#and she'd put her fist through his heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

call-me-copycat · 5 months

Note

hey, can I ask the reader to be Aizawa's daughter, but she lives with her mother in another country, so when the reader gets into a fight, her mother sends her to live with Aizawa, but she forgets to tell him, so y/ n arrives and says "hey dad, surprise?"

Hi! Thank you so much for requesting! Sorry for the delay, I've been very busy with school and work (˶> <˶) Hope this is what you wanted!

A Runaway's Hope

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules

▶ Characters: Aizawa x Daughter Reader (platonic)

▶ Genre: Fluff, maybe some comfort mixed in

▶ Summary: The ask sums it up

▶ Word Count: 2746

▶ Warnings: None :⁠-⁠)

You don't even remember what the fight was about.

The quiet rushing of cooled air and the machinery of the train helped to lull the negative thoughts away, the bright lights hitting your face every time you passed a station.

All you remember was...

"You can't live here anymore! I can't put up with this any longer!"

Your mother... She and you didn't get along too well. She was too distant for you, and you could never seem to get along, despite the numerous efforts made by both parties.

Constant fights were normal. Not talking for long periods of time was normal. But you knew you both were wearing thin. That's why you jumped at the chance when she said she'd be sending you to live with your father instead, with hopes that it'd turn out better than the current way it was with her.

You hardly knew the man. You'd seen a few photos, spoke on the phone a few times. That was all you had.

Was it a risk? To jump so fast to live with what was practically a stranger? Very much so. But you'd take it, anything to get away from the constant arguments.

The intercom crackled to life, calling your station. With a sigh you rose, awkwardly lugging your single suitcase and heaving your backpack onto your shoulder.

The night was sparkling with life. You had never been over to Musutafu, having lived in the more rural parts of Japan your whole life. Back there, people would shut off lights and be in bed by 9 or 10 if they weren't working. You rarely saw anyone out past that.

So to see such a large city, bustling with so much life despite the dark... It was mesmerizing.

You lugged yourself to a less crowded part of the station, pulling out an address shakily scribbled on a piece of paper - despite owning a functioning phone. Reading it to yourself once more as if you didn't already have it memorized, you folded it and put it back in your coat pocket. This was it. You were in the city, now all you had to do was find the place.

As you walked up the steps and out in fresh air, you suddenly felt like a child again. No home, no support, all by your lonesome. Stuck and helpless...

You clenched your fist. You got this far, you couldn't go back. It had a chance of working out.

With that thought, you found a taxi (despite how expensive it was) and rode out to the apartment complex. The cab was cool and quiet, reminding you of the train you took to get there.

Once there, you stood out on the sidewalk, holding up a picture you had to compare to the building. You felt your heart beat faster, the blood in your body warming and filling you with adrenaline.

This was it.

The very building you had heard of but never visited, the place that housed a person you had never officially met in person...

All you had to do was go up and...

And-

You mentally slapped yourself. You hadn't even bothered to call! You didn't even send a note or something! You had simply up and left in the moment!

Panic flared in your chest as your surroundings began to spin. You hadn't even let him know you were coming. What if he didn't want anything to do with you?! What would he do? Throw you out?!

Inhaling deeply and exhaling similarly, you attempted to calm yourself. Worst case scenario, he could give you some money to travel back, and you could just grovel for your mother to give you a place to live.

A shudder passed through you. You'd rather it not come to that, but you couldn't exactly be too picky. You were currently homeless, after all.

What else was there to do, besides dragging you and your suitcase up the steps to the building, and then even further until you were on the third floor of the apartment, until you were standing in front of his door. Finally, you held up your hand to knock.

Nothing.

You knocked once more.

Nothing again.

You waited about five minutes before trying again. Then ten minutes before knocking once more. Then again.

Finally, once thirty minutes passed by, you began to panic once more.

'No, no... What if he's... Out getting groceries or something?'

The thought wasn't the brightest, but it was something. That's at least what you told yourself. Finally, after an hour of waiting, you slowly trotted down the steps, nowhere to go. The people passing by reminded you that they had places to be, while you didn't. It felt suffocating.

Before you reached the bottom, an older man who was watering some plants noticed you. Looking over at him, you saw he had greying hair and was wearing a cardigan, along with a bandana placed oddly low on his head, close to his eyes.

Approaching him, he gave a little wave. "We don't usually see that many this late at night," he joked, as if he had known you for a long while.

"Ah, about that..." You suddenly felt a rising acknowledgement about your situation, feeling oddly embarrassed at your impulsive actions. "I'm here to see my father, but he doesn't seem to be home at the moment"

The man looked over without saying anything, smiling tiredly while he watered the plants, only making you feel even more awkward than before as you debated whether you should stay or not.

"Sorry if I seem suspicious, but we get that a lot from nosy intruders trying to bother our residents here - especially since we house a few heroes." The man let out a little chuckle as if he hadn't just said he suspected you of lying. Although, you could understand his sentiment.

"You said 'our residents', are you the owner here?" You asked, not expecting this man of all people to be someone responsible for the entire building.

"That I am" He responded kindly.

You stood bewildered. The owner! Maybe he could help you... You just had to get some proof. Quickly, you scrambled to pop open your backpack, looking for a certain photo book. You didn't have any photos with your father past birth, but you did have a photo of him holding you as a baby. Just one.

The man stood to the side, tiredly watering the plants with an old hose, a stark contrast to the panicked movements of you right next to him.

Finding the photo and pulling it out, you showed the man. It was a photo of your father holding you just as you were born, with his sole focus on you instead of the camera. He was much younger back then, and you didn't know what he would look like in current times.

The man looked over the photo once before shrugging his shoulders.

"I believe you, I already did from the beginning. Cute photo though."

You stood there with the photo still in your hand. What was with this guy?!

"Your father is Shota? Is that right?" He looked over at you with an expression of interest compared to the tired smile he wore earlier. "He never said anything about having a kid."

You nodded, "We don't really talk that much... Do you know where he is by the way?"

The man stopped looking at the water flowing out of the hose and went to look up at the stars instead, moving one hand to his pocket and exhaling a heavy breath.

"You won't find him here right now, unfortunately"

"Why? Is he busy?"

The man shrugged once again, slow as molasses, though clearly smarter than he was letting on.

"You could say that"

Talking to him was a struggle, really. He only let out answers to questions explicitly asked, and you felt as though you weren't getting anywhere.

"Can you please explain?"

He chuckled at your exasperated tone, finally giving a suitable explanation.

"He's almost never around. He works at night. Probably sleeps for a bit, then he works during the day. Sometimes I don't see him for days at a time just because he sleeps elsewhere," He sighed once more, looking back at the plants in the little garden. "He needs to take better care of himself, that Shouta.. "

You couldn't believe it. Days at a time? You didn't have days, besides what if you couldn't catch him during the small amount of time he was actually there?

Another thought dawned on you. If he was so busy all the time, would he even have time for you? You stood quietly, pondering what you would do.

"Maybe try waiting by his door for a bit? Tomorrow's a weekday, so he'd have to show up to get ready to go to his day job"

You could only nod sullenly and take the man's advice. He gave you a few snacks to keep yourself busy while you walked back up the stairs, eventually planting yourself in front of his door to wait it out.

The view from the third floor wasn't so bad at least. You could see the lights of the lower buildings twinkling in the back, and since the area was quieter than the rest of the town, you felt as though you could think a little clearer.

After a couple hours, the landlord from before came back with a blanket and more snacks (which you just packaged to save for later), and soon enough you were out like a light.

A soft nudge to your side caused you to groan, and the sharper one that followed it caused your eyes to fly open, rubbing the tender area on your ribs. Looking up to see who caused it, your eyes widened as you saw exactly who you were looking for.

"Mind explaining why you're sleeping in front of my door? I'd also like to know why you're here, on the opposite side of Japan, as well."

Giving him a once over, you didn't expect your father to look so... Worn down. Raggedy, you'd call it. His hair was unkempt and fell in front of his face, and his eyes held dark bags underneath them, the eyes themselves being red and irritated. In addition, he was still wearing his hero outfit from patrol, with him just wanting to head in, get a few minutes of rest, then clean up before heading to UA. You tried to ignore the small spatter of red on his scarf.

"I..." Quickly standing up, you brushed yourself off and tried to make yourself look as presentable as possible (at least for someone who just woke up from sleeping outside all night).

Clearing your throat, you tried explaining yourself, "I... I'm sorry for the sudden request but..."

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

"I was wondering if I could live with you?"

Getting it all out at once was what your decided was the best you could do. At least it'd get rejection out of the way.

He wiped his eyes, the irritation of dry eye making him want to be inside even further. He was covered with grime from patrol, hadn't eaten all night (wondering if you didn't either), and was exhausted.

"Look... There's a lot going on right now, but you can just come inside with me so we can discuss it there," he explained, fishing out his keys before opening the door and letting you in first.

The place was rather empty. Clean, but empty. It was small too. You started questioning yourself once more at the sight. The walls were bare, the furniture being the bare essentials (like a couch and a table with a chair), and it definitely showed he wasn't there a whole lot.

"Sit wherever you'd like. I'm going to get changed and then we can work something out."

You sat on the couch due to it being closest, fearing he'd send you back sooner if he thought of you as a nuisance.

Truth be told, Aizawa was feeling as though he was hallucinating. Coming home exhausted from work and seeing his daughter sleeping outside of his door made him think he had really lost it. His daughter, that he had never seen in person other than photos every now and then, and who was supposed to live across Japan.

He didn't know what to do for once. He couldn't send you back, that'd be cruel. He knew you and your mother didn't get along, but that was all he knew. He didn't think it'd get this bad, though.

He could understand your perspective, at least. He himself didn't have the best relationship with his own mother, having moved out when he barely turned eighteen and having to survive off of cup noodles and a single lightbulb for months on end. He didn't want you to go through the same struggles.

Still, he didn't know if he had the time. The last thing Aizawa wanted to do was to ignore you and your needs.

Wrapping his scarf up and tossing it on his bed (instead of the special rack on the wall that it was intended for), he decided he'd have to make changes to his schedule then, so he could take care of you without being too busy.

Back in the living room, you clutched your backpack to your chest, fearing where this would take you.

Once Aizawa stepped into the room, you immediately put your attention on him, ready to beg for a place to stay. You noticed he changed into something more casual, being just a long sleeve shirt and joggers, with his hair tied up.

He stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, giving you a once over. He could see the way you tensed up. The way you were ready for a yelling match. He'd definitely not be sending you back.

Instead, Aizawa surprised you by holding his arms open. Sensing your confusion, he directed you.

"I haven't seen my daughter since she was born, you couldn't at least give me a hug?"

He almost chuckled at the sight of your eyes getting wider, wrapping his arms around you when you came up to him. He wasn't the most outwardly affectionate man, but his colleagues and students were making him softer by the day.

You stayed in place for a solid minute, enjoying the warmth which helped to ease your tension that had been built up all night long.

"You can stay with me, but since you failed to communicate this to me earlier I'm going to need time to prepare"

You nodded, smiling as fatigue overtook you once more.

"Does this mean I'm living with you now?"

Aizawa smiled softly. "It does." Looking out of the barely rising sun in the window, he breathed out of his nose. If only he had more time to discuss and get things ready.

Ever since you were small, he cherished every photo and phone call sent his way. He looked forward to it, your voice or smiling face being the only thing keeping him going some nights. So to have you in person, he was elated. Frustrated with the lack of communication, yes, but overall it wasn't the worst thing that could've happened.

Seeing your eyes closing on you once more, he frowned. It wouldn't hurt to take a day off work.

"C'mon, let's get you into a pair of pajamas or something so you can sleep properly," looking over to you tiredly rummaging through your suitcase, he remembered his earlier thought. "Let's also get some food in you as well"

As you brushed your teeth while the sun began to rise, Aizawa pulled out a plate to prepare some food. Out of habit he pulled only the one. Reopening the cabinet, he brought out another. Looking at the two dishes, he smiled. It was nice not being alone for once. If you weren't there, he'd have slept with his hero outfit on, popped a jelly packet, and then headed off to work at UA.

Maybe taking care of you would also teach him to learn how to take care of himself.

Seeing you walk in the kitchen in your sleepwear and toothbrush still in your mouth, Aizawa's look softened.

It definitely wouldn't hurt to call off work today.

I hope you enjoyed! This one was a bit shorter than normal, so I apologize for that! I wish you a lovely day! ( ͜♡･ω･) ͜♡

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 month

Text

Deadlock

Summary: A jealous Ettore endeavours to remind her just who is in control | Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: dubcon, ettore, face fucking, breath play, degradation, face slapping, jealous ettore, come swallowing

It was dangerous and they both knew it. Someone was bound to find out sooner or later. But what punishment could be worse than what their lives currently were? For her, the worst that Dibs could do was up her sedatives and forgo the use of lubrication when her bi-weekly examinations were due.

Ettore on the other hand didn't care much for thinking how he could be punished. All he thought in terms of that, was what he could do to her.

He remembers fucking seething, sat on one side of the canteen, not even paying attention to how tightly he gripped the fork in his palm, wound tight with anger and resentment as she watched her and Monte chat lazily while they picked out their food.

To anyone else, it was merely a friendly, non-committal conversation. And if Ettore really thought about it, he'd have realised that displaying any kind of jealousy would expose their situation, whatever it was.

So even though he wanted to put his fist through Monte's face, he remained seated, and occasionally caught her gaze as she ate as well. The stupid bitch furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering why he looked so pissed off.

She'd find out. He'd make sure of it.

Once the lights were dimmed in their superficial nighttime, he could feel his heart simmering with both jealous rage and excitement as he made his way to her cell on the other side of the ship.

His blood ran hot with each shallow stride, his narrowed eyes creeping into every doorway as he passed with the soft pats of the air conditioning against his bare chest. His neck muscles tightened, forming his hands into fists in an attempt to remain grounded and in control of himself.

In the low fluorescent light, he could make out her face and every single miniscule feature. Unlike the stoic, cold expression she wore when she was awake, when she was asleep she looked near peaceful.

Her arms were tucked beneath the pillow beneath her head, the slope of her back visible with the plain white shirt that clung to her form. The blanket, with her constant fidgeting, had slipped down her back, and he dug his fingernails into his palm when he saw the slither of soft, feminine skin at her hip.

With a half-annoyed huff, she turned over in her sleep, laying on her back, the flesh of her neck stretched so deliciously he could have sunk his teeth right into her and torn her apart like an over-ripened peach.

From this distance, he swore he felt the vibration of her fluttering heartbeat beneath her skin. The blood flooding through her veins.

All laid out like this, vulnerable and open, his mind began to whir as if he were in first gear, his thoughts banging loud and intrusive. His darkened eyes traced the contours of her face with his gaze, so achingly real and fragile.

Her eyes flew open when his palm wrenched over her mouth tightly, fingers digging into her jaw painfully and the other hand pinning her arm to the mattress. For a brief moment, that wide-eyed, primal fear and hurriedly breathing as she woke made that raw excitement simmer hotter.

A smirk aroused across his face, dark, animalistic eyes drawing closer, and voice quiet like the whisper of a predator, stalking and mocking their prey.

"Quiet now," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "No screaming."

His voice carried a menacing edge, a promise of darker consequences if she dared to defy him.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a wild cacophony of fear and arousal. She tried to struggle against his hold, but his grip only tightened, holding her in place with a ruthless strength that left her feeling powerless.

Her eyes gleamed with anger as he peeled his hand away from her mouth, her words sharp like a knife’s edge, “what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

His smirk disappeared, a dark seriousness dancing in his eyes as he leaned closer, the intensity of his presence almost suffocating. "Reminding you of who's in control here."

She bristled at his arrogance, her jaw clenched in defiance. "You don't get to decide that," she shot back, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I'm not some toy for you to play with whenever you feel like it."

His jaw clenched, the muscles tensing with barely contained anger. "You were flirting," he accused, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "With him.”

She could have laughed.

“You cannot be fucking serious.”

Her breath crept back in her throat as soon as his hand wrapped around it, swallowing thickly to try and keep her expression neutral and unfearing.

“You and Monte can measure dicks all you like, but what I do is none of your damn business.”

His grip around her windpipe slowly loosened and he went quiet. But she knew better than to assume it meant this was resolved.

With lips pressed together in annoyance, his fingers crept into her hair at her crown and pulled her forcefully from her bed, her knees knocking against the floor with a pained wince as he forced her to kneel in front of him.

The tug at her roots hurt, but all the same, once she saw how he eagerly lowered his sweatpants over his hips, grunting with annoyance the longer it took, arousal pooled in her stomach nonetheless.

“Had enough of your fucking voice.”

He stroked himself firmly in his palm, rousing himself to half hardness, her hair still gripped in his other hand, “Open.”

Despite herself, she raised her chin and did no such thing, her jaw tightened in defiance.

A surprised gasp is all that came out when he struck the left side of her face, pain blooming in a harsh sting. And while her eyes were shut, Ettore held her jaw in a vice-like grip and pulled her back, taking advantage of her parted lips to slide his half hard cock into her mouth.

“Fuck -” he tipped his head back at the warmth of her throat squeezing him, trying to swallow air past the blockage that remained still.

The hold on her hair remained tight, pushing her lips as far on himself as she would go, until he felt the fat head of his cock hit the back of her throat, spluttering softly around him as he hardened.

He used the leverage he had to move her head on him when, with a whine, her hands came to his thigh to push him away, as a means of punishing her.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned lowly, watching with some sick kind of satisfaction as her eyes cracked open to look up at him, with those moist eyes he wouldn't admit he enjoyed so much.

He kept her there for a moment, before easing her off, allowing her to suck in air through her nose for a brief moment. But he didn't allow her a moment's reprieve for long and with the aid of her saliva coating his shaft, he fucked himself between her lips with ease, her whimpers coming quieter.

“Fuck - that's it-” he breathed, his voice softening as warmth crept up his spine, her eyelashes decorated with a constellation of tears as he snapped his hips against her face.

The sound that thumps throughout the room is borderline pornographic, hitting the back of her throat hard with little care if it hurts or not, the way she tries to swallow and gag around him is worth it.

