#like one final piece in moving on that i needed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 days

Text

35 / 2.1k / shark merman Price and remora mermaid reader for mermay :)

...

Price isn’t stupid. He knows you’ve been following him since the early morning as he makes the rounds through his favorite reef. You’re stealthing poorly—just poorly enough that he knows you’re there, but you’re still small enough to dart into the reef every time he tries to get a good look at you.

He's been ignoring you and hoping you’ll take the hint to buzz off before he makes you buzz off.

You think you’re getting the hang of sneaking up on him when you turn a corner and lose him. And then he’s sneaking up on you.

You peek around the bright lumps of coral, wondering where he’s gone, when something blots out the sunlight above. You look up to see him—the long expanse of muscle and bulk on top and the smooth shark’s tail below—as he peers down at you.

You stiffen, pressing yourself to the sandy sea floor.

He scans you with his dark eyes to determine just what kind of creature has been following him. Not a threat, decides. Even as a mer. You’re too small. Too soft. You have no teeth to speak of. How laughable. And a tiny little thing, at that.

You straighten up, watching him circle you. You’d been looking for an opportunity just like this. That’s why you were tailing him. But now that his shrewd gaze is finally on you, you feel exposed.

He takes his time inspecting you. Then he swims a wide arc around you once more and lowers his clawed as if to touch you. You force yourself to stay still, your tail curled under you on the sand.

“You’ve been following me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

Price hooks one of his claws under your chin and pulls your head lightly upwards. You slowly rise as he tilts your chin up until you're suspended in the water in front of him.

"You should be scared of me,” he says.

You settle your own hands on his wrist in contentment. You look less like a meal being evaluated and more like a kitten being scratched under the chin. "Would you like me to be scared?"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. He knows exactly what this is. You're a remora mer, which means you instinctively seek out and bond with bigger creatures. Even if that creature is an unfriendly shark mer. Surely you must know how dangerous it is to be within his reach?

"You're very big. You must be king of this reef,” you say.

He pauses as the praise washes over him. He knows how intimidating he is, and you should realize you're nothing but small, soft and fragile. But obviously your instincts for fawning and flattery are finely honed.

He can see the way your little self seems to be drawn to him. A remora mer, indeed. He's seen others like you, but they've always avoided him. He could just as easily kill you as he could accept your company.

There is something pitifully adorable about you. The way you tilt your head and expose your throat unwittingly is endearing. He knows it’s because your instincts are leading you to bond with him for the safety he provides. You're too willing.

"Do you lack the common sense to fear an apex predator?" he asks, voice low and amused.

"Yes," you respond obediently.

He can see the way your little body is pressing up to his hand, desperate to get closer. He moves his arm, gently guiding you closer to him. "Good," he rumbles softly before using two claws to stroke down the curve of your neck. "Very good. You're too small to survive my teeth, you know."

"Of course. Much too small. Your teeth are so big and sharp."

"And you're soft and weak. Soft as a piece of kelp, I bet." He gives the tip of your tail a flick, and his eyes glitter as you bob and shake out your tail fin at the touch. Fussy little creature. "You're not very good at what you're supposed to do, little mer."

You open up your eyes. "I'm not?"

"Following me for hours without even trying to ingratiate yourself to me," he growls. "You're supposed to busy yourself with my needs. Not..." He trails off as you tilt up into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand. He gives your forehead a light flick with his claw to make you pay attention. "Acting like some kind of pet."

You quickly smooth yourself down. "Of course. I know that." You dart closer, putting your small hands on his inner arm, his shoulder, his chest, inspecting him. Your fingers glide over him, brushing and scratching and plucking away bits of sea debris and dry skin. Grooming him. "I just thought you might want me to be scared of you first."

Oh. He’s enjoying this far more than he thought he would. For something so soft, you’re quite bold.

He presses on your hip to turn you slightly as you work, idly inspecting you in return. "Maybe later. Let’s see if you’re worth the effort first." He rests his chin on his other hand to watch you fuss over him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of attention on him. You dart around behind him and busy yourself with his hair next.

He leans into your touch when you start to untangle his hair. "You seem to enjoy this.”

“I do.”

“Good for you,” he drawls. "Are you good for anything else?"

"I'm good for lots of things." You move from his hair down to his tail, trying not to stare.

"Oh?" He reaches up and idly drags the back of his knuckles down your spine and over the fin there. He smirks as your fin flattens with the touch. "Like what?"

"Anything you can think of."

"Anything?" He gives a low rumble in his throat at your words. "Don't go promising favors you can't fulfill, little remora."

"Okay," you chime.

He grabs ahold of your tail fins. "And don't agree with every single thing I say, either. That makes you far too easy to manipulate."

"Yes, sir!"

He rolls his eyes. You really are a pushover. It's like you want him to be cruel to you. He lets go of your tail but twirls his fingers in the tip of your tailfins. "Is it your instincts that are making you so deferential? Or are you just a coward?"

You pretend to think about this for a moment. Then you respond, pleasantly, "Which do you prefer?"

"Mm, so you do have a brain."

"Me? No, surely that can't be. Not a thought in my head, sir. Promise."

He eyes you like a disobedient puppy. You're putting on this fairly convincing act, being a mindless, servile little thing, and it's confusing his instincts to know you're doing a fair bit of manipulation yourself to win his protection.

"Might prefer you a bit more brainless, actually," he says. He nudges the underside of your chin with his knuckle this time instead of his claw, noting how you drop what you were doing to follow the gesture as he guides you out in front of him again. "You're willing to do anything I ask, then? No questions?"

"Yes, sir.” You rest your much smaller body against his forearm again. “Anything.”

He looks down at how you submit willingly to his hand, taking in the sight of your small body pressed up against it. He feels something primal coil in his gut at the display. You let yourself fall under his control so easily. "What if I told you to open your mouth like a goldfish?" He brings his thumb up to your lip. "Would you?"

You open your mouth.

Interesting. He taps your lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "Wide," he murmurs. "Open up wide for me."

You open wider.

"Now bite."

You bite down around the tip of his thumb.

His lips twitch up into a smile at the feeling of you nibbling at him, the little scrape of your teeth. "Good. Harder."

You reposition your grip and chomp down in earnest this time. He grunts. Your teeth are smaller than his, but they're still sharp.

"There you go. Not bad for such a small mouth." He pulls it away, half-expecting you to start hollowing your cheeks on his thumb if he dawdles too long. "Have you ever had to deal with bigger fish?"

"Of course," you chirp. Like it's no big deal.

Price snorts. It's hard to imagine something like you doing anything but darting behind the nearest rock at the first sign of danger. “How many have you killed?"

"None."

"Right, I'm sure you ask them nicely to leave you alone," he says. "And do they listen?”

"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."

"And when they don't, what do you do? Do you fight back? Do you give up?"

"Well..." You wring your hands briefly. "You're going to handle it now, right? So what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." For some reason, the thought of you trying to fight back against a larger fish makes him restless. "You still need to know how to defend yourself."

You frown. "You're not going to do it for me?"

He scoffs, but you're starting to make him feel something close to concern for you. He doesn't know why the thought of you being defenseless irks him so. "Are you really that helpless? Are you really so soft that you just want me to fight all your battles for you?"

"I mean, you're a shark."

He huffs irritably at that, his annoyance with you outweighed by his annoyance with himself for feeling concerned over you. "Do you think I'm going to do everything for you just because I'm bigger and stronger?"

You smile at him, pleased.

Ah. He's the fool suddenly. He grabs you around the waist with just one of his big hands and brings you close, his voice lowering in warning. "Stop smiling, little fish."

"Okay," you chime.

"I told you to stop sounding so bloody agreeable. You make me want to bite you." He lifts you up in front of him to get a clearer look at your face. Your eyes are too wide, your smile is too sweet, your body is too flimsy. It's all infuriating to him. He’s been roaming the ocean a long time and he's grown comfortably hard and cold. You’re not changing that. "You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you? You're just going to get yourself killed one day."

You settle into his hand comfortably. "Maybe so. Can I get you anything else, boss?"

You're hopeless, he decides. With how sweet and docile you are, he feels something clawing at the inside of his chest the longer he holds you.

Instead of answering you, he fits you against his chest, into the crook of his arm. There. Better. He can keep you closer this way without having to look at your silly doe eyes.

“Not now,” he says finally. “Maybe later.”

You lean into the position, tucking into the side of his chest like you're making yourself at home. "Okay, boss."

He can’t decide if he likes you calling him that or not. He can feel the way you nestle against him, settling in comfortably and making no effort to resist. You really are too easy to control. Just a little pull and you're molded against his side. He feels you start to smooth down some of his chest scales without even thinking. Grooming him. Nice and clean. Little busybody.

He's not used to being pampered, but feeling the tension start to bleed from his muscles under your touch… maybe it’s not so bad. He glances down at you, wondering how you're able to look so contented tucked up against him. His chest rumbles as you scratch near his throat. He lets his muscles relax under your hand.

You're an annoying little thing--too innocent, too naive, too sweet, and he conveniently forgets how capable you are of convincing him of that to win him over--but it's been too damn long since he's allowed himself to be comforted.

Maybe it would be alright to let you stay with him for a little while.

...

more Price / more mer au / masterlist tag

1K notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 1 day

Text

“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

210 notes · View notes

elliesmainhoe · 7 hours

Note

need ellie to take care of me drunk desperately

i love your writing 😭

Rescue Remedy

e.williams x fem!reader

summary: you call Ellie to come and rescue you from a bar after having a few too many drinks

warnings: alcohol, cigarettes, mentions of hangovers, slurred speech, drunk crying, fluff.

just realized this is basically a self insert vent post of a very similar situation I've been in LMAO

WC 1K

DAY 4 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

you were relieved when the familiar beaten up Ford focus pulled up beside you. you'd been sitting on the curb for almost 15 minutes- tear stained cheeks, smudged glitter and mascara as your body shook and jittered from both the cold Seattle night and the mixture of cigarette smoke and alcohol causing the most humbling case of hiccups you think you've ever had.

"Ells!" you whined, a new flood of tears streaming from your eyes at the sight of your night in shining armour- your girlfriend.

"c'mon sweet girl" she huffed, hair thrown up messily in the usual half up, half down style, clad in red and black checkered pyjama pants, black hoodie that was splattered with paint topped off with the obnoxious lime green crocks you'd gotten her for her one Christmas, of course decked out in charms shed collected over the past few months.

before you could even process it you were sitting in the passenger seat, leather seats sticking to your sweat glazed skin, and sobs turning to hiccups.

this had been the worst night out you'd had since your 21st. and as soon as the car revved and moved down the road, Ellie's hand pressed firmly on your bare thigh, the fabric of your dress not long enough to cover the majority of your thigh.

"what happened sweet girl?" oh and by that one question, it's like Ellie had opened a flood gate.

firstly, you got to the club of choice after having to walk almost a mile from where your designated driver had parked, accompanied by a couple of friends. after queuing on the curb for almost thirty minutes, you reached the front of the queue and then promptly realized you had left you purse. with your id. in the car. a mile away.

so after you'd trekked all the way to the car, retrieving your purse and id, getting back to the club, queuing for another 30 minutes, on your own this time- as your friends who had not forgotten their id decided to go in and leave you to sort your shit out.

let's just say you were already a little pissed off.

secondly, you got in the club and it stunk. not just of sweat and booze, but piss. fucking piss. and to top that all off you couldn't find your friends so- you did what any other sane person would do and ordered shots.

shots that were actually doubles, but of course you hadnt realized that until way too late.

which leads into the final stage of the night, your head being deep in a grimy toilet bowl, knees bruised from having to kneel on tiles that were not grouted properly and pieces of them shot out and cut at your skin.

and by that point you had gotten out your phone, which was now on 7% charge because you had offers to use your GPS and it drained all your battery, and was a blubbering mess on call with your girlfriend.

you would later have to retell the story again, as apparently according to Ellie- she couldn't understand a word you were saying, just nodding along in a desperate attempt to keep you awake long enough to get a glass of water and a slice of toast down you.

it must have been during your tangent when you'd gotten home, as when you finally finished your incoherent mumbling you were sitting on the beat up leather couch of yours and Ellie's apartment, a couch you'd hated as soon as you moved in, but Ellie had a weird attachment to so it stayed in it's place, the first thing you saw when you entered the home.

Ellie was kneeling in front of you, sitting between your thighs and facing you, holding up a large glass of water,

"sip baby" she spoke softly, to which you groaned.

"do- do- I haveeeeeee to?" you whined, batting your eyelashes in an attempt to distract your girlfriend "jus' wan' sleep"

"you can sleep after you drink that." after another groan you took a sip of the glass of water- admittedly, it was refreshing, however you still gagged to prove a point.

"good girl" she purred, standing up and kissing your forehead, moving over to the cabinet to grab a packet of pills.

"fuck off"

she laughs, moving back with a small white pill in the palm of her hand, to which you begrudgingly take after Ellie promises to take you to get ice cream the day after.

you felt your eyelids droop once more, you couldn't tell if it was sleep, or just your false eyelashes becoming suddenly very heavy, you whine "'m tired ells..."

"alright I hear you, c'mon baby" she sighs, leaving a half eaten piece of toast on the coffee table, one arm supporting your back and the other under your knees as she made her way to your bedroom, plopping you on the mattress and you sigh, already drifting to sleep before you screech at the feeling of something wet in your face.

"hey- hey" Ellie laughs, "I'm just taking off your makeup baby, just taking off your makeup", she smiles, dragging a cotton pad across your skin, taking off the creams and powders you had applied previously, smudged mascara coming off with it.

