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writtenbymoonflower · 14 hours

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Hiyaa!! i LOVE!!! your poly!maraduers x reader fics. i was wondering if you could make a fic where the reader has had an absolute horrid week and just got their period and our sweet boys comfort us bc of how good boyfriends they are 🥹🙏

-🌻

thanks for requesting! I hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: period cramps/symptoms, hurt/comfort

1k words

Your eyes were pinched tightly as you clutched your stomach, easing and tightening your hold as the pain ebbed and flowed. You had been feeling crummy all week with no explanation until you were getting ready to take a shower last night and saw the red rorschach stains on your thighs. Thankfully, you hadn’t bled on anything, but you still took extra care to check everywhere you had been sitting. After your panic had subsided, the previous few days had made sense. There had been a grating brick in the bottom of your stomach and a slimy feeling you couldn’t scrub from your skin. Either in addition to or because of these physical feelings, you had been particularly fragile. Your boyfriends had noticed your state, but you never confessed your emotions since there was no clear source, at least, until now.

You were curled into yourself on the couch, as if the more condensed you were the less pain you would feel. You were nauseous to the point of not being able to stomach pain medicine. You had showered last night but still felt disgustingly greasy. There was a book open on the arm of the couch that you had been pretending to read, but eventually had no energy to continue. Remus was in the armchair next to you with his own book, while James mindlessly flicked through the television channels and Sirius sat in front of the coffee table with an array of snacks before him. They were leaving you mostly alone, probably assuming you were trying to sleep. Another cramp fizzed through your body and you winced, a small whimper escaping. Nearly silent, but Remus’ sharp hearing picked it up. He looked at you, clearly expecting some kind of obvious injury.

“What’s wrong, dovey?” He looked like he was in pain himself. Remus was all too familiar with pain, but the idea of any of his loved ones hurting was enough to cause instant panic within him.

“Nothing, I’m fine-” You almost had the sentence out when another cramp hit, making you screw your face up and inhale sharply. Sirius spun around at your reaction. You curled in on yourself further, tensing your stomach.

“What’s going on with you?” Sirius had his rare no-nonsense tone. When you didn’t give a response he tried to pry your arms away from your torso, but you whined and scooted away.

“I said it’s nothing.” You wanted to snap but you sounded too pitiful to have your desired effect.

“Hey. I’m not fucking around.” Sirius kept trying to inspect you, his brain clearly already at the worst case scenario. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Pads, calm down.” James scolded before turning his attention to you. “Let us help you, sweetheart.” He coaxed. You huffed, abandoning your hopes of being modest.

“It’s really nothing serious. Just some uh, cramping. From… you know.” You tried to smile. The boys confused, and then quickly relieved but they still didn’t go back for their previous activities like you hoped they would.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Sirius slumped. “I thought you had fucking appendicitis or something.”

“I think if I had appendicitis it would be a lot worse.”

“I don’t know, lovely girl.” Remus reached over both the arms of his chair and the couch to pet your head. “It looks like you’re hurting pretty badly.” He cooed a sad sound when you winced in pain again.

“Have you taken anything?” James stood up, already heading to the bathroom medicine cabinet.

“Not yet.” You said, feeling Remus’ wordless chiding. You could already hear what he wanted to say. ‘You have to get ahead of the pain, dovey.’ You took the pill bottle from James.

“Have you eaten yet? You can’t take those on an empty stomach.” Remus reminded you. You sighed again, not from cramps this time.

“No.” You said shamefully. Now you were being judged by the other two boys.

“Baby,” James groaned, walking towards the kitchen now. Sirius was already shoving a package of mini muffins towards you. “Why?”

“My stomach hurt too much. I couldn’t get up.” You pouted, slowly chewing a muffin.

“That was when you should’ve asked one of us.” Remus’ gentle bossy tone came out, the way it does when he’s feeling especially protective.

“I would’ve been fine.” You reasoned. “I get this every month, it’s nothing out of the norm.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. Do you think it doesn’t hurt for Remus every month?” Sirius had a charcoal-drawn brow raised.

“That’s different!” You floundered. “Of course it hurts for him.” You got instantly emotional. “I wasn’t saying that.”

“Pads,” Remus huffed before turning back to you. “I know you weren’t. But you see the point. It still hurts for you.”

“ And we still wanna look after you.” James appeared with a glass of water and a hot water bottle for your stomach. You took the medicine while he fixed the heat over your abdomen. When he was done he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Don’t thank me, darling.” He said, stroking your hair from your face. You jumped again when Sirius climbed on top of you without warning.

“Siri! What are you doing?” You squealed as he settled his face into your neck.

“Lovin’ on you.” He said as it was the obvious answer.

“I’m disgusting right now.” You groaned, pushing his shoulders to shove him off. He just dead weighted and pulled you in closer.

“Not possible, you’re mine.” He argued. James scoffed.

“Oi! Not just yours!” James shoved Sirius away so he could kiss all over your scrunched face. You all but shrieked before he stopped, turning his attention to the TV remote. Sirius turned the two of you so you were on your sides, your back to his front facing the television. His hand was holding the hot water bottle to your stomach. Remus closed his book and laid on his side. His tall frame was folded in a way that was probably aching, but he still held it. He settled his head on the arm of his chair, nearly touching yours and Sirius’.

“Are you feeling better, sweet thing?” Sirius asked quietly.

“I do. Thank you.” You sounded awfully sleepy.

“Wow. You two just shamelessly took advantage of the situation to turn us into the napping house.” James was trying to sound scolding but it just came out as affection.

“It’s called being supportive, Prongs.” Sirius sassed, but you and Remus were already out.

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put-me-through-the-wall · 1 day

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Imagine Retired!Price who has nothing to do in his new found free time

His team was finally able to convince him to put down the gun and rest. He's done more than enough for others.

But after years of constant movement and missions he isn't comfortable with sitting in one place.

He starts to go on long walk in the afternoon to fill his time

Mostly people watching or checking out the local businesses.

One night as chilly afternoon turns into a cold evening he finds himself wondering into retro diner all lit up by neon lights.

He finds a booth and takes a look around at the polished but dated looking restaurant.

it brought him a feeling of comfort he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hello sir, can I get you a drink to start?" A sweet voice chirps

He turn to meet your sunny smile all dressed up in a baby pink button up dress, waist cinched with a mini apron. Hair pulled back with a matching bow.

"Hello..." John looks down to your name tag. "Bunny?"

"Oh" you laugh, "It's just a nickname. The old timers think it's cute"

"What does that say about me, then?"

"You don't look too old to me."

"Let me get a coffee, bunny"

From that point on John made sure to come by the diner every night.

Rain, sleet, or shine you could bet he would be there.

You weren't there every night of course but it thrilled him to think of the possibility of seeing you again.

Always greeting him with a, "Hey stranger" or "You come here often?"

Always dressed in that little faded pink dress.

Your conversation started to take up more of your shift as time went on.

Evolving from cordial to friendly and occasionally flirty.

"Bunny, what does your boyfriend think of you working all the time?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, John"

"Then what do you do all day when you're not here?"

"Waiting for you to ask me on a date"

Then you both laugh but John knows his time will come and he's a patient man.

He was always a generous tipper, even before the flirting

He loved to watch you run around the place, espically when it was busy.

You handled yourself well under pressure. Never letting a difficult customer get under your skin.

He love to way you look after a long shift with your hair slightly tousled with a pen or two stuck somewhere in your hair or behind your ear.

He'll stack his empty plates up nicely to make it easier for you to pick up.

Pushing them to the edge of the table signaling to you he was finished up.

He made sure they were steady too, especially so after one unlucky afternoon that had you sweeping up the shards of glass under his table with an embarassed blush warming your cheeks.

But seeing you on your knees sweeping up your mess made unpure thoughts flood his mind.

He began thinking about what you wear outside of work.

What you wear when you go out.

What you look like when you don't wear anything at all.

Then one rainy afternoon, John blows in to find his usual booth vacant and waits patiently for your typical sweet greeting.

Instead you rush over and drop his coffee on the table with a thud causing tiny brown droplets to splatter over the thick rim of the diner mug.

"What's crawled up your skirt, little rabbit?" John chuckles.

You frown down at him, pulling your notebook and a pen from your apron pocket. "I'm not in the mood today. What do you want to eat?"

"I know I was a little late but, the it's pouring outside. Don't be upset with me, bunny" He says, refusing to drop his joking tone.

"John" You snip.

He likes the way you say his name when you're angry.

"What's wrong?" He looks up at you with sincerity and you finally drop your arms and sigh.

"It's been a hard day. My boss is just being a total tool. The other waitresses are shit and no one is tipping well. Don't say anything but, I think I'm gonna put in my two weeks" You're words tumble from you in a rush.

"You're going to quit?"

"I can't keep working like this. I hardly make enough for rent and I still have no time to myself," You take a breath and shake your head. "Sorry, I shouldn't talk about money stuff with you. You're just here for dinner."

"Let me help you,"

"No, I don't need help. I'm fine, just a little overworked. I shouldn't have brought it up. Forget it."

"Let me take care of you"

You laugh but he does not.

"Come live with me, you'll never have to work again."

"Okay stop now, this isn't funny."

"Do you see me laughing?"

"You don't even know my real name"

"Aren't you tired? You're far too pretty to be so stressed. This job will always be here if you change your mind. I don't think you will though."

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

A/N: This turned out longer than anticipated but hope you enjoy. I just want a Price to sweep me off my feet and make me a house wife :'-)

ﾒ𝟶

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#john price x reader #john price cod #john price #captain john price #cod x reader #cod #call of duty #captain price #Jud writes

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sailor-aviator · 3 days

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Road To Perdition: Prologue

Road to Perdition: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, Allusions to alcoholism, Death of parents, Pessimism, Historical Inaccuracies probably. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 1.2k

Series Masterlist

Light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting shadows across the walls as your eyes slowly fluttered open. There was a stillness in the air that was all too familiar for those that lived as far out of the city as you did, nestled in the trees that scattered the farmland surrounding your home. You heard the shrill chirping of the birds as you adjusted back to life in the waking world, stretching with a grunt as you glanced over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.

It was still early, something you both lamented and thanked the lord for. You had things to do today, things that would require you to sneak past your brother who had undoubtedly passed out on the couch once more after a night of drinking himself silly. He had been like that before your parents passed, one of the many things he and your father had in common.

It had been only a couple of years since your father died, leaving your brother his illegal business of moonshining - a business you had been a part of at one point before finding other means of making money. Your father hadn’t been too keen on the idea at first, always commenting on how you seemed to have a special touch with the liquor, earning you your nickname of Moonshine or Moonie for short.

