#they still visit from time to time so they can make fun of how terrible it is now that they're not running it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finelinefae · 1 year ago

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flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop.

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N)

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?"

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night.

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall.

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman.

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her.

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed.

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms.

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked.

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly.

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy."

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'"

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm.

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck. Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals.

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear.

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry.

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did.

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her.

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does.

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her.

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is."

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?"

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door.

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box.

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching.

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened.

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair.

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else.

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine.

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?"

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss.

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered.

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed.

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please,"

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything."

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck.

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck.

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket.

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin.

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon.

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now.

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots.

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her.

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange.

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower,"

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed.

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck.

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?"

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him.

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed.

"You're too cute."

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips.

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt.

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface.

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone."

She smiled.

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things.

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning.

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him.

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard.

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat.

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo.

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly.

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom.

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it.

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth.

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her.

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve.

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush."

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something.

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly.

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?"

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes.

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh.

"Yes daddy," She murmurs.

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave. Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty."

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants.

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers.

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it.

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb.

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful.

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole.

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck.

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut.

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?"

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-"

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand."

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises.

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers.

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting."

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired."

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest.

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily.

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #one direction #writing #harry styles writing

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mariasont · 1 year ago

Text

spencer reid masterlist

smut = ✧ clean (ish) = ♡ angst = ✩

newest to oldest

series: IN VERSE AND VIOLENCE

character archetype one-shot masterlists

shy!media-liaison!reader

bimbo!receptionist!reader

translator!reader

one shots:

✧ craving like a lungful you ask spencer a question about breath play. he gives you a lecture, a safety demonstration, and a mind-shattering orgasm. in that order.

✩ we reap what i sow you fight, you burn, you break apart, and then you pull him back in — again and again, as if love is something that can't exist without wreckage

♡ schrödinger’s relationship spencer never needed to define what this was, until you did. now, the box is open, the outcome inevitable, and he has never been so happy to lose an argument.

♡ strictly medical reasons it started as concern. a few check-ins, a handful of visits, just to make sure you were healing. but somewhere along the way, the line between duty and something deeper blurred, and spencer wasn't sure he wanted to redraw it.

♡ green means go spencer got exposed to anthrax, and you're not taking it well. instead of admitting that, you watch him eat terrible hospital jell-o and make fun of his life choices.

♡ reid the room spencer has never met a bad time to discuss aviation disasters. and before your survival instincts can stop you, you're kissing him just to make it stop

♡ dimple deductions when morgan & jj notice spencer reid acting suspiciously happy, they do what they do best — profile him. unfortunately, spencer's biggest tell is your dimples

♡ heart nebula spencer tells you every atom in your body was once part of a star, but you think he's the celestial wonder worth studying.

♡ reading between the lines spencer teaches you how to speed-read

✧ the hypothesis spencer and aaron want your help settling a debate of arousal

✩ pulse points spencer rescues you from a case and has a hard time grappling with his feelings

♡ cinnamon sticks you and spencer are in a secret relationship and the team is this close to figuring you out because spencer just knows too much about you

✩ worth it you help early seasons spencer through a relapse

✩ messy spencer is determined to get you to let him in as your depression takes a bigger hold than you imagined

♡ schoolboy-esque spencer and hotch spend the day competing for your attention

♡ thump, thump in which you and spencer get stuck in a cramped closet together

♡ fangirl you're the newest member and you have a slightest obsession with dr. reid and his works.

✧♡ looking after you you have called off sick for a few days now and spencer has been "looking after you". spencer gets caught red handed when morgan and garcia drop by

✩ ♡ be so stupid you make a mistake while on a case nearly getting spencer killed, morgan has some choice words and spencer is ready to beat his ass over it

✩ ♡ when the swallows come again spencer blames you for maeve’s death…or does he

♡ i want it in ink spencer finds your secret tattoo… with his initials

♡ arachnophobia you compare spencer to a spider in an attempt to flirt

♡ brooding goth!bimbo!reader wants to sketch spencer but he won't stand still!

♡ ✩ beyond the grave spencer fakes his death and comes back into your life like nothing happened

♡ sweater in which you struggle with your body and spencer helps you

✩chloe or sam or sophia or marcus in which spencer choses the drugs over you

♡ sundress season spencer helps you out with some research and gets more than he bargained for

♡ climb you like a tree you tell spencer you’re going to climb him like a tree… not meaning it the way it comes out

✧ hands, hands and hands spencer and you compare hands

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zaunitelabs · 2 months ago

Note

Can I request dating headcanons for Vander, Jayce, Viktor, Silco, and Ekko with gender neutral s/o please?

Arcane Headcanons - Dating

Characters: Vander, Jayce, Viktor, Silco, Ekko

TW: none

Have fun!! Request are still open btw🫶‼️

.-.

Vander

Veryyyy gentle lover

A very soft spoken partner, loves to call you pet names

Words of affirmation are probably his form of showing affection

He’s not super touchy in public. It’s not that he doesn’t like physical touch, the opposite actually, he finds it sacred. In public he’ll only grab your hand, maybe caress your arm

When it’s just the two of you however, he cannot keep his hands to himself. You are in the kitchen? He’s hanging around like a lost dog behind you. You are reading a book? He’ll make you cuddle with him while you read

Vander would be incredibly protective of you, always making sure you are safe and well taken care of, but he’d do so in a calm and gentle way

He’s tough, but he never wants to make you feel small or incapable

SUCHHHH an old school loverboy. He’d be the type to open doors for you or ensure you never walk on the outer side of the sidewalk

Vander would prefer spending quiet nights together rather than going out. Whether it’s cuddling by the fire, cooking together, or just talking

Jayce

SOOOOOO needy

Love language is definitely physical touch, he cannot keep his hands off of you. From holding hands, cuddles, caresses, everything and anything that transmits his warmth to you

A terrible cook, not for lack of trying, but rather because he never has had the time to practice. Even so he tries to make you breakfast every chance he gets before he goes to the lab

His favourite way to unwind after work is to cuddle with you, his head on your lap or shoulder as you caress his hair as he rambles about his day

He loves to show you off at events. His hand never leaves your side, and if it ever for some reason happen his eyes would never leave your presence

As someone who values innovation and progress, Jayce would be incredibly supportive of his your ambitions, encouraging them to chase your dreams, no matter how big or small

He would prefer to separate his work like from his love life, opting to keep his lover away from the lab. He does however secretly enjoy whenever you pop in for a quick visit

Would try to make your life easier with the help of his inventions in any way he could. Known for loosing track of time? Jayce’s got it covered and will have an artifact to help you made in no time

Though he appears to be fairly stern and commanding, he’s the biggest sweetheart. He’s acts like a puppy in love when he’s with you, like the good boy he is

Viktor

A very reserved lover

While not the most physically affectionate, he makes his love to you known through actions. Always making two coffees, always grabbing a sweet treat on his way home to share after work, always bringing your scarf along if it’s cold outside

He isn’t overly expressive with words, but his actions speak volumes. He might not shower you with grand romantic speeches, but his presence and the way he looks at you convey his deep feelings. His physical affection could be soft but sincere, like holding your hand or brushing your hair out of your face

Cherishes and enjoys the quite moments he gets to spend with his partner like reading together

Will only go to fancy events if his partner wants to go with him. If he were to go alone he’d drink enough to be sent back home within an hour of the event starting, on purpose of course

Will remember all of the ‘insignificant’ stuff you have ever said. You like calico cats? Noted. Your favourite hobby as a kid? oh yeah he remembers. The song playing when you two had your first date? Constantly plays in the back of his head whenever he needs to cool down at work

Viktor doesn’t have time for drama or playing games in relationships. What you see is what you get, and he values honesty and directness

Just like Jayce, Viktor would encourage his partner and their dreams, doing everything he cans to help them accomplish them

While he might get absorbed in his scientific pursuits, Viktor would also make sure to carve out time for you. However, he might get a bit distracted when talking about his work, so you’ll have to find ways to balance both his love for invention and his affection for you

Silco

The most jealous out of the bunch. He cherishes his partner as though they were something sacred. In his eyes no one could ever be worthy to be in your presence

Possessive, but (surprisingly) not in a toxic way. In public his hand would be glued to yours, or placed around your lower back. He needs to make it known that you are with him

Would give you the whole world if you’d ask him to. Once Silco is committed to you, his loyalty is unwavering. He doesn’t believe in half-measures or distractions, and his devotion to you would be total. You’d always have his trust and allegiance, no matter what

While Silco isn’t one to shower you with words of affection, when he does speak, it’s sincere and impactful. His "I love you" would come less often but carry more weight. He’d show his love through the way he holds you—firm, unyielding, and always with the promise of safety.

With that being said his favourite way to address his partner would be by calling you ‘my love’ . No matter if it’s in public or in the privacy of your home, he’d proudly call you my love any chance he got

In moments of intimacy, Silco would be raw and intense, showing you a side of him that's often hidden from everyone else. His passion would be undeniable, and it would come with a fire that burns deep and leaves you feeling wanted and cherished in ways that few could match

Silco would start his mornings by making you coffee or tea just the way you like it. You’d rather have something else? He’ll move hell and earth to get it to you. Even on the most hectic of days, he’d take the time to make sure your first sip of the day is perfect, and he’d enjoy sitting with you in comfortable silence while you both wake up together

While Silco can be intense, he'd also show a lighter side through playful teasing. He’d make subtle remarks that get you to laugh, his way of showing affection through humor. He’d love seeing you smile, and sometimes he’d tease you just to make you blush

Sometimes, Silco would take you out for a quiet night under the stars, away from the noise of the city. There, he’d just sit with you, enjoying the calm and silence of the night, maybe even offering a rare, soft conversation about things he never talks about with anyone else. It’s a peaceful intimacy between the two of you that he cherishes

Ekko

The most emotionally vulnerable one. He’d go to great lengths to show you just how much he cares about you

Ekko might not be the smoothest with words, but he’d give you the sweetest, most sincere compliments. He’d tell you that you’re the most incredible person he knows, and he wouldn’t just say it to make you smile—he means it from the bottom of his heart

Love language would definitely be acts of service, doing his best at helping you out whenever he’s around

You’d be his favourite muse, always drawing you in his spare time and never forgetting all of the tiny details and stories that your skin has to share

When the world goes quiet, Ekko would enjoy staying up late with you, talking about everything and anything. From big dreams to small, funny moments, you’d get lost in conversations, and he’d listen with genuine interest, always making you feel like you matter

Whether it’s fixing up something around the house or building a project together, Ekko would love to get his hands dirty with you. He’d enjoy the teamwork aspect, and it’d be a bonding experience where you both get to learn and laugh together as you create something meaningful

Even when Ekko is busy with his own projects, he’d make sure you always feel like the most important person in the room. Whether it’s sending a quick message just to check in or looking up from his work to give you a smile, he’d make sure you know that you’re never far from his thoughts

Ekko would be the type to share his vulnerabilities with you late at night when everything’s calm. He might not be the most openly nostalgic, but with you, he feels safe enough to talk about his deepest fears, his past, and his dreams for the future. In these moments, he’d be incredibly honest, leaning on you for comfort as you listen intently, creating a quiet but powerful bond between you both

If you were ever feeling down, Ekko’s touch would be gentle but reassuring. He’d hold you close, running his fingers through your hair or gently cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. He wouldn’t need to say much; his soft presence and the way he holds you would be enough to make you feel safe and loved, as if you were the only person who matters in that moment

#arcane #x reader #silco x reader #ekko x reader #viktor x reader #fluff #jayce x reader #vander x reader #ekko arcane #vander arcane #silco fluff #silco arcane #jayce arcane #viktor arcane #headcanon

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gdinthehouseee · 3 months ago

Text

Bittersweet: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: ji-yong misses you a lot, and he finally decides to visit the one place he's been avoiding. it seems some things must be set in stone...

word count: 3311

tags: pure angst; grief, implied depression and suicide - i wanna say now this is real damn sad so if you feel it's too much please click off and prioritise yourself, do NOT feel pressured to read <33

ao3 link

"You always said I had terrible taste in movies."

Ji-yong’s voice carries a quiet chuckle as he leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. The dim glow of the TV flickers across the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. You’re curled up beside him, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies—the same one you swore you weren’t stealing, even though it had been missing from his closet for weeks.

He won’t admit it out loud, but he thinks you look ridiculously cute in his hoodie. It’s too big on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands as you reach for the popcorn, the fabric hanging loose around your frame. He should probably be annoyed that you keep stealing his clothes, but instead, he finds himself staring—at the way the collar slips just enough to reveal your collarbone, at the way you absentmindedly tug the sleeves over your fingers when you’re focused. It’s stupid, really, how something so simple makes his heart do that weird, unsteady thing in his chest.

"I never said that," you protest, nudging his leg with your foot. "I just said you have… a very specific taste."

"Right. That’s just your polite way of saying it sucks."

You don’t argue, only biting back a smile as you take another handful of popcorn. He watches the way you focus on the screen, even though he knows you’re not really paying attention to the movie. You never do. Half the time, you’re too busy commenting on the set design or the background music, pointing out details he wouldn’t have noticed.

"You know, if you hate my movie picks so much, you could just pick one yourself."

"I don’t hate them," you murmur, voice softer now, more thoughtful. "I just like watching them with you."

