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artists-ally · 4 months

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{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien {Pt. 3}

Welp... here you go! I shall prepare to be boiled alive. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7,525

Warnings: you know the drill. Angst, language, hurt/comfort, nasty ass cliffhanger

Tagging: @bubybubsters @thelov3lybookworm @cyrygher @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @crazylokonugget @thehighlordishere @acourtofbatboydreams @thisblogisaboutabook @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @venuseuripedis

Summary: Can everything be reconciled? Be repaired? Was it all just a big misunderstanding?

~~~~~~

READER POV

THAT MORNING...

There is nothing quite as startling as waking up to the sound of silence. In a life full of chaos, full of commotion and the constant buzz of energy, silence is unsettling. Especially in a house that should be full of laughter, taunting jokes, and easy smiles.

Anger seared my heart. Branded it black. Visions of heated conversations seep into mind, flooding my vision in red.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad in my life. The fact that he chose her over me. But I refused to let him disrespect me. I said hurtful things. And a twisted part of me likes the fact that they hurt him. I wanted him to suffer and grovel as much as I have been.

It’s petty, but I don’t care.

I push myself out of bed, dragging to the bathroom to sort myself out. I look in the mirror: skin? Dry. Eyes? Puffy. Lips? Swollen. I look tired. I am tired. And no amount of sleep will fix the bone deep ache of sheer disappointment.

Gods, he is still everywhere. Even with all his stuff gone; his toothbrush, his signature scent, his body soap and cufflinks sitting in the dish behind the faucet, somehow, he’s still here. Bits and pieces of him, of his once kind words…. All of it has turned sour.

A day has yet to go by where I don’t think of him. Of his laugh. Of the way his lip trembles when he cries.

I miss him.

And every day I hate myself more for it.

I shouldn’t miss him. What did he do besides torture me with the fact that he’ll never give me the time of day? Just like Elain was doing to him. I hope he’s happy. No, I don’t. That’s a lie. I hope he’s just as miserable as I am.

That’s even more of a lie.

I dress without thinking, my outfit the same as it has been for the past month and a half after opening the restaurant. The double breasted, black chefs coat with three stars embroidered over the heart. The slithering, embroidered black filigree on the shoulders, in a slightly different sheen to make them stand out. The pants had matching details over the pockets and down the side of the pant leg. My boots slip on and I grab my cap, fitting it over my head before heading out the door to get an early start.

Every fucking day since I kicked him out has been an early start. Anything to keep myself in this place we used to call home. I should move. Repaint at the least. Change something.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Everything is painfully the same.

When I need change the most, I can’t–for the life of me–decide what I want that change to be.

It doesn’t fucking matter.

He’ll always be there.

A murmur in the back of my head of what could’ve been.

Should I be this jealous? This aggravated over this whole thing? Am I overreacting? It’s not like he cheated on me, we weren’t even together. But I wanted him so bad I was willing to kick him out because he chose someone else over me. Oh Gods… I am a horrible-

No, I stop myself. Taking a deep breath as I step down off the porch, heading down the well beaten dirt path towards the city. Your feelings are valid. He hurt you. Badly. You didn’t overreact. Some would say it might’ve been an underreaction, or how could you have let it go on this long? You are allowed to be upset, for as long as you need. No one can tell you otherwise.

No one can tell you otherwise. I repeat the words over and over. I stare down at the cobblestone sidewalks, firsts clenched under my arms. I chew my lip. I clench my teeth. Things I always did, and things Lucien would try to get me to stop.

He’d put a hand on my shoulder. Or grab my hand to keep from digging my nails into my palms.

No one will ever know me as well as he did.

And that shatters my soul.

The thought of having to try to explain the events of my life to someone all over again… it’ll be impossible. Why couldn’t he have just loved me back?

Before I have time to realize where I’m going, I’m at Meliora. I see Ms. Immy bustling around. I wonder if she ever sleeps.

“Ah!” She cheers when I walk in the door. “My Spirit of the Gods! How are you dear?”

I give a half smile. “I’ve been better. Just the usual for me, please.”

“You are still missing your Fox?”

I nod. I watch as she pours the bubbling water into my mug, dipping the peppermint tea bag into the liquid. She’s so methodical. I’ve been here a thousand times, and she manages to make it the same way every time. Ms. Immy dusts the top with granules of sugar, adding a mint leaf to the top. She slides it in front of me as she grabs the chocolate chip muffin from the case.

“When are you going to talk to him?”

The question throws me for a loop. I answer honestly, “I wasn’t planning on ever seeing him again.”

She snorts. “I doubt that will hold true. He misses you too.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes. I do. “I don’t know how to forgive him.”

“Then don’t.”

I blink. What? “So, you think I should make amends with him, but not forgive him? How does that work?”

“He is your mate, no?” I nod. “Then you love him. Why is it so difficult to forgive someone you love?”

“I don’t know,” I bit my tongue. “I don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Yet you still want him back.”

Wow. I sound so pathetic. I cast my eyes down, tapping my fingers on the mug. “No matter how much I love him, I won’t let myself remain second place. I refuse to let myself go through to torture of always being picked next. Never first. No matter how much it hurts to stay away from him.”

She clicks her tongue, wiping down the counter behind her. Faintly, she hums a tune, its melody ringing in my ears. I feel like I knew it once. But I've been so caught up in everything that happened last month to bother trying to hold onto those types of memories.

I am losing myself.

“Do you know the meaning of Meliora?”

It’s the name of her cafe. I shrugged, “No, should I?”

“It means the place for better things, my Spirit. It is an ancient omen, an ancient oath of the Night Court. This is a Meliora, a place for better things. Seems like you could use some better things.”

“I have Latibule. I am living my dream of owning a restaurant. Better has come.”

“And it has gone,” Ms. Immy says. “Don’t fool yourself Yn. You are lost without Lucien. If he were to ask for your forgiveness, to give up Elain and all that has happened, would you accept him? If he said he only wanted you, would you have him?”

I grind my teeth together. The peppermint tea has turned to acid on my tongue. No one can tell you otherwise, no one can tell you otherwise…

“There are things in the world Yn, so precious and hard to find that it would be stupid to let it go. To trade it away over unintentional negligence. Lucien loves you. You love him. The two of you have been blessed by the Cauldron with a mate. Let it go to waste and suffer the consequences of never being able to fill that void. Let it rot your mind and heart for anyone else.”

I grind my teeth harder. Why does she insist on forgiving Lucien?

“After everything I did for him, after saving his life and rebuilding him from the ground up, he decides to repay me how? By forgetting about me and standing me up on the most important day of my life? Seems pretty unforgettable to me.”

“There is a great balance in this world. And to keep it, the Cauldron dishes out magic and illusions to offset it. Lucien got the short end of the stick and got more than he could handle.”

“Well that's not my fault.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But it is your problem. Yn, all I’m suggesting is you give him a chance. There is no telling what will happen between you two if you don’t try.”

“I don’t want to try, what if I make things worse? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“But what if it does?” _____

But what if it does? I have been doing nothing all service besides thinking what Ms. Immy last said to me. But what if it does? I start spiriling with questions after that.

What if it does work out? Will I be able to fully trust that he won’t run back to Elaine? If it doesn't, will I just spend the rest of my life trying to find him in everyone else? Will I ever find someone else? How can I be so sure that he’ll want me in his life after I’ve kicked him out? If I see him, will I want to punch him in the face? Could I even stomach looking at him? Would I just puke from nerves and anger? Should I even bother? What if I never get the chance to-

“Yn, there is a table seated in section 8 for you,” my lovely hostess, Esmira, calls from the window.

“I’ve got six pans on right now, Es. I can’t just take a table. Where are Karos and Daxillion? They’re supposed to have a handle on this right now.”

“We’ve got a full house. It’s the High Lord and Lady, as well as her sister and the General.”

Shit. It’s midweek, why do we have a full house? Especially at lunch. From what I’ve heard amongst my staff's gossip, Lucien has been living at his house. I don’t want to see anyone. Especially someone who’s been caring for him.

“Okay… okay fine I’ll take the table. Go take their drink orders and I’ll be right back. Esro, I need you to cover my station in between checks.”

“Heard,” he calls back dutifully. He always takes the shit I give him and dusts it with gold. I should give him a raise.

I jog to the supply closet where I have an extra uniform stashed in case of an emergency. I change quickly, taking my cap off and fluffing out my hair. Not bad but… not great. I still look so tired.

Esmira scampers into the bathroom to hand me their drink list. A bottle of wine and water for the table. Easy enough.

Racking the glasses onto the carrier, I haul the bottle of wine and decanter of water to the table, plastering a courageous smile on my lips. Who knows if it’s actually convincing.

“Evening, my High Lord and Lady,” I greet. “Cassian and-” Elain. It’s Elain. What is she doing- “Elain. Good to see you out and-”

“You don’t have to pretend to be excited to see me. I know you’re not. I ruined your relationship with Lucien.”

Well, shit okay guess this is happening now. What do I say? “He made a choice, it’s not your fault.” I settled on.

But it is your problem… screw you Ms. Immy.

She looks hesitantly to the High Lord, who gives a firm nod. She sighs. “I’ve tried to stop him from pursuing me for months. He still comes back. I share no bond with the firehead.”

Firehead, ha! Why had I never thought of that one?

I just press my lips together, fighting off the prickle in my nose and throat. “Can I take your meal orders? Anything you’d like to start with?”

“He misses you, Yn.” Rhysand spoke. His violet eyes swirling with stars. “Is there a chance you’ll talk to him?”

I feel like such an outsider looking at the Inner Circle. There were so many outcomes I could’ve had in Velaris. I could’ve been a part of their Court, not just an inhabitant. But I chose the path my heart wanted, and lost the thing it needed most.

I swipe the tear away as fast as it falls.

“I’ll bring a round of bread for the table.” And I head off.

____

After I had served them their meals, bid them farewell with a pitiful look on the High Lords face, the room was a lost less crowded.

Now I’m starting to wonder if we were meant to say goodbye. Maybe there is something salvageable. But I don’t want to shred myself to pieces for a maybe. Even he is not worthy of my self destruction.

But what if it does?

“Hello?” A sultry voice says from behind me. I rack the polished pint glass and turn over my shoulder, greeted with a handsome face. Too handsome… curse these high fae. He’s got rippling muscles as he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes a vibrant, ashy caramel. And his hair… “I’m looking for Yn?”

What does he want? “Is there something I can help you with?”

“For once, my brother wasn’t reserved in his descriptions.”

What? His brother? I stare at the male, taking in his sharp nose, those eyes like fire, his hair… oh Gods-

“I’m Lucien’s brother, Eris.”

I stay silent, taking in his face. Fuck, there is a lot of Lucien there. More than I’d like to see. They have the same eyes and hair. And it hurts to see so much of him in someone else.

“Now, I don’t particularly care that much about who you are-”

Charming.

“-but I do know you made my brother happy. At one point or another. I also don’t care what happened between the two of you, but it must’ve been bad.”

“Leave.”

“Whether or not you talk to my sorry bastard brother means nothing to me. But if I have to deal with one more Court meeting where Rhys and his brute ask me if I’ve talked to him, I will rip off my own ears.”

“I asked you to leave my restaurant.”

“Is this how you treat all your customers?”

I narrowed my eyes, “You are not a customer, you haven’t ordered anything. So have a good day, Eris.”

“I’ll take a pint of ale,” he smirks. Smirks, like I’ve got all the time in the world to listen to him babble about how much he wants me to talk to Lucien.

With a viscous yank, I pull off the glass I just put away and fix it under the tap. I debate spitting in it. That most certainly would not end well for me or my restaurant. I’ve already had one Vanserra ruin my life, I don’t need another to ruin the only hope I have left.

I slap the glass down in front of him, turning around to finish unloading the clean dishes from the drying racks.

“So,” he slurps his drink, “when are you going to fix your shit with Lucien?”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because he hasn’t earned my forgiveness.”

“What would it take?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t forgive him.” Can he stop asking me so many fucking questions? I just want to clean up, shut down the kitchen, hand out todays tips and go the fuck home.

“Why?”

My hands came down on the steel counter, rattling plates and saucers. “Why are you so fucking concerned with something that isn’t your problem?”

He goes quiet for a second, and I’m blessed with a moment of peace from his irritating voice. “Because, despite being nothing but a pain in my ass, he’s still my brother. And he’s miserable. And you’re the reason why.”

“No,” I snapped, ready to hurl a glass at his thick fucking skull. “He’s the reason he’s miserable. He did all the damage on his own. All I did was ask him to be there for me, and he threw me aside like a stray cat begging for a warm meal.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s none of your business, Eris. Go away, the bar is closing.”

“I still have a tab open.”

“Then come back tomorrow and pay it.”

“But I’ll be away.”

“Then it’s on the house,” I sighed, too exhausted to deal with this. “Just go. Please.”

“As soon as you tell me what he did I’ll-”

“He fucking ruined me, thats what he did.” Thank god the restaurant was empty or else the whole city would know that I’ve been completely shattered by Lucien Vanserra. Who am I kidding, I’m sure everyone already does. “All I asked was that he be there for me the day I opened my restaurant.”

Eris puts his palms up, “well? Where was he?”

“Where do you think?” The glare I sent him made him back off.

“Oh…”

I scoff, “yeah, oh. I gave up everything for him. My family, my home, my life to restore him after he fled to the Spring Court. I just wanted his support. And he was busy with a female who would rather be tortured than in his presence.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame Elain for-”

“I wasn’t blaming Elain,” I corrected. “Lucien let me down. Unforgivably. That's the end of it. I don’t want an apology from him, it won’t do anything for me.”

Eris let out a long sigh. “Look, I understand that he hurt you. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. He fucked up. Point blank. He’ll never be able to take back what he did and said. But is there any way that the two of you may be able to move on?”

“Move on?” I scoffed, a cruel laugh escaping me. “Move on? Eris, I confessed to him that I am his mate, and he told me I was selfish because I wasn’t happy about him and Elain.”

“Were you?”

“Of course I was,” I ran my palms over my face. “Did it hurt knowing he’d never look at me like that? Yes, but I was prepared to live with it if it meant that he got to live a happy, fulfilled life. I didn’t care who it was, it was the fact that he forgot all about me. On more than one occasion. Menu designs, recipe tastings, wine tastings… all of it. He missed all of it to go be with her.”

“So you’re jealous?”

It took everything inside me to not rear up and smack him across the face. Who does this asshole think he is? Instead of possibly earning myself more trouble, I take his glass of ale off the counter, dump it, and rinse the glass.

“I wasn’t done with-”

“Well, you’re done now. Thank you for dining with Latibule, but the restaurant is officially closed. See yourself out.”

Eris clicks his tongue, pushing off the bar. The rustling of his clothes chafes together as he walks away. “Lucien cares about you, Yn. From the very few mentions of you he’s shared, I can tell he thinks highly of you, no matter what you may think.”

Then the door snaps closed, and I’m left with nothing but a pulse in my ear and tears in my eyes.

____

After a quick mop in the kitchen I shut off all the lights and lock the front door. As I’m walking down the street, a thick, crackling scent hits me. And my stomach churns. It’s familiar, part of it still lingering in my house. But this one is more… just more.

“Eris, leave me alone.”

“I did a lap around the block, and I was thinking-”

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad.”

Eris chuckles, then laughs. “Feisty, I can see why Lucien would like you. Just give him a chance.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you Autumn Court fae so fucking dense?”

“Just be thankful it was me and not my father who came to see you, then you’d really see dense.”

“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “If I ever came face to face with that bastard I’d do a lot more than hurl words at him. I’m not particularly fond of you either, so be careful how you speak to me.”

“What if I arranged a meeting for the both of you? To talk things out and see if there is any common ground to be found,” Eris suggested, falling in stride with me as I walked up the path, back towards home.

“Gonna pass on that one. If I wanted to ‘arrange a meeting’, I would’ve already done it. I don’t need Lucien's big, scary older brother to do it for me,” I mocked.

“You think I’m scary?” He smiled.

“I think you’re annoying and disrespectful.”

“A lot of the High Lords of Prythian would agree, try not to be so original.”

Don’t rip out his eyes, don’t rip out his eyes. He’s just trying to get under your skin, don’t let him win.

“Come to think of it, there is one High Lord in particular who seems to agree with this idea of trying to get you and Lucien back together.”