He had accepted it in stride, though. Especially when he saw the amount of your first earnings as a part-time photographer for the local paper. The camera had been a gift from a family friend, having purchased it for his son who quickly let it fall to the wayside as other pursuits caught his interests.

“Shouldn’t go to waste,” he had said, handing it to you with a small smile on his usually stern face. “Here, Moonie. You should have it.”

You had felt wrong taking it at first, but the feeling quickly left you once you held your first photo in your hand, your brother having saved up enough to set up a makeshift room for you to develop them in. That was before he started sampling his own product, of course.

“These are really good, Moonie!” Jack had grinned as he held a particularly stunning shot of a doe you had encountered in the back field one morning. She had turned to face you, and that’s when you had taken the shot, just before she ran back into the safety of the woods. You were particularly proud of that shot, but you ducked your head down in humility.

“They’re not that good,” you mumbled shyly.

You smiled wistfully at the memory before letting out a sigh as you pulled yourself up out of the comfort of your bed. You were quick to tidy up, fluffing the pillows before marching down the hall towards the bathroom. The sound of snoring echoed from your brother’s room, and you snorted in surprise at the change, but continued on.

After relieving yourself, you washed up, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror. Most girls your age had a whole counter full of makeup, but you simply couldn’t see the need for it, or justify it for that matter. No, you were saving up what little you could to make your escape. You weren’t sure where you’d go yet. New York perhaps? You’d heard there was always an opportunity for someone there. The thought of making your way in the growing city sent your stomach fluttering, and you clapped your hands against your cheeks to settle your mind.

There was no time for daydreaming. You had to focus on the task at hand. You were able to squirrel some of your earnings away from your brother’s greedy hands, and you made weekly deposits into a private bank account. People had been weary of the banks since the crash a few years back, but you trusted them more than your snooping older brother. Work had been hard for people to come by, but people were always looking for a photographer. So for now, non-essentials like makeup would have to wait.

You dressed quickly, double checking to make sure your camera was tucked away in your messenger back alongside your rainy day fund, and set out only to stop short at the sight of the living room.

Bottles were strewn all about the place along with cards scattered alongside them. Letting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bag down onto one of the chairs as you set about cleaning the place up. You were surprised that the noise of what was surely many men hadn’t woken you up. You had had a long day, though. The fresh wad of bills sitting in your bag proof of that.

The bottles clanked together as you gathered up as many as you could, taking them out to be washed later. Coming back inside, you glanced over to observe the state of the kitchen, the sight having a growl leaving your throat before you could stop it. Plates were stacked high in the sink, and you knew you’d have to take care of them now lest they stink up the place for the rest of the day. The last thing you needed to deal with was unwanted pests in your home.

You actually enjoyed doing the dishes, if you were being honest. It was time to let your mind wander, plotting your way out without being disturbed. No one wanted to be drawn in to helping, of course. So you washed and scrubbed in silence as the noise outside picked up with the late morning. You wouldn’t get to the bank until this afternoon, at this rate. That left little time to go snooping for your next lead, which left you more irritated than before.

You drained the sink once you were done, wiping your hands with the dishcloth with a grimace. You’d have to do laundry tomorrow. Another chore left for you to take care of.

Perhaps you wouldn’t be so quick to want to leave if it wasn’t only you holding this place together. Your brother had been your rock once upon a time, but then your mother had passed due to illness and your father followed her not long after. Of course, you had been devastated, but you took it upon yourself to be the strong one after Jack fell apart. He started drinking then. It had only been one here or there, but it quickly grew into several bottles a night, and no amount of begging would get him to stop. So you quit trying.

It had come to a head only a year ago when you came home early to find your room tossed upside down, anything of value missing along with Jack. It was a week before he came home.

You had learned your lesson, and now you bided your time until you could withdraw your money and make a break for it. The sun shone down on you as you began the trek into town, dreaming of the day you would make this journey for the last time.

A/N: Just something to tide you guys over until I can formulate the next chapters of By Its Cover and Fool's Fare. I'm excited for this one though!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#rtp #road to perdition #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 15 hours

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Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 7 whooohooow. We get the cofee date and more conversation! Yay

Also I'm dead tired, going straight to sleep after posting this forgive any spelling mistakes. Also please point it out to me if I messed up the gender of the reader anywhere. I promise that's just because these are horribly self indulgend and I might slip up and put my own gender in there. But I wanna keep these as neutral and inclusive as possible because we all deserve to be self indulgend with these. Love you all!

< Part 6 | COD Masterlist | Part 8

Simon’s running late and he‘s cursing himself when he opens the door of the café he’s supposed to meet you at (he’s so glad you didn’t tell him to meet up at Johnny’s bakery, he wouldn’t have survived that).

He’s not even sure why he’s late and he’s glad Price doesn’t know about it, the old man would give him hell for not being on time, especially when it means making lovely little you wait. God, he can't believe he's making you wait, his chest tightening up slightly. What if you already left?

As soon as he steps in, he spots you and has to take a second to take the scene in. The café is cute and cozy; you’re nestled into a booth at the back anxiously watching the sidewalk through the window, your mutt laying by your feet. You’re probably looking for him and that makes him hastily walk towards your table. He really wants to kick himself for being late. Way to go and show you how important this is to him.

When you hear him approach you look up and your dog sits up, eyeing him. Your eyes are big and you look like you didn’t expect him to show up at all. Honestly you look like a deer caught in the headlights, like one wrong move might make you bolt (he really needs to tame you, put a collar on you so you won’t run).

Your expression makes Simon want to crumple to his knees so he might beg for forgiveness. His chest is slightly heaving from his race against time and you raise your hand in an awkward little wave.

“Hi…”, you say and hearing your lovely voice immediately makes his heart speed up.

“Hi, sweetheart. So sorry for being late.”, he apologizes and extends his hand for your dog to sniff. The beast recognizes him and deems him harmless, so he pulls out a chair for himself opposite of you. You already have a drink in front of you and you self-consciously stir the apparently empty cup (god, you’re adorable in your nervousness).

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I ordered already, wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”, you admit quietly, eyes downcast looking at your drink. Simon’s heart breaks. He wants to cover your hand with his and tell you that nothing could keep him from showing up for you even if it means crawling from another grave.

Instead he starts taking off his jacket and says: “I’d never stand you up, sweetheart.”

That makes your eyes snap up to his and he feels his traitorous heart stumble over the next beat. A smile appears on your lips and he forgets what else he wanted to say when your gaze lands on his newly exposed forearms. Your eyebrows slightly lift seeing his tattoos.

Simon’s just about to grow worried that you don’t like tattoos (shit... maybe he should get a laser removal?) when he catches you biting your lips. This time it’s clearly not nervousness.

He’d never admit it but maybe he deliberately flexes his hands and makes a show of getting comfortable without his jacket until your attention is ripped away from him by a waiter asking for your orders (he could seriously knock the poor sod out for that).

When Simon looks at you again your eyes are on his face, your brows slightly furrowed and you cock your head (that would be the perfect angle for him to press his lips to yours). Suddenly he realizes that you’ve never seen him outside of the shop and you’re probably put off by the mask.

“You can ask.”, his voice is gruff and curt and he curses himself. He couldn’t have sounded more uninviting. This is just perfect, at this rate you'll end up leaving before you get your second drink.

“So… I assumed the mask was a hygiene thing but…”, you vaguely gesture to his face. “… evidently it’s not. May I ask why you’re wearing it?”

He barely suppresses a chuckle. Seems like you’re not as reserved as he thought. The pairing of your openness with your timid and shy demeanor makes for an interesting mix.

He finds himself appreciating your directness, something he hadn’t anticipated from you. Then again this date is for you to get to know him and decide whether he’s worthy of being in your presence again (apart from just buying meat).

“’s a habit from my military time. Now it feels odd to go without it.”, he explains simply. He doesn’t see any reason to be dishonest with you. He wants to get to know all of you, uncover all your secrets and hidden parts. If you find him interesting enough to ask about him too, who is he to deny a deity the knowledge about their worshipper?

You nod slowly, scrutinizing him. The next smile you send him is crooked and a bit apologetic. “Doesn’t make it all that much easier to trust you.”, you say.

“And seeing me would? What more would my face tell you?”, he genuinely questions.

That makes you pause for a second and he decides to go on. “People hide intentions behind expressions all the time. Now I might hide my expression but never my intentions.”

Instead of answering directly you look down at your dog.

“Well, Wraith likes you, which really already tells me a lot.”, you say and Simon nearly raises his fist in victory (he’s glad he didn’t forget to put some treats in his pocket).

Wait… “Wraith?”, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he repeats your dog’s name in question. Even after all this time he never asked for the name and never got a good look at his name tag.

Wraith…. a ghost. A ghost!

Your expression turns soft. Simon wishes you’d look at him like that. He’d happily lay on the floor by your feet if it would mean you’d look at him like that. “Yeah… Wraith.”

He watches you in rapt attention when you continue: “I just…”, you chuckle self-consciously. “I never found the idea of ghosts intimidating. And the idea of one of them appearing to you before or after death always sounded more like a guide or companion than horror and fear. Which is kind of what Wraith here is. Most people look at him and find him intimidating, they’re scared, when actually he’s the sweetest, purest pup and best companion anyone could ask for.”

Simon barely keeps from looking at Wraith again. To look for whatever you see in the ugly fucking dog. He’s glad he keeps his attention on you, because you look up, the slightest hint of embarassment on your face, the expression so adorable he feels like fainting (would you look at him like that if he called you his good little lovie?).

“I… sorry it’s silly…”

“It’s not.” Fuck why does his voice sound so raspy. “I like it. Appreciate you tellin’ me”, he quickly adds battling down the sudden urge to tell you about his own Ghost. He consciously keeps his hands from reaching for his mask and running over the skull print.

“I’ve always been afraid of ghosts.”, he admits and your eyes widen incredulously.

“You? You look like ghosts should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”, you blurt and he can already sense the oncoming apology so he makes sure he’s quicker.

“Thank you, lovie. That’s very flattering of you. Not sure how much these…”, and he flexes his biceps obnoxiously for you. “.. would do against incorporeal entities.” (Oh fuck was that weird? He was going for a joke but fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Shitshitshitshit you’re gonna think he’s one of those airheaded only brawn guys)

Simon’s about slap himself when you snort, cover your mouth and giggle, the sound settling warm in his stomach.

Then you seriously nod at him. “Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you from ghosts. They might slip right through your big beefy arms but they’ll miss mine.” You flex your arms too and Simon bites back a grin when he's reminded of how much smaller you are than him. “Thin like trip wire, they won’t know what hit them. Literally.”

He chuckles, earnestly and from deep in his belly, and you grin at him, evidently more at ease. When you settle more comfortably in your chair, not as tightly coiled anymore like you might need to jump into action at any moment, Simon can’t help the protectiveness flaring in his chest. You’re too precious for your own good.