He stills, pushing her head as far on him as she will go, a pleased smirk rising to his face as she glances up at him, with the beginnings of tears pooling in her waterline.

Held there, he counts mechanically in his head, watching the way she squirms for air.

“You look so fucking stupid with my cock in your mouth,” he grins darkly, moving her head side to side on him, the friction making a jolt of white hot pleasure zip through his body. He has to tighten his grip just to keep himself from coming too soon.

She whines, trying to pull herself back, gasping for air around his length.

“Hold it-”

She clenched her fists, eyes screwed shut so that tears now ran over her face. For that, he kept her there for a few more seconds, before loosening his grip, allowing his cock to slip from between her lips as she swallowed air once again down her lungs.

Moving the hair from her moistened face, he guided her back to him with a touch that was uncharacteristic. Ettore's eyes were hooded, feeling himself twitch with excitement as her lips instinctively parted. From this angle, he could see the way her nipples hardened beneath her shirt, and how her thighs were pressed together to relieve the ache that had formed there.

He tapped the now slick head of his cock against her bottom lip, “Go on, finish me off.”

She said nothing and took him, at first, slowly, bobbing on him with a vigour, pressing her tongue flat against the thick vein on the underside. A notion that made his balls tighten and his neck muscles strain.

He always liked her messy, so when he looked back down with awe at the way her saliva made his length glisten everytime she dove back on him, all he wanted to do was take back that control.

But instead he put his arms behind his back and watched, one of her hands came to the base of him, stroking what she couldn't fit comfortably. The other slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, the moan she let out vibrating through him and tugging him closer to the edge.

As he neared it, his hips subconsciously matched the rhythm she made, chasing that delicious friction, her lips tight around him. And when he hand dropped to cup his balls, gently teasing him to come sooner than he wanted, he bought both hands to her face, threading them in her hair and fucked her mouth ceaselessly to completion.

She remained quiet, only letting out a few sounds that could have been between a whimper and a moan as he pushed his pelvis against her face, hard, one last time, and trembled with pleasure as his come slid down her throat.

The sensation of her swallowing around him had his fingers tighten in her hair with overstimulation.

With one sure movement, he pulled himself from her lips, stroking his sensitive length against her wet, open mouth and watching in awe as his pearly spend painted her tongue.

She cracked her eyes open, her waterline moistened and red-rimmed. Her knees ached against the hard floor as Ettore smeared what was left on the tip over her cheek, leaving a trail of his come and her saliva sticky on her face.

Ettore's chest heaved, and she could watch him like this all day if she could, his lips parted as he watched her lips close to swallow. But he stepped back a pace and pulled his sweatpants back over his hips.

Just as quickly, his eyes were all dark again, his voice breathy and quick, “Don't push it,” he warned with icy, cold venom, “you won't like what happens if you do it again.”

With the musky taste of him coating her mouth and the wetness between her thighs, though she didn't express it, she very much doubted it.

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#ettore high life #ettore imagine #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore smut #ettore x you #ettore x fem!reader #ettore high life fanfiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfic #ettore x oc #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #high life movie #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

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ghouljams · 1 month

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Has Love ever held Bug for Birdie for any reason and has Ghost seen her if she did? I just want to watch Professor Ghost have a moment when he sees how sweet Love is with a baby.

Love and Birdie don't have many opportunities to cross paths, HOWEVER, you're so so right about Ghost seeing Love with a baby bestie and I'm going to make it happen.

Ghost follows after Gaz, the two men discussing last night's footie match as they weave through the education department's halls.

"You coming for dinner?" Gaz asks, "Soap's already invited himself."

"Not doin' anything else," Ghost hums, eyes scanning the various posters pinned around the halls. Children's drawings and calls for volunteers, internship opportunities. The education building has always given him a sort of squirmy feeling in his stomach. He can't help but think about his nephew, what grade he'd be going into, whether he'd be doing well. Gaz smacks his chest to pull him from his thoughts.

"Giving you a ride, may as well stay." Gaz grins, and Ghost rolls his eyes.

"Just don't go handing me the baby again," Ghost tells him as they turn the corner to Birdie's office. Ghost stops short, gaze sticking to Love as soon as he sees her. Gaz grabs his shoulder to stop him from turning around.

Love smiles, grins really, lighting up the hallway as Birdie chatters away about something. She's bouncing Gaz's baby in her arms, the infant's head tucks against her shoulder as she rocks and bounces. Birdie spots them and waves, Ghost has to force his feet to carry him forward as Gaz drags him into the thick of it. There's not much that scares Ghost, but babies? Terrifying. His eyes stick to Bug, the tiny thing has their fingers wrapped around Love's necklace, the rest of them lax and sleeping against her shoulder.

Birdie says something and Ghost grunts, his eyes moving from the baby back to the woman holding them. Love glances at him, cooing softly at Bug when they start to fuss. When he'd thought about marriage he hadn't imagined kids. There were certain things, specific dreams, that always seemed off limits to him, parts of the Riley lineage that were cursed. It had felt like a noble sacrifice to have the name die with him.

But there was Love, there was a baby, a future, sleeping under her gentle hand, and there was a warmth in Ghost's chest that he hadn't felt before. "You like kids?" He asks. Gaz and Birdie discussing evening plans beside them hardly seem to hear the question.

"They're alright," Love hums, "I never think I want any until someone puts a baby in my arms, then it's like all bets are off." She laughs, the motion of it hardly jostling the infant. Ghost watches the way her hand smooths over Bug's back, gentling every soft breath the infant takes. "What about you?"

"What about me?" The question catches him off guard. Love raises her brows.

"Do you like kids?" She bites down her teasing smile, her teeth tugging at her lip. Charming, every inch of her seems tailor made to tug at his heart. Ghost reaches to uncurl Bug's tight fist, easing the chain of her necklace out of the baby's grip.

"This one's ok," Ghost supplies, settling the necklace back against Love's chest, "Liked my nephew."

"It's easier when they're your kids," She tilts her head for him, her skin prickling at the touch of his fingers. Ghost wonders if his hands are that cold. He hums.

"It is."

"Do you want kids?" Love asks. Ghost's eyes dart to her face, she isn't looking at him. Ghost looks at the baby, glances at the way Birdie smiles and leans in to kiss Gaz, a picture of familial bliss.

"I didn't used to," Ghost answers after a moment. That feels like the truth. He didn't used to, he didn't think about them, but now all he can think of is Love and babies: how pretty she'd be with one of his on her hip, what they'd look like, if they'd have his hair or if they'd have her eyes. If they were with her... maybe he does want kids.

He should start looking at houses again. They're going to need a yard, and more than just the main/guest bedrooms. He could do it. What's one kid?

Actually one kid might get lonely, things were always better when he had Tommy.

What's two kids?

Unless they're fighting.

Ok, three kids. Three kids, Ghost can handle three kids if they're hers too.

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod simon riley #simon riley x oc #oc: love #professor au #Notice that the man has not said a fucking word to Love about this #He ran into her. saw the baby. decided they were having three kids #Ghost is king of delusional city #actually Konig is but he's not in this one

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0oolookitsme · 2 months

Text

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

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With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all.

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard.

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone.

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal.

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there.

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap.

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping.

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief.

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze.

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #footballer!harry #frat boy!harry #harry styles fic

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pleasingforharry · 9 months

Note

I know it was headcannon but you should definitely explore y/n’s anxiety (panic attacks) more and how Harry learns to help her through them and how it makes him feel to have caused her to have one, idk I just have them too so it really made me feel seen

Of course! Let's do it.

college!harry x quiet!yn

Her hands leaked with sweat, so she rolled them down the fabric of her jeans. Her body was beaming hot, but also shivering from some unbeknownst cold. Her teeth bled into her lips. But after the wince of pain from her strength, she let them go with a puffed breath.

Fuck.

Y/N hated this. She hated when this happened. And as much as she wanted to curl into a ball in her boyfriend's arms, she couldn't. She shouldn't. She wouldn't. Especially because she didn't want him to know. Especially because she was embarrassed when it happened. Especially because she didn't want to be a disturbance. Especially because she didn't want to annoy him, to bother him, to anger him.

Especially because he was the reason she was feeling this way.

"Okay, I'm done with this. I'm leaving," Harry growled, storming for the door of Y/N's dorm. "I can't do this, right now."

"Fine then, fucking leave. Go!" Y/N barked back, but feeling the opposite up in her head. Wait no, don't leave. Stay!

"What do you think I'm doing?" Harry snapped at her over his shoulder. His steps were long, making their argument short.

"Being a stubborn asshole, is what you're doing." Y/N couldn't control the words that trickled out her mouth.

She was a whole different person when she was upset. And she'd pay for the consequences later.

"Me?" Harry scoffed, spinning around to face his girlfriend. "You're the one who's being stubborn."

"Don't fucking put this on me! This whole argument started because of you," Y/N shot back, her finger sharply pointing at him.

Harry wanted to explode. He needed to let his anger out, but not around Y/N. As much as he wanted her to see how upset she was making him, the best way for them to cool off is for them to have their space. To let everything out, but separately.

"Yeah, right. It's always me, huh?" He cocked his head to the side. "I didn't do shit. Don't—“

"Harry, are you for real? You literally—“

"I what? I was voicing my opinion? Yeah, that's exactly what the fuck I was doing!" Harry stopped her. "You're the one who made this bigger than it had to be."

"Me? Oh, classic. Blame me," Y/N laughed, falling back down on her couch. She was steaming out of her ears.

Harry fisted his hands and turned away again. "Yeah, I'm out. Fuck this, we're done."

We're done.

What?

Y/N didn't have time to ask him to elaborate before he was out the door and slamming it behind him. The girl was alone, her eyes widened and her body fell numb. Everything was blurring.

We're done? What does he mean by that?

Y/N shot up from her spot and planned to run after him, but something inside her froze. Her legs suddenly gave out, causing her hands to meet the floor. The beating of her heart sprinted from the sound of the gunshot starting the race.

"Wha—“ she gasped as her breath got caught in her throat. Her arms felt weak and began to shake as they tried to keep her up.

Y/N knew what was happening, and it was not what she needed right now. This wasn't the first time she experienced a panic attack, and it definitely wasn't going to be the last.

We're done.

Y/N fell back on her butt to sit down. That's when her body started to heave and the sweating/shivering began. Her hands quivered as they ran through her hair. She wanted to cover her mouth to silence her heavy breathing, not wanting to disturb anyone in the halls.

"Fuck, Y/N, calm... calm," she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes tightly. She gripped the couch beside her and squeezed the cushion. Her mouth and nose worked together to pace her breathing, but it was no use. She couldn't calm down.

Fuck. She needed the one person she couldn't call for help.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open and searched her room. "Plants," she sighed. "There’s… uh a desk chair. Plants, desk—uh… desk chair. Fuck." Her head was dizzy, and she couldn't focus on identifying another object. It was a method to help her push through her panic attack.

She tried again. "Plants, desk chair, uh... picture." It was a framed picture hanging on the wall of her and Harry at one of his soccer games. The team won and even though it was a simple game, as soon as the referee blew the whistle to finalize the score, Harry ran to his girlfriend on the team's bench.

He hauled her into his arms and hugged her. It was short and sweet because he knew eyes would be on them from Harry being a popular player on campus. And as much as he wanted them to see him love on his girlfriend, her tinted pink cheeks told him to wait until they were alone.

Y/N stared at the picture, trying to focus on remembering the feeling in the moment. But it didn't exactly help as she realized what happened minutes earlier between her and her boyfriend.

The girl fell back against the couch and let her eyes fall closed. Nothing was helping, so she simply accepted the panic. The rushed heart, the irregular temperature surging though her body, her chapped lips letting out stinging breaths.

Everything hurt.

"Baby, look at me. Open your eyes." Y/N thought her mind was trying to imagine her boyfriend with her, hoping it would help her panic attack. "Y/N, baby. Come on, let me see you." She felt feathery touches on her cheek and her thigh.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as her lids flicked up. She somehow gasped through her panicked breathing as she was met with a worried Harry. He was bent by her side, eyes wildly examining her.

He smiled when she looked at him. "Hey, there you go. Okay, can you sit up for me? Can you do that, baby?" Y/N stared blankly, letting out rasping breaths, but followed instructions.

Harry helped her sit up before he swiftly slithered behind her, him now leaning back against the couch. He tucked Y/N's shaking body against him and sighed.

"Alright, I got you. I always got you, babygirl," He found her ear to whisper in. Y/N's hand couldn't decide where to land as she was scared to touch him. And Harry noticed with a sad frown. "It's okay, you're okay." He slowly met his palms with hers before lacing their fingers together. Their intertwined hands wrapped around Y/N's front, holding her tightly.

"I'm—I can't... I'm trying... I can't—“ Y/N heaved out.

"Just breath, Y/N. Match me, okay?" Harry told her before slowing his breathing to a calming pace. Y/N nodding rapidly and attempted to copy him. "Good girl, baby."

Harry felt horrible, listening to his girlfriend struggle like that. But he's glad his Y/N instincts told him to turn back around and find her. He didn't expect to see her in that state, but all he knew was that he was going to get her out.

"Better," he whispered. "You're doing good, I'm so proud of you." Y/N was finally able to sigh, but not her racing heart. "Do you think you can do me a favor?"

"Wh-what?" Y/N hiccuped.

"Think you help me choose what we're gonna eat for lunch? I'm getting hungry? What should we have?"

Y/N bit her lip again as she thought about it. Harry rocked them slowly, giving her time to focus on his task.

"Um... P-pizza?" She said as a question. Harry hummed, at both her answer and slower breathing. "No pepperoni."

"Yeah, we don't like that, huh?" Harry chuckled against her ear, and she shook her head. "But I don't know. Will that fill us up? What else could we have?"

Y/N didn't realize she had relaxed her tense muscles and calmly fell into her boyfriend's chest.

"We.. we-we liked the pasta at uh... that place next to the pet shop," Y/N said.

"Yeah, I forgot what I got. Do you remember?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "You got angel hair Alfredo. But then it was actually spicy, and your tongue was on fire." Y/N laughed softly. Harry smiled so wide and let it press against the back of her head.

"Good girl, that's right. We had to switch our plates and I had yours, right? You loved mine."

Y/N realized how hard she was squeezing Harry's hand, so she let them go. But Harry immediately grabbed them and laced them together.

"I just want to hold you, baby. Is that okay? Is this too much?" He asked her.

"No."

"Good, I love holding you. You make me so happy, Y/N," Harry whispered to her. "But you know what will make me happier?"

Y/N wiggled in her spot. "What?"

"Your smile."

She blinked, growing shy. Harry chuckled and assisted her to turn to her side. He finally saw her face, softly guiding her chin to face him.

Y/N looked at her boyfriend, only him noticing that she was back. Her body was calm and warm, and safe in his arms.

She sniffled quietly. "What did you mean when you said we're done? Like done done?"

Harry's eyes widened, before shutting as he cursed.

"No, baby. Not at all," he kissed her cheek. "Never, you can't get rid of me. Sorry."

Y/N chuckled, rolling her lips inward.

"I meant, we're done arguing. I hate when we do and I left so we could get some space to cool down, you know?" Harry explained while plucking her lip free. Y/N sighed at his words with a nod.

"Oh okay."

"And I'm sorry for putting you through that. It's my fault," his voice turned soft. "I never want my baby to feel that way. You're too special to me." Y/N smiled, it growing wider.

Harry leaned forward to grasp her lips with his. Their kiss was soft and slow, exactly how he wanted her breathing to be. And she was back. And safe.

"I love you, baby. So so, fucking much," Harry said against their lips. He lifted his girlfriend up so she could turn to face him completely and straddle him. "I'm sorry. Next time, we cool off together. Okay?"

Y/N nodded and kissed him. "Okay. And I love you too."

Harry smiled drunk-like. Dimples. "I can't believe I get to hear you say that to me." Y/N laughed quietly, before wrapping her arms around him and hiding in his neck.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x yn #harry styles imagine #harrystyles #college!harry #harry styles blurb #college!harry x quiet!yn #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst

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thegayestmferintown · 6 months

Note

Hello! Heard you are looking for requests so here is one! How about one of the hashiras (or all of them saperated) + kagaya (platonic) x ubuyashiki daughter reader? In which reader is kagaya daughter and they are in love with her but haven't told her yet because her health is getting worse from the curse how would they react to finding her passed out on the floor with blood coming out of her mouth?

𝐀𝐰𝐰𝐰.. :(

𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 :(

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐊𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 (?), 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭-𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜?

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮

Kyojuro's heart would set itself ablaze, and not in a good way.

He'd run to your side, gently lifting you up and gently holding your head in his lap.

"..𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞? 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞?" He'd ask in a panicked manner.

Your only response was more blood pooling from your lips.

He'd gently lift you up, taking off his haori and gently wiping your lips before gently holding it under your chin.

He didn't care if it became stained with blood, he could get another one.

He'd only care about your health, and your ability to move as you used to.

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢

Tengen's usual flashiness disappeared.

Panic would cover him, head to toe.

Once regulating himself, he'd come closer to you, gently lifting you up in order for you to not choke on your blood.

For once, he'd be silent. Not a singular word would come from him.

His free hand would gently run through your hair as he'd watch you get the rest of it out.

You could've sworn he wasn't breathing the entire time.

Because when you stopped coughing things up, you could hear him taking a long, hard breath.

𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐢

Mitsuri's heart broke as she saw you.

She would be at your side before you could even process that she was there.

She'd hold you close, whispering soft things to you as she gently rubbed your back.

She'd stay by your side the entire time.

She'd pat your back every now and again, making sure you were getting it all out.

She'd be silently sobbing, hoping you'd be okay in the end.

Once you stopped, she'd take her haori off, resting it on your shoulders.

𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢

Obanai would freeze up, panicking internally.

He didn't know whether to get Shinobu or do something himself.

Kaburamaru would notice this and gently slither off his shoulders to the ground.

He'd slither over to you, using almost all of his snake-like strength to push you up.

Once this happened, Obanai would snap out of it before running to you.

He was trembling, but held you up, as Kaburamaru gently slithered back to Obanai's shoulders.