“If you even think about dragging Rhysand into this-”

“He approached me,” Eris admits. “He’s sick of Lucien moping around the Town House all the time.”

“Then tell him my advice is to kick him out,” I bit out, more than tired of this conversation. “And stop following me, Eris. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“But I have to make sure you get home safe, Lucien would have my head if something happened to you,” Eris reasons, knocking his shoulder into mine.

“Is there an imminent threat against my life, Eris Vanserra?”

“No?”

“Then there is no need for you to walk me home.”

“But if there was an imminent threat, I would be able to protect you,” Eris smiled, and curse me… it’s a nice smile. I glare up at him, but he just smirks back.

I decided to seal my lips. If I don’t respond, he can’t get any more information out of me.

“Just think about this for a minute: if you decide to have a conversation, one of two things is going to happen. You’re either going to confirm everything you already know; he’s an uncaring, forgetful bastard who doesn’t give a shit about you or the lives you two have built together. Or, you’re going to realize the exact opposite; that he does care, and it was all a misunderstanding. And that he does care about the life the two of you have built together.”

I can’t be bothered to care about what he wants anymore. I’ve spent too much of my life caring for his every waking need. When is it my turn?

“You are his mate, Yn. It goes against every instinct in your body to reject him. Why do you keep fighting yourself on what your heart wants?”

Because he betrayed me. He completely broke my trust, ruined my image of him in one night. Why does no one understand that?

“I get it, he hurt you or whatever, but are you really going to risk the chance of eternity together with him because of one mistake?”

He and Ms. Immy would get along well. And it wasn’t just one fucking mistake, it was about seventeen. Apologies don’t mean a thing if you don’t ever fix what you did wrong. I can see my house, just a few hundred yards away. I can slam the door in his fucking face and spend the rest of my night doing anything but thinking about Lucien.

“Yn, just answer me,” Eris demands. “I know there isn’t anyone you’ve talked to.”

“No you don’t.”

“Have you talked with anyone about this?” I stay quiet. “Exactly, you need to release this. To scream and shout and yell-”

“I’ve tried that. Didn’t do anything for me.”

“Have you punched anything? I like doing that when I’m mad,” Eris snickered.

I just rolled my eyes. “I’m about to punch something soon.” He takes a step back as I finally reach my door. I unlock it and push it open, kicking off my boots at the door. I have no reason to be bitter to Eris. he’s just trying to help, trying to be there for his brother. Now, whether or not he’s doing it in the best way is certainly debatable. But at least he’s trying. I sigh, feeling incredibly defeated. “Would you like a drink?”

His smile is softer, and he gives a nod, following me inside.

As I make us a drink, he looks around the kitchen and the living room.

“Gods it looks just like the Autumn Court in here,” he chuckles, picking up a pillow from one of the chairs.

“Yeah, Lucien did most of the decorating.”

“It’s gotta be difficult to see it every day.”

I bite back a sob, “You have no idea.”

“I know I am not the easiest person to get along with, or the most…tender, but if you are hurting this bad, then I know Luc must’ve been special to you. And you special to him. So, if there is anything I can do, tell me.”

As I slid the glass across the counter, I stared at my hands. Would talking about this really make a difference? I just feel like it keeps opening up old wounds without giving them the time to heal. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on.”

Eris looks at me, thick brows knitted together. “Because you miss him?”

As much as it hurts to admit, I nod. “So fucking much, Eris.”

“Now, do you miss him, or just having someone to share a space with?”

I blink up to meet his eyes, the ashy-caramel irises full of so much life. “I miss him. I don’t know when he started distancing from me, but I clearly didn’t notice it quick enough. I started to miss his smile first. He stopped laughing for a while after he met Elain. The creases between his eyes replaced those around his mouth.”

“Yn-”

“He started being late to everything next. He would apologize but… they weren’t sincere. I tried not to be hurt by it but… I don’t know. I thought maybe it had to do with stuff happening from the Spring Court and with Tamlin. Doesn’t matter, it just kept getting worse. He’d only talk about Elain, ask for advice on what to do since ‘I was a female’.”

“Oh Lucien…” Eris rubs his eyes. “Even for him that's low.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I didn’t snap earlier. Part of me wanted to hold onto something I knew I couldn’t have. Then came the grand opening and once he was late for that?” I shook my head, biting my lips so as to not sob in front of Eris. “Nothing he could’ve done would’ve made up for that.”

I don’t know why I’m opening up to Eris. He’s probably just going to relay it word for word back to Lucien. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“None of what he did is excusable,” Eris says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand. He wanted to spend time with his mate. He just wanted her to know that someone was there for her. But did he do it the right way? Absolutely not. And he fucked up, really bad.”

“Can I give you something?”

Eris just stared blankly at me. “What?”

“Just stay here for a moment,” I set my glass down, charging up the stairs. It’s been burning a hole in the bottom of my closet since I found it a few weeks ago. The lump of midnight blue fabric was a crumpled mess, but his scent still lingered on it.

I held it up to my nose. Inhaling deep. It’s time to let go.

As I stand in front of Eris, I hold out the shirt. My throat is like liquid iron. “Give this back to him, will you? It was one of his favorites.”

This shirt… this god damned shirt. It always looked so good on him. With the color of his skin and the tone of his hair. All the jewel tones made him look marvelous, but there was something about the teal color. Tears slid onto my cheeks. The first night he wore this shirt was when Rhysand and Cassian took him out to dinner. “To try and get to know me better,” Lucien said. He thought they were going to interrogate him. But he wore this shirt with dark blue pants and black leather boots. His hair was braided away from his face… I braided it back away from his face.

Eris’s hand on my cheek pulls me out of the memory and into his eyes. “Did you keep this, knowing it was his favorite, hoping one day he’d come back looking for it?”

The fact that he figured it out so easily made my blood run cold. I tried to answer, but the sound of the door creaking open made me forget what I was going to say.

My heart dropped.

Eris’s hand was frozen on my cheek.

Lucien dead still in the doorway. What is he doing here?

Eris clears his throat, taking the warmth of his hand as he drops it to his side. “Brother, perfect timing.” Perfect timing? Did he- “No, I didn’t plan this, Yn. Though I respect you for thinking me so clever.” Eris turned me, blocking my view of Lucien. He folded the wrinkled shirt in my palms. “This is your chance.”

And then he left. He slipped around Lucien with a subtle glare and shut the door behind him.

Lucien looks… he looks so…

“I thought you would be at the restaurant,” he spoke, voice low and cool. “I can came back-”

“What did you want?” I asked, curious as to why he’d be back here ever again.

“Actually I wanted um… I came here for that shirt.”

Oh. Oh. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yeah, yeah, take it. I found it doing laundry a bit ago.”

Lucien crosses the threshold of the room and takes it from me. I’m waiting for him to ask me about Eris. To ask about how I’ve been. Or to apologize. Gods Luc, please say something.

“I see you met my brother. What did he want?”

Here we go. “He walked me home from Latibule.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Well, I hope he wasn’t too much of a pain.”

I snicker, but refrain from further details. “You look well.”

He did, he looked healthy. His arms and chest fill out his shirt in a way they never used to.

“I’ve been training with Cassian for a while,” he explained. That’ll do it, I guess.

“Sounds exhausting.”

He gives a faint chuckle, “It’s interesting.”

Then we just look at each other. My heart swells, and crashes down. My fingers and toes go numb and my head feels lighter. I want him to stop looking at me so intently, yet I don’t want him to leave. Ever again. I want him to stay here and build a home with me. A new home with new memories and new adventures. But the logical part of me knows it’ll never quite be the same.

“Why was Eris here?”

“I told you he walked me home from Latibule.” He gave me a look that screamed ‘I’m not buying that shit’. I must have no resolve because I caved instantly. “He came and found me to talk about you.”

I’ve never seen Lucien look so worried in my seventy years of knowing him. “Why?”

“He wanted to know if I’d ever forgive you. Apparently he’s tired of dealing with Rhysand begging him to talk to you so he came to me.”

“Yn,” Lucien’s eyes sulk, “If I had known Eris would’ve found you I would've just talked to him. I just wanted him gone and away from me. I didn’t mean to drag you further into this.”

“It’s fine, he only mildly insulted me. I see where you get it from.” It was a low blow, but seeing him wince made me feel a bit better. It was petty. But cathartic.

Silence stretched between us. Wrapping around me like a pit viper after delivering a lethal dose of venom to its prey. It constricted and constricted and constricted-

“I love you.”

I almost looked around the room to see if someone else spoke. But it was his mouth that moved, and it was his voice that sang.

“What?”

“I love you, Yn.”

“No-”

“I love you,” he gasps, tears filling his eyes. “I-I… I am so in love with you.”

“Lucien stop,” I beg, that numbness spreading up my arms and calves.

“I am so so fucking sorry for the way I treated you. You are so undeserving of that after all that you did for me. I was selfish and blinded by what I thought I wanted. You were right, Yn. About everything. I never once considered that it could be you because I just always knew you’d be in my life. I never thought that I’d lose you but when I did I… I broke. I can’t live without you. I need you. I love you.”

“You don’t get to decide that you want me and then waltz back into my life. That is not how this works.”

“Please Yn just give me a chance to apologize and make things right.”

“No,” I shouted, anger leaching into my tone. “No, I gave you one too many chances I think. I have given you too much, Lucien. More than enough for one lifetime and you're just now realizing that you want me back? ”

“I’ve always known I’ve loved you Yn. I just didn't understand how much. Or in what way. And I know that’s my fault and my problem. In some way I was cursed by the cauldron to have two mates. But it blessed me with one who cared enough about me to take my broken spirit and make it whole again.”

“Good luck finding someone to do it again because it will not be me this time.” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning away from him.

“Yn please just- just let me speak. I truly didn’t mean to hurt you. I got so caught up in the fact that I finally had a choice in this world that I forgot to think about everything else in my life. I never meant for you to feel anything but loved and appreciated.”

“Lucien, you somehow managed to achieve everything you meant not to do.”

A sob tore through Lucien. And one tore through me too. “You never gave up on me, not once. From day one you have always believed in me, what happened? What changed?”

“You’re complete and utter recognition of my existence changed, Lucien!” I screamed, not caring who heard me. “Ever since the war ended you haven’t paid me the closest bit of real, undivided attention. You only spoke to me if it was about Elain, what dinner was going to be, or if I had gotten the next project done on the restaurant. But not once did you ask me how I was doing or if I wanted to go out for a fun night. I just faded away into the back of your mind.”

My blood curled against my bone while I waited for a response. He stared at the floor, eyes darting around and around.

“I’m so so so sorry, Yn.”

“I’m sure you are.” More empty apologies

“How do I fix this? Tell me what to do. I’ll do fucking anything you want just tell me- please Yn I can’t leave here without saying I gave us every chance we had-”

“And I told you I gave you one too many chances to apologize.”

I refuse to be walked all over. I refuse to be second place. I refuse to be treated as anything but a first priority. My heart is too big sometimes, and I’ve been known to forgive under less likely circumstances, but this is where I draw the line.

Lucien gets down on his knees. “Please, my Yn. I have nothing without you. You are entwined in every corner and crevice of my soul. I know I’m undeserving of you. But somewhere deep down I think you still love me. Even if you hate me right now, and I do not blame you. I have been an awful person-”

“Lucien please don’t-” my throat feels like it’s swelling closed.

“-but I cannot see a future without you in it. If I don’t have you by my side, then all of this is useless. All these heartbeats, all these breaths of oxygen are worthless without you giving me a reason to have them.”

I try to get a grip on the world spinning around me, but it’s of no use. “Lucien get up.”

“No,” he shakes his head, pieces of his hair falling loose to frame his face. In times like these I would once comfort him. Place my hands on his cheeks and tell him how worthy he is of love and protection. And here he is, trying to do the same for me. “No, I need you to listen to me.”

“I don’t wanna hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t care. I have to tell you otherwise I might burn alive. I have never regretted a day more in my life than that night a month and a half ago. It haunts my every waking nightmare. On repeat, every night for me to relive and beat myself up over. I deserve every second of it. You’re right, I did discard you to the side like you were nothing. And I sweat my life on the Cauldron that I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know I was doing it until you pointed it out to me. Then I just… I fell apart.

“I had no idea what to do, where to go. Ask anyone, for weeks I was unable to get out of bed after I came and got my stuff from here. The only person I talked to was Ms. Immy. Even she knew about it. She told me to respect your wishes, to not neglect them like I had neglected you in the past and I might have hope. So as hard as it was, I stayed away. Because I didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Ms. Immy told me it wasn’t my fault that I neglected you- well… it was, but- but it was now my problem. To try and fix it. And she’s right, you’re right. Fucking everyone is right. I just want to fix this with you.”

It’s not your fault, but it is your problem. Damn that wise hag.

My muscles are so taught they begin to ache. I can’t handle this, I don’t want to handle this. I want him gone- no… no I want him to stay and tell me how much he’s fucked up. To validate me because he spent so much time doing the opposite.

“What if I don’t want you to fix things?” I asked. “What if I wanted you to leave and never come back?”

“That’s not an option. Being out of your life has never been an option. I want you more than anything I could think of. I am going to fix this between us one way or another, today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. But I will never stop trying because I love you.”

“Don’t say that,” I plead, turning away from him. His hand wrapped around my forearm, locking me in place. “Let go of me. Now.”

“Not until you give me a legit reason why we cannot fix what we have. Yn, you have given your entire life to me. Let me return all those years back to you.”

“I don’t want you t-”

“You don’t have to forgive me today, but let me try to make it up to you. My Spirit of the Gods, who cares so much more about the lives of others than her own. Let me be the one who cares about you. Let me bear the weight of your burdens.”

“Lucine stop talking.”

“No,” he roared, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that I won’t stop trying to fix things with you no matter how much you hate me. I love you too much to let you slip through my fingers. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I blew off the most important night of your life. Through everything, you were there for me, and I didn’t return the favor when it mattered most. You worked so fucking hard on Latibue, Yn. And I am so unbelievably proud of you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you.”

“For Cauldron's sake, Lucien, shut up.”

“Why are you refusing to listen to anything I have to say?”

“Because if you say one more Gods damned thing about how much you love me and how fucking sorry you are, I might just forgive you and I am not ready to forgive you because I am still livid with you!” The confession tears from my lungs. I heave for a breath, carefully watching Lucien. “I’m not ready to be comforted by someone who hurt me so badly.”

“Then I’ll give you time,” Lucien’s eyes soften as he stands. “I can live with you being angry at me, but I can’t live without you at all.”

“I can’t possibly know how long that’ll take.”

“I don’t care how long it’ll take,” he shrugs. “I’ll wait until our souls pass again if I have to.”

My mind is too cluttered. My heart in too many shards. “You don’t need to wait for me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I know you will,” he smiles. Oh how I’ve missed his smile. His smile. “But that doesn’t mean you need to be.”

He wants to fix things, he was begging on his knees for you to listen to him. He’s okay with you being angry at him as long as you give him a chance. He loves you. He loves you back. After all these years, everything you’ve been waiting for… it’s right in front of you. Even if it hurts, even if you’re scared it is better to do it afraid then not at all.

I broke down into tears, my chest wracked with sobs. All this locked up pain and indignation exploding out at once. And Lucien is right there to keep me from falling. “Shh, Yn it’s okay,” he purrs, holding me so tight I can’t breathe. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I have spent so long loving this boy, begging him silently to love me back. And here he is… why can’t I find the space inside me to let him in?

“Lucien…”

“My Yn,” he breathes, cradling my head to his chest.

I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

I feel his body relax.

“And I think you should leave.”

His body goes rigid. He pulls away, hands reaching to cup my face, but settling on the backs of my arms. “W-What? Why do you-”

“If you spent all this time waiting for it to be the right moment to make peace with me but never taking the opportunity then it’s too late.”

“Yn please- this is me taking the opportunity.”

“No,” I shake my head, sniffling. “This was just a coincidence. You didn't come here with the intention of making amends. You came here just to get a shirt. So here,” I picked up the shirt, shoving it in his chest. “Take it. And go.”

“Wait-” I began to push him to the door. “Yn wait! Yes I came here to get my shirt. No, I didn’t think you’d be here. But you were. So I took a chance. I took a risk for you.”

“Do you really think I’m so naive?” I scoffed, opening the door and shoving him through, rougher than I intended. “If you want me, then you’re going to have to do a lot better than getting down on your knees and saying you love me.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, anything.”