Ji-yong doesn’t reply right away. There’s something in the way you say it—simple, effortless, like the thought has always been there, just waiting for him to hear it. He swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers rest against his arm, the warmth of your body so close.

He thinks about saying something then. About how his favorite part of movie nights isn’t the film itself but the way you lean into him when you get tired, or how you always steal the blanket halfway through. He wants to tell you that it doesn’t matter what’s playing, as long as you’re here.

But instead, he just laughs. "You’re lucky I put up with your commentary."

And just like that, the moment passes. Ji-yong never realized how much he memorized about you until now.

Sitting here, watching the same old movie alone, he can still hear your voice filling the empty spaces. The way you’d hum along to the soundtrack even if you didn’t know the melody. The way you’d lean your head against his shoulder when you got sleepy, murmuring something about how his stupid movie choices made the best background noise. He almost turns to say something—some teasing remark about how you’d probably still find a way to make fun of his taste. But when he glances beside him, the seat is empty. The hoodie, the warmth, the quiet weight of you tucked into his side—it’s all gone. The air feels heavier now, like something is pressing against his chest. He lets his head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, and before he can stop it, another memory rises to the surface.

"Can’t sleep again?" He asked

Your tired sigh crackled through the speaker. "Yeah… not really."

He frowned, adjusting the phone against his ear. He glanced at the time—2:47 a.m. The calls always came late, always started the same way.

"What’s on your mind?" He asked softly.

You hesitated. "Nothing, really. Everything. It’s just… I don’t know. Some nights, it feels like my brain won’t shut up. And some nights, it feels like there’s nothing there at all."

Ji-yong sat up a little, propping himself up on his elbows. "Did something happen?"

"No," you said, too quickly. "Nothing new. Just that same heavy feeling, you know? Like I’m tired, but not in a way that sleeping can fix."

He exhaled slowly. He hated when you talked like this—not because he didn’t want to hear it, but because he didn’t know how to make it better. "Then don’t sleep," he said after a moment. "Just talk. I’ll listen."

You hummed quietly, like you were trying to find the words. "Do you ever feel like… you could disappear, and the world would just keep going like nothing happened?"

Ji-yong’s grip on his phone tightened as an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. "Don’t say that."

"Sorry," you mumbled. "I just—forget it. Tell me something stupid. Distract me."

He wanted to tell you that it wasn’t nothing. That it wasn’t something to just forget. That if you disappeared, his whole world would tilt off its axis. But instead, he swallowed down the lump in his throat and played along.

"Okay. How about this—did you know octopuses have three hearts?"

There was a pause before you let out a soft laugh, and for now, that was enough.

Ji-yong blinks, pulled back into the present. His apartment feels quieter than it should. The TV is still playing, the dialogue muffled in the background, but the warmth that filled these moments before is missing.

His fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve.

"I never told you how much I liked it," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "The way you always called me at night. The way you trusted me with your thoughts."

The screen flickers in front of him, but Ji-yong doesn’t see it. His gaze is lost somewhere in the past, in all the moments he never realized were fleeting. The way you’d smile when you thought no one was watching, the way your voice softened when you spoke about things that mattered most to you, even the little quirk of your lip when you were about to tease him. He had taken all of it for granted. The laughter, the late-night talks, the warmth that filled the space between them.

Now, in the silence, he feels the weight of it all—the things he should have said but never did, the moments he let slip away, assuming there would always be more. But time doesn’t wait. The feeling of regret curls around his chest, suffocating him. If only he had told you, if only he had shown you how much you meant to him when it still mattered. He wishes he had told you then. But now, it’s too late. The space beside him is cold, the echo of your absence louder than anything the screen could show.

The apartment is too quiet. The TV hums faintly in the background, but it feels like it's just there for noise—just there to fill the silence that’s pressing against him, suffocating him.

Ji-yong rubs his face, eyes blurry from lack of sleep, and stands up slowly. He moves mechanically, as if on autopilot, because every other part of him feels frozen in place. He walks to the window, staring out at the city below, the lights flickering like stars in the distance. But the view is meaningless.

Everything is.

He can’t help but remember the nights when you were there beside him, when everything felt like it made sense. The way you’d call him, even if it was just to talk about nothing, the way your voice had comforted him, grounding him. He remembers the softness of your laugh, the way it would echo in his chest long after the call ended. He remembers the feeling of your hand, warm and sure, when you’d place it on his arm or reach out in the dark of night. But now, the silence is deafening.

It’s too late.

Ji-yong runs a hand through his hair, breathing in deep. It’s the first time he’s had to face it, the first time he’s allowed himself to feel everything that he’s been running from. The truth, the pain, the regret—it’s all too much.

He pulls out his phone, his fingers trembling as he scrolls through the messages—the ones that should have been answered, the ones that should have been sent. But all of it is still here, untouched. Every text, every missed call, a reminder of the words he never said.

He should have been there. He should have noticed. He never imagined it would come to this. And now, he’s left with nothing but memories of the person he let slip away.

Ji-yong’s hand shakes as he places the phone back down on the counter, the weight of his own guilt heavier than any silence he’s ever known. The emptiness presses down on him, unbearable, and he finally allows himself to feel the sting of tears that had stayed hidden for so long. But it's too late to fix it now.

He has to go. He pulls on his jacket, his steps slow but determined, like he’s walking toward something he doesn’t want to confront but knows he has no choice but to face. There’s a place he hasn’t visited in far too long.

His footsteps feel heavier with each step, the quiet of the world around him amplifying the weight of everything he’s been avoiding. The gray sky seems to press down on him, like it’s holding his pain in place. He’s been walking for what feels like hours, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He’s drawn to this place—this place he’s tried to forget, tried to ignore, but no matter how far he runs, it always pulls him back. He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to face the truth that’s been gnawing at him from the inside out. But somehow, it feels like this is the only place he can go.

Finally, he reaches the spot.

The air is thick with the scent of the earth, the stillness around him suffocating, like the world has paused for a moment, holding its breath. His heart beats in his chest, painfully loud.

He sees the familiar silhouette of something ahead—the marker, the seemingly insignificant landmark that stands where everything shifted. It doesn’t have to say a name for him to know what it means. His throat tightens, and his pulse quickens as the realization sinks in. This is it.

He kneels slowly, the cold ground pressing against him as his fingers dig into the dirt, as if somehow, if he touches the earth, it will bring him closer to you. But it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

"I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking. "I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it." His words are barely audible, lost in the emptiness around him. "I should’ve been there. I should’ve... told you..."

His breath catches in his throat, and the words he’s been holding back for so long rush out in a broken sob. "I should’ve told you that I loved you."

His head falls forward, and tears escape, mingling with the dirt beneath him. The pain in his chest is unbearable now, like the weight of his regret is crushing him from the inside out. His hands tremble as he presses them against the earth, trying to reach something he can no longer touch. He stays there for a long time, the world spinning around him, as he whispers the words he never said before. The things he should have said, the things he’ll never get the chance to say now.

One more chance. That’s all he wanted. But it’s far too late now.

Ji-yong stays kneeling, his hands gripping the cold earth beneath him as the weight of everything crashes down on him. His tears have turned into sobs, raw and uncontrollable, but still, he whispers the same words over and over, as if saying them could somehow undo the reality he’s facing.

“I’m sorry... I should’ve been there... I should’ve known...” he repeats, as if whispering these words would bring you back to him.

But the world doesn’t stop. The wind continues to rustle the leaves around him, the empty, hollow sound only serving to amplify the silence. And still, he doesn’t stop. His hands press harder against the stone, his nails scraping against it as if trying to carve through the pain.

Then, with a force that takes him completely by surprise, his gaze lands fully on the marker in front of him. At first, it’s a blur—his eyes were too full of tears to focus. But when his vision clears, it hits him like a punch to the gut. The name.

Your name.

The truth smashes into him all at once, and for the first time, he lets out a gut-wrenching scream. A scream filled with pain, with sorrow, with a guilt so deep it feels like it’s splitting him in two. His hands tremble as they reach out, clutching the stone as though it might shatter with the force of his grip.

“No... no, no, no!” His voice is strangled, broken, the words unrecognizable through his sobs. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean for this to happen...”

He falls forward, his forehead pressing against the cold stone, the only connection left to you. His entire body shakes violently as he sobs, each breath a desperate gasp. The weight of his regret, of everything he never said, is suffocating him. Once more, he can’t see. He can’t think. He can’t breathe.

“I should’ve been there...” The words are barely more than a whisper, but they’re filled with such agony that it’s as if they’ve torn through his very soul. He screams again, louder this time, his voice echoing into the emptiness, his heart breaking with the realization that it’s too late to fix anything.

It’s too late.

The words feel like a knife. There’s no going back now. No way to take back the time he wasted, the moments he lost. He’s left with nothing but his grief, his guilt, and the unbearable weight of your absence.

“I love you...” he whispers, his voice broken. If it meant he could get you back, even for just one more day, he would have traded anything. Because you were his everything. You still are his everything. His love, his home, his world: all taken away from him in the blink of an eye.

His chest heaves as he tries to breathe, but it feels impossible. The weight of his own heartache is too much, the emptiness too vast. He presses his palms to his eyes, as if trying to push the tears back, to stop the flood that feels like it’s drowning him. But it never works. They fall anyway, each drop a reminder of all the things he will never say to you again. All the moments that will never come.

He lets out a choked sob, his voice barely a whisper as he says your name one more time, like a prayer, like a desperate plea for something he knows he can never have again. He was too late. Too late to protect you, too late to save you from everything that hurt, too late to show you the love he was too afraid to admit before. Now, with you gone, all he has are the ghosts of his regrets, haunting him in the silence. He doesn't know how to live with them, but he knows he will—because living with this pain is all he has left. He has to live for you.

Ji-yong’s fingers twitch at the thought, his mind pulling him back to that night. The memory lingers, sharp and suffocating, like a wound that hasn’t healed. He can still feel the dread that crept into his chest when he glanced at his phone, the screen lighting up with missed calls from your number.

The calls had come in rapid succession, one after another, like a hammer striking him over and over. His stomach dropped, instinct kicking in before his brain had even caught up. He didn’t even listen to the voicemail. He didn’t need to. He knew. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

His heart raced as he dialed your number, his fingers trembling, but it just rang and rang, no answer. His mind spiraled, but his body was already moving. He didn’t even grab a jacket or his belongings, he just rushed out the door, every step feeling heavier than the last. The only thought in his mind was you. Whatever was happening, he needed to be there. He had to make sure you were okay.

The hospital was a blur when he arrived—too many flashing lights, too many voices. The sterile smell of disinfectant, the cold air that wrapped around him like a death sentence. He pushed through the doors, his breath shallow, his pulse quickening, but nothing prepared him for what he found.

Your family was there, standing in the hallway, their faces pale, their eyes empty. They didn’t need to say anything. The look in their eyes told him everything. He barely registered the nurse who spoke to him, her words muddled, drowned out by the roar in his ears.

It’s too late.

They tried to save you. That’s all he could hear. They did everything they could. But it wasn’t enough.

He collapsed in a chair, his body no longer able to hold him up. His hands shook violently, and he could feel the air around him turn to ice. He had failed you.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his head dropped into his hands. He could still hear your laughter, see your smile, feel the warmth of your presence. Now, it was all gone, slipping through his fingers like sand. The calls, the hospital, the frantic rush to save you—it all felt like an endless loop, and nothing could change the truth that it was too late.

The sound of you calling his name echoed in his mind, a cruel and harsh reminder that he’d never hear that properly ever again. You must’ve been so scared in your final moments, yet the only thing on your mind as you drew your last breath was him. It had always been him.

“I’m sorry, Ji-yong.”

A sudden sensation stops him in his tracks. A soft breeze, warm and gentle, brushes past him, despite the stillness of the air around him. It feels like your touch, like the comfort of your presence, even though he knows you’re not there.

His breath catches, his heart skipping a beat. He spins around, looking toward the grave, expecting to see nothing but the same cold stone that has haunted him for so long.

But there’s something different this time. In the silence, there’s a memory—your laugh, the way your voice used to light up his world. He hears it, faint, almost like another echo, and his eyes widen as the tears rush back. He holds his breath, afraid that if he moves or speaks, the moment will vanish.

The world feels suspended, like time itself has decided to hold its breath. And then, in the quiet, there’s a sense of warmth that he can’t explain. It wraps around him, pulling him into something soft and familiar. It’s as though you’re still with him, as if the distance between the two of you isn’t as vast as it feels.

“Aein?” he whispers, his voice barely audible, the words trembling with a mixture of hope and pain.

For a brief second, he thinks he feels your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your touch grounding him, and his heart swells with a fleeting sense of peace. His chest tightens with emotion as he reaches out, but when he looks around, all he finds is the empty grave—silent, still, and so final.

"You’ll always be with me, won’t you?"

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#kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon #gdragon x reader #bigbang #bigbang x reader #kpop #angst

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heliosunny · 3 months ago

Note

Your yandere crown prince phainon was soo GOOD, I fell in love with the way you write him omg?? I hope you will make a part 3 of it!!

At first I nv thought he'd received this much love haha. Here at my blog, you ask n you shall receive.

Yandere! Crown Prince Phainon x Reader - P3

Visit [Part 1]; [Part 2]

The king and queen had been patient at first.

But patience only lasted so long.

