#if you feel safe just know I’m out there waiting to probes you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thaliagracesgf · 1 year ago

Text

i get a boyfriend

part two of the casual series! (requests are in progress, i just churned this out because it is my baby)

warnings: making out and luke being cocky asf

wc: 1.2k

the sun streamed through your eyelids in the morning. you shifted in bed, cozying up in rebellion. you really did not want to get up. you felt luke behind you, starting to move, and you closed your eyes. you knew he wouldn’t be able to wake you up just yet.

his head finds the crook of your neck, and his curls brush against your face. you’ve never felt so safe.

“jesus christ,” you’re rudely disturbed. you keep your eyes shut. maybe beckendorf will leave.

a knot grows in your stomach as luke grumbles from behind you. “fuck off, man. i was sleeping.”

“yeah. i noticed.”

“what are you doing here? this isn’t your cabin,” he said, sleep evident in his low voice.

“yeah, isn’t hers either. so are you two a thing now? you finally hook up last night? what’s the sitch here, because silena needs her update.”

with that, luke pulls himself up. “shut up, man.” he looks down at your ‘sleeping’ face, hoping you didn’t hear. “have some respect.”

you did hear, of course, and at first it did make you feel gross, but the ‘finally’ catches you, and you remember that luke wants you. he isn’t jack, who just wanted to fuck somebody, he’s been waiting, and yeah, the older kids at camp sometimes fuck. it’s relieving to realize that beckendorf doesn’t know about last night— he would never had said that if he did. besides, luke’s attempt at a defense, though hampered by his sleep-addled brain, is adorable.

“i’m just saying! don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. every person in this godforsaken camp can see it, ’cept maybe her.”

“can you seriously fuck off? i’ve got my girl, don’t make it my problem that you’re scared of yours.”

you laugh softly at that one. you don’t open your eyes, but you can feel luke freeze behind you. beckendorf doesn’t notice, but your gig is up anyway.

“your girl?” you mumble, a smile crossing your lips. beckendorf stifles a laugh.

“alright, i’m heading out! good luck with this one, man.” you open your eyes, and even as they’re adjusting to the light in the cabin, you swear you can see him wink. you’re not sure which one of you it’s to.

“die,” luke calls after him, throwing his head back on the pillow, but pulling you into his chest.

“hi.” you say, still facing away from him, and he tucks his head into your neck again.

“hi.” luke says.

you turn yourself over to look at his eyes. they’re such a deep brown. he tilts his head forward. you smile. you let his lips graze yours.

it’s exactly like it was when you were fourteen, and a million times more. he’s soft and gentle, pulling back between each kiss. your arms move around his neck, his wrap around your waist. you’ve never felt so secure in your life.

but you have to pull away. “i— i…” you start.

luke sits up. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m so sorry. fuck, that was so stupid of me. i’m so sorry, gods, what was i thinking?” he ran his hand through his hair. it was adorable. you reach out to his arm. (gods, he’s jacked). you wish you had allowed yourself to stare sooner. you’d been depriving yourself.

“it’s okay, luke. it was…it was really nice.” it seems like such a cheap thing to say, and by the look on his face, it wasn’t all that convincing. “i’m not… this is just a lot to process.”

“in what way?” he probes. you aren’t used to people asking questions. usually hannah just stares you down until the words come out of your mouth.

“i mean,” you try to word it in a way that won’t set him off. “it would be kind of shitty to jump into anything, right? after what happened with jack?”

luke gives a contemptuous look at the mention of his name. “no,” he scoffs. he’s still sitting up, looking down at you lying in his bed. you figure it might be a bad time to tell him how badly you want him to kiss you again.

“well, i don’t know. doesn’t it look like i’m just hopping around from guy to guy?”

“ok. first of all, i’m pretty sure there are only, like, four people who know about you and jack. second of all, at the risk of sounding like an absolute dick, aren’t you supposed to be in love with me or something?”

you gasp. “what the hell?”

he grins. “it’s just what i’ve heard. you know what the camp gossip mill is like.”

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so not fair.”

and he laughs, he really laughs. “how is it not fair?”

“you are such a dick. this is so embarrassing. i’m going to kill you.”

“you seem pretty content under those blankets for someone plotting a murder.” you look through your fingers. his smile is so, so, unbelievably cute. “how is this not fair?”

“because you totally know everything and i don’t know anything.”

“okay. what to you want to know?”

“shut up. die. i hope you drown today.”

“are you really going to make me say it, jack-jack?”

“i hate you.”

“i like you.” you go quiet. “i really, really like you. i think i’ve had a crush on you since we were fourteen. and i fucking love you. not like we already say everyday. like i think i’m actually fucking in love with you.”

he lays down beside you. you’re facing away from him, so he traces swirls on your shoulder.

you turn to face him, and for a second he has the decency to look nervous.

you narrow your eyes at him. “so how do you really know i’m not just in this for the sex?” and he bursts out laughing. and before you know it, you’re laughing with him. and he loves the way your eyelids almost close when you do.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he grins.

“well, who are you hooking up with these days? i’ll have to see if you have good reviews.”

“good luck with that, it might be difficult.”

“what, like you’ve never hooked up with an aphrodite girl after a bonfire.”

he shakes his head, and you’re honestly stunned. luke castellan, the most gorgeous boy on long island, is a virgin?

“i mean,” he starts. “it’s not like i haven’t had offers.”

“oh, shut up, you asshole,” you try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arms around you, and at his next words you freeze.

“but i was holding out hope that it would be with you.”

fuck. that was really hot.

you look up, into his eyes. “i hate you,” you roll your eyes.

“i love you,” he murmurs, his eyes on your lips.

this time when he kisses you, you’re never letting him go. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him atop you. it takes everything in you not to roll your hips into his, but you don’t stop yourself from reaching down his torso to find the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and running your hands along his stomach. fuck, you think for the second time that morning. he’s jacked. he smiles into the kiss, and you know you’re stroking his ego right alongside his abs.

“so,” you say, biting your lip as his trace your jaw and neck. “what was that about ‘your girl’ earlier?”

you’re expecting a sly remark, a grin, or something. instead, he doesn’t hesitate—“be my girlfriend,” he almost moans. “please.”

and you don’t have it in you to leave him waiting.

“okay,” you whisper.

#pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke pjo #percy series

736 notes · View notes

i-dared-myself · 3 months ago

Text

One, Two, Three

Yeosang x reader

In which you, a weak witch, can’t escape the powerful demon you’ve summoned.

18+

Cw: Stabbing, kidnapping, blood, explicit sex, accidental starvation of reader

Witches make mistakes. Sometimes the wrong ingredient goes into the wrong cauldron. Sometimes you bump into your table and bruise yourself.

Occasionally you summon a prince of hell. All you can say is oops and move on with your day.

Except when he’s chasing you through the abandoned building you had chosen for your ritual.

Your panting is growing harsh and it’s difficult to draw in air, but you keep running.

You can’t even hear him anymore, so you skid to a stop. You bend over and clutch at your knees, gasping for breath.

All that meets your ears is your rasping breaths and racing heart. It’s thumping harder than ever before in your life.

A sob rips itself from your throat, tears bubbling in your eyes. You never wanted this. Your hand slipped during the spell you were doing, and since witchcraft has to be so precise, you accidentally opened it. You opened the connection between worlds, causing a prince from hell to be unleashed.

Click.

Your head jerks up and you blink back the salt pouring from your eyes. You just heard something- something that isn’t you.

“Witchling,” someone croons, voice low and taunting.

You look around for somewhere to hide. A desk to find shelter under, a wardrobe to close yourself into.

But nothing.

Click.

Your index finger goes to your mouth, and you bite it to prevent a whimper from falling past your lips. You know the reputations of these things- these demons.

They’re bloodthirsty and cruel. Sadistic creatures that take pleasure in the fear of others.

Click.

“Witchling,” he croons again. “Where are you?”

You keep moving. Not running anymore, not wanting to create a lot of noise, but carefully walking down the dark hallways.

This place must have been an office building of some kind. There’s desks and chairs in the adjoining rooms, and the crooked doors have plaques with names on them.

Click.

You turn to see the source of the noise. The noise that was so close.

He stands at the end of the hallway, brown hair falling around his face. It’s not messy, but arranged tastefully. His eyes have a red sheen to them, and when his lips curl up, they reveal slightly pointed teeth.

“There you are.” The door shuts behind him with a soft sound. He laces his fingers together behind his back, tilting his head. “Why are you running?”

“Stay back!” You pull from your magic, casting a protection barrier. As long as you don’t move from this spot, you’ll be safe.

Unless he breaks it.

“Why?” he asks curiously. He takes a step closer, heels making a loud click.

“I- I’ll hurt you!” you threaten vaguely. Not that you’re certain if he can even feel pain.

He glides even closer, until he’s just outside of your protection barrier. “You would?”

“Yes,” you quickly say. “I’m a powerful witch. I kill demons and monsters all the time.”

“Then why is this,” he strokes the edge of your spell, making purple sparks fizzle in the air, “so weak?”

You curl inwards. He’s called your bluff.

“It’s pathetic, even,” he adds. His fingers probe deeper against the magic, the barrier straining to keep him out. It’s bending around his digits, and you can feel your magic fading fast.

You force your chin to lift boldly. “That’s what you say now, but wait until I kick your ass.”

He laughs lightly, eyes glinting. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” you press. “You think I wouldn’t? I duel creatures like you all the time.”

His head cocks to the side, strands of hair tumbling into his face. “There are no creatures like me. There are other demons, yes, but to you I am the only me. And you are the only human for me.”

“What?” You don’t understand what he’s saying.

Both of his hands splay out against your protection barrier. You can see his skin smoking from where it touches the magic, but he ignores the pain.

“You think just anyone could summon me?” His mouth quirks as if he’s amused by you. “No. I come when I please, for my own reasons.”

You pour more energy into your spell, watching as the smoke twists and curls in the air from where he touches it. “What are you talking about?”

There’s a crazed look to him now, in the way he smiles. “You’re mine. Designed for me, and me alone. Don’t you feel it?”

You take a step back, aware of how close you are to falling out of the safety of your ward. “I’m not designed for anyone. I don’t feel anything for you.”

His nostrils flare slightly and he narrows his eyes. “Lying little witchling. Reach inside you and try again.”

Reluctantly, you search inside yourself for anything that might resemble a connection. An accidental bond or a curse, perhaps.

You find a sliver of darkness. A little piece of shadow that rests in the very being on your soul. It’s latched deep inside you, thrashing around.

Your magic flickers.

You’ve never gone this far with your powers. It’s exhausting, and now that you’re aware of this thing you can actively feel it.

“That’s me.” His finger shoots out and presses against your chest. His arm is through a hole in your barrier. “I can feel it. That means that we’re destined for each other.”

You stare down at where he’s touching you, eyes wide. “How did you-“

Then he shreds the ward with no effort at all. He lunges at you and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you close to him. He shudders, and you can feel that tiny sliver of darkness rising and lifting inside you.

His mouth is hovering over yours, eyes dark with hunger. “Mine,” he says simply, before lowering his lips to yours.

You’re distantly aware of the shadow slipping out of your mouth and into his, and then you’re kicking him away. You crawl as far as you can from him as he regains his breath.

He’s staring down at his hands with a look of wonder. “You truly are designed for me. You had the missing part of my powers. Don’t you feel stronger now as well?”

You scramble to your feet and cast another protection spell. It’s more powerful than anything you’ve ever done, and it felt so easy.

“There you go,” he says, something akin to pride in his words. “But I’m afraid our time is up. It’s time to go home.”

“Go back to the hole you crawled out of,” you spit, braver now with this newfound magic. “I’m not yours, and I never will be.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. “I know you didn’t mean it, so I’ll ignore it. But my patience is running thin. Come here.”

You scoff. “No.”

His eyes open again, and he gazes at you. “I’ll give you to the count of three.”

You pull at more of your magic, strengthening your shield. You know you can’t hold out as long as him, even with this new power, but you can at least make it difficult for him.

“One,” he says, eyes still locked on you.

You clench your jaw.

“Two.”

You widen your stance, preparing for whatever it is he’ll do. You don’t know what he wants with you, but it surely isn’t anything good.

“Three,” he softly says before shattering your shield. You build it up again as quickly as you can, desperate for anything to keep you safe.

It repeats over and over again, with him breaking down your protection and you putting it back up. It’s exhausting and you can feel your magic and energy both draining.

“Witchling” he suddenly says, worry in his tone. “Your nose.”

You bring the heel of your hand up to your nose, pulling it away to find blood. “Oh.”

He takes your moment of distraction to grab you. As soon as he makes contact with you, your knees buckle.

He scoops you up and looks down at you, the corners of his lips lifting. “I am Yeosang, witchling. And you are mine.”

Then darkness consumes you.

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

You stir, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings. It’s quiet, with no sounds except that of your breathing.

You sit up and push silk sheets away from your body, sliding out of bed. The bedroom itself is dim, with closed curtains blocking a wide window.

You’re wearing a loose-fitting top with matching pants. Both are a light pink with bunnies on them.

You push the door open, padding out into a long hallway. There are other doors along the corridor, and you open each of them. There are bedrooms and bathrooms, and what you think is a dance studio.

“Witchling,” the demon- Yeosang- says. He’s dressed in a black robe that is cinched around his waist. “You’re awake.”

You clutch at your shirt, twisting the fabric nervously. “Where are we?”

“Home.” The word sounds odd as it comes from his mouth. Intimate and nothing that you should share with him.

“Where?” you press.

Yeosang studies you carefully. “Where I come from. You’re safe here, though. No one will touch you except me.”

“No,” you sharply say. “You’ll leave me alone.”

He considers it for a moment. “We shall see. But be assured that I will do nothing without your permission,” he vows.

You relax as much as you can under the circumstances, nodding. “What do you want from me?”

“To keep you safe. To have with you what humans desire and yearn for.”

You swallow thickly. “Okay.”

You have no plans whatsoever to have anything to do with him. As soon as you get the chance to kill him, you’re taking it.

“Breakfast?” Yeosang sweeps an arm out to a set of stairs that you could have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago. They’re covered in a lush carpet and go down to a wide and spacious room.

You grip the railing as you go downstairs, trying not to trip on the flared bottoms of the pants. “Interesting outfit choice.”

“Do you not like it?” Yeosang asks from behind you, voice tinged with… insecurity? “Human women like cute things, do they not?”

“Some do.” You reached the ground and turn to take him in again. He’s ethereal, beautiful to a level that you could never compete with. “Others don’t.”

“And which are you?” His eyes flick over your form, falling on your face. “I can fix it.”

“It’s fine.” You tug at the hem of your left sleeve. “I’m not picky.”

Yeosang watches you for a minute before motioning to an open doorway. “Sit in there and wait.”

“Yeosang.” You struggle with what to say before sighing. “Why can’t I use my magic? My powers aren’t working.”

“You really think I’d let you keep them after everything?” Yeosang arches an eyebrow. “Nice try. You have to earn them back.”

You trudge off in the direction he had instructed, finding yourself in a dining room. There’s a long table with one place setting at the head of it. You settle in the chair, snatching up the knife next to the plate. You tuck it in your lap, out of sight.

Yeosang enters with a steaming tray of food. There’s a small bowl of fruit along with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

You take the fruit and spear a piece on your fork. “Are you going to eat?”

“No,” he answers. “I don’t have a need to, so it’s pointless.”

You glance up at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “Have you ever eaten?”

“Not any of your human food.” Yeosang shakes his head at you, scowling at a watermelon chunk.

“Really?” You gape at him in shock. “That’s… Wow. Here, try some of this.” You offer him the watermelon, shaking it when he hesitates.

Yeosang warily places a piece on his tongue, chewing slowly. He swallows and then reaches for another. “It’s not terrible.”

“You like it,” you insist. “Don’t pretend you don’t.” His cheeks flush, turning a pink that you never expected to see on him. “Finish your meal.”

You shrug and return to picking at your food. You eat as slowly as possible, hoping to piss him off. Do demons get impatient? Do they grow restless?

You get the impression that the answer is yes, based on how his leg taps. You smile to yourself and hide it behind your hand.

