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yndrgrl · 7 months ago

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your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

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syluslnd · 29 days ago

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Hi there! I'm new to tumblr and I'm one of your silent readers. I love your writing and I was wondering if you're up to take my request. I had this thought when I was looking through new pajamas to buy hehe.

Would you be interested to write a fic where the reader just finished chores and all before sylus come home from his long work trip. She took a shower but then just remembered that all her laundry aren't done yet and she only has a few pieces of longer nighties but still quite sheer. She put it on whilst waiting for the laundry to be done drying thinking she still has time to spare. Then when she was preparing dinner while listening to her music, little dancing etc, she didnt realise sylus came back home earlier than expected. He was so glad, excited and aroused to see reader in that, that he wasnt sure he could keep his 'hunger' in control anymore.

Thank you in advance for your time to read this little request of mine👉🏻👈🏻😚

Sylus who catches you in lingerie

The smell of a sizzling pan filled the kitchen as you swayed to the soft rhythm of music playing from your phone. You wore nothing but a skimpy set of sheer shorts and a crop top, practically lingerie, but you hadn't planned to look this revealing.

You were just doing laundry and this was the only thing left to wear. The music, paired with the warmth of the stove, had you dancing a little, your body moving sensually to the beat as you stirred the ingredients.

It had been weeks since Sylus had been home. His work trip had felt never-ending and you missed him more than you'd admit.

Being by yourself like this, you'd let your guard down, lost in the moment as you twirled and swayed around the kitchen.

What you didn't realize was that Sylus had already slipped into the house. Quiet as always, his steps were soundless as he entered, taking in the sight of you moving so seductively without a care in the world. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you, eyes darkening as he took in every curve of your body, barely hidden by the flimsy fabric.

He was captivated. The way your hips moved, the way the fabric clung to you... the sight was almost too much after so long away. His pulse quickened, desire simmering in him like a fire he could no longer ignore.

Without saying a word, he reached out and turned off the music.

The sudden silence startled you, and you spun around quickly, eyes wide. "Sylus!" you gasped, your heart racing from the surprise.

You hadn't even heard him come in.

He didn't say anything at first just stood there his gaze raking over your exposed skin. His eyes were dark and the hunger in them made your breath hitch. Slowly, he started toward you, each step deliberate, his presence overwhelming.

"I-uh..." you stammered, backing up slightly feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you suddenly became hyper-aware of how little you were wearing. "I didn't know you were home."

Sylus stopped just inches from you, towering over you in that way that always made you feel so small, so delicate. His eyes were half-lidded and the smirk playing on his lips was nothing short of predatory. "Clearly" he said in a low, teasing tone "or you wouldn't be prancing around half-naked like this."

You opened your mouth to explain but the words got caught in your throat. The way he was looking at you, the way his body seemed so tense with desire—it was intoxicating. "I-I was just... doing laundry” you finally managed, your voice shaky.

"These were the only clothes left."

He raised an eyebrow, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. "Laundry, huh?" His voice dripped with amusement. "and you decided to make dinner dressed like that?"

"I didn't think you'd be home yet..." you mumbled, feeling your cheeks flush even more. His hand trailed down from your hair, grazing lightly over your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was barely there but it felt like fire on your skin.

Sylus chuckled softly, stepping closer until your back hit the counter. His body was so close, you could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you so thick it was suffocating. "You didn't think I'd be home to catch you dancing around like that?" His eyes flicked down to your sheer shorts, his smirk growing wider. "Or maybe... you wanted me to catch you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance between you. His hands found your hips gripping you just hard enough to make you gasp. "That's not- I wasn't-" You tried to protest but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch, craving more of the closeness you'd missed for weeks.

Sylus' lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you right now, kitten?"

A shudder ran through you at his words, your body aching with need. "Sylus..."

"I've been gone for too long” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your neck, sending a spark of heat straight through you.

"And here you are, looking like this, teasing me the moment I get back."

"I wasn't trying to-" Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your skin ever so lightly.

"Weren't you?" His voice was low, dangerous, filled with a need he wasn't bothering to hide anymore. His hands slid up your sides, fingers teasingly brushing over the fabric of your crop top barely touching but enough to make you tremble under his touch. "You're making it hard for me to believe that, sweetie."

Your legs felt weak under his touch, his words, his presence. Everything about him made you dizzy with want, especially after so long without him. "I missed you” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sylus' lips curled into a slow, satisfied grin.

"Is that why you're dressed like this? For me?" His hands trailed down, teasing the edge of your shorts, fingers brushing dangerously close to the bare skin beneath.

"Or should I be worried that this is just how you cook now?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but it was impossible. His touch, his voice, the way he was looking at you-it was too much. "It's not like that..."

He hummed, unconvinced, as his fingers traced small, deliberate circles on your hips, just barely dipping under the waistband of your shorts. "You're lucky I have some self-control, kitten. Because right now.." He leaned in, his lips hovering just over yours, close enough that you could feel his breath but not close enough to kiss. "Right now, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold back."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sent a wave of heat straight through you. His body pressed against yours, trapping you between him and the counter, his hands now gripping your waist firmly.

Every inch of him was tense, and you could feel just how much he was holding back.

"Sylus, I..."

He cut you off, his mouth finally crashing into yours, hungry, demanding, his lips devouring yours as though he'd been starving for this.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his need overwhelming.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you needed something to hold onto. His kiss was possessive, desperate and you could feel how much he had missed you in every movement.

When he finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you. "You have no idea what you do to me” he growled, his voice low and rough. "And if you keep teasing me like this..."

You swallowed, your heart racing as you stared up at him, your body aching with the same need he was feeling. "Then don't hold back" you whispered, your voice barely audible but you knew he heard every word.

Sylus' eyes flickered with something primal as he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear. "Be careful what you ask for, sweetie. Because once I start, I won't stop."

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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facefullofsadness · 6 months ago

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pussy-drunk!purinz relieve your stress

roommate!purinz x reader, university!au

smut, 1.4k wc

for the lovely @strawbsj whose bday is todayyy!!! sorry if it's not that great jwannie bestie, it's VERY MUCH RUSHED n barely proofread (might fix later on), but I wanted to give u something today and what's better than purinz eating u out as a gift! (and I'm so sorry it's late ajhfsjgd)

your finals are coming up and wow, is it stressful. I mean it's evident in the distressed faces of your fellow classmates roaming the campus, rushing to the local cafes and library to squeeze in every single bit of study time they can so they don't fail. and you've been no different, hiding away in your room, slaving away at ur notebook with your head in your textbooks and a laptop in front of you.

your roommates yunjin and chaewon are completely chill honestly, they're already done with their projects they need to turn in and have no written exams, having chosen arts majors. they pity you, feeling bad sitting on the living room couch, staring at your closed door, wondering if you're even alive since they can barely hear any noise coming from your room.

having chosen a more studious major than your roommates always meant you were working hard at all times while they were js kinda there? they would always try to help you by making u food, getting you water, doing the chores for you, checking up on you, being sweet and all that. but after hours, 12 to be exact, of you studying, they thought that was enough, you desperately needed A FUCKING BREAK.

you were so zoned in on your work that u didn't hear the door creak open. ur study playlist played softly in the background as u jump, feeling hands land on ur bare shoulders. you blink away from your notes and look up at the concerned looking chaewon looking down at you.

"y/n-ie, that's enough..." her voice was almost a whisper, laced with worry.

"seriously, you've been at this for the entire day, take a break, eat properly, SLEEP?" yunjin reiterates behind her, form slowly coming into view.

you sigh out, leaning back against chaewon's relaxing massage on your shoulders. u didn't realize how exhausted you were until you stopped what u were doing, legs restless, eyes twitching, fingers sore, back hurting.

"I'm just really stressed and worried about this guys," you reply back.

"we know, but killing yourself over this isn't gonna help cutie," the taller girl shifts to move in front of you, closing your laptop and books, holding your worn out hands with her own.

"I don't know how to NOT overwork myself, you guys know that..."

the two girls exchange a look before looking back down at you.

"yeah, so let us help you," chaewon leans into your ear and sighs against it.

you feel a chill run down your spine and suddenly your hands turn clammy in yunjin's hold, the girl in front of you looking down at you with sweet but dark eyes.

"w-what?" you nervously ask.

"shhhh, let us do the work baby," chaewon's lips ghost the skin on your neck before placing deep wet kisses on them.

you immediately whimper at the sensation, throwing your head back against her shoulder. you grip yunjin's hands tighter, eyes closing at how good the short haired girl's mouth felt on you. u didn't even continue to question what was happening anymore, everything feeling too good to care and the exhaustion hitting you too hard to resist.

you hear rustling from in front of you amidst the wet noises next to your ear, feeling your bottoms fall to the ground and legs shift apart. u widen your eyes at the girl between your legs, placing sweet kisses against your thighs.

"jen-" you begin before she interrupts you.

"don't try to stop it, just relax," yunjin mumbles against your skin before dragging her tongue across your already leaking slit.

"fuckkkkkk," you moan out, the sensations tingling against your body intensely.

you lace both your hands into their hair separately, holding chaewon's head against your neck and yunjin's head against your pussy. their mouths moved so deliciously against your body, making your back arch in your shitty uncomfy dorm room chair.

you feel yunjin's strong hands grip your thighs apart firmly, making sure u couldn't close them, forcing you to take all of her pleasure. chaewon's hands occupied themselves as well, slipping up your tight-fitting tank top, thumbs circling your hardened nipples.

"you like that, sweet thing? does yunnie's tongue feel good lapping at your pussy? like how I just pincchhhh your little nips?" she emphasizes her words as her actions obeyed her command.

"chaewonnie ahh~!" you mewl, thrashing your head around at the stimulation.

yunjin's tongue was so deep inside of you, moving extremely expertly against your clenching walls, her nose rubbing your clit rhythmically. chaewon's mouth kept leaving sloppy kisses all over your neck, shoulders, jaw, and chest, even leaning over to reach it and leave marks. her fingers were so aggressive, never letting your nipples take a break.

it felt so fucking good. your mind was completely clouded with lust as the two girls fucked you for their own pleasure, addicted to the way your body reacted to each and every one of their touches. your grips on them tightened as every thrust of yunjin's tongue hit that delicious spot within you, chaewon's panting against your ear heightening your already overwhelming pleasure.

with the deep groan of yunjin's mouth against your cunt, the vibrations sent you into a blinding orgasm, a series of high pitched whines and whimpers leaking from your lips, back arching off the chair completely. your moans filled the girls' ears, filling them with more lust and desire than ever.

your body collapsed against the chair again as you released deep breaths through the aftermath of your climax. suddenly, you're being pulled up and thrown gently against your plush mattress, feeling your legs forced open once again.

you panic and pry your eyes wide open, looking down at chaewon now between your trembling thighs. "chae, wait wait- fuck!"

she ignores your cries as her tongue laps at the cum you released from your last orgasm, sucking and slurping your sensitive pussy lips. whimpers leak from you as her mouth forces her way around your cunt. you try pushing her head away from your center but your efforts fail as yunjin comes behind you, resting your body against her chest and effectively holding your hands behind your back.