Fright would be evident in his eyes even after you were okay.

𝐆𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢 𝐇𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

Gyomei wouldn't be able to.. see you.

So he'd hear your coughing, and the liquid escaping your lips and put two (2) and two (2) together.

Tears would spill from his eyes as he'd make his way toward you, lifting you up.

He'd set his beads to the side, gently holding your hair back as he let you let it all out.

Like some of the others, he'd wrap his haori around you.

He'd feel terrible, causing more tears to spill.

As soon as he heard the blood stop hitting the ground, he'd pull you close, gently rubbing your back.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

His fists would tighten, and his eyes would widen.

His footing would become unsteady as a gasp released from him.

Now, he wasn't particularly... inept in the whole physical health thing, but he could tell something was clearly wrong.

A small growl would come from him as he'd run to you, gently (well, gently for him) pushing your head downward with one hand and holding you up with the other.

He sat in front of you, a victim to the blood that spewed from you,

But that was fine, nothing he hadn't experienced before.

As soon as you calmed down, he'd pull you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮 𝐊𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐨

She'd freeze up.

Despite her intellect in the field of the human body, she wouldn't move.

Seeing you like this, reminded her so much of her sister.

Instead of staying to help you, she could help but.. leave.

She ran, as fast as she could back to the butterfly mansion.

She'd breathe heavily, her mind foggy with tears pooling in her eyes.

Her body would tremble as she'd slide down the wall, stopping when she sat on the floor.

𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

He'd gasp lightly, his usual calm and stoic demeanor disappearing.

For the first time in forever, tears would pool in his eyes and gently slip from them.

He'd slowly make his way to you, lifting you up slightly and letting you cough it up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his soft expression and the tears fall from his eyes.

It hurt him so bad to see you like this,

So bad that all he could think of doing was crying as he held you up.

His love for you was so intense, that it could cause him to do things he hadn't done in years.

𝐌𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨

Muichiro's face wouldn't change.

He wouldn't know what to do.

He loved you, of course, but... how was he to help?

He watched as you choked on your own blood, feeling horrible that he didn't know what to do.

He was only fourteen, would you expect him to know?

He was trained to fight to protect humans from demons, but when it came to protecting the one he loved most?

He didn't know what to do.

308 notes · View notes

mydearlybeloathed · 11 months

Note

Hiii! Can you do neteyam x fem!na’vi reader where they first start dating; it’s kinda awkward cuddling and kissing and it feels unnatural to the reader from not being loved on enough as a child and neteyam confronts reader saying like “do I make you feel uncomfortable?” And readers like “no im sorry I just was never showed this much affection.” And he reassures her abt, it if that makes sense!, Thank you <3

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you weren’t exactly used to the affection neteyam so easily gave you.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: neteyam sully x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: mention of death, harsh parental figure

𝐚/𝐧: this was so fun to write. it kinda came out a bit more angsty than I intended. I hope its what you wanted :)

also i made up a na'vi word: Le'awtulant. its a combo of le'awtu (lonely) and lante (wander).

It hadn't been but a few months since Neteyam completed his rite of passage, going through each trial and coming out victorious. He was a man, the heir of Toruk Makto, and everyone had their eyes on him.

You'd completed your passage just before him, becoming an adult in the eyes of your clan, and quickly grew a reputation for being quite the hunter among the older Na'vi.

Despite what your guardian, Zet'ka, advised, you hadn't put any effort into searching for a mate out of the many young Na'vi in the clan. Thinking about it sent a rush of nerves into your belly. The most recent time Zet'ka brought it up, you'd gone quiet and stilled in the fixing of your bow.

"I'm just saying," she says, watching as your careful movements continued. "You are a beautiful woman, and you have a strong heart. You could have anyone you wanted if you stopped being so elusive."

You rolled your eyes, ears going flat against your head. Your tail flickered in annoyance, your hands not as gentle as before as you restrung your bow. "I have other things to focus on, Zet'ka."

"Like what?" Your ears twitched at the sternness in her voice.

Zet'ka was always firm, ever since you were a child, left with no parents after an accident in the Hallelujah Mountains. They'd happened upon an ikran nest full of eggs, and... it hadn't gone well.

A sharp tug on your braids had you recoiling from the woman. Zet'ka gripped your shoulder and put you back in place. "Still. Your hair is a mess, Y/N."

You sat and waited for her to finish, gripping your bow as every pull of her hands had you wincing. Zet'ka meant well, she always did, but she'd never smiled as far as you know, and raised you to be a warrior worthy to be counted Omatikaya.

It had been some time since you'd connected with the spirit tree, and you wondered if going back might do you some good. Maybe your parents would appear to you this time.

Zet'ka finished your braids by the time night had fallen, and the clan was beginning to tire from a day of work. The woman patted your shoulder before standing. "I raised you to be better than this. I raised you as a warrior, not Le'awtulant."

You flinched at the word, your hands tightening into uncomfortable fists. Lonely wanderer. Someone the clan doesn't know what to make of. A familiar outsider.

Zet'ka sighed. "You know I only want what's best for you, Y/N."

You stood and faced her with a rigid back, eyes and expression steady. "I know, Zet'ka."

She left you there, allowing you to relax under her scrutinizing eyes. Exhausted, you headed to your hammock high up in the trees overlooking the village. You'd made it halfway there when rain began to fall from the sky, causing your body to sag with the weight of the day.

With your ears flat and tail drooped, arms wrapped around yourself, you hurried for the first dry place you could think of: Olo'eyktan Jake.

It had been awkward, asking the chief for shelter from the rain. It was no secret you were one of the loners of the clan. So, he just nodded as he directed you to find his daughters' hut, just along the next branch of the large tree.

You gave him a grateful nod and headed over, rushing through the increasingly heavy rain. You thought you heard thunder in the distance, but it didn't really settle in. Because now you were standing in front of the entrance to the chief's daughters' hut, and you had no idea what to say.

Tuk and Kiri were nice. You often saw them around the village when you weren't out hunting with the others. Kiri hung out with the alien, the one they call Spider, an awful lot. Tuk could often be found making mischief anywhere she went.

But you'd never spoken to them before. Sure, you knew of each other, but only because you and Kiri used to play together as children, before your parents passed and before she clung to Spider like glue.

Pushing your hand against the flap of the hut, you peeked inside to find the sisters stoking the fire at the center of the circle room. Kiri's eyes darted to you the moment the flap came undone from where she'd tied it down. Her ears twitched curiously. "Y/N?"

You waved with an awkward smile. "Hi, Kiri. Uhm, Olo'eyktan told me to come here, since I usually stay in a hammock and... it's raining so..."

Tuk's face erupted into a bright smile. "Come on, come on."

Kiri pointed as you stepped inside. "And secure that flap."

You did as she directed and turned, fiddling with the beads around your neck. "I'm sorry to be intruding, I--"

"Don't worry," Kiri said, grinning just slightly. "We have room--"

All three of you jerked as thunder cracked against the sky. Your heart skipped as your eyes flickered over the ceiling, waiting. The rain only grew in power.

Kiri looked back at you, then at the roof. She waved you over as she sat down on the surplus of woven blankets she and Tuk had laid out. "Come 'ere. It's warmer near the center."

You wasted no time in making your way over, welcoming the warm feel of the flames as you accepted the blanket Tuk offered you. "Thanks."

The thunder returned, louder than before. Tuk flinched into Kiri's side.

Not even a second later, the flap reopened, this time letting in a gust of wind that nearly took out the fire. You and Kiri growled in unison as you whipped around to see two figures stumbling inside, bickering as they did.

"Neteyam!" Lo'ak hissed, trying to reach for the flap as it whipped around in the wind. "Close it! Close it!"

The elder Sully fell inside, literally, yelping as he tripped over his brother's feet. Tuk leaped up and ran to help, gripping onto the flap in seconds and having it tied back down and extra secure in seconds. No wind got inside after that.

The lot of you stayed in silence for a moment, before Kiri huffed and stood to swat at her brothers. "Idiots! Both of you!"

Lo'ak hissed when she slapped his arm, pursing his lips. Neteyam stood, his braids hanging over his face before he tossed them back. Both of them were soaking wet, getting water all over the floor. Neteyam caught your gaze, his heavy breathing calming as you darted your eyes away.

"What are you doing?" Kiri asked, incredulous, hands on her hips.

Neteyam turned away from you, straightening out his shoulders just for him to laugh bashfully under Kiri's stare. He rubbed at the back of his neck and shot Lo'ak a teasing grin. "Lo'ak--"

"We!" Lo'ak shouted pointedly. "We--"

"We," Neteyam continued, grinning. "Were scared."

Kiri rolled her eyes so far they could've disappeared into her skull. "Fine. Just don't fling water on me."

You couldn't help but snort at the exchange, hiding your smile behind your hand. Lo'ak noticed you then, tilting his head in question. "Y/N?"

Before you could even formulate a reply, Neteyam spoke up as he went to kneel by Kiri. "She sleeps out in the trees, Lo'ak. The storm forced her inside."

Your brows rose at that, tail flicking curiously. "Yeah, what he said."

The night dragged on, no one being able to sleep with the storm in full rage outside. Somehow, you'd been rearranged in your seats, so now you and Neteyam found yourselves side by side, some good space between you.

Though, every once in a while, his tail would brush yours, causing you to tense and wrap the excited appendage around yourself.

You didn't know how the conversation drifted to the subject of mates, but you wanted to change it very fast. But, unlike with Zet'ka, you weren't the one the teasing was directed at.

Lo'ak's eyes danced mischievously. "And then this real Cassanova--"

"Lo'ak."

"--he steps on her tail--"

"Lo'ak."

"--and says he's not interested." The younger Sully brother shook his head in amusement. "And Mom wonders why Neteyam hasn't landed a woman yet."

The man in question sits stiffly, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes narrowed at his brother. His tail brushes your side in its angry sweep across the floor. "Shut up."

Kiri rolls her eyes for what was probably the tenth time that night and scooted closer to the flames. "Leave him alone, Lo. He doesn't have to choose a mate if he doesn't want to."

Something about her words made you feel validated, and you found yourself speaking up for the first time. "If you're so concerned, Lo'ak, surely you've got your eye on someone, right? You've almost completed your passage."

Now with the attention thrown on him, Lo'ak didn't look so amused anymore. He grumbled something under his breath. "... No."

You tsked, dragging your gaze to meet Neteyam's next to you. "Ah, yeah. Too bad things with that one girl didn't work out."

Lo'ak's ears fell flat against his head. "You swore."

You ignored him, turning further to face Neteyam as his expression shifted from frustration to hilarity. "So I'm sitting up in my hammock, right?"

"Y/N."

"Just carving into some wood."

"Y/N."

"Hush. And I look down to see Lo'ak with the sweetest girl. Nali, I think." Kiri gasped, catching on, grinning from ear to ear. Lo'ak was burying himself in the blankets, probably hoping for suffocation. "He calls her pretty and gives her a flower, not listening to a word she tries to say, just for her intended to jump out and shove him away."

The laugh that escapes Neteyam is a hearty sound, light and easy on the ears. Tuk and Kiri laughed too, but you really only heard him. The sound made it difficult to look away from him, but you managed, if only to see the mess that was Lo'ak. From somewhere amidst his blanket tomb, he raised his middle finger.

Lifting your own three-fingered hand, you push down your first two digits and hold up the third. You stare at the gesture as Lo'ak emerges to find you squinting at your hands. "I don't understand your four-fingered gesture."

Your response only sent the other four into a fit of laughter that had you confused, but giggling along with them all the same. By morning, you were sad to see the storm fading, having had too much fun just talking with the Sully kids.

It'd been too long since you'd let yourself relax like that, you realized.

You thought that things would go back to normal, and you would stick to yourself like you always had, only talking to the others in your hunting party and Zet'ka on occasion, but you were very wrong.

Months went by where a day hadn't ended till at least one of the Sully kids had found you, wherever you were hiding that day. Sometimes it was Tuk who needed someone to force her siblings to let her tag along with them. Or Neteyam wanted to hunt with her. Other days Lo'ak invited her to explore with Kiri and Spider. Neteyam would ask to fly on the ikran together. Kiri would beg you to join in her healing lessons, hoping your presence would force away the boredom. Neteyam just wanted to talk sometimes. A lot of the time he just wanted to talk, or fly, or hunt, or just about anything of the like.

It made you blush to think about it.

The name Neteyam became as easy as breathing. You actively searched him out in a crowd, finding his eyes already having found you. You hadn't ever laughed as much as he made you laugh, smiled as much as he made you smile.

Soon enough, you couldn't deny the growing tension festering between you and the elder Sully brother. You couldn't deny it, not in your heart, but you could avoid it just fine.

That's what you were doing now as you stormed through the dense forest, paying no mind to the man trailing in your wake. Your heart beat more wildly in your chest each time he said your name.

"Y/N," he called, trying to reach for your hand. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

"Nothing!" You exasperated, finally turning and throwing your hands up. "You've done nothing."

He didn't look convinced. "Then why," he demanded, "are you actively running away from me." Your tail swished defensively at that. "All I asked was if you wanted to stay with Kiri again. Rain clouds are rolling in."

In the quiet that followed, all you could do with cross your arms and look somewhere behind him, almost haughty when you said, "You make a good point, and I'm choosing to ignore it."

Neteyam cracked a grin, taking a step closer to you. You stood and watched, your ears darting forward at the sound of a twig underfoot. "Are you upset with me?"

Though he smiled, the question in his eyes was desperate. He was desperate to fix anything he had done. It sent you into a tizzy of slight guilt and the urge to assure him he was nothing but perfect in your eyes. Your cheeks warmed at the sudden thought.

"No," you said with a sigh, your arms dropping to your sides. "I appreciate your concern, Neteyam. I think I'll see if Zet'ka will let me in. I don't want to burden your sisters--"

"You're kidding, right?" He was almost laughing at you now. "They love you. Kiri was the one who wanted me to ask, actually."

Your tail wriggled excitedly. "She did?"

He nodded, tilting his head as his braids fell over his shoulder with the movement. Then, his expression wasn't so humorous, thoughts racing behind his eyes. "Is it so hard to believe?"

You turned away from him, starting to continue your walk, pushing a large leaf out of your way. "Maybe."

In seconds he was walking at your side, his eyes on your profile. "Well, believe it. All three of them speak only highly of you."

"And you?" The words were out before you could stop them. Wincing, you made another turn, hopping over a fallen log.

His brief silence made your embarrassment worsen, but it was quickly--very quickly--replaced with a panicked jump of your heart. "A day has not ended till Lo'ak tells me to shut up about you."

Your hand froze in its path of pushing down a loose tree branch. Shaking your head, you surged on through the forest. Neteyam noticed the tension in your whole body; how your tail was alert and your back too properly straight.

Thoughts scrambled around your head up until you stopped at the bank of a river gently cutting across the forest floor. When you sensed Neteyam at your shoulder, you turned your face away from him, saying softly, "I have no one to speak to, but if I did, I'd speak only of you."

Hesitantly, Neteyam's hand found your wrist, gently sliding down to intertwine your fingers. You sucked in a sharp breath, not daring to look at him. The feel of his hand on yours, the way his soft exhale fanned your neck, it was almost too much.

Closing your eyes, you evened out your breathing. "You make me crazy."

"Funny," he whispered. "I think I was crazy till I got to know you."

You grinned despite yourself, recalling that little boy who used to tug on your tail just to make you angry. "You were."

"Look at me." You faltered at the words, not so much a command, but a delicately toned question. "Please."

Without so much as a pause, you'd turned, hand adjusting in his, and met his eyes that burned right into you. How long had it been since you'd befriended him? Three months? Four? It felt like a lifetime. You'd always known him, in your mind, known him as well as you knew yourself.

You knew his favorite hunting spot, the way he liked to string his bow, how he braided his hair. You think you'd memorized each stripe on his body with the way you so often gazed at his toned muscles.

It was terrifying, but Neteyam had fought his way into your heart, no matter how much you tried to force him out.

"You don't have to be so guarded... I See you, Y/N."

His hand moved to cup your face, drawing you out of your thoughts. You flinched away, surprised, suddenly stepping out of his reach. Your arms wrapped around you, shivering though the air wasn't cold. You refused to look at him again.

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping further away from you. "I didn't... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's..." You sighed, frustrated with words and how they so often escape you. With a hand to your temple, you glance up at him, praying that Eywa will give you the right things to say. "You know what they call me."

Neteyam nodded. "I do." He ducked his head to catch your eyes when you returned them to the ground. "I don't care what they say."

"Neither do I," you snap. A sigh leaves you. "But they're right. I'm... not used to this."

He looks confused as you gesture at the space between you. "Used to what?"

"This! You." Your gaze interlocks with his. Your veins tingled, the forest around you seeming to still as Eywa answered with a supply of just the right words. "How kind you are to me. How much I care for you. How easily you just say things and mean them. I'm jealous."

Your heart was quick and your eyes were like a fire bearing your innermost thoughts in its tendrils. "And I'm scared. You will grow tired of me. A Le'awtulant is not a Tsahik."

In an instant his brows were drawn and his lips curved down into a scowl. "Don't call yourself that."

Ears flat against his head, he steps closer, leaving just enough room between the two of you. "You are Y/N. Not what they say you are. Not what Zet'ka says you are."

Never had you felt so see-through as his fangs bared at the sound of your guardian's name. Was her coldness so obvious, or was it the way you cowered from her, how you clung to her every word?

Either way, you felt a burn in your throat as Neteyam stepped closer still, yet not enough. "You are you, not a cruel label." His hand extended, palm up, his eyes losing the ferocity just enough for you to feel his sincerity.

"You are Y/N, and I See you." He watched you stare at his hand, silently begging you to believe what he was saying "You won't ever have to wander again, if you'll have me."

Swift, your hand slipped into his, and your body collided with his. You left his hand and wrapped your arms around his middle before you could lose your nerve. Cringing, you waited.

His touch was featherlight as he embraced you tightly. Your face relaxed as your temple rested on his shoulder and his own leaned against your head. A shiver ran up your spine as his tail wound around your leg, yours in turn brushing along his thigh instinctively.

