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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

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Let Your Heart Be Light

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria Era

Warnings: None

Summary: You want to make the holidays something special for Daryl. Throw in a little Christmas magic and it just might mean something more to you too.

This run hadn’t been about gathering supplies or intel. This run had been about making a holiday for Judith. The adults understood that just being alive and together were gifts. But little Jude? Smart as she was— and she was smart —hadn’t yet grasped that concept.

Things had already been gathered for her by everyone else, but Daryl had never really celebrated as a kid. Never gave gifts or received them. Before Alexandria, there was never a reasonable sense of safety that allowed for celebration. This would be a first for the archer. When you asked what he had found or made for the little girl he so obviously adored, he had appeared gutted. Of course, you had offered to go with him and help him find something.

The sky was thick with purple clouds as you burrowed into Daryl’s back and tilted your face upward just enough to watch the puffs of lavender magic float carelessly across the limitless expanse. The wind was icy but the elements never seemed to bother the hunter. You, on the other hand, were freezing your proverbial balls off. Your heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, and toboggan hat did little against the onslaught. You couldn’t help but wonder how Daryl hadn’t turned into an ice archer. You also weren’t above pondering why the fuck he had insisted on taking the motorcycle!

When the bike rolled to a stop outside a little strip mall, you could hardly wait to jump off. You squealed about your ass being numb and zipped past him and up to the first door. Daryl started to intervene but swiftly shut his mouth when you acted accordingly, tapping the blade of your knife against the window to lure any walkers.

When none shuffled forward, you gave him a thumbs up. “You start on that side, I’ll go here. Look for coloring books, crayons, stuffed animals. Nothing with small pieces that she could choke on.” You advised, watching him nod blankly. You smiled at his adorable cluelessness and ducked inside, willingly leaving him on his own. Usually you would pester him to stay together but you had your own search to conduct. Judith wasn’t the only one getting a gift this year.

You did intend to help Daryl as you’d promised, but you had some selfish reasons for coming along as well. You hadn’t heard if anyone else had come up with something for the archer, but you sure as shit would. He was your best friend. Your person. This would be the start of happy memories for the season.

None of you could be sure when Christmas actually was but hell, it didn’t really matter at the end of the world. Decorations had been found here and there, enough to decorate Rick and Michonne’s house. You’d all gather there so it made the most sense.

The store you had chosen appeared to have once been a pawn shop. Toys were in abundance so you took a moment to grab a babydoll and a stuffed monkey before heading to the display cases. The glass had long ago been broken and weapons all swiped. That wasn’t what you were looking for anyway. You wanted something less—violence oriented. No jewelry either. He wasn’t the type. You would know the perfect gift when you saw it.

And you did.

Grabbing it up, you stuffed it and the toys into your rucksack and headed to the next mall space, hoping it held what you needed to go along with the first present. Considering how certain items were treated like gold in those times, you didn’t hold your breath.

You had to be sneaky or Daryl might catch on, considering the type of store. You watched for him while repeating the process to check for walkers. Met with silence, you ducked inside. Pickings were slim— almost nonexistent—just as you’d expected. You had just allowed yourself to be bummed when you spotted one peeking out from beneath the counter. After a short happy dance, you hid this one in your bag as well. You grabbed a few newspaper pages to use as wrapping paper and started to open the door when you saw the archer walk by and into the pawn shop you had just vacated.

Perfect!

Stepping outside, you moved off the walkway and waited for him. He emerged a moment later, looking a little concerned.

“Thought ya’d still be in there.” He huffed, holding out two coloring books—one of safari animals and the other, Dora the Explorer—and a box of crayons with two missing.

“Were you worried, mister Dixon?” You smiled sweetly while taking the items to place in your bag. “Hey!” You dissolved into giggles when he pulled the front of your toboggan hat down over your face. He was already walking back toward the back by the time you fixed it. “I found a couple of toys too!”

“Got what we came for.” He swung a leg over to straddle the bike and waited for you to climb on. “Let’s head back. Snow’s comin’.” You grumbled and secured your scarf around the majority of your face. “S’the matter? Don’t like snow?”

“I love snow. Just not on a motorcycle.” Taking your place behind him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and went ahead with burying your face in his back. You felt more than heard his chuckling.

Without a way to predict the weather, there was no way of knowing that scattered flurries would soon turn into a complete whiteout. Daryl had pushed the bike as far as he could before the snow on the ground became too dense. You hated watching him leave it behind, but if he was distraught, he didn’t show it.

You both had your packs, yours full of gifts and Daryl’s stuffed with a little food, a canteen, and scant medical supplies. You’d be okay for a day or two until the weather cleared. You had radioed home while the archer brought the fireplace to life. Your signal was choppy but the message was received.

A little while later, the snow was surging down outside, making it impossible to see even the trees that were littered around the small cabin the two of you had stumbled upon. Literally. You’d almost walked into the side of it with the limited visibility.

Your coats were hanging up near the fire to dry. You had a small meal of jerky and an apple. Now the two of you sat quietly, the silence not uncomfortable. You were bummed that you couldn’t make it back for Daryl to give Judith the gifts. More disappointed for him, really. This was supposed to give him good memories.

Your gaze left the winter wonderland on steroids to shift over where the archer was perched by the fire. He was holding the stuffed monkey while he stared into the flames. Standing from the chair by the frosty window, your bare feet hardly made a sound as you padded across the room to sit cross-legged by his knees.

“Don’t be sad.” You folded your hands on his thigh and rested your chin on them, looking up at him from under your lashes.

Those ice blue eyes slid over to you and held your gaze before he looked away with a dismissive pfft, tossing the stuffed animal on top of his rucksack. “Ain’t sad.”

The smile you gave him was soft, sympathetic. “Yeah, you are. But you shouldn’t be. She’ll be just as excited tomorrow as she would have been today.” Your head tilted, smile broadening. “Judith doesn’t care what day you give her a gift. You’re Uncle Daryl. She’ll beam at you like you hung the moon no matter what.”

One corner of his mouth ticked upward. He hummed and ruffled your hair, the other side of his lips mirroring its counterpart. Sitting back, you swatted his hands away with an exaggerated series of waves.

“We can still make this special.” Teeth worried your bottom lip but you fought to push down the anxiety slithering around in your tummy. When the archer tilted his head, waiting for an explanation, you crawled across the floor and reached into your bag. The newspaper wrapping was sloppy with no tape or bows to make it nice but it was the end of the world. You worked with what you had. Shuffling back to him on your knees, you sat back on your heels and held out the black and white papered mess. “Here.”

His face was unreadable, that scowl firmly in place as he stared at your offering. You would have felt dejected had you not seen the myriad of emotions steadily streaming through those pretty blue eyes. After what felt like hours, Daryl cleared his throat and reached for the wadded mess.

“Ya didn’t—uh—ya didn’t hafta do nothin’ like this.” It was easy to discern the slight tremor in his hands.

“Yeah, I did. I wanted to.” You wiggled back and forth, both eager and nervous for him to unwrap it. When he just held it, you stilled. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh—” The archer carefully lowered the gift to his lap but kept his hands around it, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the newspaper. “Never really had stuff like this growin’ up—presents an’ shit.”

Rubbing your lips together, you placed a hand on his knee, just beside the gift. He didn’t look away from it. “Just open it when you’re ready. I’m in no hurry.” Keeping your hand where it was, you maneuvered into your previous position: cross-legged with your chin on the very edge of his leg.

He was committing the moment to memory. You could tell by the way he studied the object, tilting it back and forth just so. But this is what you wanted; to break through the past he had suffered with thoughts of a future full of new memories to make. And to share.

He cleared his throat again. It was then that you noticed the shine of moisture holding steady on his waterline. “I—got ya, uh—I got ya somethin’ too.” He balanced the gift on his lap with one hand and dug around in his pocket before finally pulling out a small, blue drawstring bag. So much hesitance; he started to hand it over before pulling it back. He did that three more times before he allowed you to take it.

Now, your eyes began to leak. “Oh, Daryl.” You pulled the little bag toward you and pressed it against your chest. Whatever was concealed inside was hard and twisted but you didn’t venture to guess. You wanted complete surprise.

His eyes flitted between your gift and his. Still, he made no move to open his own. The present you’d given him was quite a bit larger. Maybe he was worried that that somehow bothered you. When he finally looked up at you, your heart clenched. He was adorably lost.

“Open it?” You suggested gently, lowering your hands to your lap with the small bag visible in your cupped palms. He was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for several seconds before he slowly began to unfold the paper. You watched with bated breath as the items were revealed, studying his demeanor as discreetly as possible. If he didn’t like it, you wanted to know for next year.

Next year. A bittersweet thought. How many of you would even still be there to see it? You minutely shook away the distressing notion and just in time, too.

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted into the smallest yet most genuine smile you’d ever seen him wear. A calloused finger traced over the image of a motorcycle on the shiny Zippo. There was a carton of cigarettes and a small container of lighter fluid as well but the lighter had his complete attention.

“Now look, mister. I don’t condone your habit but I figure we all need our guilty pleasures now more than—”

“Thank you.” So soft that you barely heard it.

You melted in an instant into a gentle smile that he didn’t see, hiding behind a fringe of dark hair. “You’re welcome.” You waited him out. He was having a hard time with the entire concept and you may have heard a quiet sniffle but no, you didn’t.

“Ya gonna,” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “ya gonna open yours?” You looked down at the bag, seeing him wipe his face on the back of his hand from the corner of your eye. You’d never tell him, though. You’d let him keep that one.

You were careful with your expression, keeping the excited gleam in your eye as you pulled the top of the bag open. It could be an acorn and you’d adore it because it was Daryl who went through the trouble of finding such a pretty little bag for it. Just for you.

You dipped two fingers inside, curling them around cold metal, prodding your curiosity. What you began to pull out was a thin, braided chain. It was still a shiny silver. You weren’t even sure what it was made from and it didn’t matter. It would remain around your neck even if your skin turned green. Still, once the entire thing was revealed, it wasn’t the chain that held your focus.

Your inquisitive gaze lifted to find his cheeks a shade of pink and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“S’a—well, s’a hex nut.” Your head tilted. “From my bike.”

You stared at him in complete awe, knowing that when he finally looked at you, he was going to panic but you’d settle him once you worked through your own emotions. You carefully placed the chain over the edge of your hand so the nut laid in your palm. It was small with small knicks and dark areas, indicating use. You were so enthralled with it that you didn’t feel the tear escaping down your cheek.

“Know s’stupid but—”

His arms shot out to the side when you collided with him, your arms tight around his shoulders and face against his neck. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he wrapped one arm around you and then the other, his cheek against the top of your head.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.” When he huffed out a laugh, you sat back and wiped at your face with the tips of your fingers, the necklace he’d made for you still dangling from your hand. “Don’t say a word. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. It’s really the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given.” Your hand traveled out to rest against his cheek. “And I love it. Will you put it on me?”

“Um, okay.”

You beamed at him and held out the chain, spinning around and gathering your hair out of the way. Daryl was hesitant, you could just picture him trying to work through how to get it around your neck without invading your space. You knew it was impossible but you’d let him figure that out on his own.

Finally you felt him reach over your right shoulder, then your left, to part the two ends and pull them back to fasten against the back of your neck. Your breath hitched when his fingertips lingered against your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

“There ya go.”

Your skin felt colder when he pulled away but you didn’t linger on it. You turned to face him, holding the piece out so you could look down at it with a brilliant smile.

“Thank you.” You said again, twisting the gift back and forth.

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled.

Shimmying closer, you laid your head against his leg and looked at the fire, fingertips still brushing against the cool metal hanging from your neck. Above you, he was flipping the lid of the Zippo open and closing it repeatedly, as if it was the first one he’d ever seen. You were admittedly surprised he hadn’t already lit up at least three cigarettes.

“You did replace the nut you took from the bike, right?” You erupted into giggles when he bounced his leg and jostled your head.

It was almost comical to you that Daryl was this tough badass but so shy when it came to even someone as close as you were to him. It was incredibly endearing. Tilting your head back, you smiled up at him. He responded by placing his hand over the entirety of your face, his expression remaining neutral. You still saw the twinkle in his eye when you freed yourself.

Then your smile disappeared, replaced with a sudden look of bewilderment. The archer noticed immediately, brow drawing in concern.

“What?”

You weren’t looking at him though. You were looking past him, at the ceiling. Slowly you sat up straight, tilting your head while holding your gaze steady. Daryl finally followed your line of sight to the area above your heads.

There, hanging from the wooden rafters, was a branch of what appeared to be fresh mistletoe. A red bow was tied prettily around the stem.

“Is that—” You began.

“—mistletoe.” Daryl finished.

Both your heads lowered, your eyes meeting. You could tell from the way he looked at you that he wasn’t ignorant of the tradition. Your own cheeks had grown warm just as you watched the subtle flush settle over his.

You should have been questioning the presence of the plant. How it got there. Why it looked new in an otherwise desolate, dusty cabin.

But those inquiries paled in comparison to the way Daryl’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up.

“Be a shame to go against tradition.” You reasoned.

“You’re the expert.” He gave a single-shouldered shrug.

With a soft breath past your lips, you sat up on your knees, inching a little closer. Daryl moved toward the edge of the chair, leaning down slightly. You were so close that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

A beat.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

When your lips met, nothing else mattered.

Not the snow that now fell in gentle flurries.

Not the motorcycle that now leaned against the wall just outside.

And certainly not the bare rafters above your heads where nothing was hanging.

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charliedawn · 3 months

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Hey this is some stupid fear I have but how would some slasher ( whoever you want. ) React to a nurse who is young like in 20s and isn't scared at dying at a young age or isn't scared of dying like any time, but it's scared to grow up? It's really a stupid fear I have personal.

P.S you don't need to do it tho.

( sorry for the bad Grammer, English is my second language. )

Pennywise:

"Yeah. Growing up is scary, kid. I won’t lie to you. But, guess what ? It is part of the process." Pennywise hesitated before patting your head. "Cheer up. Being mortal isn’t all that bad. Living forever is a bore honestly."

Pennywise’s throat tightened as he realised that you would grow up. He knew it was a process and that in the blink of an eye…You would be gone. He waited a few seconds before surprising you by pulling you into a hug. Your eyes widened as you realised that he was shaking.

"Pennywise…" You uttered in a whisper before sighing and hugging him back.

He didn’t say anything. Truth was ? He was scared too. But, he didn’t want to tell you with words. So, he hugged you and hoped you’d understand that he was scared too…but that he was happy that whatever little life you had left, he’d be right next to you until the end.

Penny:

Penny lost so many people in his life that he asked Pennywise to erase his memories of the people he used to love. When you shared your fears with him however, he tilted his head and seemed to ponder on it for a moment before shrugging.

"I could make you live forever. Would you be happier if I did ? Make you immortal ?"

You started thinking about it.

Living forever ? You smiled sadly and shook your head negatively.

"Thank you, Penny. But…I don’t think I would like to live forever. Life is meant to be precious…It is not meant to go on forever."

Penny tilted his head and looked puzzled, but he didn’t say anything. It was odd. He had never seen his life as precious when he was alive. But yours ? His jaw twitched slightly. Yours. He valued.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an artist. He sees beauty in everything.

When he heard that you were scared of growing up, he just started taking as many pictures as he could of you and showed them to you. He then told you in sign language that you’d live forever—in his camera.

And that if you were scared ? Well, you just had to look at the photos and remember that that was how he would remember you forever. He then started stroking your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to calm you down.

Vincent knew he would eventually have to say goodbye.

But, to him ?

You would always remain a masterpiece.

Five Hargreeves:

"Growing up is scary. But, being stuck as a child is even worse. Children never get heard. I would know. I was a child. Twice."

He said and looked down. So many years spent in solitude. So many years wasted. He lived for decades and yet, Five never thought that he was truly alive. He was feeling better with his siblings, but he never actually had any moment in his life that he could say that he felt like he was enough or enough. Sometimes, he even wondered if the world would have been better without him.

It was only when he was admitted in St Louis that he realised he wanted to be something more and make his life a good one. It wasn’t until he met…you.

He looked at you and smiled.

"You gave me a life. And even when you get older and start forgetting about how you changed everything for me, I’ll be there to remind you. Every single day."

Jason Voorhees:

Jason never had a real childhood. He was bullied as a kid and his overprotective mother never allowed him to get out of her sight. When she died, he had no one to look after him and felt lost and lonely. He tried to reach out to people, but he could never create attachment with anyone.

So, he just kept killing and making sure people stayed away, because it was better than to get hurt.

And then, he met you.

