#im so sorry for how long this is and I hope I convey what I mean | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inosukijiro · 5 months ago

Text

𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗧

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu decides its time to tell you how he feels.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. this is part two. or not, it really doesn’t matter if you read the first part. loved this idea bc i love crochet. currently making a giyuu amigurumi doll atm, so yay me ig

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. im so sorry for being gone for almost two months. i was burnt out. but i have lots of prompts / plot ideas written down and just have to finish them. also also!! season 4 was crazy, i loved every minute of it but that ending – im so not ready for the final arc. anyways, thank you for the support as usual, luv u besties

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluff. use of swear words (not a lot, but they are there). giyuu-centric. modern reader in kny. mentions of crochet and amigurumi. gender-neutral reader. also very poor dialogue probably, i avoid talking irl so yk. 1.9k words.

first part (optional); giyuu has a crush

Giyuu is about to have a stroke. He’s alone in his room late at night. He should be sleeping, but he can't imagine doing so. The moon light is coming through his window and all he can do is stare at the crochet hook in his hand as his fingers remain still. He is hunched, hovering over a ball of yarn in his lap. He can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that heavily weighed on him because he really has no idea what he’s doing.

You had this habit of making him gifts. Cute little amigurumi things and it had become a habit of his waiting when you’ll show up with one just for him. They’re almost always an animal or some sea creature, maybe even a small plant that he has sitting on display in his room somewhere. They are always so adorable and tiny, always fitting in the palm of his hand. It's almost like clockwork at this point, and Giyuu is always so flattered to receive them.

He remembers the little tiny baby sea turtle you have made for him. Its flippers rested against the palms of his cupped hands; its eyes and lids sewed on so perfectly along with the rest of it. It’s so intricate, he almost thought it was real. He remembers bringing it up to his face, staring at it in its tiny face, because for some reason this time he really didn’t know how to act.

He remembers you giggling, quickly explaining that you really didn’t know what to make him this time – lies, you have so many patterns. You just care too much about his opinion and his likes. Honestly, you could make him anything you wanted and he would be happy.

❛ And then I thought, ‘well you are the Water Pillar after all’. And I thought the sea turtle was kinda cute too, so I wanted to make it for you. Now you have a little friend to keep you company on your mission! ❜

Now here he was, with little idea of what he was doing. A frustrated sigh left his lips. He began working the yarn along with the hook – all his movement completely hesitant and fumbling. It would be a lie to say that he had never been skillful with his hands; he is a swordsman after all. However, it was clear that he wasn’t as skillful as you regarding this, and it makes sense. He had never picked up any knitting or crochet hooks until tonight at this ungodly hour.

Sure, he could have just crafted a wooden figurine. It is something he vaguely knows how to do, and seems like a more appealing thought now, plus, he knows that you would love it either way. But all he wanted to do was something special. He wanted to convey his feelings to you through what you love doing the most and give you something that he knows you would like. And for about a moment he wonders if this is a good idea. Then decides that he doesn’t care anymore. This is going to make or break him. He procrastinated this long enough.

Though hours passed and Giyuu is shocked to consider it done. He hoped it was. He glances over at his window and the sun is barely over the horizon. And as much as Giyuu loves you, he can't do this again. No, that is also a lie. He would if you asked. But he couldn’t help but feel disgruntled. He didn’t even know what he made. It is some type of plushie. It has a big body with some stubby legs. Its arms are almost the length of it too, if not longer, making them seem like large floppy paws. Its head; he is unsure if it's too big as it’s the same size as the body, but it’s a bit too late now to do anything about it. He made small ears on the top, and added some type of embroidery to make the eyes – as no buttons seemed to look right to him. There was no nose or mouth either, because Giyuu couldn’t figure out how to add them without making it look worse than it already does.

He frowned at the finished product, before hanging his head. It was done, yes. But to him, he knows that he could have done a much better job. And the pang of disappointment didn’t help. Because surely you deserve something better than this crude attempt at a gift.

However, for some reason Giyuu was oddly excited. Maybe it was the ice cold water he almost drowned himself awake to. But he really didn’t pay it any mind. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. He was afraid, so very afraid because this was the first time he was outwardly seeking your validation. But he was also anticipating the interaction. Because you were so nice. And he shouldn’t be afraid.

So here he was now, standing in front of you. And suddenly, he can't remember why he was so afraid in the first place. You looked so delightfully happy just like he had hoped. He watched as you took the plush from his hand, your fingers just barely brushing against his. And he felt his palms get clammy again. You were so delicate with it, and honestly, if you had asked Giyuu, perhaps you were a bit too delicate. He didn’t think that it deserved such care. He watched as you brushed your thumb over the soft yarn. Your eyes staring intently at it, and Giyuu couldn’t place the look you were giving.

“Giyuu, it’s adorable!” Your eyes sparked just a little bit when you looked back up at him. The plush is pressed against your chest right now. So softly, almost protectively and Giyuu actually can't believe it. Truly, he is in disbelief. You actually liked it? You really must’ve, because you’re going on about the plush; gushing over it and completely unfazed by any of its imperfections. You asked how he made it and when he had the time. It was nice, until you asked him why. And he got all nervous again.

Well… He responds. “You make me such nice things all the time. And I wanted to make you something as well. To show my appreciation.”

Oh! You are a little taken aback by that as a light blush starts to burn on your cheeks. You were definitely feeling the appreciation. You just never really anticipated Giyuu to make you something. Not because you thought he was incapable, or anything like that. You just… liked making things, and if that happened to be for Giyuu more than others you weren’t going to deny it. It made you happy to do so. And you never really expected anything in return. But for him to make you something, the gesture kind of made you feel special. It was so sweet!

“Of course, I’m glad you like it. You… mean a lot to me you know. Um…” He stops because he's a bit flush. He wants to confess so badly and he doesn’t understand; why is it so hard. Just say it. It's like you are waiting for him to – and you are – but you are so completely and utterly patient with him that sometimes he wished you weren’t. “Ngh, don’t look at me like that.”

You giggle softly. You can’t help it. Why is he so cute? “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely, still hugging the plush to your chest. “Please continue.”

His heart is beating out of his rib cage. He feels like he is going to die. He has never expressed his feelings so openly before and as much as he wants to say that he is uncomfortable, he's only half way there and he only needs to get the words out. He's been afraid of rejection for so long that, even deep down knowing the possibility of you loving him exists, he can’t help but worry about it. The words are on his tongue and at some point, he has to come out and say it.

“I… I love you.” Finally. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You don’t have to say or do anything, I just… I just wanted you to know.”

“You love me?” You had a big, stupid smile on your face, which made the question you had asked seem hopeful to him. If you had been home, you might have thought he was pulling a joke on you, not that he would know to assume that. And you, yourself are having a good time telling the small voice in the back of your head to fuck off because – yes, Giyuu Tomioka just confessed his love for you and you were not going to let the universe take it back.

He nodded, silent. The smallest, timid, smile pulled at his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Giyuu, I love you too. Actually, I..” you stopped before you started tripping over your words and let out a deep breath. Your grasp on the plush tightened, clutching it closer to your body in an attempt to ground yourself. “I… may have been in love with you for a while, too.”

He stares at you for a moment, another dumb look on his face. It's like the gears are turning in his mind. That yes, just like you had, are realizing this is all actually happening. And if he promptly pulls you into the softest, brain melting kiss you've ever had – that's between the two of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᘡ ۫ 𖨂 𓈒 🦑 ۟ ៹ 𓂂

Of course, now it’s later and Giyuu is watching you show off the plush to the rest of the Hashira. You had grabbed his hand in a rush, so excited and happy. He let you tug him along, squeezing his hand so tight; never minding the clamminess. He watched as you shoved the crochet piece in Rengokus face, telling him with pride that Giyuu was the one that made it for you. ‘I see that,’ he says and lets out one of those joyous laughs, almost amused.

You tug him along, going from Hashira to Hashira. Giyuu vividly remembers you shouting at Shinazugawa from across the training grounds about ‘Look at what Giyuu made me! Suck it you fuck face’ before running off and taking him with you again. He remembers in the background the Wind Pillar shouting, something about how it was ‘Ugly as fuck’ and a few other things but Giyuu ignored it.

Others recognized the effort Giyuu put into it, much like Rengoku. He gets a ‘That's kinda flashy’ from Tengen, and surprisingly Shinobu didn’t really poke at him too much, but maybe that was because you were there. Mitsuri squeals about it. She thinks it’s the cutest thing she's ever seen, and Giyuu makes sure not to look at Obanai at all. Otherwise, the man might force Giyuu to teach him. Or force himself in between you and him to teach him, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he can handle that.

The afternoon passed by after that and you both ended up back at his estate, just like always. This time, you were much closer to him than usual, not that Giyuu minded. He watched from over your shoulder as you continued your own little crochet project. He had half a mind to join you, but instead opted to enjoy just being with you; resting his head near yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. Though, somewhere close by the little turtle and the plush were laying together where you had placed them. It was almost like they were watching you, like they were proud of him.

Thank you once again for reading!! ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ∩∩ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

410 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 1 year ago

Text

detachment (02/03)

did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance… hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

taglist:

@iloveallmyboys @libdarkheart @angelianlearp @happinessinthebeing @targaryenmoony @tempt-ress @callsign-blue @twobluejeans @luna-salem @literatureluster @thekinslayersswordhand @queenofshinigamis @bugshideaway @minttea07 @itszzmoon

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

2K notes · View notes

bloomyeu · 4 months ago

Text

peach eyes

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in which chan and you struggle to convey the love you have for each other

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst? fluff? comfort? :) not edited

a/n: channie is so soft i luv him. fic is based off peach eyes by wave 2 earth

masterlist | requests

He knew he loved you.

He really did, but at times he felt like it was never conveyed. The constant hours at the studio, the time away on tour, on a plane, at a showcase, hours that werent spent with you. He felt bad, when was the last time he kissed you? 3 weeks ago? Maybe 4?

Maybe its time he lets you go.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew you loved him.

Yes he was always busy, yes he wasn't home, but with him you were complete and that was that mattered. No matter how much time was spent apart.

Maybe its time you let him know you love him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Its been a few weeks since chan had last been home, and with the two weeks coming up to it, you could only think of how you could surprise him to make him feel the love you have for him. To hug and kiss him without anything holding you back.

He was supposed to be back at around 6pm. So you made everything he loved. A home cooked meal of jjajangmyeon, bobs burger on the tv, christmas candle lit, fuzzy blanket ready on the couch, and cuddles.

The plan was to tell him how you felt as soon as you both finished dinner, although things don't always go exactly as planned.

hey ynnie, flight got delayed :[ have no idea what time ill be home we also have a team dinner as soon as we land so dont wait up for me! im sorry baby, i rlly wanted to see u

hii channie awe thats sucks :/ i hope u have fun tnt and land safely!! will u still come tnt or r u gna stay at the dorms?

ur crazy i need to see u babe ofc ill be home ill jst be late

ok!!! ill be waiting <3

And with that dinner was put back in the fridge, candles were blown out, love confessions burned on your tongue, and tears were falling as you showered.

You knew it wasn't his fault, he didn't even know. But it still hurt.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

He felt so bad.

All he wanted to do was come home and be in your arms, and yet the flight got delayed so he’d be back at around 9pm and had a dinner/team meeting/debrief as soon as he landed. Could it not wait till tomorrow?

He knew you were waiting for him, wanting to spend a day with him before the both of you are sprung back to work.

But life is unfair is it not?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was around 1am when chan unlocked the front door of your(shared) apartment.

The house was quiet, but he could hear Lorelei Gilmore talking about Chilton and whatnot.

“Ynnie, I’m home,” he whispered into the still apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, he noticed the food you’d prepared, and it made his heart swell. The jjajangmyeon, perfectly plated and covered with plastic wrap to keep it warm, the careful presentation that showed how much thought you’d put into making his favorite meal. You even remembered to set out his favorite pair of chopsticks—the ones you’d bought together during a trip to Japan.

The effort, the care, the love you’d put into this simple act of cooking for him—despite the long hours and despite knowing he might not even make it home in time to enjoy it—it all hit him like a wave. You still did these things for him, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it.

He could almost see you in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you cooked, imagining the smile on your face when you thought about how happy he’d be to come home to a meal made by you. The image was so vivid, so tender, that it made his chest tighten with emotion. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it was impossible not to feel overwhelmed by the depth of your love and how much he missed these moments with you.

He walked out of the kitchen before the tears could spill, hoping to pull himself together, but then he saw you on the couch.

You were wearing his shirt, the one that was a little too big on you but somehow looked perfect, hanging off your frame in that effortlessly beautiful way only you could manage. The fuzzy white blanket was wrapped snugly around you, keeping you warm as you slept. Your mouth was slightly agape, soft snores leaving your lips, and your hair was slightly tousled, as if you’d fallen asleep waiting for him.

