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emsromanoff · 1 month ago

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Right where you left me | N.R.

Summary: Months after Natasha disappeared after the civil war and left you behind to go undercover, you finally found her, in fragile hope of rebuilding what was lost.

Pairing: Natasha romanoff x reader

Content warning: post break up, hurt, comfort, second chances, fluff (and a good ending because it would be too painful for me otherwise)

a.n. : had this song playing in my mind the whole time I wrote this.

It had been four months since the Sokovian Accords tore the Avengers apart. Four months since the world split in two, and so did your heart. The ones who stood by Steve were now fugitives, scattered and hunted like ghosts. Among them was Natasha.

After helping Cap and Bucky escape, Natasha turned her back on Tony’s side and vanished. Just like that—no goodbyes, no promises. She left everything behind, including you.

You had stood for the Accords. You believed in accountability, in protecting civilians better than the Avengers ever had before. It created a quiet tension between you and Natasha, but love had always been stronger until it wasn’t.

You’d been together for over a year. She was your anchor, your constant, the one person who saw every part of you and never flinched. You were each other’s shelter in the chaos. There were hard days, sure, but never once did you think she’d leave without a word.

And yet, she did.

She disappeared into the shadows, leaving you behind with nothing but silence and a thousand unanswered questions. No day went by without thinking about her. Natasha haunted your thoughts like a ghost. The not knowing was the worst part. Where is she? Is she okay? You tried to move on. Really, you did. But how do you move on from losing the Woman you loved? And your team? They were your home, your family and your purpose. And now you are trying to survive alone.

You wanted to find Natasha, needing closure. Or was it closure? Maybe you wanted to hear her voice or see her face again. Finding her wasn’t easy. Tracking down the most skilled spy in the world never would be. But you had your own talents, and eventually—after weeks of careful digging, quiet inquiries, and late-night intel—you found something. A whisper of a lead that brought you to a trailer tucked away in the remote stillness of Norway. It’s late evening and you are standing in front of it, pondering if you should do the next step or just return and pretend you were never there. You take a deep breath, the cold winter air hitting your lungs and before thinking twice you knock on the door.

Natashas senses sharpen as a soft knock on the door interrupts her while she is sitting at her laptop and watching a movie. She grabs her nearby gun and moves quietly towards her door.

“Nat, Its me.”

You speak through the door after getting no answer. A pause - then you heard a soft click and the door creaked open, just enough to see her face, partially obscured by the shadow inside. Her red hair falls messily over her shoulders. Your heart aches even more standing right in front of her.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

she said, her voice soft but laced with conflict—like she’d rehearsed saying that and still didn’t believe it.

You replied in a shaky voice:

“I know… but I had to see you. I couldn’t just pretend like you just disappeared.”

Her fingers tightened around the doorframe and her jaw clenched.

“Come in. You are freezing.”

She stepped back, and you entered her trailer with a slight hesitation. The warmth inside felt unfamiliar. You crossed your arms, unsure of what to say, while she leaned against the kitchen table. A heavy silence settled between you, until she finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper:

“I didn’t want to leave you like that.”

But you did,” you said, the hurt breaking through your voice before you could stop it. “You walked away without a word. You left me without an explanation.”

“I know,” she breathed, eyes closing briefly as if the weight of your pain added to the burden she already carried. “I thought I was doing the right thing—staying off the grid, cutting all ties. I thought I was protecting you.”

You laughed under your breath, bitter and broken. “From what? The world? Or from yourself?”

She looked at you then, really looked—guilt swimming in her eyes, but something else too. Something softer.

“I don’t know anymore,” she admitted. “I just… I was scared. Not of the law, not of running. I was scared of what it meant to stay. To ask you to choose between what you believed in and me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you look away. “I would’ve chosen you. Every time. If you had asked me to run away with you, I would’ve done it.”

Natasha breath hitched, her grip loosening on the edge of the table, like she was finally releasing some of the weight. She took a small step closer to you. She wanted to reach out, her fingers twitching to touch you. but she held the urge back.

“I never stopped thinking about you. Every single day. I thought about calling you, coming back… but I kept lying here, wondering if you hated me. And if you were okay without me.”

You stepped closer as well, and you can’t stop the tears streaming down your face.

“I don’t hate you for leaving me. But I wasn’t okay. I felt…abandoned.“

It made Natashas heart ache and she wanted to punch herself for leaving you with so much pain. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Natasha reached out, and cupped your face gently with her hand. Her touch was warm and gentle, despite the cold expression she usually wore. Your eyes lock with each other.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to. I know I cant make it up, but I am so sorry.” She whispered.

And then, just like a muscle memory you moved closer and felt her pulling you into a hug. your arms wrapped around her shoulder tightly, scared she would disappear anytime again. But she was right here in front of you. Tears roll down your cheek, and she just held you, like all those times before when you needed comfort. She murmured softly in your ear:

“Don’t go, okay? We will figure this out together. If you want that.”

You nod your head, knowing you didn’t want to be apart of her again, but the uncertainty and fear of the future lingered in your mind. You wiped a tear away and looked in her eyes again.

“I want that more than anything. But…If I stay, promise you won’t leave me?”

Natasha answered without hesitation and the look in her eyes, full of truth and regret gave you some reassurance.

“I promise, I will stay. I won’t to the same mistake ever again.”

So you stayed. In that quiet little trailer somewhere in Norway. Both of you had things to figure out and the road ahead would be hard. Living on the run, hiding from the world. But you have Natasha back, and thats what mattered.

Later that evening, after hours of conversations about the past few months, you lay beside Natasha in her bed. The previous tension that once hung so heavy between you two had eased. Her arm was draped around your shoulder and you rested your head on her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. You looked up and just stared at her, memorizing every feature of her. The way her lashes brushed her cheek, her bright green eyes in the dimmed light. She noticed your gaze.

“What?” She asked with a slight chuckle.

You shrugged and pointed out casually:

“Your hair is longer. And wavier. I like it though.”

“Yeah? You like that messy and natural look?”

The corner of Nat’s lips curled into a small teasing smile.

You huff out a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah. It’s giving the whole ‘spy on the run look.’”

She chuckled, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. There was a comfortable silence between you two, the kind that only came when you truly felt at home with someone. Natasha whispered softly:

“I missed you, really. I am glad you came to find me.”

“I missed you too.”

You murmur, a hint of vulnerability flickering in your eyes. You think about your old life, before everything went wrong. The avengers, the compound.

“I miss them.” You add.

Natasha let out a shaky exhale, her hand playing absentmindedly with your hair.

“Me too. All of it. all of them.”

“You think we can go back someday and fix everything?”

She sighed, her voice tinged with longing and hope. “I don’t know. A lot has happened, a lot has changed. Things may never be the same before.”

“But we will try? Right?”

Natasha nodded, and her gaze softened as she looks at you. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch tender and reassuring.

“Of course we will. Whatever it takes, we will try to fix it and go home.” Her voice filled with determination and affection.

You nodded your head, and you felt a bit of the hopelessness that built up the last few months loosening. “Okay.”

She brushed a hair strand behind your ear and reassured: “we will figure it out.” Before closing the gap to connect your lips in a tender kiss. You felt your heart skip. The familiar feeling of her touch ignited a spark of affection within you. You returned the kiss, and the tenderness in your touch spoke volumes, expressing the longing you felt in those few months of being apart. You broke the kiss and murmured softly:

“I love you, Nat.”

“I love you too, darling.”

#Spotify #natasharomanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #angst #civil war #avengers #fluff #marvelfanfic #wlw #natasha romanoff x you #natalia romanova #Natasha

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jzprncess · 5 months ago

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in the shadows of war ⌖

pairing : charles leclerc x reader

historical au oneshot

word count : 7,522

summary : Amidst the relentless chaos of war, Y/N, a skilled and unyielding battlefield medic, saves the life of Charles Leclerc, a soldier teetering on the brink of death. Thrust together by fate in the heart of destruction, their lives intertwine in unexpected ways. As they navigate the horrors of the battlefield, an unspoken bond forms—fragile yet undeniable. But in a world consumed by violence and loss, can their connection survive the trials of war, or will the shadow of conflict claim everything, including their chance at love?

note : haha i really did start and finish this before the poll was over (if you know you know) my brain is surprisingly still working. i just wrote 2 one shots and a part one in less than 24 hours. that's really good for me. now i know the request said a long one-shot but once you get to the ending it may seem like it'll need a part 2 (ill make a poll on like tuesday to see if you guys are down for a part 2)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The air was thick with smoke, the distant rumble of cannonfire echoing through the hazy sky. The ground trembled beneath the weight of the conflict, and Y/N barely noticed the mud seeping into her boots as she moved from one soldier to the next. The screams of the wounded were drowned out by the pounding of her heart, but that wasn’t new. It had been like this for weeks—an endless cycle of battle, bloodshed, and moments of cruel silence.

Her hands were steady, her mind sharper than ever, as she worked without pause, stitching up gashes, applying bandages, doing what she could to hold the fabric of life together in this hellscape. The wounded kept coming in, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and fear. But she had seen it all before, so it didn’t rattle her anymore.

“Medic!” A soldier’s voice cut through the haze. She looked up, squinting through the smoke, and her heart skipped. Another body, another life at risk.

Y/N darted towards the injured man, her eyes scanning his blood-soaked uniform. His face was pale, lips almost ashen from the blood loss. She knelt beside him, her hands quick as she assessed his injuries, noting the deep gash across his abdomen. A bad one. He wouldn’t make it if she didn’t act fast.

“Stay with me,” she muttered, more to herself than him, as she applied pressure to the wound, doing her best to stop the bleeding. The soldier groaned, his eyes barely open. She cursed under her breath—time wasn’t on their side.

A nearby explosion shook the ground, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She had long ago learned to block out the chaos. She didn’t have the luxury of fear. Not now. Not when lives hung in the balance.

“Help him!” someone shouted, pulling her back to reality.

Y/N nodded sharply, signaling to one of the nearby medics to assist. But before she could focus on the next task, her gaze caught a figure being carried in from the battlefield. His dark hair was matted with blood, his body limp in the arms of two soldiers who looked nearly as desperate as he was.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He looked worse off than most of the others—his face was barely recognizable under the blood and dirt, and his shallow breaths hinted at how close to death he truly was. She took a steadying breath, pushing aside the racing thoughts in her head. She was a medic. She didn’t have time to hesitate.

“Get him on the table,” she barked, already moving toward him, her fingers working quickly to assess his injuries. He had to survive. He would survive.

This was just another life to save. But something in the back of her mind whispered that this one might change everything.

The makeshift medical tent was chaos, but Y/N’s world narrowed to the man in front of her. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking through the thin mattress as she worked. Her hands moved with practiced precision, stitching flesh, wrapping gauze, doing everything she could to keep him tethered to life.

“Don’t give up on me,” she whispered under her breath, though she wasn’t sure if the words were meant for him or herself.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely minutes, the bleeding stopped. His pulse was weak, but it was there. Y/N sank back for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to fade.

“Move him to recovery,” she instructed the nearby medic. She didn’t wait to see him carried off—there were still others who needed her. The war didn’t stop for anyone, no matter how much she wished it would.

The night crept in slowly, casting long shadows across the medical tent. Outside, the distant sound of artillery had finally ceased, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Y/N leaned back against the makeshift table, her legs aching from hours of standing. Her fingers, still stained with blood despite countless washes, trembled as she held a tin cup of lukewarm water. She sipped it absentmindedly, her mind replaying the events of the day.

The screams. The pleading eyes of the soldiers she couldn’t save. The ones she could.

Her gaze drifted across the tent, where rows of cots lined the walls, each one occupied by a broken body. Some of the wounded muttered in their sleep, their dreams no doubt haunted by the horrors of the battlefield. Others lay frighteningly still, their breathing faint but steady. It was an uneasy peace, one she had come to accept as the norm.

In the farthest corner of the tent, he lay. Charles.

Y/N hadn’t known his name until she’d read it from his chart earlier. Charles Leclerc. She repeated it in her mind as she watched his chest rise and fall beneath the thin blanket. He was stable now, but barely. The deep gash across his abdomen had taken hours to clean and stitch, and there was no guarantee he’d avoid infection. But for now, he was alive.

Alive, but a mystery.

She approached his cot quietly, her boots barely making a sound against the dirt floor. His face, though pale and smeared with remnants of dirt and blood, was peaceful in sleep. His features were sharper than most of the soldiers she’d treated, with high cheekbones and dark brows that furrowed slightly even in unconsciousness. There was something striking about him—something that made her pause.

“You’re just a soldier,” she murmured under her breath, though the words didn’t feel true.

She crouched by the edge of his bed and reached for the clipboard hanging at the foot of the cot. His details were sparse: Charles Leclerc, infantry. Age: 24. No next of kin listed. She frowned at the thought. Most soldiers at least had a name written down for emergencies, someone who’d be notified if the worst happened. But for him, there was no one.

“No family,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Guess that makes two of us.”

Her hand hovered over his blanket as if to straighten it but stopped short. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she didn’t want to disturb him. Maybe it was something else.

The tent flaps rustled as another medic entered, carrying a bucket of fresh water. Y/N glanced up, startled from her thoughts.

“How’s he doing?” the other medic asked, nodding toward Charles.

“Stable,” she replied, her voice flat. “For now. If the wound doesn’t fester, he’ll live.”

The medic let out a low whistle. “That one’s lucky, then. Saw him when they brought him in—thought for sure he wouldn’t make it.”

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes drifting back to Charles. Lucky. She didn’t know if she believed in luck anymore.

Later that night, as the tent quieted even further, Y/N found herself unable to sleep. She sat at her small workstation, flipping through charts, updating notes, and organizing supplies. But her focus kept straying back to the far corner where Charles lay.

Against her better judgment, she found herself by his side again, this time sitting on the wooden stool placed next to his cot. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied him. There was something different about this soldier, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“You better pull through,” she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. “After everything, I don’t want you proving me wrong.”

Her voice broke the stillness of the tent, but there was no response. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing, a faint reassurance that for now, he was still fighting.

Y/N sat there for a while longer, letting the exhaustion wash over her. The war wasn’t over, and neither was her part in it. But for tonight, this corner of the world was quiet.

Y/N stayed by Charles’s side longer than she intended. The soft sound of his breathing was oddly grounding, a rare constant in her chaotic world. She told herself it was because she didn’t trust his condition to hold. He was still at risk of fever, infection, or worse, and it was her job to keep him alive.

That was the only reason.

But as she finally stood and stretched her aching limbs, a small, hoarse sound escaped from his lips.

“Water…”

Her breath caught. He wasn’t fully conscious, his words barely audible, but they sent a shock through her system. He was waking up.

Y/N grabbed a tin cup and moved swiftly back to his side, her heart inexplicably pounding. She crouched beside him, tilting the cup carefully against his cracked lips. “Easy,” she murmured, her voice softer than she expected. “Not too fast.”

His eyelids fluttered, and for the briefest moment, Y/N caught a glimpse of deep brown eyes, dazed and unfocused. He didn’t say anything else before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Y/N sat back on her heels, the tin cup still in her hands. She stared at his face, her mind turning over questions she didn’t have the answers to.

It was going to be a long night.

The first rays of dawn spilled weakly through the tent’s canvas walls, casting a pale, gray light over the rows of cots. The morning chill seeped through Y/N’s uniform as she moved from bed to bed, checking on the soldiers she’d worked tirelessly to save.

Her body ached, her muscles heavy with exhaustion, but she pushed through. She always did. There was no room for weakness here—not when so many others relied on her strength to survive.