So softly you feared he might actually hear you, you spoke, "I See you, Neteyam."

He pulled back, his movements slow, and touched his forehead to yours. A barely there smile rose to his face, and soon a matching one appeared on yours. Rain started to trickle down through the trees, sending the two of you into soft laughter.

You hadn't mated that evening. Neither of you were too eager to grow up too much too fast. For now, things were gradual, and just slightly more obvious to all those around.

If someone wanted to find Y/N, they were directed to find Neteyam. If someone was in search of Neteyam, they should find Y/N. You knew the whispers, and so did he. The future Olo'eyktan with a Le'awtulant? The both of you happily ignored everything anyone had to say about the matter.

Jake was shocked. He recalled how his jaw fell slack as he watched the pair of you from across the hunting party's bonfire. His son left a swift kiss on your cheek, and you shied away with a gentle smile, reaching to take his hand as your tails twinned together.

He was happy, just shocked. He always took you for the celibate type, so to speak.

Neytiri wasn't so surprised. She had a keen eye and even sharper ears. The mother saw how his son gazed at you with an air of fondness and longing. She noticed how your eyes always lingered on him a little longer than needed.

She knew it was only a matter of time before tensions and stares came to fruition.

As for Zet'ka, she never addressed it outright. But you could see from her approving glances and subtle nods that she was happy for you, or as happy as such a woman could be.

Time moved on, and each slight touch from your lover didn't elicit an awkward flick of your ears as often. After some time, it was you who reached up to kiss his face, littering featherlight touches to his jaw and brow and eyes--and then his lips.

You would tug on the end of his tail as you walked past him. You only giggled when he whipped around, fangs bared in a hiss, only for his whole face to soften at the sound of your laugh.

Mo'at promptly swept you under her metaphorical wing, saying her grandson's mate would have to know a thing or two about healing. If you were to be Tsahik one day, she told you, you'd have to know the job.

You felt honored each time she said something like that.

Slowly, as each day drew on, you found yourself being brought into the Sully family whether you liked it or not (you liked it more than you would admit).

Every night--the one's that weren't marked by a rainshower--you and Neteyam climbed up through the branches of the trees, up to the hammock you used to call home, but now called just a place, where you slept in the arms of your beloved.

The people who called you the name you didn't care to remind yourself of fell few and far between, till no one could remember the Le'awtulant of Omaticaya, and only knew Y/N, most likely to be Neteyam's Tsahik.

827 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 8 months

Text

A Whiskey Lullaby (A Cruel Life)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Heavily Inspired by:

You were tired. You always were now that you knew you were dying. The doctor said at least a year but they were too enthused; lying to you, because it was only two months since then and you knew very well that the day you die is here.

And now — You wanted to talk to your wife, to get to maybe share one more dance beneath the stars but she wasn't available. She hadn't been for awhile, before you stopped running from your fate. The drinking started a month before, the lying and constant evasion came next. Natasha was mad at you, and you were dying. Dying to know why, dying to hear her say I love you one last time, but, she was dying to strangle you, to take you before the cancer.

——

Dying to know why, and as she laid on the couch with a puddle of beer staining the carpet you told her, "There's never a right time to say goodbye my dear, and I hope you'll forgive me in due time for leaving you this way." Forgive you for what? She'll never know because she was too drunk to hear you verbalize what she already knew was in your heart (and lungs).

Cancer took you and the world mourned first.

Natasha woke up to the deafening silence. Not even the birds were singing. The dead leaves not falling, and you weren't answering her pleas. Natasha crumbled to her knees beside the bed. Her guilt laced grief rattling through the cracks in the walls she'd recklessly built.

The bright leaves fell then. As did your limp hand from hers when she felt the chilled skin.

The redhead stumbled from your room and sent Yelena a text, "Izvini." (Sorry). Then she returned with a poisoned bottle of whiskey.

Natasha failed to love you like she solemnly promised (vowed). She let grief consume her. The waste of time drinking started the moment that she knew you were leaving her behind. It wasn't the actuality—the cruel world taking you—nope, it was you, breaking a sacred promise.

To stay with her til the end, hers; not yours.

How could you take her lifeline away? Then actually expect her to breathe right some day?

Natasha wouldn't give you that satisfaction.

You neglected yourself for the sake of her for years. Not complaining of pain when she was met with financial problems after Tony died and his estate froze the Avengers funds until they could unveil his final will and testament.

During the blip she was running out of money every time she thought she stood a chance at bringing you back; you, who was already sick.

A daughter lost her father, a wife her husband. Millions were brought back from extinction, surely it counted for something, but what did all of the sacrifice mean if she lost you too?

Her mind plays a loop of every time you'd coughed while you were on the run with her. Never near a hospital long enough to tell her that something was wrong, because you would never risk losing her to Ross as you got cured.

She would have turned herself in to Tony for him to swear to it you were covered. The man loved you enough to put differences aside, and Ross wasn't stupid enough to let you die.

Natasha would have survived because she would have gotten you back eventually. She was well known for her ability to make herself disappear and return when the time is right.

Timing was always tough for you two. Like when you missed the first date because you saw someone in need and tended to them instead.

You felt peace for a glorious few seconds.

Then once you realized you blew the redhead off you ran around the city on a mission. It started with you getting wine, then a pizza and ended with you pleading with the owner of the flower shop to unlock the door, and then once more pleading with a fist at Nat's front door.

You knocked, and knocked until she opened. You handed her the smushed up tulips in a rash wave of anxiety and she spluttered the petals from her lips and stared at you blankly. Green eyes holding a grudge against her perfect match, a foolish wager to take a chance on.

Natasha's anger nearly blew it, but you beat her with your rushed words: "I'm sorry for missing our date Natasha. I love pasta, and you too."

Natasha's eyes widened and you shrugged with a playful smile. "Surprise if you didn't already know! It was unrequited love in the start babe," you reminded her and she pouted. You flashed her an even dreamier smile, "But it worked out in the end," and teased her with a smug wink.

"It did, didn't it?" Natasha smiled and planned to kiss you breathless, to seal the deal of your hearts greatest desires. Then you ruined it.

Well, at least partially... Halting her game.

"I don't actually apologize though, because I couldn't leave that little boy crying beneath the dimmed streetlights of a ruthless city. He clung to me before I even saw him, so I put on my hero cap and helped him to find his mother."

Natasha's dagger eyes twisted into hearts.

"After four blocks of searching I heard her calling for Dylan, the little stinker lifted his head and cried. His mother was on me in an instant and only refrained from punching me when she saw I was an Avenger. If it were me I still would've swung. But she didn't. Only took a photo then thanked me in a rush to fame."

Natasha watched you in amusement as your face revealed your thoughts first, you scoffed humorously at that, it was just peculiar to you because: "If you share that story, all you are saying is 'I'm the mom who lost sight of my toddler in the streets of a devious New York.'"

You went to catch your breath, but the redhead needed you to stop blabbing, so she pulled you into a kiss that took your next to last breath.

Then she had to go and silence you to never have to face the ramifications of the true last breath. It left your lips while she slept in torment, her dreams were always cruel now.

As she took the last sip she sighed, because at this time she'd be escaping the wake up call.

Natasha shed a relieved tear, her dulled eyes closed and the empty bottle in her hand slipped onto the ground and shattered. The birds cried and the trees stood barren. The sun that just rose eventually set. Your lifeless bodies connected like lovers unlike they'd been prior.

That doomed night, the angels and birds sang in a practiced symphony; a whiskey lullaby.

The world lost two more heroes in the aftermath. Everyone mourned, Yelena buried you both beneath the willows, and cried as she yelled at you two for being so selfish. Laura clung to the blonde because now she was down a husband and sisters, by blood and marriage.

Yelena gave into the reality that this was all the family she had left. Losing the same sisters left them bonded now, in a morbidly unfair way.

It was frivolous really, to grieve the loss instead of celebrate the conquered life. They cry out; but to a void, neither of you could hear the mourning; eternally booked and busy.

Too busy rejoicing in your afterlives together.

Natasha got a second chance at loving you.

She'd found you in a field, out of breath from all the racing to get to you, but also because you were glowing brighter than ever before. Wearing a vivacious smile and looking pretty.

Much like when she found you earth-side she crumbed to her knees, sobbing. But this time her tears were a mix of bitter joy. You quickly shushed her though, and pulled her to her feet and right into a deep, meaningful kiss. It was free of sin, but the deviants would get off to it in a porno because they'd feel the authenticity.

The love was palpable and renewed. She cried into your mouth but you continued smiling.

"I'm sorry," Natasha whispered into the warm skin of your neck. Not like blood pumping beneath skin, but more so a sensational bliss. "I ruined our happy ever after moya lyubov'."

"Don't be sorry Natasha," you refuted her while spinning her around by your grip on her hips. Forcing her to see the dreams you shared in front of her. Day flashed to night and you spun her around beneath the light of the moon.

When you finally stopped spinning her she fell into your arms in a graceless way she detested. Her brows furrowed once again but you kissed her lips and devilishly distracted her mind. Pulling away you gasped, then smiled so soft that she finally deemed this moment reality.

You were her angel always, but you were finally free of the cruel restraints of a limited world. Natasha jumped and you caught her, she wrapped her arms around your neck, her legs mirroring them around your waist. You pecked her lips then said: "We lived that life full of regrets, always forgiving, but unable to forget. Let's save the now for absolution, we're free."

"In paradise baby," Natasha cheered and the sun set. Then it rose without conditions, and you lived out your dreams with your lover.

Eternity was kind to you, oh the places your love could've gone if only life had been too.

——

Heartbreaking Angst | Not Even a Happy Life so Why Would the End be Any Different? | Exactly | Just Kidding Babe | The end is for making amends 💕

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #gxg

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elliespuns · 6 months

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Quiet the Winter Harbor

Summary: After Ellie experienced horrors beyond her comprehension and was forced to do what was necessary, it completely broke her. Not knowing whether he was still alive or not, she slowly started to lose all hope of seeing Joel ever again. Terrified, helpless, and lost—that's how he found her when he appeared and took some of her pain away.

Pairing: Ellie & Joel, father-daughter

Wordcount: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: canonverse, angst, comfort, fluff, found family, platonic relationship, father-daughter, soft Joel, baby girl Ellie, Joel POV, Ellie POV

Note: This one-shot of a 'story' is based on the actual TLOU game events; on a scene where Ellie kills David and Joel comes to take her away. Ellie & Joel mean so much to me. Writing them into fluffy scenarios will always make me happy. Hope this silly little 'scene' can make you happy too.

Rushing away from the burning building that's slowly tumbling down as the flames lick the air, Joel's arm is wrapped around the little girl's petite back as he's leading her away from the danger. She's trembling. She would never thought that she'd ever go through something like this. Ellie has killed people before, but this? This was different. He was trying to—was he? He definitely was. She keeps replaying the last few moments before her eyes, sobbing softly. She had to do it. She had no choice. She didn't want any of this to happen. Yet it still did, and it absolutely broke her.

The young girl who needs him right now is falling apart right next to him, and he has no idea what to do or what to say. The man Joel wishes to torture to death was trying to hurt her in ways no girl should ever experience. She's so young, innocent and fragile. There are no right words to empathise with something like this.

Instead of opening his mouth to say something that would only make her feel worse, he just gives her shoulder a gentle, loving squeeze with his hand and pulls her closer to him as the tears keep running down her freckles and leaving salty taste on her lips.

She's quiet. He is too. He feels miserable. If only if got there sooner. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness that suffocates him knowing he can't turn back the time to do something, and her little, quiet sniffs are not making this any easier on him. All Joel wants to do is to bring that motherfucker back to life, only to torture him and make him suffer in an agonizing way. Make him experience evil—evils that he had the nerve to put Ellie through.

And even after all this, he still can't believe what a brave and courageous kid she is. Hell of a fighter. He had never seen so much strength in a person before, let alone in a little girl.

When he arrived at the scene and he witnessed what she has done to the man, he knew that he would've done exactly the same thing. Except she's a kid. She shouldn't know what this feels like. Having her clinging to him tighly as she cried, embracing her, he finally realized that she must have gone out of her way to save his life. In that moment, he regretted everything he said to her back at the farm house and from this moment on, he decided to make his life's mission to dedicate his all this kid.

He should do something. Say something. He owes her so much. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have been here right now. Feeling helpless, with nothing but love inside his heart for her right now, he can't take this deafening silence any longer. He stops and crouches down in front of her, putting them at eye-lever with one another. The freezing, snowy path sends an icy cold feeling through his entire body as soon as his knee hits the ground and his hands reach for hers, having her lift her red, puffy eyes on him. "Listen, Ellie. I er… I have no idea what to say because, honestly, there is nothing I can say or do to take away what you've just gone through." He says softly, his voice deep but full of endearment and understanding as he caresses the knuckles on her fists with his thumbs, warming her extremely cold hands.

"Joel, I don't wanna—" She sobs, her words stuck in her throat, her teeth chattering from the cold.

"You don't have to say anything. Just know that I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything. For every damn mean thing I said to you. I didn't mean any of it." He says, regretting the harsh words that left his mouth at the farmhouse before everything went down so fast and he has come to realize that he hurt her. "You deserve so much more." He assures her, his huge palms covering her fists.

"Joel, can we just—"

"No, listen. Listen, Ellie…" He stops her by cupping her wet, icy cheeks that are somehow burning up, wiping her tears away with his calloused thumbs as her sad, pained eyes peer into his and her lower lip quivers. "You are the bravest fucking kid, do you understand?" He says, his voice trembling as if he's on the verge of crying himself. "And you saved my life. No one else would care enough to take so many risks to do that for someone like me." He adds and smiles, his cold hands sticking to her cheeks as he's refusing to let go. "And you still did. You matter, okay? You matter to me. I should've never left your side and—"

It's when his words are cut short as the frail girl in front of him throws herself his way and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his jacket and weepeing softly. "I was so scared, Joel. I was so fucking scared that I lost you." She mumbles into his neck, searching for comfort in the smell of his shirt and coat.

It was as if his heart stopped beating for a second the moment she clung to him. His arms are suddenly taking on a life of their own when they instinctively wrap around her and pull her closer before one of his hands comes up to caress the back of her head as she keeps sobbing, leaving wet traces of her tears in the crook of his neck.

They never embraced each other like this before. Freezing on the cold ground, Joel's knee that's buried deep in the snow to keep his balance steady for her starts getting numb. But he doesn't mind. He doesn't care. It's the warmth of her heart that's softly beating through her chest right against his as they keep hugging tightly, quietly, and affectionately. If it weren't for the howling of the wind, he could have sworn he heard it too.

This girl means everything to him. How did this happen? He has no idea. But he curses himself for all the time he made her life a living hell by constantly rejecting her charming, beamy, and at times, ridiculously goofy personality. She might be the best thing that has ever happened to him after Sarah, and all he has ever done till now was be an asshole. Now he's going to do better with her.

Carefully breaking the embrace, he cups her cheek again. "You don't ever need to feel like you have to talk to me about what happened there, okay? Just remember… if there's ever going to be a day when you feel like laying all this burden out on me, don't hesitate." He pays her a smile. A smile so warm and full of love it made her heart flutter.

She's devastated after all that happened, but this? This smile on his face? Smile that he never gave her before? Smile that says, 'You'll never be alone ever again.' She can't help but nod and crack a tiny smile too, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. "Okay." She sniffs, her voice trembling as she's doing her best not to cry anymore. She doesn't know how, but Joel is making her feel better. He wouldn't take away the horrors she's still replying in her mind over and over again, but it means a lot. She's never thought that one day this stranger of a man would be someone that she deeply cares about. Someone whose love would mean the world to her.

"Okay, kiddo. I don't want to spoil the emotional moment we have here, but… you're going to need to help your old man." He chuckles, trying to loosen up the tension by using humor—the one thing he knows always wins with Ellie. "I think my knee got stuck to the ground, and I also can't feel it anymore."

Ellie smiles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand before she reaches for his. "You're such a dumbass." She shakes her head and lets a few little giggles out, helping him on his feet.

Slapping the snow and filth off his jeans, he reaches behind him to grab something that appears to look like Ellie's backpack. "Here. I believe you have a few valuable things in this thing." He hands it to her, watching her eyes beam at the sight of her pack that she thought she'd never see again.

"You might be old and helpless sometimes, but you're not totally worthless." She jokes, grinning at him before she flings the pack over her shoulder.

"There she is." Joel chuckles and is head over heels for his baby girl's smile, which he thought he had lost too.

The end.

Author's note: This is not an actual attempt at a fic or a story that has a continuation. This is just a silly little one-shot I wrote for myself, and the nice people here helped me overcome my fear of oversharing my privacy, so I finally posted some of it. If anyone else already wrote fics based on this scene, just know that I got inspired by the scene itself, not by any of the stories related to it. Anyway, I hope it's not that terrible, and keep in mind that English is not my mother language. Typos are possible.

#my fic #ellie williams #ellie tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #ellie and joel #joellie #fluff #fanfiction #father & daughter #tlou #the last of us #tlou fic #the last of us fic #joel and ellie #ellie and joel fic #elliespuns writes

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websterss · 3 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝟑/𝟒 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: With the rising questions of whether ghost lock is a permanent form. Your doctor decides to run test on you, much to Lockwood’s like, to analyze your sudden loss of memory and to determine how much you actually do recall.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): mentions of amnesia, death, angst, some fluff if you squint

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6,773

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! I don't know how to feel about this, you guys let me know alright lmfao this doesn't feel like my best work...

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Lockwood!” Lucy marches after him. The poor man before was pitiful. He walked away from the big court area. Never one to allow anyone to see him break. He kept running a hand through his hair, down his face, he was a mess.

A man who has a lot of experience in hiding his emotions suddenly finds he's had enough. Lockwood was furious. He was on the verge of tears, but he wasn't about to cry. He was shaking with anger and frustration. He walked down the long hallways to the elevator.

“Is this some bloody joke?” He breathes out a laugh not finding anything at the moment hilarious.