He knew you’d tried to wait for him, and he’d never felt so guilty.

You never complained about the hours he worked, you never argued when he said “10 more minutes” at the studio—you were so good to him.

And yet he felt he treated you like crap.

And that realization only made him let out a choked sob.

He sank to his knees beside the couch, his hand reaching out to touch your face gently. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. Chan watched you sleep, his heart heavy with guilt and love. He wished he could turn back time, be there for you more, show you how much you meant to him.

He sat there for a while, just watching you sleep. The room was dim, the only light coming from the TV playing Gilmore Girls on low volume. The soft glow cast shadows on the walls, creating a peaceful, almost magical atmosphere. Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. He knew he needed to be strong for you, to make things right. To treat you better.

Eventually, he got up and went to the bedroom. He changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed a spare blanket. He returned to the living room, covering you with the extra blanket before settling down on the floor next to the couch. He didn’t want to disturb you by trying to fit on the couch with you, but he wanted to be close.

As he layed there, he thought about all the times he’d missed, all the moments he should have been there for. He remembered the first time he met you, how your smile had lit up the room. He thought about all the little things you did for him, the way you always made him feel loved even when he was far away.

He made a silent promise to himself that he would do better. He would make more time for you, show you how much he loved you. He wouldn’t let his career come between you two anymore. He closed his eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day, that he could start making things right.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Morning came, and you woke up to the smell of coffee. You blinked a few times, realizing you were still on the couch. The TV was off, and the apartment was filled with the soft morning light. You sat up, stretching and rubbing your eyes.

That’s when you saw Chan in the kitchen, making breakfast. He looked up and smiled when he saw you awake.

“Good morning, ynnie” he said softly.

“Hiii channie, good morning. How was the flight” you replied, your voice still groggy from sleep.

He walked over to you, holding a cup of coffee. “It was ok. made you some coffee.”

You took the cup from him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thank you.”

He sat down next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and guilt. “I’m sorry about last night. I really wanted to be here with you.”

You shook your head, placing a hand on his. “It’s okay, it wasn't your fault. I know you’re busy. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I wish i was here more, with you. I want to be here for you more.”

You smiled, tears forming in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

He leaned in, kissing you softly. a kiss filled with love and promise, a vow to be better. You kissed him back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were willing to work through it together.

The two of you spent the morning talking, about anything and everything. It felt like you both were in your own bubble, just the two of you without any distractions. Chan told you about his tour, the places he’d seen, the experiences he’d had. You told him about your days, the little things that made you smile, the moments you wished he’d been there for.

As the day went on, you realized how much you’d missed these moments. The simple act of being together, sharing your lives. It was something you never wanted to take for granted again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Over the next few weeks, things began to change. Chan made a conscious effort to be more present, to spend more time with you. He still had his responsibilities, his career, but he found a balance. He made sure to call you every day, even if it was just for a few minutes. He made time for date nights, for weekends away, for the little things that made your relationship special.

You could see the difference in him, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel. The love was always there, but now it was more tangible, more real. You felt closer to him than ever before, and it made you realize how strong your love was.

as you were both sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, Chan turned to you, his eyes filled with emotion.

“Ynnie you know i love you right? you mean the world to me. Youre like my sunlight”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. “I love you too, Channie, so much. With you I can do anything, were meant to be”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Always,” he whispered.

And in that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them together. Your love was strong, and it would endure.

fin.

masterlist | requests

334 notes · View notes

whoreforred · 1 year ago

Text

Needs

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha had a very long week and needs to wind down with the help of a friend.

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding (N), praise kink, bottom!natasha, FWB

AN: This is my first fic!!! Also not a veteran on tumblr so the format could be weird im trying ok!!

The light from your bed-side lamp cascaded over the book you were reading. After a long week you always put some time aside to read so you could clear your head, even if it was at 2am. It was the best time to get lost in a book. The compound was nearly dead silent with only the sounds of light rain pinging on your window. Though you had been reading the book for a few hours now, you caught your mind drifting away from the pages and onto a certain red head.

You and Natasha's relationship was quite simple. If one of you had an itch to scratch, the other would scratch it. This sort of mutual understanding had been going on for quite some time now.

You kept trying to keep your eyes on the page and the books scenery in your mind, but the story kept slipping away. You reread the same page over and over trying to push your urges away, and just as you were about to give up your phone vibrated.

You looked off into the distance and a small smirk ran across your lips as you knew no one else but Natasha would text you at this hour.

You grabbed your phone and saw the message,

I need you.

You couldn't help but smile a little bit. It's like you and Natasha's bodies were in tune with one another.

You adjusted your boxers a bit as the text seemed to send some heat down to your core. It had been over a week since the last time the 'benefits' part of your friendship came into play. Even so you had hardly seen her besides a few passing glances at meetings. You knew it was because Fury had her on several cases that required a lot of paperwork, and no matter how many times you told Natasha to stand up for herself and set boundaries on the amount of work she could take, she never did.

You typed back,

the door is unlocked

You set your phone back down on the nightstand and let the anticipation set in.

You relaxed back into the leather of your chair and hoped she would be at your door sooner rather than later. But in the meantime you picked your book back up to pretend you were still following along.

Only a handful of minutes later the door to your room opened slowly and in stepped an exhausted assassin. She didn't make eye contact with you as she shut the door quietly and stayed there with her hand on the doorknob, lingering.

Just as you were about to ask her what she was doing she turned around and locked eyes with you. Those green eyes conveyed a very deep lust that you could read immediately. However, you didn't fail to notice her heavy eye bags.

You broke the gaze as your eyes traveled over her body and took in her figure. All she was wearing was an oversized flannel, barely buttoned up, with a pair of underwear. You nearly went slack jawed as you locked eyes with her yet again and she made her way over to you.

She gingerly took the book out of your hands, folded the page you were on so you wouldn't lose your place, and set it next to your phone.

She slowly climbed onto your lap and set her hands on your shoulders as she kept eye contact. Your hands found their way onto her hips and you gently squeezed.

At a near whisper, she said "I'm sorry I'm so needy", and at that your face screwed up in disbelief.

Your hands kneaded into her thighs and you lowly replied "don't ever apologize for having needs, Natalia." She pulled her bottom lip in slightly and finally broke eye contact to look down. You caressed her cheek and she looked back at you with hooded eyes. You closed the distance between the two of you to ghost your lips over hers. Her breath hitched at the intimacy. Just as you noticed her shallow breathing she closed the distance and kissed you hard. Her lips danced with yours and you inhaled her vanilla scent, wishing she had come to you sooner.

The pace remained slow and sensual as your hands traveled up her back and began to trace all of her muscles. Natasha felt something deep inside her begin to churn with every kiss from you. She had not seen you all week because of the mountains of paperwork, mission planning, and training she had to do. She needed a release. Bad. But she kept the pace slow, deep, romantic even, as she didn't have the energy to do much else.

Her hands began exploring your chest and she subconsciously began to grind into your lap. Both you and Natasha groaned into each others mouths at the sensation.

One of your hands came up to start unbuttoning her top while she moved down to your neck. Once she found your pulse point, she began to suck and a throaty groan left your mouth.

You pushed her back a little so you could remove her shirt. You slid it off her divine figure and discarded it to the floor. Her supple breasts were on full display for you and she leaned closer so you could touch. You kissed up the valley between her breasts and then up her throat as your hands finally found their way to her nubs. She let her head fall back and kept grinding into you as you left open mouthed kissed along her collarbone and your hands continued exploring her chest.

She moved slightly so that she was straddling only one of your legs, and when she began grinding you could feel just how wet she was.

"Miss me that much, Nat?" You said, smirking into her neck at the feeling of her coating your thigh.

"You have no idea", she purred as she wrapped her arms around your neck.

You held onto her lower back with one hand, the other lightly massaging her thigh. You ran your thumb over a scar, memorizing its texture and ridges. She moved to hide her head in your neck as she started to really grind her hips against you.

You placed kisses on her shoulder and used your hand on her back to guide her into you.

"That's it Nat, good girl" you growled into her ear.

She moaned loud at the praise and felt an immediate surge to her core. You knew what she liked to hear better than anybody.

Her movements picked up again and you knew she was approaching her release as her grip tightened around your neck, fingers intertwined with your hair.

She let out little moans at every thrust and you moved your arms around her mid to keep her from falling over. As you bear hugged her you turned your head towards her face to see the look of bliss she was wearing.

With her eyes screwed tight and her mouth agape she went silent but her movements continued, and this is when you knew she was right at the edge.

You whispered, "Come for me, detka."

At that her legs began to convulse as she let out a pornographic moan. You felt her juices release onto your leg and held her close as she rode out her high. You smiled to yourself and kissed her cheek while her breathing began to slow back to a steady pace.

Once she had completely come down and her movements totally stilled, you observed the sweat covering her body and tried to pull her hair away from her face. You rubbed her back as she cooled down from her endeavors.

After a few minutes you felt her shiver and that's when you picked her up and carried her over to your bed. As you laid her down she didn't make any protests and instead silently got under the covers. You got a rag to clean her up and helped her into a shirt she had left over a few weeks ago. She sunk back into the bed and let sleep take over her.

As you lay next to her you wondered the direction your relationship would go to and whether or not it would ever be serious. You didn't go a day without thinking of her beautiful red hair and forest green eyes. But for now you were content with leaving your door unlocked for her.

#natalia romanova #natasha x reader #soft natasha romanoff #bottom natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff #bottom!natasha #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut

835 notes · View notes

seraphont · 4 months ago

Note

Your upcoming project for Undoomed Jessa takes over my every waking moment, but LISTEN, your art crumbs are scrumptious (they hurt, but in a good way). I love how you depicted the two of them - all the struggle, longing, denial, grief, ...; and then the eventual acceptance, the growth, the healing. It's all just- so Good??? They're so alive.

(Sorry for the yap, I'm just obsessed with your art style and storytelling ability.)

WAH!!! thank you, Im so glad you think that, its what I hoped would be conveyed!!! <:

and thank you for the yap, its a great motivator!

#for me #I need a yap tag #the yapper

61 notes · View notes

kazumiku · 2 months ago

Note

woah kazumiku could you write a heizou drabble whenever you have the chance!! Feel like the heizou tag has been starved lately 🤯

PLEASEEE I need one of him interrogating reader and he’s like serious but also teases us I HOPE YOU GET WHAT I MEAN like teasing us for not having a fool proof plan but even if we did either way we would’ve gotten caught cuz he’s the best detective but like ykw WHATEVER YOU SAYY OFFICER SHIKANOIINNN MEOOOOWWW 😍😍😍😍😍

he can arrest me if it means I get to be graced by that glorious face every roll call 🥰

Also hope you’ve been well it’s been a while! 🗣️

- meow anon

HAI MEOW ANON! i have been doing well, how are you!!! im gonna admit my writing has been declining lately so i hope this was an okay read 🥹 i wrote a lot more than i think i should've omg im saur sorry i miss his silly 😭😭

gn!reader, mentions of alcohol & shoplifting, crack (?), fluff (?), heizou kinda cute, 893 words !!!

The clock ticked loudly on the plain white wall, echoing through the interrogation room where you're situated across a certain detective of wine red hair and striking emerald eyes. Eyes in which seemed to scrutinize your, perusing into the deepest, darkest parts of your soul, sending a chill down your spine.

To be interrogated enabled your nerves more than enough, probed by questions you held your tongue into. "The cat's already out of the bag, what's holding you back?" Heizou's smooth voice conveyed through you, one brow tweaked up, although more in interest than intrigue. The both of you knew what you were doing here, sat on a cold metal chair with your hands shackled by metal cuffs.

The corners of your lip downturned to a scowl. Although it's more than a pout like a glare. You looked awfully stupid, as much as you felt like so, too.

He clicked his tongue at your plain defiance, but it didn't deter his will. He'll get you to speak, one way or another. He is, of course, if not one, but the only greatest detective in all of Inazuma! A little prodding goes a long way, and a challenge like the one you put up is what he seeks to break through.

This wouldn't be too much work.

… Although, it would be too soon for him to conclude that, given you've already refused to answer the opening questions to this session. But his intuition told him to otherwise. You'll speak sooner enough.

"There is footage, by the way. Had you not known that there cameras was over you around the store, either way, how can a criminal allow such an important key to escaping pass their mind?" The detective brought a hand to his chin, the corner of his lip tugging up to a teensy, shit-eating grin. "But what should I be expecting of a little criminal like you? You're better at looking cute and stupid than using your intellect for the better." He could already note the slight clench of your palm as they perch on your lap, a little detail that spoke volumes than it should.

Your brows furrow together, seeing the subtle shift of his expression even under the subdued lighting of the room. Still, your lips are knitted, but he can tell you undoubtedly had your tail tucked between your legs, and the admission of defeat will come soon after. "The criminal broke a glass while running away. So careless, don't you agree? The forensics team already confirmed a handprint. Want to guess whose it was? Give me a dime of your thoughts."