“Are you finished yet?” Yeosang asks, voice sharp and tinged with annoyance. “It can’t possibly take humans this long to eat.”

“Almost.” You push the empty fruit bowl away and pick up a piece of toast. You just stare at it for a moment before taking a bite.

He huffs and settles into a chair. “I have places to be, witchling. I don’t have time for this.”

Your fingers wrap around the knife in your lap. You haven’t forgotten about it, merely biding your time until the moment was right.

That time is now.

You lunge for him and plunge the blade into his chest. His eyes widen in surprise and his hands come up to the wound.

You remove the weapon and look at the blood-covered blade with satisfaction. It’s dripping with red, shining in the light.

He still hasn’t said anything, clutching at the hole on his chest. Blood is oozing out onto his fingertips, sinking into his robe. His mouth parts as he gazes at you, eyes hooded with pain.

“Fuck you,” you spit, tossing the knife away. “That’s what you get for kidnapping me.”

And yet your words are laced with regret. Guilt coats the inside of your mouth and turns your victory bitter.

“That’s it?” Yeosang blinks at you. “Are you done yet?”

“Am I… What?” You frown and can’t help but feel at unease.

Yeosang sits up and stretches as his wound stitches itself together. The skin that you can see where his robe splits apart is slick with blood. “Are you finished with your tantrum now?”

You take a fearful step back. “You’re not dead? How are you… Shit.”

“Indeed.” Yeosang hums and flicks a droplet of blood away. It lands on the white tablecloth and he cocks his head at it. “It’s your first day, so I won’t make this too terrible. I’ll even give you a choice.”

You’ve made a terrible mistake. A rash decision that has ended horribly.

“You can either be… dealt with now, before I leave,” he says. “Or later when I return. Now will be quicker, but I’m angrier now. Later it’ll take longer, but I may be more lenient.”

You shudder at the implication of his words. “L- Later.”

“Very well,” he mildly says. “I’ll be gone for a while and will deal with you when I return. You may have free rein of the house, but aren’t allowed to leave it.”

As if you’d listen to that.

But you nod and smile pleasantly. “Okay.”

He reaches out and cups your cheeks with both of his hands, splaying his thumbs out. “You promise to be good?”

“Yes,” you lie. You don’t even know what his rules might possibly be, not that you plan to follow any of them.

Yeosang smiles and presses the gentlest of kisses to your forehead. “I’ll return, witchling.”

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

Every exit is sealed with his magic. Every door to the outside refuses to open no matter how hard you press. Every window is shut and will not budge.

It’s frustrating, because you have no way of telling how long he’s been gone. It’s long enough that you have checked every way to escape twenty times, but that’s all you know. There are no clocks or any other digital way of telling the time. The sun is slowly setting, but you have no way of knowing if this is your sun or some kind of alternate dimension where it takes a week for the sun to go down.

You shuffle off to the kitchen, shoulders slumped with defeat. What you need now is some self-pity ice cream.

But alas, the freezer is empty. So is the fridge too. And the pantry.

You slam the cupboard doors shut, muttering curses under your breath. That bastard didn’t leave you any snacks.

To amuse yourself, you wander down the seemingly endless hallway. The attached rooms are always a surprise, and you even discover a whole ass library at one point. The ceilings stretch so high you could release at least twenty eagles.

Which is a strange unit of measurement, but still.

You eventually grow bored of exploring and return to your room. It’s exactly how you left it, and you throw yourself into bed. You fall asleep in almost an instant, exhausted from such a long day of exploring.

When you wake, you play dress up. You have a massive closet filled with hundreds of different outfits. Dresses, pantsuits, tuxedos. Even a maternity dress, which you instantly bring to the kitchen to burn.

You bring the edge to the open flames, cheering when it lights. It burns fast after that and you have to run to a different room when it goes out of control.

You stay at the other side of the house after that, fairly certain that you had burnt the entire place down.

And it’s on day three, you believe, that you realize he’s truly forgotten that you need food. You need sustenance if you are to survive. You have no idea how long he’s to be out, either.

You’re completely helpless.

Your stomach cramps with hunger and you groan, clutching at the railing to the stairs. Going down them when you’re this dizzy is a terrible idea, but you need to double check that the kitchen is empty.

It’s charred when you arrive, and you have a sinking feeling that this isn’t what he meant when he told you to be good. But there’s a chance you’ll have starved to death when he returns, so you’re not too worried.

You have no idea what day it is when Yeosang comes home. It’s a sick feeling when you recognize that you referred to this prison as home.

“Witchling?” Yeosang softly calls. You can hear him from the patch of floor you’ve claimed as your own. “Where are you? We still need to discuss your behaviour.”

Is that what he cares about right now? Was this entire situation your punishment?

“Witchling?” Yeosang’s voice is louder now, with an edge of anger to it. “I thought I taught you that hiding doesn’t do you any good. Remember how I found you the first time? I always will, so don’t bother hiding.”

You’re aware of the clicking of his shoes on the polished marble floors as he searches for you. You’re too busy trying not to pass out to respond to him.

“Witchling.” Yeosang stands in the doorway, eyebrows pinched with concern. “What are you doing down there?” He kneels at your side and props you up, expression falling further into worry. “What’s wrong?”

You shudder and fist at his shirt. “I- I’m sorry.” You can feel tears roll down your face and you sniffle. “I- I won’t do it again. I’ll be good!”

“Thank you,” he says, sounding confused. “But what are you doing on the floor?”

Your head lolls into the crook of his neck, mumbling slurred apologies for stabbing him. You just want to eat. You want something to fill your stomach and will do anything for it.

Yeosang tilts your chin up at him. “Witchling? What are you- What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, pleading with him. “I understand what I did was terrible. Can I- Can you please-“ Your fingers tug at the material of his shirt. “I’m sorry!”

Yeosang picks you up and cradles you to his chest. “I- Did you hit your head while I was gone? Do I need to take you to one of your human doctors?”

“Can I please have something to eat?” you quietly ask. “I’m sorry for everything and won’t do it again. Just- I learned my lesson.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Witchling I’m so- Yes. Yes I’ll go get you something.”

Yeosang places you back down on the floor and hurries out of the room. You watch him go through tears, the sight blurring.

He practically sprints back into the room, falling to his knees at your side. He hands you a chunk of buttered bread, along with pieces of meat. “I’m so sorry, witchling. I forgot about your needs. It’s all my fault.”

You swallow down your first mouthful, staring up at him. “You- You did this on accident?”

“Yes, I promise.” Yeosang nods frantically. “I would never do something so cruel. I was planning to talk with you about how I could make this better for you.”

You chew as you listen, eating faster than you probably should.

“From now on I’ll be more attentive,” he promises. “I won’t leave your side unless absolutely necessary. You’re mine and I’m yours, for however you want me.”

“But I don’t want you at all.” You curl into a ball once you’ve finished eating. “I want you to bring me home.”

He rocks back on his heels, sighing heavily. “That, I cannot do. I need to make sure you’re safe. Everything inside me is screaming to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you demand, lifting your head. “You’re the only danger! You fucking kidnapped me and almost starved me to death!”

“An accident!” Yeosang brushes his fingers over your cheek, only for you to slap his hand away. “Witchling…”

“Stop calling me that.” You bury your face in your arms. “Just leave me alone.”

Yeosang makes a small, strangled sound of protest before giving up. He stands and walks towards the door. “I’ll stock the fridge.”

As soon as he’s gone, you flee to your room and slam the door shut. You crawl beneath the covers of your bed, oddly at ease now that Yeosang is home.

But that’s insane, so you brush the thought away.

You busy yourself by reading all of the books you had smuggled to your room. They’re all works of fiction, designed to ease the mind with entertainment. It keeps you occupied until there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Witchling,” Yeosang gently says. “I miss you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left me for days, then.” You scoff and turn the page of your novel.

You hear shuffling before Yeosang speaks again. “Can I come in? Please?”

You sigh. “Fine.”

The door is opened and Yeosang enters warily. There’s a tiny smile that grows on his face once he sets his eyes on you.

“Hi,” he says. He fiddles with his hands. “I brought you something to eat.”

You sit up and place the book in your lap. “Okay. Do you want a medal?”

He seems hurt for a moment before he reaches out of your line of sight and grabs a tray of food. Lines of steam waft upwards from a plate of pasta as he sets it down next to you.

You pick up the fork and take a bite, finishing the entire dish before glancing up at him. “I’m done.”

Yeosang’s hands shake as he takes the tray back. “Was it- Did you like it?”

You study his face for a second. He looks… odd. Fidgety and desperate for approval.

“It was okay,” you finally say. Something flashes in his eyes before he’s kneeling again, bending at the waist to drape his torso across your bed.

His lashes flutter as he gazes up at you, tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I promise. Will you ever forgive me?”

“Will you ever let me go?” you ask instead of answering.

His fingers twist at the sheets and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I- I-“ Yeosang pauses to swallow, throat bobbing. “If that’ll make you happy, yes. I’ll let you go.”

You lean into the pillows, watching him. “Do you mean it?”

Tears spill from his eyes. “I- Yes I mean it. I really mean it. If it’ll make you happy I’ll do it.”

You don’t know how to feel about this. This is everything you’ve been hoping for, but something isn’t right. What’s wrong with him?

“Can you go?” You point at the door. “I’m busy reading.”

Yeosang brightens. “So you’re not leaving?”

You tilt your head at the door. “Get out.”

He whines, actually fucking whines, but catches himself. Yeosang gets to his feet and nods before exiting.

You stare at his retreating form.

Odd.

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

“Witchling.” Yeosang hovers in the doorway. “Can I show you something?”

You frown, but throw your legs over the side of the bed. “What is it?”

“I made you something,” Yeosang breathlessly tells you. He starts to leave before you can even get your slippers on.

You rush after him and almost fall down the stairs. He’s walking so fast, for no reason whatsoever.

“Yeosang! Slow down!” you yell as you stumble for the eighth time.

He instantly halts, glancing over his shoulder. He waits for you to reach his side before continuing, slower this time.

“I worked really hard,” Yeosang declares. His cheeks are pink and he keeps looking away from your face.

You push a door open, entering… a bedroom? The bed’s sheets are tucked tight enough to cut yourself on the edge, and paintings are hung. The curtains are a pleasing shade of red with elegant designs on them.

“What is it?” you blandly ask him.

“It’s our room,” he proudly replies. “You can have whatever side of the bed that you want.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“I don’t care which side I get. As long as you’re happy.” Yeosang beams at you, motioning to the room. “Do you like it?”

“Why do you think I’d sleep here?” You cross your arms across your chest. His expression crumbles, so you press on. “With you too? Never going to happen. I still haven’t forgiven you for anything.”

Yeosang wraps his arms around you from behind. “Please? Just for one night to try it? You’re so far away in your room… I miss you when you’re over there.”

You squirm away from him. “What’s wrong with you today? You’re so clingy and- and affectionate!”

Yeosang reaches out for you before his arms drop back to his sides. He bites at his lip before giving up and tugging at his hair. “You did this! You made me like this!”

“I did not,” you argue. “You’re just weird.”

“No,” Yeosang insists. “I found you, my other half, and it- It triggered something. Now I need you so bad. I need to hold you and make you happy. I need your smile and laughter. I need to be inside you.”

You jerk away. “What?”

Yeosang covers his face with his fingers in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’ll take you home now and deal with this on my own.”

You stop him, holding out your hands. “I don’t want to go home anymore. But, I want a few ground rules.”

Yeosang eagerly accepts. “Yes. Anything.”

“My first rule is that you’ll allow me to come and go as I please.” When he nods, you continue. “My second is that we’re equals. I want to be treated as a person, not some pet.”

“Anything,” Yeosang agrees. He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “What else?”

“I want your loyalty and devotion.” You keep your tone level as to not give away how much you want him. You want everything he’ll give you. “And I want my magic back.”

“Absolutely.” Yeosang has tears clinging to his eyelashes. “Just- Please?”

“Okay.” You relent to the longing in his eyes and the tugging at your soul. “What do you need?”

He mouths at the exposed collumn of your throat, his tongue shooting out to touch the skin. His teeth graze at your neck.

“I can’t stop thinking about what it be like to be buried inside you.” Yeosang groans, head tipping back. “You- You’d be so tight and warm. Clenching around me like the perfect fuck toy that you are.”

You gape as you’re backed up to the bed with each menacing step closer that he takes. “What?”

He shoves you hard enough that you bounce on the bed momentarily. Yeosang lays atop you, caging you in with arms on either side of your head.

There’s something coiling inside you, and you can’t identify it as magic or an impending orgasm. Your mind is just too clouded with lust to think about it.

You tug at the collar of his shirt and yank him closer to you. You kiss him fiercely and your teeth clack with his. Yeosang’s tongue swipes at your mouth and he whimpers once your own tongue dominates his mouth.

“You’re so needy,” you absently note as his hips roll down into yours. You can feel his erection pressing into your thigh, a sign of his desperation.

“Been wanting this for so long,” he pants out. Yeosang peppers your face with kisses. “And now I can’t think about anything else. It’s like- It’s like it’s taken over my mind.”

You stroke his hair, smiling softly at him. He’s so wrecked already, but you want to utterly ruin him. “Want me to take care of that?”

“Yes,” he instantly replies as you maneuver him onto his back. “More than anything.”

You laugh and slide down his pants to his ankles. Caressing his face, you smile widely. “Lick it.” You hold your palm out for Yeosang.

He obeys and slides his tongue up your skin, maintaining eye contact with you. You smile at him before reaching down to caress his cock.

When you thumb at his slit, his reaction makes you clench around nothing. Yeosang’s eyes are glassy, and his tongue rolls out of his open mouth, spreading glossy spittle across his jaw as he moans.

Your movements are smooth as your hand glides over him. His hips buck up to meet each of your hand’s motions. You run your finger over a vein, squeezing maybe a bit too harsh when you reach his base.

Yeosang seems to like it, though, back arching as he lets out a strangled cry. His fists clench at the sheets and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Are you close?” you coo. “Close to cumming everywhere like a good fuck toy?”

“Uh-huh,” he gasps, eyes rolling back in his skull.

You take a step away and wipe your hands on your pants. “Okay then. Good to know.”

Yeosang’s eyes widen as you walk to the door. “What are you doing?”

You grin, waving your hands to create magic chains around his wrists. “I think I’m going to explore the house a little bit. This place is endless.”

Yeosang thrashes against his restraints, eyes locked on you with anger boiling over in his expression. “You better run, little witchling, because when I catch you I’m going to fuck you senseless until you’re drooling. When there’s a puddle under your face, I’m going to laugh and switch to your ass.”

Your knees go weak for a second before you sprint out the door. You can hear the shattering of chains from behind you, emboldening you to run faster. You throw your sweater off as you go, hoping he’ll trip on it and it’ll slow him down.

As hard as your heart is pumping, you feel giddy. The thought of being pinned down right where he catches you is enough to make you ooze.

But you want to make this difficult for him, ever the fighter. You crawl beneath a desk in some random office, one of many in this massive and sprawling house.

Click.

This time, the sound of his shoes has a different effect on you. You’re no longer trembling with fear, but with want. You slide further into the shadows beneath the desk, straining your ears to hear him.

“Witchling,” Yeosang calls, voice soft and menacing. “I’ll give you to the count of three, and then after that I won’t be so nice.”

Click.

You can already imagine how it’ll feel to have him driving in and out of you at a bruising pace. The stretch will be good enough to make you cum just from it.

“One,” Yeosang says, voice coming from a different room.

Click.

“Two,” Yeosang says, this time closer.

Click.

This time you can see the source of the clicking. He’s standing in the doorway, and under the desk you can see up to his shins at most. “Three.”

You cover your mouth with your hands to stifle any noises. He’s waiting for any hint that you’re here, and you don’t want to give it to him.

Yeosang exhales heavily, turning the sound into a bit of a moan at the end. “I’m touching myself right now, thinking of you.” He lets out a breathy little sigh.

He’s lying. He’s a filthy lying bastard, and you know it. His pants are on. You can see them.

But you still peek out from under the desk.

Yeosang’s pants have been shuffled downwards slightly so he has access. His head is thrown back as his hand moves over his cock.