Ellie was thankful you'd taken off your clothes as soon as you stepped foot into the apartment saying something which she thinks was "dresses like these are modern day torture devices"- but with the way you slur your words when drunk she could never be sure, leaving you just in your underwear, making her job a whole lot easier.

trying to maneuver you, who had now dropped on the mattress like a deadweight, would've been a too strenuous task for 3am.

after discarding the used wipes and pulling your hair back into a very messy ponytail, Ellie scooted in beside you, the mattress sinking as you unconsciously snuggle in closer, head nuzzling into the girls neck, her hand going around to caress your back, soothing you into an easy sleep.

the hangover tomorrow was going to be horrible.

••••••••••••••

The third time I've tried to write this, I almost gave up 🥰

#lesbian #ellie williams #the last of us #wlw #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #lesbian fic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x fem reader #the last of us fic #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #tlou fic #sapphic summer

96 notes · View notes

buddie-buddie · 14 hours

Note

"I'm so excited you're here" for buddie 🙏

"I'm so excited you're here," Christopher says, grinning up at Buck in the way that never fails to set his heart on fire.

Buck smiles, tousling the curls on top of Christopher's head fondly. "You didn't really think I'd let your dad have all the fun, did you?"

Chris laughs at that, and for the first time since Buck watched him walk out Eddie's front door two months ago, it starts to feel like maybe everything is going to be okay again.

It's not that Buck ever doubted Christopher and Eddie would find their way back to each other again. It wasn't a shock to him that Chris wanted to come back to LA– that he wanted to come home– nor was he surprised when Eddie dropped everything to get on the next flight to El Paso as soon as Christopher said he was ready. He never doubted that any of it would happen.

Some selfish part of him just wished it hadn’t taken as long as it did.

He knows it’s what Christopher needed, and he knows that Eddie did the right thing in letting him go. It just hurt, is all. Worse than he ever could have imagined.

It felt like Buck’s chest had been cracked open, a piece of his heart ripped off, torn out. And as much as time helped to close the wound, it still ached with each breath he took. He still spent the last two months walking around like a piece of him was missing.

And maybe it was.

He and Eddie had gotten together not too long after Chris left, and Buck had spent the majority of the flight fretting over how Chris would react to the changes that occurred in his absence. Somewhere over New Mexico, Eddie had placed a hand on Buck’s bouncing knee, the familiar warmth of his touch instantly grounding. It washed over him like a balm, instantly soothing the restless hum beneath his skin.

“Baby,” Eddie had said, his voice low so as to not disturb any of their fellow travelers. “It’s going to be fine. Great, even.”

Buck had let out a tiny sigh, trusting Eddie and yet still finding it hard to shake the last of the stress away. “Wh-What if he changes his mind?” he asked, the words bitter on his tongue. “What if he refuses to get on the plane? What if he– if he wants to stay with your parents? Eddie, I– I’ll never forgive myself if I’m the reason you lose him again, I–”

“Shh,” Eddie’s hand moved from Buck’s knee to take his hand, lacing their fingers together and giving Buck's hand a reassuring squeeze. “He’s over the moon,” Eddie reminded him. “Has been since we told him.”

Which was true. They’d kept it a secret for nearly a month– from Christopher, from the 118, from everyone. There was something special about it, keeping their relationship to themselves. Something almost sacred about walking around with Eddie’s heart in his chest and being one of only two people in the world who knew it.

As special as it was, nothing came close to how good it was once they decided it was time to share it.

Christopher had been their first call, with Eddie assuring him that if it wasn’t something he was comfortable with, they’d end it. The thought alone had Buck’s chest aching, his stomach turning. He only just got Eddie, only just started to feel whole for the first time in his life. The fear that accompanied the thought of losing that– of losing Eddie– was nearly paralyzing. But it wasn’t one he had to sit with for too long. Christopher had broken out in a huge grin, mumbled something that sounded a lot like “Finally.”

They’d told everyone else after that, and Christopher wasn’t the only one whose reaction to the news included a wide smile and the word “Finally.”

And when Chris had texted this morning and said he wanted to come home, Eddie booked two tickets on the next flight out while Buck threw their things in an overnight bag and grabbed his keys.

Buck struggled to get the words out. “I know,” he let out a long, shaky exhale. “I– I just–”

“You’re worried,” Eddie, as always, knew exactly where Buck’s head was at, even before Buck did himself. “Because you think you’re not going to be enough for him. You’re afraid you’re not enough to make him want to stay. And you love him so impossibly much, that even the thought of possibly losing him again makes your heart break all over again.”

Buck nodded, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, trying to will away the hot tears pricking at the back of his eyes. “How’d you know?”

Eddie sighed, squeezing Buck’s hand in his. “I feel it, too.”

Buck's eyes shone with unshed tears. He brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. “What a pair we make.”

Eddie had taken his phone from his pocket, pulling something up before passing it to Buck. “I feel it,” Eddie repeated. “But I’m not too worried anymore. And this is why.”

Buck looked down to see Eddie’s text conversation with Chris.

Buck’s heart swelled in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever be used to the feeling, to being loved like this.

“There’s more,” Eddie said, scrolling down to newer messages, the time stamp indicating they were exchanged just before takeoff.

Buck lost the battle then with the tears welling in his eyes, the first one slipping free as he smiled down at Eddie’s phone screen. The tears blurred his eyes until the messages were nothing but blue and gray blurs.

Eddie had taken Buck’s face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. And then he met Buck’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss, one that said more than his words ever could.

“Nothing to worry about,” Eddie had said when they parted, calm and reassuring. “Except maybe the javelinas.”

Buck grinned, blinking back the last of his tears.

“What are you smiling about?” Eddie teased.

Buck nodded at Eddie’s phone in his lap. “I think you have something to ask me.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth tugged up into a shy smile, his eyes bright. “Will you–”

“Yes,” Buck didn’t even let him finish, too eager to get the word out, to dive into the next chapter of his life with Eddie. “Yes,” he repeated, grinning as he closed the distance and kissed Eddie again.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed, equal parts hopeful and hesitant, the word coming out just shy of incredulous. Almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Buck nodded, never more sure of anything. “Yeah.”

And now, they’re standing on the front steps of Eddie’s childhood home and Chris is laughing and wrapping his arms around Eddie and Buck is watching them with a smile so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt.

And then Christopher looks at Buck and goes “Buck do you want to see a javelina tomorrow?” and Buck feels like he just won the lottery.

“Absolutely,” Buck says.

He’s the luckiest man in the world.

#prompt game #my writing #in a shock to absolutely no one this one got away from me too #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #christopher diaz

110 notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 3 days

Text

Wedding Gifts

❝commission: a drabble that has a 'newly wed' theme. My specifications are that it begins with Y/n waking up after her wedding night and involved the wedding gifts Alexander gives her in some way. Basically, something that outlines how her relationship with him has been so far. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is really sweet honestly and I loved writing it! I hope you like it and if there are any mistakes, forgive me. :)

❝tw: none, pure fluff.

❝📜pairing: soft!yandere alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 945.

When you opened your eyes that morning, you felt more refreshed than ever. The bed was empty, indicating that Alexander had woken up earlier and gone about his duties. You didn't mind, though.

Yawning, you noticed that the camp seemed more active than ever. Outside your tent, one could hear the shouts and heated voices of soldiers and their generals. When you moved, you couldn't help the pained groan you let out after a sting of pain spread through your lower parts.

You had almost forgotten that this was the day after your wedding night. Almost.

Carefully, you removed the heavy blanket and placed your bare feet on the cold tent floor, feeling more rested than ever. There were days when you didn't sleep so well and, as much as you still had difficulty recognizing it, last night with Alexander had brought you more peace than your last few weeks.

You didn’t want to admit it but Alexander brought you comfort and a peace that you knew you desperately needed. Taking a deep breath, you slowly stood up, trying to ease the pain. The memory of last night brought a faint smile to your lips.

When you got up from the bed, you felt the cold of the packed earth floor of the tent and shivered slightly. You leaned on a small wooden table nearby and noticed something that hadn't been there the night before. On the table rested three carefully arranged gifts, each wrapped in fine fabric that reminded you of silk and adorned with a simple but elegant ribbon.

Curious, you walked over and started undoing the ties one by one. The first gift revealed a luxuriously soft wool cloak, red as blood, clearly made by the finest craftsmen. The vibrant color of the cloak contrasted with the austere environment of the camp, and when you touched it, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body.

The second gift was a small carved wooden box, and when you opened it, you found a jewel of rare beauty. A gold necklace with a star-shaped pendant, encrusted with small precious stones that sparkled in the morning light. You recognized the piece as a symbol of protection, common among nobles, and felt honored and protected when you placed it around your neck.

Finally, the third gift was a rolled up parchment. With anxious fingers, you undid the wax seal and read the message written in Alexander's firm handwriting:

"My beloved, may this cloak warm you in my absence, may this necklace remind you of my constant protection, and may these words bring you the certainty of my eternal love. Our union is the promise of a future of peace and happiness. With Love, Alexander."

You felt a rush of emotions as you read Alexander's words. You sat on the edge of the bed, holding the parchment close to your heart. Your mind revisited moments from the night before, and a feeling of gratitude and affection grew inside you. Alexander, even though he was away that morning, had thought of every detail to ensure you felt loved and protected.

He clearly cared more about you than he let on.

Wrapped in the cloak, with the necklace around your neck and the parchment tucked away with care, you felt ready to face the day. As you emerged from the tent, the frenetic activity of the camp seemed a little more distant, as if a bubble of peace had been created around you. With a smile on your lips, you began to look for Alexander, wanting to thank him for the gifts.

The environment around you was filled with frenetic activity — soldiers training, tents being set up and taken down, supplies being distributed.

As you walked through the camp, the feeling that maybe marrying Alexander wasn't such a bad thing began to take shape in your thoughts. Every step you took was accompanied by curious and respectful looks from the soldiers, and you realized that your status had changed significantly.

You really were a Queen now and although that title sounded strange to you, somehow it felt right.

The soldiers stopped what they were doing to bow their heads towards you, a sign of respect that was still new to you. It was a powerful feeling, you felt powerful.

Alexander's gifts were not only displays of affection, but also clear signs of your position and importance beside him. That luxurious cloak, the precious necklace, and even the words on the parchment showed that he cared deeply for you and wanted you to feel valued and safe. He cared about you. Maybe he even loved you.

Arriving at the King's tent, you found Alexander in the middle of an argument with his generals. He looked imposing, with his armor shining in the shadow and his steady voice giving precise orders. When his eyes met yours, a soft smile formed on his lips, and he motioned for them to wait while he approached you.

"I see you found my gifts." Alexander said softly, his voice low and full of tenderness, contrasting with the authoritative tone he used with his men, "I hope they pleased you."

You nodded, feeling the heat spread across your face, "Yes, Alexander. They're wonderful. Thank you."

He took your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss, "I'm glad you liked it. I wanted you to feel special and safe, even when I'm not around."

Alexander’s words filled you with a comfortable warmth and you smiled even wider at the realization of them.

Maybe... Just maybe, marrying him wasn't such a bad thing.

#yandere history #history #yandere historical characters #x reader #yandere alexander the great #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great x reader #commission #soft yandere #imagine #yandere imagine #drabble #💻 anon

130 notes · View notes

lulublack90 · 3 days

Text

Prompt 1 - Incantation

@wolfstarmicrofic June 1, word count 855

A continuation that is definitely going to end up as a mini-series, (I can't help myself 🤣) of Summer Camp AU. It's been taking up space in my head since I wrote it and I need to write more so here we go 😁

First part

As they neared the wiggling legs, Sirius rushed forward and launched himself onto the back of a tall raven-haired boy with glasses. He wrapped his legs around his waist and demanded a piggyback.

“James, come meet Remus,” Sirius told James as he tried to turn the boy’s head away from the upside-down legs. James turned around and grinned a broad smile at Remus.

“Hi, Remus, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. This is Peter,” he pointed at the base of the willow tree. “He’d say hello as well, but he’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.” James and Sirius burst into laughter as the feet kicked out angrily and a muffled voice shouted at them. Remus could only guess that it was a stream of profanities aimed at James.

“Hi,” He said, shyly. He wasn’t used to talking to people his own age. He didn’t have any friends, and he’d spent most of his childhood talking to nurses.

“Remus, you look like a smart fella,” James began speaking to him again, the smile on his face seemed to be a permanent fixture. “We really don’t want to have to go tell Minnie we did something dumb again, so do you think you could help us pull Peter out?” Remus looked at the slightly pudgy boy in the ground and hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough. He’d always been frail, it was only recently since the doctors finally figured out what was wrong with him that he’d started to put on muscle mass.

“I’ll-I’ll try,” He moved towards Peters's bottom half and inspected the hole. “I think we might need to dig a bit of the edge out, widen the hole. Maybe soften the soil with water.” He mused aloud.

“Remus, I think we’re going to get along famously,” James said as he awkwardly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It took everything in him not to flinch away from the touch.

“Let the poor boy go,” Sirius grunted as he pulled at James’s arm. They ended up tumbling to the floor as Sirius looped his foot around James’s leg, trying to find purchase.

Once they’d dusted themselves off, they started working on freeing Peter. Sirius had found a sturdy stick that he was using to gently poke around where Peter was stuck, dislodging pieces of earth. James poured three bottles of water over Peter, and they grabbed Peter’s legs.

Remus and Sirius had the left one and James had the right on his own. He tried not to think about how close Sirius was to him.