You could tell where he's going with this, and as much as you tried to not let your temper get the best of you, Heizou exasperated you more than you'd like. "How would I know? You smile like a smartass officer, act like one, 'detective' Shikanoin." the title rolled mockingly off your tongue, and a name you can't seem to respect.

"Yikes," he chuckled, amuse colouring his tone. "Feisty. But that's too bad. A guess doesn't take up years off your life to articulate, does it? Either way, who's acting like a smartass now, while you tell me to do my job… when I obviously am."

His responses never failed to make you tick, and he looked more arrogant than ever to have finally received a response from you. "Let's not make this any longer, unless you want to see me again tomorrow," the detective winked, unironically so.

Moving forward, he knew he had to try harder to win over. He settled his palm on the table, which separated the both of you, his fingers start tap on the surface as his olive gaze bored through you.

"A confession is all it takes. This isn't your first offense, you'll get a longer sentence than you'd come to want. And would you like that? Locked up behind bars, with grubby prisoners, bad, bad people… who knows what they'll do to pretty little you?"

"What the hell!" you snapped, on the edge of your seat on the verge of tackling the smug detective down. "It was just a few cheap bottles of booze, probably not even worth over a thousand mora! Why are you treating this like I caused an actual felony!"

The cards all played in his favour, in the end. "So, you admit to shoplifting?"

You bit your tongue, but there's no point. Every little clue leads to you, every evidence has your mark. You couldn't help but be sullen, your back slouching slightly. The primal urge to jump and beat him to a pulp was tempting, but you wouldn't want to get in more trouble than you already do, do you? "… It's not that serious."

Snapping his fingers, he beams suddenly, like a sporadic ball of energy as his pearly whites greet your muddled vision. "I'm estimating at least thirty days and a hefty sum for your wallet. But don't worry, for your easy compliance, I'll have someone pay the fine to bail you." settling his index finger to his lip, "Keep it a secret though, pretty. I'll see you the next time you commit a crime."

Oh, well... It seemed you've stolen something else too. Something of his.

"Not too much trouble, though. My heart couldn't take it if you caused something furthermore drastic."

main navi!

#✧ | kzmk yap #✧ | kzmk gen inbox #meow anon #im writing this while watching caseoh #im cackling so bad rn #yall are both kinda stupid man idk...#heizou x y/n #heizou x you #heizou x reader #heizou #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin heizou #shikanoin heizou #heizou imagines #heizou shikanoin #heizou shikanoin x reader

43 notes · View notes

virescent-v · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, can I request #92 pls. Maybe with a little angst but I’m leaving it to you🩷

hi hi hi, so sorry this took like...two weeks. life, ya know?

it started as something, and im not sure this is the angst you were really looking for (that really isn't my area of expertise i should work on that lmfao) but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Definitely Not Friends

Word Count: 2.7k+

Prompt: “friends don’t do this kind of shit”

Warnings: It's smutty, ya'll, but not my "normal" kind of smut

The repetitive nature of your ongoing…tryst with Emily was getting under your skin. It had all started off so innocently; just some casual flirtation between coworkers. Nothing that Derek and Penelope haven’t been accused of over the years. But before you knew it, you were spending more alone time with Emily than any of your other coworkers. Late night talks on the phone, dinners after long cases to unwind, Friday night movie nights, the list goes on.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Just two coworkers who saw some terrible shit every day who got on well enough to lean on one another.

But then Emily started pushing the envelope.

A brush across your shoulders as she was passing by. A squeeze of your hand before getting out of the SUV to catch a killer. Eye contact that lasted just a little too long. A lip bite that made your breath catch.

Innocent enough things that you convinced yourself you were just imagining them.

But then one night after a gut wrenching case, she kissed you.

She had driven you home from the airport after getting back from a two week case in Minnesota. It was well after midnight, you could barely keep your eyes open, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to spend the rest of the night crying, eating your feelings in ice cream, or sleeping for the next six days.

She walked you to your door, nothing out of the usual. You looked at her before going inside to say goodbye, but she engulfed you in the best hug of your life. Her arms around you were strong. Supportive. You could feel your whole body melt into hers.

You’ve never felt more safe.

When you pulled back a little to look at her, your eyes caught and you tried to convey everything you couldn’t find the words for. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

And then, she kissed you and she ran.

You stood stupefied on your porch, watched her get back into the unmarked SUV before speeding off into the night.

You didn’t talk to her for three days.

At work, she acted like everything was normal.

You couldn’t bring yourself to bring it up because you weren’t even sure what it was. Was it just a comfort thing? Did she have feelings for you? You couldn’t tell. Emily was so hard to read on a good day, let alone when your head was all over the place.

A few days passed and it had seemed like everything went back to normal. You talked every day, had gone to a few meals together, and she came over for a movie night.

Except this movie night was different, too.

She was wearing a skimpier set of pajamas. A loose fitting tank top and the shortest pair of shorts you had ever seen. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra because her nipples were visible through the material. You weren’t sure how she hadn’t caught you staring.

She sat closer to you on the couch than normal, too. Your sides were basically joined from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her warmth radiating from her to you, the nervous excitement making your body heat up even more in return.

Again, you weren’t sure what was happening, but you were going to roll with it. The unknowing was thrilling in itself.

Emily fell asleep halfway through whatever romcom you had put on, her head on your shoulder, her hand lazily resting on your thigh.

You were too nervous to move, your breaths short as not to jostle her.

You’re pretty sure you could die happy on this couch with Emily’s head resting on you.

It was almost the end of the movie when Emily shuffled in her sleep, her head moving towards the crook of your neck, her hand traveling dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat erupt through your body, your stomach starting to twist into knots. You knew you should probably wake her, get her into your guest bed, and go to sleep. But you were enjoying her being this close too much.

You could feel her breath against the side of your neck, the little puffs of air almost tickling. She grunted in her sleep, her hand tightening around your thigh, her nose nuzzling against you as she let out a sexy little “mmhmm.”

Your mind immediately went to the gutter and you could only imagine her making that sound as she ground her hips against yours in your bed.

You pressed your thighs together to stop the zoom of arousal that shot through you. You barely suppressed the moan that wanted to tumble from your lips.

You finally gained the courage to wake her and get her to the guest room. Sleepy Emily was one of your favorites; she turned almost incoherent and klutzy and it was maybe the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

As you were pulling the sheets up around her, she all but dragged you into the bed with her. She got you settled under the covers and immediately cuddled into you, making you into the little spoon. Again, you could feel her breath on your neck, her hand lazily drawing patterns on your upper thigh and hip.

You felt yourself freeze as she sleepily mumbled, “Stop overthinking it. Go to sleep.”

You woke up the next morning and she was already gone.

Your life with Emily continued on like this for a month. Little things would happen that would make you question your relationship to her and then she’d act as if nothing happened and that you two were just really good friends.

It was making your mind spin, giving you a constant headache.

You were almost fed up with the constant see-sawing, ready to talk to her about what was happening, when you two first fell into bed together.

Another bad case, a late night out at the bar with everyone, and too many shots of tequila.

You woke up the following morning with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and fuzzy memories of the night before. All you could remember was the smell of her signature perfume, the feel of lips on skin, and sore muscles.

You probably would’ve written it off, thought it was just your overactive imagination if it hadn’t been for the rather large bite mark on the inside of your thigh.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, especially since the memories were still alluding you. You probably would’ve tried to write it off as a random hook up if it hadn’t been for the fact that Emily had woken up in bed beside you, an almost matching bite mark against her collarbone.

This time, it was a little harder to write off what had happened. Especially since you were both naked.

You could feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish, an almost panicked look in your eyes.

Emily cleared her throat. “Wanna get breakfast?”

You were never more appreciative and pissed for her nonchalant attitude.

“Sure,” you said, a sudden burst of confidence hitting you as you got out of bed to head to the bathroom without worrying about covering up.

You’re pretty sure you heard Emily gasp as you closed the bathroom door, a little victorious smirk playing at your lips.

Again, you two never talked about what happened.

It almost seemed like a game. How many days you two could go before stumbling into one of these moments together.

You made it thirty-six hours without snuggling on the couch for a movie.

You made it thirty-seven hours without Emily’s hand finding your thigh.

You made it eighty-eight hours without her kissing you after a night out.

You made it one hundred and fourteen hours before she was back in your bed.

Except this time, you were both sober.

You had almost gotten yourself killed. Not on purpose, just a run in with one of the many psychopaths you deal with at work. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing.

But after he’d been placed in cuffs, Emily had this absolutely feral look in her eyes. Uncaged. Like she was seconds away from combusting.

She drove you home. Like always. But the entire ride was silent.

You made it into your apartment, the door barely closed behind you before she exploded. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She shouted.

It made you take a step back. She’d never raised her voice at you before. Emily was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, her fists clenched at her sides.

You were sure you looked scared, befuddled, bewildered. You couldn’t even process quick enough to say anything before she continued.

“You almost got yourself killed! He had you pinned to the fucking floor! There’s bruises along your arms from where he touched you!” At this point, you could see Emily almost vibrating with her anger. But you were fairly certain she wasn’t actually angry. At least you hoped not.

“I can’t believe you would be so reckless to walk into a building alone! You knew what he was capable of! How sneaky he’s been! But you didn’t care!” Emily started pacing around the floor, her eyes wild, but focused on her hands, her fingers twisting around each other.

You could feel your own misplaced anger starting to race through your veins. “I knew what I was doing! I had cleared the room! I don’t know how he got the jump on me, but how on earth is that my fucking fault, Emily? We split up, like we do to cover the premises, and I drew the short end of the stick!” You let out a breath. “Why are you blaming me? Blame him!”

She spun around to face you, her nostrils flaring. “I am! But I’m also blaming you!”

You rolled your eyes, tossed your hands up,” Why? What did I do? Why are you mad at me and yelling at me?”

“Because you didn’t wait for me!”

Your eyes caught Emily’s. Beneath the anger, beneath her guarded shell, you could see the fear in her eyes. The realization that something worse than a couple of bruises could have happened.

You tried to open your mouth, say something, but before you could, Emily muttered a quick “fuck it” before crossing the room to you, crushing her lips to yours.

Before you knew it, clothes were scattered along the hallway to your bedroom.

Emily tossed you back onto the bed, her body quickly making its way between your thighs. You quickly wrapped your legs around her waist, dragging her closer to you, tangling your hands in her hair as you brought her down for another heated kiss.

Emily broke away from you, trailing her lips down the side of your neck, quickly finding the spot behind your ear that made you moan out loud. She spent a considerable amount of time there, making sure to leave her mark before moving lower down your throat, kissing across your collarbones, and down between the valley between your breasts.

She wasted no time wrapping her lips around your turgid peak, taking satisfaction in the way it made you fist the sheets below you in your hands. She made sure to give the same attention to the other nipple, her hand making sure to not leave the opposite one alone for long.

Emily could spend hours giving your breasts the attention they deserved, but she was almost as impatient as you seemed to be, so she kept making her way down your body, finding the sweet spots that made you whimper or sigh, making note of them for later.

You could feel how wet you were already, but with Emily between your legs, you couldn’t get any friction to help the ache that was building.

“Em, please,” you whispered, almost embarrassed by how much you needed her. The build up from all of the times she was just a little too close, the lingering touches, and even the thought of the last time you two fell into bed together (even though you unfortunately don’t remember much of it). It was driving you crazy.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you,” she smirked at you before swiping her tongue through your wetness.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your eyes rolling back a little, one of your hands shooting down to her hair to keep her there.

Emily ate you out as if her life depended on it, as if she could spend the rest of her life between your legs. She took her time to explore every inch of you, figuring out what moves made you whine, which ones made your entire body shudder, and what made you grip her hair harder.

It didn’t take long for you to climb towards the edge of your orgasm, but before you could fall over, Emily stopped and pulled away from you.

The gasp, the outrage on your face almost made Emily laugh out loud. “I love being friends with you,” she snickered at you, a taunting glint in her eyes.

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” you scoffed, flabbergasted at Emily’s ability, even with your juices all over her face, to ignore what was happening between you two.

You could feel Emily pause, her body tight, afraid to move. She didn’t expect you to lash out, and she could tell you weren’t really happy with her, upset with her disregard of everything.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hands finding purchase on your hips, her thumbs rubbing back and forth a little. “I never knew how to…address this,” she shrugged.

You nearly laughed at how small she looked, unable to make eye contact with you. She didn’t have an issue with having her mouth on your pussy two minutes ago, but now she couldn’t look you in the eye.

“A conversation would’ve been a good place to start, Em. You made me feel like I was going crazy.”

Her eyes finally caught yours and you could instantly tell that she really did feel sorry. Feelings just weren’t her thing. Before she could apologize again, you cut her off, “We can talk about it after you finish fucking me, Emily.”

