#“the healing starts now” WHAT. YOU MEAN MY MIND IS NOT FIXED YET?!? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mykneeshurt · 1 year

Note

Hello! I was wondering what you think 141 & Alejandro, König & Rudy’s reactions be if their partner tried to get out of bed after a very spicy night & ended up falling/couldn’t walk?😳 Also yes I’m over 18😂

Of course!! My first ever head cannon! Apologies about Gaz and Rudy I don’t really read any fics on them, hence why they’d so short 🙈 I hope they’re ok! Hehe - I’ve tried to keep this Gender Neutral, if something needs changing tell me so I can fix it! ❤️

Price 🥃

He would be loving and attentive. Price would run you a warm bath, and as you soaked your aching body in the hot water he’d make you a strong cup of tea. 2 sugars.

You struggled walking to the bath, your knees wobbling, your thighs aching, small bruises littered you skin. He’d watch you as you walked to the bathroom, your hips swaying back and forth hypnotising him.

Price would then join you in the bath, he’d sit behind you, caressing your shoulders. Peppering your skin with light healing kisses. He’d check in on you, constantly. ‘You alright love?’ … ‘god, you took me so well’

He’d lean you back against his chest, kissing your forehead, whispering praises to you. He’d slowly work his way down to your aching core, massaging your inner thighs.

‘You feel so tense love. Let me help.’

Price would hand you your tea, letting you sip it slowly, savouring the taste as he caressed your chest. He’d plan the day for you, to take your mind off the ache, the pleasurable pain. Walk the dog in the country side, find a quiet tree he could kiss you against, before returning home where he could cook for you. Worship you.

Before starting all over again.

Ghost 💀

Riley would tease you, degrade you slightly, ‘couldn’t take my cock huh?’ … ‘pathetic.’ You knew he didn’t mean it, you got off of degradation from him.

He’d make small gestures to show he cares, breakfast in bed. A back massage. Firm slow kisses on your swollen lips from the night before. Caressing and squeezing your neck, something to distract you from the pleasurable pain you felt.

If you got out of bed your knees would be weak and wobbly, earning you your new pet name ‘Bambi.’ He’d throw you over his shoulder and slam you back on the bed. ‘Stay.’

He’d work you up, again. Making you want him despite the pain you felt from him fucking you the night before. You’d beg, plead and whimper for him take you again. You’d drag your nails along his bare muscular back, pleading for him to take you again.

He’d bruise your skin, holding himself back from fucking you again. He wanted you. Needed you. But he knew you needed to rest, heal, so he could have his way with you once more.

‘Careful love, sure you could take me again?’

Soap 🧼

Wee John, oh he would worry, worry he’d hurt you, but be low key proud at how well you took him. Deep, fast, hard.

‘You were so good for me hen.’ … ‘fuck you felt so good, so tight.’

He wouldn’t let you leave the bed, he’d keep you tucked into him as he cradled your face. Checking in on you constantly. Needing reassurance he didn’t hurt you too much, despite seeing you waddle to the toilet. Now that made him chuckle.

He’d whisper bad jokes to you to ease the burn you felt, he’d make you laugh to distract you. ‘Why did the beach blush? - because the sea-weed.’

He’d explore your body with his fingers, teasing you as he made his way to your aching centre. ‘Fuck off Johnny, it’s so sore.’ He’d secretly smirk to himself feeling somewhat proud, he did tell you he’d ruin you. And yet you didn’t believe him, till now.

Gaz 🇬🇧

Gaz would worship the ground you walked on for the entire day. All the chores? Done. All the cooking? He’s cooking what ever you want. Bath? Consider it run with essential oils, a glass of wine ready and your favourite candles.

‘You alright babe?’ He’d ask as you hiss when standing up. You’d kiss him sweetly, reassuring his lil head that you’re fine.

Losing your balance because your knees are so weak would cause him to giggle endlessly. ‘Fuck are you giggling at’ you’d snap throwing a pillow at him, grinning. ‘Never thought I’d see you so weak in the knees for me’ he winked.

Rudy ❤️

Rudy. What a sweetheart. He’d make you the finest hot chocolate, made from cocoa beans he brought from Mexico. The thickest whipped cream as well as mini marshmallows. Of course.

He’d put your favourite film on and you’d snuggle up on the sofa all day. ‘Eres tan hermosa’ he’d whisper to you as you buried your head in his chest. - you’re so beautiful

Stroking your head he’d check in on you ‘estas bien?’ - you ok?

As you’d lay there he’d be thinking about the positions he had you in the night before. Bent over the bed, at his mercy. He’d slowly become hard thinking about it. Your moans echoing in his memory.

Feeling unable to hold himself anymore he’d guide your lips to his as he devoured you in a moment of intense passion.

Alejandro 🌹

Alejandro would be on you again as soon as you opened your eyes. Pulling you into his embrace, intertwining your limbs together once more.

‘Te necesito mi amor’ he’d whisper into your neck ‘eres como una droga para mi.’ His sultry voice washed over you as his hands massage your skin.

He’d pepper you with kisses, with praise at how well you took him last night. How much he needed to feel you again. To feel you become a liquid beneath his as your moans injected themselves into his veins.

Wiggling out of his grasp you’d try and go to the toilet, but your knees were weak, muscles sore and tense. Losing your balance he’d be by your side within seconds. ‘Mi amor, let me help you.’

Pulling you in he’d place a lingering kiss on your lips before carrying you bridal style to wherever you needed to go.

König ✨

Definition of ‘lady in the streets a freak in the sheets.’ Wee man struggles with his anxiety in social situations but not when it’s just the two of you.

This man is obsessed with you, hence why you cannot walk this morning. You tried getting up to go to toilet but you knees gave out. You collapsed in a pile on the floor in a fit of laughter.

The mountain of a man peered over the side of the bed at you ‘mein Schatz’ he murmurs, smirking. Adoration in his eyes. He offers you his arm to help you up, before rolling you into him.

His huge arms keeping you trapped against his chest. You giggle against him, your ass bounces slightly against his cock. ‘Careful Liebling’ he growls into your ear.

He places a possessive kiss to your temple muttering words of love and praise in German to you.

He takes you to the shower, over his broad bulky shoulders and puts you gently into the tub. Leaving you to shower he quickly gets dressed and faces his demons to go to the local shop. On his return he presents you with a small bunch of flowers and your favourite hot drink.

You’re thrilled and surprised ‘König?! Are you ok? Did you manage?’ You chirp, a huge smile on your face. Pride swelling within your chest.

He found it difficult but he’d do anything for you, anything to see your face light up for him.

7K notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 6 months

Text

“Anything to Reassure You, My Sweetest…” smutty reassurance for jealousy update to “Bites in the Night” series

Rogue Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K reassuring smut and body worship

Summary: You’ve made it to Baldur’s Gate, but you haven’t two coins to rub together. In a tavern, your Vampire Rogue puts his skills to use, and stokes your jealousy in the process. What it takes to convince you, to reassure you will surely cool your temper and arouse… other feelings.

Cw: Acts 2-3 spoilers, flirty, busty barmaids, jealous feelings, denial of such feelings, very convincing reassurance of undying undead devotion, breaking and entering (technically?), body worship, slight sensory deprivation, cum tasting, adoring nsfw activities

Read on AO3 | read series on AO3 | Masterlist

Come, be convinced…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The tavern is packed, so many pockets that could be picked, so much smoke in the air to cover the scent of rich, roasted foods and fragrant ales.

And you, you sit at a table, pockets bare since you reached Baldur’s Gate. It took every coin you had to secure a place to stay for you all. Now, you each ventured out to find food for yourselves. Each alone, save for you and your vampiric lover, your second shadow.

He is always at your side, especially since reaching the city. Especially since he finally confessed his need for you and his guilt for manipulating you with lust and desire. Since he admitted he wanted something genuine with you, that you were different. Special. But that means something new for you both, something that explores your intimacy in new ways. Ways that limit the physical desire between you. No matter how fierce that desire is for you.

He has been through so much, been denied so much. Even soft things, intimate things, have been twisted for him. And now he needs you more than for your body. You are necessary for his healing, for his own sake, and now he is even closer by your side than when you were… intimate.

But still, for all his closeness physically and emotionally, you fret if there is to be a path for you both forwards.

It gnaws at the back of your mind. Especially in crowded, peopled places like this. His old sort of hunting grounds.

And while he is hunting for your next meal instead of Cazador’s, you chew your lower lip. Only hunting now is picking pockets or convincing someone to buy you something of substance rather than the manipulation and seduction of his delectable body to entice a vampire’s next victim.

His voice cuts through the din to your ear, sharp and quick like one of his daggers. He’s laughing… you lean over to look around some massive Tiefling that’s in your way.

You catch sight of him, leaning over the bar, his teeth flashing bright and wide at the little barmaid as she giggles in response. You scan her, so petitte and busty, and yet you catch a glimpse of her narrow waist as she turns towards the kitchen. Her hair is perfect, soft little curls, washed and brushed until it shines. Your hands start to pick at the stands of your own, washed a day ago… maybe? And you start to brush it with your fingers as if that will fix it.

He’s waiting, frozen with that provocative grin, head cocked mischievously to the side. You suddenly see why, she returns with a plate piled high with roasted meat and steaming potatoes and a large mug of ale. The wench sets it in front of Astarion, his lips moving as he speaks something that makes the girl’s cheeks flame bright pink. Even her little turned up nose turns rosy.

Then, your heart sinks, only to leap to your throat right after. You can’t look away, the pretty little barmaid leaning across the dirty, sticky counter to press a kiss against your love’s cheek.

You watch him make some reply, that smile still frozen on his lips, those brows still canted rakishly. Taking the plate and mug in hand, he comes your way.

And you, your ears are burning and your throat is tight. Jealousy claws inside you, seething as you turn your head, unable to look at him while he sits beside you in the booth, the little round table before you doing nothing to give you distance.

“Here darling,” he croons, setting the food and drink before you alone. “Best eat up and replenish,” he crouches close to you, his lips featherlight against your neck, tickling that sensitive spot behind your ear. “For I cannot feed until you do, you know..”

“Suddenly I’m not hungry,” you mumble, pushing the plate back towards Astarion. Your eyes still fixed on a divet on the table in front of you.

“Darling…” you feel his hand gently turning your chin. Your head responds. Of course it does. You crave his touch with how much you miss it, everyday in agony to be so close to him, no longer indulging in the comfort of your bodies. “What’s the matter?”

You can’t look up, fists clenching in your lap. Tugging your head from his touch, you grumble an unconvincing, “Nothing.” You scooch down the bench, grabbing a fork, deciding it might be better to stuff your mouth instead of having to talk. But before you can lift the pewter fork from the table, he slams his hand down on it.

Damn his stupid rogue reflexes.

Then you look up at him, jealousy burning hot as anger inside your twisting innards. “Let go,” you snap.

“Not until you tell me whatever is the matter,” he teases, his brows furrowing with disapproval.

You pause a moment, that bubble of jealousy ready to burst and fling your hot words of vitriol in his face. But you swallow them back down. “Actually I think I’ll go find Halsin, foraging in the woods sounds far more preferable to this packed tavern.” You huff, “I’m sure you’ll find some company in my absence….”

“I dont think so, darling not until you say what the fuck is going on?” he hisses, a firm hand on your shoulder as you try to stand. “Spit it out, my sweet.”

You take a shaky, deep breath, watching as that pretty thief of a barmaid saunters past your table. Her clear blue eyes scan Astarion beside you, but he doesn’t even notice. His crimson gaze is a pinpoint on you, and you alone; his face is a mix of concern and agitation. It furrows those brows and wrinkles his nose as he stares intensely at you.

“Now,” he whispers, closing the distance between you on the seat, “please tell me whatever is the matter, my love.”

You give a single, breathy disparaging laugh.