She paused at Charles’s cot, the clipboard in her hand feeling heavier than it should. His vitals had stabilized overnight, though his pulse remained weaker than she’d like. His fever hadn’t returned, but infection was still a risk.

Y/N set the clipboard down and sat on the wooden stool beside his bed, leaning forward to get a closer look. His face was still pale, his skin slightly sunken from the blood loss. The dark lashes that brushed his cheeks stood out starkly against his complexion. He looked peaceful, though she knew better than to believe it. Peace didn’t exist here.

As if to prove her point, he stirred faintly, a soft groan escaping his lips. Y/N straightened, her pulse quickening.

“Charles?” she said softly, leaning closer. She hesitated, unsure if she should even use his name. It felt strange on her tongue, too familiar for someone she didn’t know. But it was the only name he had.

His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might drift back into unconsciousness. But then his eyes opened—a crack at first, then wider as he blinked blearily up at the ceiling.

“You’re awake,” she said, relief threading through her voice. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been waiting for this moment.

Charles’s gaze moved slowly, his eyes landing on her face. They were a deep, rich brown, but glassy with confusion. His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He swallowed, his throat working hard to produce words.

“Where…?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“You’re in the medical tent,” Y/N said gently. “You were injured on the battlefield, but you’re safe now.”

He frowned, the effort to think visible in the lines that creased his brow. His hand twitched weakly at his side, as if trying to move but failing.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice rasping with dryness.

“You were hit—shrapnel, I think. It was bad, but we managed to stop the bleeding. You’ve been unconscious since yesterday,” Y/N explained, keeping her tone steady and professional.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze unfocused as he processed her words. Then he blinked slowly, his eyes shifting back to her face.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice so quiet she almost missed it.

Y/N froze, caught off guard by the simple phrase. She wasn’t used to hearing it, especially not so soon after saving someone’s life. Usually, the gratitude came much later—if it came at all.

She cleared her throat, brushing off the warmth that crept into her chest. “You should save your strength,” she said briskly. “Talking won’t help you heal.”

Charles’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile. “You sound… stern,” he murmured, his words slurred with exhaustion.

“Good. Maybe you’ll listen to me,” she replied, arching a brow.

His eyelids drooped, and she could tell he was on the verge of slipping back into unconsciousness. She stood, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. “Rest,” she said softly. “You’re not out of danger yet.”

Hours later, Y/N found herself back at his bedside, though she couldn’t quite explain why. The tent was quieter now, the other medics handling rounds while she took a brief break. She sat on the stool again, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of change.

He looked more peaceful now, the tension in his features eased. She noticed things she hadn’t before—the faint freckles across his nose, the small scar near his temple. They made him seem younger than he was, a reminder that so many of the soldiers here were barely more than boys.

“Who are you?” she murmured aloud, though she didn’t expect an answer. She picked up his chart again, reading over the sparse details. No next of kin. No personal belongings except for a small pendant they’d found in his pocket.

Her gaze flicked to the bedside table, where the pendant now sat. She reached for it, running her fingers over the worn metal. It was a simple piece, the kind of thing someone might carry for luck. There was no inscription, no clue as to its significance.

“You don’t give much away, do you?” she muttered, setting the pendant back down.

She glanced at him again, and for a moment, she allowed herself to wonder. Who was this man? What had brought him here, to this war, to this tent? And why did she feel so drawn to him?

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped her out of her thoughts. Another medic appeared, holding a clipboard. “Y/N, we need you. There’s been an incident near the eastern trench.”

Y/N nodded, standing quickly. She glanced at Charles one last time before leaving, her heart heavy with an unease she couldn’t name.

Y/N moved swiftly through the tent’s exit, leaving Charles behind in the dim light. Outside, the air was sharp and cold, the distant rumble of artillery echoing through the valley.

As she hurried toward the eastern trenches, the scent of blood and gunpowder grew stronger, mingling with the cries of the wounded. The chaos was overwhelming, but she didn’t falter.

Still, her thoughts lingered on the man she’d left behind. She’d done everything she could for him, yet a nagging feeling tugged at her chest. Would he still be there when she returned?

She didn’t have time to dwell on the question. The battlefield was calling, and there was no room for hesitation.

Meanwhile, back in the tent, Charles stirred faintly, his body tense with feverish dreams. The sound of distant explosions filtered into his subconscious, mingling with fragmented memories of the battle. His fingers twitched against the blanket as his mind wrestled with shadows.

His lips moved, forming words no one could hear.

“Don’t leave me…”

The sky above the battlefield was a muted gray, streaked with smoke from the distant barrage of artillery. Y/N jogged behind a small group of medics, her satchel jostling against her hip as the ground trembled beneath her feet. Shouts and gunfire echoed in the distance, growing louder the closer they approached the eastern trench.

When they reached the line, the scene before her was a familiar nightmare. Soldiers crouched behind makeshift barriers, their faces pale and drawn as they fired blindly into the chaos. The injured lay scattered, some groaning in pain, others eerily still. Y/N swallowed the knot in her throat and dropped to her knees beside the nearest soldier, her hands already moving to assess the damage.

“Bullet wound, left thigh,” she muttered to herself. The soldier winced but didn’t cry out as she cut through the fabric of his uniform and pressed a bandage against the wound. “You’ll live,” she told him, though she wasn’t sure if it was a reassurance or a command.

A medic beside her handed her a roll of bandages, and she worked quickly to stop the bleeding. As she finished, another shout rang out—this one closer. Y/N’s head snapped up in time to see an explosion tear through a nearby trench wall, sending debris and bodies flying.

“Damn it,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet. “We need to move them back—this area isn’t safe!”

The medics around her nodded, and together they began the grim task of carrying the injured to relative safety. Y/N’s arms burned from the weight of the stretcher, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

charles’s pov at the same time

Charles’s breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the fever began to creep back. The medical staff working in the tent passed by his cot, too busy with the influx of new injuries to notice the subtle change in his condition.

He wasn’t fully conscious, but his mind was restless, caught between waking and dreaming. Fragments of memory surfaced—faces he didn’t recognize, voices he couldn’t place. And then her voice, soft but firm, cutting through the haze:

“You’re safe now.”

He didn’t know her name, but he remembered her face—the sharp intensity of her eyes, the way her voice carried both authority and care.

“Where…” he tried to say, but his throat was too dry. His fingers twitched against the blanket, searching for something—someone—but finding only emptiness.

The distant sound of artillery rumbled through the tent, and his chest tightened. His fevered mind blurred the present with the past, the memory of battle surging forward. His breath quickened, and for a moment, he was back on the field, the weight of the rifle in his hands, the deafening roar of explosions around him.

“Don’t leave me…” he whispered hoarsely, though no one was there to hear.

y/n’s pov on the battlefield

Y/N crouched low as another explosion shook the ground, sending a spray of dirt and debris over the trench. Her heart pounded, her breaths coming in short bursts as she worked to stabilize a soldier with a head wound.

The man’s eyes fluttered open, blood trickling down his temple. “Am I dying?” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

“No,” Y/N said firmly, her hands steady even as her pulse raced. “Not today. You’re going to make it, but you need to hold on for me.”

She tied off the bandage with a sharp tug and signaled for another medic to take him back to the tent. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before turning back to the carnage around her. The smell of blood and smoke filled her lungs, but she forced herself to push through the sensory overload.

As she moved to the next patient, a sharp pain lanced through her leg. She stumbled, her vision blurring for a moment before she realized she’d been hit—not by a bullet, but by a shard of shrapnel. It had grazed her thigh, tearing through her uniform and leaving a shallow, bloody gash.

Y/N gritted her teeth, tearing a strip of fabric from her shirt and tying it tightly around the wound. There was no time to stop, no time to dwell on the pain. She glanced toward the horizon, where the faint glow of the medical tent was just visible through the haze.

“I’ll make it back,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure if the words were meant for herself or someone else.

The medical tent was a flurry of activity by the time Y/N returned, her clothes streaked with mud and blood. She staggered inside, her hands trembling as she dropped her satchel onto the nearest table.

Her eyes scanned the room automatically, her gaze landing on Charles’s cot. Something about the way he lay—too still, his face damp with sweat—made her heart skip a beat.

She crossed the room quickly, her own pain forgotten as she knelt beside him. His skin was hot to the touch, his fever spiking dangerously high. His lips moved faintly, forming words she couldn’t hear.

“Charles,” she said sharply, her hands cupping his face. “Stay with me.”

His eyes flickered open, just barely, and for the first time, they locked onto hers. There was fear in his gaze, but also something else—recognition.

“You came back,” he murmured, his voice weak but filled with relief.

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. “Of course I did,” she said quietly. “Now stop being dramatic and let me help you.”

The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Y/N sat back, her hands trembling. She didn’t know why she felt so shaken—this was just another patient, another life saved.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

The tent grew quieter as the night deepened, the sounds of chaos outside fading into the background. Y/N sat on a wooden stool beside Charles’s cot, exhaustion pulling at her limbs but refusing to let her rest.

Her gaze lingered on him, studying the faint lines of his face, the way his chest rose and fell unevenly with each breath. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she felt an almost desperate need to see him wake up.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of his blanket, a hesitant, fleeting gesture she didn’t even realize she’d made.

“Get better,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “That’s an order.”

Charles stirred faintly, his lips parting as though to respond, but no words came.

Y/N leaned back, letting out a slow breath. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, all she could do was wait.

As the first light of dawn crept into the tent, the war outside continued to rage on, its shadow stretching further across their lives.

Charles’s eyelids felt heavy, as though weighed down by the lingering remnants of sleep and fever. The faint hum of voices and clatter of activity in the tent pulled him toward wakefulness, but the ache in his body begged him to stay still.

He shifted slightly, the rough texture of the blanket brushing against his skin. A dull pain throbbed in his side, and he sucked in a shallow breath. As his eyes cracked open, blurry shapes came into focus—the canvas roof of the tent, the dim light of a lantern flickering nearby, and a figure slumped in a chair beside him.

It took him a moment to register who it was.

Her head was tilted to one side, her chin resting on her hand as she dozed. Her uniform was stained with mud and blood, and a bandage peeked out from beneath the torn fabric of her pant leg. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, as though she were still bracing for the next crisis.

Charles’s throat was dry, but he managed a hoarse whisper. “You stayed.”

Y/N stirred at the sound, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked disoriented, her gaze darting around the tent before landing on him. Relief softened her expression, though it was quickly replaced by her usual no-nonsense demeanor.

“You’re awake,” she said, leaning forward to check his forehead with the back of her hand. “Fever’s down. That’s good.”

Charles’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “You look worse than I do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That’s what happens when you’re busy saving stubborn idiots like you.”

He chuckled weakly, though it turned into a wince as the movement jostled his injured side. Y/N’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of concern.

“Don’t push yourself,” she said, her tone firm. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”

Charles nodded faintly, his gaze lingering on her as she stood and began gathering supplies from a nearby table. Despite her composed exterior, he could see the exhaustion etched into her features, the way her hands trembled slightly as she worked.

“Do you ever rest?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Not really,” she admitted. “Not when there’s still work to do.”

Before he could respond, a commotion outside the tent drew their attention. Y/N’s head snapped toward the entrance as a young soldier burst in, his face pale and frantic.

“We need medics at the southern line!” he shouted. “There’s been another attack—casualties are piling up!”

Y/N was already moving, grabbing her satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. She winced as her injured leg protested, but she didn’t slow down.

“Stay here,” she said sharply to Charles, her gaze locking with his for a brief moment. “You’re not well enough to play hero yet.”

Before he could argue, she was gone, disappearing into the chaos outside.

charles’s pov

The tent felt emptier without her, the faint echo of her voice lingering in the air. Charles lay back against the cot, his mind swirling with thoughts he couldn’t quite untangle.

He remembered the battlefield, the pain, the fear—and then her. The way she’d spoken to him, her words cutting through the haze and grounding him in a way nothing else could.

He didn’t even know her name.

His fingers curled against the blanket, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hated feeling helpless, hated the thought of her out there risking her life while he lay here, useless.

The distant sound of gunfire reached his ears, and his chest tightened.

“Come back,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

y/n’s pov

The southern line was chaos. Smoke hung thick in the air, and the ground was littered with debris and wounded soldiers. Y/N moved quickly, her hands steady even as her heart raced.

She crouched beside a young man clutching his stomach, his uniform soaked with blood. “Stay with me,” she said firmly, pressing a bandage against the wound. “You’re going to be fine.”

The soldier’s eyes flickered open, glassy with pain. “Am I?” he rasped.

“Yes,” she said, her voice leaving no room for doubt.

As she worked, her thoughts strayed briefly to the man she’d left in the tent. She didn’t know why he lingered in her mind—why his face had stuck with her when so many others had faded into the background.

She shook the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. There was no room for distractions here, no room for anything but survival.

But as the day wore on and the chaos only grew, a small, persistent part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of her, too.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the battlefield. Y/N wiped the sweat from her brow, her uniform stained and torn. The cries of the injured still filled the air, but her thoughts kept pulling her back to the quiet moments in the tent, to the man with the piercing eyes and the faint smile.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it. The war wouldn’t wait, and neither could she.

As she turned back toward the trenches, the distant rumble of artillery echoed through the valley, a reminder that the worst was far from over.

The tent was stifling, the air heavy with the smell of antiseptic and sweat. Charles shifted on the cot, his muscles stiff and his bandaged side throbbing dully with every breath. The distant rumble of artillery served as a constant reminder of how close the front lines were.

He stared at the empty chair beside his bed, the memory of Y/N’s presence still vivid. Her sharp commands, her steady hands, the way her voice carried authority even when she was visibly exhausted—it all stuck with him.

She hadn’t been back since she’d rushed out hours ago. Or had it been longer? Time blurred together in this place, measured only by the cries of the injured and the flicker of lamplight.

A nurse bustled past, arms full of gauze and supplies. Charles cleared his throat, his voice raspier than he intended. “The medic who was here earlier,” he said, catching her attention. “Do you know if she’s... is she okay?”

The nurse glanced at him briefly, her expression guarded. “She’s still out on the field,” she said curtly, before hurrying on.

Charles frowned, his fingers curling against the rough blanket. He hated this—this helplessness, this waiting. He wasn’t used to sitting still while others fought, while others risked their lives.

His frustration boiled over, and before he could stop himself, he began to push himself up.

“You shouldn’t be moving.”

The voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. He froze, turning his head to see Y/N standing in the tent’s entrance. Her uniform was dirtier than before, her hair slightly askew beneath her cap. There was a faint smear of dried blood on her cheek, and her eyes looked more tired than ever, but she was there.

“You’ll rip your stitches,” she added, stepping closer.

He sank back onto the cot, relief and frustration warring within him. “I didn’t think you were coming back,” he admitted quietly.

Y/N blinked at him, her expression softening for just a moment. “I always come back,” she said, setting her satchel down and pulling up the chair beside him.

She began checking his bandages, her movements efficient but careful. Charles watched her, noting the way her hands shook slightly when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“You’re overdoing it,” he said suddenly.

She paused, her brow furrowing. “What?”

“You’re exhausted,” he said, his tone firm despite his weakened state. “You can’t keep going like this.”

Her jaw tightened, and she resumed her work. “That’s not your concern.”

“It is if you collapse in the middle of the battlefield,” he shot back.

She looked up then, her eyes locking with his. “If I don’t do my job, people die,” she said flatly. “So no, I don’t have the luxury of stopping.”

The weight of her words settled between them, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I just...” Charles hesitated, unsure how to voice what he was feeling. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Too late for that,” she said, gesturing to the faint scars visible on her hands and arms. “Getting hurt is part of the job.”

