey Cas,” You peered up at him, you both stretching on the mats outside. “Could you…” You weren’t sure how to form the question, “Where is it?”

He froze; his face unreadable. You tried to use your gift, to see what he was feeling, but you couldn’t seem to reach him.

“I think it will help me.” You whisper, “I want to help you, I want to be this secret weapon you need me to be but I can’t without any power, you must see that.”

Cassian nodded, moving one arm across his chest as he stretched. “It’s by the river, I can fly you down there but…I don’t have good memories, I don’t want to stay.”

You nodded, leaning back on your hands and staring at the bright sky, sun causing you to squint.

“I’m sorry about Azriel.” Cassian started, and as you went to reply he held his hand up to stop you. “Azriel- I shouldn’t tell you this but I feel like you should know. Azriel went crazy when you died, or didn’t die, or whatever.”

You held your breath as he spoke, feeling the guilt rise in your chest. “When we found him after the battle, he was covered in blood. I think he had gone through every body in that field looking for you, he was…it was horrible.” Cassian sighed, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms loosely around them. “He stayed for days, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, we had to drug him to get him to leave, and he almost killed us when he woke up.”

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I wanted to come back, but…I was useless. I had grown too attached to Azriel- and when…I tried to tell him how I felt and he made it very obvious he did not feel the same way. Then that on top of me losing my powers, I just didn’t see a point.”

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked, and you sighed.

“Before the battle, I tried to tell him that….that I loved him, but I wasn’t brave enough. Before I lost my gift I could feel emotion and I could feel nothing from him, just my own.”

Cassian nodded slowly, looking around the empty training yard. “I’m sorry about yelling at you, by the way.” You squeezed his hand again and he gave you a sad smile.

He nodded, “It’s okay.”

He dropped you off by the river, pointing in the general direction of where your destination was. You walked, admiring the rush of water with the mountains surrounding you. You trecked along the cobblestone until you found a narrow path, following it until you came up to a stone secured into the ground.

You squatted down, examining it closely, tracing the carved words in the stone.

‘Beloved Y/N

The light in the darkness,

I will carry you with me, always,

My heart will never let you go

Until the stars call me home’

You gazed at the words, the emotions in your chase rising like a wave, impossible to control. You slowly sat on the ground, your eyes falling to the flowers beside you, placed there only days ago. Your eyes drifted to the view of the city and the river flowing through it, the stones from the bridge reflecting the sunlight in almost a blinding twinkle.

You couldn’t help the thoughts of what life could have been- if you had told Azriel the truth, if you hadn’t run away, or even if you had died. The version of you that died deserved this headstone, deserved the beautiful words and beautiful flowers, but the person you had become- the one sitting here- didn’t deserve it.

You sat in silence, the only sounds the occasional pattering of footsteps or the splash of a fish jumping from the water.

“Every starfall, I only had one wish.” Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, and your head whipped behind you to see him standing, hands in his pockets. He made a motion with his hands, like a falling star. “Every year, I had the same wish. I would stand outside and look up at those stars and just wish so hard.”

“What would you wish for?” You whispered, and Azriel turned to look at you, his eyes almost gentle.

“Can I sit?” He asked, and you nodded, scooting over. “How do you like it?”

He nodded towards the grave, and you gave him a tight smile, looking back over the light gray stone. “Honestly, it’s beautiful and more than I deserve.” You waited a couple seconds, “Az, I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t understand at first.” Azriel whispered, looking out at the river. “The first thing I felt when I saw you- of course it was relief, but then it was betrayal. I couldn’t believe that you would put me through all of that.”

“I- I didn’t really think it would be that hard.” You whispered, pulling your legs up to your chest. “It was war.”

“It wasn’t just a war, we weren’t just part of the war.” Azriel turned towards you, and for the first time, his eyes weren’t guarded. “And I was so mad, when I saw you, the anger I felt is like something I have never felt before.”

�� “Then once I was finished yelling at you, I came out here.” Azriel sighed, “After sitting here for a couple hours, I thought about blasting this thing to the ground, to be honest. But, I realized, the reason I was so upset when I thought you were gone-“

Azriel stopped, looking away. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. He looked at you, the pain of loss still fresh on his face despite the decades that had passed.

“The reason…The reason I was so upset was because I was never brave enough to tell you how I felt, hell, I never even got to say goodbye.” Azriel pulled his arm away to run through his hair again, and you moved your hand back to your knee. “I had the perfect opportunity, we were both there, but….I didn’t know if someone like you could ever love someone like me.”

Your heart froze and possibly skipped a beat as you processed his words, you stared at the river and felt the relief flow through you. “I know it’s been decades, but…I still thought about you every day, I thought the pain of losing you would kill me.”

“You…loved me?” You whispered, turning to him. His face, for the first time, was free of his grim expression and his eyes shone with vulnerability.

“I’m not going to make the mistake of not telling you how I feel a second time, Y/N.” Azriel whispered, “I spent 140 Starfalls wishing I could just tell you that.”

Tears filled your eyes as you stared forward, memories coming back to you in a rush. The way Azriel ran to you in the war, the words on his lips, ‘I love you’. The pain in your chest that never went away, that was him, that was his pain.

“Azriel-“You choked, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around him. He took a moment to return to hug, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, breathing in deeply. The pain was finally gone, free from your chest, and you let out a short laugh.

He pulled back, unsure. “Before the battle started, I wanted to tell you that I loved you, but I wasn’t brave enough.” You cried, laughing at your own stupidity. “I thought you couldn’t feel anything because I couldn’t feel anything from you!”

“How could you think that?” Azriel grabbed your face in between his hands, the rough skin gently touching your cheeks. “Y/N- you can read emotions; I assumed that you were reading mine and choosing not to reciprocate.”

You cried harder, pulling him back into a hug. “I thought those were my emotions; I thought my powers were gone when you were nearby. Azriel- I was so in love with you, I am so in love with you.”