“Right ready? On three. One. Two. Three!” They heaved and he didn’t budge an inch. “Damn it! He’s not coming loose!” James huffed as he loosened his grip on Peter’s leg.

“That’s because we haven’t said the incantation.” Sirius raised his stick, pretending it was a magic wand. “Bibbidi bobbidi boo!” He chanted and slapped the stick across Peter’s arse. The ground vibrated with Peter’s angry yelling.

“Sirius!” James chastised. “Okay, let’s try again. On three. One. Two. Three!” They pulled as hard as they could and, with a grunt, Peter came loose. James helped him to his feet and tried to dust him off. Peter flapped his arms at James, slapping him away.

“Thanks for getting me out,” Peter finally said as he rubbed dirt from his eyes. “Remus, you’re my new best friend.” Remus didn’t know what to say to that, so he just bobbed his head.

“What is all the commotion going on over here?” A stern voice said behind them. There were suddenly four very straight backs.

“Minnie, my love, nothing’s going on. I’m just introducing Remus to everyone.” Sirius turned to look at the woman standing behind them and took on a relaxed stance and plastered on the most dazzling smile Remus had ever seen.

“Mr Black, I have warned you about calling me by that name. It is Minerva or Ms McGonagall.” Sirius didn’t seem the least bit put off by her words. “Why exactly is Mr Pettigrew covered in dirt?” She asked, her nostrils flaring.

“I’m sorry Ms McGonagall,” Peter began, apologising, “James and I were talking, and I wasn’t paying attention and fell in the hole. James, Sirius and Remus helped me out.” He smiled weakly at the second in command of the camp.

“Uhuh,” She hummed, clearly not believing a word. “Mr Lupin,” She said, turning to Remus. He bristled at being addressed. “Welcome to Camp Hogwarts, I advise you not to get in too deep with these miscreants.” Sirius and James dramatically feigned outrage. She smiled warmly at him, ignoring James and Sirius. “If they give you any trouble come and find me.” She glared at the other three and spun around to yell at another group of boys dragging bedsheets around the camp.

“Don’t worry, Remus,” Sirius grinned at him. “We’re not that bad.” Remus followed the three boys into the cabin, thinking maybe the two weeks wouldn’t be quite as bad with the four of them. That was when Sirius turned around and winked at him. He felt his stomach flip. Or not.

Next part

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar au #remus lupin #sirius black #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #james potter #peter pettigrew #minerva mcgonagall #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #remus and sirius #sirius and remus #summer camp au series #peters stuck #Bibbidi bobbidi boo #incantation

60 notes · View notes

falaihullo · 18 hours

Text

Your beauty never scared me - Charles leclerc x reader

Warnings- none except for bad grammar

Charles has been around many models but none of them compared to y/n.

Y/n and charles had been best friends, so when he got into f1, she was happy for him. going to races until it became hard on her, Deep down he understood but he was hurt nonetheless. His head telling him, "She's supposed to support me every race, she's my best friend " leaving a bitter feeling in him.

After that conversation Charles gave up on asking her to come to races and started to avoid her.

And the truth of the matter is I never let you go

Y/nofficial

Liked by LandoNorris, DanielRicciardo, Carlossainz55 and 800,760 others

One of the two pieces I’ve been working on. Second piece’s inspiration left so might not ever get it.

User1: I need to be talented like you

LandoNorris: absolutely beautiful

Y/nofficial: Thank you Lan❤️

User2: YN wym inspiration left???

-User3: that’s what I’m saying

-user4: her and Charles haven’t been seen together in a while…

-user5: maybe they been busy(I’m crying)

Danielricciardo: stunning ❤️

Y/nofficial: thank you Danny❤️

Carlossainz55: Miss you but love seeing more of your art.

Y/nofficial: pick one sir☝️

Carlossainz55: just one race won’t hurt, maybe will bring back your inspiration.

Y/nofficial: soon 🙄

User6: y/n back in the paddock soonn

User7: more y/n Charles content

User8: girl is delusional (me too)

-There was no text or anything from Charles, it’s my fault for not being able to manage my time well but when I’m with him, it’s just easy to forget time even exist.

Y/nofficial: couldn’t leave you guys hanging while it was almost done. My inspiration changed so I changed the painting a bit. One for my person collection now.

User1: I’m not crying, I’m not crying

User2: WYM CHANGED

User3: did her aesthetics change dramatically?

-user4:yeah…

Carlossainz55: Amazing❤️

-liked by Y/nofficial

LandoNorris: You amaze me❤️

Liked by Y/nofficial

User5: maybe I’m delulu but Y/n hasn’t responded to other drivers

-user6: don’t make me cry (already am)

User7: WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HOW THAT WAS THEIR HUG WHEN HE WON HIS FIRST GP

-user8:WAIT

-user9: she was working on painting their hug before he ditched…im crying so hard

The knock on the door interrupts me staring at whatever show was on. Opening the door, I move to side letting him in.

“For you” he says while holding out peonies, taking them from him I walk into the kitchen to set them up.

“I’m sorry for how I acted.” He starts carefully watching as I grab a glass vase.

“Yeah you’ve said you’re sorry but I want to know why instead of talking…you ignored me completely.” I calmly tell him, walking past him with the vase I start shuffling the flowers around to avoid looking at him.

“I missed you”

“You texted me everyday” I reply finally leaving the flowers alone, looking at him.

“I missed having you there”

“I’m still confused” I confessed finally just walking away from him back to where I had been sitting.

“I know, I’m sorry” he pauses sitting down next to me“I just…just have feelings for you so I was overthinking if you actually were working on painting or on a date.”

“Charles you should’ve said something”

“What do you mean”

“The painting I did was of your first F1 win”

“Yeah”

“The picture people took of our hug…” trailing off hoping he catches on soon

“Charles oh my god” I sigh looking at his confused puppy dog eyes, “ I have feelings for an idiot” smiling as he connects the dots. Putting his hand under my chin, he presses his lips to mine.

“I’ve wanted to do that for the past year” he says pulling away.

“Could’ve done it sooner” I reply.

Liked by Carlossainz55, y/nofficial and 6,300,899 others

Charles_leclerc: Her beauty never ever scared me

Y/nofficial: My love❤️

Carlossainz55: Finally

-danielricciardo: finally

-LewisHamilton44: finally

-charles_leclerc: shut up

Y/nofficial: You will never walk alone, you can always reach me

Charles_Leclerc: my love why that picture

-y/nofficial: I do what I want

Carlossainz55: finally

-danielricciardo: finally

-lewishamilton44: finally

-landoNorris: finally

-Charles_leclerc: shut up please

A/n: wrote this on my phone but will edit on my pc when I’m home from work

#f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #best friends to lovers #fala ihullo writes

101 notes · View notes

diejager · 3 days

Text

Welcome Home Cw: DARKFIC, implied murder, crime, death, killing, blood and gore, violent murder, praising, nicknames (kitten, pet), dark!reader, Ghostface!reader, stalking, tell me if I missed any.

Part 5

Simon left Johnny with a whispered promise to be back within the week, be it a day or four, he’d find himself back into the open arms of his scared and paranoid boyfriend. He loved how dependent on him Johnny had grown since you’d started playing with Johnny, following his command to scare and taunt and tease with your little dabs of personality. How playful you were, sly with your words and swift with your hands, exactly the way he taught you. Unlike him and Johnny, who were trained and built to be strong and dependable, taught in the mass and bled to be better —to learn from deaths and mistakes; you were sculpted by his hands, to fit a certain mould he had in mind when he first caught you, he made you who you were, every piece a constant reminder of his lessons.

A rippling effect of hunger and possession followed wherever you went, the subtle letters you left on his doorstep, the notes and bloody prints on his kitchen island, the small shadow outside of his window or the pictures you’d occasionally mail to Johnny for entertainment. And when he was at yours, the clink of your bell, the padded steps of your socked feet, the soft lull of your voice, and the many scars his fingers and lips would run over. Simon’s body churned with frustration from the long months spent away from you, he missed the feel of your skin under his palm and the bites he left week prior (they were probably healed by now, pale scars in the places where he made you bleed and smooth skin where it was superficial), yet a dark hunger - a deep-seated need - hung over him, an itch at the back of his mind that made his fingers twitch and knee jerk to hold and knead something, anything —you.

He had to remind himself that success took patience, something that was thinning by the minute. Unfortunate months away from you, lost in the throes of pleasure and affection with Johnny while missing a part of him (he will fix it, he planned to), only to have to wait for you to pop your head through the doorway of his more reclusive home. Simon hadn’t told you he’d be home, he wanted it to be a surprise, to see your eyes shine and gleam with unbridled happiness the moment he stepped into the cooler house and jump into his arms like the good kitten you were.

But no, you weren’t—

His back tensed at the ringing sound of jiggling keys, he glanced at the open hallway, watching your slump unevenly from the heavy bags hanging from one shoulder, quietly dropping them with a relieved sigh. You moved around to lock the door behind you, the familiar click resounding in his ears while he silently admired you as if you were an exotic animal —you were in a way, a well-trained and beautiful pet. You hooked your finger under the heel of your shoes, gasping a small grin when you finally saw his boots, a matte black against the light mocha of the welcome mat.

Forgetting the bags of groceries, you haphazardly placed the keys on the drawer in your rush to find him, your feet padding loudly in the open hallway that lead to the living room, where he sat comfortably, legs wide and arms spread over the armrest, resting his chin on his scarred knuckles. He sat like a king, broad and powerful, just as he was one in the world he built for you. You whispered his name, wide-eyed and parted lips, mumbling his name like a prayer, worshipping his name as you took slow and gasping steps towards him, arms outstretched to call him forward.

“Kitten,” Simon met you halfway, leaving his throne-like armchair to lock fingers with you, pulling you to his chest with a quick sleight of hand, spelling magic his hands and tongue. His fingers found themselves in your hair, gripping your nape in an arching hold and drowned himself in you, his rough lips devouring your grunts and pants, tongue lapping at the sweetness of your mouth.

He was proud. He was so, so proud of you. He read the most recent attack, a bloody and passionate murder that left the room drenched in blood and gore, no evidence, no hints, no leads to the killer. It was a parody of life in the cruelest ways; a new beginning in the start of death, welcoming it as one would greet life. Your art was on the front page of every daily mail, the lettering bold and calling, showing the world how beautifully cruel you could be when given the right study.

GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN

Investigators were called to the residence of Abigail Hutchinson after her boyfriend found her murdered in the living room of her house. No evidence were found in the crime scene, neither hair nor sweat from the killer. The Greater Manchester Police(GMP) investigators suspect Mrs. Hutchinson to be another victim of Ghostface, infamous for his erratic murders of ‘passion’. Investigators say that this murder fits Ghostface’s MO, from the level of violence to the picture left behind. Much is know of how he kills : seemingly planned and personal, still nothing is known of the killer. We don’t know the reasons behind the choice of his victims or the means of which he kills, but all we know is that Ghostface is willing to kill both young and old. No one is safe from him.

He had read the article over and over, eating every little detail you left to taunt the failing department that was tasked to protect the region he lived in. You had taken life after life, and yet they weren’t any closer to finding you. You were meticulous in your work, careful to the point of paranoia about making a mistake, yet you never panicked. He’d instilled a calmness in you that others rarely had in such a situation, relying on your mind rather than adrenaline-fuelled instincts.

He couldn’t have felt any prouder, a warmth bubbling in his chest as he held you on his lap, straddling him as he fed you praises. Your lips were plump and soft, easily swollen from just a few rough kisses that left you gasping and wanting, fingers clinging to the lapels of his jacket and grinding against his growing bulge for more. You nipped at his lower lip, teeth sinking into his equally swollen lip and bled him, your hands as needy as him in their wander, raking across his shoulders and down his chest all while you groaned his name.

“Si,” you moaned, slowly rutting against him, lids heavy and voice whispering yours pleas, “Please, Si. Haven’t I been good?”

He let out a pleased rumble.

“‘M proud of you. Now be a good pet and kneel, yeah? Let me show you how proud I am.”

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

65 notes · View notes

thedeathdeelers · 1 day

Text

i’m rewatching lovely runner from ep 1 because that’s just. who i am now, and just within the first 5 minutes im already. like…😀

when the radio mc excitedly tells sol she’s won a pair of running shoes so she can enjoy them in this lovely weather, everyone claps except for sunjae.

he looks..:empty

and when sol replies with a “i don’t need that” he doesn’t even flinch it’s like he’s just. not there. he’s too far gone to react anymore because of how much the guilt and despair has already eaten at him all he can do is listen to her vent and accept the role he’s played in the situation she’s in and uhhhh. yeah

and when the radio show host asks her what else she might want? sunjae’s eyes kinda flitting from side to side like he’s desperately trying to think of what she might want? what she might like or need? like he could gift her something that maybe just maybe could help her feel a little better??

but then she explodes on them and all he can do is listen again with his head bowed, while the others are sat there looking shocked

and the only time he finally reacts and moves into action is when she’s done talking, hinting at not wanting to see another day, and throws her phone away

he JUMPS to the microphone, asking if she’s still there if she’s still listening- and finally says his piece, begging her to keep going to see the beauty in the world even when it’s looking bleak cause the sun will eventually shine again- to just hang in there if not for her then for her loved ones and those who love her (himself included)

he’s asking her to keep going for her family and friends and for him

anyway i’m normal about this scene lmao it’s fine.

#i’ll shut up about it one day y’all i promise…….ish #lovely runner

54 notes · View notes

disasterbuck · 2 days

Note

Hiii 💕💕💕

For the prompts: “did you eat today?”

