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strangersteddierthings · 5 months

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Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad.#SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

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walpu · 2 months

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Hello, first of all i want to say i really like your work and your writings 💞 Can i request some sickness headcanons with Aventurine when dating reader? Preferably hcs about how he would act if he was the one sick, and if the reader was sick. Thank you!

Thank you so much 🥹

Hope you'll enjoy it!

sickness headcanons with Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no beta

I think Aven has a weak immune system due to the hardships he faced as a child. It's quite easy for him to catch a cold even if the weather is nice.

Hates it with a burning passion.

I mean it always sucks to be sick but he hates it for a bunch of other reasons as well.

It's time-consuming and he's a busy person, that's what he tells everyone.

And while it's true, the main reason is that he simply hates being so weak and vulnerable.

He has a private doctor who treats him but Aven doesn't fully trust them either.

He usually just takes his meds and tries to walk it off. Not like he can afford to take a day-off anyway.

When the two of you start dating and you notice that he doesn't feel well, he would try to brush it off. No big deal, baby. Just a bit tired. If we cuddle I'll get better <З

He trusts you, he truly does. However, it doesn't mean he wants you to see him miserable, weak and with a red stiffy nose. He doesn't like this image of himself so what if you won't like it either?

If he has a fever he will try to distance himself from you. Doesn't want you to get seek as well, he truly doesn't wish to be a cause of your discomfort.

Plus, what good can he give you when he's like that anyway? A bit off-topic but I just keep thinking about his "you can use me however you want me even betray me <З" line and his lunar new year card where he's like "yeahhh if you spend the day with me you'll be lucky for the rest of the year soooo" babygirl i promise you don't need to bribe me or be convenient just to have some company

Would never refuse your care though. Simply can't do it, he's a weak weak man. May whine a bit at the beginning, trying to convince you that this is not necessary, but as soon as you sooth him and maybe kiss his forehead he gives up completely.

Suddenly forgets all about the possibility of you getting sick if you keep being too close to him, will cling to you like a kitten.

"Your cuddles are the best medicine~" my ass.

Would follow all of your instructions even if they're questionable.

Wants to be spoon-fed too. Anddd tuck him in. And kiss his forehead. And stay by his side until he falls asleep.

He's needy okay. He never had anyone who would care for him when he's so weak so he cherishes every moment. May even get a bit upset when he's feeling better.

Would ask you to look after him for a few more days juts to make sure he's 10000% okay. Keep dotting on his tho because what if he'll get sick again because of the lack of cuddles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you're the one who's seek he'll overreact.

Like even if it's the smallest thing, he'll insist on calling his own private doctor to check on you.

You're the best thing in his life, his promised dawn. Of course he'll look after you. Even if looking after you means being a clingy mother hen.

No excuses, he'll take care of you. Even if you have seen worse. Even if you're very busy. Even if it's not that big of a deal.

The problem is. He's never looked after a sick person before.

His every attempt to nurse you back to health is overwhelming. Tries every single method he can find in the internet so please stop him if needed.

Insists on cuddling you all of the time. Generally tries to do everything you do for him when he's sick since you're literally his only example.

If you receive too many work-related phone calls from someone he would not hesitate to pick up the phone before you and say that yeah y/n is busy right now, they are sick, so the optimal solution would be for the caller to deal with their own problems, surely they are not so helpless to rely on a sick person to do everything for them :)

Just wants for you to be alright as soon as possible.

#hsr #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #reader insert #walp's writing

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maximotts · 8 months

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Free use cowgirl Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Going to the grocery store because Wanda’s been so busy lately only to find Wanda there and you’re like “omg hi Wanda 😊 But wait I thought I was doing the shopping this week?” and you check your phone to see if you’ve missed something. You haven’t. Wanda just couldn’t wait to bend you over 💞💞

My phone is doing the ios17 update and I'm just remembering I needed to finish answering this ask whoopsies

This got longer than expected (it's only like 600 words tho), but I simply cannot apologize for free use cowgirl Wanda content uhmmm cws for public sex and typical farm Wanda dirty talking, 18+ obvs

I don't think I've said it before, but Wanda does errands to shops in town to drop off farm goods every week because shopping local is good and cute! So there's a very high possibility you'd run into her at the grocery store and you're always so giddy when you see her, the shop owner thinks you two are just precious!

He doesn't even notice Wanda holding your hips so tight you're squeaking or how she's taunting you by pulling the ends of your pigtails! When you excuse yourself to finish the rest of your shopping, Wanda follows oh so innocently until the two of you are out of eyesight... and maybe she spots you stretching to reach the flour at the very back of the shelf, flowy dress riding up to show off your legs, how's Wanda supposed to do anything but pin you against the shelves?

"What right do you have to look this damn beautiful all by yourself back here?" And you can barely get a word in between Wanda's kisses, particularly when she takes your tongue and sucks, leaving your mouth an absolute mess.

At the sound of Wanda undoing her belt, you startle, trying and failing to wrench your thigh from where your girlfriend was shamelessly hitching it high around her hip. "Are you crazy? Someone's going to see us!"

"Now bunny, don't be like that," Wanda's totally unbothered by your struggles, knowing you'd settle as soon as she gets her hand up your panties— and she's exactly right. "I believe we have an arrangement, or did you forget?"

You couldn't possibly forget, your mind always racing with thoughts of how and when Wanda would decide to fuck you again. Sometimes you baited her into it, not wanting to wait, but being taken in the back of the town's only grocery store was an idea that'd never dared crossed your mind. Wanda's either until about five minutes prior.

"Good girl..." Wanda's smile is stunningly bright as she feels you relax against her, arms winding around her shoulders while she lines up her strap, opting not to prep you for the sake of time. "I'd guess we have about ten minutes before Steve finishes counting the jars I brought and writing me a check so behave and be quiet."

It's the shortest ten minutes of your life, the time flying by under Wanda's praises and the knee-buckling orgasm she gifts you. Your teeth desperately bite into the shoulder of Wanda's coat as she continues to fuck you, pumping your full of her cum until she's satisfied.

Pulling out was bittersweet, the brunette loving your impish whines but hating to have to leave. She did have to exercise some self-restraint, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up where she left off later... "You'd better keep every last bit of my cum in that sweet pussy or I'll drag your ass right back here and we'll start all over again. Understand?"

"Uh huh..." It's terrible how quickly Wanda takes all your thoughts with such a quick fuck; you can tell how spaced out you sound, but you don't have anywhere near the coherence you need to mask it. You'd have to go straight back to the house after this, could only hope you remembered the rest of what you needed to get for dinner.

"I have a few more stops to make so I'll meet you back at home. Text me if you need anything, love you." Wanda sends you off with another kiss and a pat on the ass and before you know it, she's gone and you've never done your shopping more dreamily.

#I simplyyyy love her your honor #country bunny au.#wanda maximoff x reader #motts writes.#maximotts.

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screeching-bunny · 8 months

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Helloooo my fave yandere!character writer! I hope your having a wonderful day! Can i request yandere!jock with male!reader and he finds the reader crying bc someone was bullying them or said smth mean or smth like that? Ik he would be pissed but i was thinking something along the lines of this:

*Reader explains what happens*

*Yandere!Jock absolutely pissed and turns to go beat the shit out of them*

Then the reader would grab is arm to stop him and say smthing like: “wait!…please…..please just….stay with me….please?” Like EEEEEEE I LOVE YANDERE!JOCK SMMMM AND IMA PASS OUT IF YOU DO THIS! OKAY THANKS BYE

(Also plz ignore if your requests are closed rn)

Yandere! Jock x Male Reader

Asks 2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Reader is specifically going to be Male in this post!!!

Asks 1

Yandere! Jock liked looking at you whether it be intention or not his eyes were almost always on you. He loved looking at every expression you made throughout your day to day life and practically memorized every fine detail on your face. So it was no surprise that he was instantly alerted when he saw a hint of sadness appear on your face when you came in for your afternoon class. Like a little leach he started attaching himself towards you with a concerned look on his face to find out what had happened to his little darling but alas his attempts reamied futile as you refused to give him an answer that he accepted.

“I’m just tired and just didn’t get that much sleep last night.”

Tired his ass. Yandere! Jock knew for a fact that you fell asleep early last night while watching an animal documentary. How does he know this? Well, he was stalking I mean watching over you last night. Anyways the sentence “The giant horse cock weighs over eight pounds” was still fresh in his mind but that's not the point! The point is something or someone made you upset! This is honestly so absolutely unacceptable!! When class finishes he ends up cornering you to try and figure out what has happened to you. Soon you start to give in and tell him the exact reason as to why with tears bawling out of your eyes.

When he finds out the reason he is beyond pissed. A bunch of npc bullies had the audacity to go and bully you! There is nothing he wants to do then skin those losers alive for making you cry like this. How fucking dare they. Yandere! Jock immediately decides that at that moment, he would go on a manhunt. He genuinely believes that it’d be a good riddance, no way in hell is someone going to miss them. As he tries to get up, he is immediately stopped by you as you grab ahold of his arm.

“Please stay, I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Holy shit! That sentence damn near put him in a coma. He just can’t believe how adorable you are. With that, he decides right away to bring you to his home in order to comfort you. The rest of the day is spent with just the two of you guys together while watching Netflix and ordering out to eat. All of his plans that he had before were canceled in favor of being by your side. He does his best to make you happy and laugh as much as possible. That smiling face of yours suits you better than a teary eyed expression. Although he can’t do it now, he vows to absolutely destroy the lives of your bullies. The mental and physical wellbeing of yourself matter more than anything in the world to him. Anything that causes harm to you he quickly deals with even if it means people. All that he wants is that you’ll be safe in his arms and by his side whenever he wakes up.

He makes it a point to prove the words of you tormentors were false and does his best to undo their claims. He’d be so appalled by the whole situation and just can’t wrap around his head at how someone could be mean to you. Like just look at you! You’re literally perfect what the hell were they smoking when they decided to verbally assault you. Yandere! Jock would be so overbearing and clingy towards you. Wherever you went he was close behind you. You’re going grocery shopping? Cool he’s right by your side. You gotta go to class? He’s right by you. Even if he doesn’t have the class he’s still coming. Showering? Move over and make room, he wants to shower as well. Is totally the type to throw a fit when you say no which causes you to relent and let him follow you.

In a few weeks after this incident there were missing people reports all over town of local college students. The same ones who coincidentally were vicious towards you. Everytime Yandere! Jock walks past these posters, he has a hidden smug look on his face. Justifies it by saying that he’s doing it in the name of love and that those people were the spawns of Satan. Besides, they're not even dead yet. They’re just trapped in a cabin in some random woods that only he has access to. Content with himself he spends his days by your side and pledging to himself that he’d never let anyone bother you ever again.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere jock

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year

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#4 with lots of angst but a happy ending!😭

Warning: Mentions of car accident, pregnancy complications, 4pre-term birth, hospitals.

Harry had been a bit hesitant to schedule any shows for when you made it to your 6 month of pregnancy. However, you assured him that you wouldn't even start your maternity leave until the 7 month mark because you wanted more time after the baby was born; you didn't want to feel rushed to say goodbye to her. You had a desk job, so you weren't doing anything strenuous and your job also wasn't all that stressful. So during a break in his tour he came home and after a few checks ups where Harry asked a bajillion questions, your doctor assured him that everything was perfectly normal and looking really great.

It's not that Harry didn't want to tour, he actually really did because after your baby came he intended to take at least a year or two to just be there with you both. But he also didn't want to be away from you just in case you needed him during this time. But you reminded him that your mom would be coming in from LA to help out soon and well, his mom was constantly around, doting on you, and other friends of yours and Harry's in town, so you had many people around who would surely lend a hand if you ever needed it. So with that information, plus your doctor's confirmation he gave Jeffrey the green light to add one more month of shows to his tour. After all, it would be the last one for a bit.

He was having a blast, he was making the most of these last few shows because he knew he'd miss it a lot down the line. And right now he was in the huddle with the band, pep talking them all right before they got on stage. They were just about to do their chant when he heard someone call his name loudly.

"Harry!" he turned around to see Brad running over with his phone to his ear looking absolutely panicked and scared and worried all mixed into one. He'd never seen him looking that scared and it made him start to worry. As soon as he was closer to the huddle he lowered his voice, "H, Y/N's been in a serious car accident. It's not good." He said and his stomach immediately sank. Everyone's cheerful and excited expressions shifted into those of concern and sadness, "Your mum just called Jeff, she just got to the hospital, they won't give her any details." he said as he said whatever Jeffrey was telling him on the line.

Harry was frozen though, he wasn't sure what to do. He just knew he needed to get there as soon as possible. People always overthink and ponder about bizarre or worst case scenarios to maybe know how to handle them when they arise, but this is not something that Harry would have ever even considered. He was in shock, he had no control, he had no idea what was going on. He couldn't even cry. His ears were just ringing as he heard the crowd cheering and roaring maniacally as the screens darkened, indicating he was about to go on.

"The show." he finally said flatly as he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I can't do the show."

"Yeah, Tommy's already taking care of that." Brad assured him, "Let's just get your things, we're trying to get you there as soon as possible. Jeff is on the other line with Kris. I guess Kim is in town for work, she flew on her jet." he said and Harry nodded, "C'mon". Brad said and guided Harry back to his dressing room. The band rushed after them and followed Harry to his dressing room. He needed to get changed out of his crazy costume... he was trying to get his shoes off, but his shaking hands were making the simple task almost impossible.