“Come on,” he places a single hand over one of your balled up fists. “If I can admit to weeks of attempting to manipulate you and falling in love with you instead, you can admit a bit of jealousy…”

Your eyes dart wide, your mouth hanging open.

“Please, I know every movement of your body, I can feel every twitch and clench of your muscles, every rap of your heartbeat.” He softens a bit, his thumb gently stroking over your clenched hand trying to soften it. “But why you would be so easily piqued by some bar wench is beyond my understanding, darling.”

“She…” you swallow the lump that burns and grates in your throat. “She kissed you.”

“Without invitation, mind you,” he sneered as he glanced back where the offense occurred. “Made my undead skin crawl. But I needed to get you something to eat, so I left the foolish girl alone without so much a thank you…”

“Didn’t look like it from here,” your teeth grit as you talk. “Besides, I can understand, Astarion. She’s beautiful and clean, petite and curved, flouncing hair and puckered lips and rosy cheeks and…”

He silences your mouth with a commanding kiss. “There is only one set of puckered lips mine will ever taste, darling,” he murmurs between the intoxicating workings of his mouth, “yours, my sweet.”

Those fingers dexterously tangle at the back of your neck, sweeping through your locks to brush them back off your shoulders. “You are so beautiful, your skin tanned and scarred from our battles, side by side… your cheeks glowing with the exertion of our adventures…”

He lifts his mouth to look you straight in the eyes, “Your heart beating all the quicker the closer I get, as if you hope I’ll ask you for a bite later…”

“Gods, yes,” you breathe. “If only to make sure you have someone to care for you, Astarion. Whether we are…” you blush and look back at that divet in the table, “…intimate or not…”

“Tch,” he leans in, his eyes wide and soft with adoration. “See what I mean, darling? I would take you over every other being in Faerûn.” His arms wind around your back, hand cupping the curves of your ass to bring you flush against him. “I mean… perhaps I’m warming to the idea of you thinking about me…” he pauses, his face twisting with that rakish smirk, “and I do mean sexually, to be clear.”

You giggle, his light fingers scratch their way up your thigh, tracing little circles through the soft leather that covers your skin.

He breathes right into your ear, honey-sweet words that spike your pulse all the more. “I don’t know if it’s the music and wine in the air, or the way your heart is just violently throbbing with your jealousy, my pet, but right now, finally, I want nothing more than to show you some… reassurance… of my devotion to you.”

“But…” you tease, craning your neck to press you nose against his, “the food…”

“Mmm, you’re not going to want a full belly anyway once we find some privacy and I begin what I’m planning to do to you… Trust me,” he grins those fangs at you, “you’ll feel very… very full.”

Nevertheless, you take a few bites of the hard won offering of food, just enough to sate your growling stomach. A swig of ale to chase it down is all he allows you before he rises so quickly from the table, it scoots across the floor with a screech. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you through the packed crowd towards a hall, the shadows dancing with flickering torchlight. Rooms line the corridor, but all of them are locked.

The moment you are alone, away from deafening voices and judging eyes, he’s on you. That wiry strength of his body cages you against a door. His mouth captures your lips, his own hunger, for blood, for your body, is palpable with every suck of his lips and dive of his tongue. His fangs and teeth catch your lips and steal your breath.

He hungers.

You feel him smiling against your lips, his body, hardened from fighting and lean from his feeding on your blood all along your journey. Hands run up and down your arms, clutching you tightly against him. And then, he laughs, “Why I do think we have found the perfect little nowhere for the right price.” Before his meaning sinks into your lust-clouded mind, he’s crouching, planting little kisses over your clothing as he goes. His lockpick in hand, he works his own brand of magic, face resting on your thigh as the latch clicks, the door swinging open behind you.

“Always so quick to slide your tools into little holes, aren’t you, Astarion?”

He says nothing as he stands, no words needed. Not when he gives you that ravenous smirk, his brows canted so deliciously. Before you can even breathe, he’s scooped you in his arms, carrying you into the darkened room, a swift shove of his hip to shut it firmly behind you both. You can barely see anything, there is no light. No candle or fire in this vacant chamber. Besides, his face is far too close as he consumes you in that commanding kiss of his. Something soft cradles your body as he sets you down, the comforting embrace of a feather bed.

Gods, when had you last been in a bed… it almost makes your body stretch in anticipation more than the way he’s crawled over you in it. Every brush of his body, every angle of his hips and pressure of his knee to spread your legs for him is deliberate. It’s so dark, the room lit only by some tiny window high above the bed, you can just barely make out the edges of his body on top of you, the little curls of his hair around his head that won’t ever be tamed.

No sights to take in, your every sense is heightened, flooded with the feeling of his hands that tug your clothes off your body, overwhelmed by the sound of his panting breaths in your ear, the taste of his tongue in your mouth each time he returns for more and more of your lips.

Before you know it, he’s pulled you up, slipping your shirt off from over your head, his voice purring in your ear. “Now, let’s see… you seemed to think your body inferior to that little wench.” He’s kissing into your ear, the lapping of his tongue deafening you, making your spine spasm with tingles, every nerve now lit on fire and hot with need. “Let’s begin to dispel those silly ideas, my love.”

He lifts from you, in the dark, all you can do is feel that cold weight of his body slipping from you. You whimper alone in the shadowed, strange bed. But you can hear he’s close, his voice softly shushing you, his fingers deftly sliding your breeches from your legs. His touch grazing over your skin now makes you whimper for new, all-consuming reasons.

Especially as you, now completely naked, feel him leaning closer to you, climbing back into the bed as the mattress bends under his weight. Your wimpers become full-throated moans as his hand comes to trace a single finger up your belly.

“Hmmm, I think you find your figure less… arousing,” he whispers, as you find his hands splayed on either side of your head, his knees shifting to straddle you… That’s when you realize it’s his skin now that brushes your flesh.

You feel movement over your belly, hearing the soft brushing of skin on skin, realization dawning as your head lifts and eyes widen to try to see. You can make it out faintly in the shadows, his hand beating slowly over his long, pulsing cock.

Oh, you missed that sight…. It makes you shiver beneath him, where he’s pinned you softly into the bed. “Clearly, we might not see eye to eye on how… arousing you truly are, darling.” His hand finds yours from your side, wrapping them together around his length. “See…” he leans his face into yours, his breath cold, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I think this proves you quite wrong…” you groan as he lays on top of you, your legs parting naturally to let him in, to wrap him tightly between your trembling thighs.

Every part of your body hums with need. At last. After so long. “Need more… convincing?” he purrs into your mouth, that erection now prodding over the top on your mound and pushing into your belly.

“Mmm,” you moan, pressing your own hips up into him, “always…”

“Tch,” he catches your lower lip in his teeth, “greedy little minx. I suppose it is fitting I indulge you. I can rid you of all that nagging doubt, darling…” his lips release yours one more time, trailing little sucks on your neck, your collarbone, your chest, until those full, smirking lips encircle your nipple.

And suck hard.

You mewl, biting your lip hard to keep from screaming.

“The softness of your breasts, the way they harden the moment I touch them, there is nothing like it…” he whispers against your tingling flesh, his mouth dragging with little nips to attend to your other one. Your back arches, your frame shaking to have his mouth on you once more, hands running through those soft, unkempt locks, as if you could trap him against you forever like this.

“More?” he taunts you, giving your nipple one last lingering drag of his teeth.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Convince me more…”

“It would be my pleasure,” he gives you that leer that sets your blood on fire, your innards quickening as his hand reaches back between your legs. The cold press of his fingers parts you, drawing their touch through your molten slick, a little teasing circle on your clit sending your whole body shaking. You raise your hips, wanting so much more, but his touch slips away.

Only to have him slide those drenched fingers between his own smiling, pouting lips. “Mmm,” he growls, “delicious…” He crooks his brows as you watch, so engrossed with the way his lips purse around the slight thrust of his fingers into his mouth. Then, he chuckles, low and deep, “Would you like a taste of just how divine you are?”

You give him half a smile, opening your mouth to let your tongue slide out, eager and anticipating.

Those fingers dive right back into your soaked cunt, crooking deep inside your channel as you squirm to feel so filled once more. You close your eyes as his hand withdraws, the salty tang of your own arousal brushing your waiting tongue. Your lover groans over you as you close your mouth, warm and wet, around his fingers. Fingers he slowly strokes between your lips.

“You are so perfect, every time…” he whispers, his throat thick with his need as his voice grates in your ear.

As his fingers disappear, your breath stops, drawn from your lungs by his devouring kiss. “I’m beginning to feel reassured,” you pant, your hands running over those ridges of scarring on his back, almost as familiar to you as your own marks and scars from battle.

“You had better. You are my only one, darling,” he growls against the pillowy flesh of your breasts, raising his head to look you straight in the eyes. His crimson gaze intense, filled with that glint of possessiveness, softened slightly by the dependence that brims from their depths. “And I’ll fuck every bit of your doubt from you, my sweet.”

“Please,” you beg, sighing to feel that thick, blunt, beautiful head of his cock pressing into you slowly. Your body squirms, stretching around him, taking him deeper as you try to relax. You pant, hands riding the little clenching thrusts of his ass as he gently works his way further into you.

And you moan, stretching like you’re a virgin all over again. Fitting him into your deepest recesses. Your legs raise, gripping around his narrow, lean waist. His mouth whispering his praises over your tongue as they tangle together. “Yes, darling, you’re so good,” he’s groaning, his hips thrusting and swiveling oh so slowly. Lovingly. “My one, my only…”

Your words fail. Only little breaths and sighs and noises left as your mind is swept away. Nothing more than the way your bodies are joined at last. It’s wave after wave of pleasure up your spine as he takes his time, as he meticulously plunders you. You buck, riding each thrilling drag of his cock inside you. His arms weave around your shoulders, embracing you, pulling you so every inch of your body is drawn hard against his, your yielding curves flattened, pressed and confined against him, all lean and hard and brawny as he is.

At last words tingle on your tongue. “You’re mine too, my one…” you finally pant, your voice harsh as your pleasure begins to crest, to crash through you to take control of your every nerve and every sense.

Your words, they trigger something inside him, suddenly that slow rhythm of love-making turns sharper. He’s demanding and pulsing, his thrusts harder, faster. You feel his nails clawing into the skin of your back, his breathing growing ragged and hissing between his clenched teeth.

On the cusp of control, he’s barely bridled, fangs grinding as he chases his climax, pushing you hard into yours. You shatter, shivering and clenching around his cock, his length hammering hard to fill you to bursting even as you can’t take any more of him inside. Your hand flies to cover your screams, your arousal squirting around him, soaking your thighs, his cock, even as you feel him spewing his seed to mix with your juices. Groan after groan through his firmly shut mouth, and he finally stills inside you, over you. One last breathless kiss on your lips, and he rests his head next to yours. His pants tickle right in your ear.

“That…” you whisper, turning your face to plant a kiss against the two little scars on his neck, “was….” you run out of words, too many flooding your brain to pick just one. So, you brace your hands on either side of his face, lifting it to bring his mouth to yours, one more time.

“Anything to reassure you, my sweetest,” he whispers, returning your kiss gently, tenderly, on the damp of your forehead.