“You have been married for months, and yet there is no news” the queen sighed, gracefully sipping her tea as you sat with her in the royal gardens.

The king, seated beside her, nodded in agreement. “Phainon was our strongest. We expect great heirs from him, my dear.”

You nearly choked on your tea.

“Your Majesties-” you began, but the queen only gave you an amused glance.

“We do not mean to pressure you,” she said sweetly. “But we are looking forward to hearing good news soon.”

You offered a polite smile, trying not to let your exhaustion show. “Phainon and I have been quite busy with state affairs-”

“Yes, yes” the king waved a hand. “But surely you can....multitask.”

Your cheeks burned.

You knew Phainon adored his parents, but they were relentless.

Phainon, of course, had no problem with their expectations.

Every night, after a long day of handling state affairs, he would slip into your chamber and coddle himself against you, resting his head in your lap, holding you close, occasionally mumbling half-asleep words about keeping you in bed for an entire day.

“They are right, you know” he murmured one evening, nuzzling against your shoulder as you tried- and failed to finish your paperwork.

“Phainon...” you sighed, trying to push him off gently.

“We could stay in bed for days” he continued lazily. “Just you and me, no responsibilities”

“And an entire kingdom left to ruin?” you retorted, still writing.

He huffed against your skin. “The kingdom can wait. My wife cannot.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We will discuss this when we’re not drowning in work.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced.

But he did, at least, let you finish.

A few days later, while you were buried in paperwork, Castorice arrived unexpectedly.

“Your Highness, I need your help.”

You looked up, surprised by her determined expression. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I need… love advice.”

You blinked. Then, setting your papers aside, you gestured for her to sit. “Tell me everything.”

She hesitated for a moment before sighing. “There’s someone I like. But I don’t know how to approach them.”

“Do they know you well?”

“Somewhat” she muttered. “But they never seem to notice me that way.”

You smiled knowingly. “Then we’ll just have to see how they feel, won’t we?”

You and Castorice devised a simple plan: observe her love interest from afar and analyze their behavior.

Of course, this required leaving the palace, which meant sneaking out carefully.

And that meant Phainon didn’t know where you were. That was a problem.

Because when he realized you had left without informing him, his mind immediately jumped to one conclusion: She’s avoiding me.

Phainon, for all his strength and confidence, was utterly terrible at handling the idea that you might lose interest in him.

So when you returned that evening, completely unaware of his brooding thoughts, you found him sitting in your chamber, blue eyes unreadable as he watched you enter.

You paused, sensing something was off. “Phainon?”

“Did you have fun?” he asked smoothly.

You blinked. “What?”

“With Castorice” he continued, voice eerily calm. “You seemed quite… occupied.”

You sighed, setting down your cloak. “Phainon, if you’re upset, just say it.”

His jaw clenched slightly. “I am not upset.”

You arched a brow. “You are upset.”

He huffed, looking away.

“I merely find it interesting” he muttered, “that you had the time to wander the city for her but cannot spare a moment for us.”

Your eyes softened. You stepped closer, cupping his face gently. “Phainon. I am not avoiding you.”

His hands came up to hold your wrists, his grip firm. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely” you murmured. “Castorice needed help. That’s all. And besides-” You smirked slightly. “Are you really jealous?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“I do not get jealous” he muttered.

You chuckled. “Oh? Then why are you sulking?”

There was only silence. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I missed you” he admitted quietly.

“I missed you too.”

And just like that, his grip tightened, as if reminding himself that no matter the distractions, no matter the politics- You were still his.

“You must come, Your Highness” Castorice urged, a playful glint in her eyes. “It will be a lovely gathering- tea, gossip, and good company.”

You chuckled, setting aside your paperwork. “A gathering of noble ladies, you mean?”

“Exactly” she grinned. “You have been so busy. This is a chance to relax.”

You hesitated briefly, but then nodded. “Alright. Just for a while.”

Little did you know, not everyone at the tea party was pleased by your presence.

The moment you arrived at the elegant garden, a certain noblewoman- Lady Evelyne, greeted you with a forced smile.

“Your Highness” she said smoothly. “What an honor to have you here.”

You returned the courtesy, though something in her gaze felt off.

Throughout the afternoon, she and her followers exchanged glances, whispering behind their teacups. You could feel the weight of their envy, resentment hidden beneath polite words.

“The Crown Prince must adore you” one lady mused with a fake smile. “To choose you over so many other suitable ladies.”

You met her gaze steadily. “I would hope a marriage is based on more than just suitability.”

A few chuckled, but Evelyne’s eyes darkened.

And from that moment, you knew.

She was not simply envious. She was bitter.

As evening fell, you bid farewell to Castorice and the others, preparing to return to the palace. But Evelyne had plans.

She and her followers arranged for a carriage accident, one that would make it seem like a mere misfortune.

“She is just a noble by birth” Evelyne murmured to her accomplices. “Not a true royal. If something were to happen to her, perhaps the prince would realize his mistake.”

And so, as your carriage passed through a dimly lit path. The wheels snapped. The horses reared. The entire vehicle lurched before tumbling to the side.

Pain shot through your body as you hit the cold ground, disoriented. And before you could react, figures emerged from the darkness.

Back at the palace, Phainon’s brows furrowed as he stood at Castorice’s side.

“She has not returned from the party.” he said, voice low.

Castorice frowned. “Impossible, she left some time ago. She should already be back.”

Phainon’s expression darkened.

“Something is wrong.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel, issuing orders to his guards.

“Find her. Now.”

In his chest, beneath the calm fury, a sickening fear took root. If something had happened to you, there would be no mercy.

By the time Phainon arrived at the scene, the assailants had already moved in.

But they had not expected him.

A gloved hand shot forward, grabbing one attacker by the throat. A sickening crack echoed as the prince threw them aside with no hesitation.

The others barely had time to react before Phainon’s sword gleamed in the moonlight, swift, merciless.

Finally, he saw you. Bruised. Hurt.

A heartbeat later, he was at your side, gathering you into his arms.

“Who did this?” his voice was deathly quiet, his fingers tightening.

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth. “It was…” You hesitated. “Lady Evelyne.”

Phainon stilled.

“I see...She thinks she can harm my wife and go unpunished?”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, my love. I will handle this.”

Evelyne had expected repercussions.

But not this.

She knelt in the dimly lit chamber of the palace dungeons, wrists bound with thick iron cuffs, her face pale as she watched the crown prince enter.

Phainon did not speak at first. He merely stood there, tall, composed, eyes gleaming with something terrible. Then, in a voice so calm it sent shivers down her spine, he said, “You attempted to harm my wife.”

Evelyne swallowed hard. “Your Highness, I-”

“You dared to lay a hand on the Crown Princess,” he continued, voice unwavering. “and you thought you would live to boast about it?”

The sheer finality in his tone made her blood run cold. This was not a man who threatened. This was a man who delivered.

And so, Lady Evelyne and her conspirators were sentenced: Public disgrace. Wealth and titles stripped. Families exiled.

But for Evelyne herself? Phainon had far worse in mind.

When you found out, you insisted on seeing him.

Despite your injuries.

Despite your weakness.

You dragged yourself from bed, barely making it to the royal hall where he sat, issuing commands.

The moment Phainon saw you, his gaze hardened. “You should be resting” he said, immediately rising from his seat.

But you shook your head. “I came to ask for mercy.”

His eyes darkened.

“For her?”

You took a slow breath. “I want her to suffer, too. But this will not erase what happened. Let this be enough.”

For the first time in days, Phainon hesitated.

You were still weak. Still recovering. And yet, you had come all this way just to beg for someone who had nearly taken you from him. Phainon clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching in restraint.

“Fine.” But there was no relief in his voice. Only begrudging compliance. “But do not ask me for such mercy again.”

When Mydei and Anaxa heard what happened, they were quick to come to your side.

“We should have ensured your safety” Anaxa admitted, voice heavy with guilt. “It was reckless to let you return alone.”

Mydei nodded. “We won’t let this happen again.”

You offered them both a tired smile. “It was not your fault. But thank you.”

Still, you could tell that from this moment on, they would not let you be so vulnerable again. And neither would Phainon.

After that night, something changed in the palace.

The noblewomen who once whispered behind their fans now lowered their gazes in Phainon’s presence.

Servants spoke in hushed tones about what had happened to Evelyne.

The message was clear: No one was to touch the Crown Princess.

Not unless they wished to meet a merciless fate.

And so, you found yourself at the center of cautious admiration.

Not just as the prince’s beloved wife, but as the only one who could soften his wrath.

Days later, as you lay in your sickbed, Castorice arrived with an unfamiliar man at her side.

“Your Highness,” she said with a small smile. “I wanted to introduce someone.”

The man beside her bowed deeply. “It is an honor, Crown Princess.”

He was polite. Refined. And when he looked at Castorice, there was genuine admiration in his eyes.

You studied him for a moment, then gave Castorice the smallest nod of approval.

Her expression brightened.

“I knew you would understand!”

You chuckled softly. “Just… choose wisely.”

Because even now, you knew- Love was a dangerous thing.

That evening, Phainon returned from court matters only to find an unfamiliar man had been in your presence.

His expression immediately soured.

“Who was he?” he asked, tone clipped.

You sighed, already sensing where this was going. “Castorice’s love interest.”

Phainon was not convinced.

“And what was he doing in your chamber?”

You gave him a tired look. “Introducing himself. Nothing more.”

Still, he loomed over you, arms crossing. “I don’t like it.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Are you jealous again?”

His blue eyes narrowed.

“You are my wife” he murmured, leaning in. “Why would I not be?”

You reached up, brushing a hand over his cheek. “Then stop sulking. Castorice is happy. That should be enough.”

He exhaled, leaning into your touch. “As long as he knows his place.”

You shook your head with a small laugh.

The palace had been peaceful for weeks. No new assassination attempts. No political rivalries stirring.

But peace never lasted long.

“Your Highness, urgent news from the eastern border.”

A messenger arrived at the court in haste, kneeling before Phainon as he presented a sealed letter.

Phainon broke the wax and scanned the contents, his expression shifting from intrigue to frustration to thinly veiled rage.

“The border defenses are failing” he said, voice calm but heavy with warning. “A foreign faction is exploiting the weakness left after the last war.”

You watched from your seat beside him, fingers tightening on the armrest.

“Do we know who leads them?” you asked.

The messenger hesitated.

“It is not just one faction, Your Highness. A coalition has formed mercenaries, rogue nobles, and…” He swallowed. “One of our own generals.”

The court stilled. A traitor.

Phainon’s grip on the letter crumpled the parchment.

“His name?”

“General Orpheus, Your Highness.”

The weight of betrayal settled over the room.

Orpheus was once a trusted military leader, one who fought beside Phainon in past campaigns. Now, he had turned against the crown.

Phainon’s jaw clenched.

“Then I will deal with him myself.”

Later that night, you found him in the war chambers, pouring over maps and battle reports, his eyes sharp with focus.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you asked softly.

He didn’t look up. “I must.”

You stepped closer. “You just secured the kingdom. If you leave now, others will use this as an opportunity to create disorder in court.”

“If I don’t leave, the border will fall” he countered.

You knew he was right. But something about this war felt different.

“Let me go with you” you said.

His head snapped up. “No.”

“I can help-”

“No.”

His voice left no room for argument.

“You are still recovering. I will not risk your life again.”

You met his gaze defiantly. “And I will not sit idle while you fight alone.”

A dangerous silence stretched between you.

He exhaled slowly, reaching forward to cradle your face.

“I swore to protect you. And if I must cut down an entire army to ensure you remain safe, then I will.”

His forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay here, my love. Wait for me.”

You closed your eyes.

Because no matter how much you wanted to stand by his side, you knew he would never allow it.

Days passed.

The battle waged in the east.

And then—The betrayal struck.

Not from the battlefield, but within the palace itself. Late one evening, a servant rushed into your chambers, breathless.

“Your Highness! The council— they are trying to strip the prince of his authority!”

You froze. “What?”

“The royal ministers...Duke Varion, Marquis Sareth...they claim that Phainon’s campaign is reckless. That he seeks war only for his own ambition.”

Your blood turned cold.

The moment Phainon left the capital, these leeches had taken their chance to turn the court against him.

You rose swiftly, ignoring the lingering ache in your body.

“Summon the council immediately.”

If they thought you would be a weak regent in Phainon’s absence, you have to prove that they were wrong.

When you entered the council chamber, every noble eye turned to you. The ministers sat in their high-backed chairs, their expressions carefully neutral. But you saw it—the quiet defiance.

Duke Varion stood. “Your Highness, we mean no disrespect, but we must question whether it is wise to let the Crown Prince—”

“Enough.”

Your voice was not loud. But it carried authority.

Varion hesitated.

You stepped forward, eyes sharp.

“You claim my husband is reckless?”

“We claim he is endangering the kingdom-”

“He is defending it,” you cut in smoothly. “And yet, while he sheds blood for this land, you sit here—plotting how to weaken him.”

You let the moment of silence stretch, let the weight of your words settle.

Then, voice calm but unyielding, you said:

“If anyone wishes to challenge the Crown Prince’s rule, they may do so when he returns.

“And I promise” your gaze swept over them, cold and unrelenting“he will return.”

When Phainon finally rode back into the capital—victorious, bloodstained, and utterly unforgiving

He wasted no time in purging the court.