“If you need me to tell you, then there’s no hope for us.”

He stares at me, eyes begging, pleading, hoping and praying that I’ll just tell him. Despite the slight sweat on my skin, my body feels calm. Powerful. I feel in control.

Then his lips are on mine, and any sense of reality I have comes crashing down.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien x you

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perplexingluciddreams · 2 months

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When I come back home from an appointment, I feel like I have just been briefly transported to another dimension.

It is such a horrible awful sensory experience of being out in the "real world" with real other people. It reminds me of just how impaired I am. Of how my dream-selves and imagined realities only exist in my own mind, and don't reflect my level of ability at all. Wow - you would think I would have better awareness of how disabled I am, with the 19 years of experience.

And brings back all the bad memories of how I was left alone abandoned to "drown" every day, for so long - and all because I can't communicate, in the first place.

It is this strange loud bright place where nothing can be processed or understood. My brain gets stuck in thinking loops, triggered by tiny details I see and hear. While that happens, I am dragged away from what is happening around me and completely miss entire chunks of conversation.

People talk talk talk with their mouths. How do people even make those shapes and sounds with their mouths? Sitting up hurts.

Why is it so loud? My brain feels like it is on fire. I can't move. Why can't I move? I need to get out of here. They are still talking. Why won't someone notice?

That bit of floor is peeling up. People are talking. What are they saying? Why can't my eyes look over there like I want?

It is loud and hot and I can feel every bit of dust and dirt on the ground touching my feet. How do other people live in this world of sensory hell and utter overwhelm?

I want to be part of this conversation - I know I have important things to say. What if Dad forgets the important things? Panic. I can't remember what he has already said. I can't say anything, my device is over there. Oh, it is on my lap now. Why can't I say anything, still? Why can't I think in words?

Who is that? Why is he here? Think back - what did she just say as he walked in?

What is happening now? How do "normal" people keep up with how fast it all is?

I have to stay still. It is quieter now.

Oh, I have to make a choice now. I already signed "I don't know". Decisions are hard. More words from the people. I don't know what I want, but I guess I will point at the same one - I remember doing that last time. I don't know if it is what I want. I just want to be finished now.

They are still talking. It is completely nonsensical noises now, I can't even try to work out what it means. I want to leave. Is the room tilting? I can't feel where my body is.

What was that noise? Oh, I hit the door with my wheelchair. Why is it so hard to drive? Is it safe to drive, when I can't even think except "get out, get out, get out"?

And then I am suddenly back home in bed and I can't quite remember how I got here or how it all happened, or if it even happened at all. The only way I know that it did happen, is the exhaustion and the tense uneasy discomfort that my body is left with.

#words from my head #loud brain #bad memories #autism #autistic #nonverbal #nonspeaking #actually nonverbal #sensory processing disorder

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ohlawdthebirds · 5 days

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The Heaviest Burdens

FREE PALESTINE FOREVER!!!

Good heavens, here is my (incredibly late) entry for @glitterypirateduck Ghost challenge. I used prompts 34, 47, 74, 80, 86, and 95. Hope y'all enjoy.

Platonic!141 x Reader; Ghost x Reader later on in the story (can also be read as platonic).

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, you find yourself at your wits end. Good thing your teammates are there to take care of you. And it's especially good that Ghost is there too.

CW: oh, this gets ANGSTY. Mentions of death, blood, mental breakdowns, and suicidal ideations.

The song that dragged me through this fic:

Returning to base after a mission was always rough. The trip back was typically silent, even if things went right. You and your teammates dreaded coming back to the mountain of paperwork that would undoubtedly crowd your desk for the better part of a week. Everyone had their routines when they got back: Price would nurse a cigar and lock himself in his office. Soap would pull out a journal and sketch until his pencil ran dull. Gaz would lose himself in a book or whatever hobby craft he’d decided to pick up that month. Ghost had a penchant for disappearing somewhere on base, only to turn up a few days later. You suspected he hid out in Soap’s room, but never bothered to check. Your ritual was a simple one: gearing down and meticulously cleaning your gear. Everything from your tac vest to your boots was scrubbed of dirt and debris, before being packed away for your next mission. It was something you looked forward to doing, a way to literally cleanse yourself from all that had happened.

The mission had been…horrible wasn’t a strong enough word. A hostage deal gone wrong; more blood spilled than saved. It was a literal mess, one that left more wounds than anticipated. The evac back to base was silent, no one daring to even look at each other. Price released you all to your respective rooms once the heli landed.

You trudged along, not stopping until you reached your room and locked the door behind you. The blood on your uniform had dried completely by that point, leaving dark red splotches across your arms, chest, and legs. It cracked and flaked off the more you moved. For a moment you stood in your room, too afraid to shift even the slightest bit.

The blood on your uniform was not your own. It was a hostage’s, a man that had been ripped from his normal life and thrust into danger. During the mission he’d told you about his family, the restaurant he wanted to open when all was said and done. You’d promised him you would visit his restaurant whenever it opened. The mission went south soon after that, with the militia group you were supposed to go after opening fire. Nearly none of the hostages made it. The only survivors were badly wounded and would carry deep-rooted scars with them for the rest of their lives. During ex-fil you saw the body of the man who told you his hopes and dreams. Your stomach curdled at the sight of him face down in a pool of his own blood. It was all you could do to keep from puking as your team filed into the chopper.

You gathered all of the cleaning supplies you used after every mission: hydrogen peroxide for the blood stains, laundry detergent for the dirt, a towel to lay everything down on, and washcloths and a toothbrush to scrub everything out. Once they were gathered in your arms, you set off for the communal bathrooms. Being that it was the middle of the night and dawn wasn’t for a good few hours, the bathroom was empty. You laid everything out on the countertop next to the sink and began stripping off your gear.

Well.

You tried to, at least.

Your gloves came off just fine. The buckles and straps on both sides of your tac vest, however, didn’t budge. Yanking at the Velcro did nothing. In fact, it seemed to tighten your vest even more. You sucked in a deep breath before giving up on the vest and moving on to something else. But even as you attempted to unbuckle your belt to take off your cargo pants, the leather stuck itself into the loops and tugging on it made it worse. You were sure you were going crazy; maybe it was the emotional toll of this particular mission that had you feeling scrambled and like everything was too tight, too close, too restricting. The final straw came in the form of your shoelaces being knotted too tightly and thus making it impossible for you to even slip off your boots.

A strangled noise erupted from your throat, something between a scream and a sob. It was too much. It was all too much. The mission, the way you couldn’t even wash away the blood of a good man, the way you knew this would happen again with whatever Laswell assigned your team next. It was entirely too much.

You collapsed to the floor. Sobs freely escaped you now with no fear of anyone finding you in the bathroom. At least, that’s what you figured until the door was shoved open. Price stepped in, eyes immediately finding your form crumpled to the ground. He was quick to kneel at your side, trying to assess whether or not you were about to collapse from an injury. Just as soon as you were about to lie and tell him you were fine, in rushed the rest of your teammates. There was no use lying then. They gathered around you, each of them asking some variation of what was wrong or if you were hurt. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took in a shaky breath.

“I’m fine,” you answered, “I just…I can’t get my uniform off.”

“That all, then? Why the crying?” Price asked.

Holding back more tears, you replied “The blood, it’s…it’s that guy, the- the one who wanted to open a restaurant once we got him to safety but…he’s dead, Price, he’s dead and his blood is on me, and I think it’s gonna be on me forever.”

You were full-on bawling by that point, fat teardrops rolling down your face and spilling onto the tile under your head.

“He’s dead and his family will never get to see him again. And us…we got away. We get away every time. We get hit with a few bullets, sure, but we always make it. Our one job was to keep those hostages alive, and we couldn’t manage that. And now there are families mourning loved ones they’ll never see again, and I can’t get this STUPID VEST OFF!”

Your teammates were silent, watching as you sobbed and feebly tried to wriggle out of your tac vest. Ghost was the first to intervein, laying his hands gently atop yours. You allowed him to move your hands back down to your sides before he fiddled with the buckles and Velcro straps of your vest. To your surprise, it all came loose in his grasp. The vest was slipped from over your head and put to the side. Soap and Price followed Ghost’s lead, Soap working on your belt and Price making quick work of your bootlaces. Everything was removed and handed over to Gaz, who’d taken notice of the set up on the counter and was working to get every stain off your uniform.

You laid there, on the cold tile, aided by your teammates. At one point, Ghost and Soap had gathered paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink and ran them under water until they were damp. They both squatted next to you and wiped the dried blood from your skin. It was something close to a baptism, a rebirth. The grime was scrubbed from your skin and soul. Ghost grabbed a new bunch of paper towels, ran them under cool water, and gently scrubbed the dirt and tears from your face.

You sniffled, inwardly cringing at just how pathetic you felt. This was your job, right? This wasn’t anything new to you, so there was no reason for it to affect you this much. And yet, as you thought of the man who told you his hopes and dreams, your eyes couldn’t help but well up once more. Ghost took notice of the way your eyes glossed over. He pressed the towels against your eyelids, drawing up the tears before they could spill.

“Let’s get you back to your room, yeah? Gaz, y’almost done with the gear?”

“Yep, just got the last stain out.”

Ghost grunted in approval. You sniffed once more before shifting on the tiles and standing up. Everyone followed suit, Gaz and Soap gathering your gear and cleaning supplies while Price and Ghost flanked either side of you. The trek out the bathroom and back to your barrack was a quiet one. No one dared breathe a word, not even to crack a joke at you being in nothing but a sweaty shirt, underwear, and socks.

Ghost pushed open your door and stepped back to let you enter. You did, albeit quite stiffly, and came to an awkward stop in the middle of the room. What were you even supposed to do now? It felt wrong to let yourself rest after failing to save the lives you were entrusted with. Your teammates made the decision for you, Gaz and Ghost storing your gear and cleaning supplies away, Soap clicking on your string lights, bathing the room in a warm glow. Price steered you towards your desk chair instead of your bed, a decision you were grateful for. Ghost soon slipped from the room. You didn’t bother commenting on it.

When little else could be done, your teammates readied themselves to leave the room. As they left, they made a point to touch you in some way: Price, a pat on the shoulder; Soap, a light punch against your bicep; Gaz, a quick squeeze to your hand. You were left alone, listening to the hum of the building around you, the water pipes creaking in the walls and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights in the hallway. To say you felt numb was the understatement of the century. You could still hear the echoes of screaming and gunfire, could still smell the blood and smoke. The room around you faded into nothingness. You were content to be stuck in a void of your own creation until a knock on the open door startled you.

You looked up, only to be met with the sight of three very weird things:

Ghost’s face. His bare face, devoid of both his mask and the black grease paint normally smeared over his eyes. Scars were etched throughout his skin, a particularly long one running from the top of his right lip to the bottom of his chin.

Ghost holding two steaming mugs of tea, a book tucked underneath his arm.

Ghost wearing gray sweatpants and…

“Is that my shirt?” You croaked out.

Ghost’s torso was draped in the fabric of a comically large shirt that you’d gotten from a concert a few years back. It was a band you’d been dying to see and when you went to buy merch, the only thing the vendors had left was a t-shirt nearly the size of a blanket. You rarely wore it, always having to fold and tie it up to make it even remotely wearable. Ghost fared no better. Even with his impressive stature the shirt pooled around his neck, falling to the middle of his thighs.

“Nabbed it from your closet earlier. Looked comfortable.”

A strained chuckle left you. Ghost nudged the door closed and walked closer. Once he came nearer, he placed one of the mugs on the desk behind you, before heading towards your closet once more. He dug around for a moment before unearthing a plain cotton shirt and sweatpants that matched his own. Ghost tossed them over to you and leaned further into the closet.

“Y’can change. M’not lookin’.”

You complied, peeling your shirt from your torso and pulling on the shirt and sweatpants.

“You can look now,” You said.

Ghost leaned back out and shut the closet door. He moved back and sat on the edge of your bed. He cracked open his book, sipped at his tea, and for a moment you were sure you were losing your mind. How did you go from being covered in gore to the domestic scene in front of you?

“W-what are you doing?”

Ghost quirked a brow at you. “Readin’ about America’s war crimes. Lotta CIA-backed coups in here. More than I thought, really.”

“No, I mean what are you doing here in my room? You don’t…” You trailed off.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finished.

The soft thump of his book shutting didn’t startle you. What did was the way Ghost leaned in, eyes locked on yours. It was the most amount of direct eye contact you had ever received from him and good heavens was it unnerving.

“D’you remember a few months back, when I twisted my ankle during ex-fil? And instead of waiting for me to hobble on, you threw me over your shoulder and booked it to the helo?”

“So what, is this your way of breaking even? D’you feel like you owe me or something?”

Ghost shook his head. “Nah, none of the sort. But you came through for me. You…you normally do. Figured it was time to do the same.”

You picked up the mug from the desk, letting its warmth seep into your fingers. Ghost had made a cuppa similar to his, black tea with a generous helping of milk and sugar. You sipped at it, oddly comforted by the taste.

“This is good,” you mumbled, more to the cup than the man in front of you. Ghost nodded, picked up his book, and resumed reading. It wasn’t until you were met with the dregs and the bottom of your mug that you spoke again.

“Ghost? D’you ever think you’re in the wrong line of work?”

Ghost halted. You caught the way his grip tightened on his book ever so slightly. He didn’t respond. On a normal day, you would’ve just let it go, let the question hang unanswered in the air. But your day had been far from normal.

“I just…I know no one really wants to join the armed forces, but they do so for one reason or another. I joined because I had nothing else going on. I didn’t know if university would work out and figured I may be of some use here. And you wanna know something, Ghost?”

Your fingers clenched around your mug.

“I didn’t think I would live this long. Figured I’d be taken out, whether it be by my own hand or someone else’s. It’s all so unfair…those hostages had lives, they had dreams, and they had hope. Me? I don’t have that. Haven’t for a while. So why do I get to come home in one piece while they don’t?”

Tears welled up in your eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that night. A few escaped, sliding down your chin and neck. You didn’t bother wiping them away.

“Why do I get to live when I don’t deserve to? We…we kill for a living, Ghost! We take orders from higher-ups who get to decide who’s the bad guy and who’s not, and we have to listen because that’s what we’re paid to do. But these are real people with real lives, and we failed them!”

You were sobbing once more, tears now running freely. The mug slipped from your hands and dropped to the floor. You paid it no mind, hunching over and curling into yourself as best you could on the desk chair. Ghost placed his book aside, moving to your side in one large step. He crouched to the floor, something his knees vehemently disagreed with. In a move that shocked you, Ghost gently clasped your arms and brought you up from the chair. He steered you in the direction of your bed, waiting until you sank down on the mattress. You laid back into your pillows. Ghost joined you, waiting until your sobbing calmed into unsteady hiccups. He brought up the edge of his (technically your) shirt and blotted away your tears.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Wish I did,” Ghost lamented. “This is all I’ve known for quite some time now, and I don’t know if I know how to do anything else. If it’s any help to you, at least you know you’re still got a heart.”

You looked over at him through bleary eyes.

“What’s that mean?” “Means you’ve still got your humanity. I’d be more worried if this didn’t bother you.”

“And what about you? Does it all bother you?” Ghost was quiet for a moment before answering.

“It does.”

You shifted onto your side, nestling your face into your pillow.

“If you weren’t here…if you weren’t with the SAS, what would you be doing? And don’t say you’re not sure. Just…give me something, anything.”

A hum rumbled somewhere deep in Ghost’s chest.

“Think I’d be a dog-sitter. Just hang out with dogs all day.”

You let out a shaky giggle. “Yeah, that sounds like you. You’re always hanging around Riley.”

“What about you? I know you said uni wouldn’t have worked out, but what else would you wanna do?”

You thought about it for a long moment. “I think…I think being an astronaut would be cool. Getting to float around in space, getting to discover new planets, aliens and stuff. I’d like that.”

“Aliens huh?”

“Yeah. Aliens,” you say.

Ghost shifted on his back. He lifted a huge arm up and over, letting it dangle just above your head. It took you a moment to realize he was inviting you to lean into him. You accepted, scooching in and letting your face rest against his side. Ghost dropped his arm and let it rest against your back, his hand drifting up and down your spine.

You think back over the day, the pain and death surrounding you. Never did you think it would result in this softness, this care enveloping you. You felt exhaustion inching throughout your mind and body, quickly beckoning you into sleep. You nestled into Ghost’s side further.