623 notes · View notes

hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

Text

✮⋆˙ the purest expression of grief; jason grace x greek! reader blurb

content: jason grace x greek! reader blurb warning: ANGST I MEAN IT (im looking at you anon read the tags as to avoid crying in class...again!) no redeeming fluff we die like (jason) men- author's note: BACK TO BACK ANGST LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO i thought of this on the way to work and it would NOT leave me alone until i wrote it lmao. i also wrote this in thirty minutes but i neededddddddd to get all my thoughts out frfr i needed to share the wealth- er, well, the angst lamo. yall won't enjoy this one but i did!!

jason was roman and you were greek, is was basically written in the stars!!

you guys fell for each other, deeply and quickly. from the moment you guys shared a passionate conversation about which tea was the best before bed, sparks were flying. literally. jason was swatting them away with a shy smile and a heavy blush while you giggled. cutest meet cute to ever meet cute.

so, it was no surprised that you tagged along with jason on this quest. he even held his hand out to you, nodding his head like he had no doubt in his mind you'd follow.

and you did.

and you wished you didn't.

because now you held him in your arms; his bloody and broken body. you cradled him against you, despite nico's tug on your arms to get you to leave, despite the calls from your friends that you had to let him go and that you'd die if you stayed. despite all that, you held his body - which was rapidly fading into a corpse in description - against yours and you cried. no, cries didn't cover what was happening. you were the physical representation of grief. you were rocking gently, shaking as you brushed his hair away and fixed his shattered, and now useless, glasses.

"please, please, juno, save him. save your champion. save my boy, please."

it started as whispers, barely mutters, against his cold forehead. your greek tongue fought against every word but your soul was stronger. your soul that was tied to the dying roman.

"jupiter, save your son. please, im begging you."

it started to grow in volume, nico just barely hearing your words over the clash of his sword to protect you. he was eager to get you out of this place, this place that was tainted and stained with jason's death. but you wouldn't move, stronger than those greek marble statues that couldn't seem to be brought down.

"any of you, save him. mars, minerva, ceres, neptune, bellona, mercury. any of you, please hear my prayers and save him. venus...please. he- i love him. save my love, please."

you were starting to yell now, the words growing in size without your permission. you couldn't seem to stop and you couldn't seem to care. all that mattered is that they heard you. you and your greek voice, screaming and begging roman gods to hear your prayers. nico had finally gotten a good hold on you, your screams becoming the background noise to him tugging you from your dead lover. you fought against the son of hades, reaching out with your hand, your finger's just barely ghost over his own before nico tugged your further away.

"please, pluto, please take care of him. he's earned it, you know that, please."

you were screaming in nico's arms, your face turning red and puffy but it didn't matter anymore. none of it did. you'd never felt a grief quite like this and you were sure you'd never feel it again.

the loss of a love is a wound that never heals, a grief that has you doing crazy things.

like screaming the names of gods you didn't worship, the names of gods who were sure to push your greek prayers aside. gods who your lover gave his life for. gods who wouldn't care. gods who were foreign but yet oh so similar to your own.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #jason grace #jason grace angst #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus

217 notes · View notes

overload-explode · 11 months

Text

Naruto Founder's s/o who Attempted S*icide

T/W: Hinted non-explicit suicide attempt, references to depression

A/N: I'm not in a good space so here is some angst to vent! These men were born and raised during war and political instability, so their understanding of mental health is terrible. GN! reader

Hashirama:

You were the light of his life always laughing and smiling

Whenever he was stressed with Hokage duties he took refuge in you

He never sensed anything was wrong until you tried to kill yourself

He's the one that found you and healed you

The village was supposed to be a safe place for his loved ones yet you were not safe in the village he built

He blames himself. He feels like your happiness, and everyone in his village is his responsibility. He's your partner and your Hokage

Away from you, he starts drinking and gambling a lot to forget what happened and distract himself

Tobirama has to eventually find him and sober him up

His brother informs him that he needs to stop being self-destructive and blaming himself for what happened

Bags are now permanently under his eyes. He clings to you in sleep now, not out of love, but because he's terrified of losing you like he has lost so many

He's lost brothers, family and friends to war. To protect his loved ones was one of the reasons for creating the village But he can't protect you from yourself

He is an amazing healer so there are no physical scars on you. However, every time he sees you, he sees those injuries on you- he is forever scared mentally

He loves you and he drains himself trying to keep you happy

He doesn't show you he is struggling at all, he is scared his depression will cause you to spiral downward and attempt to take your life again

So he puts on a happy, joyous and carefree mask. Now he is performing at home as well as performing as Hokage and clan head

He secretly asks Tobirama to watch you when he is unable to. Tobirama starts to dislike you. You burden his brother, himself and the village. To him you are a liability, a weakness of his brother and a danger to the village. He would never hurt anyone his brother loves but he advises Hashirama to break up with you and tries to convince you to leave Hashirama, and preferably the village

Tobirama

He's angry and he's disappointed but mostly at himself because he feels so powerless

Despite being an amazing tactician, he didn't predict and prevent this. He feels so inadequate and starts doubting himself

Ever the logical man, he sees there's a problem and he wants to fix it. And nothing will get in the way, not even you

However, emotions do not follow logical thought, and you cannot apply cold logic to something as complicated as mental health

To you, he visibly becomes colder and more distant however he is trying to do the opposite. He expresses his love through acts of service but he is so emotionally incompetent it comes off as him being controlling, which he is but he wants to help you. He just has no idea how

He never opens up about his mental health. The trauma of being a child soldier, having an abusive father, trying to protect his brothers from abuse, losing his brothers, his alienation from being albino and autistic (my headcanon), PTSD, his strained relationship with his brother…

In his mind, as long as you can do your job as a shinobi, housewife, or merchant… and contribute to your village and/or clan, you are fine. Happiness and personal fulfilment come from knowing your place and fulfilling you are not contributing then that is a problem. If you're not doing your duty then that is a problem that needs to be fixed

He views people like cogs in a machine, if you are not doing your job then that is a problem. If you are doing your job, then there is no problem

He'll make sure you are physically well and then try to get you back to work because then that means everything is fixed

He will never talk about it, he wants to forget it, ignore it suppress it- like all his other emotions

But secretly, when he can, he'll create a shadow clone to follow you around to make sure you're safe

He will also put a seal on you that allows him to teleport to you if he senses that you're in danger. If you refuse he'll do it anyway without your permission because it's the smart thing to do and he cares about you. Your safety is more important to him than you liking him

At night when he comes back late and you are fast asleep, he'll hold you and silently cry a bit because he doesn't want to lose you.

You will never find out, he wants to be strong for both of you. In his mind no emotions = strong

In his mind, you have too many emotions, so he needs to show even fewer emotions to avoid triggering you. This is very unhealthy for everyone

After his brother advises him, he tries to be more outwardly affectionate. Even though he doesn't understand the need of pointing out the obvious, he compliments you more and kisses you on the forehead before going to work every day. Just know that he loves you

Madara

Hashirama is the one to tell Madara about your attempt. He was the medic-nin that saved you and, mainly, because everyone else is too scared of Madara to tell him

Madara is angry and scared. He is one of the most powerful shinobi to have ever existed. He has one of the most powerful Kekkei Genkai, yet he couldn't protect you. He can't protect you from yourself

The way he deals with his feelings of powerlessness is to label you unworthy

If you let your thoughts almost kill you- then you are truly weak. He grew up in a war zone where everyone was trying to kill him and he's perfectly fine! (He's not)

While you recover, he'll check up on you and make sure you're healing but he won't talk about what happened at all. Once you physically recover from your attempt, he'll break up with you

He's the clan head and his future spouse would become the clan matriarch (or the gender-neutral equivalent), taking on a lot of roles and responsibilities. Madara can't have someone he views as weak representing the Uchiha, it would make the Uchiha seem vulnerable and his job is ultimately to protect the clan. Madara also worries that the stress from the job will worsen you're mental health

After the break up he'll disappear for your life completely. If you try to visit him he will never be in. He won't be in his office if you're there- you won't even see him out in the street. It will be like you were never together

Secretly, he will start stalking you because he's worried but has no idea how to help you

He stops eating or sleeping regularly because he's too worried. Also, you were the one to remind him to eat and drink. His own physical and mental health declines

Hashirama becomes increasingly worried about his friend and tries to convince Madara to talk to you

Madara has already lost Izuna and the rest of his family, he can't lose you too. He knocks on your door with some food hoping you'll start the conversation

If you like my work, please consider supporting me: ☕

437 notes · View notes

evilminji · 5 months

Text

Pondering Doors Again >.>

Thinking about a concept I saw in a Manhwa. "Dungeons feed of the death that occurs within them" and how the Protagonist went "alright, Bet. A stable and prosperous society for outcasts has a LOT of Death! What with the need to eat food and people growing old and thus, inevitably, at least SOMEONE dying every day".

Because FARMING is and always has been a slower but more profitable way to accumulate food then Hunting. More reliable too.

And? What better way too feed your hunger(HungryHungryHUNGRYItHurtSIMSO-) then by BECOMING a Trap Door? Not every ghost looks human. Not every ghost WANTS too.

Maybe you want to Live. Yes, you are fighting, fighting, fighting. Not even Death can take you. But given half a chance? Given the infinite freedom of the Zone and all of Time stretched out before you? Do you? WANT to think anymore? WANT to keep fighting FOREVER for every scrap of food to fill your endless NEED for food? Your obsession with being full?

You can stop.

Like meditation.

Instead of MAKING a Lair... become one. You could always change your mind, if you felt like it. Souls rarely if ever DO, but you COULD. Then? You wait.

There are house ghosts. Dwellings that die. You blend right in. Are you angry? Vengeful? Do you blame the world? Perhaps you'll call them in. Like Hansel and Gretel. Look upon my house made of candy, children. Isn't it tempting? Isn't it sweet? Come closer. Listen to my siren song.

Chomp.

But, maybe you are tired. Hungry. Old bones and cold, barren soil. Barely the strength to paint gaudy veneers over straining, decaying wood. Like long abandoned circuses. You try for the appearance of cheer, but your tattered visage. betrays you. Yet, just like them, while you may not be able to entice those you truely wish to come? Vermin find safety and comfort in your walls.

And is that not how nature heals? First the weeds? The insects and vermin? Little things that build to great forests over time? Blobs hide within in you. Safely out from underfoot. What do they care, if you can not provide them scenery? You are safe. And they? They feed you in turn.

Like little worker bees. Drifting out, gorging on ectoplasm, and returning. Nesting safely inside you, they radiate that Ectoplasm and leech it into the Lair around them. You feed. And Feed. And FEED.

You make more places to hide for them. Bushes. Trees. You only half remember them now, so the colors are off and the forms shakey at best. The blobs do not care. More flock to you in response. You grow stronger. Make more trees.

You finally, FINALLY attract a curious and skittish ghost. They linger by the entrance. Watching. Uncertain. They know traps and hunters hide out here. Who would leave a perfectly good Lair up for grabs? This is a trick. A nasty little trap. Right? It has to be! Their luck can not be this good.

But it is. Because bottom feeders find each other all the time. Lairs that have little to offer and Ghosts who couldn't possibly defend anything worth keeping. All the Zone is stronger then them, why not be weakling together?

And they always take the chance. Because hope is eternal.

Inching forward in a cautious float, ready to dash away, they eventually realize the Lair really IS up for grabs. It really CAN be theirs. Which of course... means they have to fix it up of course! They are THRILLED. Look at all this ROOM! Why, these trees are LOVELY. A good start! They just gotta tweak THIS and then THAT aaand... there we go! Oooh, now over THERE would be a great place for a- *excited muttering*

And a proper ghost? MUCH better at bringing in Ectoplasm then a blob. Then dive in and out, fetching plants to transplant, decorations, building supplies. They invite their friend to crash with them. Become roommates. Their roommate gets a partner. They meet someone. Eventually somebody has a kid. And so on and so on.

All the while, they are feeding their Lair. Do they know it's not a NORMAL Lair? Yeah. They aren't dumb. Blobs disappear sometimes, if no one leaves for too long. House ghosts don't do that (or so they're told). But? They aren't powerful ghosts. They are weak ones. They CAN'T defend one of the nice spots from jerks who want to take it.

But a Lair that can defend ITSELF? And doesn't seem to want to eat them? Meh. Whatever works, man.

And you know what happens? Eventually, you reach a sustainable mass tipping point. Enough ghosts, set up in houses and cabins and castles and caves. All within a single Trap Lair. That they radiate enough ectoplasm to sustain the Lair itself. Enough that it can FINALLY pull the infamous and legendary "never leave" trick.