He started caring for you more than he’d care to admit and soon enough, he wasn’t feeling as lonely anymore.

Jason *hugs you tightly*

Jason started looking up to you and even though he was also afraid of what will happen when you get too old to keep him company, he still wanted to keep you close to him—no matter how sad he would be once he would have to say goodbye.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms looked at you and shook his head—as if he didn’t believe you.

"Y/N…Never going to grow old. Will stay young forever. Young forever with Brahms."

He hugged you and closed his eyes.

Deep down, he knew that you’d eventually grow old and disappear. But, in his mind ? You’d always be perfect. No matter how old you get or how afraid you get.

Brahms : "Don’t worry, Y/N. Brahms is here. Brahms will stay with you…"

He held back tears and just hugged you tighter.

Norman Bates:

Norman: "…Darling. Listen to me. I am the oldest slasher to have ever existed. I was born in 1932. I am old. Very old. But…I would give up a whole eternity just to be with you. So, it is not about having a long life, but a good one. A worthy life. And just meeting you made mine worth it. And if I was to die tomorrow ? I can say…I lived a good life." He smiled and stroked your cheek affectionately with his forefinger. "You should do the same. Stop worrying about when your time is gonna run out or because of the few wrinkles on your face. Just remember to have fun and enjoy your life. Take the advice of a man who’s seen it all."

He then put down a tray on the table.

"Now, tea ?"

Jack Torrance:

"Old ? Ah. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be one hell of a cute old lady, if you get there." Jack never got the chance to grow old. He secretly misses being alive. He would have loved to grow old with his family and be a father to Danny. But, he never got there. He died—frozen and alone. He then came back as some sort of ghost who feeds on fear. So, no. Growing old isn’t something he would find scary, or losing you. Because he knows that when you do grow old and eventually leave this world, you will go to a nice place—unlike him. And if you don’t ? Well, you’d be trapped with him. Either way, he knows you’ll be alright. So, he isn’t worried.

"You’ll be fine. I know it. Now, stop worrying and come have a drink with me."

Hannibal Jr.:

"You will always be a Hannibal in my eyes. No matter how old or wrinkled you get…You will always be my beloved daughter." Hannibal Jr. told you when you shared your fears with him. He stroked your cheeks and smiled. "Always."

You smiled at him and hugged him tightly. He returned your hug and whispered in your ear.

"You will always be part of this family." He then kissed your forehead. "No matter what."

Ghostface (Eddie Munson):

"…Don’t worry. We will grow old together. It will be less lonely." Ghostface told you and smiled at you. Unlike the other slashers, Ghostface can grow old. He is not exactly a slasher. It is more of a multitude of people taking the role with time. Eddie won’t be Ghostface forever. Once his mission over, he will start growing old as well until he just gives his mask to someone new.

Ghostface *scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders* : "I bet we will be the coolest old people ever…" *smiles*

#pennywise x reader #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #vincent sinclair x reader #five hargreeves x reader #jason voorhes x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #norman bates x reader #jack torrance x reader #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader #ghostface eddie munson

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deathbecomesthem · 23 days

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Kiss The Cook 5 | 1.5K

Linecook!Eddie Munson x Server!Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI with any of my work.

Summary: Eddie and Server get deep into their heads when we decide he might be able to sell us weed.

We get a couple hundred words of an Eddie POV here.

---

Keith, your ex, had a weed man. The years that you were with Keith, you could hand him some cash, and 24 hours later you’d have a few pre-rolled joints and some loose bud for your pipe. For all you knew, Keith was actually the weed man, because you never got to meet the guy on the other side of the transaction. It was easy. It was nice. It was one of the reasons you kept Keith around longer than a person with good sense should have.

You know Eddie smokes weed, it’s hard to mistake that smell hiding under the soap, deodorant, and laundry detergent. You also suspect that he at least dabbles in selling. It’s not that you’ve seen any money or drugs changing hands at the diner. You think Benny would probably drag Eddie out of the place by his hair if he ever caught wind of that, and Eddie respects Benny too much to take advantage of his place like that. It’s the people he knows. It’s the way he leans in to listen to a friend when he stops by. The way he says, “Come by at 8 and I’ll have your stuff for you,” before slapping their shoulders and grinning.

You have a lot of regrets about your time with Keith, but the biggest regret is not asking him to explain how to acquire marijuana. Yes, Eddie has the drugs you want. Yes, he will probably sell to you. Yes, you have cash. No, you have no idea how to use that information to actually get the weed in your hand. You consider doing what the guys that stop by do, you can almost imagine yourself leaning in close so that the hair that hangs around his ears would tickle your nose. You’d say -

-what, exactly? Hey, can I buy some pot from you? No, that won’t work. You’re standing inside the small stock room at the back of the restaurant, staring at the folded up bar towels fresh from the laundry service while you ponder how to buy drugs from the line cook you definitely don’t have feelings for. You definitely didn’t go out with him a few nights ago for the first time ever, and it definitely wasn’t abso-fucking-lutely impossible to read how he feels about you. You should be in the dining room right now bussing the dirty tables left after the lunch rush, it’s only an hour to close. Instead, you stand and look at the terry cloth rags, frozen with a feeling of anxiety that isn’t warranted by your current situation. You realize you’re worried that Eddie would think you’re uncool if you ask him the wrong way - an idea that makes you cringe at your own stupidity.

“Idiot,” you mutter to yourself under your breath before reaching out and finally grabbing two towels and the bottle of spray cleaner on the shelf next to them.

“Who’s an idiot?” Eddie’s question makes you jump. Your brain processes that he’s standing behind you, and you wonder if you said anything else you were thinking out loud instead within the safe confines of your skull. He’s standing too close when you turn to face him, you lean back a little to give yourself the room to answer him.

“Just me, I’m an idiot.” You answer as you sidle past his imposing frame. He follows you back into the kitchen empty handed, apparently forgetting whatever it was that drove him into the stock room in the first place.

“Are you ok? What happened? Did that guy do something again?” Eddie’s sounding upset. Concerned. Last week one of your regulars put his hand on your ass, and it shook you up pretty good. You didn’t tell Eddie about it until days later, after you’d already warned the guy that if he came back, you’d break his hand. You’d been worried that Eddie, or Benny, would do something profoundly stupid if they saw him in the diner again.

“No, that guy won’t be back. It’s nothing like that,” you turn back around and find him standing too close again. You step back, “I’m just being an idiot. It happens sometimes. Let’s just get the fuck out of here, ok?”

Eddie’s eyes probe your face, looking for any hint of something more serious than what you’ve told him. It makes you feel warm. It makes you want to pull the neck of your shirt up over your nose to hide yourself from his gaze. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, just nods his head, puts up a hand, and heads back to the kitchen.

The next 90 minutes is spent with you both performing your well rehearsed dance, though you find yourself a little out of step. Your mind is occupied, playing and replaying scenarios in your head. The idea that you need to buy weed from Eddie isn’t a flight of fancy anymore, it’s a looming cloud of uncertainty. It’s when you’re refilling the ketchup bottles that you realize what has to be done, and a weight is lifted. Because it’s not even about the weed anymore, it’s about you and Eddie. It’s about getting out of your head and talking to him without worrying about how he’ll think of you. It’s about letting yourself see where this thing might go, even if it means you end traveling as far as a closer friendship.

“Eddie,” you call behind your shoulder as you finish wiping down the counter between the bar and the line, “do you sell weed?”

“Me? Sell weed?” You can hear him scoffing along with the sound of him stacking the plates from the last load of dishes. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“Let’s talk after work.”

—

Talk. That’s what it is. A casual conversation where neither you nor Eddie know your roles. Those simple transactions are easy for him. Friendly. But when it comes to you, he’s tongue tied. He has a hard time listening to what you’re saying. You don’t know it, but right now he’s distracted by the way he can see the indents on your bottom lip. He’s seen your lip pulled into your mouth, absentmindedly biting down, on moments of concentration. It’s all he can see, it’s all he can think about. So, this simple transaction where he gets your order, just like when he’s working the line in the kitchen through the door behind your back, it’s a mindless task. But those marks on your lip.

“...so I thought, ‘what the hell’, ya know? Eddie’s not gonna be a dick to me. Judge me, maybe, but no more than he does when I order a reuben with provolone instead of swiss.”

Eddie tuned in at the wrong moment, because the context for what you’re asking of him is lost in your rambling. He has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. He nods every so often when you look at him, obviously hoping for some kind of affirmation. Sure, whatever you want. Have I told you how much I like the way your smile is crooked? The left side shoots up higher than the right, and I think about kissing you there every time I see it. Eddie nods again, noticing that sneaky crawl of your lip.

“-Ok, so why don’t you just come over? You know where my place is, right? Just come over right now and we’ll figure this shit out.” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know it, but his entire face is open to you. Head dipped down so that he’s looking up at you. Head cocked at the position of a kiss. His mouth is closed, full lips lightly pressed together.

Eddie thinks the world has stopped turning. The moment after the words leave his lips pauses. Everything is slowed down to a single second. He can see the exact millisecond when the words register in your brain and you begin to consider them. He’s a scholar when it comes to the ways you face moves. He can tell when you’ve not slept well in the morning, he can predict your menstrual cycle down to within 24 hours of the first cramp. He’s watching the crease between your eyes. He’s watching the bridge of your nose. He sees it all, and holds his breath. His feet can feel the hard asphalt as he walks to his car, to run from the “no” that might be coming. He’s ready, your lips part, and your chest expands. You’re going to say -

“Sure,” your words are accompanied by a lifting of the corner of the side of your mouth, “I’ll follow you home.”

---

Taglist: @taccobelle @starksbabie @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #linecook!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagines

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a-shoebox-named-meap · 11 months

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aight. have some nimona canon divergence AU fic ideas because i’m no writer but i AM going insane

as a huge fan of canon divergence AUs where One Small Decision Changes Everything™ i can’t stop thinking about little bits and pieces from the nimona movie like:

what if the squire had shown ambrosius the video (ohh a fic like this would be Delicious) (mm ambrosius x squire tag team) (ballister’s two biggest fans) (this might be one of my favorite ideas so far) (lots of potential here i feel like)

now there have been a lot of people asking “let’s feel some ANGST what if real ambrosius had walked into the director’s office before nimona” but i will take that and raise you: what if ambrosius had walked in while nimona was doing her thing in the director’s office. perhaps around the time when the director stabbed fake!ambrosius. please consider. may the chaos ensue

ballister had noticed his sword-laser-cannon powering up and moved it away from the queen but it hit something else! or someOne else! (or it killed the queen anyway but still hit somebody else in the process) (oh gods what if it took off his own arm) (or even ambrosius’s—) (can you imagine the kinda twist that would occur if he took off ambrosius’s arm by accident and ballister not resting until he found out who the real culprit is skdjdjdjdjddj) (oh but wait let me make this WORSE what if he hit ambrosius instead of the queen ((don’t worry ambrosius is wearing armor, he doesn’t die he’s just,,, gravely injured?)) and ballister, even if he still gets framed for it, will stop at nothing to find out who did this to ambrosius) (now incorporate nimona into that storyline and hoohoohoo) (i’m rubbing my hands together like a maniacal fruit fly right now)

what if they had uploaded the squire’s video when they got it huh. what then. back it up to the cloud. or just TEXT it to ambrosius you Fool. you absolute Buffoon. (but perhaps this seemingly obvious course of action results in some unexpectedly dire consequences oh no—)

“ooh… nemesis.” “nemesis?” at which point nimona and ballister get stuck in the closet, nimona reveals her shapeshifting abilities, and oh, screw it, if ballister’s situation with his arm-chopping nemesis is really so cOmPLiCAteD then maybe since they’re breaking out of jail anyway they might as well kidnap ambrosius while they’re at it. aka the au where nimona breaks ballister out of jail and she takes ambrosius with them. (i am FEASTING on the possibilities of this one)

let’s take todd’s suspicion and blame directed towards ambrosius (“why didn’t you tell us ballister was working with whales?”) and dial that up to 100. slowly, though, not too fast, it’s gotta build momentum. let’s breed some mistrust in ambrosius. let’s see people refusing to let ambrosius lead the manhunt for ballister on account of their close relationship. let’s see people turn their backs on him thinking he was a conspirator. let’s see ambrosius losing the public’s favor. let’s see ambrosius starting to feel some doubt when he’s alone in his room — let’s see ambrosius wondering what if people are actually as wrong about ballister as he knows they are about ambrosius himself. (what if everybody hates ambrosius too—)

this one is not nearly as straightforward a canon divergence but ponder this: the director noticed the squire was there in the locker room (?) that day and swapped out the swords after the squire had left. or maybe she swapped it out before the squire was ever there. the squire never knew the director had been there. there was no video evidence. now what? up to you >:)

ok hear me out. the squire is a #1 ballister fan right. the squire is probably very careful with the swords and armor he handles. the squire is probably intimately familiar with the swords and other various weaponry and armaments of the institution. the squire is probably very familiar with ballister’s in particular. when ballister first picked up his swapped-out sword he noticed something was off about it, but what if — WHAT IF — the squire had noticed something was off about it first. now of course there’s Possibility #1 where he sees the director swap the sword, and then he checks out the sword and feels that something is wrong with it etc etc (or maybe he mistakes the sword change for an equipment upgrade) BUT now let’s combine this with the previous bullet point for Possibility #2 where the squire DIDN’T see the director swap the sword but he DID notice something was off about the sword before ballister did and actually investigated it. would he discover the hidden weapon, or not? if he did would he bring it to ballister’s attention? ambrosius’s? the director’s? what if he caught the hidden weapon but didn’t mention it and then the queen died and the squire was left fully believing ballister killed the queen (ballister knows mechanics, you’ve seen his arm, it’s plausible he built the weapon into his sword himself) and then ballister and nimona kidnapped him and interrogated him and ballister and the squire were left spiderman meme-ing each other like *points* “i thought YOU were behind all this!” and now the squire is an unwilling sidekick dragged into this by nimona and ballister to figure out who the real culprit is and there’s ACTION and ADVENTURE and COMEDY and it’s absolutely metal—

the squire really feels like a lynchpin in this story is all i’m sayin

if you can’t tell i’m also a fan of happy endings. in my brain most of these canon divergences result in a similar happy ending as the movie. except maybe faster (not always). which i enjoy because i’m sappy and silly anyway thank you and goodnight

#nimona #nimona fanfic #nimona fic #nimona netflix #nimona au #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona spoilers #nimona squire #nimona director #i don’t write fic but for the fic writers out there (i appreciate you all dearly) pls accept my humble offerings #i’m sure i’ll have more ideas later #my head is spinning #meap posts #nimona stuff

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 3 months

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We Were Born to Be National Treasures

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 5

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.2k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol, lots of exposition, Roy is kind of a dummy

See if you can spot a little reference to @agentstarkid and her lovely story The Joker & The Queen!

The night before the fundraiser, Roy found himself again at the Crown and Anchor, throwing darts under the watchful eye of Mae and the patrons of the pub. He was hyper aware of his own behavior, noting every little touch and smile exchanged. He pondered how rehearsed her flirtatious actions were, wondering how she acted on real dates with real boyfriends. Did she smirk at them the way she did at Roy when his dart missed the target? Did she touch their arm when she giggled at their lame stories, the way she did after Roy told her all about the stupid things his players had done? Did she playfully steal sips of their beer when hers was empty, leaving little red lipstick stains on the rim? Did she always act this way, or was this all for the benefit of the camera phones snapping pictures in the corner of the pub?

Maybe Keeley was right, Roy thought as he contemplated the lipstick mark on his pint. Maybe he just needed to get that first kiss done and over with-

“-and Isaac and Colin,” his companion was saying, completely unaware of Roy’s distracted overthinking. “Oh, and Jamie said something about singing that ‘I’m Too Sexy’ song. That should be pretty fun,” she snickered. She tossed another dart, landing just outside the bullseye. “I think he should sing towards the end of the night, once he’s completely plastered. There’s a good chance his shirt might even come off. What d’you think?”

Roy frowned and picked up another dart, twirling it between his fingers. “You talked to Jamie?” he said simply, eyebrows furrowed.

She nodded and picked up his beer, stealing another sip. “At dinner the other night, when I invited the guys to the party. You were right next to me Kent,” she sighed.

Oh. Right. Roy had been at her side; but Keeley had been across from him, so he barely heard a word of the guys’ excitement at being invited to the fundraiser.

Instead of admitting that he hadn’t paid attention, Roy simply nodded and prepared to throw his dart. “Right,” he mumbled; his dart landed embarrassingly far from the center. “Well, if I’m your date to this thing, I guess it’d be nice to know what you’re raising funds for. What’s your nonprofit do?”