But you don’t need to worry anymore, especially not around him. He'll keep you safe.

You’ve got two guard dogs now.

#the sewer writes #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #butcher!simon x reader #simon x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #butcher!simon #butcher!ghost

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annwrites · 2 days

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please, god, please, take him instead.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: you wake up with a cold, & once the two of you have reached vegas, for the next three days, billy prays to god that you don't slip away from him as he nurses you back to health.

— tags: ANGST, billy being a worrisome wreck, billy playing nurse to you, billy crying

— tw: medicine

— word count: 5,536

— a/n: find my other posts concerning billy here

When you wake the next morning, it's with a slight cough and the occasional sneeze. At first, you don't think much of it. Perhaps it was just the desert sand irritating your sinuses. Maybe it was the arid air. Maybe it was nothing.

You lean your head against the passenger side door frame, shutting your eyes.

You'd only been on the road for a little over two hours. Billy had suggested that morning—since you'd brought it up previously in Oklahoma—maybe the two of you make another little detour and check out Vegas for a few days, or a week. You'd agreed easily, excited to see it yourself. Excited to see it with him. Until you began to feel worse.

You were halfway there now, but another two hours seemed like a lifetime. All you wanted was a hot bath and a soft bed to lie down in. You wanted desperately to sleep. But the rumble of the engine, the music, the wind blowing through the open windows—your head felt like it was ready to split open.

You, with heavy arms, pull your hair into a ponytail, desperate to cool down. God, this heat was unbearable. Maybe going so far West had been a bad idea if you were this sensitive to the temperate climate.

Too late now, however.

Billy glances to you, frowning at your flushed complexion, your hooded lids. "You alright, baby?"

You blink tired eyes. "I don't feel good."

"You need me to hit the next rest-stop? I think one is comin' up in about five miles."

You close your eyes. "I don't need to go. I just feel so hot."

He doesn't bother making a joke, doesn't smirk or raise a brow. He reaches over, placing his palm against your forehead. A muscle in his jaw feathers in worry then. "You're burnin' up," he says, placing his hand back against the shifter. "You seemed fine last night."

You shrug lightly. "Maybe it's just a bug I caught." You yawn.

He glances over his shoulder. "Lay down in the backseat and get some rest. We'll be there in a couple hours."

You open your eyes. Crawling back there sounds like the equivalent to climbing Mount Everest to you right now, but staying seated the way you were didn't sound all that appealing, either. You unbuckle, climbing between the seats, curling up with the same pillow from that first night in his car. The smell of him comforts you.

How long you had both come. And not just literally.

He throws over his shoulder, "Let me know if you need me to stop for any reason. Alright, angel?"

You nod, head already feeling light as you drift off. "Alright."

"Wake up, darlin', we're here."

You slowly blink your eyes open, squinting against the light of day.

Billy kneels down, brushing some hair out of your face, his form blocking you from seeing outside of the car. He presses his palm to your sweaty forehead. "You're still runnin' a fever."

Your eyes flutter closed again. "So tired."

"I know, sweetheart. Our room is only a few feet away. I already took all our things inside. Once you get in there, you can go back to sleep. C'mon," he encourages.

You groan, sitting up, head swimming. You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, the world spinning. "Oh God."

He slides his hand up your leg. "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy."

He doesn't like the sound of that. You'd had breakfast, but that was hours ago. It was just because you were hungry. That was all. As soon as he got you inside, he'd run out and get you something to eat. And then you'd be fine.

You'd be just fine.

He slides his arms under you, picking you up, shutting the door with his hip.

You lay your head against his shoulder, shutting your eyes, brows furrowed.

He carries you into the room, gently lying you down on the bed and he begins tugging off your shoes. "You want me to help you undress?"

You look at him, his serious expression, surprised he's not using the questions as a come-on. You nod lightly.

He pulls off your tanktop, folding it, then he begins to tug off your jean shorts, and folds them as well, placing both on the bedside table.

You shiver then. "Why is the AC on so high?" You whimper, trying to get beneath the covers.

He glances to it, then walks over, checking the thermostat. It was at a comfortable enough temperature to him. A little warm, even. He turns back to you and watches as you wrap a comforter around yourself. He leans down, pushing hair away from your forehead, pressing his lips to it―he remembers his mom doing the same when he was little and sick―and when he pulls away the blood drains from his face.

"Baby doll, you're on fire, how do you feel cold?"

You just shiver in response. "C-can you turn the heat on?"

"Sweetheart-"

"T-then, can you hold m-me? You're really warm."

He glances to the door, then back to you. "You haven't eaten since this morning. Aren't you hungry, honey?"

You shake your head. "My stomach hurts."

He chews the inside of his cheek. You're most certainly sick, and a cheeseburger isn't going to do it. He needs to run to a pharmacy and see what they have that he can give you, which lines up with your symptoms.

He kneels down, running his hand along the comforter, gently gripping your hip. "I need to go pick you up some medicine, baby. Will you be okay here on your own?"

You nod, still shivering. "C-can you put another b-blanket on me if there's one?"

He walks over to the closet and finds one, even if it's rather thin. He fans it out, draping it over you. He then grabs his leather jacket, putting it overtop of it.

He turns the AC down even further, knowing he's going to sweat through his fucking clothes when he gets back.

He presses a firm kiss to your forehead. "I'll be back in just a little bit. Alright, angel?"

You nod. "O-okay. I'll wait h-here."

He kisses you one last time, hating to fucking leave you like this for even a second. "I love you," he whispers, standing, grabbing his keys and heading out.

As Billy stands in the cold medicine aisle of a local pharmacy, he silently curses to himself at the plethora of options. He picks up a bottle of Robitussin in one hand, and a bottle of NyQuil in the other, and then he spots another bottle of Motrin just to the right.

"Why are there so many fuckin' cough syrups? Jesus." He mutters to himself.

He decides on the two bottles he's currently holding, and also picks up a thermometer, and an ice pack for your head. He has to get that damn fever down. And if the medicine doesn't do it—if it only gets worse—you won't like what he'll be forced to do next.

As he drives back to the motel, he searches his mind for what could've possibly brought this on. Traveling alone would do it. You'd been in how many motel rooms and diners and tourist attractions now? And then he thinks of you on the hood of his car, your naked body soaked from the pouring rain.

He hangs his head for a moment. "Fuck," he mutters. He looks back up to the road. He should've shoved you back in the car the second that storm hit. Should've at least put you in a hot shower when the two of you got back to your room. This was his fault.

All so he could get his rocks off. And you hadn't even finished.

Selfish.

When Billy comes back into the room, you're fast asleep. He wants to take you resting as a good sign. They always say that, don't they, when someone is sick? To drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest?

He sets the plastic shopping bag down on the bed, then grabs the ice bucket, heading back out to fill it.

When you wake, it's nearly dark out. The entire day gone.

You quickly realize that you're pressed up against Billy's bare chest, his warmth covering you. God, he felt so nice and warm.

You press your palms to him, closing your eyes again.

You feel him stir.

"You awake, sweetheart?"

"Barely," you mumble.

You feel his body shift, like he's reaching for something beside the bed and then he speaks. "Open. I need to take your temperature."

You do and he slips the cool metal tip of the thermometer under your tongue.

A moment later, he removes it and you hear him curse, then setting it back on the bedside table.

"Is it bad?" You ask, snuggling closer to him, wrapping one of your legs around his, trying to soak up as much of his body heat as you can.

"It's one-oh-one point six. That's not good. You definitely have a fever, which I already knew." He gets out of bed then and you nearly cry from the loss of warmth, wrapping yourself in blankets again.

You hear a plastic bag crinkling and after a moment he returns to you. "Sit up for me, darlin'. I need you to take this."

You pop one eye open, eyeing up the tiny cup held between his fingers. "What is it?"

"Something to hopefully help break that fever. C'mon now."

Slowly, you sit up, clutching blankets to your chest with one hand, taking the cup from him with your other. You sniff, then look up at him.

"It's not a shot, it's Robitussin. Just take it, Jesus. Please."

You throw it back, your nose wrinkling at the taste as you hand it back to him.

He hands you a cup of ice water then and you down it quickly.

He walks across the room, then returns with anther cup full.

You down it as well.

He smirks. "Want me to just bring you the whole damn ice bucket?"

You just lie back down then. "Can you hold me again?"

"You want to shower first? You're burning so damn hot you're about to give me a fever next."

"Not really."

"How about a bat-"

"Please, Billy."

He sighs. "Alright."

When you wake in the middle of the night, you're drenched in sweat, but somehow still freezing. Had he not turned the AC down? You also have to pee something awful. When you get up to go, however, the room spins and you hit the floor.

Billy wakes with a jolt and when he realizes his arms are empty, he panics. "Baby, where are you?"

"Down here," you call from the floor.

He quickly throws back the covers, coming to you. He kneels down. "Act like you've never walked around in the dark before," he says with a smirk. "If you need help finding your way around a bedroom-"

"I fell. The room won't stop spinning."

His smile quickly drops.

"I need to go."

He nods, even if you can't see it, and he picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

Once he's set you on the toilet, he steps out for a moment to give you some privacy, leaving the door cracked.

Once you start to go, it takes a few seconds.

He leans his head back against the wall. "Sounds like a damn fire hose in there."

You barely roll your eyes at the sarcastic comment.

"You're drinking more water once you're done, just so you know."

"Great," you reply flatly.

Once you've wiped, you stand, flushing and then it hits you. You double over the toilet, vomiting.

He rushes into the bathroom, quickly pulling back your hair with one hand, rubbing your bare back with his other.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Just let it out. You'll feel better." He hopes.

Once you have nothing left to expel and you stop dry-heaving, you lower the toilet lid, flushing yet again, lying your sweaty flushed cheek atop the lid and you close your eyes. "I think I'm dying," you say quietly.

"Don't fucking joke about that," he states defensively.

You slowly open your eyes, looking up at him, his expression utterly serious.

He picks you back up. "Back to bed, young lady."

After making you drink not one, not two, but three cups of ice water—even putting an ice pack on your feverish forehead, which had caused you to shake violently—he'd given you another cup of Robitussin, then laid back down with you.

He'd chewed you out when you'd tried taking the icepack off, so you'd left it be after that. You'd stuck your cold hands down his briefs as payback, though.

In the morning, you feel worse.

You'd dry-heaved a few more times during the night—enough times that Billy had eventually placed a trash can on your side of the bed—and had sweated straight through the sheets. Billy had given you a few more doses of the Robitussin, but it seemed like nothing was helping.

"Open."

You do and wait for the thermometer to read your new temperature. It had gradually climbed little by little overnight.