You watched her demeanor transform to something hungrier, cockier, feral. “Yes ma’am,” she mockingly saluted before connecting her lips to yours again, trying to convey everything that she was feeling.

Her hand traveled down from your hip, stilling at the apex of your thighs, silently asking for permission. You nodded against her, your lips still connected in a heated kiss.

She teasingly stroked your warm, wet pussy with her hand, gathering your juices on her fingers. She pulled back from your kiss, watching your expression as she slowly thrusted two fingers inside of you.

You tried to keep eye contact with her, but after the build up of all of the little moments between you, it felt so good to finally have her inside of you. Emily slowly built up to an almost punishing pace, something fast, and hard, and exactly what you needed. Her fingers curled at just the right angle to hit that spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch.

Emily’s other hand made contact with your straining clit, rubbing tight, little circles to match her thrusts. You could feel yourself rushing towards that edge again, a breath away from letting go.

“Come on, pretty girl. Let go for me.”

Your release hit you like a freight train, your back arching off of the bed, your mouth open in a silent scream. You felt your muscles tense, the euphoria washing through you, before letting go and relaxing as Emily fucked you through your orgasm. You tried to catch your shallow breath, a light sheen of sweat across your flushed skin, before looking at Emily, your hands starting to dance across her skin.

Emily’s own hands caught yours, catching the questioning look in your eyes. She kissed both of your palms before tangling your fingers together. “Later, baby. We should talk first.”

Those words would usually cause a rush of panic to course through your blood, but something about the way that Emily was looking at you put you at ease.

You took a deep breath, smiling a little at her, kissing her hands in return. “Yeah, we should.”

She smiled back.

And she didn’t run.

#virescent v fanfic #prompt fill #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #no use of y/n #ask v!#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #sorry if this isnt angsty or smutty enough lmfao i wanted to just write something to spark the motivation to write again #also this was edited by me reading it once so if theres mistakes im sorry for that too lolol

327 notes · View notes

withonly-sweetheart · 1 month ago

Text

Threads of Carmine Red

They split your heart into two and the sticky sweet threads that hang between them only bring you closer to your doom. Can you every truly choose your fate? Or will it always be in their silky hands...?

a/n: ok erm so uh like well uh <- thats it. bye! characters are more expanded on in the endings because i cant do shit for shit. i fear.

heh now its time for credits

@candlekiss - MARI WHY'D YOU INSPIRE LIKE ALL OF THESE <3 but it was ur study of the scrapped character design of re8 ada that inspired this wildly massively changed sequence of events. LOVE YOU EITHER WAY POOKIE <3

@pxs-onthehunt - sorry for tagging you but your ada vampire art actually had me tweaking so hard... its kinda what inspired ada's personality throughout this... uh... thank you for your service <3

@vampiricgf <- kita tysm for helping with the atmosphere im still mindblown how your small piece of advice came SUCH a long way and i hope i've conveyed this right (probably havent sigh)

@eyesofsix - ur uhm aeon vampire art... harshi sent that to me because she was freaking out over it and i saw it and also freaked out and we danced in a freaking out circle together. your art is bringing people closer (together). <- stop the freaky jokes need to stop. BUT

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: descriptions of blood? ig? idfk something like that and then idek what this is man you just gotta read it ig (can you tell im off today THE OPPS HAVE WON SADLY)

wc: 2.2k

You don’t know where you’re going, but you do know that her eyes are following you. Tracking you, searing your back with their presence, origin unknown. You can confirm it is indeed a “her” watching you when that sultry voice finally appears from the shadows.

“Are you lost, little girl?” she muses, confident in a way you can’t quite explain. You try your best to be bold and lift your chin, surveying your surroundings in an unfavorable attempt to find her. “Ah, you won’t see me unless I want you to.”

“Do you know where I am?” you demand. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Ouch.” You can imagine a pout, yet no face to place it with. A simple expression with no master behind it, crimson lips twisted down. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yes,” you grit out. “I need to get back. Where the hell am I?”

“Can’t you tell?”

You glare out into the retreating light that only seems to twitch from your grasp as you near. A fretful game of tag that’ll never end, you fear. With a frown puckering your eyebrows, you glance upward, yet no flash of lightning comes through the night-ridden windows, useless in your pursuit. Only a flash of white-hot fear that surges through your blood.

A door creaks open somewhere to your left. You know better than to trust mysterious voices from the dark, but guidance is scarce in a place like this. At least you assume your location to be applicable to those terms, foolishly, perhaps.

“Go ahead,” she coaxes softly. “I’m simply helping you.”

Perhaps if there were light, you could’ve seen that she was trailing you the entire time, never more than a few steps away, itching to get her hands on you yet shoving that instinct into a box in her mind, a box known as patience.

You might’ve also noticed the pointed edges of her teeth when she grins as you stupidly stumble into the door, feeling around for the knob, and she waits with her hands clasped behind her back before you trip past something into the room.

And you miss her silently closing the door behind you.

There’s light in this room, thankfully, a dim light that only sparks to life after you take another few steps. A lantern tosses shadows in your face, painting the room in dramatic proportions, making the small area seem larger than life.

“Hello?” you call out, timidly. “Is anyone there?”

You shut your mouth immediately as soon as there’s yet another high pitched squeal from the floorboards, unable to support your weight as well as you’d like, and something splinters behind you.

Spinning around to find nothing there throws you off balance, and you manage to get your foot stuck in the broken wood. You make the mistake of reaching down, kneeling and pawing at your foot, which leaves you with minor scratches on your now free foot.

It comes with the cost of blood welling up, tears of your skin gushing from a painful gash that somehow goes unnoticed in the first few seconds of shock before you scream. Then you slam your uninjured hand back over your mouth, trying not to scowl at yourself, biting at the knuckle in a silly attempt to cancel out the pain.

It doesn’t work. If anything, it seems your efforts have all been in vain. A weak kick is delivered to your neck, and you sway to the side lightly. There’s an unimpressed growl from behind you, just before something strikes the same area at least ten times harder, and your vision goes dark, fading from your sideways slant of the room.

<><><><>

“Stop moving,” a voice hums in your ear. It seems too sudden for you, jerking back to life like a monster, flailing and thrashing your limbs. You’re bound with something, rope, maybe, but the state of panic sends adrenaline rushing to your head.

“It’s like she does the opposite of whatever you say,” that same sultry voice remarks, albeit from a distance, which doesn’t scare you as much as the presence looming over your shoulder.

“Relax,” it muses, too quiet to determine whether it’s male or female, too subtle to know the differences. Your calf burns, as if your wound has magically gotten larger, spreading over the expanse of bare skin where your pants are rolled up.

You blink and still at the feather light touch of calloused fingertips tracing up your arm, drawing the silhouette of your body, yet the feeling is almost… otherworldly.

“What…” you sputter, an unwelcome shudder rippling through your body. “What are you?”

“What are you,” the woman combats, “if not a creature of Earth?”

They remain pure voices, the harmony of male and female in perfect vocals that may as well be songs themselves, yet the pure chill of fear thrums alongside your searing blood, at every subtle touch unwillingly placed onto your skin.

“Just let me go, please,” you plead, just short of convincing. A string inside you unravels, tugging you back towards them, an unprecedented attraction that could try to coil back up, spin back into a shape in your body, but it reaches for them.

You imagine a well trimmed finger, sharp nails glinting in the darkness, source of light unknown, curling around that thread, a leash for a disobedient dog.

“Aren’t you just that?” she muses. “A sweet little puppy? A human plaything for the society that has existed long before you were even a thought in your ancestors’ flimsy minds. They were no smarter than you, it seems.”

You nod in compliance, feeling yourself slip further and further away, stretching your legs in an attempt to swim through the murky liquid you feel yourself sinking into, trying to reach for the glowing spool, the source of all your turmoil, but it fades within the violent waves.

“She will suffice,” another voice huffs out, the one with the ghastly touch. “Prepare her.”

“Why should it be me?” she scoffs. “You’ve gotten your hands dirty, do it yourself.”

Uh oh. Looks like Mom and Dad are fighting.

<><><><>

The next time you find yourself, it takes what seems like hours to trudge through the inky, vast darkness threatening to swallow you whole. But you see your soul sparkling, woven in as gems of memories within the thin line, glowing so intensely you fear you might burn yourself upon touching it.

But your fingers graze the raised material and you immediately sit upright, eyes blown open as you force yourself to take steady breaths, trying to readjust to the feeling of being in control of your own body.

What had really happened back there? She was the puppeteer to your mindless actions, unable to change the course of events from your glass bubble, restricting your air, trying to erase all evidence of you. You wonder who the mysterious, sultry woman is.

“Thank you.” The same voice calls out, this time from the only patch of darkness available in the well-lit room, morning sun casting warmth onto your cheek as you crane your neck up to catch a glance of the woman.

Narrow eyes peer back at you, and the light in the room shifts quickly enough for you to acknowledge her eerily pale skin, tinted lips the only pop of color in her otherwise drab outfit, a black cloak with crimson accents splashed here and there.

Only when she drops from the ceiling do you realize that they aren’t accents at all. Splotches of dried blood, you see more closely as she approaches, and you scramble back on the mattress you’ve been placed on, only to have your back meet the wall in a most unpleasant manner.

“Don’t worry,” she says with a chuckle. “I won’t hurt you.”

You resist the urge to furrow your eyebrows, fearing that she might take it as a sign of disrespect and pounce. How often do you see vampires? Trick question, the answer is never. You’re not prepared in the slightest, yet you can’t deny the awe that quickly fills you.

Awe at her appearance. If you hadn’t seen the blood, you wouldn’t have even begun to suspect she’s a blood sucking demon, and even now you find yourself doubting the very idea. How could someone so nice be evil?

“I… apologize if I came off strange earlier,” she says with a smile that curves her teeth, and you fight to discern her teeth from her fangs, almost undetectable if you weren’t hanging off your seat and biting your nails in anticipation of them. “You must understand our hesitations to accept a new member.”

“A… new… member?” You test out each word slower than the last, and you feel like you’re back in primary school with a teacher, bless her, patient enough to guide you through it.

“It’s been millennia since a human has met our qualifications. When Leon scouted you, I knew-”

“Leon?” you interrupt. Irritation sparks in her eyes, previously warm, melted honey freezing up quickly. “He’s the guy who was following me here!”

“Yes, but-”

“And he was the one who tied me up!” you say with a gasp. “So who are you?”

“It looks like you’re more interested in talking than listening.” The woman - or should you say vampire? - curls her lip and you can’t tell if it’s in distaste or carefully placed amusement. It feels like you’re tiptoeing on ice, cracks reverberating through the room, devastating enough to bring the entire building down.

“Sorry.”

“Hm.” She lifts her nose, somewhat haughtily. “You’re quite gullible, aren’t you?”

“Better fix that soon, ma’am,” a voice replied sarcastically from the doorway. Ada shifts her figure so you can see who, but of course, their identity becomes quickly hidden with the light playing on their face, shadows from their cloak hood dapping the planes of their face.

“I’d think twice about talking down to me, Leon,” she replies suavely, a smile coaxing her lips into emotion. “She already knows.”

You swear you can hear his teeth gnash against each other. “That was my job, Ada.”

“Your one job,” she teases, eyes flitting down to you with a subtle wink before turning to face him with an all too important look, “and I beat you to it.”

“Ada,” you test out quietly. Even the name sounds foreign, a medley of arcane qualities and inscrutable judgment.

"Tell me then," Leon says in a low voice, stepping further into the room. You press back into the plush mattress, sensing the tension mounting between them. "What exactly have you told our guest?"

"Only that which she deserves to know," Ada replies coyly.

"Which is?"

She levels him an unimpressed stare. "Patience. All will be explained in due time."

Leon shoots you a glance, lips thin. "How have you found our hospitality so far? Comfortable?"

You nod hesitantly, eyeing the door behind him. "Very kind of you all, though the circumstances of my arrival were... unconventional."

Ada offers a soft chuckle. "Leon lacks finesse, perhaps true. But fear not - harm will not come to you here." Her reassurance does little to do any of its intended purpose. Part of you longs to trust her gentle words and curious gaze, yet Leon's wariness makes you wonder what other truths lie beneath the surface.

"I understand you must have questions," Ada continues. "Please, ask what you will. An open exchange benefits us all."

You hesitate, darting knowing looks between them. Leon's intense glare conveys he wishes to avoid certain subjects.

"If I may... what exactly are you going to do to me?"

Ada’s enigmatic smile vanishes. Leon scoffs.

“I thought you informed her of her purpose, Ada,” he says, her name coming out of his mouth laced with venom, the same that swirls through your mind as their gazes bore into your mind.

And for the first time since you’ve seen him, Leon grins.

“You are going to become one of us.”

