#just a reminder that I just write fic to write I’m not really concerned with plot points from the movies and how they line up

[cosmos-coma]

Metal’s Delicate Touch- Part 3

A/N: Muahaha, this was probably my most excitedly typed chapter when I was typing this series up. Have fun and feel the angst!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1,383

Summary: A team of armed men comes in search of Bucky... and Bucky comes too late. 

Warnings: Guns, Held at gunpoint, blood, Injury/broken bones (not extreme), angst, language, general intense situations, Bucky slipping into the winter soldier

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

____________________________

You stayed in the apartment a few days more, both not knowing what to do next and... hoping he might still come back. After some days though, your mind finally rolled around to accepting this loss, even if your heart did not. 

You tugged Bucky’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, taking in his scent as it embraced you with warmer memories. You had just finished putting the dishes away when you heard a heavy knock on the apartment door.

Your heart skipped as you looked toward the sound, “Bucky..?” you whispered, your words full of hope as you quickly padded towards the door. Your hand excitedly reached out for the handle when you paused, ‘But… Bucky wouldn’t have to knock,’ you thought to yourself. 

Another heavy-handed knock rattled the door, much more impatient this time. You pulled your hand to your chest and backed away with soft steps- This wasn’t Bucky…. Your stomach dropped like a stone in the ocean as a terrible feeling washed over you. 

Multiple voices spoke from beyond the door, ‘three of them… no-six?’ it was hard to get an accurate reading with your heartbeat rushing in your years. With no answer to sate them, the people outside grew quiet for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat, forcing you into a shaken silence. Your whole body was rigid with a fear your brain didn't understand, but the rest of your body did. You were a prey animal hiding in its den, playing a game with the predators outside called ‘Are you still there?’.

Your conscious mind told you to back away from the door, that maybe you could escape from the balcony. Your bare feet stepped backward carefully, your eyes never straying the door until…

Clang.

Your mug falls onto the hard surface of the table as you back into it- it didn’t break, but it didn’t matter. That single noise was almost deafening in the absolute silence of the room and your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the predators outside. 

A few brief seconds passed before your door was rammed in, wood splintering into the room, and four men dressed in all-black military fatigues filed in. They held their guns at the ready and you suspected there was only more of the same standing outside. A patch saying ‘STRIKE’ with a blocky-looking eagle adorned each person's arms, but you couldn’t recognize the logo. 

“Where the fuck is Barnes? Where is he?” the leader of them shouted at you as you got down on your knees. He pulled his tactical mask off, but you still didn’t recognize him from anywhere. “I said, WHERE IS HE?!” He pressed once more, raising his gun until you were staring right down the barrel.

“I DON’T KNOW..!!” you yelled back as tears streamed down your cheeks and your hands raised up. This was the second time in your life, only months apart, that you were being held at gunpoint and the fear was becoming overwhelming.

 “I don’t know! Honest! He- He left days ago!” you said as you wiped your eyes and watched the other men in tactical uniforms search every inch and corner of the apartment before finally seeing that Bucky wasn't here and giving the word to stand down. 

A shaky breath left you as the guns lowered, taking some of the anxiety and giving you a little resolve in return. You weren’t out of the woods yet- not by a mile- but at least you weren't staring down the wrong end of a gun.

“Hey, Commander?” one of the men said, “take a look at this.” Ice ran through your veins as the soldier held up a series of photo booth pictures, all images of Bucky laughing and kissing your cheek as you made funny faces at the camera. As much as it hurt to see the memories of your shared past, you knew that men like this would use anything to get what they want. 

“Well, well, well… It seems our dear Winter Soldier has developed a soft spot.” said the leader, looking over the small line of photos, “I think we can use this… SHIELD won't like us coming back empty-handed anyways.” he said and dropped the photos without care. Your hand shot out to grab them as they fluttered to the ground, but the weight of his boot quickly intercepted you as he stepped down on your fingers with a sickening crack. 

“Ah..!” You winced, retreating your hand back to your chest.

The Commander only held a smug look on his face as he snorted in vicious laughter, “get her into transport. And don’t make me wait.”

The hair stood up on the back of your neck as he turned to leave. The three soldiers left had already put their guns away and now pulled out zip ties and a dark bag instead. 

You felt your breath quicken as you slowly got to your feet, looking at the figures that surrounded you. You may be outnumbered and you may not be as strong as them, but damn it- you weren’t about to go out without a fight. 

----

Reticence haunted the building as Bucky made his way up the stairwell and back to the apartment you shared. No radio playing music or people chatting in the walkways, even the apartment was silent as he took the final step into your hall. No song, nor heartbeat sounded from the little room, so he had to assume you finally left. But why did it make his chest hurt so much to think about; after all- this is what he wanted isn’t it?

Isn’t it..?

A frown pulled at his lips as he came to the door, kneeling down to get a better look at the large circular indent at its center. “Someone forced their way in…” He mumbled to himself, fear and worry steadily rising in his chest. As he opened the door his worst fears were confirmed. 

The apartment was completely trashed, plates smashed in the kitchen, books and papers thrown about, even- 

Blood. 

Blood spattered here and there around the room, not big enough for a gunshot, but maybe for a vicious hit. At least he knew you hadn’t gone down without a fight. 

‘Dried. It has to be days old,’ he thought silently, something dark and ferocious stirring in him as he looked further at the scene. His breath quickened as his shoulders began to hunch as he paced about the living space, a deadly determination he only knew as the Winter Soldier began to fill him once again. 

Crunch.

He paused, glancing down as he moved his foot away from the sound's origins, finding the shattered radio underneath. Kneeling to pick up its broken body another object caught his eye. Drops of blood ran over the hand-sized column of photos, covering your smiling face and blotting out his shining sun. 

His jaw clenched as his teeth ground against themselves, a quiet rage coursing through every muscle, as he began pulling on his old gear.

He didn’t know why he kept it around- he swore he would never wear it again, never let himself slip back into that mindset. But desperate times called for desperate measures. He tucked the line of photographs into his jacket, right over his heart where it belonged. 

He picked up his hidden stash of weapons from all over the apartment, filling his bag for a new sort of mission. He didn’t come back expecting to go to war- but he had no problem doing so. As he picked up his bag to once again leave a torn-off black and white patch jumped out at him. A blocky depiction of an eagle stared back at him with the word ‘STRIKE’ arching overhead. 

He had seen this logo before, back when Hydra had still been controlling him. He pulled his mask on as he dropped the patch without care- he’d need the rest of his senses dulled if he was going to have the focus to find you.

His heavy footsteps chased out the quiet of the building, causing neighbors to peek out of their doors in frightened curiosity. But he didn’t pay them any mind as he headed out with both rage and direction.  

It was time to visit SHIELD.

__________________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @browneyedgirl22

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[tojilvrs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ FUCK MY EX! (AND HIS BOSS) ceo!toji fushiguro x fem reader (2.7k)

repost from my old blog!!!

⁂ warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! toji’s not a bum, reader gets cheated on (not by toji), m receiving oral, pet names, degradation, rough sex, reader’s ex sees them at the end, unprotected sex, creampie, sex as a revenge ploy, some praise, foot on head during doggy (does this have a technical name lol?), also tagging foot fetish JUST IN CASE the last thing counts lol, toji coerces reader, use of the name ‘daddy’ ONCE, spanking, some aftercare, toji steals your panties (and your heart), reader has hair long enough to be pulled

⁂ a/n: this fic literally came out of nowhere i had no plans of writing until i saw twitter porn and a little lightbulb formed above my head. anywho this is not great i wrote and proofread it while i was sleepy so if there’s mistakes don’t tell me i will get embarrassed!!!! THE PACING MIGHT ALSO BE HORRID i was just trying to get my claws on some fictional wiener. k luv u alllll <3

You never thought you could get this low.

You also never thought you’d come home to find your now ex-boyfriend balls deep in his coworker he told you not to worry about.

Way past the stages of hurt and with no more tears left to spill, you found yourself angry. You were pissed at your ex for being unfaithful. Pissed at the woman for fucking around with a man she knew was not available. And pissed at yourself for not figuring it out sooner. Once you got over your sorrows and finally felt able to pull yourself together, you just wanted to rid your apartment of anything that reminded you of him.

That's how you found yourself across the table from that rat bastard's boss. A box full of his old shit perched in your lap and your nails tapping the side of the cardboard. Scanning the room of Mr. Fushiguro's luxurious office and finding yourself filling with rage all over again knowing that the last time you were here, you were helping him get promoted.

"Pleasure seeing you again," you watched as Mr. Fushiguro took a seat in his plush office chair, "though it appears you're here to play the part of 'scorned girlfriend' instead of ‘concerned girlfriend, hm?’ Word travels fast ‘round here.”

"Ex-girlfriend."

"Right," he clasped his hands together over his chest and kicked his feet up onto his desk, knocking over his name plate, “so what're you here for, scorned ex-girlfriend?"

"Just want to give his shit back. Passing it on to you so I won't have to see him and blondie going at it in your breakroom." You watched the man crack a smile before speaking again.

"S'all you’re gonna do?" He knew your answer by the way you tore your eyes off of him and focused them on the box in your lap instead. Slightly slumping down in your chair as if you were a child in trouble trying to evade the scrutinizing gaze of a parent “Oh, don’t tell me you’re just gonna let bygones be bygones and let him get away with it scott free.”

His tone made you feel like your entire situation was almost comical. You looked back up and narrowed your eyes at the man. Scanning his face and watching the scar on his lip twitch when the corner turned up in a smirk.

“Mr. Fushiguro-“

“Don’t have to be all formal now, call me Toji.”

“Okay, what exactly are you implying, Toji?” he sighed before standing up from his desk and fixing his name plate, smirk never falling from his lips and eyes never leaving yours.

“I know he is my employee, but i’m not really… fond of him either. And you’re too pretty of a girl to just let him get away with cheating. It’d make you feel better to hurt ‘em a little bit. Get a little revenge.”

You broke away eye contact from him again to look around his office. Taking note of how sparsely decorated the area was as you pondered and tried to avoid his eyes. It wasn’t the most mature or logical decision, but he was right. It would make you feel better to make him hurt just a little bit. “And how exactly might I go about that?”

Toji laughed a little as he walked around the desk, taking the box out of your lap and placing it on the floor before settling himself behind you. The sweet tobacco scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils as he got closer to you, making his presence feel almost suffocating.

“Y’know what would really get him?” His voice sounded as if it were laced with a honeyed sweetness. The sound surrounding you and ringing around in your ears. He shifted his feet, but you still felt the heat radiating off of him and onto your back.

“What?”You felt him grow closer. Leaning down behind you. So close that you could feel his breath fan against your skin.

“Fuckin’ his boss.”

The lewd suggestion tickled the shell of your ear. Your eyes widening and mouth going dry once you realized exactly what he was proposing to you. You opened your mouth to protest. To tell him how absolutely ridiculous that was, but your words fell short. Closing your mouth again to look down and stare at the indentions the corners of the cardboard box had left in your skin.

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t let your eyes linger a little too long at Toji Fushiguro. Always noticing how easy he was on the eyes when your ex would make you tag along to work events. How his suits would perfectly contour to his body. Showing off his bulging muscles through the fabric. How he seemed to tower over you and everyone else with his height and domineering presence. How your gazes would linger a little too long on each other and how his fingertips would “accidentally” graze your hips when passing you.

You were taken away from your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing up and down your jaw. His touch soft, contrasting the rough calluses that lined his fingers. You also realized he had now moved directly in front of you and you were eye-level with his crotch.

“What’ll it be, sweetness?” The tip of his thumb travelled up to your bottom lip, smearing some of your lipgloss. “Y’gonna let me help you get back at him?”

You slowly looked up at him and nodded your head, still not trusting any words to come out of your mouth. He smiled down at you, removing the hand on your chin to pet your head and using his other to unbutton his slacks.

“Gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget allllll about your little ex-boyfriend.”

You were still looking up at him dumbly as he freed heavy cock from the confines of his pants, subconsciously parting your lips and slightly sticking out your tongue at the sight of him. Relishing in the way he looked at you and the noises he made once his cock makes contact with your awaiting tongue.

“Already so good and fuckin’ obedient. Did he teach you that?” You shake your head and he cackles. Easing his way into your throat. “So you’re just naturally a whore, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, not even hard enough to sting, and moves from petting your head to gripping your hair once you take him all the way into your mouth. Testing your limits and pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle in the back of your throat, loving the way you choke and sputter around him. “Takin’ me so good. Bet that motherfucker couldn’t properly stuff your throat.”

Toji’s right- he couldn’t. He also isn’t quite as big as Toji is either, in both length and girth. It also seems that the man in front of you didn’t learn to fuck from porn like your ex did. Only pushing your limits a little bit at a time and not throatfucking you from the get-go. Also making sure you’re not suffocating on him for too long.

You began to move your tongue over the vein that ran on the underside of his cock, watching in satisfaction as he throws his head back and groans. Doing it again and again and watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit, baby, got the sweetest fuckin’ mouth.” His voice is huskier now, almost breathy. You watch as sweat begins to lightly bead across his forehead and his hands come off of you to loosen his tie around his collar. The air becoming too thick and hot for him. You suck him off with much more passion as you get used to his size. Bobbing your head up and down his length and occasionally pulling yourself off to lick on the sensitive skin around his balls. Not paying much mind to the spit that has run from your mouth and covered the bottom half of your face.

“That’s it- hah- fuck yeah… that’s it. Gonna cum down that pretty fuckin’ throat” You kept up your ministrations, using your hand to lightly squeeze his balls as you took his full length down your throat once more. Listening as Toji’s pants became progressively more and more uneven. Only taking a few more short moments before his abs tighten and he takes in a deep inhale as he shoots his load down your throat. His leg twitching as the coil in his belly snaps. Pulling off of him to stick out your tongue and show him that you swallowed it all.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” He gripped your chin tightly and you nodded your head dumbly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He smiled and gestured for you to walk over to the plush, black couch he kept in his office. A guiding hand resting on your lower back as he layed you down on your stomach. He took his time running his hands from your calves all the way up to your ass, like he was trying to memorize every dip in your skin. Once he reached the hem of your skirt, he flipped it up. Gently running the palms of his hands over the smooth skin and giving the right cheek a harsh slap and soothing the sting with the very same hand that inflicted it.

“Suckin’ dick make you this wet?” Your slick had soiled your panties, smearing onto your thighs. His fingers lightly ran across the soaked fabric. You felt the couch dip under his weight as he settled behind you, feeling the fabric of his haphazardly pulled down pants and the heat of whatever skin that was exposed press into you.

“Sucking yours does.” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side to make contact with your swollen clit. The cool air of his office hitting your soaked center makes you shiver. “You’re gentler than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh baby,” He pauses, taking his hands off of you to maneuver himself around, “you haven’t had the worst yet.”

You’re comfused until you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance and begin to push in. Your walls greedily sucking him in even though it felt as if he was splitting you in two.

“Tight as a fuckin’ virgin, y’gotta open up for me, girl.” His fingers rub tight circles on your clit. Using that to his advantage to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into you until he’s bottomed out. Your hips arching into him as any remnants of pain begin to wash away and are overtaken with white-hot pleasure. His hands find purchase on your hips as his thrusts begin to speed up. Going harder into you and somehow hitting you deeper each time, causing tears to spring in corners of your eyes.

“Already cryin’ on my cock and we’ve barely even started? Slut can’t handle it?” He slaps your ass again, not caring if it stings. You furiously shake your head as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. Trying your hardest to match his brutal pace with your own hips. “Oh, you think you can take control now, huh? I’d watch it, little girl.”

At first you think he pushes your face into the couch with his hand. That’s until you realize that both his hands are still on your hips and it’s actually his foot that’s found its place on the back of your head as he continues to fuck the memory of your ex out of you. Your pussy clenching down on him at the mere thought of the position.

“Like being treated like a whore don’t you? Shitty man couldn’t do it like I can.” You couldn’t respond back even if you tried. Too caught up in the feeling of being stuffed full by the most skilled man you’ve ever fucked and biggest cock you’ve ever taken. Writhing under him as the pleasure of his tip repeatedly hitting your spot over and over again was becoming almost too much.

Toji must’ve felt the way your pussy began to tighten around him or how your moans were so loud the couch wasn’t muffling them well anymore. His hand snaked around your hip and back down to your clit to rub shapes on it, bringing your closer to your peak.

“That’s right, cum on this cock baby. Hah- cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” He spoke to you through gritted teeth and the sound went straight to your core. It wasn’t long after that your back slipped into a deeper arch and your cunt clenched down on him even harder. A white ring of cream forming around the base of his dick as he worked you through your orgasm and worked himself closer to his.

“Such a good girl. You’re gonna take my cum, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?” You nodded a quick yes, pussy still quaking from your orgasm. the only thing keeping your hips from collapsing into the couch being the vice grip of his strong hands.

The foot pressed into your head was removed and replaced by his right hand gripping your hair and pulling you up to meet his face. Looking him in the eyes for the first time since he started fucking you and seeing the beast of a man he’s become. Pupils blown, hair messy, and face sweaty as his grunts get louder, more aggressive.

“So pretty baby. You’re my good, pretty girl, right? C’mon, daddy a kiss when he cums. You’ve been so. fucking. good.” The last of his words were punctuated by rough thrusts into your heat. His heavy balls slapping against your clit so hard it was making you jump. You craned your head back even more for your lips to meet his in a sloppy, lust-filled kiss as he lets out a final rough grunt into your mouth. The familiar warmth flooding your pussy as his thrusts begin to let up.

He’s gentle with you for the first time in a while, gently resting your head back down to the couch before slowly pulling his softening dick out, tucking it back into his underwear, and smoothing your skirt back down. Rubbing a hand over the arch of your back and letting you rest on his couch as he pulls off your soiled panties and pockets them for himself. Also noticing a patch of your slick that has soiled the front of his pants and smiling as a mix of both of your releases begin to trickle out of your spent hole. Using two of his fingers to push it back in. The room is quiet for the first time in a long while. Only sound being the oscillating box fan in the corner of the room. It says quiet for a while, until you break the silence.

“Don’t even think I can remember the fucker’s name anymore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You turn over onto your back to face him, watching closely as he fixes his suit to the best of his ability. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you again, if you’d like.”

He turns to face you, smirking again, “Can’t say I’d hate that.”

It’s your turn to smirk at him before letting your head roll over and rest again. Consumed with the thoughts of how that was definitely the best revenge plan you ever participated in.

You’re almost drifting off until that same thought wakes you up again. Sitting up to look at Toji.

“Wait, how was any of that a revenge ploy if he didn’t even see it?” Toji smirks, fixing his tie. Not even a second later you hear a knock on his door before Toji gives the visitor permission to enter.

“You wanted to see m-“ Your ex stops mid-sentence once he sees you lounging on his employer’s couch with his cum leaking out of you. “Wait, what is she doing here?”

“Baby brought your shit by.” Toji kicks the box towards him as he pulls your panties out of his back pocket and swinging them around his index finger. “Anything else you need? Or do you just wanna watch me fuck your ex-girl again?”

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : This is so fun to writeeee.Also would you guys like a series masterlist… or does my current Main masterlist do the job? Btw just another reminder ~ no hate to the people referenced in this fic.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Mild cursing , Grammar Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 2 | Next >

landonorris 1h

*messages are disabled

Notification : You received a message from Oscar

Notification : You received a message from Max

*Message sent

*Incoming call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Y/N”

“Hi Osc”

“So how have you been?”

“Really Oscar? how have I been… could you be more awkward?”

“Yes really, now answer the question gremlin”

“Ok fine. I’ve been feeling shitty lately, because your teammate decide to cheat on me. How about you Oscar how have you been?”

“I’ve been feeling like shit too. Because my high school girlfriend decided to cheat on me then proceed to dump me over text”

“Wait… what?? She broke up with YOU? and she did it over text too? I did not know that”

“Yup, honestly couldn’t get more sad than that I guess”

“Well if it helps, Lando did the same to me… so yeah.”

“Wow. What amazing exes we have huh?”

“I know right? were just so lucky on that department. So what are you doing to cope?”

“You know, I have racing and training to keep my mind off it. Logan’s trying to be there for me as much as he can. How bout you?”

“Hmmm~ thats great to hear. Me? I uh guess writing songs really helps”

“You know, talking to you really helps too.”

“Really?? Well i like talking to you too Osc”

“Yeah, you’ve been a surprising addition to my schedule. Never imagined being this friendly with my teammates’s girlfriend”

“EX-girlfriend. And yeah same … and I’m grateful that I got to talk to you. SEE I told you Heartbreak Club will help us!”

“Alright, Nerd. I admit it”

“Hmm. I just realized something.”