-❤️🪐

bestIEEEEEEEEE omg I had no idea this fic was gonna turn out like this but I LOVE IT so THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE PROMPT!!!! I really hope you like it too 🥰

did you eat today?

At the sound of a door opening and closing, Eddie stretched and rubbed at his eyes. He must've fallen asleep on the couch without realising it, as the room had grown dark around him. Pushing himself up, he turned around to see Buck toeing off his shoes beside the door.

"Hey," Buck said softly, smiling at him. "I just wanted to make sure you two were doing okay."

"Thanks," Eddie murmured, something warm unfurling in his chest.

Raising an eyebrow questioningly, Buck gestured at the light switch. Eddie nodded and Buck flicked it on.

"How's Chris?" Buck asked.

With a start, Eddie tensed and looked down the hallway. "I think he's okay, but I haven't checked on him in a while. I fell asleep," he explained, taking a step in the direction of his son's room.

But then Buck's hand was on his shoulder, holding him back.

"I'll check on him," Buck said, his head tilting to one side as he studied Eddie's face. "You look like you could use a break. Did you eat today?"

What a stupid question, Eddie thought to himself, a moment before realising he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten anything. The morning had been a blur of stressing about Christopher and calling Bobby to say he wouldn't be able to come in to work, and then the rest of the day had been spent taking care of his son and making sure he got enough fluids into his system.

"Does coffee count?" Eddie asked with a wry grin.

Unimpressed, Buck gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go have some water. I'll check on Chris and then whip up something for dinner."

Eddie watched him disappear down the hall to Christopher's room before sighing and making his way to the kitchen, turning lights on as he went. Obediently he got himself a glass of water, downing it almost in one go and then grimacing as his stomach rumbled hungrily.

Putting the empty glass down on the bench, he then followed the faint murmur of voices to Christopher's room and paused in the doorway with a smile.

Buck was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand smoothing hair back from Christopher's face while the boy had his eyes closed. Without his glasses Chris looked a lot younger and Eddie felt a brief pang of nostalgia for all the years that had come and gone already.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Buck said quietly. "Your dad's done a good job of looking after you today, huh?"

"He always does," Chris mumbled sleepily.

Shifting forward, Buck brushed his lips against Chris' forehead – Eddie felt something settle in his soul, like a puzzle piece finally slotting into place.

"I love you. I'm gonna go make some dinner and maybe get you some soup or something. Does that sound good?" Getting a nod in response, Buck stood up and headed for the door, grinning when he saw Eddie. The two of them went back to the kitchen together and Buck immediately began pulling things out of cupboards so he could get started on dinner.

"You had some water?" he asked as Eddie pulled out a chair to sit down.

"Yeah."

Buck nodded approvingly and then asked, "Hey, do you have any instant soup?"

Eddie gestured to where he thought there might be some and Buck set to work rummaging through the cupboard. He made a small sound of triumph a moment later, holding up a single serve chicken noodle soup packet.

Eddie's eyes followed him as he moved around the kitchen like he belonged there, prepping the soup for Christopher and getting things together for their dinner as well. He didn't need to ask where anything was or if he was allowed to do this; he already knew.

Because he'd been practically living here for such a long time already. He was part of their family. Eddie trusted Christopher with him completely and had done for years. He was Eddie's best friend and closest confidante. The two of them were practically inseparable – demonstrated by the way they couldn't even go a day without seeing each other before Buck was letting himself in with his key to say hi.

Scraping his chair back across the floor, Eddie stood and made his way around the table to where Buck was scattering bocconcini onto two pizza bases. Buck glanced up automatically with a smile.

"Could you stop for a second?" Eddie asked, heart in his throat as he put a hand on Buck's arm.

"Are you okay?" Buck asked, his smile turning into a concerned frown as he brushed off his fingers and gave Eddie his full attention.

"Yeah," Eddie said, and despite his racing pulse his voice was strong. Sure. "I am."

Slipping his hands into Buck's food-stained ones, Eddie sank down onto one knee and revelled in the choked gasp that left Buck's mouth and the way his eyes went wider than he'd ever seen them before.

"Buck … Evan," Eddie said softly, smiling as he saw tears welling up in Buck's eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Speechless, Buck opened and shut his mouth in an impression of a fish as he searched for something to say. When Eddie raised an eyebrow he choked out, "Are you having a stroke? We're not… I mean, we haven't even…"

"I know what I'm asking," Eddie said steadily, giving a small nod of reassurance. "I want you in my life, Buck. Forever. I'm just sorry it's taken me so long to see what's right in front of me."

Blinking rapidly to keep his tears at bay, Buck squeezed Eddie's hands tightly. "Yes," he whispered, then cleared his throat and repeated louder, "Yes! Absolutely. A thousand times yes."

And then he was pulling Eddie up and into his arms, crushing their chests together in the most soul-healing hug of all time. Eddie let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and buried his face in Buck's shoulder, lips pressed to warm skin.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, clinging to each other silently, until at last they drew back and looked into each others eyes. Buck's were still wet, and two tear tracks ran down his cheeks.

"I hope it goes without saying," Eddie murmured, lifting his hands to Buck's face and gently wiping his tears away with his thumbs. "That I love you."

"Yeah," Buck said with a grin, another tear getting caught in his eyelashes. "But it doesn't hurt to hear it. And Eddie, I love you too."

Leaning in so that their lips were almost touching, Eddie whispered, "I know you do," and then kissed him.

Tags 💕

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @jesuiscenseedormir

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

@smilingbuckley @realpersonwithrealfeelings @superlock-in-the-tardis @mjthe14thdoctor @strxwbereee

@idontknowwhatimdoing777 @ashleigh2658

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

#buddie #buddie 911 #buck x eddie #buddie fic #evan buckley/eddie diaz #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie ficlet #ficlet #disaster writes #usermoonsharky #friends to fiances

57 notes · View notes

copper-16 · 3 days

Text

For those lovely people who read Do You See Something I Can’t?…Chapter 8 will be posted tomorrow (June 2nd), at 1pm EST!

We’ve got 5 chapters, 57k words in total, and a schedule (because I am nothing without my schedule!) Since the chapters are a little on the longer side, I want to give everyone ample time to fully read. So, the plan is that there will be a new chapter every 3 days, so the whole thing will be posted over the span of a little over 2 weeks.

I totally understand how it can be hard to follow a story when there are long gaps in between chapter being posted, so I hope this is easier to follow along and engage with, by writing everything ahead and posting in a streamline manner. We shall see if this makes it better for you guys as readers, I’m curious as to your feedback! Regardless I want people to enjoy reading it, and if that happens then I am a happy camper, above all else.

Spotify Playlist for the second half can be found here!

For everyone who is still reading this long ass announcement and have gotten themselves all caught up if they wish, here is the first part of Chapter 8 before it is posted tomorrow 🩵

Ingrid stared down at her phone, shifting nervously in her seat. Mapi sat across from her, the Spaniard’s hands folded on the table in front of her, as she watched the Norwegian closely.

The dark haired woman sat up more, swallowing roughly. There were a million thoughts going through her head, and she looked up at the brunette with a slightly panicked expression.

“What if I just went back?” Ingrid asked in a panic, and Mapi tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you actually want to? Or are you simply scared to make this call?” She asked gently, and the full back allowed herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her—girlfriend? Friend? Person who professed their love to her less than 12 hours ago, and hasn’t had time to put a label on it yet?

She allows herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her…of her…of Mapi’s gaze, feeling a bubble of shame rise up in her. The Spaniard is quick to stand, walking around the table to take a seat next to Ingrid as opposed to across from her.

“I am not asking to make you feel bad,” Mapi reminds gently, gesturing to the phone. “But I know you do not want to go back there, and that you are scared to put your foot down. You need to though, and I promise you will get through it. I will be right here,” she continued, and Ingrid looked over at her skeptically.

It was such a strange jump, the last twelve hours. Ingrid had returned to Barcelona to pack up her apartment to move, and had almost finished doing just that. There were boxes littered everywhere in her apartment, a fact that Mapi had yet to comment on.

Instead, they remained where they were at the table as the sun rose in the sky, and Ingrid worked up the courage to call her manager back and explain that she was not going back to Wolfsburg.

The Norwegian picked her phone up finally, pressing the contact for her manager before she held it up to her ear. Her foot tapped anxiously below her, a reminder of the anxiety coursing through her body even as Mapi sat beside her, looking at her with encouragement.

“Hello Ingrid!” Thomas said cheerfully into the phone, and Ingrid opened her mouth to speak before she coughed abruptly, which kick started her into speaking.

“H-hi Thomas!” She replied, her voice thready and nervous, an octave too high. If her plan had been to play it cool, she would have been failing miserably. Luckily, her only goal was to get through the phone call in one piece.

“Is everything alright?” Thomas asked quickly, concern laced into her tone.

“Yes, yes, everything is okay. I just need to talk to you about something,” Ingrid choked out, even as she felt like her throat might close up. Her free hand lashed out, clamping down on the center back’s thigh with a forcefield of anxiety.

The brunette, however, didn’t miss a beat, simply peeling the Norwegian’s hand away from her thigh and lacing their fingers together, squeezing softly. Ingrid gripped her hand tightly, and the Spaniard could feel the shake of the full back’s hand in hers.

“Okay, what did you need to discuss?” Thomas asked, sounding diplomatic. Ingrid took a large breath in, slowly letting it out before responding.

“I am going to stay at Barcelona. I will not be accepting Wolfsburg’s offer,” The dark haired woman managed to get out, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. Mapi’s thumb was very lightly trailing back and forth over the back of her palm, and she reminded herself very gently to relax her shoulders.

“You—what?” Her agent spluttered out, clearly caught off guard.

“I want to stay here, in Barcelona. Tell Wolfsburg I reject,” Ingrid repeated, her voice more secure this time.

“Ingrid, you would be insane to reject their offer! It is one of the most lucrative deals I’ve had come across my desk for a female footballer, you’d be in the top 5% of paid female footballers. Hell, you’ve already told them you’d accept!” Thomas implored, his voice edging on panic.

He had promised Wolfsburg that this deal would go through, that Ingrid would accept. She had always listened to him, she had always been easily manipulated when necessary.

“I gave them a verbal agreement, but no contract was signed. I don’t…I don’t care about the money. Get me more brand deals or something, I want to stay in Barcelona,” Ingrid repeated, standing up for herself as Mapi watched on, growing more nervous as the conversation continued. She couldn’t hear what Ingrid’s manager was saying, but she could tell that he wasn’t responding with a super positive tone.

“Ingrid, as your manager, I cannot let you do this. You need to get your head on straight,” Thomas replied harshly, and the full back straightened, her nerves washed away and replaced with something akin to anger.

“My head is perfectly straight,” if it were not for the seriousness of the situation, both women might have laughed at the falseness of this statement, considering the Norwegian’s sexuality. “I am staying in Barcelona.”

“You’ve told Wolfsburg you’d be there!” Thomas cried, though it wasn’t really true. She had agreed to the deal, sure, but she had never signed anything. She wasn’t obligated to them, she only was because Thomas had tried to make her obligated to them because he knew it would earn himself more money.

“No, you told Wolfsburg I would be there. And why the hell are you pressuring me so heavily? You are supposed to be on my side, not theirs!” Ingrid accused, and Mapi resisted the urge to flinch at the return of the woman she had become acutely used to in the last six months.

“I am on your side, it’s just that—” Thomas tried, but the dark haired woman was quick to cut him off before he could really even begin.

“No, you’re not, if you’re trying this hard to push me into something I clearly do not want. I’m staying, that is the end of the discussion!” Ingrid cried, removing the phone from her ear and slamming her finger down onto the ‘end call’ button.

The Norwegian’s phone clattered onto the table as she breathed heavily, a fraught silence descending between them.

The brunette was holding her breath, unsure of what was going to happen. Ingrid had been upset on the phone, she had been angry.

Would it translate into anger toward Mapi? That is how it had always been, but the Spaniard wasn’t sure if that would persist or not. She knew Ingrid was capable of change, but she was unsure if something as triggering as this could lead to anything resembling softness.

What’s going to happen? Well…you’ll have to tune in to find out!

#copper 16 asks #ingrid engen #mapi leon

54 notes · View notes

the-ellia-west · 16 hours

Text

Silver Blood and a Glass Crown

Alkain Short Story 2/3

(It’s got a lot of small time skips and setting changes)

This was Written very Quickly in 3 days because of procrastination, I'm sorry (ToT)

I hope you Enjoy it!

(This one is very long, Also sorry, Lovelies!)

Alkain smoothed the map across the table with all four arms, arranging the pieces over the miniature landscape. “So this is the situation, correct?”

The messenger nodded sagely. “Yessir.”

“Then I suggest you move battalions here, here, and here. They can stay hidden amongst the trees here.” He moved a few of the pieces. “You don’t want to strike first in case the negotiations go well, and we don’t have to fight.”

“If I may, this seems a bit excessive sir.” The General stepped up beside him.

“Hm, you’re right.” Alkain pulled back, studying the map as his voice dropped to a contemplative mutter, “Better safe than sorry...”

“Mister Ciranes!” Another messenger slammed the doors open, panting. “The King Requests your presence in the throne room immediately!”

“Understood.” The elf fixed the cuffs of his uniform and bolted down the hallway. He didn’t want to make a mistake. Not here, not now, not after he’d gained so much in his mother’s memory and finally earned the king’s favor.