“Ghost?”

He hummed, nearing sleep himself.

“Thank you.”

Ghost didn’t reply. He simply held you tighter.

#Spotify #ghostchallenge #simon ghost riley x reader #task force 141 x reader

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jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet · 2 years

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Unexpected / Azriel X Reader

Summary: Since Azriel has known you he has always had the impression that you were the kindest, most innocent person out there. Until there is a conspiracy.

Warnings: reader is attacked, this is my first fic, english is not my first language

If you have constructive criticism please let me know, I’m always trying to get better

Azriel had been training with Cassian when the bond suddenly exploded with emotion so strong he actually lost his footing as they drove their blades against each other. It took him a dizzy heartbeat to sort your message from the blind panic. Help me Help me Help me. He didn’t even hear the teasing words his brother threw at him before he pushed up and launched into the sky. His hand clenched around the trainings swords hilt. Something scared you and he had promised to keep you safe. Wind whipped past him as he dove for the direction the bond frantically tugged him in. Until he found you he could do nothing but pray. Please wait for me. Please be safe. Let it be something stupid, mother let it be a spider. Don’t be hurt. I don’t know what to do without you.

-----------------------------

You however, had been browsing through some of the stores in Velaris, searching for the perfect dress you could wear to the next family gathering when you first noticed the same male following you out of the store he had conveniently followed you into twenty minutes earlier. Heart slamming against your ribs you tried to rationalize that yes, people are allowed to use the same stores as you at the same time and be done at the same time and walk uncomfortably close to you and now his hands are on you and-

He’s dragging you into the alley between a shop and a florist, one hand over your lower face, the other keeping you pressed against him. Your muscles lock up, you can’t breathe, your going to die and Azriel is going to find your corpse. The disorienting sensation of winnowing pulls you from your train of thoughts. You two appear in the woods, pine trees all you can see, then you’re gone again.

He can’t winnow far.

But the fact that he is taking you out of Velaris tells you that he is not just some opportunist. Not someone trying to rob you or rape you or kill you. There’s more.

“If I’d known you were so easy to take I wouldn’t have bothered to watch you for so long. Your shadowsinger is going to give us exactly what we want to get you back.” he seems chatty, sounds like the guy from next door. Your easy abduction must’ve put him in a good mood.

Us. There are people waiting for me to be brought to him. They want to use me against my mate.

You decide then and there that you would not arrive at the final destination with this male. As soon as you feel dirt beneath your feet you take action. With your back pressed against his chest you manage to blindly scratch at his face. By chance you drive your finger into his eye and he rears back away from you yelping. You don’t think you will ever get the sensation of eyeball under your fingernails out of your mind but at least you can gasp for air now. One look around tells you that you are still in the pine tree forest but next to a river this time. It might be the sidra.

Azriel is pleading with you to tell him where you are through the bond but you really can’t focus on him right now. The male has red hair that contrasts horribly with the bloody tears streaming down his face. You can make out only that his eyes are dark but with the way he’s squinting at you you can’t be sure. His hand reaches for the nasty looking knife strapped to his thigh, the other pulls a hand full of what you guess is fae bane from a pouch. But now that you know what you’re working with your head starts to clear. Your power is a bit dusty as it raises to your command but as soon as the male lunges at you he is suspended into the air and thrown right into the river.

------------------------------------

It’s not a spider. Instead he has to listen to some florist about how you had been dragged an alley and disappeared. Cassian did most of the question asking as he himself was too busy trying to locate you with the string binding you together. You weren’t answering his frantic questions with anything else but the urgent message find me.

The male that dared to touch you would find him a very unforgiving individual with loads of knowledge on how to make people suffer. Never had he been so intent on finding and carving up a being he’d never seen before. But first he’d have to find you. And if there was a single scratch on your body he would find new ways to bring hell onto the offender.

“This is useless, we’re just loosing time.” he ground out and rushed off before Cassian could comment on the fact that he was still shirtless and only with his training sword. But in the end he just shrugged at the florist and flew after his brother. Rhys fell into beat with them soon after, tossing Azriel truth-teller and his siphons. He didn’t ask questions, Cassian must’ve filled him in already. Never had Azriel been so grateful for his brothers support. That they were willing to fly blindly into battle with him and not even ask questions about it-

His heart lurched and he forgot to beat his wings for a second when something unfamiliar thrummed through the bond. Fear and pain and something else. He strained to fly faster until he was well ahead of his brothers. They had left Velaris behind and reached the pine trees, the way there were heading now would lead them back to the sidra.

He was so blinded by the need to be by your side, check you over for any injuries, drag you back to where it was safe and take revenge that he never noticed how your end of the bond went quieter.

-----------

He landed hard by the river, almost diving in immediately for the figure thrashing below the surface. Only to whip around at your call. You were seated beneath a huge pine tree, one hand stretched out towards him, the other pressing fabric onto your thigh. The scent of your blood overrides his senses and he actually growls when his brothers land. He’s by your side before he really notices himself moving, hands tilting your head, inspecting the pine needles in your messed up hair, the bruises down your neck and finally catching on the blood seeping through the blue fabric your clutching in your left hand. The roaring in his ears drowned out the splashing water behind him. Hurt but safe.

The other hand is still extended to him and he tries to take it, assuming that you want to be comforted. But you jerk it upwards and someone coughing and spluttering erupts behind him. Immediately he has truth-teller in his hands and whirls around, wings flaring to shield you. His shadows shroud him in death shooting towards the threat. But he is met with a male struggling in the air, spiting river water and begging for it to stop.

“He was just telling me about how hewanted to take me to his companions and force you to be their informant to get to Rhysand. The others are waiting for us to show up further down the river. He said there’s supposed to be about ten but he isn’t sure if Suela could come because her brother is sick and she needed to take care of him.” you sound shockingly composed and the three illyrians are stunned as you step out from behind Azriel.

“What-”

“How-”

You merely direct the sobbing male in front of Cassian with your power, letting him fall to his knees as soon as you release him. Cassian doesn’t even have to bother tying him up. Your attacker is a pathetic, shaking heap at your friend’s feet and you can’t help but smirk. You meet Rhysands stare for a second but whatever he thinks about you actions goes unsaid.

Letting your power subside you feel the adrenaline leave you as well. Finally you turn to your mate and fall into his arms. Desperately he presses you against him, feeling you shake and fighting the urge to winnow you back into your house right then and there. Instead he looks at Rhysand, who has managed to slip his highlord mask on, assessing the back of your head as if you just became very interesting.

“I’ll take her home. Get the others to my dungeon, I want to have some fun with them.” he growls his command but the high lord doesn’t say anything, fully understanding the need for violence after your mate was attacked.

Azriel levels one look at the male on the floor that has him press against Cassians legs for refuge. “We are going to have a thorough conversation later.” he conveyed bloody murder with every word but you knew the male would not find death in a long while. You didn’t have it in you to feel sorry for him.

“Let’s go home, Az.” he hum into his chest where you buried your face. You could only guess that he immediately came from training to find you and hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on but you certainly weren’t complaining.

He picks you up and you are winnowing. Instead of the disorienting feeling you are greeted by his shadows curling and twisting around you. For a second you are free falling above Velaris then his wings catch the current and you smoothly begin to ascend.

“Thank you for finding me.” he clutched you tighter to his chest. You can feel his heart beating furiously. The bond is tight with emotions.

“I thought I was going to loose you. Never ignore me again please.”

“I’m sorry but I had to focus on not being stabbed or dragged to his friends.”

“Well how did that work out?” he huffed but you both knew that he was just shaken to the bone. Loosing you might very well be his death sentence.

“Perfectly fine thank you.”

“But he did stab you”

“Just a little bit, Az can we argue tomorrow? After this I really just want to take a bath and cuddle with my mate.” you looked up at him with big eyes and his heart melted. He would never let you go again. From now on you would have to watch him train and wait with the shopping until he could accompany you.

(You knew what he was thinking but as you had decided that the arguing would come tomorrow you didn’t bring it up yet)

#azriel #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you

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juggalomary · 1 month

Text

did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #kate laswell #agnst #heavy angst #main character death #don’t like don’t read

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ghouly-boiiiii · 7 days

Text

A Light in the Dark 🕯️

Chapter 1: Throwing Stones

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Summary: Takes place directly after the end of Season 1. As they begin their journey, Lucy is understandably very angry and fearful towards the Ghoul. She hates him, and is only joining him because she wants answers. He, however, is harboring secret feelings for Lucy ever since she saved his life. Having not been with anyone since Barb, and believing she would never feel the same, the bounty hunter has to deal with these feelings on his own. Little does he know, Lucy finds herself having inexplicable feelings for him as well, and struggling to make sense of them.

Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Casual Sex Lucy and No Wait Let Me Court You Cooper, Cooper is touch-starved and rusty in bed, He's also self-conscious about his body, Ghoul channels old romantic Cooper, Lucy is confused by strange surface dweller mating customs, She helps him discover his old self, He helps her discover her true self, Did I mention there would be angst

Rating: Mature - Word Count: 1,742

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers. No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man and lots of angst.

In this chapter...

To her horror, the rock shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

She threw her hands up in front of her. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t worry…” To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’… But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock, then looked up at her and threw it in her direction.

She watched as fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

Authors Note: This fic starts out somewhat similar to my other fic, My Name Is Cooper, because it starts directly after the end of the season. They have similar conversations at first, but the tone is much different and the story goes in a completely different direction. This one is more serious (still with some humor though, of course), and is probably going to be longer. I really wanted to do a more realistic, slow burn romance. I know there's a ton out there already, but I wanted to do my own version because idk, reasons I guess lol. But I really wanted to dive deep into how these two navigate their relationship and the very complicated feelings they might have for each other. This is what you might call another free-writing project, so I don't know *exactly* where it's gonna go, but I will do my best to make sure it has a decent ending when the time comes! Inspired by the cool peeps on Discord and touch-starved Cooper headcanons lol.

Lucy felt the cool night air fill her lungs as she took a deep breath and tried to still her mind. It was silent. Nothing but the soft crunch of leaves and dirt under their feet, and perhaps the occasional frog or cricket.

The vault dweller looked out at the distance before them. A fog rose up from the earth, illuminated by the faint glow of a thousand lights that mirrored the stars above. She was in awe, even thinking that it was beautiful. But it was only a distraction from all the pain and confusion she felt.

Her whole world had turned upside down. Nothing was as she believed it was. Nothing was as it seemed. Everything she thought she knew had crumbled into dust within a matter of minutes. She was numb. Overwhelmed. Everything felt surreal. And now she found herself once again alone… with him.

As Lucy stared ahead at his silhouette in the darkness, she felt nothing but disdain. The young vault dweller was taught to forgive and forget. But she was fairly certain the people who taught her that were never fed to a giant salamander or tied up by their neck and dragged around a desert or sold for organs. How could she possibly forgive, let alone forget, such horrible things that were done to her?

She couldn’t. But she had to stuff down her feelings and let it go… for now.

“So… where are we going?” Lucy finally asked. They must have been walking for at least thirty minutes at this point. And he hadn’t looked back even once, only reacting to the dog when she came up to him, and even then with barely more than a glance. Lucy wasn’t even sure if he knew she was still following him anymore.

The Ghoul didn’t answer right away. He waited a moment, before he took a breath and said, “Can’t say for sure yet… but looks like yo’ daddy might be headed for New Vegas.”

“...That’s a town?”

“Big town.”

“Okay…” Lucy took a deep breath. The conversation seemed to be going… okay so far. “So… what’s in this town? Why do you think he’d want to go there?”

The Ghoul didn’t answer.

The vault dweller swallowed hard. She wanted to push, but she knew she had to be cautious. “How do you know my father? Are you going to tell me?”

The bounty hunter seemed to be ignoring her.

She huffed. He was so rude. So rude and inconsiderate and unaccommodating, it sickened her. Maybe if she started with something simpler… “Okay, so… do you got like a… name or something?”

Again, nothing.

Lucy frowned, her tone getting exasperated. “I’m just… wondering what I should call you… You really not gonna answer that either?”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you call me.” He snapped, sounding a bit angry.

Lucy fell silent and her throat got tight, a bit of fear rising in her. She truly didn’t know what kind of madness compelled her to follow this man, after everything he did to her. She was hypervigilant about his every movement. Knowing that at any moment, he could turn around and try to do... something to her.

With her hand on her pistol, she kept her distance. This one, armed with actual bullets. She wasn’t sure if it would do much, but it was something.

Truly, every fiber of her being told her to get as far away from this… creature as she humanly could, but…

He had answers. And so did whoever they were going to find. She needed those answers. There was no question about it. Sure, she could just turn around and go home. Go back to her life in the Vault with Norm and Chet and Stephanie and everyone else. But she would never be able to live with herself. Those questions would never stop haunting her. She would never stop feeling compelled to seek the truth. Lucy knew this about herself, and her body acted almost automatically as she took one step in front of the other behind those of this two-hundred year old cowboy.

“Look… you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Obviously, we’re not friends. But if we’re going to be working together… we need to at least communicate effectively...”

The Ghoul was silent for a moment, then finally responded, “Well, then… I got a question for you , Vaulty.”

“...Okay?”

“What happened to the doctor?”

“...The doctor?”

“Yeah. How’d he end up with no head?” This time, he did turn his head slightly, although not enough to see her. “...Who cut it off?”

"Uhh... Well, uh... I-I did..." Lucy's eyes fell to the ground.

"You did?" The bounty hunter said in surprise.

“Uhh… well…” She swallowed hard, as she remembered the task. She’ll never forget having to cut off someone’s head for the first time… and, well… hopefully, the last. “He asked me to.”

“He asked you to cut off his head?” This time, he did look back at her, peering over his shoulder questioningly with a raised brow.

“Yes… he… he took cyanide and told me… He told me it would be easier… if I just… brought his head…”

The Ghoul turned to face ahead of him, then just said, “Huh…”

There was silence for a moment, before he asked another question. “What about the Super Duper Mart? What'd you do in'ere?”

Lucy blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him, flustered by the fact that he would ask that, considering he put her in that situation. “...Why do you wanna know?”

“Curious, I guess.” The Ghoul said simply. "It's just kinda funny... what with all that 'Golden Rule' talk, how many people seem ta' end up dead 'round you."

“It was an accident!" The vault dweller quickly retorted. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt... I just…" She paused and looked down at the ground somberly, remembering Martha. "They... they were holding all those people captive… I... I couldn’t just leave them there…”

“You mean those ghouls?”

“They’re people. Maybe they have a condition, but they’re still people..." She snapped, then added under her breath. "Unlike you...”

Dangit. That was not a good thing to say. Lucy bit her tongue, hoping he didn't hear.

She swallowed hard and tried to play it off. “But I did have to kill some of them. So, you know…” She said, trying to sound confident in her ghoul-killing skills. "I'd, uh... watch out... if I were you."

"Heh. Well, good for you, Vaulty." He snickered. “…Anyways, how did you get the–”

“Now! Now, hold on!” Lucy said, holding up a bluish-grey finger. “If you get to ask me things, I get to ask you things.” She lifted her head a bit higher. “A question for a question. That’s only fair.”

The Ghoul peered over his shoulder at her again for a moment as he continued to walk, then turned back. “Alright.”

“Yeah… so…” She looked down at the ground and exhaled, then back up with determination in her eyes. “So I get to ask you—”

“Two questions.”

“Five.”

“Five?”

“That’s right. You technically asked me five questions. Actually, six.”

“Well, that don’t sound quite fair to me, Vaulty.” He said with a smirk. “I asked you two questions. The rest were for clarification. They don’t count.”

She huffed in dismay. It was worth a try, she thought.

He chuckled. “Tell you what. You can ask me however many questions you want. But I get to pick which ones I answer.”

“No! That’s not fair! I answered the questions you asked me, now you’re gonna answer mine.”

“Well, you didn’t have to answer my questions. That was your choice.”

“What!? I–” She huffed, unsure how to counter that.

“Alright… question for a question.” The bounty hunter said, raising his voice, and two fingers. "You got two. Have at it, sweetheart.”

The vault dweller jumped, then quickly ran up closer, but still stayed a few feet behind him. Out of arms reach. “...Name?”

“Pass.”

“How do you know my dad?”

“Hard pass.”

She huffed. “This isn’t fair.”