“Found you,” he croons, lowering his gaze. He peers at you through thick lashes, mouth parting. His cheeks are a flushed pink, and his hair is messy.

He kicks the door shut and slips out of his pants, throwing it in the corner with his shirt. You inch further into the shadows, although you know that the game is up.

His hands hooks around your ankle and Yeosang tugs you out from hiding. He tosses you over the desk, discarding you of your clothing as quickly as he can. He plunges two fingers into you and you claw at the wood of the desk.

“Yeosang,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. The hard surface is digging into your stomach, so you pull yourself across it further so it’s in the crook of where your legs meet your body.

“Yes, witchling?” Yeosang curls his fingers.

You squirm back onto his hand, grinding on the heel of it. Your clit is finally getting stimulation after such a long period of foreplay, and you want more.

“Was there something you needed, or should I leave you like you left me?” Yeosang leans down and presses his naked body to yours. “Pleading, and begging, and- and-“

You tremble at the thought of it. “No! Please!”

“But isn’t that fair?” Yeosang lays an open-mouthed kiss at your shoulder. “It’s what you did to me, after all.”

“But-“ You rack your mind for a reason. A way to convince him to give you an orgasm. “But then you won’t be able to fuck me. Aren’t you needy right now? I bet you just want to fill me.”

Yeosang hums lowly and presses another finger into you. His thumb works on your clit, just the way that you need it. “Yes, but I can wait. I’ve been waiting days to have you. I’ve been waiting years to meet you.”

“Then just fuck me!” you whine. “Yeosang! I know you want to, so stop pretending!”

Your budding orgasm is ruined when he promptly removes his fingers. He hooks his fingers in your mouth while the ones that had been inside you are wiped on your ass.

He kneads at the muscle. “I did promise to fuck your ass. Would you like that? Oh, it’d be so smooth and nice.” His fingers press down on your tongue, applying a steady pressure.

You groan, sucking on his fingers absently. You would take them down your throat if it meant you finally got fucked stupid.

Yeosang lines himself up with your pussy, swiping two fingers down your glistening hole. “Witchling, you’re dripping.” He uses it as lube on his dick before entering you.

Your back arches and you push your ass up to him in offering. A moan is torn from your mouth before you can stop it, followed by another one when he smacks your ass.

He gives you no time to adjust to the stretch before he’s thrusting into you harshly. You scramble for something to grip, clenching tightly on him.

Yeosang lets out a rough noise and his hands flex on the desk.

“So good,” he praises through pants and huffs. He manhandles you to your back and wraps your legs around his waist. “I can feel you just sucking me in deeper.”

“Oh, you’re so-“ You bite your lower lip. “Yeosang, I just-“

“It’s pathetic that you’re close to cumming already.” Yeosang scoffs and moves a hand to play with your clit. “Really that desperate for me?”

“Like you aren’t desperate for me,” you argue. You lift your hips to meet him halfway in the movements.

Yeosang grips your chin and tilts your head up. “Open, witchling. Be good for me.”

Your tongue unfurls from your mouth as you widen your lips. You watch as he leans in even closer, opening his own mouth in response.

Yeosang drools into your mouth, the corners of his lips curling as it drips onto your tongue. He pats your cheek once he’s finished. “Swallow.”

Your walls flutter as you obey, causing his hips to stutter. “Can I- Are you close?”

“Yes,” Yeosang answers simply. “You may cum.”

Your legs tremble as your orgasm washes over you, quickly succeeded by his. He remains inside you as he softens, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you up to bed before I need you again.” Yeosang scoops you up, your sweat-slicked body sticking to his. “Then I’ll make good on my promise of fucking you until there’s a puddle under your face.”

Taglist (Open):

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

I’m so proud of me, this is more than 6k words. I shall brag about this to my bestie, and then force her to read it.

#ateez #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #yeosang goes into heat guys #ateez smut

114 notes · View notes

brunchable · 10 months ago

Text

We Can’t Be Friends || Doctor Strange x F!Reader.

Genre: Angst(?) || Song MV inspired

Pairings: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Quick Summary: Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.

A/N: Lisssteeen, this is not proof read lol. I haven't written in a while, I am feeling rusty so please be forgiving hehe. Every nice interactions are most valued <3

Stephen had been gone for a month for the third time, with no word, no warnings. You had spent countless nights worrying, wondering if he was safe, if he would ever return. And now, as the sparkle of the portal opened and caught your attention, Stephen stepped out, looking weary and worn from his latest mission.

You were waiting for him in the living room, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration, yet your expressions show otherwise. You had been rehearsing what you would say, but now that he was here, the words felt heavy on your tongue.

“You're back. Where in the seven hells have you been this time?” You began, your voice firm but calm, you had that motherly tone when a teen returns home from sneaking out.

“Seven hells pretty much sums it up… can we do this later? I just got back,” Stephen chuckled, rubbing his temples, the tone of your voice grating and adding up to his headache, “I’m exhausted.”

“No, I think we should address this, now,” You insisted, pointing to the ground for emphasis.

Stephen sighed, sensing the confrontation he so wanted to avoid. “Alright, I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Stephen, you’ve been gone for a month. No warnings, no pass the message from Wong. . . What is going on?”

“Y/N, you know what my responsibilities are. The world needs me. I can’t just ignore that,” Stephen said defensively.

“A heads up would be nice. Like how you were before. It feels like I’m nothing more than a distraction to you,” You shot back, your eyes narrowing.

Stephen’s expression hardened with irritation. “You knew what you were getting into from the start. My work–my duty is important. Do I need to explain myself every single time?”

“Why are you so defensive? Is it wrong of me to at least know where you are? So I don't worry all the time? At least still show me that I matter to you. Right now, it feels like you and your missions are all that matter,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N. Clea and I are working to protect this world. It’s not like I’m off on a vacation. I’m trying to keep everyone safe, including you.”

It was impossible to overlook the single name that slipped from Stephen's lips. The air seemed to thicken even more with tension. Your face transformed dramatically; what had been a mask of frustration quickly crumbled, replaced by a deep, probing suspicion. Your eyes narrowed, searching Stephen's face for any hint of deceit, and your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the name that now hung heavily between you.

“Who’s Clea?” you asked, making sure to stress the name you didn't want to say, your voice tinged of disdain.

“Fuck,” Stephen muttered under his breath. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized he should have told you who he was teaming up with sooner. He wondered why he had left out such an important detail, knowing it would have made a difference in your reaction. . . or make it worse?

“Clea is from the dark dimension, I have caused an incursion in reality and I had to go with her and fix it, okay?” Stephen explained it for what it is. . . to him at least.

“So, you were with her every time you vanished without a trace?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm and a barely concealed resentment that felt like a knife twist in your chest.

“Like I said, I had to fix the incursion I caused,” he responded, his tone distant, as if the gravity of his words could shield him from the emotional storm brewing between you.

You stared at him, not caring what he even meant by 'incursion'. Your mind was a whirlwind, fixated on the crushing weight of this new revelation, which felt like an earthquake shattering the foundation of everything you thought you knew.

The man who once made you feel safe and cherished now stood before you, a stranger entwined in secrets and sacrifices you couldn't begin to fathom.

Stephen ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “I don’t have time for this. If you can’t understand that my work is important, then maybe we do need to rethink this relationship.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical blow. Your throat stings badly as you fight to prevent any tears from falling. “So, that’s it? You’re willing to throw everything away because I worry about you?”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Y/N. All I do is try to save the world. If you can’t see that, then maybe we need to reconsider,” Stephen replied coldly.

“Okay. . .so you find a new partner in crime and the first thing you could think of is to ‘reconsider’,” You nodded, a little laugh might've escaped from you and it triggered something in Stephen.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like I’m choosing Clea over you. This isn’t some petty love triangle, Y/N. This is about life and death, about the safety of the entire world!” Stephen’s voice was now raised.

“Oh my god! Enough about saving the world already! You belong to the world! Alright, I get it! But don't expect me to be nonchalant when you've spent your time ‘saving the world’ with her. Meanwhile I rot in my apartment worried sick if you're even still alive because I only want to belong to you.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air, firmly jabbing his chest with your finger

Stephen clenched his fist tightly, the knuckles turning white, as he took a deliberate step closer. His presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that seemed to amplify the tension in the air, “You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t miss you? I have responsibilities that go beyond us—"

“If you're thinking I am asking you to abandon your responsibilities, I am not. I didn’t think you’d understand me.” You replied, striving to maintain your composure under his unwavering presence and the intense gaze fixated on your face.

Stephen shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I never hid what my life was about, but you knew what signed up for when you said yes to me.”

“I did but I didn't sign up to be treated like an afterthought,” Y/N said, your voice softening slightly but still firm.

Stephen sighed and was silent for a moment, “So, what then? What do you want me to do? It is so hard to find balance with all this shit happening around us.”

“I don't know. . . whatever I may want, it'll be impossible for you to do,” You said, your voice resigned as you crossed your arms, a gesture of both self-protection and defiance.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s your solution? To just walk away?”

“That was your suggestion first, wasn't it?” You responded, a low, mirthless chuckle escaping your lips.

Stephen looked down, his silence speaking volumes. The decision crystallized in your mind. You turned away, grabbed your keys from the table, and headed toward the door, needing to cool off and get your head straight. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the Sanctum, a final punctuation to your heated exchange.

× × × × ×

You gripped the steering wheel tightly as you drove through the darkened streets of New York City. The familiar hum of the engine and the blur of passing lights did little to calm your racing heart. Your eyes were red from preventing a single tear to shed, but the tears came after being alone, blurring your vision and forcing you to blink them away repeatedly.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion, and a deep, aching sense of betrayal. The argument with Stephen played on a relentless loop in your head, each word echoing with painful clarity.

"Maybe we do need to rethink this relationship."

"Maybe we shouldn’t be together."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the hurtful words, but they clung to you like a stubborn shadow. How did it come to this? How did your love, once so vibrant and full of promise, deteriorated into something so cold and distant?

Your thoughts drifted to the early days of your relationship. The way Stephen's eyes would light up when he saw you, the warmth of his touch, the way both of you would laugh and talk for hours about everything and nothing. You remembered the adventures you shared, the quiet moments of intimacy, and the feeling of safety and love that enveloped you whenever you were with him.

But those memories felt like they belonged to another life, another couple. Now, Stephen was always preoccupied, always focused on his missions with Clea. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being an afterthought, a secondary priority in his life. The loneliness you felt was suffocating, and tonight’s argument had only confirmed your deepest fears.

You pulled over to a quiet spot by the Hudson River, the soft glow of the city lights reflecting off the water. You turned off the engine and sat there in silence, the sound of your own breathing loud in the stillness of the night.

You leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the sense of impending loss almost too much to bear. You loved Stephen with all your heart, but you couldn’t keep living like this—constantly feeling like you were competing for his attention, always coming second to his duties as a sorcerer.

A part of you understood the importance of Stephen's work. You admired his dedication, his unwavering commitment to protecting the world from mystical threats. But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore your own needs, your own desire for a partner who was present, who made you feel valued and loved.

The idea asking Wong to use the Runes of Kof-Kol had come to you in a moment of clarity during your drive. It was a drastic measure, but it felt like the only way to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak of this deteriorating relationship. If you both forgot each other, if you became strangers once more, maybe then you could find peace.

You opened your eyes and gazed out at the river, the dark waters flowing steadily under the moonlit sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you made your decision. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would hurt like hell, but it was the only way you could move forward without the constant pain of their fractured love.

As you started the car and drove back towards the Sanctum, you knew what you had to do, and you hoped that in forgetting, you could both find a way to heal. The city lights blurred once more as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of acceptance. You were ready to let go, ready to find yourself again, even if it meant losing the man you had loved with all your heart.

× × × ×

After driving aimlessly for hours, you finally pull up in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The building looms before you, its ancient architecture shrouded in an almost foreboding silence. You sit in the car for a few moments, gathering your strength, knowing the decision you have made is final. The city is quieter now, the hustle and bustle having died down to a gentle hum in the background.

You take a deep breath and step out of the car, your legs feeling like lead. You walk up to the front door and pause for a moment, your hand resting on the cold brass handle. Memories of happier times flash before your eyes—moments of laughter, love, and a bond that once felt unbreakable. But those memories are now overshadowed by the reality of your fractured relationship.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. The familiar scent of incense and ancient books fills your nostrils, but instead of comfort, it brings a pang of sadness. The Sanctum feels emptier than ever, a reflection of the void that has grown between you and Stephen.

As you walk into the living room, you see Stephen sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, his eyes filled with the weariness which mirrors your own.

“Y/N, you're back,” Stephen says softly, standing up. “I was worried about you.”

You nod, your face devoid of emotion. “I needed some time to think.”

Stephen takes a few careful steps, “I know I haven’t been around much. And I know tonight's argument was... I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry for that.”

You feel a flicker of acknowledgment at his words, you look into his eyes, the eyes you once found so much solace in, and feel a deep sense of finality, “I need to see Wong,” you say, your voice steady and cold, “Is he here?”

Stephen steps closer, his gaze searching your face for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Are you okay now? About earlier. . .”

“I'm fine, Stephen. Really,” you say with a forced smile. “I just need to speak to Wong.”

“Wong? Sure, I'll summon him for you.” Stephen's eyes narrow slightly, sensing something is off. He didn’t think he’d get out of trouble that easily.

A few moments later, Wong enters the room, his expression pondering about what you might need him for. “Y/N, Stephen said you wanted to speak with me. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and glanced at Stephen who remained curious about why you needed Wong.

“Are we able to chat somewhere private?” You asked, your eyes flickering towards Stephen which Wong took notice of.

Wong turned his head towards Stephen and then you, “Of course. Follow me.” He headed towards the door to Kamar-Taj.

He led you to the empty library, ensuring no one else was around, and gestured for you to sit across the table from him.

“How can I help?” He asked.

“I hope this isn't too much to ask. . . but can you please cast the Runes of Kof-Kol on me?”

Wong's expression shifts to one of alarm. “The Runes of Kof-Kol? Those spells are dangerous, Y/N. What could possibly make you consider using them?”

You explained the situation, trying your best to keep your voice from breaking, “Stephen and I... we’re not working anymore. It’s too painful. I need to forget him. I want to move on quickly. I don't want to spend months wallowing in heartbreak.”

Wong listens quietly, his expression softening with understanding. “I see. But you know the risks, don’t you? The Runes of Kof-Kol only erases memories, not feelings.”

“I know,” you say firmly.

Wong nods slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand your pain, Y/N. But this is a decision that cannot be undone. I urge you to think about it very carefully. Take some time to reflect on whether this is truly what you want.”

You shake your head, your decision unwavering. “I've already thought about it, Wong. I’ve thought about nothing else. This is what needs to be done.”

Wong sighs, his expression resigned yet compassionate. “Still, I urge you to give it a few more days. I suggest you stay here at Kamar-Taj. Meditate, reflect, and if you still feel the same, we will discuss it again.”

You nod slowly, appreciating his concern. “Alright. I’ll stay and think about it.”

× × × × ×

After you left the library, Wong stood silently, his thoughts troubled by your request. He knew the depth of the pain you were feeling, but the Runes of Kof-Kol were not to be taken lightly. As he pondered the situation, he sensed a presence lingering near the bookshelves. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Stephen, partially hidden in the shadows, clearly eavesdropping.

“Strange,” Wong called out, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can come out. I know you've been listening.”

Stephen stepped out, a mixture of guilt and concern etched on his face. “I didn't mean to intrude. I just… needed to know what she was thinking.”

Wong crossed his arms, looking at Stephen with a mixture of disappointment and empathy. “You heard what she said. She's feeling hurt. . . more than I think you realize.”

Stephen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know I've been neglecting her, but my responsibilities... the missions... They demand so much of me. I never wanted her to feel like this.”

Wong nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Your duties are important, Stephen. But so are your personal relationships. Y/N came to you because she believed in you, trusted you. But right now, she feels like she's lost in your shadow.”

Stephen's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a rare display of vulnerability. “I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose her, but I also can't abandon my duties.”

Wong walked over to Stephen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The balance between your responsibilities and personal life is delicate, but not impossible to achieve. You need to make her feel valued and prioritize your time better. She asked about the Runes of Kof-Kol, so she's considering erasing her memories of you. Right now, though, she needs space to think.”