Charles reached out, his hand brushing hers lightly. “Doesn’t mean you should face it alone.”

Her gaze flicked to their hands, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them. But before either of them could say more, a soldier burst into the tent, his face pale and frantic.

“Medic!” he shouted. “We need help in the eastern sector—badly.”

Y/N was already on her feet, grabbing her satchel. She hesitated for just a second, glancing back at Charles. “Stay put,” she said firmly.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she was gone before he could say a word, the flap of the tent falling closed behind her.

The tent felt colder without her.

Charles stared at the empty space she’d left behind, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t shake. How long could someone carry that kind of burden before it broke them? How long before the war demanded more from her than she could give?

The distant sound of artillery rumbled through the camp, and he clenched his fists. He hated this—being confined, powerless to do anything but wait.

But then, over the din of the battlefield, a sudden, sharp crack echoed through the air. It was closer than before.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the unmistakable chaos of shouting and hurried footsteps erupted outside. Something was wrong.

Charles swung his legs over the side of the cot, the dull pain in his side a distant second to the knot of dread tightening in his chest. He couldn’t just sit here. Not anymore.

Forcing himself to his feet, he steadied his balance against the cot and took a shaky step forward. Whatever was happening out there, he needed to know.

And he needed to make sure she was okay.

The camp was alive with activity as soldiers scrambled in every direction, the chaos escalating by the minute. Charles could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he stumbled through the maze of tents, his body protesting with every step. He ignored the pain; it was nothing compared to the gnawing worry that had taken root in his chest the moment the gunfire had erupted.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and panicked. His footsteps were unsteady, but he pushed himself faster, desperate to find her.

The cries of the wounded mixed with the sounds of distant artillery. The war was a constant hum, but today it felt like it was closing in on him. His thoughts were a blur—only one thing mattered now: finding her.

As he rounded a corner, a medic appeared, breathless, her face streaked with dirt and sweat. She didn’t need to say a word before Charles was asking, “Where is she? Is she okay?”

The medic looked grim. “She’s in the eastern sector. It’s bad, Charles... it’s a full-on assault. We need everyone we can get.”

His heart skipped a beat, but before he could respond, another burst of gunfire rang out, much closer this time. Without thinking, Charles began moving toward the front lines, the pain in his side flaring up, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to her.

y/n’s pov

The eastern sector was a nightmare.

Bodies littered the ground, both friend and foe, and the air was thick with smoke and the scent of blood. Y/N was knee-deep in the chaos, moving between the injured with a practiced, mechanical calm. But even her experienced hands trembled as she worked, exhaustion pulling at her mind, her body, her will.

“Stay with me, soldier!” she shouted, trying to apply pressure to a gaping wound in a soldier’s chest. He was young—too young—and his grip on her hand was weak, slipping.

She could hear the thunder of gunfire, the screams, the explosions in the distance. But what unsettled her the most was the gnawing feeling that she wasn’t going to make it back this time. That she wasn’t going to be able to save everyone, and that maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t make it herself.

But she had no choice. This was her duty. This was her life now.

Another wave of pain lanced through her leg, and she faltered for just a moment, biting back a gasp. Her vision blurred from the strain, and her hands shook as she tried to reapply bandages, but the field was overwhelming. There were too many, too much to do.

And then, through the haze, she heard it.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her breath catching. The sound of her name—so familiar, so steady. She turned and saw him—Charles—his face pale and covered in dust, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes.

He was here.

“Charles!” she called, relief flooding her chest, but it was quickly replaced by fear as she saw him falter. He was injured—he shouldn’t be here.

“What are you doing?” she shouted, trying to move toward him, but the medic in her screamed for her to stay with the injured soldiers. “You need to leave! It’s not safe!”

Charles pushed through the chaos, ignoring her orders. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, everything else faded. His voice was strained, but resolute. “I’m not leaving you.”

Before she could respond, a nearby explosion sent both of them sprawling, the shockwave sending debris flying in all directions. The world spun as Charles reached for her, pulling her close, his hand instinctively covering her body to shield her from the worst of the blast.

When the ringing in her ears finally subsided, Y/N’s chest heaved with labored breaths. Charles’s grip on her was tight, protective. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she let herself relax—just a little.

“I told you to stay back,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not when you’re out here,” he replied, his face inches from hers. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a softness in his eyes.

The sounds of the battlefield raged around them, but in that moment, with Charles’s arms around her, the world seemed quieter.

They stood there in the wreckage, the smoke swirling around them like a suffocating fog. They had no idea what would happen next, but for the first time in a long while, they weren’t alone in this war. They had each other.

The war had finally ended.

It hadn’t come with the thunderous sound of victory that everyone expected. There were no grand parades or wild celebrations, no trumpet fanfare as the guns fell silent. Instead, it had ended quietly, with a whisper of surrender and the slow march of peace into the chaos that had reigned for so long.

After years of fighting, of endless bloodshed, the last push had been made. The enemy forces had finally crumbled, their defenses unable to withstand the pressure anymore. The final battle had been brutal—too many lives lost in a desperate struggle for dominance. But in the end, it was their side that emerged victorious.

The final blow had been struck at dawn, a series of coordinated strikes that overwhelmed the enemy’s last stronghold. There had been no time for celebration in the aftermath. No time for joy. Instead, there had been the quiet aftermath of exhaustion and mourning. For every soldier that had survived, there were dozens more who hadn’t.

Charles had felt it in the pit of his stomach when the announcement came through the radio—the war was over. There was no real relief, not yet. Not when so many had been lost. He had been back at the camp, wounded and recovering, when the news spread like wildfire. It didn’t matter that they had won. What mattered was that they had survived. And that survival came with a price.

And now, standing at the train station with Y/N beside him, Charles couldn’t help but feel the weight of that price. She had stayed at the frontlines, continuing to fight even after the ceasefire had been declared, tending to the wounded, the survivors, and those who wouldn’t make it. Her hands had healed more bodies than anyone could count, but there had been a toll on her too. She was still standing, still strong—but he could see the strain in her eyes, the tiredness beneath her fierce determination.

The war might have been over, but their personal battles were far from finished.

Y/N stood at the edge of the platform, her stance firm, but her eyes distant. Her uniform was neat, the edges of her sleeves rolled up just the way she always did when she was preparing for something difficult. Her bag hung over her shoulder, ready for whatever came next.

Charles wanted to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he knew better. She had made her decision long before now. Just as he had made his.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow in his tone. “So, it’s really over, isn’t it?”

Y/N nodded, her jaw set. “The war is over. But there’s still work to be done.”

Charles looked at her, eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation, for anything that might hint at the decision she was about to make. But there was none. She was determined. And while it broke his heart, he couldn’t help but admire her even more for it. She was a force to be reckoned with. A soldier, yes—but more than that. She was someone who could heal, who could fix what had been broken in this world. She was built for this.

“You’re really staying in the military?” he asked, his voice soft, the question hanging between them.

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I’m going to be a doctor,” she said simply. “The work here... it’s not done. I need to stay.”

Charles nodded, a lump rising in his throat. He had known, of course, that she would stay. She had always been like this—fierce, unwavering, with a purpose that couldn’t be shaken. He just hadn’t wanted to face it. Not yet.

“I understand,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I wish it were different.”

She met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fall away. The noise of the bustling train station, the echo of soldiers boarding, all of it disappeared as they stood there, connected by their shared past and the future they were about to walk into—separately.

As the train’s arrival drew closer, Charles took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he knew would come next. But before he could say another word, Y/N took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him in a quiet embrace. It was short, but it felt like it stretched on forever.

He held her tightly, his chin resting on her head. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want this moment to end.

When they finally pulled away, there was a look in her eyes—something soft, something full of unspoken promises.

Before either of them could speak, Charles leaned in, his lips pressing gently against hers. It was a soft, lingering kiss, as if they both wanted to hold onto the moment forever. The kiss was full of emotion—goodbye, love, and a hope that their paths would cross again someday.

Y/N pulled back first, her breath shaky as she looked into his eyes. “I’m not going to forget you, Charles,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears welling up in her eyes. “I’ll be back. I promise you that.”

Charles nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll be waiting for you, Y/N. Always.”

They shared one last, lingering look—something between a promise and a farewell—and then, with a final deep breath, Y/N turned to walk toward the train. She moved quickly, like she was trying to steady herself, and as she reached the door, she looked back at him one last time.

Charles’s chest tightened as the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time for her to leave. Y/N’s figure slowly disappeared inside, and though he could still see her silhouette through the glass, she was slipping further and further from him.

The train doors closed with a hiss, and he felt his heart shatter a little more with every passing second.

Y/N sat down by the window, her gaze immediately locking with his. For a fleeting second, he thought he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something else—something resolute.

As the train began to slowly pull away, Y/N opened the window. She leaned out just enough to make sure Charles could hear her, her voice clear despite the distance between them.

“I’ll come back for you, so don’t you forget about me. That’s an order, soldier,” she called out, a small but determined smile on her face.

Her words hit Charles like a punch to the gut, but he smiled through the tears, raising his hand in a final wave. “I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, barely audible as the train continued to gain speed.

The whistle blew one last time, and the train started to pull away from the station, the distance between them widening with every passing moment.

Charles stood there, watching until the train was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. His heart ached, but there was a quiet strength that settled in his chest. He knew she would be back. He didn’t know when, or how—but he knew that this wasn’t the end for them.

The war had ended. And now, their separate futures awaited them.

But for now, he had to let go.

And so, as the last trace of the train disappeared, Charles whispered one final promise into the air.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Y/N. Always.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

taglist: @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey @alex-wotton @ssarqhxo @rainy-darling @mymilkshakefun @hs2016 @linnygirl09 @akulici

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 one shot #jzprncess

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moody-alcoholic · 7 months ago

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These Violent Delights

Chapter 15 - Bonus

Summary: poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o AU. WC: 916 CW: Mentions of miscarriage, description of wounds, blood, it's angsty - hurt no comfort.

AN: I have a bunch of scenes I wrote but never made it into the final chapter's for whatever reason. They're still canon so they just add a little extra context, most of the time they're alternative POV's, like this one.

TVD masterlist - next bonus

Enjoy <3

You come too at the hospital. At first it’s just pained groans as doctors and nurses fuss round you. Price is only half listening to Laswell and Ghost trying to explain their situation to a bewildered doctor. Price wishes Dr. Montgomery was here. She would know what to do. They wouldn’t be in this situation if she was here.

Your scream pierces the air as you shoot up in bed the nurses and doctors fighting, trying to push you back down. Price rushes into the room. Goosebumps rise on the back of his neck, your screams cutting through him like a knife.

“Alpha!” You’re screaming for him. It does something to him, something primal he’s never felt before. His body is moving towards you before he even knows whats going on. You’re in distress, in pain and you’re crying out for him. Your hands fighting the people trying to help you.

You think they’re a threat, you’re not here right now you’re deep in your head your instincts taking over trying to protect you from further harm. This is what Dr. Montgomery warned them about, this is the worst case scenario.

The doctors and nurses are trying to keep you pinned down. Price puts his hand on your leg squeezing it. Your head flicks to him, your pupils are fully blow out your eyes look almost black. It makes his stomach drop. Maybe this is it, maybe they’re too late and you’re already too far gone.

His hands fly to your face gripping your cheeks, digging his fingers into your skin. He’s not sure what to do, he has to try something anything. If he can’t get you back they could lose you forever.

“Look at me!” He says. His voice loud rumbling in the air. You stop squirming and blink up at him. For a moment he thinks he sees something. Your eyes are puffy and raw, tears dried onto your cheeks. You blink at him again, colour comes back into your eyes for a few seconds maybe they’re not too late.

Then your hands grip his wrists and you pull his hands off your face. He didn’t even know you had that kind of strength in you. He always saw you as something so perfect and fragile, something he needs to protect. Now you’re pushing people of all sizes off you like they weigh nothing.

He tries to grab you again but your hands are flaying too much, more staff rush in including the doctor Ghost and Laswell were talking to. Price hadn’t really spoken to her, all his attention being on you.

“Captain, any of you, do you think you can try and calm her down. Just for long enough so we can get some drugs in her.” Price nods but he’s not sure what to do, he turns to see everyone standing behind him.

“Soap, Gaz see if you can calm her down.” They nod going past Price to you, the nurses move out the way to let them step up next to you. They grab an arm each standing on opposite sides of the bed. Your head switches between them. Price turns walking back up to the you, all he can smell is beta filling the room.

“C’mon lass, you got to let them help you.” Soap pleads, you turn your head to him screaming at him through gritted teeth. Price can see the thick dried blood from the torn stitches down your neck, on your clothes. His hands go back to your face, cupping your cheeks again pulling your face to look at him. He tries his best to project his scent for you, you’re looking for him. If you can smell him maybe it will be enough.

He presses his forehead to yours as your writhing slows. Soap and Gaz keep a firm grip on you. “Come on, come back to us.” He whispers pressing his nose next to yours. He closes his eyes he can feel your breath on his face. Your panting becomes slower, your breathing becoming shaky.

“Okay, I’ll give her a sedative.” The doctor says. “If she’s having a miscarriage we need to check for haemorrhaging.” He opens his eyes pulling his head off yours looking over at the doctor injecting something into a tube. He looks down at you, Soap and Gaz still holding your arms. He loosens his grip on your face rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers pressing his lips against your forehead. This is his fault, he let Dr. Montgomery die. He was being selfish. He knew she was right, they killed Hale, you’re safe. He would do it again every time, her life for yours. He’s looking in your eyes, your blinks start becoming slower, you slump against Soap.

Gaz lets go of your arm and Soap guides you down to the bed. Price steps back rubbing the back of his neck. He watches as Soap pushes hair out your face before moving away. He can’t stand seeing you like this in so much pain. He did this, now he has to face the consequences.

“Keep her sedated.” Price says looking over at the doctor who nods putting a stethoscope in her ears. He turns to look at Ghost and Laswell.

“Soap, Gaz. Stay with her, don’t leave her side for anything.” He says watching them nod standing together.

“Laswell, Ghost. Let’s go, we have work to do.” He says heading for the room door.

Chapter 15 - next bonus Dividers by @plum98

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flurry-of-stars · 11 months ago

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Dad Sigma x Fem Reader 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: Family fluff, non-Ability AU, OC child (Lucia), just a dad looking after his newborn daughter, overprotective Sigma, mentions of the past (including slightly altered canon events) mentions of weapons (gun, coin bombs) 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: About 2k 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: I missed my man. I also wrote this way back in May jdnfjsdf Technically a sequel to this fic Inspired by a prompt I saw by @/bwoahtastic. Though I ended up rewording it a little! (´◡`) The prompt line was "Stay in bed, you dealt with them for 9 months. Now it's my turn."

It’s late. The world is in a state of complete tranquility. There’s the faint chirping of crickets outside, singing their soft, nightly melodies.

The distant sound of a car turning into an underground parking garage. The faintest noise of two teenagers, out and about, giggling and laughing down on the city street below. The atmosphere down here was completely different from that of the Sky Casino. Even on nights when he wouldn’t stay up working himself until he passed out at his desk, the entire casino would be as silent as the moon in the night sky.

It was so silent there he was certain you would be able to hear the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. He would draw his long black-out curtains closed, fill the oil diffuser with the blissful scents of vanilla and caramel and curl up in his soft, king-sized bed, his sheets wrapping around his body like one big, warm hug. It was a place of pure comfort and peace. He wasn’t sure he liked how much things had changed. A week before your due date, you insisted on moving into the new apartment that you and Sigma had purchased together. He had initially wanted to wait until after the birth of your daughter, but soon realized it was probably a good idea to stay at the apartment while the baby was still so young. Especially when he held the tiny baby girl for the first time. She was so fragile, so tiny and precious. An angel, he'd thought. The thought of something happening to her up on the Sky Casino and not receiving the medical attention she needs in time had sent the general manager into a spiral. So he agreed. Unfortunately, you’d gone into labour when no more than the nursery’s furniture had been bought and built.