You realized, that every time you felt the overwhelming and all consumer feeling of love for Azriel, it wasn’t just your love for Azriel, but his love in return. All the pain, the constant ache in your chest, that was yours to share over the years as well. Your powers were never gone- they were just so connected to Azriel that it overpowered everything else.

“You are the light in my darkness.” Azriel whispered, pulling a piece of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “I will carry you with me, always, because my heart will not let you go.” He pulled your hand to his chest, so you could feel the thuds underneath.

“Until the stars call me home.” You whispered the final line. He leaned in, his mouth brushing yours tenderly. As you felt his lips on yours, his warm breath on your bottom lip, you pressed into him harder, placing your hand on the nape of his neck and trying to pull him closer to you.

He pressed into you, lifting you easily and placing you on your back in the grass. You gasped, laughing as you looked up at him. A true smile found his face as he stared at you, and he pressed one hand to your cheek. “I am never letting you go again.”

#azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger

153 notes · View notes

aspenmissing · 3 days ago

Note

Hi! Love your arcane posts and headcannons! Could you write a comfort fic with arcane characters with a reader who doesn’t like to celebrate their birthday. I have negative feelings regarding mine and had a bad depressive episode on my last birthday. The reader’s reason can be up to you.

ᴜɴᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ? || 7228 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀʙꜱᴇɴᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ/ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛꜱ!! ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ! <3

JAYCE

Jayce had always been the kind of person who loved celebrating. Achievements, milestones, even the little things—he believed life was meant to be enjoyed to the fullest. So when he found out Y/N’s birthday was coming up, he took it upon himself to make it special.

They hadn’t been together for long—just under a year—but in that time, Jayce had come to care about her in a way that made her feel like home. They shared an apartment in Piltover, and while it wasn’t the grandest place in the city, it was theirs. The walls were filled with little moments that spoke of their growing connection: a pair of mismatched mugs in the kitchen, a collection of books they both loved to read, and the way their shoes always seemed to end up scattered in the same corner. It was a place where both of them could just be—no need for pretence.

And now, Jayce wanted to show Y/N just how much he appreciated her. It had become clear over the last few months that she didn’t often let people get too close, that she was careful with how much of herself she shared. Jayce didn’t know much about her past—she kept that to herself—but he could see the occasional flash of sadness in her eyes, as if something, or someone, had left a mark on her.

So, when he realized her birthday was coming up, he decided to make the day about her. He went all out—decorating their living room with soft golden lights, scattering delicate rose petals across the table, and, most importantly, cooking a homemade meal. Jayce wasn’t just decent in the kitchen—he was skilled. He had grown up learning from his mother, and over the years, cooking had become second nature to him. He spent the entire afternoon preparing a carefully crafted meal: roasted herb chicken, buttered vegetables, and a rich, velvety sauce to tie it all together. The aroma filled the apartment, warm and inviting.

A beautifully wrapped gift sat waiting on the coffee table, next to a cake he’d carefully ordered from the best bakery in town. He couldn’t wait to see the smile on her face when she walked in.

Everything was set. The only thing missing was Y/N.

When she finally walked through the door that evening, looking exhausted from a long day at work, Jayce’s excitement was palpable. “Surprise!” he beamed, stepping aside to reveal the cozy, intimate celebration he had prepared.

But instead of the joyful reaction he expected—maybe a laugh, a hug, something—her face fell. Her body seemed to freeze, her shoulders tensing up like she’d just been hit with a wave of cold. It was subtle, but Jayce knew her well enough by now to notice the shift.

“Y/N?” he asked, his smile faltering as concern replaced his earlier excitement. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard, not meeting his eyes. “You did all this… for me?” Her voice was quiet, distant.

Jayce felt a pang of confusion. “Of course! It’s your birthday. I wanted to make it special. Don’t you like it?”

She looked around, her gaze skimming over the soft glow of the lights, the perfectly arranged table, the thoughtful little touches he’d put together. It was clear she wasn’t upset about the effort. But there was something behind her eyes—a reluctance, a hesitation.

“I—” She let out a long sigh and crossed her arms in front of her, as though she was trying to shield herself from everything around her. “Jayce, I don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. His brow furrowed, and he took a small step toward her. “You… don’t?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I never really have.”

His confusion deepened. “But… why?”

She paused for a moment, her expression shifting as she searched for the right words, then finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, “Because it just reminds me of everything I lost.”

Jayce’s heart sank at the weight of her words. The smile he had been wearing slipped away as he took in her expression—one that was tinged with grief and something else, something much older than their relationship. The excitement of the evening suddenly seemed small, almost irrelevant.

Her birthday had never been a day of celebration for her. It was a reminder of the people she no longer had in her life, the family that had fallen apart, the friends who had moved on, the empty spaces in her past that no amount of time could ever fill. It wasn’t a day to celebrate; it was a day to mourn what was gone, what had never been.

Jayce exhaled softly, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she was closing herself off. “Y/N, I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” His voice was soft, sincere.

Her eyes met his at last, and there was something fragile in her gaze. She shook her head slightly. “I know you meant well, Jayce. And… this is beautiful. Really. But I just—” She faltered, her voice wavering. “I don’t know how to enjoy it. I don’t know how to make myself believe I’m supposed to.”

The vulnerability in her words made his chest tighten. Jayce wasn’t one to give up easily, but this time, instead of pushing her to celebrate, he did something he hadn’t expected himself to do. He reached out slowly, brushing his fingers against one of the candles on the table. He blew it out gently, the small flame flickering for a moment before dying completely.

“There,” he said quietly, offering a small, understanding smile. “We don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to. We can just… be here. Together. Just us. No expectations.”

Y/N blinked at him, the surprise evident in her expression. She hadn’t expected that. Maybe she thought he would insist, maybe even pressure her to smile, to make a wish, to “enjoy her day.” But Jayce had never been about forcing things—he just wanted her to feel safe. And, for the first time, he wasn’t trying to fix anything. He was just trying to give her space.

Slowly, Y/N’s posture relaxed, and a soft, tentative smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You don’t have to take everything down, though,” she murmured. “The place looks nice. And it does smell really good.”