"H, I've got it." Mitch said to him softly as he stooped down and Harry nodded. Once his shoes were off he hurried to get changed into his casual clothes. The rest of the band started gathering his things, getting them into his duffle bag so that he could head out as soon he was done changing. They all frowned when they heard him start to vomit in the bathroom but it was understandable, there are just somethings in life that cause a visceral reaction.

Harry just couldn't believe that this was rally happening. He felt like he was outside of his body in a way, just disconnected. But all that came crashing when he realized that no one had any idea of your condition. No one knew if your baby girl was alright...or maybe they wouldn't tell his mom anything because neither of you had made it...the thought of that just made him feel sick to his stomach. He dropped to his knees and just started to hurl up everything in his stomach. He was coughing through his tears and he exhaled shakily as he wiped off his mouth. He then flushed the toilet and rinsed out his mouth before he finished changing.

"Here, H." Sarah said handing over his toothbrush when he opened the door.

"Thank you." he mumbled as he took it and quickly brushed his teeth.

"Yes! We got the jet!" Brad said to everyone as soon as Kim confirmed to Jeffrey that her flight crew was heading to the airfield as they spoke. Everyone sighed in relief at this news, "She told Jeff that they can get you there in 2 hours." he told Harry and he nodded. He wished he could teleport, but 2 hours was better than nearly three hours of flight, not counting the entire process he'd have to go through at the airport. He'd make it there after midnight if that were the case, so the fact that she was in town and was just letting him take her jet was a heaven ordained miracle, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last of the night. Not even ten minutes later they were off to the airfield.

True to her word, Kim's crew was ready to go as soon as his car pulled up. He and Brad hurried out and they had taken off not even five minutes later.

********

Back at the hospital Anne was in a complete panic because no one was telling her anything. No one was giving her any information or just brushing her off. She knew that you were on your way to get your mother from the airport, so she sent Michal and Gemma to go get her and bring her over.

She was more than relieved when Jeffrey called her to let her know that Harry had been able to borrow a jet and was in the air now. But as she hung up with Jeffrey she started getting a lot of text messages from friends and family asking if Y/N was alright. One person sent her a video that someone had taken of the paramedics wheeling her into the ambulance. She immediately called Jeffrey back and he got to work on making sure that those videos got taken down. But obviously, the internet spreads information like a wildfire and half an hour later there were even news reports on the television. People started to recognize her and come ask her questions and so eventually the hospital staff just let her stay in a private room while she waited for your mum, Gem, and Michal to arrive.

********

Obviously, Harry saw the videos. He didn't think he'd be riddled with messages about this; people were asking him questions that he didn't even have the answers to. The not knowing was the worst part. There was already news that he had cancelled his show and speculation that the rest of the tour was cancelled, which he hadn't even spoken to anyone about but that was true. Even if it was a good outcome, he didn't want to be apart from you after this.

He was afraid though because in the videos he saw your pants had blood on them and you didn't appear to be fully conscious as you were wheeled away. The accident had been bad; your car had been t-boned on the driver's side, so you surely had taken the impact, which he knew couldn't be good. He didn't want to think anymore, he just wanted to get there and do whatever he could to help.

********

Once your mother got there the hospital staff were far more collaborative as they shared information on your condition. And thankfully Harry had arrived shortly after everyone else. He asked to speak to the doctors straight away before anything else, he needed to know what was going on before he faced anyone else.

"Good evening, Mr. Styles-"

"Just tell me what happened please." he cut the woman off and she nodded.

"For now your wife is stable, we're just closing her up from the c-section. In terms of your daughter, she's in the NICU. Unfortunately we're not too sure if she'll make it on her own yet." she explained to him and Harry just felt his heart tighten up in his chest as his throat bobbed. "The impact caused very serious abdominal trauma to your wife. First responders determined that the placenta was moderately detached from the uterus because of the bleeding she had." she explained, "When we opened her up though it was completely detached." she said and he shook his head.

"OK, but what does that mean for my baby?" he asked, slightly aggravated. He didn't understand why these people just never said what they meant. He understood it could be hard to give people bad news, but beating around the bush was far more harmful in his opinion.

"When the placenta detaches it means the baby has no oxygen or nutrients. And in severe cases like this it's standard to perform an emergency c-section as quickly as possible to ensure that damage to the baby is minimal." she explained to him and his tears started to fall, "Unfortunately, we don't know long it was fully detached for...if it happened upon impact or on the way to the hospital. But this can lead to several complications for the baby, but given that your wife is just shy of 31 weeks the baby still has some growing to do and my biggest concern is brain injury, which can cause a lot of developmental delays. We just won't know until later down the line." she explained and he nodded, "We've got her on some oxygen for now since her lungs are not fully developed yet. But in normal, pre-term birth circumstances babies born between 31 to 34 week have a 95% survival rate, which is very good." she said and he sighed.

"But this is not a normal, pre-term circumstance." he said to her.

"No, but we're doing everything we can. Your baby seems to have developed really well from what I was able to see. These next couple of hours are critical though and if she makes it through the night I’ll be very optimistic about her recovery.”

"Can I see them?" he asked.

"I can certainly arrange for that. You might be able to see the baby first, but she's in the incubator and it'll be a bit frightening to see her hooked up to several things, but that's just what we need to do to keep her stable." she informed and he nodded, "Your wife had to have a blood transfusion, so she's out. And I believe they are also treating to her fractures. She may also be out for a few more hours since she also suffered a concussion."

"Jesus..." he sighed shakily.

"Your wife will pull through though. She's in great health, Mr. Styles." she assured him and he nodded.

"Alright, thank you Dr. Mehta." he said and she nodded, "I'll escort you to the room your relatives have been given and someone will come get you shortly to see your baby." she said.

It was about 15 minutes before a nurse came in to take Harry over to the NICU. He had to get into a full body paper suit, hairnet, mask, and gloves before he could get in. Once that was squared away he was led to the little incubating carriage that had your little girl in it. When Harry saw her he was shocked at just how tiny she was, he swore she'd fit in in his hand, she couldn't be bigger than his forearm. He was happy to see her, but like the doctor had said it was also scary to see her so tiny and defenseless hooked up to all those things. It was hard to know that she was fighting for her life.

“Can I touch her?” He asked the nurse.

“Of course. You just put your arm through the hole there.” She explained and he nodded, “Just mind the tubes and monitoring pads.” She said and he nodded, “I’ll give you a few minutes, I’ll be right out there if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” Harry hummed and then he was left alone. As soon as she was gonna he started to cry. You two hadn’t even agreed on her name yet; but he was glad you hadn't because it might be more painful to name her and lose her. It pained him so much to think that she might not make it through the night and that maybe you'd never even get to see her. He hesitated before his gloved hand made contact with her through the hand opening, but he shook off his concern and just touched the top of her tiny hand. He saw the faintest little twitch in her fingers and he chuckled happily at her response as his tears fell even harder, "Hi princess!" he smiled through his tears, "It's me, your dad." he sniffled, "Please, just...just hang on for me, princess. We already love you so much, we can't say goodbye." he cried quietly. He prayed silently to the heavens that his little girl you make it. She had to make it.

********

It was about two hours later that he was told he could go see you. You were still unconscious but at least he got to see that you were alive. Your right shoulder, arm, hip, and leg were in a cast. He was glad that at least your mom was with him so that they could hold each other while they cried. She wanted to stay a while longer so Harry gave her some privacy as he stepped outside of the room. Letting out a sigh of relief that you were alive. A little torn up, but still with him.

It was undoubtedly a sleepless night. He couldn't risk missing anything. It was around 8:30am the next morning when Dr. Mehta came by the waiting room. He hurriedly woke everyone else up as she stepped into the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Styles and family." Dr. Mehta smiled. If she was saying that it meant that it was good news, right?

"Any updates?" he asked and she nodded.

"Your baby is stable. She remained stable all night." she shared happily and every let out a sigh of relief. He felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, "now this doesn't mean she's out of the NICU, her stay will be a bit longer, I'm afraid, but she is out of immediate danger." she informed him and he nodded, "Your wife should be waking up in the next couple of hours."

"Thank you, thank you so much." he sighed and she nodded.

"I did want to show you something though."

"Of course." he stood and followed after her.

"I was reviewing your wife's chart and I noticed something interesting." she said and he nodded. Harry followed her down the hall and she let him into an empty room with an x-ray projector. She set the file in her hand down and pulled out your x-rays and powered on the projector before she placed them on the screen. "Look at the fractures. They're here on the shoulder, elbow, hip and femur." she said and Harry nodded, "That's why your baby's alive." she said and he turned to her.

"I don't understand." he said.

"I think your wife had enough time to react before she was hit. It looks like she tried to turn her body away was much as possible, which explains the way her shoulder fractured and she probably used her arm and leg to try to shield her stomach so that they took the brunt of the impact."

"That's...so incredible. Thank you for showing this to me." he nodded with tearful eyes and she nodded.

"Of course. My shift is over, but I'll be back again tonight. Your nurses from last night are still on shift."

"Thank you." he said before he headed back to the waiting room and shared with his family what the doctor had told him. He was so proud of you and he couldn't wait to tell you.

When you woke up a few hours later he immediately went over to see you. It all tears for the first few minutes before you asked about your baby. He squeezed your hand gently and sniffled.

"She's alright. I get to see her again later." he explained and you nodded in relief, "She's just a tiny little thing, this big, I swear." he smiled through his tears as he demonstrated her length to you with his hands, "Your doctor said you saved her life. S'why you're all broken, baby." he said and you smiled at him as you cleared your throat to speak.

"I just wanted to protect her as much as I could." you sniffled and he nodded.

"You did, my love. She's here because of you." he sobbed and kissed your forehead and you felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders, "I told you adding more shows was a bad idea..." he said and you chuckled before you winced, "Oh, I'm sorry, not making you laugh's gonna be hard."

"It might be if you were actually funny, baby." you croaked out and he pouted playfully as you smiled at him. "What're we gonna name our baby? We haven't even discussed it properly."

"S'cause we knew it'll get us in a tiff. But considering you're handicapped and all, I supposed your opinion bears more weight." he said and you chuckled again and he grinned, "And you said I'm not that funny..." he hummed as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'm concussed." you reminded and he chuckled and shook his head.

"Well, I told her that she was so loved...and well, she's our little love. So I think I want to call her Love." he said and you smiled.

"Love Styles sounds like a cheap lingerie brand." you wheezed as you tried to adjusted yourself a bit and he burst our laughing before reaching up and fluffing your pillow up a bit.

"Yeah...that's...definitely not what I'm going for." he smiled and you smiled back.

"We don't have to decide yet." you said and he nodded.

"I'm just so happy that you're still here with me." he said softly and you sniffled and nodded.

"Me too."

********

It had been a few days and Harry just needed to get home and get showered and changed. It felt good to be home and when he walked past the nursery he smiled, he couldn't wait to have you and your baby home. When Harry got into your shared bedroom he haphazardly dumped his bag out on the bed in search of his toothbrush before heading in for a shower. He took his time under the hot and soothing water. After he stepped out and dried off a bit he just dropped onto your bed and before he knew he passed out. He had maybe slept six hours in the the last 2 days.

"Harry." he heard faintly, "Hang on, he's passed out." he heard as he gained consciousness and slowly blinked his eyes open to see Brad hovering over him and he immediately sat up.

"Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, mate. Y/N wanted to ask you something." he said and he grabbed Brad's phone.

"I've been calling you." you said and he sighed.

"Sorry baby, phone's dead. What is it?" he asked groggily.

"Let's name her Violet." You said and Harry smiled.

"I like that a lot." he said with a grin.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"Yeah, it's perfect." he agreed.

"OK. That's all. Get some rest."

"I'll be back soon though, OK? I love you." he said and you nodded.

"I love you." you hummed back and he blew a kiss at the screen before you hung up.

"Love Styles? Really?" Brad asked him and he scoffed.

"Oh, shut up..." Harry huffed before draping his arm over his eyes.

READ MORE PICTURE PROMPT BLUBRS HERE!

#harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles blurb #harry reader insert #harry styles reader insert #harry x you #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #husband!harry #husband!harry styles #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #picture prompts 2 #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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missmugiwara · 9 months

Text

Now There's an Idea

Summary: gn!reader x Rengoku. You talk to Rengoku about your love life. Warning: None! Just some cuteness. I hope you like flirting! Note: I had way too much fun with this! Please enjoy!

It was late out.

A yawn escaped your lips as you rested your arm on the hilt of your blade. There was a full moon, a gentle warmth in the humid summer air, and crickets chirped somewhere far off in the distance. Mid-yawn, your gaze wandered over to the man with you on this fine night. Rengoku was quiet, an ever-present smirk on his face while his arms were crossed against his broad chest. He hadn't let out any indication of being tired, and here you were yawning. While on patrol. While waiting for a report from scouts sent ahead earlier in the day. There was a possibility that a particularly strong demon was in the area, and so the master sent two of his finest hashira: Rengoku and you.

It wasn't unusual that you two were paired together. In fact, it happened often enough where you could affectionately say Rengoku's presence made you quite comfortable. Any mission that he was joining you on instantly made you feel giddy. The flame hashira was just so kind. When you first met him he was quite intimidating with his bright, sun-like eyes and loud nature, but after getting to know him he was extremely charming. You were thankful for the friendly relationship that developed and for how easy it was to speak to him about nearly anything.