So here Sigma was, trying to sleep on this old double bed mattress, with a frame that creaked and a mattress that sagged in the middle, and sheets that were made for a king-sized bed that he'd brought from the casino. Not to mention the odd smells he was catching a whiff of now and then. The drifting smells of tobacco from the lower apartments. The hints of diesel smoke whenever that one car from the complex over backfired.

And for the love of all that was right in the world, he was so sure whoever was cooking all that garlic must be fighting off a vampire invasion or something! He groans in displeasure, longing for his bedroom above the clouds until he feels you squirming at his side. He looks down at you, huddled up against him, arms gently wrapped around his frame.

He notices the exhaustion still present on your face. The discomfort. You needed all the rest you could get; the birth of your daughter had not been easy. With a gentle hand, he reaches over, running delicate fingers through your locks of hair. He twirls the lock slowly between his fingers, smiling affectionately down at you, his beloved wife. For all that was wrong with this apartment, you made everything feel right. He watches as a sleepy, sweet smile rises up onto your lips, your body squirming closer to his, a faint chuckle rolling off his tongue. However, before he loses himself to this precious moment completely, his ears twitch to the sound of soft whining coming from the bassinet next to the bed.

His gaze doesn’t leave you as you begin to stir almost instinctively. He can’t help but smile at how strongly your motherly instincts are shining through. Sigma leans down, pressing his lips to your cheek, his voice a soft whisper, “Shhh love. Go back to sleep…” “Mrm…but Lucia…” You mumble, your tone aching with exhaustion. Smiling tenderly at you, Sigma kisses your cheek again. “You need your sleep, Cara Mia,” he whispers softly, his ears twitching again as he hears the newborn's whimper growing more distressed. “You stay here. You did the hard work of carrying her for nine months. Now it’s my turn.” He watches over you as you grumble and whine but slowly settle back into bed, drifting back into the land of dreams. Running his fingers through your hair a final time, he gets up, the bed frame creaking as he steps towards the ruffled bassinet, catching a glimpse of his wiggling newborn daughter within. Her little hands, covered in her cute mittens wiggle, her cute little eyes looking around as she tries to reach up, whining and whimpering in distress.

With a soft smile and a gentle hum on his lips, Sigma very carefully reaches into the bassinet, carefully picking his daughter up. One hand supports her head and neck, the other cradles her bottom as he holds her to his chest, gently rocking her, “Shhh, shh…there, there my little angel. It’s okay…you’re okay…” As Lucia’s whimpers start growing louder, Sigma cringes. He was doing this right, wasn’t he? As you inhale deeply, his grey eyes dart anxiously towards you. Were you waking up again? No. No, he could handle this. The floorboards creak softly as he hurries towards the bedroom door, using his foot to slide the ajar door open before disappearing into the darkness of the apartment, Lucia still squirming and fussing in his arms. He rocks her softly, “Shh little one. The world is still at rest.” Maybe she was hungry? He hurries towards the fridge, remembering that you had pumped before you went to bed this evening and sure enough, he finds a few bottles full of breastmilk in the side door.

He turns, inserting the baby bottle into the bottle warmer. He was glad he managed to convince you was a necessary purchase. As he waits for the bottle to warm up, he rocks Lucia, her whining teeters on becoming a cry. He paces around, running his index finger so gently over her head, “There, there my little angel. It’s coming as fast as it can…” A sob escapes her, the mere sound of it shattering Sigma’s heart. He pulls her closer, kissing her forehead as he hums for her. Truth be told, Sigma was more than a little self-conscious about his singing and humming. Even after all your reassurance that he has a beautiful voice, he still couldn’t bring himself to believe it. But he was desperate to soothe his distressed daughter. So he hums for her, softly and sweetly. It's a gentle lullaby he’d heard one of his guests playing for their newborn a few years back. The melody had captured his heart, and he'd fallen in love with it.

He bounces her softly, keeping her head over his heart as her distressed whimpers quiet down. He paces the length of the small kitchen, keeping an eye on the bottle warmer as little Lucia starts trying to gnaw on her mitten.

He chuckles, encouraging her hand away from her mouth as he asks in a soft, loving voice, “Hmm…so mama’s influenced you to like my humming too, huh..? You really are her daughter…” As he murmurs those playful words, his eyes widen as Lucia opens her eyes, gazing up at her father. His heart stops as he meets his daughter’s soft grey eyes, just like his own.

His loving smile grows as he leans in, kissing her on the forehead as he chuckles, “But you’re also daddy’s girl too…my, what beautiful eyes you have, my angel…” At this, Lucia squeaks, earning another chuckle from her father. The bottle warmer finally beeps, encouraging Sigma over. Making sure to keep a warm, supportive hold on Lucia, he checks the temperature of the bottle just to be safe, moving towards the small rocking chair in the otherwise barren lounge area. Sitting down, he very carefully begins feeding Lucia, holding the bottle on a tilt as the baby care books he’d studied instructed him.

He listens to the soft sounds Lucia makes as she feeds, her tiny eyes closing. His eyes stay on her the entire time. Eventually, he relaxes completely, satisfied that he is doing a good job. “My little Lucia,” he whispers, the warmth of his daughter's tiny body pressing against his chest causing a wave of love to rush through his body. He watches over his newborn daughter with a protective, fatherly gaze, “Do you know how much we waited for you? How excited we were when we found out you were on the way?” He pauses as Lucia scrunches up her face. It was as if the tiny baby knew he wasn't being entirely honest. He chuckles quietly before he adds, “Okay, excited and scared, I suppose.” “But how could I not be afraid? Look at how tiny you are. Your little hands. That button nose…how fragile you are. I’m still scared to hold you sometimes..” He admits softly as the baby girl grunts softly. Sigma isn't sure if she's just enjoying her meal or agreeing with her father about her cuteness. His fingertips tremble anxiously as he softly caresses her head, being extremely gentle, “But when I look at you, my girl, the world feels right.” “I’ve made...many mistakes, my girl. Some that still haunt me to this day.” His gaze turns towards the glass balcony door, a heavy sigh escaping him, a faint shiver of fear running down his spine. Even now, some nights when he closed his eyes, he saw glimpses of the night you were almost killed in your search for the truth. In your determination to prove his innocence. That he had nothing to do with the coin bomb incident.

He still sees you, down on your knees, gun pointed between your eyes, refusing to hand over the evidence you'd worked so hard to get your hands on.

The evidence that would save him from a life behind bars. His voice is full of sorrow as he whispers, “Everyday, I wake up with the fear that my home will be shattered and torn from me for a second time…and I worry...I won't be able to stop it from happening again..." He shakes his head, his grey eyes firm with a fiery determination. He looks back at Lucia, noticing that she’s almost done drinking her milk, “But I swear to you, my angel, I will never let anything happen to you or your mother. I will fight to my last breath to keep you both safe if it comes to that.” “I don’t care if the world has to burn. I won’t let anyone hurt either of you again…” Suddenly, he blinks in surprise as Lucia finishes her bottle, yawning cutely up at him. His heart, blazing with the fire of an overprotective father and husband, is doused immediately. Putting the bottle aside, he lifts her, gently patting her back to help burp her. “I’m sorry Lucia, papa got a little too caught up in his emotions.” He smiles awkwardly, sighing as his hand rhythmically rubs and pats her little back. He takes a deep breath, those flames of protection calming back into the warmth of love, “I promise you Lucia, I’ll give you the best life you could ask for.” “Your mother and I will hold your hands and guide you every step of the way. You’ll never want for anything. I’ll make sure you grow up to be a strong girl. A smart girl. I’ll protect you from the dangers of this world and make sure you grow up to have a good heart, just like your mama…”

As the baby finally burps, Sigma chuckles, returning to cradling her before he begins rocking back and forth gently. She gazes up at her father, her little grey eyes twinkle as an adorable, toothless smile spreads across her face. His heart swells as he leans closer to her, kissing her little button nose. She makes a soft sound as she wiggles, her smile seeming to grow. “Papa will always be here for you. I’ll always be in your corner, my precious daughter, supporting you and cheering for you no matter what. I will always be so proud of you, my little angel. You are a blessing. A gift I never dreamed I’d receive…” Little Lucia yawns, curling up against her father. A few sleepy sounds escape her, her hands tucking in close to her chest as she drifts back to sleep.

Sigma’s lips quirk up into a warm, loving smile once more as he leans in, kissing her on the forehead one last time, “I love you, Lucia…with every fiber of my being. Not a day will go by that I don’t thank your mother and the universe for blessing us with you…” A soft yawn escapes Sigma as he continues rocking back and forth gently, finally feeling at ease. Sure, he was unsatisfied with the current state of the apartment. He was missing the Sky Casino and the familiarity he knew. But he wouldn’t trade Lucia or his wife for anything in the world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @livelaughyo @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog @soggyoreoinmilk @verminthorr @lunarmin716 @cherridove @slowlyfoulenthusiast

Dividers: @/saradika © 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝑜𝒻𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈-𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd sigma x reader #sigma x reader #flurry-of-writing

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bittersweetimaginings · 1 year ago

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Saw that you wrote for Alex DeLarge!! What if he had a girlfriend who was a professionally trained opera singer?

Shiny thing - Alex DeLarge x Opera singer! Reader HC!

⚠️Content warning: Descriptions/mentions of possessive, abusive and overall toxic behavior.

*These characters do not belong to me, all rights to their respective owners, this is just a piece of entertainment by and for fans.

Summary: You become Alex’s newest interest.

Reader’s pronouns: She/Her

Keys: Y/N = Your Name.

Recommendation: None(? I think…Consider donating to my Ko-fi!

Author's note: If you want to send your own request, please check the Disclaimers & Rules post and the MASTERLIST post to see more content and which characters are available.

It's no secret that for Alex, classical music holds a special place in his heart.

So it's only natural that you, with your talent as an opera singer, drew his absolute attention.

The moment he heard such a beautiful melody leave your lips... he was ensnared.

How could he not be? He just knew you were right for him. He had to have you.

At first, Alex would go above and beyond with his lovebombing attentions, more so than with any other girl, mostly because he views/considers you to be above them all.

Which, considering this is Alex DeLarge we are talking about, is not necessarily a compliment.

You see, Alex views most women he's interested in as toys he can play around with and discard, maybe even faithful dogs that must do his bidding whenever he requests something from them.

But you... you're on a different level, admittedly mostly for your talents, grace, and knowledge of music.

He views you as a precious object he needs to acquire, maybe a precious nightingale he's on the hunt for, and the only thing he can think about is how nice it would be to have you as his precious pet.

Even if you "play hard to get" or reject his advances, Alex will find any way possible to get close to you and eventually have you.

He finds in you a certain level of understanding he doesn't find with anyone else.

Who else can he talk to in depth about the good ol' Ludwig Van? His parents? They are too busy ignoring their son's antisocial tendencies. Most of the girls that fawn over him mindlessly agree to everything he says. His droogs? Georgie is an asshole far too concerned with himself, Dim a brute, and Pete... well, he can't even remember the last time Pete showed interest in anything really.

So he talks with you instead. Something that he surprisingly seems to enjoy.

He might constantly ask you to sing for him.

He'll never say it to anyone, but he really loves it whenever you sing to him with his head resting on either your lap or your chest and at the same time you run your fingers through his hair.

Like I said, you'll "enjoy" a "higher" treatment than most of the girls he has dated: He'll let you speak more and more freely, will tolerate a certain level of confrontation on your part whenever you are angry at him, hesitates more in involving you in his criminal endeavors, spends more time with you, is noticeably more gentle in his behavior towards you, more protective of you, and will think once or twice before behaving aggressively towards you. Like I said, mostly because he views you as a shiny precious thing.

But because of that very reason, he will behave much more possessively towards you.

His anger bubbles up quicker whenever he might spot you talking to anyone, especially any other guys, his droogs included (the dudes have even been instructed not to talk to you whenever you're with them). I imagine this being because deep down Alex might have a horribly fragile ego; losing you to another man will mean losing control and in turn a blow to his twistedly grandiose self-perception.

Given Alex's reputation and the fact that every guy that tries to approach you ends up mercilessly beaten, it is only a matter of time when everyone close to you finds out about your relationship with him and because of this, you might end up being isolated or shunned from your community.

Which sucks for you, but Alex couldn't be happier to have your complete attention.

But ultimately, this is Alex who we are talking about. No matter how extraordinary of a person you and your talents make you, ultimately for Alex you are still a thing, a shiny one, but a thing nonetheless, and there will come a time when little ol' Alex becomes bored with your tricks and chases after the next shiniest thing, leaving you broken and forgotten.

Consider donating to my Ko-fi!

#alex delarge #alex delarge x reader #a clockwork orange

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lingy910y · 11 months ago

Text

Weekly Tag Wednesday

tagged by @doshiart, @mybrainismelted, @sgtmickeyslaughter, @gallapiech, @suzy-queued

@blue-disco-lights, and @mmmichyyy

name and ao3 handle: ling, lingy910y

current location: bedroom

favorite picrew (don't have one? you can skip this or do this one)? twisha's gallavich picrew hehe, i did doshi's too for good measure but idk why i got deja vu. maybe i did it before??

what's one thing you want in a picrew? a ponytail bc i never wear my hair down if i'm going somewhere

favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

my fav of my own work has to be Going Down Kicking

my fav thing i've seen created has to be fragile little fate: portrait of a marriage by siriusmickey

why is it your favorite?

i spent so much time researching writing tips cause i want to improve each time i write a fic yknow? and i had so much specific ideas going into it

cause of the amount of space it takes up in my brain. nobody was gonna write a divorce fic but they did and they did it well

did it come easily or was it hard to create?

i rly struggle with pacing :( when i write a fic i have some big ideas for plot points but once i've wrote them, i need to write how to get from point a to point b. but those parts seem so boring to me and they'll def be for the reader as well but if i delete them it might not flow well

last ao3 fic you commented on? guys i haven't been reading much fics :(

if art counts then a reply to gigi's art, Springtime Embrace

otherwise it's Re-boyfriending by @ms-moonlight-inn

biggest wip heartache you’ve ever experienced? refer back to my fav fic 🥲

favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? hurt/comfort

least favorite? coffee shop aus 😬

secret or surprising kink or trope? guilt, like religious trauma or internalized homophobia or survivor's guilt. I'M EVEN EXPERIENCING GUILT WHILE ANSWERING THIS

describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? very proud but also don't want anything to do with it anymore. my heart pounds in my chest and i'm sweating bullets as i secretly check to see who has seen it </3

top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @jademickian

it's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you___? browse tumblr ofc

tagging @deedala, @heymrspatel, @burninface, @iansw0rld, @energievie

@reganmian and @creepkinginc

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suhjihanma · 2 years ago

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☩ ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 ☩

☩Kink (9): Feeding/feederism kink ☩Pairing: Celia / Female Reader ☩Word Count: 731 ☩Content Warning: Mentions of heavy alcohol use, overdrinking, slight alcohol abuse mentions, feederism, burping, nausea, vomiting, mentions of name-calling. ☩Author's Note: Minors and kink shamers do not interact. That goes with ageless blogs. I have a masterlist of my works but, fuck Tumblr. The stories are posted on my blog so, you guys have to look for them, under "suhjihanma:kinktober" or similar. I was planning on doing a feeding kink fic based on this game. If you haven't played "The Price of Flesh" while its Halloween season, what are you doing? Support indie games. Apologies if this drabble is all over the place/rushed. It's been a while since I wrote a feeding/feederism kink and I promise that I'm normal, y'all. Also, shout out to @gatobob. I've been rocking with you since BTD with the first release. I liked Strade but, Akira and Sano were my two. Reblogs and likes are much appreciated. Enjoy my mess.