The Advisor brushed off his uniform, tried to smooth out his hair, and trotted into the room. “Your majesty,” He dropped to one knee, silently cursing his frazzled appearance.

“Ah! Alkain, rise. It has come to my attention that the Valerίan princess will arrive this evening instead of three days later because of tensions on the road and the rushed negotiations.”

The elf glanced up. “Yessir?”

“I called you here to tell you this because it now means you must be extra vigilant in your duties tonight. You are one of the most prevalent advisors she’ll be dealing with throughout the negotiations, so if possible I’d like you to greet her in my place.”

Alkain tensed, shocked at the question as he nervously ran his upper hands through his sandy golden waves, holding the other two to his chest for comfort. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty! Is there anything else?”

The king examined him with scrutiny and frowned. “Did you run here?”

“Um… Yessir.” Alkain shrank in on himself. “May I go, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, but may I ask where you’re so eager to leave me for?”

“My room sir. If I present the palace to the princess, I ought to look presentable myself. If I could… Your majesty.”

The King nodded thoughtfully, taking the crown from his head. “I understand, and I agree.”

Alkain folded his lower arms behind his back and nodded once. “Thank you, sir.”

But he jumped as the king called toward one of the doors, “Kinnea!”

A young servant girl stepped into the room, bowing her head. “Yes, your majesty?”

“I intended to gift a stylist to each of my advisors, and since you need one, this is Kinnea. Kinnea, could you attend to Mister Ciranes here? If you would.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She nodded sagely and looked up, deep scarlet eyes sparking with worry.

Alkain rubbed his wrists nervously. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, I’m going to check on my son. You two have fun!” The King motioned for Alkain to go as he left the room.

The elf waved for Kinnea to follow him and stopped when he reached the door. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I respond to orders, sir. It’s my job. You haven’t given one.”

“Oh, uh… right. Follow me, please.”

“Was that a request or an order?”

Alkain sighed. “I’ve never had a servant before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kinnea set her shoulders and put her hands behind her back, “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I’m here to serve you, sir.” She wove around him and held the door, bowing her head. “My orders?”

***

Alkain adjusted his suit's neckline, tie, and tailcoat as he glanced back at Kinnea. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

The servant nodded and stepped back as the carriage pulled around the bend. Glittering glass strings hanging from the ornately carved frames jingled against one another as the horses slowed and one whinnied.

The King’s advisor held up a hand as a servant rushed forward, pulling the carriage door open himself. He bowed and gestured one arm toward the doors. “Your Royal Highness, Welcome to Seikaria, it is our honor to have you! Allow me.” He offered her a hand.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Miss.”

“The pleasure is all mine…” She trailed off, raising an eyebrow at him as she took his hand.

“Alkain. Alkain Ciranes, Your Highness.”

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Alkain. Might I ask, what your position is that you would be sent to greet me in place of the king?”

“I am an advisor, your Highness, and a negotiator. The King wishes you well, but he cannot greet you himself as he is busy finishing the preparation for your arrival. You did arrive quite a bit earlier than expected, would you like to see the palace?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The Princess smiled at him and allowed him to take her arm and lead her toward the palace doors.

Kinnea followed close behind as Alkain and the princess made polite conversation. “We’re so glad to have you, your highness.��

“Valeran and Seikaria have been at odds for far too long. We must agree upon a treaty as soon as possible.”

“Do you think there will be peace?”

“There has to be, and I have no doubts with you in the negotiations.”

“You flatter me, your Highness.” Alkain bowed his head. “This is the war room where we will discuss the treaty.”

He led her through the halls, showing her to the ballroom as the King sent for him.

“Your Royal Highness!” The king smiled at the princess. She clung to Alkain’s arm, and smiled, though her voice came pleasantly through gritted teeth.

“Your Majesty, it is good to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you too Nirscia.” The King bowed to her. “And you, Alkain! You look good, I’m glad Kinnea did her job well!”

“My presence has probably become bothersome to two minds so great as yours. I will be on my way. It was truly an honor to make your acquaintance, your Royal Highness.”

“It is truly a pity to see you go. Must you?” Her smile lifted a little as he let go of her arm.

“It seems I must, I hope I will meet you again.” He bowed.

“I’ll still be within the walls for a few more weeks, don’t say farewell too soon. I may miss you myself!” She raised a hand, and Alkain retreated, smiling.

“He's one of your advisors?”

“Correct.”

“He's very sweet. I think I'll enjoy his company.”

“I'll be sure to tell him that for you.” The King smiled. “I hope you have a good time here. But before we join in on any of the festivities, I would like to discuss things.”

Throughout the rest of the night, the princess was warmly welcomed by the palace officials and servants and retired to her room late after the sun had already gone to rest beyond the horizon.

Alkain drew the blinds and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. Everything seemed different now. What with the princess in the castle, there would have to be double the preparations and double the meetings to compensate for the negotiations.

He sighed. Closing his eyes, when all of a sudden, a hand reached over him and he jumped, pulling the knife from his sleeve and holding it to her neck. Kinnea glanced down at the knife, unflinching. “Sir. I don't think the king would appreciate a death in the palace while the princess is here.”

“Oh… it's you.” Alkain lowered the knife. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off your suit, sir. It would be uncomfortable to sleep in, and it may rip.”

“Um… thank you, Kinnea.”

“Hm.” She nodded as he sat up and allowed her to take it from his shoulders, handing her the tie.

“You're dismissed Kinnea.”

She nodded to him and left.

***

Alkain startled awake at a sharp jab to his shoulder. “Ow!” Kinnea set the poker down and straightened. The Elf rubbed his shoulder and sat up. “What the hell was that?”

The servant didn’t reply.

“You can speak.”

“The king wished for me to wake you. So I did, Sir. My apologies.”

“Did you have to stab me with a poker?”

“No.”

Kinnea fixed his hair and his coat before he left for the meeting.

The Elf took a seat in the middle of the table. The Princess waved to him. He smiled back in her direction and bowed his head. “It is good to see you again, Your Highness.”

“It's good to see you again as well, Mister Ciranes.”

“Could I get you a drink?”

“Oh. But that’s a servant’s job, isn’t it?”

“But it is an honor to serve you, Your Highness. I am not a royal such as yourself, so I am content resting in my station below yours if it means I get to elevate yours.” He stood and went to a cart, pouring a cup of water for the princess as he knelt and reached for her hand. “May I?”

“I’m a little afraid, what are you asking?” She smiled, offering it to him.

Alkain took her delicate fingers, rubbing his calloused thumb over her soft, smooth skin. “I’m offended you would consider me a threat, Your Highness.” He smiled and raised her hand, brushing his lips gently over her knuckles.

She laughed, “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thank you. You’re more beautiful than I could even describe, your highness!” He retreated to his seat, eyes straying back to her as his words echoed back in his mind. Her thick brunette hair spilled over her shoulders in waves, an intricate web of braids tying together into a strange pattern behind her head, showing off the glittering beads and pearls weaved into the glossy strands.

“Good morning everyone.” The King strode into the room and sat on his throne, surveying the table before he leaned forward. “We have a lot to discuss before the whole palace wakes, and starts missing us.”

A few of the advisors chuckled at the statement as the king began. “Princess Nirscia has come to our kingdom to finalize the terms of the peace treaty, and we will make her journey worthwhile. Valeran and Seikaria will have peace once more, but for now, we will go over the terms of the previous treaties and discuss why they failed and what we can do to make this one last.”

The meeting proceeded quickly and efficiently, suggestions, ideas, and details whirling in Alkain's head as he was assigned his job and sent to do it.

He glanced between the servants in front of him. “Alright. You, go fetch some parchment. The rest of you, find the rest of our team. We need a plan before noon.”

“Yessir!” The servants saluted him and promptly scampered off to their separate jobs. Alkain took the pieces of parchment as they were offered to him and scratched off a list of tasks on each one. He handed all four of them off to separate servants as he raced to find the team's planner.

He found her in the gardens, conversing with the princess over a bush of roses. He called over to her. She looked up. “Ah, Mister Ciranes! What brings you here?”

“You, Miss. We need you for preparations inside. If you could.”

“Your Highness?”

“Got are welcome to go if you wish, but I would like to borrow the king's advisor for a moment.”

“Oh of course your highness, if he agrees. But we may need him back. Make sure you handle our fragile package carefully in conversation, he's a little brittle.”

Alkain stared after the planner in shock. The Princess giggled, trailing a hand down the leaves of the rose bush.

“Um, what would you like, Your Highness?”

“Only a moment, I know you're busy. Please,” She waved him over. “You have been nothing but kind and welcoming to me, and I appreciate that. Mister, Ciranes, you are fascinating and amazingly respectful. I may enjoy your company.”

“I… thank you, Your Highness!” Alkain broke into a grin. “That means a lot coming from someone so great as yourself.” His face tinged pink and he avoided her eyes.

“Hm.” The Princess smiled as she plucked a rose from the bush and flinched as a thorn pricked her, drawing a bead of blood from the pad of her finger. But she ignored it, threading the rose into the breast of his overcoat. “You're a lot like this Rose, Ciranes. Complex and beautiful. But those virtues make many… forget your flaws, and shield their eyes from seeing your danger. It takes someone skilled and thorough to appreciate you fully.” She pulled away, the drop of blood staining into the dark fabric. “Open up a little! It might do you some good!”

Alkain looked down at the Rose, “Alright, I will make it my mission, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to join me for tea this afternoon?”

“I… yes. I think I would like that very much, Your Highness

“I'll see you soon.”

“Um… yes! I'll see you soon… Your Highness.”

Alkain turned quickly, face flushing as he cursed himself in his mind. Stupid, no, that was awkward and weird. She is a princess, you are a low-ranking advisor who comes from a slave house. That is your worth. You are dirt compared to her.

He brushed off his uniform, face and ears still pink as he returned to the house and stepped up beside the planner. The elf cleared his throat, “How is it going so far?”

“Well. The lists you made were remarkably accurate- Are you okay? You're looking a little sick.”

“Uh, no, I… uh… I'm fine!”

“You sure? Your face is a bit red.”

“Yeah! It's just… a very hot coat. I'll go inside and… survey the progress!”

“Don't be gone too long, we just might miss you!”

After a few hours of planning and preparation, Alkain went to greet the princess. They discussed cultures and kingdoms before night fell and he returned to his room. The next day continued about the same, and the next. But after the days of preparation came to a close, a dinner invitation came to his hands from the king.

“Welcome! All of you, I thought it would be best if we were all acquainted before the ball tomorrow so we mustn't make the hassle of introductions.”

“Nirscia, this is my wife, Jevari, and my son, our future king, Makan.”

“Lovely to meet you!” The princess curtsied and Makan stood.

“Your Highness.” The Little prince kissed her hand and bowed, smiling hopefully up at her.

“You'll make a good king one day, I know it.”

“Thank you!” The little boy nodded to her and scampered back to his parents.

Alkain smiled as the princess greeted the king and queen. She chose the seat next to him. “Good evening.”

“Good Evening, Your Highness. Are you well?”

“Indeed, I am.” The Princess smiled back and turned to her meal, making light conversation with the royal family as the dishes were brought out.

Nirscia looked at the roasted meat, surprise flickering over her face. “You have birds large enough to eat here in Seikaria?”

“You don't?”

“No! I haven't seen meat like this in ages, this is amazing!” She grinned.

“It may look nice, Your Highness. But trust me, It tastes even better.”

“We'll just have to see, won't we?”

“We will indeed. But I bet you'll like it!” Alkain smirked.

“Perhaps I will, Perhaps I won't.” She winked at him. “What are these spices?”

“I think it's a type of pepper flakes? I don't know. You'd have to ask the chef.”

“Hm, do you like it?”

“I do, are you having a difficult time admitting I was right, your Highness?”

“I like it as well. I'm perfectly capable of admitting anything I need to, Mister Ciranes.”

The two laughed and talked for the rest of the meal until the king finished and dismissed them. The Advisor stood, offering the princess his hand. “Would you like me to escort you back to your room, Your Highness?”

Nirscia hesitated, shock sparking in her eyes before a smile softened her lips and she took it, allowing him to lead her into the hallway. “You look nice… Mister Ciranes.”

“As do you, Your Highness. But I have no doubt you’re more beautiful than I could ever hope to be.” Alkain smiled as he held her arm a bit tighter, turning a corner. “I’m glad I’ve been able to see you so much, Your Highness. I really appreciate your kindness.”

“And I, yours. But Mister Ciranes, My name is Nirscia, you may use it.”

“And Mine is Alkain.” He smiled as her hands slipped into his.

“Alright Alkain, I’ve loved your company, but there is something else you need to know.” She glanced around.

“What?” The Elf tilted his head, his other arms raising to hold her hands as well.

Nirscia spun him toward the wall and pinned his arms above his head. She took a breath and kissed him.

Alkain’s eyes widened, but instead of pulling back as he knew he should, he leaned into it and kissed her back, his body melting into the wall, electric sparks racing between her fingertips and his wrists. They stayed there for a while until they had to pull back, both gasping.

“I… Your High- Princess Nirscia… What-”

“Don’t speak… please.”

“I… I’m flattered!” Alkain sputtered, his entire face turning beat red.

“And I- Oh shit.” The Princess’s face flushed a bright pink, but this time Alkain threw his arms around her and pulled her back into another kiss, finding one another over and over again, until both fell back, Alkain too flustered to speak as Nirscia gathered her composure, accepting what had just happened.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Alkain hugged all of his arms to his chest and looked down.

“I… I love you?” The Princess looked at him, her statement just as much of a question as an answer.