Stephen's breath hitched, the gravity of Wong's words hitting him hard. “She wants to forget me completely.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “She believes it's the only way to move on from the pain. I advised her to stay here for a few days, to meditate and reflect before making such a drastic decision.”

“I can't let her do this. I need to talk to her, to make her understand that I can change, that I can be better.” Stephen closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He was about to walk away to find you but Wong stopped him.

“Right now, she needs time. Barging in and trying to convince her otherwise might only push her further away. Give her the space she asked for. If she decides to go through with it, we'll deal with it then. But for now, respect her wishes.” Wong shook his head gently.

Stephen glanced in your direction with a sigh, shrugged off Wong's hand, and returned to the New York Sanctum. That night, sleep eluded him despite his restless tossing and turning. No position felt comfortable, not when your scent lingered on his pillowcases.

Anxiety ate him up, twisting his stomach into knots as he replayed the argument repeatedly in his mind. Each harsh word and dismissive gesture haunted him, intensifying his regret.

He had always prided himself on his composure and control, but now he felt them slipping away. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“I should have been more understanding, I should have put myself in her shoes,” he thought, his mind consumed by remorse.

The thought of your hurt expression cut him deeply, more than any physical pain he had ever endured. He realized how much he valued your presence, your support, and the warmth you brought into his life. The fear of losing you was a constant ache, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

He was ashamed of how he had dismissed your feelings, how he had let his pride overshadow the love and respect he had for you.

Desperation clawed at him as he searched for a way to make things right, to prove that he could be the partner you deserved. In the silence of the night, he vowed to himself that he would do better, that he would learn from his mistakes and show you how much you meant to him. That is if it’s not too late.

× × × × ×

Two days later, the peaceful atmosphere of Kamar-Taj had failed to ease the unrest in your heart. Despite your attempts at meditation and introspection, the serenity of the surroundings could not calm the storm of emotions within you. Your resolve remains the same. You knew what needed to be done, and it was time to inform Wong of your decision.

You found Wong in the courtyard, meticulously tending to a small garden. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with the crisp mountain air, creating a serene environment that contrasted sharply with your inner conflict.

“Wong,” you called softly, approaching him.

Wong looked up from his work, his expression calm but observant. “Y/N, have you made your decision?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have. I still want to use the Runes of Kof-Kol.”

Wong sighed, setting aside his tools. “I was hoping you might reconsider, but I respect your decision. . .” he trailed off, noticing Stephen walk towards you, “Give me a moment? I'll back.”

As Wong turned to leave, Stephen entered the courtyard with his presence of authority. He had been waiting for this moment, fully aware that your decision was imminent.

With careful, deliberate steps, he approached you. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and each passing second felt like an eternity as he stood there gathering the right words to say.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice calm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, his eyes intensely scanning your face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Is this truly what you want?”

You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance behind you. “Stephen,” you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to—I just wanted to apologize... that it has led to this. I was wrong…” Stephen began, but his voice seemed to fade into the background as you stared at his face intently, trying to memorize every detail.

As Stephen spoke, the reality of the moment hit you hard. You felt an overwhelming need to imprint his features in your memory: the way his brow furrowed with concern, the earnestness in his eyes, and the subtle lines that hinted at the weight he carried.

Time seemed to slow down, and every second stretched into an eternity. You noticed the slight quiver of his lips, the way his hair framed his face, and even the small scar on his cheek that you had always found endearing.

Your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him like this, so close and vulnerable. Each detail became precious, a fragment of a moment you desperately wanted to hold onto.

The intensity of your emotions made it hard to breathe, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Even though Stephen's voice was a distant echo, the look in his eyes told you everything—you were both struggling with the same pain, the pain of letting this story die.

“. . . I love you, Y/N—but if this will save you from the hurt I’ve caused you then so be it. I will cast the spell on you.”

You were taken aback, surprise flickering across your face. “You would do that?”

Stephen stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Yes. If this is what it takes for you to find peace, then I’ll do it.”

Stephen leads you back in the New York Sanctum, heading towards the ritual chamber in the Undercroft. Each step you took echoed with the weight of what was about to happen. Stephen’s mind was a whirlwind of memories and emotions.

He glanced at you walking beside him, your face a mask of calm determination. Opposite to the storm he knew must be raging inside you. He wished he could reach out, take your hand, and pull you back from the edge of this irreversible decision. But he knew he had no right to, not after everything.

As you descended the final set of steps into the Undercroft, Stephen’s heart ached with regret. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions where others saw only obstacles. But here, in this most personal of battles, he had failed. He had failed to protect what mattered most.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Stephen’s mind raced with unspoken words, a torrent of emotions he struggled to contain.

He remembered the early days of your relationship, the way your laughter had filled the Sanctum with warmth, the quiet moments of understanding, and shared dreams. Those memories now felt like shards of glass, cutting into him with each step he took.

He glanced at you again, your determined stride a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was for every time he had put his duties before you, for every missed moment, every broken promise. But he knew that words would not change the course you had set for yourself. Actions had spoken louder, and they had driven you to this point.

You reached the entrance to the ritual chamber, Stephen paused, taking a deep breath. The room beyond was prepared, the symbols drawn, the components ready. It was a place of power, of ancient magic, but today it felt like a tomb for the love you had shared.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice soft but heavy with regret. “I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could turn back time and make different choices, I would. But I respect your decision. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

You looked at him with eyes glistening of unshed tears, “Thank you, Stephen. . . I hope you find happiness, I really do.”

With that, you stepped into the center of the circle, and Stephen moved to the edge, his heart pounding in his chest. He began to chant the incantation, his voice strong and unwavering despite the storm of emotions inside him. The symbols around you began to glow, the magic swirling in the air like a tangible presence. You felt a strange sensation, a mix of warmth and cold as the spell took hold.

As Stephen chanted, your mind drifted to the memories you were about to lose. The first time you met flashed vividly in your mind—the way Stephen had looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. You remembered feeling an instant connection, a spark that ignited something deep within you. You had been fascinated by his intellect, his confidence, and the way he carried himself with such purpose.

The mornings you woke up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies. The way he would brush a strand of hair from your face and kiss your forehead, making you feel like the most cherished person in the world. You remembered the laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the sound of his voice when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

As the incantation reached its peak, a bright light enveloped you, and you felt a sudden rush of memories and emotions being pulled away. The love, the pain, the shared moments—all of it faded into a distant, forgotten dream. Your vision blurred, the light intensifying until it was all-consuming.

Then, everything went dark. You felt your knees give way, the world tilting as you lost consciousness. The last thing you heard was Stephen’s voice, calling your name out of concern as you slipped into oblivion.

When you finally stirred, you found yourself lying on the familiar softness of your own bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar hum of the city outside your window grounded you, your arms reaching on the other side of the bed and it was empty. You shook it off, chuckling to yourself.

You sat up slowly, looking around your apartment. Everything was in its place—the books on the shelf, the photos on the wall—now mostly of you by yourself, the cozy blanket draped over the armchair. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet you feel disorientated.

You made yourself a cup of tea, the warm liquid offering a small comfort. As you sipped it, you stared out of the window at the bustling city below. The people, the cars, the rhythm of daily life—it all seemed so normal, so unremarkable. Yet, there was an inexplicable void within you, a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface but you try not to dwell on it.

Days turned into weeks, and while the feeling of emptiness persisted, you found ways to move on. You immersed yourself in work, reconnected with old friends, and took up new hobbies. Slowly, you began to carve out a new life for yourself, one that was no longer defined by the shadows of forgotten memories.

× × × × ×

Stephen sat alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum's library, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the walls. The room, once a place of solace and knowledge, now felt suffocatingly empty. He absentmindedly traced the spine of a book he had read countless times, but the words blurred together, unable to hold his attention. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of you.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness he felt inside. He remembered how you used to stand there with him, your hand in his, both of you silently watching the world below. Those moments had been a rare reprieve from his responsibilities, a time when he could just be Stephen, not the Master of the New York Sanctum.

The silence of the Sanctum was interrupted only by the distant hum of the city's nightlife, but it felt louder than ever. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with memories of you—the laughter you shared, the quiet conversations late into the night, the way you used to tease him about his incessant need to organize his magical artifacts. Now, those echoes were all he had left, but he guesses that he at least deserved to go through this heartbreak alone.

Wong quietly stood with him, the silence heavy between them. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “Keeping yourself busy?”

Stephen nodded, his response short and clipped. “Yep.”

“She did brighten up the place, didn't she?” Wong glanced around the room, taking in the emptiness that seemed more pronounced now.

Stephen's eyes followed Wong's gaze, a hint of a sad smile touching his lips. “Yep.”

Wong shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Stephen with curiosity and concern. "So, what's next for you?"

Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he contemplated the question. The thought of waiting was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and what he still yearned for.

“I don't know... Wait for her, I guess. Wait until our paths cross again, wait until she loves me again.”

TAGS: @goldencherriess @strangeions @sobeautifullyobsessed

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #benedict cumberbatch imagine #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange imagine #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x female reader

356 notes · View notes

7ndipity · 1 year ago

Text

Connected

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Joon loves the way you take care of him and wants to be as close to you as possible.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, not proofread

A/N: She finally wrote another drabble! It only took 84 years!🙃(I know it was only like a month, but it was pissing me off) A big thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get to, I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The late evening light that filtered through the bedroom curtains was just bright enough for you to make out Namjoon’s features as you lay against his chest, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

Two weeks apart hadn’t really seemed that long of a time until you were back in his arms, and suddenly it was like he hadn’t felt you in months. The cozy dinner you had planned together had long been forgotten, finding a far more fulfilling reunion instead in feverish touches and strangled cries of each other's names.

It might not have been the exact way you planned for the night to go, but as you looked up at him in the cool glow of midnight, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.

“You okay?” You asked softly, noticing the still unsteady pace of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“Yeah, that was…” He let out a deep breath. “I needed that.”

You caught the thin strain in his voice, the tone you knew he used when he was stressed but trying to hide it.

“Rough week?” You asked, reaching up to comb your fingers through his messy hair.

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He laughed humorlessly. “Honestly, I’m so fucking tired, I don’t even wanna think right now,” He pulled you closer, letting his lips brush against yours as he spoke.”Just wanna be here with you.”

You connected your lips with his, parting them at the faintest probing of his tongue to grant him access to lazily explore your mouth.

As you rubbed his shoulders soothingly, he couldn’t help wincing into the kiss as you passed over a particularly sensitive spot.

Feeling him flinch, you pulled away, looking up at him with concern.

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

“I just twinged my shoulder earlier, it’s fine.” He said quickly, trying to brush it off.

“You want me to give you a massage? It might help?” You offered.

“I’ll be fine.” He tried again, leaning in to claim your lips once again, but you weren’t having it, dodging his lips and sitting up on your knees.

“Sit up.” You said, tugging his arm.

“Babe, I’m fine, really.” He argued, following your request anyway.

“Yes, but you could feel even better,” You said stubbornly. “Now let me take care of you.”

He sighed, caving easily to you. “Fine, but I want you here.” He patted his lap.

You straddled his lap without argument, letting him hold onto your hips out of habit, and giving him a quick peck on the lips before setting to work, trying to gently knead out the tension and soreness in his shoulder without causing him any more pain in the process.

You weren’t an expert by any means, but whatever you were doing seemed to feel good at least, earning soft, appreciative grunts from Joon as he let his head droop forward to rest against your chest.

You were always so good to him, so ready and willing to take care of him in any shape or form, whether that was making sure he slept and ate properly, or letting him use your body for his own pleasure. Even now, when normally he would be fussing over making sure you were okay, you managed to look after him as well.

He’d never felt so completely safe in someone’s arms before, so completely loved. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, but he was beyond thankful to whatever forces had led him to you.

Tilting his head up, he started peppering soft, lingering kisses across the expanse of your neck, sucking lightly at the still blooming marks left over from his earlier ministrations, making you squirm as his grip on your hips tightened.

“Joon.” You whined, feeling the growing weight of his hardening length against your core.

“Hmm?” He hummed, still focused on trailing kisses along your neck.

“I thought you were tired.” You said.

“Who said that?” He said, smirking against your neck.

“You did! Five minutes ago.” You giggled

“That was five minutes ago,” He said, coming back up to your lips. “You were right, I’m feeling much better now.”

He kissed you deeply, rolling you both over so that you were now caged in under him, your legs falling open naturally for him to settle between as his lips trailed down your front.

He loved you like this, all spread out and willing, any trace of shyness or hesitance completely absent from the way you whined out his name again as he latched onto one of your nipples, arching further up into his touch.

His fingers ghosted between your thighs, teasing your wet folds and making you shudder from sensitivity.

His gaze darted back up to your face, mirroring your earlier concern.

“Is this okay?” He asked, suddenly worried about pushing you too far.

“Joon,” You pulled him back down to you. “Stop thinking.”

You kissed him deeply, your hips up bucking against his hand all the encouragement he needed to continue.

He slipped his fingers between your folds again, his movements so soft and gentle as he spread your slick over your cunt, as if it was the first time he touched you.

“Fuck baby, how’re you always so wet?” He said, almost in disbelief. You were literally dripping, making a mess of the sheets beneath you as he toyed with your clit, pulling the sweetest little noises from your lips as he let two fingers sink into your wet heat, curling them inside of you to find the spot that made you see white.

He loved the way you fell apart for him, head thrown back as your eyes closed in bliss, clinging to him for stability as he pushed you towards your release.

He could feel his cock hanging heavy between his legs, twitching and begging for any sort of attention, but he chose to ignore it, focusing solely on the way you clenched around his fingers, your breath stuttering as your orgasm threatened to overtake you.

“Joon.” You tried to warn him.

“I know, Baby, it’s okay.” He breathed. “Let go.”

You let out a choked cry that faintly sounded like his name as you came, your back arching off the mattress and pressing you closer to him as your whole body shook from the intensity of your high.

"You did so good, baby.” He said softly, pressing a soothing kiss to your temple as you came down. “So fucking good."

“Joonie,” You whimpered in that soft tone that made him feel dizzy with need. “Want you inside, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asked gently. “It’s okay if you wanna tap out or take a break.”

You shook your head. “Need you, please.”

How could he deny you when you ask so sweetly?

He drew his fingers out slowly, letting out a deep groan as he wrapped the slick coated digits around his aching cock, jerking himself a few times to spread your wetness over the length as he stared down at the mess he’d made of you.

He guided the head of his cock between your puffy lips, tracing around the outside of your entrance teasingly, resisting the urge to slip in yet, loving the way he could feel you clenching around nothing.

“Joonie!” You whimpered, squirming impatiently.

He chuckled at your desperation, as if he wasn’t already nearly as gone as you were. “Alright, Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

He repositioned himself, hovering over you as he eased himself into your weeping cunt, eyes shut tight as he felt your fluttering walls stretch to accommodate him. He was amazed at how you still managed to feel this tight even after he fucked you less then a half an hour ago.

He forced his eyes back open as he bottomed out, staring down you with complete adoration.

“I love you so fucking much.” He sighed, kissing you softly, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, cradling him even closer to you.

If there was a way to preserve a singular moment to exist within for the rest of your life, this was where Namjoon would want to be; not a single thing in the world mattering other than you and him and the way you connected together so perfectly.

Eventually, he started to roll his hips into yours, earning a soft moan from you against his lips.

He kept his movements smooth and unrushed, not fully chasing his own high, just enjoying the feeling of you around him, the way you sucked him in with each thrust, the way you twitched in his arms when his cock brushed against that gummy spot inside of you just right.

Far sooner than he anticipated, he felt lower abdomen beginning to tense, his hips beginning to speed up as his release rapidly approached.

“Fuck, ‘m close.” He warned through clenched teeth.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” You whispered, clutching onto him even tighter.

Your words were the last thing he needed to push him over the edge, his hips slamming against yours with a sudden intensity as he thrusted as deep inside of you as he could manage before cumming, filling you to the brim and making you twitch with sensitivity.

He slowly fell down on top of you, his head coming to rest against your chest, your positions from earlier now switched, his eyes beginning to droop closed on their accord.