“What?”

“I’ve never heard you talk as much before. Oh my! did I just influence you to becoming a yapper??”

“Ok dork shut up”

“HHAHAHAHAAH”

“Where are you now? Your in England right?”

“Yes. I’m at my condo… why?”

“how about a coffee run?”

“Since when did you drink coffee?? and now??”

“Since you forced me drink the latte at the MTC and yes now. Are you in or not?”

“YES! i’m down”

“Alright. Dress up and I’ll pick you up.”

“Mkay! drive safe. Byeee”

“I will. Bye Y/N”

*Call ended

Y/N. 45m

*comments are disabled

oscarpiastri 30m

story replies

Y/N. Wow since when did you start taking aesthetic photos 🤭

oscarpiastri I get tons of practice because a certain someone makes me take soo much pictures.

landonorris I thought you broke up with your girlfriend

oscarpiastri I did.

landonorris oh? who’s she thenn

oscarpiastri someone special to me.

lilyz who’s the girl?

oscarpiastri it doesn’t concern you.

Y/N.

liked by y/bf , oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc, and others

Y/N. You embarrassed me motherf—

sabrinacarpenter YES. Slay Mama~ I see you 🤭.

Y/N. did I do justice with your lyrics Luv?

sabrinacarpenter I knew smth hot was coming when you asked to use my lyrics!

Y/N. 🤭🤭🤭

user1 That body bang! y/n really said not yours anymore.

user2 she’s hot, talented and successful. Lando fumbled BAD.

user3 Not Y/N casually letting us know she’s booked Calvin Klein. 🥵

user4 Ok but who’s that on the 2nd and 5th slide thooo.

user5 if its a friend or smth more who caresss if Lando could jump into a relationship that fast, Y/n could as well.

user6 Oscar in the likes, I see you.

user7 I lowkey ship 🫣

user8 maybe its oscar in the photos too!

user6 Y/N and Oscar have been interacting lots lately

user9 Oscar’s with lily tho.

user10 I haven’t seen them together for so long. Smth seems off tbh.

user11 Oscar and lily are both private people so of couse we don’t get to see them.

Y/N. why are y’all gossiping in my comments 🧐

user6 WTF hello @Y/N??

oscarpiastri

liked by Y/N. , mclaren, logansargeant, charles_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri Change of plans. I’m into coffee now ☕️

logansargeant in my years of knowing you , you never drank coffee

oscarpiastri well taste changes mate, what can I say? liked by Y/N.

charles_leclerc now you’re really my son!

user1 WHO TAUGHT OSCAR HOW TO POST CUNTY PICS?

user2 show yourself! we need to thank you 😭

user3 I choked on air when I saw it was posted on Oscar’s personal ig! i thought it was a fan page or smth.

user4 3rd slide had me on a chokehold!!

user5 Oscar’s hotness aside. Why does the caption sound so cryptic.

user6 Right?? is it really about coffee tho… ur very suspect Oscar Jack Piastri.

user7 specially when rumors of Oscar and Lily breaking up???

user8 What do you mean? where did you hear that??

user7 check twitter girl!

user9 Ok now Y/N’s in the likes and her liking Oscar’s reply!! What is happening yall 😭

user10 everything has been so messy. but ngl when Y/N used Oscar’s Tweet format? Iconic.

user11 Y/Nscar interactions are migrating to instagram.

*Incoming call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hello, Osc. What’s up?”

“I need your help.”

“With what exactly?”

“Making an announcement”

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd open for tag request

Main taglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v : open for tag request

[thewulf]

Beneath the Healer's Touch || Azriel

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could write an ACOTAR fic with Azriel as the reader’s mate where the reader is Madja’s apprentice, but she rarely ever asks her to personally treat their patients, like she’s just there to assist with the equipment and materials and stuff and the IC never really questioned it... Read Rest Here

A/N: Wasn't planning on putting two Az fics out in a row but I just had to write this. Love it so much, thank you for the requests :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Healer Reader)

Word Count: 5.6k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy), yelling

You huddle against the rough fabric of the medical tent situated perilously close to the front lines. As Madja’s apprentice your role in the Night Court has always been subdued. Your presence nearly as invisible as the shadows where you often stand. A shy but observant female fae, you’ve adapted to watching and learning. You assisted with the preparation of healing instruments and materials rather than engaging in the direct act of healing itself. Madja, the seasoned healer you serve under has never asked you to step beyond these boundaries . That was until today.

Outside of the tent the clash and clamor of war reverberate through the air. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Inside the tent the atmosphere is thick with the scent of blood and herbs being punctuated by the groans of soldiers bearing the fresh scars of battle. Each day the flow of injured warriors increases, overwhelming even Madja’s formidable skills.

Her usual calm efficiency begins to wane under the strain. Her movements growing more frantic as she tries to attend to multiple critical cases simultaneously. The limited space of the tent is filled with the wounded and the air is heavy with desperation and the iron tang of blood.

Seeing the desperation in Madja's eyes as she struggles to keep up you begin to feel the weight of every unattended soldier pressing down upon you. Your hands which were so accustomed to organizing and managing the background needs itch to do more — to heal and to help directly.

In a moment of sheer necessity Madja turns to you with a look of grave urgency. "I need you now, more than ever," she says over the din of suffering. Her voice thick with exhaustion. "You must help me heal them. We are losing too many. I have called for more help, but I need you today."

As the urgent call pierces through the chaotic sounds of the medical tent you look into Madja’s eyes feeling the weight of her plea. Your heart races but your response is calm and resolute. “I’ll do it,” you say quickly. The words almost catching in your throat.

Madja reaches out, her hand briefly squeezing yours. A gesture laden with both gratitude and apology. “I’m sorry to ask this of you,” she murmurs as her voice laced with regret as she glances at the wounded waiting for attention.

You shake your head dismissing her concerns with a small, reassuring smile that you hope masks your nervousness. “It’s alright, Madja. I’ll be okay,” you assure her while stepping closer to the first of many soldiers who need your help. Your voice is stronger than you feel, imbued with a determination that you muster from the depths of your commitment to heal. Despite the personal cost.

With a deep, steadying breath you prepare yourself for the task ahead knowing each healing touch will draw the pain into your own body. But in this moment of desperate need your resolve is unwavering. You are ready to face whatever comes for the sake of those who depend on you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you step forward. Your usual place behind the scenes abandoned for the harsh reality of frontline medical work. You approach the first soldier laid out before you. His injuries severe and daunting. As you extend your hands to begin the healing a part of you recoils knowing the personal cost you will soon pay. With a deep breath you brace yourself against the incoming tide of pain that will transfer to you as you heal him accepting the burden as the price of your newfound duty.

In the stifling heat of the medical tent, you move from one soldier to the next. Your hands becoming conduits of both healing and suffering. The first soldier’s injury—a deep gash across his arm—closes under the gentle press of your palms but the sharp sting of the wound sears through you as if the blade had cut into your own flesh. You stifle a gasp, biting down on your lip to keep composed as the pain lingers. It was a cruel echo of the soldier's relief.

With each healing the burden grows heavier. A fractured leg brings an ache that settles deep into your bones making you falter for a moment as you steady yourself against a tent pole. A burn from a fire spell sends waves of searing heat coursing through your skin. You struggle to maintain the calm exterior expected of a healer. Despite the agony each touch brings you press on being driven by the urgent need around you.

The soldiers were unaware of the cost you pay with each healing thank you with weak smiles and hoarse words of gratitude. You return their thanks with nods and a faint smile making sure to hide the toll their pain exacts upon you.

Throughout all of this the Inner Circle is embroiled in their own battles too consumed by strategic planning and counterattacks to notice the quiet suffering of Madja’s apprentice. They see you sometimes as a fleeting figure moving among the cots, but the depth of your sacrifice remains unseen being masked by the chaos of war and the stoic mask you wear.

The pain accumulates as a collection of injuries that are not your own yet reside within you. As the day wears on you feel yourself weakening. The physical costs of your hidden ability dragging at your limbs making each step heavier. Each breath shallower. Still, you continue, the need to help, to heal, pushing you beyond your limits. The cries of pain are a call you cannot ignore even as each healing tears a little piece from your own reserves of strength.

In the privacy of brief moments alone when you can lean against the cool canvas of the tent and close your eyes, the reality of your situation presses close, intimate, and overwhelming. How long can you sustain this? The question haunts the back of your mind, but you push it away instead focusing on the faces of those you’ve saved on the necessity of your pain for their relief. This is the path you’ve chosen. Hidden in shadows yet illuminated by the faint glow of altruism, bearing silently the scars that no one else can see.

As dusk begins to settle over the camp casting long shadows between the rows of tents Azriel returns from a skirmish. His usually composed expression tightened with discomfort. The shadows that constantly swirl around him seem agitated reflecting his unease. He carries a minor wound. A laceration on his arm that under normal circumstances would be a trivial matter for a healer of his caliber. However, this wound is tainted with faebane, a substance notorious for its ability to thwart fae healing magic.

You watch from a distance initially noticing the way he grimaces as he presses his fingers against the jagged edge of the cut attempting to coax his own magic to seal it. But the faebane embedded in the wound repels each attempt. And with each failed healing his frustration grows. An exceptionally rare crack in his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Recognizing his struggle, you approach him tentatively. The weight of the day’s healings presses heavily on you. Each step toward him a battle against the fatigue that threatens to buckle your knees. “Azriel,” you call softly not wanting to startle him.

He looks up and for a brief moment you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes that were usually so guarded and unreadable were now openly display his vexation and pain. "It's this damned faebane," he mutters almost to himself as his hand falls away from the wound.

Stepping closer you offer a small, reassuring smile though your body screams in protest. “Let me try,” you whisper while extending your trembling hands towards his arm.

As your fingers brush against his skin a shock of connection jolts through you. Stronger and more profound than anything you've felt with the other soldiers. It’s as if his very soul resonates with yours. A hum of compatibility that whispers of a deeper bond. Your heart stutters in your chest but you focus on the task at hand pushing away the implications of what this connection might mean.

You press your palms to the laceration and immediately a sharp pain slices through your own arm, mirroring Azriel’s wound. You stifle a cry by biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. The sensation is intense, more so because it’s Azriel’s pain you’re sharing now. Despite the agony you pour your energy into the healing being driven by a newfound desperation.

Azriel watches you. His expression shifting from one of pain to concern. "You don’t have to do this," he starts. His voice rough with his own discomfort and the growing worry for yours.

But you shake your head pushing through the pain with a determination that frightens even you. "I can handle it," you lie. The words barely a whisper over the throbbing in your arm. As the faebane slowly loses its grip and the wound begins to close a wave of dizziness hits you. So strong that you sway on your feet.

As Azriel steadies you with his shadows curling anxiously around his form he is acutely aware of the pain coursing through his arm, mirroring the wound he just healed. As a shadowsinger he has always been attuned to the deeper often hidden emotions of those around him. He was capable of sensing the unspoken pains and secret fears that others carry silently. However, this experience is startlingly intense. A raw echo of agony that pulses through him with unusual clarity.

The pain he feels as you heal him doesn't feel like his own. It’s as if he’s tapped into a direct stream of your suffering. This connection, though new and unexplored, unnerves him. It is more profound than anything he has experienced through his shadows before. Almost as if the pain itself has a voice, whispering of shared suffering and mutual burden. He struggles with the realization that he is feeling your agony so vividly. The lines of empathy blurring into something deeper. Something he can't quite understand yet.

In this moment as the faebane's resistance fades and the laceration begins to heal, Azriel finds himself grappling with a mix of concern and a peculiar sense of protectiveness. The intensity of the connection doesn’t fit into the usual confines of his abilities or past experiences. While he doesn't comprehend the full extent of what this means—far from realizing the potential of a mate bond—he recognizes that something significant lies beneath the surface of this shared pain. This unexpected insight into your sacrifice doesn't just alarm him. It shifts something fundamental in how he perceives you. Compelling him to reassess the nature of your relationship and his instincts towards you.

His hands were gripping your shoulders with surprising gentleness. "What is this costing you?" he asks. His voice laced with a rare note of vulnerability having felt a trace of your suffering through the nascent bond neither of you yet understands.

You want to reassure him. To tell him it’s nothing but the shadows in his eyes seem to see through you, recognizing the depth of your sacrifice. In this shared moment of pain and healing the unspoken truth of your connection lingers heavily between you. A secret laid bare by the battle scars you both carry.

You meet Azriel's intense gaze seeing the concern etched in his features threatening to unravel the composure you've fought so hard to maintain. His hands on your shoulders feel both grounding and alarming. As if they're the only things keeping you from collapsing under the weight of your own sacrifices. "I need to keep going," you manage to say. Your voice a strained whisper that barely conceals the weariness lacing each syllable. "There are others who need me."

Trying to inject a note of reassurance into your tone you add quickly, "It's part of healing, Azriel. I'll be okay." Even as you speak the words you feel the hollowness behind them. A contrast to the truth of your pain. But you're determined not to let him see just how much it's affecting you not wanting to add to his burdens.

With a gentle but firm push against his hands you step back pulling away from his comforting grasp. "I have to go," you insist, turning towards the next cot where another soldier lies moaning in pain. You don't look back almost afraid that if you do your resolve will crumble under the weight of his worry and the unspoken connection that you both feel but don't yet understand. You move forward, each step fueled by a mix of duty and the urgent need to escape the intensity of his scrutiny and the complicated emotions it stirs within you.

Azriel was still visibly troubled by the earlier interaction. With your evident strain he insists on accompanying you as you move from one wounded soldier to another. His presence is a silent, watchful shadow that lingers just at the edge of your vision. While the others of the Inner Circle are engaged in the throes of battle, Azriel has chosen to remain by your side. A decision that speaks more of his concern than any words could.

As you press on each healing session takes more from you. Draining your energy, drawing more of your strength. Azriel observes closely noting the increasing pallor of your skin and the subtle tremors in your hands each time you withdraw them from a wound. Despite your attempts to mask your pain, each expression, each falter does not escape his vigilant gaze.

As you lean over a severely wounded soldier focusing intently on sealing a deep, life-threatening laceration the accumulated pain from your healings surges like a tide, overwhelming and relentless. The sharp and unyielding agony lashes through you, blurring your vision and weakening your knees. You feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your consciousness threatening to pull you under.

In a desperate bid to maintain control you reach out not for Azriel but for the tent’s support pole—a futile attempt to steady yourself. Yet, your hands grasp only air as your strength finally fails. Before you can process the fall Azriel’s arms are around you. His reaction swift and sure. He pulls you gently against him cushioning your collapse as he lowers both of you smoothly to the floor of the tent.

In this moment your pride battles with the undeniable relief of his support. You hadn't called for him. You hadn't wanted to admit that he might have been right about the danger of your condition, yet here he is, the one catching you as you fall. His presence is both a comfort and a confrontation. A not-so-subtle reminder of your own vulnerability.

Azriel cradles you against his chest. His expression a mask of concern etched deep with the lines of fear for your well-being. He doesn’t speak immediately instead opting to brush a gentle hand across your forehead, pushing away strands of hair matted with sweat. His touch is soft, almost reverent, as if he’s both trying to comfort you and reassure himself of your presence.

Around you the battle's distant roars continue but within the tent a quiet bubble of stillness envelops you both punctuated only by your labored breaths. Azriel’s gaze is locked on your face searching for any sign of recovery. Looking for any indication that you might overcome this bout of weakness.

In his eyes there is a flicker of something more—something beyond mere concern. It's a profound realization of your sacrifice. Of the silent suffering you've endured to heal others. And with this realization comes a fierce protectiveness. A vow forming in the depths of his being. He holds you closer, a silent promise cradled in the curve of his arms, that from this moment forward he will do whatever it takes to protect you. To ensure that this burden of pain is no longer yours to bear alone. The bond between you seemingly mysterious and undefined becomes his anchor. The thing he clings to as he silently pledges to be the safeguard you might not admit you need but he knows you deserve.

The pain you've been shouldering now echoes clearly through the bond that neither of you fully understands yet. But its intensity is unmistakable. Azriel feels each pang as if it were his own. A shared torment that binds you together with an ironclad tether. His face was mere inches from yours and is etched with deep concern and something akin to fear. "Hold on," he urges. His voice a low, desperate command. "Stay with me."

As Azriel holds you in his arms feeling the distressing ebb of your consciousness his protective instincts surge into high alert. The warmth from your body seems to be fading and your breathing becomes worryingly shallow. Typical signs that your physical limits have been catastrophically breached. Panic tightens its grip on him. A vivid contrast to the usual calm demeanor of the shadowsinger.

"Madja!" he calls out desperately. His voice piercing the relative quiet of the tent with an urgency that rattles the air. The shadows around him stir reflecting his growing desperation. He needs her expertise, her understanding of your mysterious condition that now seems perilously close to claiming you.

Madja rushes through the flaps of the tent with her healer's bag clutched tightly, the sight that greets her—a formidable Azriel cradling you, pale and barely conscious—draws a sharp intake of breath from her. She kneels beside you both. Her experienced eyes quickly assessing your condition.

"What happened?" she demands. Her voice thick with worry and confusion. As she lays her hands on you seeking to gauge the extent of your depletion Azriel's gaze hardens.

"She's been healing the soldiers, taking their pain onto herself," Azriel explains. His words rushed. His tone laced with both accusation and fear. "She collapsed just now. How could you not know the toll it was taking on her?"

Madja's expression crumbles into one of profound guilt and regret. She meets Azriel's intense gaze with a resigned sorrow. "I knew," she admits. Her voice a whisper of remorse. "I knew, but I thought we could manage it—keep it under control. I feared the implications of her gift being fully exposed. I thought I was protecting her."

Azriel’s anger wanes slightly instead replaced by a sharp pang of understanding. He knows all too well the complexities of hiding one's true capabilities in a world that might not understand or might exploit them. However, his concern for your well-being remains paramount.

"She needs help now, Madja. What can we do?" he asks with his voice softening but still tinged with urgency.

Madja nods. Her focus turning entirely to you. "I can stabilize her for now, but we need to rethink how she uses her gift," she says as she begins to channel her own healing magic into you. A gentle flow designed not to heal but to sustain.

As Madja works Azriel holds you closer. His thoughts racing with concern and resolve. He watches the slight return of warmth to your cheeks under Madja’s skilled care, feeling a blend of relief and determination surge through him. A promise forms in his heart. Not merely to protect you but to truly understand and support your unique gift, no matter the cost.

However, the demands of the ongoing battle pull at him. Madja noticed the conflict in his expression speaks with a calm authority. "She must rest now, Azriel," she advises with her voice steady. "And they need you. The battle isn't over yet."

Reluctantly Azriel nods. The weight of his responsibilities clear on his face. He leans down with his lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. His assurance of returning to you. "I'll be back soon," he promises. His voice a whisper meant only for you. With one last lingering look that conveys all his worry and care he stands and leaves the tent. His figure soon disappearing into the fray.

The war rages on demanding every ounce of Azriel's focus and skill. Yet his thoughts frequently stray back to the medical tent, to you, lying there in recovery. Each moment he can spare he finds himself glancing towards the tent. His mind racing with scenarios of returning to you.

As the last echoes of battle fade and a weary peace begins to settle, Azriel's duties finally allow him a moment to breathe. He wastes no time. The moment he is able he rushes back to the medical tent with his steps quick with urgency and anticipation. Pushing through the tent flaps, Azriel’s eyes immediately seek you out. He finds you awake but visibly exhausted propped up against some pillows. The sight of you, alive and recovering, though still weak floods him with relief.

“I’m here,” Azriel breathes out as he quickly crosses the space to your side before kneeling beside your cot. His hand reaches out brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that belies his warrior's exterior. “How are you feeling?” he asks. His voice low and filled with concern. His eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Azriel’s presence instantly eases some of the weight pressing down on you and relief softens your features. "I'm exhausted," you admit but manage a weak smile. "But I'll be alright, just need some rest." Your eyes meet his and even in your weariness there's an undeniable relief that reflects back from his gaze. An unspoken understanding of the solace you both find in each other’s presence after the chaos of battle.

"You had us worried for a while there," Azriel says. His voice a mix of relief and mild reprimand. His eyes scan your face still searching for signs of pain or lingering fatigue. His concern palpable but not overwhelming. "Madja told me you'd recover but seeing it for myself makes all the difference."

Your smile deepens slightly at his words. You were grateful for his concern and the straightforward honesty that always marked your interactions. "I'll be fine, Azriel. Really," you assure him with your tone aiming to put him at ease. "It's good to have you back though."