“Are you sure that you don't want to go to the hospital?”

Celia’s hand gently patted the back of your fragile back. You were now struggling while being on all fours, dry heaving out what was left inside of you. Just from the first drink that reached your light-weighted lips, you knew your body was going to be in a world full of nausea. Your body wasn’t the strongest with hard alcohol but, despite all the doubts that had floated in your head along with a slightly concerned face shown by Celia, taking down a shotgun was all it took before humiliating yourself. All you ever wanted was to impress her. Upping the ante instead of drinking down rows of sweet tequilas and mojitos, you wanted Celia to be impressed by your drinking skills. Intermediate, yet at least you could show off with a little fun, maybe even turn it into a drinking contest.

You always wanted to spend time with Celia like it was your last, despite degradations and the constant remembrance of being put in your place. And, here you were, trying not to vomit out everything that rested inside, dry heaves included. Trying your best, you failed by opening your mouth and the urge of salivating increased. The force of food contents violently escaped your mouth as you clutched on your weak stomach for dear life. Being on the ground throwing up contents that stung your throat, your face grimaced through the burning sensation that coats your aching throat and mouth.

It was a mystery as to why people drink this stuff. Several reasons for that matter. Maybe they love the burning sensation, or throwing all of their troubles into a glass that uses that sensation to shut them away, or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, Celia became the possibility of being that person, especially when it came to drinking something that ran through like hell fire and calmed the nerves of a woman laced with depravity.

Looking to properly respond to the pitiful woman that kneeled under her, the urge of letting out a thick and wet belch came over you, looking away from Celia out of embarrassment. Of all times, do you have to be this disgusting, especially around a woman that holds to at least high standards. She might have not minded that though as Celia continued to pat your back before gently rubbing your stomach with one of her free hands.

At least she has a bit of humanity in her.

“Celia.” Celia created a humming noise, notifying you that she was listening to every word that slurred from your lips covered in food content. “

Celia. I’m so gross.”

The pitiful name-calling made Celia want to hear your pathetic groans even more. Such carelessness, Celia wouldn’t be so easy on forgiving your behavior. Then again, it was nice to see you atone for your cockiness. A small smile formed across her lipstick stained lips as she looked at you, quietly tutting out in disbelief.

“No you’re not.” She playfully cooed at you, her fingers slowly drifting to the clear liquid that slowly poured from the corner of your lips. Idle movements, her fingers played with the saliva before dragging her fingers across your full lips, showcasing a weary pout.

“But I am.” You wailed before letting out another deep and thick belch. The soft fingers that traced across your lips did soothe you a little though.

“Relax.”Celia continued to gently caress your stomach while you let out wetten belches every minute. Even though she didn’t mind, it felt so disgusting. Almost as if you were a pig that had no shame of its diet. Digging yourself deeper in your grave, all you could do is perish from embarrassment. If you didn’t go through making yourself look like a fool, none of this would ever happen. Still, it was very generous to experience Celia’s comfort. It was rare to see this side of her come out. Normally, a name-calling session would play out, but then again she kind of knew that you did go overboard on the drinking.

Then again, Celia’s plans on the name-calling would be slowly brewing as she planned on the next session. A session that fully had you on your knees, eating up everything from her personal palette, coaxing out every grunt and belch that she can get out of you. She was determined.

#the price of flesh #tpof game #tpof #tpof celia #celia #celia tpof #celia the price of flesh #the price of flesh game #tpof x you #gatobob #celia tpof x you #bruh my eyes are so cloudy rn

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fatuismooches · 2 years ago

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SMOOOCHES!!! Hii cutie!!໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

So we all agree fragile!reader was in a coma for centuries, right? And obviously time waits for nobody. And that included Zandik. So when you do wake up, you realize he’s changed, both physically and mentally. Sure there’s still some remnant of the same grumpy Zandik you knew back in the Akademiya. But it’s almost like you don’t recognize your own lover…there’s just so much angst potential with this idea 😭 because you missed out on so much precious time with him and now he’s more mature. While you’re just stuck being the same old you. I’m sure fragile!reader definitely cries at night blaming themselves for their illness (I know you already wrote a fanfic like this where the clones catch fragile!reader crying !!) and for missing so much precious time with their only loved one. :( but I hope you’re well!! I love u sm I’m sorry if I’m a little inactive brainrots are being slow ;; but I love you so much!!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon ౨ৎ

HI 🎐 ANON!! MY LOVE 🥰🥰 I am doing well, just a bit stressed with school but I've expected that 😅 And don't worry about it, just take care of yourself, I'll happily wait however long for your brainrots or whenever you want to pop in ❤️ Love u more!!

AND GOD THIS JUST MADE ME WAY MORE SAD 😭 I didn’t even intend for that brainrot to be angsty but OMG… I LOVE THIS. Fragile reader would be so confused for a bit as to why their Zandik wasn't all annoyed and scowling like he used to be. He doesn't seem to be bothered much by your hassling anymore... simply letting out a low laugh. He doesn't get all irritated at physical touch anymore, which is nice of course, but among other things... he's so different. He's so confident as if nothing could ever go wrong with his plans. Nothing fazes him. What did he go through without you, you wonder.

You didn’t expect to be hit with so many insecurities this quickly. You should be grateful to be awake now! And you have such a wonderful lover and his clones! But you can’t help but feel the opposite sometimes… When you look in the mirror, you don’t see the person deserving of Zandik anymore. You see someone weaker, tired, not as good… but Zandik’s smarter, stronger, to the point of Gods all without you… he’s so handsome, mature… he’s made all these achievements while you’ve done nothing for the past hundreds of years. What could you ever have to offer, to someone like him? How could he even love you? You're like a burden... you're not even the same person from the Akademiya, you've gotten worse.

The angst has been hitting me so good lately. Me is thinking about Dottore noticing you becoming more and more distant from him as the days go by. You don’t come to bother him in his office anymore… he didn’t realize how much he became used to you sitting in his lap. You've stopped fighting about wanting to leave the lab to explore the outside world. You don’t even leave your room much anymore, and you keep it locked unlike before. The other clones and Zandy especially miss you… sometimes it’s hard for you to muster up a smile even for the child. You even start to shy away from physical affection, something you’ve always begged for. He doesn’t like that. In fact, he hates it. Despises it. More than failed experiments or inaccurate results and data.

But what could the Doctor do? He doesn't think he can "comfort" you, he's not sure if he has the capacity for that. He knows you have in the past, multiple times, although he got annoyed in the beginning, as he mistook it for pity and didn't believe you were trying to "care" for him... but that was just in your nature. His nature, however, is far different. Though, he's going to have to try something if he doesn't want to lose you.

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #why does school put me in an angsty mood... bye #smooches loves her hurt/comfort fics #regardless... 🎐 anon i hope you're doing good ❤️ make sure to rest and stay hydrated ❤️

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just-nc-tea · 11 days ago

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Hiii again

Thank you so much for answering! I really hope that you'll soon feel better, and that the weather continues to be good :) I know the feeling where you just want school to end, I'm feeling very burnt out recently and where I live, we have school until the 27th, so I still have a few weeks and exams to go before summer break.

I find writing an encouraging comment pretty important, because I know how intimidating it can be to post something you’ve created (and possibly be nervous about), and an encouraging comment can be very helpful imo (even though it’s important not to rely on public validation).

What you explained about writing is really helpful. I actually struggle with kind of the same thing as you. I can’t really write anything (except when I write about my feelings and thoughts) without ‘overcomplicating’ it. I need to know the backstory, world building and plot before starting on writing the story itself, and I feel like it kind of holds me back, because I just end up using most of my energy on planning. I do though find it easier to write when I include something I can relate to, but when I finish it just ends up being to personal? But now, after you explained about how you plan a story, I think, I might see where I usually go wrong. Usually, after I plan the story, I just go with the flow, and don’t break the story into blocks. I think, that if I break the story down into blocks it might be less intimidating, and more controlled and not to ‘free’. You also reminded me of MBTIs. I haven’t really used them before. I’ve always found them a little difficult to navigate through, and follow their traits as the story progresses. I should probably look more into them, maybe they’ll help.

As I read through the part where you explained about the Virtehar, I remembered something. When I was writing the question about it, I thought “It’ll probably spoil too much if Patty explained me about the Virtehar. We’ll probably get to know more about the Virtehar as the story progresses”. I completely understand though! I think it’s pretty cool that you yourself created a fantasy creature!!!!

I’m really bad at interacting with other people lol. Like, even if it’s online I always find it difficult to write anything (like, what should I write? It’s so hard to be an introvert), therefore I don’t have any friends in the writing/ff writing community (even in kpop community in general). I’m also relatively new to Tumblr (not really lol, I’ve read fics on here for like a year), so I’m also just getting familiar with posting and how things work in general. I also don’t want to include smut, and I have to agree with you that people on Tumblr are indeed were horny…. And it kinda scares me tbh… Because people my age and even younger are talking so ‘freely’ about it? What can I say, I have a fragile heart (important to mention, I don’t want to shame anyone who writes/reads smut, it’s their choice. What I wrote here is just my opinion).

This turned out to be waaaaaayyyyy longer than I originally planned, and I just ended yapping (again). (I also sent an other letter, because I didn't know what else I should do. Do people usually write this as a comment, or do they reblog and answer there, or do they just do as me and send an other letter? I'm lost, haven't really done this before)

Thank you again, it was really helpful :)

-Lily

Hi Lily!!

No worries! I love yapping about really anything! The weather is really great here in Germany now! I finish on the 14th of July and not June so I'll have to survive and work through my burnout for a couple of weeks. But!! We'll be able to do this it's just like 6 weeks, right? ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )

I love that so much. I personally am really shitty at giving and writing compliments even if I really liked something cause I am just like. Ok. Very cool, liked it! Which is shit and I am trying to be better to support readers because of the same reasons you gave! I'm so glad I could help you a bit with my insights. I mean yeah, planning really does take a lot of time but ngl I do have fun while planning bigger plots as well. How can art be too personal tho? Writing a story and putting it in a personal aspect is not really taking away from the story but makes it more relatable usually, right? Maybe if it's very specific, yes that might be too crazy, but like you said everyone has a back story so why not use yours for a fictional persona you write about? Honestly, I think it's daunting to think about how I'll probably be writing like 80k words so yeah breaking it down and writing "freely" does help a lot! I love MBTIs. I've used it for every story so far (and my compatibility with my friends and the guy I think is cute in my class, sadly he is just very hot and not really my type of person, even if we have the same MBTI) they are lowkey a big help for getting a character. Yes yes! Let yourself be surprised! I do think I'll need a while to publish the next chapter tho, I wanna finish a bit more than just the second chapter in case I wanna change things. Chapter 1 was only the introduction after all. Maybe if I change a lot, I'll take pt. 1 down again and re-upload it later this year. My god I am also really shit with interacting. I am an extrovert but I tend to forget to answer people and leave people on read a lot lmao. I do have a lot of kpop friends from my school years, I was in a kpop dance cover group and we made a lot of friends with other groups (apparently we even met Yangyang at a contest in like 2017 once?? I still think my friend is lying about that lmao) My god I've been reading on Tumblr for more than 10 years now I think, it's crazy. I still don't really have friends on here tho. Oh, I don't really have a problem with people reading and writing smut, when I was 15-18 there wasn't as much smut but I did also read the fics that included smut so I can't really say anything here lmao. But I am kinda surprised at the sheer mass of smut stuff now. I feel like 90% of the fics I read currently have or are purely smut lmao. So yeah I kinda wanna post stuff for people that want to avoid or read less smut? My god! No worries! I love yappin about approximately everything! Yeah, people tend to send asks or anons when talking!

Always! If you have any more questions or just want to yap, just slide into my askbox ٩(๑´3｀๑)۶

#⋆｡°•☁︎ answered 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 #⋆｡°•☁︎ patty yapps!#hanniethepooh

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xkseii · 3 years ago

Text

⎮The Doctor's Assistant⎮

⏤ Characters: Dottore⎮reader

⏤ Including: nsfw (-17)

⏤ Warnings → sub/bottom Dottore, top/dom Male reader, fingering, getting caught, implied obsessive behaviour, jealousy, size kink, tongue fucking

⏤ 4.400 words

You were one of the last recruits of the Fatui. You haven't been here for long and unfortunately, you were accepted in for your strength and knowledge about weapons, so you knew nothing about the Fatui itself. When your superior proposed you to work for someone since you were new, you were confused, none of those names that he was giving were familiars.

You said one of the numerous names you remembered, uncaring of the outcome when you pronounced the name 'Dottore', your superior's face lost all his colours. With shaky hands, he wrote down your application before leaving in a hurry, mumbling something about 'living a great life'.

You learned later on that he was the 'Doctor' that famous Harbingers for being a monster and killing anyone that would even just dare breathe next to him. This famous doctor who had no to little regard for human life.

Everyone was already considering you as a dead man, they were sure that you would not be here anymore the following week. He had no reason to keep you alive after all, and his temper was as bad if not worst than the Balladeer, there was no way you would not make a mistake that would cost you your life. The day you left to meet him, everyone bid you goodbye, most did not even try to learn your name, knowing it was over for you.

And like they all thought, you made a mistake. But one thing saved your life, your knowledge about Ruin Guards and history. Theses were the only things that helped you staying alive. It happened the first day, while he was working on one of his experiments, you noticed how he misplaced a piece as he was rebuilding a machine. When you tried to tell him, it was your mistake, the interruption made him lose his temper, as he turned to you suddenly, he took away your left eye. You fell to the floor at the sudden pain, holding your face as you look up with difficulty when he ordered you to talk.

“Now, talk. You dare interrupt me, so finish your sentence at least…

Before I kill you.”

It was your end, you knew it, there was no way you could escape this fate. So with angry eyes, you look up at him, ready to spat on his face.

“My apologies, your highness. You misplaced this.

But since you're so smart, you know it's supposed to be on the left shoulder, right?”

Silence took over the room, the tension sending shivers down your spine, but you refuse to look away. His red eyes almost glowed as he glared at you, the pressure making your legs shake as you knew you had already done it. He looks at his experiment, moving the piece you talked about and suddenly, the machine lit up as it seems like it was the last thing that needed to be changed. When Dottore turned back to you, you closed your eyes, ready to accept your death.

But the pain never came, as you thought he was going to torture you instead of giving you a simple death. A hand was placed onto your cheeks, his thumb stroking your jaw gently.

“Tell me more.”

Your knowledge was the only reason why you were still alive. It took you some months to earn his respect, but finally, after some time you became his assistant. He has never been a nice person to begin with, and even less sympathetic to work with, but you made it work. You asked yourself why he kept you alive, and the answer was simple: you had the brain, and it was a good enough reason for him to keep you around. He was not nice nor bad with you, he was just doing his thing.

He got used to your presence rapidly, as you were around him most of the time; he was always working for hours, slouching over his desk as he spent more time on any fragile part of the new experiment. He could sense you in the background, preparing what he needed without waiting for him to ask for it, you were so used to him and his antics that you could almost predict everything he would say or do.