She kept her eyes coolly on the dartboard as she blew some hair out of her face, preparing to take her turn. “So, I told you my parents are from Mexico, right?” Roy’s grunt let her know he remembered. “Well, my mom was a little girl when her family came, and my dad was a teenager by himself. They both worked so hard to learn English, and they wanted us to have the benefits of both languages.” She smiled- a large, glowing smile- and threw her dart, hitting the target. “So, we read a lot. Played Scrabble and other word games. Watched movies in both languages. But my favorite thing they did was fill our house with music. In both languages.”

“Hence your career,” Roy teased, collecting the darts.

“Exactly,” she chuckled as she accepted a dart from him. “They just really wanted us to have a deep appreciation for both English and Spanish. That’s what inspired the Cicada Foundation. We support literacy programs, particularly for immigrants, we donate books to schools and libraries in need, we raise awareness about literacy challenges. I’m always looking for new things to contribute to.” She again stole a sip of Roy’s beer, too engrossed in gushing to notice the way he was watching her. “Like I really want to look into starting a scholarship program and grants for classrooms.” She stopped, finally looking at Roy. “So… that’s what we do.”

Roy nodded, processing what he’d just heard. “And why the fuck did you name it the Cicada Foundation?” Shit, he hoped that didn’t come off as rude as it sounded; he really needed to work on his tone.

Her lingering grin assured him he was fine. “Well, one of the singers they used to play a lot of was Linda Ronstadt,” she explained slowly, waving as Mae brought them another round. “She was… something. She sang country, rock, anything. And she sang in Spanish, too. She had this great album of all mariachi music that we used to play all the time. And my dad’s favorite was called ‘La Cigarra’, which means ‘The Cicada’.” She sipped her pint, eyes never leaving Roy’s. “She’s kind of my hero.” Suddenly, she cleared her throat, focusing back on the dartboard. “Sorry. That’s probably more than you wanted to hear.

Roy shook his head. “No, no,” he quickly assured her. “It’s actually fucking interesting, trust me.” He paused, the wheels in his mind turning. “My ticket. For this thing tomorrow. How much is it?”

Now it was her turn to shake her head. “You’re my guest,” she murmured. “You don’t need to pay shit.”

“But it’s for your charity.”

The chuckle she let out was awkward, something he hadn’t seen on her yet. “My boyfriends don’t pay for their ticket.” After a moment, she quickly added. “Like I said, you’re my guest. You’re good.”

Roy’s frown hardened. “Fine. Just let me know where to send my check, then. You can at least let me make a fucking donation.” Something in her face trembled, earning a sigh from Roy. “What’d I do wrong now?”

“Nothing.” She let out a small laugh and picked up a new dart. “I just… I don’t think any of my real boyfriends ever made a donation.” She looked up at Roy with the tiniest of smiles, one tinted by a hint of sadness. “But thank you, Kent. That’s very nice of you.”

“Yeah,” Roy mumbled, trying to focus his attention back on their dart game. “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got shit taste in men by the way?”

Her laugh was wry and full; Roy kind of liked it. “Only all my Instagram followers.”

“Yeah, well.” Roy smirked at her, fully aware of the phones pointed in their direction. “Guess I’ll have to prove them wrong.”

I glanced across the backseat at Roy. As if they expected us to do otherwise, both Keeley and Lanie had explicitly instructed us to arrive together; to be fair to them, I wouldn’t put it past us to try taking separate cars. Instead, we sat next to each other in the back of the luxury car.

As if he could feel my gaze, his eyes met mine, looking just as tense as I felt. “Oi,” he grunted quietly. “Can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

I must have imagined his eyes flickering to my mouth for a fraction of a second. “This being our… debut-” He rolled his eyes at the word Keeley and Lanie kept using. “-d’you think we’ve got to… you fucking know.”

This time, there was no doubt where his eyes landed.

“Oh.”

Shit, shit, shit. Of all the things I’d thought about with this fake relationship, how had I not planned on kissing Roy Kent? Really kissing him? Not that casual, flirty, on-the-cheek thing I’d been doing, but a real lip lock, the kind a woman silly with love would readily give a man like him, with his leather jacket and brown eyes. And for whatever ridiculous reason, my face was burning at the idea.

“Guess we’ll have to,” I mumbled, eying the driver; even with the partition up, I was wary of being overheard.

Roy nodded, clearing his throat gruffly. “D’you think… our first time should be in… public?” His eyes met mine in a flash. “Or… not?”

It was clear what he was asking, just as it was clear that he wasn’t asking out of any sort of desire or attraction. He was asking out of professionalism, the same professionalism that I clung to just as much. It was that professionalism that kept me from rolling my eyes at how incredibly lame we both sounded, whispering about kissing in the back of a car, as though we were teenagers being driven to a dance by a parent.

“Not’s probably better,” I murmured, fighting the urge to stare at his expletive-loving mouth. “Just in case it’s… weird.”

“Yeah.” Roy leaned towards me, brown eyes not bothering to stay trained on mine. “It’ll probably be fucking weird.”

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for what I knew would be the first of many awkward moments tonight-

The car jerked to a stop; we’d arrived at the venue, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed to be interrupted.

Roy definitely looked annoyed as he leaned back, shifting his gaze away from me. “Well,” he coughed, rolling his eyes. “Let’s fucking go, then.” With one of those heaving sighs, he opened his door and stepped out; immediately I could hear shouts and cheers. There was a look of unease in his eyes, underneath all that harshness, as he reached back into the car, extending his hand to me. “Ready?”

Rather than answer with words, I simply took his hand and allowed him to help me out of the car, plastering on my best smile as I was almost immediately blinded by the flashing lights of cameras. Roy gave a small nod, offering to let me take the lead. Keeley had warned me; apparently Roy hated this kind of thing. Part of the reason she wanted him to ‘date’ me, she had explained, was to improve his abilities in front of the cameras.

I could practically feel his awkwardness radiating off of him as we paused in front of the crowd of photographers. When I glanced up at him, I saw him staring straight ahead with the stoniest expression I’d seen yet. So much for looking like a man in love.

“Oi, Kent,” I hissed. He glanced down at me, thick eyebrow raised, as though his frown could hide the unease in his eyes. “Focus on me,” I whispered.

He furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Focus on me,” I repeated, offering a small smile. “You’re supposed to be in love with me, remember? You can look at me instead of them. Everyone will just think you’re smitten as hell.” I let go of his hand in favor of wrapping my arm around his waist. “Sound good?”

His body almost immediately softened against mine as his own hand found my lower back. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

As soon as we stepped in front of the cameras, we were mobbed with shouts of our names and a bombardment of questions. Everything from how we met, to how long we’d been together, to whether I’d written anything about Roy yet. I simply gave my brightest smile, the one I’d worked years on perfecting, and posed with Roy at my side. When I glanced up, sure enough, Roy was gazing down at me, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

“You’re a fucking natural at this shit,” he mumbled in my ear. “How the hell d’you do it?”

I chuckled, pretending he’d said something funny; these photos would actually be kind of cute, I realized. “You learn to stop caring,” I answered, hoping my expression was affectionate enough. “They’re going to see what they want to see, so you might as well let go and just have fun.”

Roy’s smile grew as we continued down the carpet. “And here I thought you had trained for years to do this kind of thing.”

“Trust me,” I answered, offering a wave to the cameras. “I’ve been doing this since I was eighteen. I have trained for years for this.”

Roy frowned as he stood at the edge of the carpet, watching her giggle with reporters and smile for photographers. After posing for a few photos together, she released him to go wait at the end of the carpet so she could have some solo time to gush about her foundation and the event. Well, she’d actually encouraged him to head on inside and told him not to worry about waiting for her, but he couldn’t help but watch her. Her ease with the cameras in her face, her amiability in response to questions that were more about her private life than her fundraising efforts, even the way she shot smiles in his direction, knowing that every camera was catching the supposedly natural way she beamed at him.

She was good at this, this game. Maybe she really was cleverer than Roy gave her credit for.

“You waited for me,” she teased once she reached him, eyebrows raised. “Would’ve thought you’d already be at the bar with a drink in your hand.”

“Gotta be the doting boyfriend, right?” he replied, wrapping his arm casually around her shoulder, the way he used to do when walking around Nelson Road with Keeley. “Doing the job.”

She nodded as they entered the venue. “Doing the job,” she repeated.

The venue- a club- was exactly the kind of thing Roy hated: dark, crowded, loud. Instinctively, he tightened his grasp on her shoulder, as if she’d keep him anchored. If she minded, she didn’t show it; instead, she nudged him with her hip and nodded towards the bar.

“Let’s get you a drink,” she called over the music.

Roy couldn’t help watching the way she maneuvered around the crowd; despite having an obvious target in mind, she still managed to greet people, flashing smiles that looked genuine, as if she was truly happy to see people who’d paid a ridiculous amount of money for the opportunity to sing off-key with one of the most popular singers in the world. Fucking hell, she was sure of herself- or at least knew how to act like she was. Maybe he really could learn a thing or two from this woman.

They had barely approached the bar when the bartender was asking for their order; of course she never had to wait for a bartender, Roy thought to himself. She quickly called out drink orders: Roy’s usual beer, and something fruity for herself. Before Roy could thank her for remembering his beer, she lit up at someone over his shoulder.

“Hey you guys!” she squealed.

A gorgeous couple breezed past Roy to hug her; Roy stared at them, wondering where he knew their faces from. After being doted on by the couple, she turned to smile at Roy, that same smile she always had for him when other people were around.

“Roy, these are my dear friends Becky and Ricky.” She wrapped her arm around Roy’s middle, giving a playful squeeze. “This is Roy,” she giggled.

Becky and Ricky. Oh. Okay, Roy knew them now. She was an actress, from Paraguay if he remembered correctly, and he was a professional racer. They were regularly on the cover of tabloids, always for how ‘relatable’ they were and never for drama. And, apparently, for being best friends with her.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Roy managed, shaking Ricky’s hand.

“Great to finally meet you,” Becky giggled. “You and our girl have made quite a splash, you know that?” She offered a friendly wink. “It looks like you make her happy so far, so we’ll forgive her for not telling us about you right away.”

A now-familiar chuckle reached Roy’s ears. “Yeah, yeah,” his ‘girlfriend’ said. “Like you told me about Rick right away.” She beamed up at Roy, the picture of a woman in love. “I think I see some Greyhounds. Should we go say hi before I have to go onstage?”

Roy grumbled something agreeable before waving to the power couple, who promised to chat more later. “They seem nice,” he muttered, taking her hand as she led him across the club.

“They’re the absolute best,” she assured him. “Becky was honestly kind of pissed that I didn’t tell her about you sooner. I usually tell her about guys right away but… you know.”

“Yeah.” Roy cleared his throat as Jamie waved excitedly at them. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

After she greeted the Greyhounds with hugs and kisses on cheeks, she turned to Roy, touching his hand gently. “I have to head onstage,” she explained in his ear, her breath warm and tickling. “But enjoy yourself, alright, Kent? I’ll check in with you in a bit.” She kissed his cheek, lingering for a moment before walking away. It seemed so natural when she did it; damn, he’d have to ask her for advice on this whole acting thing, because she was pretty fucking good.

He stood beside Jamie- who was chattering animatedly in the ear of her assistant, April- and watched as she took the stage. She gushed over the guests, thanking them for coming and supporting the Cicada Foundation, explaining how special it was to her. She managed to find Roy’s eyes in the crowd and blew him a kiss, prompting shouts and whistles from his team; he managed to make himself smile back, his ears burning at the attention.

“Alright,” she announced to the crowd. “Let’s get this party started!” With a nod to the DJ, an upbeat tune filled the club.

“‘Material Girl’, that’s a fun one!” Keeley had appeared at Roy’s side, beaming up at the manager. “She looks great up there, doesn’t she?”

Roy gazed down at Keeley, the tension in his shoulders disappearing at once. “Yeah, great.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

Keeley nodded, her eyes back on the singer. “She invited me. She’s real sweet, yeah? Plus, it probably looks good on her, being friendly with your ex. Especially with the stuff going down with her last boyfriend.” She glanced back at Roy. “She’s a smart one, your girlfriend.”

“Please don’t call her that,” Roy mumbled, clutching his beer and forcing himself to look up at the stage. “It’s fucking weird.”

All Keeley did was giggle and nudge Roy. “Yeah, yeah. Just watch your girlfriend, Kent.”

And so Roy did. He watched her move her hips and smile into the microphone and interact with the crowd. He watched her jump around, reminding him of the way Phoebe danced around… to, well, her music. She looked happy, free. It was almost enough to have him looking forward to watching her on her anticipated tour.

Almost.

It was utterly bizarre, hanging out with Roy like this. Yes, we’d had a few “dates”, mostly in parks or at the Crown and Anchor. Sure, we sat next to each other when grabbing a bite with the Greyhounds after a match. And yeah, we’d had exactly one sleepover that somehow didn’t involve any arguments.

But this was different. We were officially “boyfriend-girlfriend”, and we were definitely acting like it. He kept a firm grip on me no matter where in the club we went, and any time he spoke to me, it was a whisper in my ear, even if all he was doing was mumbling a question about where the restrooms were. Of course, I made sure to do my part, giggling over him and kissing his scruff adoringly.

Honestly, it was kind of sickening how sweet we were. Was this really what I looked like when I was genuinely in love with a guy? If so, I owed every single one of my friends an apology for subjecting them to such nauseating displays.

“Alright, my turn’s coming up,” Roy announced in the middle of a conversation with Jamie and April, who’d spent nearly the whole night by each other’s side. He handed me his beer and planted a kiss to the top of my head. “Don’t you fucking dare record this,” he growled.

“Don’t need to,” I answered, taking a swig of his drink. “Livestream, remember?”

Roy rolled his eyes and disappeared, leaving me with a smirking April.

“You two seem to be having fun,” she said, her voice full of teasing. “You look very natural together.”

My gaze shifted to Jamie for a brief moment before I narrowed my eyes at her. “Of course we do,” I hissed pointedly. “We’ve been seeing each other for nearly a month now. I would think we’d be comfortable together.”

Suddenly interested in the conversation, Jamie leaned forward. “You make a handsome couple,” he called over his other coach, Beard, finishing up a rendition of a David Bowie song. “Swear, I don’t remember the last time I saw Grandad look at someone the way he looks at you. And you should’ve heard him when he thought I was interested in ya, he went full caveman on me.”

Before I could ask Jamie what the hell he was talking about, the rest of the Greyhounds erupted in cheers and wolf-whistles; Roy had taken the stage.

“What song is he doing?” April asked, a genuine question.

I shook my head, eyes trained on Roy, who looked almost… bashful. “He didn’t tell me.” Just as I was about to suggest what he might be singing, a very familiar, twangy, cutesy tune hit my ears and painted my face a deep red. “He’s not doing this,” I gasped.

His blush was visible even from the stage as he stared at the words on screen. “I was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car…”

I couldn’t help but cover my face with my hands. It was too adorable, my “boyfriend” singing my song. In all the years I’d even doing this event, only a couple of boyfriends had ever gone onstage; none of them had even considered doing one of my songs. It was too bad Roy was doing this all for show; this was the kind of gesture a girl could fall in love with.

His voice was its usual growling, gruff self, contrasting adorably with the juvenile words of my very first radio hit. What was most unbelievable, though, was the smile on Roy’s bearded face. He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully as he sang, not at all bothered by how young and girlish the lyrics were. It was a bit surprising; Roy Kent struck me as the kind of guy who cared about looking tough and masculine all the time, the kind of guy who wouldn’t be caught dead singing what a Buzzfeed writer once called “brainless girlie pop”. But there he was, grinning and singing the song I’d written when I was sixteen.

Just as I was letting myself relax and enjoy his weirdly sweet performance, my heart dropped to my stomach. Oh, shit. I grabbed April’s arm and pulled her close, hoping that I looked like a giggly, gossipy girl rather than the panicked woman I suddenly became.

“I have to kiss him.”

April’s eyes widened as she shifted her gaze between me and Roy. “You do?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I mean, he’s singing my fucking song,” I hissed. “If we were actually dating, there’d be no question.” I fought back a grimace and took a deep breath. “Right?”

I didn’t need to ask April; I knew it was true. Just like I knew this moment was already trending on Twitter, and that my reaction to it would be all over TikTok, ready to be analyzed by teenage girls and adults with too much time on their hands. If I didn’t have the right reaction, this whole operation would be over right as it really began. And I’d be the psycho who finagled a sports legend into a fake relationship.