Duke Varion? Stripped of his lands.

Marquis Sareth? Exiled.

Any noble who had dared to question his authority? Crushed beneath the weight of his retribution.

When he finally reached you, his hardened expression softened. You were waiting at the palace gates, your heart pounding as he dismounted his warhorse.

Without hesitation, he strode toward you, ignoring the watching nobles, ignoring the blood still drying on his gloves, he pulled you into his arms.

“You protected my rule” he murmured into your hair.

“Of course,” you whispered. “Did you think I would let them take what is ours?”

His grip tightened.

“My love,” he whispered, voice raw, “how could I ever deserve you?”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face.

“You do.”

Without another word, he kissed you.

It had been another exhausting day. Meetings. Political disputes. The lingering tension from Phainon’s latest campaign.

But above all—

His parents.

“When will we expect an heir?” the Queen had asked over dinner, smiling ever so sweetly.

You nearly choked on your tea. Again.

The King only laughed. “We are not rushing, of course.”

But they were.

Their eyes gleamed with barely concealed excitement, expectant whenever they looked between you and Phainon.

The moment you left the dining hall, you sighed.

“They aren’t going to let this go.”

Beside you, Phainon smirked.

“They are not wrong to be impatient.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you would say that.”

But he only hummed, his eyes glinting with something wicked.

“Perhaps it is time we oblige them, my love.”

The moment you entered your chambers, Phainon wasted no time.

He cornered you before you could step away, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you against the wall.

“Are you tired?” he murmured, his voice deep, velvety.

You swallowed.

“A little.”

His lips brushed your ear.

“I’ll be gentle, then.”

Heat curled low in your stomach.

“Phainon-”

His hand slid to your waist, his touch warm.

“Tell me,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss against your pulse, “do you want this?”

You shivered beneath his touch.

“Yes.”

That was all he needed.

Between silken sheets and tangled limbs, Phainon worshipped you.

His kisses traced reverent paths down your skin, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You are mine” he whispered against your lips, eyes dark with desire. “And I will make sure the world knows it.”

You gasped as he moved against you, his warmth consuming you whole.

“You speak as if I am not already yours” you teased, breathless.

His grip tightened.

“I know you are” he murmured, “but I will make sure there is no doubt.”

A vow sealed beneath moonlight and quiet, desperate gasps. And as he finally held you close, the weight of his love sinking into your bones, you knew— This was more than just duty. More than just an heir.

When the morning light streamed through the curtains, you stirred, muscles pleasantly sore.

Phainon was already awake, lying beside you, his arm draped over your waist.

“Good morning, my love” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

You sighed. “Morning.”

His hand traced idle patterns against your skin. “How are you feeling?”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Why don't you guess?”

His smirk was unapologetic.

“I was thorough last night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Do you think… it worked?”

A rare softness crossed his features.

“Perhaps.” You bit your lip, fingers brushing over his hand. “If it did… would you be happy?”

He cupped your cheek.

“You are all I have ever wanted.”

And for once, there was no war. No court schemes. No looming threats. Just you and him.

#yandere x reader #yandere #phainon x you #yandere phainon #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail

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bonne-chanson · 3 months ago

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If you'd be interested, could you write a story about the reader having to take care of Ranpo when he's sick?

a/n: this is perfect timing actually bc i’m down with a cold rn HAJDBKDN eurgh :(( anw, i hope you enjoy this (reverse?) sick fic! not sure if i captured ranpo’s personality enough, but i tried :’> there’s an established relationship here, so if this isn’t your cup of tea and you just wanted reader taking care of ranpo in general, feel free to tell me so i can whip smth up quickly for you! :>

under the weather and your care

✑ character/s: ranpo edogawa x reader

✑ short desc: his immune system is struggling way too much after playing in the rain and eating lots of candy.

✑ content includes: fluff ; sfw ; established relationship ; sick fic ; nothing to warn anyone about, reader just has to take care of ranpo

✑ word count: 1.6k words

"I told you to drink more water."

Ranpo could only huff at your berating words, crossing his arms childishly while he turns his head away to avoid your stern gaze. As much as he was the world’s greatest detective, his boyish behavior still makes him refuse to acknowledge the fact that you were right to say that too many sweets without drinking enough fluids and having a fever was, indeed, a terrible decision.

A few days earlier, the both of you were assigned to a mission that somehow ended in having to travel to Shibuya for the final piece of evidence. Ranpo, as always, lived up to his title by piecing everything together within half a minute, and the next train to Yokohama wasn’t going to stop by the station any time soon, so he asked himself (and you)—

What harm is there in exploring the city for a little while?

It turned into a spontaneous date of sorts, enjoying all kinds of tourist spots from dressing up and playing around with many colorful fashion pieces in Harajuku to riding go-karts around the emptier streets (which ended in chaos). His favorite, however, and not much to your surprise, was visiting Totti Candy Factory with you in tow, immediately heading over to the buy a big serving of rainbow-colored cotton candy to munch on before grabbing at least two baskets to put the rest of his chosen sweets in (and unfortunately, you ended up going home with five).

Of course, being the ever-loving darling you are to your sugar addict of a boyfriend, you paid for everything. How could you not when he pouted at (coerced) you into bulk-buying them for him?

Everything was fine, even with the amount of candy bags you both had to carry, up until it started to rain.

Shibuya crossing was surprisingly emptier than usual considering it was already late in the afternoon on a weekday, and the freedom to prance around in the rainwater gave him enough thrill to begin jumping on the bigger puddles of the street, yellow rainboots creating the biggest splashes. Pedestrians and passersby eyed him strangely before avoiding him as they walked along, and you, charmed by his adorable character, thought it was funny—

…Until his boyish antics made him roll around in the puddles simply because it was fun.

It didn’t take much longer before you were dragging him away from the street and bowing your head apologetically at the surrounding people crossing as he whined helplessly. Soon after, you found yourselves sitting on a train back to Yokohama, the cushions wet with rainwater as you sat across each other. The poor detective complained about wanting to cuddle closer to you for some warmth, but you rejected his advances, trying not to get the seats any more wet than they already were.

You awkwardly avoided eye contact with him on the way home, guilt gnawing at your insides, and when you gathered enough courage to catch a glimpse of him in front of you all shivering and grouchy, the tug on your heartstrings made itself known. Though, it wasn’t really enough to justify getting your clothes wet in the process, so you forced yourself to look away instead.

(You’d regret that later.)

Yosano could only sigh at the condition your boyfriend was in when the two of you first entered her office, but after prescribing some medicine and her usual advice for common colds and fevers, his body temperature slowly began to go back to normal.

Or so you thought.

The problem is that at some point, when his fever began to simmer down, he remembered the five bags of candy you two had bought the other day and began indulging himself in his sweets instead of sipping the miso soup you’d made for him.

So, his fever is back.

And here you two are, about three days later, with Ranpo currently suffering from a clogged nose and a terrible headache, not just because he was drenched and cold for too long and because you both didn’t have anything to dry him off with on the way back to the agency that day, but also because he refused to follow the doctor’s advice and ate too much sugar while avoiding all the soup and water you would bring him.

And now he has a very itchy sore throat to boot.

You sigh, handing him a cup of lukewarm water as he sniffles and scrunches his nose, looking away.

“Ranpo,” you chide, raising a brow. “Come on… your fever won’t die down if you don’t drink enough fluids. You keep refusing tea and soup because they’re too bitter for your taste, so water is your best option. Yosano-sensei said so, remember?”

He sticks his bottom lip out, pouting at you, and for a moment, you almost give in just because you pitied the red-and-stuffy-nosed detective sitting up on his bed.

“But I don’t like the aftertaste of the candy when I drink water!” he barks back. “And I already drank my medicine for today!”

You roll your eyes, but the gesture is followed by a small chuckle. It’s hard to stay impatient with him.

“Yes, but you need a lot of fluids and sleep so the medicine can work. Otherwise, you’ll be out of business for another week,” you explain, bringing the glass closer to his lips. “The agency wouldn’t be anything without their best detective, after all.”

“Their best detective?”

“…The world’s greatest detective.”

It takes him a few moments, but his pouty face is eventually replaced with a big grin and a laugh interrupted by a few coughs. As you rub his back comfortingly, the gesture soothing his coughing storm, he takes the glass from your hand and hums.

“Okay, fine… But only because the agency still needs me!”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you smile again, watching him chug the glass down before wiping his lips with his pajama sleeve. Much to his own comfort, the water did, in fact, help with his sore throat, its cooling nature soothing the itchiness irritated earlier by all the sweets he consumed in one sitting.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Refusing to acknowledge that you were, yet again, right, he places the glass back down on the bedside table before grabbing at your wrist to try and pull you closer to him, shoving the blanket out of the way momentarily.

“Ranpo—?”

“Cuddle me,” he says, still trying to drag you onto the mattress. “You didn’t cuddle me on the train back home the other day, so I was all cold and ended up with a fever. The least you could do is to cuddle me now because I’m still all chilly.”

The sheets of his bed begin to rustle when he traps you in his arms, keeping you next to him like a cat with its favorite toy. Your struggle for some space doesn’t go unnoticed — he grins when he spots this, only engulfing you with the tightest embrace he can give and all the affection he has to offer. He doesn’t hesitate when he nuzzles your neck and curls up closer to you, your body heat helping him relax a little from the headache that came with his stuffy nose and high temperature, allowing him to feel a little more at peace with his current condition.

So, with a final grunt, you take the edge of the blanket and use it to cover yourselves as you turn to your side to let him bury his face in the crook of your neck a little more, your fingers threading through his hair. A nap for now would be good for him, you figure, and if your presence helps calm him down enough to lull him to sleep, then you’d gladly stay for hours on end on his bed with him like this.

But he doesn’t fully close his eyes — not yet. He grabs a tissue or two to blow his nose every now and then, dropping the crumpled trash onto the floor next to the bed (you make a mental note to clean up later), but he can’t seem to drift off to dreamland.

“Something on your mind?” you murmur into his hair, petting it fondly.

He lets out a deep sigh in response.

You’re the only person who can ever come close to reading his thoughts as he had allowed himself to open up enough to be vulnerable around you. Despite being able to catch up to him most of the time, there are still moments that are foggy enough to make you ponder about the thoughts whirring about in his head. So, you make it a point to communicate with him as much as possible and ask him whenever the situation needs to be addressed.

And he’s grateful for that. He may very well consider himself a better mind-reader than you, but to have someone care for him in such a way that they also want to know what’s going on in his head when the world often tends to alienate him for being him is a blessing in itself that, although he never mentions it aloud, he’ll cherish forever.

Ranpo opens his mouth.

“…You didn’t give me a good night kiss.”

You blink.

“What?”

“You always give me good night kisses before we go to bed,” he points out. “It’s part of our routine. You didn’t give me one yet, so I can’t sleep.”

It’s almost impossible to hold back the giggle creeping up your throat.

“Ranpo,” you call, stifling the little laughs between words, “I can’t do that right now. I might get sick if I kiss you. You’ll be passing your fever onto me.”

“But if I can’t go to sleep, then I won’t get any better, and I need you to give me a good night kiss to help me go to sleep.”

Damn him and his (childish) logic.

“…Okay.” Deciding to get this done and over with, you cup his cheek. “But only on the forehead, alright? I’m not risking getting your germs right now,” you jest.

Yet the moment you lean in closer, your lips ghosting the skin of his forehead, he tilts his head upward to allow his lips to meet with yours. Your eyes widen and you scrunch your nose a little when he releases a rather obnoxious mwah! after, and as soon as you pull away, you are faced with the cheekiest expression he can muster.

“Ranpo!”

He yawns as you scold his name, snuggling back into your arms again. “Good night, [Y/N]…”

That initial annoyance of yours quickly fades away and you can’t help but shake your head and smile as you cuddle him closer to keep him warm.

You can never stay mad at him no matter how many times fate (rather, the rain and all of his candy in this case) has to put him under your care. You love your detective too much, after all.

a/n: feel free to let me know how i did! this was also my first time writing for ranpo, so i hope i captured him well enough :’>

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #anime #manga #anime and manga #armed detective agency #bsd fluff #fluff #sick fic

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yurinaa-world · 1 year ago

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hii, may i send in a request for Blade, Jing Yuan, Aventurine and Sunday with platonic headcanons of them maybe with their child who has a severe illness? Like how would they look after them/attend to them.

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Jing Yuan, Aventurine & Sunday !Platonic x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who has a severe illness + how would they look after you

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: angst to sort of comfort?, spelling mistakes,

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I'm sooo jetlagged rn

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

Death can come in seconds with a person even realizing but you do anything since it’s already too late. It’s the same in the end, you cry, give flowers since regret means more than gratitude ever could; then just leave and never look back.

Does it have to be the same? Not for you. He'll care even when no one else will, he’ll stay and listen to you cry, even if it’s a childish thing like wanting to see the world instead of being stuck in this awful room with wires attached to your body.

He visits when he can–which is when he’s not on missions–when he isn’t he stays with you most of the time, showing up with bags of gifts but what’s the use if you’re paralyzed, too tired to move yet not enough to finally sleep–at least to be free for a couple of hours of pain–So the gifts are open and sit around your room to make the room look alive.

He ends up sitting with you in silence, watching if your heart rate went up or anything that has drastically changed in your health. He holds your hand and wipes your tears since you always cry since you can barely sleep and your eyes are just so tired that you can’t anymore.