The two locked eyes and Alkain tripped over his words several times before he fumbled a response. “I don’t… this is… I love you too. I’m sorry… just- I- I’ll see you tomorrow!” He bolted down the hallway, the heat in his face burning hotter with every second as he slammed himself into his room and collapsed onto his bed, panting.

Kinnea didn’t comment as she pulled off his overcoat and tossed him a nightshirt, drawing the blinds and snuffing out the candles for him. But she did, as he wrestled on the nightshirt. “Is there anything you need, sir?”

“Uh, no. I… It’s a lot cleaner in here. Thank you Kinnea.”

She nodded to him and left.

***

“What happened to make you so panicked last night, sir?” Kinnea fixed the sleeves of his undershirt and fluffed the ruffles around his neck.

“Can I trust you with a secret?”

“Yes. I am your servant, it is my job to keep your secrets.”

“Even from the king?”

Kinnea looked up for a second, then said, “Yes. Even from the King.”

“Well, The Princess kissed me.”

“Huh.” Kinnea picked up an overcoat.

“I don’t know why she did it, but it was nice. I know I can’t be with her, but it’s a strange feeling. I’m not sure what I should do, it’s a little terrifying, to be completely honest.”

“Can you keep that a secret?”

“Yes?”

“Can she keep it a secret?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Then you have nothing to worry for, sir. Anything else?” Kinnea finished with his suit, moving onto his hair.

Alkain stopped, a little stunned. “I- Thank you.”

Kinnea ruffled up his hair, weaving some simple braids into a higher ponytail. She stepped back and nodded. “You should be ready there, sir.”

“Thank you Kinnea. I mean it.”

Kinnea stopped and glanced back at the other room.

“Go on, put on your dress. I’m not leaving without you.” Alkain took a flower from a vase, fixing it to the lapel of his suit, and waited by the door until Kinnea stepped out of the room, tense and straight-faced.

The long black dress covered her feet, intricate golden swirls matching the ones on Alkain’s suit. “It looks nice.” He took her by the arm and led her down the hallways into the main ballroom, breaking away from her to greet the princess, Kinnea trailing close behind him.

He knelt, kissing her hand. “Your Highness, It’s good to see you, Princess Nirscia.”

“As I am glad to see you, Alkain.”

“Glad to hear it!”

A long silence stretched between them. The Princess lowered her voice. “About last night, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you any harm or disrespect, I hope we can remain on good terms.”

“As do I.” Alkain offered her his arm. “May I have a dance?”

“Of course.” Nirscia followed him to the dance floor, both ready to escape the topic of the previous night for the time being.

The Dances took them to afternoon, some light conversation and greetings with other friends bringing the ball to a height as it grew dark. The King rose from his throne to speak, but just as he began, a shriek pierced the dim atmosphere and something hit him, sending him reeling back against the throne. He wavered for a second on his feet and fell back into his seat, crown clattering to the floor beside him as he cried out. He reached for something, voice too faint to hear even in the perfectly still silence, and then he fell limp, deep scarlet red pooling at the base of the throne. Panic erupted. Voices shouted, and Alkain screamed, the shock finally dropping as he pulled for the king. Makan started for his father, but the queen whisked him away. Crowds jostled and guards crowded around the room. Alkain couldn’t tell what was happening anymore as two people pulled on his wrists. Kinnea fought back grief and fear, fighting to protect her master, as Nirscia tugged Alkain away from her into the crowd.

Chaos turned His vision blurry and confused him to the point of madness until the Guards managed to calm the crowds and file them out of the room. The next few hours were spent in shock and fast-paced decisions until the Queen announced that the Assassin had been found to be a Valerίan. This meant war, and the Princess had to leave.

Alkain stopped, horrified and confused. Everything had changed so fast. What had happened? He slammed the doors open and ran to find Nirscia. They met in the entrance, and she wrapped him into a kiss the instant he drew close enough, not caring of the witnesses, as she grabbed his shoulders, voice stern and fiery. “Alkain, This means war. But no matter how long it takes or what I have to do, I will be back for you.”

If you see this, please comment your thoughts, or just put something in the comments so I know you read it

|Part 1 | Part 2 (Here) | Part 3 (To come)

@aesthetic-writer18 @themortalityofundyingstars @darkandstormydolls @artsandstoriesandstuff @rivenantiqnerd

@urnumber1star @bloodmoonloveletter @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @stars-forever @corinneglass

@supercimi @phoenixradiant @whoevenknowswhatimwriting @blue-kyber @aalinaaaaaa

@stars-forever @lunaeuphternal @chaoticcandle @sunflowerrosy @n1ghtcrwler

@floweryprosegarden @foxydemon666 @bluektw @nkikio @i-hate-happy-endings

@confused-romantic @savepoint-has-died @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @starslide @ramwritblr

@thecoolerlucky @bread-roses-and-chrome @thepeculiarbird @roleplay-fanatic @bbatcat

@thelazywitchphotographer @ryahisbored @pastellbg @icarianauthor @agirlandherquill

@taleweaver-ramblings @bigwipscholar @imacreatorandadreamer @cowboylikericky

Thank you for reading, have a wonderful day! :] <33

49 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 24 hours

Text

The General!Series - Part Four: Moving On: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

A little get well soon gift for my girl @dizzybee03

Tagging: @kmc1989 @justameresimp @agentorange9595 @lxaah11 @librarian1002

Broken Buttons (feat: Harmon Rabb)- Beau discovers the real reason you broke things off with him.

Messy - Companion piece to Broken Buttons - Beau discovers the truth about what happened that night.

Choices - Companion piece to Broken Buttons and Messy - Beau and you discuss your choices moving forward.

Sitting in court is excruciating but Beau endures it, he endures it because no matter how fucking horrified and nauseated he is, you must feel it tenfold. He can’t imagine what it must be like to sit in front of a room of your peers and describe what that man did to you, to have your story questioned and torn apart, to have someone tell you to your face that you were asking for it. They try to paint you as unstable, the kind of woman who intended to sleep her way up the ladder, whose now crying wolf because she was rebuked.

He almost punches the prosecution attorney in the mouth for the shit he says to you. It’s only Mic Brumby’s iron clad grip on his arm that stops him from launching himself across the table and strangling the man.

It’s the physical evidence that’s the worst.

You had the competency to go to the hospital afterwards, you’d been bleeding, scared when the doctor had seen you. You’ve worked with enough women through your time in Victim Support Services to know the procedures, you needed the morning after pill, medication to counteract anything that son of a bitch might have given you.

The hospital had logged you under an anonymous patient I.D. It’s something they do for victims of sexual assault when they collect evidence, when they’re not ready to file a police report.

It sickens Beau to hear the injuries you’d sustained, he hadn’t realised how violent it was, not until then.

You’re found not guilty of the offense. The jury of your peers accepts that you acted in self-defence when you broke the General’s nose, that you were too traumatised to attend work in the aftermath.

Your case, it opens doors for other women it’s happened to because you weren’t the first woman he did it to, you weren’t even the last. He’s arrested during a charity function for victims of sexual assault and the fucking irony of that astounds Beau.

You spend an hour in the shower after you give your testimony, before you fall asleep on the couch with your head in Beau’s lap. He spends the whole night, his fingers running soothingly through your hair as he begins to plan the next steps.

You’ve told him you can’t stay in Washington, that Admiral Chegwidden has granted you a transfer back to San Diego. There’s too much trauma attached to this place.

He spends the next couple of days helping you pack up your things. You throw away more away than you keep because you don’t want the bad memories following you. Harmon Rabb and Mic Brumby turn up on moving day to help carry the boxes down to the truck. Besides him, they’re the only two people who’s touch you don’t flinch away from these days.

“Thank you.” Beau tells Harm when the two of them are alone in the apartment, grabbing the final few boxes. “For bringing me here, for fighting for her.”

“Don’t thank me.” Harm says, his voice gruff as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares out of the window. “It happened on my watch. I was there that night, I should have stuck around but me and Mac were going through some shit…”

Harm shakes his head, his jaw clenching.

“It never should have happened.”

Beau sighs, shifting the box he’s carrying to his other hip.

“Ally doesn’t blame you and neither do I.” Beau tells the other man. “If it wasn’t that night, it would have been another. You heard the testimony, once he had her in his sights…”

It was the same with all the others, that son of bitch had enjoyed the chase, it made catching his prey all the more sweeter. He treated every single one of those women like a trophy, something to be hunted down, caught.

“I need you to promise that you’ll check in every once in a while, tell me how she’s doing.” Harmon says, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck.

“I will.” Beau tells Harm as he picks up the remaining box and heads towards the apartment door. “Ally may need a little time but I’ll make sure to keep in touch.”

“She’s going to get through this.” Harm reassures him as they step out into the hallway, he waits as Beau closes the door behind him, locking it up for the final time. “It’ll take some time but she has it in her.”

“I know.” Beau says as he slips the key into the mailbox for the landlord to pick up. “If anyone can make it through something like this, it's her.”

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#beau simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson #beau cyclone simpson x reader #top gun maverick #tgm

43 notes · View notes

tulip-room · 2 days

Text

“I Love You” “…still?”

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Content: Comfort -> Hurt, break ups

a/n: Enjoy angst :)

You roll over as sunlight flickered through the curtain. It was much later than you usually got up. Where was Akaashi when you needed him? You didn’t have to look far as a shadow flitted over your eyes. Slowly opening their eyes they saw it was a hand. One belonging to the very person you were just searching for. You smile and reached up to grab his hand and pulled it down for a kiss.

“Thank you my love, I’m awake now though.” Both of you were content to lay in each other’s embrace.

“I was hoping you would sleep for a little longer my darling.” It was moments like this that you lived for. The gentle humming of the A/C unit acting as background noise for their bubble. Suddenly their peace was interrupted by a cat jumping on their bed. Mogli was a tuxedo cat that Akaashi had rescued on a walk back home. Sometimes he liked to do that. Take a walk to clear his head. He had been doing that more recently. Not the point though, Mogli was hungry and you or Akaashi had to get out of bed to feed him. With a sigh Akaashi picked up the blankets and rolled out of bed. He leaned back down to kiss you on the forehead and Mogli was quick to follow him.

Once the door was shut, so were your eyes. The next time they were woken up was by the sound of a door shutting and the shushing coming from familiar lips. “Mogli. Be quiet, you don’t want to wake them up.” Akaashi shushed gently and sat down on the bed after placing the tray on the nightstand. He bent down and peppered kisses over their face. A smile soon spread across their face. “Good morning my love. I made you some food.” He caressed their face and moved a piece of hair out of your face.

You yawn and slowly sit up. “Thank you darling. You’re wonderful.”

And your soft morning continued on for the rest of the day. Akaashi hadn’t gone to work that day and you had the luxury of being able to work from home. Next week was your favorite day of the month. Once a month Akaashi would take you on a special date.

Akaashi laughs as you struggle to find the right shirt. “Hurry my love, we wouldn’t want to miss golden hour.” You shake your head and finally find a shirt.

“Okay! I’m done! I’m done!” You grab your wallet and put it in your pocket. Akaashi shakes his head before grabbing your hand.

“It’s sweet that you still bring your wallet but you really don’t need to my love.”

“What if I wanted to spoil you?” You smile and intertwine your fingers. As you head out the door you make sure Mogli has food and give him extra pets. “Be good.” You say to the cat before locking the door.

Half an hour later the two of you arrive at your destination. Akaashi remains the perfect gentleman and opens your door for you. He helps you out of your seat and you look around. “The place where we had our first date?”

He nods with a genuine smile and adjusts his glasses. “I’m glad you remembered. The same thing?” He asks as he points to the food stand.

“There’s no way you remember exactly what we had three years ago.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Wanna bet?”

“No way.” You smile widely and find a seat. “Of course I want the same thing. Gotta recreate the moment.” As he goes up to the counter to order you pull out your phone. You take a photo of him as he smiles at the worker. He was right, golden hour was the perfect time to come here. The golden light makes him look like an angel. He looks radiant. If you could keep him forever you would.

Nothing lasts forever. But we won’t dwell on that. Another year has passed and Akaashi’s walks have gotten even more frequent. No new animal additions have been added to the family though. He’s been distant recently but you assumed it was because of work. I mean everything else had been perfect so far, besides a few fights but every couple had fights.

Tonight was supposed to be your special date night. Akaashi had locked himself in his office since he got home and didn’t appear to be coming back out. You knock on the door and push it open a little. “Do you still want to go out tonight my love?”

You can see him tense up. He must be very stressed. His jaw clenches a little bit before he sighs. “Not tonight Y/N.” That’s new. You can count on your hand the number of times he’s called you your name in private.

You don’t want him to get worried though, he’s probably just really stressed. He does have a big deadline coming up. You nod and close the door.

He seemed back to his usual self two months later. Three special dates had been missed. Many more regular dates, too many to count, had been ignored. It upset you but you didn’t want to come off as needy. You didn’t need to go on dates to be in a relationship but maybe a few nights a month where you hang out.

That would be nice. It had been far too long since Akaashi had hung out with you. Maybe you could convince him to a stay at home date. Or even just watching a movie with some ice cream. Once again making your way to his dreaded office you knock on the door. This time he replies. “Come in!”

You open the door and lean against it a little bit. “Do you want to watch a movie and eat ice cream?”

Akaashi smiles and turns off his computer. He turns to get out of his chair and takes his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose before placing them back. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He’s been so stressed. Stressed because there’s a ring sitting in his dresser and he’s trying to plan the perfect way to ask. He realized that in his perfectionism he had been forgetting you. Odd. His friends never forget their partners.