So seated on a rooftop, you swung you legs over the side and kicked them back and forth out of boredom. You looked up at the moon and softly hummed a song while your eyes became lidded. You had been thinking a lot about life lately, particularly romance.

It was starting to get difficult lately.

What exactly? It had been a long time since you were wooed and had a proper date. It seemed that every time you finished one mission, exhausted and burnt out, another one came up. Constantly on the move, never getting the chance to try and find a special someone. The feeling of being held in someone's arms, to have butterflies in your stomach, to have one's lips against yours - you sighed dreamily at the moon in yearning.

"Kyojuro, you ever think about getting married someday?"

As soon as those words left your mouth, it was instant regret. It had slipped out without thought. Eyes widened in embarrassment, cheeks blossomed into heat, and immediately you turned to see if his expression changed at all. Surprisingly it didn't, but what was even more concerning now was trying to read his face and determine if you had crossed a line. That was kind of personal information to ask, but… Rengoku was yours. Well, uh, your friend! Friend! Was there really any reason to be so bothered asking that to a friend? Besides, upon further thought, was he even the marrying type? He seemed like he would focus on his career first.

Rengoku closed his yellow and red eyes. The proud smirk still played at his lips, and he tilted his chin downward.

"Yes."

He answered softly. You twitched in response as another heat erupted onto your face. Oh, Rengoku's response was unexpected! It reminded you that he too was just a normal person like anybody else. And it revealed that Rengoku was not the type of man consumed with his work.

"And what about you, my dear?"

Those words echoed in your ears. Your heart thumped against your chest. This sensation was new. My dear. You never really paid attention to that until now. Why was that? Your friendship with the flame hashira was strong, and he called you that for years out of endearment. He never did it out of flirtation nor ever expected any cute names in return. Moreso, you were surprised he didn't rebuttle and ask why would you want to know. Perhaps asking that wasn't as personal as it seemed, especially with the connection you two shared. It was only fair you answered back honestly. He deserved it.

"I… I do." you smiled gently and locked eyes with him, "I want to fall in love."

It was so easy to share something so intimate with him. His presence alone just made you become honest to a fault. Plus, he would never laugh at you for this.

Rengoku beamed with a slight pink blush, "That's wonderful!"

You smiled back at him cutely. You took a pause to rub the back of your head bashfully and laughed, "But… I'm afraid I'll never meet anyone with how hard I work! I barely get the time to go on dates anymore."

The blonde and red-haired man took a moment to think. He stared at you with a light smile. "You could meet plenty of people! How about someone in the corps?"

Lips pursed in thought, you blinked before looking up into the sky in a reflective manner. "Someone from the corps? Well, I never thought about that before. I guess I could… but I don't know…"

It was interesting that Rengoku mentioned potentially dating a coworker. That seemed like it could get awkward if the relationship went sour. It also seemed strange for someone of his character to suggest this. Rengoku shuffled in his seat, seeming to understand your hesitation. He uncrossed his arms and then his legs, swinging them over the side of the roof to mirror your position. The smile on his face somehow changed into something a little bit more enticing.

"How about… a hashira?"

The air stilled.

Rengoku blushed. You blushed. You completely froze on the spot at what Rengoku was implying. Did he… maybe mean himself? Was he flirting? Your lips parted out of shock. Somehow in this state, you whipped your gaze to him. Eyes still widened, lips still parted. An intense staredown bewteen a smirking, proud hashira and a stunned, flustered one. Rengoku's eyes were lidded, and the expression he wore was quite alluring. Another pause was shared, before you realized you kept him waiting.

In that instance, your eyes softened. You had maybe thought about him like that a few times before, and… dating Rengoku sounded very pleasing. He would make an excellent partner. He was truly handsome. And strong. And kind. That longing gaze in your eyes matched his, and you could have sworn you saw his throat bob when you gave him such a lascivious look that was aimed at his lips. Gently, you gripped the side of the roof in your hands.

"You know… I wouldn't mind that."

Hopefully the lusty, breathy tone in your voice was enough, enough to tell Rengoku that you might possibly know he was referring to himself. It was not in his nature to dance around in conversations and to be more straightforward - but this was kind of cute. He was an unexpected flirt. But you wanted to play it safe, after all. He was your friend.

Other times… he was so much more.

Perhaps you should have been more forward like how Rengoku usually was. Or perhaps, he already understood what you admitted. The look he gave you then could only make you spiral even further.

Rengoku's lips curled upward into a delectable smirk.

"Hmm. I see."

#demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #mugi writes

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stedefxckingbonnet · 7 months

Note

If you're doing izzy x reader requests I'd love to see something along the lines of reader killing someone for the first time either to keep Izzy safe or because someone threatened to kill him. With izzy just being shocked/honored that someone would do that for him and it makes him a little bit starry-eyed. Obviously if you're not vibing with this feel free to just use parts or ignore it all together 🖤 thanks for keeping the izzy x reader fics alive

Firstly, thank you so much for that last sentence—words like those motivate me so much more, and bring me so much joy! Thank you to all of you who have welcomed me with open arms, as I sorta feel like I arrived here out of nowhere!! I hope this one does your request justice; how could I ignore it, it's absolutely amazing! Enjoy the rest of your day or night, lovely stranger, and I hope you enjoy this as well! it brought me joy to write and I hope it brings you even more joy to read ♡

P.S. More longer fics coming soon, I promise! I'm still just dipping my toes back in to writing these, and I hope the lengths have been okay thus far! I may even revisit some of these first ones I'm writing down the line and elaborate upon them, if that's something you'd all be interested in.

Eternity | Izzy Hands x Reader

Warnings: death (not of a major character or reader!), mentions of blood, mentions of choking, brief violence beginning and escalating quickly, some language, kissing

Word count: 2755

There was one thing you absolutely dreaded that just seemed to come with the price of being a pirate, almost like a rite of passage—murder. You were lucky enough to have crew mates beside you with the exact opposite opinion to do your biddings for you because, let's face it, even if you didn't want the blood directly upon your hands, there were still people you thought deserved to die, for the safety of yourself and the crew. But the thought of seeing the life escape a person at your own discretion was a thought that absolutely haunted you. Even while sailing with Blackbeard on the Queen Anne you had managed to avoid such a situation. Still, you had always promised yourself that if it were absolutely necessary, you wouldn't hold it against yourself too much. You sighed at that thought, your face slumping into the palm of your hand as you finished your breakfast. Certain mornings, you preferred to rise earlier in order to avoid eating with the crew as much as you absolutely loved them, and Roach understood this, thankfully. Every night before you retreated to your quarters after Stede wove his bedtime tales, he would always discreetly pull you aside and ask whether you would be joining them in the morning and he was always prepared for either response, setting your meal at your usual spot at the table. This had been going on for quite awhile, and you always worried the crew would find out and then take it personally. But, no one ever had.

Though, you were confused as to why there was a second meal beside yours. You tried to eat as quickly as you possibly could in order to avoid whoever it was that might be joining you but of course, you were a smidge too late. Luckily for you, it was none other than Izzy Hands—for others, this would be an unlucky thing, but not for you. Never for you. You almost allowed yourself to smile at his appearance.

"What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you shrugged as he sat beside you.

"Just haven't been liking starting my day with twats," he shrugged back, which earned a laugh from you.

"Am I included in that lot?" You couldn't help but tease him. He always acted annoyed when you did, but you saw right through his act.

"Fuck off," Izzy laughed quietly.

"Aww, I don't get the special treatment?"

"Why should you?" Anyone else would have thought Izzy was pissed off, but you knew better than that. He knew he was teasing you back, or at least, you hoped so. But you knew for a fact he wasn't really annoyed with you.

"Well, we go way back—don't we, Israel?"

Izzy chuckled. It seemed half-hearted, but you knew it was actually genuine, which warmed your heart that you could bring such sweet melodies out of him. "I suppose we do, yes."

"And I do all my chores before you even ask me to, and I get them done fast and still do a good job," you added, only sort of faux smugly.

"You want a sticker for that?" Izzy retorted.

"Wouldn't mind it," you laughed, sighing of relief as you did so. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a smile almost spread across Izzy's usually stone-cold visage, like one of a marble statue. You couldn't help but smile yourself. "Sorry if I kind of rained on your desirably lonesome parade this morning."

"You didn't," Izzy replied nonchalantly, but you knew this was his way of saying he enjoyed your company. You knew him long enough to know that. "I'm glad it's you and not Stede fucking Bonnet."

You chuckled, your eyes rolling in addition. "Yeah. Could've been a lot worse. But, a word of advice—if you don't want to be stampeded by a starving group of "twats", we'd better get going in the next minute or so."

Izzy's eyes widened and he quickly downed the rest of his meal before disposing properly of whatever leftovers you both had. You protested for a moment, claiming you could toss your own remains away, but he insisted, only on behalf that it would make escaping a lot quicker. Once again you saw right through this. You had always found Izzy's funny ways of showing you that he cared about you endearing. You wouldn't trade any of it for the world, as ecstatic as you would be to really hear or see him express appreciation for you. You giggled as the two of you rushed out onto the deck—the sun had just risen, painting the sky a sort of orange and pink hue and birds could be heard singing from a distance, if you listened hard enough. It was breathtaking. it made waking up this early in the morning worthwhile. You looked over at Izzy, who seemed to be somewhat taken by such a sight, until his lips curled into an intentional frown.

"Izzy?" you asked, trying to snap him out of his thoughts. "What is it?"

"Oh," Izzy laughed breathlessly. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

You didn't buy that for a second, but you also knew it wasn't worth your time or energy to press him. You knew how stubborn Izzy could be, and how because of this, he never wanted anyone else's help in any capacity. But he was more pensive than usual; something seemed to be plaguing him, and it plagued you knowing you would most likely never know what it could have been. Without another word, Izzy was out of your sight before you even noticed he left your side. You sighed, almost slumping against the railing. Cheering could be heard from the dining room, but you knew you would catch wind of whatever the excitement was in just moments. Before you could wonder any further, Olu and Black Pete rushed onto the deck to announce the day would be spent on land. You smiled to yourself, thinking perhaps you could get Izzy to join you on an endeavor or two. You rushed over to him with a hopeful glint in your eyes.

"Did you hear? We get a day off!"

"Oh, joy," Izzy mumbled sarcastically. "I should stay behind, watch the ship. Someone has to do it."

"But you did that last time," you pouted. "Come on, Iz. It could be—

"—What? Fun? I doubt it."

You sighed for what felt like a millionth time. You were almost out of breath, but you weren't going to give up this easily. If only you could show Izzy that the world held more wonders to behold, despite all that he had claimed to already have seen in all his years. Or maybe, just maybe, if he saw how much it would mean to you.

"Today is too beautiful a day to waste," you claimed, hoping so much that he would take the hint.

Izzy paused to ponder it. He craned his neck over to meet your eyes. "I suppose I could spare an hour or two."

You almost jumped for joy right there and then, but you only nodded in his line of sight, then allowing for a grin to dominate your expression as you walked away, ready to get off of the ship. Izzy followed behind, and the crew knew better than to follow just yet. Once the two of you stepped onto the dock, then everyone followed suit.

"Don't tell me we're going into some trashy tavern," Izzy grumbled quietly. This sort of surprised you—all these years, did Izzy fake enjoying all of the drinks he would get for himself, talking with others for hours at these establishments? You didn't necessarily adore it either, but Izzy never complained about it.

"I was thinking the pawnshop first, if that's alright with you?" you proposed. "I have a few things I want to get off my hands but don't want in the hands of just anyone."

"Better than what everyone else has going on," he shrugged. You led the way, seeming to know this place like the back of your hand even though to Izzy's knowledge, you had never been here before. But, what did he know of your life before the Queen Anne? He wished he knew more, but he didn't even know where to begin. Flat out asking you didn't seem like it was on the table, as happy as you would be to reveal anything he asked of you, and even happier to hear of his own life that existed prior. Without another thought of this, you led Izzy down a few winding paths until finally, you reached your first stop, not knowing it would actually be the last for the day. You rushed up to the door to hold it open for Izzy, a grin making its way onto your face once again, unknowingly.

"What do ya know, chivalry isn't dead," Izzy muttered but you saw the corners of his mouth rise. With this, you followed behind him, making sure to gently shut the door behind you. You reached into your pocket, revealing a small red velvet sachet. You waltzed right over to the oak countertop, revealing a few shining silver and gold rings and chains, the same smile still existing upon you.

"I can offer you quite a bit for these," the shopkeeper started. "But something your friend over there has interests me far more."

He pointed at Izzy's neck, which only made him self consciously clutch his cravat.

"I'm only offering you what's in front of you," you told the shopkeeper.

"And he isn't right in front of me?" he retaliated.

"You're saying you don't want any of this?"

"No," he sounded as if he were about to snap. "I want all this, and your friend's necktie."

"Well, you aren't getting it, I'm sorry," you spoke sincerely. "But I am happy to offer you any and all of this."