Jayce chuckled, relieved by the small shift in her tone. “Well, I’ll have you know that I slaved away in the kitchen for hours to make sure it was perfect.” He grinned, playfully nudging her. “So, how about this? No birthday expectations. Just dinner, just us.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then finally, she gave him a real, small smile. “I think I can do that.”

Jayce grinned and pulled out her chair for her. “Perfect. Let’s eat.”

They sat together at the table, the warm glow of the lights making the space feel intimate and safe. As they ate, Y/N found herself relaxing more and more, letting Jayce’s presence soothe the lingering ache inside her. And maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t so bad. Maybe it wasn’t about celebrating a birthday.

Maybe it was just about being with him.

And that was enough.

VIKTOR

The morning light streamed through the windows of Viktor’s lab, casting long, delicate beams through the dust-speckled air. Shadows stretched over the cluttered workbenches, where blueprints, half-assembled inventions, and the lingering scent of metal and parchment created a world entirely their own. The rhythmic clink of metal against the wooden floor broke the stillness, a quiet but familiar sound that heralded his arrival before he had even spoken.

Viktor paused in the doorway, leaning on his cane, his sharp, knowing eyes settling on Y/N. She was hunched over her work, utterly absorbed, as she always was. The soft glow of a lamp cast golden light over her features, highlighting the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers delicately adjusted the components of whatever intricate project had captured her attention today.

A familiar fondness tugged at his chest.

It was February 25th.

He knew what that meant.

Most people would have arrived with an eager grin, a cake in hand, candles at the ready, eager to celebrate another year of life. But Viktor wasn’t most people. And Y/N… Y/N didn’t celebrate her birthday.

He had learned this in passing, the way one might stumble upon an old, forgotten book wedged between the shelves. A casual conversation, a date mentioned in some offhand way. When he had pressed, even gently, she had tensed—just for a moment—before brushing it off.

"I don’t like it. Just another day."

That should have been enough of an answer, but Viktor was a scientist, and scientists were not satisfied with vague explanations. He had watched, observed, until eventually, the truth had slipped through the cracks.

Her birthdays had never been warm, never filled with the kind of joy that people spoke of when they reminisced about childhood celebrations. They had been reminders of loneliness, of expectations never met. A day where she had once allowed herself to hope—only to be left with nothing but silence, an empty room, and the realization that no one was coming. No one had remembered. No one had cared.

So, she had stopped expecting anything. Stopped wanting it.

And so, Viktor did not say happy birthday.

He did not drape streamers across the lab or offer her some grand, well-intentioned gift. He did not try to convince her that this year could be different, that this day could be redeemed. That wasn’t what she wanted.

Instead, he walked over to her desk, cane tapping softly against the floor, and set down a cup of tea—freshly brewed, still steaming, made just how she liked it.

She blinked up at him, her expression shifting from focus to something softer, something warm. A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips before she reached for the tea, fingers brushing his for just a second.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable intimacy beneath it, a quiet concern wrapped in familiarity.

Y/N exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “Did you?”

Viktor chuckled, settling into the chair across from her with the slow, careful movements that his leg required. He sighed as he leaned back slightly, cane resting against the side of the desk. “A scientist never sleeps, můj drahý. You know this.” (My Dear)

She rolled her eyes but took the tea anyway, holding the cup close, letting the warmth seep into her fingertips. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was thoughtful—him.

And that meant something.

The world outside was moving, rushing, celebrating and forgetting, just as it always did. But here, in the quiet sanctuary of the lab, time moved differently.

Eventually, Viktor broke the silence. “I made some adjustments to the schematics for your stabilizer design,” he murmured, sliding a few papers her way with his free hand. His thumb traced slow, absent-minded circles against the back of her hand. “Thought we might test them later.”

Y/N reached for them, scanning over his precise, detailed notes. Her fingers brushed his once more as she took them, gaze softening.

He always did this—always found ways to show he cared without making it feel like pity, without making it feel forced.

For the first time that day, a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

She knew what he was doing.

No grand gestures, no forced celebrations—just quiet companionship. Just another day, but one where he made sure she wasn’t alone.

And for that, she was grateful.

Viktor, who had always been so consumed by his work, who had spent so much of his life surrounded by brilliance but little warmth, had learned to understand her in ways no one else had. He had learned when to push and when to simply be there.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. It was soft, barely there, but it sent warmth curling through her chest.

"Would it be terribly forward of me," he murmured, "if I said I was quite glad you exist?"

Y/N inhaled slowly, watching him, her heart catching in her throat. She could say a thousand things. Make a joke, tease him, brush it off like she always had before.

But not with him.

Not today.

Instead, she leaned forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Viktor sighed into it, fingers tightening around hers, his other hand reaching up to cradle her face as if she were something fragile.

When they parted, her forehead rested against his, her breath mingling with his own.

"You could say it," she murmured, "or you could just keep kissing me."

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Ah, můj drahý, you truly do have the best ideas."

And for the rest of the day, no one spoke of birthdays. No candles, no gifts, no reminders of the past. Just quiet love, warm hands, stolen kisses, and a man who had never needed a reason to cherish her.

And for Y/N, that meant more than any celebration ever could.

JAYVIK

You never liked celebrating your birthday.

It wasn’t because you feared aging or found parties annoying—no, it was because the day itself held nothing but bittersweet memories. The kind that lingered in the back of your mind, creeping in like an unshakable shadow no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

It was the day your mother died.

She passed on the very day she had brought you into the world, a cruel twist of fate that turned every birthday into a mourning period rather than a celebration. You were too young to remember the first few years, but as you grew older, you learned to recognize the sadness in your father’s eyes, the way he would sit at the table in silence while neighbors offered pitying smiles.

The house was always too quiet on that day. Too empty.

Even as a child, you never wanted cakes or candles, never wanted people to sing or toast in your name. Other children at school had balloons and parties, but every time someone asked you, “What are you doing for your birthday?” you would shrug and change the subject.

As an adult, that habit remained.