In the days following the battle, as the camp slowly transitions from a place of urgent healing back to routine operations, your strength begins to return. With each passing day the pain and exhaustion that had once clouded your vision start to fade instead replaced by a growing vigor that Madja assures you is a good sign of recovery. Azriel, true to his word, visits often. His presence a constant reassurance as the camp breaks down around you. The war finally declared over.

Once you're deemed well enough to travel Azriel accompanies you back to Velaris. The journey was facilitated by the magic of winnowing is quick but disorienting. A dramatic shift from the dusty tents and the sharp smells of medicine to the lush, serene beauty of the Night Court. Back in Velaris the city seems to embrace you both with open arms. The familiar sights and sounds of the vibrant city life, the cobblestone streets lit by lanterns and the murmur of the Sidra River, provide a comforting backdrop to your continued recovery.

A few nights after your return, once you feel stronger and more like yourself, Azriel invites you to join him on a balcony overlooking Velaris. The balcony was part of a high vantage point in the House of Wind and offers a breathtaking view of the city spread out beneath a canopy of stars. The transition from the harsh realities of war to this peaceful setting marks a significant shift in your healing process—both physical and emotional.

Seated together on the balcony the atmosphere between you is one of tentative peace. A reprieve from the chaos of the battlefield. The evening air is cool and carrying the gentle scent of night-blooming flowers. There’s a quiet that allows for softer, more intimate conversation. Here with the distance from the front lines you both find the space to reflect on the recent events and the impact they’ve had on each of you discussing thoughts and feelings that the war left little room to explore.

This tranquil setting in Velaris which was far removed from the demands of war allows you both to see each other in a new light. Appreciating the resilience and strength each has shown, and perhaps, beginning to understand the deeper bond that seems to have formed in the crucible of conflict.

Azriel breaks the silence between you with a gentle voice reflecting the calm of the night. "I've been thinking about your healing abilities. About your gift," he says before pausing as if searching for the right way to broach the subject without overstepping. "It's a heavy burden you've carried… taking on others' pain."

You nod appreciating his careful approach. "It can be overwhelming," you admit. Your voice low. Sharing this truth with him feels both vulnerable and relieving. "Especially knowing that each time I heal, I take a little bit of that pain into myself."

The softness of his gaze as he looks at you speaks volumes, and he shifts slightly closer. "Perhaps we can find a way to ease that burden," he suggests. "Explore methods to shield you or at least to share the load." The idea of sharing this part of your life with Azriel, having him understand and perhaps help carry the weight, brings a warmth to your heart. It’s a tentative step towards deeper connection and you find yourself hoping for more.

"And how about us?" Azriel adds after a moment, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. "These past weeks, feeling everything that you have felt... it’s made me realize how deeply connected I am to you. More than I anticipated." The admission hangs in the air and is charged with an unspoken depth of emotion. You felt it too. The inexplicable pull towards him. Something beyond mere friendship.

You smile a soft, genuine expression that lights up your eyes. "I feel it too," you confess. "It's like there’s something between us, something... more."

The conversation flows more freely now, the initial hesitance giving way to a hopeful exploration of what might be. Neither of you mentions the word 'mates,' still dancing around the full depth of your bond, but there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the significance of your connection.

As the night deepens between you, you and Azriel make promises. Not grand declarations but quiet vows to support each other. To explore the depth of your bond and understand the extent of your powers together. It's a mutual commitment filled with the promise of discovering not just the mysteries of your abilities but also the potential of what you could be to each other.

With the city of Velaris sparkling below and the tranquil night wrapping around you there’s a sense of beginning. Of possibilities waiting to be explored. Together you watch the stars comforted by the presence of each other and hopeful for the future.

In the quiet of the pre-dawn, you and Azriel linger on the balcony ensconced in the gentle embrace of Velaris' early morning serenity. The sky is a tapestry of deep blues and purples and begins to lighten at the horizon, heralding the dawn. The air around you is charged with the quiet anticipation of the world waking up. A fitting backdrop for the profound moment unfolding between you.

Azriel's gaze remains fixed on the horizon, but his mind is clearly elsewhere—on the revelations of the night, on the words that now hover on the edge of being spoken. Finally, he turns to you with his expression open. He was vulnerable in a way that you've seldom seen from the reserved shadowsinger. "There's something undeniable about the connection between us," he begins. His voice soft, reverent almost. "It goes beyond what we’ve had. Beyond friendship.” You meet his gaze feeling the truth of his words resonate within you. It's a truth you've sensed but haven't dared to define until this moment.

Finally finding the courage to speak what he’s discovered he steps closer making sure to bridge the gap between you. His presence enveloping you in warmth. "I've felt every echo of your pain, every ripple of your joy as if they were my own. It's more than just empathy… it's a bond, a deep, unbreakable bond." His hands find yours. His touch gentle but firm. "I believe we're mates," he says. The words charged with emotion and an unspoken plea for you to feel the same.

Your heart leaps. The simplicity and sincerity of his admission cutting through any lingering doubts. You smile, not just with your lips but with your entire being, accepting the truth of his words and the bond they confirm. "Azriel, I've sensed it as well," you reply with your voice soft yet filled with wonder. "It’s as if there’s been a song woven into the fabric of our days, subtle yet persistent, waiting for us to finally hear it and understand its tune."

Azriel's smile in response is a thing of quiet joy. A uniquely rare and tender sight that stirs something deep within you. He pulls you gently closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace. The city around you awakening as the first light of dawn spills over the edges of the world.

In the tranquil embrace of dawn Azriel holds you close. His heart beating a tentative rhythm against yours. His voice carries a rare vulnerability that makes the air around you thrum with the weight of his words. “Do you want that?" he asks softly. His breath warm against your hair. "To always be there for each other. To face whatever this world throws at us, together, as one?"

He pulls back slightly as his hands were still gently cradling your face. His eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. This question isn't merely rhetorical. It's a genuine, open-ended inquiry into your desires. A request for your heart's agreement with his. Azriel's usual certainty is replaced by an endearing, hopeful uncertainty. Highlighting how deeply he values your consent and participation in this burgeoning bond.

You look into his eyes. Into those deep pools of night that have seen so much sorrow and solitude, now laced with tender hope. The dawn casts its first gentle rays illuminating the sincerity and slight apprehension on his face. This moment, this question, isn't just about confirming a bond. It's about choosing to build a future together.

"Yes, Azriel," you respond. Your voice steady and sure, a soft yet resolute affirmation that echoes the depth of your own feelings. "I want that more than anything."

Azriel's response is immediate. His eyes reflecting a profound relief and joy that seem to brighten the very air around him. A broad, genuine smile spreads across his face transforming his usually stoic expression into one of pure elation.

"You've just made me the happiest male in all of Prythian," he breathes out as his voice is rich with emotion. The sincerity in his words resonates deeply echoing the significance of your acceptance.

His arms pull you closer. The warmth of his embrace enveloping you as he whispers, "We'll face everything together, side by side. No matter what comes we won't face it alone."

"Always," you echo back, your voice a soft yet resolute affirmation. The certainty in your agreement strengthens the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and mutual understanding setting a path forward together in the intertwining dance of your shared lives.

Azriel’s smile deepens at your words. His relief and joy palpable. The certainty of your mutual promise solidifies the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and understanding. His hands that still cradling your face shift slightly and his fingers brush tenderly across your lips. A touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine.

The intimate gesture holds a world of meaning. As he gazes into your eyes the warmth and intensity of his emotions are clear. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. Then with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more he pulls you in for a kiss.

What starts as a gentle meeting of lips soon transforms into a kiss filled with passion and longing. As if all the emotions and realizations of the past days and weeks are being poured into this single, breathtaking moment. Azriel’s kiss is both a promise and a declaration, sealing the bond between you with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

Your arms wrap around him pulling him closer responding to the depth of his kiss with equal intensity. The world around you fades away leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment that transcends everything else. As the kiss lingers it becomes clear that this is not just a bond forged in the fires of battle but a connection that will shape your future, side by side, whatever may come.

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[slytherinboysappreciation]

JEGRNEISUB smoker mattheo riddle x non smoker gn/male reader who start dating but since reader doesn't smoke they try to force mattheo to stop smoking by not kissing him on the lips

Like imagine him wanting to kiss you on the lips since before y'all started dating and now that he's dating you he can't cs he smokes and you hated kissing your smoker ex before you met him AND whenever you dobkiss him it's always on the corner of his lips and he tries to turn his head but you stop all contact and he js whines and begs but you stand your ground until he goes cold turkey

Cold turkey mattheo is always jittery and annoyed to the point his friends are complaining about him to you but mattheo finaly gets his kisses from you and he just thinks "damn this was worth it"

Now everytime he gets a nicotine craving he je kisses you HELPEHELPEHELP

(You should totally write this *winks*)

(No pressure though)

Smoker - M. R. x gn!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request!! I hope this is what you were wanting! I’m sorry about the ending; I’ve been on a streak of not knowing how to end fics well, apparently.

Fic is entirely unedited with no use of Y/N. Please let me know if I missed tagging something!!! Gif found on Pinterest here

CW: Lots of mentions of smoking and cigarettes; one mention of getting high; one mention of future death due to smoking; mentions of reader’s ex; mentions of kissing; kissing; angst, I guess??; pet names; Mattheo’s puppy eyes; begging; Theo gets rather frustrated in this; annoyed words towards reader; cursing; mentions of complaining; lots of kissing at the end; Mattheo being soft

1493 words

You’ve been dating Mattheo for almost a week now, and you’re getting tired of his smoking habits.

Since before you began dating, you’ve done everything you can to dissuade him from the habit. Everything aside from going and throwing away his stash yourself, that is.

But it’s no use. Theo chainsmokes like he’s planning his early death, and Enzo gets high every other day. Neither of them are much help when it comes to getting Mattheo to quit.

It’s not that you hate the smoking itself; it’s that you hate the smell. The lingering stench of acrid smoke that follows Mattheo no matter how many times he brushes his teeth or changes his clothes.

It lingers in his hair. On his skin.

It disgusts you. Your ex had been a smoker and the stench of cigarettes had followed him everywhere. Now the smell reminds you of him and his horrid habits.

You don’t want Mattheo to be connected to such a person, but he won’t listen to you when you beg him to quit.

So you resort to drastic measures.

It starts after class. Mattheo and Theo head off to go smoke, leaving you to hatch your plans.

And oh what a good plan you hatch.

It’s simple, really. But you’re pretty sure it’ll be effective. After all, there’s nothing Mattheo loves more than kissing you.

He returns with just enough time to walk you to your next class. You chat idly as you walk, going on about the new music album Pansy had shared with you. Mattheo nods along, smiling as he listens to you talk.

When you reach your class, Mattheo leans in for a kiss like he normally does, but you turn your head. His kiss lands on your cheek, rather than your lips.

He pulls back, startled and confused. “Babe?”

“Hmm?” You go to head into class, but he grabs your arm.

“What’s wrong?” He looks so concerned, his puppy eyes already starting to show.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You lean up and kiss his cheek. Mattheo tries to turn his head to catch your lips but you pull back.

“See you after class, Matty.”

“But…” He trails after you. “Did I do something?”

Your heart aches. Why does he have to look so pitiful when he’s sad?

“Matty…”

“Mr Riddle.” It’s your professor, looking vaguely annoyed. “Last time I checked you weren’t in this class.”

Mattheo opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off by kissing his cheek again. “I’ll talk with you after class. I promise.”

He wilts a bit, still giving you his sad puppy eyes. But, slowly, he turns and leaves the classroom.

You take your seat, already feeling miserable. This plan is going to be harder than you thought.

Mattheo ambushes you after class is over. He’s there at the door, grabbing your arm and hauling you along after him. A small handpicked bouquet of flowers is stuffed into your hands.

“Matty, what the—“

He pulls you into an empty classroom and turns to face you, giving you the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “What did I do, baby? Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

Your heart aches. With a sigh, you set down the flower bouquet on a desk and reach out to cup his face in your hands. “You didn’t do anything, love.”

“Then why won’t you let me kiss you?” He leans in, as if to try right then.

You pull back a bit, covering his mouth with your hand. You take a deep breath and gather your courage. “I don’t like it when you smoke, Matty.”

His brow furrows, but you continue. “I’ve tried everything I can, but you just won’t listen. So, until you stop smoking, I’m not going to kiss you anymore.”

Mattheo stares at you. He pulls your hand away from his mouth. “What?”

You fiddle with a curl of his hair, doing your best to hold his gaze. “No more kisses until you stop smoking.”

“But— But—“ He gapes at you in disbelief. “You— You can’t do this!”

You cross your arms, hoping you sound more stern than you feel. “I can and I am.”

“But, my kisses!”

“You can have your kisses after you stop smoking.”

Mattheo looks desperate. “Babe. Baby. My love. Come on. Please, it’s just— Smoking’s not even that big of a deal!”

“It is to me,” you say firmly. Inside, you’re dying; melting at his puppy eyes and distressed look.

“Baby, baby, please.” He takes your hands in his, giving you a pleading look. “Please don’t do this. I love your kisses.”

You can’t bear to hold his gaze any longer so you look away. “I know you do. That’s why I’m doing this. Maybe you’ll finally quit.”

“But—“

“I’ve made up my mind, Mattheo, and you’re not going to change it,” you say firmly. His expression crumples.

It hurts too much, so you gently pull your hands from his.

“I’ll see you later.” You give him a kiss on the corner of his lips. He doesn’t react, just gives you a morose stare.

You sigh and turn away. Surely, he’s just being dramatic? There’s no way this plan will work, right?

Wrong.

It takes Mattheo a week to give up his cigarettes. A week of whining and bemoaning and complaining.

A week of sad puppy eyes everytime you give him a kiss on his cheek or on the corner of his lips. A week of dodging his head turns and sneak kisses.

It’s just as painful for you as it is for him.

But, finally, he quits.

You make him wait three more days.

By the second day, Theo comes to you, scowling. “You’ve turned him into a damn right menace, you know that?”

You’re in the middle of doing your Charms homework, and have to pause to answer him. “What do you mean?”

“He’s as jittery and as pissed off as I’ve ever seen him. He nearly punched me in the face for suggesting he chill out.”

You blink. “He’s… Oh, from the withdrawal.”

“Yeah, from the withdrawal,” Theo says sarcastically. “You’ve turned him into a menace!”

You cross your arms. “Maybe if you hadn’t gotten him addicted, he wouldn’t be so cross right now.”

“It’s just a few bloody cigarettes a day!” Theo snaps back. “What’s it to you?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t—“ Theo cuts himself off and sighs. “Bloody hell. You’re almost as bad as he is.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way,” he amends. “You’re stubborn as hell and fight for what you want. I can see why he likes you so much.”

You scowl, but let him go without comment.

More of Mattheo’s friends try complaining to you about him, but find you wholly unsympathetic. You’re firm in your stance about Mattheo quitting, much to their frustration.

But it’s all worth it when you finally let Mattheo have his kisses.

You’re expecting the bombardment of kisses from Mattheo. You’re not expecting the genuine relief in his expression when you kiss him on the lips again.

He sighs happily and gives you a dreamy look. “Merlin, I love your lips. I’d give up cigarettes a thousand times for your kisses.”

Your cheeks heat. “Matty…”

“Nuh-uh.” He leans in to kiss you again. And again. And again. “I get to have my special time with your lips. No denying my compliments allowed.”

You laugh softly and melt into his next kiss. “Alright. I suppose I can deal with that.”

Mattheo just grins into the kiss and pulls you closer.

For the next few days after your reconciliation, Mattheo is incessant about kissing you.

It’s immediately after class, during study sessions, after meals, and before bed. Anytime he can get his hands on you, his mouth finds yours.

It’s only when Pansy makes a comment about it that you finally think to ask Mattheo about it.

You’re studying in your room with him. Well, you’re studying; he’s pressing soft kisses to your cheek and jaw.

“Are you really that obsessed with kissing me?”

Mattheo leans in to kiss your cheek again. “Always, babe.”

You nudge him, smiling. “No, be serious. Not that I mind it, but you’ve been very clingy these past few days. Why?”

He hums and nuzzles along your jawline. “I get these cravings. Every time I used to smoke. But I quit, so now I kiss you instead.”

You pause, pulling away to properly look at him. Your gaze is soft, affectionate. “You… You keep from smoking again… by kissing me?”

He blushes a bit and leans in to give you a kiss on the lips. “Well, yeah…”

“That’s actually kinda cute.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he chuckles.

“So, does it work? Kissing me?”

“Yeah, but…” he smirks. “I should probably try again, you know, just to make sure.”

You make no protest when he kisses you deeply. He deserves it, after all.

And not just for his smooth comment.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (End)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

(There will be a short epilogue after this, but we’ve basically reached the end! Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! I had so much fun writing it!!!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“ADAM!”

Light from below your feet rose, blinding you as the glassy exterior of Heaven’s floor dissolved into nothing. 

     The collective screaming, gasping, shouting made your ears ring. It was so loud that you had no choice but to drop the ax to muffle the sound with your hands. Lucifer called for you, but you could do nothing as your senses became overloaded with the sights, the sounds — the smell and taste of angel blood that you couldn’t describe, though it fizzled on your tongue and made your lips pucker. 

Falling reminded you of diving into the deep end of a pool as everything around you started to dull just as soon as it reached a fever pitch. 

      Adam’s corpse bled out, gold dripping into the firelight that swallowed you up. 

      Sera stood head and shoulders above the rest, shrunken pupils flashing upon you. 

      Thunder rumbled over your skin. 

Your sight returned, revealing a billow of darkened clouds above. Lightening rippled through them here and there, but you found yourself unable to do so much as shiver at the close proximity. Something was keeping you paralyzed, hands still clasped over your ears and legs still stuck flexing as they had when you decapitated Adam. 

     Eyes flitting about, the only things free from the forced stillness, you saw that the light that overtook you had expanded, surrounding you like a forcefield. 

   This wasn’t a fall. Not really. Whatever this was was yanking you down with a strength that rivaled gravity.

You can never come back!

              You can never come back!

                              You can never come back!

Sera’s voice was immediately overtaken by your name, shouted out from above you. 

Feathers thrown in disarray, raining on and all around you before you caught sight of Lucifer racing toward you. The frightening sound of a boom like the aftermath of a bomb dropping followed his propulsion, rattling your bones and shifting the energy that cocooned you. 

      He circled round and round the energy field that you could not escape, until he was right beside you. 

Lucifer slammed himself against the barrier between him and yourself. Determination set in his eyes that were now completely normal, totally focused on getting through to you. 

     You tried to communicate the fear you felt with your eyes. It was steadily consuming you as you remained frozen while color and light changed every few seconds. Everything outside of your comet’s tail was growing darker and harder to define. 

     When darkness swallowed up the Devil, you weren’t able to scream. 

“I got ya!” 

Lucifer’s voice broke through before you saw him, crashing into the barrier once again. The light shattered like glass, but you felt solid arms wrapped around your body. Familiar hands gripped you around the shoulders and back, beneath your frozen wings. 

      You gasped, inhaling greedily. 

The blond took your desperate bid to wrap your arms around his neck and press him as close to you as possible in stride. 

      It was a struggle to speak. “I couldn’t breathe!”

“I know! I know, I know, I remember it being like that.” Lucifer said, hand running through your hair. “But it's gonna be okay! The pain won’t last for too long after you hit the ground.” 

You looked at him with watery eyes, lungs burning. “Oh god, Lucifer. I’m so sorry!” 

You hugged him with renewed vigor, tears streaming upward. He clung onto you with equal if not more fervor. 

      “You’re sorry?” He asked. “What d’you… why?” 

When you pulled away, Lucifer was staring at you in concern. 

“I’m sorry you have to experience this again.” You said. “I didn’t even think about it. I-I-I just, I got so desperate and I just wanted out and I wanted to be with you! I didn’t think—”

The devil instantly shook his head, hand cupping your cheek. “No, no, no. It’s okay, don’t apologize. There’s no reason to—hah…” 

     Lucifer was also in tears, giving you a wobbly smile. “I’d fall every day until the end of time for you.” 

You fell into him then, sobbing in earnest as he kept up with you serenely. You were both careening down through the ether, free falling now that your body had been freed from whatever was initially binding you. And you didn’t have a single thought aside from staying with this perfectly wonderful being that had had the audacity to actually love you. 

.

        .

                .

                        .

                               .

“We’re headed right for the portal.” Lucifer told you eventually. “We’ll pass right through and into Hell.” 

     He kept his hold on you, but you couldn’t help noticing that Lucifer had maneuvered himself to be beneath your body in the order of your descent. 

“Will we hit the ground?” You asked, the image of making an impact on the hard ground coming unbidden. 

The image of Lucifer taking the brunt of the trauma set your heart racing. Your wings twitched. You willed them to start flapping as they had in Heaven but there was only the vaguest feeling of their roots flexing. 