When he removes it, his brows furrow and you could swear his eyes even get a little glassy at the reading.

You stare up at him.

"It's over a hundred and three now," he states, voice full of worry.

He glances to the bathroom, then back to you.

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

He puts his hands on his hips, considering, thinking. And then he shakes his head. "I...I can't afford to take you to the hospital, sweetheart. So we're going to try something else." He steps closer to you. "You're not going to like it."

You thought you had felt cold before, but you had been deeply wrong. Your body shakes violently in the tub as ice-cold water pours down on you from above. You wrap your arms more tightly around your knees, pulling them impossibly closer to your chest.

"P-p-please stop. I'm s-so c-c-cold."

Billy fights against the tears gathering in his eyes. "I know, baby. But I have got to get this fever down. This is the only way."

He turns the water on higher, unable to do anything more to help you as he watches—completely helpless—as freezing water pounds down against your trembling, naked skin.

All he can think is: is he doing the right thing? Is he really helping you? What if he's only making it worse? Making you more sick? Maybe a trip to the ER was what you needed. What if...he let it go for too long and...you didn't wake up again? He shakes his head. No. Anything but that. He cannot fucking think like that.

You were going to be just fine.

You had to be.

If you died, he'd fucking kill you. He can't fathom a life—no, a world—where you no longer existed by his side.

Once Billy has dried you off, you cling to his broad frame, trying to warm yourself.

He swallows down the lump in his throat at the icey feel of your skin.

"C'mon, angel, let's get you back into bed."

You like the sound of that immensely.

Once you're beneath the sheets, Billy gives you a dose of NyQuil next, wondering if mixing cough syrups is a good idea, but clearly the Robitussin was doing jack-shit for you.

He crawls in next to you again, lending you his body heat and you quickly bury yourself in his side, whimpering as you try to get warm again.

He presses his lips to your forehead. Still hot. "I'm going to let you sleep for a couple hours and then I'm taking your temp again."

"Just don't make me go back in there, please." You beg.

And it breaks his heart.

"I'll do whatever is best for you. We have to break your fever, sweetheart."

You moan, pressing your face against his chest.

You're half-asleep when Billy puts the thermometer in your mouth again. When he removes it, you don't see his reaction to the reading.

Not the tears streaming down his cheeks, not the way he throws it across the room, not his burying his face in his hands as he becomes a nervous wreck, worrying that he's slowly killing you.

The only thing he has left in all the world. His girl, his sweetheart, his lover. His fucking heart.

If he loses you... He prays to God—genuinely—that if this is some sort of sick punishment: please, God, please, take him instead.

Billy gently rocks you in his arms, thinking you're asleep as he quietly cries. "Please, baby, don't leave me. I'm waiting for you. Please. We're so close. We're almost there. I can't-" He sniffles. "I told you before that I can't do it without you.

"Without...without you, all of it means nothing. It'll have all been for nothing. It was for you. All this shit." He begins to cry harder then. "Stay with me."

The next morning when you wake, you're not drenched in sweat for once. And, while you feel like you've been hit by a freight train, you don't feel like you're freezing. Nor is your body burning up.

Billy had eventually exhausted himself from crying and worrying and overthinking that he'd passed out at some point in the night, holding you, telling you over and over and over again—more times than he could ever hope to count—that he loved you.

Your arm feels heavy, your movements a bit uncertain, but you reach up to his face, cupping his cheek as you rest your head on his chest. "Billy?"

His eyes immediately open and he shifts so that he's hovering over you. "You're awake," he says, almost like he's surprised by the fact.

Before you can reply, he presses his lips to your forehead. And then he stares down at you with wide eyes. "I think your fever finally broke."

He gets out of bed, heading across the room, hands on his hips as he surveys the floor. "Where the fuck did I put it? Jesus, why did I have to do that? Ha!"

He bends over, grabbing the thermometer, then coming back over and wiping it off before popping it in your mouth.

And when he removes it, he actually cries tears of joy. He crushes his lips to yours, not caring one bit if he gets sick himself. "It's over, angel. Your fever broke. You're okay. Everything is okay now."

After quickly showering—even if he'd been terrified to leave you alone for a moment, but you'd had him sweating for two nights now, and not in a good way—Billy returns to the bedroom to you napping.

Whatever you'd caught had taken it out of you.

He sits down on the side of the bed, turning to you. "You awake, honey?"

You groan lightly. "Wanna sleep."

"I know, but you haven't eaten in going on three days now. We need to get something into your system; build your strength back up."

"Later," you reply, burying your face in a pillow.

He sighs. "Once you've eaten something, then you can go back to sleep. Maybe once I've given you a bath, too."

You don't reply.

He walks over to the entertainment center, picking up menus for local takeout from atop the box TV. "What sounds good to you?" He asks, flipping through the laminated papers.

"Sleep."

He smirks. "That's not on the menu."

He comes back over to the bed, sitting. "You want to pick something, or do you want me to order for you?"

"Don't care."

He briefly considers threatening you with habanero hot wings if you don't pick something on your own, but bites his tongue. "You want something easy on your stomach, like soup?"

"I'm not really hungry," you say, finally looking up at him, dark circles under your glassy eyes.

He leans down, gently tucking some hair behind your ear. "I know, honey, but you'll realize that you are when you finally eat something. Please."

You're quiet for a moment, lying your palm overtop the back of his hand. Then, "Soup is fine."

Once dinner has been delivered—Billy ordering some ribs for himself from a place which serves American comfort food—he opens a large container of chicken noodle soup and hands it to you, along with a spoon. And when you go to serve some to yourself, you nearly spill it.

You look up to him sheepishly. "Woops."

He smirks, shaking his head. "Need me to spoon-feed you?" He asks with a raised brow.

The idea seems humiliating, but your hands were so shaky and your arms felt so weak that you worried about ruining the bed, if not burning yourself.

You don't get a chance to answer before he comes back over to your bedside. “Scoot forward a little.”

You do and he slides in behind you, pulling you back to him, your head resting in the crook beteween his chest and armpit. He puts his left arm around your waist, holding the soup, while his right holds the spoon, feeding you.

“Here comes the plane,” he says in a sing-song voice, holding it in front of your face.

You roll your eyes, but open, swallowing. It’s a tad bit salty, but good.

After a few spoonfuls, you realize he was right: you’d been starving and hadn’t even noticed.

Once the bowl is halfway empty, you speak. “Thank you. For everything. No one has ever taken care of me like this. If you weren’t here, I…”

You trail off, laying your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him.

He kisses your forehead for a moment. “Wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place if it weren’t for me.”

Your brows furrow. “How so?”

He holds the spoon in front of your lips. “Remember what we did on the hood of my Camaro? During a downpour?”

You flush, then take another sip.

Once you’ve finished your soup, you’re still quite hungry. “Is there more?”

Billy looks down at you for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, there’s more.” He gets up, padding across the room, retrieving a styrofoam container and handing it to you when he comes back over.

When you open it, your mouth begins to water. You look up at him before you take a single bite, however. “Is…was this for you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not hungry right now. I got it for you. Figured just soup wouldn’t be enough.”

You stare at him for a moment, feeling like he’s lying. “I’ve never eaten ribs in front of you before.” Meaning he’d have no way of knowing they were a dish you enjoyed.

He shrugs, getting back on the bed. “You’ve had barbecue with me before. Remember the sandwich of mine that I let you try at that one joint before we got into that big fight… The one where you left?”

One of the worst nights of his life was spent in his car searching desperately for you all over a small Oklahoma town. He’d never forget the terror of thinking he’d lost you for good. Never forget the hole he’d felt in his chest at the thought of never seeing you again. At the thought of never getting to one day tell you how he felt. Feels.

You hum your response. “I remember now.” You don’t want to dwell on it. You know he’s ready to beat himself black and blue over it if that will please you.

You pick up a slab of ribs, tearing the meat apart, then taking a bite. You look up to Billy, sauce all over your face. “Want some?”

He smirks. “Think you’re going to need a bath after this.” He takes it from you, finishing the piece off.

Once you and Billy have filled yourselves, he leaves you in bed watching TV as he goes to run you a bath.

He takes a moment in the bathroom to break down a little. To cry. From relief.

He’d been so afraid… If your fever had climbed any higher, he was taking you to the ER. He wouldn’t have given a shit about money at that point. But once they had your names in their system… What if someone realized? Found out? What if it triggered something, and the cops came to drag the two of you back? He’d make up whatever story he had to to protect you then.

He’d always been an asshole to you at school, but had clearly shown a bit of carnal interest. So he’d take the brunt of it. Would tell them some ridiculous kidnapping tale. Even if he knew you wouldn’t go along with it for a second. Not now. Not after falling in love with him.

He still couldn’t believe that you did: love him. He wasn’t worthy of it, but he was selfish enough to keep you to himself if that’s where you wanted to be. He couldn’t handle it again: you trying to leave. It’d nearly broke him the last time.

Nearly losing you like this, though… When the two of you had only just begun… He shakes his head. He’d done the right thing, and you were better now. Were going to continue getting better—recovering.

What had you once told him? You weren’t his responsibility? He thinks since that first night he’d made you as much. You were his purpose now. His priority. His to take care of. Provide for. And unlike his step-sister, which he’d had shoved onto his plate, he wanted to be that for you. That’s what a man did when he loved a woman. He protected her. Made sure she was well looked after. She came first. Period.

He shuts the water off, the tub nearly filled to the brim, steam wafting into the air, and he steps back into the bedroom. “Bath’s ready.”

Billy had insisted on bathing you himself, and after much bugging, you’d caved. He thankfully hadn’t gotten soap in your eyes this time. He’d taken a bit of extra time scrubbing down your breasts and between your legs, though, his lip twitching while doing so, but you’d said nothing of it.

It honestly just felt good to be catered to. Maybe even babied a little. All of that had stopped for you the moment your mom went out the door.

Then you think back to your dad. To the other students at school. It was so…insane, really, to think about. The two of you had really run away together in the middle of the night to go cross-country.

A small smirk works its way onto your lips. If someone had told you even just a month ago where you would be right now: here, with him, naked, in love, going to California in his car…you would’ve laughed in their face.

Billy is currently sitting on the floor, facing you, back leaned against the wall behind him, arm resting on the edge of the tub. His lip twitches when he sees you smiling to yourself.

“What’re you smiling about?”

You glance up to him, covering yourself with what little bubbles are left in the water. “Nothing.”

He leans forward, slipping his hand under the water’s surface. “Want me to climb in there with you?”

You lean back. “I don’t think this tub is big enough for two.”

He slips his hand between your thighs, his arm submerged up to the pit. “Oh, I’ll fit. Or, at least something will.”