“Are you tired now?” You asked, grinning as you caught sight of his sleepy expression.

He chuckled drowsily. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” You kissed his forehead gently. “Go to sleep, Joonie-bear.”

“I love you.“ He mumbled, letting his eyes fully drift closed.

“I love you too.”

He slept better that night than he had in weeks, knowing he was back in the safety of your arms.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#namjoon drabble #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon scenarios #namjoon oneshot #namjoon one shot #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts smut #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

709 notes · View notes

epinebleue · 2 years ago

Text

love me now (m) | 02

(Gif credit)

in which you have to babysit your niece.

pairing: johnny suh x reader (female)

genre: established relationship!au, mature.

warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (reader’s on the pill), mention of post-partum depression.

chapter index

Ever since your sister gave birth, she hasn’t known rest.

Witnessing her go through pregnancy, labor, and postpartum depression had been simply heartbreaking. She’s living proof that motherhood is indeed difficult: the bags under her eyes are very telling.

So, when her husband asks you to babysit your niece to take her on a trip for her birthday, you accept right away.

On a Friday at seven in the morning, your sister gets in the guest room. She wakes you up, telling you they’re already leaving. You get up slowly, trying not to wake Johnny up. Luckily for you, he’s a heavy sleeper.

Your brother-in-law leaves their suitcases by the door as your sister hands you the keys to their house, teary-eyed.

“I can’t believe I’m abandoning my baby.”

“You’re not abandoning her. It’s just four days, she’ll be okay. You’re the one who needs attention and love right now.”

Your sister ends up nodding because she really needs some time away from dirty diapers and baby talk. You tightly hug them both and watch them leave, wishing for a safe trip and closing the main door once they disappear in the elevator at the end of the hallway.

You tiptoe back to your room, noticing that Johnny changed his position while you were gone. He’s lying on his stomach, hugging the pillow. It gives you a great view of his muscular back.

The gym is surely paying off.

You slip back in bed, and upon sensing movement, Johnny rolls over. Something in your stomach turns when you hear his raspy voice, his breath fanning your neck, giving you goosebumps.

“They left?”

He holds your waist to pull you in, satisfied once your back touches his bare, warm chest. You hum and nod, finding comfort in his embrace. You close your eyes, ready to drift away for a few more hours, or until your niece decides it’s been enough.

Your boyfriend, however, has other plans.

You snap your eyes open when Johnny presses his boner against your ass.

“Oh my God, Johnny!” You chuckle, slapping the hand that is trying to sneak inside your pajama pants. “There’s a baby in the next room.”

“Then keep it low.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

Johnny successfully shoves his hand inside your pants on the second try.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He collects your arousal, clicking his tongue at the feeling. You squirm against his body, knowing that his morning voice has affected you more than you care to admit.

“And I haven’t even touched you.”

You can’t see him, but you know there’s a smile on his face as he teases your entrance with his fingers.

“You’re in no position to make fun of me.” You protest, pushing your hips back out of the blue.

“At least I’m not trying to hide it.”

“Shut up.”

Johnny pushes a finger into you, making you hold your breath and close your eyes. He doesn’t wait long before adding a second one, pulling them in and out slowly. It makes you move against them, craving more.

You try hard to be quiet, biting your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning too loudly, but your boyfriend’s fingers are so long and they stretch you so deliciously, reaching all the right places. He rubs himself against your ass again, as if fucking you from behind.

It’s no surprise that you moan louder than you should, forcing Johnny to put his free hand over your mouth.

He shushes you, his lips brushing your ear, voice so deep and low that he has you clenching around his fingers. “We don’t want to wake the baby.”

You’re a few pumps away from your orgasm, and judging by how Johnny moves his hips, he’s close as well. Something inside you tells you that you should be ashamed of coming so fast, but honestly, who cares? Finishing soon simply probes how skilled Johnny is, and how good he makes you feel.

But Johnny loves edging, so he pulls out his fingers last second. A protest dies in your throat the moment you feel him take off his clothes, ordering you to do the same. Of course, you comply immediately.

Your boyfriend gets on top of you, supporting his weight with his forearms to avoid crashing you. You kiss him desperately, lifting your hips, craving to be full again. And he seems to take the hint, grabbing his length and teasing your entrance before pushing into you.

Your arms find their way around his neck to bring him down and kiss him again as he moves, slowly. There’s something addictive in Johnny’s lips. They’re so soft, so warm. You could spend the rest of your lifetime kissing them.

You move your hips along the rhythm Johnny sets, feeling him go further. He muffles your moans with his mouth, swallowing each one of them.

Having been so close before, you know you won’t last long as your walls tighten around his length again. Hopefully, he won’t stop this time.

The pace quickens as Johnny fucks you into the mattress. You’re seconds away from your so-longed-for orgasm, the familiar knot in your stomach about to burst.

And then, you hear a cry in the distance.

Johnny pulls out in the blink of an eye, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind. Your high dissipates as you whine and lift the sheets, putting on your underwear and pants to run towards your niece’s bedroom.

Thick tears are falling down her chubby cheeks as she grips the edge of the cradle, her hair messy. Her hands go up the moment you appear, begging you to pick her up. You press her close to your chest, bouncing her little body and patting her back softly, comforting her.

You grab the plush red dragon that you bought when she was born from the toy trunk., shaking it in front of her face in hopes that it’ll make her stop crying. It works, so you give her the toy and walk back to the room, passing by the bathroom on the way, where Johnny’s washing his hands.

“She must be hungry.” You sit on the bed, sitting your niece in the center of the mattress. She plays with the toy, tears already gone, and makes a sound when Johnny enters the room. When he sits on the edge of the bed, she crawls on all fours in his direction. Johnny opens his arms and holds her when she gets to him.

Your niece loves Johnny, all children do; he’s like a kid magnet. You can’t help but think how an amazing father Johnny would be while you watch them play together. And how hot he looks when around kids.

Your maternal instinct has you drooling over him.

“Can you stop eating me with your eyes?” He says, a cocky smile on his face, holding the baby’s hands as she stands.

“I’m sorry.” There’s no sign of regret in your voice, though. “But you look really sexy right now.”

“Chill, woman. There’s a baby right here.”

“You didn’t care about that five minutes ago.”

Johnny’s too invested in playing with your niece to even think of a proper comeback, so you decide it’s time for breakfast. Johnny follows you to the kitchen, carrying your niece in his arms, giggling as he rubs his nose against hers.

Taking a look at the cabinets, you decide to make some coffee and toast. You set the coffee pot on the ceramic hob and wait for the water to boil.

In the meantime, you prepare some formula for your niece. You’ve seen your sister do it several times, so it comes out naturally. Johnny has sat your niece on her highchair, by his side. You give her the bottle, and she immediately shoves the nipple in her mouth, sucking.

Johnny looks at her in awe, caressing her soft hair.

“She’s so cute.” He says, speaking in a baby voice.

“I’m jealous.” You pout. “What about me?”

Johnny shrugs. “You’re okay, I guess.”

Johnny lets out a loud laugh at your open mouth. You turn around, deeply offended, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. You try to fight him, even though you know that Johnny is stronger than you are. Your niece observes everything from her seat, drinking her milk, unbothered.

You spend the rest of the morning watching TV, playing with the baby, and Facetiming your sister.

Johnny will prepare lunch as you feed the baby. Your sister has told you what she has to eat, so you pick up a jar of baby food from the cupboard beside the fridge. Johnny notices your face of utter disgust, and it makes him laugh.

“What?”

“This looks awful, what the fuck?” A wave of guilt washes over your body. “How can this mashed green thing possibly taste good?”

You open it to smell it for a second before pulling it away, faking a gag.

“You’re so dramatic. I bet it’s not that bad.” Johnny takes the jar from you and copies your actions. He doesn’t gag, but by the way he frowns, you can tell that he thinks the same. “Right, I'll take it back.”

“I wonder what it tastes like.”

“Try it.” Johnny grabs a spoon and sinks the tip into the jar.

You shake your head, taking a step back when he approaches you, spoon up.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you eat this.”

You laugh, half in disbelief, half in distress. “Are you trying to blackmail me for real?”

“Thirty.”

“John!”

“Come on, don’t be a coward.”

Johnny insists, bringing the spoon closer to your face, which you try to block with your hands.

“I’ll fucking fight you, Johnny, I swear!”

“I’d love to see you try.”

You open your mouth, about to defend yourself, and Johnny takes advantage of it to shove the spoon in your mouth. He runs away, laughing at how your face twists in disgust.

How can your sister feed this to her daughter? How can your niece like it?

Johnny leaves the jar and the spoon on the kitchen countertop the moment you prepare to pounce on him.

“You’re a dead man.”

There’s a struggle as Johnny tries to stop you from twisting your nipples. The kitchen is filled with your niece’s giggles, who witnesses the scene from her highchair, shaking her baby teether.

In the afternoon, you go for a walk in the park. On your way, you stop to take pictures of every single tree you see, Johnny patiently waiting for you a few steps away, holding the handles of the baby’s cart.

Autumn has painted New York red, orange, and yellow; it has covered the streets with crunchy leaves, making it feel as if you were inside a rom-com.

Johnny has a blast playing with your niece, looking at her with adoring eyes. You lose count of how many pictures and videos you take of them.

Sitting on a park bench, observing them while you sip on your warm coffee, you realize that Johnny’s definitely the one. You’ve thought of it in the years you’ve been together, but you have never been so sure of it.

Better said, you’ve never been so sure of anything in your life.

The baby is in her crib now, sleeping soundly. With your fingers, you softly caress her cheek. Johnny joins you, hugging you from behind. He kisses the top of your head, and you melt in his arms, resting the back of your head against his chest.

“Look at her little hands.” You whisper, careful not to wake her up. “She’s adorable.”

“I know.”

“Have you ever thought about having kids?”

Johnny sighs deeply before answering, placing his chin on top of your head.

“The idea has crossed my mind, yeah.”

“With me, maybe?”

“You doubted it?” You don’t answer, knowing that Johnny has understood exactly what you meant with that question. Will you love me long enough to have my children? “I even have names in mind.”

His confession makes you turn around, the biggest smile on your face. You swallow the lump in your throat, aware that it would be weird if you started crying then and there.

“Really?” Johnny nods, his arms still around you, holding you close.

“Yeah.” He gives you a short, sweet kiss. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

You glance at your niece for the last time before leaving the room. You put your pajamas on and lie in bed. Your body, wasted from the tiring day, welcomes the warm feeling that being under the covers on a cold day gives.

You snuggle by Johnny’s side, his strong arm rounding you. His heartbeat sounds like a lullaby.

“Sleep well, love.”

Johnny kisses your forehead. In return, you smirk.

“Good night, daddy.”

“Don’t.”

No reposting or translations allowed.

#johnny smut #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #nct smut #nct fic #johnny suh smut #johnny suh fic #nct johnny fic #johnny imagine #johnny suh #nct fic smut

266 notes · View notes

universesweetheart · 2 years ago

Text

Your Umbrella (Dazai x Reader)

I love him. My baby, my love, my sunshine is safe and happy in my bed.

Wrote this before watching today's new episode! This feels rushed because I was too excited for the new episode to wait to write it out. Sorry babes, Dazai is my top priority.

Post episode Mars: I giggled and kicked my feet like a little girl! That was some gay shit, but HELLO DAZAI IS ALIVE! My babyboo ahh.

(Also did you guys see the chapter236 JJK leaks?! I shall write for Gojo...I'm coping)

Writing is how I cope.

In which we talk with Dazai while we both overlook the setting sun (see what I did there hehe)

Bye now - Mars ♡

Together on a bench, onlooking the sunset, you and Dazai sat in silent. The rays of the warm sunlight pleasant on your skin and face. The clouds, a pretty colour of orange and yellow. The blue contrast of the sky blended nicely.

“Why are you a detective?” you asked Dazai, you were in a sulky mood today, you felt… drifty, for lack of a better word. It was one of those days where you wake up and question your existence. Why were you you? Why did you want to do this job? Why did your life turn this way?

Dazai shifted his gaze to you, his eyes looking at yours. He let out a silent sigh before giving you a smug smile.

“Don’t I look like I belong here? Plus it’s quite interesting” He looked up at the pretty clouds and then muttered under his breath, “This job comes naturally to me”

“Brushing my teeth comes naturally to me but that’s because I’ve done it a million times” you stated, and you heard him chuckle.

“I suggest you don’t compare your little daily routine to my life darling” he snorted, eyes still on the sunset.

“Do you take pride in your job?”, you continued to probe. Your mind was curious, but your heart wasn’t. Your heart feared triggering him and making him angry, a product of your own troubled past. But you knew Dazai, you wanted to believe you did, and he wouldn’t snap like that. He was too much of an unserious person. But what if?

Dazai gave a small nod, confirming your assumption. He turns to look at you, “it’s because of my job that I’ve been able to accomplish many things” his smile smug, “Impressive, yes? Heh.”

“Many things like?” You seem to not take the hint to not go further but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Handling guns” he jokes and you chuckle, it wasn’t even funny. His voice just made everything sound giddy.

“Have you accomplished happiness?” you tilt your head and look back at him.

Dazai freezes up but quickly basks it with a little laugh and turns backed to face the sun. A desperate attempt to avoid your eyes. “Do I look unhappy?” he muses, his voice teasing.

“I’d rather not judge a book by its cover. You tell me.”

Dazai laughs, “What a curious thing you are, asking me such a thing” he smiles, it’s not pretty you think.

“Should I be irritated by your little question or find it funny how straightforward you are” He asks you with a little smirk. When you don’t answer and just stare at him, he adds “Happiness had abandoned me, I’ll say, a very long time ago.”

Abandonment? Was this the closest Dazai will ever allow you to be? Desperate and lovesick, you grabble at any piece of crumbs he gives. It’s pathetic. You attempt to keep your cool, but you’re sure he knows how you really feel. He seems to always know everything.

“Doesn’t that contradict the philosophy ‘Happiness is found inside of us’?”

Dazai glances at you for a moment, then back to the sun, he let out a small hum of interest. You really had a way of surprising him, not that he’d ever let you know that.

“I suppose so, however the happiness I’m searching for cannot be reached. I assure you that.”

You stole a glance at his face, he seems to be reminiscing on something. Or maybe that was just another façade to lead you astray from his true feelings.

“Why not?”

With a bit of hesitation, he smiles, eyes bright. A change that catches you off guard, Dazai shifts closer to you. The edge of his trench coat brushing up against your pants. He lowers his voice several octaves, almost in a forbidden whisper, “Because I am searching for one thing that cannot be obtained.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “And what’s that? Dinosaurs?”, a futile attempt to lighten up the conversation. You wanted so badly a shred of him, the real him, but now that you think you’re getting it, you’re not sure. You’re running away.

Dazai laughs amused by your response, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he closes them, letting the laughter overtake him. “Good observation, but no” he clicks his tongue playfully, “To put it simply. I am searching for one thing to fill…” he sighs out and shakes his head a little.

“Ah” he giggles, “I’m not sure what I’m searching for” he deflects. He doesn’t know if he should share, if he could bare to say it out loud. Because to say it out loud would mean to admit it. To acknowledge it.

Bullshit. You knew it was a lie. He was a liar. Damn your heart for falling for him.

Looks at him, “It’s okay” you said with a sigh, “I’m searching for myself in a way,” you decided to turn the conversation on you to avoid going to go down the road of awkwardness.

“The thing…I’m searching for doesn’t exist, love doesn’t exist.” He sounded like he was in pain. Like it pained him to say that. To tell you that. You find yourself feeling guilty, did you pressure him?

“Love isn’t limited, so again, why?” you continue.

Once again for the multiple time, Dazai laughs “Curious little thing indeed” he turns to look at you, “Think you have a chance, Bella?”

You find your face heating up and keeps your eye on the sun to avoid his gaze.

“Do you think you could meet my standards? They’re quite high” he teases and once again you think he’s deflecting. A big distraction to avert your eyes from peering at him.

He holds his head up high, his gaze on you unwavering. You aren’t looking at him, but the intensity of his eyes pins you to this old bench.