    Fuck’s sake. 

         You felt panic bleeding back into your body again and you fruitlessly attempted to pull Lucifer ‘up’. The King started to speak, but the adrenaline was filling you up. 

“Lou—!”

    A sudden shift from black to red (and warmth, sensation, clouds!) and the sound barrier breaking silenced you.

Lucifer’s full set of wings extended before you, arching back to make a powerful sweep upward before he rolled the both of you right side up again. 

     You were back to clinging onto him, squeaking. You heard him chuckle in your ear at the same time you realized that that powerful force-field of light had disappeared. 

“Sorry sweetie.” Lucifer murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

     He hovered in the air with you in his arms, patient as you worked up the courage to pull away and look around. 

     Hell’s sky was a deep, deep red. Clouds of a softer shade floated past, little pinpoints of light that might be stars pricked the sky, and a large black moon sat adjacent to the teeming mass of light that you and Lucifer had just fallen from. 

Below you, slices of angular, beaming light zigzagged in a mildly familiar shape. When your eyes adjusted, it clicked instantly that there was a pentagram poised a little ways from you, and under that…

  The pentagram was bright, but through it shone bright lights from the city underneath. Your eyes widened, taking in the chaotic, clashing architecture of the Pride Ring. It was harrowing and strange, the sounds of screaming and laughter somehow audible in spite of the distance. 

     Amidst the sensory overload you found yourself comparing it to Las Vegas. 

           Lucifer nuzzled your cheek, bringing you back to the present. Head lifting so that you are able to look at him fully, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Helluva a welcome.” You teased, earning a grin from the blond. 

“Ah!” Lucifer startled when you tugged him bodily in your direction. Your wings fluttered quickly with the return of feeling in your muscles, and you glided back with the Devil in your arms.  

You spun him round, twirling in mid-air, until Lucifer laughed with you. The two of you danced together over the glowing pentagram as though it were a stage.

——

There was no need to further tire yourselves as Lucifer conjured up a shimmering portal into his castle. You could feel the exhaustion of all that had transpired weighing you down before you were led into what would soon become your new home. 

    The opulence and splendor of the Devil’s palace could not be understated. It was gargantuan. His personal restroom alone rose higher than high and would have been roomy enough for everyone that had lived on your floor in the Donner apartment. 

     However, the most you could offer after the day’s events was a drawn-out yawn and a mental note to be amazed at everything later. 

Lucifer half-led, half-dragged you toward one of the sinks in his private bath. He left you only long enough to grab a number of towels and washcloths that piled so high in his arms they obstructed his view. 

      You giggled softly at the sight of rags being rushed over on a pair of short legs, and feebly offered your help. 

Ooh. Not rags — these towels were pure silk. 

The blond positioned you to face him and began to clean you up, scanning your face for any cuts or bruises. You admired him drowsily, trying to do the same. He simply pecked your fingers when they wandered over his cheek, but otherwise stayed focused to tend to you. 

      Silk slid over your face, wiping away the stain of angelic blood from your chin and down the side of your throat. Lucifer passed the cloth over you with utmost care, all while you stared at him silently. 

     It was only when he became aware of your intense staring that you gave into the urge to kiss him again. 

The Devil seemed to have the same idea, mouth already parting for you. Your stomach flip-flopped at the telltale slip of his forked tongue against yours.                    You breathed him in, lips moving against his in between brief inhales, desperate not to part for even one second. 

     Lucifer whined into your mouth, hands rushing to dig into your hips and pull you in. He ran his hands over you, petting at every inch of your body, heavenly wardrobe catching on your hips, over your breasts, around your thighs. It drove you mad, wishing that the damn clothing was off and away. Memories of Lucifer buried inside you, smothering you into the mattress could not compare to the real thing just within reach. 

      You bent over to follow him, teeth clicking against each other as you continued to devour him and his noises. Another whine had you gripping the base of his skull, newly-formed claws digging through his hair. The flush that Lucifer inspired under your skin ran hot; so hot that the feeling of his cold hands against your bare skin shocked you. 

      Glazed-over crimson eyes met yours when you broke away from him abruptly, confused and yearning while you fought to calm yourself down. He too was flushed… in gold. Golden blood. 

“Lucifer…” You swallowed. “We need… we need to get Charlotte…” 

The King hummed, slow on the uptake. But soon his darkened gaze lit up with recognition. 

“Ch… Charlotte!” He exclaimed. “Right! We gotta get our baby!”

You snorted at the theatrics, fondness settling deep down inside your chest. 

———

     Lucifer let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you pleased while the flames licked over you both. You fought not to manhandle him again, wanting to be brave. At least the change from ornate, colossal palace to inside of the old Donner apartment fireplace was over in a flash. 

     The firebox had warped, growing in size until it was large enough for you and Lucifer to walk through. Briefly you wondered why you had never noticed such a thing happening during Lucifer’s countless visits, but perhaps it was a trick that humans didn’t pick up on. 

Or perhaps Lucifer was short enough that the large fireplace hadn’t had to change so much for him alone. 

     (You didn’t know how to feel about being at least a head taller than Lucifer now. It was another thing filed under ‘To Address Later’ in your mind.) 

Mr. And Mrs. Farrow were not waiting for you when you stepped into their home. They were nowhere to be found. 

But a baby’s cry was coming from further back in the apartment. 

     You dashed toward the noise, with Lucifer at your heels. It led you to the outlet where you’d been only once before, and you were happy for small miracles because so much of this unit was unfamiliar to you, courtesy of your desire to avoid the kooks that had initiated you into their bizarre dealings with the literal Prince of Darkness. 

When you arrived at the spare room, it was practically pitch black. Tea candles had been re-lit here and there, but they barely distinguished the silhouettes of two very frantic, knee-high toys-turned-sentient. 

     The little creatures moved like phantoms in the dark. One was steadily pushing the baby bassinet from side to side, attempting to soothe the crying child within. 

The other was levitating at the edge of the bassinet, staring worriedly at the baby, clearly agitated before it realized that someone had entered the room. 

     Your eyes had already adjusted to the dim little room — purposefully avoiding the cot that lay on the opposite side of Charlotte’s cradle. There was no possible way to prepare for seeing your own corpse, if it was still there. You had chosen to banish the possibility from your mind, and hadn’t dared to bring it up to Lucifer lest he grow agitated if the thought hadn’t already occurred to him. 

You focused on the present. On your child. And the goat butlers that your Love had spontaneously breathed life into. 

“You really are alive.” You said softly in awe. 

     The little goat that had been watching Charlotte from above seemed to recognize you. He floated back down, and allowed you to run your hand over his head as you stepped up to the bassinet, momentarily feeling the fuzz of his red fur. His brother followed, and they bowed, both for you and Lucifer as well as out of your way. 

     Had you been less single-minded in getting to your daughter, you might’ve laughed at the look of relief on their faces. Taking care of a newborn without thumbs couldn’t be easy. 

When you pulled back the little curtains of the pram, you felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. 

     Your beautiful baby. Your little Charlotte — she was reaching up, crying to be taken out and held. 

Without a thought, you obliged her. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright now.” You whispered, fingers smoothing over her porcelain forehead. “Mama’s here. Mama’s got you.” 

It was stunning to be able to actually touch your child, caress her soft skin and feel her yellow hair on your fingertips. She was truly like a tiny doll, with two dollops of pale red on either side of her cherubic cheeks. 

     You pushed down the compulsion to cry. Everything has happened so fast that you hadn’t had time to recognize what you would be missing upon your death. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t have gotten to hold Charlotte ever again. 

You could feel Lucifer’s presence just behind you before he was at your side, solid and comforting. Whatever regrets you may have entertained about leaving Heaven vanished then and there. 

     Charlotte’s cries were dying down, turning into minute whimpers and hiccups. Her eyes opened in the middle of your slow rocking back and forth, focusing on you. 

You beamed. “Hello baby.” 

    She gurgled, barely a blink before a wide, gummy smile of remembrance animated her formerly tear-stricken face. A laugh stuttered out of you, thick with emotion while Charlotte wiggled in her swaddling blanket. The spade of her tail poked out of the confines and tapped against your forearm with delight. 

Charlotte looked from you to Lucifer as he leaned in, having shuffled around so that he was able to embrace you, Charlotte nestled safe and snug between your bodies. She squealed with happiness, eliciting more laughter. 

“Let’s go home.”

****

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @devilslittlebabyxx, @diffidentphantom, @shamblezzz, @ranposanedogawa, @minamilinaqueen, @1-helluva-hazbin, @naniiiii12, @lokis-imaginary-friend, @zoethespiritwolf, @sakuraluna2468, @qardasngan, @wow-im-gay, @saturnalone, @rexnn, @h3art-l3ss, @its-a-dam-blue-brick, @saturnhas82moons, @im-so-tired52, @klallx

[leclercstars]

i’m craving something super angsty and max. like he and reader got into a fight and she left their apartment and got into an accident (someone hit her car while she was driving or someone ran into her while she was walking) and max doesn’t know that she’s been hurt for a few days until someone on the grid mentioned it to him and he grovels like his life depends on it to try and win her back. can end sad if you want

Woohoo another request fic!! This is a little different than what I usually write but I’m excited! Also I think I’ll turn it into a series. Anyways:

die for you

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: mention of car crash, some cursing.

“This cannot be fucking happening right now,” you were pacing around the kitchen of your and Max’s high-rise, your head buried in your hands as tears of frustration threatened to ruin your makeup. Thunder boomed and rain pounded on the windows.

Max had just gotten home from being out last night. It was 2 p.m.. The next day. You rarely felt this sort of anger towards him- but how could betray your trust like that? He swore up and down that he had accidentally fallen asleep at the after-party Charles had, but how could you be sure?

“Baby please you have to believe me,” his voice getting louder and louder as his frustration grew.

“I can’t! I can’t believe you! You slept at CHARLES? UNTIL TWO? It makes no sense especially since you usually don’t even drink that much.” tears were now spilling out of your eyes and your voice had taken on a tone you hadn’t even heard before.

“I’m sleeping at Isabelle’s tonight.” you said matter of factly.

Max sat on the couch, head in hands, too stunned to even move. What had he done? He knew why she was upset- and didn’t really expect her to believe his story. He hadn’t been answering her texts or calls last night either because his phone died- which certainly didn’t help the situation.

She left without so much as a goodbye. He might’ve just lost the best thing he ever had.

A week had passed now, without so much as a call or text from her. He had never felt so sick in his life, the heartbreak taking a toll on his physical health. Her stuff still lay scattered around the apartment- constant reminders of her presence that haunted him daily.

Max was hanging around the paddock the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix, chatting with all of his fellow drivers. He was sure that he was doing a poor job of hiding his down-trodden state.

“Did you hear about that massive wreck that happened the other day?” Daniel posed the question to the group. Everyone gave various sentiments of shock- talking about how the people involved were lucky to get out alive.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Max snapped.

“Dude, your girlfriend was literally involved. How do you not know? Did she not tell you? She’s going to make a full recovery reportedly.” Daniel replied back with genuine confusion.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The entire world started spinning- and he only saw Charles concerned face before his vision went completely black

PART 2???

[sinofwriting]

Out Loud - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,807 Summary: She hasn’t been herself and she knows it’s worrying people, Charles. She just can’t get the words out. Note(s)/Warning(s): Reader is Jules Bianchi’s daughter and Charles’ goddaughter. Reader has longish hair. Coming Out (as Bisexual), Some Self Harm, Not Eating, Mentions of Throwing Up, Religious Trauma. Honestly this fic is kind of me just dumping my feelings out after being reminded of my less than great coming out experience as bisexual to my parents. I’m okay, just needed to write this and uh get back into therapy. If I missed a warning, let me know and if anyone reading this needs to talk, I’m here for you. (also, I promise that Dark Max fic is coming, Charles winning Monaco just threw a spanner into my plans and then this fic happened as well)

Masterlist | Support Me! 

She’s never said the words out loud. Never spoke them to herself or others. And she isn’t sure why. It can’t because it will make them true. They already are.

And she knows why. It’s not because it will make them true. They already are. It’s because she knows that as soon as she says them once, she’ll never stop.

The idea of saying them has her shaking, has her stomach twisted in knots, has her throwing up, headaches that won’t leave from all her crying. It’s all self-inflicted because she can’t say the words. And it’s only two words, three if she’s going for proper grammar and yet they won’t leave her. They refuse to spill from her tongue and past her lips. They settle in her throat and strangle her. Leave her gasping for breath, clawing at her throat in hopes that their grip will loosen. But it never works out that way.

Charles is concerned. She sees it every time he looks at her. She’s lost weight, because even though she’s stress eating, when she’s not doing that she’s throwing it all back up, and she cries while doing both. Her face is starting to lean towards gaunt and the circles under her eyes are growing larger. She can only hope that he doesn’t see the bruises on the inner sides of her wrists, on her inner thighs, where she pinches and squeezes, barely even noticing the pain that it causes because it’s something for her fingers to do.

He’s concerned and she knows because Arthur is concerned too. And suddenly Pierre is going to be staying with them for a while, ditching Kika because she apparently has a family trip, no boyfriends allowed, even though she knows from a friend of a friend that Kika and Pierre had plans together in Greece and Bora Bora. Plans that Kika was apparently happy to reschedule.

She’s so lost in her head, in her thoughts, in her wishes that she could just speak that she doesn’t hear the light knock of knuckles on her bedroom door before it opens.

“Pierre is going to be here soon. You should get up, come greet him.” Charles' voice is gentle, always gentle with her, even when she doesn’t deserve it. “I’m tired.” She breathes and it’s not a lie. She is tired. Tired of being a coward, tired of pretending like she will ever say when she needs to and really she should just get over herself at this point. But it’s more frightening, the idea of never saying the words at all then what could happen if she does say them. “You can go back to bed after seeing him for a moment, I promise.” Her eyes flutter shut at his last two words and she nods. “Okay. I need to shower.”

As she climbs out of bed, she wobbles and she can feel his eyes on her. “Do you need help?” She tries to smile at him, but she knows that it doesn’t work with the way the worry grows on his face. “I think I’m too old for my godfather to help me shower.” Something crosses his face as if he’s only now remembering she isn’t a little girl anymore, she’s eighteen, no longer the nine-year-old he got stuck with. “I guess so.” He gives her a smile. “I’ll be in the living room, I’ll do your hair for you.” She wants to protest, but he closes the door before she can and she knows that it’s on purpose.

Charles loved doing her hair and when she had turned twelve for a while it had been the only time she would talk to him about anything, even what she ate for dinner the previous night. As she washes her hair, she tries to think of the last time he had done it. Even just giving it a small brush before they left for dinner somewhere or him braiding it or him trying to turn her hair into some sort of flower before going back to just making it look like a rose. When was the last time he had done that? When was the last time she let him do that for her?

It had been before the season started, just before he left for the first race. She remembers now because his hands were anxious to do something. Worried that it’d be a repeat of 2022 where it would start off good and then end in disappointment. She winces as she thinks of how long it’s been and the reminder of what 2023 has been like for him.

Drying off and slipping into an old shirt of Charles from karting and a pair of Lorenzo’s shorts, she nearly goes back to bed. It’s tempting, the blankets comfy and her sheets soft, but she walks past it and out of her bedroom.

Charles is already sitting on the couch, legs spread with a pillow on the ground between them. A host of hair things sit beside him on the couch cushions. The detangler she’s used all her life that Pascale always gives her, the special made f1 car clips from Max, pearl clips from her grandma and grandpa, the bands from her aunt, the different brushes Sebastian bought her that first year Charles was at Ferrari that only get used when Charles and her are going to be doing this for a while.

Seeing them makes her pause. “I thought Pierre was going to be here soon.” He smiles at her, fond and happy, but still worried and concerned. “Within the hour. But he has a key, he’ll let himself in.” She nods, slowly moving closer until she finally sinks onto the floor, sitting on the pillow. Instantly, Charles’ hands are in her hair, tutting at the barely damp locks. “I will have to take you to grandmère soon. It’s been too long.” “I went not that long ago.” “You went just after the season started. We are in August now.” She makes a humming sound, eyes focusing on the tv that’s turned off.

It’s soothing the feeling of her godfather’s fingers in her hair, running through it, quietly hissing each time he comes across a knot, no matter how small. The quiet apologies that spill from his lips each time he tugs what he deems to harsh, when it is barely a tug at all.

“Y’know.” He begins. “When you were born you had no hair. It was amusing to all of us because your father had been promising grandmère that she’d have a grandbaby’s hair to play with. And my father,” Charles takes a breath and she leans into his right leg a little. “He had told him the whole time not to promise that. Jules was beside himself when you didn’t get any hair until you were six months.” “I was a bald baby.” Charles laughs. “The baldest baby.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs after a few moments. “For what?” She can see from the corner of her eye him picking up a brush. “For how your season is going. Ferrari is not doing well.” “Ferrari is managing. There is lots of changes and this is not the car that Fred wanted for us, but it is the one we have.” “You think 2024 will be better?” “I don’t know what to think other than I can not think about that. I don’t want more disappointment or broken promises.” “You deserve a good car, the best car.” “Perhaps I’ll get it someday.”

As he starts to brush her hair, her eyes wander, looking at all the pictures she can see and has seen countless times before. There’s many, most of family, some of friends, and some of Charles’ time with Ferrari, in racing. As her eyes wander further, they stop on the small cross hanging on by the window. It makes her breathing stutter and she rips her eyes away from it, forcing them to look back at the blank tv.

But seeing just for a few seconds was enough.

“Charles.” He makes a humming noise, his movements not stilling. “If I had to tell you something,” she swallows, thinking of her backpack by the front door that’s got two spare sets of clothes, her wallet, all her identification, and more importantly a spare phone. “Something that would change things, how would you react?” “That is very vague.” He tells her, fingers starting to twist her hair. “It would depend on how it changes things.” “It would change how you saw me.” That makes him pause and she catches his eyes, so expressive in the tv reflection. “Nothing could change how I feel about you. You are my goddaughter, I love you. I’ve raised you since you were nine. Nothing could ever change the love I have for you.” Tears that had started to build in her eyes when he first started to talk, fall. “I’m,” she takes a shaky breath. “I’m bisexual.”

Silence fills the room and she can’t breathe, can’t take a breath, can’t break the silence, as she waits for him to say something, anything. She doesn’t even realize, but she’s started to move a little away from him, ready to bolt, ready to slip on her shoes by the door, grab her backpack and make a run for it. Because she’s ready. She’s ready for him to tell her to leave, to get out of his house. She’s ready for him to drag her to church, to make her pray like she hasn’t already for wanting not just men, but also women. She’s ready.

She is so unbelievably unready for what he actually says.

“Are you still who I raised you to be?” “Yes.” She nods, not even having to think. Because she is, she promises that she is. She is still the girl that Charles taught to be kind, to be nice, to make sure she is always heard. She is still the little girl that Charles became a godfather to. She’s still the girl that Charles became a father to as well. “I am.” She sobs. “Oh, mon bébé.” He sighs and he’s turning her around before pulling her up into his lap, making her curl up against him as she sobs into his shirt.

“I love you so much. You being bisexual doesn’t change a thing. And I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it would.” “Papa.” She cries and his lips are pressing to her forehead as he somehow manages to rock her. “Thank you for trusting me with this, with you.” He tells her when her sobs have died down and she’s able to look at him with not blurry vision. “I’m sorry I took so long.” “No.” He shakes his head, wiping her tears. “You took as much time as you needed.”

[ellieslaces]

NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!agent!reader x ashley graham

synopsis: ashley graham's biggest weakness is attractive people, especially kind, attractive people. she was not expecting to be saved by two of the hottest, kindest people she'd ever met, much less to end up crushing on the both of them

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; tension; lots of flirtatious banter; ashley shooting her shot for an entire fic basically; mentions of reader being bisexual; light smut; kissing (f!f & f!m); one bed trope; forced proximity; no real smut bc idk how to write a threesome :(

notes: takes place on the way back from Spain (technically post RE4R); one bed-ish trope (r&leon share a bed, and a room with ashley); ashley is sort of confused about her sexuality; semi-established relationship (r&leon); really more of a sibling dynamic between ashley and leon (it sounds weird, but its balanced in the actual fic, i promise)

word count: 6.13k (i’m so sorry)

chloe talks: was this entirely inspired by @postersofleon ? yeah, i read this post a week or so ago and i'm losin' sleep over it. so full credits to @postersofleon for the plot! luv their lil' drabble :) also, sorry this isn't more of a threesome fic. if it were a triple female threesome, i could work with that, but add a dick into it, i'm clueless. anyways, enjoy ashley fumbling for this whole fic (luv her, i just can't help embarrassing her shes so cute). also, please appreciate this, i wrote around 80% of this while i was supposed to be studying for an exam. that’s on adhd and procrastination :)

now playing: Nohings Gonna Hurt You Baby; Cigarettes After Sex

It is entirely possible that blondes were, indeed, your weakness. Sure, over the years, you'd come to realize there was something especially alluring about lighter hair - possibly the way it reminded you of the sun, or how each strand looked like spun gold. Although, what seemed to seal your fate was the ever dangerous pairing of blonde hair and blue eyes. Oh, how alluring and damning was the color of icy blue coupled with silvery, silken strands.