You blink, the words becoming garbled with all the background noise fresh in your mind, coarse tongue lead weight in your mouth, running your teeth over chapped lips.

“And now, we play a little game,” Ada says, although reluctantly, as if suddenly her eagerness has been replaced with the grim truth. “You must pick.”

“Pick… what?”

“One of us,” Leon says, stepping forward. “One of us will grant you freedom; you’ll wake up safe in your home, with no recollection of this incident.”

“Yet the other will lead you to our cause, the same fate that befell us.” Ada’s face has gone stony, giving no hints of which path she leads. “You will join us. This is less of a game, and more a test of your judgment. Choose wisely.”

They unfurl their hands like broken angels, reaching down from you in an inverted version of heaven, more reaching up from hell, but you can’t say that, now can you? Neither of them are trustworthy enough, so you quickly make a decision.

And you reach for…

ADA?

LEON?

#it's in your blood...#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #ada wong x you #ada wong #re4 #resident evil ada wong #ada wong resident evil #re4 ada #re6 ada #re6 ada wong #vampire au

29 notes · View notes

the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year ago

Note

This is my first time ever requesting SMTH OML IM SWEATIN 😟 BUT I WANTED TO HAVE MY FIRST REQUEST BE TOWARDS YOU CAUSE UR WRITING IS SO GOOD AND BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN LIKE THE EMOTION UR ABLE TO CONVEY JUST THROUGH WORDS IS CRAZY N ADDICTIVELY DELICIOUS NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HURTS MY SOUL ANYWAY MOVING ON (i love ur writing sm its so artistic)

this is so akward but like a reader who grew up around family members who'd get RLLY drunk n made her home super uncomfortable for her so like it's like a sensitive thing when she's around intoxicated people yk like n one day bill shows up late from a party pretty messed up n is kinda acting like an asshole lowkey aggressive LIKE ANGSTY YK UR AMAZING AT THAT n then the next morning bill wakes up hung over without reader in bed next to him confused n finally remembers n how royally fucked he is n hes like super apologetic

THATS ALL I GOT BUT UM IF U DONT FEEL COMFY WRITING IT I TOTALLY GET IT LIKE IGNORE THIS DELETE THIS DW, BUT IF YOU DO THANK YOU IN ADVANCE IYLSM

(this Lowkey sucks ass and I'm so sorry for making you wait this long for this piece of shit writing I wrote, jut I still hope you enjoy it and I'm so glad you like my works and my writing!)

Drunk & Sober Mistakes

Bill woke up with a pounding in his head, groaning as he flipped over onto his stomach. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of water.

He drank from it like he was dehydrated for ten years, feeling like he was as he savored the feeling of it pouring down his throat.

"(Name)...?" Bill called out, his voice raspy and scratchy as he woke up, trying to see you.

Bill looked up confused when he got no response, looking around from the bed as best he could.

Bill groaned as he got up, almost stumbling as he made it to his feet and to the bathroom, desperately trying to get the taste out his mouth.

He brushed his teeth, almost gagging at the taste of the toothpaste with throw up in his mouth.

Bill finally has time to mull over everything, everything in small blurs except that he knew that he got drunk.

He came home, and for some reason felt in a bad mood, and unfortunately you were there as well, so you got some backlash.

Bill felt like hitting himself, especially as it came back in an almost tidal wave that he remembered everything.

Your family has problems with drinking, getting so drunk to the point of making you uncomfortable.

Bill promised to never do that to you, but now?

Bill felt the throw up coming back up as he realized he had broken that promise, and your trust.

Something Bill vowed to never do to you

As he did so, he heard the front door open and shut as soon as he heard it. Bill sighed, knowing it was you just from the sound of your footsteps.

Knowing he has to face you, and full of shame, he walks out of the bathroom to see you collecting stuff off the floor he had either knocked down, or dropped.

Watching you do so as he leaned against the doorframe only made him even more guilty.

You knew he was there from the burning and the feeling all over your body, but you chose to ignore him, feeling as he deserves it for what he has done last night.

At your silence and watching you trying to fix the bed, Bill sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe." Bill finally spoke up, looking as you stopped your movement, listening as he stepped closer, staying a little ways away as he didn't want to make you even more uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for getting drunk. I…I didn't think I would get that bad." Bill sighed once more, walking closer to you as he heard you sigh as well, about to shrug him off.

"It's fine-"

"No, it's not. I fucked up. I'm sorry." Bill apologized once more, looking as you shook your head as he stood right behind you. Bill wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to put his chin on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" Bill repeated, kissing your cheek in light kisses as he heard you sigh, moving the hands to softly sit on his, so soft and quiet it was like you wouldn't notice your hands unless you spoke up about them.

"Just- just don't do it again…" you mumbled, looking over your shoulder slightly to see his face close to yours, a frown almost permanent on his.

"I promise you, I won't ever do it again." Bill reassured, pecking your lips softly once as he rubbed his thumb over your waist.

"...You were being a real asshole." You said, actually meaning it and thinking he deserves to hear it. Bill sighed, nodding softly as he knew he was.

Bill thought about something for a moment, to at least try and make it a little more better before he finally found it.

"...wanna smack me?" Bill offered quickly, getting a pause from you as you finally turned around to look at him.

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion, Bill smiling as he finally got a smile out of you.

"To make it better!" Bill laughed along, smiling as he put his hands on your hips.

"No!" You shook your head, objecting like he was crazy but he was smiling at the sound of your laughter.

"Come on, just one smack." Bill tried once more, tickling your sides softly as you playfully scoffed and moved his hands.

"Is this a new kink you're trying out?" You joked, Bill falling silent as he gave you a funny look.

You both gave each other little smirks, amused before you both bursted out laughing.

Bill chuckled, grabbing your arm and bringing you into a hug as you kept on giggling.

He rubbed your back, your arms and kissed your head.

"I'm sorry, again."

"It's fine…just promise to not do it again?" You mumbled out, smiling up at him from his chest as he chuckled, immediately nodding.

"I promise I won't ever do it again. Sticking to soda from now on, huh?" Bill asked, his hands on your waist now with yours around his.

"You most definitely are." You smiled back, scrunching up your nose as he leaned down and almost touched his nose with yours, still smiling.

"Well, got a soda cop here now, huh?"

"Yup, ass."

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

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader

206 notes · View notes

bitterpngs · 1 year ago

Text

...

… trust, huh?

TL;DR: what i want to highlight with this comic: satoru calling suguru "geto" / suguru crossing satoru's metaphorical line and permanently severing his relationship with him. kenjaku's plan in canon will never come to fruition in this au. what happens after is up to you :)

and yes ik the trust quote is in the context of the other 2nd years! i added it bc it fit, in a way.

this got long sorry lol i started to ramble

LAST NAME - what started this all and what i hope others picked up on was gojo calling geto by his last name, not his first: geto. even after everything geto did during jjk v0, gojo still calls geto 'suguru.' he's still 'suguru' to him. i wanted a scenario in which gojo would reject his first name - reject their past and their relationship. this whole comic idea sprung out of being unsatisfied with geto and gojo's canon relationship. personally, im not the happiest with how things were written in the story and feel like the author could've done some things differently. this isn't to say i don't like or enjoy what the author has written either. i just have mixed feelings.

KENJAKU - in case it wasn't clear, the door closing on page 14 depicts geto with stitches on his forehead - aka kenjaku. what that page is trying to convey is that the moment geto killed yuuta, the future where geto's body is used to box gojo ceased to exist. in this au, kenjaku's plan that we see in the canon timeline would never and will never work. by killing yuuta, geto crossed a line and permanently severed his relationship with gojo. if gojo wins here, gojo will dispose of the body properly. the panel after shows a closed door with the memory of who suguru was. the person who suguru used to be and the best years of gojo's life etc etc. but "broken" bc it's gojo truly realizing that's not who geto is anymore + the whole "severing relationship" thing. does this make sense.

what happens after the comic ends is up to interpretation though

GETO'S PLAN - i didnt focus a lot on the specifics of how this could've happened considering geto's plan changed in this au. how it happened isnt really important, you can come up with whatever you want. what i wanted to focus on, and what i hope people managed to pick up on is the situation itself - geto killing yuuta. sorry yuuta. i'll make it up to you.

i ended it here because it felt the best place, but here's some scrapped dialogue of a few seconds after: GETO: "… It was a necessary sacrifice, Sato-" GOJO: "don't you dare call me that" basically to emphasize the first name vs last name situation

GOJO N GETO - ive always felt uhhh. nitpicky, i guess. about the specifics of everything regarding gojo and geto. ive felt unsatisfied for a variety of reasons, and this was basically an idea that sprung out (a looong time ago) of a want for gojo to be angry at and feel more.. negative emotions, i guess, toward geto. i still do genuinely enjoy their canon relationship a lot tho. i enjoy the way they’re written together and individually, i just have different/multiple feelings about the same thing :)

RIKO AND YUUTA - erm there was a scrapped panel... you can find it on my blog if you're really curious but there was a panel of geto 'remembering' riko's dead body (a distorted memory, because the blood reflects yuuta's injuries). it's not necessarily that riko and yuuta are similar, it's that geto becomes a bit like toji in the end. just like toji, geto tries to kill a young teenager for the sake of his own goals. while toji's was selfish and geto's, in his own eyes, was for the greater good, there's still the similarity of killing a child. of stealing their future for their own goals. plus the fact that gojo killed both of them in a similar way.

TRUST - yeah i know the quote is in the context of the 2nd years fighting geto. still. gojo trusted geto to a large degree, despite everything he did. so. it's going here.

PG 4-6 - geto values and cares about sorcerers so so much. again, he was fine with trying to kill yuuta for his vision and all but i dont think he wouldn't feel some level of. conflicting emotions i guess. (i am very against the idea that geto wasn't... trying to kill yuuta? i don't really get that perspective at all. it'd make all of that meaningless imo. but this isn’t about that.) ok im done.

if you read this entire rambly thing, thank you :D hope you enjoyed!

#jjk #gojo satoru #getou suguru #geto suguru #my art #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanart #gore

200 notes · View notes

bowieandqueen11 · 2 years ago

Text

Give Me Your Heart / Jareth Imagine

Request: Hi im not sure if you're taking requests bit could you please do a Jareth x gn reader where he teaches his s/o how to dance. However it's just between them, no music, no guests, just them in an empty hall? Don't feel pressured to write this. Hope you're doing well :)

Ooh it’s been far too long since I’ve written for Jareth, and this idea is so sweet and romantic!! Thank you nonnie :)

Also sorry, this ended up being more teasing than I had set it out to be oopsie but I hope you enjoy anyway! ,3

(I do not own Labyrinth or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @ihadadutyovcare.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Now darling, even you know by now that your hand goes on my waist.’

You try to stifle your laugh, instead pressing your growing smile against the itchy notched lapel of his jacket. Jareth’s warmth envelops you immediately, helped on by the tickle of his fringes as they brush over the glowing curve of your cheek. It’s a soothing, tender kind of gush that sweeps through your muscles as you feel his hand reposition its grip, safe within the knowledge that no matter how clunkily you stepped on the tips of his toes and scuffed the edges of his boots, he would hold you tightly against his chest and never let go.

You slide your hand back up to the rather tense muscle of his waist with a teasing sigh, enjoying the way the domineering sovereign before you is wrought with a rack of shivers from your sole touch alone. He groans as your fingers trace and scratch around the joint, his eyes rolling back slightly in his head as you take full advantage of his obviously flustering state.

‘Now Jareth, do I hold my arm up like this?’, you take a step back from him and ostentatiously draw your elbow away from his side and swing it up in the air, dragging his own arm along with it. ‘Or does it come round here...hmm, in this sort of position?’ You drop his fingertips that were gently resting on top of your own and swing forward, looping your arm around the Goblin King’s neck. His eyes widen in a fervent kind of shock as your palm flattens against the back of his neck and pulls the bewildered man down to reach your lips.

Once he regains his composure and realises there’s nothing more delightful in this moment than relishing in the feeling of kissing the love of his life back, he tips one leather gloved finger under your chin and tilts you further up to meet him. With pliant lips, he slowly draws away and presses a last, lingering kiss against your top lip; despite the fact that you were the one to initiate the peck, you were also the one left breathless. Contently, he closes his eyes for a moment before sighing in bliss and smirking once again.

‘Now now, my diamond streaked star, if you keep teasing me so I shall have to reprimand you for such insolence. Perhaps I shall tie your hand to mine so you can never escape’, he tenderly takes your right wrist and drags the back of your hand down the side of his cheek. As he does so, he grips you back to him again. Without breaking the passionate eye contact that blazes a crimson shrine, a travailing opal blossoming in the minute space between your bodies, he begins the move the two of you a step backwards.