Working in the bustling halls of Piltover’s Academy meant you had plenty of colleagues, many of whom thrived on gossip and social events. The first year you were there, someone had tried to throw you a small get-together, completely unaware of your distaste for the occasion. You had left early, stomach tight, heart heavy. The forced joy made you feel even more isolated.

Jayce and Viktor were the only ones who truly understood.

Which was why, when the morning of your birthday arrived, they were already on high alert.

Jayce, ever the charismatic golden boy of the Academy, was the first line of defence. He intercepted professors, engineers, and assistants with a charming smile and a firm “Don’t even think about it.”

He knew how these people worked—how they’d see an excuse to celebrate and turn it into a grand affair, no matter how personal it was. But this wasn’t about them. This was about you.

When the first person casually brought up your birthday, Jayce cut them off mid-sentence.

“She doesn’t celebrate,” he stated plainly, rolling up his sleeves. “Respect that.”

Most people backed off quickly. Jayce’s reputation made him difficult to argue with, especially when his normally easygoing demeanor shifted into something more serious.

Viktor, meanwhile, played his own part. He loitered near your usual workspace, leaning on his cane, golden eyes sharp as he redirected any well-meaning colleagues before they could get too close.

“She does not want this,” he reminded them, his voice carrying the kind of finality that made people think twice.

If Jayce was the first line of defence, Viktor was the last.

And yet, people were persistent.

By midday, Sky tried sneaking in a small wrapped box, her expression hesitant yet hopeful.

Jayce sighed, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Sky,” he said, his tone somewhere between patient and exasperated. “We talked about this.”

“I know, I know! But it’s just something small—”

Viktor exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You know she will not accept it.”

Sky hesitated, looking between the two of them. “But… doesn’t she deserve something nice?”

That was the thing. You did deserve something nice. But not a forced celebration. Not something that made the weight on your heart feel heavier.

And so, with careful words, Jayce and Viktor turned every well-meaning colleague away, ensuring that by the time you arrived in the lab that afternoon, there wasn’t a single hint of birthday cheer in sight. No decorations, no cake, no whispered happy birthday from a passing researcher. Just another ordinary day.

Just how you wanted it.

The only difference came when the three of you finally made it home that evening.

The exhaustion from the day lingered in your bones, sinking deep into the spaces between muscle and marrow. You weren’t sure if it was from the weight of the date itself or from the constant effort it took to suppress it. Keeping up the mask. Pretending not to notice the hushed whispers from colleagues who meant well. The tension of dodging sympathetic glances. It all piled onto you, a quiet but relentless pressure.

The moment the door shut behind you, the tension cracked just a little.

Jayce didn’t hesitate. Strong arms wrapped around you from behind, his warmth pressing into your back, solid and steady. His chin found its way to the crook of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he exhaled slowly, deliberately, as if trying to breathe some of his ease into you.

Viktor, already making his way to the couch, watched with quiet understanding. His amber eyes, sharp with intelligence yet endlessly soft when it came to you, traced over your face, noting the tired slump of your shoulders. He didn’t speak right away—he never did when words weren’t needed.

Instead, he set his cane aside and shifted to one end of the couch, making room. One hand reached toward you, fingers curling slightly in silent invitation.

You let Jayce guide you forward, your movements slow and heavy, as if wading through thick fog. The moment you sank onto the couch beside Viktor, his hand found yours, fingers cool but firm. He ran his thumb in slow, deliberate circles over your knuckles—soothing, grounding. Jayce followed close behind, settling in on your other side, draping an arm around both you and Viktor with ease.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the golden glow of the city filtering through the windows. Outside, Piltover was still alive with its usual hum—distant chatter, the occasional clang of machinery, the faint whistle of a steam-powered transport. But here, in this small sanctuary of an apartment, it was quiet.

No one said happy birthday.

No one tried to make it a special day.

Instead, Viktor leaned his head against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “Long day?”

You let out a slow, steady breath. It wasn’t quite a sigh, more like an unspoken admission. “Yeah.”

Jayce tightened his grip around your waist, his palm pressing against your ribs in a steadying warmth. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. Your throat felt tight, the kind of tightness that came from holding too much in for too long. “Just… stay like this.”

And they did. The three of you sat there, tangled together in the quiet.

Viktor’s fingers never stopped their slow, soothing circles against your skin, while Jayce’s thumb brushed absentmindedly along your side, a silent promise that he was there. No words needed. No grand gestures. Just warmth. Comfort. The kind of love that wasn’t flashy or loud but strong in the way it simply existed—constant, unwavering.

The weight in your chest didn’t vanish entirely, but it loosened, just a little. The kind of looseness that let you breathe a little easier. That reminded you that, even on a day you’d rather forget, you weren’t alone.

VANDER

The air in The Last Drop buzzed with quiet anticipation. Vander had made it abundantly clear to the kids that Y/N didn’t like celebrating her birthday. He respected that, understood that some wounds weren’t meant to be reopened, even by well-intentioned hands.

For Y/N, birthdays weren’t something to celebrate. Not anymore. The memories attached to them were too heavy—ghosts of the past lurking in every candle’s flicker. She had once celebrated, long ago, before she lost everything. Before she learned that birthdays only marked another year of surviving, not truly living.

So when Vander had told the kids to leave it alone, he had truly believed they would listen.

But when had they ever?

So here they were, barely containing their excitement, whispering and snickering in hurried voices as they scrambled to put the finishing touches on their secret little plan.

Powder had drawn a picture of all of them together—crayon strokes slightly smudged from how many times she had reworked Vander’s beard and added extra details to Y/N’s smile. She clutched the paper close to her chest like it was the most important thing in the world, her fingers twitching as if eager to hand it over already.

Milo had stolen a few extra rations of sweets, stuffing them in his pockets with a cocky smirk, convinced that the slightly stale biscuits and hardened chocolate were a necessary sacrifice for the occasion. He had even swiped a handful of sugar cubes from behind the bar, arguing that they’d make the cake taste better—though no one was entirely sure how.