For a time, you believed your weakness was encompassed only within your field partner, Leon S. Kennedy. God, how handsome was that agent. Not only handsome, but brave, and kind - awkwardly so, but it really is the principle of the thing. It was painstakingly obvious to everyone, other than Leon it seemed, that you were completely and forlornly in love with him. It seemed you were equally as blind to the evidence that Leon Kennedy was also miserably in love with you.

But the one person who noticed it upon first glance was Ashley Graham. Not only for the clear obviousness of the situation, but because the feeling was entirely, and unfortunately mutual. And it was this girl who also awoke the realization within you that Leon was not the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed person you found enticing.

Though, you were not the only one in this clandestine triad who had an impending weakness for certain types of people. No, you were not, Ashley had an Achilles heel for graciously kind people. Not just kind, but attractive. Not in a shallow or superficial way, but to say more that a person would catch her eye. She had no pre-existing physical type - no particular hair color, eye color, or even height preference. Just that they be kind. And much to the First Daughter's dismay, you were both horribly kind. In your own respective ways, of course.

Leon — as aforementioned — was awkwardly kind, despite how well he meant. He never knew exactly how to word his concern, or how to come about comforting someone. It was usually said in simple phrases such as “you okay?” or in way of one of many snarky comments he had stored in the deep recesses of his mind. Ashley thought he was funny; sometimes.

You, on the other hand, were painfully sweet to her. Always reassuring her that she was okay, and you were going to keep her safe. Field medic, that’s how Leon explained your role in her rescue. You were there to keep her and Leon healthy and in one piece, which you were startlingly good at. Any bruise or cut she procured was immediately treated by your sweet disposition and skilled hands. She liked how gentle you were with her.

So yes, Leon was kind in an awkward manner, and you were kind in a practical sense. And that devastating combination was her inevitable downfall.

From the moment you and Leon found her in that church, she knew she was fucked. Because, how could people look that good while doing the sort of jobs you had? There was no way, no way she would ever be able to form coherent sentences around you two. But, somehow, by some miracle, she got on with you both quite well. Despite the obvious moments of third-wheel-ism because you and Leon were so close.

There where multiple reoccurring occasions where Ashley suspected the pair of you may be together. Or at least fucking on the side. Because no two people who are just partners have that dynamic. The constant tension, the way Leon could be protective or even overbearing sometimes. The way you would rush to his side to patch up his wounds — no matter how small and minuscule they were — after a fight. Sometimes, despite how endearing it could be, Ashley was annoyed. Sure, you two had known each other for an extended period of time and had just met Ashley that day. But, it became so aggravating when you would consult each other without the inclusion of Ashley.

Many times you would apologize to her, expressing how sorry you were for leaving her out of conversations or hypothetical battle plans. It wasn’t that either of you thought she was stupid or couldn’t handle it. No, it was more along the lines that you were used to it just being the two of you. There was rarely ever a third party involved — other than Hunnigan chatting away in your ear pieces of course — in these types of situations.

Ashely was smitten, to put it lightly. She’d made several attempts to quote-unquote ‘shoot her shot’ with Leon. Little comments of how brave he was, how thankful she was for his saving her. Even calling him her ‘hero’ on one occasion or another. His name had posted permanent residence in her vocabulary it seemed.

However, her means of flattery with you was completely different. She was a little more bold with you, seeing as you were more of an open person than Leon was. She partook in the cliche, yet never failing flirtatious mannerisms — simple touches, giggling at your jokes, or simply sticking to your side in dangerous situations. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice, no, you just turned a conscious blind eye to it all. Ashley was a college girl, a sorority girl, a privileged girl. She was probably used to using flattery to get what she wanted, to gain the attention she so desperately thrived on.

Though as your time in the hostile Spanish village went on, you came to realize that it wasn’t superficial, Ashley’s flattery toward you and your field partner. Absolutely not, far from it. You realized after Leon had carried her to Luis’ laboratory and you managed to get the machine working to expel the parasite from her body, that Ashley was totally and completely smitten with the pair of you. She was attached in the worst way. And that would be your inevitable downfall.

Leon was consciously blind to it. Your partner — no matter his selfless tendencies and his awkwardly kind nature — was melancholic. He had a firm belief he was predestined to be miserable. That there was always another shoe waiting to drop. He didn’t deserve happiness, peace, love, a good life. So, he ignored it. He ignored how Ashley was equally as taken with him as she was with you. He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t even act like he noticed. Oh, but you did.

You saw the attachment so clearly by the time the three of you had managed to escape the crumbling island via Ada Wong’s gifted jet ski that Ashely was so attached to the pair of you. She’d offered positions on her own personal detail to you, claiming she could put a word in with her father. Denials were made, kind smiles and the shaking of heads. Too kind of an offer and you liked your jobs, is what you’d told her. That wasn’t at all what you were thinking though.

Post a Hunnigan meltdown over your earpieces, the three of you were told to stay the night in a shabby, rundown little local hotel in a larger town a couple dozen miles south of the village. Still in Spain, still tired, still craving a warm shower. One room, two beds. Great, one of you was stuck sleeping with someone. Ashely offered for one of you to have a bed to yourself, she’d sleep with the other. Not a great idea. You and Leon — having spent many awkward and difficult missions together, so this was not strange to either one of you — decided on giving Ashley a bed to herself and taking the other together

If you’d been alone, oh how your lovestruck little heart would have burst. Sharing a bed with Leon Kennedy, the object of your affection. The sole performer in your wildest — and wettest — dreams. But you weren’t alone. Ashley was in the room, a matter of feet away, in her own double sized bed.

If she hadn’t been — to be vulgar and completely honest — nothing would have stopped you from fucking him then and there. The tension between the pair of you had been growing thicker since your arrival in Spain. It was thick, painfully so, and also horrifically obvious not only to you, but yet again, to Ashley. For the longer stretch of the mission, she’d expected a grand confession at any moment. A breakdown caused by a dangerous situation that ensued a moment of emotional and even physical vulnerability. But, to her dismay and yours, that never happened. Because, above all things, Leon was professional for a lack of a better word. He wasn’t going to allow his emotions to jeopardize the mission.

And so no breakdown of emotional distress and vulnerability played out. No confession of hearts bleeding for the other were cried out. Part of you was glad it hadn’t happened that way. But the larger part of your soul which was dedicated to Leon had wished it had. You longed for the day he realized he needed you too. But, to maintain professionalism and dignity, neither of you made such admissions.

Warm showers were taken in rotation in the tiny excuse for a bathroom. The shower was small and permanently stained with grime, but really was clean as the owner swore. The shower head was one of the older ones from the seventies that made the water come out in a dribble, then a forceful rainfall that hurt your back. The toiletries provided by the hotel were small and cheap, but you were clean. That’s all that mattered.

Sans dried blood and grime, you sat on Ashley’s bed, cross legged as you patched up each one of her injuries. Ashley had been the first to shower, after a fifteen minute debate with the two of you over who should go first. She had a few bandages and exposed scrapes that needed to be re-cleaned. So, with gentle hands you did so as Leon took use of his turn to shower.

“Looks good, no signs of infection so far. But, like I said before, I can’t tell too much without the right equipment.” You reassured Ashely as you finished patching up a cut on her arm and began to put your first aid kit back together.

“Thanks,” Ashley nodded, inspecting her scrape riddled skin. Small bruises and surface cuts were beginning to make their appearance, telltale signs of the brutality the three of you had endured in that village.

“Let me know if you feel feverish or see any swelling. That could mean infection.” You offered, being kind but stern.

“‘Kay,” the girl nodded, smiling up at you as you let out a sigh, leaning back on your hands on the bed.

You looked at her, smiling softly as your head tilted to the side a little. “Need me to kiss it better?”

At this, Ashley’s eyes went wide, her cheeks dusted with pink. You felt a little bad then, you just tried to ease the tension. “S’okay, Ashley. I was just playing.” You laughed, your tone lighthearted as you placed a gentle hand on her knee with an equally gentle smile.

It seemed the touch was worst than the comment. Ashley’s entire face went aflame, her eyes wide, and large as she stared at you. An uneasy ache settled in your chest, uncertainty lingering in the air as your smile faded. The initial shock between the pair of you didn’t last long as the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Jesus, you could’ve left me some hot water.” Leon grumbled as he stepped out into the room, lips downturned and brows etched in an annoyed frown.

The three of you were now paused as Leon’s eyes fell on you and Ashely — or more-so on the hand that rested on Ashley’s knee. Reality seemed to snap into place all at once for you, yanking your hand back and standing up.

“Let me check you out.” You mumbled, clearing your throat as you picked up the first aid kit and took residence on your own bed.

“No, I’m fine. Check on Ashley,” Leon shook his head, damp blond strands sticking to his forehead.

“Already did. Just finished. Your turn, whether you like it or not.” You stated, your tone final as you looked up at Leon, brows raised.

The agent let out a huff of agitation, grumbling something indiscernible as he sat down on the bed beside you. You began to gently inspect Leon's wounds- some small, others more intense. Despite his prior hesitation to be taken care of, he was stoic about it all. He sat still, unmoving, silent as you worked to disinfect and cover each wound with fresh bandages. The silence in the room was loud, startlingly uncomfortable as you patched Leon up.

A quick glance over at Ashley as you finished bandaging a deep cut that you'd quickly stitched up on the field showed her wide eyes. Wide baby blue focused on the way your fingers gently worked, how graceful and careful they were again the alabaster tone of Leon's skin.

"Doing okay over there, blondie?” Leon inquired, a small smirk playing on his face as he spotted Ashley's startling gaze on the wounds decorating his skin. He had mistook her fascination of your hands as nervousness of his wounds. But you knew. You could tell what her gaze meant.

"Oh, yeah. M'fine." Ashley recovered very quickly, to your surprise. Well, maybe it wasn't just your hands that had her enraptured, Leon was sitting on the bed, shirtless.

"Alright, hero-boy, all better." You smiled at Leon as you patted his bicep - earning a small, almost inaudible grumble from him - and moving to close your medical kit. You stood, tucking away in your pack and let out a sigh. "’Kay, l for one, am fucking exhausted."

“Yeah, me too,” Ashely murmured, an aura of discomfort still radiating from her. She offered a kind, if not awkward smile to the pair of you before settling into the bed, pulling the overs over her shoulders. “G’night.”

“‘Night,” you smiled, shuffling over to the bed you and Leon were sharing. You sat down on the edge, eyes trained on the back of Ashley’s head — the blonde hair, how it shimmered against the dim light of the single lamp in the room. You felt almost as if you weren’t really there.

“Need me to check you?” Leon asked, snapping you back to reality. You jolted a bit, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Oh, nah, I’m okay.” You shook your head, clearing your throat as you settled into the bed, flicking off the lamp.

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, getting into the bed too, still in just a pair of pants. Everyone was in the barest of clothing. You in a tank top and underwear — Ashely in the same. It was all you had. All your clothes were soiled with dirt, and grime, and blood.

Thinking of nothing in particular, you laid there, staring up at the ceiling of the dark room. The walls creaked every once in a while, odd drafts filtered in from cracks in the ceiling or from the window. It was too quiet. And it stayed that way for a long while.

“Everything okay with Ashley?” Leon asked, his voice quiet, as not to wake the subject of conversation.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled back, turning your head. He, too, was on his back. Both of you too afraid to face each other in bed, seeming too personal. “Why?”

“Just making sure.” His response was quiet, a little too nonchalant, as if he’d forced it to be casual. “It was awkward earlier.”

“Earlier?” You decided to play dumb, despite knowing that Leon wouldn’t believe it. He was well aware you knew what he was talking about. The touch. How Ashley had frozen when you’d touched her leg.

“Whatever, play stupid.” He scoffed with a half smile — a knowing smile. The bastard. “Just saying, she seems attached to you.”

“Oh, and she’s not with you, her hero?” You bit back with a hint of humor. Your voices were still low, hoping Ashely was asleep — or she couldn’t hear you if she wasn’t.

Leon laughed quietly, a rough scoff sound that echoed in your ears. You smiled at little at that sound. “Whatever you say,”

You frowned, gaining the confidence to shuffle onto your side, facing him as you contemplated what that simple, yet heavy ‘whatever’ meant. “What do you mean, whatever?”

Leon sighed, rolling onto his side to face you too. His eyes, still so blue even in the darkness of the motel room, bore into yours. It seemed he didn’t carry the same awkward feeling about this topic as you did. Or, maybe he did and he just hid it exceptionally well. But knowing him, that didn’t seem right.

“She’s just attached to you. Always at your side, or chatting your ear off. And what the hell was with that earlier?” He continued, brows furrowed in their eternal frown.

“I was patching her up. Making sure none of her cuts were infected.” You half shrugged, trying to play it off as something simple, even though it was so complex.

“She looked like she wanted to kiss you or something.”

“Oh, my God,” you rolled your eyes, trying to push away the way your chest tightened at the though. “You’re so fucking dramatic. She wasn’t gonna kiss me.”

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, his tone final and casually dismissive. Like he was finished talking about it. Like he didn’t believe you but didn’t want to say so.

“She was not going to kiss me.” You pushed, voice quiet yet firm. Your own brows were pulled into a frown, like what he’d said was offensive.

But it wasn’t. Kissing Ashley wasn’t a bad thought. It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed another girl before. The first time you had was in the training program for USSTRATCOM, your training partner who made you realize that all girls don’t look at other girls that way. She was the first, others followed.

Ashley was pretty, very pretty. Tall, pretty lips, and the blonde hair, blue eye thing, of course. Kissing her wouldn’t be so bad, really. It would probably be very nice. But nothing like kissing Leon, though.

“Okay.” Leon said again, shifting to lay on his back again, letting his eyes close. The finality of it all aggravated you. So, you asked him a question maybe you shouldn’t have.

“What if she did?” You asked, eyes narrowed and trained on him. A smile bloomed on your face at the way his eyes opened, his brows furrowing deeper at your question.

“What about it? It’s not my business.” Leon grumbled. But the tone he used made it wound like it was very much his business.

“M’kay.” You nodded, quietly celebrating to the way you’d seemed to have stumped him, surprised him.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He stared at the ceiling, and you stared at him. It was deadly quiet, the rhythmic sound of Ashley’s breathing the sole sound in the room.

“Did you want her to?” Leon asked, mumbling quietly. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, as if he were afraid to look you in the eye when you answered. Afraid you had an answer he wouldn’t like.

“I dunno.” You admitted, honestly. You didn’t know, truly you didn’t. Kissing Ashely wouldn’t be so bad, but you hardly knew the girl. Not to mention her heavy attachment to you. It could get worse if she kissed you.

Leon nodded, not sure of how to answer your admission. He laid there, your eyes on him as you laid on your side. You wished so desperately for him to kiss you, or hold you, or do something. It was painful, the thought that he didn’t feel the same.

“Would that bother you?” You dared to ask, voice so low it was almost inaudible as you spoke.

Leon was still quiet for a long moment, maybe considering whether to answer seriously or with his usual dry humor. The latter won. “Not something I’d wanna walk in on.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because we’re girls?”

“Because she’d be kissing you.” He responding, saying it lightly, like the meaning of that simple sentence wasn’t the heaviest thing you’d ever heard.

Your mind did circles, your heart raced. Did he mean that because you were his partner? Or did he mean it out of jealousy. God, you hoped it was jealousy.

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned, voice apprehensive and unsure.

Leon shrugged, a soft, unintelligible grunt falling from his lips. He didn’t look over at you, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. The nagging feeling that was ever present in your chest worsened. The silence was deafening, painful. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It’d just be weird. It’s Ashely, it’d be weird.” He mumbled, like even he didn’t believe his own answer.

Leon’s words befuddled you, made you frown in contemplation. “Because it’s Ashley? What you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s Ashley. It’d be weird.” He repeated, not clarifying at all. This annoyed you.

Eyes narrowed, lips in a line, you scoffed. “Thanks for the explanation.”

“Anytime,” Leon clipped back playfully. But you were in no playful mood.

You huffed, Leon picking up on your attitude as you sat up in bed. “Seriously, what’d you mean by that?”

Leon let out a scoff of his own, rolling his eyes as he looked over at you. “I mean it’s just a weird thought. You and Ashley. We, we just met her, okay?”

“Oh,” you nodded, wishing you hadn’t jumped to your own conclusions internally. You’d thought he meant it was weird because she wasn’t him. Or maybe that he wanted to kiss you. Not such a simple and obvious answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, letting out a small sigh to stifle a yawn. “Look, can we get some sleep now? Kinda have a long trip home tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You mumbled, lying back down on your back, eyes on the cracked ceiling once again.

It was quiet again, the discomfort of silence present once more as Ashley slept in the bed next to yours, and Leon tired to sleep beside you. Your mind buzzed with a thousand variations of the same question: why did Leon actually care so damn much?

“Go to sleep. You think too loud.” Leon grumbled, shifting to lay on his side, back facing you.

“At least some of us think,” you quipped quietly, earning a scoff of a laugh from him before he went silent for the final time that night.

Of course Leon woke up at dawn. The asscrack of fucking dawn. And it wasn’t like he was quiet either. Shuffling of his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom, the sink creaking on. You tried so hard to stay asleep, but your stupid internal alarm clock was ringing too. Oh to be in D.C. where it was still dark.

“C’mon, get up. We need to get moving.” Leon said, his voice somewhat gentle as he rested a hand on your shoulder once he’d emerged from the bathroom, fully changed.

“I’m up. You’re loud.” You mumbled, voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow.

“Jesus,” Leon whispered under his breath. “Even Ashely’s up.”

“Good for her,” you nestled deeper into the pillow, hearing a second set of footsteps head toward the bathroom. Less than five short seconds later, Leon yanked the covers from your body, sending a muffled yelp from your lips.

“Up, we need to move.” Leon said again, giving your leg a small shake as you grumbled on about a lack of sleep. His gentleness was gone now, replaced by urgency.

Technically, you were still on ‘enemy grounds’. You weren’t safe until you were back on U.S. soil, and even then there carried a risk with Ashley in tow.

So, with more sour encouragement from Leon, you got up and changed into your now dry clothes. Once Ashely used up her turn in the bathroom, you took yours. And not long after, the three of you were heading back toward the lobby of the shabby motel.

You managed to convince Leon to stick around for an extra thirty minutes for a shitty cooked breakfast in the sad excuse for a dining room where the motel offered complimentary breakfast.

Once full of frozen scrambled eggs, stale toast, and really bad coffee, the three of you were on the move once more. It was tricky, getting home like this. Hunnigan had promised that of you made it to a certain location a few miles north of the motel, there would be a chopper waiting to pick you up. Hunnigan hadn’t failed you yet, so you didn’t doubt her.

“How much further?” Ashley asked, her brows creased, forehead already glistening with sweat as the three of you walked through the winding streets of a small village as you had been for the past few hours.

“Not too much. Tired?” You asked, slowing your steps to walk alongside the girl.

She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Sympathy panged in your chest — Ashley wasn’t built for this like you and Leon were. The two of you had trained for exhausting situations such as these, she had not. You frowned.

“Need some water?” You asked gently, holding out a canteen from your belt. Ashley nodded vigorously, taking the canteen and drinking deeply.

You motioned to Leon to stop for a moment, he frowned, but did nonetheless. You stood with Ashley as she drank, taking a break before going back to drinking the water.

“Thanks,” she smiled, handing the canteen back to you — now half empty. “Sorry, I drank a lot.”

“That’s okay. Can’t have you passing out on us now, can we?” You smiled, taking a sip yourself before latching it back on your belt.

Leon, noticing that Ashely was finished with her break, began walking again. You and Ashely followed, keeping a small bit of distance between you and Leon.

“Hey, I um, I overheard you and Leon talking last night. Not everything, but some of it.” Ashley confessed, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Oh, that so? What’d you hear exactly?” You asked casually, worry springing in your chest.

“Just, I’m sorry because I know you guys have a like, groove or whatever. And I mess it up and I make it weird.”

You frowned for a moment, thinking about her words. Then it hit you — she didn’t hear about the kissing discussion, just the last bit about her being new to the trio.