‘Or maybe even that wouldn’t be enough.’ He reaches an arm up, twirling you around until you’re gliding like a wound up music box figurine: porcelain, fated, pure perfection. His boot knocks against your own shoe, turning it to the side as he lodges his knee in-between your own; Jareth is almost carrying you at this point, guiding your feet backwards and to the left, whizzing over the gleaming marble stained tiles of the looming hall.

‘Perhaps, what is needed to succinctly convey the message, would be to capture your heart and keep it safely locked within mine forever.’ Before you can even take a breath, his hand has wound around the small of your back and he’s knocking you backwards. The gentle-stricken winged cherubs that are moulded to the corners of the gold crested ceiling are fleeting as they pass by your eyes; the crystal encrusted chandelier that beams haloes of light past your vision is soon replaced by the shimmering blue of the violet banked sky. The glory of the starlight that swirls pockets of alight silver over the upside-down edge of the outer stone balcony is only seconded by the feeling of Jareth leaning over you.

The soft groan that escapes your mouth elicits an amused hum from the man, who nuzzles his nose against yours like the cat who got the cream. While his left hand is busy holding your hips flush against his midriff, his right busies itself with running down your side slowly, setting every nerve in its path alight with anticipation. Eventually, after far too long a wait, your closed eyes grimace in bliss as you feel his lips brush feather soft, licking against the pulse point on your neck.

‘After all, it’s not so long at all, if only you can live without it’, he murmurs between nibbles against the curve of your shoulder. ‘For I know I could not. If you took your heart away from me, you would cause me to fall into ruination.’

This was going to be a long night indeed.

#labyrinth #jareth #the goblin king #goblin king #david bowie #labyrinth imagine #jareth imagine #the goblin king imagine #goblin king imagine #jareth x reader #labyrinth movie #jareth labyrinth #the goblin king x reader #goblin king x reader #bowie

810 notes · View notes

mistyresolve · 2 years ago

Text

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 3.5)

Word Count - 5.7k His Hindsight - 1.8k How They Met - 3.9k

Summary - The first part is of simon’s pov during those few months and a little bit of part 3. As well as a peek at how Doc and Simon met (Ft. Soap).

Warnings/Tags - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - sorry i'm taking so long with part 4, i’m struggling with a little bit of writer's block and i don’t want to force it and end up with something im unhappy with — i hope you guys can forgive me

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

His Hindsight (Ghosts POV)

Looking from afar, Ghost seemed unmoved by the fight he had with you. Maybe a little quieter but it was a façade. Never confuse quiet with calm. He was the eye of the storm, and his raging would be following closely behind. There was something smouldering in the pit of his stomach, it burned and decayed inside him. It resembled shame but it was coagulated with disdain and turned into ichor in his veins.

He fucked up.

He knew that. And for the life of him, he couldn’t find a good enough excuse to justify his actions. Not that he was looking for one, but he was never one to let something get to him like this. Not to the point where it followed him around like a weeping dark cloud. Never to the point where he was miserable.

Even Price had to ask him if something was bothering him, and if was in need of a break. Time off was the last thing Ghost needed. He would then be forced to sit every roiling emotion, and what he needed to get back into the field and drown everything out. Just so he could breathe and it wouldn’t feel like barbed wire was wrapped around his lungs.

After his years of service, Ghost had become inured to death and violence. Even before his enlistment. He’d learned quickly to respect death, and he’s been both the enforcer and the witness of it. That wasn’t to say it was something he thrived on, he was just something good at it. He was moulded for this kind of life from the very beginning. And who was he to defy fate? Of course, there was still the off occasion it got to him. When it felt cold and heavy in his chest and loomed over his shoulder like an imp. So he learned to compartmentalize it all, learned to detach. To protect his own sanity. His heart.

He also knew he wouldn’t be able to handle your death.

The day the convoy left that was this gnawing feeling and had asked Price if they should postpone the convey a day till the coast was clear. When Price declined he then requested to go on ahead and do it himself. Price had said that he didn’t have the clearance to allow it and he was sorry.

No amount of worrying or experience would have prepared him for watching the explosions and then your vehicle flipping in front of him. It was the second scariest moment of his life. He had shaken his head, not believing his own eyes. He slammed on the brakes so hard that the seat belt locked and dug into his collarbone. He hardly felt it. Worse was when he watched Price pull out of the back, and when Price called to him “Doc needs medical!”. Ghost threw caution to the wind, left cover and slid to your side to assess the damages himself. His heart was beating in his ears, could feel it thundering at the base of his throat. He was used to the thrill and adrenaline of a firefight but this was something entirely different. It was something he wasn’t able to put a name to. Something foreign. Worse was when he noticed the wound on your leg. Worse was when your head dropped to your chest and you became unresponsive. He carried you in his arms the entire time, protecting your body with his.

There was no way. There was no you were leaving him. He wasn’t going to let you.

This exact situation was what he was trying to avoid and why he stained your reputation. When he first told HQ that you would be a liability was out of panic. They were going to transfer you to the front lines. Turn you into cannon fodder. He knew it wasn’t right the entire time. Knew that he was betraying you, but he couldn’t figure out another option. Not fast enough anyways.

He didn’t know what else to do.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do, or how he was supposed to fix it. He wasn’t blind to the fact that you wanted nothing to do with him. He had asked Soap how you were once, and when Soap said “They’re fine, Ghost. I’ve got my eye on them, don’t worry.” Soap had talked with Simon that night you confronted him, the two of them walked the perimeter of the camp for hours before their shift ended. Simon had poured his heart out, and it was as big of a shock to himself as much as it was for Soap. In the end, Soap sided with you, confirming that Simon was in the wrong and that he’d need to find a way to fix it.

So, he pulled every string and called in every favour he had to have his report on you removed from your file. He had it all redacted. He figured you wouldn’t appreciate him if he tried to play chess with your life once again, so he left it at that. He kept his mouth shut when it came to you, opting for observation when Price had asked Laswell to track you down and recruit you for a new assignment. Even though it killed him, and he was thoroughly against it. The only solace he was able to find was the fact that you would be right beside him the entire time. He couldn’t say if you would feel the same though.

It took two months of Ghost and Price working day and night to find out who it was that had revealed the convoy's route to the enemy forces. Ghost was in his head nearly the entire time, his thoughts wandering back to you and your last interaction with him. Twice, Price had to remind him that he needed to be focusing on the task at hand, something that has never happened before.

They had a couple of suspects and followed each of the around for weeks on end. Two months until the culprit, Cameron Rowe, finally slipped up and forgot to lock his safe. Ghost took the opportunity to sneak into Rowe's apartment, opened the safe and had everything he needed to know for sure that this was their guy. Files, blueprints, guns, burner phones, and a computer. He took pictures of everything and downloaded the contents of the computer before sending it all off for further inspection. He left Rowe’s apartment exactly how he found it.

Two weeks later, they had a target on Rowe’s head. And a mission. Ghost went back by himself and surveyed Rowe for another couple of weeks, gathering a rough schedule and his regularly visited areas. Which wasn’t a whole lot, since the fellow liked the comfort of his own home. Ghost played with the idea of pulling the fire alarm of his apartment building just to get the guy moving. He also collected a list of people who he might be in cahoots with before he was called back to HQ.

He had already gone over the mission briefing on his way back to base, albeit a little distracted. He was nervous, to say the least. After not seeing you for so long he wasn’t sure what he should expect. He didn’t need to think about what he was going to say to you, he already figured that out while he watched Rowe so basically nothing for two weeks.

When you downright shunned him in the meeting room he thought he was going to throw up all over his boots. He wanted to shrink back into the shadows. He wanted to give you room, give you space. When you stepped into the hall, he was a second away from turning on his heel and ducking into a room to hide. He felt like a loser and he was half expecting you not to answer him. When you did, he just about pumped his fist in the air at the victory. He had to grip the neck of his bulletproof vest to keep from reaching for you as he followed you outside.

The sun was setting and it blanketed everything in an orange glow, and when you turned on him his breath caught in his throat. You were beautiful. Angry. And beautiful. He had to bite his tongue to keep the smile from stretching across his face.

“Go ahead, Judas. I’ll keep it civil for the sake of the mission but I don’t want to be your friend,” the words stung more than he cared to admit out of his own stubbornness. That smile became easier to hold back.

“I understand,” but he could be content with being on speaking terms with you. If that was all you were willing to give him he’d take it. He’d take anything you offered him and carry it around like an egg at this point. By force of habit, he scanned the area and studied each passing car and its drivers. Within seconds he already cataloged every soul, possible threat, and the exact route he would take you to safety. “I was out of line. I was mixing private affairs with work, I see that now. And I’m sorry. I was being selfish and I wasn’t taking your needs and wants into consideration,” the crumpled look on your face just before the tears spilled flashed before his eyes and he felt his heart sink, “So, if you’ll give me some grace and let me show you how good I can be,” he never wanted to see the look on your face again.

He could feel your eyes search his, “Keep your fingers out of my business and I’ll think about it.”

Yes. Yes, of course.

“They’re put away.” he’d take you to the moon if that was what it would take.

“We can talk more later. I’ll come to you when I’m good and ready.” he didn’t expect you to forgive him immediately in the slightest. This conversation was already more than he anticipated.

“For now, just stay away from me,” there was no venom in your voice, but there didn’t need to be.

He recoiled from you, “Of, course,” his fingers chilled and the setting sun was a little less warm on his face.

He thought you were going to leave when you turned back to him, “Thank you, for apologizing.”

This time he couldn’t suppress the grin. Whatever has been smouldering in his stomach was reduced to a puffing smoke. It was still hot, but it didn’t share the same energy it did before.

How They Met

The army and the medical team had assumed control over what was once a fully operating clinic but was left abandoned when the area was deemed a warzone. Fortunately enough for your team, most of the supplies, and equipment were left as if someone had merely closed up shop for the night. Unfortunately, that was months ago and those same supplies were dwindling fast. The location was prime, built on one of the main Strip leading through the city and not too far from the front lines, and that also meant safe passage was hard to come by. Carter tried asking for a restock, twice now, but both times the couriers were intercepted on their way here. We’d had to start trading with the field medics that passed through for morphine, antibiotics, and gauze. Anything they could spare.

With your arms crossed over your chest, you anxiously tap your fingers on your forearms. Each step you took reverberated down the concrete hallway. You took another look out the double doors leading to the outside and down the street. Nothing. Not a sign of life. The convoy was supposed to be here a half hour ago, said to be transferring a man in critical condition from the front lines. And judging from the report we received an hour ago, one of them wouldn’t make it much longer without the proper equipment. The equipment they most certainly did not have on a transport truck.

The only two other medics that were on duty were standing on the other side of the hall. They looked just as antsy as you felt, sharing a quiet hurried conversation. The tall lanky one was called “Butters”, he was the first person you befriended after your assignment. It didn’t take you long to start appreciating his dry sense of humour. The first couple of days around him were filled with stifled laughter and you giving him concerned glances, unsure if he was even allowed to say some of the stuff he did.

The shorter one was “Carter”, he was older than dirt and you and Butters were adamant he joined during the war of 1812. He was also your superior and a good one at that. He held nothing but wisdom between those ears.

“They should have used a chopper,” Carter sassed, vexation pulling at the corners of his mouth. The reason they didn’t use a chopper was that we didn’t have any available, and every time one was airborne anywhere near the city it was blown out of the sky. You all knew that, but Carter liked the occasional grousing so you let him have it.

Then you heard it. The roar of a vehicle, the sound ricocheting around the empty street. You reached the set of doors just as the first truck rounded the corner. Two hummers followed closely behind.

“What the hell are the special ops doing here?” Butters said beside you.

“Special ops?” you asked, looking between him and the convoy.

“Those,” he pointed at the hummers, “Are reserved for the big guns. Scary guys those ones. Don’t look them in the eyes, they’ll see it as a threat.”

He called back down the hall and Carter appeared with the one and only gurney,

Carter waited as you guys opened the door, “They’re doing CPR one of them. Butters and I will handle him. Butters you’re pushing. I’ll take over the compressions,” then he turned back to you, “They were joined by another team so I’ll leave the last guy to you. Make sure you order those SpecOps around good and well, yeah?” that must have been way they were delayed.

“Yes sir,” you and Butters said in unison.

Butters gave you a good shot in the arm, “You owe me a pack of cigarettes.”

“What are we? Seven?” you would get him a pack either way.

You stood waiting as the convoy approached, the back doors flinging open before the truck could come to a complete stop. Blood that was pooling on the grooves on the floor of the truck, spilled out onto the pavement. Too much blood. All of it came from the man that was lying prone. Another soldier was performing CPR on him, his pants soaked with his blood. The gurney was already at the truck, Butters and Carter pulling the man onto the white sheets.

Your stomach churned when you learned the source of all this blood. His right leg was a mess of bone, tissue, and muscle from his just above his knee. The makeshift tourniquet made from a belt and a chem light was the only thing keep this man on the right side of life.