"nuh-uh babe, don't even think about stopping this. just relax..." she breathes out against your ear before turning to capture your mouth with her own.

she kisses you breathlessly, taking the oxygen from your lungs. your whines are completely drowned out by the tongue being shoved down your throat, choking on yunjin's and your own combined spit, the sounds of chaewon's slurping under you making your eyes roll back.

your abused clit throbs and hole clenches around chaewon's greedy tongue, unable to thrash really at all due to the two girls forcing your body to move as they want. the pleasure was way too much, your body couldn't stop jerking at every single swipe of the girls' tongues against you. it almost hurt, how much arousal brewed in your stomach, just anticipating exploding.

yunjin finally releases your mouth and you immediately let out heaving breaths against her lips, tears welling up in your eyes at the sensations crawling across your body.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck..." you chant against yunjin, her holding you against her chest, caressing your skin.

"shhhh, you're okay doll," she coos.

"I... can't, no more," you start sobbing.

"don't resist, just feel..." yunjin kisses across your face.

"cumming, cumming!" you announce with an incomplete cry, ur voice cracking as you yelp helplessly, legs and body shaking uncontrollably.

chaewon doesn't stop her eating, continuing to devour you between your legs. you scream in sobs at her mercilessness, unable to handle anymore, your sensitive cunt red and worn out.

"okay chaewonnie, that's enough," yunjin sighs, grabbing the short-haired girl by her bob and pulling her back, away from your pussy.

your silent sobs don't wipe the lust-filled stare chaewon has in her eyes. you feel small against yunjin's grasp and chaewon's warm hands on your inner thighs.

"we're not fucking done, not even close..." chaewon heaves.

yunjin chuckles sinisterly in your ear, "mm-mm, no we're not."

you tremble and stiffen, the taller girl behind you swiping her long digits across your sloppy slit, gathering slick and dragging her tongue along it.

"y/n's way too fucking sweet and delicious to stop."

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monnn · 10 months ago

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When you know, you know.

staring: Idol! Mingyu x Non-idol!, GN! s/o

wc: 1.4k-ish

genre: slice of life(?), FLUFF. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LOVE MINGOO, comfort-ish(?)

warnings: mentions of food, reader being sick(in love), tooth-rotting fluff.

a/n: hi omg hello, i am alive and finally out of my writer's block(ig?). i'm terribly unwell atm and i've never craved the comfort of a person as much as i do with gyu, so here's a highly self-indulgent fic! i hope you are doing okay and i just wanna say, i'm so glad to be writing again. have a great day/night and hope this fic reaches the person in need of a cutie mingoo atm! ♡

the song rec for this fic would be Margaret by LDR ft. Bleachers!!!

Mingyu's on his way back, with your favourite meal and boba. Was there a reason to get take-out? Definitely not, he really just felt like it. If you had made food, Min could convince you to have it next day. That's how it usually went and he was mostly successful. With his manager dropping him off, he heads inside the elevator and straight to your floor. Since he already knew the code to your apartment, he quietly let himself in, eyes immediately searching for you.

What he doesn't expect to find, is you sitting in the dark on a chair, curled up in one of your fav blankets with a flask coddled in your arms. Your head's supported by a chair on the dining table, mouth slightly open as you doze further away. Min quietly trots through the living room to you, slowly putting the bags down, careful not to wake you up. He adores you for a good minute, slowly lifting you up to rest in your bed. Their neck must hurt, but they keep doing this >:( he wonders to himself while carrying you.

He lets you rest while he does all the chores that you weren't able to do cause of your sickness. A few hours pass by, you wake up with Mingyu sitting by your side, barely touching you in the process of waking you up. He knew how extra sensitive you were to touch when sick, hence he decided to call out for you than kissing you to consciousness. You wake up slowly while he adjusts pillows behind for you to sit straight, he really is a nagging Asian mum in disguise. Handing you warm water to hydrate, he looks at you with all the love in him to see if you need anything from him. You catch him looking and reach for his hand, realising the love you have for him is unbelievable.

"You know love, I can't ever thank you for being so kind to me. I feel like there isn't enough of me to be so damn grateful for you." you say, lovingly gazing at the love of your life. A faint pink's spread all over his face as he nuzzles his face to your hand.

"And I'm ever so happy to be the receiver of your gratefulness, regardless of the amount. It takes two to tango I guess." he says, ever so lightly pressing his lips to your hand. After basking in each other's presence for a while, he mentions about the food he's got, which gets you outta bed in no time.

You head to the kitchen to unpack the boba, while he joins you in heating the food up. It's then you think how freeing it is, to be doing the most mundane things with Mingyu. He just seems to make the littlest of things much more better and you love that about him. A bump against your shoulder gets you back, where the food to your side is all ready to be devoured. Quickly removing the covers around drinks, you move to place them on the dining table. One where you're sitting and the other next to you. That's the thing about you guys, Mingyu never likes it when he's not next to you. He hates how all the fancy restaurants have seats across and not next to each other. But now, he gets to have a meal with you next to him and he thinks about how this is his highlight of the day. Min loves being around you and having a meal, so it's like two of his favourite things put together. You spread out the mat for the hot pan to be put on while settling down in your seat, waiting for the food to arrive. Looking at this, Mingyu hurries to place the pan down while grabbing two spoons before sitting down. Both of you look at each other, nodding in agreement to start eating. It's absolute delight running through your body and eyes for Mingyu. He loves it when you enjoy things he does for you. Raising your boba drinks to cheer, both of you devour in silence, enjoying the food and each other's presence. By end of the meal, you're much more comfortable to let Min under your skin and he's never been so much happier to be as affectionate as his heart needs. Taking the last bite, you stand up to call dibs on cleaning up since he literally did all the leftover chores. And right when you're about to get the pan, Min's grabbing you by the hand, turning you to face him. You're glad to be seeing eye-to-eye since he's on his butt and you're standing.

"What's up?"

"Can you please let me do the dishes? You're literally sick, doing more work would just worsen it."

"But Min, you did all of the chores! It's really unfair if you don't let me, you know." you say as he scoffs.

"I don't care, I love you but please let me do the cleaning."

"I love you so so sooo much too my Min, but I cannot let you do the cleaning up."

"Okay, how about we rock-paper-scissors this?"

"Alright. On the count of three, two, one!"

And to his luck, you throw a rock while he throws a paper. The council has decided and you accept your fate, slowly moving away from the pan.

Right at the moment, Mingyu pulls you in a hug, nuzzling further to your middle while almost sounding like a puppy adjusting to fall asleep. You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to lay your head on his. But, you're suddenly pushed away just to be pulled back onto his lap, while he holds you dearly and continues to be adorable. Again, you have no choice but to stay limp for him to recharge himself. It's hard not to admit how secure and loved you feel in Mingyu's big beefy arms, you kiss him on the side of his head impulsively to convey the same. That loosens his hold on you, him whining on how you always catch him off-guard with your actions. Now, there's nothing but giggles filled in your living room, both of you so knee-deep in love and into each other cause when you know, you know.

-------------------------

a/n: comments and feedback are highly appreciated! hope you enjoyed reading this work of mine, thank you! x

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heartswithinreach · 4 months ago

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Hello! I wanted to say I love your writing and super eager for more! That said, I was recently diagnosed with cancer and was wondering how the lads would react to an MC who was diagnosed with it or something similar? If that's too dark, I'm sorry!

Thank you and I hope your day is great! :)

a/n: i am so sorry anon, i hope you're taking care of yourself and that this can bring you some comfort 💖💖🫂everyone wish anon well!!

LaDS when MC has a cancer diagnosis

Xavier

After a few moments of silence, he accepts the reality of your diagnosis and begins making plans on how to make your life easier. Whatever you need, he'll do it, no questions asked.

For your sake, Xavier is as calm and steadfast as ever. He wants you to continue living life as normally as possible. He'll do subtle, thoughtful things just to remind you how important you are to him and that he’ll always love you, no matter what comes.

With Jenna and your team's full support, you and Xavier both take a leave of absence from duty so Xavier can take care of you during your treatment.

Tara takes the lead in organizing visits and dividing chores they can do so you can rest with nothing to worry about. She spends almost as much time with you as Xavier does and he’s immensely grateful so many support you both.

Xavier listens to your worries and fears. Say what you feel, he's here to shoulder it with you without judgment.

Rafayel

His first reaction is anger — not at you, but at this horrible situation.

No one deserves this and he's so frustrated he can't just make this go away with the money or influence he has. What is it all for if he can't take care of you?

But this isn't about him. Rafayel might not be the most natural caretaker but your bond is forever. He won't just abandon you now.

He can't sleep that night after you tell him so he works till dawn converting a spare room into your home away from home. Being near the sea can help improve your health, right? Well, maybe you should stay with him for while, then!

Rafayel, despite what he may think, is actually a pretty good nurse, fussing over you and making you feel special while keeping your spirits high. He is so attuned to you and your needs, it’s as easy as breathing.

Zayne

As your physician, he saw the signs early on but quickly passed your case on to someone more qualified than him. He couldn't allow his feelings to get in the way of getting you the best possible care.

Zayne is there at every meeting, every check up, every treatment. He didn't expect it to be so difficult from getting too involved but he knows he would be nothing but a hinderance to the team treating you.

So he puts his faith in the capable staff of Akso Hospital while he dedicates himself to your emotional and mental health. He only goes into the hospital a few times a week for his more urgent patients, otherwise, he’s at home with you.

Zayne becomes so considerate and gentle, you'll wonder how you ever thought he was cold. Through it all, he will be your rock.

You need him, now more than ever, and Zayne takes that more seriously than ever oath he’s ever made.

Sylus

Mephisto is never far away so when you’re walking home after getting the news, you’re not very surprised to see Sylus waiting in a dark alley by your apartment. He will pull you into his embrace without a word and hold you together as you fall apart.