The scarce days that you can even sit up in your bed and gaze outside your window while looking at all the gift blades’ gotten you over the several months you’ve been unable to do anything. Yet now you're still weak and the quick recovery will change to worse in a couple of hours.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

He’s sentimental with you, just watching your face contort into pain as a fit of terrible coughs leaves your throat leaving it burning more than before. It was a complete never-ending nightmare for you until you finally were to be freed when you took your final breath of air.

He tries to bring an upbeat attitude to you, listening to you with contempt about whatever you may be talking about, like your dreams, goals, and wishes; maybe a chance to see life outside of this miserable room–yet deep down no one thinks you will.

He loves to bring you sweets–you can’t eat because most of the time you're bedridden–and toys–you can't play with. It's the duty of the general to make sure every citizen is safe and you mean the same to him even if you are sick–and dying.

You’re his child that's all that matters to him. The fake people's pity along with the whispers and disgusting assumptions. He hates it, he hates what they say is the truth–Since in the end, you’re the one dying, right? So what’s wrong with saying what everyone knows is going to happen.

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒

Everyone comes to Pencony to have fun and let their dreams become reality yet you’re the pitiful one who must be stuck in your room all day whilst Aventurine is out and about having “fun” you can't help but be a little envious of him, yet you are love more than anything by and you’ll wait for his return as you’ve always have done.

Watching the lights from below your window along with the sounds of everyone having so much—you cut the sounds out since your body is a rotting corpse lying there.

But it’s not that bad!! Aventurine splurges on you whenever he can and wants!! Even if your room is filled with stuffed animals, util your room can’t handle all the stuffed animals, then he’ll get you a bigger room!! He just wants you to feel included in any way he can. Even playing board games with you, or even it’s patty cake.

Your dream is to be like other people. To be a “normal” kid since dreams will only ever be dreams and never be anything good for the hopeful.

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

You’re the child of the great oak family, a prized child even with ruined lungs, hoarse throat and weak rotting body, you’re still his child, the only reason he does the things he does is for your sake.

He always reads you bedtime stories no matter if it is the 100th time reading the same one or the first, your wish is his command. Even if it’s reading you a lullaby no matter how bashful and embarrassed he feels he’ll still do what ask just to see a bright smile on your face.

It’s okay, don’t cry, it's only just a couple of needles. The pain will go away in a second, you can handle it, right? That’s what he always tells you. Comforting you is the most important thing, you’re his everything, watching you cry or whimper at the face, needles, nightmares or anything else then he’ll do anything for you.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail x you #honkai blade #honkai blade x reader #blade x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine hsr #hsr x y/n #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x you

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python333 · 2 years ago

Text

bedbound — python333

— — — —

synopsis you're on a mission and oopsie daisy you get trapped under a building!! you end up in the medbay and tf141 visits you one by one, each of them giving you a lil piece of their mind for going and getting yourself trapped under a collapsed building.

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.5k

warnings pretty detailed (i think) descriptions of [reader] being in pain [specifically having a bunch of leg injuries], angstier than i usually write, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note this is my first actual fic ive wrotten in MONTHS so i hope its okay! so sorry if it feels like a majority of the focus is on the reader, i had a too much fun writing out the first part where they get crushed :3 i am also once again begging for requests. like on my knees hands together begging for requests. its the best way of getting motivation istg. anyway, this is all mild hurt/comfort and some angst + fluff so enjoy!! :3

You tried running out of the building—you didn’t expect the whole damn thing to come crashing down on you.

You’d just been chasing after an enemy soldier moments ago, dashing into the building, when suddenly the whole building seemed to shake. Then, the whole thing seemed to just collapse. When you think about it now, you realize the shake must’ve come from a nearby explosion, an explosion somehow powerful enough to damage the structural support of the building so terribly that it couldn’t hold itself up anymore and instead fell down onto you.

Now, here you were, just ten steps away from the entrance of the building, stopped by the huge slab of concrete and twisted metal that pinned your legs down to the ground. Your earpiece fell off when you fell down, sliding across the floor, preventing you from calling your team.

Sure, you could try and move your legs, but the excruciating pain that came with each movement wasn’t worth it. You think your legs are broken with the way your nerves scream at you every time you move them, and with how uncomfortably and horrifyingly disconnected they feel.

“I’m making shit up,” You whisper hoarsely to yourself, ignoring the tears that welled up in your eyes from the debris and dust in the air, “They’re not broken. I’m making it worse for myself by thinking that.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’re quoting Price on that one, from the last time you got seriously hurt like this. You vaguely remember your panicked words and Price’s soothing voice that came after every worry, telling you that no, you’re not too badly hurt, it’s gonna be okay, you’re just panicking.

But in the forefront of your mind, all you can do is think about how you can’t reach your earpiece to talk to your team, the only thing you can do is listen to their worried voices.

The earpiece is loud enough for you to hear, even though you’re just out of arm’s reach from it, you can still hear your teammates repeating your call sign and asking how you copy. With the stupid Push-To-Talk thing, you can’t even just respond, no, you have to push the button on the side of your earpiece to unmute yourself.

You stretch your arm out just a little bit more to try and reach the earpiece, but when your leg starts to strain and your nerves light up you immediately give up, letting out a small, pained huff. You take a moment to just lie there and listen to your own labored breaths, every other breath hitching or catching in your throat.

You swallow down a sob that threatens to bubble out of your throat and try to reach again and—nope, that still fucking hurts.

You bring your hand back and put it over your mouth to muffle a small sob that climbs up and out of your throat, and try to take a deep breath the best you can with the debris in the air.

You feel a slight discomfort in your chest and cough, horrified when you see small specks of dust in the air you cough out, and God, the sight of it makes you want to rip out your lungs.

You feel the sudden urge to cough everything out, to flush out the dust in your lungs, to get rid of the uncomfortably full feeling you feel in your chest, but you know that every time you cough you can only exhale more of that debris-filled dust back in so now you’re trapped in a loop and—

“[c/n], how copy?” God, you want to yell at them that repeating that question won’t help, but you know there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve already asked where you are, if you’re okay, and how you copy multiple times, all of which got no answer.

They’ve only experienced radio silence on their end, and the thought makes you feel guilty for not being able to suck up the pain in your legs and just reach over to the damn earpiece and tell them you’re trapped.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your best to ignore the way you can literally feel the dust entering your lungs, and reach. You stretch your arm out the farthest you can, and feel the strain in your leg, and you’re almost to the earpiece, just a few more inches— pop.

A bone chilling pop rings through the air the moment you manage to snatch the earpiece, and good thing it was at least after you managed to grasp it firmly in your hand because you recoil back on instinct and gasp.

The gasp only lets in more dust, and you cough, wet tears dripping down onto your cheeks as you go through a seemingly endless loop of coughing out dust and inhaling debris and coughing it out again only for new dust to make its way into your system.

You stifle a pain-filled whimper and try to control your shaky breath, gripping the earpiece firming in your hand, looking down at it, looking at the sheer amount of debris on it. You bring your free hand out and wipe away the debris with shaky hands, making sure it’s clean enough to put in your ear before you carefully insert it.

It takes you a moment with your trembling hands, but you manage to do it, and you listen to Price ask how you copy one more time before you push down on the PTT button.

“Copy—” You hoarsely say, before coughing, everyone on the other line going silent, “Copy, not doing very well over here.”

“What happened?” Price’s voice crackles through on the damaged ear piece, “Are you hurt?”

“I got trapped under— under some concrete, and I…” You take a moment to catch your breath, “My legs are pinned, I can’t move.”

“Okay, okay,” Price’s voice softens, his tone becoming more soothing, “Where are you?”

“In a building— dunno which— which one… it’s by the really tall one,” You breathe out, mentally slapping yourself in the forehead for not being able to remember, “I’m sorry, I just know it’s orange and it has the entrance that Ghost bumped his head on—”

“It’s okay, I know which one you’re talking about,” Price reassures you, “Catch your breath. I’ll be there to get you out of there, okay? Just stay still, don’t move a muscle, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You mumble, trying to catch your breath, coughing at the amount of dust that infiltrates your lungs. You bring your hand off of the PTT button and sob once, quietly, and sniffle to try and stop yourself from crying, blinking away tears.

The tears that trailed down your face earlier now only make you realize just how much dust and grime is on your face, how the tear trails must’ve been the only clean lines on your face, how there’s a whole layer of pure filth on your face and you can’t even properly wipe it away because your hands are dirty too.

The pain in your legs are throbbing and you know that you’ve torn some of the muscle in your thighs, and you know the popping noise had to have been your hip, from the unnatural way you’d twisted it to reach your earpiece. You don’t even have time to think about how pathetic you look when suddenly Price opens the barely-hanging-onto-the-hinges-door, looking at the floor for a moment before his eyes finally land on you.

He immediately walks over to the slab of concrete pinning your legs down and forcing you to lie on the ground and you can hear him faintly murmur, “Oh, God,” and kneel down to the same level as the concrete.

You turn your neck to look at him and watch as he looks at the concrete for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to lift it, before he simply grabs the edge of the concrete and, with a grunt and after a good thirty seconds, he manages to lift one end up and flip it over onto its other side. The circulation that immediately floods back to your legs and the sudden feeling of weightlessness you get is almost too much, and you can barely find it in yourself to feel shame as you let out a small, relieved sob at the sudden rush of blood to your legs.

Price immediately gasps and you can’t see much from your angle but in the midst of your relief you suddenly feel a pang of pain and oh God, that hurts. You can recognize now the warm blood that accompanies the drying blood on your calf, and with the blood rushing into your legs, more spills out from the wound in your leg. Vaguely, you can remember twisted metal doing something to your leg—stabbing it, maybe? Your brain becomes fog-filled; too hazy to think through but just clear enough to register the throbbing pain in your leg.

“I’m so sorry,” Price murmurs softly, and before you can question him he takes the metal out of your leg and you let out a closed-lip scream, slapping a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the now uncontrollable sobs that break past your lips, the pain you feel making you light-headed.

Price quickly pulls a tourniquet out of one of the many pockets of his tactical best, wrapping the bright red strip around your leg just above the bleeding, blocking the blood from reaching past that point. He tightens it and rolls you over so that you’re laying on your back, making you stifle another pain-filled whimper. Without another word, he slips his arm under your knees and his other below your back and lifts you up bridal style, making you gasp sharply and cry out for a moment in pain, a few drops of blood making it onto the floor from your calf, the whole sight dizzying.

Being lifted up like this gave you vertigo—your head spun as you were lifted up and you could barely process anything with your hazy mind. Price mutters small ‘sorry’s under his breath, carrying you out of the door and quickly running with you in his arms back to where the others are, almost wanting to cry for you, seeing how much pain you were in.

Your eyelids drooped and your eyes shortly became half-lidded, and your ears started to ring, and everything was so overwhelming you just wanted it to be over.

Price notices your eyelids drooping and quickly says, “Hey, hey, don’t pass out on me, you gotta stay awake, kid.” You can only shake your head ‘no’ because talking feels like too much right now and let out another small, pain-filled whimper, just the sound of it making Price’s heart shatter.

You can only find it in yourself to talk a moment later, your words slurring together as you try to speak, “I can’t— can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, what you’re trying to warn Price about, but he seems to know.

“No, no, no—” Price tries to beg you, as if you had enough strength to stay awake. Those are the last words you hear before you completely black out.

—

You wake up to a white ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. You move your head around a bit, trying to gauge where you are, when you realize— oh, I’m in the medbay. You blink for a moment before sighing and just resting there for a moment, trying to recount the events that happened earlier. You don’t have time to go down memory lane, though, because suddenly the curtains in front of your bed are pulled back to reveal your Captain. “You’re awake,” He states, closing the curtains behind him. “How could you tell?” He snorts and sits down in a chair by your bed. You look at him questioningly, “Where’re the others?” “They’ll be here soon,” Price assures you, looking at your blanket covered legs for a moment before looking back up at your face, “Medics said one at a time.” You hum neutrally in response to that and wait a moment before asking, “How bad is it?” “Your leg?” “Yeah.” “Well…” Price starts to list off on his fingers, recalling the doctor’s words, “The joint that connected your hips and your legs was twisted and it had to be set back to normal, your muscles were torn, your ligaments were torn, your nerves were so compressed someone had to physically massage your legs back to life, and the stab wound in your leg almost got infected.” “… Huh.” You blink at Price, before asking, “When can I get out of here?” “Why is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Price asks, confused, before sighing and answering, “Kid, your leg was basically broken. You can get out of here in maybe a few weeks to a month. Getting back to your assignments is a whole different story. It could take several months for your muscles to fully heal, and even then I don’t want you back out there for a while. Not until it’s guaranteed your leg won’t… give out, or something, out there.” You frown at Price, “So what, I’m just gonna be stuck here?” “What else are you gonna do with an almost-broken leg?” “…” Price sighs and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Look, I know it’s frustrating, having to sit here for a few weeks then be able to get out only to not be able to do anything too physical, but your leg muscles were torn. You were trapped under concrete. You’re not going on any missions any time soon. I feel like that should be kind of obvious.” You can understand it, knowing the condition you’re in now, but you still deflate a little where you lie down and let out a tired, frustrated huff. Price chuckles softly at your clear display of disappointment and rubs your shoulder gently before patting it and getting up. “I guess I have to let the others see you too,” He muses, making your lips twitch up into a smile, the sight making him smile in return, “But I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you again, alright?” “Alright,” You nod, watching as he walks past the curtains blocking your bed from the rest of the medbay and listen as the door clicks open and closes shut. Not even a few seconds later, the door opens again, this time with someone walking faster to the curtains, pushing them aside eagerly. You quickly recognize Soap as he walks in, quickly closing the curtains behind him before rushing over and leaning down to hug you. This all happens so quickly you have to take a moment to process it, but you eventually hug him back, sighing at the warm embrace. “I want tae call ye stupid sae bad,” Soap mumbles into your neck as he hugs you, “but it wasn’ even yer fault sae I can’.”