Before you could spool yourself back into your body Carter was jumping into the gurney and starting compressions. He was surprisingly limber for his age. Butters was already recruiting one of the soldiers from the truck to help him haul the gurney back into the clinic.

It was your turn now. Searching the back of the truck again for the second guy they were transferring. But there was no second patient. You pivoted to the two other vehicles, narrowing your attention to the closest one. Two men were huddled around one door. One was donned in all black, his face was cast in the shadows of his hood, and obscured by a mask. The other had on a boonie hat, his facial hair cut and shaped to perfection. Both of them were to built for pure unbridled strength and power. Both of them equally dangerous. They looked exactly how one would expect a member of the SpecOps to look.

“Get your ass out, you silly bastard,” One of them reaches into the back, wrestling with someone.

You quickly made your way over having determined that this was the second transfer.

“Aye, I’m trying, Captain,” whoever was speaking was already on some sort of analgesic, his words slightly slurred and laced with delirium.

Just as you reached the door the two standing at the door had managed to lift their injured comrade onto his feet, all his weight was being supported by them. His face was gaunt from the pain and blood loss, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open and focused.

“I’m fine. I just need a wee nap,” despite all his bravado he was going to need more than that. Following the trail of brutality that was once his shirt, now shredded and bloodied, and lifted the lapel of his jacket to get a better look. You peek under the mess of gauze and bundled-up shirt to find a bullet wound located on his shoulder, the bleeding controlled by quick clotting powder. It was messy work, but it saved his life.

You shook my head, “No nap for you,” and looked to the man he had called Captain, “Did it go through?” you asked referring to the bullet.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bring him in,” you lead them back into the clinic, holding the door open for them as they shuffled him inside. “First door on the right,” directing them from behind while you quickly step into another room to retrieve a trauma kit. You noted that it was the second to last one.

When you returned the two that were uninjured were shoving their wounded companion onto the bed. It was a little rough, but you had a sense these guys were coming from a fight and still has adrenaline coursing through them.

“When did this happen?”

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”

“Any meds?” you asked not looking up as you opened the trauma kit and unloaded its contents.

“Shot of adrenalin.”

You cut the rest of the shirt and jacket away.

“Woah lassie, cannae get me dinner first?” the man flopped his head back into the bed, no longer able to keep it up himself.

“Manners, Soap,” the Captain knocked his leg in a light-hearted reprimand.

You sprayed a generous amount of saline over the wound, washing away the clotting powder and blood to get a better look at the wound. You turned back to the kit, opening everything you would need to patch him back up, then snapped on some sterile gloves.

Soap was a good patient, letting you work without complaints, and following directions in spite of all the drugs and pain. You had the other two men turn Soap over so you could get access to the exit wound on his back. You resituated yourself, opening more packages and switching out your gloves for new ones. Chewing on the inside of your cheek as you pulled the last few stitches. You backed away, discarding the needle and bloodied gauze in their respective bins.

“How are you feeling?” you leaned over the bed to get a good look at your patient's face. His tired eyes dragged over your face, and a slow cheeky smile started before his eyes fell shut. His breathing settled as he drifted into sleep.

Their Captain clicked his tongue, “He’ll be fine right?”

“Might need some fluids and blood, but yes, he’ll be fine.”

There was a knock on the door frame, and all three of you turned at the sound. It was Butters.

You started, “Do you need—”

“No,” he interjected. His expression told you all you needed to know, “We couldn’t get V-Fib.”

You fell silent. Nothing you could say or do that would help at this point. There was nothing worse than losing a patient.

Butters jerked his chin to the now resting Soap, “How’s yours?”

You stepped to the side to allow him a view. He stepped into the room, inspecting your handiwork. He made a sound of appreciation and gave a slow nod. Trauma was your specialty, so the result was clean and precise.

“What do you think he’ll need?” Butters asked. You rattled off your ideas and the reasoning behind them. He agreed with it all and patted your shoulder, telling you he’d relay it to Carter to see what he could scrounge up.

You circled back to the two remaining soldiers, “Did you know him?” you made a weak gesture to the door, the hallway, and the now dead soldier beyond that.

“No,” the Captain looked at you from beneath the visor of his hat, his hard eyes giving nothing away. You looked at his chest thinking a name would be stitched there. Of course, there wasn’t. Either way, he noted the quick glance because he raised a hand for you to shake, “Name’s Price.”

You took it, “Y/n.”.

Price shot a thumb over his shoulder, “That’s Soap,” and then turned it towards the man clad in black, “And our favourite Ghost.”

You made to shake Ghost’s hand too but when he lifted his arm you noted the hiss of pain and wince, “You’re hurt too,” before he could answer you had his arm in your hand. The adrenaline from earlier was no longer keeping his pain at bay.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, a slight lilt to his words you didn’t pick from earlier. Despite his words, he didn’t try to pull away from your grasp, even allowing you to roll back his sleeve. A bullet grazed his forearm, taking with it a considerable layer of skin.

“That's what the last guy said too,” You said, ushering him to the chair in the corner of the room.

“Take a seat, Ghost,” Price said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He stepped into the hallway, “I’m going to go fill everyone in. Let them know Johnny-Boy is to live another day.”

Ghost reluctantly plopped into the chair, placing his arm on the armrest. You turned to the trauma kit once more, kicking a rolling chair with you to sit in front of Ghost. You placed supplies on his lap in the absence of a table, and he used his good arm to make sure none of it fell. He leaned back in the chair, resting his head on the wall behind him. He wasn’t going to need stitches but that didn’t mean he was safe from potential infections. You cleaned the wound as best you could with the last bit of saline. Placing a glob of antibiotic ointment on the dressing before securing it with tape.

“Ta-da,” you looked up at his concealed face. He kept his eyes shut for a second more before he reopened them to examine his new bandage. You took the moment to secretly admire him. You couldn't see his entire face because of the skull mask; however, you could still make out his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood. They were a deep brown, framed with long dark eyelashes, and lined with black paint. He had sad eyes. Eyes that saw more than they wanted.

“Dandy work, Doc,” He remarks, turning his attention back to you.

You dropped your gaze, suddenly bashful, your ears heating, “Not a doctor,” you shrugged, “Maybe sometime in the future though.”

“Maybe?” He tilted his head ever so slightly. The action was boyish and so at odds with his demeanour, it was almost comical. Yet charming at the same time.

You nodded and rolled his sleeve back over the bandage, sending him off with a little tap on the arm, and you scoot back on the stool, allowing him some space, “I haven’t decided what I want exactly.”

“Why’d you choose this? Come here, I mean,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a display of genuine curiosity.

You smiled, rubbing your thumb and pointer finger together. Money. It probably wasn’t nearly as heroic as his backstory.

He huffed out a breath but it might have been a laugh and shook his head, “A pretty little thing like you doesn’t belong in a warzone,” he lifted himself off his seat, stretching his long limbs.

“A pretty little thing like me is managing perfectly fine,” you raised your face to meet his. He was tall, and underneath all that gear you could tell there was nothing refined muscle. He probably wasn't built with aesthetics in mind though, just cruel brutality and wicked savagery meant to keep him alive in dire situations. Meant to kill.

“We can only hope,” he adjusted his sleeve, “You keep an eye on this one, Doc,” he adds.

“Does he bite?” you asked faux curiosity dripping from your tongue before turning your attention back to Soap. He was still pale, so covered him with the thin blue blanket at the bottom of the bed. Butters or Carter would be back soon with your order from earlier as soon as they found what they could. Which was a tall order.

“Oh, he’s absolutely feral,” he joined in on the jest, backing out of the room with that one last warning before silently disappearing into the hallway.

You met up with Price and Ghost at the end of the day with an update. They had set up a temporary camp next door, an old office, the windows already boarded up. This time they were joined by two others. One was named Gaz and the other was Roach, both of whom were currently playing cards. Ghost was sitting at the desk next to them, a disassembled handgun in front of him. A line of bullets standing at attention on the corner of the desk.

“How long till he’s back in commission?” Price asked, leaning back on the main administrative desk. He too seemed more at ease knowing his friend was no longer on death's doorstep. He and Ghost had come to check on Soap twice. Soap has yet to wake up from earlier, his body forcing him into a pseudo-coma so it could focus on healing him.

“Two weeks maximum. Even then if I send him off with some pain meds he’s going to be incredibly sore,” As the words left your mouth you knew what his next question was going to be.

“And at the minimum?” he lowered his chin, looking at you from beneath his brows, preparing for me to scold him. You can’t force them to listen to you, only make suggestions and give advice. It was frustrating because you could already tell the moment Soap woke up he was going to want to regroup and get back in the fight.

You blew out a breath, resting your hands on your hips, “Couple days...I don’t recommend that thought. There’s a high probability that would he would reopen the wound and the complications that would follow aren’t worth it. I would give him, at the very least, a week.”

Price turned to look at Ghost, who met his gaze in return. A silent exchange. A familiarity developed over years of operating together. Ghost nodded and started reassembling his gun. Satisfied with the response, Price reached behind the desk and pulled out his gun, pointing it to the floor and resting his finger on the side of the gun. Cards shuffled across the table as Gaz collected them and put them back in their box and tossed them to Ghost who then put them in his pack. They were moving swiftly.

“We’ll be back in a week,” Price announced, and walked up to meet you at the entrance, “Just make sure they don’t ship him off while we’re away.”

“I don’t really have authority here,” you admitted. You take orders, not give them.

“Hide him away,” Price was only half-joking. Then he was barking orders to load up the truck and that they were leaving in 5 minutes. A small part of you wanted to ask them to at least rest for the night and leave at dawn. A major part of you knew that that was a ridiculous thought.

Ghost was the last to leave the office, and you stuck a hand out catching him in the chest. You were met with solid resistance, “Keep that thing clean. Change it every day. I don’t want to see you come back here in a week and you’ve caught yourself an infection,” you gestured to his arm.

His eyes widened ever so slightly before he gave you a curt, “Yes, ma’am.”.

Exactly 5 minutes later, they were pulling out and driving away from the clinic. They left nothing behind and it was like they were never even here.

Well…they left Soap.

But whatever mission they were on was evidently time-sensitive. And their detour here was already causing their Captain unease. You could also tell he was also uncertain about leaving one of his men behind.

You went back inside the clinic, checking in on Soap one last time before doing a shift change.

Soap was still asleep when you returned for my shift the next day but looked considerably better than he did before. Colour had returned to his face, and if he was still asleep that meant his pain was causing him too much strife. His eyes slit open around noon, and as expected, he was groggy and nauseous. You dosed him up before getting him to sit up for some food and water. It was the same rations we medics were given, and when you found out he had a certain affinity for the peanut butter packets you would bring yours to him. Ghost had been organized enough to have brought in his pack before they left so you helped Soap ease into a clean shirt, excusing myself so he could change his pants.

He didn’t complain once during the whole week, he even refused analgesics on the fourth day. He may have made cheeky comments here and there but he was docile. Not at all feral like Ghost had “warned”. You read into the act though, he was showing you good behaviour so you would release him sooner. He was especially limber at the end of day seven. The camp had finally received a truck, stocked with everything that was needed, and then some. This morning and you caught Soap trying to haul stuff inside from the truck. You caught him, not once, not twice, but three times. After the third time, you gave up and let him help you replenish the shelves and rooms.

Right now he was sitting on the edge of the bed while you checked his vitals and range of motion. You lifted his arm by the elbow, he tried suppressing the wince when you asked him to hold the position.

“What do ya say, lass? Am I meeting your standards,” you found his accent endearing. He was aware of that fact and used it to his advantage.

“It’s a good start,” you admitted. You wouldn’t be telling him but he rebounded pretty fast. If it was some creepy voodoo, or just him being stubborn you couldn’t tell.

“Ye bet yer arse it is, I’ve got you takin’ good care of me,” he flashed you a smile before moving his arm into the next position.

You shook my head as you wrote down a note on a pad, “All your honey pouring isn’t going to get you very far with me,” you finished off your assessment and shut the notepad fixing him with an exasperated stare.

He shrugged, eyes drifting to the clock on the wall above the door “Thought I’d give it a shot.”.

His team was supposed to be back by today, but it was getting late now. You knew Soap had tried hailing them on the radio a couple of times but was only met with empty feedback. He stopped after the fourth attempt at contact, saying it was unsafe to try anymore. The words, it might be compromised, were left unspoken. If he was getting worried he was doing a job of not letting it be known to anyone.

It wasn’t until a day later when Soap and you were counting stock and documenting everything, that you heard the familiar tenor of Ghost. The slam of boots echoed down the hall until Ghost and Price appeared in the doorway.

“Look at you, all sunshine and sprinkles,” Ghost was the first to speak up, clapping Soap on the shoulder. He was kind enough to make sure it was his uninjured arm.

“Am I sweet enough for you yet?” Soap cracked back.