Claggor, ever resourceful, had somehow acquired a half-melted candle that leaned dangerously to one side when stuck into the lopsided mess of a cake they had put together. "It’s still good!" he insisted, rotating it to try and find an angle where it didn’t look like it was about to fall over entirely.

Vi, of course, had taken charge.

She stood in the middle of it all, hands on her hips, directing them with the confidence of someone who had no plan B if this whole thing went sideways. "Alright, Powder, you stand by the lights. Claggor, make sure Milo doesn’t eat half the cake before Y/N even sees it. And for the love of everything, act natural. We don’t want Vander sniffing this out before she even gets here."

Milo scoffed. "You act like the old man’s got some kinda sixth sense."

Vi shot him a look. "He does."

And sure enough, Vander was already suspicious.

From behind the bar, his sharp gaze flickered toward them every so often, narrowing slightly when he caught them huddled too close together, whispering like little criminals. He let out a low sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. He didn’t know what they were planning—yet—but he could tell it was trouble.

And knowing them?

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Y/N walked through the door, rolling her shoulders from a long day of work, already looking forward to a quiet evening with Vander. The familiar scent of ale and warm spices from The Last Drop wrapped around her like a well-worn cloak—comforting, familiar.

She had been looking forward to him.

A drink in hand, his gruff voice teasing her about taking on too much, and later, the weight of his arms draped over her shoulders as they sat together in silence. That was all she needed.

But the moment she stepped inside—

“SURPRISE!”

The word hit her like a sudden wave, the air crackling with the energy of young excitement. The dim lights of the bar flickered to life, revealing a scene she had not been expecting.

Powder practically bounced on her heels, blue eyes wide with joy. Vi stood at the centre, arms crossed in smug satisfaction, chin lifted as if to say, I told you we’d pull it off. Claggor grinned, clearly proud of whatever part he had played, and Milo—well, he looked impatient, like he was waiting for her to collapse into gratitude at their grand effort.

Y/N froze.

The room had been hastily decorated, mismatched scraps of fabric strung together in an attempt at banners. A small cake—lopsided and definitely not store-bought—sat on the table. And in the centre of it all, carefully propped up, was Powder’s drawing.

A picture of all of them. Together.

Her stomach twisted.

From beside her, Vander’s reaction was immediate. His broad shoulders tensed, his brows pulled into a deep frown, and his large hands planted firmly on his hips as he took in the sight before him.

The decorations. The makeshift cake. The eager, hopeful expressions of the kids who had clearly gone behind his back.

His voice was low, sharp, unmistakably displeased.

“Oi.” His gruff tone cut through the moment like a blade. “What the hell is this?”

The kids flinched—just barely. Even Vi, the most defiant of them all, hesitated under the weight of his stare. But she recovered quickly, lifting her chin again.

“A party. For Y/N.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge.

Vander exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring as he ran a hand through his graying hair. His gaze flickered toward Y/N, searching, already prepared to shut this whole thing down at the first sign of distress.

And Y/N—

She should have been angry.

She wanted to be angry.

They had no idea what birthdays meant to her. How every year, the weight of those she lost pressed down on her like an iron chain. How she had once celebrated before everything fell apart, before the world had taught her that growing older wasn’t a gift—it was survival.

But the kids—

They were beaming.

They weren’t doing this to hurt her. They weren’t trying to dredge up old wounds or make her feel obligated. They had done this because, in their eyes, she was someone worth celebrating.

And damn it all—how could she be mad at that?

Y/N swallowed hard, forcing down the tightness in her throat. She glanced at Powder first, the girl nearly vibrating with anticipation. Then Vi, still trying to act like she didn’t care about Y/N’s reaction, even though she clearly did. Claggor, hopeful. Milo, already looking like he wanted to roll his eyes if she didn’t react fast enough.

They had done this for her.

So, she did the only thing she could.

She forced a smile—small, but genuine enough.

“You little brats,” she muttered, shaking her head as she stepped forward.

Powder gasped, practically bouncing in place. “Do you like it? We worked really hard!”

Vi nudged her, grinning. “Told you we should celebrate. You’re part of this family, Y/N. You don’t get to just ignore your birthday when you’ve got us around.”

A chuckle slipped past her lips.

This wasn’t about a date on a calendar. It was about them. About the people in front of her, the ones who—despite everything—wanted her to know she mattered. But even as warmth settled in her chest, something in her remained guarded.

She turned her gaze back toward Vander.

He was still watching her, his frown lingering, the tension in his stance refusing to ease. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. His protective nature warred against the situation, his first instinct to keep her from something that might hurt.

But she wasn’t breaking.

Not tonight.

She brushed her fingers against his arm, a silent reassurance.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a firm line. His shoulders remained stiff for a moment longer before he finally exhaled, long and slow, the fight draining from him.

He sighed again, running a large hand down his face before his voice dropped, low and meant only for her.

“You don’t have to do this, love.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softer now, a quiet acceptance in her eyes.

“Just this once.” Her voice was steady, but there was a finality to it. A warning that this was an exception, not a change.

Vander studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. Then, after a beat, the smallest, most reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You’re stronger than me.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Damn right.”

And for the first time in years— Just this once—

She let them celebrate her.

SILCO

The Undercity was a cruel place to be born, filled with smoke-choked streets, back-alley dealings, and the ever-present reminder that survival was never guaranteed. Crueler still was being reminded of it every year, as if the simple passage of time was something to be celebrated rather than endured.

Y/N never saw the point in marking the day she entered this world—not when all it had ever done was take, take, take.

She had learned young that birthdays were little more than a cruel joke, an arbitrary measurement of time that only served to remind her that each passing year did not bring change, did not bring hope, did not bring anything but more of the same struggle. In Zaun, surviving another year was less of an achievement and more of an inevitability, a slow march toward an end that came for everyone eventually. And yet, people insisted on celebrating as if it meant something.

She could still remember the last time she had indulged in the notion.