It was the worst thing that could have happened. The agency was already struggling. Now this. It had to be some sort of prank. He was still on the verge of tears, the thought of his best friend not recognizing him, not even remembering they were friends. It broke him inside out. He punched the elevator button with the bottom of his fist, over and over again. It didn't make the doors open any faster. His knuckles ached from the impact. “She can’t remember…S-She can’t remember anything.” Anthony grabbed at his tie, loosening it more so than usual.

"Lockwood..." Lucy put her hands out trying not to scare him in her approach. Her heart broke for you but more so Lockwood, the impact this weighed on his heavy heart.

He pulled at his tie again, eyes glued to the closed elevator doors that wouldn’t open while telling himself. “She’ll remember, she’ll remember. I know she will. It’ll take some time. People who suffer from amnesia don’t always get their memories back, but there is still a chance.” He spoke to himself but knew Lucy was behind him. He wouldn’t speak to her though. He was too upset, too hurt to give her any sort of response.

“Lockwood.” She tried again.

He turns to face her. His expression is stony, with red-rimmed eyes and tense lips. He was trying hard not to lose control but when he saw her eyes tear up, he couldn’t be angry. All his aggression melted away the second her arms shot out to pull him into a tight embrace and then he sobbed like a broken child.

He let the tears fall. He didn’t care anymore. “S-She can’t remember anything.” He whispered to himself, in a cracked voice, as the elevator doors finally opened. The timing was impeccable. “She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know any of us.”

Lucy couldn't bear to see him like this. She'd never seen him this emotional. She gently held him in her arms. Her fingers softly traced the outline of his face. She pressed her forehead against his, eyes shut. She wished he would allow her to comfort him. If she could only speak some words of healing. But that's not how trauma worked. She couldn't heal his heart, however much she wished she could. All she could do was hold him and let him cry. She squeezed him tightly.

"I've lost her-" He began but Lucy shook her head.

“You haven’t.” She urged. “She’s still here, still with us. She’s just lost at the moment. But we’re gonna help her find her way back to us. But she’s not gone, we didn’t lose her physically.” She squeezed his hand. She wanted to reassure him. She wanted to calm his mind from the panic and pain.

"I'm not gonna be able to survive this Luce, have to relive the memories she doesn't remember I-"

"Then we make new memories with her. Instead of focusing on the memories that are lost, how about we focus on the ones that are being made? She has a second chance now."

“It’s the old ones I’d prefer that are not all lost…” He looked away from her.

"I-I bet she’ll remember them, and if she doesn't..." She struggled for the right words. She wanted to say what he wanted to hear, but that wouldn't be right, it wouldn’t be entirely true. "Then we can tell her. You can talk about them. They’ll be new to her, but we-" She paused having run out of words of comfort. “We’ve all lost her Lockwood, but we’ll get her back together.” She nodded, placing a reassuring hand against her upper arm.

He knew she was right. He couldn’t forget how distraught all of them were when DEPREC came along and whipped you into the back of an ambulance in a hurry. They all had you to lose, but they now had you to gain. He’d make sure of it.

“I think we should make our way back…” Lucy suggested, but it made Lockwood confused. “I think you might have scared her, you did storm off after all.”

“Oh god…” He closed his eyes. “She’s gonna think I-”

“Have unresolved anger issues?” She poked and teased with a timid smile.

“Hilarious.” He huffed and pushed past her to make his way back to the refectory.

You continue to nibble on the sandwich Lucy brought to you. Silence had fallen over you and George. The shouting dispersed down the hall, but you had yet to feel slightly relaxed. George picked up on your hesitation, seeing you avert your eyes after meeting his own for a split second. He only had a very brief moment to fully grasp the fact he was actually sitting across from you. You were awake and fully functioning much to his surprise. He went through various stages and emotions of grief and disbelief.

When he found you and Lucy together at a table, he had gawked at you, mouth wide open, finger slowly pointing at you in disbelief. He kept trying to form coherent sentences, but all that came out of his mouth was stuttered gibberish nonsense. Lucy gave him one lousy second to accept your return before she began pushing him forward. Ushering him off to retrieve Lockwood and bring him here. Now that he was finally sitting across from you without interruptions. He attempted to make conversation, or at best, just a way to familiarize yourself with him. Reacquaint and introduce himself. Amnesia…he couldn’t begin to fathom what you must be going through.

“I’m George, in case you were wondering.” Your head snapped up to meet his smile.

“Oh yes hi!” You awkwardly let a laugh out. “I heard Lock–Anthony say your name.”

“You remembered. We’ll remember the things you’re told…sorry.” You hadn’t taken offense to his wince though. Instead, you asked.

“I suppose there’s a last name to go with George?” You muster a timid laugh. Your best attempt to lighten the mood. You weren’t fond of the tension in the air. It made you feel out of place.

“Karim.” He tells you. “George Karim.”

“It’s a beautiful name.” You tilt your head. A lopsided grin plastered on your face. George’s eyes narrow slightly, he had a hard time grasping that you were gone, but you're right here in front of him.

“You’ve said that before…” George’s shoulders fall. It wasn’t meant to change the mood of the conversation, more of a nostalgia for memories. He offers a gentle smile, one that brings you warmth. Warmth and trust you can find within a friend.

“I suppose I was one for handing out compliments then?” You breathe out a laugh.

“Not just compliments. It wouldn’t be fun without your jokes. Though you’re particularly known for your insults as well.” George smirked seeing your eyes widen.

“Insults? Oh, that doesn’t sound like me. All in good fun I hope?” Your eyes widened in hope.

“All in good fun.” He promises with a nod.

You accept the reassurance. Taking another bite of the sandwich. Chewing on the piece of bread. The awkward wave once again filled the air. You glanced over your shoulder. Hoping to see his face reappear once more. He was rather easy on the eyes, a vision.

George, having picked up on your uneasiness, offered his reassurance. “They’ll be back. It hasn’t been easy for Lockwood. Much less Lucy. Though he’s been taking it far worse than us…as you can imagine already.” He implied towards the burst of anger Anthony unleashed. You look up at him. Your eyes held hope in them. The glisten in them made George want to reach out and hold you. You were holding onto his word. Hating the feeling of being seen so small and vulnerable with how you curled yourself into your tray of lunch. Adding to your sense of unfamiliarity with your new, but rather old friends. You truly felt lost with no direction.

Lucy had chuckled and followed behind Lockwood. Walking back towards where you and George sat. Once back in the refectory, she met eyes with George first and then with yours as your head turned swiftly. Anthony stopped alongside her, shortly allowing the situation to sink in fully, you were awake, you were okay, he hadn’t entirely lost you and you were staring right back at him. Those beautiful eyes he saw turn white were back to their original color. He offered a smile in hopes of easing your worry, it had as the corners of your lips reciprocated his own. God, you were a breath of fresh air. He knew one thing though, that they had to get some answers.

When you reached the third floor, you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Nurses' eyes stared at you like you were a historical exhibit. A new gallery to gawk and stare at. You were the talk of the hospital. You shrink under their whispers and stares. Lockwood sees you trying to make yourself invisible and failing to do so. It brings you comfort when he calls them out on it.

“Don’t you have patients to attend to? Nothing to see here!” He guides you into the room he didn’t find you in.

As you entered a man with white hair, a tall frame, and black-rimmed glasses stood at the end of your bed. A chart in his hands. A sheet lifted into the air as he read something off the bottom one underneath it. Lockwood cleared his throat, which gathered his attention. When he snapped his head to the door where you all stood in front of. He double-takes. Not expecting to find you standing amongst them…even more so awake.

“Bloody hell…They weren’t kidding.” You wrapped your arms around you as he made a cross on his chest. “Hello, Y/n. I’m Dr. Trainor. You have become quite famous today missy.” He tries to lighten the mood with a laugh, but it only makes you more aware of the attention you’re gaining.

“Famous?” You raise a brow in question. Dr. Trainor chuckled at your confusion, thinking you were messing with him.

“Why yes, it’s not every day one comes out of a ghost-locked state.” Everyone winces, except you, when he says this. Lockwood steps forward pushing you behind him. He didn’t want Dr. Trainor to further confuse you. You already questioned him about what sort of research you did. It was enough to clarify that you did not have any memory of being an agent. Let alone about the epidemic that broke out a few years ago. Hell, you hardly knew who the hell you were, and that scared him. You were more vulnerable now than you had ever been, all because you sacrificed yourself for him. How would he ever repay you for that?

“Dr. Trainor, there's something you need to know.” Lockwood steps forward.

“Yes?” He averts his attention to him now, but you manage to ask the question lingering on your mind.

“What’s ghost locked?”

Everyone turns to you. Dr. Trainor finds the question humorous, but as he turns to look at the others. He finds that no one else is laughing along with him. Anthony meets his eyes, immediately shaking his head with a stoic expression. Dr. Trainor's face falls flat. Then snaps his head to you. Your genuine curiosity and innocent nature were by no means a prank. You were serious.

“Oh…” Dread paints his face. He sighs heavily. “Oh, you poor child.”

“We believe she has amnesia. How much she’s forgotten, we don’t know.”

“Amnesia…” Dr. Trainor breathes out.

“Can you help her?” Lockwood asks with a plea.

“Mr. Lockwood amnesia isn’t something you can just fix.” He laughs lightly. “How much has she forgotten?” He looks to the others, then to you. He guides you to the side of your bed. “Dear, is there anything that you can remember?” You look to your friends, who’ve managed to give you some of yourself back. “I’m Y/n Y/L/N. My favorite color is green?” You look at Lucy, she urges you to continue with a smile. “I’m a…swifter?” You raise your brow with uncertainty.

“Good god.” Anthony curses under his breath. He closes his eyes and runs a hand down his face. He’s so close to ripping strands of hair from his skull.

“She means swiftie. She’s a big fan of the singer.” Lucy steps in to clarify the doctor's vivid confusion. “She’s forgotten everything I’m afraid. Her identity. Being an agent. She’s unfamiliar with everything that has to do with being an agent. No recollection of the epidemic that broke out either.” Lucy inquires. “I found her and she didn’t know who she was, didn’t know who I was.” She gives you a sad smile.

“I see…So everything you’ve recalled to me is information you’ve been told. Okay.” He unravels his stethoscope from his neck. “Any headaches, pain anywhere?” He turns to ask you. You shake your head no.

“I feel fine.” You admit.

“That’s a good sign.”

“It is?” Lockwood questions. The doctor rolls his eyes.

“Yes. It means we don’t have to worry about anything internally happening.”

“Try mentally…” Lockwood mutters under his breath. Yet, Lucy and George give him a deadpan stare, whereas the doctor chooses to ignore his tasteless comment.

“So what does this mean for others that remain in ghost lock? Would you say that ghost lock is no longer terminal?” Lucy held such high hopes. This would mean a great deal for her. It would be a great deal to Norrie, who wouldn’t stay in ghost lock forever. She’d no longer have to be in that psychiatric ward they held her in for surveillance and observation. Dr. Trainor gestured to the knot on your neck, your eyes widened as you reached up to untie it.

“It’s hard to tell so soon, this does happen to be a very unique and uncommon occurrence. We’d have to look into this situation more to be able to determine if ghost lock no longer is terminal, but at the moment this is out of our hands as we have no information to help us fully understand what we’re dealing with.” He moves the stethoscope across your back stopping in various spots. “Deep breath in, exhale out.” You do this about 3 more times. The metal felt cold against your skin. “Breath in.” You inhale deeply. “Breath out for me now.” You exhale. Then continue to breathe as normal. Lucy comes around to help adjust the ties around the back of your neck securely again. Lockwood leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the bed. He tucks in his lips, eyes furrowed deep in thought. The doctor wraps the stethoscope around his neck. Now fetching a light to examine your eyes.

“What of her memories?” Anthony spares you a glance. Watching the doctor have you follow his finger. “Will she get them back?” He looks up to Dr. Trainor.

“Can you follow my finger?” You shift your gaze left then right, then up and down. He leans forward to take a closer look into your eyes, slowly reaching forward to pull at your top eyelid. You feel uneasy when his face contorts into that of curiosity and interest, “Huh?”

This makes Anthony straighten up. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing quite alarming, but have your eyes always had a white ring around them?” Dr. Trainor knows the answer since he’s checked them for the past weeks now, so this was new to come across.

“White ring?” You question. “I wouldn’t know…” You turn to look at your friends for answers. Anthony walks over to you.

“No.” Anthony confirms his question. He steps closer, silently asking if he can peer into them. Your nod of confirmation has him gently bringing his hands up to your face. His thumbs slowly push up your eyelids as the doctor provides the light. When he sees the white rings sitting around your eye shade his heart plummets slightly. “They were never there before. Should we worry?” He turns his attention to the doctor.

“It doesn’t appear to be affecting her sight, or mobility, so until they do become a cause for concern I’m writing it off as nothing to be worried about, but to keep in mind if it starts causing problems.”

“Is she allowed to be released tonight?” Lucy buts in.

Dr. Trainor gives you a once-over, contemplating. “I’d recommend she’d stay another night for observation…but her vitals have been fine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wake up with your mobility and strength my dear. No headaches or pain?” He asks you once more.

“No.” You reassure.

“Then I’ll allow you all to take her home, but if you sense any form of change in her health, you bring her to me. Understood?”

“We will.” George says.

“Alright then if there’s no further question, then dear you are free to go. I’ll go ahead and get your discharge paper.” You nod and thank him for everything, then watch him make his way to the door, but Anthony grabs ahold of his upper arm, pulling him to the side.

“And her memories?” Anthony emphasizes his need to know. Dr. Trainor sighs.

“I’d recommend to give it time. Don’t try to rush her to remember things. This is amnesia, not an exam. She doesn’t need to remember everything all at once.” He directs his raised brow at him with a warning not to push you. Lockwood only nods solemnly. The doctor turns his gaze to you and Lucy, laughing about something he wasn’t sure of. George gives them a tight lip smile as he brushes past them into the hall. Lucy helping you find your clothes. Dr. Trainor slowly moves the both of them out of the room and closes the door behind them. He walks them to the far end of the hall away from any possible listeners “I wouldn’t worry too much about her memories…”

“No?” Anthony scoffs.

“This is a very vulnerable situation you are dealing with Mr. Lockwood.” He looks down the hallway. “I’d keep a close eye on her if I were you. News is going to spread quickly about her awakening, and it won’t be pretty. Cherish the moments of peace while you still can. Though that isn’t much of a concern to me.”

“Oh no?”

“Her eyes. I’ve seen it once, in the papers. A child, much younger than she is. Tragic ending.”

“You said it wasn’t a cause for concern!” Anthony whispers and yells.

“I know. I’d still like you to keep an eye on her, if you feel the slightest change in her health…in her demeanor, don’t wait. That child’s parents were reluctant to accept acceptance and it ended with a funeral. Don’t wait.”

“Demeanor?” Anthony straightens up. “What– Why are you telling me this?”

“You never quite know who to trust…and if I were you, I'd also concern myself with how you’re going to explain to her how she can hear and see ghosts.” Lockwood felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He falters for a quick second because he’s right. He does have to concern himself with that, yet as far as he knows you’ll be on house calls for as long as he deems it necessary. He has to concern himself about telling you a lot of things, but for now, he settles with a tight-lipped smile.

“Good day to you, Dr. Trainor.” He pats the man and turns around.

“Expect a check-in house call, Lockwood.”

“We’ll call you!” He finished with a wave of his hand as he walked down the hall, where you wait for him now.

“Ready?” He sighs.

“I think so. Is this all that was on my person?” You look down at your outfit and shoes. Your neck and fingers are decorated with simplistic jewelry, each one you wanted to ask about and what it meant to you, or if any were given to you. Anthony takes notice of the necklace that hasn’t been tucked into your shirt yet. The small A and ring that was your mothers sitting comfortably on top of your black shirt. You then lift the rapier with gauged eyes. “W-What is this?” You eye the weapon with uncertainty. Anthony pulls out of his daze and reacts quickly.

Anthony reaches forward and takes it from your hands. “Don’t know who gave you that!” A light panicked laugh reaches your ears.

“What is it though, is it mine?” Your innocence was killing him. “Are we in a sport? A-A team?” Your eyes brighten with curiosity.

Anthony curls in his eyes, deadpanning to Lucy and George. “Please tell me the cab is here?”

“Fencing! We fence!” You exclaim.

“Oh thank god!” Anthony visibly moans at the sight of a black cab sitting patiently at the entrance.

The whole ride home Anthony couldn’t contain the smile he tried to fight back. His fingers were over his mouth to hide it from the others, but even Lucy found it quite amusing as George practically pointed out various places. It was like your own practical tour, and you represented that of a kid whose mother granted them the pleasure of going to the candy store. You were quite the sight. Though he anticipated your reaction when the cab had stopped in front of their home, your home, the one you had no recollection of. He tracked your quiet exhales as he made the first exist. He stood at the door allowing everyone to leave, then held his hand out for you. You hesitated to take it, yet when your fingertips slid over his palm, well he just about lost his composure.

Your eyes had yet to remove themselves from the door. Anthony’s smile lingered, watching your every move.

“Welcome home.”

“This is home?” You breathe a laugh of disbelief.

“It’s not much but-”

“No…It’s perfect.” Your smile grows as you look over at him. Your attention turns away once more, and you find the plaque. “A.J Lockwood & Co. Investigators…after dark ring the bell and wait below from the line.” You immediately look down at the line that was placed before the stairs. “Why the line?”

“Uh I– S-Safety precaution, we never know who might come around. Better to be safe. Why don’t we head inside? I can give you the grand tour.” He offers, wanting to trail away from your curiosity. In time, he reminds himself. He visibly relaxes knowing you’d be safer inside, knowing the curfew was about to be set in stone soon. Nightfall was emerging.

Your eyes wander after he offers to take your coat. The space bringing you a sense of warmth. The house looked lived in, what a home should represent. You walked further down the entryway, your footing colliding with boots. Anthony swivled around hearing you laugh.

Your laugh, such a contagious melodious sound. Oh, how he missed it. His heart soars. It’s always been something his heart reacts to. He’d thought the worst of the visit, thinking he’d see you in your coma-like state, he never assumed that the day would lead to you being here with them again. In your shared home, awake, laughing at various items that needed to be put away. Your laugh was so innocent, making it all the more precious to him. He didn’t want to look away, but he did anyway. “Let’s start in here.” He gestured to the living area.