You close your eyes, placing a wet cloth over them. “I don’t have the strength for that right now.”

He shrugs. “I have no problem doing all the work.”

You fight a losing battle against a smile breaking out across your face. “Can you stop?”

You’re both quiet for a moment, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your thigh, water gently lapping against the tub’s edge.

You finally tell him what was on your mind. “I was just thinking—wondering, rather—what people back in Hawkins must have thought about the two of us disappearing at the same time. The theories they came up with.”

Billy grips your leg then, possessively. “I’m sure your pretty boy Harrington is worried sick.”

You remove the cloth, gently splashing him with a few drops of water. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

He leans back, crossing his arms. “Not if I can help it. Incase you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m the jealous type.”

Your brows furrow. “Really? Who would’ve ever guessed?” You say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Was half-tempted to get my knuckles bloody for you back then, too. Just from him asking you out alone. And right in front of me, at that.” A beat of silence, then, “I drove by there that night, y’know?”

“Hm?”

“That ice-cream place. Twisted something-or-other. Saw you and Steve acting all buddy-buddy. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so fuckin’ pissed. And then I had to go pick up Angie for our date after and…” He trails off. Was he really about to tell you about how you had been the cause of his dick not working properly that night?

“And what? You already tried rubbing in my face what the two of you did.”

He glances up to you. “Yeah, well, it almost didn’t happen.”

You’re taken aback by that. “Oh?”

“Once we were in the backseat…” He leans back, sighing, head lightly bouncing off the wall behind him. “I could barely get it up, alright? All I could fucking think about was you doing the same damn thing with him in the backseat of his piece of shit BMW. And then it just got worse. She wouldn’t shut the fuck up, I’m trying to get my shit to work, and then I thought about Monday. What if you came in holding his hand all starry-eyed and in love with him? What if… What if that was it? You were his, and I’d lost, and I was right back to square fucking one again. So, I finally flipped her on her stomach, pretended it was you, and laid some pipe. End of story.”

You sit there dumbfounded. You’d meant that much to him even back then? Enough that he—Billy Hargrove—had struggled to get an erection? All because she hadn’t been you? While you did feel somewhat bad for Angie, you also wonder what could’ve possibly been going through her head to think giving it up to him on the first date was a good idea.

“You could’ve had me, Billy. Sooner, that is. If you’d treated me differently. Been, I don’t know, nicer? More of a gentleman?”

He smirks, laying his arm back against the edge of the tub. “Because I’m such a pro at that.” He’s silent for a moment, then, since he can’t not dwell on something, “Why weren’t you into him, anyway?”

You sigh. You were going to be hearing about this at every opportunity for the forseeable future, you could tell as much now. “I just didn’t find him physically attractive, for whatever reason. Does it matter?”

He smirks. “Not your type, huh? Guess I’m the real winner here after all. So, what was it about me, then? My car? My rebel attitude? My devilishly good looks,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.

You lean toward him as well, resting one of your hands over his heart. “No, Billy. It had far less to do with all that superficiality and more to do with you.” You curl your fingers inward

He stops moving, brows furrowing.

You continue. “You don’t think you’re good enough. Don’t think you’re capable of kindness. But, look at everything you’ve done for me since that first night on the side of the road. Taking care of me, paying my way here, looking after me. Just recently nursing me back to health. I…I don’t want to think about where I’d be if you hadn’t been on that same stretch of road at the same time that I was.” You look down, twining your fingers between his. “I think you were meant to find me... That we were meant to find each other.”

He cups your cheek in his hand then, eyes now a bit red. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t remind you about another night where he’d found you on another stretch of road trying to then get away from him. Or yet another late-night bit of asphalt where he’d told you that you were his, after he’d spent an entire day committing actions which said otherwise.

Your eyes meet his. “Everyone has their own love language. I think yours is acts of service. You’re a care-taker and you don’t even know it. You’re more selfless than you realize.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. I wouldn’t have done all of this for anyone else.” He leans in toward you even further. “Anyone.” He cups the back of your head of wet hair and presses his lips to yours.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you

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jgracie · 16 hours

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THE MONSTER’S GONE, HE’S ON THE RUN AND YOUR DADDY’S HERE

masterlist | rules

in which jason is a hero in more ways than one

pairings jason grace x fem!reader

warnings reader is afab/can get pregnant

on the radio . . . beautiful boy (darling boy) (john lennon)

an my blog has become baby fever central so naturally i had to deliver 🫡, shoutout to anya ( @puffoz ) for helping me name the eldest grace daughter <3

The night after you told Jason you were pregnant with your first child, you’d woken up to the sound of sniffles coming from a certain someone sleeping right next to you. At first, you were confused - Jason had been ecstatic a few hours ago when you broke the news to him, why was he crying now? Then it hit you.

He was scared.

Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, ex-praetor of Camp Jupiter, Pontifex Maximus and so many other titles you never cared for, was scared. Tenderly, you’d coaxed him out of the ball shape he was currently in (arms wrapped around his knees, head sitting in between his legs) and asked what was wrong, even though you already had an inkling of an idea as to what the matter was.

When he didn’t answer, you didn’t ask again. Knowing Jason like the palm of your hand meant staying silent and waiting for him to be ready to tell you, as expressing and talking about his emotions has been a struggle he only recently began to deal with.

With your hand gently rubbing his back, Jason replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “do you think I’ll be a bad dad?” Only after the question left his lips did Jason make eye contact with you, his eyes glistening with the tears they once held.

Anyone who grew up the way Jason did would naturally have their doubts about their parental abilities: how was he supposed to take care of a baby when he didn’t even know what it was like to be taken care of as a baby? However, you knew the truth.

“No,” you said. It was a simple answer, full of certainty and confidence, “no, Jason, I don’t think you’ll be a bad father. In fact, I know you’ll be a good one. You aren’t your upbringing - you’re kind, caring and hold so much love in your heart for everyone and everything around you despite the circumstances the Fates put you through. Trust me when I say you’ll be the best dad.”

You were, of course, right. Despite all the hardships that come with pregnancy, yours was a breeze thanks to Jason. Throughout the entirety of the nine months you spent carrying your child, he was nothing but supportive. He’d always buy you whatever food you were craving at whatever time (no matter how strange it was), he’d give you massages, he’d comfort you when you were feeling down and so much more.

The next time Jason cried was in the hospital when your baby had arrived. Natalia June Grace was born at 9:47AM and was everything you wished for and more. As Jason stared into her eyes, the eyes she’d inherited from him, he was filled to the brim with conviction: he was going to be the best dad he could possibly be for his precious Talia.

Despite this, Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t have his hard times. He’d be lying if he said he never woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty as he reached for his glasses and reminded himself that the nightmares aren’t real, they don’t define him, he is not Zeus, he is not Jupiter, he is Jason.

Being Jason meant being an excellent father. In Natalia's eyes, Jason hung the moon and the stars - no one could compare to her father. They had a bond like no other and were inseparable from the minute they met. Everywhere Talia went, Jason followed. Dance recital? He had front row tickets and lots of storage on his phone to film every second of it. Impromptu tea party with her barbies? Jason was there, clad in a tutu as he poured invisible tea into their cups. To you, the fact that Natalia viewed him as her hero was no surprise. Jason, however, tended to need some reminding.

“Mommy!” You heard your daughter yell as soon as she and Jason made their way inside your cozy apartment. While your husband locked the door, your daughter ran to the kitchen and gave you a bone crushing hug. Immediately, you let go of the whisk you were holding and hugged back, unable to believe it was now almost six years since she had been born. Time flies when you’re having fun!

Running your fingers through her hair, you said, “Talia, how was school today? I really missed you!” She replied with a quick ‘good’ before going to sit on the dining table, princess themed bag clutched tightly in her little hands as she yapped to you about everything that had happened at school that day. You smiled, admiring the way your daughter managed to breathe life into the most mundane things.

Just as she was beginning to tell you about her current crush, Mikey, and how he shared his KitKat with her during lunch, Jason appeared, bouquet of flowers in hand as he took your own and pressed a kiss onto the back of it.

“Hi honey, I missed you loads today. Got you these ‘cause I noticed the others started wilting,” your smile widened at this gesture: only your husband would be paying that much attention to the flowers scattered around the house. You gave him a peck on the lips before taking the bouquet from him and going to place it in a vase. While you were doing so, you could hear Jason and Natalia having a conversation.

“Do you want me to put your bag in your room, baby?” He asked.

“No thank you daddy, I wanna show you and mommy something first,” she replied. Then, turning around, she yelled, “mommy, come! I wanna show you and daddy what I did at school today!”

You obliged, and you and Jason watched as she rummaged in her school bag before pulling out a single piece of paper and handing it to you. On it, in big bold letters, was the title, ‘My Hero’.

“Read it so daddy can know too!” She squealed, nearly jumping out of her seat in excitement. You stared at the picture of a tall, blond man and a little girl in pigtails she’d drawn to accompany the paragraph she’d written on this topic and felt your heart swell with warmth.

Glancing at Jason for a second, you read, “my hero is my daddy. He is my hero because he always plays with me and gets rid of the monsters under the bed when I go to sleep. I love my daddy very much.”

After you’d finished reading, Natalia looked up at Jason expectantly, a big smile plastered on her face as she waited to hear his reaction. However, her smile dropped when she saw tears roll down his cheeks.

Now pouting, she turned to you for answers, “why is daddy sad?”

You smiled, delicately cupping her face in your palm, “daddy’s not sad, babes, he’s actually really happy. Sometimes, when people are super happy, they cry. Your worksheet means a lot to him, he’s very touched,” at your words, she brightened up.

Natalia then took the paper from you and gave it to Jason, “you can hang it on your wall, daddy, since you like it so much!” She proceeded to give him a peck on the cheek and ran off to her room, not fully understanding exactly how much her simple worksheet meant to Jason.

That was the third time Jason cried: when he realised he wasn’t his upbringing, or Zeus, or Jupiter, or any of the other monsters that lived under his own bed. He was Jason - a great, loving father who put his family above all and was a hero in more ways than one.

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #jason grace drabble #percy jackson x reader #dad jason grace #dad jason grace x reader #cynwrites

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chaconnehoonie · 14 hours

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Obsession-(follow up) L.HS

✶ Heeseung X Fem! Reader

->This is a follow up to the first part, but you may read it alone if you please, reading the first part is just recommended to get the full story.

Synopsis- Your relationship with Heeseung proves that sometimes you’re forced to make commitments and sacrifices for those you love.

WC: 3.4k

Warnings: toxic relationship, cursing, insecurity, derogatory terms, smut, angst

Smut warnings: dub-con(?), oral(m) somnophilia, kissing, unprotected sex, spanking, rough sex, orgasm denial

A/N: I know I posted the first part to this a while ago but I felt so disappointed with it that I wanted to write something to follow up with. I’m also terrible with my writing schedule so hopefully this will get me back in the game, enjoy!