Sylus wants to know how you want to proceed and then he wants you to give him permission to make it a reality. He’s always silently hoping you’ll use his resources but now he’s almost pleading.

He keeps some sense of normalcy by continuing to tease and antagonize you, though now more gently than before and only if it’ll get you to smile.

Sylus wishes you could stay with him in the N109 Zone but he knows it’s impossible. You could never get the proper treatment there and he can’t leave his domain for too long. But the twins and Mephisto can do everything he cannot and that brings him some solace.

In time, you and Mephisto become closer until he has a nest in your room and you wake up every morning to something new and shiny on your windowsill to cheer you up. Having even just an extension of Sylus with you until the man himself comes to visit you at night is more comforting than you ever imagined.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace sylus #my writing

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mypoisonedvine · 11 months ago

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you could do a drabble about Jonathan Crane...a continuation about a drabble that he helps his patient with his sexual health problems, but now instead of observing he participates 👀 and Reader doesn't want to but does want to 🫠 I love your content, I'm so happy you're back.💜

seems like a perfect continuation to this c: HOW did it turn out so long lmaoooo 18+ ONLY OF COURSE

length: nearly 2k

warnings: noncon/heavy dubcon, abuse of power/manipulation, medical kink, praise kink, pain kink (at least on his part lol)

"How will I know when I'm ready?" you asked hesitantly. "For... sex?"

He smiled, very very slightly, and did that annoying therapist thing where he answered your question with a question. "What do you think are signs that you're ready for that step?"

You sighed, noticing how he'd flipped it back on you (he explained before why he did that-- because his job was to guide you to personal growth rather than just tell you what to do-- but you still wished sometimes it could be more simple) and tried to think about how to answer his question. "I guess... desire, would be a good sign."

"It would certainly help," he laughed lightly. "It's hard to feel much pleasure during something that feels like a chore. Have you?"

"Hm?"

"Have you experienced any desire for or interest in sex lately?" he asked.

Suddenly feeling a bit flushed, you looked away from him and rubbed the back of your neck. "O-oh, uh... I-- I guess that depends on what you consider--"

"So you have," he interrupted, smirking a bit, and you glanced at him before looking down at the floor with a nervous laugh. "I suspected as much."

"Because I brought it up today?" you assumed.

"No, for quite some time," he responded. "Weeks ago."

You blinked quickly, wondering how he could've noticed something like that. "Oh, did I... say something?"

"It's what you don't say," he explained, looking at you with a bit more darkness in his eyes. "It's what goes without saying."

You knew that he knew, but you weren't strong enough to admit it yet. "Wh-what do you mean, Dr. Crane?" you asked, playing dumb and hoping helplessly that it would work.

He sighed and shut his notebook, setting it aside and tilting his head a bit as he looked at you. "What do you think I'm referring to?" he asked.

You scoffed, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. "You know I can't stand it when you do that... you should just answer my questions," you decided.

"Yes, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he smirked. "Simply being told what to do."

You shuddered at the way his voice changed... and his stare, too, it seemed to rake over you. Even though you weren't sure if he was really asking, you found yourself nodding.

"Say it, out loud," he insisted.

"I want you to... to tell me what to do..." you mumbled nervously, "Dr. Crane..."

He smiled, wider than probably you'd ever seen on him and your gaze followed him as he stood up. "I'm glad you've finally admitted it," he said softly, stepping closer to you until his form towered over you as you sat on the couch-- your heart beat faster as you arched your neck to look up at him, swallowing thickly. "Dilated eyes, elevated heartrate, tightly crossed legs-- yes, I noticed all the signs of desire in you. You want me to help you with your aversion, yes?"

"Well, of course, but--"

He leaned down and held your chin softly in his hand, making your words fail into a whimper. "I think you'll experience much faster progress this way," he explained. "You'll do as you're told?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your ears, but you nodded slightly; you couldn't exactly say 'no' now, could you?

And he wasn't wrong-- you'd thought about this, with him. But not literally this. You just thought he was attractive, and though he was the one who told you to touch yourself daily at home to desensitize your mind and increase your libido, you never admitted in your self-reports that you were usually thinking about him.

But you weren't thinking about him as your doctor. You were thinking about him as some other person, who just happened to look like that. And though, in your mind, he always took charge... this felt strange in all the wrong ways.

He didn't quite force you down, he just guided you-- but it wasn't gentle, either. It ended up with you laying back on his couch, the decorative throw pillows supporting your back and keeping you half-upright as Dr. Crane slotted himself between your legs, running his hands over your body through your clothes.

He hummed a little, staring down at you in this greedy, voracious way that was totally unfamiliar. You whimpered a little when his hands groped your breasts through your shirt. "Don't worry," he offered, as if it were that simple. "I told you to stimulate yourself like this each night... did you?"

"Yes," you breathed, "but, um... not so... not exactly like that."

"Show me, then."

Your hands were shaking as they took the place of his, and you thoughtlessly bit your lip as you squeezed yourself a little slower, a little gentler-- you both sighed when your fingers pinched your nipples slightly through your clothes.

He reached down to your waist, sliding his hands up under your shirt. His touch on your bare skin was... unexpected, to say the least. His hands were warm, which was a relief, but you still felt shivers run all over you as his fingers delicately moved up your sides. Under your shirt and bra, he cupped your breasts as your own hands fell away. "Like this?" he mimicked your touches, only without the barriers; and even though it made your stomach flip, you couldn't deny that what he was doing felt better than it ever had when you did it to yourself.

Not wanting to admit that to him, though, you just bit your lip harder and nodded.

Just when you started to get somewhat comfortable with-- or at least used to-- what he was doing, he pushed up your clothes to your collarbones, exposing your chest to his lascivious gaze.

"O-oh," you blurted out at the rush of cool air, at the way he stared down at you with an open, hungry mouth-- which he then suddenly latched onto one of your hardened nipples. "Oh!" you whimpered, hips rocking up against him unintentionally when he suckled hard at the sensitive bud.

He wasn't subtle about it, or all that gentle, but it wasn't too much. Thought it was certainly much more intense than you expected.

He hummed against your skin, and you continued to shake uncontrollably beneath him; it was a raw and aggressive sort of pleasure, his tongue and teeth constantly stimulating you, each movement making your pussy clench inside. He'd always told you to be slow and careful with yourself, to even tease and edge yourself if you could... apparently he didn't practice what he preached.

Apparently he didn't need to. You could tell that you were soaking your panties already. Your head was spinning; how the fuck was this actually happening?!

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his fingers tweaking the one still slick from his thorough treatment. He tilted his head, and you regretted glancing down to look at him latched into you like that. This was your doctor, your psychiatrist... you knew it was wrong, you weren't that naive. But you were apparently too stupid to figure out how to stop this.

When he broke away, he grinned up at you. "You're so sensitive here," he purred, "what other places have you found, hm? Those little spots that make your toes curl?"

It must have been a rhetorical question, because he was already pushing your skirt up to your waist. You shivered, feeling that familiar anxiety swell in your chest, but you tried to keep it down. Even if this wasn't at all how you imagined it, you did want to be done with this, to finally say you were able to move past your fear. Maybe this was just as good as any other way-- to just get it over with.

But you had to take a deep, shaky breath when his fingers hooked into your panties... gently pulling them down your thighs-- or in this case, up your thighs, since your legs were forced up and apart by his body between them.

He purred at the sight of you-- or maybe just when he saw how wet you were, but he got the feeling he already knew.

"Very good," he praised, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "You look ready."

Your eyes went wide as he sat himself back a bit, his hands hastily working on his belt and fly; you didn't want to watch him do this, but you couldn't seem to look away.

If your eyes were already wide, then they must have nearly popped out when he opened his trousers and pulled his cock out.

"I-it's too--" you blurted out instantly, scooting back on the couch a bit, recoiling away. "Dr. Crane, you're too--"

"What?" he asked innocently, though it was terribly unconvincing.

"It's too big," you whispered, and he laughed lowly.

"Don't worry about that," he sighed as he leaned down over you again, sliding himself between your slick lips with a groan. "You-- fuck-- you won't have any trouble. My god, you're soaking me already..."

He seemed pretty distracted, and wholly unbothered with your hesitance. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn't seem to soothe-- especially not when he guided his head right up to your entrance. "W-wait," you stammered suddenly, moving your hips back, "I'm not-- I'm not ready."

"I think it's time for me to make that decision for you," he said firmly. "If you never challenge yourself, you'll never overcome this."

"But I'm not--!" you began, cut off by his hand covering your mouth. There was a ferocity in his glare as he watched your face, studying the changes in your expression carefully as he penetrated you.

As you had feared, his size was an issue. Even dripping wet, you had to stretch to accommodate him... it had been years since you took anything bigger than your own two fingers. He'd had you buy a relatively thin, 'ergonomic' (as the packaging stated) vibrator to insert in yourself at home, but you'd gotten too nervous and couldn't get it in past the first inch. He told you it was all in the mind, and you thought he was right at the time, but this felt physically impossible. And it just kept going.

You whined, nearly screamed, behind his hand, and he groaned in your ear with hot and heavy breaths.

"You can take it," he assured, sliding in deeper, "you can take my cock. It's going to fit... one way or another."

You sighed with relief when his hips were flush with yours; you were shaking, a thin layer of cold sweat all over you like you'd gone through some awful thing. But it wasn't over-- it had only just begun.

"Fuck," he grunted, starting to pull back and push into you all over again. "I know it hurts now... but you'll get used to it."

At first, you thought he meant just now-- that your body would relax and adjust, which it did eventually. But that wasn't what he meant, exactly. He meant something much more long-term, if not permanent; he meant that soon enough, you would be all too comfortable being his to use.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut

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peppermintquartz · 3 months ago

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Prompt: laundry day

Tommy does not want to wake up. It's the day he has to do Most Dreaded Chore: Laundry.

He's certain that if he does go to hell because of the whole gay thing, his punishment will be to do laundry for eternity. Sorting. Washing. Drying. Ironing. Folding. Hunting down stray socks.

Before he even runs the dryer, he will need to clean out the lint trap and then check the vent. The past week the 217 ground crew had to help with not one, not two, but three houses that caught fire because of vents clogged up with lint. Tommy is feeling a little paranoid.

Grumbling, he rolls out of bed and pulls on the very last shirt and pants combo he has left: a faded green tee with holes in the side and a pair of purple shorts from his, let's say more... exhibitionist, days.