Dottore tolerated you, you were still only someone useful to him, but you were still treated better than any other subordinates. You were well-behaved, not talking without a valid reason, and would ask for permission before doing anything particular. He would always say to the other Harbingers that you were annoying, but any time someone would suggest to him another assistant and to get rid of you, he would refuse immediately before leaving.

He could admit that his workplace has never been this clean and easy to work in before. And slowly, he started to be nicer, you weren't expecting much from the start, but he grew comfortable enough to sometimes ask you your opinion, and let you have a day off once a week.

It was as if you always knew what he was thinking, before he could ask for someone to drink, it was already placed beside him. He needed something? It was already on the metal table. He wanted a report, it was written on his desk with every annotation he required. A material was missing, you were already out buying it. After some time, he decided to make you move into the room next to his workplace, so you were never too far away.

At first, you never had the time to meet the other Fatui, they all thought you were dead when you did not show up after a week. In reality, the work hours with Dottore were hellish, and you had little to no time to do anything, so your day was just: waking up, going to work, finishing all the tasks of the day, going back to your room and sleep. Your disappearance became a mystery, since Dottore himself was not going out too much, neither of you were seen.

But at one meeting, which Dottore was forced to come to, Pierro's order, he entered the room with you following just behind. To say everyone was shocked was an understatement, the three Harbingers present has, themselves, never saw you once. And your appearance was quite surprising, but not in a bad way. Childe could not help but send a wink your way when you looked at him accidentally, which earned him a glare from La Signora and Scaramouche.

Except for your person that was quite attractive, what surprised them the most was your position, as an assistant, for the Fatui, you were a nobody. But you were here, walking as if you were a high-ranked member. They had never seen someone standing so close to him without dying, the only exception being the other Harbingers… and yourself, now. Quickly, the rumour spread and you became someone respected among most, some other rumours were circulating about how you managed to stay alive, but they were all quickly shut down anonymously. Among the Fatui, you were untouchable, rarely seen outside and if you were, it was along one of the craziest men.

Most of your new subordinates respected you and your life was quite peaceful. But this peace was sometimes disturbed by Dottore, anytime he would have a random excess of rage about a recent failed experiment. If you remember good, it was after the fifth time that he stopped injuring you in the process. It was not like it was calming him down to hurt you anyway, since you got used to the pain, and after some time, you stopped reacting as it became something typical. You would just stay in your spot, unmovingly, waiting for the rage to vanish.

It took you another set of months to meet the rest of the Harbingers since you had no reason to see them in the first place. You had the occasion when Dottore send you to deliver a report to Pierro, surprisingly, he trusted you enough for this. On your way, the other nine Harbingers were getting out of the meeting room. As you bow immediately, hiding your face to not get into trouble, you hear someone stop in front of you. You never raise your head, even as a hand was placed on top of your head. The calm voice of the 11th Harbingers reaches your ears.

“Hm… Isn't that… Dottore's assistant?

My My, what a pleasure to meet you again.

Such a great surprise. Is that my birthday gift?”

As he urged you to stand up, you hesitate, unsure if it was a trap to give you a punishment. Thankfully it was not, as he just wanted to talk to you. Actually, he was the one doing the talking since, after months of working with Dottore, talking was not something you were used to anymore. And as you replied, your raspy voice send a shiver down everyone's spine.

You're taken aback when Childe throws his arm around your shoulders casually, or as casually as he could, since you were taller than him, and it forced him to stand on his tiptoes. La Signora was snickering behind him as the Balladeer was looking at you up and down. Childe suddenly asked you if the next day was your day off, making you suspicious, since he had no reason to know this. Even if it was, you weren't really trusting him. In the end, he still invited you to spend some time with him, which you were forced to accept or else you would get killed. Behind your back, Childe was showing a victorious face to Scaramouche, giving him the occasion to talk to you without Dottore in the way.

The next day, Dottore was working as always, in complete silence, since you weren't here, there was no sound of you rummaging through something behind his back. At first, like any of your day off, he was enjoying the silence, but as minutes and hours passed, he grew tenser as if something was missing. Usually, even if you were free to go, you would at least pass by once, just to make sure everything was all right. But today, he never saw you or heard of you, leaving a strange feeling consuming his mind. He left his workshop in the middle of the night, frustrated to an infinite extent as you never showed up like he expected you to. He even brought your favourite drink, which he threw in the bin as he left, angry.

He heard loud voices in the corridor, familiar annoying ones as he recognized immediately who it was, Childe and Scaramouche. He hated them, actually, he hated everything and everyone, but these two particularly, with how insufferable they were. As he passed by them, Childe greeted him with a big sincere smile, his behaviour took him by surprise, even Scaramouche has a gentler smirk than usual. He stopped dead in his tracks out of shock but turned around suddenly when he heard your name get out of Childe's mouth. The sentence that he pronounced made him grit his teeth.

“See I told you that you were going to have fun today.

Isn't he great? And this face and body~ ”

Everything became clear in his mind, you did not show up because you were out with the Balladeer. Who in their right mind would go out with that thing? Suddenly, he noticed how he was not really liked by his subordinates either and took back his words. But still, why would you see him, it made no sense, you never had the occasion to speak with him or Childe anyway. With a frown, he heads to his room, talking to himself, promising that you will never have a day off again. He would not allow it.

And that's how, the next day, when you entered the room, Dottore was standing in front of you angrily. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and an annoyed look on his face, he did not even start work on his new experiment yet, which was surprising.

“So… The Balladeer, uh?”

Your blood ran cold, how long has it been since the last time he frightened you that much? You try to remember any rules related to having no contact with the other Fatui or Harbingers, but nothing came to your mind. Your hands started to shake, knowing it was over for you, you had made your second mistake. As he took a step forward, hand raised, you close your eyes, waiting for the final blow. But it never came, a hand was placed on your torso as Dottore pushed you, making you fall back on the chair behind you. Your mind spiralling, trying to understand what he was going to do, torture perhaps?

One of his hands found its place on your shoulder as the other was resting on your thigh. Before you could process what was happening, he sat down on you, legs on each side of yours as he looked still quite angry. He grips your jaw tightly as he spat each words with so much venom.

“Whose assistant are you?”

“Your assistant, sir.”

“Then why were you with this fucking brat?”

The silence was loud, your mouth opening and closing uselessly as you didn't know how to respond. Dottore had the urge to slice your throat open, but at the same time, he knew it would be a shame to lose someone like you. The Balladeer was the one who needed to get taught a lesson, as he needed to understand that he should not take what was not his. But for now, he had to make sure you understood your mistake. You have been so perfect until now, he gave you everything, but you still left to go out with someone else. With his twisted mind, he was not able to notice how bad his logic was, as he is just your boss, nothing more, but he could not accept it.

He listens as you apologize, but the confusion was still noticeable in your voice as if you did not know what you did wrong. How could you not understand? It was as if he was going to let someone else enter his workplace as you weren't there, it was inconceivable. He had no rights to do so and neither did you have the rights to be close with any other Harbingers. He did not care about the other subordinates, he could just kill them if they were becoming annoying.

You were lost in your thoughts when he grabbed your jaw again, dipping his fingers into your mouth suddenly, forcing your tongue to loll out. He leans forward, sucking on your tongue as he starts to grind onto you, your body reacting on its own as you get hard. What you did not knew, was that he had no experience, and he was already on the edge. But how could you notice it when he was moving like that on top of you. Each roll of his hips was hypnotic, and you could feel yourself drool at the thought of him sitting on your face. You needed to keep your mind in check before it becomes uncontrollable.

You lick your lips, throat drying up as his movements speed up, hips jerking forward as he grew more and more sensitive. He needed more, but his body was already out of stamina. He feels your grip on his hips tighten as your rut against him, an animalist look in your eyes as you lost control of yourself. After all, you spend the last year following him everywhere he went, without a break, never having enough time to be alone and tend to your urges. So what does happen when finally someone offers themselves to you? You go crazy.

Dottore feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, he felt his body heat up, a powerful warmth coursing through his body as he was captivated by your blissful face. It seemed like you saw Celestia, you looked at him as if he was your god, finally offering you a sweet release. He gasps as you become rougher, his insides clenching around nothing, he felt too sensitive and wanted to take a break. But as he was going to lift himself up a bit, you forced him down by his hips, you grab his hands, moving them to your neck. You lifted your own hips, rutting your crotch against his clothed ass.

He could feel your length, your breath itching as you bite down on his shoulder, drool covering his shirt as your body is quivering. Your eyes were closed as your body falls lax against the chair, your head rolling back as the sweet feeling takes over your senses. The man on top of you was taken aback, was it that good for you to almost pass out? He starts to think about how you could make him feel that good too, and his thoughts send him overboard.

For the first time in his life, Dottore was not seeing you just as a smart assistant, there was something else. As something clicked in his head, the way you would talk to him, when you would take care of his needs, and the way you move. Nothing about you was innocent or sweet, it was screaming intimidating and lustful, but he never noticed until now. His eyes were going from your parted lips to your blissed-out eyes, before going down to look at your pants. He never saw you in this light, as an attractive man that could, if he wanted to, have anyone kneel in front of him. But no. This man was his assistant, staying in his workplace all day, not caring about anything else than his well-being and experiments.

He leaned forward, licking your lips before kissing you, a strange taste now lingering in his mouth, but he could not recognize it. The way your lips were pressing against his, was making him blush crazily, he wanted to make you feel the same way as he was. He took a deep breath, unbuttoning his pants and yours, your dicks sprang out as his mouth waters at the sight. He could not help but feel embarrassed at the length difference, not only his was shorter but also thinner. But he was sure that he was in the norm, so why were you so big?

As he tries his best to wrap his hand around both shafts, his cheeks heat up at the laugh coming from you, and you look amused as his small hand could not do much. It could barely wrap around your cock only, and this guy was trying to hold both at the same time. You let go of his hip, placing your hand on top of his, holding both your length with one hand, as you start to move it up and down slowly. Teasingly, you look at the doctor straight in the eyes, seeing how he was panting, fighting the urge to cum.

His eyes widened as he just realized that he was in the middle of his lab, perched on your lap as your hand was jerking him off. Anybody could enter the room, most Harbingers doing so without knocking, at any moment they could see you. But as he was going to tell you to stop, your thumb started to play with his tip, forcing him to hold onto your shoulders for dear life as he was losing his mind. Your hand was so warm around him, and the way your cocks were rubbing together was driving him crazy. Slowly, you move your face to his neck, licking the side before biting down, hard. The pain sends tingles to his arms and brain.

The doctor was practically choking on his words, lightly thrusting his hips while letting out loud moans, fucking into your hand. Your thumb playing with his tip, gliding slowly as it lit his nerves on fire, pleasure overwhelming. He was sobbing against you, drooling all over your shirt, so embarrassed at the wet noises filling the room as your hand was almost drenched in his precum. He was crumbling slowly, and you used this opportunity to tease him, stopping all movements of your hand as you lean back, removing your hand from his length. He chased after you, he was so close, and he needed your touch. Your kisses on his jaw paired with some bites distracted him for a second, before you play with the tip of his cock one last time, making him cum instantly.

You watch with hungry eyes as he keeps cumming all over you, body shaking as he can't stop, cock twitching uselessly.

Before he could process what was happening, he was laying on his back, the cold metallic table sticking against his damp and hot skin. As you kneel in between his legs, he wraps them around your head tightly as your tongue slid deeper into his ass. He was so sensitive he could cum over and over again, the feeling of being eaten out made his mind go crazy. Your strong hands holding his thighs apart, head squished in the middle as you lap and suck at his hole, your nails digging into his sensitive flesh.

As he grinds against your tongue, head rolled back as he cries out, unable to keep his noises in, he could feel the knot snap against. He spilt all over his stomach, some drops falling onto your face and hair. As you gently lap at the cum oozing out of his tip, the sound of a door opening is covered by his loud whimpers. The two Harbingers freezing at the view in front of them, Childe and Scaramouche were flustered to no end, seeing you in this position as you make Dottore loses his mind. They leave immediately, but the image could not leave their heads. As they stand in the corridor, still processing what they saw, they look at each other, cheeks red and body temperature rising up as they head to their room, hiding the front of their tight pants with their sweaty hands.

You wanted to fuck him so hard, but his blissed-out face as he was almost passed out on the metallic table told you it was enough for today. He was pathetic, but he was still your boss, and so you decide to please him one last time as you watch his cock hardening again. Dottore whined when he heard some wet sounds, he raises his head, legs instinctively closing as he saw you wet your fingers, your eyes meeting. If you could not use your cock, you could at least help him a little, so he would be able to correctly jerk off to the memory later. You brought one finger to his hole, followed immediately by another one, the foreign feeling heightened his sensitivity, each drag of your fingers into his body send him closer to the edge.

He moaned raspily, throat dry after crying and whimpering for so long. He could see his legs quivering as he cries, tears falling freely from his eyes, the stimulation making him discover something new. When your fingers hit a particular spot, you can't help but smirk, the third finger being added quickly as you slammed them against his prostate. He cried, hips grinding down as he forced two fingers into his mouth, silencing himself. You stretch him more, thrusting your fingers in and out. And before you knew it, he was screaming, cumming untouched as he empty himself over your face, mumbling your name as he gives you the most fucked out smile ever.

His fuzzy mind was not able to comprehend whatever was happening around you, but you were able to. And when the door opened, a single person entered the room too lost in their thoughts to notice the scene in front of them. Pantalone froze on the spot as he raised his head, Dottore laying on his work table as you're kneeling in between his legs, face covered in his cum as you lick your lips. He watches as the doctor's head lolls to the side, too out of it to see who he was looking at, a dumb smile spreading across his face. As he was going to turn around to leave the room, thinking you did not notice him, he sees you licking your lips with a satisfied face when you looked at him, straight in the eyes. You give him a big smile before sticking your tongue out, the black-haired male blushing violently as the door slam behind him.

Dottore barely understands that someone saw him like that, embarrassment hardly reaching his brain, as he grabs a tissue to clean your face. He was weak in the knees, his body too tired to move correctly as he stands up, motioning for you to help him. With shaky legs, he falls onto the chair, panting. He tugs your face closer to his by your hair, kissing you softly, moaning as the gentle feeling eases his aching heart.

As you were going to leave the room, still hard but glad you gave your boss a good time, he surprised you by kneeling in front of you. Jerking you off quickly before letting you cum in his awaiting mouth. Immediately, he tucks you back into your underwear as he buttons your pants. He stands up, leaning against the wall for support as he grabs your jaw to kiss you one last time, acting as if he was not blushing like crazy.

Dismissing you for the day, satisfied with what happened, convinced that you were not going to see anyone else. You do as he asks, just taking the time to squeeze his ass before doing so, just to annoy him. You doubt your life was in danger anymore anyway, after what just happened. When you got out, Pantalone was still there, back leaning against the wall as he looks at you up and down. He makes a strange sign before leaving, hips almost swaying as he walks, as you stand there half-confused at what he meant. While somewhere else, Childe and Scaramouche were separately jerking off to what they saw, imagining themselves instead of Dottore. It's true that you were his assistant, but it did not mean that you could not give a helping hand to the other Harbingers too, right?

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

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marthawrites · 2 years ago

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I just finished reading "The Gift That Keeps Giving" and omg the way you wrote Daemon is just 🥵😘🤌🏽!!! That said, if your requests are open, I can get you an imagine/oneshot rough nsfw Mean Dom!Daemon x wife poc! fem reader, where they have a great relationship, but reader is the bold and sassy type. And one day she ends up doing something (on purpose) that makes him really , like really really angry (the kind of latent anger that almost makes him take Caraxes and burn everything) but instead he takes it out on the person in charge (reader in this case). With a lot of degradation, spanking, choking, hair pulling and all the kinks you want (be as nasty and bold as possible please🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 I have a very big thirst for this man and I can't help myself, sorry🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️) With aftercare and a fluffy at the end please? (feel free to ignore and sorry for my english)

Hello sweet anon! I love that you enjoyed "The Gift That Keeps Giving". I appreciate your patience and I hope this lil smutty story tickles your fancy!