“Not in the slightest,” he might have the mask on but he can’t hide the sound of his smile. Even Price had a twinkle in his eye. They were a close-knit group, that much was obvious, and seeing Soap back on his feet seemed to lift some weight off their shoulders.

“Aye, well yer late pickin’ me up so I guess we’re even,” Soap countered.

There was a moment of reunion before Soap followed Price back outside to meet up with the rest of the squad. Ghost lingered, nodding at the shelves, “Got your truck?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but smile, “I’m guessing you guys had something to do with that?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “We cleaned up the streets a bit on our way out, yeah.”

You thanked him before pointing to his arm, “How’s the arm looking?”

He leaned his rifle on the wall and rolled his sleeve up so you could take a look, it was no longer covered with a bandage but it was healing fine. Standing this close to him you could smell the gunpowder and smoke on him, could see the new burn marks and tears in his clothing.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you listened to me,” you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, “I was scared you would have my head if I didn’t,” he most definitely was not scared of you but it still drew a laugh from you.

Part 4

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

A/N - i know in the first part i said that Ghost had first met Doc in a medical tent, but when i originally started writing this it was a clinic.

Tag List

General - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth

His Foresight - ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #MW2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley series #john soap mactavish #MistyGhosties

307 notes · View notes

lizard-dumbass · 5 months ago

Text

I am STRUGGLING to convey through text what Rite Here Rite Now has done to my mental state. ITS SO GOOD WHAT THE HELL

MASSIVE spoilers under the cut so be warned‼️

Its so funny and the production quality is absolutwly through the ROOF and the character development and story progression amd the THEMES????? i didnt realize it while watching the movie but its actually pretty deep with its themes and messages. This silly concert movie has something genuinely profound to say about life and living in the moment through both the good and the bad and remembering who and what came before you and the impact of music on our lives.

Also i'm so glad that Copia didn't get killed off like many of us probably thought he would (myself included). Not just because i love him and he's my favorite papa, but because of the fact that it reinforces the message of living life through all the bad moments because the good moments are what bring us together and make life so beautiful, even though they only last for a short while.

The fact that Copia keeps on living in spite of the hardships he's faced fills me with so much hope. After everything he's been through; bad relationships with his parents, being shunned from the Emeritus family, pressure from The Clergy, the loss of all of his brothers, all the work he put in to please the ministry and entertain millions of fans across the globe, seeing his own mother die in front of him, he keeps going.

He's now been annointed to a new position: head of The Clergy. He probably never thought he'd come this far, yet here he is. He's all alone. Everyone is gone but him (well except for his twin brother i guess). But despite it all, he's still here. He may have given up the limelight but he still continues to serve a purpose through his new position as Frater Imperator. He's finally learned to live life in the moment, right here, right now.

But good lord let this man take a break he's been through enough lmao. I didn't expect that last segment to get so long but it literally just hit me how fantastic the plot of this movie is as im writing this. RHRN is like 90% concert movie and 10% story and the story is undoubtably my favorite part of the movie. But i really love the concert stuff too. Like i said, the production quality is INSANE i am going to listen to the soundtrack so obsessively when it comes out! And seeing the crowd having such a good time was really heartwarming too. There's genuinely so much to talk about with RHRN and its a fucking concert movie. Tobias once again proving that he is a creative genius.

Uhh anyway sorry this was so rambly and poorly structured but i really just need to get my thoughts out there because seeing this movie finally come into existince has been such a surreal and wonderful experience and i love this band even more now. My ghost brainrot is severe and i will be making it everyone's problem

#rite here rite now #rite here rite now spoilers #rhrn spoilers #ghovie spoilers #ghovie #ghost movie #ghost movie spoilers #the band ghost #ghost the band #papa emeritus iv #lizard-dumbass talks about stuff #text post

30 notes · View notes

cirqosmos · 1 year ago

Text

#1 — Open The Door, Please? ▶ KOGA YUDAI.

warning: yandere content, noncon kissing, profanity. toxic relationship. implied noncon.

author's note: well idk, first installment to my goal of #100 fics for &TEAM (mostly for kei tho) also a somewhat 'explicit' practice outside my comfort zone so i can finish route 1 this week.. im coughing and laughing so hard again omg.

splayed fingers dug deeper on your jaw as you tried to stifle a gasp from the raging knocks behind the door, tears fighting it's best from streaming down your cheeks.

"(name)! open the door!" there the devil incarnate himself yelled on the top of his lungs, innocent eyes bloodshot opened as he punched the door relentlessly.

how has it come to this? and devil? why were you even calling your sweet, sweet boyfriend that way? what had happened?

well, you couldn't fathom it to your core as everything had move in such a speed that you unknowingly got on your sweet boyfriend, kei's nerves, back in the classroom.

you remembered it so vividly with the way the marmalades shade of the sunset reflected against his bead-like orbs, forming a reflection of a gemstone or of that an opal. his loose strands stick against his forehead as the result of his exhausting physical training. beads of sweat trailing down his jaw as he took a long inhale and exhale in-between, and yet the pretty smile on his faint pink lips never ceases to exist.

a pretty smile that was only for you.

yet it all started with him voicing out a rather desperate question after that, one that questions your loyalty.

and of course you defend yourself in return, throwing the question back at him. one question turned into two, and two turned into four and fourth question had the innocence adorning your boyfriend's face contorting into an expression you'd rather not remember.

hideous, no, it was more of an angel dropping low to the lowest point of hell.

kei spewed words that you couldn't imagine would come from his lips that you oh so adore.

"that piece of shit is staring at you more than he should! (name)!" kei lets out a scoff paired with disbelief, finally standing up on his feet. his height towering over you as he approached you menacingly.

"kei, do you hear what you're saying now?" you shook your head, filled with disbelief. taking a few steps back, your eyes refusing to blink. "this is not you!"

"oh you sweet dumb girl, what should i do for you to understand?" his bead-like orbs wavered in utmost affection for you as he cupped your cheeks with his large palms, "what should i do?"

"k-kei, this isn't you." you stuttered, you felt as if you're a little bunny encaged in a wolf's arms. "let me go, you're.. going insane."

"insane? love? just who's the one getting insane between us?"

"i don't give a care anymore, let's quit it. kei." your lips trembled, yanking away his hands—taking a firm resolution against the taller boy. "let's break up."

his wavering orbs immediately switches to an soulless one.

excruciating silence consumed the comforting shades drenching the classroom. this was not how you expected everything to turn out. especially not his next words you hope you'd never hear.

a melodious giggle escapes from his lips, sending shivers down your spine. the boy lowers himself down to your height, somewhat conveying a mocking tone. "baby, you've seriously gone.. dumb, aren't you?" he furrowed his brows, waiting for your answer. "well, that must just be a mistake, isn't? take it back."

"no." you replied immediately.

"what?"

"i said no, i won't take it back." you tried your best stay as brave as you can, yet your right hand gripping your trembling left one says otherwise and kei was quick to notice it.

his eyes softened as his demeanour switches once again, fixing his posture as he caressed your hair down. "i'm sorry, i scared you didn't i? c'mon, it's getting dark. let's just go back home, hm?"

"no! i said no!"

kei reached out for you in desperation. "(name), i said i'm sorry—"

you hung your head low, stepping as far as you can away from him—your feet almost stumbling against the table. "koga yudai, please you're scaring me. just—please let's not meet for awhile."

"huh?" kei tilted his head down, loose strands swaying below those eyes of his that kept switching between tenderness and chaos. "no, no, why do you think i'm gonna agree with that?— fuck, i knew it. they're getting inside your head."

and before you knew it, you ran. your feet bringing you to somewhere as far as you can away from that madman.

but your ears caught on to his last words echoing through the hallway, a gasp left your mouth as you took one last look at him—leaning against the doorframe in such a leisure manner, observing you intently.

amusement spreads over his lips, giggle escaping one after another. "do you really think you can run away from me?!"

his frightening words had adrenaline surging all over your body, you ran for your life. you kept running and running with your mind clouded by him that you got lost somewhere in the town, stumbling upon an abandoned neighbourhood. your city was truly a silent and secluded area, consisting of only elders and roaming around when night falls.

people quickly returned to their homes, recuperating in their quarters which resulted in such a deserted street.

it was only then that you realise how truly foolish you are to forget that between you and your boyfriend, he had the upper hand in this very situation.

and truly, he was right.

judging by how your heart kept sinking and sinking with every punch the door receives, you were beyond frightened that the door might break at any point due to how insanely mad he was.

but then, it went silent. utterly silent that you can feel the cold crawling across your trembling bare legs.

"honey, open the door please?"

you pushed yourself deeper against the wall behind you, searching for refuge you knew was no longer there, a refuge that won't hide you away from this double-faced monster.

a voice so tender and deceiving, paired with the light knocks—a stark contrast of how he was a few seconds ago

"can we not fight anymore please?" kei begs, looking down as he rested his forehead against the door.

you gulped down your throat, refusing to be fooled by the monster behind that door. yet it wasn't until a minute later that you heard a low murmur that gradually turns into faint cries.

"(name).. it hurts."

a slight pang engulfed your beating heart, hesitation soon arises—manifesting through your feet rubbing the floor in unison with your thoughts.

"i can't do this alone without you." kei's lips trembled, taking a huge exhale with every deep cry. "you're all that i need."

"please, don't leave me alone."

you stood up on your feet, shaking enormously as you approached the door little by little.

little by little, till the faint cries grew clearer and audible. your hand reaches out slowly to the knob, yet you immediately paused. wondering why are you letting yourself get fooled by those innocent cries behind the door?

you took a few steps back, placing your clenched fist on your chest as a comfort. shifting your gaze to the window with a newly found plan emerging from your mind. yet before you can do so—

"are you not really going to open this door? don't let me count." kei's faint cries dissipates, replaced with a voice so deep it crawls through your soul. "i know you're here."

your eyes grew wide, fear taking all over your hesitance—sending you into a total crying mess as he begin to count. your feet scattered around before you made up your mind to the window, you tried to pull the the window open yet the enormous distance from the window to the ground had your heart sank.

yet you can't think, you should jump or else—

bam! bam! bam!

the door flew open in such a way that it had you emitting a shriek, your feet fighting it's best to stand up amidst it's constant trembling.

there he was; black familiar lush hair and bead-like eyes that held insanity within it. those features you so adore and yet fears so much to your core.

"ah, ah, not so fast." kei's head tilted downwards, emitting a rather playful demeanour paired with his small smirk. sprinting to your helpless form before you can jump over the window, his hands wrapping around your wrist pulling you to his chest. the smirk on his lips grew wider and wider as he finally caught his prize; you.

a game that was rigged from the very start. too bad, the wolf will always wins the game.

"hm?" he hummed, placing his chin on your head as his right hand rubbed your back softly. comforting your crying frightened form, trembling so hard in his caged-like embrace. your hands on his chest trying it's best to push him away yet he won't budge one bit. "hush, don't cry."

you could hear his heartbeat with your ears against his chest, he felt so warm and so comforting that you wanted to return the embrace, his words held so much affection and care for you that you could fall asleep right and there yet reality was sickeningly awful to you.

kei lifted your chin with his index finger, forcing you to meet those orbs you found so adorable. and before you can act or say anything, his lips finds its way to yours.

kei's saliva seeps through your tongue as he deepens the kiss, his carnal desires manifesting ever so strongly by how his long fingers dug deeper and deeper to your nape. his left arm wrapped itself around your waist, as he pressed his body against yours to the wall.

you fought for air, yet he fought for you. his eyelashes remained still and firm as he continues to relish himself in your lips, you who is his lover he oh so adores.

he was alot more stronger than you and it didn't cost him an ounce of energy as he lifted you up from the floor, placing you on top of the table. smashing everything out of way with his hands. resulting in a scattered objects across the floor.

his lips never leaving yours as he does all of that, only pulling away at last to get a cough of air. your head drops down, gasping relentlessly with tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. his hands returned to your form, spreading all over your back before pulling a fistful of your shirt—ripping it.

"kei, stop!"

he slips his hands beneath your shirt, meeting your bare skin and up your bra strap. snapping it playfully as he smirks, "love, don't you think you have to own up to me for pissing me off?"

his large hands pulled your thighs open, pulling you to his hips as deep and close as he can. desiring so much of you that his fingers pushes away your hair locks, wet lips trailing down your bare neck and shoulders.—sending goosebumps down your back and legs.

kei grew more irritated with your hands pushing him off, opting to pressed it on the table rendering you more helpless than ever.

"i told you to open the door earlier, now look what you have gotten yourself into." kei murmurs with his teeth biting off your shirt's button, tongue licking and nibbling your collarbone.

"now, be a good girl for me and tell me who owns you."

#18092023

#k smut #andteam smut #&team smut #koga yudai #&team oneshots #&team imagines #andteam k #andteam imagines #andteam oneshots #&team x reader

121 notes · View notes