“Are they high to protect your heart?” you blurt you before you even knew what you were saying. “Sorry!” you instantly apologize.

Dazai was surprised by your statement, yes that was exactly what it was. He stayed silent for a moment, contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” he sighs, shall I take a chance? He questions himself, a battle between his brain. “I have set out expectations that I’m even unsure about myself.” He spoke and then stayed silent. He waited for your next words. His heart was pounding yet his face had a smug smile.

“Expectations are like umbrellas, they stop rain and sun from reaching us” you state, and then laughs.

“Indeed, but what’s your point?”

“Rain is like pain, yes your umbrella, your walls, protect you from it” you cross a leg over the next, eyes drinking in the sunlight. “But you miss out on the warm sun too.”

Dazai ponders to himself for a moment. It appears you’ve managed to grasp a greater sense of him. Did he underestimate you? No, he wouldn’t be so careless. “Quite the profound analogy you have there, it’s fascinating.” He smiles at you, “How did you come to this conclusion, might I ask?”

“You know, I like sun especially in the mornings and evenings, it’s like a warm hug” you fiddle with your shirt, “but I also like rain, though sometimes storms are too harsh for my umbrella.”

Dazai observed you for a while, the silence between you two comfortable. He noticed the light pink tinting your cheeks and the way you avoided his eyes. You had intrigued him, maybe he truly had a soft spot for you.

The silence was not comfortable for you, did you overstep? Did he find your analogy dumb? Your mouth acted on its own, “I always use my umbrella” you stated, “But one harsh storm broke it, and I was drenched with a skeleton of an umbrella” your eyes have this faraway look, he notes.

“And then the sun hit me and I wasn’t ready and I was scared” you breathe out, closing your eyes. Dazai thinks the sight is better than the setting sun, “But it dried up my wet clothes and wet skin and wet hair. It felt warm and…yellow” you laugh softly, “yellow is such a beautiful colour, yes?”

He hums, “Are you saying that you decided to get rid of your protection and walk and bask in the sunlight that you so adore” his voice is light and teasing. His eyes laser focused on you as if you’d burst open and come up with a new revelation.

“Yes, sun being metaphor for love. Rain for pain, umbrella for protective walls and wet for I guess, depression?” you break down your words, trying to make him understand. He already understands, he just loves your voice so much.

“To translate from my understanding, you’re saying you choose love regardless of the costs?” you nod.

“You fascinate me,” he admits boldly, “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Someone in mind?”

“For love, the person you choose will be a caliber of that, do you?” He shifts his eyes to the clouds. A blissful sight.

“When I say sun is love I don’t speak of lovers. I would say I’m my own sun. A lover would be a mirror, reflecting to me how bright my own sun shines.” Your lips presses together into a thin line.

“A mirror, I see” he chuckles. “Oh, you curious little thing” he smiles.

“Then can we test this?”

“Test what?”

“Let go of your umbrella and let me be your mirror,” he takes a hold of your hand, “Belladonna,”

“Osamu”

His heart stops when you whisper his given name. It sounded so beautiful falling from your lips. “Say it again” he leans in and connects your lips together.

#dazai osamu #marswrites #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #the setting sun #sunsets #bsd fluff #fluff #bsd x reader fluff #osamu fluff

176 notes · View notes

waxingrunes · 1 year ago

Note

I’m going to probe into your brain about something because I really enjoy your answers to things and because you seem willing to answer these type of questions I’m taking my shot! Do you think Remus enjoys being a werewolf? Do you think Sirius has ever been scared of him because of it? Do padfoot and moony fight? Slightly more not safe for work but what do you think things are like in bed between then before and after the full moon? You can skip that if you want but I see so many takes I’m curious about yours

I know that it takes a lot of steam to think about these answers so please take your time and feel free to just completely ignore if you don’t have the energy. Thank you for being the way you are and I can’t wait for your next art!!

The way you spelt out the acronym made me laugh. I see you trying to dip under the tumblr patrol. This will end up being a lengthy answer so to avoid taking up an obnoxious space on everyone’s feeds, read on if you’re interested:

To answer your questions in order, I don’t think Remus likes being a werewolf at all. His condition can be an isolating one for many reasons and has very little, if any, benefit. I think Remus has grown up learning to broadly keep himself to himself, keep his head down, and to not cause trouble so as to dissuade any extra attention being drawn to him. Remus is quite a shy, unassuming person by default, and due to the backlash of fear, abuse, and general distaste towards his lycanthropy, he’s built a defence mechanism to mask that shyness which can sometimes come across as standoffish. I think he’s scared of his abilities when the full moon draws in and used to try and compensate for that by making sure he pushed people away, which only leant to further isolation.

I saw this quote somewhere recently which I believe rings true with regard to Remus (and Sirius, but that’s another conversation) ‘to love and to be loved is to rest’. When Remus established himself as a Marauder and grew within the confines of those friendships, it taught him a lot about what it meant to be vulnerable. It taught him trust, and that there are people out there, even in the places he’d least expect it, that will see him for who he is and not what he turns into at the height of every moon.

So no, whilst I don’t think Remus would check the 10 box on a of ‘How Cool Is It To Be A Werewolf’ scale, I think as he made his way through adolescence into a grown man, he’s accepted himself with the aid of human connection; something he denied himself in its authenticity before. He’s learnt that he doesn’t need to do a balancing act of people pleasing and pushing them away in order to protect himself and others.

Is Sirius afraid of Moony? No. I think there’s a natural instinctual element of fear of the unknown in all of us, so when it was confirmed, there was undoubtedly a few ‘what-if’ moments going through his mind. But scared in the sense where he thought Remus would hurt him, no. Whenever Sirius thinks of the full moon, his predominant thoughts are of Remus’ health and the potential fallout after one. He doesn’t picture the creature, he thinks about what that creature is going to do to Remus. His lead emotions are concern and protection, coupled with a wild instinct to make it all go away as quickly as possible and if he can’t do that, then he’s going to make it as easy as possible.

As I say, I don’t think Sirius is scared but I do think he’s logical and he’s not going to show any outward fear when Remus or anyone else is around. Any doubts he’s ever experienced will be privately locked away and mulled over, because he knows how Remus views himself and would rather take the force of the full moon himself than ever add to those insecurities. But he isn’t stupid, and is human at the end of the day. He knows what Remus is capable of when he’s Moony and no matter how gentle a person Remus is, no matter how soft he is at the core, there will always be a very small private part of him that will be on extra alert during each transformation.

Padfoot and Moony always scrap. It’s my impression that Remus would’ve been frenzied at the first couple of meetings and, much like Remus, his wolf’s initial reaction to possible threat would be to either run or challenge. Constantly caught between fight or flight and fight— they did. Those first two or three tussles would’ve been genuine ones whilst the wolf and dog got used to each other. Sirius would be trying to disarm the fight mainly, but give the wolf as good as he got. Despite the size differences, Sirius is scrappy, fast and tactile; his dog is big, but not as big as Moony who is more brute strength over cunning attack. I could actually see Moony being a bit dopey when he’s relaxed.

Going forward from that, any fight between them would be pure puppy play, play fighting that sometimes looked a little too real to an innocent onlooker but was always just stupid scrapping for idle dominance.

I have a hc that Sirius had teased and teased Remus so much one time (because he knew he could, Remus is a soft melt and know it means no harm) about how he won the last ‘three fights Moony, three.’ Pokes him. ‘I know there’s not much muscle to match your size yet but aren’t you supposed to be stronger than me? Am I dealing with a wolf or a cub’. Sirius would make him roll his eyes so hard he nearly lost them, or blush, because he’d grab his thigh under the table and squeeze. Which was meant to be nothing more than a reassuring, I’m just playing Moons, but translated as something much more in Remus’ head.

The teasing continued until Sirius went to try and tackle Remus, not Moony, one night in the common room and because he’d made the mistake of doing it in the couple days before the moon, Remus was less inclined to be so soft and grew bored of the jibe. With a Sirius latched onto his back and a pale, determined forearm around his neck, Remus used his size to his advantage and flung him up and over, flipping him forward with a loud THWOP onto one of the couches. The common room would’ve been half shouts of support for Remus and cheers, etc, whilst Remus leant down close enough only Sirius would hear, and, ‘cub’s getting tired of playtime’. Remus returned the squeeze to his thigh, hard enough to elicit a squeak from an exacerbated Sirius and leave.

James, king of cool, ‘I think that was his equivalent to telling you to go fetch mate’.

A cushion would’ve landed on James’ head shortly thereafter.

As for the acronym :) I think Remus’ mood wouldn’t be fixed to one setting either side of the moon. The moon’s influence would have his senses heightened than normal people at all times, but the closer the full drew in, all of those would be amped up to something that was sometimes unbearable. Other times, it was manageable.

Sometimes he might have experienced a wave of depression and not know how to counteract it, sometimes he might have been more tearful, other times he might’ve been angrier. Overall, I think there’s always a general lack of patience with himself and others in the couple of days leading up. This doesn’t mean he turned into a rude arsehole, but someone who was just a little more worn than usual; I imagine a lot of leg jogging and restlessness, an appetite fit for three grown men, grogginess, inability to sleep or a tendency to oversleep.

Getting to the acronym— I got carried away, apologies. I think in general, there would be a period where it’d feel similar to a rush of hormones and Remus would want to annihilate Sirius. This elicits a behaviour that he’s not always been proud of and sometimes punishes himself for if it’s an aggressive moon, but Sirius is no feather, he is no daisy that feels like he’s been ravaged by a Big Bad Wolf and always reassures him that it’s absolutely fine. More than fine. I believe it took Sirius some time to admit that he actually really fucking loves that side of Remus and will allow himself and Remus, to cave to the animalistic vein that rears its head. There’s no chance of Sirius topping in those days and every chance he’s going to be limping.

Following the moon, I don’t think there would be much libido present on Remus’ side on the most part as his body’s energy is honed in on healing itself back to full strength, and those sorts of things are the last thing on his mind for the following 24-72 hours. Especially if the moon was difficult. However, if there is intimacy in this period it’ll be slow and handsy; lots of hand and mouth action, lots of kissing and touching but nothing too intruding. If penetration is wanted and they are particularly in the mood then Sirius is most likely to top here so he can let Remus relax for a bit while quelling the sexual urge. If Remus tops, it’ll be slow and Sirius would take the lead.

Some chocolate for you for making it to the end.

#ask #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus #sirius

61 notes · View notes

cringecannon · 2 years ago

Note

Hiyas, just wanted to let you know this is my first time sending something over anon in a VERY long time, your writing is just too good to keep up my 5 year lurking streak XD I love your darker Gale stuff sm, he’s so creepy and pathetic hdhhhrrhhhr. Honestly I think he’d pair well (by that I mean awful but in a sexy way) with a younger adult Tav, maybe 20 or so. As much as it’d make him blush or stammer if anyone ever brought up how his partner was literally half his age he’d get off on it for sure. Especially if they were inexperienced, sexually, romantically or otherwise. We all know this man is manipulative af so he’d for sure be pulling out the “Well, I thought you were mature enough to understand but I guess I was wrong…” card any and everytime Tav would try and set the tiniest of boundaries. He absolutely loves how easy their age difference makes it for him to convince them that he’s right, even against all better judgement. Just trust him to make the decisions, he’s been around long enough to know what’s best for you :))

God forbid this man gets the tiniest whiff of daddy issues, he’s going absolutely off the walls learning everything he can about how to set Tav off and feigning total ignorance afterwords. He’s just like what babe that’s crazy I had no idea I’m so sorry :(( but just so you know it would be totally fine if you wanted to call him daddy… haha jk jk.. unless…

Feel free to respond or add on if you feel like it, or don’t. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea so I 100% understand if this is one to stay hidden in the inbox ^^” but seriously thanks for all the awesome stuff and I hope you have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening!

age gap manipulation is so <3<3<3

I'm just. Imagining a Gale who constantly hovers over your shoulder, he genuinely thinks he's protecting you from everyone else in the group. You're easily the youngest person in camp, so he thinks of himself as your mentor, someone for you to look up to. He takes you under his wing, protecting you from everyone that he thinks has ill intentions.

The problem is he thinks that of everyone. Time spent with your other companions without his supervision is nearly impossible. When you do manage to steal yourself away for a significant amount of time, he's livid. What in the nine hells were you thinking? Do you have any idea what might have happened if he didn't find you when he did? They all just want to use you, they're all well aware of how trusting you are. Are you truly that daft to believe they're not trying to take advantage of you?

Oh, love. His warm palms cup each side of your jaw, and he tries to meet your eyes. Don't make that face. Come here. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. His breath is warm against the side of your face and you close your eyes as he speaks again. He's sorry. He didn't mean to upset you. He's just trying to keep you safe. One of his hands drifts down your side and you tense. His hand pauses, fingertips lightly skimming your hip. When you don't say anything the touch gets a little more insistent, probing. Like he's testing the water. He tells you he didn't mean to be so harsh. He gets a little bolder, the side of his face now pressed against yours so he can speak lowly into your ear. Let him make it up to you, hm? His hand drifts down to your thigh, tracing imaginary shapes against it. Such a good love. He can't wait to put all this nonsense behind him.

#gale continuing the cycle of abuse with younger tav is making me hgfdgggfhfs #.gale #.bg3

69 notes · View notes

somefishycat · 4 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday 1/22/25

BIG thanks to everyone who encouraged me to do all of these this week, but particularly the Eddie lines! I made a deadline I definitely would have missed otherwise — I have to return the mic tomorrow!

marble wall 2 for @eriquin

Nobody else seems upset about it at all. Not even Hunter, or Luz. It's just… a shirt. Maybe he's overthinking this.

ones left behind for @rainy-weather-supremacy @stonemaskedtaliesin @catboy-jupiter

The kids definitely aren't here now. That's probably a good thing; they'd probably be dead if they were. Actually… something dead was here. Not a witch, and not the human. It smells like some sort of demon blood. Some unidentified demon? Eber checks that Eda is still preoccupied before digging into the pile of rubble. Darius notices and helps out, tossing stones aside until they uncover splintered wood. Bloodstained wood and shards of old bone (and the bone DOES smell a little more like the human, weirdly) but no dead kids, demon or otherwise.

5 Years for @tamsinswriting @wizisbored @inevitablyuncertain @anachronismstellar

ANTOINE: We do not expect you to land safely, no. CASS: Like we said, we're still working out the details. We have years until then, don't worry about it just yet. JUICE: i mean “don't worry about it you're prolly gonna die and here's why all our plans to try n save you are gonna fail” isn't super reassuring but sure … CASS: Sorry. We're trying, really. I don't know what else to tell you. ANTOINE: Are you still looking for other probes? We noticed you send signals out sometimes. JUICE: yeah i think i'm gonna check on em at least once a year more often for some of em. the ones i think have a good chance of living a long time like i’m tryin to be gentle with clipper cuz they're super doomed and it would suck for them to be scared like i am

Bead Flapjack for @whimsicalmeerkat @aparticularbandit

Actually did a few more rows so I could finish that first point, but they were really small rows by now anyway. Flapjack's head is almost done!

And finally, Eddie for @twyrewolf @auburnlaughter @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @meggiejolly @asha10100101010

@nonbinary-octopus @zyrafowe-sny

Transcript:

Before the fall when they wrote it on the wall, when there — shit. When there wasn't even any Hollywood Did you think you were going to hurt my feelings because you didn't like a nearby creek? You're an asshole! You have all the time in the world. Infinite time, and just a little bit of mystery. You'll have nothing left to explore in the world, so you'll look up at the stars, waiting for galaxies to collide. It's three million divided by infinity. Nothing is anything when you're dividing by infinity. A lot of good it does me. I wake up every morning on a rock. It's wet, smells like crap. Those were the times, but those times gave way to being afraid. Who wants to live forever? What am I gonna do with forever?

#wip wednesday #golden ghost au #juice fic #bead flapjack

8 notes · View notes

shesgotthebeststories · 4 months ago

Text

YOU WOULDN'T BE THE FIRST RENAGADE TO NEED SOMEBODY

a rosa diaz x oc fic

“the shape of you was jagged and weak”

a fic where rosa is not doing well after a case

CW: mentions of panic attacks, and scratching at chest until it bleeds a little. nothing too gorey i promise stay safe ml mwah

Maddy lay in bed, her eyes fixed on Rosa’s peaceful form beside her. The faint moonlight streaming through the blinds illuminated the soft contours of Rosa’s face, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Maddy had been watching her like this for over an hour, unable to sleep. Her mind was consumed by the terrifying thought of what could have happened—how close she came to losing Rosa today.