“Oh, Ashely. You don’t make anything weird. Leon and I… we weren’t talking about you making things weird.” You promised, lips curved downward as you and Ashley walked behind Leon.

“Then why’d Leon say that?” Ashely asked, the insecurity obvious in her voice.

You hesitated, unsure whether or not to say it to her face. That he’d thought you two were going to kiss. After a moment of consideration — and seeing Ashely’s sad, curious eyes — you decided to just say it. Consequences be damned.

“Because he thought you were going to try to kiss me. When he came out of the bathroom last night.” You explained gently, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. When it kind of was.

The girl was quiet for a long moment, her brows creased, lips turned downward. She swallowed, looking back at you from where she’d been staring at her feet. “And he meant it’d be weird if I did kiss you?”

“Yeah, that’s what he meant. Not because we’re girls,” you were quick to interject your previous statement. “But because it’s just… that you and I don’t really know each other that well.”

Ashley nodded, walking beside you as you followed Leon along the uneven stone paths. Every once in a while, he’d glance backward to make sure you weren’t lingering behind or somehow gotten lost.

“Okay,” one simple word carried such finality. It shook you — Ashley was uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird. I just wanted to be honest.” You tried to explain gently but firmly. You didn’t want her to think you were strange.

“You didn’t make me feel weird.” Ashely shook her head, eyes squinting in the mid-afternoon sun as she looked over at you.

You smiled a little, relieved you hadn’t put her off or made her uncomfortable. That really was the last thing you wanted. “Good,”

The three of you continued to walk along, and a little further up, you demanded a break. Leon huffed, claiming you didn’t have time for a break. But the sun was warm and you were quickly running out of water.

So, you stopped for a quick fifteen minutes before setting off again. Leon was walking much quicker than before — dead set on getting to the extraction point before sundown. Which was very much possible as you were a mere four miles away.

There was a chopper waiting, just as Hunnigan had promised. God, you’d mentally decided to name your first born after her, so thankful to finally leave Spain and sit your ass down.

You sat beside Leon in the back compartment of the chopper, all three of you sporting massive headsets to protect your ears. You chatted away with the pilot — a friend of Hunnigan’s named Danny who was funny, and reminded you of the late Mike who died in pursuit of getting you and Leon out of trouble in the village.

With the promise of a good meal and actual hot showers, Danny flew the three of you home. You were busy looking outside the chopper when Leon nudged your knee with his, earning a slightly venomous glare from you before he pointed to Ashley. Who was dead asleep across from you.

The ride back to D.C. was long, around six hours. Most of which were spent talking with Danny or falling asleep, slumped against Leon’s shoulder. Around twenty minutes before you were set to land — you and Leon had been previously discussing what you were doing first, eating, sleeping, or showering — you shook Ashley awake.

The poor thing was groggy and half asleep as you all filed off the chopper and bid goodbye to Danny — whom you’d made a promise to meet up with and have drinks in honor of Mike at his favorite bar he’d mentioned before he tragically died.

A government issued SUV waited for you, instructing the three of you to pile into the back so you could be taken straight to the President, then to testing. Which you put up a damn good fight. Who the fuck cared about testing? You were hungry and tired and dehydrated as hell. Leon shut you up quick though, despite not being happy about the arrangement himself.

Unfortunately, the car ride was around a half an hour. The driver — not as intimidating had he’d first appeared — flicked between radio stations ntil he landed on one he knew was Ahsley’s favorite. (Apparently he’d been the one to drive Ashely to college, so he knew what music she liked).

Much to Ashely’s dismay and deathly embarrassment, the fucking Backstreet Boys were playing. The driver turned it up, also having the knowledge that this particular track was one of Ashley’s favorites.

Unfortunately, you knew the lyrics too. You mumbled along with them, Leon biting back a smile at how ridiculous his own field partner could be.

“You like the Backstreet Boys?” Ashely asked, her cheeks a bit warm as you bopped your head to the beat and hummed along.

“Nah, but don’t be embarrassed.” You shook your head, smiling at the girl who was sitting between you and Leon.

“Music is music, blondie.” Leon agreed, nodding his head with your positive attitude. He looked back over Ashely’s head at you, trying hard not to smile at your antics. God, you could be so stupidly immature sometimes.

“Oh,” Ashley mumbled, slinking down further in her seat as the driver made the final turn and parked the SUV.

Leon exited first, then Ashley, and you to follow up the rear. You and Leon were armed, still charged with protecting Ashely, no matter the fact that you were indeed on U.S. soil again, and at the White House. The President didn’t greet you outside to your surprise, but you were ushered immediately to his office.

There he was reunited with his daughter, the emotional moment making you have to quietly clear your throat because it even choked you up to see Ashley so happy to see her father again.

You and Leon were thanked profusely, promised your compensation and the highest of honors and awards. To which you didn’t really want (except the money, fuck, you wanted the money), but you knew better than to even try to deny.

With that, you and Leon were quickly dismissed, told you were being led to government testing to be sure you really were clear of the parasites. You gave Ashley a quick goodbye smile and hug, Leon giving her a pat on the shoulder, telling her to behave herself.

She looked so unsure, so strange standing in the Oval Office, clothes grimy and blood stained, hair mussed as she watched you and Leon being escorted from the room.

The First Daughter felt a strange sort of emptiness in her chest then, watching you leave. Her brows furrowed as her father spoke incessantly to her about how worried he’d been and how much he missed her. You were agents, assigned to bring her home and leave. No more, no less. So why was she so devastated to see you go?

Of course, you felt a little sad to leave the girl behind. Despite spending only around forty-eight hours with Ashley, you found yourself realizing you’d miss her. Her smile and her comments and her laugh. The way she always asked if you were alright when you should have been doing so to her. How she tried her hardest to defend you and Leon, despite her chronic helplessness.

These things were not spoken to Leon though as you two walked out of the White House together, followed by guards back to the SUV you’d arrived in. But, even though you didn’t say it, you knew Leon felt it too. Somehow, in forty-eight short hours, Ashley had left a mark on you. The both of you. And you missed her already.

“Wait!” You stopped in your tracks, you and Leon almost simultaneously looking over your shoulder to see Ashley running out of the White House after you. She was panting, trying to catch up.

She ran to Leon first, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking the agent by such surprise it made him stumble backwards a bit. Leon wasn’t much of a hugger, you knew this personally. But, despite the action being hesitant and awkward, he hugged her back.

After a few moments — which you knew in your bones were long for Leon — he gave her a quick pat on the back. Ashely took the motion in stride and unlinked herself, smiling at him.

Then, she turned to you. Of course, you expected a hug as well, and you got one. She wrapped her arms around your neck too, you wrapped your arms around her middle, hugging her back with no hesitation. But what you hadn’t expected, was for her to lean back and press a kiss to your lips.

You paused, frozen, eyes wide as Ashley kissed you. What the fuck? She wasn’t a bad kisser, actually. You felt a little bad, not kissing her back as Ashley pulled away, letting go of you and taking a step back. You sort of wished you had kissed her back. But, as the girl stood there, she held no contempt for the fact that you hadn’t. She knew she’d taken you by complete surprise.

“Thank you, both of you. I know I already said it, but thank you for saving my life. It, it means a lot.” Ashely said, her lips — which had been as soft as you thought they were — curved in a sweet smile. Baby blue eyes darted between you and Leon.

Leon who was as shocked as you that Ashley had kissed you with such little hesitation. He was still recovering as well.

Ashely said no more, just offering one last wide smile before turning around and walking away. Her guard — which had followed her outside, running behind her — escorted her. She didn’t even look back, didn’t get a second look at the still shocked look on your face.

“Holy fuck,” you said finally, looking away from Ashley’s retreating figure to look at Leon. He was shocked as well, brows raised as he blinked for a moment.

“Yep, that was weird.” Leon mumbled, nodding as if in affirmation. He said no more, turning around and walking to the SUV, leaving you in momentary silence.

You blinked yourself back to the present, realizing Leon’s comment. You frowned, turning and quickly walking to the SUV as well. “So I didn’t just have a dehydration induced hallucination? She actually kissed me?”

“She actually kissed you,” Leon nodded as he buckled in the SUV, you climbing in and sitting beside him. The car started and rolled out of the parking lot.

“Oh my God.” You said, brows raised, shaking your head. You were unsure of what else there really was to say. You were at a total loss for words.

“Fucking weird.” Leon shook his head, whispering again.

This caused you to look over at him, brows raised. “Why? Because we’re girls?” You brought up your challenge from the previous night, knowing full well you’d get the same damn response.

“No, because it's you.”

You frowned deeper, lips downturned. Oh, you liked a good fucking challenge. “You think I’m like, un-kissable, or something, Kennedy?”

Leon rolled his eyes, exhaustion obviously catching up to him. He looked tired — physically and mentally. “I didn’t say that. It’s just weird.”

“See, that’s not an explanation. Just like it wasn’t last night.” You chided, eyes narrowed.

“Christ,” Leon mumbled under his breath as shook his head, clearly regretting ever speaking in the last five minutes. “It’s just weird to see my partner being kissed like that.”

You took this as your chance, a grin forming on your lips. “By another girl? Or just in general?”

“General.” Leon responded, obviously not caring of how bored it sounded.

“Jealous or something?” You challenged further, lips pulled in a shit-eating grin.

Oh you’d gotten him there. You could tell by the way Leon’s shoulders tensed and his too casual expression that he was, indeed, sickeningly jealous. An idea — stupid, one that may ruin your dynamic — popped into your head.

You turned your body to face Leon in the backseat, grinning as he frowned at your sudden closeness. With no hesitation or moment for him to react, you leaned forward and kissed him. Square on the mouth. It must be a thing for blondes to have really soft lips.

Leon didn’t say a word, didn’t pull back, didn’t move. He just let you kiss him. Which was strange in and of itself. You placed a hand on his cheek, him a hand on the back of your neck. Eureka, he’d wanted to kiss you all along. Fuck yes, that’s all you could think.

Leon was a decent kisser too, a really good kisser actually. You scooched a little closer, allowing him to hold you by the back of your neck, your body relaxed against his as if it were natural to do so.

Was this what Ashely was feeling when she’d kissed you? Absolute elation and joy? You didn’t let yourself wonder too much, getting swept up in the fact that you were kissing Leon. His hand was gentle yet firm on the back of your neck, your hand on his cheek drifting down to rest against his chest. This moment, God you wished it could last forever.

Which unfortunately, it didn’t. You heard someone clear their throat, the driver looking at you through the rear view mirror. You pulled back, cheeks a little warm. You must look like some sort of girl. Someone who got around maybe. First the First Daughter had kissed you, now you were verging on making out with your field partner in the backseat of a government vehicle.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling away from Leon and sitting back on the seat.

Leon scoffed to himself, letting his hand fall from where it’d been resting on the back of your neck. “You’re stupid,”

“Excuse me?” You let out a small laugh. You’d kissed him and he was calling you stupid? What the hell?

“I can’t believe it took you that long to realize.” Leon shook his head, making you roll your eyes. He’d been jealous the whole time. So the comment of how weird it’d been that Ashley would kiss you — and actually had — was exactly what you thought. Huh, you were some amateur detective.

“Shut up,” you smiled, mumbling as you crossed your arms over your chest, sinking into the seat.

“Nope.” Leon shook his head, making you smile wider.

Maybe these tests wouldn’t be so bad, now that you had two kisses to think on. One you could only ever remember, and one you could receive a million more of once all this was over.

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

[feyhunter78]

This new sweet, nerdy Miguel has me FERAL!!!!! HE'S SO CUTE I CAN'T —😩😩😩😩

I need some jealousy from him~ How do you imagine he acts when he feels jealous? He gets quiet and aloof, trying to avoid y/n so she don't notice? Or he gets angry and tries to mark territory? Hehe

AHH THANK YOUUUUU

I definitely want to write a full jealousy fic for him but I’ll give you a sprinkling of my thoughts while I plan for a full fic🫣

So, in the beginning before y’all get together he’s very quiet, really draws into himself, tries to act normal but is just a lot more reserved.

He’s afraid to voice how he feels because he doesn’t want to creep you out. (Gabriel got in his head. Bless his heart the poor boy is trying to help his brother, but he’s going about it the wrong way)

Very much a situation where he’s absent from class for a week or so because he gets sick and when he comes back he realizes another guy in class has been helping you with your notes.

You smile at the new guy, thank him in that sweet way you always thank Miguel and his stomach just churns and his chest starts aching. For a second he thinks he’s still sick, but when you smile at him and ask how he’s feeling the pain in his chest disappears.

He brushes it off, thanks you quietly for your concern, and throws himself into his work. For the first week you shrug it off thinking he’s still not feeling well, but after a while you end up confronting him which leads to:

“I just—I saw you and Brett, and, I’m glad you got help with your notes but you know you could’ve come to me.” He’s leaning against the wall, the wall you’ve trapped him against with your determined attitude and your inability to register when you’re invading his personal space.

“Miguel you were home, sick, and I didn’t want to bother you.” You remind him, your voice soft, tinged with concern.

He looks down at his feet, his shoulders hunched, his whole body curled in on itself. “You’re never a bother, not to me, so don’t—please don’t go looking somewhere else.”

But, when y’all get together???? Game changer. He’s still shy and he’s still the same Miguel you knew before but he’s more confident, he knows you won’t find it weird or creepy that he feels territorial over you. Now when a frat guy looks your way a bit too long in the courtyard he simply tilts your chin up with one finger and kisses you.

Of course his face is bright red after that and he buries it the crook of your neck, his big strong arms crushing you to his chest, and every time he does this you think it’s so cute.

If y’all are in private though, and say you have to go to a party or you’re going to be doing some joint event with a frat, he definitely likes sitting you in his lap and mouthing at your skin. Nothing too crazy on your neck, but he does leave a few large hickeys on your breasts, ones that sticks out from beneath the neckline of your shirt.

Just a bit of:

“Miguel! Come on, you know I didn’t bring any concealer.” You whine, your fingers tangled in his hair as his warm lips ghost over your skin, his tongue tracing the blossoming marks that trail down from your pulse point, dipping beneath the neckline of your shirt.

“I’m sorry mi dulce, I couldn’t help it, you look so pretty.” He says, as he dips his head biting down on the soft flesh of your breasts, his large hands holding them, pushing them up, his fang-like incisors scratching against your skin deliciously.

“I have to go, I’m going to be late for the mixer.” You try to tell him, your hands leaving his hair to lightly push at his chest.

One of his hands leaves your breasts, and spans your upper back keeping you pressed against him.

“Just one more? Please?” He asks, looking up at you with such adoration in his eyes you nearly grab your phone to text your sisters you’re not going to make it.

You sigh, but it’s halfhearted, playful, indulging. “One more.”

He smiles and captures your lips one more throughly distracting you as he lays you down on the couch under him.

[hisui-dreamer]

hiii, congratulations on hitting 2k followers!! im super happy that you hit a really big milestone 💕💕 your writing is just so heartfelt and tender i love seeing ur posts float across my dash aa!!

for your bloom event, can i request jamil + sampaguita (apparently the origin of the flower's name loosely translates into "i promise you" and sometimes, garlands of sampaguita flowers are given to bestow honor on the recipient)

please tag me @/diodellet too, thank you! i hope you have a wonderful dayy💕💕

feverish promises

Pairing: Jamil Viper x gn!reader

Synopsis: jamil may be busy, but he'll always have time to care for you

Tags: sickfic, fever caretaking, reader is sick, jamil has responsibilities, food, fluff

Word count: 1.3k+

Notes: thank you for requesting @diodellet!! im so so honoured you like my writing 🥹💕💕 i hope you'll enjoy the fic!!

Masterlist

flower of choice: sampaguita

sampaguita gets its name from the Filipino words “sumpa” and “kita” which means “I promise you”

Jamil couldn't help but feel a sense of worry gnawing at the edges of his mind as he made his way towards Ramshackle. He had heard from Grim how his “henchman got super sick and is stuck in bed” and how your forehead was “so scorching hot it burned his paws”. Even though he already had his hands full with taking care of Kalim, Jamil just couldn't shake the desire to check on you.

So, there he was, a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a carefully prepared meal in the other, standing outside your room.

Knocking gently on the door, Jamil waited for your response, his heart pounding in anticipation. "It's me, Jamil," he called out softly, straining to hear your muffled reply from behind the door.

The door creaked open, revealing the slightly messy room, Jamil couldn't help but notice the scattered belongings and the disarray that hinted at your weakened state. He supposed that you wouldn't have the energy to keep everything clean in your condition.

Your pale face flushed with fever as you looked up at him with bleary eyes, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "Jamil, is that really you? I’m not dreaming or anything, right?" you murmured, your voice hoarse and weak. "I'm so glad you're here."

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached your bedside. "Yes, it's me. I brought you something," Jamil said gently.

With a tender smile, he arranged the bouquet of flowers and the neatly prepared meal on the bedside table, ensuring they were within your reach. "I thought you might like these," he said softly, his eyes warm with affection as he observed your reaction.

"These are so pretty!" you exclaimed, sitting up slightly to appreciate the delicate blooms. "And they smell lovely too."

"They're sampaguita," he explained, his tone gentle. "I heard its scent can be relaxing."

"That's so sweet of you, Jamil! Thank you," you replied as you reached out to touch the delicate petals.

“So, how are you feeling?" Jamil asked, his concern evident in his voice.

You let out a tired sigh at the reminder of your condition. "Terrible," you admitted, your words slurring slightly. "My body aches, my head is pounding, and I can't seem to gather my thoughts... But having you here makes me feel a bit better."

He frowned, feeling a pang of guilt at your words. "I'm sorry you're feeling this way," Jamil said softly.

The food container at the bedside table caught your gaze. "What's this?"

Jamil found himself flustered by your question, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he awkwardly explained, "I made some chicken soup for you… It's what I always have when I'm feeling sick."

Unable to wait a moment longer, you lifted the lid of the container, the aroma of the steaming chicken soup wafted through the air. It carried hints of savory chicken broth, rich and aromatic, mingling with the subtle notes of fresh herbs and spices. Jamil watched anxiously as you took a hesitant sip, his heart pounding in anticipation of your reaction.

To his relief, a bright smile spread across your lips as you savored the soup. The broth was warm and comforting, infused with the earthy flavors of carrots, celery, and onions. Each mouthful was a burst of savory goodness, the chicken tender and succulent, its juices mingling with the fragrant broth to create a symphony of flavors on your palate. "This is delicious, Jamil!" you exclaimed, your eyes shining with appreciation. "It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had!"

He chuckled at your enthusiasm, a warmth blooming in his chest at your praise. "I'm glad you liked it."

You sighed contentedly, murmuring, “It’d be so nice if I could have your cooking for the rest of my life…”

Jamil couldn't help but be taken aback by your sudden proclamation. This was... unusual. You were always so calm and considerate towards him, never pushing his boundaries or reluctant to bother him. Is the fever messing with your brain-to-mouth filter? He couldn't deny he had always hoped you would be more vocal and honest with your feelings.

Unable to resist the urge to probe further, Jamil ventured cautiously, "You really mean that?"

You nodded earnestly, your eyes locking with his in a rare moment of unguarded honesty. "Absolutely! Your cooking is incredible, Jamil. I can't imagine ever getting tired of it."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jamil's lips as he absorbed your words. The idea of spending the rest of his life with you... It wasn’t bad at all.

"Thank you," he said softly, a hint of gratitude in his voice. "I'll make sure to cook for you whenever you need it."

As you slowly finished the last spoonfuls of the delicious soup, the conversation between you and Jamil flowed effortlessly. He shared snippets of his day, recounting the various tasks and events he had attended to. But as the evening wore on and the weariness of the day began to take its toll, you felt a heavy weight settling over your eyelids. Despite your efforts to stay awake, a yawn escaped your lips, betraying your exhaustion.

Jamil watched you with a gentle expression, his heart feeling strangely full at the sight of you finding comfort in his presence. He reached out a hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a shiver of comfort down your spine.

Sensing that it was time to leave you to rest, Jamil started to rise from his chair. But before he could take a step, you reached out and caught his hand in yours, your grip surprisingly strong despite your weakened state.

"Don't go yet," you murmured, your voice soft and pleading. "Stay with me a little longer."

Turning back to you, he was met with the sight of your earnest gaze, filled with a vulnerability that tugged at his soul. Your eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, held a silent plea, begging for his presence to chase away the shadows that clouded your weary mind.

"I’ll be back as soon as you’re awake," he reassured you, trying to pry his sleeve free from your grasp. "You can text me anytime, right?"

But you wouldn't let go, your grip tightening as you pulled him closer. "Don't leave me," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of fear and longing. "I'll miss you."