He's trying to work out whether Evan's teal sweater should be parked under delicates or darks when the owner of the sweater enters the bedroom, armed with a tray of breakfast. It smells so good that Tommy's stomach rumbles loudly in complaint, but Tommy doesn't move. No eating until the first load is in the machine.

"Hey, you're up," Evan says brightly. He sets the tray of food on the nightstand and joins Tommy on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how to wash this sweater," Tommy says.

Evan takes it, looks at the label, and glances around. "Honey, what is your system?"

"Darks here, lights here. Then tops, bottoms, socks and underwear." Tommy points to each pile. Then he holds up the knit sweater. "I don't know if this will shrink in the wash or not."

Evan stares at him. Then he heaves a sigh. "Okay. How have you mastered flying a chopper but don't know how to sort dirty laundry? Go. Have breakfast. I'll do this round and then I'll teach you."

"What? No, there's no need-"

"Thomas Kinard. Go eat the breakfast I cooked for you. Drink your coffee made the way you like it." Evan hauls Tommy to his feet and pushes him in the direction of the bed, smacking his ass in his tiny purple shorts for good measure. "Don't even come near this part of the room until you've finished breakfast."

Bossy Evan is very sexy in Tommy's eyes, but his hunger for actual food outvotes his libido. As he scarfs down scrambled eggs and pancakes, Evan is re-sorting the pile, muttering under his breath that he should put up a chart of care tags here and at Eddie's, this is why home economics should be mandatory for grown adults living alone, etc.

Tommy is about halfway through when Evan carts the first load off to the laundry room. Eyeing the piles left behind warily, Tommy wonders what complicated system he's going to learn.

Evan comes back. "Finish your food," he orders. But he's smiling as he says it, so clearly Tommy's lack of competence in washing his dirty clothes has not turned him off yet.

"Thank you," Tommy says, "for the food and for that." He gestures to the piles on the floor.

Evan joins him on the bed, accepting a slice of tomato from the end of Tommy's fork. "A third of those clothes are mine anyway." He chews and swallows. "Anyway, you had some concept, so it's not like I had to do it from scratch." Then, as Tommy eats the rest of his breakfast, Evan talks about reading care labels, sorting by color and fabric, and how he learned to hand wash delicates after ruining some very expensive lingerie belonging to an ex-girlfriend.

Tommy can't look away from Evan's animated face and the way he can't keep his hands still as he speaks, and he thinks, I want to keep him forever.

"Move in with me," Tommy says.

Evan stops mid-spiel. "What?"

"Move in with me," Tommy repeats. "Not... Not because you can cook or do the laundry, that's not the reason why I'm saying it. It's just. I like this. I love this. The whole bit where I wake up and I don't have to remember if you're here or at the loft, and we can steal bites from each other's meals, and I can look after you the way you look after me. And you already have my key. We can meal prep together, and I can do the dirtier chores, I can scrub the toilets and unclog the vents - don't run the dryer until I do - and maintain your Jeep, and we can fall asleep together whenever we don't have overnights."

It's a lot of words for him to say at one go, and Tommy feels himself faltering near the end. Licking his lips, Tommy swallows dryly. He reaches for Evan's slack hand.

"I love you and I want to be with you as often as possible. If you prefer to keep the loft, then it's also okay, I'm not pressuring you to-"

Evan shuts him up with a firm kiss. Then he smiles into the kiss. "Yes. I'll move in with you. My lease is almost up anyway."

Tommy exhales. Then he nudges Evan's nose with his own. "Alright. Let me drink my coffee, and I'll go check on the vent, and then you can teach me how to sort our dirty clothes."

"Okay. I'm gonna go find out what you have in your kitchen so I won't bring duplicates."

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #prompt: laundry day #i actually like doing laundry though i just do darks and lights and delicates

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

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Hello love your writing btw. I was wondering if you could write a one shot or blurb about the reader and Daniel Ricciardo (maybe if you're willing Carlos Sainz) just relaxing swaying in the kitchen while they cook dancing and laughing to Sway by Michael Buble while it's dark cold and rainy outside.

Dancing In The Dark - DR3

Have you ever been so in love that your entire lives are intertwined? Like, shared house, shared cooking, shared cleaning, shared playlists?

That's how in love Y/N L/N was with Daniel Ricciardo.

When he wasn't travelling the world, they did everything together.

They cooked together most every night, Y/N preparing vegetables or the meat or whatever went in the dinner while Danny took care of the rice or spaghetti or whatever they might have had in the oven.

They had their music playing as they cooked, their playlist coming out of the speaker system. Danny danced as he waited by the stove or the oven and Y/N shook her body gently as she chopped and prepared.

Taylor Swift was playing, a song that Danny had added to their playlist. Danny stepped away from the oven and walked over to the girlfriend. He took her hand, putting down her knife, and turned her around. Placing her arms around his neck, Daniel swayed from side to side.

With her head on his shoulder, Y/N looked up at him as he moved them. "Danny, I need to keep on with dinner," she said and pulled away from him.

But Danny didn't let her go. He pulled her back in, spun her around and let her go again.

This was a normal occurrence, especially when they were doing any kind of chores. Danny could afford for them to have a maid or a cleaner, but Y/N wouldn't let him. She loved doing chores, music on in the background as Danny cleaned at her side.

Careless Whisper came on the speaker. Danny dropped the feather duster and turned to his girlfriend. "Something in your eyes," he sang, shaking his hips. "Calls to mind a silver screen."

"And its all sad good-byes," Y/N replied. It was pointless trying to resist him. She wasn't dancing though, she was still cleaning the surfaces in the living room.

Danny walked over and put down the surface cleaner and cloth. "I'm never gonna dance again."

"Guilty feet have got no rhythm!" They shouted together.

Careless Whisper wasn't their song, not by any means. But they loved it, it was the perfect song to scream in the middle of their living room in the late evening when they were still cleaning (because Danny had made them stop so many times to dance).

Danny span her. He sent her around once, twice.

At the saxophone, Danny let go of her and shook his hips in time with it.

Date night.

Y/N loved date night. They'd go out to a restaurant or to see a movie or to an arcade or something. Date night always ended with them in the living room, a glass of wine in hand, candles lit and music playing as they sat on the couch.

Sway, the Michael Bublé version, came on over the speakers. As soon as Danny heard it he was up and pulling Y/N up with him. She went willingly, one hand in his and the other on her on his shoulder.

Daniel took the lead, moving them around the living room. He spun her around and pulled her back in. Danny's steps were quick, messy, almost impossible to keep up with. But Y/N managed it, she had done ever since the day they met.

At the chorus, Danny blindly stepped back, pulling Y/N with him. They went stumbling, over the back of the couch. They fell down in a fit of giggles, knocking their red wine over in the process. "Shit, Danny," she said through her giggle. "The rug!"

Their once cream rug was now ruined, a huge whine stain spread across the middle. "That's never coming out."

Daniel let out a laugh and kissed the top of her head. "We'll get a new one tomorrow," Daniel answered, wrapping his arms around her.

Daniel and Y/N loved dancing together. They did it throughout their relationship, right up until they got married. At their wedding, their first dance was to Careless Whisper. They knew their family and friends were judging them, but they didn't much care.

When sway came on, Y/N's friend gave them a knowing look.

They danced through the night, until the early hours of the morning. By the time they were off to their honeymoon, their feet were hurting and they were exhausted. But they were so, so happy.

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python333 · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

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pokemonvillainadventures · 6 months ago

Text

🖤🪲🎧☠️🖤🪲🎧☠️🖤🪲🎧☠️🖤🪲🎧☠️

✿ ⁺ 🎀‧₊˚🩹⋆ ✩ ✿ ⁺ 🎀‧₊˚🩹⋆ ✩✿ ⁺ 🎀‧₊˚🩹⋆

Current Pokemon team:

Sylveon, Gothitelle, Ribombee.

Female pronouns.

Guzma:

•Okay listen. . . When he first met you he really didn't know what to think, let alone say anything about you.

•That is not to say he wasn't curious about you.

•He's never met someone like you before, that's for sure, but for some reason he couldn't help but convince himself that you and him were complete opposites.

•He was also more concerned with beating you down then about what clothes you wore but thats besides the point.

•You and your poofy dress, with enough ribbons on it that you could probably tie a bow around the world and still have enough to complete your outfit. You didn't exactly look like a local.

•He had to laugh at the idea of you doing all these trials in this atire and here he thought he was bad for wearing a jacket in the Alolan heat.

•Well he shut up pretty fast when you almost destroyed his team with only three Pokemon to your belt.

•Emphasis on the almost.

•Yeah not the most well rounded team you still put up a decent fight with just your Sylveon, Gothitelle, and Ribombee.

•And here the "big bad boss of destruction" thought he was going to sweep the floor with you, but your ability to take him on and stand your ground brought something out in him.

•Guzma: *Tsk* I'll admit it you had me worried there for a bit. Your teams strong for being a bunch of "princess types", but not strong enough. If I see you around I might humor you for another battle kid.

•(Y/N): and what makes you so sure that I'm just a kid?

•Guzma: *Turning back around to face you*: Is that a serious question?! Have looked in the mirror today? Your doll costume isn't helping your case here dollface.

•As the grunts around him start snickering you couldn't help but bite back. You might dress in lolita fashion but mark your words you were not a doormat.

•(Y/N): . . . Oh . .oh I'm sorry. *you playful pull your hair back to hold your hand against your ear* Do I hear circus music?! Whats with the clown trying to lecture me on fashion or do I need to remind you that if it weren't for your MASSIVE ARMORED THING my beautiful Pokemon would have kicked your ass into next week!

•Guzma: Oh Ho HO! So the gal has some spunk in her? Listen princess your Pokemon would have never stood a chance no matter how much glitter you would have thrown at us. . *He leans in almost inches fron your face* so unless you're capable of showing what you bark out I suggest you's keep that pretty mouth shut. . . Although *he begins to walk past you* I will admit that it was an interesting fight for someone who dresses like a doll.

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•Over the following weeks you had gone back to Ula' Ula' Meadows to try and fight Guzma.

•Some days you were able to run into him but most of the time you resorted to fighting the grunts.

•They were no trouble considering a decent amount used dark types and sometimes their defeats would cause them to run back to their boss. If you waited and hour or two the boss man himself would appear to challenge you once again.

•Though the outcome was always the same given that a three on five Pokemon battle was hardly a fair fight.