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are like this in real life, MDNI!

Heeseung was trying to be a good boyfriend. Sure, there are moments where he frustrates you or makes you question your relationship. But relationships are all about making commitments, right?

You’re committed to Heeseung- of course you’ll do whatever it takes to be with him. You’ll put up with his mood swings or his trust issues, accepting that he may just be a naturally jealous person.

He makes it hard, though, as he’s too jealous sometimes. He always has trouble believing you only have eyes for him, whether it’s when a stranger is checking you out at a party or you’re being too close for his liking with your best friends—who just so happen to be guys.

God, you love your friends, but it’s clear that Heeseung doesn’t. You don’t expect him to, of course, however you expect him to accept your close bonds with all three of them. They were existent in your life before him, after all.

You can’t bring this up around him though, as he gets quiet each time, stuck in his thoughts and fears of you leaving him. Being the understanding girlfriend you are, you decided to show him just how special he is to you.

✶.

Heeseung sits alone on the couch in your living room, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in search for new movies or series to start. Since the beginning of your relationship, you both decided on having movie nights every Friday; cuddling up on the couch together with a warm blanket and a plethora of snacks.

You haven’t come home yet, sending him a quick message to let him know you’d be stopping by a grocery store for snacks, then you’ll speed home to see him.

He sits there and waits, grabbing a bag of chips to munch on, watches trailers for new horror movies with stupid plots and terrible actors, then waits some more.

What’s taking you so long? It’s not like you would stand him up, it’s not like you can stand him up—he’s in your house, anyways. Maybe the checkout line is taking too long. Maybe you stopped to buy some alcohol too, or what if that’s what you were planning but forgot your ID in the car?

What if he’s actually going the wrong rout and you had gotten into an accident? Or decided you didn’t like him anymore and wanted to sneak off with someone else before seeing him tonight- “Baby?”

Heeseung jumps at the sound of your voice, quickly turning around to see you shutting the front door, hanging your keys and slipping off your shoes. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the front door opening.

Your face holds a concerned look, rounding the couch and placing your bags next to Heeseung before dropping to your knees in front of him. “You okay? What happened?” Your hands gently caressed his knees in hopes to comfort him, knowing he’s a sucker for physical touch.

He only shakes his head and pulls you to sit next to him. “Nothing, pretty. I just really missed you.” His voice sounds unsure, but you decided to accept his answer, knowing he hates being pushed to open up.

“I missed you too, cutie. I actually bought something I want to show you.” You peck his nose and his eyes light up in excitement. “I need to go prepare it in my room, but I’ll be back out before you know it.” You smile at him and he nods quickly. “I have to use the bathroom anyways. Perfect timing, I guess.”

You place a soft kiss on his upper lip before grabbing one of your bags and rushing upstairs while Heeseung makes his way to the bathroom. He takes a long look at himself, analyzing his features and taking note of how much better he’s been looking since he’s gotten with you. He’s taken care of himself more, focusing on eating healthier and getting haircuts more often, as well as doing some skincare and shaving his facial hair.

He really feels better with you, smiling to himself in the mirror when he realizes that he’s truly in love with you. He loves you—and he hopes you feel the same way.

After flushing the toilet and leaving the tap running for a minute, Heeseung makes his way out of the bathroom, pausing when he sees you wrapped up in your blanket, waiting for him on the couch.

Walking up hesitantly, he smiles anxiously at you. “What did you wanna-“ he’s cut off when you throw the blanket off of yourself, sat prettily with the most delicate lingerie adorning your body.

Black lace cups your breasts with thin straps hardly covering your shoulders, matching black lace panties sitting high and tight on your hips as the fat of your hips and butt jut out around the material.

Heeseung stands in front of you stiffly, mouth hung open and eyes locked on your figure. Siting up, you reach a hand towards his face and place it under his chin, gently forcing his jaw shut.

“Do you like it?” Your voice is soft and sultry, provoking him to finally touch you. He strokes your head, feeling your soft hair under his fingertips. He’s so in love with you— just that touch sends blood straight to the weight between his legs and he’s suddenly too weak to stand.

Sitting on the couch, he pulls you onto his lap without breaking eye contact. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggle and cup his cheek, pulling him into a kiss that only lasts a second as he’s murmuring against your lips. “Yes- fuck, yes.”

You gasp when he pinches one of your nipples through your thin lacy bra. Pushing his tongue into your mouth, he plays with your own in a mess of drool and moans, all while rocking your hips against his.

He pulls away to moan loudly, resting his head on the back of the couch. “I’m glad you like it.” You kiss his neck, licking his jaw slowly before sucking a mark into his skin.

“The boys helped me pick it out.”

His eyes shoot open at this, quickly sitting up and looking you in the eyes. “The boys?” He furrows his brows, confused, but also hurt. You let the boys-Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, not only see you in lingerie but pick it out? For your boyfriend to see later on?

“What do you mean they helped you pick it out? Like you went to the store together and let them chose it? They seen you in it?” He sounds like he’s going to cry, voice cracking but there’s also a hint of anger.

You nod, eyes wide and worried. “Well, yes. I asked for their opinions because they’re also guys, you know? I thought that’d be the best way to figure out what you’d like…” you trail off as you take note of the irritation appearing on his face.

He finds no point in complaining, no reason to explain why he’s so hurt. Instead, he pushes you off of his lap rather harshly and you land on the soft cushions with a quiet ‘oof’. Of course he didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but with the way he stomps to the front door and angrily grabs his keys, slamming the door shut as he leaves, you can’t help but tear up at his angry demeanor.

Was he really that upset? Over your friends helping pick out a gift, for him? Sure, maybe you didn’t have to wear the lingerie while showing them but Heeseung should know by now that your relationship with your friends is nothing more than platonic.

Deciding you’re too heart broken after being left so alone and exposed, you head to bed early. Well, not exactly early if 11pm was anything to go by, definitely too late for Heeseung to randomly leave and expect you not to worry, but early enough for you to sleep off the mental pain and end up in a better mood in the morning.

✶.

You wake up as an odd weight hits your cheek, repeatedly tapping on your face as you feel the warmth radiating onto your skin. Your eyes open slowly, blinking a few times to fully wake yourself up.

It’s still dark, but you can make out the silhouette of someone standing uncomfortably close to you. Taking in a sharp breath, you turn to your alarm clock and note that it’s around 2am, quickly reaching to turn on the bedside lamp.

The light flickers on and Heeseung groans, quickly reaching his own hand to switch it back off. While he does that, you notice the way he’s fully clothed, save for his hard-on that’s currently face-to-face with you, peeking out from above his sweatpants.

“What-“ you’re cut off as he places a finger upon your lips, slipping it between them and into your mouth to tug your jaw open. You can’t tell what he’s doing with the lights off, but you don’t wonder for long as you suddenly feel his tip entering your mouth, sliding against your tongue.

You’re stiff, laying there in shock as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure, biting his lip with a groan. Heeseung has grown to be more comfortable around you, no longer trying to impress you in order to get you to like him, yet instead trying to impress you to get you to keep liking him—always outdoing himself to prove he’s worth your love.

However, he’s still shy at times, especially intimate times, so seeing him fully take control of you, take advantage of your sleeping figure, is new to you. It’s kind of arousing, but after what happened earlier you just can’t get yourself to enjoy it.

Especially with the way he grips the back of your head and shoves himself fully into your throat, holding you there until you gag and drool onto the ground. The position is awkward; he’s standing in front of you while you’re laying on your side, head hovering off the bed just enough to miss the sheets as your spit strings onto the wooden floor.

He lets out a deep moan, mumbling to himself about how wet and warm your mouth is, but not directly speaking to you. How could he speak to you after what you pulled earlier? Why would you deserve praise for going out and prancing around like that with your friends, basically slutting yourself out for them?

What you do deserve is the harsh thrusts of his hips as he fucks your mouth, pulling your hair harshly as he keeps your head in place while his cock suffocates you. You try to breathe through your nose, but you only choke and whine around him as tears blur your vision, not like you can see much in the dark, anyways.

He groans louder, thrusts harder, grips harder, all while you lay there and take it. He lets out a particularly loud moan as he pulls your head towards him, shoving your face far enough to touch your nose to his pubic bone, and then he’s cumming down your throat.

His hips are still as he twirls strands of your hair between his fingers, holding you in place as his release fills your mouth.

Finally pulling out, he breathes heavily before stuffing himself back into his sweats. He makes his way to the bathroom, situating himself before coming back to bed and wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close enough to be his little spoon. It confuses you, but you’d rather have this than have him stay angry at you.

“Thank you, pretty.”

✶.

The next day goes by smoothly, Heeseung acts completely normal when he goes to work for a couple hours, then coming home as you prepare lunch.

You’re glad he has work early enough for him to be done by the afternoon, but sometimes you wish he could stay in bed with you just a little longer than leaving at 5am, but at least he gets to come back at 1pm and spend the rest of the day how he pleases. You quickly learn though, that today he decides to use the day as he pleases by pleasing himself.

As you put ramen to boil and chop vegetables, humming a random song to yourself, you hear the front door shut. It doesn’t slam, so you know Heeseung isn’t angry, at least not enough to show it.

He walks up behind you, grabbing onto your waist and you smile, turning around for a kiss. He grips your chin, turning your face back to the counter and speaks lowly in your ear. “Keep chopping.” His voice is stern and you know he’s serious.

You hesitantly pick up the knife again, slowly cutting the vegetables as he pulls down your pants, panties going along with them, leaving you bare and exposed for him. It was only last night he was using you for himself, maybe he’s repaying the favor?

That idea is quickly shut down as you feel his tip prodding at your not very wet entrance, wincing at the stretch of the head doing its best to make its way between your folds. Of course you’ve both have had sex without foreplay before, but that was after a while of kissing and obvious arousal.

This time, he fills you up dry with only his precum coating your walls. You whine at the pain, stepping closer to the counter in an attempt to get away from him, but he only manhandles you back towards him.

Pulling out to the tip, he gives you a second to breathe before he pushes himself all the way back in, continuing with rough thrusts. He lands a loud slap to your ass, leaning forward and biting onto your shoulder. You cry out in pain, trying to take his cock the best you can while he uses you once again.

He’s fucking you, skin to skin, so that must mean he’s not upset anymore. You try to convince yourself as he thrusts harder, hands bruising your waist and hips as his knuckles turn white from holding you so tight.

He’s more vocal this time, moaning into your ear as you bounce between him and the counter top, knife now laying further away from you and vegetables roll off the counter, landing with a hard thud on the floor.