The two of you enjoy your evening a cuddled up on the couch.

A month or so later it was over. One month after feeling perfect again. One month and it was all suddenly gone.

Five years suddenly feel like a blip. There wasn’t enough time. No more breakfast in bed, no more special dates, no more walks. No more Akaashi. As quickly as he provided you with security and stability it was gone. He was gone.

Now here you are. Two years later. You were cleaning out your apartment getting ready to move. Funny how the time flew. Here the both of you are. Sitting in the diner you met in, one box of his things that he had forgotten.

“I love you,” you say quietly. The statement feels odd on your lips. It’s been some time since it’s been said to anyone besides family.

Akaashi’s eyes widen a little. He takes an unsteady breath. “…still?” He never did give you that ring. The one still sitting in his bedside table. The one he couldn’t bring himself to part with.

I hope you enjoyed! I actually really like writing angst but for my own peace of mind I write mostly fluff. My requests are open if you wanted to request something!

taglist: @hiraethwa @sanaexus

masterlist

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #akaashi x reader #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi angst #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst #hq angst

41 notes · View notes

vintageshanny · 2 days

Text

Waiting for Love - Part Nine

There’s No Escaping

Content: March-April 1971, some smut and a lot of fluff. There will probably be a bit of angst in the next chapter if you bear with me. 18+

I have embedded a link here and within the story to my one shot For the First Time, since Elvis is recollecting his first experience.

Catch up on the series here: Waiting for Love

Late March 1971

“So, he’s really insisting on paying for your apartment?” Roxanne’s voice held a note of disbelief. “When you first told me that, I thought for sure he was just feeding you a line.”

“No, he actually was really upset when I told him I was looking for a new job or that I could move in with you. He wants to take care of me.” A little smile spread across Vivien’s lips as she remembered their conversation in the hospital bed. Their conversation and everything that came after… She tried not to blush as she thought about the sound of his moaning as he pulsed in her hand.

“Wow. He wants you to be a kept woman and you’re not even doing the deed yet?”

Vivien could feel the blush engulfing her now as she bit down on her bottom lip and looked away.

“Wait a second! Are you kidding me, Vivien? When?” Roxanne demanded, her voice equal parts anger and curiosity.

“Um, when I went to see his shows in Las Vegas,” Vivien whispered, adjusting her glasses and twirling a strand of hair nervously with her fingers.

“Vivien! That was a month ago! I asked you how the trip was, and you looked me in the face and told me it was fine.”

“Well you had just had a big fight with Michael. I didn’t want to gloat about what a magical time I had. Plus I didn’t lie! It was fine. Veeeery fine,” Vivien sighed with a big goofy smile.

“Okay,” Roxanne said, still sounding a little miffed. “Well, Michael and I are fine now, so give me all the juicy details.”

“So, when I first got there, he had picked out this beautiful dress for me to wear to the show…” Vivien started off, her mind drifting back to that evening as she replayed the events leading up to the big moment. “...and when I told him I was ready, he was just so patient and sweet and reassuring. He said he wanted to make sure it was special for me.” Vivien beamed and looked at Roxanne.

“Vivien!” Roxanne scolded. “That was very sweet, but there was not a juicy detail to be heard. How did it feel? How long did it last? Give me something!”

“Rox, you know I don’t like to share all that personal stuff. It feels like, like I’m betraying his confidence. And he already has a hard time knowing who to trust, I can tell.”

“You’re no fun,” Roxanne pouted.

“Okay, I will tell you that it felt amazing,” Vivien compromised. “I didn’t know I’d feel so…overwhelmed with emotion. When he was inside of me, it was like I felt complete. Like a missing piece of me was-”

“Inserted?” Roxanne filled in helpfully.

“Very funny!” Vivien chucked a pillow in Roxanne’s direction. “No, it was just so magical, I don’t know how else to describe it. I started to cry afterward. And he was just so understanding about it. He told me it was really special for him too, and he looked like he was about to cry also.”

“Wow,” Roxanne responded softly, trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“What? You think he was putting on an act?”

“No, Viv, no, I just wonder how many women he’s been with and said that to. I’m happy for you, but you know I always worry.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry. I have someone to take care of me now. And I want to take care of him, too. He’s everything I was waiting for.” No amount of negativity could stop Vivien from floating on cloud nine.

*************************************************

Two weeks later

“Elvis?” Vivien asked as she nuzzled her head against his soft fuzzy chest.

“Yes, baby?” Elvis sounded tired but still alert. They were finally curled up in his bed at Graceland after watching movies for half the night at Crosstown Theater. The TV was playing softly, but Vivien had already set her glasses on the nightstand, so everything just looked fuzzy.

She fiddled with the button on his pajama top as Roxanne’s concerns refused to leave her mind. “How many women have you made love to?”

Elvis leaned up a little bit and glanced down at her, but she was very focused on a tiny stray thread coming off his button. He cleared his throat and tried a casual response. “What makes ya ask that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was just curious. And maybe a little worried,” she admitted.

“Honey, ya ain’t got nothin’ ta be worried ‘bout. The past is the past. You’re here now cuz I want ya here.”

“I know. But for me, all these feelings are brand new. You’ve probably had this feeling lots of times, that someone is so special you can’t stop thinking about them. Maybe I’m just one in a long line of special girls.” Vivien swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’ve probably been making love for decades.”

Elvis tried to stifle his laughter at her nervous declarations. “Decades, huh? You’re makin’ me feel old, baby.”

“You know what I mean, though, right? How do you know your feelings for me won’t pass? Did you feel that your first time was this special?”

Elvis quietly reflected back on his first time all those years ago as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over Vivien’s shoulder. “Naw, honey, it was nothin’ like this. I had waited a long time, or at least it felt like a long time. I was ‘bout 19 or so, and I s’pose I jus’ really wanted ta experience what it was like. All these girls throwin’ themselves at me, and I didn’t even know what it was like ta really be with one in that way, y’know. The gal, well she had been around a little bit I think, but she was sweet too. Sweeter than I thought she’d be. She musta guessed how inexperienced I was, but she didn’t make me feel bad ‘bout it.”

VIvien just listened silently as Elvis opened up to her in this way. She could tell from the start that he could be shy and sensitive, but he usually covered it up quickly with little jokes. Now, though, it was like his heart was totally exposed. She didn’t want to speak and spook him back into his defense mechanisms.

“I did feel like it was somethin’ special at the time, but nothin’ like how I feel ‘bout you, Vivien. And the other women, I mean, I can’t give ya an exact count, honey, but it’s probably not so many as people might think. There was a time in the army when I got a little wild I s’pose, tryin’ ta hide my loneliness after…” he trailed off for a second before continuing. “But it didn’t mean anything. And love-makin’ that don’t mean anything, what’s the point in that? It took me a few years really to realize how unfulfilled I was jus’ foolin’ around with whoever happened along. I need a mental, emotional connection to a woman to really be satisfied. And I ain’t never felt so connected ta someone as I do ta you, baby. Ya understand me?”

Vivien nodded, her eyes welling with tears

“Baby, feelings like this, they don’t just pass. Ya got me in your clutches, woman.”

Vivien leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his face, right where the little silver roots of his sideburns were growing in. “You’ve got me in yours, too. There’s no escaping.”

Elvis smiled but remained a little bit pensive. “I got a question for you now, baby. Would ya still love me if I weren’t Elvis Presley?”

Confusion flashed across Vivien’s face. “If you weren’t you? Who would you be instead?”

“Naw, I’d still be me, but I wouldn’t be, y’know, superstar Elvis Presley. Maybe I’d be electrician Elvis Presley. Or truck driver Elvis Presley. Or washed-up entertainer Elvis Presley. Or…”

“Okay, I get it,” Vivien smiled as she put a finger to his lips.

“I’m serious honey, what if I jus' decided ta stop tourin’? Would ya still love me?”

“Of course I would. There’s no question in my mind.” Vivien answered without hesitation.

“But when ya came ta meet me, it was because I’m famous, right?” Elvis challenged. “I mean, I know ya said ya were jus’ passin’ by on your way home, but I had some trouble believin’ that,” he added with a little wink.

Vivien blushed and considered how she could explain herself. “Okay, maybe I purposely took that way home hoping I’d get to catch a glimpse of you one day,” she admitted. “But not because you’re famous. Did you ever stop and think how you got so famous?”

“Right place at the right time?” Elvis guessed humbly.

“No, it’s just not possible for that to be the only explanation. Elvis, there’s something in you that touches people’s souls. That’s why they love you. Your voice is a beautiful gift, but it’s that light in you that people are drawn to. Even truck driver Elvis would be able to capture my heart with that light. And your intelligence, your kindness, your goofiness…these are the reasons I love you. Not because they’re gonna vote to name the street after you. Although it will make it a lot easier to remember your address,” Vivien teased.

Elvis chuckled and wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes. “Honey, ya have no idea how much that all means ta me ta hear that. It’s hard always havin’ ta question if people really like ya for yourself or cuz they want somethin’ from ya.”

“Well, I will reassure you as many times as you need to hear it.” Vivien whispered, toying again with the button at his chest.

“Baby, you’re gonna pop that button right off. If ya want me ta take my shirt off, jus’ say so.”

“Okay. I want you to take your shirt off. And everything else.”

Elvis let out the big uninhibited laugh that Vivien loved so much. “Oh yeah? Ya gonna have your way with me?”

Vivien nodded as she eagerly unbuttoned his shirt. “Absolutely. There’s no escaping for you either.” She leaned down and kissed him deeply while her fingertips traced over his exposed chest, drawing a soft moan from his lips.

Elvis pulled her nightie up over her head and let his eyes linger on her bare chest. “Baby, would ya do me a favor? Would ya get on top of me and bounce up and down on me? I wanna see your beautiful body while we make love.”

Vivien nodded shyly. “I would do anything for you.”

She pulled his pajama pants down his legs, exposing his semi-hard penis. As she made her way back up, she stopped to lavish her attention on this magnificent appendage, running her tongue over every inch, savoring the taste of his salty skin in her mouth.

“Oh, dammit baby, c’mere and take me all the way in,” Elvis moaned, reaching for her hands. He helped her balance as she straddled his midsection and slowly, carefully lowered herself onto his dick, consuming him with her warm welcoming pussy.

Vivien somewhat tentatively rocked her hips, unsure of exactly what motions he wanted her to do. She felt a little bit self-conscious as he watched her, his eyes clouding over with lust as he watched her breasts bounce with each movement.

“That’s right baby, jus’ like that.” He grabbed her hips with his large hands and helped her find the right rhythm.

“Oh, God, Elvis,” Vivien cried out as he pushed his hips upwards into her, his dick so deep inside of her she could barely handle the pleasure. Elvis grabbed her hands and helped hold her upright as her body rocked forward in ecstasy.

“Yes, baby, tell me how good it feels,” Elvis moaned as Vivien cried out his name again and again. He could feel his warm seed spurting inside of her as she came down from her high, laying her bare chest against his. “Honey, that was so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, running his long fingers through her hair.

“Mm-hmm,” she responded lazily, her lips pressed against his soft shoulder.

As she finally rolled off and back into the crook of his arm, she smiled a little bit. “Y’know, I was a little surprised that you weren’t even younger your first time. What with you being so handsome and all, every girl probably wanted you.”

Elvis chuckled and closed his eyes, thinking back on his high school days. “Naw baby, I had some dates, but I wasn’t too much of a ladies’ man. People thought I was kind of a weirdo back then.”

“Oh just back then, huh? If only they could see you now,” Vivien teased.

“Hey now woman, I don’t think ya wanna start debatin’ ‘bout who the weirdo is,” Elvis laughed, reaching over to tickle her sides. “Aren’t ya the one who likes ta give Little Elvis a goodnight kiss?”

Vivien giggled. “Oh, speaking of that, I should make sure he’s doing okay. And thank him for the ride.” She inched down to give out some sweet kisses as Elvis let out some strange hybrid noise, half laughing, half moaning.

Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @pebbles403 @deniseinmn @everythingelvispresley @little-laamb @annapresley8 @leapresley @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @atleastpleasetelephone @gatheraheart @richardslady121 @helen06dreamer @arg-xoxo

#elvis #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #Elvis x oc #waiting for love #i love this man

39 notes · View notes

marypaol · 19 hours

Text

Poisoned Thoughts

Draco x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is drowning in the river of insecurities, and Draco is only the hand that’s pushing her further down.

Warnings: Insecurities, obviously, mention of suffocation, choking, strangling, etc. Bullying about weight, eating habits, mention of drowning, drowning someone, ANGST, crying, mention of blood, all that good stuff. :)

Note: This is very personal to me, and I was happy to write a story that kind of puts awareness out there about insecure people. Everyone has their own dislikes about themselves, and I don’t think it’s at all funny to make fun of someone that thinks bad about themselves. So please know to spread kindness and respect others, because you never know what they think of themselves. I’m here if anyone needs to talk, and remember that you are absolutely beautiful just the way you are!!! 🫶🏻

For the wonderful @maaaapara I hope you enjoy!

This is my first time writing full on angst, so it might be bad.

The feeling of hunger was over her, the long hours of studying finally catching up. She didn’t plan on doing the whole Charms essay, just a few paragraphs and she’d be done for the night. But her quill kept moving nonetheless, swirling the cursive letters against the parchment with soft grace. The soft scratching noises arising from the action were peaceful to her ears, and the cackling of the flames in the fireplace was another sign of calm.