Nope. No way I could let that happen.

“I’ve heard every album, listened to the radio, waited for something to come along that was as good as our song.”

Roy locked eyes with me as I made my way towards the stage, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn his smile widened. In turn, I plastered on my favorite smile, the flattered one that was just a bit shy, the one I usually reserved for high praise or invasive questions about my love life. The kind I would definitely wear if a guy did this and meant it.

All I could do as he reached the last chorus was keep smiling and hope that he wouldn’t be taken aback by the kiss. He was willing in the car; surely, he knew I’d have to kiss him now. He was Roy Kent, after all. He’d been in high-profile relationships and engaged in public displays of affection. There was no way he thought he could get out of this night unkissed.

“… I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song.”

The club erupted into cheers, especially the Greyhounds, as Roy took a stiff little bow and replaced the microphone. As expected, he made a beeline for me, his smile suddenly replaced with bashfulness. I didn’t give him a chance to say or do anything; instead, I grabbed his face and brought his lips straight to mine.

It took Roy a fraction of a second to comprehend the feeling of her lips against his. They were soft. Warm. Inviting. Exactly how Roy thought they’d be on those rare occasions where he’d allowed himself to wonder about actually kissing her. Instinctively, he grabbed her hips and tugged her flush against his chest, letting her take the lead on the kiss.

Fuck, if it wasn’t a good one.

It was just chaste enough for a public setting, but deep and slow enough to show comfort and familiarity with each other. And even though she kept her tongue to herself, he could definitely taste her drink. Something cool and refreshing, just like her.

He probably would’ve gone on kissing her if she didn’t pull back, flashing him that megawatt smile of hers. She tugged him close, as if hugging him tight, and murmured in his ear, “Damn, Kent. You’re really trying to trend online, huh?”

Roy nodded, clearing his throat and coming back down to earth. “Good song choice?” he asked, hoping Phoebe’s suggestion had the intended effect.

She nodded, her smile almost lovely enough to look real. “Great song choice.” She pulled him into a hug- a warm, friendly one this time- before gazing up at him. “Should we grab a drink?”

“Yeah.” He reached down and grabbed her hand, amazed by how automatically he’d been doing that all night. “Let’s grab a fucking drink.”

They were glued to each other’s sides, sipping drinks and holding hands, smiling at each other like moony-eyed teenagers. Roy was almost proud of himself for his ability to pretend to be head-over-heels for this woman who, up until recently, he found annoying. Maybe it was their budding friendship, he reasoned as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close so they could sway to the music together. That was it. He considered her almost a friend now; surely that was making pretending to be attracted to her a bit easier.

As they stood near her friends Becky and Ricky and listened to Jamie drunkenly sing an Olivia Rodrigo song, April scurried up and whispered in her ear. With a nod, she turned to Roy and handed him her drink.

“Showtime,” she announced, planting a quick kiss to his lips. A quick, casual, natural kiss. Fuck, how many kisses would it take for him to get used to it?

He was still pondering that as he watched her ascend the stage, guitar in hand. The whole room cheered and hollered for her, applause she accepted with gracious smiles and kisses blown into the crowd. She approached the microphone; her deep exhale could be heard over all the speakers.

“This is my favorite part of the evening,” she mused into the mic. “Where I get to share with you all. This song has been a long time coming- I started working on it when I was twenty-two years old, and over the years I’ve gone back to it and played with it, but I’ve always been too scared to share it. But I had a couple conversations recently-” Roy swore her eyes found his. “-that made me realize that maybe some other people feel this same way. That maybe some of you need this song too.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

They tell you while you’re young

“Girls go out and have your fun”

Then they hunt and slay the ones who actually do it

Roy’s chest was tight as he listened to her, so soft and vulnerable. Her voice sounded strong and sure, contrasting beautifully with the insecurity of her lyrics. He only tore his gaze away for a moment to take in the faces of the people around him; their faces were filled with wistfulness and sadness, maybe a little pity, and some held looks of self-reflection. Roy wondered if his face looked the same; it probably did, he decided.

And will you still want me

Will you still want me

When I'm nothing new?

Roy was the first person to clap his hands together, but he was immediately joined by every other person in the room. Applause quickly became cheers and a standing ovation; onstage, she beamed and wiped her eyes.

“Thank you,” she managed to hum into the microphone. “That was Nothing New, and it is on sale and streaming now. All proceeds go to the Cicada Foundation.” She gave a small, breathless laugh. “Thank you to everyone who tuned in to watch our karaoke show. You have no idea how much your support means to me and everyone at Cicada.” She gave a small wave. “Thank you, and good night!”

She practically skipped offstage, handed her guitar to a waiting April, and made her way over to Roy. Now it was his turn to grab her and pull her into a hug; deciding to really put on a show, he lifted her off her feet and swung her in a small circle.

“That was fucking brilliant,” he huffed, setting her down but keeping his arms wrapped around her. “That song is something fucking special, you know that? I’m fucking proud of you.”

She beamed up at him, pleasant surprise playing in her eyes. “Thanks, Kent.”

Knowing that countless eyes were on them, Roy dipped down and pressed his lips to hers carefully, maybe even a little timidly. The way her fingers brushed gently through his hair assured him he was fine, so he deepened the kiss, pulling her close. He was kind of amazed at how quickly they had become accustomed to kissing each other, to letting their lips glide past each other softly. It was the way the public expected a superstar and football legend to kiss, he decided. The way two people in love should kiss.

The way he and Keeley used to kiss.

He shoved those thoughts aside for the rest of the night while the karaoke party transformed into a regular party. He danced with her, closer than he had the first night, and pressed soft kisses to her forehead between songs. Be sweet with her, Keeley had suggested to him as they chatted the day before. All romantic and tender. I know you know how to be that way.

And so he was, for the rest of the night. And she accepted all his affection with smiles and kisses of her own. They were convincing enough to trick every single person at the party; and if Roy didn’t know any better, they would have tricked him too.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut @charkachow @mrdsturd

#roy kent i'll write your name #roy kent iwyn #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso fanfiction

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infiniteko · 4 months

Note

i too have wondered why this "subject" (for lack of a better word) has become so saturated recently. in this "process" (again, not the right word, i apologize) of stripping yourself back to zero, doesn’t the addition of more & more empty words only contradict that? if everything that could be said about this has been said already, why say more?

when i "learnt" about this, i learnt solely from you (infiniteko), realitywarpingg and a little from Ada (before they made an AI chatbot in name of the poor woman). i read just a few posts from you all and that was all i needed, i remembered mySelf permanently in no time. i did try reading a couple of books back then (Lester Levenson, Nisargadatta Maharaj) but by the time i’d reached page 5 i realized they weren’t telling me anything i didn’t know already. less truly is more. regardless, it’s nice to see this gaining in popularity, and people have shared some interesting insights… my opinion is useless and illusory. :)

anyway, thank you for turning me back to mySelf. :) you (infiniteko) are a wonderful group of people, and your simple / condensed way of speaking was perfect for my lazy and limited attention span. it was hilarious, once i saw who i was, to discover how obvious and simple it has always been. your writings (and RW’s) come as close to that simplicity as words possibly can.

—🤍🏔️🎐

Thank you 🏔️🎐-Anon! I definitely agree with everything you said. Even if people are asking more and more questions, let them ask until they're tired. They'll notice the answer themselves, there's no doubt about that. In my illusory opinion (just like yours) adding more words doesn't necessarily do what one hopes they'd do. It's becoming too saturated, too wordy. The questions are multiplying and readers are relying heavily on the same words written differently. It's a cycle. In fact, the more you read, the more confusing it gets. This might sound controversial but the more we post and the more we repeat ourselves, the more we are contributing to the endless loop of waiting-reading-asking-seeking-waiting-reading. The best I can do is reblog the things we've said but I don't see a point in saying more than what has already been said. It should be enough by now, even if the questions asked are increasing, that's between them and themselves. They'll know they can't wait forever and are forced to finally rely on themselves.

You can read as much as you want to but what's the point if you're not going to be with yourself and see all the answers were in plain sight all along?

It's been a little more than an illusory decade since I first "learned" all of this. I had no idea about Tumblr or Instagram. It didn't take a hundred posts and a dozen accounts for it to click. It took nothing but myself. In your case (🎐-Anon) it took nothing but yourself. In W's case it took nothing but herself + pondering on the few hints given to all of us.

I see many people say that they "know" that all they need is themselves yet, they wait and hope for a new post by different accounts and think that now (with one more post) it will finally make sense to them, but if you are waiting for someone to give you that insight which "will finally say you free", you can wait for all of eternity, because the only thing that can free you is your-Self, not a post or an account.

(That's just my imaginary opinion, I'm not attacking anyone and neither is Anon.)

Also, Anon, you used a wind chime emoji🎐, do you prefer high or low tones? :)

#ask

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whatitsdecending · 3 months

Text

Chokehold: Pt. VI

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

The high of being around Vessel had soon come to an end as he had to leave for a quick tour and it seems like there is trouble between your friendship with Noah following that phone call from a few weeks ago.

A/N: hello me again, me… I’m bad at updating and I apologize! This is another filler (i know:/) just because I do want to get to the juicy stuff which happens after where we leave off in this chapter :) enjoy!

Word Count: 2.2k

Content warning: some lighter details of smut

—————————

Three weeks passed and you never heard from Noah.

It was worrying; his abrupt end to your conversation and then going ghost since then. Not one text of him sending a stupid meme for you to look at or even a picture of Jolly doing something idiotic at their house. Nothing. And it made your heart ache.

Was it something you’d done? Did he figure out what was going on between you and Vessel? Your mind constantly retraced the conversation, wondering if he had overheard something he didn’t need to… in fact, that was a good possibility.

You did take the call while Vessel was finishing up dinner and stepped away while you answered, not wanting there to be so much background noise you couldn’t hear what Noah was saying. Vessel said something and you responded, doing everything you could to cover the sound so it wasn’t as obvious. Clearly you did a bad job at that.

But why did he seem so mad about it?

Noah’s temper confused you sometimes but you knew he put up shields to prevent himself from getting hurt again. That part of him is something you could relate to, and it was one of the many things the two of you bonded over during your first few conversations. But from your entire relationship with him, you both never wanted something serious. The entire no strings attached thing is something you both agreed on, had it become too much?

Your mind pondered the entire situation while you spaced out on Vessel’s bed. You’d become entranced by the repetitive motion of him folding his clothes and packing them into his suitcase. That time had come, where Vessel had to go to Germany for two weeks for shows. It was just two weeks, you’d tell yourself. He will be back and you will watch their show in London before you get to spend the holidays with him. Though that time will probably fly by and then you’re going back to work with Bad Omens.

It pained you as you thought about the possibility of a ruined friendship between you and Noah. Maybe being able to speak to him in person would help and you could explain yourself with more ease in person than over the phone.

“Well that’s all I need.” Vessel’s voice broke you from your trance and you noticed he had finished fitting all he needed into the suitcase. His eyes danced across the solemn look on your face, his own becoming confused. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Just gonna miss you, that’s all.” You mumbled. A gentle smile tugged at his lips as his eyes softened. He stepped over to where you sat on the bed and wrapped his long arms around you, pulling you in close to his torso.

“I know. But I’ll be back here soon, just a few shows and you get to go enjoy the coolest one of them all.” He said. You snorted at that last part, knowing it was going to be pretty cool since Vessel hasn’t been able to contain his excitement and spilled everything that’s planned for their Wembley show. As he rambled on, you grew more excited as the days passed by. Now that their tour was starting in two days, the excitement was almost at its peak.

His hands gently pushed against your back as he held you closer to his chest, the subtle scent of his cologne wafting into your nose and settling the constant ache in your own chest from these past few weeks.

Time flew by so quickly that the moment he mentioned he needed to meet his band for rehearsals hit you like a train. You knew the entire process from your own experience, but when it came to the expense of the happiness you’d fought for all your life, it was debilitating.

The light buzz of his phone on the bedside table startled you both, taking away the warm trance you’d both been encased with. His brow furrowed as he read the message and stuffed the phone into his back pocket.

“II is outside.” His voice was soft as he ran a hand along the back of your head, cupping around the base of your skull and bringing your face to his. It was a gentle kiss and long enough to show you he didn’t want this moment to end. Neither did you.

Vessel hesitantly zipped his suitcase closed and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder as he pulled the luggage from his bed. Your heart ached more and more with each movement, each taking you closer to when he’ll be leaving.

You followed him down the steps and out into the freezing air of December, noticing II waiting in his car in the driveway. He stepped out and headed to where you stood with Vessel.

“Y/N!” He said in a way of greeting. “Looking wonderful as always.” He pulled you into a tight hug. “It’ll be over soon, I promise.” He gave you a small squeeze of reassurance before he pulled away and took Vessel’s suitcase.

“II!” You called as he began to head back to his car. “Make sure he stays out of trouble.” A smirk pulled at his lips as he gave you a thumbs up.

“I’m not the one who gets in trouble…” Vessel mumbled from your side. You turned to face the man you’ve become so accustomed to and felt that ever growing pain be the strongest it’s ever been.

You cupped his cheeks with your hands as you stared into his eyes. “I will miss you, Ves. I hope you have an amazing tour and everything goes smoothly. I’ll see you in two weeks.” He smiled down at you, noticing the sliver of tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as that ache grew to be too much to bear.

His hand reached up and covered your left one moving his face to lay a kiss on your palm, before taking both your hand and his and placing it over your heart. “Only two weeks, darling. Then you’ll have me as much as you want until your duties come around.” He glanced over to where II was patiently waiting and then back to you. “Don’t get into any trouble.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked away.

In a matter of a minute, the car was gone and you were alone. Usually being alone didn’t bother you since it was all you’d known for years… but this was a different type of loneliness that you had no idea how to handle.

Though it was only two weeks, this shit was going to suck.

—————

Snow fluttered around you as you placed some firewood into the basket Vessel used to hold them. Before he left he made sure to stock up on the logs so you’d be able to keep a fire going while you read, knowing the sound was something that helped engage you more into your stories.

It’s been a day since Vessel left for tour and you were still adjusting to the newfound silence that filled his home. Usually, you could easily figure out what room he was in since music had the tendency to follow him everywhere. Whether it was something he played from his phone or his own voice carrying through the house. Whichever the case may be, you always loved it.

Sleep didn’t come easily last night as you tossed and turned in the sheets, longing for his warmth and strong arms to hold you as you fell asleep.

Everything ached. Your heart and mind as you longed for his presence beside you… but the worst was the ache between your legs as your mind wandered off to the night before he left.

His hands wandered your body, the one he’d come to memorize so quickly, as his eyes watched yours with a fiery intent. You laid bare beneath him as he masterfully touched you in every way that made you melt for him.

You sighed as his fingers would brush past the place you wanted them most. Vessel smirked at the reaction and his hands pressed against the sensitive skin of your thighs, spreading them apart even further than they were before. Your breath hitched in your chest as you watched him lower down to your core, the slickness illuminating under the light of the candles surrounding the two of you.

He placed kisses on each thigh, moving closer and closer…

His lips made contact with your clit and your hips bucked into his touch. Vessel dug his fingers into the flesh of your thighs as he held you down on the bed, not allowing you to move as he teased you with his tongue.

“Ves…” you moaned. “Please-” The whine that came from you sounded pathetic to your ears, but it turned him on even more as you felt the growl he released against you.

“What is it that you want darling?” He asked, his stare holding yours and you did your best to relay the message through your eyes. “Use your words, love.”

You took in a deep breath as he watched with patience. Your mind moved a million miles per hour as you thought of how to tell him what exactly you wanted. You closed your eyes as you took one last deep breath before saying; “Vessel I want you to make me ascend to the stars.”

Your phone buzzing on the table in front of you snapped you back to reality. That ache between your legs intensified during your daydream, and now you knew you’d have to take care of it at some point.

Picking up the phone, you notice it’s a message from Vessel. You open it and smile at what he sent; a mirror picture of him and the guys in their stage getup and a caption that said: All ready to make some people cry!

You quickly typed back a response and then another, asking him to send one of just himself… for reasons you won't explain until he gets back.

—————

Today was Wembley day. The band had been in London for a few days now, but you hadn’t been able to see them because they were so busy preparing for this show. You texted back and forth with Vessel, learning there were much more “extravagant” pieces for this show than what they’d grown accustomed to.

So now you walk around the venue as a security guard leads you to the backstage entrance. He gave you a little pass that said “crew” and explained I will be hanging out in Vessel’s dressing room for a bit until the show starts and I can chill on the side stage.