Punishment

Daemon Targaryen x POC wife reader

Word count: 1.9k+

About: Just because you're in the honeymoon phase with the Rogue Prince doesn't mean you can escape a proper punishment for disrespect.

Includes: Explicit sexual content featuring everything listed in the request, as well as breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is porn with very little plot. I urge you to re-read the request to make sure rough themes are something you'll get a tickle from reading. As always, please enjoy! ♥

"You're both dismissed. Leave us. Lest you wish to hear me punish my wife," Daemon said curtly to the guards outside your marriage chamber. He held you firmly by the back of your neck, and the tension of his jaw had both guardsmen bowing before scurrying off.

If you could go back in time – even a mere fifteen minutes – you would. You'd seen your husband angry before, but never quite like this.

Before the guards made it to the corridor's bending curve, the heavy door to your shared quarter opened and slammed closed. Silence followed.

Once inside the room, Daemon's grip around you tightened. "I suppose you think you're terribly funny," he sneered at you, purple eyes burning like the center of a flame. Free hand loosened his belt as he maintained a steady gaze with your umber eyes.

You hissed beneath your breath at the tightness of his grip. The pads of his fingers dug into the smooth flesh of your neck, the slim muscles and tendons straining against his unwavering hold. "You're hurting me. Let go," you said lowly, eyes blazing in a mirror of his own. Both hands lifted to his forearm in an attempt to push it away. It was in vain, however, for he was much stronger than you and he barely budged against your touch. "I said–,"

" –I heard what you said." He released the back of your neck in order to grip the back of your head; your hair a single thick rope of carefully braided tresses. Yanking, he forced your attention up to him. "I've been too easy on you, wife, to think you can run your cunty little mouth like that."

A furious blush rushed to your cheeks. "You Targaryens and your fragile egos," you snapped, daring and bold, glaring at him straight on. A dull ache prickled your scalp and you did your best to ignore it. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing his aggression pained you.

"Fragile egos," he scoffed and finally released your screaming hair. "Maybe today will be when I fuck a dragon inside you. Grace you with the gift of carrying a silver haired babe. Perhaps then you'll understand the fury of a Targaryen."

Your marriage to the Rogue Prince, thus far, has been fruitless. On any other normal day you two were still under the honeymoon spell; wed for no more than six months. As if fated by the Gods, after the death of his first wife a series of events began and within the span of a few short months, Daemon’s courting led to a proper wedding. You were of a lesser House than his own, and your dowry perhaps modest in comparison to what else his name and title could bring. Yet it seemed to matter little to him. The Targaryen prince was more than charmed by you. He gifted you with silks, jewels, and perfumes, carefully choosing colors and gems to accentuate the lovely hue of your skin. Dark, and rich, and shimmering with its softness, he reveled in the stark contrast of your bodies. Often, when you were alone, he requested you wear only the finest of sheer wispy silks so he could see, and appreciate, all of you.

King’s Landing was your home now. Daemon was your home.

“You underestimate the fury of my blood, husband,” you retorted, secondhand anger swelling in your chest. What you said in conversation with King Viserys during the midday meal wasn’t even that bad. Daemon was just moody. Cranky. Crotchety about God's knew what. You had seen the way the two brothers glanced at each other with lingering tension, and you didn’t understand why it was taken so personally. In spite of that you never imagined it would lead to what was happening now.

So distracted by your own fury you hadn’t realized Daemon had you over his lap upon your marriage bed. The thick bulk of his thighs were spread to better distribute your weight across his lap. He pulled the hems of your gown up over the swell of your backside, fingers of one hand curling beneath the waist of your smallclothes. Without even bothering to untie the ribbons around your hips he wrenched them down your legs. In a single skillful motion he fisted the material. He shoved the balled up fabric in your mouth. “You don’t get to talk.”

The makeshift gag muffled your sound of protest. Something even more dangerous than fury simmered beneath your surface. Arousal. You hated, absolutely hated, how soaked the prince’s roughness made you.

He laid a smack against the swell of your ass.

It rendered you speechless, motionless: pulse hammered beneath your chest, behind your ears, and in the tips of your fingers. With the sting and echo of a second smack, your thighs clenched together. And with a third, your fists balled atop the bedclothes as your eyes squeezed shut.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew to never pull these shenanigans again. Yet… a tiny part, a drop of rain amidst the ocean, wondered if it would take the same shenanigans, or something more, for him to reach this level of anger with you again.

A fourth, and fifth, landed on you. It stung. Your flesh throbbed and the sight of redness blossoming beneath your skin had your husband grinning all to himself. A sixth.

You whimpered incoherently behind the gag. It hurt – not only your body but your ego, too – and the slick space between your thighs quivered with desperation.

Calloused fingers dipped to test your reaction to his punishment. They were met with warmth, wetness, and a muffled whimper he was very familiar with. A mocking laugh sounded from above you. “Oh, you like this?” Daemon cooed sarcastically. “My bold, feisty little wife… a soaking, whimpering, gagged mess. You lecherous harlot.” Two fingers pushed into you with little restraint, your reddened ass propping up to coax him deeper.

Pleasure immediately blazed through your senses. The delicious stretch of his fingers had your back arching and fists easing in the sheets. If your mouth wasn’t stuffed full it would have hung open from the sensation. Pain's edge seemed to increase the intensity of your pleasure and he only just started. Between the spanking and degradation a blush burned your cheeks, and now it burned even brighter as the wet sounds of your cunt began to fill the room. You were soaked. He knew just how to work you – where to push, or stroke, or curl – and he did just that. Relentlessly.

Just as the coil of bliss threatened to snap, he withdrew his digits. “Don’t think you get to finish yet. I’m debating if I should even let you find release today.”

A dagger rested sheathed on his belt, and he wasted no time in grabbing its hilt and slicing up through the fabric of your dress; its whispered rip nearly lost between your muffled pants. Once it dawned on you, yet another wave of fury rose to your chest. This was one of your favorites! A gift from your husband. Oranges, reds, and blacks, with intricate stitchery and patterns of gold thread. Finally, that's what made you spit out the ball of your slobbery smallclothes. "What the hells!" You glared up at him from over your shoulder, aghast.

Daemon laughed. "It was mine to give and mine to take." He moved you off him and stood. Even though he'd just sliced your dress in half, he removed it from you gently. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought perhaps there might still be a chance to save it.

You were too stunned to speak, and merely finished disrobing as you watched your husband do the same. God's he was so lovely. Handsome and strong, his body wholly a warrior's with its scars and subtly padded muscles. Once he was nude the state of his own arousal had your mouth watering. His cock, fully hardened and glistening at the tip, was reddened with need. With the angle, you barely had time to admire the sight of his stones, too, before he was on top of you. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist.

"My sweet wife…," he said, eyes dark as he tilted his head and regarded your submissive position. "If only you knew when to shut the fuck up."

You had truly, undoubtedly, pissed him off. His eyes were black and palms rough as he pressed up your belly to your breasts. You squeaked as he pinched your dark nipples, the weight of your titflesh filling his palms. "I'm sorry," you said, eyes sincere. "I didn't mean it like that, husband, you know that."

Glaring down at you, he sniggered. "Disrespect and lying in the same hour?" He slapped your tits, cock twitching at the gasp you made at the impact. One hand pressed into the bed by your head for support while the other wrapped around your slim neck. He knew how to do it without causing any real harm. He squeezed. Choking. "The only thing you're good for is warming my cock."

In a single harsh drive if his hips, his girthy length split you open. Your legs wrapped around him tighter due the deadly combination of: looming above you, choking you, fucking you. A restrained whine and moan tore from your throat; your eyes half lidded and locked on him.

"Maybe I'll tie you up. Keep you locked in here so I can use you as, and whenever, I wish," he said, purple eyes glinting with darkness and delight. He snapped into you firmer, slower, making sure every inch of him dragged along every inch of your saturated walls.

Even with his hand around your throat you rolled and moved your hips with him, meeting him halfway on each thrust. This carnal side of Daemon, in all of his shameless glory, always had you needy for more. The edges of your vision began to blur with the restriction of your oxygen. Yet, still, you fucked him as he drove into you, eager and whining and dripping, more akin to a lady of the street of silk than a lady of a respectable House.

"You'd probably like that a little too much though, huh? Yeah… fuck. Look at your greedy cunt sucking me in. You filthy bitch." He finally let go of your throat to instead grip your hips. His fingers sunk into the soft flesh as he railed along your sweet spot, basking in the wanton cries of your pleasure.

"Just like that…!" you panted, breathless. "Please, Daemon.. 'm so close." And you were.

He didn't stop.

Your legs squeezed around him tighter, as tight as you could, and the obscene noises of your wet slapping skin sent you over the edge. Waves of orgasm washed over you and for a moment you thought you might have left your body. Scratches from your clean fingernails raked down the corded muscles of his forearms.

An inward hiss flared his nostrils and with one final push he spilled against the deepest part of your body. Your panting and his quiet moans melded into one as he relished the deep satisfaction of seeding his wife. He ran a hand over your belly. "Don't move, ābrazȳrys, keep all that right there where it belongs," wife he said as he slowly pulled free from you.

Sweat sheened over both of you and the midday sun sparkled atop your bodies. In the summer heat you laid and relaxed next to each other, content to catch your breath, your emotions, and let the sweat cool upon your skin.

"During dinner you will apologize to my brother," Daemon said after a few long moments.

With a quirk of your brow, you asked, "or what?"

"Or I will make this look like gentle lovemaking."

You knew he meant it.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥

masterlist

Taglist: if you wish to be added or removed, please let me know!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @targaryenbrainrot @ruby-dragon @silverwinged @chompchompluke

Daemon taglist: @sahvlren @abbyandizzysmum

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon imagine #daemon fic #request

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tsintotwo · 2 years ago

Text

Okay, so here’s the fic masterpost I’ve been meaning to make for ages. Most things I write, I don’t ever name. So I’ll make do with descriptions. The list is in chronological order of me posting these on tumblr.

1. [The Sandman]- Dream x You HELLA NSFW (minors away!) fic. I mean it- the NSFW is the plot. One day I randomly thought ‘You know what I wanna write? A little teasing-type post about kissing Morpheus.’ Then I actually started writing it, and one thing led to another, and long story short here are the links to the three-parts, completed. You’ll see for yourself. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

2. [The Sandman]- AU!Dream x You, lil dark fantasy. Finished.

3. [The Sandman]- Dream x You, being with Morpheus, prompted by Midnights (Taylor Swift) tracklist. Had the idea for it when Midnights came out. It was supposed to be 13 little snippets: some fluff, some angst, and just Morpheus-love overall. Well, I got to track 5 before getting distracted by some completely different idea and abandoning this. :( In that sense, it is unfinished. But on the other hand, since each track name is its own little story, it now exists as a set of five completed snippets. Tracks 1- 4. Track 5.

4. [Sweetbitter]- 59 Hours, Jake x You. (Yep, I actually wrote Sweetbitter/Jake fanfic and yep, this one actually has a name). I have this up on ao3 and this is the summary I wrote for it there: “When a sudden blizzard in NYC ruins havoc on everything including your plans, a stranger offers you shelter in their apartment. You don't know yet, but you two are going to be stuck there together for 59 hours- knowing and learning each other, doing things you couldn't imagine with anyone else, being something for each other in a way that feels too fast, too confusing, too reckless. How do you say goodbye to this, and yet, how do you hold onto something so fragile?” Sort of a Good Girl x Bad Boy thing. Angst, smut, feels. Six chapters. Complete. TW: Drugs, mention of s**cide.

Two things. One: I’ve had multiple people tell me that they never actually watched Sweetbitter, but loved this. So, if you haven’t watched the show, don’t let that be the thing that stops you if you’re otherwise interested. With all its B flaws and despite me not actually being a fan of the show, this is one of my most favorite things I’ve ever written. And two: HELLA NSFW WARNING!!!!!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

5. [The Sandman]- Dream x Reader. (If you, as a regular human woman, ever were to meet Morpheus in the real world, it could go something like this...)

Finished.

6. [The Sandman]- Dream x Reader. (You are a Dream Vortex, he is the Lord of Dreams- you know. Your typical meet-cute. NOT.)

Now, you’d think as a writer I’d have a better hold of things like potential story length, overall finish timeline, etc., but nope. Not at all, I am ashamed to say. This story became a behemoth, and really it’s way too much for tumblr. But I also can’t not write when there’s good material in my head just begging to be let out. So what I have now is some very long chapters and a promise of the last one. I will say there’s stuff in this dark story that I really, really love, so maybe it won’t disappoint you either if you’re actually willing to invest time reading it. TW: Graphic violence, sexual assault, r*pe, child abuse.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

That is it, actually. I either write nothing or way too much- much like most everything else I do, but unlike most everything else I do, I can tell you that writing actually makes me feel like I know what I’m doing. When I write- be it original work or fanfic- I know my place in the world. That’s something, isn’t it?

***Later addition:

7. POV: Morpheus is obessed with you.

(What even is this? Well, at least it's finished. And NSFW, so there's that as well.)

#fanfic #fic #the sandman #dream of the endlless #morpheus #the sandman fanfic #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sweetbitter #jake #jake x reader #tom sturridge

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linawritestwst · 3 years ago

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(sorry had to redo it ignore the other one pls 😭)

may i request the first years with an strong and heroic but kind and flirty fem! s/o

first years x strong and heroic s/o headcanons (fem!reader)

(don't worry, i included her kind and flirty side as well! i just wrote the name like this so that it won't be too long jdksdksl)

ace trappola.

♡ at first, this guy didn't think much of you. he probably even thought that you were a bit boring. so yeah, he wasn't that nice to you, but he took back everything he said about you when he was about to get punished by crowley again, but you just casually picked him up and ran away with him, carrying him like this. you weren't tired at all and you didn't think he was too heavy for you or anything like that.. o-okay, maybe you did make ace's heart beat a little too fast this time.

♡ he still teases you sometimes, but he's not as mean as he was before. honestly, he even kinda respects you now, you turned out to be much cooler than he thought you would be. but when you think that he still went a bit too far, you never hesitate to remind ace just how strong you really are. and when you are done with him, you smile at him and go "hehe, looks like i'm not as fragile as you thought~" PLEASE Y/N. HE ALREADY STARTED TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU, DON'T MAKE IT WORSE FOR HIM.

♡ ace can't believe this is happening, but he really got a huge crush on you. when he realizes that teasing you won't work anymore and also he doesn't want to be punched by you again he decides to do something a little different. maybe he just needs to impress you somehow? he won't be obvious about it though, he would prefer you to notice him yourself. yes, he got a surprisingly good grade today, but he won't tell YOU about it. he will talk about it with deuce, though he will wait for the right moment and he will mention it only when you appear. and when you say how unusual it is, you will hear some familiar words from him. "hehe, looks like i'm not as dumb as you thought~"

deuce spade.

♡ he always was very awkward around you and he didn't know how to talk to you at all. forgive him for that, he's just!! always so nervous around girls!! but even though he didn't have enough courage to even say hi to you, he still felt like he should protect you and he made sure nothing bad happens to you.. yeah, you did surprise him quite a bit, when deuce found out that you're REALLY good at protecting yourself AND him as well. and if he didn't have a crush on you at first, OH BOY, HE SURE HAS ONE NOW.