“That’s the worst thing that’s happened all day,” You mutter sarcastically, making Soap laugh quietly. He pulls away from you and looks down at you. “It is, actually,” Soap says, and at your confused and mildly offended expression, he adds on, “It’s been over a day since ye got yer leg fucked up.” “… Oh.” You dumbly said, trying to process that. Over a day. “Everyone was really worried about ye, too,” Soap tacks on, refusing to sit on the chair behind him, simply standing by your bed. You stay silent, and Soap takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I think that's the first time I've actually seen Ghost stressed," Soap muses, making you huff out a small laugh. “Really?” “Yea,” Soap smiles, “I ken. Stone cauld L.t, suddenly worryin’ o’er ye.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” You mutter, a small smile gracing your lips thinking about Ghost worrying over you, “So you were all really worried?” “Very worried,” Soap nods, “Gaz thocht ye were gonnae die, poor chiel.” “Hm,” You hum neutrally. Soap stays silent for a moment before his voice softens and he quiets himself down a bit. “Try no' tae dae that again, aye? Ye'll gie the captain a heart attack," When you give him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes and adds on, “And me. Possibly. Maybe.” “Uh huh,” You look at him, unimpressed, “Right. I’ll try to predict when a huge piece of concrete is gonna fall on me.” “Ye ken wha’ I meant.”

“Never said I didn’t.” “Ye— y’know wha’? I’ll just leave then,” Soap says, feigning annoyance as he walks away from your bed, making you laugh quietly. He slips out and doesn’t bother to close the curtains behind him, simply walking out the door, not bothering to close that either.

You can hear him letting someone else know you’re ‘free to visit’, and just a few seconds later you watch Ghost walk in. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, seeing as Soap had told you Ghost was worried over you, but you still find yourself a little shocked when he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him. He sits at the chair beside your bed, and silently stares at you from the chair.

You stare back, not blinking, waiting for him to say the first word. You and Ghost’s silent staring match ends with Ghost sighing and speaking up. “How does your… leg feel?” “How do you think it feels?” You ask, deadpan, watching as Ghost’s eyes narrow. You blink at him for another moment before adding on, “It feels numb, right now.” Ghost hums at the actual answer and sits there awkwardly for another moment before stating, “Gaz thought you died. Or, were gonna die.” “I heard about that,” You respond, raising an eyebrow at Ghost, “Did he not know it was just my leg that got hurt?” “Hurt is a mild word,” Ghost mutters, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, he knew. He was more worried about all the stuff that got into your lungs.” “Oh.” “Yeah.”

You both stay silent for a bit, again, before you speak up, “So… are my lungs okay, or… ?” “No, yeah, they’re fine.” “That’s… good.” “Mhm.” Why is this so awkward? You purse your lips and turn your head back so that you’re staring at the ceiling rather than at Ghost, not knowing what to say. Why’d he even come in here if he was just gonna be awkward about this whole thing? It’s silent again, an uncomfortable sort of quiet that’s silent yet deafening at the same time—and you hate it. It seems Ghost hates it too, because he shifts in his seat, not saying anything verbally but you can tell by his body language it’s awkward for him too.

This goes on for maybe a minute or two, when suddenly Ghost gets up and walks the short one step between him and your bed and leans down to hug you. Like the silence, the hug is awkward, but unlike it, it’s comforting. A comfortable awkward? You tentatively hug him back and you feel his hands snake underneath your back, forcing his arms under you so that he can hug you properly.

“I know Soap told you I was stressed and worried and whatnot,” Ghost mutters, his skull mask pressing into your shoulder, “… And he was right.” “… Did you think I thought he was wrong?” “Shut it and let me try to talk.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing, “He was right. I was growing greys watching you passed out, and I think I almost passed out as well, hearing you were trapped under a huge block of concrete and got stabbed by metal.”

“Did you ever find out what the metal was?” You ask after a moment, making sure he was done talking.

“The Captain said it was a twisted pipe.”

“Huh.” You lay there for a moment, simply enjoying Ghost hugging you, before Ghost speaks up again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but please, God, never do that shit to me ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in a collapsing building.”

“I’m serious,” Ghost pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, keeping his hands on both of your shoulders, “I had to drive a car with you in the back passed out laying in the trunk with Price, all while not knowing what happened, and having to drive you guys back to base.”

“… Damn, you guys didn’t get a helicopter, or anything?”

“[c/n].”

“Sorry.”

Ghost sighs, “I’m trying to say that I don’t like worrying over you like that. I don’t like knowing that my kid is hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. That was the first time I was seriously worried and— and stressed over you, and it was terrifying, seeing you just passed out with dirt all over you and blood all over your leg, and just seeing you like that— I can’t do that again,” Ghost takes a deep breath, and looks down at you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see what you think of his words, but all you can think is, wait, he called me his kid?

“You called me your kid,” You dumbly voice your thoughts, watching as Ghost’s expression becomes more confused, and he opens his mouth to deny that when suddenly— oh shit, he called you his kid.

“… I did,” He dumbly says back, sounding surprised by his own words, before he fully realizes what he said and simply blinks down at you, not knowing where to go from here. You both blink at each other, not knowing what to say, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll just… head out then,” He awkwardly says, slowly walking away from the bed.

You take the opportunity to say, “Alright, dad.”

He freezes and slowly turns towards you and mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

A grin splits across your face, “Oh I will. Dad.”

He points at you with a single finger, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’ll call you it in front of everyone. I’ll gaslight them into thinking we’re related.”

“God, you better not.”

“I will. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll begin with the Captain. Then I’ll tell Soap, he’s the next most gullible next to Gaz, who I’ll see right after you. Gaz won’t fight with me over it, he’ll just accept it, I know he will, then, and only then, will I tell everyone else. I spread it across the base like the flu. Everyone, and I mean everyone will think that you’re my father, Ghost.”

“That is…” Ghost blinks at you, dumbfounded and mildly horrified, “... terrifying.” “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure I got that from you, dad.” “Oh my God,” Ghost groans, making you laugh at his misery. He walks out without another word, being sure to slam the door behind him, making the poor medic passing by jump at least a foot in the air. You giggle quietly in your bed, waiting for the next person to walk in. By the time you’ve contained your laughter, Gaz walks in, looking strangely sheepish as he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him that Ghost had forgotten to close. He doesn’t say anything until he’s right by your bed and bends over to give you a nice, firm, quick hug before standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Hi,” He greets you simply. “Hi.” “How’s the uh… how’s your leg?” “You thought I died?” You ask teasingly, ignoring his question. You can’t see any blush on his face, but you’re almost certain his face heats up as he looks away from you. “Listen…” He sighs, looking back at you, “Price ran over to the whole group, with you not moving at all in his arms, and a tourniquet wrapped around your calf. I feel like it was a bit reasonable for me to think you were dead for a second.” “Right, of course,” You nod, definitely not believing that he only thought you were dead for a second, “That’s totally why I’ve had both Soap and Ghost tell me you thought I was dead. They only told me that because you thought I was dead for a second.” “I’m gonna murder them both, I swear to—” He mutters, burying his face in his hands, making you laugh quietly. He glares at you from behind his hands and adds on, “Oh, you think this is funny? You having a laugh down there, knowin’ that I thought you were dead?”

“I think this is hilarious.” “You’re insufferable and I don’t even know why I try to care about you anymore.” “You don’t try, you just do,” You roll your eyes, “Don’t act like you have to actively try and care about me.” “You’re so snarky today, my God,” Gaz scoffs, “Wait ‘til I tell Captain Price about this.” “Alright, Draco Malfoy. You do that.” “I shouldn’t have ever visited you in here,” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking away from you, feigning annoyance. You huff out a laugh at that and that makes Gaz laugh a bit, though he keeps up his dramatics, continuing to look away from you. “You still think I’m dead now, or?” “Shut it, you.” “My bad.” “I wish they amputated your leg.” “No you don’t.” “…” Gaz can’t even argue with it, simply sighing and rolling his eyes before looking back at you, ”No, I don’t.” “I knew it,” You smile at him knowingly, making his lips twitch up into a smile. You think for a moment before tacking on, “Wanna hear what Ghost said to me?” That makes Gaz perk up and immediately reply, “Oh, absolutely.” Cue you both five minutes later, Gaz gaping at you while you laugh every other word, remember the horror on Ghost's face when he realized what he called you. Gaz covers his mouth with his hand, laughing into it, gripping the rail of your bed with his other hand, keeping himself up.

“He— oh my God,” Gaz laughs, trying to keep quiet so Ghost wouldn’t hear him, knowing the latter was right outside the medbay. He takes a deep breath and another before breaking into small giggles once again, making you do the same. After maybe a few more minutes of just pure laughter, Gaz manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, and you do the same. “I should probably head out now,” He says, sounding almost disappointed by the fact, glancing over at the closed curtain a few feet away from your bed. You nod in understanding and don’t say anything in response, making Gaz look back at you and add on, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah?” “Yeah,” You confirm, making Gaz offer you a warm smile and lean down to hug you tightly one last time before getting up and walking over to the curtains, sliding them to the side and walking out, sliding them closed behind him. You hear the click open and shut of the door, as well as Gaz’s footsteps walking outside of the medbay and eventually fading into nothing.

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causenessus · 1 year ago

Text

Love Languages. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, tecchou, jouno

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: do you love by trish toledo & baby bash

word count: 2324 words

pretty sure everything is written in lowercase except for names if they didn't look ugly capitalized bc aesthetics !!! had tons of fun writing this I apologize, this is barely proofread and for literally every character I got too caught up in specific examples and scenarios and just kept building off of it but I think they're kind of sweet so I hope u enjoy <3

dazai osamu - acts of service

“she peels an orange for us in the morning / she woke me up to give me half” golden girl - frank ocean

he’s terrible at taking care of himself, so someone who takes the time to care for him just makes every wall crumble

he’s probably horrible at remembering to eat as well, so if you make something for him he’ll treasure it forever

bonus points if your job requires you to wake up earlier than him (which isn’t hard, he def comes in a little later than his coworkers) and you leave something for him to eat when he wakes up or to take with him to work (or both <3)

he’ll start to look forward to waking up in the mornings in hope that you’ve made him something

never asks you if you’ll make something in specific or if you’ll even make him something at all. he adores anything you make and doesn’t want to make you feel obliged to do something if you happen to be tired and don’t want to cook tomorrow

voices all his appreciation for you when you both have laid down to go to sleep

“bella, I can’t tell you how much it means to me, all that you do. you really don’t have to make me anything if it’s a hassle in the morning or when you get home. you already work so hard.”

you turned onto your other side to face him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear as you smiled, “I do it because I want to, ‘Samu. and because I love you. if I can’t spend the day with you because we’re both at work, at least I can take care of you.”

his chest buzzed with so much happiness his eyes stung for a moment. he held himself back from saying that he didn’t deserve you. saying something like that wouldn’t solve anything. instead, he’d make himself worthy of you by helping out as well

he probably can’t cook very well but he finds other ways to help, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning the place so that there’s less on your plate

ask him to do anything and he’ll get it done for you as soon as possible <3

I think that for him, receiving such sweet love without any words is foreign to him but is just what he needs. he’d rather show how much he loves you than say it (although he loves to tell you it as well). getting out of bed could be so difficult for him some days, yet having a goal for himself has motivated him to become a better person. he wakes up, excited for what you may have made him and ready to do whatever he can for you

nakahara chuuya - gift giving

“they asked, ‘do you love her to death?’ I said, ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’” - mahmoud darwish

it’s easier for him to express how much you mean to him by giving you everything you want and everything he thinks you would like

he still tells you that he loves you every chance he gets, but oftentimes it is accompanied by a gift, no matter how small it may be, from just a single rose to a whole garden

for him, it gives a new purpose in his work; he’s working in order to get you whatever your pretty heart desires

he’s proud to use his hard-earned money to buy you things (rather than spending it all on wine <3 ily chuuya)

the easiest thing he can always get you is a favorite snack or drink and he’s got a whole system for it

he knows every store it’s available at and many of the clerks are familiar with him from the sheer amount of times he’s visited them to buy something for you. it never grows old for him, his favorite thing to do is buy you something on his way home from work or during the day when he’s planning to surprise you with a visit

he keeps a mental list of what your favorite things are. you’ll tell him about something you like without thinking anything of it but he’s already planned out when and how to give the item to you. it’s always on his mind what he’ll buy you each day, and it’s always worth it seeing you enjoy whatever he’s bought you

sometimes it’s as simple as a coffee and he’ll drop by your work to give it to you in person

“hanging in there, Angel? need a little pick-me-up?” he has the biggest smile on his face every time he sees you, and bringing a gift for you with him only adds to his excitement

“you spoil me, Chuuya,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning further into him as he holds you in his arms.