Before you knew it, the shop owner barged out from behind the countertop and planted himself right in front of Izzy's face. He began to undo Izzy's cravat himself while Izzy tried to swat him away, but you weren't going to allow this to happen. You made your way over and tried to pry him off of Izzy, to which you were slapped for trying to do so. You clutched your cheek, almost shouting in pain. Izzy and the owner's struggle was beginning to grow more violent and much more personal than it should have been, and you had never felt more helpless in your entire life. The shop owner had Izzy on the ground and began to choke him, and before you could think it through, you were on the floor, viciously grabbing this stranger by the collar, turning him to face you. You already had your dagger in your other hand and stabbed him right in the heart, wincing as you did so, as the blood spilled out onto his white shirt, and bits of it splattered across your own face. As soon as you were sure he was a goner, you released his body onto the ground. Your dagger slipped out of your hands as you rushed over to your Izzy to help him up. He wasn't ready to stand, you quickly realized, so you sat beside him and rubbed his back as he coughed and tried to regain oxygen.

"You're okay," you cooed, attempting to soothe the man before you. He couldn't muster a word, but he immediately locked eyes with you and his breath seemed to return to him. "You're okay," you repeated for the sake of no one but yourself this time, tears welling in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Izzy looked at you with such a disbelief written all over his face. You, who used to shrivel into yourself at the mere mention of blood. You, who declared to never take someone's life unless absolutely necessary—oh yes, he recalled such a proclamation, loud and clear in the early days of the Queen Anne, and he remembered thinking it absolutely ridiculous. He remembered thinking you wouldn't survive a day bearing that mindset. Yet, you still persisted, and sailed the seas beside him for what felt like an eternity. Normally, Izzy would describe an eternity in such a way that it felt dreary and undesirable, but with you, an eternity was nowhere near enough. If he could, he would spend multiple eternities with you and it still wouldn't be enough. He looked at you as if you were the only other person in the world. Sometimes, he wished you were. Sometimes, he wished it could just be the two of you. Death had never been this close to meeting him, but now that it had, his mortality felt far too real, and his feelings towards you felt far too hidden. Even before this moment, every time the two of you were in close proximity to one another, his heart felt heavy with all of the tenderness he held onto for you, barely being able to contain it and his heart being warm almost felt concerning to him if it hadn't been such a pleasant experience. And it was a bit concerning to him that it felt nice. Especially in this moment, he knew he couldn't conceal himself much longer, not after you had been so willing to sacrifice someone else's life for his. He was honored that you went against your own word for him, of all people.

"Izzy, are you alri—"

Before you could finish your question, and perhaps say anything else in addition, Izzy's lips were on yours. He tried to wipe the blood off of you with his gloved hand the best he could as you kissed him back with such fervor, such longing. You had wanted this for what felt like an eternity. This was what you thought of every time Izzy walked into a room, and even anytime he wasn't close by. There were some moments you couldn't even be around him in fear that you would embarrass yourself and accidentally pour out your heart to him. You never thought this would be happening, you never thought Izzy would even fathom half of what you possibly felt for him, nor even feel any of the same ways. But with all the discreetly exchanged glances, the "accidental" brushes against one another, the excessive lingering while you did your tasks some days, the following your lead whenever you had those scarce days on land, even finding out from Roach the night before that you would be eating your breakfast alone the following morning, there was simply no way Izzy didn't return your sentiments, even if he wasn't quick to show it. Eventually, Izzy had to disconnect his lips from yours, almost gasping for air again. A giggle escaped your lips as he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, and he showed a smile that you had never before seen. You could have sworn your heart somehow gained a mind of its own and began doing backflips—how did it learn to do such a trick?

"I can't believe you did that for me," Izzy beamed, reminiscent of some sort of beacon or lighthouse.

You smiled sheepishly. "Are you mad?"

"The opposite, actually. I know your feelings about killing, and yet—"

"—It was worth it," you assured him, tracing patterns along the small of his back. "You are worth it."

Without another word as you both stood up, your fingers intertwined with his, the ungloved hand, and you slowly made your way back to the ship together, knowing no one else would be there to entice you into any antics. For a moment, it could and it would feel like you and your Izzy were the only two people in the world. You knew this moment wouldn't last forever, but it would already be one to cherish for the rest of eternity, and you hoped that now, you and Izzy could spend the rest of whatever that looked like together, thought it felt like you already have been. Only now, you could look over at him like he was your world, because he is, and not worry about what he would think. Now, he could hold you close to him and whisper everything he's dreamed of ever sharing with you since knowing you. Now, the two of you could truly share your love for one another beyond the end of time.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd season 2 #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #israel hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd izzy hands #ofmd season one #x reader #fluff #izzy hands my beloved #requests open #i just love my pirates so much #first request yay!

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year

Text

Kitty

Pairings: Rei x reader Buddy Daddies fluff, descriptions of gun violence

Wordcount: 4,027 (revised 22/03/23)

You weren’t exactly sure how long ago it had been - a year, possibly? More? - but on one particular torturous night, he’d strangled you after what he deemed a ‘stressful day’. Your throat was sore for days after, your vocal chords husky and raw. You found it easier just to not talk after that and he seemed happy enough with the development, so you were too. If you spoke, there was a danger that you’d say something to upset him and he’d lash out in anger. Of course, he still did lose his temper and you would bear the brunt of his anger, but now it was only over other grievances rather than anything you brought on yourself.

You didn’t even flinch when he jammed the cold metal of the gun into the side of your skull. It wasn’t the first time, that’s for sure. He did it a lot at the start of your time there, enjoying your sobs as you feared for your life. Now you just wished he’d just pull the trigger. Get it over with – you weren’t sure of your purpose here. You were the maid - you cleaned and served him and were his personal punchbag. Thankfully, he’d never touched you in that way, but surely he’d had enough enjoyment out of you by now.

It had been a typical evening in the house – he’d retired to his study with his cigar and whisky while you cleared the dinner table for him and his goons. The gunfire had started soon after that. You hadn’t thought too much of it at first, sometimes when his men drank they got a bit trigger-happy with each other over minor disputes. It was only when he ran into the dining room, gunshots echoing behind him that you realized it wasn’t as you first thought. He grabbed you around the neck, breathing heavily as his assailant entered the room and your abductor pressed the gun into your head.

A sullen man with an undercut and black hair tied up upon his head is staring at you with an equally blank stare on his face as yours, his aim steady. He’s dressed in a well-fitted, obviously tailored suit - a professional, you guessed.

“Let her go,” you heard a voice hiss behind you, another gun cocking. He was trapped, surrounded by two guns. The barrel left your skull and then everything happened in a blur - someone yanked you back and threw you down to the ground as there was a single gunshot. Your abductor’s body crashed to the floor, blood oozing from a hole in the middle of his forehead.

You look up, expecting a bullet to hit you next. The two men stand over you, looking down. The voice behind you turned out to be a blonde man, classically good-looking with fluffy hair and also very well-dressed. You watch as he puts away his gun and crouches down in front of you.

“Are you okay?” The blonde man asks gently and you must’ve given him a confused look as he backtracked. “No, stupid question. Is anything, er, broken?” You'd hit the floor pretty hard but nothing had cracked. You shake your head.

“That’s good. How long have you been here?” You think for a moment, opening your mouth slightly but the words don’t come. It was the only defense mechanism you had left. If you don’t speak, no-one can get mad when you say the wrong thing, right? And these two were assassins, clearly. They’d just put a bullet in your abductor’s head and maybe you’d be next if you didn't say what they wanted. You resort to a shrug – it's honest, you don’t know how long it’s been.

The blonde frowns, before pursuing his line of questioning.

“Erm… Well, is there someone we can call for you?”

You shake your head again, twisting your fingers in your lap.

“Do you have a name? I’m Kazuki, and that’s Rei.” He points to the black-haired man behind him.

You dig your nails into the palm of your hand at that. Your name… You shake your head.

The blonde looks at his partner in desperation.

“And the rest of the house is clear?”

“Mm.” Rei confirms. “She’s the only one left. She wasn’t in any of the files.”

Kazuki sighs. They’re in the middle of nowhere. He can’t, in all good conscience, leave you here, especially in the state you appear to be in. They know that eventually they’ll be another drop and the deaths will be discovered, but who knows how long that’ll be and won’t they blame you? The pony-tailed man raised an eyebrow, seeming to read his thoughts.

“If you get to bring a kid and a woman home, I’m definitely getting a cat.”

“I know, I know,” Kazuki mutters. “But we can’t just leave her here. Let’s take her back to the city and then maybe Kyu will be able to dig up something about her.” He turned back to you, debating. “Maybe she’s got some personal items. Do you have a room here? Can you show us?”

You swallowed before nodding in the affirmative. Why would they want to see that? You got to your feet and the blonde quickly stepped in line with you. Rei stalked behind, his gun still drawn.

You led them through a back passage to your “room”. It wasn’t really a room to be perfectly honest, it was a broom closet. The door had a heavy padlock on it but it was no longer used - you’d stopped trying to get out of there long ago. You swung the door open and pulled the cord, a solitary light bulb flickered and illuminated the grimy room. There was a pile of blankets on the floor – your makeshift bed - and a folded pile of two dresses, socks and undergarments. Your ‘uniform’. Screwed into the concrete wall was a shackle but, as with the padlock, it had been a while since it had been used.

“Uh… Okay. I...” The blonde stumbled over his words. “I was going to ask if there was anything you want to bring with you, but I guess not.”

You looked down at your feet, awkwardly. Those were the only clothes you owned, but you didn't particularly want to bring them with you.

“Okay, let’s go. We’ve got a van out the front. We’ll get you back to the city and take it from there.” You followed Kazuki dutifully to the front door, Rei once again walking behind when you saw the outcome of the ambush. Your abductor’s security team strewed about the floor, some riddled with gunshots, some a single wound but all very much dead. It should’ve shocked you and it would’ve however long ago, but it wasn’t the first time you’d seen corpses since you’d arrived here. Thankfully, you'd never been given that clean-up.

At the front door, Kazuki looked down at your sock-clad feet – frilly white thigh highs of all things to match that horrendous maid outfit he had you wear. “Erm, do you have any shoes?”

Shoes? You shook your head. Why would you have shoes? You never went outside. You had them once, but you don’t know what happened to any of the things you’d been wearing when you’d first been brought here.

“No? Right. It’s not far, will you be okay to walk like that?”

You nodded. If you had shook your head, would they have left you behind?

The night air was crisp and the freshest thing you’d ever tasted. On occasion you’d pushed your face right up to the windows, trying to breathe it in, but it was rare. The house had always had someone around, yanking you back from the window in case you tried to jump.

There was a catering van parked off to the side of the driveway. You hopped in the back as instructed and sat in the chair Kazuki pointed to. Rei took to the steering wheel and they began the long drive home in silence.

You didn’t want to or even mean to, but the motion of the van had you dozing on and off, meaning you'd pick up snippets of their conversation.

“Maybe she just can’t talk.” You hear Rei suggest.

“No, I think she’s traumatized. She’s covered in bruises. How long do you think she’s been there?”

“Dunno.” A pause. “What are we going to say to Miri?”

An hour or so later, you arrived back in the city. They parked in an underground car park and you followed them to the elevator, up to what seemed quite an elaborate apartment.

Kazuki insisted you sleep in Rei’s bedroom – the man wasn’t really using the room anyway, he’d told you - and you weren’t really in a position to disagree. He’d given you a rundown of the facilities. “So, the toilet’s downstairs near the front door. Rei sleeps in the downstairs bathroom. Don’t ask." He rolls his eyes and then slams his hand into his forehead. "Sorry, no, that sounds insensitive. I mean, if you wanted to ask that’s fine. I’d love to hear you speak, actually, but… Ugh. Okay. Sorry. You’re safe, it’s late, I’ll let you get some sleep.” And he ducked out the room as fast he could.

You didn’t get a lot of sleep. The bed was nice but after months of months on a floor, is it possible that a bed could feel too soft? A lack of sleep wasn’t new though and you had technically napped on the drive here. Your duties at the house often ran late into the night and started early the next morning. When the sun rose that morning, you were already up, sat perched on the end of the bed, feeling anxious. What were you meant to do? What were they going to do with you now?

As these thoughts swirled around your head for however long, there was suddenly a knock at the door. “Er, morning! Are you awake? I won’t come in…” It was Kazuki.

You got to your feet and sprinted over to the door, opening it swiftly - he’d hated waiting for anything.

“Hi!” Kazuki gave a great big smile, clothes in hand. ”I hope you slept okay. I forgot to offer you some clothes last night, but I’ve found these.” He handed over the bundle. “They’re clean – things I’ve been meaning to get rid of since they’re a bit small for Rei now. The shorts are gonna be way too big, but they’ve got a drawstring so that should keep them up. Is that okay?”

You nod, clutching it close to your chest.

“Okay, well, you get changed and I’ll come back in five. Breakfast should be ready soon and you can meet Miri – she’s our little girl. You might’ve heard Rei talk about her last night. See you soon.”

You nodded, and he shut the door. You walked back over to the bed and laid out the garments. A white t-shirt, soft grey jersey shorts with a cord and a black zip-up hoodie. How long had it been since you hadn’t worn a dress? You pulled it off and over your head before pulling up the shorts. Kazuki was right – they were too large but pulling the drawstring tight and securing it in a bow sorted out the issue and the t-shirt was only a little oversized and the hoodie was cosy and covered the bruises on your arms. Thinking of the little girl they'd mentioned, you also kept your thigh high socks on, knowing they would also hide the purple marks on your calves. It was the comfiest you could remember feeling in a while, though.

A knock at the door. “You ready?”