♡ he somehow manages to act even more awkward now!! he can't stop blushing and he keeps stuttering, you're just so.. he doesn't know how to explain it.. if you try to flirt with him, you will ruin him, y/n. but if you want to do it, sure, no one is stopping you. and if you try to carry him or you end up protecting him from something (or someone), deuce will feel a bit lost because he wants you to rely on him more, but.. for some reason, it doesn't feel so bad to be protected by you.

♡ deuce admires you a lot and when he starts feeling more comfortable, he's just so polite and sweet and if you praise him, he melts. ace refuses to shut up about his reactions to anything that you say and he keeps pointing at deuce and going "HAHA SIMP". when things like that happen, deuce tries really hard to distract you, he's not ready to tell you about his feelings yet. but he hopes that you will return his feelings when he finally confesses to you.

jack howl.

♡ similar to ace, he didn't think much of you when you two first met, however, he did have a feeling that you're actually much stronger than you look like, so you did catch his interest. he tried to get to know you better and you didn't disappoint, he found your skills and abilities extremely impressive. heh, well, you're already better than leona because you keep practicing and achieving more every single day. maybe you two can be good friends.. no, you didn't hear anything from him.

♡ but you and jack actually end up becoming pretty good friends, even if he refuses to admit it and says that your relationship is nothing like that. "oh, so is our relationship actually something more?" no, y/n, you can't do this to him. he doesn't know how to react to your flirting at all, so yeah, if you want to see him acting like his tsundere self more often, then go ahead, say more things like that to him.

♡ even if you don't notice it yourself, it's obvious to everyone (especially savanaclaw students) that jack has a crush on you, though he most likely didn't even realize it yet. ruggie keeps mentioning it and even leona finds it funny how jack doesn't know how to act when you're around. haha, so he's actually much more shy than most people thought. jack respects you a lot and he wishes to spend as much time with you as possible, you're like his idol basically. though maybe your relationship could be a little deeper than that.

epel felmier.

♡ .. okay, he's gonna be honest, he didn't like you that much when you first met. it's not your fault or anything like that, it was just him feeling too insecure. it's just.. he's out here trying to become more masculine even though it feels like this whole world is against it, and then he meets you and you turn out to be so much stronger than him?? it doesn't help that you're a girl, he feels even worse because of that. he knows that it's a weird reason to dislike you, but.. no, he shouldn't think about it like that. you know what, he's just gonna try harder so that he can surpass you one day!

♡ and why are you so kind to him? ah, you just pity him, don't you? you think he's this weak and fragile boy who can't protect himself, right? well, he's gonna prove you otherwise! just you wait, he will definitely become stronger than you and he will be the one to protect you from anything dangerous! though he wishes your reaction to this rivalry was more.. uh, serious. he's tired of you going "aw, that's so cute, epel! don't worry, i already see you as my hero, hehe~" like what does that mean??

♡ oh no. oh no, he's afraid he accidentally fell in love with you while trying to prove that he's better than you. that wasn't a part of his plan. and now he's even more obsessed with showing you how cool he really is, because.. well, now he's trying to become stronger not because he sees you as a rival, but because he wants to become someone who's worthy of your love. even though you said that you already see him as your hero, he's not gonna stop until he actually feels like one. hey, maybe he will be able to carry you today!.. n-no, he won't.

sebek zigvolt.

♡ he is confused. how can a human like you be so.. no, really, how do you manage to be better than him at everything he does?? how can he lose to someone like you?? that's it, he has to work harder, he can't disappoint his master! even though malleus said that he thinks sebek is doing great and he doesn't have to change anything about himself sebek can't stop thinking about you turning out to be a better knight than he is and he mentions you so often that lilia starts teasing him for having a crush on you. AND HE DOESN'T HAVE ONE.

♡ but somehow, his hatred starts slowly turning into.. admiration? sure, he keeps saying stuff like "wow, i didn't know that a human could do this too!" but now it sounds like he's actually amazed and not just making fun of you. hm, why don't you take advantage of that? "why thank you, sebek! i spent so much time dreaming about impressing you one day." he wants to say something cool like "haha, did you really think that a lowly human like you could ever impress me?", but for some reason it's very hard for him to say those words. congratulations, y/n, you actually did impress him.

♡ sebek doesn't want to admit it, but now he really wants you to pay more attention to him. like hey, y/n, did you just see him do that? what did you think of it? haha, he is definitely stronger than you, isn't he? you just smile and nod, you think him acting like this is too cute and you can't possibly be mad at him. and if you actually do praise him for his skills and his hard work.. for some reason, hearing those words would make him so happy, it's like malleus himself praised him. wait, no, obviously, hearing those words from malleus would make him more happy, haha..

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst headcanons #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader

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fallinfl0wers · 4 years ago

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hellooo! this is the first time i request something from a blog :D could i request headcanons of diluc, scara, kazuha and xiao when their s/o tells them they're pregnant and possibly how they'd get used to having a kid? tyy! dont forget to take breaks and relax!

Literally baby-sized trouble.

summary: you're pregnant! how does he react to the news and how do the get used to your child? includes: diluc (26 bullet points), scaramouche (24 bullet points), kazuha (17 bullet points) and xiao (35 bullet points) warnings: fem!reader, pregnancy, children, non-explicit/non described giving birth, mostly fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort and angst. format: headcanons thank you for your request!! this was so fun to write! >< imagining the characters being soft with children is just so cute :") i specially like these four a lot >< when i wrote this i was in a xiao mood if it wasn't obvious that his turned out longer than everyone else's lol, and it's also the first time i write for kazuha so it was shorter than the others, but i think his is the sweetest ><! i hope you enjoy it! ps. the names and meanings- i got them from google, feel free to correct me if there's anything wrong with them ><

Diluc

He's going to stop functioning the moment he hears the news from you.

Literally, he's still as a rock and completely taken by surprise.

He... can't say he'd never wanted children. He's pretty traditional and, since he has this beautiful relationship with you, he assumed it might happen sometime in the future.

But oops guess it will have to happen in the close future, since you're already pregnant.

After staring at you with widened eyes for a while, he speaks up: "...is... is it true?" You hold his hands on yours with a smile on your face, nodding. "Yes, Diluc. We're going to be parents." Hearing your words, he starts to tear up as he hugs you, his touch almost hesitant, as if you were so fragile he could break you if he wasn't careful. "...thank you." He'd whisper between silent tears, hiding his face from your sight.

Very supportive and very protective!

You will have the most comfortable of pregnancies. He will make sure you don't need to move a single muscle to get anything you want.

If the two of you aren't married or engaged yet, he's going to propose to you very soon, keep that in mind ><

He starts reading every book he can find on pregnancies and babies so that he knows what to do to help you when you give birth and how to take care of his child once they're born ><

You have to convince him that yes, you can go and eat in the dining room and you don't need to eat everything in your room or stay in bed all day and yes, you can still do most things and no, he doesn't have to worry so much.

But yeah, in later stages of your pregnancy he gets more overprotective because he doesn't want anything to hurt you or your baby :(

He couldn't be calm enough while you gave birth and had to wait outside of the room, which only made him more nervous </3

But when he finally held your little baby on his arms for the first time, he broke down crying.

You two had a boy! He looked a lot like him, too... with the red hair and eyes... so cute...

He's not sure of what to name him, he'd thought of some names before, but they all disappeared when he saw the little bundle of joy in his arms;;

So you two will have to think about a name again!

In the end, you settle for Felix; name meaning "happy" or "lucky"!

Diluc is a very busy man, but he still does his best to be there for you and his son as much as possible!

He's also not very sure as to how he should interact with him...

But he does know he LOVES playing with him as soon as he starts to understand how to play with his toys.

But... there are not so cute parts about having a kid, after all.

At times, he worries whether or not he'll be able to be there enough for him.

He wonders if he can be a good father, given how awkward he is with his emotions.

What if when Felix grows up he starts hating him for being absent? He wouldn't be able to stand it.

You always reassure him as you both put the baby to sleep on his crib.

All Diluc wants is for his son to have a happy childhood and a loving family, but worries he won't be good enough of a father.

However, when Felix's first word is "'iluc!" as he stretches out his tiny arms towards him, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can do this right.

Scaramouche

He thought you were joking, so he laughed.

When you didn't laugh along with him and was met with your blank face, he understood you were serious.

He never even thought he'd be with anyone in a relationship before you came along, let alone have a child with anyone... So he's obviously very shocked and confused as to how to proceed.

After an awkward moment of staring at each other, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms, looking at you with an equally blank face. "So? What do you want me to do about it?" "H-huh?" "In the sense of- what do you want to do? Keep it or not." You huffed, and when he heard your determinated answer, he sighed and gave your head some soft pats. "Alright, alright, whatever you want, I guess."

Okay listen here- it's not like doesn't care but it isn't like he cares so much either...

This man would do anything for you, really, and that's what happens.

He does anything and everything for you, because he's worried about you and not necessarily about the baby you're carrying.

It's not like he hates children- because you can't hate anything you don't perceive as equal or superior to you and a baby ceirtainly isn't either for him-

It's more like he doesn't know what to do with them because he's never been around children enough to understand them.

He's overall very indifferent towards the child ngl.

Then he sees you cradling your baby -a girl- in your arms and his mind just... goes blank. Huh, so that's what a human looks like right after being born.

Your little daughter looks more like him than she looks like you, sorry. But he can clearly see on her face some factions that will look like yours as she grows up.

But...

"Now what?"

He'll help you look after her however he can, since he doesn't want you to be too tired because he never knows when he'll have to leave for weeks or even months without notice.

He's not entirely cold or indifferent towards her, even if sometimes he might resent her a bit for taking away some of your attention.

But like when you were choosing a name for her, he gave a few suggestions and in the end you choose one of the names he thought of!

Her name is Hikari, name meaning "light"!

Due to the nature of his job, he doesn't want to be seen around either of you at the moment in public. It would only put a target on your backs.

And it takes a long, long while for him to warm up to her.

It disheartens you a little, but when you see him looking down at Hikari's sleeping form on the crib, softly poking her cheek with a strangely child-like curiosity on his eyes, you feel at ease.

And he thinks that he can probably handle this parenting thing better than he ever expected. Maybe it's not that bad, after all.

Ceirtainly, he thinks, as he holds her in his arms one day after she spoke her first word to him, this parenting thing is not really that bad.

(Her first word was "papa!")

Be ready, because once he gets attached to your daughter he won't stop spoiling her!

Kazuha

"Are you sure, love?" "Yes, I'm sure. We're having a child!" A smile painted itself on his face as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "I hope I can be a good father for them."

So the Kaedehara family is getting a new member, huh!

Not that there's much left to his name, especially now that he's a fugitive... but he's excited nonetheless!

Although he's not one to settle down for long, he will make an effort for both you and the child, since it's not good for someone who's pregnant to wander around.

He's very protective, but not in an overbearing way! He simply wants you to take it easy and relax, he can take care of everything else on his own!

That being said, he's not rich like Diluc or Scaramouche, so he's also going to work harder than ever to get everything you or the baby need in advance so that neither of you have to stress out!

He's the one who takes it better out of everyone here, he's not extremely worried or outright indifferent, he's simply worried enough, excited and happy!

He already knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so the idea of having a child with you didn't scare him or intimidate him in the slightest!

He's still a bit worried, though.

He is a wanted fugitive in his homeland, after all...

He can only do so much and wish for the situation in Inazuma to change soon, so that he can take both you and his child to see the places he loved to spend his time at when he was a child.

But for now, he's happy enough simply holding his child on his arms, sitting next to you in your small shared home.

You have a girl too! She has Kazuha's hair color and your eye color, she's super adorable ><

He wants you to name her, and you both agree on naming her Izumi, meaning fountain or spring!

"Kaedehara Izumi... it has a nice ring to it." He'd say, smiling down at her.

While Kazuha enjoys travelling more than anything in this world, he's reticent to leave you and your daughter alone or even bring you along with him. So he stays around for as long as you need it.

He will talk a lot to her all the time, so don't be surprised when she picks up very complicated, flowery words from a young age!

He wants her to grow up to be free as the wind and be able to do whatever she wants without fear, so he wants to do his best to be a good father for her!

Xiao

You can practically see the panic on his face when you tell him the news.

It's the most scared you've ever seen him be, and you've been there to help him through his karmic debt.

So yeah, he takes it the worst out of everyone.

"I'm not mad." He manages to tell you before disappearing to somewhere else in a panicked haze, he needs to sort out his emotions quickly before he can properly talk to you about it. The last thing he saw before he disappeared was your eyes, glinting with sadness. And that only made him feel worse if that was even possible.

It takes him the whole day to come to terms with his feelings on your pregnancy and finally face you again.

He's really, really afraid of hurting you and your child. Not to mention he fears he might've passed some kind of curse from his karma to either of you through the pregnancy :(

Like he said, he isn't mad. He's just scared.

He... he literally never, never thought he would get to be a father.

Family was a foreign concept to him, as were a lot of other things you've slowly helped him understand throughout your time together, so knowing he can have one of his own now... makes him happy, and scared, at the same ime.

He's worse than Diluc when it comes to protecting you and worrying about you.

He won't let you do anything alone, even if he doesn't want to be near you because he doesn't want the karma to harm you or your child in such a vulnerable moment of your lives.

Okay so that aside-

How do people care for babies?

What is he exactly supposed to do?

And- do half-adepti babies need any sort of special treatment in comparison to human babies?

He has no idea on what to do if it doesn't involve a physical fight with a tangible foe, so he goes asking for advice to everyone he knows that could have knowledge on that field.

Verr Goldet and Ganyu are a great help for him. Xiao listens with attention to everything they have to say and asks everything he doesn't understand.

Ganyu tells him about her own experience growing up as half-human so that he can understand what raising a half-human, half-illuminated beast baby might entail.

He also goes to Zhongli for advice and he gets more of the same advice he's already heard, along with many, many reassurances that sound like everything you already tell him every day.

He's very worried, but as the months go by and your child's birth comes closer, he can't help but feel a little excited about it.

Everyone who knows him is happy to see him openly happy for a change on those small moments when he gets excited about his new family with you.

When your child is born, Xiao doesn't want to hold him. It took too much willpower to stay as close as he was right now, standing next to your bed as you held your baby in your arms.

He was so adorable, so small, so fragile, so pure- Xiao was afraid of touching him and breaking or tainting him--

He was already crying, he'd started crying the moment he saw you holding your son for the first time.

He feels so... strange. He's crying, but this isn't a painful, or sad feeling. He feels... happy, but scared, but...

The feeling starts to make some sense to him when he finally convinces himself that it's okay for him to hold the little boy in his arms, when he stares with awe at his face.

The baby looks a lot like the both of you. Arguably, more like him, since he has the same hair and the same bright eyes, but in his face all he can see is you.

And he cries more.

You both named him Liàng, name meaning brilliant!

Xiao does his best to try and get used to parenting, and it gets hard at times.

But he tries, and that's all that matters. He tries to be a good father, and is always there to protect both you and your son from anything trying to harm you.

Even though he was so scared at first, you know he loves the new family you've formed together.

Especially when you catch him trying to hold a conversation with your son, sitting down on the bed next to him as he toys with a soft teddy bear, the two of them surrounded by pillows.

The soft look and smile he wears while he does so tells you that everything is going to be alright.

The three of you are going to be alright, and Xiao wants to make sure of it.

His son will never have to live what he lived or see what he saw. He will make sure of that, no matter what.

#diluc x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #melodywritings #melwritesgenshin #tw: children #tw: pregnancy

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