•Guzma: Whats the deal huh? *Teasing* You got a crush on me or something?

•(Y/N): *Stern* Can it! You know why I'm here.

•Guzma: *Flustered* Well. . Shit Ha! I didn't except you to be the sensitive type.

•(Y/N): *Gritting teeth* I'm not sensitive. *sigh* I'm just trying to show you I'm not a doormat.

•Guzma: Never said you were.

•(Y/N): Well. .uh . hmmm. Do you want to keep fighting me or not? I mean if this is such a chore for you why do you bother humoring me? Don't you have a gang to run?

•Guzma: Woah woah woah! Easy this ain't an interview! Yeah I got my gang to run but getting the chance to beat you down does wonders on my image. Besides don't you have a trial to finish? Not that I'm encouraging that bullshit or anything.

•(Y/N): Whats it to you?

•Guzma: Tck. Fine don't answer.

•(Y/N): *dusting off some particles on your dress you tell him in a whisper* I quit alright.

•Guzma: *Whipping his head back to face you: Wait seriously?

•(Y/N): Whats the big deal? Isn't your crew of misfits made of nothing but quitters?

•Guzma: *playfully he holds a hand to his heart* Ouch! Thats low! And No! We ain't just quitters. . well. Ehh. Just whateve! We're quitters with a goal! A goal to take down that stupid Alola League and show everyone that these pansy traditions are nothing compared to pure strength. Whats your excuse?

•That wasn't easy to talk about. You barley knew the guy beyond battling and taunting. You weren't about to spill the beans on exactly why you quit.

•Guzma: Well?

•(Y/N): I . uh. Well. . shit. Um. Look just not enough hard trainers is all.

•Not a complete lie. Most of the trainers were a cake walk especially that Kahunas kid and any of his friends he brought along the way.

•Guzma could tell you were holding something back but decided not to push his luck.

•Guzma: Mkay well *He nods his head as he walks closer to you*. I'm flattered that you felt the need to quit for me seeing as you must think I'm pretty tough to keep running back to.

•(Y/N): Ack!? *blushing as you punch his arm* don't phrase it like that!

•Guzma: Hahaha . . sure doll. Still Don't you have any friends? Like a group or a gal or someone to chat with besides whatever we have going on.

•The area got quiet as you took longer than usual to respond. Guzma sensed he struck an insecurity of yours.

•Guzma: . . Shit really. . . Shit REALLY?!?!

•You look up to glare at him while Guzma fumbles on his words.

•Guzma: No kidding? I mean why? It's not like your ugly or anything?

•(Y/N): *shocked you glare at him one last time as you try to walk away* Wow! WOW! Unreal. . *you shake your head*

•Guzma: Ahgh! Fuck wait shit. No I. . I didn't mean it like that!!

•(Y/N): Listen sorry for wasting your time. I won't be bothering you anymore.

•Guzma: No waitwaitwait! You listen. . you uh. Look! I didn't mean to hurt you like that let me make it up to you! Uh. Tapu Cocoa! Can't say no to that!

•(Y/N): Tapu Cocoa?

•Guzma: Yeah!

•(Y/N): Tapu Cocoa?!

•Guzma: ye yeah got a problem with it? Look you can get something else, but I ain't paying for it! I only offered the Tapu Cocoa!

•(Y/N): *whisper* Arceus. . . ughh you either have the worst pickup game or I am easy to please.

Guzma: Hmm, soooo is that a yes?

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•What are you doing here? I mean it's not like people staring at you was a new phenomenon but this. . yeah this was a new level of peeping.

•Guzma: Whats the matter sweetcheecks? Afraid to be seen with me?

•Oh great! Sweetcheecks! Add that to the list of colorful nicknames.

•(Y/N): I have a name! It doesn't hurt to ask for it.

•You sink in your booth trying to avoid the onlookers as you silently sip on your Tapu Cocoa.

•Guzma: Alright! Alright! Whats your name princess.

•(Y/N): (Y/N). It's (Y/N).

•Guzma: Cool cool cool. (Y/N). . Yeah. I like it!

•(Y/N): Hm yeah cool. Anyways you mind telling me why I'm here?

•Guzma: *exacerbated gasp* Oh well excuse me princess!

•(Y/N): *you glare at him*

•Guzma: Right! My bad! Anyways. Yeah! Weren't you the one in desperate need for some friends?

•(Y/N): Oh I see what this is. *sarcastically* Thank you my savior! I'm so glad you came down to offer support. Look I appreciate the gesture but I'm better off alone.

•Guzma: You sure? You seem to come to me too often for that to be true.

•Well there was no denying that. Even if you wanted to battle him for the challenge you did grow fond of his eccentric personality. Still though, you wouldn't put it past him to forget you in due time if you had stopped showing up. Though what were you supposed to do then? Go home? No. Not again. That's the last thing you felt like doing, unless you wanted to prove the family right. You just couldn't. It's already bad enough you bailed on this whole trial thing. Oh Arceus word probably got back to thrm right? Right?!! You weren't sure but the thought was making your stomach turn and their stupid smirks were forming in your mind. It was making you sick! Food. You needed food. The lone drink wasn't filling you up so you decide to get up and order something.

•Standing up you weren't expecting a tug on your arm as a worried look formed on Guzmas face.

•You didn't think he was expecting it either as he quickly let go while he tried to covering the blush forming on his face.

•(Y/N): . . . damn . and here I thought I was insecure.

•Your comment was enough to shake of his embarrassment as he started yelling from the booth.

•Guzma: Shut. sSHUT UP! . . I . ack. . man. .

•(Y/N): *you giggled lightly* Calm down. I ain't leaving you. If that was what you were thinking.

•Guzma turned away to face the wall as he messed with his hair.

•(Y/N): *You playfully pat his side* I'm just getting something to eat. . figured you want something too.

•Guzma started tapping on the table as he stared off into the distance, grumbling under his breath about how the food here was never good.

•(Y/N): Alright! Don't eat then. Just wanted to treat you since you treated me.

•Before you walked off you heard him ask you to get him a sandwich. . . with no mayo though, and that you better make sure there was no mayo because they always "fuck it up" when he asks.

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•Cashier: Alright! Your total today is ₽780.

•(Y/N): Uh yeah sure. Thanks! Oh! And you're sure there's no mayo on this sandwich right?

•Cashier: *she looked a bit flustered* There shouldn't be?

•You take the time to double check just in case. The lady looking a bit confused. You had to wonder if any of the other "normal" customers had any trouble with their food or if it only applied to gang leaders and their members.

•Feeling as if you checked every nook and cranny of this sandwich, even between the pickles you closed the bag and headed back to your seat, that was until you ran into a past problem and his annoying girlfriend.

•A males voice rang throughout the cafe: Well well well. If it isn't the princess of the Alola trials! We haven't seen your mug around in a while. *He steps closer to you as he starts to mockingly wave his hands at you with his girlfriend following suit* Oh I'm sorrrryy did I forget! We weren't supposed to stare! Gives you issues or whatever!

•You grip onto the bag of food like your life depended on it as your words come out harsh through gritted teeth.

•(Y/N): Its NOT the staring thats the issue. It's when I find out photos have been posted online without my permission is when I have ISSUES.

•The male trainer and his girlfriend were just one of many trainers that would stare, gossip, or overall judge while on your trial and was one of the many reasons why you felt the need to quit. This mans issue was when his girlfriend clearly took a photo of you and decided to post it to her socials that you felt the need to confront them and politely ask to delete which they gave you shit for.

•Male trainer: Holy ARCEUS! You're still bothered by that crap? Didn't your parents teach you that if you don't want attention then don't dress to attract it? My baby girl didn't do anything wrong so stop acting like a bitch already!

•Oh you really wanted to kick his ass again. You don't even know why he bothered picking a fight considering he lost horribly last time! Though the tense air and stares from onlookers were enough to keep your cool. The last thing you wanted was to start a fight within the cafe.

•(Y/N): Look I really have no interest fighting you at the moment. I'm just trying to enjoy my meal so leave me alone.

•Trying to walk past him he blocked your way.

•Male trainer: Yeah right, not until you apologize for making my girl feel bad for doing nothing.

•The nerve of this guy! Feeling backed into a corner your pokeball started shaking.

•No! No. No. No.

•You try settling down sylveon. She was always the feistiest of the bunch, but your efforts were in vain when she popped out ready to claw at this guy.

•Male trainer: Oh ho ho! Is soneone trying to pick a fight in public like this? Really? Where did your manners go?

•His smug mug started to crack when your sylveon started to lunge at him. Guess he was still frightened from the last beat down you gave him. All talk and no game! Of course this asshole would try to rial you up in public. The lady at the counter started to freak out as she threatened to kick you out had you not settled your sylveon.

•Trying, and failing, the guy and his girlfriend only watched with amusement as your embarrassing display was worrying the other patrons.

•Male trainer: Hahah oh man! What a performance! Arceus I wish I had a camera. Oh wait I do!

•Just as he began recording, the rest of the patrons around him go dead silent as his phone is promptly snatched from his hands. His girl lets out a yelp as she latches onto him causing the trainer to stumble.

•Male trainer: Aye yo what the fuck!? *turns to his girlfriend* get the hell off me! *he looks back as his face goes pale*

•Guzma: Sup? I think. . *he snaps the phone in half* someone's askin for a beat down wouldn't you agree (Y/N)?

•Guzma shoves the guy aside as he makes his way to help you back off the floor.

•Before he could say anything else the cashier yells at you both to get out. Apparently Guzmas presence was enough of a sign for this women to get the impression that a fight was going to break out.

•(Y/N): But we haven't done anything? He's just trying to help me!

•Cashier: I . I don't want to hear anymore! Leave!

•(Y/N): But.

•Chasier: GO!

•Guzma: Tsk. . always the same with you people. *He grabs your shoulders and guides you out the door, half yelling out to the staff* Your lucky the place serves the least shitiest tapu Cocoa! I'll be back next week. He said that last part a bit quieter not really giving a shit anymore about making a statement. He was more concerned about you, who seemed to be a mix of rage and sadness at the moment.

•Guzma: *sighing* alright. Walk with me.

•(Y/N): To where?

•Guzma: . . the beach.

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•Stumbling onto the beach you had ditched your frilly heels as your pink sparkly tights became dirtied by sand. You were unsure how to approach your feelings at the moment. Normally you'd huff off and scream out to the world but being accompanied by Guzma you didn't want him to be subjected to that. Instead you found some comfort in kicking up the sand while crumpling up different parts of your skirt and blouse. Occasionally fidgeting with your hair the more you thought about what happened at the cafe the harder you began to grip onto various parts of your outfit.