The arena was huge and you were so thankful this security guard was showing you where to go instead of you having to figure it out on your own.

Your journey ended when he stopped at a door, nodded and left. A nervous pit began to grow in your stomach as you raised your fist and knocked. The door swung open seconds later and Vessel pulled you inside, slamming the door behind you and pushing your body against it.

Your breathing was rapid as you stared at each other. “Hello.” You said, noticing that he was shirtless and had the pants he performs in on.

“I was wondering when you’d arrive,’’ he breathed heavily. “I was getting worried.”

“Traffic. You know how bad it gets when there’s an event.” You cracked a smile.

“I know… I just needed you here.”

Your hand rested on his chest. “I’m here now, Ves.”

“I know.” He whispered. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you to his lips. It was gentle and intimate, everything you’ve wanted in the last two weeks. You just wanted him like this, to hold you close and kiss you like nothing else mattered around the two of you. His arms belonged around you and that’s all that matters.

An hour later you’re standing on the side of the stage, making sure to stay out of the way of the crew running around and doing their last minute tasks. You’d peaked out a few times and gasped each time when you saw just how many people were here to watch them perform.

You were going to have to get used to the arenas since Bad Omens will be performing in them as they open for Bring Me The Horizon. But in the meantime you stood back and gaped at the crowd, wondering how the hell they could perform and not throw up from the nerves.

The lights turned off and the roar of the crowd was near deafening as the beginning of Chokehold echoed through the building. You watched as Vessel was guided through the side stage, making his way to the middle of the stage. You became entranced by the pure beauty of him as he did what he loved most.

And that part of you ached once again. Your heart, it ached in a way that it hadn’t before and you felt even more drawn to everything he did. Whether it was the simple things he did at home or while he put his all into performing, you didn't know.

What you did know was that your heart beat for him.

And that you loved him.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #sleep token #vessel

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ariesqueencobra · 3 months

Text

what we used to be | X

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You face the biggest challenge you've faced along side your boyfriend and friends. It's also summertime and unfortunately you have school work to do, thankfully, your boyfriend is smart!

Warnings: hazing, dangerous training techniques, mentions of sex, drugs and alcohol (reader just lists these things), lying to parents?

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: A cute moment between Reader and Eli is here, I loved writing it! It was so cute! S2 and S3 are definitely my fav seasons so it's so fun to write rn!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“What do you think? Shithead one and Shithead Two?” Eli pondered as you, him, and Aisha stood in front of two new students.

“I was thinking Mary-Kate and Asshat,” Aisha said.

You laughed at the creativity, raising a brow at the two boys, hoping they caught the gist of this being a playful thing.

“Well, I’m Chris-,” the taller one began.

“Did I say you could speak?” Eli shouted, making the two flinch.

You snickered, not thinking he would do that but it was priceless seeing the looks on their faces.

“Guys they’re just messing with you,” Miguel came up to reassure them. “Besides everyone knows your names are Assface and Douchebag,” he smirked before he joined the three of you.

Enjoying the light hazing with your friends, the bells jangled and you noticed an old man come walking in, carrying a duffle bag and looking around the dojo. Though, he didn’t seem too impressed.

“Who’s that?” Eli asked Miguel.

He shook his head, you and Aisha wondering the same thing as Eli.

Miguel went to talk to the man, while you, your boyfriend, and Aisha went back to messing with the students until Sensei gathered everyone.

“Class, we have a visitor,” he started, walking in front of the class. “This is Mr. Kreese. He’s just an observer, pretend like he’s not even here,” he gestured to the man from before, who stood off to the side. “Mr. Diaz, warm them up.”

Miguel bowed before coming to the front. “Fighting positions,” he ordered. “Front kick.”

All of you repeated the motion.

“Forward strike.”

Again.

“Side jab,” he instructed, giggling as he did when he dabbed.

The class erupted in laughs as you all joined in on the antics, unbeknownst to Sensei’s reaction.

“What the hell was that?” Sensei asked.

“We were just messing around,” Miguel shrugged, playing it off.

“Yeah, besides we already know how to kick ass,” Eli smirked.

“Oh yeah so you know everything, there’s nothing left to learn?” Sensei walked along the front row.

Your smile faltered and you felt bad but as your good friend next to you started snickering, you couldn’t help the upward curve form on your lips.

“What’s so funny, Miss Robinson?” He came in front of her.

“Nothing Sensei, you wouldn’t understand,” she shook her head, glancing down to hide her smile.

“Try me.”

“It's a snake-do,” she glanced up, unable to hold back her laughter.

“What’s a snake-do?”

You all hissed like a snake, slithering your arms.

“Quiet!”

You shook from shock, never hearing Sensei shout like that before.

“5 a.m. tomorrow morning. Corner of Fulton and Raymor. You don’t show then you’re off the team,” he stalked towards his office. “Class dismissed,” he threw his arm up.

You were wide-eyed shocked, mouth agape as you stared at your friends. It took a few moments until you process what happened and left like he said.

“What do you think was Sensei’s problem?” Eli asked you as he landed on his bed.

Eli drove you back to his place. With the rest of the class wanting to head home to make sure they fell asleep early, you had the rest of the afternoon with your boyfriend.

“Beats me, I’ve never seen him angrier. Do you think he was embarrassed because of Mr. Kreese?” You hummed, thinking over the possibility.

“Wonder what that old chode was doing there,” he chuckled.

You passed him a look while you walked over to his desk, placing your backpack on the chair to unpack your stuff. You brought your summer work over in hopes that Eli would help you with your AP Biology work since he’d taken the class the year prior.

That class on top of the AP Art course you were also going to take, you were a little overwhelmed with the work you needed to complete before junior year even began.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to do homework?” He cocked a brow, sitting up from his bed. “It’s summer vacation, babe.”

“Well I have two AP classes on my schedule next semester and for some reason, they gave us this whole packet for Biology, if I don’t get at least half done before July, I know I’m not gonna get it done in time,” you explained.

He walked over to his desk, looking over your shoulder. “I thought you were gonna tell your mom you were done with nerd classes,” he said.

You glanced up at him. “I thought so too, but she already paid for the class,” you huffed. “Can you just help me with it?”

He sighed. “You haven’t even started,” he noticed the untouched packet on the desk. “At least give it a try on your own.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing he didn’t want to do it because it was “nerdy”.

“I need my smart boyfriend to help me through it though,” you smiled. “Please?”

“I’m done with the nerd shit, Y/N.”

You frowned. “In front of other people, but not with me,” you said. “Right?”

He exhaled.

“You don’t have to pretend not to be smart with me because I already know you are. I understand you don’t like video games or comics anymore, but you can’t get rid of how easily you calculate the tangent of a circle in your head,” you pointed.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. “Fine, what do you need help with?” He walked over to you, pulling up a chair next to you.

You scooted closer, centering the packet between you. “Everything,” you laughed.

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around you as he handed you a pencil and your notebook, beginning to walk you through the problems.

Reading about the cellular structure made no sense, but somehow hearing Eli explain it made you feel like you could teach an entire college class about it.

“It’s vesicles after vacuoles, so that question would be marked wrong. Just alphabetize it so you know it’s in the right order,” he corrected.

You nodded, erasing the mistake and fixing it.

He continued to read over your answers, checking which ones were right.

You remembered all the times he would do that before, the way his eyes would focus so intently, you could see the way his mind worked, putting the solution together for the problem. The way his nostrils would flare when he got stuck on something. The way his tongue would dart out between his lips in thought.

He has always been like that.

He’s always been smart.

“Are you paying attention?” Eli questioned, a playful grin on his face.

“Yes, I am,” you were quick to say.

“Alright,” he smirked. “What’s the correct answer for 34 then?” He asked, knowing he caught you in your lie.

“It’s not my fault I’m attracted to you, okay?” You defended. “I can’t help it,” you shrugged.

He only laughed as he rubbed your arm, pressing a kiss to your cheek before going back to explaining biology to you.

Waking up at 4 a.m. just to get to where Sensei ordered you to be at 5 a.m. was miserable.

You were struggling to keep your eyes open, but when Sensei showed you where you’d be working, the adrenaline made its way into your body and you were awake now.

“Don’t add too much water. You wanna make it nice and thick,” Sensei ordered.

You grunted as you heaved a heavy bag of cement off the pile, carrying it over to pour more into the wheelbarrow Aisha was mixing in.

“Keep stirring!”

You sighed, cutting open the bag. You were going to offer to take turns stirring when Sensei called the group over as a cement truck pulled up.

The driver got out, handing the keys to Sensei and scurrying off after he saw you all.

You all stared at him in wonder before he opened his mouth to speak.

“You think winning the All-Valley gives you the right to goof off?” He asked.

Unsure how to answer, you glanced at each other.

“Well, I got news for you, winning one championship doesn’t mean squat! A true champion never stops training. You gotta keep moving forward or else you could get stuck exactly where you are. It’s like the cement in this truck,” he pointed behind him. “That drum doesn't start turning, the cement inside will harden and get stuck. Is that what you want to happen to you?”

“No, Sensei!”

“Good, then climb up and make it spin,” he said.

You all froze.

“We learned our lesson,” Eli said, pleading for this not to go further.

“Get in!” He ordered, releasing the latch to drop the ladder.

“Sensei, this seems dangerous. I mean the fumes alone-,” Miguel began, shaking his head.

“Quiet!” Mr. Kreese shouted, holding the same conviction as Sensei. “This man led you to the mountaintop and you question him?” He tipped his head to the side. “Look at you, look at all of you. I can’t believe this pathetic pack of pussies competed in the All Valley, and let alone won,” he chuckled. “It’s an absolute miracle. And who’s responsible for that miracle? Johnny Lawrence,” he pointed at your Sensei. “The best student in all of Cobra Kai. My student.”

You gasped in shock.

“You were Sensei’s sensei?” Eli questioned, eyes widening.

“You better believe it kid,” he responded. “And I never trained a tougher student in my whole life, so listen to every goddamn word he says.”

You eyed the truck, wanting to make Sensei proud. Because of him, you made it to the quarter-finals in the All Valley, he gave Eli more confidence.

“I’ll do it, Sensei,” Miguel said.

He began climbing the ladder and Eli followed, you didn’t think much, not wanting to let fear control you before you followed in after.

Stepping into the cement chamber, you slid inside, finding Eli and Miguel making their way toward the far end. Your shoes landed in the wet cement, the thick substance making it almost impossible to move.

“Oh god,” you slipped but Eli reached out for you, preventing you from falling in.

The cement gushed under your feet and you stood beside Eli as Mitch and Chris followed in afterwards.

You stared at each other, unsure what to do.

“Don’t just stand there, move!” Sensei commanded.

You all pressed your weight on one side, trying to rotate the container but it was slippery, your hands sliding down and your feet holding no traction.

“Come on, let’s go!” Eli encouraged.

You took a deep breath, trying again.

“Push!”

It moved slightly and slowly you gained momentum. You heard Sensei shout on the outside, encouraging you.

You groaned, trying to use your strength, putting all your weight on it in hopes of hurrying it up. You all kept going, the container rotating. You shut your eyes when the cement started dripping from above, continuing to move your feet.

Everyone was screaming, slipping, falling. It was chaos but the chamber was still moving.

“C’mon, get up!” Eli grabbed Miguel by his hoodie, hoisting him up after he fell into the cement.

“We’re doing it!” You gasped.

Your friends and boyfriend cheered, the momentum making it easier to move.

You did it.

“You should be proud of yourselves, I know I’m proud,” Sensei smiled, spraying everyone with a hose. “Your parents would be proud, too, if you told them what we did here today, which we won’t,” he warned.

You shut your eyes as he sprayed over your face.

“You pushed forward like champions, never stopping, never being satisfied, never giving up. If you keep pushing and keep moving forward, you’re gonna go to places you never even dreamed of,” he concluded.

You smiled.

You kissed Eli goodbye before you got out of the car. Your clothes and hair were drenched, even after having the windows open so you prayed that your parents were still asleep when you walked in.

“How was practice, sweetie?” Your mom asked when she heard you open the door.

“It was great,” you said, clutching your hoodie as you winced, thankfully she was in the kitchen.

You took off your shoes, quietly moving down the hall.

“We’re gonna visit grandma at two, why don’t you take a nap before we head out so you’re not tired?” She suggested.

The sizzle of the oil could be heard and the smell of pancakes engulfed your nose. The knife hitting the cutting board rang through the house. All tells that she was distracted.

“Sounds good,” you sighed out in relief, sneaking past the entry of the kitchen and making a beeline to your room. You were going to make it, but the moment your hand landed on your doorknob, a voice was heard behind you.

“Why the hell are you wet?” Your dad appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a frown on his face as he stared at you.

“Uh,” you were searching for a lie. “We had to practice our balance and I fell into a pool,” you said.

“Balancing act, huh?” He furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t recall there being a pool on the corner of Fulton and Raymor.”

You gulped. “We ended up going to the water park, Sensei knows a guy. I didn’t say anything because I figured you two were asleep,” you chewed on your lip.

“Hmm,” he nodded. “Why is there cement on your shoe then?” He asked, staring at the blotch of dried cement on the pair you left by the door.

Shit.

“I don’t know.”

“Go in the kitchen,” he pointed.

You dropped your head, walked into the kitchen, and took a seat on the bar stool.

The sound of chopping stopped as your mother stared at you. “What happened, honey?”

You hope she took your lie better, leaving this incident in the past, but your father wasn’t like that.

“Tell your mother and me the truth,” he said.

“Nothing happened, it was just training. We were messing around in class yesterday and Sensei didn’t like it, we had to mix cement today,” you shrugged.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re creating a puddle anywhere you walk,” your dad argued.

“I,” you sucked in a breath. “Nothing happened!”

“Look what I told you, it’s already happening,” your dad whispered to your mother and she rolled her eyes.

You furrowed your brows. “What are you talking about? What’s happening?”

“The lies, the being sneaky, the never telling us where you are,” he said. “I knew this is what would happen if you joined Cobra Kai.”

“I wasn’t lying, I’m not being sneaky, and I always tell you where I am!” You raised your voice. “I could be out doing drugs and drinking, having sex! But guess what?! I don’t!” Your brows raised, eyes wide as you proved your point. “I’m a good daughter, I get good grades in school.”

“You’re right,” your dad agreed. “You are a good kid, but being in Cobra Kai will take that away from you.”

“Honey,” your mother warned, placing a hand on his arm.

“I just don’t understand why you hate Cobra Kai so much,” you scoffed. “It’s a better version of itself than the one you grew up with in the 80s, okay?”

He clenched his jaw, clearly something he wasn’t saying and that made you angry.

“Doesn’t look that way to me at the All Valley, after what Eli and Miguel did to that kid? I’m only looking out for you because you’re my daughter and I love you, I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said.

“You’re overreacting,” your mother raised her hand to shut him up before she turned to you. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you worried you will get hurt?”

“No.”

“Do you like being a part of Cobra Kai?”

“Yes.”

“See? She’s happy,” your mother dusted her hands, going back to cooking. “The 80s was a wild time, nothing can be compared to that anymore,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, well, go catch up on sleep before we head to my mother’s, the whole family’s gonna be there so we’ll be staying late,” your father frowned in defeat and gestured for you to go to your room.

You thanked your mother for having your back before you made it to your room.

Today was a good day and you were proud.

You were badass.

#eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz imagine #hawk x reader #cobra kai

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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Dreaming and Watching

Corny little huntlow oneshot about what I think the finale title could mean 💚💛

—

The Collector lured them into a circle, bouncing around the room, delighted to have new play things.

“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” The whimsical voice echoed in glee. “Just imagine the games we can play with these guys, King! We’ve never had players like this before!”

“Yeah! Games! Of course!” Luz laughed nervously. “W-we’re so excited to play games with you!”

“Yippe!” He exclaimed, twirling in the air. “What should we play first? Let’s do something new! What kind of games do you like?”

“We like all kinds of games!” Amity said, trying to steady her voice. “W-we like nice, safe games! I think those are the most fun!”

“Hmmm, no that sounds boring,” the Collector decided, not taking it into consideration very long. “I wanna play make believe! Do you guys have good imaginations?”

“I’ve been told mine is a little too good sometimes,” said Luz quietly.

“You have a human imagination!” The Collector laughed, spinning around her on a bed of stars. “Oh wow! I bet you could think of some fun things!”

“Yeah, I bet I could!” Luz said. “I bet we all could, but I think we also know how things can-.”

“Do you have an imagination?” The Collector turned to Hunter who raised his arm instinctively in front of Gus and Willow.