“what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” he responds, rubbing your back as you sigh.

receiving gifts from you is just as sweet. no one has ever given him as many gifts as he’s given others–which is fine with him–it’s not about what he’ll get in return and he knows that not everyone expresses their love the way he does

but he’s touched whenever you get him something. since giving gifts is so meaningful to him, it means even more that someone would go through the trouble to give something back to him

he’ll keep whatever you get him close to him at all times and smile every time he sees it or remembers it

once, you bought him a new chain for his hat and he hasn’t changed it since. it only made the hat more special to him now that it reflects two people that had changed his life

akutagawa ryunosuke - words of affirmation

“my love, you are worth it all.”

we all know how the boy responded to dazai’s praise or even simply just the words “dazai wants to talk to you”

to hear a person who has persisted through his stubborn, aggressive defense say they still love him causes him to start to soften for you

he’s been surrounded by harsh words and people who have exploited him and brushed him to the side whenever he wasn’t needed all his life, so it stirs his heart to hear someone notice things about him and who tells him that they want to stay with him

it’s something reserved for solitary moments just between the two of you for sure, but that makes the time all the more special because he can let down his guard and just be with you

his past has made it hard for him to believe he is worthy of anything other than the murderous skills he’s harnessed in order to get him to where he is in the Mafia, but you’ve shown him that there’s more to him than just how well he can use Rashomon

he never bothers to try and listen to what other people are saying but he always gives his full attention to anything you have to say

he doesn’t even like to hear compliments from anyone else, he doesn’t trust them at all but he trusts and believes anything you tell him, knowing you have the purest intentions of loving and supporting him

after a job, all he wants to do is go home. by the end of the day, he’s sick of everyone around him so on the rare occasion that you decide to visit him, he won’t even notice until you call out to him

he had just finished a job, it was successful, but it had gotten messy. Mori had already told him off and he didn’t want to hear anything from anyone else. he stormed past every piece of vermin that had decided to get in his way, their whispers just barely reaching his ears

“Ryu!” you called out from amongst them, waiting by a door.

“What?” he hadn’t meant to snap, especially when he realized it was you talking to him and his face immediately relaxed when he saw you.

“oh, [y/n].” he immediately started to make his way towards you, the pounding in his head slowly starting to disappear the closer

“I came to pick you up, I’m glad I had good timing,” you smiled, offering your hand.

he took it gently, giving it a soft squeeze, “I’m sorry I responded so rudely, I didn’t–”

“you’re okay, Ryu,” you placed your other hand on top of it, looking him straight in the eyes, keeping a loving smile on your face, “you don’t ever have to be sorry. you’re doing just fine. even better, actually. I’m so proud of all your work and I’m sure you’re tired after everything today. it looked busy.”

the words erased every memory of Mori’s scolding that his head had latched on to in order to beat himself down later on. he felt his cheeks warm a little as he looked away, “you’re too kind to me, [y/n].”

tries his best to also put into words his appreciation but it’s so hard for him to verbally say it; sometimes it comes out wrong

instead, he’s opted for notes most of the time, leaving them on your bedside or in your bag, telling you how thankful he is for you and that he loves you

suehiro tecchou - quality time

“on the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you.” - mahmoud darwish

my boy is always so busy

as soon as he’s off work he just wants to be wherever you’re at

he’d doesn’t mind silence and doesn’t care where he is as long as he’s with you

sometimes gets off work and if you’re not home yet just sneaks into your workplace to be around you

adores following you around and doesn’t always know exactly what you’re doing but he’s just happy to tag along

grocery store dates are some of his favorite moments with you

he loves everything about convenience stores

he loves food and the endless aisles of colorful packages and choices

(it gives him ideas for new food combinations <3)

once bought a himalayan salt shaker simply because

“look [y/n]! they make pink salt :0”

later put said pink salt on top of strawberry ice cream bc they were both pink

he also loves getting to look around the store all the while following you. he admires your organized grocery lists and how you’ve already planned out what you’re going to buy

once you tried to send him out to grab something in an area you’d already passed so that you could continue going down the list

“can you go grab some carrots for me, love? sorry, I forgot to pick them up when we were in the produce section.”

“of course 🙂” his heart is shattering inside of him at the thought of being separated from you.

“do you want to stay with me and we’ll go back later?” you ask, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

“yes pls”

groceries stores are not the only place you guys go tho i promise

if you’re still in school, he’ll accompany you on study dates

never bothers you under any circumstances and if he is and you tell him he’ll stop right away

he could spend all day looking at your pretty face even if you never once looked at him <3

jouno saigiku - physical touch

“you kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry / the sun has come this close, only the sun” “GPS” - Shauan Barbosa

although he can’t see you, he knows your body by heart <3

he’s spent so much time tracing it over and over with his hands

i think his favorite thing to do, especially after a long day at work is flop onto you and just listen to your heartbeat. probably also intertwines one of his hands with yours, often runs other across your skin

loves when you touch him just as much

if he’s lying on top of you and you decide to run a hand through his hair, all of his problems have just melted away

you both have definitely fallen asleep like that countless times no matter what time of day it is

he’s always finding ways to be in close contact with you, making sure that you’re safe and near him

again, he loves loves loves to hold your hand, he’ll reach for it any chance he gets

will also settle for an arm around your shoulder though as long as you’re close to him

definitely the type to also rest his head on top of yours or on your shoulder every chance he gets

if he needs to fidget he won’t even play with his own fingers he’ll just play with yours

i think that with the loss of one sense, the other senses hold so much meaning for him

it’s easier and more meaningful for him to show his love and how much he trusts you through touch rather than just saying it out loud

comes up from behind you to hug you a lot, especially in the kitchen or when you’ve just come home he’s there immediately, hugging you to recharge

“how was your day, my love?”

you always relax in his arms, turning your head slightly to kiss his face which he’s let rest on your shoulder, “it was missing you.”

he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, “i’ll make it all up to you now, darling.”

there was one time that he let you do his hair

he’s never told you how much he enjoyed it; he didn’t even know what you had done to it, but being near your warmth is all he needs and can ask for <3

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #tecchou x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #jouno x reader #jouno saigiki x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons

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hvnsinureyes · 1 month ago

Note

absolutely loving for jealous!luka being a meanie but also reassuring you that he loves you because he’s still a big softie. also bsf!luka who worships the grounds you walk on but has ungodly amounts of control 🥺 lowkey goes home and gets off to your pics though

in conclusion, i love them both and your writing is stunning as always 😘

warnings | nsfw— m. masturbation, luka fantasizes about you!

luka officially decides that he’s really gone off the deep end.

he’s dead wrong for what he’s doing— but he really can’t help himself. you’re on a girls trip to ibiza, meaning he won’t see you for another week. you’ve texted a few times, but luka’s distanced himself a bit just so you can focus on having fun.

meanwhile, he’s focused on jacking off to the pictures you just sent him. you, his innocent, trusting “best friend”, sending luka pictures to see if he thinks you should post them on your instagram. you look gorgeous, he thinks while scrolling through the bundle of pictures you sent, but his breath hitches when he comes across the second half of them.

pictures of you in a bikini. a tight one, matter of fact.

it’s almost like it was on purpose. like you knew he’s been craving you terribly since you’ve been gone. he tries, really tries to hold himself back and be respectful. jerking off to you like some teenage boy? he’s better than that.

but the way that bikini digs into your skin, really emphasizing the soft rolls of your body and how great your tits look, how could he not? who can blame him for you being so fucking hot?

his hands rub up and down his cock harshly, breaths sharpening when he zooms into your chest, wanting to have a closer look— throwing his back against his pillows in pleasure once notices that your nipples are hard. it’s like he got blessed. they’re poking through, practically teasing him. fuck, fuck, fuck. he can’t stop. he doesn’t want to stop— it’s so shameful, but feels good. the sooner it’s over, the better.

this is really fucked up, he thinks. he wishes he was there. could rip off that joke of a swimsuit off of you, pulling down his own swim trunks. your tits would be the first thing he goes after, wrapping his mouth around your nipples— sucking and playing with them. he’d graze his teeth and bite around one of them, making you squeal, but he’d kiss it better.

or maybe, he’d line his cock again your pussy, rub it between your folds just so he could hear you mewl, saying, “oh, luka, give it to me please!” keep pushing it in and out, making you beg for it, getting his dick wet from your pussy. it would be his punishment for you after kept this heaven away from him for so long.

or maybe he’d just shove it in. fuck you hard and deep to the point where his tip is brushing against your cervix, thighs slapping against each other so loudly that it echoes throughout the whole airbnb. he’d fuck you to the point where no other man could ever make you feel the same way, make you want him to cum inside, mark you up forever.

you’d be so tight. sucking him in, not being able to pull out even if he wanted to. warm and all ready for him to drench in his cum in, god, he’d do anything for it to happen—

then in an instant, he groans your name out, rough and deep, jerking out his cum onto his chest.

it’s silent in his bedroom now. reminds him of how you’re not here and how much he misses you. he can’t stand how lonely it is in his mansion, making a note to go visit your apartment tomorrow. do some housekeeping, water your plants, breathe in your scent, maybe steal a panty or two. y’know, the usual.

luka gets up to clean himself up but then, his phone dings. a notification, from you.

“oh, i forgot!” you text him. 5 more attachments come through.

it’s photos of you posing in red bikini now, shots of your back as you sit on the edge of the pool, looking back at the camera with a teasing look. your back is arched, thong barely covering anything as it’s wedged between your butt.

before luka can stop himself for looking too long, his cock rises back up, hard once again.

“i took more photos today of me at the beach. what do you think of these?”

yeah. he’s going to hell for this one.

#rennie writes #luka dončić x reader #luka doncic x reader #luka doncic #luka dončić #nba imagines #nba imagine

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hermes-obsessed · 28 days ago

Note

I've heard you need some inspo for Hermes fics

My favourite Reader is gender neutral asexual.

I have a small list of scenarios:

First flight together

The first argument between Hermes and Reader, and the apology of course

Furious/Protective!Hermes would be cool, he's depicted a lot as a goofy sweet guy (he is), but seeing him in serious/fighting situations? Awesome!

Hermes offering immortality to Reader

Hermes having a no-good, absolutely terrible day and Reader comforts him

Reader gets to hold/use Caduseus and meets the 2 snakes on it (cute snek interaction follows)

Reader first preening Hermes' wings (very sensitive)

I'm fully okay with you taking your time with writing, art can't be rushed after all.

I just wanted to share my silly little thoughts 💜

“Dangerous Fun.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hermes x GN Worshipper!Reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Worshipping a god isn't easy, especially when it comes to figuring out what to offer these gods at their shrines. You were a worshipper of the messenger of gods. Out of all the higher beings, you could say Hermes was one of the more active ones when interacting with the moral realm. He constantly plays around with us humans, teasing and scaring us- well, those who don't worship him.

When you first began worshipping Hermes, it was quite difficult to figure out what precisely the god wanted from you. In the end, you found out that the gift itself didn't matter; what mattered was the way it was obtained. He did favor thieves; as it was known that he is one himself.

Today wasn't any different from your regular schedule. You finish your daily tasks and visit Hermes's shrine like any other day. It has been a while since you last visited, so when you reached the shrine, only to find it tattered and run down, it caught you off by surprise.

Who could have done such a thing? To a god's sacred place no less! The disrespect! You huffed to yourself and decided to do the place a favor by fixing it up. By the end of your cleaning session, it was practically spotless! But unfortunately, you could see why it was trashed; the god was known to support thieves, so of course the general public would disapprove of such things.

It was natural- though regardless, that didn't make it any better. Hermes was still a god. Gods hold power; they should be respected no matter what. You hummed then kneeled down to the marble floors to give your offering under his statue.

You began to hear hushed whispers. Your eyes snapped open as you stood up warily, looking around for the source of the voice. You hear the sounds of giggles coming from all around you.

“Who goes there?!”

“With how much time you spend here, you can't even make a guess?”

The voice revealed itself rather easily, as if the person was eager to meet you. And it was none other than the messenger of gods himself, Hermes. You stood there frozen; this was once in a lifetime opportunity and experience to be able to meet the god you’ve been worshipping!!

Gods rarely interact with the mortal realm anymore as is, so this truly was a miracle. You gawk at him and then gasp as he comes closer. He then pats your head, and you blink at him in slightly embarrassed as he thanked you for fixing up his shrine.

But what he didn’t know was that you were also gawking at the fact he had wings. In all of the stories you’ve been told, it’s only ever been wings on his helmet and sandals, never on his back. They were beautiful, absolutely drop dead gorgeous in your eyes. You spoke up, breathless from the sight in front of you.

“Oh wow…”

He then took notice you were looking at his wings. He then turned smug and immediately started boasting about them while also mentioning why he was here.

“Mortals always seem to be fascinated by the littlest of things. You fixed my shrine, and you’re a loyal devotee. I would say that deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

A reward? Having the chance to get anything you want right here and now by a god that can simply spawn anything in? To anyone else, that would be absolutely a one-in-a-lifetime miracle. But unfortunately, you didn’t want anything right now. You were quite satisfied with the life you were living. You wouldn’t change or ask for anything to change it.

“Oh, um…but I don’t want anything? I'm quite fine with how I live; there's not much I would change.”