You jogged to the door again, throwing it open, before standing straight and clasping your hands in front of you.

“Okay, great! Er, just follow me.”

You descend the spiral staircase and see a little girl sat at the coffee table, scribbling happily across three pieces of paper, a box of crayons spilt out in front of her. There's a man sat besides her on the sofa, headphones around his neck and mashing at a controller. It takes you a second to recognise them as Rei - he's dressed more far more casual now - in a pair of sweatpants, a navy t-shirt and hoodie on top and his hair is down. Off-duty.

“Hi!” The little girl gasps, her eyes widening in interest at your presence. “I’m Miri, what’s your name?”

Kazuki watches in interest as you open your mouth but quickly close it again, digging your nails into your palms once more.

“Er, Miri, this is Papa Kazuki's…” he hesitated, thinking of how best to phrase it, “..friend. She’s not feeling too well at the moment. She’s sort of lost her voice.”

Miri's eyes widened. “Like a spell?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Like a spell.”

“You must be a princess!” She squealed, remembering a storybook. “But what’s her name?”

“Er, well…” Kazuki scratches the back of his head. “That’s where we’ve been struggling.”

“Oh, I know, I know!” Miri grabbed another piece of paper and scribbled on it before sliding it over in front of you, alongside a crayon. “See, it says ‘Miri!’ Now it’s your go – write yours.”

You bit your lip before kneeling down besides the coffee table and picking up the crayon. Your hand was shaking. Your abductor had never called you by your name - he'd called you maid, stupid girl was another favourite, and there was a myriad of derogatory terms used by his goons. You’d fought back the first few weeks, when your spirit wasn’t crushed. Your penmanship was as wobbly as Miri’s, but Kazuki read it over slowly, a frown across his features.

“I don’t remember is a funny name!” Miri squealed. There was silence in the room – even Rei had stopped mashing the controller buttons for a beat.

Kazuki winced at Miri’s statement. “No, Miri. I think that must be part of the, er, spell.”

“Oh…” Miri frowned, pondering for a moment. “Well, I’ll call you princess! Sit with me, princess!” She tugged at your arm, trying to pull you up to the sofa besides her.

“If Miri gets to call her princess, can I call her kitty?” Rei's voice makes you jump.

“Princess Kitty!”

Kazuki looks mortified at his company. “It’s not up to me! Is… is that okay with you? I mean, until we can figure it all out.”

You nod – they were nicer names than you were used to.

Breakfast was a far more lavish affair than you were used to – the plates were laden and there was so much choice. Rei and Miri said grace and you bowed your head in thanks, following suit. The two then proceeded to demolish their servings before you could even fathom, quickly abandoning the table for their previous activities at the sofa. Kazuki chuckles, “Yeah, they’re like that, unfortunately. We can take our time.”

The food felt rich and heavy in your stomach, so you forced a bit more down than you originally wanted so as not to seem ungrateful. It was never a good outcome. Kazuki got to his feet and stretched, and you took it as your cue to start clearing.

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. You’re our guest. Go sit with Rei and Miri - relax.”

You froze, relax? What…?

“Yeah, come sit with me again, kitty!” Miri chimes, patting the space besides her. “We can watch Papa Rei win!” Seems like she’d be won over by Rei’s name for you.

“Sorry,” Kazuki rubs the back of his head. “I promise when we find out your real name we’ll nip that in the bud. Go, sit."

You walk over to the couch and sit down besides Miri, as she and Kazuki had instructed. She laughed joyfully, watching the man game for a couple of minutes as the blonde bustled around in the background, appearing to pack a bag.

“Miri, come on! Time to go.”

“Oh…” Miri frowned, before she scrambled into your lap. “Will you still be here when I get back, kitty? I want to hang out with you more!”

“Yes, Miri…” Kazuki hesitates before he says your new name, apparently, “kitty will be. Can you go get your coat on?”

“Yay!” Miri squeezes you around the neck, before dashing off towards the front door.

“Okay,” Kazuki stands in front of the TV, trying to divert Rei’s attention from the screen. “I’ll drop Miri off at daycare and then go see Kyu, let him know how things went and if he can get us any information. I’ll bring us back some lunch, okay?”

“Bye.”

You nod.

Kazuki rolls his eyes, before he heads towards the door. Miri declares herself ready and Kazuki puts his shoes on. The door opens and Miri yells, “Bye, Papa Rei! Bye, kitty!”

The door closes.

You stare at the television. Rei was playing some sort of shooting game – you thought that was an odd way to relax after last night. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do now, though. Kazuki had set out his morning, but not yours. You had your routine at the house – serve and clear breakfast, wash the dishes, make the beds, do the laundry, sweep and scrub the floors… Though, what you really wanted to do at this moment if anyone was to ask was use the facilities, but you weren’t sure what the deal was here. When you were on your own doing your chores you could visit whenever, but if you were with him, you were expected to remain there - head bowed, awaiting instructions. Was Rei the same? You shuffled subtly in your position, trying to relieve the pressure on your bladder somewhat. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but, due to his profession and upbringing, he was acutely aware of his surroundings at all times.

“What’s the matter, kitty?”

You freeze and sit poker straight, maybe you’d annoyed him with your movements, distracted him from his game, made him lose…

He pauses the game and leans forward, sliding one of Miri’s pieces of paper towards him and another crayon.

“Can you write it down?”

You bite your lip and pick up the crayon, your stupid hand shaking again. Please may I go to the bathroom?

Rei blinks as he reads it, as if making sure he's read it correctly. “Sure. You don’t need to ask permission.” He unpauses his game and continues button mashing. You exhale, getting up to your feet, bracing yourself for it being a trick. He’d loved changing the rules to keep you on your toes, after all.

Nothing comes as you take a step - no harsh word, no fist or kick - followed by another in the direction of where Kazuki had shown you last night. As you enter and turn to close and lock the door, you can see Rei is still engrossed in his game.

After completing your business, you wash your hands thoroughly in the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is pale and your braids are messed up. You want to re-do them but you don’t want to seem like you’re taking too long in here – what if there’s a time limit? You tuck in a few loose strands before unlocking the door. Rei’s game play continues and you beeline it back to the couch, sitting exactly where you’d been before and watch.

Your mind starts to wonder – what was going to happen? Were you going to serve these two now? Is that how it worked in the criminal word – kill whoever and their property gets passed on to you? But that didn’t make sense, earlier Kazuki had said you were a guest, right?

“Here, kitty,” Rei says softly, interrupting your thoughts as he presses a controller in your hands. “You can be player two.” He’s switched the game when you were staring into space – Morio Kart now flashes on the screen. You’d seen it years ago but never played. There were no games consoles growing up – you hadn’t even had a television towards the end. Everything had been sold off to try and alleviate your father’s debts.

“Have you played before?” You shook your head. “You steer using the joystick, press this one to accelerate, this one to drift, and this one to throw stuff.” He points to the buttons one by one and you burn it into memory at once. It’s important to remember instructions.

The next few days are odd. Kazuki said Kyu - a business associate of theirs? - was doing his best to work out your past, but to let him know if you recalled anything that might point them in the right direction, however vague it might be but you couldn't even provide a city name. The new routine would consist of breakfast, Kazuki finally relenting in letting you help with dishes whilst he took Miri to daycare, you’d then sit with Rei, occasionally acting as player two, have lunch, fold some laundry with Kazuki, one of them would collect Miri and you’d colour or play something with her in the evening before dinner.

Tonight, things in the household are tense. Kazuki is at his wit’s end, arguing with a disengaged Rei – you’re not quite sure what about but you wanted to keep out of eyeline. Being around raised voices had never ended well for you. You’re at the top of the stairs after you’d taken up the load of laundry you’d folded with the blonde earlier while he was distracted in the dispute, and from your elevated position you can see Miri reaching for the pan of boiling hot water on the stove and your heart stops. You can’t make it down in time to physically stop her and Kazuki and Rei aren’t going to see in time...

You lean over the edge and open your mouth, “M-M-M-Miri, n-no!”

All eyes snap to you at that point - Miri’s included, thankfully, and she stops. You slapped your hand across your mouth, feeling bile rise up in your throat. Your voice sounds so foreign and wrong and you shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no…

Kazuki’s eyes move to Miri and he sees the little girl 's hand hovering centimetres away from the hot pan. “Miri, don’t touch that!” He roars, and she snatches her hand away but continues to stare up at you, along with Rei.

“Kitty spoke!”

“She did,” Rei agreed, and you bite your lip hard. Idiot.

Kazuki had made his way over to the hob, turning off the heat and pushing the pan to the back. Dinner would have to wait. “Miri, I’ve told you a dozen times, you can’t be playing around here. You can get really hurt.”

“But, Papa Kazuki,” she tugs at his trouser leg, “kitty said my name!”

You dart down the stairs, bowing your head over and over apologetically. Your eyes are brimming with tears. It wasn’t your place to discipline the girl, of course it wasn’t…

“She did, didn’t she?” Kazuki replied warmly, before balking when he saw your face. “Oh, hey! No, no, don’t cry! There’s nothing to cry about, we’re not mad. We’re glad to hear you speak, honestly. Aren’t we, Rei?”

Miri is now at your arm, pulling at it. “Say it again! Say it again!”

“Can you?” Rei asks, sounding curious.

“Please!” Miri squeals.

You swallow, looking at all their hopeful faces. It was an order, wasn’t it? “M-M-M-Miri.” You oblige, before ducking your head again.

Miri laughs, tugging at your arm with renewed vigor. “Now say my papas’ names!”

“Miri…” Kazuki warns. “Kitty can speak when she wants and say what she wants, okay? She’s not a performer for you.”

“But I like hearing her voice!”

“Yes, we do too”, he stressed, meeting your eyes at that point, “but she can take it at her own pace.”

There is a lull in conversation – everyone’s eyes are still on you and you hate it. Thankfully, Miri’s stomach rumbles loudly.

“Papa, I’m hungry!”

“Right, dinner!” Kazuki returns to the hob and starts bustling around the kitchen, forgetting about his argument from Rei a few moments before. You’re thankful for the intervention, the distraction and you duck into the bathroom to catch your breath.

Kazuki has taken Miri up to bed and it’s just you and Rei on the couch. He’s gaming as usual, but he has the volume turned down low.

“You can say my name, if you’d like.” He mumbles.

You look at him, unsure. “I’d like to hear you say it, but you don’t have to. I think you’re scared of someone thinking you’ve said the wrong thing, but you should be able to say whatever you feel. Since you already said Miri’s, maybe my name would be easy to say next, to ease you into it.”

His eyes have never left the screen as he speaks. A few moments of silence follow before you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “H-hi, R-R-Rei.”

You open one eye and look over. “Hi.” He replies back, a small smile on his face.

Part two now here.

#buddy daddies #rei suwa x reader #fluff writing #buddy daddies x reader #rei suwa fluff #rei x reader #miri unasaka #kazuki kurusu #ghostdogwrites #buddy daddies fanfic #buddy daddies fluff

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crusadingcookie · 1 year

Note

Hey i was wondering if maybe u can do a fic where reader is part of taskforce 141 and most of the time is super focused on the mission and her orders but seems out it it bc its her daughter bday or sum ,and they find out she used to have a family (husband,children the while shabang) but they were murdered or died in a terrorist attack. I just want something really angsty 😭💀

spring daffodils

Also on AO3!

Pairing: TF141 & fem!Reader, mentioned Reader x unnamed!Husband

Summary: It’s been years since the tragic death of your husband and daughter at the hands of an enemy target you were tracking at the time. On the day of what would have been your daughter’s birthday, something in a mission causes you to break down in front of the rest of the task force. Or: 3k words of the reader crying and Task Force 141 comforting her

Word Count: 3k

Content Warnings: fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, brief argument with Ghost at the beginning but nothing too bad, Reader was married and had a child, mentions of death (including death of a child), brief mention of blood, Reader has the codename “Tigress”, this is all strictly platonic, Tigress has that widow trauma so no time for romance, no beta we die like Tigress' family, it's for the angst plot guys I swear

A/N: Thank you for the request, I’m sorry this is kinda late but I hope you enjoy it! The ending is a bit meh but I already felt bad with how late this is. I tried to make this as angsty as possible but with some comfort and a bit of fluff at the end.

It was spring when you first met him. You were back home after a long, tiring time of non-stop tours and missions. You decided to take a small break of a couple of months before specialising further in your military career. A new café had opened near your home and you often found yourself there, spending the afternoon in the cosy shop. It was where you first met him. You had just picked up your cup of coffee when something bumped into you from behind, causing your coffee to spill all over the front of your shirt. You turned around, ready to have a word with whoever knocked into you when you were met with a ramble of apologies and promises to buy you a new coffee. Soon you found yourself sitting with the man in a private corner of the café, a hot cup of coffee in front of you and a promise of a new shirt to replace the coffee-stained one. One date quickly turned into two, the both of you enraptured with each other. And after a few years, a golden ring adorned your finger. After a year or so of the two of you being married, your daughter was born. A little human being who brought joy and innocence to your life, who did not know of the true horrors her mum faced to keep people like her safe.

=====

And it was spring when they died. The trees were starting to bud and the flowers were starting to bloom again. The sky was finally clear after months of grey clouds and cold winds. Mother Earth was once again encouraging and welcoming new life when their light was snuffed out. A bitter irony.