“Um, I guess so?” He said carefully. “It’s.. not like all this exactly, but I-.”

“Wo-hoo! A grimwalker game! I can’t believe I finally get to play with the grimwalker!” sang the godly child, happy with the answer. “Let’s learn more about you! We never got to talk!”

“Um... okay?” Hunter said cautiously, Willow reached out to hold his hand to assure him she was there as the Collector held his eye contact.

“Hmm so if you have an imagination, is it a fun imagination or a scary one like your scary uncle?” Pondered the child, wanting to make sure he approved what Hunter brought to the imaginary table. “Cause I don’t like scary. Ya know, I’ve always wondered what goes on in your mind! I never got to ask! But why ask when we can just see?”

The Collector quickly spun around Hunter, nearly knocking Willow over in the process, as she refused to let go of his hand. When the star child leapt up he held what appeared to be Golden dust in his arms. He threw it in the air like confetti and as they fell they connected to form a wall of golden glitter. The group look on in confusion as the rest of the room darkened so the focus point could be known. Suddenly, like a movie screen, an image appeared.

It was Hunter, dressed in a Hexside uniform sporting every track color happily walking down the hallway with his arms with books.

“Wait, when did this happen?” Gus asked, knowing this wasn’t the uniform he had worn as a disguise when they first met.

“Is this in the future?” Amity wondered, noting the hair Hunter had was more similar to his current look.

As the Hunter on the screen finished gathering his books, Flapjack appeared beside him and landed on his shoulder. This was clearly not a known timeline.

“That must mean...” started Luz.

“It’s my dream,” realized Hunter. “It’s the dream I always-.” He paused and looked with wide eyes to his side at Willow, still holding his hand and fixated on the screen. He gulped. “Uh-oh.”

Dream Hunter proceeded to walk down the halls of Hexside, his face wore a wide smile and he walked with an obvious confidence he hadn’t known since his Golden Guard days. Every student he passed acknowledged him, offering a wave or friendly hello, clearing showing how welcomed and known he was, how naturally he it, how obvious it was that he was meant to be there.

“Ya know, we really don’t need to see this!” Hunter called as the dream continued to play. “My imagination isn’t very impressive actually so I’m sure there’s something else you’d rather-.”

“Shhhh!” The Collector called down. “I’ve never seen this one befoooore! No spoilers!”

The group didn’t know what the Collector’s intentions were, but they couldn’t deny it was nice seeing Hunter like this, even if it was only in his dreams.

“Hey Hunter!” Gus called, turning the corner to catch up to him

“Oh look! There’s me! There’s me!” Exclaimed the real Gus with excitement, pointing to himself.

“Hey Gus!” Dream Hunter greeted his friend and they did their signature handshake. “You ready for that test next period?”

“‘Course!” Said Gus with ease. “It’s child’s play. Are you ready for Cosmic Con this weekend?”

“Always!” Hunter said, hyped. “We’re definitely gonna win best costume!”

“We always do!” Gus agreed. “I’m gonna go snag us some seats next to each other so we can do some last minute flash cards before the test, don’t be late!”

“I never am!” Hunter called as Gus disappeared into the classroom.

The real Hunter felt the real Gus nudge his ribs. Hunter looked over to him and Gus gave him a wide smile.

“I dunno what you were so nervous about, this is awesome,” whispered Gus. “And you made me taller too, thanks dude.”

“Haha yeah of course,” Hunter replied, turning his attention nervously back to the screen. “It’s not over yet.”

“Hunter! Thank you so much for letting me borrow your history notes!” Said a dream Amity, as Hunter passed her locker. “They really brought up my grade. Your footnotes were especially helpful.”

“Of course! Anytime.” Hunter said with a wide toothy grin. “And if you ever need help studying, I’d be happy to tutor you.”

“Really? That would be so great!” Amity beamed in a way that felt somewhat unnatural, mostly likely because Hunter had no real world source to base this response on. “It’s amazing how you managed to be the top student and still find time for tutoring!”

“What can I say? I’m great at making schedules,” he said with a modest shrug. “You can keep the notes, I’ve got them all memorized.”

He offered dream Amity finger guns as he continued his trek, whistling as he walked utterly content.

On the ground, the real Amity viciously glared at him, daggers in her eyes. “I’ve never gotten below an excellent grade in Isles history,” she whispered to Hunter harshly over Luz’s shoulder.

“Well yeah duh it’s a dream! It’s not real, Blight!” Hunter whispered harshly back.

“It’s your dream, it’s my nightmare.”

“Amity! That’s no way to talk to your tutor!” Willow joined in the harsh whispering. Amity gave her a sour look as the Collector shushed them again.

Hunter was starting to sweat, hoping to Titan that Willow didn’t notice. He also hoped the Collector would be unimpressed with his imagination and move on to something else before they got too far. But the dream continued playing.

“Hey, hermano!” Luz called, running to catch up with him obviously on her way to Amity’s locker. “Mama is making sancocho y tostones for dinner tonight! You’ll be there after flyer derby right?”

“Of course!” He assured with a smile. “But I might be a little late, I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Bring her!” Luz exclaimed as she reached Amity’s locker and he continued walking. “You know she’s invited too!”

“Of course!” He called back, laughing to himself as he turned the corner and finally found his destination.

“Oh! Look, there’s me!” Said Willow excitedly, not noticing the sickly, panicked look that overtook Hunter’s face.

“Heh, ya know maybe we should stop watching before we get too-.”

As Willow fully entered the dreamscape, a sort of rosey haze overtook the scene and time seemed to slow down. She leaned against a locker that was meant to be Hunter’s, clutching her books tightly to her chest. When she spotted him, a wide smile overtook her face and her braids swung to the side in slow motion.

“Hi,” she said sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and biting her lip.

“Hi Captain,” he responded in the same sweet tone, effortlessly leaning against the locker and looking down at her with adoring eyes. “Are you waiting for someone special?”

“Oh, just my boyfriend,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “Maybe you know him?”

“Hmm, yeah I think I do.” Dream Hunter confirmed as he leaned down to press a gentle but obviously familiar kiss onto Willow’s lips. Dream Willow smiled and happily rose up onto her tip toes to kiss him back placing a hand on his cheek to imply she intended to keep him there awhile.

The real Hunter was mortified.

He dared glance to his side where the real Willow stood, saying nothing but fiddling with her braid and he couldn’t tell exactly what she was feeling. Hunter cursed himself for not insisting everyone close their eyes. The rest of the group had begun whispering among themselves, directing their eyes away from the screen as politely as they could, not knowing what else to do as the dream counterparts of their friends had been kissing for awhile now.

“Does uh, anything else happen?” Amity asked gently after a minute. “Is like Belos gonna come and ruin things or...?”

“No this is uh this is it,” said Hunter, inhaling sharply. “This is... this is the rest of the dream.”

“Ooooh.” Said three out of the four onlookers. Willow still said nothing, as a soft red overtook her face.

“And so you have this dream... a lot?” Gus asked. “Wait, is this why you kiss your pillow so-.”

“Okaaaay! I think we can move on now!” sajd Hunter shakily, his face red and sweaty. “Let’s look at someone else’s dream, Huh? Let’s uh let’s invade your privacy and see how you like it!”

“Ugh, dreams about school? And kissing?Ew!” The Collector declared, sticking out his tongue. “That’s no fun! Do you all dream about school and kissing?”

The group mumbled a serious of affirmation seeing that confirming this would save them from Hunters fate and keep their dreams private.

“Ugh, that’s so boring!” groaned the Collector dramatically. “Why would you dream about something you can do in real life? That’s like wasting a dream! We have a loootta work to do here!”

He and King vanished into a cloud of color and sparkles and the gang knew they were safe for now. They all let out a sigh of relief as Hunter offered them a burning glare. They looked at him apologetically before diverting their attention to the ground, Luz said something about making a plan for when the Collector returned and the group quickly jumped on board, happy to have something else to talk about.

“Traitors,” Hunter mumbled under his breath.

“Hey,” came a soft voice beside him, the only person not hiding in the group.

“Uh, hey,” said Hunter, clearing his throat as the realization that having his dream exposed may have also been embarrassing for Willow. Despite that possibility, she had not let go of his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I didn’t know he was gonna do that and I should’ve-.”

“Don’t listen to what the Collector said,” Willow advised with conviction, cutting him off.

“What?”

“About your dreams not being special,” she clarified. “I’ve had dreams like that, about being able to walk down the hallway not feeling scared or worried or like people were staring at me and whispering. That might not seem necessarily exciting or impossible to other people, but that doesn’t mean it is wasn’t a dream worth having. It’s okay to want things to be nice and calm, especially after everything you’ve been though. Sometimes the most simple things seem like the most impossible.”

“Oh, uh thanks,” he said, relieved. “Ya know, it was actually the first dream I’ve had in a while. Before, they were mostly nightmares and there were times when I didn’t dream at all.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having good dreams,” she smiled. “And I’m glad to be a part of one.”

“Yeah?” Hunter chuckled.

“Yeah,” said Willow brightly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I wanna help you get all the things you’ve dreamed of. All of the things.”

Hunter looked down at their linked hands before looking back up to her face as he was met with a playful wink. A familiar rosey frame surrounded Willow again. It wasn’t exclusive to his dreams, just to her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I’ve had dreams very similar to yours. The only difference is that in mine you’re waiting by my locker.”

#huntlow #winter toh #huntlow fanfiction #Willow park #Hunter toh #toh #the owl house

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gaysindistress · 9 months

Text

When Night Comes - Fifteen

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: cursing, lowkey smutty times, talks of sex/sexual things, mentions of death/murder/dead body, angst, there's a second rat in the Strigoi gang (sorry not sorry)

Word count: 2.7k

Fourteen | masterlist

A/n: Once again the wonderful @vonalyn came in clutch and helped me with this part💕💕 I'm officially done with my bachelor's so I'll have more time to write 😭

tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @vonalyn @thebuckybarnesvault

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

March 3, 1922

New York City

Sweat beads on her brow as she shoves her exhausted body behind a brick wall. Her chest constricts when she hears the sick sounds of laughter and inhuman like growls. The group of disgusting feral men that were chasing her are nearing with every passing moment and she is running out of options. They call out to her: “Celeste, come out come out wherever you are. Your Strigoi bastard of a husband can’t protect you now.”

Another round of sick laughter falls on her ears as she chokes back a sob when their foul smell rips into her nose. Celeste’s fight or flight senses are working themselves into the dirt but nothing is coming up to help her. Having been turned many years before, she gave up any magic that she had been born with and she pleads with her ancestors to save her just this once.

“Please,” she begs internally as she looks tearfully to the sky. The Lycan gang is closing in on her when the dark night sky opens up and a steak of lightening answers her prayers.

May 25, 1923

Bucharest, Romania

“What do you mean I can’t go back?” Celeste scoffs at her husband who is refusing to look at her, “Bucky.”

He keeps his calm composure when he issues his final verdict, “It’s too dangerous. Your coven agreed to keep you safe as long as you remain here.”

“You spoke to my coven without me? You could’ve gotten yourself killed, you absolute fool! Any agreement with them will only result in your suffering, you must know that.”

“All that matters is that you’re safe, okay? End of story,” he hisses after turning to face his angry wife.

She shakes her head at his stupid decision, “when?”

When he doesn’t answer, she demands again, “When did you do this?”

“Yesterday.”

She takes a deep breath and twists the ring he had given her the night before, “What did you agree to?”

Bucky doesn’t speak for a long while and meets her stare.

He relents but only to give up one piece of information, “As long as you’re on Romanian soil and wearing your ring, you will be safe.”

“I can’t believe you,” she whispers, “You went behind my back, made a century long deal, and hid it from me? I told you that I had this handled but of course, you had to do it yourself and make things worse in the process.”

“I did what I had to do, Celeste. We didn’t have the time to wait around another 10 months for you to negotiate with those con artists” and with that he leaves her to ponder over his words.

Her anger boils to the surface, unable to keep itself under control. She lets out something akin to a roar and in the process, breaks Bucky’s heart.

January 7, 1945

Peggy smiles nervously at Celeste as they both jitter and anticipation. Bucky and Steve are awaiting the bride and her maid of honor just on the other side of the doors. Seeing as how Peggy ran away, there’s very few people in attendance at this wedding. Very few meaning quite literally only ten. Various Strigoi from other territories and witches forced there by treaties make up the small crowd.

A townsperson well trusted by Bucky holds the doors shut. He gives them a brief and tightlipped smile before opening the doors.

Onward goes the wedding, and within moments, the happy couple are married. An elaborate celebration follows all thanks to Bucky and his love for his best friend since birth Steve. A witch that Celeste recognizes as an elder for the coven, Marguerite, beckons her towards the back of the room and away from the prying eyes. When she approaches the woman, she’s led out and that’s when Marguerite lays the worst news Celeste would be given - the full truth behind Romania’s curse.

In his efforts to protect the one he loved most, Bucky made a blood deal with her coven - one that would mean his ruination as well if it breaks. While the coven agreed to protect Celeste by banning Lycans for a century, what they did not tell him was if he didn’t do as he promised to keep her there, Celeste would no longer be protected and a ban on both Lycan and Strigoi would be put in place.

While the coven’s power pulls from Celeste’s line of doppelgängers, she had been the most powerful that was until she was turned. Becoming a Strigoi meant that her connection to her coven and the power they needed ended. If they wanted to ever regain that beacon, Celeste would need to die and soon so that the new doppelgänger could be born.

Seeing as how the Lycan had tried to kill her in the past several times, her death would be inevitable so the coven would get everything they wanted; a thought that made her skin crawl and her stomach to rotten.

“What else did you lie to him about?” Celeste hissed at the old woman.

Marguerite shrugged, “We did not lie to him. It is his fault if he did not ask for the full agreement.”

“I’ll ask then, what else did he agree to?”

“He will bring us our next binecuvântat, blessed one.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

She smiled a devilish smile, “He will. We have made certain of it.”

June 26, 1948

The Wright Lycan family had finally made true on their promise to take all that Bucky loved from him.

The evidence?

Celeste’s body floating lifelessly in the foul waters of the Hudson river and a picture of her nailed to the front door of their shared home.

Steve could do nothing to console Bucky and figured it best to let the feral, grief driven man hold his wife one last time. Peggy collapsed into Steve’s arms as Bucky pulled Celeste from the water, chanting that it had been her fault, that she was supposed to be with her but wasn’t feeling good so she stayed home.

His screams of agony could be heard for miles. All else had been fallen silent as Bucky mourned the murder of his love.

Sometime in 2022

The thin silver chain never bothered him but the weight of the ring that it carried was a constant reminder of the hole in his heart.

The metal of the small band that she had worn for years burned against his neck as Bucky got out of his car to pick up Wyatt. The burn turned into a deep ache that engulfed his entire body to the point of him almost doubling over in pain. He had to grip the door handle to the school as it raked over his body. The smell of jasmine and honey instantly soothed his pain and Wyatt tackled him moments later.

Picking up the small boy, the ache turned into a pulling sensation that wanted Bucky to follow that sweet smell and his breath left his body once again when he found the source. Before him stood Celeste or what appeared to be a doppelgänger of her. That small sweet smile was what he saw noticed first but he hopes of his love returning to him were dashed when he saw the hallow look in this woman’s eyes. Years of heart ache and misery had dampened the light that he knew used to live in her warm eyes but still the necklace begged to take its rightful place around her neck.

“Hi, can I see your ID?” she asked.

Wyatt giggled in his arms and brought Bucky back down to earth as he fumbled for his wallet.

She handed back his ID, “Thank you Mr. Barnes. I’m the new site director and I’m carding all adults at pick up until I know everyone.”

Her voice nearly shattered him as he hadn’t heard it in years, “Bucky… You can call me Bucky.”

She smiled, “Sunny.”

Present

Luca paces the kitchen, wearing even more ruts into the ancient stone floor with his anxiety. Thor, Loki, and Ana Cristina ignore him as they hunch over their own books, all searching for something to lead them into the right direction. They had been at it for hours but nothing had been found. Loki makes a show of slamming his book shut and leaning back as he speaks, “Maybe this isn’t something we fix, Ana. Y/N is the doppelgänger that he’s supposed to bring back and she’s here now so I don’t really see how the Lycan being here has anything to do with us.”

She shoots him an angry look, “They shouldn’t be here so yes this is something that we fix. If they’re here, that means something is wrong.”

“I don’t see it that way,” he counters, “We get to Y/N first and boom, no more problems. We get our magic restored to full strength and then we can deal with those demoni, demons.”