You moan as he picks up the pace almost inhumanly fast, wet sounds showing signs that you’re finally aroused enough, the slide of his cock against your walls is no longer painful.

He pushes your upper half forward more, fully bending you over the counter as he lands a harsh slap against your ass, echoing through the kitchen along with your high pitched moans.

His thighs slap against the back of your own, wet and covered in slick as you can’t hold back the squelching noises your pussy makes while being stuffed full.

“Oh God, Hee…” You whine but he’s tired of hearing you, placing his palm over your mouth to muffle your moans. “I don’t wanna hear it.” This confuses you, mainly because he’s always loved hearing your noises—proof that he’s pleasing you right. But now, he suddenly doesn’t want to hear them? Going as far as covering your mouth to shut you up?

Even with this hurt side of you, the pleasure is undeniable and before you can process it, you’re close to orgasm as Heeseung lands another harsh slap against your ass.

“Hee-baby, I’m gonna cum!” You pant heavily, inhaling a deep breath in preparation for your orgasm, only for it to be taken away from you. “No you’re not.” Heeseung slides his wet cock out of you, instead spreading your ass and pushing himself between your cheeks.

You scoff, now frustrated and in pain, wondering if this is what blue balls must feel like. You try to reach back and slide him back in, but he grips your wrist, pulling both of your arms back so your cheek lands harshly onto the counter top. Wincing, tears start pricking your eyes and you try to squirm away from him.

“Not letting you…d-don’t deserve to cum.” He grits through his teeth, pushing your butt cheeks together tightly as he thrusts, still keeping his fast pace.

Leaning forward, he rests his forehead between your shoulder blades, finally releasing as ropes of cum spurt out of his tip, landing across your back and staining your shirt, some reaching your hair to find in a sticky mess later.

You’re both panting, catching your breaths after whatever kind of rough, angry sex session that was. Still confused, you try to turn around, calling out to your quiet boyfriend. “Heeseung…” your voice is soft and comforting, and as much as he wants to accept it, he just keeps you turned around.

“Just- don’t.” That’s all he says before tucking himself back into his jeans and walking upstairs. The bathroom door shuts, still not slamming, but you can now tell that he is definitely still angry at you.

✶.

“So, what? He’s upset that we helped you and now you guys are having hot steamy hate sex?” Jake laughs to himself, taking a bowl of ramen from Sunghoon. A bowl of ramen you cooked for Heeseung.

You sigh, playing with your own ramen as you push it around the bowl with your chopsticks. “Yeah…I was cooking this when he came home and he just…did that.” You trail off at the end, not wanting to go into detail because no matter how good it felt, you were still hurt.

“Waitwaitwait.” Jay mutters with his mouth full, swallowing harshly before speaking again. “This ramen doesn’t have a special ingredient, right? His cum shot didn’t fly into here and now I’m consuming his babies?”

“Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Come on- I’m trying to eat here!”

“You’re actually disgusting.”

Sunghoon gags as he imagines the scene playing out, downing his glass of water to calm himself. You pat him on the back as he keeps gagging, mainly to piss off Jay who now regrets what he said.

“Okay, Hoon. You can stop now, I get it.” Jay rolls his eyes, picking up his beer bottle and taking a sip while sending glares towards his friend.

Your face drops to your palms, sighing again as you think about these past two days. “He left like an hour before I invited you guys over.” You speak up, eyes teary as you bite your lip. “He didn’t eat…didn’t say goodbye…he just left.” You break down, a sob escaping your lips at the thought of your boyfriend leaving you so alone and embarrassed.

“Do you know what this means?” Sunghoon places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly to ease your tension. You shake your head no, confused as to what he’s implying.

He sighs, looking between Jake and Jay, then back at you. “This means you’re going to have to choose.” Your eyes widen, shaking your head more aggressively now.

“What do you mean choose?” You can’t believe they’d recommend something like this. “You know, choose if you want to stay with him. Let him treat you like that, let him get away with those things.”

He grabs your hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Or you can choose to stay with us. Keep being our friend, let us save you from this disaster.” His words hurt, but you know they must be true. “He just…” you inhale a shaky breath, “He just needs time. We’ll figure something out.”

Yeah, that’ll fix it. You’ll figure out a way to keep Heeseung happy and stay close to your best friends. Hopefully, without cutting any ties or creating an awkward atmosphere. But you’ll do whatever it takes to keep each of your boys happy.

#enhypen smut #enhypen x female reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen angst

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dixons-sunshine · 14 hours

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A/n: No, of course this isn't self-indulgent. I have no idea what you're talking about. (I'm fine. I wrote this while in a slump but I'm fine now.)

Imagine Daryl Dixon comforting you when you feel down.

Whether you had just lost someone close to you, you failed while on a run or you just felt off and like you needed to cry, it didn't matter. Your emotions were running high and you were one “are you okay?” away from crying. You were barely holding it together and nobody seemed to notice. Nobody except Daryl.

Daryl was the one who opened the floodgates. He didn't ask you what was wrong or anything like that. No, he simply wrapped his arms around you, and whispered softly into your ear, “Yer okay. I got ya.”

That's all it took for you to break down. You gripped his shirt tightly and cried into the fabric, wetting it with your tears. However, Daryl didn't seem to mind. He never did when it came to you. He simply held you, rubbed your back in a comfort and swayed you from side to side. He allowed you to let all your emotions out into his chest, while silently offering you his support.

If you were done crying, he'd be there to listen if you wanted to talk. He'd lay down on the bed or sit down on the couch with you and listen for as long as you needed him to. However, if you didn't want to talk (which he would understand because he hates talking about his feelings, too), he'd just lay down with you on the bed. He'd hold you close to his chest and gently rub your spine, talking to you about nothing in particular or being completely silent. It was all up to how you felt. Whatever you wanted, he'd do for you in that moment. He wouldn't leave your side for days after that if that's what your heart desired, unless he was urgently needed. That would be the only exception.

Once Daryl Dixon is comfortable around you and trusts you as his partner, you'd never have to be afraid of going to him for anything. He'd always be a shoulder for you to cry on, always.

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llondonfog · 1 day

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for the anon who asked for brought back wrong silver, you have my undying gratitude <3 i hope you enjoy

The animals refuse to approach anymore.

The birds shriek amongst themselves and ruffle their puffed-up feathers high up in the trees, their screeching cries high-pitched and harrowing, while the squirrels and rabbits keep to the protective shadows of a forest more ancient than Malleus himself, bellies low to the cool loam. There is condemnation in their dark, liquid eyes as Malleus skirts the edge of the trees, a judgment placed heavy and irredeemable upon his shoulders that he feels the leaden weight of more and more with every step— he has betrayed them as their lord and protector, and for that, there is no recourse.

He has betrayed the natural laws of magic— and for that, the valley itself knows no forgiveness.

There is nothing but penance in the way that he crouches to his knees in the moss and dirt, spoiling the utilitarian nature of his robes with smears of mud and crushed pine needles. It’s a cruel act of self-inflicted guilt that drives him back to this place, a sick resignation that he cannot escape from that which his very hands helped to destroy.

For it is not him that the animals refuse to approach, but the child that kneels beside him, a child who has been kneeling for hours in that same position, stoic and with the passive interest of someone watching an ant amble aimlessly over the ground as the woodland creatures before him reel away in horror.

“Father said they would come back to play if I kept still,” and that sweet, clear voice scrapes over Malleus’ ears like metal on bone, his skin and scales crawling over themselves in a desperate bid to flee. “He said that I just had to allow them to become reacquainted with me, but I think he might have been wrong.”

Malleus can feel the weight of those eyes turn to him, pinning him in place like iron— he doesn’t think even iron would sear his soul as deeply, and it takes every ounce of palatial training to keep from visibly shuddering.

He is a dragon, and dragons do not fear. But what sits beside him is something greater than fear, something worse than even a dragon.

“I hope that he does not feel sad when I tell him that it did not work,” the little voice beside him continues, melodic and wretched in its siren intensity. Malleus would claw off his own ears just to keep from hearing it speak, and yet he would break his own horns to hear those lips form his name. It’s madness and love, and he fears each passing second may bring him closer to the breaking point— a point where Lilia has long since arrived. “He seems to be sad a lot lately, but seeing you will surely cheer him up. Isn’t that why you’ve come, Malleus-sama?”

His name in that mouth feels like a death sentence, a curse being etched into his very being by the way that tongue glides over the vowels of his name and those teeth hiss into the consonants. It binds him, keeps him silent when he wishes to bellow and roar and rage at the child beside him— each second in its presence feels like hell on earth, and he cannot imagine what it is like for Lilia.

Malleus can’t imagine that his own presence would grant the old fae any solace either, only perhaps the stone cold comfort that there is another who bears half the blame.

No words rise in his dried, shriveled throat, and Malleus only nods stiffly while Silver beams at him, the animals crouched and silent in the forest swiftly forgotten. It is impossible to escape Silver’s smile, with the perfect scrunch of his nose and the rosy dimples in his cheeks, and Malleus finds himself struck by the violent urge to sink his talons into the soft, pillowy flesh and pullriptear until that disgusting expression is marred to pieces and crushed under his heel. His chest tightens with useless anticipation and he’s almost dizzy with both desire and despair for what he knows that he cannot, will not do.

It would be a more noble endeavor to sink his claws into his own heart, offer it up bloody and bare in atonement, but the person most deserving of it no longer exists.

“Yes, of course I shall come,” he rasps instead, and the thing that wears Silver’s body like a costume, the thing that Malleus stuffed inside that cold, sad little corpse to save what was left of Lilia Vanrouge’s collapsing spirit, claps its hands with glee.

Even in death, Malleus could never refuse him.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #malleus draconia #twst malleus #diasomnia #lettie writes #i'll publish the ask that inspired this momentarily #but ohhhhh my god was this fun to write and delicious to think about

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shuenkio · 2 days

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Break 💔 up ? | OT7

Paring: Enha x male!reader

Genre: soft angst, fluff, crack, obsessed

Cw: nothing or?

Summary: You want to break up with them but-

Non proof read ×

Crd to all pics&dividers

Lack of perfect words.

Lhs: The moment you said, you wanted to break up with him, he went silent. Instead of speaking, he closes the distance between you into a small gap, eye piercing sharply at you before pinning you against the wall.

"You can't break up with me without any reason mn, now tell me is there something behind it?" His gaze went dark, as he looked at you like you were just committing a crime.

"I— I can't handle you anymore you're just too possessive I wanna take a break," you said, with sweat soaking your forehead and dripping down to your cheeks. You should be brave to make this decision for your good but why did you suddenly feel so numb like this?