She had been a child then, still foolish enough to believe that love and effort could outweigh the weight of the world pressing down on them. Her parents had done their best with what little they had, scraping together a meager but heartfelt attempt at a celebration—scavenged sweets wrapped in old paper, a candle stuck into a piece of stale bread, and a broken music box that had once belonged to someone else, given to her as though it was something new. She had loved it anyway. She had cherished it, wound it up every night just to hear its fragile, warbled tune, a melody that trembled on the edge of silence like a secret too delicate to hold.

But that was the last time she had both of them.

By the time the next year rolled around, they were gone, swallowed up by the Undercity’s insatiable hunger, lost to violence or sickness or some other inevitable fate. She never learned exactly how they had died. Perhaps it had been Piltover’s enforcers, another brutal culling of those who dared to scrape too close to the surface. Perhaps it had been the Chem Barons, ruthless in their control, never hesitating to snuff out lives that no longer served a purpose. Or perhaps it had been the city itself, bleeding them dry in the way it always did, with slow, grinding inevitability, until there was nothing left.

Either way, they were gone. And the day that had once been hers became something else entirely.

A reminder.

A grave marker.

Since then, Y/N had avoided birthdays altogether. No counting down the days, no laughter, no candles, no meaningless words of well-wishing from people who had no idea what they were actually celebrating. Just another day lost to the endless churn of time, another twenty-four hours of survival in a city that did not care whether she lived or died.

She never spoke of it to anyone.

But Silco was not just anyone.

He knew.

He always knew.

And so when the day arrived, he did not acknowledge it, did not force a smile or offer some insincere platitude, did not drape the moment in pretence. He treated it the way she wanted it to be treated—like any other day. A kindness, though neither of them would ever call it that.

But Silco was not a man to do nothing.

The air inside The Last Drop was thick with the familiar scent of smoke, sweat, and spilled liquor, the murmur of voices blending seamlessly into the pulse of low, vibrating bass that thrummed through the floorboards. Even this late at night, the bar was still alive, though the energy had settled into something slower, something heavier—the way all things did when exhaustion began to set in, when the night grew long and patience ran thin.

By the time Y/N climbed the stairs to Silco’s office, the weight of the day had already settled deep into her bones. She had spent the past few hours dealing with the kind of people who made survival in Zaun all the more exhausting—smugglers trying to squeeze extra coin from their dealings, desperate men willing to sell out their own for another taste of shimmer, debtors who thought they could outrun the inevitable. It was nothing she wasn’t used to, nothing she hadn’t done before, but today, it felt heavier. Today, it felt like the air was pressing against her ribs just a little too tightly, like the exhaustion ran deeper than just her body.

Pushing the door open, she expected to find Silco exactly as he always was—seated at his desk, a cigar burning lazily between his fingers, his mind already several moves ahead in whatever endless game he was playing.

Instead, she found something different.

The usual stacks of paperwork, half-finished letters, and bloodstained reports had been pushed aside, leaving his desk almost uncharacteristically clear. And waiting at the center, as though it had been placed there deliberately, were two glasses of her favorite drink, the liquid catching the dim candlelight as it reflected off the glass.

The invitation was silent but unmistakable.

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.

"You look tired," Silco murmured, his voice smooth as ever, measured and precise, though his mismatched eyes studied her with the same quiet intensity they always did, searching for something unspoken, something unsaid.

"Long day," she replied, moving toward the chair he had left open for her, dropping into it with a sigh that she didn’t bother to suppress.

"Mm. As they often are."

The silence that settled between them was not uncomfortable, nor was it unfamiliar. It was something steady, something known. A thing that had long since lost the need for words.

For a while, they sat like that, drinking in the silence the same way they drank the liquor in their glasses—slowly, without urgency, without expectation.

Then, after a long moment, Silco reached for something and pushed it across the desk toward her.

Y/N frowned slightly, her fingers pausing over the rim of her glass before reaching out.

A silver pocket watch.

She had expected something sleek, something expensive, something that bore the telltale touch of his wealth and power. But this—this was old, worn but well-kept, the casing smooth from years of use, the chain aged but still strong. A relic, not an ornament. When she flipped it open, she found an inscription carved into the inside, the letters delicate, almost too fine to read in the dim light.

Time owes you nothing—take what you will.

Her breath caught.

"It belonged to someone who never waited for time to give her anything," Silco said, his voice softer now, as though speaking too loudly might break whatever unspoken thing had settled between them. "I suspect you share that sentiment."

Her fingers traced the inscription, lingering on the words, feeling their weight settle into something deep, something heavy.

She swallowed.

This was not just a gift. This was a message, a statement, an acknowledgment of something neither of them had ever put into words.

"You didn’t have to," she said finally, her voice quieter than before.

"I know," Silco replied simply, taking another slow sip of his drink.

The clock inside the watch still ticked, faint but steady. A reminder that time did not stop, did not slow, did not wait for anyone.

A reminder that it belonged to her now.

Y/N exhaled, closing the pocket watch with a soft click and tucking it away.

For once, she didn’t mind that today wasn’t just any other day.

At least, not with him.

JINX

Zaun never really slept.

It never had, never would.

Its streets pulsed with a restless, feverish energy that never truly died down, not even in the dead of night. Machines whirred and clanked somewhere in the distance, metal on metal grinding in an endless, mechanical heartbeat. The occasional burst of shouting—sometimes laughter, sometimes anger—echoed through the narrow alleys, bouncing off corroded walls. A loud crash rang out, a telltale sign that someone had knocked over a crate they probably weren’t supposed to be touching.

And then there was the air—thick, heavy, pressing against her skin like an invisible weight. It carried the scent of smoke, scorched metal, and something sharper, the acrid tang of chemicals that settled deep in the lungs and never quite left. It clung to everything, just like the grime that covered Zaun’s bones, woven into its very foundation.

Sometimes, Zaun was deafening. The kind of loud that made your head throb and your ears ring, a never-ending buzz of industry and life.

But some nights felt quieter than others.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet at all—the kind that made every little sound stand out, the faintest creak of metal groaning under shifting weight, the rhythmic drip of water leaking from old pipes, the soft hum of distant neon signs flickering like tired eyes struggling to stay awake.

The kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder.

The kind that pressed against your ribs, curling in the hollow spaces between your bones, filling your chest with something heavy and unwelcome.

The kind that left you with nothing but yourself.

Y/N sat on the edge of a rusted metal platform, legs dangling over the side, watching the city below with an expression caught somewhere between longing and detachment.

The glow of chem-lamps burned low in the distance, their eerie green light casting long, shifting shadows across the streets, stretching them until they seemed to dance and twist. Zaun’s underbelly was always moving, shifting, breathing. Alive.

Most nights, she liked the view.

Most nights, it reminded her that there was still life here, that the world hadn’t stopped turning, that time hadn’t frozen the way it sometimes felt like it had.

But tonight, she wasn’t looking to be distracted.

Tonight, she was thinking.

She let out a slow breath, curling her fingers into the worn fabric of her sleeves, gripping them so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Because tonight was different.

It was her birthday.

Not that it mattered. Not that it had mattered in a long time.

Once, a lifetime ago, birthdays had meant something. They had been warm, familiar, filled with soft voices and flickering candlelight, with cakes that always came out a little lopsided but never tasted any less sweet, with laughter that filled the air like music.

Once, birthdays had been something to look forward to.

Something to cherish.

But that was before.

Before she lost people. Before she realized that marking another year alive only reminded her of the ones who never got to. Before she learned that time didn’t care who it took and who it left behind.

Before she stopped wanting to count.

So she didn’t.

She stopped celebrating. Stopped acknowledging it. Stopped pretending that it was anything more than another number she didn’t need to keep track of.

Jinx knew that.

She had told her—sat her down once, forced the words out, made her listen. And, in a rare moment of stillness, Jinx had actually been quiet.

For a whole three minutes.

Which had to be some kind of record.

And, for the most part, Jinx had respected it.

But Jinx was… well, Jinx.

The unmistakable sound of rapid, uneven footsteps against hollow pipes reached her before the voice did.

“HEEEEEEY, FIRECRACKER!”

Y/N barely had time to groan before something crashed into her back, nearly sending her lurching forward off the platform. A pair of wiry arms locked around her shoulders in a half-hug, half-tackle, squeezing her so tight she almost lost her breath. The familiar scent of gunpowder, metal, and motor oil filled her nose, accompanied by the weight of a body practically draped over her like a human-sized ragdoll.

Jinx clung to her like a koala, her legs swinging freely in the air, her chin resting on Y/N’s head as if she belonged there.

“Whatcha doin’ up here all alone, huh?” Jinx chirped, voice muffled slightly by Y/N’s hair. “Broodin’? Starin’ dramatically into the abyss? Pfft—that’s my thing.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head but making no effort to push her off. “Just thinking.”

Jinx hummed. “Uh-oh. Dangerous game, thinkin’.”

She swung herself around, flopping down beside Y/N with a clang of metal against metal, her boots tapping an impatient rhythm against the platform. She was practically vibrating with energy, fingers twitching at her sides, electric-blue eyes darting between Y/N and something hidden behind her back.

Y/N shot her a sideways glance. Something was up. Jinx was many things—reckless, unpredictable, explosively chaotic—but she wasn’t subtle. The silence stretched.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “…What did you do?”

Jinx gasped, pressing a hand to her chest like she was offended.

“Pshh, what? Me? Do? Something?” She scoffed, throwing her hands up in an exaggerated motion. “Pffft—ha! As if!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Jinx grinned, wide and impish, the kind of grin that said ‘I absolutely did something, but I want you to guess first.’

“Jinx.”

The grin wavered slightly.

“Okay, okay! So, uh—funny story!”

Y/N exhaled, already regretting this conversation.

“I may or may not have kinda-sorta-totally forgotten that you don’t like birthdays.” Jinx gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Buuuut—before ya get all grumpy-pants on me, I didn’t do much! Like, really, barely anything!”

Y/N stared, unimpressed.

“No giant banners! No confetti bombs! No fireworks! I reeeaaally dialed it down!”

As if on cue, a small explosion rattled somewhere in the distance. Jinx winced.

“Okay, but that one wasn’t for you. Probably.”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Jinx perked up, grinning. Too wide. Too forced.

“Well! Lucky for you, this isn’t a birthday celebration!”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Jinx beamed and pulled something from behind her back—a small, slightly crumpled, suspiciously warm package wrapped in mismatched scraps of fabric.

“This, my dear friend,” Jinx declared, waving it in front of Y/N’s face, “is an ‘I-Know-You-Don’t-Like-Birthdays-But-I-Still-Wanted-To-Do-Something-Nice-For-You’ gift!”

Y/N hesitated.

Inside was a small metal pendant, crudely shaped into a star. Uneven. Jagged. One point longer than the others, the edges rough where they had been cut by hand. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was hers. And for the first time in years, she didn’t hate the day quite as much. Not because it was her birthday.

But because she had someone like Jinx.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane angst #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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sensationallysangwoo · 2 days ago

Text

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚎: 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗/𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐-𝙷𝚘 𝚡 𝙶𝙽!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵𝚈 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃 ♡

♡ 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐-𝙷𝚘. 𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 “𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗.” 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝙱𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

♡ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃, 𝙰𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙾𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙿𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖!𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗 (𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝), 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“I want you to be honest with me.”

Your gentle voice cuts through the silence in the room.

Your thumb caresses his soft cheek. His usual arrogant, confident demeanor has shrunk down into something somber. Something soft.

His dark eyes meet yours as his breath hitches. If he loves you, he needs to open up to you. And he does.

With a deep exhale through his nose, he begins telling his story.

“I’m from the North. When I was a child, my mother and I tried to escape by swimming across the river. She was killed, and I was thrown into a prison camp. Served 25 years. 25 years of hell that I’ll never get back. We were beaten, starving, and you know I’m sick. No treatment, obviously.”

You gulp. Berlin always, always kept his past hidden from you. You two haven’t been romantically involved for too long, but if you wanted to get serious about this relationship, you had to know his story.