Luca gasps in horror and looks around to make sure that no one else is around, “those demoni as you so brashly called them are our friends, neighbors, employers. Show them more respect than that and get back to searching for an answers.”

Thor takes his cue to speak up, “I agree with Loki. Why do we have to protect them when we could very easily get Y/N to come with us? She hates Bucky doesn’t she?” “It’s becoming quite the opposite,” another voice pipes in and the group freezes. Peggy steps out from the shadows and all but glides over to them. She lands a hand on Loki’s shoulder as she continues, “they’re starting to develop feelings, dare I say fall in love so she’s not going to just leave. You’ll have to convince her and with how stubborn she is, I doubt any of you’d be successful.”

She looks around the group and narrows her eyes on the elderly woman, “But you. You’re the only other person that she trusts besides Bucky. It wouldn’t be that hard if you were the one to do it.”

“I would…”

Peggy waves a hand in annoyance, “‘I would never do that.’ Don’t feed me some lie about how he’s been kind to you and you could never betray his trust like that. Bucky turned your beloved doppelgänger and nearly ended your entire coven. He was the one who got her murdered and nearly cursed your people in the process. He would do it to you and you know that because he is not a loyal creature. You are though, Ana Cristina, show that loyalty and do what’s right by your coven.”

Alix’s phone rings and John looks to her.

“Apparently Loki and Thor are the only ones that are willing to take one for the team,” she sneers, “Peggy is pretty much useless now so looks like we need another plan and quick before Ana and Luca blab to Bucky.”

“Already ahead of you,” John says as he drops his phone into her lap, “Juliette found a way in… well more like she found someone to get us in.”

Alix twists her head back to look at Juliette is curled into a ball, reading a book, “Oh? Finally started pulling your own weight?”

Eyes trained on the book, she says, “no, gaining trust actually takes time but it’s not like you’d know that.”

“Excuse me?”

Brock chokes on his coffee on the other side of the couch and John shots him a stern look.

“People don’t usually respond well to physical intimidation. Didn’t your mom teach you that violence isn’t always the answer or did you beat her too?”

Alix is on her feet in seconds, her chair sliding backwards from the force of her standing. She rips the book from Juliette’s hands and pushes her further into the cushions.

“I never beat anyone.”

Juliette can feel the Lycan in her wanting to shrink back but she can’t. She refuses to back down from this, “I saw the bruises, the marks, the handprints. I saw the way Y/N shook when you were next to her or how she’d flinch when you’d touch her. I watched her become more and more afraid of you but still stayed. I saw it all, everyone did.”

“I didn’t beat Y/N.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want but you’re not fooling anyone. Why else would you be chasing after her?”

Alix fights the urge to rip Juliette’s throat out with her teeth, “I love her.”

The former rat of the Lycan gang rolls her eyes, “No you’re abusive and pissed off that your victim got away.”

Alix growls and goes to lung at her but Brock and John are quick to pull her away before any damage is done.

Brock slides over and gently pushes Alix back, “Let it go. We need her to get to Yelena.”

She freezes, “Yelena? That’s who your fucking contact is?”

John speaks up, “Apparently she didn’t know some things about Bucky and Peggy enlightened her for us.”

“I have a hard time believing that but,” she growls again at Juliette, “we don’t have a choice. After this, though, you’re fucking done and I’ll kill you myself.”

“Okay okay, so what does it feel like?”

Bucky stares up at the night sky, blue eyes scanning over the stars and the full moon. The grass under his head crunches as he turns it to look at Y/N.

“What does what feel like?”

“Drinking, what does it feel like?”

His brows furrow although he knows what she’s referring to.

“Don’t make me spell it out,” she gives him a bored look but does so anyway, “what does drinking someone’s blood feel like?”

“What does drinking water feel like?”

She rolls her eyes, “I mean does it feel good?”

“It can feel like an orgasm sometimes.”

Sharply inhaling, she quickly recovers and attempts to pick a new subject, “can you eat human food?”

He turns his head back with a smirk, “it’s like when you can’t stop thinking about someone all day and you’re so turned on that it hurts. Nothing makes it better, your hand doesn’t do the job but there isn’t a toy that compares either. The only thing that makes it even a little bit better is the person that you’ve been thinking of. When you finally do get to fuck them, you almost don’t last but when you do cum, it’s life changing. You forgot your name and how to breathe , all that you can think of is them. That’s what drinking from someone feels like.”

While he can’t see her, he can feel how her body has gotten hotter and how she’s started to squirm so much that she accidentally brushes against his side. He didn’t need to use any of his heightened senses to tell that his little monologue had the desired effect.

“I can show you,” he offers.

“Show me? What are ....” She trails off when she realizes what he’s actually offering and he chuckles, “do it.”

Courage swirls in her chest albeit not for long as he moves from laying beside her to settling between her legs. The muscles of his bicep bulge as he lowers himself to whisper against her ear, “you think I don’t hear your moans at night when you touch yourself or how frustrated you get because it’s your hand and not mine?”

Y/N’s eyes open wide at his confession and she can feel his smirk grows even bigger as he dips his head to kiss under her ear.

“I can’t say that I’m much better though. Ever since that night, all I’ve thought about is you. Everything is you, you, you,” he emphasizes his point with wet kisses that trail down her neck and jawline, " I can't tell you how many times I’ve found myself in front of your door at night.”

“Coward,” she mutters and he freezes.

Bucky pulls back enough to look at her, “what did you just call me?”

Taking this opportunity, she pushes up onto her elbows and almost causes him to fall to the side.

“I called you a coward for not doing anything,” she playfully teases him, “if you can hear me saying your name, you can definitely hear everything else I say in between.”

“I’m the coward? No no,” he leans into her, “I think you’re the coward here. My room is only two doors down, Dragă and i’ve never found you outside my door..”

“I only found that out a few days ago.”

“That’s a lie,” he snorts, “I distinctly remember pointing out my room to you when we got here. If you weren’t listening because you’re too hard headed, that’s on you.”

Y/N fully pushes him back and he does fall to the side this time. She springs to her feet and starts to walk backwards.

“Where are you going?” He asks as he gets to his feet and she starts walking faster away from him.

“To my room.”

“Why’s that?”

She gives him a wink and says, “to test if you’ll come into my room tonight,” before taking off in a full sprint towards the house.

He shakes his head and chuckles before chasing after her.

A twig snaps off to his right and a pair of gold eyes flash beyond the tree line.

Yelena curses under her breathe as she ducks behind the trees so neither Bucky nor Y/N sees her. The owner of the gold eyes comes to her side, shivering and wrapping her coat around her tighter.

“We couldn’t have met during the day?” Juliette muttered, rubbing her arms with her hands.

The blonde nervously looks toward the house before speaking, “no. I’m already doing something stupid, I don’t want to add to it.”

“Fine. Did you bring it?”

The it being a gun, Bucky’s matte black Glock 19 to be exact, that Yelena pulled from her holster.

“You can get rid of the hex, right?”

Juliette takes it from her hands and examines the gun, “I mean not entirely. I can reverse it so that the hex effects Peggy but that’s all. Will that be a problem?”

Shrugging, Yelena glances back at the house, “if you’re not lying to me, then she deserves this. Alix still thinks I’m helping you, right?”

Juliette nods, “only problem is she’s starting to get impatient so the timeline is speeding up and I don’t know how long you have anymore .”

“Don’t worry about me,” Yelena assures her, “just get the hex reversed and bring it back as soon as you can. I’m sure Bucky’s going to find out you’re here soon enough so we’ll be ready for her.”

The other woman gives her a skeptical look but let’s her worries go nonetheless. She tucks the gun into her waist and disappears into the forest behind them.

Stress grows thick in Yelena’s heart but she still knows that what she’s doing is the right thing… for Y/N. Partnering with the enemy would be frowned upon usually but if the enemy is turning against their own, it’s a different story or so she hopes.

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nkjemisin · 1 year

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Things in my ask box #2

Got a new one for the “questions that might catch the poster some flak” bin. The poster asks, “What were you thinking when you wrote ‘The Ones Who Stay and Fight?’“ There was more to the question, but that’s what it boils down to (and I did clarify with the ask-er that this is what they wanted to know most).

I don’t generally like to discuss readers’ interpretations of my stories. Art is subjective, and what one person loves another might loathe, sometimes for the exact same reasons. Also, half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing; sometimes I don’t notice a theme in my work until years later when a reviewer mentions it, or I re-read it long after publication. My mind works in mysterious ways, even to me. But since you asked what I was thinking and not to confirm/deny a particular interpretation, I’ll try to explain.

(First, for those who haven’t read it, Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” is her most famous short story, and probably one of the most famous short stories in the world. There’s a whole subgenre of responses to it, because it provokes such powerful reactions in readers, and I’m no exception. [I’m a huge fan of Le Guin, if you didn’t know from me screaming about her to anyone who would listen for like 10 years now.] If you haven’t read the story, you should; it’s probably available somewhere online. There are a million ways to interpret the story, and if you poke around for reviews or lit crit analyses you’ll find feminist readings, anti-capitalist readings, mythopoeic/folklorist readings, and more. My story does not make sense if you haven’t read her story; it functions solely in conversation with Le Guin’s. Think of it as fanfic, if that helps.)

I’m not a literary scholar and I don’t pretend to be, but I’ve always leaned into the anti-capitalist reading of “Omelas.” Anybody who’s reading this in the developed world is already living in Omelas. Every time we buy a pair of Nikes, we’re contributing to sweatshops, child labor, migration crises, pollution... our own version of the abused child locked in a cellar. No ethical consumption under capitalism. Also, I lean anti-capitalist with “Omelas” because I think often of this quote by Le Guin:

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words.”

Bad. Ass. I want to be her when I grow up.

That said, when I decided to respond to this as a writer -- by writing back to it -- I was more interested in anti-racist readings of Omelas. Those interpretations don’t seem to be as popular, but at the time I wrote my story, I was trying to process the absolute bombardment of open racism and every other kind of bigotry that seemed to be metastasizing in the wake of Trump’s election. I pondered the world that these people seemed to want: a world of war and endless suffering, doomed to end in extinction for us all (tho some believe Jesus or Jeff Bezos will whisk them away before things get too bad). I wondered what it would take to come back from that world, if we went down that path but managed to survive as a species. So to my mind, Omelas works well as a metaphor for conservatives’ (and fascists’) endless fantasies of the world that was, in which everything was wonderful before the “corruptions” of liberalism destroyed it -- corruptions like equality, diversity, intellectualism, religious freedom, and democracy. This is the “again” that the “make America great...” people embrace -- a “better” world that never existed. We all know that in the 1950s, there were plenty of kids in cellars, worse than today: BIPOC kids, queer kids, disabled kids, poor kids. If America’s wealthy and powerful get what they want, they will get to live in a utopian fantasy; the rest of us go in the cellar.

The society these people want is one that further-codifies the idea that some people are lesser. Some people aren’t as fully people, basically, and therefore don’t deserve rights, basic necessities, compassion, or life. Therefore I decided to make my “utopia” (scare quotes because, like Omelas, Um-Helat really isn’t) an anti-bigoted society, which has instead chosen to codify the idea that no one is lesser. Instead of its happiness depending on limited oppression, I wanted my “utopia” to depend on limited suppression of that insidious idea.

Suppression is no better than oppression, by the way. We’re used to oppression, so maybe it doesn’t seem so bad... to some. But both ways of maintaining these not-quite-utopias require harm to be done to some for the benefit of others. Omelas chose to limit the harm to a random child, and to a lesser degree to all its citizens, who must morally compromise themselves in order to enjoy their lives. Um-Helat chooses to limit the harm to those who’ve internalized some people are lesser -- the intolerant, per Karl Popper’s paradox of tolerance -- and to the “social workers,” who must morally compromise themselves in order for the other citizens of Um-Helat to thrive. I was also playing with the idea that there’s nowhere to walk away to. Imperialism and capitalism have made pretty much the whole world Omelas, in real life. So how does any society grapple with its own complicity with evil? Omelas is better off than our own world, and Um-Helat, because people can walk away, there.

It’s entirely possible that I failed to do what I tried to do with this story -- first because I tried to do so much. “Omelas” is a deceptively simple argument with deep, complex points being made; my attempt to answer had to cover a lot of territory. Second because Le Guin was a master of the short form, while I’m pretty much a dabbler, and third because this was also my first time trying pastiche, and it probably shows. But I believe in shooting my literary shot, hit or miss, and I’m glad that I did. It turned out better than I expected.

So that’s what I was thinking. ☺️

#damn it these always get so long #clearly I've missed longform blogging #answered asks #short fiction #the ones who stay and fight #the ones who walk away from omelas #Ursula K. Le Guin

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prey-4-me · 2 years

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Strange Preferences - Pt II

Prey Predator x fem!reader, slow burn to eventual smut, developing relationship

You continue to be held captive by your terrifying caregiver.

Amishta - name, meaning fearless, limitless

Tenahpu - Comanche/nʉmʉ tekwapʉ word for man

Whoa, thx for the ♥️ on the first chapter!! I’m just getting to the “good stuff” 😜 in my writing process, so Imma be posting more soon.

Part II

***

You cracked one eye open furtively. It was sleeping, its breathing heavy and even. Your throat tightened in anticipation. Now you would strike.

It rolled over to face you, mask off. Its mandibles twitched slightly, then stilled. You swallowed hard. It was time. You felt for the small stone you had been shaping into a dagger. It seemed to not notice or not care you had been doing it; either way it would be its death.

You looked at its face again. Its eyes remained closed. You inhaled and held it, your muscles tightening. An owl hooted. The golden eyes flew open, so bright they almost seemed to gleam in the semi darkness of early dawn. It sat up, stretching carefree as it always did. You sat up, knowing it would shake you awake shortly anyway. It nodded at you, chittering softly as it did after rising. Discreetly, you hid your weapon.

***

A bird woke him. It was not unusual. Stretching languidly, he clicked softly at his companion in gentle greeting. She was already awake. He wondered what she dreamt of.

Igniting a fire, he heated some food for them. He talked quietly to her, watching for signs that she understood his language. He repeated many simple words and phrases, trying to break the barrier. He pointed to the fire patiently, naming it. She watched him solemnly, but didn’t react.

“Someday, you will understand. I know you’re smart enough,” he passed his human her portion. He had learned she ate very little, compared to him. The two of you ate together in silence as the sun rose and the world finished waking up. The sounds of the early day filled his ears. He pondered how he would explain a live human when his kin picked him up. Another problem for another day. He put the fire out.

***

It stomped out the fire when you were done eating. Chattering and clicking, it looked over at you frequently, as if it were waiting for you to respond with your own clicks and growls. It seemed to be repairing something. You looked at it. It was totally unfamiliar to you; alien in every way. It noticed your inspection of the object. Holding it lightly, it extended its hand towards you. You looked at its outstretched hand, then its golden eyes. They were earnest. You took the strange thing from it. It clicked a few times, then was silent. You turned the item over in your hands. There was buffalo horn inlay, halfway completed. You realized it was decorating its possession.

Gasping softly, you looked up at it, wide eyed. In the two days it had kept you, you hadn’t seen anything like this. Granted, you had mostly been focused on surviving and your painful wound, but was it really doing what you thought it was doing? It grunted softly at you, its mandibles clicking. You passed the thing back to your monster. It took it gently, saying something to you softly. You blinked in uncertainty. It was speaking. What was it saying?

***

“Do you like it?” He asked, taking his retractable blade back. He liked the horns of a plant-eating animal he had found. It was making a nice addition to his weapon. She seemed on the verge of understanding him for a split second. But she blinked and sat back. He continued to watch her. “Amishta,” he called her by the name he had given her. She blinked at him. Then her eyes grew wide. She eyed him warily. He repeated her name slowly, gesturing at her.

***

It repeated the same sound several times in a row, waving its hand at you. It sounded familiar… very familiar. Realization hit you like lightning. It had named you? Was it… calling you? Its golden eyes watched you intelligently. You glared at it, trying to make sense of its existence in general, and secondarily of your current situation. Your monster spoke again. The same short growl sounded. You recognized it clearly this time. Shakily, you put your hand over your chest as you looked at it. It rumbled your new moniker. You nodded firmly. You pointed at it. Having no idea what to call it, you chose a simple name, “Tenahpu.”

It was silent, its eyes boring into yours. You repeated yourself, still pointing at it. It grumbled and clicked. Slowly, it brought its hand to its strong chest, just as you had done. You said encouragingly, “Tenahpu.”

It mumbled, deep and scratchy and inhuman, “Tennnnah… Tennnahpu.”