•Guzma had been observing you the whole time and having one too many outbursts himself he could tell you were on the verge of exploding. Walking towards you he tried to think back to what Plumeria would do for him when he got upset.

•Guzma: He.. Hey don't be doing none of that now. . Uh your gonna mess yyour dress If.f.f you keep that up.

•Fuck he was so shit at comforting others. How Plumeria was able to talk sense into him and calm him down was beyond him. Still, he did actually care about your feelings. He was probably the only person who was able to understand exactly what you were going through.

•Looking up at him, although terrible Guzma may be at encouraging people, you found it sweet that he was willing to try for you.

•Feeling a bit more relaxed you started to think about the right words to say to him. Luckily you didn't have to think long as you began to absentmindedly speak about your experiences with dressing alternatively.

•(Y/N): *sigh* shit. . it's like. . i don't know. . look. .uh okay so . uh. mmm this is gonna sound whiny . or okay so maybe not whiny but more just dumb if you don't get into this whole fashion thing. . like so. *sigh*

•Guzma: . its cool . . take your time

•(Y/N): *you smile lightly* thanks. . anyways back to what I was trying to say. . When I was younger, and I had discovered the Internet for the first time, I managed to stumble upon a world full of pastel pinks and blues. Frilly skirts and bloomers. Goth styled dolls. Dresses and cute school girl type outfits. Not only that, I had found a community of beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes that I so desperately wanted to be a part of. For hours on end I would spend my free time just scrolling through forums and posts all about this style of fashion. All without my parents really knowing... not that I was trying to hide it or anything! I just wasn't sure if they would even like that sort of stuff.

•Guzma was listening to every word you were saying as if it was the most important conversation in his life.

•(Y/N): Well when I had gotten older, and could make my own money, I began buying and creating outfits of my own and man I had never been happier! Even still it wasn't enough, especially when my parents got involved. Well, I was right about them not being happy about the fashion. My mom kept calling me childish for wearing "girl doll clothes". She began freaking out about me "finding a real job and partner" some day. As if me wearing fashion in my free time effects my work performance or ability to find love! My dad took it the worst. . Arceus, it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about his opinion. . . for some fucked up reason, and I don't know how he got it in his head, but for some reason he was adamant on believing that this was all . .some sort of . . kink thing.

•Guzmas eyes grew a wide at the thought of your father speaking to you like that. Damn, guess this worlds full of shitty dads after all.

•(Y/N): *Looking at Guzma you took his expression as a response* I know right! It's fucking gross that he'd assume that frilly girly clothes on a woman means fetish! I tried explaining over and over again that this is nothing more than Kantonian street fashion but he kept brushing it off. At that point there was no convincing them . . or so I had thought. *sighing* I don't know what compelled me to do this but I had convinced myself in my own right too, thinking that if I joined the trials while wearing this stuff and I became someone special. . someone important, than I could prove my parents wrong.

•Standing in silence for what felt like forever you began to speak again. Only this time you couldn't stop the tears from forming.

•Guzma was now completely by your side, hushed and focused on your every expression and word, not wanting to butt in and fuck up the moment. Though, he couldn't help but silently hold your hand and stroke your fingers hoping it would stop you from crying.

•(Y/N): *sniffing* welp as you can fucking see it didn't turn out so well. . *hick* fucking stupid. . so fucking stupid. *sniff* it's like .. why the fuck did I even bother. .. heh guess they were right. . yeah?. *hick* guess they were right. . because here I am crying on the beach currently not participating in the stupid challenges because I couldn't actually handle people looking at me weird. . so yeah. . how stupid of me to believe I could change their opinion . . they probably already know. .wouldn't put it past them to find out. . fuckers always find out. . I can see their dumb smug faces laughing already. . should have never been so invested in this stupid style. .

•Guzma: Its not STUPID!

•Looking up at him you weren't expecting him to shout.

•Guzma: It's not stupid okay!? And you shouldn't have to change for no one.

•Feeling his hand on yours he pulled you into a gentle embrace. Your face smushed up against his chest as he began softly and slowly petting your back.

•Guzma: Look or . .okay listen.. Yeah listen. . I don't exactly get this whole "style thing" either. Trust me you wouldn't even begin to understand how long it took for me to process what I was starting at when I first saw you . . but it for sure wasn't me thinking about it as some . . fucking kink thing?

•He said that last part with such disgust you could almost taste the bitterness of his words.

•Guzma: Alright . . I admit. . this thing may not be my thing but I for sure ain't gonna make you change for me okay! And no one should make you feel as if you should. . fuck your parents, and fuck that asshole and his side chick for making you feel like shit for the some clothes. . because your right 'bout that (Y/N). . dollface. . *he lifts your face up so that your gazing into his eyes* . . all it is is clothes.. and they don't look bad on you at all.

•You could tell he wasn't expecting to say that last part as he quickly tried to push your face back into his chest, trying to stop you from seeing his beat red face.

•Pulling yourself off of him, Guzma was still trying to look into the opposite direction, but he still hadn't let go of you entirely. His arm was still wrapped around your side as his hand snaked its way to the top of your head to ruffle with your hair for a bit.

•Guzma: *fake coughing* So . . tsk. Uh. I'm still hungry . . and uh if you want .

•He got cut off by the sound of you rummaging through the crumbled bag of cafe food. The sandwich you had ordered for him was beyond smushed and your mini sliders had fallen apart.

•Guzma huffed as he snatched the bag out from your grasp and threw the damn thing into the ocean.

•(Y/N): AUcK! GUZMA! *hmph*

•Guzma: What? Told you that cafe only serves shit food.

•(Y/N): Well it WAS better looking when it was fresh and that's besides the point! You . . you . ugghhh!!

•Guzma began to laugh at your little outburst.

•*You playfully punch his side* He could have at least taken the contents out of the bag before littering all over the beach! Now you had to get the paper bag back to make sure those poor slowpokes don't mistake it for food.

•Stomping off to get the bag, mad at the idea that your socks were going to get soaked too, Guzma was watching you the whole time.

•Guzma: Hehe . . cute. . . wait.

•Shaking any thoughts from his head the sound of his stomach growling grew louder as called you over.

•Guzma: Look I know your hungry too and if you want. . uh.. you can come over to my place. . I'm not gonna lie I make a mean grilled cheese!

•(Y/N): You mean the old dilapidated mansion?

•Guzma: *monotone* yes that one. . and man screw you *he said so playfully* that "old mansion* keeps us dry and has a lot of charm to it.

•Walking up to him, Guzma was the one to playfully punch your arm this time.

•(Y/N): *Blushing* Hahaha alright. . alright! You care about the shack. I get it. . and about that grilled cheese.

•Guzma: tsk . you gonna make fun of that too girly?

•(Y/N): No no. It actually sounds nice. . I'd love it actually.

•And so the two of you walk in tandem back to Po Town talking about new things and interests, knowing that you had found the one individual that made you feel like a person for once made your heart beat ever so harder. Little did you know that the bug boss himself had been feeling the same way. Eating that grilled cheese with him on his worn bed in that old spray painted house was one of the best moments in your life. A moment you'd remember forever.

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END OF PART ONE.

BONUS:

The two of you laying on his bed

•(Y/N): Wow. This is actually really good grilled cheese.

•Guzma: Oh! Uh thanks? . yeah I think if I had to choose one food to eat it would be grilled cheese. I could eat it for every meal. Or just constantly without stopping.

•(Y/N): *giggling* but then you'd get fat.

•Guzma: No, why would I get fat?

•(Y/N): because bread makes you fat.

•Guzma: Bread makes you fat!?

sorry i had too. :3

🖤🪲🎧☠️🖤🪲🎧☠️🖤🪲🎧☠️🖤🪲🎧☠️

#team skull #guzma #guzma pokemon #pokemon #team skull pokemon #pokemon guzma #pokemon team skull #alola #i love him so freaking much #guzma x me #guzma x reader #guzma x y/n #guzma imagines #imagines #x reader #team skull x reader #pokemon x reader #pokemon x y/n #pokemon imagines

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14dyh · 10 months ago

Text

Forgotten | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x female reader Summary: Being the Commander's wife comes with a price. Word count: 1.4k A/N: i'm in the mood for angst. more angst to come in my future fics

It was a harsh morning, the sort of morning where the breeze nips at your skin and the air cools your flesh. Even the thickest blankets could not save Y/N from such torment but one thing warmed her heart as she woke up on this cruel day: it was their anniversary. It was seven years ago when her life changed. A time when waking up was not a chore or sleeping at night wondering if you would remain alive tomorrow. Y/N married the person she stayed alive for, who later became the Commander of the Survey Corps after the return to Shiganshina.

Their relationship managed to pull through during those years, the pain the war left behind was not healed by the passing of time, but their love remained stronger each time.

Y/N reminisced the past when she would wake up in Hange's arms, the days when she would see her lover's smiling face upon the sight of a burgeoning Paradis, and the time when their hearts were not far from each other's reach. Things began to change when the Rumbling came to discussion. Every day in the meeting room, her mind would wander if this was truly the life they dedicated their hearts to--a life full of unfavorable choices. Y/N knew that this rising conflict weighed down on her lover's heart as each day passed. Y/N wanted to cry and protest to a god that does not exist, to tell this entity that Hange's heart wasn't made to be burdened by indescribable responsibility. Y/N felt powerless in such a situation. The person she swore to protect and love more than anything was slowly deteriorating right before her eyes and she could only watch.

Despite their dejected days, Y/N still yearned for something to change. Over time, her mind conjured up plans to escape being a part of this cycle, of the curse of Eldia but she found nothing Hange would approve of. They were too kind and selfless--a commander put into a tight responsibility and forced to forget that they are human.

Y/N began the day like any other. For half of the day, she did not expect to see Hange because they were too preoccupied with the duties and the plans they had to make. She walked outside, pacing around the garden and admiring the temporary beauty of the flowers. She picked one of them and placed it in the breast pocket close to her heart. It was the same kind of flower she held on their wedding day. In the same pocket, she kept the gift she would give Hange today. Y/N knew that she needed to be patient, to wait the way a devoted lover would do.