“And what is, darlin'?” He scoffed, holding his arm out beside him. “What in God’s Green Earth made you think that anything in the wasteland is ever fucking fair? It’s every man for himself out here, sweetheart. Thought you might’ve figured that out by now.”

Lucy growled, and as she momentarily lost her cool, she kicked a rock in front of her. To her horror, it shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

He froze, and she took a sharp gasp. Oh, no… now she’d done it.

As she watched The Ghoul slowly turn around to face her, she threw her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry!” She said in a panic. “I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

The old bounty hunter stood there and just stared at her a moment. “Don’t worry…” His face was in shadow, but she could see the gleam in his eyes. To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’…”

Lucy rose her head and lowered her arms a little, relaxing somewhat.

“But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock from the ground. He tossed it in his hand once, then stood, looked up at her, and threw it in her direction.

She watched as it weakly flew towards her, then fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

She looked up at The Ghoul and raised an eyebrow before she continued to follow, wondering what the hell that was all about.

“One thang you gotta learn, Vaulty…” He said, raising his voice commandingly. “Caps ain’t the only form of money up here. Everything you have is potential currency. That includes information.” He said. “You see, that Golden Rule a yer’s only works if other people agree with it. Now that might be all peachy down in your vault, but up here, you don’t wanna be givin’ nothin’ away unless you know you gettin’ somethin’ in return. If you don’t do that, you’ll be eaten alive out here.”

“So… You’re giving me survival lessons now?”

“Yeah… I guess I am.” He said as he turned to smile at her, then tipped his hat up with a single finger. “...But those you can have for free.”

To be continued...

#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul #lucy maclean #fallout #my posts #ghouly-boi #fallout prime #my fanfaction

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pryce0 · 1 year

Text

Am I a Bad Man? - Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader (Part 2)

gif by: @haveyouseengavin

word count; 1,718

Masterlist: here

First Part: here

tag: @dontbethatguy20

————————

Arthur didn’t come back for a good 2 days, and with every minute that passed by that he didn’t return, you felt worse and worse.You made the effort to leave camp in an attempt to find him, but it was no use; there were 3 states he could’ve possibly been in and it would take weeks to search every single one. You confided in Hosea, not with every detail because you KNOW Arthur is self conscious and wouldn’t want his business to be talked about by everyone. “Well, you did hurt his feelings, dear.” Hosea murmured, a book in his hands as he sits on an empty crate at an empty table. You can’t help but think, ‘Arthur would be sitting here with him if I didn’t drive him out.’

You nod and nervously pick at the dead skin around your thumbnail, glancing at him and around the camp. “I know, I‘ve been lookin’ for him, I even shouted for him to stop but..” You trail off as shame floods your senses again. You know it was so very wrong to take it out on him; especially when you know he’s insecure about what you said. Arthur had written countless times in his journal about being a bad man, has confided in you about being a horrible person, yet you still ended up shouting at him.

The events that transpired replay in your head, over and over and over.

“Yeah, go fucking do your job like the goddamn mutt you are, Morgan. Go kill for him, go torture for Dutch. Live up to your reputation, why don’t you?? Oh, it isn’t even a fucking reputation by this point, it’s the truth.”

There’s nothing but the distant sound of the gang celebrating after your piercing sentence. Arthur’s jaw is dropped, looking back at you with such betrayal. Your heart drops to your stomach as you process everything you just said. Cold panic floods your veins as you watch him stutter in pure shock and anger. “Fuck, Arthur, I-“

“Don’t.”

Arthur’s expression tore you apart on the spot, and even now you feel sick thinking about how betrayed he looked. You were the one person he trusted to make him feel like he was normal, like he wasn’t the person he is, the man who collects debts, the man who kills for money, the man who steals from anyone who needs stealin’— despite Dutch’s sayings that he doesn’t even follow. Arthur trusted you and you threw that confidence away like it was nothing, with only a few sentences.

“He will come back,” Hosea says quietly, closing his book and he keeps his eyes trained on you. Like he’s searching for your emotions; he finds your regret, your remorse, your panic. You feel the dark swirling feeling of all of this combined. “I need him.. to come back.” You wanted to stop at ‘I need him’ but you know it wasn’t appropriate right now; this isn’t about you, it’s about your words and how Arthur was affected. You didn’t want to take anything more away from him.

Hosea sighs quietly and glances around, standing up from the crate and placing his hands on the table in front of him. He leans towards you with a quiet voice, getting the memo you want to keep this on the down-low. “Look, why don’t you take a ride, or go hunt? Keep yourself preoccupied?” He questions you, pushing his sleeve back where it was supposed to be as it was slowly shifting down his arm. “Trust me, Dutch and I have raised that boy since he was a teenager. He’ll come back real soon.” Hosea goes to leave the table but he turns to me with a pause, his voice going soft. “You mean a lot to him, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud. Sort this out with him, yeah?”

You pause and nod, staring at Hosea as he coughs into his fist, grabbing his book and walking off to his tent. You take a deep breath before walking off to your own and kneeling down, grabbing one of the handles to your weapons trunk from under your bed. You drag it out with some resistance, considering it’s been sitting and sinking into the dirt below for a couple of weeks now. You flip open the tab and open it up, grabbing one of your shorter rifles; most of your stuff is on your horse, but you have a lucky rifle. Maybe you’ll catch something good, considering you lost something good. You sling the weapon over your shoulder and walk over to your horse, putting your foot in the stirrup and grunting as you get onto the saddle. You grab the reins and quietly urge your horse to start moving, going down the path from camp, and you don’t know where you want to go. Just anywhere but here.

—————————

You find yourself in a woodsy area, about 30ish minutes away from camp. You sigh and loosely wrap the reins of your horse around a low branch. You begin to softly talk to your horse like always, grabbing an apple out of the satchel that is attached to your saddle. “Here you go, girl. Eat up.” You murmur, and your horse graciously takes the apple between her teeth and crunches down on it. You’re silent for a moment before laughing humorlessly, petting the side of her neck, feeling her fur underneath your fingers. “I really messed up, huh, girl? I haven’t seen him in a few days, now..” Your horse neighs in nearly an annoyed tone, digging at the ground with her hoove. You let out another, yet quieter laugh before speaking again. “Yeah, I know. You’re mad at me, too. My apples don’t compare to the ones he manages to get his hands on, hm? Yeah, don’t think I don’t see him sneakin’ snacks to you, girl. I see it.”

You inhale deeply and you get a whiff of smoke nearby, which means someone is definitely camping near here. You grunt under your breath as that means this isn’t really the greatest place to be hunting. You turn to look and to your surprise, the camp isn’t too far away; and there’s a mighty familiar horse tied to a tree nearby.

It’s Arthur’s horse.

Your eyes light up and your heart skips a beat; do you approach? Do you give him space? Before you can second guess yourself, you end up approaching the camp, glancing around nervously. “..Arthur?” You call out just loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear you. At first, you’re met with the silence of the night, besides the occasional bug sound. Is he not here?

“Arthur?” You call out just a bit louder, and immediately a man steps out from the other side of the horse; and it’s him.

He looks conflicted, his eyebrows furrowed together, his lower lip slightly puckering out like it always does when he is feeling annoyed. You pause and you stare at him for a moment before opening your lips. However, nothing comes out within the first few seconds. What is there to say? How do you apologize for the things you’ve said?

“..I want to apologize, Arthur. Genuinely apologize. Can you please listen to me?” You plead quietly as you slowly step towards him. He raises his hands and then lowers them with a bewildered expression. “How did you find me?” He asks, straight to the point. You pick at the skin on your thumbnail again. “By accident,” You answer honestly. “Hosea told me to go hunt while I waited for you to return back to camp.”

You quietly sigh and motioned to the campfire. “Can we sit? I.. I want to have a conversation.”

Arthur presses his lips together, trying to hold it together. He decides to comply silently, taking his seat on his bedroll. You sit next to him, although there’s a reasonable distance between you and him.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” You begin, looking at him, whose eyes are staring straight into the campfire before you two. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I want you to know that I didn’t mean anything I said. I was havin’ a terrible day; and that excuses nothin’ I said. I don’t think you’re a mutt, or Dutch’s little pet. You aren’t a bad ma-“

“Don’t you even go there because we both know damn well I am.” Arthur interrupts you quietly, avoiding all eye contact. Your eyes furrow as he speaks, his tone firm yet nearly shaken. Arthur picks grass and dirt off his pants as he waits for you to continue, even hiding his face with his hat. “I will go there because you aren’t that bad man. You’ve done so much good, you take care of the people you love. You are a loyal man, someone who is willing to provide, no matter the circumstances.” You murmur, inching closer to him. Your heart picks up a bit as all you want to do is kiss him until he forgets everything, and you’ve wanted to do that for so long. If you had said this to anyone else, you wouldn’t have made such an effort to find him at first. Arthur glances at you and then he looks away, but he doesn’t move away. That’s a good start. “I’ve done terrible things too, darlin’.” He whispers in an attempt to mask his emotions, but you know him too well. You lean closer and cup his cheek, guiding his face to look at you. You make eye contact with Arthur and your soft, loving eyes meet his guilty and solemn ones. “Your actions do not define you. You have never been a terrible man to me, Arthur.”

He swallows his spit, Adam's apple jumping in his throat. “Y.. You mean that?”

You nod with a soft smile. “If you were the bad man you think you are, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be talking to you like this, I don’t talk to anyone else the way I talk to you, sir.”

Arthur doesn’t exactly smile, but you can see his expression lift ever so slightly. Your thumb brushes against his cheek as you whisper, “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Mister Morgan.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #angst #arthur morgan x you #romance #arthur morgan x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort #part 2 #requests are open #requested

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sapphic-woes · 2 years

Text

Eivor x Fem!Reader - Merciful

A/N: So...first fic ever doing x reader, bear with me as I get the hang of this. In this, Eivor is injured and comes across a nun who helps her out. Minors DNI.

Word count: 4k. AO3 link

_______

Mercy. It was a virtue that was usually praised. However, when it came to you many said it would be your downfall.

“You’re too nice, too caring, too understanding. That's why everyone always uses you.” You knew that. It was easy to tell when a kind smile masked ill intentions, and yet you could never bring yourself not to lend a helping hand. For that was the duty of a nun, wasn’t it?

“Ugh…lady…” As you dropped the bucket of water you’d fetched from the river, you soon realized there were some good deeds even you found difficult to do.

It was a dane, one bloody and bruised, dragging himself…herself, up out of the river. It was a struggle not to scream, she looked like the devil himself with her war paint running down her face and blue eyes focused on your startled form. Even in her plight, she still managed to notice your instinctive step back, and her glare in response–as if daring you to call the guards–making it feel like it would be pointless to try.

“Please…” Only the second time she spoke did you fully register her voice–both its peculiar ruggedness and the fact that she spoke English–sending a shiver down your spine. Clearly, she was asking for help. But to help a dane?

You weren’t a fool. You lived in an abbey, and heathens loved to attack them. It was a risk you gladly took to serve the Lord, and you had been prepared to face death by the hands of a dane since the moment you became a nun. Now you were facing a dane alright, yet somehow the Lord was testing you with her imminent death rather than your own.

Do I let her live, or leave her to die? The choices led to two grim realities. Her death within the hour, or the abbey’s potential massacre within a few weeks' time.

You prayed to the Lord that the if of the latter would never become a reality.

She was heavy, stinking of dirt and blood. By the time you decided to save her, she had already passed out, leaving you to somehow drag her body to a suitable area. Luckily, being the pushover of the abbey had some perks. In your desperation to find solitude, you’d stumbled across a cave not far from the river and used it to rest from time to time.

Once there, you huffed, laying her down on the dirt floor as gently as your sore arms could. Then you were off to fetch a new bucket of water and medical aid, explaining poorly to the reverend that you were simply nursing an injured baby calf stuck in the woods. He thought it was useless work–but work no one other than you would do–so he let you go, and with haste, you returned to the dane.

Once you entered the cave again, you set to work. The bleeding had to stop and to stop the bleeding the wound needed to be located. Oh, you thought with a nervous gulp, her top will have to be removed...

Heat crept over your cheeks, but quickly you shook your head. This may be a dane, but she was a woman nonetheless. A woman exactly like you. There was nothing to be shy about, and it was confusing that you even were. With a deep breath you took the knife you brought, murmuring apologies to the unconscious heathen before cutting through her thick clothing.

Immediately, you realized she was certainly a woman…but her body was definitely not like yours.

If there was one word to describe it, it was hardened. Trained. Muscles rippled as she breathed, and tiny scars decorated her waist and chest. There was ink too, terrifyingly beautiful designs that made your heart hammer and nervously breathe out. You’d heard from rumors that the tattoos meant horrible things, like tallies of how many saxons they’d killed. What if I become one too? Again, panic seized your heart, and you found yourself trembling as you studied the wound she’d suffered.

Luckily, it was something treatable. With great care not to wake her (though you weren’t sure if it was out of fear or genuine concern) you patched her up, checking to see if there was anything else. There was a slash at her right leg, and you patched that one up as well, finally moving to clean the dirt from the rest of her body. Gently, you dragged a cloth across her chiseled face, marveling at her sharp jaw and long, pretty lashes. Perhaps she had looked intimidating before, but fast asleep she was clearly a thing of beauty.

You liked her straight nose and her eyebrows that seemed to grimace even in her sleep. You wondered what she’d look like when she was wide awake and not glowering at you. You wondered if her voice really was that low–or if her long journey only to end up passing out in the river was the cause. You were curious, and before you knew it, you were hovering less than an inch above her face.

Lord above. You held back a squeak, scrambling back. That was rude! Impolite and…odd of you. Very odd. For a moment you tried to register why you’d done such a thing, but you came up with no answer. All you knew for certain was that you felt warm all over, tingly as you watched the woman’s chest rise and fall. Somehow, just watching her breath was mesmerizing. Was it the devil in her making you so curious? You didn’t know–but you did know that the reverend would be expecting you back soon.

In more of a frenzy than you’d like to admit, you gathered your things and left, cheeks aflame as you rushed to escape whatever trap satan intended to use the dane with.

_______

It took a week for her to wake again.

In those days, the routine was fairly simple. Every day you went out to fetch water you’d take the time for a detour. There you’d clean her wounds and redress her bandages, leave fresh water and stolen borrowed leftovers just in case she’d wake. For the past week, the food rotted, and dust settled over the water. Today was no different, at least, when you first entered the cave it wasn’t.

She was lying as she always did, and you moved quickly. You only had so much time before the reverend, or anyone else for that matter grew suspicious. Despite everyone needing you, they did little to respect you as a person, becoming more of a lapdog than anything. You set down the bucket of water with a huff, arching your back to crack it with a groan. Who knew being a nun would require so much labor?

“It’s already been a week…maybe it’s exhaustion?” You murmured as you walked up to the sleeping dane, hovering a hand over her face. She was breathing, and her breaths were stronger than when she was usually asleep, though still steadily rhythmic. That was a good sign, right? You bit your bottom lip with worry, turning away.

To transport her bandages and other medical supplies, you tied them with rope in pouches to the side of your thighs, keeping them hidden under your long robe. At first, you felt ridiculous walking with them like that, but now it was like second nature. With little thought you hiked up your dress, untying the pouches carefully. That was when you glanced in front of you at the food you’d left before. A useless endeavor, but still you couldn’t help but check with hope…

…and see that it was all completely eaten.

You froze. One of the pouches you’d tried to quietly remove slipped from your hand. Glass jars full of healing salve shattered from within. You didn’t care.

No–you were more concerned with the eyes drilling into the back of your neck, trailing down the base of your spine…and finally, resting on your legs exposed to the chilly autumn air. You didn’t know whether to run or scream. You didn’t know if either choice mattered.

“Lady.” Her gruff voice made you jump, and suddenly you could move again. You spun on your heel, you scrambled back–two horrid decisions to make at once. Your balance abandoned you, and suddenly coarse skin gripped your hand, yanking you forward. You stumbled, letting out a startled cry as you fell onto your hands rather than your back.

You’d squeezed your eyes shut to brace for impact, but now as you tentatively fluttered them open, you didn’t recognize the bandages inches from your face. That is until they rocked up and down. An amused, albeit pained, voice rumbled from the depths of it.

“Lady, might you remove yourself from me?” Am I…staring at her chest? You moved faster than you ever had before, clambering off of the dane and then shuffling several feet back. She watched the entire display with a raised eyebrow, and her calmness in juxtaposition to your alarm only made you feel more embarrassed. You opened your mouth to speak, but the knot in your throat wouldn’t allow for more than another frightened noise. At that the heathen paused, shifting her gaze to think before focusing her gaze back on you.