The family of crows which lived in your back garden sat in the branches of the tree overlooking your driveway. Watching as you made your way across the driveway and to the front door, observing like a bad omen. Only for you to discover the bodies of your husband and daughter. Shot dead in the very living room of your own home. It was like a silly game of Cluedo, whodunnit and with what? Except this wasn’t a silly game of Cluedo. You knew exactly who had ordered this to be done.

Their deaths were because of your line of work. A tragic event born from a multitude of failures. The target you were chasing at the time with your old squad had sent out the hit on your family. In a last-ditch attempt to attack your squad in some way. And if he couldn’t get to your squad directly, then he would hurt them indirectly. And that he did. Somehow it got out that you had a family, it shouldn’t have. Someone back at base fucked up because that information should have been strictly secret to prevent these types of situations in the first palace. It should have been redacted behind a big block of black ink on your file. But in the end, your target was the one with the last laugh whilst you were forced to deal with the sight of your husband and daughter murdered in your own home.

Since that day you have thrown yourself into your work. Sinking in an endless ocean of mission after mission, wanting to give up and stop swimming and yet just as the last breath of air leaves your lungs you find yourself breaking the surface yet again. A never-ending cycle of peace until the storm of grief strikes anew.

Without anyone left back home, it was easy to dedicate everything to the military and a few years later you found yourself recruited by no other than Captain John Price himself. This new task force, the 141, was the closest thing to family you had experienced in a long time. And yet, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to tell the boys about them. About your husband and your little girl. A part of you reasoned that there was no need for them to know, what was the point when their fate has already been engraved in stone and nothing can change the outcome of what happened. Or maybe you were just too much of a coward to confront what happened that day.

What you couldn’t ignore was the current date. Its significance is seared into your mind, a constant reminder of what could have been. Of what you have lost. And of course, the task force was assigned a mission on this day of all days. At first, the mission you and the rest of the task force were on was going well. You always prided yourself in being professional and focused when it came to missions. You knew the seriousness of the situation and followed orders given to you.

And then it all went to shit. You were already feeling off the moment you woke up. Not even looking at the small desk calendar to remind yourself of the date. As if you haven’t been counting down the days. Like clockwork, waiting for the guilt and grief to wash over you until the tsunami passed and you waited until another 365 days passed to repeat the process.

You and your team had cleared the abandoned village the enemy had set up base in. You were ordered to search and clear one of the buildings in case there were any enemies in hiding. As you methodically made your way through the house you came across what clearly used to be a child’s room. Toys were strewn about, but what caused you to pause was the sight of a teddy bear dropped at the foot of the bed. Intel had informed you that the village was forced to flee as the enemy forces occupied the area, some resisting and resulting in civilian deaths. Your eyes zeroed in on the blood splatter on one of the teddy’s ears, the fake fur matted with the dried liquid.

“Mum, can I get that teddy pretty pleaasee?”

“Alright sweetie, but only this one okay?”

“Yay thank you! I will name you… hmmm… Sir Stripes!”

You honestly did not remember much after that. The rest of the village was deemed clear and soon you were on the flight back to base. You fought to keep yourself together just for a few more hours until you were back on base and could grieve alone within the confines of your own four walls. Your team watched with concern as you sat, back straight and staring ahead at the hull of the plane.

A hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your memories. You recognised the face of the pilot and it took you embarrassingly long to realise the rest of the team had already disembarked the plane. You mumbled what you hoped was an intelligible apology and made your way over to the locker room. Thankfully the room was empty, you loved your teammates that was without question. But right now, you didn’t think you could make it much longer until you broke down. With practised ease, you stripped yourself of your gear and it seemed you were lucky enough that no one came to find out why you were taking so long. You should have known by now that luck typically doesn’t go your way. Just as you put away the last of your gear a voice from the doorway interrupted you.

“Care to explain what’s up with you today?” With a deep breath, you turned and faced Ghost. Your lieutenant was standing in the doorway of the armoury, already out of his field gear, although he looked just as intimidating in his normal attire.

“I don’t know what you mean, the mission was a success.” You said, attempting to feign ignorance. Of course, Ghost saw through that.

“You were out of it” Ghost replied, his eyes piercing into yours, his sharp gaze never leaving you.

You stayed silent, hoping that he would drop it and let you go so that you could inevitably cry in peace. The two of you stood in silence, staring at each other until Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, looking even more imposing in the doorway.

“Don’t bullshit me Tigress. You were clearly out of it, hell even Soap noticed and you know it takes him long to figure this kind of shit out.”

“The mission was a success, so I don’t see why this is an issue.” You huffed, starting to get irritated at the man’s persistent probing. Any other day you would be happy to know that the infamous Ghost cared. But right now? Right now you just wanted to be left alone. You just wanted to stew in your grief, let the dark thoughts remind you of what happened. You had to keep the walls up. They can’t know how fucked up your life was. How you failed to protect them. You don’t deserve their comfort.

Ghost shifted at the slight tone in your voice. If it wasn’t clear before that something was bothering you, now it definitely was. “It becomes an issue when one of my soldiers is not thinking clearly in enemy territory.”

“Look, Lieutenant, it's getting late, we’re all tired. This won’t happen again.” You sighed, exasperated by both the exhaustion from the mission and the emotional toll it took on you.

You pushed past the man and made your way to the task force’s shared kitchen area. Hoping to get a fresh glass of water and some snacks before your inevitable break down. Of course Ghost, the stubborn man that he is, followed you. He wasn’t done with this situation and in his own way wanted to make sure you were okay so that you wouldn’t be distracted in future missions. You ignored the rest of your team sitting in the room and beelined straight for the kitchen cupboard, taking out an empty glass.

“This isn’t a joke Tigress. One mistake and it can cost you your life out there”

“I know that!” You exclaimed in response to Ghost’s voice, not turning around to face the man who had followed you to the common area.

“Do you? Do you know that? Because today, out there it seemed like one of my soldiers was ready to put her life in danger because she wasn’t aware!”

Ghost waits for an answer but when he gets none he continued, “I can’t have you out there acting as if there is nothing for you to go back to back home”

“Well, there is nothing back home!” You yelled out, setting the glass not so gently on the counter. Immediately you closed your eyes in regret of your outburst.

Ghost faltered for a second, the rest of the team watching you with your back turned to them

You faced the wall, feeling the sting grow stronger in your eyes. You tilted your face up towards the ceiling, hoping it would stave off the tears. The muscles in your jaw tensed as you clenched them in an attempt to keep your composure.

“Tigress?”

You took a deep breath and turned to face your team. They watched as you faced them, your lip quivering as you fought to contain the sobs building in your throat, eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at any second. You rapidly blinked your eyes at the moisture building up in them.

“I’m gonna go to sleep,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Hey, don’t pull away from us, please. Tell us what’s wrong” Gaz was the first one to break the silence, he got up and moved to stand in front of you. “Are you alright?” he asked, stretching his arms out towards you in a silent offering.

At the sound of his gentle voice the walls you so desperately built to shield your own heart broke. And with them your last composure. You sniffled a few times, inhaling the air up through your nose as your face twisted with both the emotional pain and the effort of not breaking down. You shook your head softly at him, words failing you at this moment due to the lump in your throat and the tight coil wrapped in your chest. You practically dove into Gaz’s outstretched arms, allowing yourself for the first time in years to have this comfort. His arms came down to wrap around you and in the safety of his embrace, the first sob escaped from where you tried to bury it down. The tears quickly followed and found their way down your cheeks.

The two of you stood there for what felt like hours, Gaz gently rocking you from side to side. Years of built-up grief and anguish finally escaped from where you had buried those feelings deep within your heart, bubbling up into a series of broken sounds escaping your lips. After a few minutes, your sobs calmed down to a few quiet hiccups and sniffles. Another arm joined to draw comforting circles on your back, you tilted your head from where it was resting against Gaz’s chest to see Soap standing next to you. A warm smile on the Scotman’s face.

“I- um…” you trailed off, your words interrupted by yet another sniffle.

“Take your time lass,” answered Soap

You sent him a watery smile and pulled your sleeves over your hands to wipe at your eyes as well as your running nose. You coughed to clear the croakiness in your voice and took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.

“I had a husband years ago. We were married and even had a little girl together. This was before I joined the task force and everything,” you paused to accept a tissue from Price, you blew out your nose before continuing. “And well, they were both killed because of my involvement in a case. The target we were tracking sent out the hit.”

“Kid, I had no idea.” Price said, taking your used tissue from your hand and replacing it with a clean one. He may deny that he is the dad of the team, but all of you knew he cared for every single one of you.

“I didn’t want any of you to know. I tried putting that shit behind me. Didn’t want to talk about it, so I left it out of my file.” You explained and with a weak laugh you continue, “she would have been eight today. Her dad would always buy her those supermarket cakes, and if I wasn’t home she would insist I get one as well so that I could eat some cake too.”

All of your teammates’ hearts ached seeing how much pain you carried, how long you probably suffered and grieved for their losses without having anyone to comfort you. Never before had they seen you with this much pain in your voice, you were always the one who got the job done on missions. Who seemed like they had their life together and returned on leave to a happy home life.

You looked up after dabbing at your eyes with the tissue to see Price standing in front of you. You didn’t think you had any tears left in you but at the sight of your Captain, the unofficial dad of the team, with his arms out wide offering you a hug and a soft look in his eyes you felt the tears well up once again.

You accepted Price’s hug and you felt the distinct lump in the back of your throat build up again and as much as you tried to will it away, it persisted and soon more sobs were forced from you. The smell of cigars and smoke enveloped you in the warmth of his embrace. Price only pulled you closer to his chest at the sound of your sobs, allowing you to fully bury your face into his shirt, no doubt wetting the fabric with your tears.

Soon Gaz joined you two, tears of his own in his eyes. Price reached up with one of his arms and pulled the younger man in. Soap followed shortly after and finally, you felt gentle yet firm arms enveloping all of you. You looked up to see Ghost, a rare soft look in his eyes and a silent apology for having pushed you for answers earlier.

You felt safe here in the big, warm group hug of your teammates and slowly your sobs dwindled until they completely died down.

“I have some pictures I can show you guys,” you disentangled yourself from the group hug to move to one of the couches and took out your phone, scrolling past pictures of the task force members as well as pictures of your old team. You finally found your favourite picture, it shows your husband and daughter together, a tiger plushie clutched in your daughter’s hands. Your team gathered around as you showed them the picture.

“Wait, is that why?” Soap began to ask and you nodded.

“They were her favourite animal. And when she found out about codenames, she practically insisted on that being my codename”

“So like a secret spy!”

“Yes sweetie, it’s a secret spy name”

“Can you choose your own?”

“We can, or it’s a nickname given to us by our friends”

“Ooo how about Tiger? No! Tigress!”

“That’s an amazing idea, honey”

You took a moment to stare at the picture, smiling at how happy they both looked in it. Your hand which held the crumpled tissue reached up to lightly dab at the tears welling up in your eyes again. You accepted another tissue from Ghost this time, where he got them from you had no idea but you were grateful for it anyways.

The rest of the evening was spent with all of you sharing various stories from over the years. Tucked in between your teammates, tired from the emotional day, you felt a sense of home. Something which you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

#female reader #cod mw2 x reader #reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x reader #taskforce 141 x reader #141 x reader #angst #fluff #taskforce 141 #cod ghost #cod soap #let me know if there are any mistakes #thank you and i hope you enjoy

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kitashousewife · 7 months

Text

we're in trouble now

an: Halloween vibes? but not really? idk sort of kind of based on bad, bad, bad by LANY

pairings: geto x fem!reader

warnings: MANGA SPOILERS (vol 0, geto's past/high school years) mentions of: killing, curses, death, blood, police, crime, throwing up/gagging. sorcerer au, reader is not a sorcerer. established relationship, pet names, angst to comfort kinda? geto is just a little troubled, lowercase intentional

geto has been...off lately. and you're not sure why. he's been coming home later and later each night, causing you to lie awake in your shared bed, staring up at the ceiling, worried out of your mind.

it must be his job.

you've been dating for three years now. you knew before you started to date that he was a jujutsu sorcerer. he told you one night at the fanciest restaurant in tokyo, flushed cheeks and stuttering over his words. you couldn't care less, though. if anything, it was fucking hot to have a sorcerer as a boyfriend.

his job never got in the way of anything, though. he had amazing friends, who you've spent lots of time with. he was always home before dinner, never leaving on missions any longer than two days, even offering to take you along.

the last time that happened was about five months ago.

now it's 3:30 am, and you've found yourself in bed by yourself. again. calling him again, the line goes to voicemail almost instantly. you huff and throw your phone on the bed, watching it bounce before it lands face up. to your surprise, he's calling you back. rushing over, you leap onto the mattress, answering as quickly as possible.

"s-sugu? baby, are you alright?" your voice shakes. you're not sure why your chest feels so tight, why your breaths seem harder and harder to take.

geto feels the same way. he always does after he finishes off another one.

phone between his ear and shoulder, geto stands in front of a public restroom sink, scrubbing his hands for the third time in a row. the cheap soap does nothing to get rid of the blood that stains his fingers, deep in every crevice of his skin. looking at himself in the mirror, he feels an incredible sense of guilt.

"yeah, i'm fine baby. hey can you do me a favor, sweetheart?"

you can hear his voice echoing, almost as if he's in a pool.