The events of the day played on a loop in her head. Rosa had been caught in a shooting at Brooklyn Heights. When the call came in, Maddy had felt her stomach drop, her mind racing to worst-case scenarios. And when Rosa had finally walked back into the precinct unharmed, Maddy hadn’t taken her eyes off her. Not for a second.

Jake had tried to get Rosa to open up about what had happened. She had brushed him off quickly, saying she just wanted a beer and silence. They had all respected her wishes, and the group spent the evening in quiet camaraderie. But now, hours later, Maddy realized those were the last words she’d heard Rosa say.

The ride back to Maddy’s apartment had been equally silent, with Rosa staring blankly out the passenger-side window. Maddy had tried to talk to her, gently probing to see if she wanted to share anything, but Rosa remained stoic, lost in her thoughts.

As Maddy replayed these moments, Rosa’s breathing shifted. It was subtle at first, a slight hitch, but it quickly escalated into sharp, rapid breaths. Alarmed, Maddy sat up, leaning over to gently rub Rosa’s shoulder.

“Rosa?” she whispered softly.

Rosa shot upright, her eyes wide and filled with panic. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Maddy said, her voice steady despite her own rising anxiety. She placed a comforting hand on Rosa’s back, rubbing soothing circles. “You’re safe. What happened? You can tell me.”

But Rosa didn’t respond. Her breathing grew more erratic as she clawed at her chest, leaving angry red marks.

“Rosa, listen to me. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe. You’re at my apartment—Maddy’s apartment. The doors are locked. No one can hurt you here.”

Rosa shook her head, her tears falling faster. She abruptly stood and bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

“Rosa, wait!” Maddy followed, panic gripping her as she knocked on the door. “Please open the door. Talk to me!”

“Just go away, Maddy!” Rosa choked out between sobs. “Leave me alone!”

Maddy stepped back, her heart pounding. She didn’t know what to do. She hated feeling helpless, especially when it came to Rosa. She looked around frantically, her eyes landing on her bedside table where her phone lay. Without thinking, she grabbed it and dialed the only person who might know how to help.

The phone rang twice before Captain Holt’s calm voice answered, tinged with grogginess. “Detective Montgomery? Why are you calling at this hour?”

“Captain, I—I don’t know what to do,” Maddy stammered, her voice trembling. “Rosa’s freaking out. She locked herself in the bathroom, and she won’t let me in. I’m scared—I don’t know what to do, and I—”

“Detective, take a deep breath,” Holt interrupted gently. “In through your nose, hold it, and out through your mouth. Follow me.”

Maddy obeyed, her breathing evening out as she mirrored Holt’s steady tone.

“Good,” Holt said. “Now, tell me what’s happening.”

“She was asleep, and then she started breathing really fast,” Maddy explained. “She woke up in a panic and ran to the bathroom. She won’t let me in, and she’s crying. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Alright,” Holt said, his voice calm and measured. “Here’s what you do: go to the kitchen and get her a glass of water. Then knock on the door again. If she doesn’t answer, tell her you’re there, speak slowly and calmly. If you sound stressed, it will only escalate her anxiety. After that, just talk to her—about anything. Share a story, even something mundane. In the past, distraction has helped her ground herself. She’ll come out when she’s ready. When she does, don’t push her to talk. Let her come to you.”

Maddy nodded, gripping the phone tightly. “Okay. I can do that. Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Detective,” Holt said. “Rosa is lucky to have someone who cares so deeply for her. Now, try to get some rest after this.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Maddy hung up and went to the kitchen, filling a glass of water with shaky hands. Maddy knocked softly on the bathroom door, her voice gentle but steady. “Rosa? Could you let me in, please? I’ve got some water for you.” She paused, straining to hear any response, but the silence on the other side was deafening. She set the glass of water on the floor just outside the door and slid down to sit against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest.

She took a deep breath and began speaking, her voice low but warm. “I still remember the first time I saw you,” she started, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. “You walked into the precinct, all confidence and leather, and I swear I forgot how to breathe. I was absolutely terrified of you but mesmerized at the same time. And, of course, Jake caught on right away. That little shit wouldn’t let me live it down for weeks.”

Maddy chuckled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the cool tile floor. “He started trading cases with me just so I’d have to work with you. He thought he was being this brilliant matchmaker, but I was convinced you didn’t like me like that. Hell, I thought you barely noticed me.” She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall, her eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“And then that first night together…” Her voice softened, the memory vivid in her mind. “I didn’t sleep at all. I just lay there, watching you, terrified that if I closed my eyes, I’d wake up, and you’d be gone. That’s how it usually goes for me. But you proved me wrong.”

Maddy paused, her throat tightening at the memory. “You stayed. I walked out of my room the next morning, and there you were, standing in my kitchen, making breakfast in my clothes. I remember thinking, ‘Oh shit, so this is what it’s like to date Rosa Diaz.’ And then I thought, ‘Oh shit, I’m in love with Rosa Diaz.’” She laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and fondness.

Her voice grew steadier, more deliberate. “I love you so much, Rosa. Seriously. I love the way you act like you don’t like hugs but melt into them the second I wrap my arms around you. I love how you tease Jake relentlessly but secretly care about him like he’s your brother. I love your hair and the way you shiver when I run my fingers through it. I love your hands—how warm they always feel on my waist. And your smile, especially when you’re trying to hide it.”

Maddy’s voice wavered slightly as she continued. “I love how you know every single one of my expressions and exactly what to do when I’m sad or overwhelmed. And I love how you always make sure everyone else is okay. But…” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “I just wish you’d let me do that for you. I’m worried about you, Rosa. I really am. You went through so much today. And not just today—your whole life. I hope you know I’m here for you, always. Whatever you need.”

Maddy shifted slightly, leaning closer to the door. “We don’t have to talk about what happened if you’re not ready. We don’t even have to talk about it at all. But I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me about that stuff. I know it’s hard for you to open up, but you’ve done it with me before.”

She rested her head against the door, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “I promise you, Rosa, it would take the world exploding—and even then, it would still take more—for me to stop loving you. So please, don’t shut me out.”

There was a long silence, and for a moment, Maddy thought she might have to keep going. Then, a soft, broken voice came through the door. “It’s not that simple, Maddy.”

“I know it’s not,” Maddy said gently. “And I’m not asking you to flip a switch. I just want you to know I’m here, okay? Always. Whatever you’re feeling, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

She waited, her heart pounding, until finally, she heard the faint click of the lock. The door opened slightly, the soft light from the bathroom spilling into the dark bedroom. Maddy peeked around the door and saw Rosa sitting on the bathroom floor, her back against the cabinet, her chest still red and raw from her earlier panic.

Maddy slipped inside, closing the door gently behind her. She knelt down beside Rosa, her heart breaking at the sight of the tear tracks on her cheeks. Without a word, she reached up to wipe them away, then pulled Rosa into a tight hug. Rosa clung to her, her body trembling as she sobbed into Maddy’s shoulder.

Maddy rubbed Rosa’s back in soothing circles, murmuring softly, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

When Rosa finally pulled back, Maddy smiled at her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit. Rosa’s chest had small scratches, some of which were bleeding slightly.

“This might sting a little,” Maddy said softly, wetting a cloth and gently wiping Rosa’s chest clean. She applied a soothing cream and carefully placed a bandage over the deepest scratch. Rosa sat quietly, her head resting against the cabinet, her eyes closed.

Once Maddy finished, she stood and extended her hands to Rosa. “Come on,” she said, her voice warm and encouraging. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Rosa took her hands, letting Maddy pull her to her feet. Maddy led her back to the bed, tucking her in before climbing in beside her. As soon as she lay down, Rosa pulled Maddy close, resting her head on her chest.

Maddy wrapped her arms around Rosa, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on her arm. “I love you,” she whispered.

Rosa tightened her grip slightly, her voice muffled but sincere. “I love you too.”

And for the first time that night, Maddy felt Rosa begin to relax in her arms.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #rosa diaz #rosa diaz fic #rosa diaz x oc #b99 fanfic #b99 reference #brooklyn 99 fic #taylor swift

7 notes · View notes

suicidalt33n · 4 months ago

Text

Sanctuary, part 2 | Chris sturniolo

Part 1:

Hope this doesn't disappoint loll, i tried.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The warmth of the blanket around my shoulders and the low hum of voices brought me back to reality. I was still sitting on their couch, my knees tucked under the soft fabric. My body ached, every muscle begging for rest, but my mind wouldn’t let me relax.

Chris sat across from me, his elbows on his knees as he watched me with a quiet intensity. His brothers, who I now knew were named Nick and Matt, lingered nearby, their presence oddly comforting. They hadn’t asked me too many questions, just offered me water and made sure I was okay while we waited for the police to arrive.

"You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready," Chris said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, grounding. "But if there’s anything we can do to help, just let us know."

I nodded, clutching the blanket tighter. "Thank you," I whispered. My voice felt small, fragile.

The sound of sirens in the distance made my heart jump. The police were close. Relief and dread warred within me—relief that he wouldn’t be able to drag me back into that nightmare, and dread at the thought of recounting everything to strangers in uniform.

Chris noticed the way I tensed up. "Hey," he said, his voice drawing my attention. "You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here for you."

His words settled something in my chest. I didn’t know these people, but the sincerity in their actions and words made me feel safer than I had in months.

The knock at the door came quickly, and Matt hurried to answer it. Two officers stepped inside, their expressions serious but kind. Chris introduced himself and his brothers, explaining how I had shown up on their doorstep, desperate for help.

One of the officers crouched down to my level, her gaze gentle but probing. "Hi, sweetheart. My name’s Officer Martinez. You’re safe now, okay? Can you tell us your name?"

I hesitated, my throat tight. "Y/N," I finally managed.

"Y/N, you’re incredibly brave," she said. "We’re going to make sure you’re okay and get you whatever help you need. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?"

I glanced at Chris, who nodded encouragingly. Something about his steady presence gave me the courage to speak.

"I… I was taken," I began, my voice trembling. "By my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. He—he wouldn’t let me leave."

Officer Martinez nodded, her expression never wavering. "You’re doing great, Y/N. Take your time."

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I told them everything—the threats, the violence, the endless days locked away. Chris never looked away, his gaze steady and reassuring, like he was silently reminding me I wasn’t alone.

When I finished, Officer Martinez stood and exchanged a look with her partner. "We’re going to make sure he can’t hurt you again," she said firmly. "We’ll also connect you with resources—counseling, a safe place to stay, whatever you need."

I nodded, too drained to say much more.

As the officers stepped aside to make calls, Chris sat down beside me. "I know this probably feels like a lot," he said, his voice low. "But you’re so strong for getting out of there."

Something about his words, about him, made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time. "I didn’t think anyone would help," I admitted.

He shook his head, his brows furrowing. "You deserve help. Everyone does."

The officers returned, letting me know I’d be taken to a safe house for the night. My stomach churned at the thought of leaving this place—this temporary sanctuary—but I knew it was the right step forward.

As I stood to leave, I turned to Chris. "Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t opened the door."

He smiled, small but genuine. "You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay."

I didn’t have the words to express what his kindness meant to me, so I just nodded. As I walked out the door, flanked by the officers, I glanced back one last time.

Chris was standing there, his hands in his pockets, watching me leave with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

I didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in months, I felt like I had one. And I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I saw Chris Sturniolo.

-----------

@amelia-sturniolo3 🎀

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo angst #angst with a happy ending #part 2 #<3 mwah

8 notes · View notes

mariaofdoranelle · 2 years ago

Text

URDAD - part 1

Adenine: paired with U

Fic masterlist

I’M SO EXCITED

Warning: this is not a safe space for Chaol stans

Words: 2,4k

“How‘s the baby?” Dr. Moonbeam asked in the examination table as Aelin slid the ultrasound transducer over his abs. She was still figuring out if he was flexing them to look stronger, or to make her work harder by hardening the area she had to move the probe on.

Aelin was “examining” Dr. Moonbeam just to check if she’d fixed the glitch in his ultrasound machine, but of course he’d have a field day with it.

“Very funny,” she answered with the dullest face possible, and then gasped. “Is that a kidney stone?”

“WHAT?” He bolted upright and took the probe from Aelin’s hand, pressing it harder against him, but relaxed when he studied the monitor. “You’re evil.”

Aelin tilted her head back, cackling.

Being the engineer responsible for Mistward General’s very expensive machinery, Aelin was glad she was out of the hospital’s crazy hierarchy. She didn’t take orders from any doctors, which let her be more at ease around them, unlike most of the staff.

Even if some were shameless flirts.

“So…” Dr. Moonbeam called her attention, slowly sliding the paper towels against his abs that looked shinier because of the gel. But his eyes had this playful glint because, at this point, he knew she was immune to his moves. “When are you breaking up with that tool of yours?”

“In two weeks, actually.”

His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

Aelin looked away and checked the ultrasound just to have something to do with her hands. “I already paid this month’s rent, so I’m waiting a little before breaking things up and moving out.”

She wasn’t in a rush, but it was time. Chaol hasn’t been the same. Aelin hadn’t felt the same about him either. When she went to her best friend to talk about this, Imogen was very supportive and offered her spare room.

Imogen Whitethorn wasn’t Chaol’s biggest fan, to put it lightly.

Dr. Moonbeam had his arms crossed, head cocked with a shameless grin. “No need to go through that, Galathynius. You can stay with me those two weeks.”

Aelin snorted, slowly shaking her head. “You’d love that, huh?”

Before he could answer, she felt her phone vibrating against her pocket and took it to check.

Dr Whitethorn: Aelin

Dr Whitethorn: 911

Dr Whitethorn: Anne Jausten is acting out

And by that, he meant there was something wrong with his new digital slide scanner.

“Gotta go.” She gave Dr. Moonbeam a quick salute. “Good luck with the pregnant ladies.”

Aelin rushed to the Pathology lab, which was pretty much the standard. There was always someone running or yelling in these halls. As busy as she was today, she always made room so assisting Dr. Whitethorn was always on her top priorities. He was the one who got her this job, after all.

After Aelin accidentally met Imogen’s father while drunk after a college party, he disregarded her for years. She was convinced he hated her and thought she was a bad influence, but working here slowly changed her mind. Or his, she’d never know.

One night, Imogen commented to Dr. Whitethorn over the phone that Aelin’s boss was too handsy.

The next day, Mistward General’s HR called her offering an interview.

His shoulders dropped when she came in. “Oh, good. It’s not scanning.”

Oh boy, did her breathing just get a little faster? Aelin would not, under any circumstance, show how much the scrubs, reading glasses and frazzled gray hair combo did it for her.

She always had a thing for men in lab coats, but Dr. Whitethorn was on a whole new level.

When Aelin rushed inside the cold Pathology lab, he immediately got up to give her his chair and bring another one for himself.

She clamped her lips together after assessing what was going on, trying not to make him feel bad.

“You can laugh, you know.”

“I won’t.” Despite her words, Aelin’s shoulders were quaking, a full laughter ready to burst. “But you’re too young to be this old.”

He sighed. “What did I do this time?”

Aelin tilted her head, biting her lip. “You forgot to adjust a few scan settings. It won’t start until you do.”

He groaned, resting his face on his hands. This time, she let out the tiniest giggle.

Dr. Whitethorn was so excited when he got his new, more modern equipment—until he had to learn how to work with them, that is. Watching him get used to those was like watching elder millennials in the genesis of TikTok.

Resilient as he was, he got his chin up, squared his shoulders, and tapped the few buttons he missed out in the first place.

“Well, thanks for that. And sorry I wasted your time.”

Aelin waved him off and rested her head on a fist, not caring about the few strands of hair falling on her face. “Nonsense.”

He trained his eyes on the scan. “I can go on from here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do you remember how to use the new photo editor?”

He used his right to remain silent.