What is that trick?

Simple! You are a ghost. You'd kinda like an apple. You get up to leave you Lair to go get one. Oh, hey, an apple tree! That's new. Oh, these are really good! You sit back down. You never leave. Why would you leave? You are happy and have everything here. Your friends and family are here. Have another cake. Sit back down.

That is the trick.

The Trap of the sort of Trap Door.

They are known as Honey Traps. Heaven's Gates. Dream Doors. And they build slow to become quite dangerous. Entire cities exsist inside them. Ghosts go in and never come out. The take the energy you produce, small kernel that it is, and feed it back to you. And Ghosts? Efficient generators that they are, produce far more then they are given. Little into more. Little into greater. Building and building.

Until it has the strength to weave dreams.

Trap and entice. Blind and numb you. Bread and circuses for the masses, pay no attention to the bars that keep you here. You LOVE the comfort of your cage! You can leave whenever you want! You just never want too.

The Lair makes certain of that.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

#danny phantom #danny phantom prompt #dp prompt #minji's ponderings

231 notes · View notes

intimacyequalsdeath · 26 days

Text

Greif (Bo Sinclair x AFAB Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile now cause I never felt good enough about it to actually post. I wanted to make a good hurt/comfort but not make it too over the top extreme and I'm really confident in this version of it to finally post it. This is the first time I've posted a heavier fic like this so please head all the trigger warnings I put for this one.

Notes: Minors DNI, This fic is written with an AFAB reader in mind though no specific descriptions are used the pronouns She/her are used in relation to the reader. Trigger warnings: Pregnancy, abortion talk (Briefly). Bo is really mean at least in the start, Hurt/Comfort. Afab reader with she/her pronouns used. Excessive Cursing.

"If you fuckin' think I'm lettin' you bring a fuckin' baby into this town you're fuckin crazy!"

Bo yelled as he paced around the living room of the main house. You had finally come clean and revealed to him that you were most likely pregnant. He was taking the news about as well as one would expect Bo Sinclair to.

"I didn't ask to get pregnant Bo! Maybe you should've been more careful!"

You screamed right back at him. Bo scoffed at your argument and shook his head, a nasty grin overtaking his face.

"I shoulda never let you fuckin stay here. I told myself the day you rolled into town that you were gonna cause me nothin' but trouble"

"Maybe you should let Vincent make me into one of his wax figures then Bo, or better yet, you can keep me in the basement under the station."

Bo froze at your statement and fixed you with an expression you had never seen grace his face before.

"You better watch your fuckin' mouth if you know what's good for ya"

"Why Bo? You can't handle the truth of what you were doing in that basement before I came along?"

"You have not got a fuckin' clue what you're talkin' about. When what you need to worry about is what your gonna do with bastard you got growin' in there cause it's not gonna have any relation to me"

He spat, motioning to your stomach.

"If you don't wanna keep the baby what do you suppose I do then?"

"I mean hell if I know, I'm sure the pharmacy in the next town over has some pills or somethin' to nip the problem in the bud"

"Y- you'd really want me to go through with that? After everything we've been through together? Are you fucking serious?"

"No darlin' I want you to go all the way over to the next town over and go on a fuckin' shoppin' spree!"

"How could you even suggest something like that Bo? After everything we've been through?"

"A baby ain't nothin' but a liability, a liability ain't a single one of us got time for. 'sides do you really fuckin' think Ambrose is the place to raise a baby?"

"You, Vince and Les grew up here! Plus it's not like you'd let me fuckin' leave and go somewhere else to raise the baby. You'd turn me into a wax figure before that ever happened"

"Exactly, so what happens when that rug rat grows up and starts askin' questions? Askin' shit about what his daddy and uncles do? Askin' about the figures? What the fuck are you gonna do then?"

"You explained what the 3 of you do to me pretty damn near perfect didn't you?"

You countered Bo's argument. You watch his face as another unreadable expression crossed it as he finally sat down in his recliner and put his head in his hands. You sat and watched him in sick curiosity before the overwhelming feeling hit you like a truck.

Bo Sinclair was afraid.

An emotion you quite honestly never thought you'd see Bo experience. Sure Lester had told you stories from when they were kids and scared of their parents, storms or the usual childhood fears. But this was different. Bo wasn't a child and this wasn't a storm that would just pass if he hid under his covers and waited long enough.

You sat looking at a broken son in the body of a man, a son who had never healed from the torture his own parents put him through. The cracks that Bo tried to conceal so well from his own upbringing were crumbling in front of you. The fears coming back to him, his mother's voice echoing in his head that he would just grow up to be like his father.

The fear that it would be twins, like him and Vince and he'd have to watch them be separated and not be able to do a thing for them. Not being able to take them to a hospital just to protect Ambrose and his brothers.

"You're not going to be like them Bo"

You broke the silence with a whisper. You could hear Bo sharply suck in a breath, you were treading on unprecedented territory with Bo. His childhood was just something he didn't talk or think about at all and now it was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"Shut up"

He mumbled back. A usual response for when Bo felt like you were trying to back him into a corner and he was running out of ammo to fight you off.

"You're not going to be like them Bo. You aren't them and you never will be."

You exclaimed louder. Bo threw his hands off his face and stood up so fast the chair tipped on it's back legs. He stood, in front of the chair, just starring at you, breathing heavily as emotions swam through his eyes. You decided to be bold and test the waters, you began to take small steps toward Bo, he wasn't attempting to walk away so you continued this until you were right in front of him.

"Bo"

You said softly as you stood directly in front of him. He finally snapped his eyes down to meet yours.

"Bo, you're going to be better then them. You're going to be a good dad Bo, you've had a first hand experience of what not to be like as a parent, it's going to be rocky sure but-"

"My mama always told me I'd end up being just like daddy, Just a mean son of a bitch who never had anything nice to say to no one."

Bo cut you off, a much softer tone then before when his fear was translating to anger.

"Do you want to be like you dad? Are you gonna hate this baby if it doesn't come out to be what you were expecting?"

Bo look at you as if you had grown three heads.

"Of course not, it's my kid, how could I not love my own flesh and blood."

"If you know that, and aren't planning to emulate your father, then why are you so worried about ending up like him?"

Bo was stunned, no one had ever talked him through his emotions like that.

"T-that was the only image of a father I ever got. I don't know what a good dad is like. I don't know how "normal" kids who parents actually wanted 'em around had it"

You reached down and grabbed his wrist gently. Bringing it up and rubbing your fingers over his scars, the scars that told many glaring stories of what shaped him into the cold man he was today. You were thawing him out though, slowly but surely.

"You'll learn, No ones saying it'll be easy, but you're capable of running this whole town and taking care of the four of us, I'm sure you'll pick up fatherhood just as quick as anything else."

"Well that ain't my only issue with this whole baby thing though"

"What else is wrong then Bo?"

"It's- It's fuckin'" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "What if it's twins, and their conjoined like- like me and Vince were."

"Oh Bo"

"We ain't got no doctors here, and it's not like we could go stay in another town for the duration of it that would be too risky, god forbid you have complications too. I just- I don't know if I could do that darlin'"

Everything was coming together and your vision on why Bo was so angry was becoming clearer and clearer. Bo wasn't angry at you, he was scared of loosing you. Scared of being alone when he had finally found something he never thought he would ever get to have.

"Bo honey, I know it's scary, but what happened with you and Vince was rare. There's no guarantee that this baby will even be twins. You should've brought this all to me instead of just yelling."

"I know darlin', I should've went about it better. But I guess when you told me you were pregnant I- I got scared. The entire time you've been here I've had these scenarios in my head, worryin' about what would happen"

You were speechless as you watch as he turned away from you and began pacing again, this time without the yelling. The entire time you had known Bo you had never known him to be one to talk about his feelings. "I'm not a fuckin' pussy" He was remark to you when you would ask him what was wrong.

The front door swung open as Vincent returned from the wax museum. Bo stopped as your gazes moved to Vince who was now frozen in the doorway of the living room.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Vincent signed. You looked at him apologetically before flicking your eyes over to Bo to see what he would say.

"Nah Vince it's nothin'. Just uh- She's pregnant is all"

Vincent perked up and his gaze immediately flicked over to you.

"Really?"

He signed, giving off an aura of excitement. You nodded at him and mustered a smile

"I'm gonna be an uncle!. I'll start reading dad's old medical books and learn things to help with the delivery"

"Now Vince we ain't even-"

"I know he had an entire book about it, I'll start getting set up for prenatal appointments too. Maybe we could even go to the next town over for checkups and stuff, we'll need stuff for the baby too"

Vincent kept rambling in sign, something he did often. You couldn't help but laugh at his childlike wonder at the prospect of being an uncle. You looked over to Bo, who was noticeably less tense as he watched his twin's excitement over the new member of the family.

"Vince chill out for a sec, having this baby is so risky. What if it's twin and they come out like us? You're gonna separate 'em?"

"Well all things considered, the pregnancy only has a one in 250 chance of becoming a twin pregnancy. Plus we're identical twins, only fraternal ones run in families which means two separate eggs would have to be fertilized instead of the egg splitting."

Bo and you look at Vincent in dumbfounded shock as he signed the information as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where the hell did ya learn all that?"

Bo asked still in shock as he looked at his brother as if he had grown another head.

"In dad's old medical books" Vincent shrugged "I'll leave you two alone now though, I should go get researching"

Vincent signed in reply before turning and heading upstairs to his bedroom. When you heard Vincent's bedroom door close you turned back to look at Bo who was already looking at you when your eyes met his. A lighter mood fell over the living room and smile at him.

"A one in 250 chance huh?"

"Yeah, I reckon so"

"You wanna take that chance daddy?"

All the emotions of the night wash over Bo's face as he thinks for a moment then answers.

"If you think it's a good idea, can't really argue with facts I suppose. But there's gonna be rules."

With that Bo is back, the rule making irritable Bo you fell in love with when you rolled into the gas station all those years ago.

"What rules are we talkin' about?"

"For starters your gonna take it easy, when someone comes into town your gonna stay here at the house and out of sight. No heavy lifting, no helping Vincent anymore, no walk-"

"Bo, Just wrap me in bubble wrap then yeah?"

"I mean I could go to the next town over and find somethin-"

"I was joking Bo, You're not wrapping me in a protective layer"

"I can if I want too"

He mumbled under his breath. I bit back a laugh and rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say Bo"

"Hey I run this town-"

Bo begins the spiel you've heard about 20,000 times since you began living here as you walk into the kitchen, the cravings starting to take over, as he follows you to explain how he runs the town and how what he says goes and if he has to make more rules to keep you he will.

As you stand in the kitchen, eating your snack and listening to Bo's spiel. Something deep down inside you, lets a feeling wash over you that maybe just maybe, everything will be just fine.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #hurt/comfort #house of wax #house of wax fanfic

107 notes · View notes

bluehourbucky · 1 year

Text

coming home

pairing: Marc Spector x reader /Steven Grant

summary: Marc is yet to come home and you're worried

-[main]- [moonkinght]-

_______________________________________

Steven never talks about the stuff about business with Khonshu and what he has to do, Marc is the same way. You know that they're protecting you but you can't help but worry every time he's out there for longer than planned.

Like right now.

Marc promised that he would come back in a week, but he didn't, and it it's been two days without any contact. To say you were worried was an understatement. Usually, when this stuff happened, he would let you know.

It's Monday, 2am he should've been back over 48 hours ago.

Steven is currently on a plane going back home, he doesn't remember much, but with the fact that Marc doesn't remember much either could only mean it was bad. He wanted to call you as soon as he started fronting but being on a plane, with a broken phone was making it impossible.

"they're worried." Marc says and Steven looks at his reflection in the plane window.

"as if I don't know that." Steven whispers not wanting other people to hear him.

"you look like shit."