You continue comforting him. Still cupping his face, you study his expression. He’s got a certain sadness in his eyes. You can see right through him. You see a broken, traumatized, vulnerable man.

He continues.

“I was in solitary confinement. I did some…rather violent things….” He trails off.

Deep down, he’s absolutely terrified of your judgement. He’s terrified of losing you, someone who’s brought so much joy and happiness into his life. He can only hide the real him from you for so long.

“There was a riot and a guard was killed. We escaped, and now I’m here. I’ve met some people who I…work with. You could call it a gang.”

Your expression remains soft. You love him so much. Nothing he is saying is changing your mind, but he thinks the exact opposite.

“Crime is all I know now. You wanted to know so badly, so what do ya think? Do ya still love me now, or what?” His eyes find the floor. You have never, ever seen him like this. The boisterous, theatrical Berlin you initially met is just a broken man.

The smallest, slightest smile tugs at your lips. “Of course I still love you. Nothing will never change that, Jung-Ho.” You gently reassure him.

He nuzzles his face into your touch. The faintest smile graces his lips. You read his energy. He feels safe with you. You are his security.

You lean in, your face inches away from his. Your lips are about a centimeter away from his. “You’re stuck with me Jung-Ho…” You gently graze your lips against his. He melts into the kiss, moving his mouth perfectly in sync with yours.

The kiss is soft, tender and passionate. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you as if you’d be gone the second he let go.

“I know the way I am. I just want you to love me.” His words break you. You can’t even imagine what he had to endure, and yet, knowing the way he acts and behaves all adds up now.

“Wanna see how much I love you?” You whisper against his lips. He nods, and before you know it you’ve scooted yourself onto his lap, on his office chair.

Your tongue is deep in his mouth. Heavy breathing and panting fill the room. His hands grab your ass harshly, possessively. He looks up at you with glassy eyes. He almost looks drunk off of you.

“Mmmm sweetheart, you drive me fucking crazy, y’know that?” He purrs.

His lips burn kisses into the soft skin of your throat. You close your eyes and a moan escapes yours lips.

His hands find their way under your shirt. His fingertips are cold, causing your to shiver at the sensation. His bulge presses into your core and the pressure alone causes you gasp and crave more.

“Need you so fuckin’ bad, little love. Fuuuuck—“ he groans as your fingers tug at his hair.

“You think you can handle it, Jung-Ho?” You ask as you grind down on his bulge.

He smiles at you devilishly. “You don’t know who you’re talkin’ to sweetheart. Come on, fuck me.”

You didn’t need to hear that twice. You practically rip his vest off and his button down shirt, revealing his perfectly tanned body underneath. Your hands explore every inch of his skin. You feel possessive, too. You’re both that territorial over each other.

You tug his pants down, followed by his boxers, freeing his dick. You drop to your knees and instantly take him in your mouth. He watches you intensely. His eyes are not leaving you as you sink your mouth down on his length.

He throws his head back and moans at the first contact of your warm mouth on his sensitive tip. His face scrunches up in pleasure. You take him as far down as you can until you feel yourself gag. You press on, though. You want to give Berlin everything you can.

He begins to thrust slightly, fucking your mouth gently. His hands are locked tightly in your hair. “Nggghh…don’t move, sweetheart. Just let me use you for a sec, okay?” You moan around his cock to show your obedience. The vibration causes him to shiver.

You gag obscenely as his whole entire cock is inside your mouth, prodding the back of your throat and cutting off all of your air intake. He holds you down all the way, his hands are so strong you can’t even move your head even if you tried. You look up. His chest heaves with a laugh as the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Ohhh you’re so fucking cute with my dick in your throat, baby.”

Hot wet tears stream down your face as he roughly pulls his dick out of your mouth. You whimper at the newfound soreness.

“Get on top of me again and fuck me like you love me.” He commands.

You climb on top of him and sink yourself down on his dick slowly. You feel yourself being stretched and you hesitate, afraid of the pain.

“Come on, my angel. I thought you loved me? Sit on it. Come on.” He coaxes you. Even though he’s technically “On the bottom” he’s still calling the shots.

You sink yourself further onto his hard cock, wincing at the full feeling inside of yourself.

“My sweet sweet angel baby. Oh so, so good. Fuck, ride it.” He groans.

You begin to slowly bounce on it, trying so hard to adjust to his huge length inside you. You are absolutely stuffed full of him. Slowly, the pain turns into pleasure as your walls accommodate him.

He slaps your ass sharply as you ride him. Your own moans and groans fill the room as he hits your sweet spot. His large hands guide your waist up and down. He’s basically fucking you like a fleshlight.

“Lean back a little.” He demands, and you do. With one arm wrapped around you so you don’t fall, he presses his other hand down on your abdomen.

“Feel that?” He smirks.

The pressure increases and you feel your orgasm crashing through your body.

You shudder and dig your nails into his shoulders, red pricks of blood dotting his tan complexion.

He comes undone too, moaning your name over and over and over again as he rides out his orgasm.

He spills inside of you. His seed overflows and drips everywhere, but neither of you care at all. You’re both wrapped up in the moment so intensely. Your eyes locked on each others. Your lips meeting once more in a hungry kiss.

You’re both panting, sweaty messes. Feeling satisfied and exhausted, you slink off of him. As you’re putting your clothes back on, Berlin reaches his hand out to you.

You grab it and hold it, feeling the rough callouses on your soft palm.

“So you still wanna be with me?” He asks you, seeking reassurance.

“Of course I do, Jung-Ho.” You smile, lean down, and kiss his lips once more.

You don’t even know what you’re in for just yet, but Berlin is yours, and that’s all that matters.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

AHHHH MY FIRST BERLIN FIC POSTED TO TUMBLR IM FREAKING OUT. I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVED IT OMG. I TRIED I REALLY DID BUT IM STILL TRYING TO GET A FEEL FOR HIS CHARACTER. GONNA START WORKING ON DEM REQUESTS AGAIN!!! This one was just kinda self indulgent hehehehe. Have a great day everyone!!! Love, G!!! 🤍

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