Your mouth slowly fell open.

“Tennnahpu,” it was having a bit of trouble enunciating, but it was speaking a human language. Your heart pounded. Suddenly you realized you were talking with your brother’s murderer, “You motherfucking bastard.” You lunged at it without thinking. It chittered, grabbing and restraining you easily. It sat you down again. Releasing you, it grunted your name in a disapproving tone. You screamed at it, angry. It went back to its work, saying something long and opinionated sounding. You sat listening, dejected.

***

He liked his new human name. He hoped it wasn’t an insult. He talked to her gently. She was angry about something. Eventually she seemed to mellow. He decided this would be a good time to check her leg. Moving slowly, he sidled up to her. She let him unwind her bandages. He made pleased clicks. She was healing nicely with the help of his medicine.

“You’ll be running again in no time,” he pondered aloud. Would the running be away from him, again? She was no trophy, but he would still hunt her down regardless. He had decided she was definitely leaving this planet with him. She was too… interesting to leave behind. He sighed, having finished dressing her injury. “Amishta, soon we are leaving,” he explained. “I will show you many planets on the hunts we will go on. You will be afraid at first but I will protect you.” He purred soothingly, rubbing her head lightly.

***

You sat as it dutifully tended to your wound. It clicked and grumbled as it worked. It continued talking to you after it was done, seemingly explaining something. You heard your name once. Then it was petting your head, surprisingly gently for all the power it had. It rumbled rhythmically deep in its chest as it ran its hand over your skull. You had no idea what to do or what it was doing. But it seemed satisfied to just sit and pet you. Soon it would restrain you for the day, so it could hunt without worry. As if you could escape right now anyway. But, soon you’d be ready. Your chance would come.

#predator x you #predator x reader #predator x human #feral predator x reader #predator fanfiction #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you

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tmntxthings · 1 year

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∑一stay in my memories。・゜・

author’s note: it’s such a tragedy that im just listening to this whole song now. i kept hearing that one popular part and finally finally listened to it all and wow ♪ memories by conan grey ♪

warnings: angst, past relationships, hurt/comfort? song inspired, unedited

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It’s been a couple of months since you. That was about the amount of time it took for Michelangelo to stop crying. His brothers had a pretty hard time too. So did Pops. They weren’t used to Mikey being so down. Feeling so blue. But he couldn’t help it, the breakup had been hard. The distance has been even harder. He knew he had spent every waking second with you, but it really felt like a punch to the plastron coming to the realization, that he was supposed to live without you now.

He had finally gotten to a point where looking at all those pictures of the two of you together didn’t hurt. It didn’t make him cry anymore. And most things had. All the little knickknacks, every single thing you had gotten him. The comics, the art supplies, the clothes that you sometimes wore. He couldn’t possibly get rid of it. Even when Donnie deduced it would help his grieving process. That it might speed things up and not make things so difficult.. to have constant reminders of you.

But Mikey couldn’t bear to lose one more piece of you. So he stuffed everything into a box.. at least the things he didn’t use on the daily, and hid them away in the back of his closet. And so the months passed and he was surviving, somehow.. someway without you. He sometimes wondered if it would’ve been better to have never met you. To have never gone through such heartache. But with the headspace he was at now, he knew that wouldn’t be true. It wouldn’t have been better. Because then he would’ve never experienced all those good times. The lovely moments, the loving moments with you. He couldn’t really ponder too hard about those still.. Donnie said he was 75% on the way to a complete recovery. Mikey thought he may just be saying that but most days he felt better. Enough to sometimes spare a smile at those old photos.

The two of you had gone back and forth like this countless times. But you always came back after a couple of days and Mikey readily opened his arms. It wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, his brothers made sure to remind him that. But he couldn’t help what he felt in his heart for you. You were his sun. But this time.. it felt like the last. After those first couple of days he had waited with his phone clutched in his grasp. Waiting for a message, a call, anything to show him that you wanted him back. Raph said it was for the best. That he and you were just each other’s first love, and that it was always the hardest to get over.

“I’m heading up!” Mikey called out in the lair. It wasn’t uncommon nowadays to go topside alone. Though Raph asked if he wanted company. Mikey replied quickly, “Nah, I’ll be back in a few! I just wanna skate for a bit.. clear my head,” and that was all he needed to say. Raph understood and gave Mikey a warm grin and waved him off.

He could hear the sound of pouring rain halfway up the ladder to the manhole cover. It didn’t deter the orange clad turtle. Though skating in such conditions are unadvised, Mikey wasn’t your average skater. He was a ninja with rad skills. Plus the rain deterred others so it wouldn’t be packed at the park. And yet as Mikey pulled up his hood and covered the manhole with practiced ease. His board strapped to his shell underneath his orange hoodie, hoping it would stay dry til he reached his destination. He felt familiar chills run over his entire body. He turned to the alleyway opening, out to the lit up sidewalk, and there you were.

His breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t seen you in months. And there you were. Here you were. Staggering forward and drenched from the rain. His heart lurched at the sight. No no no no. This wasn’t happening. He had finally stopped hurting. He had finally started surviving without you! And yet as you called out his name,

“M-Mike?”

His breath sputtered as his hands went around himself. As if he could hold himself together. Like he wasn’t already falling apart. “What’re you doing Y/n?” His voice sounded foreign to even himself. He felt like he was dying. Something was clawing at his tattered and beaten heart. He didn’t want to face you. He didn’t want to think about you. No you were supposed to be in his memories. Not here before him, shivering from the cold and practically begging to be wrapped in his arms.

“I just wanna talk,” you murmured. Though the rain was still coming down, he heard you clearly. His ears straining for every word. His body was betraying him. Had it forgotten all of the pain it had went through? For months? For longer than that! The off and on and off and on again? You started moving forward and Mikey started to shake his head. You were talking again, trying to make it right, trying to explain.

“Just hear me out Angie, I know I’ve messed up bad. But I don’t think I can do it without you, I- I tried!”

The closer you got the more dizzy he felt. Until you were right before him and even the smell of the dripping rain couldn’t cover the alcohol that lingered on your breath. He winced inwardly, you weren’t here for him. You were here for you. Playing the victim once more despite claiming to own up to your mistakes. “Please Mikey, I swear I’ll do better, better for you, f-for us!”

His thoughts were cloudy. He wanted you to stay in his memories. The past was too traumatizing and all you did was bring it back. You threw it in his face as if his feelings didn’t truly matter. He was your crutch. He was all you had. And his heart strings, or what was left of them, pulled. He shook his head. He was trying so hard to get over you, to get over this. But you showed up, out of nowhere, months later, out of the blue in such a state! He felt the slow exhale wind down and out of his body. He knew the ending would always be the same with you. The two of you couldn’t be friends. He doubted the two of you could be the same lovers as you once were. All that you were doing now was preventing him from moving on, from yourself moving on to something new..

But since you came…

His arms slowly opened and you lurched forward. Wet and trembling the both of you, tears camouflaged by the unforgiving rain. “Okay,” he sighed, it was hardly even voiced. He was sure you couldn’t hear as you sobbed into his chest. Just happy he had let you in again. To break his heart once more. Maybe he was insane. Though he didn’t think things would change this time around. He was fully expecting to get his feelings crushed. But maybe one day you would take all of those things that had haunted him. The box full of reminders of you. Maybe if you took that with you this time around, maybe he’d truly get over you. And then you would stay in his memories.

—————————————————————————

author’s note 2.0: it is most definitely recommended to listen while reading ;D most of the lyrics were used ^

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jifanjiang0710 · 1 year

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Alblutio - Yan Albedo x reader

A/N: Happy Lantern Festival!

Tw for talks of death.

Entry 1. Weather: Clear Albedo gave me a journal log, to record the nuances of everyday life. I am to pen down in words my emotions and thoughts throughout the day. I am told that expressing complicated feelings onto paper will help process them. Right now, I feel hesitant. I am unaccustomed in having such a responsibility. Albedo says that this is a trivial matter, so I will not ponder on it.

Entry 7. Weather: Clear Albedo encouraged me to write more sentences, and showed me a book. It was astounding to see how many words had been written in it. This particular type of writing is called a ‘novel’, unlike lab reports or observation logs. I asked if I could read it, but was refused. I will refrain from bringing it up in the future, but he did say that I enjoy reading. I must remember that. I enjoy reading.

Entry 9. Weather: Heavy snow Right now, I feel cold. The wind is blowing. I cannot feel pain from it, but it is uncomfortable. I don’t think I like wind and cold, but Albedo says I do, so I like the wind and cold. Tomorrow there will be another person visiting, and I will meet that person. I am apprehensive.

Entry 10. Weather: Snowy I accidentally referred to myself in third person in front of the visitor. They had golden hair that shone unlike anything I’d seen before. I made a grave mistake, and the visitor looked shocked. I did something wrong, so that warranted the punishment of cold. Standing out there in the snow, I thought of animals who are caught in the cold for extended periods of time. Slowly, they do not move. They fall and never get back up again. I asked Albedo is that would ever happen to me. Immediately I sensed my transgression, for he was angry and hurt. No, he said. No, I would not, because Albedo cares for me very much and would never let that happen, ever. Right now, I feel sorry for disobeying Albedo, and making him disappointed.

Entry 39. Weather: Snowy My name is [Name]. My favourite food is sticky honey roast. I like to read, and I like to smile. My favourite person is Albedo. I must memorise them well, lest I forget and get them wrong again. My name is [Name]. My favourite food is…

Entry 70. Weather: Sunny Today is warm and comfortable. It is my day of birth. Albedo took me out for a walk. It was beautiful, the way the snow-covered paths look in the glow of sunset. I voiced this out loud, to which he nodded in approval. I like scenery. He held out a flower, but seemed slightly aggravated by my lacklustre reaction. You like flowers, he said. But I much prefer the little animals that hop and scamper in the snow. You like this flower, he insists, and sighs. Okay, I said. I like this flower. Sometimes I wonder if I really do.

* The weather is perfect today, a convenient coincidence.

“Good morning, [Name],” he says, alone.

“Morning, Albedo!” The alchemist spares you a glance. To see you this early in the morning is surely a blessing. “Hello, [Name].” He’s almost done.

“I hereby proclaim this unique occasion a nationwide public holiday, so you should get off work for once,’ you pester. Anything to pull this man away from work.

“Is that so? What prompts this ‘unique occasion’?” Just a little more detail. He can’t seem to get your eyes right.

“Hey…” your voice trails off. “You didn’t forget my birthday, did you?” Your shoulders droop a fraction, and Albedo hastily offers his reassurance.

“Of course not. I have cleared my schedule for the day, should you wish to spend it with me.” He blinks. Tentatively, he speaks up again. “You do want to celebrate with me, right?” Careful. He wouldn’t want to lose composure in front of you.

“That’s a given. In honour of that, here you go.” You shove a bouquet of your favourite flowers into his arms. “What’s my gift?” you say, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the sketch in his hand. “Is that me? Can I look?”

“No. It has yet to be completed. I’ll give it to you once it’s done.”

How pathetic. In the end he never did finish that drawing. It was left in the drawer that hadn’t been opened for years. He is afraid to look at it again.

Everything had been kept the way you left it. Sometimes he leaves your shoes by the door, if only to give himself the impression that you’d only gone out temporarily, and that you’d arrived safely home.

His own lab is dark, the ashes have long gone cold. Today is your birthday. Happy birthday, [Name]. He clutches his chest with trembling fingers. Sometime he wished Rhinnedottir had never given him a heart, then this emptiness wouldn’t weigh on him like heavy fog. Why? Was it fate? Did everything have to culminate into it? Why did it have to leave such an impact behind? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if-

“Albedo?”

If he closes his eyes long enough, maybe he’ll wake up and see you. If he tries and believes hard enough, it will become real.

“Albedo.”

Don’t listen, don’t listen, Albedo. You’ll wake up from this nightmare soon. Wake up, Albedo.

“Albedo!”

He opens his eyes to the same blank walls of his Dragonspine laboratory. His throat is dry. “Yes, [Name]?”

“You were not moving. Are you alright?”

“I am.” He’s so tired. “Is there anything you require?”

“Ah…yesterday you said that we could go outside for a walk? Since it’s my birthday today…”

“Alright, we’ll make preparations now.” He has long since learnt to fake a smile.

Entry 83. Weather: Heavy snow The golden-haired visitor came again, discreetly. Right now, I am conflicted, and guilty for having kept this from Albedo. Am I a bad person for doing so? The Traveler says no. The Traveler asked for my name, among many other things. They asked me a lot in that brief period of time. They left with one final word of advice.

Do not trust Albedo.

How could I do that? Albedo is I don’t think that I am at a loss at how to word it. It’s impossible. Albedo would never do anything to hurt me. Since as far back as I can remember, he has been there. He is like family. If I were to doubt him, then who else would there be to trust?

Entry 85. Weather: Heavy snow I can’t help but think there is something off about him. No, there must be something off with me. And I think he knows. It might be attributed to an overactive imagination, but his stares linger, and behind my back it is as if his gaze burns. While he was out, I entered his laboratory, and I stared at the cupboard he keeps locked. Do not trust Albedo, they say. And, as if possessed by some unimaginable will to do something, anything to quell the disturbance in my mind, I took the key and unlocked it. It was right there, hanging like some fruit I ought not taste.

I’m sorry, Albedo. My actions today were unforgiveable, but I will not tell him. It is not a cupboard; it is a door. To where? The answer lies in whether I will have the courage to open it. There is one more thing. Did Albedo, with his impeccable intuition, anticipate that I would do this? And if so, could he have intentionally let me discover this secret on my own? The thought is blasphemous, and I highly doubt it. I must be dreaming. I can only hope that I will not be tempted by curiosity.

Entry 90. Do not trust Albedo. Do not trust Albedo. Do not trust Albedo. I will repeat it as many times as I can until I remember. I must first calm myself and articulate my feelings, though my hands shake uncontrollably. Right now, I feel betrayed, horrified and above all, I am scared. I will not speak of today’s events at all after this.

I am almost sure that he intended for me to see what I did today. He intended for it, but there is no guarantee he knows that I went today in particular. I can only bank on this chance, and that my attempts at feigning ignorance will work, if only temporarily. Through the cupboard-door, down the corridor, and into the lab I had never seen before, I saw myself. I saw myself encased in ice, a final resting place. The ‘me’ in the ice coffin shared the exact same facial features and physique, except the sear on my forearm, which ‘I’ lacked. ‘I’ was not moving. Like those helpless animals stuck out in the cold, ‘I’ would never get up again. And on the shelves lining the walls, boxes and jars were stacked as high as the ceiling, and I daresay I can guess their contents.

I knew immediately that this version of me is not the first. I am one of many. He has been treating my predecessors and I like experiments, and one day, my time will be up.

I leave this place tomorrow, at the first stroke of dawn. Whatever he wishes to achieve, I hope it never comes to fruition.

* Number 079 has been down here.

It was careful not to leave the more prominent traces behind, but Albedo knows. In its haste it overlooked crucial details. He should have come to expect this. The ones in the 60s and 70s pried too much for their own good. A deep sigh escapes him, like a man who has not known peace for a great many years. He caresses your face preserved by cold, admiring the eyelashes that once fluttered and the lips that once curved into a smile. You are beautiful, even like this. Even if your immobile heart and still pulse commands that Albedo will never feel the warmth of your touch.

“It doesn’t scare me anymore.”

“No. You can’t say this. You never told me anything.”

“Albedo-“ he refuses to look at you, yet his grip on your hand is firm. “I couldn’t bring myself to. This wasn’t something I could’ve said easily, but I’m finally coming to terms with it. I am no longer frightened of what comes next.”

“Please,” you want to cry, because you have never heard so much raw emotion in his voice, “don’t leave me.”

And you are at a loss for words, because how does one respond to that? “I’m sorry,” is all you can do.

“You can’t go,” is what he says. ‘I will not let you go,’ is what he means. And until Celestia falls, he will make sure you stay.

Another failed experiment. The rack of test tubes is sent crashing onto the cold floor. Number 079 is not you, and it will never be you. Then, like all the other guinea pigs, there is only one thing left to do with it. He walks out with a final glance at your body, so peaceful that you could be sleeping, and reaffirms with a one-sided promise.

“Good night, [Name]. See you soon.”

Entry 1. Weather: Sunny. Albedo said I needed a medium through which I can channel my thoughts and feelings. If I ever felt overwhelmed, I can pen it down in here. Alright, then. Behold, the very first entry log from [Name] 080’s journal!

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere albedo #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #tw yandere #male yandere #leos works

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