Steven rolls his eyes and then closes them he's so tired and he genuinely does not remember the last time he slept.

Steven wakes up when the pilot announces that they are landing, he's not sure if he had a bag or not, he does find his passport.

By the time he gets to the front door it's already 6am, that's when Marc decides he'd like to front for this.

He slowly opens the door not wanting to wake you up. Marc is immediately pulled into a hug only seconds after entering the apartment.

"I thought you were dead. Don't ever do this again." you sob into Marc's shoulder.

"I'm sorry baby. I'm really sorry. I'm right here."

"Marc what happened I was so worried. I tried calling you and I tried calling Steven's phone and I couldn't reach you and I- I-" you try to take breath but you can't.

"Breathe baby. I know I'm sorry. I wish I called you but I don't remember anything for the last 3 days neither does Steven. We don't know. And the phones, well." Marc pulls out a set of broken phones that don't even look like they could be fixed.

That's when you notice the bruise on his left cheek and the way he's standing. He's hurt.

You gently lift his hands just to see how bruised knuckles are, there's dried blood on his collar bone, this isn't how usually he comes home. Usually, the suit protects him and there's no blood and he is mostly healed. Whatever happend was really bad.

"Come let's take a shower." you wipe your tears and pull Marc with you to the shower.

Not that there's enough place in the shower for both of you, but you manage. The warm water falls down Marc's body, and you start cleaning him up. He's uncharacteristically quiet, but you don't mind, just worry. When you start washing his hair, you can tell that Steven is about to front, so you give him a second to compose.

"Hey love." Steven says softly, looking into your eyes, he appreciates that Marc wants him to experience you taking care of him too.

"Hi, you okay?" you ask after giving his shoulder a gentle kiss.

"With you my love, always." Steven's words make you chuckle, he's such a sap. He sighs contentedly.

"How's Gus the third?"

"Much better than you." you reply quickly.

Steven laughs and pulls you into a hug.

"I missed you, love." his head buried in your shoulder, holding you as close as possible. You can tell he's tired and you, for a fact, know that he doesn't know when he last slept a full night.

"Thank you." Steven, thanks you, and you shake your head.

"No need to thank me. Just- just please, next time try to call. I know it's not your fault, but I was so scared, Steven." you're holding tightly to his shirt, looking at him.

"I'll do my best, darling, but I can't promise you that." he says sadly and you nodd.

"I love you." Steven tells you and you say it back and lead him to the bed.

It doesn't matter that it's already 8am on a Monday morning neither of you have slept.

You cuddle up, close your head on Steven chest, your hand drawing circles on his other arm that's not holding your waist. It takes you less than five minutes to fall asleep due to exhaustion.

When you wake up, it's already 5pm.

"Morning?" you smile looking up at Marc, you can tell who it is by the way you're held, the placement is always different.

Marc smiles at you, he pulls you up so you're completely on top him his hand making his way under your shirt, scratching your back.

"You know I was scared too. I thought I was going to die and I would've left without saying goodbye."

"Marc.." you sit up straddling him and hold his face.

"You shouldn't have to wait for me, worrying if I'll come back or not. You don't deserve that."

"Marc, I will wait for you as long as you need me to. I'm doing this because I love you. I don't need you to protect me from that. I want you with everything you are."

"No use for me telling you that you're free to leave whenever it gets to much?" Marc wants you to know that if you couldn't take it anymore that you have an out.

"You're not getting rid of me so easily. I'm here to stay as long as you want me."

"Love you."

"Love you more"

_________________________________________

[The End]

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

#steven grant fluff #steven grant one shot #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marvel imagine

286 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Text

And we're now up to part A of the main events of s4, with an (un?)healthy dose of mutual pining. Bon appétit.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 of the love spell no go au

It’s a panic reflex, really.

Eddie sees Chrissy start to float and he knows what this is. Not the exact spell, he’s never had the nerve to dig into those kind of grimoires, those fuckers’ll take your fingers right off—but it’s definitely dark magic. And the best way to respond to dark magic is to get as far away from the spellcaster as fucking possible. He doesn’t know where the spellcaster is, so he reaches for the best hiding place he can think of off the top of his head.

One second he’s in the trailer, screaming and flailing out the spell, and the next he lands on his ass in Reefer Rick’s dank little boathouse where no one or nothing will find him.

… Okay, maybe not no one.

“Eddie?!”

With a gasp, Eddie struggles to kick off the tarp and clamber out of the old motorboat. “Steve!” His foot is still tangled in the tarp, though, so he trips, stumbles into the other boy, and sends both of them thumping up against the nearest wall. “Fuck.”

But Steve’s arms wrap around him all the same. “Shit, Eddie, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He’s not, though. He is so not okay.

Dustin is asking him about dark particles before it really clicks for Eddie—they know. Maybe not that it’s magic, but they’ve seen things before, enough to not question any of what he tells them.

“How did you get all the way out here without your van?” the redhead, Max, asks shrewdly, and he recognizes her as one of his neighbors across the way.

“I, uh.” Eddie doesn’t want to lie, because even as freaked out as he is he knows that he might end up having to tell them at this point—sorry Wayne. But that point hasn’t come yet. “I just… ran, I don’t know. I l-left her there.”

Steve still has a hand on his shoulder, at once reassuring and bewildering, and squeezes it now. “What happened to Chrissy wasn’t your fault, Eds. You said she was already gone, so it’s… You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

Eddie is in no way okay.

God only knows how long later, Eddie matches Steve’s pace through what the younger Hellfire members dubbed the Upside Down back in ‘83. He keeps wondering if he should tell them they don’t need the guns; he knows enough defensive spells and a fire spitting trick that should be protection enough. Most of those involve setting up in a fixed location, though, meaning they’d have to hole up rather than find (or fight) their way back home… and he’s not confident enough to put all of their eggs in his basket.

It was all he could do to get his battle vest on Steve. Eddie, wary from years of being bullied, had sewn stealth and protection in with every thread he’d added to the garment, slipped healing charms in under the patches and then sewn them in place.

And then Steve says “I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” which throws Eddie for a loop.

“Pretty sure it was the dark wizard that dragged me into this, Stevie.”

Eddie still doesn’t know if his involvement was intentional or not—if he was targeted as collateral damage because of his family and heritage or if it was all about Chrissy and he'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He doesn’t know if his spell to get away was noticed, either, but… it would have been small potatoes compared to this asshole casting from a completely different dimension, so maybe not. Which is not very reassuring, but speculation is all he has right now.

After an awkward moment of silence, Eddie clears his throat. “So, uh… all this is why you’ve been tense since July? And why you started buying from me?”

Steve doesn’t look up from where he’s putting one foot carefully in front of the other, mindful of the sentient vines. “Yeah.” He gives a halfhearted shrug. “This is different from the last time, but it’s always different. Like, usually I get most of my injuries from getting hit by regular people, but—” he gestures at the red and bruise-mottled marks circling his neck from that demonic bat thing “—this time I guess it’s the monsters’ turn. Never know what to brace for.”

“… Well shit,” Eddie sums up, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a humorless laugh. “Thanks for jumping in after me though, dude. I know it’s all a lot and you're already kind of stuck with being involved, and with… losing Chrissy like that… but, yeah. It means a lot.”

Eddie doesn’t like the unfamiliar way Steve tenses up as he says this, and is puzzled by the strange phrasing. He didn’t really know Chrissy, they’d had literally two conversations and the second one was in the minutes immediately before her sudden demise. Sure, he’d wanted to help her and feels like throwing up any time he thinks about how she died, but they hadn’t exactly been close. Nothing like how he and Steve are. Why wouldn’t he try to save his… his friend?

“Nancy and Robin went first. I’m a shitty swimmer,” Eddie admits. “That’s the only reason I didn’t jump in sooner… Turned out I was more scared of being alone in that boat than I was of drowning, so yay for me. The girls did most of the heavy lifting, and you ripped that bat in half with your bare hands. That’s fucking metal by the way. A total Ozzy move.”

“Ozzy.” Steve’s forehead wrinkles, actually turning his gaze to Eddie. “Isn’t that the Black Something guy?”

“Sabbath,” he supplies, nodding. And then recounts the legend of Ozzy Osborne biting a bat’s head off on-stage. End of the world or not, he still considers himself morally obligated to lure Steve away from the top 40 pop hits, tempting him towards the dark side with impassioned lyrics and sick guitar riffs.

He almost feels able to pretend that things are normal and they’re just idly chatting, until a brief earthquake that almost knock both of them down onto the fucking sentient vines and reminds him.

The night between finding their way back out of the Upside Down and formulating a plan, the older teens take turns guarding the gate in the Munson trailer. Eddie almost breaks down and tries a circle of protection, but he’s not sure how to do that on the ceiling, there isn’t enough salt in the pantry to circle the entire trailer, and even if there were, Max’s place can’t fit all of them.

Besides, he thinks glumly, he’s not sure it would even help with these kinds of monsters. Isn’t sure what kind of traction his magic will have on things spawned in a different plane.

So he helps Steve drag his shitty mattress back into the bedroom (because Steve refuses to sit out helping even with literal bites taken out of his sides) for the four of them to sleep on during watch shifts. And gets fresh blankets and sheets from Max, at Robin’s insistence.

“New bandages,” he says to Steve once that’s done, pointing towards the bathroom in a way that he hopes brooks no argument. He’s already got a shirt and pair of sweatpants that pass the sniff test from his closet and a definitely clean pair of boxers from the dresser clutched in his other hand, ready to go.

Steve blinks at him, twice, then looks down at his own torso where Nancy’s ripped sweater is still tied around his wounds, dark from grime and spotting blood, and sighs. “Yeah, fine.”

Eddie shuts the door behind them, which makes the already cramped trailer bathroom feel even smaller. “Okay, so… Fastest way to do this is probably to hop in the shower and rinse off. You’re covered in lake and fuck knows what else from that place, don’t want any of that shit getting in the wounds. Don’t, uh, don’t scrub those, just everything else.” And busies himself with hauling the first aid kit out from under the sink, which is always a pain in the ass whether the door is open or not. The damn thing is too big for the space because of all the extra compartments for healing spell ingredients, quite a few of which he’s already planning to surreptitiously use.

Nothing happens behind him, so after a moment he pauses and looks over his shoulder to see Steve still as dressed as he was when they walked in.

“This is going to take me a while, it’ll all go faster if you start washing up now,” he points out, not trying to be brusque but he’s… not the best with blood, and trying to steel himself for what’s coming. “If you’re worried about your modesty, I promise not to look.”

“Don’t care about that,” Steve says, and he sounds tense.

Eddie tries not to think about how he’s just been handed indirect permission to watch Steve undress and shower. Jesus H. Christ. “Then… are you dragging your heels because you wanna tell me that you do have demon bat rabies, or…?”

“No.” Steve sighs, and runs a dirty hand through his already disheveled and deflated hair. How he still manages to look hot after all they’ve been through, Eddie has no idea. “How, uh. How thin are the walls?”

From outside the bathroom, Robin calls, “Pretty thin, Steve-o.”

No further answer to that question needed, Eddie inclines his head towards the door. “You heard the lady. Turning the water on helps, even though the pressure is shit. It’ll get cold pretty fast, though, so you’ll want to be quick.”

For a moment, it still seems like Steve has something he wants to say. Eddie waits patiently, looking off to the side so he doesn’t have an aneurism while Steve strips down and turns the water on, but once Steve steps under the spray he seems wholly focused on peeling away the makeshift bandages so Eddie returns to wrestling with the first aid kit. They don’t talk; Steve remains eerily silent even through disinfecting the bites on his sides and the road rash on his back, even though all of it must sting like a bitch. And then Eddie wraps him up in clean gauze and medical tape and a few subtle spells to help ease the pain and help speed the healing along, hands Steve the clean clothes to change into, and slips out of the bathroom trying not to think about how Steve’s hair now smells like his bargain bin shampoo.