However, the bleak morning turned to a starless night and, Hange still wasn't by her side. That morning, she tried to distract herself with work, to get her mind off how their special day was beginning to pass by and they hadn't seen each other yet. But as Y/N crawled to bed and let the crisp coldness of night creep into their sheets, she could not help the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Y/N should have known. She should've accepted the way things are right now. But her heart urged her to wail, to cry until there was nothing left. The flower she picked that morning was growing frail on her bedside.

However, her thoughts were cut short as the door opend, and a sliver of bright light entered their dark bedroom. Hange's arrival was later than usual. They sensed that she would have been asleep by now, and began to move silently. Y/N listened in silence as Hange began to dress for bed, her head buried in the pillow as Hange inched closer to her in bed.

Y/N was determined to not let this day go by without having Hange in her arms. She shifted her body close to theirs and began to wrap her arms around their familiar figure which Hange chuckled softly in response before saying, "You're awake." Hange hugged her close in return.

Y/N nodded.

"Y/N, can I ask you something? It's quite important," Hange told her in a quiet voice. Her heart skipped a bit in anticipation. Maybe Hange remembered this special day after all.

"What is it?" Y/N said, watching Hange's face in silent anticipation.

Hange was quiet for a moment before saying, "You're a brilliant tactician so I would love to hear your insight on this. It's about the military plan discussed this morning."

Hange went on to explain what was discussed that morning and Y/N could only reply in a low voice, keeping their composure so she wouldn't break.

But her pain only intensified when she saw Hange listening with their eye focused on her. Their expression only showed that they were eager for her answers, an honest expression showing that they didn't remember the special occasion of that day.

Y/N began to speak more slowly as hot tears began to prick her eyes. But it was not long before she could not hold back any longer and bit back a sob. Hange noticed the break in their lover's voice, and turned to her in full concern, caressing her face.

"My darling, what is it?" Hange asked in sincerity as her tears slid down their fingers. Y/N wanted to say that it was nothing, but she could not find a voice within her that would not break. Y/N began to turn their head away, but Hange would not let her and asked again what was wrong.

"Our anniversary…" Y/N muttered in a trembling voice, hesitating to continue. "You didn't remember it was today, didn't you?"

Y/N watched the sorrow passed over Hange's voice. Y/N could not watch their pain expression any longer. She turned her back on them as their hands slid away from them.

Hange was silent for a moment, and Y/N sensed how apologetic they were when they began to hug her from the back, muttering apologies on her shoulder. Y/N felt Hange's tears slide down her skin, the slight tremble in their body as they held her close. She didn't expect a hug of apology from her spouse that day and she couldn't help but notice how her body desperately wanted to be hugged, to be touched again by her lover. Y/N cannot remember the last time Hange hugged her this long. Y/N could hear Hange's silent sobs as they uttered a broken "I'm so sorry…" behind her.

Hange was exhausted every day after work, there would be dark circles under their eyes, and Y/N would hold them close when they began to cry in their sleep. But today was different for both of them. Something was breaking inside Y/N that she could not pinpoint. All she knew was that Hange's heart was already too wounded and tired for her to make them cry, especially on the day when she swore that her love would not falter. Y/N could not resist and turned to Hange, guiding their head in her chest as they cried.

"I want to make it up to you," Hange ignored the exhaustion within their body and sat up, holding their wife's hands in between theirs. "I don't want you to feel bitter about today anymore. Will you let me make this up to you?"

"Hange…" she began. "Please don't cry... It's alright. You need to sleep, my dear. You have a long day tomorrow."

Y/N said this with all her genuineness, regretting that they brought up their anniversary only to make Hange cry.

There are several things she wants to tell Hange.

Hange looked at her with a pleading expression, determined to fix the damage between them today.

But Y/N shook her head. She wanted to say how it's too late or how things couldn't be fixed anymore, of how it was destroyed long ago.

Run away with me.

Live somewhere else. Just the two of us.

Leave all of this behind and start anew.

Y/N hid the plaintive pleas within her eyes. She knew Hange made their decision long ago. Their heart belongs to humanity--to their cause.

Y/N wanted to cry in their arms but decided to carry her pleas inside her heart in tormenting silence.

Choose me this time.

All Y/N's thoughts will remain as thoughts as they have always been.

Y/N gently tugged on their hand with a small melancholic smile before saying, "Let's sleep, Hange."

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tichiox1 · 1 year ago

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☆Sibling rivalry☆

Sumarry: A fan girl won an event where they get to meet the famous rock stars from the band 'Tokio Hotel'

but little do they know that only one fateful meeting can turn the twins relationship to each other upside down.

Tom x reader x Bill

Word count:1.8k (idk i just guessed)

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

"Hey Y/n have you heard about this new website?" Your friend asked her voice excited.

"What website?"You asked confused an eyebrow raised slightly.

"Oh my god you're clueless!!" Your friend said as she suddenly grabbed your shoulders and shook you in excitement .

"Come on just tell me!!" You said your voice raised .

"Fine! The band Tokio Hotel is hosting an even where one lucky fan gets to meet them and spend a day with them! Can you believe that!!?" She said her voice raising as she shook you again harshly.

"I swear if I'm the one who gets picked i can die happily!" She said as she let's go of you and went on her phone opening it and checking the website.

After she opened the website she shoved the phone on your face to make sure you see it.

"Is it legit?" you asked getting interested while looking at the device infront of you.

"Gosh of course it is! Tokio Hotel themselves are advertising this event ! , have you even checked ?" She said .

"Not yet but how do you sign up?" You asked taking the phone and scrolled at the website.

"Ok ok! All you have to do to sign up with your name , phone number and address after that you just have to wait " She instructed as she snatched the phone and showed you how to do it.

"Ok I'll do that , but how do you know if you got chosen ?" you asked again.

"Well, from what I've read they'll just give you a call and that's it" She answered.

"Ok I'll try to sign up"You said as you took out your own phone out of your pockets and opened the website .

"ok done!" you exclaimed while holding the phone on your hands grasping it tightly while praying to get chosen.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 -----------------------------------------

The room dark and dim , but laughter of two girls disrupted the silence.

"Y/n ! The results will be out today ! Are you excited i swear if i get chosen i would never curse again" Your friend nervously .

"I would too , i would sell my kidney for this" You said hoping to get picked .

After you said that you reached onto the remote and opened the Tv to see who would the lucky fan be .

You opened the Tv with the remote and changed the channel to where the result would be announced .

"Hello hello Tokio Hotel fans!" The announcer yelled onto the mic he has holding.

"Come on just get on with it!!" Your friend said getting annoyed .

"You all must be wondering who would the lucky person be? , to spend the day with the one and only Tokio Hotel!!" The announcer yelled once more , while pointing at the door .

The door opening revealing the four boys , Bill waving at the camera excitedly , Tom did the same with a flirty smirk on his face, Georg had a small smile on his face waving at the camera , Gustav waved with both hands his smile grew once he saw the camera pointed at them.

"Gosh they're so cute!!" Your friend exclaimed .

"Good evening everyone , We are Tokio Hotel" Bill introduced the mic tightly on his hands .

"All of you must be wondering who would the lucky fan be? The lucky fan who would accompany us in our upcoming tour?" Bill excitedly exclaimed while smiling brightly at the camera.

"Who knows it might be you?"Tom teasingly said as he pointed at the camera.

"Please please" Your friend mumbled under her breath praying silently.

"We will give the lucky fan a call , Goodluck to everyone!!" They all said in sync .

"Huh !? They didn't even say who it is!!" Your friend said groaning .

"It's fine ! Didn't they say they would just give the winner a call?"You said towards your friend .

"Right!! I forgot" She said, a small giggle leaving her mouth.

"Shit i better go, i still haven't done my chores" Your friend said realising .

"Well you better go , your mom's gonna be mad at you " You said teasingly.

"I know!! But i better go, see you , I'll just update you on who won"She said while taking her things and shoving it in her bag And heading out the door.

"Bye F/N !!" You yelled .

"Bye Y/N!!" Your friend yelled back.

After watching your friends figure disappear onto the road , you sighed to yourself as you walk back to the living room, taking the remote and opening the Tv again.

Once you opened the Tv the channel of Tokio Hotel still on you kept on watching for a few more minutes.

After a few more minutes , your mind wanders as you reached onto the remote and closed the Tv once more not realising that the results will be shown.

But after a few minutes a sudden ring from your phone made you turn to the direction of the sound .

You walked onto the direction of the phone , as you reached onto it and picked it up .

After you picked up the phone you said "Hello?" Softly , the other end suddenly said .

"Congratulations Lucky winner !! You got chosen to be the one to accompany Tokio Hotel!" The announcer loudly exclaimed , his loud yelling made you wince .

"Wait WHAT!!?" you said in surprise , your mouth agape in shock , your eyebrows lifted .

"Are you sure ? Is this true?" You asked trying to confirm if what the person on the other end is telling the truth or maybe this might just be some type of prank.

"Yes miss you have won the opportunity to join Tokio Hotel on their next tour!!" The announcer yelled once more onto the phone , you felt your hands shaking in excitement .

"OMG!! What the fuck!?"You said not believing what the person was saying .

"You better believe it!! The information would be emailed to you as soon as possible congrats again "

The person hung up the call , after they hung up , you stared onto the wall dumbfounded , the phone still on your hands.

"AAAAAHHHHHH"You screamed excitedly , you then grabbed the phone once again , dialing the phone number of your friend.

"You won't believe what the fuck just happened ?!"You said almost yelling ,startling your neighbors .

"What is it !? Also the winner has been picked , you know what the sad thing is ?! It's not me!!" Your friend said in a mocking sobbing tone.

"Yeah It's because i won" You said bragging .

"No you didn't" She said , even on the phone you could imagine her mouth dropped to the floor.

"Yes i did i just got a phone call"You said .

"You're so lucky!? I swear if you don't take a picture and video every interaction you have woth them ,i would choke you!!" She responded .

"I will jeez , but I'll get an autograph of all of them i promise for the both of us!!" You said your voice becoming high pitched.

"Wait a sec , I'll hang up for a bit , I'll just check the email , talk to you later?"you said your nerves pumped .

"Fine but i swear Georg is mine!!" She yelled onto the phone .

"He's all yours don't worry jesus" You sighed at your friends childish behavior.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Yoo sorry for not updating yesterday my lazy ass couldn't even think of anything to write but here !!

Don't worry this will get a part two promise , i just thought of this idea a few days ago but now im in class with nothing to do i just wrote a quick thing.

And uhh I'm working on other stuff aswell , but don't worry ill try to update everything because i know how frustrating it is when you're already hooked to something your reading and theres no next chapter i feel yall .