Jamil's heart clenched at your words, torn between the pressing weight of his unfinished tasks and the overwhelming desire to fulfill your heartfelt request. In that moment, you looked so utterly lovable, with your tousled hair framing your face and your lips forming a hopeful curve. He knew he couldn't stay by your side forever, but in this moment, all he wanted was to ease your suffering and soothe your fears.

You pulled his hand towards your cheek, nuzzling into it's warmth as if seeking solace. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, stirring emotions he had long suppressed.  "You need to promise me," you said softly, your breath dancing across his skin. "Promise you'll never leave me."

Jamil hesitated, feeling the weight of your words pressing down on him. How could Jamil make such a promise when he was bound by his duty? And yet, as he looked into your eyes, filled with unspoken longing and hope, he knew he couldn't deny you anything.

"Alright. I promise," Jamil said finally, his voice barely a whisper.

A sense of resignation washed over him as he uttered those words, giving in to the depths of his feelings for you. And as you smiled up at him, a sense of peace settled over him, knowing deep down that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side, for now and for all eternity.

"Forever and ever?"

He smiled. “Forever and ever.”

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[planetnini]

PLEASE DON'T SAY YOU LOVE ME !

࿔･ﾟ*࿐ You kept catching glimpses of Suguru around even after his death. Thinking it may have been a trick on your mind, you brushed it off but when someone that looks and sounds exactly like him shows up at your apartment, you have no other choice but to take matters into your own hands... that is until you find out that he still might be in there.

pairing. geto suguru x gn!reader

tags. angst,, like seriously angst (this hurts so much please listen to me), the first half is a trick there is no happy ending, shibuya arc spoilers!!! (kenjaku is a bitch), violence/fighting (i get a bit descriptive sorry) and of course,,, major character death :)

word count. 2.8k

notes. this idea came to me one night and bambi encouraged me to write it so here it is. i hope no one kills me for this, i also can't believe this is my first official fic of jjk... anyways, get ready to (c)rumble, thank you! <333

“I thought I told you not to worry about me.” you said, phone tucked on your shoulder holding it to your ear as you took the grocery bag from the old lady giving a curt nod and smile. You moved the bags in one hand and pulled the phone out from your shoulder, pressing it against your ear.

“But then what else would I do?” Satoru whined, masking his concern with a playful question as you walked to the crossing, going to take the usual route home.

“Go bother someone else.” you teased.

Going for the dramatics you heard him gasp through the line, “You are so mean.” he replied and you don’t have to see him to know he is pouting. 

You chuckled, stopping in your tracks as you glanced over the scenic route through the park contemplating to take the long way home. Your attention is suddenly turned to the children with their parents, chasing each other around.

Your heart stuttered.

The mere sight elicited thoughts about your future; the plans you had come up with; the dreams you’d wish to share with Suguru that were torn away from you. The burdens of the jujutsu world were too much to handle alone, and you just know that if you were just a bit more attentive, you could have saved him.

“You need to be reminded that you’re not the only special grade sometimes.” you said, glancing at the way the soft cerulean of the sky weaved with a beautiful light orange. The sunset reminding you of days when Suguru would take you out after missions together.

“Do you think you’re stronger than me?” he chimed, and you rolled your eyes at his comment. Satoru was always like this but you knew that his voice was laced with worry and concern.

“I’m going to hang up.” you threatened as your feet move against their own will, deciding to take the long way home today. The cherry blossoms danced along with the wind, falling beneath you on the concrete as you continued down the path.

It is quiet for a moment and you think Satoru has hung up on you in response to your comment but when you hear him sigh, you can’t help but do the same.

It has been a rough few years for everyone, especially for Shoko, Satoru, and yourself. Not only had you lost your best friend the first time but you also had to lose him another time.

“Are you still there?” he interrupted your thoughts.

“Yeah.. I’m still here.” you replied as you let out an exhale, kicking some pebbles along your path.

“Are you still seeing him around?” he questioned, words picked out carefully.

You sighed, “you make me sound insane.” you responded as you stood at the traffic light waiting for the cars to pass by. Your eyes moved to the blossom leaves falling atop your head and on your clothes.

“I never said you were insane Y/N.” he grumbled and you can’t control the way your whole body relaxes at his words. You knew Satoru cared for you deeply and you had always appreciated it even if you didn't really show it. He had always kept an eye out for you, even before Suguru’s death, and while he was a handful, you knew he always had good intentions. “It wasn’t easy to be there." he added.

You thought back to that day where Satoru insisted you stay back as he went to find Suguru but one look at you and he caved. You wanted to go to find newfound peace but seeing him in this state did nothing for your closure, it only made your heartache worse.

Seeing him smile at you like he did the first day you met had sent butterflies all throughout your body.

Everything about him- every minuscule detail about him- had been exactly as you had remembered. He still had the same sweet and playful look in his eyes. He still had the same goddamn smile. He was still the same person you fell in love with all those years ago so it hurt. You cried, wept, and tried to be strong as you thought about the moments shared with him and how cruel it was that this was where you ended up.

You leaned down, and kissed his cheek as tears adorned your cheeks. Holding his hand and with three tight squeezes- a sign of sorry that you established as your relationship blossomed- he closed his eyes, prepared for the worst as a tear rolled down his face, and then he took his last breath.

“Satoru…” you uttered, completely speechless as you tried to clear your head, “I wanted to be there.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Do you think it’s possible?” he questioned, uncertainty laced in his voice.

“That what Satoru? That by some miracle he’s alive?” you replied immediately regretting it.

It wasn’t just you that had to grieve the loss of Geto Suguru, and as much as you wanted to just go about your day without thinking about it, guilt would eat away at your bones for not constantly thinking about him.

“i’m sorry.” he sighed and you felt your heart clench at his apology. Why should he be apologising? It was unfair that grief was making you behave this way and you knew that sooner or later you'd need to talk to someone about it.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I just don’t think my mind will let me forget it...” you sighed as you continued to walk slowly to your apartment.

The line is quiet and you don’t know what else to say. You don’t expect Satoru to even reply to you.

“You don’t have to forget. You can just live with it.”

Shoko had once told you that 'grief was love with no place to go' and while you hadn’t really understood it then, you did now. It was a way to understand the emotional ruins of grief as a continuation of the love you once had, even if the object of that love is no longer a part of your life. In a sense, Satoru was also telling you the same thing. He acknowledged that moving on didn't mean erasing the past and staying stagnant in the moment, but recognised that you can continue living a meaningful life whilst also carrying the grief with you.

You thought you were losing your mind and that seeing Suguru everywhere was a curse but maybe it was the world's way of letting you know that he was finally at peace. As you walked up the pathway to your apartment in a comfortable silence, you thought about his and Shoko’s words. 

Every single day you would return home to a place void of any remnant of Suguru. A place that is supposed to offer comfort now did the opposite but today felt different. Maybe it was a step towards another way of living and it wouldn’t be so hard to live with the grief.

“Where are you now?”

“Outside my door.” you spoke as you used a key to unlock the door.

“Okay. I’m glad you got home safe," he remarked, "I'll see you tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

“Stay safe.” he said and you know what he means.

“Love you too.”

You hung up the phone and took off your shoes before tossing everything onto the kitchen island and groaning as you stretched your back and neck. You turned to open the fridge, “Whoever you are, you have ten seconds to run before I kill you.”

You wouldn’t say you were the strongest, your abilities were nowhere to be compared to Satoru but everyone deserves a second chance, right? You let the entity decide its own fate. Don't say I didn't warn you...

“So... you’re the infamous Y/N.” 

That voice…

Your feet were frozen in place and you could feel your own heart sink into the pit of your stomach. There were words stuck in your throat as the nauseous feeling crept up and threatened to spill from your lips. This can’t be right… 

What felt like minutes passed by as you processed what, or rather who you just heard. The way your name rolled off their tongue was foreign. Was it really who you thought it was? Your mind must be going through it right now and although you know it’s not possible, you can’t help but hope it is who you think it is as you turned around.

“Suguru?” you uttered, eyes wide as the tears brimmed the edge of them as you stared at the man in front of you. 

“Bingo!” he chuckled.

You begged yourself to snap out of it. This was clearly a sick and twisted transformation technique but your heart betrayed you, standing there and not making a run for it.

“You’re probably thinking this is some illusion but thanks to your friend, I was able to obtain this body without much trouble.” he smiled and you felt goose bumps crawling up your arm at the strange sight. Despite how much this man looked and sounded like Suguru, you knew this was not the case at all.

Your jaw clenched, “What the fuck did you do to him?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, standing up from your sofa as he trudged towards you, “My cursed technique allows me to transplant my brain into anybody," he explained and you're heaving as you tried to keep your rage at surface level, "I have access to all of his memories, his skills, and whatnot."

You don't have it in yourself to attack just yet.

"He lived a long time without you in his life but somehow," he paused, "you take up almost every single memory.” he sounded frustrated and the tears threatening to escape your eyes do so- whether he was telling the truth or not, they still hurt you immensely. 

“So why are you here?” you growled as your body allowed itself to move again and maintaining eye contact with him as you focused all your energy to charge your technique.

“You are a hindrance to my plans.”

His weakness.

You released your cursed technique at him immediately and launched him across the room and as you moved to the table to grab your phone. One of Suguru’s cursed spirits wrapped around your hands and restrained you and using your abilities, you managed to get away from it. You shot him a look as he tilted his head with a smile, “I gave you ten seconds to run but I have something else settled for you now” you snapped as you continued to use your technique to your advantage as you continued to fight him.

You would say that against Suguru, it had always been a close call of who would win in a fight but this time it felt difficult. Who was this guy?

You continued to attack the man, fighting back with all your might. He wasn’t actually Suguru, so you didn’t feel the need to hold back. He caught you off guard with a calculated move and knocked you to the floor. You saved yourself from further injury as you used your arm to break the fall, but you managed to hit your head on the furniture with your head in the process.

You winced pushing yourself off your elbow as the man walked towards you with his hands in front of you as he tried to force you up by the throat, “Suguru...” you managed to say before he could grab you. 

Before you can even process it, there is a twitch of his hand that came up to his throat, choking himself as his fingers pressed down against the side of his throat, ultimately stopping himself from putting a hand on you.

Your eyes widened as your breath caught in your lungs. Was he still in there?

Kenjaku’s eyes widened, as his vessel- Suguru’s body- fought against him, and a laugh that used to be full of joy now sounded like nails on a chalkboard as it echoed through your apartment, “This is impressive!" he spoke, amused at the action.

By no means was Geto Suguru still alive, but protecting you had become muscle memory; it was an instinct that has embedded itself deep within his soul, one that Kenjaku would never truly be able to understand..

You are still on the floor, blood dripped down the side of your head as you moved up from your spot. Using your technique, you try and catch him off guard by putting all your strength into your next move, attacking him when he least expects it, “In all my years, I have never seen anything quite like this and it is all because of you.” he cackled. 

“It sounds like somebody is scared.” you taunted, smirking at the imposter to try to size him up.

“Well, let me tell you this,” he cleared his throat, “When a part of the original host reacts, you know what that means?”

“What?” you seethed, jaws clenched as you waited for him to finish his sentence.

“He’s still in here.” he whispered, and t had caught you off guard.

You wanted to attack but instead your heart sabotaged your next move allowing Kenjaku to have the upper hand. You struggled to react as you felt the pain of something on your left side and suddenly, you are on the floor gasping for air and you can feel him hover over you.

He pinned you down to the floor and slammed you against it to stop you from struggling but you were already incapacitated so what was the point?

In terms of physical strength, Suguru would always win by a landslide and this is when you wished you had taken your training more seriously. 

There was a visceral reaction that tears at Kenjaku as he has you in his hands which entertains him once again, “You have some nerve calling yourself a special grade sorcerer,” he sneered, “Are you holding back?”

You looked up at him and tried your absolute best to move but the pain is too much to handle. You clenched your jaw as your breathing became erratic, “You will find no peace, so long as you live.” you choked out.

He laughed and wrapped his hand around your neck tighter, his right hand reaching over to your hand- you don’t know what he expected from you now that you’re bleeding out. "You're hilarious," he rejoiced as his hand intertwined with yours, “So let me make this easier for you. Just think about him...” Kenjaku needed you to suffer so that he could shake Suguru’s will to its core, stripping anything left he had. You don’t know what you expected but then you felt a gentle squeeze.

One. 

You forced your eyes open to look up at the man who squeezed your hand. It seemed that he was unaware at the action. This guy said he had all of Suguru’s memories so was he just doing this on purpose? Is this Geto Suguru or is this the imposter that is using his body?

“It is honestly so sweet just how much he loved you after all those years apart.” he chuckled.

Kenjaku continued to put pressure around your neck with one hand, feeling the exact opposite of what Suguru was probably going through- an intolerable, gut-wrenching pain, without exaggeration. He can’t do anything but squeeze his hand in yours again.

Two.

You can’t fight back, you have no will. Even if by some miracle, how could you possibly hurt the man in front of you? The man you once loved...

“Is that why you’re not fighting back? Do you love him too much to hurt him?” 

Suguru’s soul pleaded. 

He wondered why he couldn’t be strong right now for you and resist but it was no use. You could see a tear falling from his face now as the final fragment of his soul tried its best to push through.

Three.

You’re choking. You can't swallow. You can't breathe. You can only see the man you loved in blurry vision from the lack of oxygen and through tears. He was sorry...

“I… I.. forgive.. y-” you choked out, voice restricted as Kenjaku forced himself to push through with his execution, tightening his grip.The finality of it all settled deep within his soul as Kenjaku watched the life leave your eyes as you took your last breath.

A tear rolled down your cheek and your existence on the Earth came to an end.

Suguru was not really gone but he might as well have been. He will exist for a long time knowing that he was the one that killed you and that he couldn’t do anything to stop it either.

It was on that night for the first time that Kenjaku felt the overwhelming amount of agony from his vessel. His soul ached, cried, and wailed that night, longing to be with you but he couldn’t- that was just how things were meant to be for you two.

You hoped he knew that you forgave him and that you would love him endlessly but as for now, you would wait...

tags! @stsgluver

i made y/n a special grade user because they could easily take down suguru if they wanted but just didn't do it hahahahahah

[lainiespicewrites]

Dreamless sleep

I mentioned in a reblog a few days ago that I sometimes write little oneshots about Henry to comfort myself when shit situations happen. Well I left work today and my car wouldn't start and... I've been struggling with remembering something really difficult that happened to me and I needed a comfort fic. This is that.... I don't normally post them but I wanted to share this one.

Warnings: Mentions of SA possible trigger.

summary: waking up from a nightmare and having a rough day. Henry is always there to help.

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

I watched the door shake.  The man on the other side determined to break in.  If he got through, he was going to hurt me again. Not that he would ever admit it. My attacker had spent just moments before trying to convince me I had asked for it. Like what he did to me was nothing more than him fulfilling my desires. Bile rose in the back of my throat from the thought. 

“Go away, Luke! I told you I won’t say anything to anyone! Just leave me alone!” But he didn’t stop. I watched the door knob turn as I looked around my childhood bedroom searching for something to barricade the door. Trying to find anything to keep him out. My strength would not hold much longer. One more shove and he would be inside. I wouldn’t be able to escape him. Just like the last time. As I’m reaching for a chair to press against the door, I stumble. I fall to the floor and the door swings open… 

I woke with a start shooting straight up gasping for breath. My heart was racing and I let out a whimper as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I flinched as I felt a gentle hand touch my hip. 

“Darling it’s me, it’s okay.” Henry’s soothing voice broke through my panic. It was a dream. Only, a dream. I swallowed hard and looked out the window. It was storming, the sky was still gray, I looked over at the clock 6:25 my alarm was about to go off, 

“Sorry, go back to sleep baby, it was just a bad dream. I’m okay.” I assured him. Henry sat up. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and placed a soft kiss on my head. 

“You’re sure? He asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head. I hadn’t told him about what happened to me. And as far as I was concerned he didn’t need to know. It was in the past. I was fine. It was rare that I had these dreams. 

“No bear, It was silly, just go back to sleep, I need to get up and get ready,” I told him. He took in a deep breath. He still held me close for a moment before hesitantly letting go of my waist. 

“Alright, love,” When I got out of bed I turned and kissed him softly. He looked so tired. He’d gotten back so late from set. I hate that I’d woken him up. 

“I’ll see you later,” I smiled. He sat up giving me another kiss. 

“Have a good day baby,” He said. I slipped out of my bedroom and took a quick shower. I quickly got dressed for the office and left. I picked up a coffee on the way to work. I splashed some on my shirt leaving a small stain. It wasn’t completely obvious but I knew it was there. This would happen today I hate Mondays. Things were in full swing, actually, busy. When I got there. I sat down and tried to focus on my work. But I couldn’t get anything done. All I could think about was that dream. 

Lunch rolled around and I realized I’d left it at home. I didn’t want to bother Henry. He hadn’t had a day to himself in a while. So I was just going to pick something up. I ran to the little convenience store down the road and got a little snack. It was much but it would hold me over until the end of the day. 

The rest of the day was so busy. So many emails and the work just kept piling up. It was non-stop. I was so ready to get back to my place and spend the evening with Henry. I walked out to my car and put the key in the ignition and… it didn’t start. I tried it again… nothing. How could this happen? It ran perfectly fine on lunch. God, I was just tired and hungry and I want to get home! I’ve spent the whole day reminded of this terrible thing I’d gone through, and now this? Today sucked! I sighed and pulled out my phone. I was going to have to call Henry. I tapped his name and the phone rang. After the second ring, he picked up. 

“Hey, babe, you on you’re way back?” He asked. I sighed again. 

“No,” I said flatly. “My car won’t start I don’t know what’s wrong, the engine won’t even try to turn over.” I rambled. I could hear myself starting to hyperventilate. 

“Slow down, breathe. I’ll be right there.” He promised. In 10 minutes he was pulling up next to my car. We tried to jump it but that did nothing. I sighed and slammed the door. “Whoa, hey, it’s gonna be alright we’ll get it fixed, love,” Henry said grabbing my shoulders gently and making me face him. I felt my lip start to wobble. I didn’t want him to see me cry. In all honesty, we hadn’t been together that long. He hadn’t seen me break down and I wasn’t ready for him to. What if I was too much? What if he didn’t want me anymore?

“I-i’m sorry, today has just been… stressful. I was looking forward to getting home and spending time with you.” I said. 

“And you’re going to, we’ll leave the car here I’ll have it looked at in the morning. Let's get back and relax my love.” Henry drove us home. I shuffled inside, quickly changing into comfy clothes. After spending a while trying to fix the car it had gotten a bit late so we decided to order in. Henry ordered dinner while I got cozy on the couch. We ate our Chinese takeout and binged a new Netflix series. My mind wandered not fully paying attention. Getting lost in the dream from this morning. I was staring blankly at a spot on the wall, I didn’t hear Henry say my name. He shook my shoulder and I yelped. His brow raised and his eyes filled with concern, and something that almost looked like hurt. 

“What’s going on with you today love?” He asked. I snapped. 

“What do you mean? Nothings going on everythings fine!” I said. He sat back looking at me from a sideways glance. 

“You’ve been on edge all day,” He stated. 

“You haven’t even been with me all day,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Is something bothering you?” He asked. I groaned. 

“Fucking hell, would you just drop it Henry? I told you, I’m fine!” I shouted. Henry ran a hand through his hair and groaned in frustration. 

“I’m just trying to help,” He sighed. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask, I’m not some helpless damsel you need to save!” I argued. 

“I never said that!” he groaned. “But you’ve been stressed since you woke up this Morning.” He stated. 

“So?” I deflected, clearly agitated.  

So… who’s Luke?” He asked his voice calm. My stomach dropped. How did he know that name?

“I don’t know what your talking about…” I said shifting my eyes to the floor. 

“Alayna, when you were having your nightmare, you… said his name, asking him to stop. Who is he?” He asked again. I swallowed hard. I kept my eyes on the floor hidingn the tears that had started to well up. 

“No one, must’ve just been a name my brain came up with.” I lied. 

“Come on,” he pleaded. “I know you don’t think I’m that stupid.” He said. I looked up at him, eyes meeting his. He was hurt. Hurt that I was shutting him out. 

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, I just… don’t want you to think I … to think less of me.” I sniffled. Henry brushed my hair out of my face and brushed his thumb across my cheek. 

“Talk to me, I want to understand.” He said. “Whatever is, I just want to help you,” he stated. I nodded. 