“All patched up?” Robin asks, joining Steve on the mattress as they settle in for some sleep before their staggered shifts start. Since he’s injured, Nancy put him last on the rota so he could get more uninterrupted rest up front.

He nods. Flicks his eyes to the closed bedroom door, remembering from the bathroom that it really only provides the illusion of privacy, and shuffles around to lie down with a dejected sigh.

Robin follows. They lay down facing each other, cramped on the narrow bed, but they’ve done this before—Steve’s is a full, but Robin’s is a twin-sized just like this one.

In a whisper barely more than a breath, she says, “You wanted to tell him.” It’s not a question.

“Not with Nancy listening,” he whispers back. “And… Chrissy, I shouldn’t…”

Robin’s lips press into a thin line, almost invisible in the darkened room. “There’s no way Eddie Munson was hooking up with Chrissy Cunningham, dingus. Can you even see them together? No way.”

“Can you see Eddie Munson with Steve Harrington?” he hisses back, a little too loud—but though they both freeze to listen, to be sure, there’s no sound. No sign that anyone overheard.

“Maybe,” Robin retorts softly once they’ve both settled again. “You’re not exactly a bastion of conformity anymore, you know, mister babysitter with a lesbian band nerd for a best friend expert monster killer… guy. He could go for you. And I don’t think… I mean, I don’t know, but… I don’t think he’s into girls, Steve.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Steve whispers.

The eye-roll in response is practically audible. “Because he watches you all the time. And that thing with the vest when Nancy was looking at you.”

“So? I watch him all the time, and I like both!”

“Well, if I’m wrong and he is like you, doesn’t that at least mean—”

“I just don’t want to get in the way if he’s mourning her, Robs. I don’t want to be a, a rebound or for anything to happen just because we might die. Because then what if we don’t, and he doesn’t… want me anymore? I can’t do that again.”

With a rustle of blankets, Robin scoots closer to pull him into a hug. Steve doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t cry—but his hand fists in the back of her shirt and he holds on tight.

They’re still in that position an hour or so later when Eddie comes to tag Robin in, whispering that all is still quiet on the ceiling-ward front as she extracts herself. Steve remains dead asleep, even when Eddie hesitantly worms his way under the covers while staying as close to the edge of the mattress as possible so as not to disturb him.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @lawrencebshoggoth

Part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

#scoops words #love spell no go au #wg steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #eddie munson lives

36 notes · View notes

drifloonz · 2 months

Note

I also wanna see hcs of Steven with an autistic reader (dating hcs ig, I'm also a Strangled Red simp and I'm autistic)

remember me. im alive . Im here to heal the drought . i am too tired mentally to do the whole format shebang maybe ill dress it up when i wake up ( it is currently 6:21 am for me and im not tired yet )

Actually i dont think i do anything that extra or fancy with my formatting other than the title which i added right now. so . Enjoy

steven x autistic reader!

♡ he's autistic as well ... like that "I hate people" type'a autism. at least nowadays! i think he used to have trouble with volume and tone before the incident and just generally get easily overwhelmed... and either freeze or start to go on a walk to take his mind off of things. stuff like that.

♡ He's also insanely autistic about battle strategies and its his special interest of sorts . like... not that much, he did ( in my interpretation and what is kind of implied? ) sweep everything with miki because she's a special charizard who just kind of. Is stronger in all ways.

♡ BUT! i think i mean this in the more pokeani style of battles - he's crafty and very observant of his surroundings and how to "Cheat" battles with it. wink

♡ anyways yeah autistic reader . hi . You came for dating hcs right .

♡ he tends to just live in his house, lurking, stalking, barely moving out of bed to eat - so you might have to help him with that. ... buuuut, if you're similar, then you two will simply just sit in bed staring at the ceiling all day . napstablook core

♡ he hasn't had much stimulation outside of taking care of his basic needs and like. i'unno. being alive in general. so if you have an interest he isn't too aware of, he's always very happy to listen.

♡ he's an extremely good listener- he'll be nodding and mostly silent, but he may ask questions once he's more comfortable with you. he is actively trying to engage with your interests, although his own autism makes his tone a little stagnant- if he sounds uninterested, it's not intentional. his voice just comes off like that.

♡ he particularly likes games and music although the interests and energy for them have wavered a lot for him personally - so if your interests align with those sorts of things, he'll definitely be on board. you being into something in a genre he used to like definitely gives him enough energy to try again.

♡ this eventually does end up with him having more energy to engage with things that used to give him joy in a similar way . mostly playing games... like, a pokemon stadium or battle revolution game if those existed in-universe? because he can't exactly uh. Battle for real anymore without hurting those around him. of course, he always has charizard on his teams front and center. it's not Her. but, it'll suffice as long as he distracts himself.

♡ truly, it's just like this. introduce things to him and he'll be eager to try or listen or talk to you about them.

♡ if you get overwhelmed anywhere, he is quick to move you out of the area and also maybe take away the overwhelming Element. if it's a person, well. he'll just basically glare at them. a silent 'Fuck Off'

♡ also he will personally appreciate it if you get him more clothes. having just a few sets is fine for his depression, but the more he realizes it, the fabric feels awful sometimes. mainly, his trainer outfit he usually goes outside with - it's very worn and torn and the material was always a little cheap... if you get him a replacement, he'll be all the happier for it.

♡ he'd also give the old one to you if you cared about that sort of thing, but he'd be tentative because. well. it's worn and torn...?

♡ unless you fix it up and sew it somehow. that'd be nice. Im getting offtrack

♡ if you draw, write, or do creative things - he's always happy to see them. he likes to simply wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he looks at what you're doing now and again... it's, calming? like, really calming. to be honest, he could do that forever and ever.

♡ until you two get hungry of course. but, until then.

♡ he does also of course engage and ask about things like your OCs ( if you have them ), worlds, writing, dynamics, headcanons - anything, everything.

♡ generally things like this are what he's happiest with . watching something with you or watching you do something as he lays back and relaxes. seeing you enjoy the things you like makes him feel a lot better even though its something so simple .

♡ ... S!3v3n is also similar, he's just much more quiet- basically nonverbal - about how he goes about it. those red eyes will always be watching intently though .

_____

sorry if these were barebones i didnt rlly know what to Go off of but yeah . he is autistic too !!!! the Tismry

#wispy writes #steven strangled red #steven strangled red x reader #strangled red x reader

20 notes · View notes

stumblingoverchaos · 4 months

Text

Being some recs for fics set after Good Omens S2

Tether Ginger_Cat, Words: 44,562 Aziraphale, Supreme Archangel of the Heavenly Host, is just minding his own business. Really. It's not like he's trying to get summoned to Earth during highly important archangelic duties. And Crowley's not trying to summon him, he swears, but somehow it still keeps happening... Now, if they could only figure out why?

We Can't Keep Meeting Like This Ginger_Cat, Words: 65,450 Once a year, Aziraphale and Crowley meet on Earth to discuss the development of the reincarnated Christ child. The problem is, they can't stop having sex instead.

What You Leave Behind (or, A.J. Crowley, Bookseller Extrodinaire) chubbytransboi, Words: 50,733 “Are you a bookseller too?” “Not even at gunpoint.” After The Promotion, Crowley finds himself as the proprietor of A.Z. Fell and Co. (Emphasis on the ‘Co.’) Or: new jobs, new friends, and new ways of healing. And a LOT of sticky notes.

of truth, of light, of good sideraclara, Words: 75,179 Crowley will save Earth alone if he has to.

Factory Settings Anonymous, Words: 106,998 Crowley gets reinstated as an angel.

and though i burn, how could i fall? (when i am lifted by every word you say to me) shadoweddepths, Words: 24,699 Five times Aziraphale and Crowley argue, and the one time they don't.

But You, My Dear, Are An Ocean megzseattle, Words: 76,895 After Aziraphale's defection, Crowley tries to figure out how to live life for himself.

don't let this darkness fool you mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday), Words: 23,887 Lurching to his feet, Crowley stumbles through his flat in the dark – tripping over empty whiskey bottles and clothes he’d stripped out of and never bothered to pick up again. Heart pounding, he throws open the door. And the bottom drops abruptly out from beneath him. It feels like falling all over again – except from so much higher up than he’d ever been the first time. This is worse. This is so much worse because it isn’t him. It’s Aziraphale.

Endless, Numbered contritecactite, Words: 48,244 Crowley knows where he's not wanted—or, rather, where he was wanted but didn't want to go and is now no longer wanted—so he takes off until he finds a place that doesn't matter. Yet. It starts to matter quite a bit just around the time that Muriel reaches out to him about a book in Aziraphale's old shop that doesn't seem to be acting quite right. A medium-burn sort-of fix-it told partially through Aziraphale's recent diary entries in which nothing terribly dramatic happens because they've had enough of that.

freshly disowned in some frozen devotion (no more alone or myself could i be) shadoweddepths, Words: 22,379 Aziraphale rejects the Metatron's offer and chooses Crowley instead. Crowley helps him through the aftermath.

mourning doves`` sleepyimpulse, Words: 22,686 “I’m sorry,” he registered himself saying between heaving sobs. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, please forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he knew the words were all wrong (he would never find the right ones). But the pain was coming at him in every direction and something, something had to give, and so he clung to Crowley like a life preserver. Crowley bent his body over Aziraphale’s and slowly, surely, pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Aziraphale went unconscious.

pieces of you blackeyedblonde, Words: 18,348 “Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers, hand mindlessly grappling for the golden clasp secured at his throat. “What have you done?” “What I’ve always wanted,” Crowley says flatly, clutching the baby close against his bare chest. “You made your choice, angel. And I made a few of my own.” “Whose,” Aziraphale starts to say, and then can’t speak for a moment while something visceral moves through him. “Whose child are they? Other than yours, I mean.” “Look at her for yourself,” Crowley says, drawing his dark wing up just enough that Aziraphale can gaze at the newborn without feathers blocking the lamplight glowing behind them. “You haven’t even been gone for a year—don’t tell me you suddenly can’t recognize one of your own.”

Touch my Tears with Your Lips IneffableDoll, Words: 27,217 The emptiness of Heaven is punishment itself, a torture for a very Earthly angel. He has no power. The Metatron lied to him. Crowley is somewhere else. Aziraphale is alone. When he eventually escapes back to Earth – where he belongs – Aziraphale and Crowley have a lot to work through, even after averting the Second Coming, a renewed attempt at taking away all they hold dear. They need to be gentle with each other’s fragile, fractured hearts and together, figure out how to love one another the way they’ve long wished to. A story of trauma, healing, and love. So, so much love.

Light the Corners of my Mind cyankelpie, Words: 25,897 Aziraphale, thirty-eighth order scrivener—at least, that's who they told him he was—wakes up from some perfectly normal memory loss to find a cryptic note written on his hand. The further he goes in his search for answers, the more questions he has. Will he ever learn why he was demoted to a desk job? Or how he'd managed to collect enough books to open a bookshop? Or why that familiar red-haired demon on Earth seems to be avoiding him?

Devotion, grace and other small miracles Chrissy22, Words: 4,343 Seven months after the events of Season 2, Crowley gets a phone call from a panicking Muriel.

journeys end in lovers' meeting terpsichorean, Words: 48,137 With the Second Coming averted and Aziraphale back on Earth, all Crowley wanted was a return to the way things used to be, before he confessed his feelings and kissed his best friend in what may be the most unsuccessful love confession of all time. In an effort to cheer an equally miserable Aziraphale, the two of them leave London to attend a murder mystery party in an old country estate. But things quickly go wrong and someone ends up dead. It's up to Aziraphale and Crowley to save the other guests from whatever dangers lurk within the manor. And maybe, Crowley will gather the courage to ask the one question he’s not sure he wants answered: why did Aziraphale come back?

nebula 231080 starklystar, Words: 33,710 Philosophers liked to pose the question, observation against perception: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Aziraphale would argue that sound was something witnessed, and Crowley would argue that if sound had to be witnessed, then why was virtue unwitnessed a nobler thing? But first, Crowley would point out that he himself had fallen, alone and without witness, and it had bloody fucking hurt.