"Sit on my lap, it's not my fault you're drop-dead gorgeous, not only you feel better but also pleasure" He smirked, cupping both of your cheeks, pressed his lip against you let the tension take a turn.

"Try to leave me again, I'll make sure you won't find anyone who could make you feel like I do!"

Pjs: The man would be speechless on the spot after you said you wanted to break up with him. What's not good enough about him? He's overthinking if he doing something wrong, something is not right for you but as he dips down into his mind, he can't seem to find any clue what's wrong with himself. Having no answer, He uttered with his shaky voice, asked you why.

"I fall out of love I don't feel the same way as before Jay, I don't know what to do besides this decision" Your tears begin to break down, shattered from your eyes as they pour every drop into the floor. Jay saw you break down, his heart broken into pieces as he immediately went to pull you into his tight embrace. Let you pour out all of your sadness in his chest.

"There's always a solution, I know it's not right to force you to be still in our relationship but— please give me a chance I swear I'll make everything even better for us"

Sjy: Not only did tears appear on his face, but he would also drop down to his knee buried his face in his palm after you said it was not a joke. You thought he would just be unable to speak however seeing him being like this, stunned you. You want to comfort him, telling the truth why you want to path away from him. But your mind went blank at the moment, you feel like he's not the only one who's hurting, and seeing him shattered makes you want to swallow all your words back. You lean down slowly to his level and press a gentle kiss on his forehead before wrapping your hand around his.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry" you whisper to his ear. He responds with his hands wrapped over your small waist, snuggling his face on the crooked of your neck.

"Don't leave me!! Please don't I just can't let you go"

Psh: At first, he would give you a silent treatment. He looks down at his feet, holding back his tears, stopping his rushing emotion. He leaves you alone without any words, not even asking why you want to break up with him, not even a simple "why"

You let out a heavy sigh, regret at what you've just done but nothing crosses your mind to stop him from leaving, you feel a part of you think, he deserves someone better than you, who's prettier, more socialized, and talkative than you. You also thought that two introverts in a relationship would be nothing other than Boring.

Late at night after everything had happened, someone came banging at your door very loudly. You went to open up and revealed a friend of Sunghoon holding him, he was wasted at the sight, which make you feel a ping of guilt washing over you.

You take Sunghoon in, still acting as a couple, before saying goodbye and thanks his friends for taking him home. You put him down on the couch gently, take off his shoe and jacket tuck it to the side.

His face is reddened, and tipsy, probably from all the alcohol he's pouring down to his throat because of you. You slowly pressed your hand on his face, carelessly on it softly. Cupping his cheeks your tears break down without you even notice.

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist pull you down on the couch with him, holding you close to his chest. His hot breath hit your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine with a mix of sadness and nostalgia. His warmness, his hug, and his sweet gesture toward you can't seem to leave your mind. As you regret breaking up with him for your stupid reason this morning.

"Don't speak... We'll never break up and never will, I know what's on your mind mn, you're perfect to me I love you"

Ksn: Your words feel too unreal for him to take. He would question you again and again with his forcing smile, holding onto your hand tight, you then explained why you wanted to break up. He instantly becomes a cry river, he'll cry while smiling like a manic at some point because everything just feels right from the beginning but now you want a break it's like he had been fooled by you.

His face went swollen red from all the crying and sobbing, he didn't want to let you go this easily, after all the memories both you made together. Never, he'll do anything in his power to keep you beside him, which he's turning into his new side that you've never known before.

"Being the sweetest is not enough for you mn? Then you shall see my other side, I promise you'll never leave me again! Hm?" He hums under his breath, with an unexpectedly stern deep voice. As your body goosebumps, gulping down back your saliva unable to make a sound.

"I- I'm sorry I... Don't know anymore"

"I'll take care of it, if you get bored of my playful side, I'll show you my new side, promise to don't break up with me again alright? I'm drowning in you already!"

Yjw: He rarely cries. Even after you said you wanted to break up with him, He eventually left you alone, keeping you hanging without an answer. You try and try to give him a reasonable explanation, but in return he just stares at you emotionless, buying you unnecessary gifts, and gives you free kisses & hugs out of the blue. As a result, you gave up and just accepted your fate, even though your break-up reason is kinda silly.

On one fine day, you decide to play it harder, so maybe he'll open his ear to listen to you, by threatening him that, if he continues to ignore you, you'll leave the place.

"Try another step baby boy! I bet you'd crawl back to me again~"

And—

"I do that on purpose mn so that you won't break up with me, yoi love me, I love yoi, and we're in love why should we break up?"

And he knows all along, you just want to break up with him because he forgot your birthday, and he's ignored you because he knows he's wrong and couldn't apologize probably.

Nsr: He didn't react to your words, everything that you just said was not serious for him. Similar to Jungwon, he's nonchalant. He shrugged it off, just doing his daily routine normally as if his relationship with you was about to tear apart. And that's also one of the reasons you wanted to break up with him, you can't keep up with his attitude and behavior. Someday he's sweet, someday he's dry he's like a robot.

However, you and him still living together, in your shared apartment. One day when he's about to go to work, usually he would press a goodbye kiss on your cheeks before moving forward. Today was different, after he placed a kiss on your cheeks, you wiped it away aggressively, not enjoying his sweet gesture anymore, which made him turn his head toward you slowly, in a way that made you feel something bad was going to happen, nevertheless, his gaze remains the same.

"Did you just wipe my kiss off?"

"So? I said I wanted to break up with you, why are you acting like I just spit nonsense thing?"

"There's no reason for you to leave me, you'll need me anyway I'm doing your work myself"

"I'm so tired of you!! We're breaking up no matter what!"

"Try it, lol you can't even go a day without my presence, now go to sleep if you're tired of me"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ I did not realize that I write Sunghoon longer than the other 🫣

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almightygremlinblob · 1 day

Text

A Honey Trap For The Butterfly

Nanami Kento was everything you needed in a therapist, only as long as you ignored the sinking feeling in your gut.

Even tho there's nothing describing the act of s*x here, it's still a yandere fic - so minors and those not comfy with yandere stuff DNI and have a nice day! 🫶🏽

Word Count: (will update when life stops life-ing lmao)

⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: UNBETA'D, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Therapist Nanami Kento, Gender!Neutral Reader (and no bits mentioned), Modern!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Yandere, behaviour that SHOULD NOT be tolerated irl, Nanami says some very comforting shit to manipulate you, no curses.

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️️: Unhealthy power dynamics, HEAVY and subtle emotional manipulation, implied stalking, mention of sexual activities, professional boundaries are OUT the window.

When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sorry, I-I'm just..."

"There's no need to push. Only if you're ready."

"No, I-I'd like to."

Therapy was a tricky thing. There was the problem of getting the right medication for you. There was also the problem of finding the right therapist for you. Which is why some people - like you - search for a very a long time until you finally found one that clicked. Nanami Kento, who was practically everything you needed in a therapist.

"The nightmares are about your family, yes? They say nightmares are ways for the mind to release overwhelming emotions. Can you tell me more about them?"

"Y-yes, I...these nightmares are always the same. My family talking about me behind my back, it's...I feel alienated."

"Hm...it's no wonder these nightmares always coincide with upcoming family gatherings." He scribbles something down, and turns his full attention towards you. "If you're okay with sharing, what makes you think they're alienating you?"

"I...now that you mention it Doctor, it does seem to coincide, but...I-I don't believe I've mentioned...how did you-"

"Ah, it's just an observation." He waves his hand dismissively. "And I told you, you can call me Kento."

-------

"I-I'm so sorry!" You apologize profusely, embarrassed and just a little defeated when you turn up short at the cashier of your favorite coffee shop. There's a brisk walk, and someone familiar drops some change at the cashier for you. Though being payed for was a surprise, the person paying was not. It was Nanami, who you seemed to run into a lot. So much, that bumping into your therapist outside of your sessions was almost the norm. Something about living nearby.

"Oh, Doctor, I-I'm really sorry about this!"

"Oh don't fret, it was only a few bucks." He offers his hand. "Come, sit with me."

You're taken aback. It's not like you didn't WANT to. Nanami was a very attractive man; well built, broad shoulders, and such a handsome face. But, still, he was your therapist. There is a very faint alarm, all the way at the back of your mind, that makes you feel just a little bit uneasy at the proposal.

"A-are you sure this...I mean, i-is this okay?"

"Of course." When he intertwines his fingers with yours, his face and eyes and words are completely welcoming. Laced with nothing but care in order to hide the ugly side just waiting to devour you.

"It's just coffee."

-------

"I think last session was a very eventful one. You did a lot well this week. I'm quite proud of you." He says and hands you the paper for your medications. His warm and strong hands linger on top of yours. "See you for lunch after?"

-------

"I just can't believe they'd do that to me..." You try and keep yourself from crying any more. "They're my family. I shouldn't have to cut them off like this!"

"Hey, hey...I know it doesn't seem like it, but you made the right choice." Nanami gently cups your face with his hand. "I'm proud of you."

"It's okay. You'll be okay." His eyes go over to your lips, as he tilts your head to better align with his. The room suddenly feels awfully quiet, too constricting, when his lips meet yours.

-------

"I think I've come a long way." You sigh and laugh softly. "I'd like to celebrate but...I-I'm not sure how. I'd like to minimize my spending..."

"Well, I'd have to agree, you ARE making fantastic progress." He takes your hand in his. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to celebrate it with you. I have a few ideas we could try."

"Oh, of course!"

"Date night." He brings your knuckles to his lips. "Your apartment."

Nanami stayed over that night. Worshipped your body as if he was made for it. He was a wonderful lover but, the entire experience left you feeling wrong, somehow.

-------

"I don't know what to feel...I just...they're all dead. My family, they're all..." It was all too much, and Nanami wraps his arms around you. "I know what they did but, still, I..."

"Oh, love...it's okay. Let me handle everything; planning, funeral expenses. Everything."

"Kento, that...that's too much-"

"Nothing in the world is too much for you, my dear." He holds your face when you start to cry again. "I would do anything for you."

When he looks at you, his eyes show a devotion and adoration so strong it borders insanity. You'd never expect this 'gentle giant' to be the one that caused your family's deaths. It was nothing you've ever seen from him, and it unsettles you.

"Anything. You know that, right?" He seals it with kiss on the lips, just a bit too harsh, just a bit too possessive. "Stay here, with me - where you belong. Don't worry anymore."

"You're home now."

When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings. It is just one of the many ways that humans self-sabotage. Though, for many manipulators, the intention is to make their victim do so by putting up a welcoming and disarming front - a perfect honey trap.

Writing this was a TRIP man, ughk. It's so tame and light as a yandere fic but something about writing subtle manipulation just makes my skin crawl the most. 😭 Anyways, hope you enjoy! ✨🫰🏽

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