"Out of all the rooms in this house, you start with the least interesting one." George's voice rings out as he and Lucy enter the living area too. "I think she'd find the bas-"

Anthony met his gaze, immediately shaking his head no at him. "That's enough, George." He cuts in firmly, but not angrily. He didn't want to scare you. His gaze lingers on George before turning back to you. "Plenty of rooms to go by, but I think one at a time will suffice for now. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you." He mustered a smile.

“I think one at a time is fine, but I would like to at least know where I’ll be able to sleep.” You laughed halfheartedly.

“Are you tired? I’m sorry I wasn’t considering ho-” You reached forward to stop his rambling.

“I’m not tired, promise. Just curious.”

He was relieved that you weren’t tired, at least not as much as you could be. Your presence alone seemed to have brightened everything in front of them. Things felt as though they’d turn bright side up quickly. He couldn’t have been happier than in this moment. “Well, we shouldn’t waste any more time, the tour awaits. Lucy will be able to show you your room later as you share it with her.” You looked over to Lucy and nodded.

“We share a room?”

“It was originally yours alone, but I came after and we made it work. I promise you I don’t snore.”

“Oh okay.” You laughed.

Anthony chuckled at the thought, finding your amusement contagious, but he knew it wouldn’t take much more than a glance to make him join you in your lightheartedness. He took a breath, steadying himself. There was no need. Your smiles were so infectious it was like there was never anything to feel stressed about in the first place.

“Let’s continue. Now if we go back through this door straight ahead we will find my personal favorite…the kitchen.” Anthony winked at you. “Are you hungry because George just so happens to be a great co-” You all stopped and turned toward the front door as the doorbell went off. Everyone stiffened and held their breaths.

“Who’d show up now…curfew just started.” Lucy questions.

“No one good…” Lockwood keeps you all behind him as he makes his way over.

“There’s a curfew?” Your brows furrowed.

“Well talk about it later Y/n…” He muttered softly to you before he opened the door. “Inspector Barnes?"

“She here?” He looked past his shoulder and stilled when he met your confused gaze.

“We haven’t broken any guidelines…” He tried to keep him from entering, but he saw you. The one thing he didn’t want happening.

“I'm aware, good on you…that’s not why I’m here.” Barnes entered slowly walking over to you with his hands raised. Though Anthony walked over to you and stood before you, in Barnes's path. “Hello again Miss Y/L/N it’s good to see back to your old self again.” Your mouth widened as you turned to look at Anthony, Lucy, and George for answers.

“Y/n, go upstairs,” Anthony orders blocking you from the man who arrived.

“Upstairs? Oh did I do some-”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just need you to go upstairs for a second please.” Anthony kept staring at Barnes. He shifted his gaze over his shoulder to where you hadn’t moved. “P-Please.” With uneasiness, you finally nod and make your way up the steps slowly, casting a glance back at them. Your gaze not leaving the stranger who entered your home.

“What roo-”

“When you make it to the first landing keep climbing the staircase up, there will be a door, that’s your and Lucy’s room.” He instructed softly.

“O-Okay.” You nodded and kept making your way up the steps.

A few beats passed before he closed his eyes at the shut of the door upstairs. His anger takes over his body once more.

“She doesn’t recognize me…” Barnes's surprise drawing out. He points to the stairs.

“I see your vision works.” Anthony gives him a tightlipped smile.

“Amnesia?”

“What are you doing here? If you wanted to visit a phone call would’ve done nicely.”

“Lockwood-” George could feel the tension begin to disrupt the nostalgia and peace they were swimming in earlier.

“I’m here to ask Y/n a few questions.”

“She’s not taking any visitors at the moment, maybe ever, sorry. Doors over there.” Lockwood gestures behind him.

“DEPRAC would like to get an understanding of her situation–”

“She has barely been home for a few minutes!”

“I understand but if we could get a few words with her or anything out of the three of you then we-”

You had made it to the room Anthony said was yours. You slide down against the closed door, legs sprawled out in front of you, as you try to calm your breathing. The arguing voices downstairs do nothing to provide you comfort. You stare off into the space of the room blankly. Your eyes unfocus and refocus on different objects and trinkets that lay around.

“You can't just come into our home unannounced and-“ You hear Anthony exclaim angrily.

You close your eyes, letting your head thud against the wood. Why was yelling constantly involved when you were the center of a conversation? Were you problematic that it made your friends feud? You craved peace and clarity when in reality chaos and confusion embraced you. You glance down around and spot a small device on a nightstand. You're reminded of Lucy informing you of your love for Taylor Swift and can’t help but wonder if the mp3 player is yours. You get up and go over, slowly retrieving and bringing it to life.

As you scroll and insert the earbuds into your ears. The artist playing in your ears doesn’t satisfy your innermost thoughts. Your pain. The song you’re listening to, the one said to be your favorite, is very upbeat. Hardly the type of vibe you’re looking for. You read off each artist and song title. Every song is unfamiliar to you. Music you don’t recall liking or loving. The trio had done a wonderful job emphasizing that you couldn’t live without the mp3 player you hold in your hands on the way home. The device doesn’t create a sense of security. None of the songs feel melodious or relatable. You're a stranger to your music taste.

Your brows furrow, a frown evident in your saddened features. Your breath shudders as another loud yell echoes faintly through the door. You flinch, hoping that if you close your eyes they will stop, at least for your sake. You can’t take the shouting for much longer though. You glance down and press on a song that catches your eye. Settling on one, instead of nothing was better. You don’t think too much of it, but you're thankful that a soft sad instrumental beat starts to fill your ears. The silence of the bedroom no longer. You let the device slide out of your hand and onto the floor. You don’t hear the clatter, you don’t hear the yelling. You rest your head back against the door again, letting the music drown out every sound, every burst of anger being heard downstairs. You let the music consume you, taking advantage of the comfort it provides because, at this moment, it’s the only real thing that can help you make sense of the world again.

Anthony sets out to check up on you after making Barnes leave and call him back when they think it’s best for you. His heart clenched with each step he took upstairs. He gripped onto the railing, his knuckles turning white, making his way up to your and Lucy’s shared bedroom. He thought of every worst-case scenario as to why you wouldn’t have come back down. Where dread hovered, worry loomed over tons of times worse. It's all he’s been feeling really.

Worry and concern over your well-being. The swelling in his heart was further amplified by having you back at the apartment…one you held no recollection of. Another reason to add to the list of things that would surely keep him awake all night. He only hoped as much as Lucy and George had that you’d gain your memories back. That you would remember the best times and the worst times of your lives together. The laughs you’ve all shared and the way you’ve all let your walls down around each other have allowed to see glimpses of each other's vulnerable sides.

When the raps on the door weren’t acknowledged he stepped in and climbed up to the landing of the room. The room had some life brought back into it as his eyes roamed. Your fairy lights were plugged in once again, as well as your mushroom night light. The shadows of it cast circles onto the ceiling. He teased you about it once, and you went on a rant about how having them light off your ceiling was cute, aesthetically pleasing as you put it. He couldn’t judge your preferences though, not when they brought you comfort. You had looked around a little, he could tell, since things were shifted or moved by you.

His smile vanished as his eyes fell on your form. In hopes that he’d find you okay was wishful thinking. Not when your face was dipped between your arms placed over the top of your knees. You weren’t even aware that he had entered. From the loud echo of music coming from your earbuds, he didn’t doubt that you were blaring the music as loud as it could go. How your eardrums didn’t burst, he hadn’t known. He approached you slowly. Kneeling down and lightly running his hand over your kneecap. He was cautious about not wanting to startle you, but the flinch you gave, and gasp you emitted had him falling on his ass. His heart only broke further seeing the redness from your eyes. Blood vessels form around your irises. Your eyes were puffy. You tried your best to act like you were fine, wiping under your nose as you sniffled, but once your eyes met his. Another tear fell past your waterline.

He was so accustomed to wiping your tears that it became a habit. His arm moved on its own accord before he fully registered that he had slid closer to touch you. He reached up to rid your cheek of the tear stain gently. You showed no signs of discomfort, inviting the lingering caress of his thumb. He smiled faintly feeling- seeing you subconsciously lean into his palm. He rubbed against your skin for a few minutes then let his hand fall back down to his side. He scooted over to one side of you, crisscrossing his legs. He let out a sigh as his back felt the hard cold metal frame. His eyes landed on small objects or loose pieces of clothing thrown around the room.

A coping mechanism he picked up during your absent days from the apartment. Still hospitalized and ghost-locked. It made him want to tear up as he was reminded of the days he longed to see you conscious and sitting beside him. Just as you were now. He inched his pinky to brush against yours. You made no act to shift away, unknowingly to that as you wrapped yours around his, you’d done so many times. Anthony breathed out a shaky laugh as you tightened your pinky around his own. His eyes lifted to yours, finding you already waiting for him to look up at you. He let a tear fall past his cheek as a chorus of deja vu flooded his mind. He was all too familiar with where he sat, in this exact spot.

Funny enough, Anthony found himself in this very spot for weeks. Sat up against the foot of your bed frame. Trying to find comfort in the disarray of your belongings. Hoping to hear your laugh within the vacant chair at your desk, or even a soft cry as his fingers glided over one of your favorite books coated with tear stains. He wanted- hoped to find you here in the mess. Each time he’d turn his head to the right of him, he hoped to find you there next to him, smiling at him, but it always ended the same way. Having his eyes burn holes into the wall he was met with instead of you each night.

Yet even now, as your eyes locked and the corner of your lips curled upward. He believed this all to be a dream. Too scared to look away because he felt once he did, he’d turn back to find you gone. That you’d evaporate into thin air as he’d try to grasp at you. But you were right here, in his reach, in his grasp. Right beside him…you were home again.

“I see you settled yourself in. Find anything you like on it?” He gestured to the device to your right. You take out your right earbud and let it dangle. You lift the device and swirl the circle around to lower the volume.

“No.” You meet his gaze as you chew your bottom lip. Your eyes cast onto his shoes to distract your nerves from building up. “I think it's only left me with more questions about myself, rather than answers.”

Anthony’s heart tears down right in the middle as you remove the other earbud and slowly hand over the mp3 player. He’s left confused not knowing what to make of this.

“As silly as it may sound…It doesn’t feel right to take it, feels as though I’ve stolen it from her- or rather, me?” You shake your head. “My former self?” You look away from his lap. Picking and pulling at loose threads from a sweater you hardly recognize as your own. “The music that she- that I listened to…Nothing feels familiar.” You breathe out shakingly.

“You say it like…like you’re dead.” His chest falls and rises slowly, but it's threatening to increase in pace. “But you’re not, Y/n. You’re still here.”

“What if I am though? The old me you all miss. What if she’s gone for good and you can’t get her back? What if I can’t remember? What if we can’t-“ Anthony reached forward to hold your shoulders as you began to hyperventilate.

“I wouldn’t think so negative just yet. You’ve only just gotten discharged, we’ve barely brought you home… ” He breathes a smile. “The doctor said this could take, and that this isn’t something that should be rushed. Though as much as I do miss our inner jokes.” He beams with a solemn gaze. “I’m willing to wait. However long it takes, even if it means months till- till you come back to us. It’ll be worth the wait.” He unravels your joined pinkies and interlaces his hand with yours instead. You glance down, and a spread of warmth and hope entices you. Yet there’s still that lingering dread and fear casting a shadow.

“And what if…What if I can’t remember anything?” Your eyes tear up. Your mouth is slightly agape as you breathe through your mouth. “What if all the memories we’ve all made don’t come back?”

“Then we’ll recreate them again. Memories as wonderful and as painful as the ones we’ve shared. I’ll make sure you get your life back the way it was before, as we were before, even if that means starting from the beginning.”

“You’d do that for me?” You laugh lightly as tears fall down your cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away. You didn’t even know half of what he was willing to do for you.

“You don’t even know that majority of it.” He gave you a steady nod. You squeezed your eyes, floored with joy and a mixture of sadness combined. You are overwhelmed. You opened your eyes back up expecting to meet Anthony’s charming grin. Yet the loud gasp you released had startled him. You were met with a void of darkness in his place instead.

“Y/n?” Anthony shifts to sit up.

“Did it work?” His heart plummets as the intensity of the white rings in your eyes grows. Almost like they were turning white again.

“Did what work?” His voice darkens.

“It did…She let her guard down, I’ve taken over.”

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood oneshot #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x reader #writings by juls #my gif

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milfswriter · 1 year

Text

Secret

Vampire!Rhea Ripley x reader

summary: You find out you've been living with a vampire for years.

Notes and warnings: blood, animal feeding, Roommates to lovers. no smut this time sorry guys lol, idk what else

*hands*

You closed the door to your house, throwing your painful heels across the living room. You really thought your date tonight would work out, but you knew nothing would beat ice cream and movie night with your roommate which you turned down for that stupid guy.

You heard growling in the kitchen, assuming it was Barry but furrowed your eyebrows when he came wagging his tail in front of you, the weird sounds still going on.

Walking into the kitchen, you found your roommate, Rhea, with her back to you as she leaned over the counter.

“What are you doing, dumbass?” You laughed, slapping her back before looking over to what she was doing. There laid a...rabbit. A pretty big one, all bloody as she bit its neck.

You gasped, moving away from her as quick as you could. Rhea froze, turning around to face you. She was breathing heavily like you'd never seen her before. Her eyes were red as she stared at you with fangs almost piercing her bottom lip. This wasn't your Rhea.

You took a few steps backward, gulping at the sight of Rhea's blood-covered chin. Her eyes widened at your presence, you were not supposed to be home this early.

"R..Rhea?" you whispered, your heart beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest. Her fangs were more than enough to explain the situation.

It all made sense. The late-night sneaking out, the black and white pictures of her that seemed to be more than a century old that she excused of being her 'ancestor', your inability to hear her heartbeat when you lay on her chest on movie nights, her being a total night owl, the way she'd hear you in the garage while she was in her bedroom, and the way she'd get fidgety every time you nicked your finger and would look away.

The rabbit on the kitchen counter was absolutely mutilated, you tried not to keep staring but it scared you how much she'd been keeping from you these past years.

She took it out of your sight, wiping her chin with the hem of her shirt as her eyes returned to their usual blue color. "I..I can explain" she mumbled, looking down in shame as your breathing quickened.

You said nothing as you ran past her to your room, locking it multiple times. You were living with a goddamn vampire, what if something happened? what if she killed you in your sleep?.

"FUCK!" you heard her yell from the kitchen. Plates and cups were thrown in frustration. She's got the nerve to act like this when you were the one that just experienced a slap in the face.

twenty minutes or so passed before you heard her heavy steps coming your way. You closed your eyes, wishing she would take the hint and leave.

"Y/n?"

"Y/n. Please" she sounded desperate, knocking on your door with a lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry. I know..I know you think I've put you in danger, and..that I lied. But please, talk to me..through the door, you don't have to get out. I just need to make sure you don't hate me. D..Do you hate me?"

You walked to the door, scanning it to make sure it was properly locked. Though at this point you knew she could just rip it out of its place if she wanted to.

You didn't know what to feel. She was your best friend, you told each other everything, but you could never hate Rhea. ever

"Rhea.." you sobbed, your forehead against the hardwood. "What the fuck are you doing? all those years!"

She gave a guilty hum in return and you knew she was doing the nervous fidgeting with her hands. "What if something went wrong!" you placed your ear to the door, waiting for any response.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you if you were the only bleeding thing in the entire world. Never!" she smacked the door with her fist, startling you. "Sorry.."

-------

It took so much pleading from her before you opened the door hesitantly, only half of your frame visible to her. She tried not to close the distance and pull you into her but she knew she had to contain herself.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "Please say something"

"If you were going to kill me eventually, do it now" you challenged, crossing your arms.

Your roommate's lips parted, shaking her head in confusion. "Are you deaf? I told you I wouldn't hurt you, I wouldn't hurt anyone for that matter. That's why it was a rabbit not a fucking corpse on that counter"

"And you're saying I should take your word for that? cause I did for the past 4 years! and you lied to me" you walked back into your room and she followed suit.

"I couldn't just tell you 'hey y/n! just so you know, I'm a blood-sucking vampire!' could I?!" she argued, keeping a safe distance between you so as to not trigger you any further.

You kept silent, your back to her which was not a good idea at all after finding out her secret. But if there's one thing you knew, it was that you trusted her with your life, you were just in shock you supposed.

You felt her hands on your shoulder, making their way all over to your waist, pulling your back into her front.

"And..also because I didn't want to lose you" she whispered, her forehead now resting on your shoulder as if she was trying to get as much of you as she could before you tell her to pack her shit and leave.

You didn't know why you let her hold you like this, or even get near you at all. You had mixed feelings at this point, but you weren't going to turn her away.

"How was your date?" she tried to break the ice, her hands wandering over your waist like the clingy roommate she is.

You shook your head, turning to face her with a frown. "Awful, as usual. How'd you hide these fangs from me?"

She chuckled nervously, "they only grow when I'm feeding. Sorry you had to see that, thought you were staying out late"

"I will be needing a very detailed explanation of the whole 'vampire' thing" She nodded as she backed away from you so you can face her, hands in her pockets.

"I'm glad the cat's out of the bag, though. It was such a burden keeping it away from you. Come to think of it, you never answered my question" She looked uncomfortable as her hand held yours, no sign of blood on her. Maybe that's how you were clueless all this time, she never left any trace behind.

You hummed in question, confusion clear in your features. "You don't hate me. Do you?"

You scoffed with a smile, but her frown was still there, so you closed the distance between the both of you with your arms wrapped around her neck, tilting your head to lock your lips with hers. Something you never thought you'd have the guts to do.

Her initial reaction was the usual freezing before she held you impossibly close as your tongues fought for dominance, hers won of course.

"Please tell me you brushed your teeth" you groaned, resting your forehead on hers.