I'm the treasure baby, I'm the prize stereobone, Words: 9,405 "Are you working for Mrs. Sandwich?" Nina asks. "No," Crowley says. "Well, yes. Well, define 'working'."

#good omens #good omens 2 #fic rec #good omens fic rec #good omens fan fiction #gos2 #good omens season 2 #weirdly specific but ok #good omens mascot

25 notes · View notes

holly-opal · 1 month

Note

Prompt: Mr Puzzles is recovering and in recovery being helped by a reader who constantly feels the need to help people if they can

Mr. Puzzles groaned in pain, his voice was very glitchy, he held gripped the sheets tightly as you began to stitch his wound shut. You shushed him and patted him on the shoulder, you gave him a small smile while he was glaring at you. You had found him near the dumpster on your evening stroll, apparently some "meme obsessed loser hit him with a meat mallet".... What ever that means. It didn't matter right now, you can ask questions later, right now you needed to fix him up. It was extremely difficult with how shaky he was, you kept having to forcefully out him down after he kept arching his back and kept moving around. He was letting out small whimpers and was whining.

"Ugh! Is it over yet??"

"Almost."

"Aaaaaaugggh!! Make it stoooop!!"

You were surprisingly calm about this, well, surprising to him. You stitched up many people before. You always liked helping those in need, even if you had to make sacrifices. You and other people have been through a lot. The T-pose apocalypse, the near ending of the universe, Mario's shenanigans, you've been through it all. Alot of people recommended that you get therapy, but naaaah. You didn't need therapy! You're perfectly fine! Anyways, you were done stitching him up and he throws up in a bucket you laid out for him, the vomit looked very static-ish. Mr. Puzzles sighed in relief. Although he was still in excruciating pain. You tuck him into bed and put your teddy bear next to him, you went downstairs to get some soup for your new guest. Mr. Puzzles hummed and thought about his embarrassing defeat. He groaned in frustration and moved, his wound hurt like the seven rings of hell, and he yelped in pain.

You came back with a bowl of soup, you handed it to Mr. Puzzles and he happily took it, he was hungry as shit. You sat down on the bed and watched him eat, he looked like a nice guy, he seemed to be doing fine despite his injuries, and he was hot too.......hold up. Are you seriously attracted to a man with a TV for a head? No no! You were just helping him, that's all! Yeah, just helping. Mr. Puzzles noticed that you were staring at him, he grinned and put down his soup. "Oh? What's the matter? Are you mesmerized by my beauty, little one?" He asked, raising his brow at you. You blushed and laughed nervously, you got up and began to clean up the clothes on your floor. "Sorry about the mess, I was really expecting company, let alone an injured person." You said awkwardly, ignoring his question. He hummed and continued to eat his food, it was kind of spicy, but he didn't mind. Once he ate all of the meat and veggies in the soup, he drank the whole thing in one go. You were very impressed and clapped, you had never seen someone drink soup that fast! But he had leftover soup on his face now. You fetched a rag and went over to him, you wiped his face and got rid of the stains, he blushed a little and he looked away. He started to get a bit sleepy and yawned.

"When am I allowed to leave?" Mr. Puzzles asked you.

"Once your wounds are healed enough. You can sleep on my bed from now on, I'll sleep on the couch- AHHH!!" You yelled as he grabbed you wrist and pulled you into bed, he held you like a little doll and started snoring. Shit. You were stuck now. Well, I guess you didn't really mind. He felt very warm, and you were tired as well. This is totally platonic. Yep. Totally.

15 notes · View notes

cosmos-coma · 1 year

Note

Hey!! If it's okay for you, may I request something about elf&innocent!reader and Geralt? Like they know each other and meet often in Novigrad. She helps Geralt when he is injured and so on 🥺

Blossoms of Beggartick

A/N: Of course!! I hope this works for what you were thinking of because I absolutely loved writing this little ficlet!

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~700

_______________________________

The day had felt like a sack of bricks on your mind, squishing all of your grey matter into one flat and exhausted pancake. You just couldn’t wait to get home so you could relax and unwind a bit.

As an elf, you had made the hard decision to take some time away from your people and were currently taking courses at the Oxenfurt Academy. You were already well-practiced as a healer in the use of elvish medicines but had yet to fully delve into the ways that humans and other species used theirs. There was a lot of overlap between them all, so you were making your way through your classes without too much trouble, but the three-hour lectures were starting to wear on you.

You crossed the bridge into Novigrad, bag slung over your shoulder, medical kid in hand, and made your way up the stairs to the balcony of your apartment.

“Oh..?” you paused as you noticed the beggartick blossom tucked into the door frame and the droplets of blood leading up the steps from where you came. You knew it could only mean one thing.

“Gwynbleidd?” you asked as you poked your head inside, excited to see him again after so long.

“In here…” he mumbled from the other room, sounding tired and gruff.

You set down your bag of books and brought your kit in towards the living room where you found Geralt sitting on the couch, holding a head wound that was still dripping blood- amongst other injuries.

“Oh, Geralt… you’re bleeding all over my rug,” You said with a smile as you came over to look over his wounds, fingers wrapping around his wrist as you gently but firmly pulled his hand away. You rummaged your free hand around in your kit before finding what you needed and pressing a gauze against his forehead.

He snorted, “Well that’s one way to say hello, I missed you too.” He said and rolled his eyes with a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s been a little longer than usual, how are you holding up?”

You smiled and kneeled down to his level as you got to work fixing him up, your gentle and easy hands working over his already scarred and time-roughened skin. “It's good. I’m almost finished with my certificates actually.” You said with a proud smile as you handed him a mortar and pestle. “Would you crush this, please? Thank you. I actually finish this spring… but I’m thinking of sticking around for a while. How would you ever know where to find me otherwise?” You said with a bit of a playful scrunching of your nose as you spoke.

As Geralt crushed and helped you prepare what you needed, you began stitching up the wounds too deep to heal on their own properly. “You’re right on that. I’d be shit out of luck in Novigrad without you around.”

“Language, my dear Witcher,” you warned and tied off a line of stitches, straight and concise just like you had practiced hundreds of times before.

“Oh, ‘your dear Witcher’ am I..?” he teased, with a cheeky smile about him. You never understood the rumors of witchers having no emotions- dulled? Maybe. But you look at the smile he gives you now and you know the rumors can only be that. Rumors.

“Not if you keep that up.” You said with a gentle swat to his arm before taking the mortar from him, ”Thank you for your help.” You slathered the poultice over his wounds before bandaging them up with care. “There you go, all fixed up,” you said with a warm smile and stood once again, wiping your hands on the front of your dress.

“Really though…. I don't know what I would do here without you.” Geralt paused to say, his hand now wrapping around your wrist to make sure you stay beside him just a little longer.

Your smile softened and grew even wider as your free hand came up to graze his cheek. “Then it's a good thing you’ll never have to worry about that, My dear Witcher. Now rest up for a bit and then maybe you can help me get to work on dinner?”

Geralt smiled an easy smile and nodded, hand loosening away from your wrist and lingering on your hand before fully dropping away. “Of course, my little elf….”

_________________________

Taglist: @open--till--midnight @writingmysanity @dark-academia-slut

#i really loved writing this!#I wasnt 100% how you meant by innocent #but i hope this works!#writing requests #i just love getting requests it doesnt happen super often and it makes me feel like a real writer #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt imagine #the witcher #geralt fluff #Geralt #Elf reader #Innocent reader #geralt z rivii

226 notes · View notes

asshlyyyy · 2 years

Text

Just The Nurse

Series Warnings: Language, Drug abuse, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs. Colonel not liking the reader, probably some medical terms are incorrect, mentions of Elvis' potential death, health terms, health issues, yelling, fighting. Spelling and grammatical errors are likely. Individual chapter warnings will appear as needed.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Bonus Part

Chapter 5: Beaux Presley

"I-I I- I mean how? It- it doesn't make sense." You shook your head as Elvis carefully handed you your son. Sure you felt heavier in the chest area... but it... It just didn't make any sense. You two were always careful... and you don't remember being pregnant.

"I think we both know how," Elvis chuckled. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. You looked down at the little boy... and as if he knew what to do, he fought his way towards your breast to feed. It was... well... it was a feeling. To see this happen... to experience it... it... it was something else. You went over to the rocking chair and sat down. Your mind was filled with so many thoughts at the moment...

"When I was at the hospital they mentioned how... you were lucky that it didn't kill our baby... I- I was shocked even. You weren't feeling sick or anything... They said it was still very early on. They hoped you would've woken up before going into labor but... I was there... They gave me the call and I was there just like that." He explained. You listened to everything and just nodded.

"Why wouldn't they tell me this?" You said softly, mostly to yourself but... Elvis still responded.

"Maybe because you left the hospital."

"Okay now... I didn't sign up for bullying." You looked at him annoyed. He just chuckled and walked over to you, and placed a small kiss on your head.

"Your parents at first wanted to take him, but-"

"Wait, they wanted to take him?" You looked up at him confused.

"They thought that... it would've been best? I don't know... I- I kind of blanked out, but It's my child also you know?" Elvis didn't even know how to quite say it. You just found it all weird that your parents wanted to raise your child... if anything they would be the second choice. Of course, you rather have Elvis raise your child, it was his as well.

"So... what's his name?" You asked.

"He doesn't have a name yet... I... I wanted to wait for you." He admitted as he brushed the few bits of hair on your son's head. Your eyes started to water up. You couldn't contain the emotions anymore. Everything was really getting thrown at you all at once. Elvis was afraid you wouldn't even remember him... and yet... he still waited for you.

"Did I say something wrong?" Elvis asked softly, his eyes wide in fear that he made you cry. Well, he did... but for a good reason.

"No no… it's just... that's so sweet... I- I... you were afraid I would forget you and still..." You whispered and closed your eyes. You were so mad at yourself for forgetting everything. You were a nurse for goddamn sake, how could you get hurt!? You were supposed to keep others safe and healthy. Help heal and protect them, and yet... you got hurt.

"Yeah... At first, I thought about going for Arthur because... I know how much your brother means to you... but I just... I didn't want to make that call without you. You opened your eyes and sniffled as you looked down at your baby boy. He was finished eating at this point and you fixed your top.

"What about Beaux? It means handsome and beautiful... a beautiful heart." You suggested softly. You looked over at Elvis and saw that he was smiling. That was a good sign, then again, you had a feeling Elvis would agree with any name you suggested.

"Beautiful inside and out, through all the dark in this world... they're there to bring light to it all," Elvis mumbled softly. You took in all his words though and felt like you were at church or something. You never heard something like that come out of his mouth. then again, all you remember is him yelling all the time.

"So that's a yes?" You giggled lightly. Elvis let out a light chuckle and nodded.

"It's a definite yes." You smiled and stood up. You held Beaux safely close to you and placed him back down in his crib. He was most likely only woke up because he was hungry. You leaned over the railing and watched as his blue irises disappeared behind his eyelids.

"When did we officially start dating?" You asked as you continued to stare in awe at your son. Elvis stood next to you and held his hand against your back.

"Mm, a month after we had sex." He replied. His eyes were attached to you. He still couldn't believe that you were right there. It was like a dream come true. He would pray every night to God just to get the chance to be next to you again. To hear your wonderful voice again, even if it was to yell at him.

"And when did we get engaged?" You finally turned your head to look at Elvis.

"A few weeks before your incident." He answered, his eyes never leaving yours. You let out a light breath and straighten your body up.