“I…won’t hurt you. You saved my life, lady. It would have been easy to leave me there, or send out guards to end my suffering. Yet,” the dane waved her hand to the empty food and water, “you did all this instead. It would be foolish to repay my savior with violence, wouldn’t you think?” She was right, it would be foolish. However, you had been taught that danes were exactly that; tricked by the devil into wanting nothing but bloodshed. It would be foolish of you to immediately believe her words.

“T-thank you.” You tried to act as if you believed it, though from her frown she guessed you didn’t at all. You stayed frozen as she sighed, scratching the back of her head.

“I’m not saying that to be thanked. I’m just…telling you. Despite how you view me, you have helped me. For that I am grateful.” With that she attempted to rise, hissing out in pain. You gasped, stiffening with worry. She had just woken up or at least had in the last couple of hours. She had no business moving yet! Before you knew it you were on your feet, rushing over to stop her.

“Wait! Please don’t move, your wounds are still healing and you’ve just woken up. You must rest.” Regardless of how badly you trembled, you still spoke as firmly as you could. “You can’t do any harsh manual labor–like traveling to God knows where–until it’s safe!” That surprised the dane, eyebrows high on her face and mouth slightly agape. Slowly, her lips curved into a smirk, and she nodded, lying back down.

“You fear me, yet you give me orders?” Your cheeks reddened, and her sly smile widened. “Alright then, little lady…for a few days, I’ll rest my body for you. Is that satisfying?” For you rang like a sweet mantra in your head, and at your awkward nod the dane chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, making you wring your hands together and swallow nervously. You would have said more, but suddenly you heard your name being harshly called out, making the both of you jump.

“I–I must go now. No one else…knows. I didn’t think they’d take kindly to the idea of treating you.” That made the heathen's eyes darken with understanding, and she nodded.

“Go, the last thing I want is you to be punished for helping me.” Her voice had hardened just as it did the day you both met, though this time it didn’t scare you as much as before. It left you with a tight chest, and you didn’t trust your own voice to speak again properly. Quickly, you nodded, rushing out of the cave with warm skin and an ever growing heartbeat.

_______

Her name was Eivor, with some knowing her as Eivor the Wolf-kissed, you hoped it explained where the gaze came from.

You had felt it the day she’d woken up, and you had dismissed it as a look a warrior would give to their enemy. Calculating and intense, dragging down your body before rising back up to your eyes–you assumed as a saxon, she’d immediately seen you as her enemy and had reacted as such.

Now, you had no explanation for the heat in her stares, and it was starting to plague you.

Her promise of only days turned into another week with your insistent begging, and in that time period it became clear that walking into the cave was like walking into a wolf’s den. Each day that her wounds healed she grew stronger and more…overwhelming. In her teasing voice by your ear as you dressed her wounds, and in how when she sat with you, it was as if she was caging you in.

She spoke to you like a friend. An extremely caring one. She hated to see you exhausted after running around the abbey, angry they’d treat you more like a servant than an equal. Her hands would hold you close and urge you to rest in the safe embrace of her arms. It was nice, and you found yourself longing to go to the cave every day. However, you didn’t understand her actions. At first, you summed them up to culture, but her gaze told you otherwise.

There was something in those sapphire eyes, something enticingly dangerous, and it gleamed whenever your cheeks burned bright. It darkened when you bit your bottom lip with shyness, flickering over your heaving chest when her actions became too much for you to bear. Now, the tension in the air had shifted from one of fear to…curiosity. Need. But for what, you feared, would be your undoing.

“Little angel,” The raspy voice in your ear brought you out of your thoughts, “are you done?” You jumped, looking up to find Eivor’s face hovering above your own. It took everything in you not to marvel at it. She had a rough kind of beauty that made your insides squirm, and abruptly you looked down again.

“Yes! Right–apologies. I was lost in thought…” You finished fixing her bandages, fingers lingering over her toned abs. How are they so defined in the first place–large hands wrapped around your own, and with surprise you looked back up into Eivor’s concerned eyes.

“You’ve been odd lately. Listless. Is something bothering you?” You smiled softly. Despite her stern face, you’d soon learned that Eivor was incredibly soft. She was a warm soul, and from the stories she’d shared with you, someone who greatly cared about her family and friends. You shook your head.

“There’s nothing. Well, I don’t believe there is. I’m simply…confused, Eivor. May I ask,” you sucked in a fractured breath, unsure if you should continue. A calloused hand cupped your cheek, and unconsciously you shut your eyes to lean into the touch.

“What is it, love?” Again, she called you in a way that made your stomach burn and your heart swell. With a hushed whisper, you spoke your mind.

“Why do you…act this way with me? I do not understand. Is it custom for da–norse–to treat other women like…like…” You didn’t know how to say it, but Eivor didn’t need you to, humming softly.

“Like a husband would?” You breathed out in relief.

“Yes! Are norsewomen more intimate with one another than sax–” That made Eivor snort, sharply reigning in her laughter so only the corners of her lips twitched. However, at your puzzled stare she realized that hadn’t been some kind of joke, and her laughter completely left her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and then eventually decided such innocence could only be met with a soft, but equal amount of bluntness.

“Little angel…I act this way because I have affection towards you. You are kind, albeit self-sacrificing.” What? You couldn’t believe the words she muttered, but her eyes held yours with such conviction that you knew it was true. You wanted to look away–her gaze was becoming more predacious with every second your cheeks burned brighter–yet you couldn’t, captivated as Eivor continued. “You shine like the sun, and I cannot help but think you are a gift from the gods…and in the future, if you would allow me, I would like to lie with you.”

She would…what? That had been the source of her looks this entire time. It wasn’t as someone assessing an enemy, nor pure curiosity. It was…lust. She wanted you, in ways you were sure you couldn’t imagine, and when you expected the feeling of disgust to wash over you, something worse happened.

All at once, it came barrelling over you. A tantalizing heat and debilitating fluster, aching across your skin as you struggled to say something, anything to discourage her words. The hand at your cheek was cruel. It burned like molten iron, doing nothing to help you think straight. Eivor wanted to lie with you, as a man would with a woman. To hold you in her arms, commit an act you had vowed under the eyes of God to abstain from–and while that should have made you wretch away from the woman, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Rather, you felt your core burn. Shame bubbled up inside of you, but so did the desire. From the beginning, you had wanted something from this woman. Before, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Now the answer was clear as day, burning over your heart.

“If I were to,” you had to pause, words too much to ask all at once, “to lie with you, Eivor. What…” you took the chance to glance up at her. Her gaze was like a crackle of lightning. It took your breath away and made you twitch with wanting. You found it took an effort to finish your question.

“What…would you do?” That was a mistake. There was hope in your voice you accidentally let slip through, and Eivor caught onto it. Those shapely lips twisted.

Once again, her sharp eyes dragged over you..but it was shameless this time. Devoid of the restraint and caution she’d had before. Now you shivered, because it was obvious now, painstakingly so, that from the moment Eivor met you, she’d wanted nothing more than to defile you.

_______

You were a mess, a whimpering, trembling mess, and Eivor wasn’t nearly done with you. She pulled away from between your breasts to catch her breath and admire her work. She’d left bite marks all over your chest, thighs, and waist, the indents of her teeth a pretty color across your tender skin. Your teary eyed, gasping face only spurred her on more, and she hummed as she leaned down to steal the heat from your lips, eliciting a moan from you.

Your precious gown, used to avert the eyes of men, was gone. Your veil was thrown away long ago. The autumn air bit at your skin, but regardless of the temperature around you, your body burned nonetheless. You felt one hand brush against your breast, sending a quivering through your spine as she rolled the bud between her fingers. Her other hand went further south, down to your unattended, dripping wetness.

She had been fiendish there before, suckling your thighs and kissing the skin between your legs and your heat, yet never there. No–not until you were gripping the hard muscles of her arms and practically begging, needy for relief. She might be one to tease, but Eivor wasn’t cruel–taking her fingers to grant you the pleasure you craved.

Her fingers brushed over your bud, and then she pressed down. It was gentle, yet firm, falling into a steady rhythm as she rubbed a tiny circle there. You gasped, nails digging into her arms. Soon you were overwhelmed with bliss, weak in the knees as your voice fell into sweet, keening sounds to her ears.

“That’s it,” the blonde said, voice gruff as she watched you whine, “keep letting me hear that beautiful voice angel.” Oh, did you obey that command, voice ringing out as if you’d become a bard just to sing of the pleasure she gave you. She pressed into your bundle of nerves more, never slowing down. You stammered, hands moving to cling to her back in desperation.

“I–I can’t…” Those sharp eyes were hazy now, glossed over as she took in your bruised lips and half-lidded eyes. Her hand circled your bud one last time before the pressure stopped, and immediately you let out a sound of dismay, trying to focus and ask why–but soon, you were given an answer.

“Oh–!” In one fluid motion, two thick fingers were plunged into your dewy folds, burying deep and making your back arch at the sudden fullness. Her fingers curled, and she took her time just as before, offering a steady, brutal rhythm. She wanted to leave you ruined, and it was working, bones turning to mush and overcome with sensual destruction.

Relentless, she pounded her fingers up to the knuckle. She knew what to do to leave you a puddle of fervent desire, skillful even as she grew more lustful herself. Watching you crumble from her digits stretching your heat was intoxicating, and you could see the carnal need in her eyes grow as she continued. Her tongue raked over her canines as she thrust particularly deep. You whimpered, body shaking uncontrollably, and the sight made her want to taste you, now more than ever. Without warning, she swiftly moved.

“E-Eivor!” All you could manage was to say the norse’s name with a fractured, desperate moan, squirming against her firm hands. They gripped your thighs and held them in place as she went down on you, indulging herself with the slick folds before her. She dragged her tongue upward, and you choked–your oversensitivity to her every action making your legs grow weak. She chuckled at your disoriented pleasure, and the vibrations of her voice against your folds were torturous. Eivor knew that, and she didn’t hesitate to use it, not bothering to pull away as she moaned against your heat.

You squirmed, bucking to push her tongue harder into you. She obliged, pressing deeper into your wetness and having her fill of your taste. Her nose routinely brushed against your bud, and it drove you wild, drowning in the sensations clawing at your core.

“I-I need, Eivor please–” how did a single question come to this? Now you were shamelessly begging the norse before you to have her way with you–as if she wasn’t already–lips forming over your bud. Oh God.

Your hands found their way into holding fistfuls of her blonde hair. She was calculated, devastating in her onslaught over your pearl. You were reduced to a bundle of mewls and hopeless clawing, throbbing against her tongue as she brought a mayhem of pleasure over you. It consumed you in a near terrifying way, eyes rolling as she continued to bring you to your peak.

“I can’t, d-don’t stop…!” It was the only warning you could utter before you were mindless, toes curling and hips rocking wildly. You choked back a sob as she continued to suck on your pearl even as you rode out your peak, only letting up when you completely slumped over. She kissed your twitching folds and inner thigh before she rose, gathering you in her arms.

“Little angel,” her chest rumbled at your back, textured hands pulling you into her lap. “Are you alright?” You were more than alright, nodding into the crook of her neck.

“I am. That was…um…” Despite having done all that, in the heat of the afterglow you felt your embarrassment creep back in. Eivor laughed.

“Good?” At your nod, she smiled, fingers brushing against the back of your neck. “I’m glad, I wanted to make sure you were comfortable…but it was hard to control myself once I saw that face.” The way she complimented you with ease made your stomach twist with butterflies once again, and it must have been evident on your face. Softly, a hand held your jaw where she wanted it, and Eivor kissed you slowly and sensually, pulling away just enough to whisper against your lips.

“Come back with me. I have a settlement–Raventhorpe–and I would care for you there. You wouldn’t be pushed around again, and your kindness would be honored, not used.” It was nearly said in a plea, hesitant as if the woman wasn’t sure what your answer would be. But you knew it from the moment she’d begun, heartwarming with joy.

“Yes,” you nodded so quickly it elicited a laugh from Eivor, adoring your enthusiasm, “I would love to, Eivor. If it means being with you…” Your fingers intertwined with hers, and you smiled wide, sharing in Eivor’s own giddy smile back.

“I’d go anywhere.”

#eivor varinsdóttir #female eivor #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #female eivor x reader #lady eivor #smut

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i-heart-yellowstone · 11 days

Text

2 - Who Runs This Valley

Part 3

Raised Fair Share Of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close

Keeping my arms crossed over my chest I stomped up to my daughters father grabbing him by his forearm and dragging him back in the direction of the main house porch. Flinging the door open and the second it shut behind us I shoved him against the nearest wall. “Why is she here, Kayce! Why, tell me why because I thought we had an agreement that she wouldn’t be here.”

“My dad asked me if he could get to know his grandson. I wasn’t just going to deny him that after what happened when I told him about you and about her all those years ago.” Kayce pressed his back against the wooden wall.

I scoffed, throwing my hands up away from my sides. “Oh so that’s perfect. You’ll just bend your back and do whatever she wants if your father ask you too.”

“We agreed that I should help her raise my son.” Kayce fought back. “Tate shares part of my family's legacy just like Faith does.”

Slapping a hand to my forehead I huffed. “Believe me I know that.”

“Look, I didn’t bring them here to cause a fight between us. I’m just trying to do what I thought would work for all three of us. Because like it or not I am the father of two kids with two different mothers and an entire ranch that will become theirs the day we die.”

Leaning my back against the kitchen island I ran my fingers through my hair. “I think this would’ve been simpler if you gave her a big check of money and we never saw her again.” I knew I sounded like a horrible person but every time Monica and I were in a room together it was just extremely awkward.

Kayce ran his fingers through his curls sighing heavily wishing we could go back to when we were yo her without a care in the world. “Lissa, how can we get past this. I mean, is it so horrible?”

“It could be if you forget your daughter's birthday is tomorrow and she’ll officially be hitting double digits.” I clicked my tongue hearing the front door opened and his older brother Lee walked in on our conversation.

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen sensing the tone of the room. “Woah, are you two about to fight or something?”

“We might if Kayce forgets his daughter's birthday tomorrow because that’s supposed to be one his days with his other child.” I put one hand on my hip, scowling at the man I had still managed to love over all this.

Lee gave him a warning look. “Oh-ho you better not do that, little brother. I did it one time and your girl over here launched a frying pan at my head the next morning.”

“I never said I wouldn’t be there. I have only missed her fourth birthday and that was because Tate was being born and she had no one there for her when she delivered.”

I sent him the middle finger being completely serious. “You get one warning. Don’t miss it, Kayce.”

“I promise on my mothers biscuits that I won’t.” Kayce swore, placing his hands together in front of his chest looking like he was begging. I knew the loss of Evelyn was hard on everyone so when he swore it truly meant something.

Lee cleared his throat, gaining my attention and shifting my gaze to him. “Alissa, I just came to tell you everything is ready to go. I'll be waiting outside for ya.” He exited through the front door.

“What is he talking about?” Kayce snagged my wrist stopping me from leaving with him.

I gently stared into his brown eyes. “We're taking our cattle back from the Reservation.”

“What, no. It's too dangerous - and why didn't I know about this earlier?”

“Would you come with us or are you too busy trying to be up Monica's ass?”

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing was really worthy. “Alissa, I-”

“That's what I thought. Take her ass home and if you want to help you know where I'll be.” I yanked my arm out of his grasp and he watched me leave heading out the door seeing Lee was waiting for me.

I got down onto the dirt ground with my brother in Law right before the front door got kicked open where I saw Kayce standing there watching me with fear in his eyes. “Alissa, don’t do this. Please, it's too dangerous.” I didn't utter a word after his brother handed me a loaded riffle and we headed around the other side of the house.

“Everyone’s forgotten who runs this valley.” John, Lee and another ranch hand walked in front of me heading to get into the vehicles that were ready to head and get our cattle back.

I held onto the rifle that hung on my right shoulder focusing on what we were going to do hearing Jamie come up behind me. “This is not the way to remind them. It’s a bad idea.”

“We don’t choose the way, little brother.” Lee turned and walked backwards for a second replying to him.

Jamie sent me a nervous glance. “Alissa, is this how you’d want your daughter to remember her mother? Heading in with physical violence to get some cattle back.”

“Like Lee said, life chooses our path. Babysit Faith till I get home.” I paused, having one of my boots up on the truck ramp riding with Lee in one of the trucks. Shutting the truck door behind me we headed off towards the Reservation.