"s-sure, where are you?"

geto feels guilty. he doesn't mean for you to be this upset. he also doesn't want to lie to you.

the four bodies behind him in the open stall are making it a little tough.

"oh i've just been finishing up work," one of the bodies, eyes still open, stare right at geto through the reflection of the mirror as he speaks. "i'll be home soon though, darling. i promise."

he hits mute as a shaky sigh leaves his lips. he peeks at his reflection once more, watching as the shirt worn by one of the dead bodies soaks up more blood. one of the bodies lets out a liquidy gurgle that echos off the tile walls. geto can almost see the last bit of life escape them, floating up into the air to join the rest of those that died the same way these ones did.

"what was the favor you needed?"

geto feels sick now. your voice so sweet, so innocent and airy. he can't you're with someone like him.

a killer.

sneaking out of the bathroom and to his car, he unmutes himself.

"could you grab a couple suitcases from the closet? pack up enough for a few days, and could you pack a little for me as well?" he buckles himself in and just as he starts his car, the sound of sirens appear in the distance.

"yeah, i can do that," you stand up, heart still racing. did you have a trip planned?

turning down different back alleys, stalling for a second as the sirens get closer, geto takes a deep breath.

"you're an angel. i'll be there soon. i love you, my perfect girl."

you end the call and begin to do as you were asked. filling the suitcases as quick as you can, you don't pay much attention to the outfits you've created. you don't even know where you're going, anyway. you smile, picturing in your mind a quick little getaway for the two of you. sightseeing, sleeping in, and spending time away from work.

you still feel a little off.

where was he?

the door bursts open, presenting a very flustered geto. his bun is almost out, dark tresses barely hanging at the nape of his neck. the pieces that fell out stick to his face from what looks like sweat. his pupils are blown wide, mouth slightly agape as he breathes heavily. you drop the t-shirt of his out of your hands and scramble to your feet.

"s-sugu? oh my god, what happened to you? did you get mugged? d-did someone try to kill you? oh my god," you gasp, hands reaching for every part of his body to make sure he was in one piece.

geto swallows back the guilt induced vomit that sits at the back of his throat. "no, baby, not at all," he coos down at you, but his eyes look anywhere but your face. they check each window and door, before eyeing the suitcases. "thank you so much for doing this. we're going away for a few days, is that alright?" he says with a smile. cupping your face ever so lightly with his slightly stained fingers. he's thankful you forgot to turn on the lights.

"of course, suguru. are we going far? let me make something to eat," you pull him towards the kitchen, but he tugs you back.

"we can eat when we get there, i promise. let's just get going," he speaks quickly, eyes still checking the windows.

"is everything okay?" you say, copying his stares out the window. he notices and grabs his suitcase and yours, before heading towards the door. he almost throws up again, torn between telling you everything and keeping you in the dark. he swallows hard.

"the car is on, i can explain everything later. we'll be just fine, i promise." you smile, feeling a little more at ease. with a nod, you grab a jacket and head out the door.

as soon as you get to the car, geto opens the passenger door for you and puts the suitcases in the back with speed. you haven't even buckled your seatbelt by the time he starts to drive away.

"it's 4:30 am baby, we don't need to race! it's not like anyone is on the road," you laugh and reach your hand to hold his. he jumps when you touch him. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean to scare you," you mumble, and he gives you a small smile, which fades as soon as the faint sounds of sirens fill the air. his stare jumps up to the rearview mirror, and he takes a sudden sharp turn that has you jumping in your seat.

"suguru! what is going on?"

he turns down another street and speeds up a little bit.

"angel, i've gotten myself into a bit of trouble, okay? everything is gonna be just fi-"

"what did you do?" your voice is stern, but geto gives you a smile, eyes softening as he drives down a back road.

"i'll explain everything later, just like i promised. for now, i need you to trust me, okay?"

your mind and stomach scream no no no at you, but your heart takes over.

"okay, i trust you."

you must have fallen asleep at some point on the drive, because when you open your eyes you're met with sunshine and costal views.

"there she is, good morning darling. we're almost there."

blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you realize that you have pulled into a small town next to the ocean. geto appears to be more relaxed. you reach around for your phone, but you can't seem to find it.

"are you looking for your phone?" you nod. "i put it in my bag for you. i thought it would be good for us to stay off of our phones for the next couple of days. just time with each other, how does that sound?" his face beams at you from the driver's seat. you can't say no, especially not when he's being so kind and sweet.

"i think that sounds lovely."

you pull up to a motel, which looks as if it doesn't get a lot of business. you start to feel a little uneasy, and geto can sense that.

"wait right here, i'll get us checked in," he kisses your cheek and walks towards the motel office. now that you're a little more awake, you start to become hyper-aware of your surroundings. based off of the looks, you're at least four hours from home. you start to think a little more. was he running from the cops? what type of trouble is he in?

he returns quickly, room key in hand. he grabs the suitcases out of the car and you follow close behind him all the way to your room. as soon as you enter, he quickly shuts the door and locks it behind him. you have a seat on the old motel bed without a word.

feeling a little more relieved, he sighs and looks at you. worry all over your face, wringing your hands that are placed in your lap.

"isn't this nice? our own little place, right on the ocean. i know how much you love the ocean, we could even go check out the shops later!"

you don't say anything. geto begins to panic.

"are you hungry? would you like me to get some food for us? if you want, we could go-"

"why did you take me here?" your voice is nothing more than a whisper. you feel sick, you know something is terribly wrong. he kneels in front of you on the floor and grabs your hand.

"sweetheart, do you think humans are good people?"

you give him a confused look. "maybe not everyone, but most people i know are good people," you think out loud. geto's stomach feels a little uneasy.

"your asshole manager? you think that guy is a good person?"

"no, not him. but my other coworkers are great people, remember? you've met them!"

of course he has. he's been to many work dinners and events.

he also killed one of them last night, but he won't tell you that.

"darling, why do you think there is so much crime in the world? so many good people like you say, having their lives ruined by these terrible humans. wouldn't the world be a better place if they just...went away?"

your mouth opens slightly and you blink at him a few times. you start to sweat a little bit, and the room feels like it's caving in on the two of you.

"what are you suggesting?"

he comes to sit next to you on the bed and holds you in his arms.

"do you know what i do for work?"

he feels you nod into his chest. "you fight curses, right?"

"that's right. do you know why curses exist?"

you shake your head.

"because of humans. regular humans, like you, who can't fight or see curses. curses only exist because of them. they are able to flow through people and hurt them, which makes my friends and i come in to save them. that doesn't seem very fair, does it?"

you disagree. you know deep down that this isn't right, what he's implying is evil.

"w-well no, but-"

"do you know hard it is to fight curses? to even be around curses?" he stands up, voice raising. hot, angry tears fill his lash line. "do you know how disgusting my cursed technique is?"

your mouth opens and shuts, unable to form any words at all. you want to speak, but you simply cannot find the words to say. you know there is nothing. you can say to help him feel any better.

"i don't know but i want to, i want to understand you better," you mumble, lip quivering and voice cracking slightly. you feel terrible, you had no idea how much pain geto has been in. he paces back and forth in front of you, wiping his tears with his hands. suddenly he stops.

"you'll think that i'm gross, that i'm a monster," he rambles. you stand up, grabbing his hand and holding him close.

"i promise i won't. i love you,"

he takes a deep breath and backs away, leading you back to the bed to sit down. you continue to hold his hands in your own, attempting to provide any sense of comfort.

"i can summon curses. i can call them to help me fight, whenever i need them," he starts, glancing at you to see your reaction. to his surprise, you're completely neutral.

"that sounds really cool, sugu. what do they look like?" you ask, eyes wide and full of curiosity. geto can't help the smile that grows on his face at how innocent you are.

you are exactly why he wants this perfect world.

he raises his hand and a small curse appears. something kind of silly looking, much like a kids drawing with wings. you look at it for a second, before he interupts.

"can you see it?"

you nod. "that's good. some humans can see them, and some can't. this little guy is harmless," he waves his hand and the curse flies away, out the door and into the world.

"can you make bigger ones?"

he chuckles. "yes, some ten times his size, maybe even bigger. they all have different abilities, some are stronger than others," he looks at you once more, relieved to see that you're smiling.

"how do you get them, do you make them?"

geto doesn't say anything, but continues to stare at the carpet at his feet.

"i swallow them," noticing your confused face, he elaborates. "it turns into a ball, fits right in the palm of my hand, almost looks like a crystal ball," he swallows hard. "then i just...swallow it."

you nod and stroke his back. he shivers a little at the thought.

"it tastes so vile, so disgusting. i can't even describe the taste," he shakes his head, tears brimming his eyes once more. "tastes like death. which make sense," he sniffles.

"why, sugu?"

he looks at you, tears streaming down his face at this point. you brush them away with your thumb, but they keep falling.

"i'm a killer. you don't deserve me. i try to make this world a better place, one where i don't have to watch my friends die. one where i don't even have to worry about curses, one where i don't have to think about ever losing you," he raises his voice, each word coming out through choked sobs.

"i want to keep you safe. i want to be away from this, from everything. i want to protect you," he cries, and you pull him close. "god, everyone probably thinks i'm so fucked up. they probably thing im ruining your life,"

you shake your head. "people can think whatever they want." with a nod, he lays back down on the bed. you push the fallen strands out of his face, playing with them a bit to help him calm down.

"how long do you want to stay here?"

he wipes his face and props himself up on his elbows. "i dunno, couple of days at least,"

you nod. the two of you sit in silence. geto has run out of things to say, as have you.

it’s light outside, sunny and bright. the exact opposite of the mood inside of the dingy motel room. seagulls sing outside as they perch, happy tunes that almost make you laugh. you’re not sure what to think, what to feel.

“are we gonna be alright, sugu?”

he sighs. “i think so.”

#this has been sitting in my drafts for an entire year #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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glassgulls · 1 year

Text

Letters to My Love

Fandom: Lord Of The Rings Return of the King

Pairing: Haldir x fem!reader

Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, kissing, awful sugary fluff (I need a happy ending as life is a blackhole of existential dread).

Summary: You leave Lórien after spending time recuperating to visit your friend Eowyn and promise to send word back to your friend Haldir. Though you think of him more than that, does he feel the same though?

Word count: 6040

Comments: More Haldir for the Haldir throne! First longer piece in the LOTR fandom. Hopefully I've kept Haldir relatively in character. Thank you to @heilith for the encouragement and motivation to finish this and post. You're a wonderful inspiration.

Putting your quill down you stare at the ink now drying. Reading it over you frowned in concentration, trying to make sure there was a tone of friendship without any of your clear desire bleeding through. Friendly and precise was the aim as always in your now routine one sided correspondence. It was getting increasingly difficult with each letter though to tow that line especially with who the recipient was.

You look at the envelope already set aside, Marchwarden Haldir in your neatly block printed handwriting followed by the address; it always gives you a small rush even to write his name.

You had left Lórien after promising Eowyn to visit her and her new betrothed and not wanting to outstay your welcome with your Elven hosts you had set off as soon as you were well enough to ride alone. But it had been a bittersweet parting. Of course you had wanted to come and congratulate your friend on her new love but you felt loath to leave the peaceful forest, and your new friends.

Haldir had asked you to send word that you were safe when you had left Lórien, your logical mind telling you that it was out of friendship, but the slight frown as he had softly requested it had made your breathing hitch. It almost seemed for a moment as if he had been nervous to ask. The usual stoic mask he wore as Marchwarden slipped if but for a split second under the morning sun.

*****

"I promise my friend." You had replied after climbing on your horse smiling gently. After all it was the least you could do after being able to rest and recuperate after the battle with Sauron in the beautiful sanctuary of Lórien.

You tried to ignore the traitorous voice in the back of your head whispering that you were a coward and running away.

Gripping the reins tightly till your knuckles went white you swallowed hard. The growing feelings you had developed for the ellon in front of you were pushed down and sitting uncomfortable in your chest waiting to crawl up your throat and crow out to the world.

Haldir had stood by your horse, hand on its neck stroking it softly as he went quiet, the morning breeze stirring his immaculate hair. It had seemed to you he had wanted to say something, his brows drawn into a small frown that you didn’t know when you had started to recognise.

“You must promise me to be safe, the roads are still dangerous,” He had spoken eventually into the horse's neck, fidgeting with a lock of its mane. You had opened your mouth to try to defend your skills but the words choked in your throat, your mouth shut promptly at the way his hand stilled with its incessant action. His head turned suddenly to you and the frown had deepened.

“I do not doubt your skill,” He continued and he pressed closer to you, his blue eyes boring into your own. “Just promise me to be watchful.” Haldir finished, his free hand moved to your calf for a brief moment of contact but enough to feed your hunger for him.

His gaze struck you dumb, a heat rising to your cheeks. All you could do was nod mutely in return, the blue of his eyes usually clear as the summer sky were troubled and stormy. Was the thought of your safety that important to him? Perhaps he thought of you also as more of a friend?

A watery smile tugged at your lips at the possibility, a foolish notion to be sure for someone so perfect to find attraction in the imperfections of a mortal such as yourself. You leaned down and the bittersweetness of causing him concern selfishly comforted you slightly in that you were not alone in the emotion when he had parted from you to go on patrols. Now before him, you missed him so and you had not even left his presence.

“I promise you Haldir,” You had spoken softly, proud that there was no wobble to your tone as you reached out and grasped his shoulder. Those blue eyes cleared of the storm for a moment.