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" You then asked. Elvis' eyes widened and his face reddened. You let out a light chuckle and shook your head. You walked out of beaux's room and stopped in the hallway. You didn't want to risk waking him up with all your talking

"I was not expecting you to uh... ask that," Elvis commented as he closed the door behind him. You looked over at him and smiled. It was nice to see him all flustered again. Just seeing him, in general, made you happy.

"Gotta keep ya on your toes, Elvis." You pointed out and headed back over to your shared room. You got up onto the lavish bed and made yourself comfortable.

"I- did you want an answer?" He asked, a smirk now displayed on his face. You tilted your head and made a thinking face. You already knew that answer to that, but you wanted to see how long you could drag this out.

"Hmmm... I don't know... maybe I do... Maybe I don't... I'm not a hundred percent sure just yet-"

His lips shut you up pretty quickly. You smiled against his lips and reached for his neck. Your hands pulled him closer till he was hovering over you. God, you missed his lips... you missed him... you missed his everything. Though, to you, it only seemed like yesterday, to everyone else it had been years. As he pulled away you let out a sound of sadness. Elvis let out a chuckled and pressed his lips against yours once more before he plopped next to you.

"I didn't kiss you when I saw you... because I thought I was hallucinating. I had the doctors make sure they called me for every update, and I didn't receive any calls about you... escaping the hospital." He looked at you with a look that screamed, 'can't believe you actually did that, you're an idiot.'

"If I remember quickly... the first words you said to me where... what da fuck are ya doin' here." You imitated his voice. He let out a laugh and shook his head. He was mad at himself for that being the first thing he said. Let alone telling his security guard to keep you out. He wasn't fully sure why he did it himself.

"That's all the past darlin', you're here now. That's all that matters." He whispered and pulled you against his chest. "You're safe..."

You could tell it was still on his mind. You could also tell that no matter how much time would pass, he will continue to blame himself until he was six feet under. Actually, he will continue to blame himself even when six feet under. You didn't want him to do that. There was no way he could've known, yet he still went and blamed himself... It pained you... You wish there was something to change his mind about the whole thing, but there was nothing.

"What's on ya mind?" He asked gently as he rubbed comforting circles against your stomach. You closed your eyes and relaxed against his back.

"How you're blaming yourself, which you shouldn't." You replied. He let out a hum and nodded. He knew if he answer you would just deny and deny. You always found a way to speak the truth into his mind, rather he liked it or not. It was like this even before you two grew closer together.

If he was being honest, he probably would've been dead by now if it weren't for you. That, when he lost you... he felt like he had died. His life was turning out right. He was happy, he felt loved, he felt healthy... and then boom. You're laying in a hospital bed fighting for your life.

When Elvis started to stay in the hospital for the first few weeks, he got to know your family a bit more. Especially Arthur, cause much like Elvis, he hardly left. Elvis already felt he knew everything about you, but when he and Arthur got talking... well, he learned a lot more. He wasn't complaining. It was nice to hear more about you, and to gain Arthur as a friend. Arthur was the one who called him when something happened with you. Sure, he may have told you that the Doctor's did, but it was Arthur.

"All right, close your eyes now. I don' want any peeking from ya." Elvis spoke from in front you. A light whine escaped your mouth as your closed your eyelids. This wasn't exactly safe all considering you were watching Beaux...

"If something happens to Beaux during this time, I'm blaming you." You teased slightly and let out a light laugh.

"We're almost there, sweetheart," he said gently. You smiled at the name and leaned back. These past few months have been hard for you. Having to readjust, and then having to awkwardly go back to the hospital... Your family visited Graceland for the first time to meet your son. You got to spend time with your family. Your sister finally got something from Elvis.

You started to ever so slightly remember the past. It was the small things that you remembered however. Nothing majorly big, like your proposal but... one day you knew you would remember. Being with Elvis and beaux made remembering a lot easier though. Raising your son, seeing Elvis go back into his old ways. He was happier then when you first saw him.

"Okay, keep ya eyes closed now." Elvis said as the car came to a stop. You hummed a response back and waited patiently. You listened for the car doors and soon Elvis had your hand and helped your out.

"Stay there for a moment," he said as he most likely went back in for Beaux.

"This doesn't sound like the zoo, Elvis." You commented as you heard nothing. It was actually calming, but the plan was to take a trip to the zoo, to teach Beaux his animals.

"How do you know?" He questioned as the car door closed. You let out a hum. "Maybe because I don't hear anything?" You replied, a smile on your face. Elvis shook his head and soon you felt his hand grab hold of yours.

"It's a bit of a walk so, come on." He said as you started to move. You kept close to Elvis to make sure you didn't fall or trip. You didn't need to look like an idiot right now. Especially because you had no idea where you were. You could be out in public with hundreds of people watching you, or you could be in front of the hospital, or- okay... now maybe you were overacting a bit there.

"Those are trees, bub." You heard Elvis speak to your son. You smiled and leaned into Elvis. He was great with Beaux. You couldn't have asked for a better guy to raise your son with. You listened for Beaux's answer back, which was just a mess of bubbling nonsense.

"And those are flowers." Beaux let out a fit of giggles and you could imagine that Elvis was tickling him. You were upset that you couldn't see. You wanted to see that big smile on Beaux's face.

Soon the sound died down and all you hear were the bugs and birds around you. You would hear the occasional wind cry, but besides that... you were at peace. You pretty much guessed that you were somewhere out in a field at this point. If you were at the zoo you would've heard a bunch more people, and not to mention... animals.

"Okay..." Elvis came to a stop and so did you. He let out of your hand and pressed a kiss to your cheek before backing away.

"Open your eyes."

As you opened your eyes you felt your breath get lost, you let out a verbal gasp from just... shock really. You were on top of a hill that overlooked the river. Trees and flowers surrounded the area. It was a sight to see, but something inside you told you that you've seen this before. When or how... well that you did not know.

"Where are we-" As you turned to face Elvis you saw him down on one knew. He had Beaux on the ground next to him. You let out another gasp and covered your mouth as you felt your eyes start to water.

"Now, I told ya I would bring ya to where I purposed, and well, I figured why just bring you here? Why not propose again?" He chuckled nervously. "Y/n, ever since you came yelling' into ma life. I knew you were the one. Even though I hated your guts... I just knew. You made me feel somethin' I never had before. Not to mention you saved my life. Without you, I wouldn' be who I am today. I wouldn' be here with the love of my life, and ma child next to me. I could drag this on for way longer, but I figured I'll save you the time. Will you marry me, Y/n? …. Again?"

"Yes, yes, Elvis I will." You spoke delicately. Your voice was a whole mess but goddamn... you were about to get married and- you didn't care.

Mutual Taglist: @darlinboypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles

#austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #elvis film #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis movie

376 notes · View notes

merlinficprompts · 11 months

Note

I have a Merlin prompt I would like to submit!! Sorry for the formatting I’m writing this on my phone it’s 1 am and I’m feeling feral

Merlin magic is revealed to Gwaine when he has to heal a fatal wound. Gwaine and Lancelot are having a private conversation about it, using a code word for Merlin’s magic. An eavesdropping Arthur misinterprets the whole thing.

(conversation goes roughly like this)

“To be honest I’m kind of broken hearted. I thought I was the first one to experience uh.. Merlin’s ’talent’.”

“Sorry friend, me and Merlin’s first meeting was when he was.. sharing his ‘talent’ with me..”

“I won’t lie to you, when he first started doing it I was.. I was mortified.. but then it felt so..”

“Good?”

“Yes! Gods, I know I’ll be condemned if others find out but.. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’m not exaggerating Lancelot, I truly feel as if a whole new world has opened in front of my eyes. I want him to do it again, I want him to do and show me more. I’m greedy for it!”

“I understand you, sometimes despite the years I’ve known of his.. ‘talent’, I find myself yearning to experience it again. I could never ask him to do anything that put him in harms way though, should anyone find out..”

“I know. It’s such a shame he has to go to such lengths to hide his true nature. During it his eyes were so bright and at peace, it made me want to never let him go. It pains me knowing he suffers so much, hiding his true self in fear. I asked him if he ever planned to tell Arthur and he.. he looked so pain. He’s terrified of what Arthur would think if he found out..”

“I don’t blame him. While Arthur’s a much better man and leader than Uther, there’s still no telling how he’d react finding out about.. Merlin’s ‘talent’”

“Well I for one think there’s nothing wrong with it. Especially since I’ve experienced the benefits first hand. I’m telling you Lance, I’m a new man. I haven’t felt this at ease in a long time.”

“Oh yes, i suppose we just must be grateful that we can consider ourselves among the lucky few who get to experience his ‘talent’, and work to assure his safety in the future.”

Now utterly convinced that Merlin is a slag who prefers men, Arthur struggles with multiple emotions; ranging from embarrassment to having overheard Merlin’s private business, to despair that his best friend was too afraid to admit his preference, to outrage over the (assumed) knowledge that his knights are apparently mounting his ‘talented’ servant. He’s scandalized to think Merlin was so wanton, he should be indignant and offended that he shares such camaraderie with an unrepentant harlot. Yet, for some reason he can’t put his finger on.. he mostly just feels hurt and betrayed. He’s mortified over what that means, and finds himself in a panic over what to do now that he’s learned his best friend (who he doesn’t realize he’s in love with) is apparently a huge slut who fucks his knights (and he’s utterly incensed on Gwen’s behalf since Lance is courting her at this time)

Unsure of what to do, he finds himself at a loss and confides in Morgana about how he should act, and whether he should intervene in any way or mind his own business. Morgana, somewhat impressed, finds this hilarious, but becomes angry when she hears about Lancelot. Her judgement of Merlin sours and she finds herself stuck between telling Gwen or fighting Lancelot. From there everything just kind of snowballs. The knights try to correct the rumor but obviously since they can’t say they were talking about his magic, all other excuses seem poorly constructed and they’re unable to fix the problem.

Meanwhile around the same time, the son of a good friend/ally to Uther, who’s infamous for his carnal and shameless desires, catches wind of this rumor upon his visit to Camelot. His interest peaked, he seeks out to proposition Merlin, regardless of Merlin’s willingness.. (arthur saves him in time tho)

Merlin, on the other hand, has somehow managed to remain completely oblivious to everyone’s newfound attention on him, paranoid he’s detecting some snickers and nasty remarks thrown his away, but mostly unsure and too tired to think too hard over it. He’s too busy prioritizing protecting Arthur and finding new ways to perfect his magic that the thought of being with someone amounted to that of another meaningless chore he’d tack onto his plate. He’s come to the conclusion that he’s not destined to have a partner and settle down, the closest he supposes he’ll ever get is being by Arthur’s side as he gets his fairy tale ending, wife and kids.. Merlin is perfectly fine remaining on the side as always. He doesn’t know why his chest aches everytime he thinks about it.

Everyone’s misunderstanding everyone else, Gaius forces Merlin to listen to him explain safe sex between men and assures him that he loves him regardless of whether or not he approves of Merlin’s constant changing conquest amount. Merlin gets sexually harassed, Arthur is emotionally constipated so he rescues Merlin from bullying but also yells at him bc he’s mad Merlin’s being a hoe with everyone but him apparently. Uther hears one too many random out of context dialogues pertaining to Merlin’s sexual abilities, and Kilgarrah spends his entire interaction with Merlin cackling his scales off bc he saw what happens and he’s so excited for it to play out.

TLDR Merlin wakes up one day and suddenly everyone is convinced he’s a huuuuuge slut. Chaos ensues.

While the premise is crack-ish, I do want the story to be written fairly seriously/realistically. If anyone’s interested in turning this prompt into a full fledged fanfic, I’d love for it to be a very very lengthy one. So excited to see if this gets written!!

I love this idea!!! I probably wouldn’t write it myself, but it’s so funny, beyond the embarrassment factor. I would love to see it though! If you or anyone else writes this idea, message me so I can post about it!

#fanfic writing prompts #bbcmerlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #writing prompt #merthur

69 notes · View notes