Once she finished it, she rolled it up neatly, tying a thin piece of string around it that was worn out from continuous usage. She always seemed to use that certain one out of the millions she had in her bag, since not only was it old, but she liked the material’s feel against her fingertips.

She liked to think of the soft feeling as an award for finishing the work, letting herself know that she can feel the calming sensation if she completed what was asked of her.

The sun was sinking into the sky with such ease she couldn’t see it moving. The soft warmth was warmer than the daylight, glowing innocently into the green room, letting the world know it’s almost time for slumber.

Of course, the urge to eat after a long day was much higher than the desire to sleep, mostly because she felt like everyone, not just her, had an issue falling asleep if they were hungry. As so did she, but she knew she missed the feast far too long ago, too busy frying her brain out of her head to make the action to consume food.

So she sighed, trying to ignore the yelling of her stomach as it demanded something, anything. She had to set aside the want, knowing she had to go to bed and if a prefect caught her sneaking for food they’d think she was a freak, desperate for something to eat but in reality she was too busy doing school work.

The last thing she wanted was a person coming off that way so her tired legs carried her to her dormitory, all the way up trying to fight the want to eat.

She set her bag down on the ground as she got there, her roommates ignoring her presence as per usual, the feeling settling in her chest a long time ago.

Thinking about it now, her brain took her as she went into bed after changing into pajamas, the soft sheets relaxing on her skin, she’d never fit in as easily as the other girls did.

She’d always be the one who was too shy to talk, too shy to interact with people, instead taking place in a corner where she’d watch act unfold. The corners seemed to be the only place that accepted her, the curve of the wall as they both merged together taking home on her back as she sought for warmth that wasn’t there.

The line going from the floor to ceiling basically fit her quite well. She liked to think of it this way. Everyone was the walls, either side of her nice and flat as they lived life. They were smooth, beautiful, and simply flawless as you walked into the room, admiring the wall pattern in the space. But, she, however, was different. She was the corner, where all the webs built up and all the dust formed that wasn’t wanted; the corner wasn’t wanted. The person who lived in the room doesn’t attention to the corners, too busy admiring the wallpaper full of beauty and elegance to care. They don’t bother cleaning the corner while polishing the room for guests, knowing they’re blocked by furniture so the people won’t notice. No one noticed her, it seemed. Why exist, she thought, head turned to the left, staring right at the floor corner of the room, the darkness making it barely visible but she knew that was just her trying to look into her chest.

When she woke up, the room was empty and there was a cold absence in the room, floating in the air. The beds of her roommates were made, the neatness seeming to mock her, the sight of the smooth blankets making her twist in her bed sheets.

The sight was unsettling for an unknown reason, feeling something off. She looked out the window, rubbing her eyes and seeing the sun quite high within the clouds, shining upon world with such grace.

She yawned, grabbing her watch of the table beside her bed and snapping it on her wrist, looking down at the time lazily.

She gasped, lips parting and chest squeezing. It was almost time for her first to class to start, and she was still in bed, yawning like it was nothing that she forgot to set an alarm the night before. Too busy thinking about food, the thoughts in her head grumbled to herself, feeling hot anger flush in her blood. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She scrambled out of the bed sheets, feeling more suffocated every second.

She wondered why her roommates didn’t wake her, but the thought only lasted for a second. They didn’t care, was the truth.

While she was putting on her robes, the sleeves being extra irritating that morning, she felt an unexpected sensation of anger brewing in her emotions. She felt angry with herself, disappointed. She wanted to feel normal, not having these never ending thoughts swarming in her mind.

She scoffed the clothes on, standing in front of the mirror, looking at her pathetic tired self standing there, wanting nothing more than the day to end. Right then and there, she wanted it all to end. She wanted her brain to shut off, like a light switch, flipping from emotions felt to nothing at all. She pulled at her hair strands, feeling deep annoyance and irritation building in her heart and stomach. Her hair wasn’t corroborating in the way she wanted it to, and her robes seemed itcher than usual. The fabric seemed to be choking her and the more she tugged at the collar the more it seemed to be strangling her neck.

She felt tears prickle her eyes, nose burning at the want to sob.

She went close to the mirror, not wanting to ruin the makeup she put on her eyelashes, carefully wiping the forming unwanted tears. She still looked horrible despite her attempts to make her look more awake, but it was good enough compared to what she saw when she first got out of bed.

She quickly made her way down the stairs to the Great Hall, hoping to at least grab a piece of toast before class.

She raced to the Slytherin table. The students had that sense coming off them, the feeling that they’ve been content and full, ready for the weekend as it quickly approached. Her stomach wasn’t happy, so she grabbed a piece of toast cut diagonally and spread butter with jam, trying not to combine the two condiments.

She bit into it kinda quickly, already seeing a group of Ravenclaws leave the Hall. She knew it was just because they had a habit of being prepared and responsible, but she did have a couple traits from that House, and being persistently on time was one of them.

“What’s the matter with you? Trying to gain weight, I see.” She heard a snicker, boys around her chuckling and girls giggling. She looked up, confused on who the person who spoke was talking to.

She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy, silver eyes staring right at her with lips turned up into a smirk.

“W-what?” She pathetically squeaked, pausing mid-chew. The toast’s texture felt weird on her tongue, the urge to just chew it was getting greater as it got wetter with her spit. She suddenly felt like throwing up.

“Are you deaf? And how are you eating another one?” He snarled, looking disgusted. “We just ate.”

Th laughter seemed to get louder in her ears, echoing in her head. The toast didn’t seem so appealing anymore, her stomach feeling sickening. She felt like throwing up.

She cleared her incoming dry throat. “I-I was-”

“Was what? Gaining a million pounds in one meal?” Draco interrupted her attempt of explaining where she was the previous night. He snickered, smirk widening at the rising laughter at the table. She couldn’t help but notice some yellow robes joining them within the green, a few Hufflepuffs finding interest in the occurrence.

Her cheeks warmed, heated, even, and she stood on wobbly legs, eyes burning with liquid that she desperately wanted to go away. She picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with great effort. She couldn’t seem to carry things like she usually was able to, the tears decreasing her ability to use her muscles.

She didn’t want to scan the people there, just in case she spotted one of them in future classes and have to experience awkward eye contact, but she did anyway; specifically Malfoy.

His sliver eyes met hers and the differences were clear. Hers was full of see-through gloss, folded with innocence and gentleness. His, however, full of hardness and hatred, looking at her as a way to challenge her to see what she would do.

And she did something. The gasps that were heard from the girls, the chuckles and soft curses from the boys were ignored, she just did it.

She had grabbed the spoon from the jam she used earlier, scooping an abnormally large amount of the spread and aggressively flung the scoop right in the middle of Draco’s chest. The jam splattered on his spotless ironed robes, green and black replaced with stained strawberry jam. His pale face finally was given color, chunks of strawberry on his cheeks.

Draco practically growled. “You little-”

She huffed, breaking through her nose as she broke her eyes away from his face after glaring.

She stormed out of the Hall, tears in her eyes that she harshly rubbed away.

“My father will hear about this!” She heard him holler after her. Her anxiety rose, not wanting to get in trouble with Mr. Malfoy, but the burning in her eyes distracted her. She doubted he would actually do something to her, his father, but the lingering thought of being expelled was in the back of her mind.

I’m in so much trouble, she thought, rubbing her cheeks that now had thick streaks running down them.

“Hey!” She heard, the voice the one that she heard yelling at her just moments before.

She walked faster, not wanting to encounter him once again.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He said, suddenly grabbing her shoulders and forcibly turning her around so she faced him. A gasp escaped her lips, not having enough time to wipe her puffy eyes so he saw it all. Her face was red, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment he caused her and from rubbing the continuous tears. The once was whiteness around her eyes were no more, they were now red and almost bloodshot looking. Her eyelashes were wet and her body shook as she looked at him. He still had the jam on his robes, the red for sure going to stain. His face was clean though, like he wiped it off before he went to make fun of her more.

“What’s this?” He sneered, chuckling at the sight of her tears. “Crying about the truth, are we?”

She shoved him off her, his hands coming off her shoulders leaving a not so satisfying sting behind. “Shove off, Malfoy.”

He laughed. “What’s the matter? Not my fault you’re fat.”

Her breathing stopped, the breath in her lungs pausing mid-way as she looked at him, a moment of silent bracing between them.

“I’ll have you know,” she started, voice wet as the tears seemed to flood her throat not just her eyes. “That I was studying last night and missed dinner.”

Draco was smirking at her reactions, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Missed dinner? Studying?” He scoffed out a laugh, not believing her so called alibi. “That’s your excuse for stuffing your face?”

The girl stared helplessly as he laughed at her, eyes showing nothing but satisfaction as he watched her fall apart in front of him. She was drowning, and he was above the surface waiting for the bubbles to stop.

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” She spat through a clogged throat, turning away and starting to walk away towards the bathroom; her first class was the last thing on her mind.

“Oo so threatened!” He called after her, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “Don’t forget to miss lunch too!”

His laughter and calls faded out as she stormed into a girls bathroom, the cold space abandoned as everyone was probably just about now getting to their lessons.

It felt like her tears were a river, and her eyes were the dam, the bricks breaking as soon as she entered the bathroom. The water came flooding out, killing whatever there was in its path.

She sank to the floor, green robes and sniffles, her hand held high, fingertips grazing the surface of the water’s depths, waiting desperately for a hand to reach for hers and pull her out.

The bubbles of screams and pleads rang within the water, no air inside for it to be heard.

Her brain took over, wanting nothing more than to escape and be free again.

She sat there for a while, bottom getting numb as her eyes felt like they would fall out after all that hard labor.

She got up, legs wobbly as she had a horrible flashback of when she stood up from the table of the Great Hall.

Leaving her bag disfavored, she arrived in front of the mirror and gazed reluctantly.

What she saw displeased her very much so. Her hair was a representation of the word ‘mess’ if it was alive and breathing, as well as her eyes being redder than before.

She scanned her reflection. She’s always hated her face. Her nose was too big for her liking, her lips were too plump, and her eyes were small. She liked the color but wished they were bigger so they could be seen better. Her hair didn’t have volume despite the constant Charms she casted to make it look more full.

She looked gross.

She turned away, brain already taking a mental image of her appearance, labeling each flaw of her face until she couldn’t see the image anymore. She dug her hands into the hair she hated, tugging at the strands and yelling inside her brain to shut the hell up.

But as usual it didn’t, it just smirked at her as it re-read the list of things wrong with her. She would die before it was finished, the never ending enumeration lasting centuries.

Fat

Stupid

Worthless

Stupid

Dumb

Weird

Stupid

The tears flowed senselessly, her cheeks so raw she couldn’t feel them falling anymore.

“You again? You do know this is the boys bathroom, right? Or are you just dumb. Honestly, all that food going to your head?”

A dark chuckle followed the remark, making her hold her breath at the cold voice behind her. She looked around, noticing it was the boys bathroom, and she didn’t realize before since she was too busy trying to breathe.

She turned around, puffy red teary eyes meeting his.

The smirk seemed to wipe off his face. He took a small step forward, his robes coming into the soft light that was on, causing her to once again see the jam stains. He tried to chuckle nervously to break the tension but he failed miserably.

“Woah, you oka-”

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” She spat, wet lips feeling like she didn’t just lick them, but like water was flowing out of her mouth. Like her lungs were full of water, gurgling her voice as she tried to breathe. Her feet were touching the sandy bottom now, the coldness of the water that never saw daylight chilling her skin in the most intense way. Her toes tried to hopelessly kick off the rocky bottom but she just sank back down, limbs pathetically moving in the liquid around her.

She picked up her bag in her hands, it feeling like a weight in the river that was flooding her body at the moment. She exited the bathroom with quick yet shaky legs, lungs still swollen with pain and the strong desire and need to take a breath.

The Slytherin that was left behind, the boy above the surface and constantly seeing the sun, stood utter less. His feet felt cold on the tile beneath him and his lungs took normal full breaths.

He wanted to walk and rush after the girl, he wanted to bend over the river and touch its surface, hand wanting to feel she desperate fingertips. But she was already at the bottom, so sticking his arm in wouldn’t be of any use.

He wanted to jump in and swim to the bottom, limbs moving as the water got colder against his pale skin, turning it even whiter, but he wouldn’t be able to make it that far down without coming up for a breath.

But he was the reason for her being in the river in the first place, or at least going from being foot deep to being at the bottom, feet grazing the sand.

And yet his feet were glued to the ground, silver eyes dulled over with a light grey, fading his eyesight.

His lips parted for a gentle breath, one he knew she couldn’t take, and picked a spot on the tile to stare at until his brain started up again.

The thorns were piercing his hands, blood already flowing down his wrist, the red looking bright as ever in his pale skin.

His black dress shoes took him through the huffing grass, the air kinda breezy but the colors of plants were nice for his grey eyes. The cement was evermore, row after row in the grassy ground. He knew which one he was looking for, yet not quite the place.

The name in stone was bright and noticeable, for he could recognize something like that from centuries away.

He bent down, knees crackling and elbows resting on the end of his thighs. He first set down the jar in his hand, turning it so he saw the picture of the strawberry to represent what flavor jam it was. He then set down the roses, deep red in color that set free the pain in his hand that he was doing a good job at ignoring.

He huffed before taking a nice long full breath for her, giving her a taste of crisp air that she wasn’t able to experience.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispered, gesturing to the flowers that he set down, the black ribbon around the stems mocking him. “Just like you, loves.”

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!🫶🏻

#imagines #stories #x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #tom felton x reader

24 notes · View notes