But i will update once i get home and what do you guys think of my idea??

Thank you for reading.

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #kaulitz twins x reader #tom kaulitz #love triangle #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel

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babydollmarauders · 1 year ago

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YOU’RE LOSING ME — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is struggling to grasp the fact that she and jack have grown apart amongst his newfound nhl stardom

warnings: angst, neglectful jack, dying relationship, long intro (so sorry), alcohol

specific lyrics: “remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light. now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time” and “how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?” and “how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier. fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me. i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me). and i wouldn't marry me either; a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her. and I'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"”

notes: idk how i feel about this. it’s been awhile since i’ve written an actual fic so i think my writing is a little rusty. there will be no part 2 to this one! i know y’all love when i make part 2’s to my angsty fics, but some fics i just wanna keep as angst and this is one of them <3

maybe we were naïve. young and innocent in thinking our love would last forever. that we could withstand everything the universe had to throw at us.

i could give us this; we did last past Jack’s rookie year. but maybe that’s when things started breaking. i couldn’t tell you for certain.

when we moved to New Jersey, we were going on three years into our relationship. we thought that milestone of three years meant we would be together forever.

we went apartment hunting, i opted to go into online schooling rather than on campus classes, late night whispers consisted of marriage and future children.

now, the last time i even brought up marriage, he told me he wasn’t ready for that. that he was at the peak of his career and didn’t want to spend time that could be used bettering his skills, to plan a wedding.

i spend most nights in an empty bed, the cold sheets serving as a harsh reminder that my boyfriend would rather go out with his teammates than spend time with me.

rather than the past early mornings of soft loving stares and cuddling on his bare chest, i now spend my mornings glaring towards my boyfriends sleeping figure; trying to calculate when he may have gotten home after i had already fallen asleep.

seven years. one-third of my life, spent with Jack.

no one ever said love would be easy; but no one ever told me it would be this hard either.

the mug in my hands is at risk of breaking from my grip, the coffee inside having gone cold. a cruel euphemism to how our relationship has cooled. the burning fire that it once was, now fizzling to dying sparks. but i still hold onto what’s left, because i’m not sure i know how to live a life without him anymore.

i sit curled up on the sofa, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the New Jersey skyline. i still remember the day that Jack and i decided on this apartment, this room was a deciding factor. we loved the lighting, the way the sun shone through the windows and cast a golden haze over the rest of the apartment.

now i sit in the darkness nearly every night, wondering if this was the end of our relationship; if it’s time.

the worst part is that we keep going on. keep playing house. pretending that our relationship is still as happy as it once was.

‘i love you’s never became a rarity, still uttered past our lips multiple times a day. but i know his words only hold an empty promise now.

how can he say he loves me when he can’t tell that this relationship is killing me?

that this dynamic of our relationship becoming a chore has slowly broken me down?

our life is robotic now. we wake up, he leaves for practice, i stay home, i do school, he comes home for a pre-game nap, he leaves for a game, i still stay home, i go to bed, he comes home, repeat.

even worse when he’s away. what once started as facetime calls whenever he was free on a roadie, slowly died until it’s nothing but a few measly unsubstantial texts.

at first i thought maybe we were just going through a rough patch, that we would get through this, but now i fear we won’t.

***

my eyes track my boyfriend at the crowded rooftop bar as i nod my head, only half paying attention to what Ryleigh says.

Nico’s surprise party has been a success. for Nico, at least.

i, selfishly, thought i would use this party as an opportunity to grasp Jack’s attention. i wore the dress that he used to say was his favorite, but not once did he mention it. i curled my hair because i knew how much he loved it, but he didn’t compliment it how he usually does. i dolled myself up in hopes that it would glue him to my side. maybe even spark that possessiveness he used to hold for me.

but instead, all i got was a measly and empty ‘hey babe, you look nice.’ when i arrived, before he chased Dawson down to discuss some new bar he wanted to check out after their next win.

i spent the next hour following him around like a lost puppy, standing by his side as he spoke to his teammates. if he hadn’t had his hand resting on my lower back, i would’ve thought he forgot i was there. but somehow being forgotten would’ve felt better than being ignored.

i’m the best thing at this party, or at least i should be to him, and he barely spared me a second glance.

eventually, i saltily left to find the other wives and girlfriends. for the past three hours now, i sit with Ryleigh and Darya. Ryleigh is currently recounting she and Dawson’s date night last night.

the party has been dwindling down, our group of people among the bar slowly dispersing, giving their final birthday wishes to Nico and going home.

“what about you and Jack?”

“hmm?” i perk up at the mention of my boyfriend, dragging my line of sight away from said boy and back towards my friends.

“i asked about you and Jack. when was your guys’ last date night? how was it?” Ryleigh is only trying to be polite, i know that. but she’s only reminded me that Jack and i haven’t gone on a date in what has to be at least six months.

“honestly? i couldn’t tell you.” i confess. “i don’t even remember the last time we went on a date.”

“well, that’s not right! we should do a double date soon! i’ll have Dawson set it up.” she smiles. “ooh triple date! you and Yegor should come!”

“we’d love that!” Darya chimes in. i let out a polite smile, but i know it won’t happen. i’ve tried too many times to set up a date night and nothing ever comes from it.

“hey, baby. you ready to go?” Dawson saunters over, planting a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Ryleigh nods, bidding Darya and i goodbye.

“hey, y/n? i think Jack was looking for you.” Yegor tells me as he comes over next, gathering his wife to leave for the night.

“he was?” my voice is filled with a pathetic hope, an excitement over even the thought of my boyfriend seeking me out. but when i look back to where i last saw him, he still stands next to his captain, laughing over something one of them said. “thanks, Shara.”

he smiles, the both of them now saying their goodbyes. and then there was one.

i sit by myself, lazily chewing the straw in my drink as i watch my boyfriend and his friend.

i quickly lose track of how long i sit there, ordering drink after drink. eventually, i stop watching Jack, opting for mindlessly scrolling through instagram instead.

“hey.” my head snaps up at Jack’s voice, watching as he finally joins me. my heart thumps in my chest, like i’m a teenager again, at the thought of spending time with him. “i think i’m ready to head home.”

my mood deflates, my shoulders slumping, but i nod, gathering my purse as Jack sets some cash on the bar top to cover my drinks from the night.

i wobble slightly as i stand, Jack’s hand coming up to hold onto my arm, making sure i don’t fall. heat spreads from the site of the touch, shivers racking my body.

“you okay, babe?” he chuckles, pulling me into his side as we walk to the elevator, pressing the down button and waiting for it to arrive. “how much did you drink?”

“i don’t know. maybe three? i lost count after the first hour alone.” i shrug, my words are slurred, a product of my tipsy state. “i started off with sprite, but i switched to gin and tonics once Darya left.”

Jack is silent as we get into the elevator, his brows furrowed and him seemingly in deep thought. the whole ride home is quiet, the air charged. i spend the whole drive with my head turned to look out the window. but as soon as we reach the parking deck of our apartment, getting out of his Range Rover, he speaks up again.

“you could’ve come and found me? i was just with Nico.” i’m silent for a moment, picking up my pace to try and reach apartment faster.

“i didn’t feel like being ignored again.” i shrug as we step through the door, the alcohol giving me obvious courage that i never had before.

“what do you mean ‘again’? i haven’t ignored you.” Jack follows behind me into our bedroom, his eyes tracking me as i sit on the bed and begin unfastening my heels.

“stop.” i sigh.

“stop what? y/n/n, when have i ignored you?” his genuine obliviousness hurts more than i thought it could. the fact that he didn’t even realize he was ignoring me; that it was just a subconscious reaction for him to push me aside.

“every day.” i tell him. my eyes start stinging with tears, finally ready to have the fight that i’ve so desperately been avoiding. but it’s obvious that Jack doesn’t feel the same.

“i’m sorry you felt that way.” he tells me, barely sparing another glance my way before he starts grabbing pajamas out of the dresser.

“you’re losing me.” my words are choked out in a whisper, but i know he hears them because i watch as he stiffens, slowly turning around.

“what?”

“Jack, this doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore. it feels like a job. a chore.” i confess. “it doesn’t feel like you love me anymore and i need you to just say it. because i love you too much to keep going on like this.”

“y/n-”

“we barely talk, Jack.” i cut him off. “when we do, we’re struggling through empty small talk. you’re barely home, and when you are, you don’t try and spend time with me. i sit in this house, alone, even when you’re here.”

“what are you talking about? y/n, we’ve been together for almost seven years. we’ve been through so much together.” his words are harsh, defensive.

“exactly! i gave you all my best me’s- i gave you my teenage years, i gave you all of my best years! i gave you all my empathy when you were being called a bust. when you were struggling in your rookie year and at your lowest. i sat here and comforted you after every loss! i stayed here and cried and tried to be brave every time you were gone. i defended you to everyone!”

tears roll freely down my cheeks, my nose becoming stuffy and my throat tightening. i’ve risen from the bed now, still keeping my distance from him though.

“and what do i have to show for it? an empty apartment? an empty relationship? we used to spend hours talking about marriage and our future. now, the last time i tried to bring that up, you all but told me you didn’t want to marry me.” i scoff. “and i can’t blame you, i wouldn’t marry me either; a pathological people pleaser.”

“don’t say that, please.” he whispers.

“but all i wanted was for you to see me, Jack! i’m here! i have feelings! i know it’s hard to believe, but i’m a person too! i need love! not whatever this has been.” my words fade off at the end, breaking off into sobs.

Jack’s eyes are red, tears of his own slowly descending as we stand in silence.

“do something, please. say something.” i plead, furiously wiping at my tears. i swallow a lump in the throat as he finally takes a step forward.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is shaky, breaking midst sentence. “i’m so sorry i didn’t know you were feeling this way. i’ve been so wrapped up in hockey and the team that i haven’t been here. not fully, at least.

“i took you for granted. i guess you’ve been this dependable force in my life for so long that eventually i forgot that you need more than just my presence.

“i do love you, y/n. i can’t imagine my life without you. i’ll be better, i promise. just, please, don’t leave.” he begs.

Jack steps forward, closing the distance between us and taking my face in his hands.

“i need you. i’ll always choose you.” his hands shake on my cheeks as he pulls me into a kiss. he pulls away, heaving out a broken mix between a sigh and a sob. “i’m so so sorry.”

“we can fix us. i believe that. but please, don’t put me through this again.” i beg, laying my forehead against his.

“never.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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