Night had fallen over the Indian Reservation land that was nearly bare except for the cattle that we could see off in the distance. The cattle that belonged to the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch. Sitting on my horse Lee came up beside me on his own. “Are you sure you're up for this?”

“Lambert’s don’t back down from a fight.” I responded to him hearing the helicopter coming from behind us meaning John was giving the signal to go.

Lee and I kicked our horses in the belly to go and took off down the hillside with the other Yellowstone members on horseback. The wind blew through my braid that fell down my back heading straight for the wandering cattle. A few of the cowboys created a circle and began pushing them back toward where we had our people at and all we had to do was get them back on our side of the line.

“Looks like things are going our way tonight.” Jake, a bunkhouse ranch hand called over in my direction.

I shouted back at him, suddenly lowering my whole body onto the horse hearing a bullet fly past me and nearly hit one of the cattle. “Maybe they don’t have as much guts as we do - holy shit!”

“Guns up now!” Lee hollered before I yanked my horse around seeing a bunch of Indian’s coming in our direction on horseback with guns too all firing at us.

They began firing in our direction causing the ranch hands and Livestock agents to run around like chickens with their head cut off doing their best to keep the cattle on our side and not get shot in the process. “No! No, hold your fire. Hold your fire!” I drew out my rifle firing at someone who was shooting in my direction watching the guy fall dead off his horse and a few others followed my actions much to Mr. Dutton’s orders.

Gunshots, screaming and whining horses became the only sounds anyone could hear in the area that surrounds us. Riding around on my horse I noticed Lee charging to the edge of the line. “Lee, stay back. It’s not worth it.” I knew he wanted to show that we had won but it was a huge risk.

“I’ll be fine, Alissa!” He shouted back at me, holding his gun in one hand and his other on the saddle reigns while he rode stopping at the edge of the Reservation line.

Kicking my horse in the stomach I raced down to him as fast as I could. Most of the Indian men had drawn back when I saw red and blue police lights reflecting on the grass. “Lee!”

“You want’em back then come and get’em!” Lee taunts watching the men on the other side disappear from sight. He thought we were safe until multiple gunshots rang through the field.

I halted in my tracks sitting on my horse feeling like I was watching the scene in horrible slow motion like you see in the movies when a character dies. “Lee no!” I sobbed out in tears watching his body get hit with bullets and him collapse off the side of his horse without a chance to respond.

John and the others had pulled back by this point so he hadn’t seen what had just happened to his firstborn son. I bolted on horseback as fast as possible to my brother in law. “Lee, Lee no, no, god no.” I stammer out, dismounting my horse and falling on my knees beside his body.

He was bleeding from the center of his chest and his gun was hanging beside his body. I heard a gun cock behind me where I spun around, pointing my rifle at whoever it was. “I’ll let you go safely if you return those cattle onto our side.” The guy who pointed a handgun at me resembled Monica almost.

“Like hell I will!” I growled pulling the trigger and he ducked out of the way, firing a few shots at me.

I scrambled to my feet firing a few at him but missing every time where I ended up hearing the clicking sound meaning I was out of bullets. “Nothing personal.” He replied shooting at me in my left ankle where I collapsed down on my hands and knees.

I gulped scooting backwards with my wounded leg as much as I could manage thinking he was going to kill me until someone shot multiple bullets at the guy. “Aaahh!” I screamed seeing his body drop dead a few steps in front of me and Lee’s dead one.

“Lissa Rae!” Whipping my head around I knew who it was the second I heard them say my nickname. Kayce ran forward lowering his handgun and shoving it in the belt loop of his jeans. He lowered himself down on a knee checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Any bleeding or discomfort?”

I winced moving my left ankle to try and stand but it didn’t look like that was gonna happen for me. “Just got shot in my ankle. Kayce - what are we going to tell your father about him?” Kayce peaked his head over his shoulder seeing his older brother laying dead right beside us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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inshelliesworld · 1 year

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Buckle up. This is long.

Last night after dinner w/my fam I watched the SAG awards so I am a little behind on the conversation around the Chris Evans Clown Show Comedy Hour. However I read a couple of asks received by @nancydrewwouldnever about how he’s been looking like the Raggedy Andy version of his normal self these past few months and I couldn’t agree more.

I thought so watching the SMA videos People put out.

Back during my more naïve days, I just thought he was possibly exhausted and that could very well still be true. But after the rabbit hole I’ve been down for the past couple of months, I am of the opinion he's exhausted for a different reason than work requirements. Which is just that – my opinion: observation mixed with speculation.

I don’t think this RS – if it is rooted in PR like I think it is – was ever intended to last this long. From what I have gathered, the Netflix show and movie for which AB would have benefited the most having a lot of attention were originally supposed to both release in the first half of 2022. One or both were delayed, the show being very delayed -from first/second quarter all the way to the last quarter of the year. So not only did she lose out on a bump for the movie, but by the time her show finally launched it pretty much had already been axed by NF. So when Mr. SMA 2022 does the CP Marathon (horribly) with her, the only project she has going on at the time is hanging by a thread.

That's her fault for being lazy and entitled. A million golden opportunities were missed by her/her team, but I feel like Chris wasn’t going to sell anything very well anyway, as he likely was being pissy about this situationshit lasting so long. Which led me to thinking that “laser focus” press question was a plant to tie back to the earlier article BUT made me think it could possibly have been contrived as a way to signify the end of their "RS" had it gone to plan. The question would allow room for him to insinuate he was single again and “focused on finding the right partner” to “pour himself into” bc “awe, shucks, I’m just so unlucky in love…” 💀

BUT THAT CAN’T HAPPEN… he can’t signal the end of something that hasn’t yet been announced. So it looked to the viewer, and especially his fandom, that he was signaling his singlehood – and for his fans, to debunk the rumors flying around about his Lolita. NOW he has to stutter around and trap himself in word prisons and go take a quick pap sprint the same time as SMA announcement bc that’s when the show drops and do more photos and BS to sell the OVER year-long narrative when they were really prepped to do a 9ish-mos storyline. All the OG pics and scares (IMO) that were preemptively shot not only look slightly better but they also would have fit in with starting the RS storyline Fall 2021 and, if nothing would have been delayed, the end falling somewhere Summer 2022.

I think this is why he does such a shit job selling it. He struggles to sell intimacy anyway, but he’s not even giving it the ole college try bc he’s pissed off that it’s taken more time than he expected and dragging his feet. I mean…. All these rumors about the same chick for months HAS to have a negative impact on his harem, right?? 😂 Now she’s pissed that he’s dragging his feet – or maybe she wanted it to turn into more than what it is and he’s noped the fuck out – so she throws a hissy fit with the yoga cert mess, her mom’s pic, and her OF shower pictorial.

It's possible had this not dragged along for this long, all the dirt that has surfaced RE: her and her sOuLMaTes being racist, antisemetic, fat phobic, basically all around horrendous ppl that has TANKED his image and lost him a good portion of his fandom would have maybe not surfaced. The mess would have been announced, been annoying, and been over before anyone cared enough to dig that much - or at least make that big of a deal about it, bc he would have been rid of her. I know that this dumpster fire mimics SS a lot but I think that Chris agreeing to a much shorter version in the beginning is why there are SO MANY pictures all at once. He probs didn't want to do this for the 2 years or whatever that SS committed to.

I think he has thrown his own tantrum of “I ain’t doin this shit anymore” and has left it to someone else to handle which is why he is AWOL from everywhere, including going out to dinner with his friend/castmates, and not doing his own SM anymore (I personally don’t think he’s posting anything at all right now himself). Seems he’s also made sure that he/his team control the mass narrative to the GP.

I think they’re riding this shit show out until the end, letting their teams do whatever they need to do. Even if she has the DESIRE to show up for anything like the Twitter reading (was she even invited? Was she wanted by her castmates/showrunners? Hollywood is show BUSINESS afterall so even if she wasn’t wanted she would be expected to show up to make good on production companies’ investments & save face?) the situations aren’t really going to be great for her. There would be – and SHOULD BE – backlash involving the discriminatory posts, which she obvs has no intentions of denouncing. IMO she should have done it anyway for her fans, but her not doing it goes a long way to prove her entitlement, lazy ass attitude, and ungratefulness. But from the looks of those Star Power reports from IMDB that someone shared, it’s not her that’s hurting… it’s HIM. 🤡

He’s suffering greatly, which is also deserved, and he very likely knows it. It has taken a noticeable toll on his looks, his presence, his gait, and his energy. He looks like a shell of his former self bc he is. And he’s seemingly off licking his wounds until he can start his Chris Evans Redemption Tour.

I would like to put it out into the universe that my birthday is next month and it falls within their usual “drop” timeframe so it would be a fantastic birthday gift if March’s bomb was the BUA.

#Chris Evans #PR #shit show #birthday wish #Pisces season #please end the misery

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jakesullysimp · 1 year

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《 just a scratch 》

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader

summary: Jake being his worrying self when you get scratched by a thanator in the woods.

warnings: blood, reader is injured, lots of fluff and cringe.

Your feet hit the soft soil beneath you, your legs pumping, trying to gain momentum. Your bow was carried on your shoulder while you searched for the perfect animal to target. You gripped your fingers onto a tree branch, hoisting yourself up with ease to get a better view.

The forest was unusually quiet today, leaving an eerie feeling lingering in the woods. You raised your hands too your mouth, letting out a hooting sound, hoping anything would wander its way to your wrath. You waited patiently for a minute, before letting out a deflated huff.

No sticks were snapping, no footsteps stomping, nothing. Your posture slumped as you sat there, listening to the leaves swaying in the wind. What you failed to notice was a thanator watching you silently from afar, hidden behind bushes, waiting for the correct moment to strike.

You jumped down from the tree, landing on your feet swiftly. As you began to walk forward, the creature appeared before you. You knew they weren’t the friendliest animals, but this random encounter caught you by surprise. You reached for your bow as it circled you, growling.

‘Don’t strike first, but always be prepared to strike last.’ You repeated your mothers words in your mind as you watched the animal snarl at you, raising your bow and preparing an arrow just in case. The thanator obviously decided it was tired of this ‘who will attack first’ game, because it pounced towards you.

You shot an arrow straight towards its chest that they mistakenly shown to you while jumping, but it’s claw managed to snag you before it fell back, whimpering in pain. The creature was losing blood quickly, and you felt awful, but you knew that you did the only thing you could.

The species is too fast to outrun and too hostile to tame. You noticed the crimson blood dripping down your arm, but you decided to deal with that once you got back home. “Forgive me, my brother. May your spirit run with the great mother.” You prayed softly, watching as the animal slumped to the floor and lost consciousness.

After laying next to the deceased animal for several minutes, making sure it safely transferred over to be with Eywa, you decided to head back to the home tree, where you knew Jake would be waiting for his training session. You managed to arrive quite quickly, and spotted Jake sitting over by Neytiri, your best friend.

“How do you say your name? Come on- just one more time, please.” He begged, you liked Jake, a lot, but he sucked at pronunciation. “Neytiri.” She hissed, losing patience quite quickly. “Nayteri- that’s cool.” You muffled your laugh behind your hand at the horrible mirror of the name.

Jake, hearing your chuckle, turned around to spot you, his smile at your giggle turning into a frown quite quickly. Neytiri gasped behind him at the sight of you, rushing over to your aid. “What happened, Y/N?” She questioned, tracing her finger around your wound. “Thanator.” You answered back in English so Jake could understand.

“Come.” Jake said, voice laced with worry. He dragged you over to the showering area by your non-injured arm, and you looked back to see Neytiri smirking at you slightly. You immediately shook your head, knowing what she was thinking already. She nodded once, her expression growing wider. After being best friends for long enough, you guys developed the skill of reading each other like a book.

“Sit.” He commanded, pointing towards the carved wooden bench outside of the showering unit. You obeyed hesitatingly, watching him grab a cloth rag off of a stand and wet it. He started cleaning the blood and dirt away from your wound silently, treating you so carefully, like he thought you were made of glass.

“You need to be more careful, Y/N. I almost got my head ripped off by one of those. It chased all the way to a cliff, and it only stopped when I jumped.” You understood what he was upset about now, he was worried about you. You didn’t like pity, yet your heart was melting. “I’m fine Jake, it’s just a scratch.” You smiled, trying to get him to look you in the eyes. He wouldn’t.

He remained silent, lips downturned. You didn’t like seeing him this way, especially because of you. You grabbed his wrist, turning it away from your arm so he would look elsewhere. “Jake, seriously. I’m okay, it doesn’t even hurt.” He finally looked up to meet your eyes, and nodded, before his lips turned into a cheeky grin.

“You’re such a skxawng.” You gasped at the insult, pretending to be offended. “Where’d you even learn that?” He laughed loudly, throwing his head back with a contagious beam. “Neytiri finally told me what it meant. I can’t believe you’ve been calling me a moron this entire time!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!”

#jake sully #one shot #fanfic #writing #jake sully fluff #hes so cute #pls help #im cryin

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Broken Dream | König x m!reader

Anonymous asked: May I present, short reader having a nightmare and climbing ONTO König to sleep with him on the cot cuz there's like, no room for him and König waking up with his boyfriend on him like a cat. I think it would be top tier adorable/funny

summary: you have a nightmare, and although you’re not sure what to do in terms of getting back to sleep, you at least have your boyfriend nearby.

tws: nightmares, death, violence, guns

Men called for fathers who would not come as their backs hit the dirt, hands coated in something sticky and wet when they placed them on pained areas; their eyes were wet with tears, voices going ragged and hoarse as they whimpered and gasped. Their hands felt cold, their lips chapped and quivering. All around them, the bodies of their brothers were littered and scattered about the land; dead men could not scream, could not cry. Dead men could not call for their fathers. But the dead kept piling, medics would run from one body to another and weep as they held dying men’s hands, only to move to the next; the sounds of gunfire, a harsh and horrible melody, echoed from afar, slowly getting closer and closer. A soldier’s hand appeared from beneath a stack of rubble, a muffled and hoarse voice calling.

“(y/n)! (y/n), you have to get me out of this alive, please, Sir! Please!”

You looked down at him, swallowing thickly when you saw the wound on his stomach; he would be dead within the next few seconds, organs becoming slowly covered with sand as the wind kicked it over. Grenades. You had seen it a dozen times before and you knew all too well that the soldier would be dead by the time that you even reached for his hand; you knelt down beside him, putting your hand on his chest and-

The soft light that crept through the curtains did little in the way of reassurance as you shot upright, darkness blanketing the room as your breathing became hoarse and ragged, panting like a fucking dog as you stared wildly at the far wall; a cold sweat was steadily dripping down your back, making you itch as the fabric of your shirt started to cling to your skin. You could feel your hands shaking, could feel your heart pounding and thundering within your chest as adrenaline coursed through your veins; on the cot across the room, König slept soundly. But your mind would not stop racing; thinking of the soldier who had tried to reach for your hand - he would never fade away from memory, he was far too young to die like that. Nobody should die like that.

Another wasted life, for nothing. You could still hear his mother sobbing when you told her what had happened the moment you had landed back home; you could still see her tears and hear her screams of agony at losing her baby. Asking why you didn’t protect him, why you didn’t get him to safety, why you dragged him out there and to his certain death; there was no victory that day, only boys who had perished in the sand and who would never come back home, would never see their mothers or their fathers again. You sniffled when you realised that you had been crying, wiping it on your shirt before you looked over at König; he had not moved, his chest rising and falling steadily. Slowly, you moved over to his side of the room.

“König,” you whispered, nudging his shoulder. “König, baby, wake up.”

He didn’t move, only snorted as he began to snore, so you sighed, and crawled on top of him, taking advantage of his height as you laid down with your face pressed to the side of his neck; you wanted to sleep again, wanted to sleep peacefully, but you could still hear the crying and the screaming and the guns. You could still see the scarred fields and feel the wet sand cling to your trousers. You could still remember what it felt like to know that there was no glory, only suffering and death surrounding you. The price of a mile had truly been paid that day, and you wished that you had been part of the toll. You could feel König breathing, and although you weren’t sure how long you had been there, time passing differently when you were so caught up in blood and agony, you felt him slowly wrap his arm around you.

“Alpträume?” He grumbled, his voice a lot quieter than usual as he tried to keep some sort of peace within the room, trying not to disturb the quiet too much.

You nodded, sniffling as you snuggled closer into him.