"I did, I swear. I needed to look presentable for when you kick me out of here"

You laughed, shaking your head before continuing your previous action. "I don't hate you, Rhe..I can never hate you"

Taglist:

@obsessedwithwwewomen @ara-a-bird @jungwoospeach @neganwifey25-blog @yourmisosoup @cameronsdruthers @dementedtrashcat

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #rhea ripley wwe #demi bennett x reader #demi bennett

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runnning-outof-time · 11 months

Text

Twice As Much

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking

Summary: (Y/N) shares her thoughts on Tommy's decision to go into business with the Russians.

A/N: Congrats on 2k, Lora @dearshelby !! I chose the lyric from Fine Line since that’s one of my favorite HS songs. I also think I was channeling your angsty self as I wrote this…it’s no where near as good as your angst, but it was a shot. Oh, and I’m not sure if the moodboard really fits the story at all, but I just wanted to make something pretty for you also. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

The door was slammed shut in Tommy's face when he was two steps away from it. Instead of opening it right away, he paused on the steps, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huff as he clenched his hands into fists, hoping that doing so would release some tension. He opened the door when he felt he was ready. "(Y/N), please..."

"I can't believe you would do that, Tommy!" (Y/N) was ready to dive right back into it, cutting off his low-toned response the second he began it; having no intention of hearing what he had to say. "You've just decided on a whim that you're going to fuck around with the Russians, and you felt that my charity gala was where you were going to set that into motion?!" The hurt was clear on her face, and she was standing in the middle of the foyer, still wearing the dress that, earlier that evening Tommy wasn't sure she'd make it out of the house in.

Taking another deep breath, he tried to keep his head leveled. "If you would just listen..."

"No," she cut him off again with a sharp answer, "I'm finished listening. I put on happy face and fucking listened as you pled your case to me about it at the gala. I couldn't share my thoughts there, but here I can, so I'm damn well going to share them."

"Share them then," his statement was brief, and he waved his hand as a non-verbal gesture for her to continue on with talking, his eyes dropping to fix on the hardwood. He didn't need this right now. He had so much work he had to do; so many people who were riding on him and watching closely to see if he would trip up or make a mistake. He didn't need his own wife's disapproval on top of it.

"I think that you must've had a stroke of insanity when you decided that you were going to begin working with the Russians. I think these people are outright lying to you when they say that they are on your side and that they will give you your share when it's all over. You've done what you said you were going to; you've gone legitimate...so why are you now going to fight a war that isn't yours to fight?" she chose what she said carefully, speaking with such passion that Tommy felt every word as it struck his heart. "I think..." her voice broke, and she exhaled the rest of her breath as a sigh as she grappled for the right words to end off her statement, "I think that there'll be no turning back once you've made your decision to work with these people, and that you will lose people because of that decision."

Her last sentence hit Tommy the hardest. She'd been with him through all of his battles and had become a voice of reason in his life. He was able to see how much these decisions had affected her; how emotionally distraught she was because of them. But yet there was the voice still talking in the back of his mind...the voice that told him to push forward with the business and that doing so would open up even more avenues for him. And that's what he wanted overall: to amass an empire so vast that all others would pale in comparison. He had no limitations.

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N)..." he trailed off with a huff, shaking his head in frustration, "I don't need this from you now too," he muttered as he started to walk to the hall that held his office.

(Y/N) didn't let him go that easy. "What do you mean 'I don't need this from you now too'?!" she called after him, her anger still apparent.

"Eh?!" he snapped, spinning around to face her again.

"What the fuck are you on about with not needing it from me?! You told me to share my thoughts so I fucking shared them!" she told him, holding her ground even though she could see the anger starting to bubble up in his eyes. She watched as he clenched his fists together, looking as though he was trying to stabilize himself. That didn't stop her though...she wanted answers. "What did you mean?!"

"I meant that out of all the fucking people that I have to please; out of all the fucking hoops that I have to jump through for this, I didn't think you'd be one of them," he gave her what she was asking for, explaining his response to her without taking his eyes away from hers.

"Oh so I'm not allowed to have a say in what gets done within the company? Or in what types of partnerships you manage to get yourself into?" she asked him, disbelief present in her voice. She felt like she'd been diminished...like she hadn't had a large part in making the Shelby Company Ltd. into what it was today.

"You're my wife, (Y/N)...you're supposed to stand by my side through these decisions," he tried to make her understand why he'd gotten aggravated by her pushback.

"I am your fucking wife, Tommy! Which means that what I'm saying should mean twice as much as what others say to you!" she shot back, spinning his words back onto him.

Tommy couldn't help but snort at her comeback, cracking a begrudging grin as he shook his head. She was quick-witted...one of the reasons why he was attracted to her the moment he met her, but right now it was working against him. "You know I just thought that you'd understand. That you'd be able to see the bigger fucking picture of it all, and that it would excite you for the future of the company and the fucking family!" he began with his voice level but it soared by the end of his statement, his anger making it rise again.

"Excite me?!" she scoffed at his statement, shock flooding her features, "what part of joining a fight on the same side as a bloodthirsty family of people who do nothing but lie did you think would excite me, Tommy?" She sent him an incredulous look, to which he replied with silence. She continued after a few moments' pause, "we're doing just fine on our bloody own; working the tracks and staying on top of exports. We don't need any part of working with these people, we really don't."

"You don't see it the way I see it then," he quipped, his eyes boring into hers as he spoke.

"I guess I don't," she was quick to respond, throwing her hands up in an exasperated manner, at her wits end with how he was acting at the moment.

"I need a fuckin' drink," Tommy mumbled, turning from her again as he tugged his bowtie loose, hoping that it was alleviate some of the tension he was feeling.

"You can't just walk away from this!" (Y/N) called, her hasty footsteps following him into his office.

"I'm not the one walking away, (Y/N). I'm not the one who's doubting everything...when has something I've planned gone south, eh?!" he went right back to it with her, a tight grip on his glass of whiskey that he didn't even get a chance to drink from.

"You don't want me to answer that," she remarked sarcastically, snorting as several instances that could prove him wrong entered her mind.

Tommy sighed and took a sip from the glass in his hand. The alcohol burned as it went down his throat, but it didn't do nearly enough to quell the pounding in his head. "All I'm looking for here is a little bit of loyalty; for my wife to understand the reasons behind this deal and why it'll help our company," he spoke with a level voice after a few, tense moments had passed.

"You've got my devotion...you've always got my devotion, Tommy, that's never in question...but man, I can hate you sometimes," (Y/N) spoke with a sigh before she pressed her thumb and index fingers into her eyes, hoping it would alleviate the pressure she was feeling in her head. She looked up at him then, feeling the weight of the silence in the room as it came down around her. She continued speaking when he stayed quiet, "you need to think long and hard about the business you're going to be conducting here, Tommy. It will hurt this family if it goes bad...twice as much as any other business deal that you've carried out in the past," her words were spoken with the utmost seriousness, her eyes not straying from his as she delivered her message.

With that, she turned and walked out of his office, leaving him standing, staring at the open doorway that she'd exited through. He held his gaze there for a few moments before letting out a sigh and tipping his head back. The rest of the whiskey slid down his throat in one go, and he poured himself another glass before making his way over to where his desk was situated. His eyes still stayed focused on the doorway as he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. The whiskey hadn't quelled the pounding in his head, so he hoped that the nicotine would.

Three cigarettes and another glass later, the pounding was still there. He knew now what, or rather who, would stop it, but he was surely the last person that they wanted to see at the moment. He wouldn't know what to say if he went and faced her anyway. So he stayed put at the desk and tried to find other ways to keep his mind off of what was bothering him the most.

What his wife thought did matter to him, twice as much as anyone else's opinions did, but he just couldn't get past the magnitude of what this deal was promising. Lives would forever be changed if this all worked out the way he hoped it would. But (Y/N) usually wasn't wrong when she got bad feelings about things. Now he was in limbo.

In the end, he would be the only one to make the decision. He could already tell that it was going to be one that would take all night for him to come to. So, while hyper-aware of the thoughts of the woman who was surely sleeping soundly upstairs, he began weighing the sides out; hoping that one choice would become clearer than the other.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

MASTERLIST

Listen to Fine Line by Harry Styles:

HERE.

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jiminiecrickets · 6 months

Note

How about a drabble (seven days a week) where jk thinks oc is cheating on him but it is a misunderstanding?

sfw.

jungkook is going fucking insane.

who's he? who's she? why are you looking at your phone during movie time? whose blond fucking hair is on your jacket?

after bottling it up for almost three weeks, he thinks he can handle it. you'll tell him why you're so distracted, why you're rescheduling date night so often. he'd paced a hole into his bedroom floor and unnerved jimin so badly he had to leave and find comfort in hoseok, who popped his head in later to ask him softly if he needed a drink of water or someone to talk to.

no, he'd said, all scoffs and waving hands. that's ridiculous, why would he need someone to talk to? there was nothing to talk about!

then he goes over to yours – without letting you know – and finds more pale blond hairs on the black suit jacket thrown carelessly on the edge of the couch. he hears you scuffling about in the bedroom.

"no, baby. that's my boyfriend's. don't touch that."

you chuckle softly, and jungkook inches closer. his heart pounds. "come back to the bed. right here." you pat your thighs.

he squeezes his eyes shut and exhales shakily. abruptly, he rounds the corner. "what the fuck, hyung!"

"shit!" you startle, head whipping in jungkook's direction. on your lap, a small round furball yaps and one paw slips off your lap, nearly sending it tumbling down. you catch it in your arms and pull it to your chest.

a dog. a fluffy, cream-coloured puppy.

"a-ah – hey, baby! you didn't message me, did you? crap, did i miss it?" you pat your pockets. your phone's in the kitchen. "i can explain... wait, kook – baby, why're you crying? what's wrong?"

you wrap him in your arms and he melts into your tight embrace, hot tears gathering along his lashes and streaming down his cheeks. he squeezes you, palms flat against your back, and lets out a tiny sob.

"it's okay, baby. it's okay. whatever it is, we can get through it, alright? you're okay. you can tell me."

"n-no," he hiccups, balling your shirt in his fists. "it's stupid."

"are you hearing yourself? your feelings are never stupid. c'mon – spit it out, yeah?"

he covers his face and lets out a particularly embarrassed wail, half-sobbed with a flood of relief. "i thought you were cheating on me!"

"you thought i was – wait – darling, why?" you realise something. "oh, shit, it was because of date night, right? i'm so sorry. i had to go to the shelter to adopt her because they were running out of space and she would've been sent somewhere else or put down if they couldn't find a home."

"i-it's a girl?" he sniffles, rubbing his eyes.

you smile softly and hold him tight, stroking his hair. "yeah. her name's missy, but if you want, we can train her to another name."

he shakes his head into your shoulder, burying his fingers in your skin. "missy... is it short for anything? is she a little lady?"

"whatever you want. i haven't registered her with the council yet because she's not quite three months."

"missile launcher."

you pause.

you blink.

"jungkook?"

"hm?" he gazes up at you, and you wipe the remnants of his tears with the pad of your thumb.

"you want to name our dog... missile launcher?"

"well, i was also thinking jav, since it's got harder sounds and might be easier for her to recognise, but i like missy. it's cuter."

"jav... as in javelin?" you say, deadpan. "the javelin rocket launcher?"

"mhm!"

"i think we should stick with just missile launcher."

"okay," he says happily, and bobs down to the little puppy's height. she'd been hanging around your ankles for some time, staring up at him with a wagging tail and round dark eyes. he offers a hand for her to sniff and giggles when she nudges her forehead under his palm, demanding pets.

you take a seat on the floor of your bedroom as jungkook interacts with the tiny floppy-eared sweetheart, watching with warmth in your chest. jungkook beams as she clambers into his lap and over his knees, using him like a playground.

"while this turn of events makes me very, very pleased, i'm still a little upset you didn't tell me earlier," he says, scratching the puppy behind the ears. "promise me you'll tell me if you adopt any more dogs?"

"i promise."

"pinky promise?" he leans over and lifts his pinky. you smile and lean in, hooking your pinky around his and shaking solemnly on it.

"pinky promise."

#asks #jungkook x male reader #seven days a week

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flowerandblood · 11 months

Text

Sweet kiss, sweet blood (6)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, profanation, fluff ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Slow burn, sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Miss Whaterfield awoke in the morning with a severe migraine. For some reason her head was spinning, the world around her seemed strangely blurry. She pushed herself up on her hands to sit up, looking around her bed and felt an unpleasant, burning sensation on her neck.

She touched it with her hand and hissed, feeling two small wounds. Only when she looked down did she see that her nightgown was stained with blood, scenes from the night in the chapel flashed before her eyes like a haze.

His cold lips on hers, hot with desire and lust, his hand caressing her there, shamelessly slid between her thighs, giving her a pleasure that she had never known before in her life. His fangs in her neck, sucking her blood with a muffled, desperate gulp.

She thought that he was not sent to her by God, but by the devil himself.

She stood up quickly, walking over to her vanity mirror to see what she looked like. It was a truly brutal sight, as if someone had cut her throat.

She didn't remember getting home. She quickly took off her nightgown, throwing it into one of the lockers somewhere at the back. She figured she'd have to get rid of it somehow. She put on a second nightgown, clean one. She looked at her sheets which were also dirty. She thought hard about what to do, how to lie so that it wouldn't be known.

She thought hard about telling her parents the truth. There were marks on her neck, there was blood - she didn't inflict such wounds on herself. But how could she explain, what she was doing with him in the chapel in the middle of the night? And what would they do with him if they found out? She thought he hadn't killed her, though he could have. A million thoughts raced through her head. She wanted to put her fist in her mouth and scream in despair.

She was completely torn apart inside. When he kissed her, when his lips caressed her mouth so wonderfully, when his fingers massaged her womanhood, giving her pleasure, she wanted to get down on her knees before him and beg him to take her as his wife.

But then, when she felt his fangs in her neck, everything in her froze. She felt a terror she had never known in her life. She thought that was how prey felt when a predator sank its teeth into her and suffocated her before he began to devour her.

She thought with regret and irony that he hadn't killed her because he and his friend would have been potential perpetrators and both would have had to flee.

He had thought it all through.

He didn't want to marry her at all, he wanted to draw her back to the chapel to be alone with him. And he succeeded. She naively opened her heart to him, not knowing that he was telling her what she wanted to hear. He was using her. She thought she got what she deserved.

She washed her neck and arms from the blood with the water she had in the pitcher. After a while, only two small dots were visible on her neck. She covered them lightly with the powder that her mother had given her once and found that, fortunately, they were virtually invisible.

She took a letter opener and cut her hand lightly with it. She told Mathylda, who came to see her in the morning, that she had cut herself on it and soiled the sheets. The girl, a bit surprised, did not ask any questions.

Miss Whaterfield came down to breakfast white as a sheet. She walked into the dining room, sitting down in her chair without saying a word. She was greeted by her father's happy smile.

"What is this face, my child? Rejoice, men are fighting for you!" He said, buttering a piece of his bread, reaching for the jam.

She swallowed hard, looking at the food around her. She felt like she couldn't swallow anything. She could still feel his finger deep inside her, his fangs digging into her neck. She shuddered at the thought. Her mother looked at her, worried as usual.

"You're terribly pale. At least eat scrambled eggs." She said pleadingly, looking at her empty plate.

Her daughter pursed her lips and helped herself to some of the food, hoping to gain some peace. Her parents watched her closely, but she ate in complete silence. Her father swallowed loudly a bite of his sandwich.

"Have you considered Ser Aemond's proposal?" He asked suddenly, his mustache twitching in excitement as he said the words. She froze abruptly, setting her fork aside with a soft clatter.

"I will not marry him." She spoke dryly and to the point. Her father shifted in his chair impatiently, casting a nervous glance at her mother who only lowered her gaze meekly.

“So I understand you chose Pastor Smith?” He asked, his fingers restlessly loosening and tightening on the table in front of him. His daughter wasn't looking at him but at her plate.

"I will not marry either of them." She said coldly. Her father slammed his fist on the table so hard that she and her mother jumped in horror. He stood up suddenly, walking quickly over to her and leaning over her.

"Pick one, or I'll pick one for you. You're an adult now, you're going to get married and have children. Unfortunately, God has not given me an heir and all my property will be inherited by my brother, but I have resigned myself to the fact that this is my fate. It's time for you to make peace with yours." He hissed, trembling with rage. His daughter didn't even spare him a glance.

“I am sorry that I am not your desired son. I know I let you down the day I was born." She said calmly as she stood up, heading towards her room.

Her father didn't talk to her again, but she didn't care anymore. The wounds on her neck had healed and there was no trace of them. She spent the nights in her bedroom. She thought she'd just forget about it all.

Every morning she tried to pretend it never happened. That she didn't touch herself at all at night, slipping her hand between her thighs as he did, imitating his movements. That she wasn't starting to moan softly like when his hand touched her. That she didn't come hard, imagining that his fingers were caressing her.

She felt rejected by God and the whole world. As if she had always been doomed to exile and loneliness. She thought maybe this was her path. Once, at breakfast, which the three of them were eating in silence, she spoke suddenly.

“I want to go to a nunnery.” She said softly. Her father and mother looked at her surprised.

"What?" Her father asked, frowning.

"I want to go to a nunnery, father. Marriage is not for me. I want to dedicate my life to God." She said calmly, bowing her head humbly. Her father rolled over in surprise. He stroked his chin, looking at her intently.

"Well… I'll think about it." He just said, as he took a sip of tea from his cup.

From then on, her father started talking to her again. The life of a nun was something he was still able to comprehend with his mind. It would also be a good explanation for breaking off the engagement to Pastor Smith and rejecting, albeit painfully, Ser Aemond's proposal.

When Sunday came, as usual, the whole family accompanied by her elder sister and her husband set off in a carriage to the church in festive clothes. Miss Whaterfield was terrified.

She prayed that she would not meet this man from the hellish pit who had completely clouded her mind and heart. She hoped he got what he wanted and left.

They arrived at the church a few minutes before mass began, everyone was already inside. They entered the church through the main door, and her eyes darted quickly to the first pews. She swallowed hard and felt her heart stop at the sight of him, sitting cross-legged, his top hat lying next to him on the pew. He looked at her over his shoulder, his lips pursed.