“He… is…was a friend of my brothers.” I started. “They were friends since they were kids, I new him since I was a baby.” I explained. Henry nodded. Keeping his hand on my back silently supporting me. I went on. “I thought I could trust him. I was so naive. He always seemed like a good guy. He came to town to celebrate my brothers birthday. And they came back drunk. He woke me up. Because he wanted to say hi. I got up to talk with them and when we went back to bed he… got into my bed. I thought he was joking at first. I thought he was gonna leave.” I looked at Henry. His face was calm, but I knew that he knew what I was going to say. I didn’t miss the anger in his eyes. But he stayed quiet. Letting me get it all out. “He was like a brother to me. I-I don’t know how he could touch me like that. But… I couldn’t do anything. It was wrong, it was so wrong but I was like frozen with fear or shock I don’t know. I know that I told him no. Once. something he wanted to do … I finally was able to find my voice but. It didn’t matter. The next morning he acted like nothing happened. I never said anything. I never pressed charges…nothing. It was years ago. In my dream I confronted him. He told me I couldn’t prove it. He wouldn’t own up to it. I yelled at him. And he tried to convince me I wanted it.. And he…he tried to come after me again.” I cried. Henry quickly wrapped me up in his arms pulling me into him. “That’s when I woke up.” I said.  I cried against Henry’s shoulder while he held me. He gently cooed in my ear as if consoling a baby. But it helped. It was the comfort I needed. The shoulder to cry on I never really had. He was quiet for a while. Letting me have this moment and then. 

“You know, none of that, is your fault.” He said. His voice soft. 

“But I.. let him.” I said. His jaw ticked. Trying to remain calm for me. 

“No, he may not have been violent or mean or angry. But he still forced you. He was bigger than you. You had no choice. But to let him do what he wanted. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve felt carrying this for so long. But I won’t let you do it alone anymore.” He said. 

“You don’t have to,” I sniffed. 

“The bastard is lucky he’s still breathing. He may not live anywhere near you but if he ever comes within a mile of you he’s a dead man.” He growled. 

“I’m sorry, about…” I started staring at the ground. 

“Look at me,” He cupped my face pulling my eyes back to his. “ I don’t care about some little argument. Or a stressful evening. I care about your wellbeing, your safety, and your peace of mind. There may not be much we can do about what happened. But I can help you feel safer, I can help you feel protected. That’s what matters. Let me care for you. Don’t be too proud to let me help you.” he pleaded.  I nodded. I was exhausted. Today had been so hard. I didn’t have the energy to be guarded anymore. 

“Okay,” I said. 

“You need rest love, you look exhausted.” He said softly. I nodded laying my head against his shoulder. Henry carried me to bed and I immediately curled myself around him. He smiled softly. 

“As long as I breathe. He will never, get to you,” He said softly. I nodded my breathing slowly as I listened to his heart beat. Henry softly stroked my hair and I felt my eyes lids get heavy. 

“Get some sleep darling, I’ll be right here,” he promised. My eyes closed and everything faded to black. And for the first time in a long time. I had a dreamless sleep. I was safe. Now. Truly safe. I didn’t have to fight this alone.

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I don't feel like this is my best work but it is honest... I'm gonna add my taglist here but you so don't have to read it! if you do thank you! It's just away of me getting all my emotions out. Y'all are like my online emotional support group <3

@foxyjwls007

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@summersong69

@carrie80reads 

@identity2212 

@caramariehurst 

@redheadrouge 

@warriormirkwood  

@gummydummy19 

@deandoesthingstome

 @shellyshellshell

@mary-ann84 

@starfirewildheart 

@henryownsme

@mollymal

@wa-ni

@toooldforobsessions

@pono-pura-vida

@Chloeforde

@liecastillo

@mrsevans90

@evie-119

@margauxmargaux07

@thearcana-moonlight

@secretdream2

@wtfdudesblog

@juliaorpll78

@nothingbettertosay81

[psylocke142]

Night of fireworks

Jihyo x fem!reader

synopsis: Colorful lights began to erupt into the night sky. You felt as if your heart burst along with each explosion in the sky. Dreading the end of the festival. This is the last summer you will spend with Jihyo before you part ways.

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: none(?); maybe some angst; goodbyes; definitely some angst

a/n: i was surprised with the results of my first fic(?), not sure what to call it. thank you if you read that and left a like or reblog <3.  i was expecting nothing tbh so i was so happy to see it do better than i expected.

i was listening to Night of Fireworks by Xdinary Heroes and was inspired to write this work. i chose jihyo because i've been missing her zone & one spark era lately. DMs and asks are open. i’m still new to writing so any suggestions or comments are appreciated. apologies for any errors.

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

Jihyo looked beautiful today. She always did, but today you felt mesmerized by her. Even with the lack of light outside, as the sun had already set, Jihyo seemed to glow in your eyes.

“Come on y/n, don’t get lost.”

Your hand was grasped by Jihyo’s, pulling you along to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Jihyo looked back towards you. Blinding smile crossing her features, making her glow even more.

Your mushy thoughts and gazing were suddenly interrupted.

“There you guys are, we’ve been looking for you two everywhere.” Nayeon huffed.

“These two have been running my pockets wanting to play every festival game.” She continued. The culprits, Momo and Sana, happily ate away at a huge bucket of cotton candy. Which was also bought with Nayeon’s money. No remorse in their eyes.

Mina just silently greeted you two with a smile and waved as Nayeon clung to her arm in defeat.

“Please tell them that these games are rigged for you to lose money trying to win stupid stuffed toys!” the eldest whined.

It was the end of summer, which meant that the city’s annual summer festival was in place. The six of you had decided to come to this year’s festival. You were all still adjusting to the adult world; the youngest of your group just finishing university, others securing new jobs, and the rest of you were piled with work. This left little room for your friends to hang out like before. There were still a few of you missing tonight.

Jeongyeon and Tzuyu couldn’t make it, the vet center they’re working at had them stay for the night shift. They explained that some of the animals get jumpy with fireworks, so they were quick to oblige. Chaeyoung and Dahyun volunteered to stay behind with them to help, expressing concern over their friends being left out. Really they just wanted to play with the puppies and kittens all night.

Your group of friends sought a night of enjoyment and unwinding. The girls were all glad to be able to have found time to gather and spend together. Jihyo was particularly delighted that majority of your group could make it. Wanting to see your girlfriend even more happy you had a plan. Tonight every wish Jihyo had was your command.

Jihyo wanted funnel cake?

You bought her some.

Jihyo wanted to go on the bumper carts?

You teamed up to annoy Nayeon by cornering her and continuously crashed into her cart.

Jihyo wanted a ‘stupid stuffed toy’?

You played the festival games until you won her a cute stuffed elephant.

Much to Nayeon’s dismay. Momo and Sana gave her puppy eyes and promised to treat her to dinner if she won them something. She relented of course. Surprisingly, or not, Mina won a medium-sized panda on her second attempt of the ring toss.

Despite being able to enjoy the festival and being with your friends, there was a gnawing feeling eating away at you. It would creep up on you throughout the night. Not letting you stray too far from the reality of tonight. A reminder of the ticking timer in your chest.

This summer festival would be the last you get to spend with Jihyo.

Jihyo had gotten a promotion. Said promotion was a significant milestone in her career, as she was still a rookie in her office, only having worked for her company for two years. This was a chance she couldn’t turn down, it would be unwise to do so.

However, there was a major downside to this promising opportunity. It required her to relocate. Jihyo had to move to the company’s prestigious headquarters — in Paris. She would be moving to a beautiful and alluring city while gaining valuable experience for her work, but it also meant she had to leave her current life behind. Her friends, family, and you.

Jihyo didn’t mind the idea of starting fresh in a new country. Her ambitiousness and work ethic would make that a smooth process. What weighed heavily in both her heart and mind, was what it meant for the two of you.

Despite your willingness to move to Paris and follow your girlfriend, she protested. You had just secured a job with your dream company a couple months ago. Following Jihyo meant giving up the job you dedicated your blood, sweat, and tears for. That was something Jihyo couldn’t allow. The memory of you jumping in joy when you landed the job fresh in mind. She couldn’t take that away from you by asking you to leave with her. Hesitantly you obeyed Jihyo, not wanting to further upset her or cause any more turmoil.

Uncertainty filled your hearts. Fear of what the distance, different time zones, and unforeseeable changes would make of your relationship. So you both reluctantly agreed to not let it reach to a point of no return. Not wanting to taint the beautiful relationship you cultivated throughout the years.

To set aside the worries and stress, Jihyo invited the group to the summer festival. Afterall, this would probably be the last time she gets to hang out with everyone for a while.

Jihyo’s main reason for coming to the summer festival was to see the firework show with you. She wanted to spend a memorable night with you before the end.

As you prepared to leave to watch the show, Jihyo said her goodbyes to your friends. Both sides making promises of keeping in touch.

The conversations between Jihyo and the girls made your heart clench, knowing that you were going to have a similar talk later that night. Taking in the fact that you would have a different goodbye than your friends. One more permanent.

Once again Jihyo was leading you, hand in hers, to a vacant park that would have a nice view of the firework show. Once again, you just cherished the sight of her.

As you sat down on the grass, waiting for the firework show to start, you realized that the night was ending. Without thinking you held onto Jihyo’s hand tighter. In response, the shorter girl placed herself between your legs. She wrapped your arms around her as she leaned herself into your front.

The distant crowd began to applaud and cheer as the countdown for the show began.

Colorful lights began to erupt into the night sky. You felt your chest constrict tightly with each explosion that fired into the sky. Dreading the end of the festival.

You looked up into the sky, at the fireworks.

Then you looked at Jihyo.

Her face was tilted upwards looking at the sky. Big round eyes reflecting the colorful lights. Soft black hair cascading down her profile in slight waves. Mouth slightly agape and forming a bright smile. Face expressing momentary awe and joy. You couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of love for the girl in your arms — the girl who held your heart.

Fireworks were nowhere close to shooting stars that you could wish upon. Still, you hoped that they could grant you just one wish. You gazed at the fireworks and you prayed to the explosive colors in the sky. To let you stay here forever, with Jihyo.

As the build up for the grand finale of the firework show began, you felt your heart’s timer begin to run out. The night was over. You held Jihyo tighter. Buried your head onto her shoulder. Trying to ingrain this moment into your brain.

Before the final fireworks went off Jihyo stood up unraveling herself from your warm embrace. Her back towards you.

“y/n…”

“it’s time.”

You hesitated to stand up. Not quite ready for what was to come.

You thought that maybe it was just you who felt devastated to have to say goodbye. Until Jihyo turned around and lifted her head to look at you. There were tears that had already fallen from her eyes and new ones that threatened to fall. She ignored her tears and just smiled at you.

Jihyo grabbed both of your hands to hold in hers. She observed your face intently. Slowly nearing towards you. She closed the small distance between you. Lips meeting in a gentle but desperate need to be together.

Her hands came up to caress your face but stopped when she felt the tears that ran down your cheeks. Tears that you hadn’t realized had fallen. Jihyo pulled back and wiped away your tears.

“This is what’s best, right Jihyo?” you muttered. Suddenly unsure of what you had both agreed upon. Not quite set on letting each other go. Not set on saying goodbye.

“Yes,” Jihyo quietly replied as her hands roamed your shoulders. Her body pushing against your front to be as close as possible. To savor your touch for these last few moments.

“I love you Ji,”

“I always will.” you whispered as you moved a strand of Jihyo’s hair to tuck behind her ear. Your other hand finding her waist to hold.

“So will I, y/n/n. I love you too.”

Jihyo pushed herself even deeper into your hold, enveloping you in a hug. You reciprocated her actions. Filling as many gaps between your bodies as you could.

The remaining fireworks shot upwards into a final explosion. Finally the ticking timer in your heart went off. Heart bursting alongside the lights in the sky.

Without hesitating you brought your lips to your lover’s. You emitted all the love you felt for Jihyo into the kiss. Your last kiss.

As the fireworks began to fade, you both pulled away. Jihyo brought her hands to yours. You stared down at the connected limbs. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You willed yourself not to cry as you looked up. You wanted these last moments with Jihyo to be as clear as crystal.

The girl before you still glowed in the dark night. She looked stunning, angelic even, despite the tears in her eyes. Those round mesmerizing eyes held something scenic, a view filled with sadness and love. Far more captivating than any shooting star or firework show.

Thousands of unspoken thoughts were behind both of your eyes. Thoughts that you were able to comprehend without either of you having to voice them.

Jihyo gently let go of your hand, her fingers softly lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The inevitable end of the festival has come and so has the conclusion of your time.

You felt yourself wanting to reach out, to hold her hand tighter as her fingers began to slip away, a last attempt at grasping this fleeting moment that you wished could last forever. The look in her eyes pleaded for you to not make this any more difficult than it already was. A mixture of sadness and adoration. Your own gaze reflected Jihyo’s. A shared understanding; this parting, though painful, was necessary.

Jihyo was the first to speak.

“Goodbye, baby” she solemnly drawled.

“Goodbye, love” you returned.

Still rooted in the same spot, you watched the love of your life walk away. Tears now freely falling. Heart in ashes.

The night of fireworks is over.

[lovelywritinglady]

Hi I've been reading a lot of your fan fic for a while and one I would just like to say they're great and awesome. But two I was hoping to ask you if you could make this into this fan fiction

where it's swap Audible and Tengen Uzi is a Upper moon that is secretly dating a hashira (male reader if possible)

Thank you so much! I’m glad you like my content!💜

Demons Love

Demon Uzui Tengen x male!Reader

In which reader and Uzui are dating and no one knows…

Fluff, Wholesome themes, mentions of blood, slight violence.

Your pov

‘Dammit Uzui! You gotta keep a lower profile.” I barked at my boyfriend. As the two of us stood in a dark alleyway.

“I know I’m sorry, I just can’t help it. You’re so flashy and strong.” Tengen replied with a wide fanged smile on his face.

“Thank you, but as you know, no one can know that your my love and I’m yours. A gay relationship is already taboo, but a hashira and a upper moon is much more taboo.” I reminded him.

“I personally don’t care.” He shrugged leaning in and stealing a kiss on my lips.

I melted into his kiss. Allowing him to hold me close to him as he shoved his tongue into my mouth. I then moaned pulling him closer. Despite him being a demon, he sure was attractive. From his fuchsia eyes to, his fanged teeth, bulging muscles, and pale skin. He was like a god.

Tengen then pulled away letting me breathe. A massive blush graced my features as he looked at me with hunger in his eyes. I could tell that he wanted me, but this just wasn’t the time as we were in the middle of a battle. A battle that I had to fake considering I didn’t kill my love.

“God you’re handsome.” Uzui complimented still holding my bloodied face.

“I know I am and so are you.” I flirted back as I wiped some dirt off his gorgeous face.

“You know, you didn’t have to go so hard back there. I think those kids know you’re strong.” He teased.

“I know, but I need to make them believe that we actually hate each other.” I responded in a no duh tone.

“Fine, wanna go back?” He asked in a annoyed and saddened tone.

“I guess so, just kiss me first.” I demanded as I captured him in another heated kiss feeling slightly sad that we couldn’t continue…

Our battle together destroyed an entire town and all the whole neither of us were really trying. Uzui has a tendency to try and show off even though I’m fully aware of how strong and flashy he is. We pretended that he got away and was too scared of daylight to continue any longer. This exact scenario has happened only a few times, but I’m concerned that someone will catch on. But I really don’t care. As long as I have him I will fake fight as much as possible to keep him. And I know he’ll do the same, even though he’s a blood thirsty human eating demon.

Thank you so much for reading💜 And thanks to the person who requested this fic! Also, sorry I made it so short my writing bug hasn’t been super strong lately.

Please feel free to like, comment, request, and reblog.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my mater list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

[sister-lucifer]

Apology, With Tears 

Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst/Comfort

Summary: Lucifer comforts you during a hard time, and reminds you that your feelings are always welcome with him

Content/Warnings: Comfort, guilt, angst with happy ending, implied venting (the source of anguish itself isn’t specified, please project whatever issue you may be having onto this fic /srs)

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“I-I’m sorry….” 

Your voice was so small. Shockingly, terrifyingly so. For a moment Lucifer froze, unsure if he had really heard it. The words were as fragile as a single snowflake landing on the bare concrete, ready to break and melt into oblivion at any moment. They were as quiet as the coo of a dove in a raging thunderstorm, and yet they shook Lucifer to his very core. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m sorry, Lucifer…” 

There was a small part of him that thought maybe the repetition would bring clarity, but no such luck. Gently he hooked two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up towards him in a slow manner so that you’d have ample opportunity to resist him if you’d like. 

You did not. You allowed him to meet your eyes with his. 

That was the softest you’ve ever seen his gaze. 

The sharp brows that were usually taut with annoyance were furrowed just slightly in such a way that you could tell Lucifer didn’t even know he was doing it. He would never purposely let concern show so obviously, but it seems he was preoccupied with other, more pressing concerns at the moment. 

Something sorrowful in the swirling red of his eyes stabbed into your heart with a pang of guilt. To know you had caused Lucifer—the chronically overworked head of house—such worry brought a heaving sob from you. 

The last of your resilience disappeared like a flame in the wind. The tears flowed freely, and there was no stopping them. They ran fast down your cheeks and fell into your shaking palms and stained your shirt. They were shamefully, burning hot, like liquid fire on your face, but once they fell to your lap you could not feel them. You brought up an arm to cover your eyes, the tears soaking into your sleeve and soon after your skin. 

“I’m…I’m sorry, I—“ 

“Please, please stop saying that, my love….” 

The words are surprising, but even in your shock you can’t bring yourself to look up at Lucifer. 

“Why…” He begins, at a loss for words for the first time since he can remember. 

“…Why do you keep apologizing?” 

You thought you’d have an immediate answer, and yet when you open your mouth no words come. That should be an easy question. You knew why. 

Didn’t you? 

You have to search a bit more before you even think of speaking. 

“I just…I feel bad for…b-being like this—“ 

“Being like what?!” Lucifer interrupts, and now his confusion and desperation is showing through. He’s not raising his voice and yet his words hold a sense of urgency akin to that of a scream for help. He isn’t angry, but he is so overwhelmingly worried. 

“I…I-I shouldn’t…” You have to fish around in the word pool a bit more before pulling out the right ones. “I shouldn’t be…making you deal with this, i-it’s my problem, I can handle it, I…” 

The pause is heavy. Unbearably, crushingly heavy. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this to you…” 

It is in this moment that Lucifer’s black heart shatters into countless pieces. The larger fragments linger in their place, the smaller splinters go flying off in all directions. It is likely that he will never recover all of them. There is no way to when something like this happens. He knows that you have felt the same. You have lost many pieces of your heart along the way here. 

Fortunately, Lucifer has some to spare. 

“You aren’t doing anything to me, my love…” He assures you, taking your hands in his. His grip is loose, encouraging you to follow his movements instead of forcing you. 

“You talk about yourself as if you are some terrible, laborious thing that must be dealt with against all will. I’m not here because I am forced to or because I feel I must, or else. If I thought this wasn’t a serious matter I would have walked out of this room long ago.” 

He’s right. You know he’s right. Living with six unruly little brothers means Lucifer has a very high tolerance for emotional turmoil. You’ve seen him shoo his bickering brothers away or send an injured Mammon off with no more than a ‘good luck’ and a wave of his hand. He knew his brothers could deal with themselves. 

But you? You were not them, but he still knew exactly what you needed.

“You are not some heavy burden forced on my shoulders, I choose to be here. You have nothing to apologize for because I am asking you to seek me out for help.” 

A gloved thumb wipes a tear from your cheek, and for the first time you meet Lucifer’s gaze on your own. His expression is lighter somehow,  brows not pressed quite so tightly together. 

“Hardships cannot be endured alone, that is a fact. They are meant to be shared. So please, no more ‘sorry.’ Apologies are for when you do something wrong…like how a certain twin keeps eating the drywall in the common room…” 

You can’t help but laugh at that. It’s weak, hardly intelligible through your labored breathing, but Lucifer hears it. 

The smile that crosses his lips is merely a ghost, gone in a moment. 

But you see it. 

It comforts you in such a way that it destroys every defensive wall you had been fighting so hard to keep up. Suddenly you’re reaching for him, gripping onto his uniform shirt with aching fingers before pulling him to you. A loud sob echoes through you as you hide your face against his chest, hot tears leaving trails down his button up. 

If you were anyone else in any other scenario, Lucifer would probably be a bit appalled at how you were ruining his freshly ironed uniform. 

And yet, the thought never even crossed his mind.

A tender hand strokes the back of your head, and the other ushers you up into a more comfortable sitting position in his lap. 

He doesn’t shush you, or tell you it’s okay, because it isn’t. But it doesn’t have to be. He knows you will calm yourself in your own time. 

Until then, he is more than content to stay right here.