König hummed, clenching his jaw a little as he held onto you tightly, making sure that you knew that he was beneath you, that he was there and that he would not move a single muscle unless you asked him to. “Ich habe dich, bärchen… try to sleep, mein geliebter, I will stay here.”

“Thank you,” it was about all you could bring yourself to say, voice breaking beneath the pressure of what was haunting you, all you could do to remind yourself that it was in the past.

Clearing his throat, König hummed softly as he looked at you for a moment; he knew what always cheered you up, and so he tried to remember the tune as best as he could as he dared to sing ever so quietly, “dreams are seldom shattered, by a bullet in the dark. rulers come and rulers go, will our kingdom fall apart? Who shall we now turn to, when our leaders lost their heart? Lives are lost but at what cost, will the grand dream fall apart? Killed by his own or by his foes, turned the tide, three hundred years still no one knows, the secret remains… broken dreams so grand, sing of his final stand, long live Carolus. brought by soldier’s hand, back to the fatherland, long live Carolus Rex… “

He could feel your breathing against his neck, could feel how you were finally at rest, breathing soft against him, and if he was honest, König was glad of it; he didn’t stop singing, still continuing ‘Long Live The King’ by Sabaton, but he was well aware of exactly how much your nightmares often took out of you, and he wanted to do his best to make sure that you felt safe and felt alright enough to sleep again. After all, you were his boyfriend, and he did promise to look after you when and where he could, he did promise to make sure that you were alright and to help and support you where he could.

“For their honour, for their glory, for the men who fought and bled, a soldier from Sweden remembers the dead… broken dreams so grand, sing of his final stand, long live Carolus, brought by soldiers hand, back to the fatherland, long live Carolus, broken dreams so grand, sing of his final stand, long live Carolus, brought by soldiers hand, back to the fatherland, long live Carolus Rex…”

Yawning, König relaxed again, making sure not to disturb you when he shifted around a little to get comfortable, and although he did his best to stay up for a few minutes more, he couldn’t help it, and he closed his eyes again as he grumbled and allowed his grip on you to loosen slightly.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don’t wanna reblog, then you’ll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

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winns-stuff · 1 year

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LO RANT:

Not everything is Demeter’s fault or even tied to Demeter, quit using her as a scapegoat for everything just because you don’t like her and can’t accept the fact that your faves are fucking up everything for themselves because they’re way too underdeveloped emotionally to handle decisions. Has anyone ever thought about that? Both Persephone and Hades need a lot of therapy and neither of them are allowing themselves to get it because they are so far up each other’s asses. You cannot form a healthy relationship when you’re both traumatized and have bad communication skills, you can’t necessarily heal someone else when you’re just as broken as they are and that’s what frustrates me about Persephone and Hades as a whole. We all remember Minthe and Hades right? We all agree that they were horrible for each other and they’re only bringing the worst of one another by being together and we see now that apart they’re doing better (honestly not really Hades but Minthe mainly). So how come when it comes to Persephone and Hades being lumped into one being because of their shared trauma being overlooked? I find it funny how everyone was disapproving of their relationship and how they said it was toxic that they were together yet y’all still ship Persades. They are bringing the absolute worst out of each other, they aren’t in a state of healing, they’re both stressed, trying to rush their relationship, not wanting to get to know each other, and hiding their concern for the other ones sake. When has this ever been healthy? Why would we categorize such a draining situation as healthy. Bottom line is it’s extremely hypocritical to say that Minthe and Hades’ relationship is toxic yet turn a blind eye to Persephone and Hades.

Anyways, am I the only one not enjoying the way Morpheus is drawn? I really don’t like how instead of being androgynous or whatever Rachel was going for she looks like she’s slowly morphing into how the men of LO are drawn and I absolutely hate that so much. I hate that she doesn’t have decent panels or different styles, I hate how her design feels so mean and it’s almost borderline transphobic sometimes. I’m not asking her to be a big booby goddess with no waist by the way (Rachel please that’s not what I mean by this, spare my child) I’m just saying that I don’t like how she’s being drawn more masculine for some reason.. Maybe I am just being nit-picky but it’s just been on my mind and I recently saw the panels which included her and I just felt so angry. Why did her entire face change? Her face used to be more rounder and softer yet in the newer chapters it’s a lot more long and chiseled. Again, maybe I’m just tripping balls but it just feels a little mean and she deserves a better design with actual thought and care put into.

Anyways, I believe that’s all I really wanted to say but again I will restate that I’m so sick and tired of the fans trying to drag Demeter in every single situation. Like please figure out another character to call on, y’all don’t even do this with Zeus and I thought everyone hated Zeus because he rightfully banished Persephone’s ass for years. And actually I wanna say that it’s extremely sexist the way that this shit is going down because how the fuck is Demeter still getting shit yet there’s dozens of men in LO who’ve done way worst. You guys barely even get on Apollo like you do with Demeter and we all know what he is, neither do you do to Kronos and he traumatized your favorite character. I’m gonna need you guys to distribute as much hatred as you feel for the female characters to the male characters because it’s honestly embarrassing and just showing what kind of person you truly are. Especially the whole Leuce situation, again she literally did nothing that entire chapter yet everyone was trying to drag her through the dirt. Focus on your moral compass and do better please, it’s getting tiring.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lo demeter #lo hades #lo minthe #lo persephone

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eddiemunsonsdrug · 1 year

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The Missing Link | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve knew Hawkins would drag him back one day or another, but coming back because Dustin was missing was almost something out of a nightmare.

warnings: I think like one cuss word? (also eddie lives tho hes not in this part)

A/N: I had this dream for this story, trying to spread the ideas into a somewhat series, I hope you enjoy. please let me know if you like it as it is more on the serious side.

words: 2555

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Steve could feel the dread in his chest fill long before he even saw the town limit sign marking the welcome of the town of Hawkins. How he absolutely loathed this place, the small town he once called home, a place he figured he would never leave, a place he used to love with pride.

But he knew deep down one day this place would drag him back.

He switched his radio off as he passed the metal sign and released a deep seeded, frustrated sigh.

“Come on man, where are you.” He muttered to himself as the trees passed him in a blur.

He had gotten a frantic call from Dustin’s mom hoping he had heard from the boy, maybe he had run off to see Steve at his college, hide away somewhere safe. But when he let her know that he hadn’t heard from him in a while the panic set in. Dustin was missing. At first Steve was hopeful that he had just gotten lost in the woods the night before, or maybe when he was still missing, he had gotten into something only Dustin could understand. But after a week had gone by with no sight or sound from him, he knew nothing was that simple. Not with any of the group.

Steves heart began to pound loudly in his chest as his heart rate rose when the buildings of downtown began to come into sight, downtown was still being pieced back together, broken windows, boarded up doors and roads still paving the enormous cracks. Everything about Hawkins still felt ominous.

Though it had been 3 years since the final battle with Vecna, this town would never be the same again.

Steve soon found himself at the back of town and turning down a dirt road, more forest zooming past his eyeline as his car rumbled against the rocks and roots of the large trees. His car began to fight back on the steep hills enough that he decided to pull off to the side and leave his car, making the rest of the short way on foot.

It was nice outside, Steve wanted to yell at the sky, why should it be this beautiful out when something so horrible is happening. He pushed himself to the top of the hill, a short path leading to a pond was blocked off by police cars, something in Steve's stomach churned, it all felt too familiar from when Will went missing, though that was now ancient history.

As he made his way to the cars and cops a few heads turned, a body moved to block him. “Sorry son, this area is currently off limits.” Steve opened his mouth to speak but was swiftly cut off before he could utter a word. “Its alright Nicolson, I called him here.” The familiar gruff voice came into view and Steve couldn’t stop the goosebumps that spread across his skin. “Its good to see you, Steve.” Steve looked Hopper directly in the eyes, he had no patience for the small talk this town had to offer. “This is where he last was?” Hopper grabbed the rim of his hat before nodding. “That’s what Will said, they were smoking.” Hopper can’t help but roll his eyes at the thought. When did these kids get old enough to be doing these types of things?

“It was dark, they all started to head home, Dustin was behind them one second, next he wasn’t. They have no idea where he could have gone.” Hopper’s voice quieted at the end. “This is just to give some ease to his mother; I don’t believe he’s in there.” Hopper nodded towards the scummy pond. Steve nodded, Dustin knows how to swim and even still he’s not stupid enough to get into water in the dark of night. Not after the things they’ve seen.

Officer Powel soon came up to the both of them. “Hop, you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we call like the FBI?”

“No.” Both Hopper and Steve griped at the same time. “No more government crap, they never do any good to this town.” Hopper announced. “Besides.” Hopper said before quickly wrapping his arm around Steves shoulder and squeezing him assuredly. “We have the captain of the swim team of 1984 here.” Steve awkwardly let his arms hang limply in front of him from the strange embrace. “Co-captain.” He muttered out. “What?” Hopper asked leaning his ear down to Steves face. “Co-captain of the swim team.” He announced louder.

Hopper straightened, pausing. “CO-captain! The co-captain of the swim team.” Hopper gave a strained smile as he released Steve from his arm. Steve stumbled forward a bit before Officer Powel meandered away. As Steve began to walk towards the pond Hopper followed suit. “I thought you said you were captain.” He growled in a low voice as to not attract anymore unnecessary attention on the two of them. “You never specifically asked.” Steve all but snapped back.

Less than half an hour back in Hawkins and he was already being lectured. Though he didn’t look back at the brick wall of a man, he assumed he was rolling his eyes and wondering if he had made the right choice to call him back here.

Steve stood at the edge of the pond and scanned his eyes over the scum sitting atop the water, there was no sight of displacement among it. One officer came up behind him before sliding fabric on top of his head. “This will help you see anything down there, though it shouldn’t be too dark.” Steve nodded as he fixed the headlamp to the top of his head properly and pressed the button, turning it on and off again making sure it worked.

“How long can you hold your breath?” The unknown cop asked as Steve stripped his sweater off and tossed it to the floor of the forest. “A little bit over a minute.” He replied hoping to ease the officers worried look. “If you see anything down there, come up and tell us. Don’t touch it.” He ordered like Steve was an officer in training, he gave him a simple nod before sliding his sweats down, his green swim trunks coming into view. Hopper moved to give him one last assuring clap on his shoulder. “You got this kid.” Internally Steve was holding back on correcting him, he was a fully grown adult at this point in his life but he knew it was a sign of respect from Hopper.

He stepped towards the end of the jagged rocks and looked down, he reached up to click on the head lamp before stepping into the brisk water, a shiver ran up his spine as he went deeper and deeper into said pond, the scum moving out of his way as he waded in deeper and deeper, he took a final breath in before plunging himself down into the murky water.

It took a moment before the waters temperature ceased from distracting his body and he could open his eyes, the light barely helping in the gray water. He continued to move; the bottom of the pond filled with slicked, greasy rocks. A few dug awkwardly into his foot as he pushed forward, he squinted as if that would help his sight but, as he reached one of the walls of rocks he could see something, something neon.

Steve clenched his jaw tightly as his heart began to pound in his ears, either from the bit of fear that shot into his chest or the lack of air, he wouldn’t know. He inched closer and forced his body lower to get the object into view. As the dim light shone over it, it came into clear view. A hat. A hat, white in the front, neon green at the sides and the lid. Written on it in a computer like font it read Computer Camp.

Steve went to reach for it for a moment before remembering the words of the cop above him. Don’t touch it, don’t grab it, as badly as you want to. His eyes closed tightly as his body pushed to move upwards. Fuck. He finally reached the top of the water, wading lightly with his legs in the still water. “I found something!” He shouted over the chatter of the police force.

A few heads turned before Hopper stormed over, crouching down he looked Steve coldly and directly in his eyes. “You’re sure?” His voice was stern yet quiet, he was making sure Steve wasn’t seeing something he wanted to see. Steve was still catching his breath as he nodded. “I’m sure Hop.” He bit his tongue as he fought back the emotions swelling in him. What did this mean, was he somewhere in there? Did an animal get him? Or worse…

Hopper held out his hand, Steve took it instantly and allowed himself to be dragged from the water. A few officers moved to place head lamps on themselves along with gloves. Would that be necessary? Would there be anything on there to help track Dustin?

Steve stood frozen, the haze of people moving around him had him staring at nothing. A towel was wrapped around his shoulders as he heard the faint words of Hopper telling him he had done well; a ringing filled his ears as his mind filled with the possibilities of what could have happened to Dustin. He wasn’t sure how long he was stood there till a voice broke through. “What do you mean I can’t come through!? I’m basically family!!” Steve followed the shouting and arguing to find your face. It was flushed red as you were holding in the inevitable tears, he knew were near.

You could feel eyes borrowing into your skull as your head snapped around the officers currently blocking you, your blood ran cold as the sound around you turned into a faint static. “S-Steve?” You whispered; your body too stunned to make noise.

The tears you had been holding back reached their destination as they spilled from your eyes down to your cheeks, burning your cold face. “Steve!” You shouted, your body filled with adrenaline, and you pushed your way through the officers’ stances like saloon doors and ran over to Steve still stuck in place. In the last few feet you threw yourself into his torso and wrapped your arms tightly around his back. “Oh my god, Steve, its really you.” You sobbed out into his bare chest.

Years, it had been years since he saw you last, being one of the last people he could make out in his rear-view mirror, a few tears had fallen from your eyes that day too. But now you were heaving great sobs against his bare skin. His arms remained unmoving as your grip only tightened. “Did you find him? Did you find something?” You were shouting up at him, trying to break him from his thoughts. “Steve!?” You released your grip only to place your hands on his face. “Did you find him?” Steve looked down at you, his eyes seemed so cold and empty compared to yours, swirling with fear, frustration, and heartbreak. “I, I uh. No I didn’t find him.” His voice came out dry and creaky, his mouth dry as he wanted desperately to give you some good news. More tears streamed down your face and dripped off your chin. “I’m so glad you’re here, we will find him.” You nodded trying to get him to mimic your movements.

A few officers emerged from the pond, a hat in one of their gloved hands, your head followed the movement to see clearly what they were placing gently into an evidence bag. “Wh-what is that? Is that Dustin’s?” Your voice broke as you began to drag your body closer, Steves hand clamped against your wrist, his body finally able to move again. “Don’t Y/N, don’t” His voice going quiet at the end. “Its just his hat, there was nothing else there.” He tried to reassure, but it only ended in you crying against his chest once more, only this time Steve was holding you close, attempting to hold up your weakening body. “Come on, lets get out of here.” He muttered staring straight forward to the path he had taken from his car.

You looked at him in disbelief, you should stay, stay until you knew something, hell stay until they found Dustin safe and sound. But you knew it wouldn’t be possible, sooner or later Hopper would make you go home, like the other times in the past week. “My cars just down the hill.” Steve said reaching for his sweater and sweats near by, quickly pulling on the sweater before moving forward, carrying his sweats in his hand. He didn’t give you a chance to argue, only a chance to follow.

You moved your aching legs to catch up beside him. “Did you walk here?” He asked, his eyesight pointed forward. You wished you could get a glimpse of what was going on in his head. “Yeah.” You looked down towards the dirt, watching the roots pass your feet. “Still don’t know how to drive?” He questioned, he was attempting to lighten the mood, but his voice was so monotone that you couldn’t tell if he was upset with you. “No… That’s what the gangs for.” You mumbled as you took careful steps down the hill, you were in front of his car in a matter of moments watching him dig his keys from the pocket of his pants.

“How-“ Steve paused as he internally fought with whether he wanted to know how everyone was, or if he was just attempting to make small talk in this tense, awkward situation. “They’re good. Besides all this I mean.” You answered for him, shrugging your tired shoulders as he reached in to unlock the car.

The ride back to your apartment building was silent, no questions passed back and fourth, no catching up, no reminiscing. It was all bleak as Steve pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your building. You sat unmoving for a while staring down Steves dashboard, unsure of how to leave in this type of situation. “Do you… want to come up? I have a couch available.” You asked quietly avoiding all eye contact, you didn’t want him to slip through your fingers once more. You weren’t sure you’d see him again if you just left.

“I uh, I’m staying with Robin, I should really go meet up with her. She’s probably worried.” You let out a light chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Well you can place all the blame on me.” Your eyes wandered over to Steve, his grip on his steering wheel showed you his impatience. “I’ll… I-I hope to see you again before you leave.” You finally let your eyes rest on Steves face, you couldn’t read it if you had a microscope. He was empty. “Yeah.” He huffed. “We’ll see.” His voice was grumbled, he could barely remember how to breathe at this point. His mind was completely elsewhere, but how badly he wanted to give you some form of his old self was looming in his head and heart.

You exited from the vehicle without another word to him.

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