Aelin leaned back on her seat, getting comfortable with both hands behind her neck. “Then I guess I need to wait for these scans to be done.”

Dr. Whitethorn was like that. He'd listen to her talk about anything and everything, from tissue engineering to Taylor Swift tickets, then flip a switch and politely shut her off until she made her way back into his lab again. Rinse and repeat. Right now, he wasn’t too chit-chatty, but she’d crack him in no time.

Aelin stayed there, watching his Adam’s apple bob as they listened to the soothing hum of Anne Jausten, the scanner.

“Fleetfoot and I are moving in with Immie soon, but I’m sure you know that already.”

His gaze slid to hers. “I know where you’re going.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “My point is already proven, I’m just being annoying about it.”

“I’m not a gossip, I’m just a good listener.”

“Well, did you, or did you not know that already?”

He gave her a flat look. “Next time you’re looking for a boyfriend, at least get one who doesn’t forget his wallet on date night.”

“Ouch!” She clutched her chest, playing down the tightness in it. “Way to go, doc.”

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “That was insensitive of me.”

Aelin waved him off. “That breakup was overdue, anyway.”

“I think so, too.” His lab’s phone started ringing. Dr. Whitethorn got up to take it, but not before saying, “You deserve to raise your standards.”

Easier said than done. If she had a pass for every man in the world, Aelin would know exactly where to start.

People would think it was the sixteen-year age gap, but the only thing stopping her from taking a chance and trying to sit on Dr. Whitethorn's lap right now was her best friend, who happens to be his daughter. With him looking like that, Aelin wouldn't mind if he was 300 years old.

Every time she saw a legion of girls online losing their minds over some older actor who aged like fine wine, she felt a little relieved they didn’t know Dr. Whitethorn. She could appreciate the view alone.

He looked pale when the phone call ended. “It was Salvaterre. Imogen just got here in an ambulance.”

“What?” Aelin jerked upright, feeling her pulse stronger each beat. “What happened?”

”I don’t know, I—" He pointed to the scanner. “Keep an eye on Anne. I’ll go to the ER and keep you posted.”

Aelin did as she was asked and stayed there, feeling her throat get tighter as the AC’s dry gushes of air cut through her layers of clothing. She didn’t know for how long she did nothing but listen to Anne Jausten’s mechanical whirring, but she did notice she was quieter than Jane Austen, Dr. Whitethorn’s previous slide scanner. It was an obvious observation, since Anne was cutting-edge technology, but Aelin would rather think of the equipment than the fact that her best friend and soon-to-be roommate was in the ER right now.

Her heart almost leaped out of her throat when his text came.

Dr Whitethorn: I think you should come here.

The few minutes she sprinted there were a blur. The nurses’ carts were on her way, the elevator was too slow, there were confused people on her way. The only thing that felt fast was her pulse, thrumming blood through her tense muscles.

Aelin relaxed when she noticed Immie looked fine, despite her friend’s blotched face from crying. Dr. Whitethorn’s face was red as well, but he wasn’t crying like his daughter. He was fuming, to put it lightly. And in the hospital bed, she saw… Chaol?

“What’s going on?”

Dr. Whitethorn was the one to break the deafening silence. “We have a penile fracture here.”

No.

Aelin looked around, taking everyone in once again and processing this new information.

Her heart stopped in her chest as her senses seemed to betray her.

There was no fucking way.

“YOU BROKE MY BOYFRIEND’S DICK?” Aelin’s voice boomed through the room.

Imogen’s lips wobbled. “Aelin, I’m so—“

"Sorry, yeah." She let out a bitter cackle and yanked off Chaol's blanket. His dick looked exactly like an eggplant.

"Babe," he slurred, grinning at her. He must be high on painkillers already to look clueless like that.

"You fucking slut!" She shouted at Chaol and pinched his swollen penis, twisting the purple, hypersensitive skin between her fingers.

No amount of painkillers could stop the earth-shattering scream Chaol let out, loud enough to tear anyone's eardrums in half.

For the very first time, she saw Dr. Whitethorn flinch.

The curtain separating them from the rest of the ER was yanked open to reveal a very pissed Chief Salvaterre. And he caught her with a hand on the patient’s dick, in the worst way.

“Stop that right now!” He yelled and ran Chaol’s way, then pointed between Aelin and Dr. Whitethorn. “You two, out of my ER!”

The silver-haired doctor raised both hands in surrender. “What did I do?”

“I told you not to cause me any trouble.” Salvaterre pointed at Aelin. “Trouble.”

“But she needed to know!”

“Not to assault my patient!” He was looking at them with raging, bulging eyes. “You’re both leaving this hospital right now, and when you come back tomorrow, you’re going to forget about Mr. Westfall’s penis and act normal like you always have. Are we understood?”

Dr. Whitethorn sighed and nodded. Aelin had her chin up, but didn’t argue.

Imogen turned to Aelin, but kept her gaze lowered. "I’m so sorry, Ace."

She wanted to yank those chestnut curls until the crack in Imogen’s voice became a scream.

Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut it. You can have his teeny weenie."

˜˜

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Whitethorn said the umpteenth time after they were kicked out of the hospital. He insisted on giving her a ride, since Aelin didn’t own a car.

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He groaned. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel responsible. Being my daughter and all.”

One corner of her mouth tugged up, but her smile had no brightness. “You really shouldn’t.”

They were in front of her apartment complex, where Dr. Whitethorn stayed the last twenty minutes waiting for her to pack up. She’d have to iron her clothes all over again soon, but the careless packing was better than spending more time at Chaol’s cursed home.

To be fair, she was mad at Chaol, but she wasn’t surprised he cheated on her.

But Imogen? She was the main source of the sharp pain in Aelin’s chest as she recalled how supportive she was of the breakup. Now that she thought of it, the last few Friday nights Aelin stayed alone at home because her boyfriend and her best friend were busy? Indeed, they were.

The doctor gave a pointed look to the Playstation under her arm. “What’s that about?”

Aelin shrugged. “You know, if you wanna crush a man’s soul, you gotta start with his video game.”

“And his car.” Dr. Whitethorn looked up, something devious sparkling in his eyes. “Where do you keep the sugar?”

Five minutes later, they were standing next to Chaol’s car. She held the jar of sugar as he held Fleetfoot’s leash.

“So, what are we doing?”

“If we put sugar in here.” Dr. Whitethorn pointed at the fuel door, where the gasoline went. “The sugar will turn into caramel and break the car from the inside while he’s driving. The engine will melt like butter. It’s a mess to fix.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, and she felt that sparkle of joy a girl could only feel due to a good revenge. Grinning, she didn’t think twice before filling Chaol’s ugly ass car with sugar.

Dr. Whitethorn was leaning against the car, eyes sparkling as he watched her excitement. “Having fun?”

She let out an evil cackle, already picturing her ex’s face when his car stopped Mala knows where. When Fleetfoot barked, Aelin felt like her dog was telling her she’s a good girl, not the other way around.

”Alright,” Dr. Whitethorn said after they were finished. “Where am I dropping you off now?”

That question took the words out of Aelin’s mouth. She had absolutely nowhere to go.

She either said it out loud or Dr. Whitethorn read it in her face, because he asked, “What about your cousin?”

Aelin grimaced. “He’s allergic to Fleetfoot. But I could make him take some histamines until I find somewhere else.”

“None of that.” He took her bags and pulled her dog’s leash towards his car. “You can stay with me for a week or two. I don’t mind.”

“What?” Aelin asked as her heartbeat got a bit faster.

“I have a spare room for you and a lot of grass for Fleetfoot. It’s the least I can do.”

She took a step further, but eyed him up and down. If Dr. Whitethorn showed any sign that he didn’t want her there, she’d go straight to Aedion’s.

“Come on.” He nodded to his car, face open.

Well, there was no arguing with an invite like that.

˜˜

9 p.m. Aelin wanted to kill 6 p.m. Aelin for even thinking about refusing to stay here.

His spare room? Comfy.

His books on medical imaging? A treasure.

His food? As mouth watering as the chef.

Aelin could stay the rest of her days here if it wouldn’t make her look like a parasite.

Fleetfoot was staying in the bedroom with her tonight, but she’d leave her outside during the day. Mala forbid her clumsy dog breaks something expensive while she’s at work.

Aelin tilted her head at the mirror, examining her own image. It was a sight, the way Aelin looked with that tiny nightgown of lacy and silk.

Too bad Chaol liked his video game better. And traitorous brunettes, apparently.

Tonight wasn’t about him, though. Neither would it be about the cock-breaker bitch she once called a friend.

Maybe a little, actually. There was this one thing she never did just to protect her friend’s feelings—a courtesy that wasn't reciprocated, so there was no stopping her now.

Aelin put her tinted lip balm on. The no-makeup makeup look she did looked perfect. Her hair was carefully messed up, every strand in its perfect place for an effortless look. She put her robe on for modesty reasons, of course. Too bad it was a little see-through.

Her own footsteps were the only sound in that hall, and the yellow light slipping through his office’s door guided her.

She knocked on his door once, twice.

“Come in.”

He didn’t take his eyes off his desk the whole time, leaning over his medicine books and laptop. That casual white t-shirt and tousled hair combo was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Aelin leaned against the doorframe, letting that movement alone slip part of her robe open, showing off her curves. She tilted her head and assessed him like a predator hunting its prey.

“Hi, Dr. Whitethorn.” Her voice was a sultry caress, just enough to make him look up.

You can get notifications when I update by either following me on @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@s-uppertime

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #URDAD

108 notes · View notes

ladylooch · 10 months ago

Note

Oh stop! How had I never come across the blurn where David and Mack made it official! She thanks him for coming over the night before, saying she was in a bad place.

How does that happen, did he find out from Connor that she was sick and just turn up? Were they talking on the phone and he insist on coming over??

Warning: descriptions of throwing up/ being sick.

David finds out Mack is sick from Connor, which truthfully is a bit of a relief for him because he hasn’t heard from Mack all day. He knows she is in New York. She just got back two days ago from a trip in the Pacific. He had been feeling uneasy before heading out for a beer with Connor when he had texted her a few different times and she didn’t respond.

So David did what he does best and he softly probed.

“Stell and Lucie have big plans tonight?”

“Ah, they were going to go to a movie, I think. Originally, Mack was going to come, but Luc said she was sick. Lucie wanted to stay home then, but Stella wasn’t gonna let her off the hook.” Conor chuckles.

David carefully keeps his face neutral, but pockets that information for after their drinks.

“That sucks.” He says to Connor, then focuses his attention back on his beer glass to lift it to his lips.

He hangs around with Connor as long as he can stand it which turns out to be two full beers. Connor wants to order a third, but David declines. He lifts his one hip off the chair, taking his wallet out and tossing a few bills onto he table to cover his part of the bill.

“I gotta head out. Still need to pack for heading back home.”

“No problem. Hey, I’ll see ya in the Fall.” Connor stands and they share a big hug. “Stay safe out there in that summer heat, man.”

“I’ll try to.” David smiles at his friend. He feels a slight itch in his throat as he always does saying goodbye to Connor. He is by far the best friend David has ever had, his Iowa boys included. It’s tough to go months without seeing each other, but he knows when they are reunited in the Fall, it will be like no time has passed. It’s what makes him feel so shitty lying to his friend about what he does with his friend’s sister-in-law in private.

Without putting much stock into that thought, David hustles out to his SUV and takes off in the direction of Mack’s place. He parks the car in a visitor spot on the side of her building, then contemplates how he is going to get Ron, her doorman, to let him up without calling for Mack.

Turns out, Ron is worried too.

“Boy, I’m glad to see you here, David.” He says as he opens the door for him. “I haven’t seen Ms. Hischier all day. She didn’t have her usual routine.”

“Yeah, she’s a little under the weather.” David fills in with a slight downwards tilt of his lips.

“Ah. Makes sense. Go take care of your girl.” He winks, then waves David inside and up to the elevator.

David practically stabs the button through the metal door with his antsy energy. He sighs heavily. Fuck, he hopes she is okay. He should have called her… Should have left drinks with Connor sooner too. But it’s not entirely unlike Mack to disappear for a bit. Not even because she is running from something, but she will get in a zone with writing and not be willing to interact until she gets her story right. He loves that tenaciousness and drive in her.

As he walks quick steps down the hall to her unit, his hands feel empty. Maybe he should have stopped at the store and grabbed her some items. But he has no idea what is making her sick.

He knocks on her door then waits. And waits. He knocks again. And waits.

“Mack.” He knocks a third time, louder, hard, so that if she is asleep, there is no way she doesn’t hear it. He listens, pursing his lips, then feels relief shoot through his body when the lock flips.

“Go away.” She moans.

“Whoa.” He murmurs, surprised at the look of her. She is paler than paper, hair falling out of her slacked pony tail. Her clothes are stretched and too worn, hanging off her body in awkward slumps. Mack sighs then falls forward into his chest completely unwillingly. He catches her, feeling how hot her body is. Her lips are chapped around her mouth, white flakes crusting off from them, likely from vomiting.

“Dizzy.” She cries to him, squeezing her eyes shut. He holds the door open with his foot, then curls down to lift her into his arms. She can’t even lift hers around his neck. Instead, she loosely grips his shirt in her fists.

“I’ve got you.” He assures her. He looks around her place, seeing the complete disarray of it, which is so unusual for her. Open drink bottles, electrolyte packs, and slices of toast litter the counter. The pieces are in various stages of eating, with crumbs littering the top.

“I’m gonna throw up.” She says then gags, slapping a hand over her mouth.

David moves her quickly to the bathroom, then settles her knees on the tile. He rubs her back as she heaves over the toilet, but nothing comes out. She spits then clenches up as she heaves again.

“Am I going to die?” She cries to him after she is done. “I have nothing left!” She starts to breathe heavily, tears falling from her eyes.

“No, honey.” He sighs empathetically. He kisses the top of her head, then helps her fall back into his body. Her head slumps against his shoulder, hot forehead on his throat. “You’re going to be okay.” He smoothes her hair back then kisses above her left eyebrow. “Have you taken anything?” She shakes her head no.

“Okay. Do you have anything?” Again her response is no. “I’m going to grab some stuff from CVS okay?”

“No, no, no.” She cries weakly. “Don’t leave.”

“You need medicine at this point, honey. We can’t fight this without it.” She is quiet, eyes closed, still breathing heavy. But then she nods in resolution. “Do you want to go to bed or stay here?”

“Stay. Not done.”

“Okay.” He reaches up for the towel from the rack above, folding it over to make her a pillow for her head. Then he eases out from behind her, letting her back rest on the cool tile. He looks down at her, frowning at how bad she looks. He mentally commits to taking her in if this medicine doesn’t help her within the hour. He has seen what dehydration can do growing up on a farm. He doesn’t want that to happen to her. Not on his watch.

David is gone for twenty minutes. This time he takes her apartment keys with him. He assures Ron both times in and out that Mack is going to be okay. He comes back with various medications, Pedialyte, and crackers. Mack is barely awake when he reaches the bathroom again. He strokes her cheek gently then works on cracking open the Tylenol bottle. First, they need to start with her fever.

He helps her sit up, using the cabinets in the bathroom of her to rest her back on. She swallows them, groaning at how her throat aches from everything. She blinks lazily as David pulls out the bottle of Pepto Bismal. He reads the back, then pours the thick pink liquid into the cup. Mack grimaces as he hands it to her.

“I know.” He nods. “But the liquid will help your throat and you’ll absorb it faster.” She whines but takes it without much more protest. She isn’t in a position to argue with him and he takes advantage of that. “Okay, let’s leave it at those two for now. See how you respond.” He says, putting the rest of the bag on the counter behind her. She reaches for his wrist as he sits back down in front of her.

“Thank you.” Her appreciation for him is quiet but strong. “I…” She pauses, pursing her lips. “Tried to text you back, but…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“It’s okay.” He assures her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here now.”

Despite her condition, a small smile stretches her pale, pink lips up.

“I knew you would come for me.”

David smiles back at her, but she can’t see because she’s lost the battle to keep her eyes open again. He reaches for her hand, rubbing his thumb across her warm skin comfortingly. He doesn’t say anything else to let her rest, but internally his answer back to her is:

Always.

#mackdavid au

12 notes · View notes