She looked away, distraught. For some reason she wanted to cry, her heart was pounding like crazy. She sat down quickly in her seat, her hands clasping her prayer book. She felt him looking at her, she felt his breath on her neck. A strong shudder went through her, as she remembered the feeling of his fangs digging into her flesh.

She couldn't concentrate the whole time, her hands were shaking. She shuddered at the thought that he hadn't left. She wondered what else could he want?

Maybe he wanted to kill her?

She wondered, horrified, if Ser Criston was like him. She froze at the thought, swallowing hard. She thought there were a lot of people around her unaware of the danger they could warn. She decided that now, without evidence, they would think she was crazy.

When it was time to receive Holy Communion, her family stood up, but she was still sitting in the pew. Her father looked at her surprised, but she shook her head.

"I haven't been to confession." She said softly. Her father pursed his lips in displeasure, and moved with his family toward the line of worshipers.

She couldn't after what she'd done with him and what she'd done every night go to the sacrament with a pure heart. She looked down at her fingers, exhaling softly, his intense gaze at the back of her neck burned her, but she didn't turn to him once.

When the mass ended she was the first to get up, leaving the church quickly, wanting to be the first to get into their carriage and wait for the rest of the family there. She was startled when she heard quick footsteps behind her.

When she turned around, his pale face was in front of her. He stared at her with a mixture of anger, longing, coldness and desire that made her heart clench. She wanted to turn around and keep walking, but she heard his voice behind her.

"Marry me."

She stopped, her heart beating wildly. She felt a throbbing between her thighs at his words. Her body betrayed her, it was not worthy of any trust. She pursed her lips at his words, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"I'm going to join a nunnery." She said coldly.

An awkward silence fell between them. He stared at her, anger burning in his eye, his chest heaving uneasily. His jaw and hands clenched so tightly she thought his bones would break. People started coming out around them, her family saw them from a distance, standing in the road. He smiled suddenly, monstrously and ironically.

"Are you going to become a saint?" He asked teasingly, his gaze so intense she felt goosebumps on the back of her neck. Her lower lip trembled.

"You are insolent." She said softly, shaking her head in disbelief.

Even though she was afraid of him, she decided she wouldn't let him push her around. She had nothing left to lose. He pursed his lips tightly at her response. She could see that he was slowly losing his temper.

"Don't do this." He finally said, his voice strangely weak, hesitant, quiet.

She looked at him in surprise, her eyebrows furrowed in pain. As he stood before her, she thought she forgot for a moment what he had done to her. That inside this handsome man was a beast that wanted to devour her.

"Farewell." She said softly, as she turned away from him and she opened the door to her carriage.

She heard him turn tense, furious, mounting his horse and galloping off, leaving behind a light dust that hung like mist on the road. She felt tears fall down her cheeks and decided she was a stupid, foolish girl to cry for her tormentor.

When she got home, she lay down on the bed, unable to get up. Her sister and mother tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't speak to them. She didn't have the strength for it. She's already made her decision.

In the evening, while she was reading a book, she heard a knock on her door. She sighed softly.

"Come in." She said calmly, and after a moment Mathylda was standing in front of her, extending her hand to her.

"Letter for you, miss." She said softly, as she set the envelope on the table and left, closing the door behind her.

She stared at the letter, feeling cold sweat on her crotch. She knew it was a letter from him. She knew that he would try to wash her eyes again, manipulate her into doing what he wanted. She considered throwing it into the flames. She swallowed hard dropping her eyes.

Her hand reached tentatively for the envelope, her fingers trembling as she tore open the seal. She pulled out a folded piece of paper, filled with small, beautiful, masculine handwriting. She unfolded it and began to read, feeling her heart leap into her throat.

Dear Miss Whaterfield,

I owe you an apology. The damage I have caused you is beyond repair. I have nothing to justify. We both know that I was guided by my private motives and desires, which I deeply hoped that at least partly you shared. You have aroused my ardent, hot feeling, that burns my heart and prevents me from thinking clearly.

I want you to know that I wasn't born like this. I think it would also be important to make it clear that I am not hurting people. In your case too, although you had a right to take it otherwise, I had no intention of doing you any harm. I know what it looked like, and I know how terrified you must have been. I regret that I could not be with you to calm you down and explain everything.

I'm begging you, don't make any hasty decisions. Life is too short to lock up in a place like this. Thanks to you I felt life in my body. I realized that even though I had walked this world for a long time, I had been dead until you had revived me.

I'm not trying to persuade you to change your mind, because I know I'll never regain your trust. I just want to express, once again, the words of the most sincere regret and shame that overwhelms me and repeat the request that you do not close yourself in the cold, monastery walls. I pray every day for you in the chapel.

Yours faithfully Ser Aemond

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9

Others: @talesofoldandnew @toodlesxcuddles @padfooteyes @iloveallmyboys

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transvampireboyfriend · 5 months

Text

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Everyone's already in their rooms when they go in.

Robin and Steve are taking the main room and sharing the bed tonight, while the rest of them bunk in the other room.

The door to the main room is already closed, the other one is open. Jon and Argyle are talking inside, their voices drift out from one of the lower bunks, while Nancy reads in one of the top ones.

Steve and Eddie walk past both the doors on their way to the kitchen.

"Got our work cut out for us" Steve comments, eyeing the dishes from dinner still in the sink.

He places their cooler on the counter and starts emptying it.

"Oh. Nance and I are on breakfast duty tomorrow." Eddie says, entering the kitchen after him, "We'll take care of that, don't worry"

He places the popcorn bowls in the sink as well.

Steve finishes with the cooler and turns to him, a little uncertain.

"Um, are you... sure you don't want me to help you with it? Right now? I could help" he offers.

He softly bumps his fist on the sink's lip and then grips it, looking like he doesn't know where to put his hands.

Eddie tilts his head to the side, confused. He really wants to help ease Steve's uncertainty, whatever its cause.

"No, Stevie, it's okay." he tries again, "We've all had a long day, I'll take care of it tomorrow," he repeats.

Steve looks a little crestfallen, he lets go of the sink and just stands there for a second.

Oh.

Eddie realizes way too late what Steve was trying to do, and his heart breaks a little.

Shit.

When Steve goes to walk past him, Eddie grabs his arm to stop him.

"Uh- But! " Eddie tries, having to think fast,

"D'you maybe want some hot cocoa? Since you were cold?" he offers, even though it's toasty inside the cabin.

Smooth. He hopes his internal wince is not evident in his face.

Steve's expression brightens and he nods.

"Yeah! Um- yes. For the cold. Yeah. I could go for some cocoa," he says, blinking his beautiful eyes at Eddie.

Eddie realizes now, not only was Steve offering his help so they could hang out some more, but, that could be the only way he knows how to ask someone to stay, could be the only way he knows people will definitely let him stick around.

All of a sudden, Eddie doesn't care about being too forward anymore.

"Good." he says, "I like having you around."

Steve's breath seems to catch in his throat for a bit before he quitely says "I like being around you, Eddie."

Eddie feels a little drunk from having Steve so close, saying such wonderful things. He smiles brightly at him and squeezes his bicep before letting go.

"Sit," Eddie tells him, gesturing to the small kitchen table.

Steve just nods and goes sit down while Eddie sorts their drinks.

Going through the motions of getting his ingredients is a little harder with Steve's eyes on him.

Eddie feels his heart skip a beat every now and again, but he eventually manages to complete his task, getting the milk going and leaning against the counter to face Steve again.

"You know, I was around eleven when I first tried hot cocoa" Steve comments.

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up, "No way, me too!"

Steve gives him an incredolous frown, seemingly unaware that he's smiling again,

"What?" he asks,

"It's true!" Eddie says, "Never had it until Wayne took me in, I was 10 or 11,"

Steve gasps a little, "Huh. It's always such a normal thing for everyone,"

Eddie smiles. The more he knows Steve, the more they seem to be connected in the oddest of ways.

"Who introduced you to it?" he asks, curious,

Steve's smile softens, "Miss Hannah," he says, eyes drifting away from Eddie as he remembers, "She was our neighbor back then. Called her Mrs. Hannah like my mother told me to, until the first time she had me over.

She saw me pacing at my front door and when I said I was waiting for a pizza delivery, she offered lunch. I'd met her before and my parents weren't around, shocker. So I went. She explained that day that she lived alone and would never marry, so she'd never be a Mrs.

I remember I asked her if she wasn't lonely and she said she had too many friends to be lonely.

She also said 'You're here. How could I be lonely?' "

Steve's twists his mouth.

Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, hug him, hold him, something, but he refrains, gripping the counter edge as he leans against it.

"She sounds like a really nice lady," Eddie says, thinking of diner waitresses and social workers who made him feel not so lonely before Wayne.

Steve sniffs and looks back to him, "She was." he nods, "Still is, I hope. When I was around 14, she said she had to leave town. One day, another lady came to pick her up and I never saw her again." Steve says,

"I think maybe she was one of us," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Eddie thinks of their friends, "There's so many of us when you know how to look" he muses. The thought is comforting, somehow.

Steve nods, a small knowing smile on his lips as he picks back his story,

"She gave me hot cocoa my first week of elementary school.

I stayed after classes to play basketball with my friends, and it rained on my way back. I was drenched and miserable, and she was happy.

She was proud of me for making friends so fast."

Eddie smiles, has to clear his throat against the knot that forms there.

The milk boils next to him and he turns his back on Steve for a bit to mix their drinks.

He adds some cinnamon to them before walking to Steve and handing him his mug.

"Always the charmer," Eddie teases him,

"Shut up," Steve chuckles, taking the mug and wrapping both hands around it.

Eddie keeps smiling at him, it's like Steve turns on a light inside of him and Eddie can't keep it in, he needs to let it out somehow, needs to share its glow.

"Thank you," Steve whispers, raising his mug.

Eddie looks down, and bumps his boot against one of Steve's sneakers in acknowledgment.

"You have a sunburn," Steve comments, bumping Eddie's boot back.

"I do?" Eddie asks, looking up at him again,

"Mmhm, your nose is all red" Steve tells him, pointing to his own.

Eddie scrunches up his nose like Steve's finger is brushing against it and Steve adorably mirrors his expression.

Eddie hides his smile and pouts instead, "The other reindeer will make fun of me" he says,

Steve softly laughs behind his mug but then, doesn't answer, just keeps looking at Eddie as he takes the first sip of his drink.

Eddie bites his lip against his own smile, and goes back to his place in the counter. To get his own drink.

And because if he sees Steve with a milk moustache from cocoa that Eddie made, he's going to lose it.

"This is good," Steve says,

Eddie grabs his drink and turns back to him, raising his glass in a "cheers" gesture.

He takes his first sip leaning back against the counter again.

"Do you remember the first time you tried it?" Steve prompts between sips,

"Oh yeah," Eddie smiles, his lips still brushing his mug. He takes another sip before putting it down,

"Boy, do I." Eddie says, remembering,

"I ran away. Not so long after Wayne took me in."

Steve raises his eyebrows but waits for Eddie to continue.

"It was maybe the middle of the school year, and Wayne was being called in almost every week for some thing or another: I wouldn't stay in my seat, I talked too much, I didn't finish my class work or I didn't bring my homework." Eddie lists it all off in his fingers,

"Man, it was- scary. Kept thinking Wayne was gonna give me back." Eddie trails off before continuing, remembering how sad he'd been that he couldn't seem to just be good. No matter how hard he tried.

"So. I left. I shoved a pair of underwear and a couple t-shirts into my little backpack and I ran like hell, into the woods.

I had a water bottle, a couple of hot pockets and some pop tarts. Don't ask me how I thought I'd heat that up because I didn't know the first thing about starting a fire back then"

Steve chuckles across from him and Eddie joins him for a bit. He watches Steve watching him for a second as they both sip their cocoa.

"I was just a kid." Eddie remembers, "Didn't even think about the bathroom situation.

Everything I had on me and in my backpack, hell, even the backpack, Wayne had gotten for me.

I remember I sat down to rest after maybe an hour? and I thought of that and I thought I was such an asshole, for not even leaving a thank you note behind."

Eddie realizes his eyes trailed away from Steve when he hears Steve's soft chuckle and sees the floor. He looks back up to him, before he continues,

"Thankfully it had rained the night before, and Wayne caught up with me before dark.

He hadn't even called anyone, just took right off, after me, soon as he realized."

"Was he mad?" Steve asked,

"I thought he would be, but he wasn't" Eddie says, "I was so scared. And he just- ruffled my hair.

He said 'You don't know the first thing about the outdoors yet, son, you could get hurt' " Eddie mimicks Wayne's gruff tone and Steve chuckles again.

"And then he said 'Come on.' and I just followed.

I knew he was right, and I was exhausted too, but I think, mostly I was scared. Scared he'd call the social workers or worse: the police and they would put me in jail,"

Steve laughs out loud at that, "Eddie!" he says,

Eddie laughs too, "I know! I really thought kids got put in jail for running away! I was just so- God, I just was, paranoid? I guess? From everything? Just the way life was for me back then,"

Steve hums in acknowledgment,

"But we went back home," Eddie goes on, "and I was covered in mud, and Wayne talked about the outdoors, all the way back to the trailer. Not really scolding me, just kinda telling me about it, about picking wood for a fire, about finding streams, using maps. And I didn't say a word.

I took a shower when we got home and when I came back out, Wayne told me to sit at the kitchen table.

I did, and I said I was sorry, because I thought I had to be. Wayne said there was nothing to be sorry about and gave me the first mug of hot cocoa I'd ever drank."

Steve smiles at that.

"In a werid-ass mug too," Eddie remembers, "I'd never seen a no-spill mug before, so I thought the shape was insane. And it had Garfield driving a red convertible on it, I hadn't known Wayne liked Garfield before."

"Is that why he got the one you use for your morning coffee?" Steve asked, referring to the big Garfield head mug that they saved from their old trailer.

"No, I got that one for him on his birthday, I think. I was sixteen. I just steal it from him sometimes" Eddie explains,

"You're sweet." Steve says,

Eddie rolls his eyes to try and slow his heartbeat, "He doesn't even like Garfield", Eddie huffs,

Steve tilts his head with a confused frown. He's so cute, it squeezes Eddie's heart almost painfully.

"He told me that day," Eddie explains, "when I got him that mug. My mom was the one who loved it. That's why he had the one he used to make the hot cocoa for me"

"Oh," Steve says,

"Yeah." Eddie agrees, "He still really appreciated the gift. Said it reminded him of her, and of me; said he loved it." Eddie blinks a couple of times then, takes a few more sips of his drink,

"But that's the story. I refused to drink from any other mug for like a year. And that's how Wayne started building his collection." Eddie explains,

"He was afraid the Garfield one would break, and it did, eventually, but by then, he already had the one I gave him, and so many more.

He taught me how to build a fire the week after I ran away, we started camping, he taught me how to fish. Said 'If you're gonna go, you gotta be safe'." Eddie imitates him again, making Steve grin.

"Eventually, I got that he didn't wanna give me back, no matter how much hell I gave him.

Eventually, I told him too, why I ran away. And he put it into words: That he wanted to be there for me, in whatever way he could. That he's my family." Eddie smiles,

"He's lucky to have you," Steve comments, surprising Eddie, he expected him to say Eddie's lucky to have Wayne, because he is, and he says so,

"I know," Steve says, smiling, "I'm glad you do,"

"One of my teachers told him he shouldn't be giving me cocoa, because I had so much energy already" Eddie remembers,

Steve snorts, "Did that stop him?" he asks knowingly,

"Not one bit." Eddie grins,

"I used to get so excited when I could have it at Hannah's," Steve recalls, "the kids teased me in the eight grade for still drinking it,"

Eddie cannot believe his ears, "Oh my god! They did the same to me!" he says,

Steve laughs, "Not that it stopped you," he teases,

"Drank it out of spite," Eddie confirms, laughing too.

"I can't believe you get this," Steve says after a bit, wonder evident in his voice, "I thought I was the only one,"

Eddie shrugs a little, sips on his drink, thinking they've been walking side by side for a long long time.

Steve's cheeks are flushed, probably from the hot drink, Eddie thinks he's beautiful,

"I like knowing more about you" he tells him, apropos of nothing,

"I like knowing more about you too, Eds." Steve answers, "Thanks for telling me."

Eddie huffs again, watches him yawn, "Can't wait to see what other fucked up thing we have in common" he says jokingly,

It startles a laugh out of Steve, interrupting his yawn and making him cough a bit.

"Sorry, sorry." Eddie laughs,

"No, you're right." Steve says, "I can't wait either," he yawns again.

"You should get some sleep," Eddie tells him, trying and failing to suppress his own yawn.

Steve tiredly rubs at his eyes and hums, "Hmm, you too," he says,

Eddie finishes his own drink and just nods, putting his mug down on the sink without moving from his place against the counter.

Steve gets up then, walks to him and puts his mug down next to Eddie's.

Eddie can't tear his eyes away from him as he stands there, looking down at their mugs.

His hair is pulled back by Eddie's bandana, his cheeks are flushed from the cocoa that Eddie made, he's wearing a scrunchie on his wrist because Eddie put it there.

Eddie feels dizzy seeing himself all over Steve, wishes he could make it so much more evident, wants to put his mouth to his skin, raise goosebumps, leave teeth marks.

Steve turns to look at him and Eddie holds his gaze.

He feels Steve's hand brushing his, feels him wrap his hand around Eddie's wrist, never looks away from Steve's drooping eyes.

"Thanks for this, Eds." Steve says.

"Yeah." Eddie whispers back, "Anytime," he says, breathless.

"Goodnight, Eddie" Steve says then, and leans in to press his lips against Eddie's cheek.

Eddie's breath catches in his throat and his heart tries to fly out through his mouth.

Steve softly lets go of his wrist and walks in front of him to go to his room. Eddie watches him go.

"Night, Stevie" he breathlessly tells Steve's back as he exits the kitchen.

the garfield mug

#steddie #steve x eddie #steveddie #steddie fluff #wayne munson my beloved #steddie lake fic #.#Eddie's kinda of entranced for now but i think he'll try to sort his thoughts over the next couple of days #stranger things

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