“You don’t want anything? Riches? Food? Better health?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, not believing your words for one second. Maybe you were just playing around with him, keeping him on his toes. But the more he stared at you, the more he realized you were very serious about your answer. What a strange mortal!

You shrugged at him, but you were a little distracted by his wings, which were still on display for you to see. He then snapped his fingers and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You stiffened and looked at him, confused. He grinned at you.

“How about a once-in-a-lifetime experience of flight! A way to see the world from a view you've never seen before? Isn't that convincing enough for you to want to soar the skies?”

Now that piqued your interest. Being able to fly in the sky, mortals were never able to do that. You’ll be the first to fly! You then smiled and nodded your head at him as he enthusiastically stood there waiting for you.

“Well, then grab on!”

The process for flying wasn’t as safe as you wanted it to be. You would have imagined that we would give you wings or something with that godly magic. But apparently, he was just going to hoist you in his arms as he flew in the sky, as if that was cautious enough. That’s a scary thought. Even though he was a god, he cared enough not to drop you, didn't he?

Of course he does! But when he hoisted you up into his arms so loosely, you began to doubt yourself. So, you wrapped your arms around his neck…for safety measures...

“Touchy, are we, darling?”

He teased, you huffed and rolled your eyes at him as you shifted in his arms. This definitely wasn’t safe; your nerves started to grow more as he flapped his wings to get up from the ground. He was floating, not enough to completely scare you, but enough to make you start worrying about how the actual flight may go.

Especially with the fact that his grip on you wasn’t the tightest. Once you were both in the air, you clung to him with a frightful tone.

“Are you sure this is safe?!?!”

“Eh, not quite! You’ll be fine, though!”

You were not fine with the way this man was flying in the air. He has absolutely no care about your safety, or he does and is purposely torturing you. Either way, he was hazardously flying between trees, then up into the sky, and then back down.

You were feeling nauseous and sick- perhaps this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience!!

“Lord Hermes…this is rather dangerous, isn’t it? I feel sick to my stomach.”

You sighed in relief as he slowed down in the air. He huffed in annoyance. Maybe he thought of you as someone who would rather sit in boredom than have fun now.

“Yes, it’s dangerous, that’s why it’s fun!”

He then flapped his wings and went back in the air, this time a bit more smoothly than before. You finally actually got to enjoy the scenery from above and it was gorgeous, breathtaking even.

You could see the tops of trees and large forests, meadows and crops, and the townspeople bustling up and down through town; people looked like ants from up here in the sky. It was a unique experience, a new perspective you would never have thought you would get the chance to see if it weren't for Hermes offering it in the first place.

While you were taking in the scenery, he was humming a tune while holding you tight. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all; you began to enjoy your time with him, soaring up in the sky. You close your eyes and let out a sigh, a smile gracing your lips as you let the wind blow through your hair.

Not bad, not bad at all…for a first flight.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Advertisement: Hey you! Yeah you, the person who read this whole fic, do you like Hermes? Well, this blog is THE place for Hermes fanfiction. Check my bio if I have requests open.

A/N: Omg, I finished it. CREDITS TO @snorkelborg for being my editor. Trust and believe that the first draft was rough! So many grammatical errors, and for those who have seen my other posts...I did not have them as my editor at that time...you may be able to tell. Shhh, I may have gone back and edited those a few times to my taste, at least!

Word Count: 1,294 words

#epic hermes #epic hermes x reader #hermes #hermes epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic x reader #epic #epic the musical #x reader

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juliasturnz · 10 months ago

Text

“4 fucking days”

CHRIS STURNIOLO X Y/N

Hi guyss.. this is my first ever fanfic, I’m pretty insecure about it bc my first language isn’t English🙁. I really hope you will still enjoy this, have fun reading🩷🩷

A little bit inspired by the song wildflower where I’ve been obsessed with lately hihi🤭

warnings!

Mention of depression, cussing, self hating, kissing, pet names (baby, my love, sweetheart and more)

summary:

you haven’t texted your boyfriend in almost 4 days you feel horrible but you just can’t seem to call him until he comes over by himself

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

you’ve been feeling alot lately but it’s everything but nice and happy feelings, Chris is fully aware that you have your bad days… But you haven’t texted him in almost 4 days which is definitely a couple days longer then normally.

your phone is next to you on your fully covered disgusting tissue’s, plate’s, and atleast more then 5 cups of drinks you didn’t even finish, but your phone keeps buzzing over and over. You are getting annoyed so you pick it up to see it’s Chris. You answer the phone quickly and are a little scared even though you know Chris would treat you like a princess.

“y/n you okay baby?” His voice sounds kinda high pitched, and really worried. You hear his voice and it makes you stomach turn upside down, you realized you haven’t heard this voice in 4 fucking days.

“Hey chris.. can you come over please.” it almost sounds like you are begging him to come. “I am already on my way, I know you are going through a lot rn and I was about to visit you.” You can tell he’s worried.

it’s for a few seconds a little quiet, suddenly you start apologizing and trying to tell him what is happening “im so sorry baby I haven’t been texting or even calling you i’m so fucking stupid, i am such a dumbass I could’ve atleast done something I’m so terribly sorry.. I- I don’t know what to do.” chris is already comforting you and telling you it’s okay “y/n baby it’s okay, it really is. I’ll be here in 5 minutes that’s gonna be real soon baby, I’ll be here for you and you can cuddle with me as long as you want.” “Okay see you soon, I love you” “I love you too baby.”

You hang up and realize what a mess your room is and most of all what kind of a mess you look like, you quickly get out of bed *I need to atleast freshen up I look fucking disgusting* the second you set a foot on the ground you feel dizzy *what the fuck?* you sit down as fast as possible, ‘dang what is happening to me’ you say out loud

almost tripping over every single piece of clothing that is spread all over the floor when you finally reach the bathroom, you take a look in the mirror and let out a big sigh, I look disgusting, literally dirty. I really do need to freshen up.. you wash your face but after you do you randomly burst out into tears, I look so fucking disgusting *how does Chris even like me?* You question yourself. Not even a few seconds later you are already sitting down on the bathroom floor drowning in your thoughts, you have so many questions you can’t answer and no one else can.

you get up after drowning in your thoughts again, you look at the time. ‘FUUUCK’ you say pretty loud, ‘how is that even possible’ you realize you’ve been just zoning out for about 5 minutes.. *wait didn’t Chris say he was in 5 minutes here?*

* the bell rings *

‘ON MY WAY’ you yell from the other side of the house, you quickly run down the stairs and almost trip, *my clumsy ass can’t ever go somewhere without tripping* that thought makes you giggle a bit. You make the front door open as fast as you can, ‘hi baby,’ you say really dry reminding yourself what you look like rn. Chris hugs you as tight as possible, and gives you a soft kiss on your head. ‘Hi my love’ he looks down at you with a concerned look ‘how are you doing?’ ‘Meh’ you say dry, you don’t know what to say, you fully ghosted your boyfriend for 4 fucking days + you probably smell like shit. ‘Should we relax baby?, I’ll run you a bath for you, so you can really relax okay?’ ‘That’s okay’ You say quietly, you are so embarrassed for how you look like, and probably smell like shit.

Chris is already walking to the bathroom and looking back at you with a warm smile you missed so much, you give him the smallest smile back what you already kinda feel bad about, he sees that you feel uncomfortable and little bit embarrassed. He fully turns around and walks back to you and gives you another hug and a passionate kiss on your lips. He lifts your chin up and looks into your eyes and says ‘I don’t care how you think you look like okay? you will always be beautiful in my eyes’ he gives you another kiss on your head and grabs your arm and takes you to the bathroom.

He turns on the hot water and lets the bathtub run with a nice temperature, you sit on the toilet waiting while Chris is really busy trying to take care of everything. You can’t help but just stare at the boyfriend you’ve been looking for you intire life. He was almost done and looked to the side with the sight of you already looking at him, the noise of running bath water comforts the silence in some kind of way. ‘What are you looking at’ he giggles, ‘I just can’t believe I have you right in front of me.’ It stays quiet for about a minute with you two just staring at each other, he comes up to you and gives you that comforting kiss on your head again. When the silence finally stops he looks at you and at the bath, ‘oh fuck’ the water in the bathtub is almost overflowing. You suddenly start laughing at the sight of your boyfriend trying to fix the almost overflowing bath, you start giggling.

After a few minutes he has everything set up, the only thing you needed was your clothes. You get insecure just by the thought of him seeing your room, you get up really quick. Chris catches your stressed look, ‘y/n you okay?’ You start violently sobbing out of no where. Chris comes up to you and hugs you and shushes you ‘shh it’s okay baby’ he looks down at you, ‘do you wanna tell me what’s wrong or has being going on?’ ‘Chris i-im sorry I have no idea what’s going on, I’m g-genuinely fucked up. Everything is a mess, I’m a-a mess I look like shit my room looks like shit’ you are almost choking from sobbing and from trying to explain the horrible thoughts ‘and you are so sweet for me and I feel like I don’t deserve this and’- he interrupts you, ‘you are okay, you are loved and I’m here I don’t give shit about what your room looks like or anything in that kind of situation. All I care about is that your doing well.’ He’s looking down at you with his hands on your waist trying to tell you this while you are still violently sobbing. ‘Please just go relax in your beautiful bath I made and I’ll take care of it okay I’ll bring you clothes afterwards, I love you so much y/n.’ Chris has left the bathroom while you finally undress and go into your beautiful made bath.

About 30 minutes Chris comes into the bathroom with a clean hoodie, pyjama pants, bra and some panties, he grabs a big towel and lays it down on the toilet. He looks at you and asks you once again how your doing, while he’s asking this he comes closer and gives you another but yet comforting kiss on your cheek. You smile wide, ‘I’m doing so much better, I’m so glad you came Chris, I love you’ you say once again.

He hasn’t been yapping at all what is surprising you, with that thought slipping into your head you ask him right away. ‘Since when aren’t you yapping?’ You ask him with a little smile on your face, he looks up from his phone with a sarcastic offended look. ‘Since when are you talking during your favorite series?’ He says with a even bigger smile on his face. You are both laughing. About 5 minutes later dying laughing about other things, he started yapping right away about everything that had happened in the last 4 days. God you missed this

Another half hour passes by and you tell Chris you wanted to get out of the bath, he looks up at you with a wide smile, you lift your body up and Chris’ eyes lock right away on your body. You start giggling, he quickly looks up. ‘I-I am sorry you look good’ he says nervously ‘do I make you nervous or something?’ ‘no no I-I just’- you interrupt him with your giggles and asking for the big towel he placed on the toilet a while ago. He gets the towel and helps you dry of and tries to help you get dressed. ‘Chris babe you don’t need to help me get dressed I still have arms and hands you know.’ ‘Oh yeah.. oh wait I need to do something take your time okay?, do your makeup, skincare whatever yeah?’ while he says this he has a suspicious smile on his face, he still knows how to make me really curious.

About a hour passes and in this hour I’ve been hearing things moving, him moving around and popcorn pop.. ‘wait popcorn?’ You run down the stairs and you find him taking the popcorn out of the microwave. He turns around and is in shock when he sees you, ‘y/n oh my god. You look absolutely gorgeous.’ Your cheeks are turning insanely red, he quickly puts the popcorn down on the countertop and almost runs at you giving you kisses all over your body. When he stops he looks at you and gives you one last kiss on your lips. For a while he just keeps looking at you, you flip his hair and look curious behind him. ‘So what are you doinggg..’ he looks behind him also kinda curious completely forgetting what he was doing. ‘Oh yeah yeah wait go back to the bathroom for about 5 minutes I have something for you.’ You loved surprises so you ran to the bathroom again right away.

Five minutes has passed and Chris comes into the bathroom with a blindfold in his hand, you look at the blindfold in his hand. ‘Chris do you seriously have a blindfold?’ You say giggling ‘well yes it’s still a surprise isn’t it?’ he says shrugging his shoulders. Chris finally ties your blindfold on the back of your head, he gives you a little kiss on your lips and grabs your hand and runs out of the bedroom making you almost trip. ‘Chris!!!’ You say giggling, ‘omg I’m so sorry’ he says laughing.

when you two finally make it upstairs with a lot of tripping and falling, Chris stands proudly in front of the door of your room. ‘Take of that stupid blindfold and go look baby!’ You take your blindfold of and you look really confused at Chris’ proud face, he opens the door and your mouth falls open. ‘YOU CLEANED MY WHOLE ROOM WHAT!!’ ‘SURPRISE!!’ He says but he also did something else, you walk further to your clean room and see your whole bed filled with snacks and soda’s. ‘CHRIS WHAT THE FUUUCK!’ He looks at you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him with, ‘so should we watch movies then?’ He wants to look over to you but you are already on the bed trying new and eating old favorites. You spend the whole night watching your favorite and his favorite movies until you two fall asleep with your head on his chest.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

dang this took a pretty long fucking time, I really hope you enjoyed this, I will probably make more fanfics in the future lmk what you think about it 🩷

tags:

@042502 @sturnioz @sturnslcver @sturniluvr @strawberrysturniolo @sturniolo @sturniololoverr @sturnioloshacker @sturniolowhore @sturniolos-blog @chris-slut @chrissv4mp @chrissfawn @mattsfavbitchhh @mattspolitank @mattsgf @matts-k1tten @mattitvdes

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #couple #tw depressing thoughts #tw depression #couple goals

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