“I will write every time I stop, you shall receive so many letters you will regret asking me,” you tried laughing and you saw the corner of his lips curled up slightly. “You shall receive so many you will have to clear a bookcase to house them.” You giggled lightly at the image and he gave a breathy laugh that sounded more like a relieved exhale. His hand returned to your calf and squeezed lightly.

“I shall clear two.” He stated with the deadpan tone that you have come to crave. Tilting your head you stared at him a moment to engrave the way the sunlight played across his face, it lit the blue of his eyes in a blinding shade that you would willingly go sightless staring at. He seemed to be watching you just as carefully and you smiled softly at him, in the way that only he provoked from you.

“Just as well, Rúmil and Orophin have gifted me enough supplies to paper your flet.” You smirked and watched as the mention of his brothers made Haldir grimace a moment. The hand on your calf moved to your hand resting on his shoulder.

“Best to put them to good use then, I shall hear no end of it if you do not.” Haldir had spoke in that exasperated tone he always used when speaking of his younger brothers. You couldn’t help the grin on your face though at the twitch of a smile on his lips that always betrayed his tone.

A tightness in your chest returned then, you would miss them all, Rúmil and Orophin never failing to make you laugh at their antics. Their merciless teasing of Haldir stretched now to you in a way that gave you a sense of pride that the brothers felt comfortable enough to torment you.

Haldir's hand was warm against your own, the rough callous of his fingers a seductive rasp against your responsive skin. Goosebumps danced up your arm at the contact. Your gazes met again and a heavy silence fell over you both. The cool breeze in the trees whispered around you as the heat from earlier played across your cheeks again.

Parting from him shouldn’t give you such pain, but knowing you would wake up the next morning not being able to see his face made your stomach turn in unease. Goodbyes were never such a heartbreak for you before with a life constantly on the road but now? Here where the breeze was sweet in your nose and the warm sun dappled on your skin this was a place that finally felt like a home now despite being a mere mortal.

You let your eyes lower as you don’t want Haldir to see the sadness in your gaze, not when you were parting like this.

“Promise me you will stay safe also Haldir.” You whispered, his fingers had flinched when you spoke his name.

“I promise.” Haldir stated resolutely. Slowly raising yourself straight in the saddle you reluctantly withdrew your hand from his shoulder. Haldir stood watching you again with that inscrutable look for a heartbeat before raising a hand to his chest in a farewell gesture.

You mimic the gesture and force a smile on your face though you can feel the burn of tears behind it.

“Farewell Marchwarden Haldir.” You spoke, the forced smile started to crack. Moving your horse forward through the forest you had felt eyes watching you the whole time and knew it wasn’t your imagination.

*****

A knock and giggle from behind you snapped your mind to the present again as the door to your room opened.

Twisting around you see the familiar face of the servant girl Molly bustles in. Turning back you frown and rest your fingers on the letter in front of you again. Sighing softly you look out the window of your guest room in Minas Tirith. The sun starting to set it lit up the city below, throwing shadows across the stone you mind wanders off to tall trees and blue eyes.

Lazily leaning on your hand the picture of Haldir gazing at you plays across your mind again. You had never seen a more perfect colour of blue than his eyes. No sky, ocean or flower could come close to his piercing gaze. It had not taken you long to understand it was not just the colour but the soul behind the eyes that made them so alluring. You felt a pull to him from the moment the two of you had met.

You counted yourself lucky that Haldir had given you the opportunity to become close. Though the act of saving the others' life in heavy battles, had helped forge a bond between you and the handsome ellon. It was he who had invited you to stay with him after Aragon's coronation having now no fixed plans. Your old companions had teased you mercilessly after finding out.

"An invitation from the Marchwarden himself? A rare thing indeed." Aragon had asked with a large grin and a wink making flushed heat rush from head to toe as you stood beside the elf. Stealing a glance up at him you had noticed the twitch in Haldir's jaw.

You hear Molly clear her throat behind you and you blink away the memory.

“Sorry for disturbing you m’lady would you like me to lay your dress out?” Her warm voice makes you shake your thoughts.

Turning around again you face her smiling, glad of her company.

“Yes please and tell me any new gossip.” You grin. Molly clicks her tongue but throws a smile back at you.

“Of course, you need new material for your letter to your friend?” She asks but the sly look and emphasis on “friend” makes you glance at the floor as you try to squash the girlish giggle.

“I enjoy his company, he’s a very interesting person.” You try to insist as Molly opens the wardrobe and with an expert eye pulls out a long gown.

“Of course he is,” She replies, her dark eyes are warm and clearly don’t believe you. “I caught a glimpse of him at the Kings coronation,” Molly continued plucking out accessories. Turning to you she raised an eyebrow and tried to look serious. “He looked very interesting.” She teased lightly.

“Oh stop you.” You grouse half heartedly. Standing up you make your way over to the bed and trail your fingers over the fine gown laid out. Surely it was a little over the top for a small party? You go to voice this but stop yourself after all Molly knows more than you ever could about court protocol and the younger woman had been a godsend in helping you navigate the intricate politics thus far.

“Does he answer back?” The other woman asks innocently. You stand over the dress still and go silent. Noticing your actions Molly turns from the hair pins laid out and tentatively steps over.

That was the thing, the thing that hit you like a gut punch and made you lie awake at night. All the letters you had written over the weeks you had not received any in return. You didn’t want to admit the thought made you not sleep for the last couple of weeks though the results were clear every time you saw your reflection.

“No.” You reply still gazing at the dress. Focusing on the delicate embroidery of flowers and vines it made you think of lush forests and your stomach lurched. You felt Mollys body hover near you.

“I’m sure he’s just been busy m’lady.” She voiced softly.

“Yes, he has a lot of responsibilities.” You say carefully, feeling your throat constrict around the words. You hoped that was the case, he was on a long patrol and couldn’t write back. But what if he had been hurt or what if he just didn’t want to indulge a silly human and her infatuation? You clasp a hand to your chest at the dull ache hiding behind your ribs at the thought. Perhaps it was time to stop the letters.

A hand drifted over your arm gently luring you away as the door knocked again.

“Come m’lady the bath is here then let's get you ready.”

You hum in agreement as the bedroom door opens and two other servants carry in a tub with jugs of hot water.

“Where is Eowyn?” You ask out of reflex, speaking to her always lifts your heart.

“Lady Eowyn went riding earlier. I’m sure she is getting ready now for tonight.”

You hum again, tonight’s party was to be a smaller affair. You hoped that it was for an announcement between Eowyn and Faramir’s wedding date. The way the two of them looked at each other, if they didn’t get married soon you were sure they would be announcing something other than a wedding.

The bath is quickly set up and Molly closes the bedroom door softly behind the other servants, before coming back over. The scent of lavender and honey drifts over from the tub of water. Scents that should give you some comfort but the icy claws of doubt have struck deep in your chest.

“May I help you with your dress?” She asks, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

You nod silently still looking at the flowers on the dress, it was a beautiful gown gifted by Eowyn for tonight. Raising your hands to your face you pinch your cheeks lightly, this was no face for a party. Seeing your old companions would cheer you up, you were sure of it.

*****

The stone of the balcony was cold to your touch as you clutched in the night air. You had left the party and wandered outside to take a breath of fresh air, the ballrooms' heat with the tight corset of the dress you were wearing was not a happy match.

Earlier thoughts of distracting your mind with the welcomed company of your friends had worked for a little while. But after some time the world had seemed to shift, you were watching them laugh and dance as if you were looking through a window from outside. You felt an outsider lost, alone and unbearable cold in this sweltering hall. Taking your goblet you nodded to the others and whispered to Eowyn you needed a breath of air, her bright eyes had glanced at the closed main door before nodding her response.

“You look beautiful tonight.” She had whispered to you.

“I look tired.” You retorted. Her gaze is quick and sharp, little escaped her notice.

“Does something ail you?” Eowyn asked and you tried to open your mouth but one look into her eyes and you stopped. That knowing gaze, a mixture of sympathy and pity. You let a bitter smile twist on your face.

“Am I that obvious?�� You asked and hoped the others wouldn’t come and pry. You know they mean well but the thought of having to talk about it fills you with an exhaustive dread.

“Only to me,” She said softly and made a show of smiling brightly, fingers running over the sleeve of your gown, pretending to comment on it. “I know that look too well my sister in arms,” You can ‘t help but smile at the honour of her calling you that. “I know because I wore it’s mirror image not that long ago.”

Leaning close she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek she whispered softly making you close your eyes tight to shut out the threat of tears.

“I will see you happy again sister.” She finished, your closed eyes fluttered and missed the furtive glance she gave the door again.

“I’ll be back soon. I just need a moment to myself.” You said leaning back. Seeing her smile and nod, you had walked out.

Closing your eyes you feel the night air cool the sweat beading at your hairline after being in that ballroom. The heady scent of honeysuckle makes you dizzier than the wine at your elbow. The city beyond was quiet at this height, the twinkling lights below like stars. Perhaps you could make your life here now? You would be welcomed for sure. You should stop writing the letters now, let Haldir go, it could never work. He only saw you as a friend, a comrade in arms. Not as a woman, not as an equal in soul.

Perhaps that was for the best, with how short a mortal could live compared to the age that elves did it would be selfish of you to ask for that love from him knowing it would be a blink of his eye and you would be old and grey. That you would be dead and dust and he would have to live on with that grief.

No this would be for the best then. You nodded to yourself and picked up the wine to take a sip. Lost in your own thoughts you never notice the presence of someone approaching behind.

"Hiril vuin," comes a familiar voice from the shadows and you feel your breath hitch. Turning slowly you grip the goblet in your hand till your knuckles hurt, it can't be him? You're tired and thoughts are just added surely?

Silhouetted in the doorway stands a tall broad chested figure. The moonlight catches his features as he takes a step closer and whispers your name.

"Haldir?" You call with a pitiful whisper, praying you were not dreaming.

"Good evening," he says, all shadow and silver light.

You can't help but give an incredulous laugh and confused smile.

"I can't believe it!" You cry with a catch in your voice. "Am I dreaming?" You ask the night air as he moves to stand in front of you.

"I'm very real." he replies, smiling gently. The blond ellon is just as tall and perfect as you remember, dressed in his grey grab as Marchwarden. Reaching out a hand you let your fingertips graze his chest and sweep up to rest on his shoulder. There's a near perceptible shiver that runs through him at the physical contact. He watches you carefully, seemingly finding your giddy wonder amusing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still not fully convinced this is a fanciful hallucination brought on by drink and the heat.

He raises a perfect eyebrow and paces a hand on your own that is still on his chest.

“I was invited and I came for an important task.” He responds, his voice low and calming as if to soothe an excitable child. Perhaps that’s what he saw you as. The thought makes the smile slip from your face and you try to pull away but his grip on your hand stops you. You pause and look at him quizzically.

“Important task?” You ask and he nods.

“Yes but now is not the moment to talk of it.”

You press closer to him and let your trapped hand splay across the broad expanse of his chest. You can almost feel the quick thrumming of his heart, perhaps he arrived in a hurry.

“Aragon and the others are inside if it is that important.” You say and his expression gives nothing away. His eyes make you shiver though. The blue you love is a thin ring of silver in the moonlight, blond lashes catch the light like gossamer. This close you fancy you can see your desire for him in your own eyes reflected in his blown out pupils. The black expanse drawing you in.

Your earlier sensible thoughts of moving on from him are promptly forgotten now, you are a mere moth to the radiance that pours off him. It was foolish to ever think you could extract yourself from him.

“Calad nin.” He whispers and his free hand reaches out carefully to touch your shoulder. The meaning of his words are not lost on you, you wonder if he could hear your thoughts about being drawn to his light. For surely he does not feel the same as you do.

“I have missed you.” You confess and the tell of his lips curling slightly makes you want to reach out and trace it. Engrain it in your memory till you can always feel it at your tips.

“As I have missed you.” He replies and the words alone make you grin wildly.

“You have?”

“You doubt me?” He retorts with a quirk of an eyebrow in a mockery of admonishment.

“Never.” You breathe out, a giggle escaping in the process, and fling yourself at him, clutching at him tightly. Your carefully pinned hair is surely a mess but you'll face Molly’s scolding later for wrecking her hard work.

It takes a moment before he responds. A strong arm wraps around you and drags you closer till you’re not sure where you start and he ends. If only it could always be like this. The evening wind whistles against the unforgiving stone as the two of you stand still clutched at each other.

“Did you get my letters?” You ask eventually breathing in his scent. The fresh smell of woodland and sandalwood makes you relax.

“Yes.” He responds, his arm around your waist has moved to the small of your back running his fingertips where your spine is hiding under the corset. Not moving your head you run your fingers over the edge of his robe.

“You never replied.” You say in a small voice you barely recognise as your own. You feel a sense of accomplishment you have kept out the hurt or accusation from the tone.

“When you left,” He started and then with a little protest from you he pulls you back a little so that he could see your face. “I was sent on patrol for a few weeks, you’re letters were passed on to me when they could but,” And he pauses and looks over you from head to toe as if only realising your state of dress.

“You are truly a sight to behold,” He breathes out like a prayer. You grip his arms and feel the heat from your face rush below. Twisting your fingers in the bulky sleeves of his tunic you wet your bottom lip and don’t miss the narrow of his eyes on the action.

“You were saying?” You asked and tugged in his sleeves.

“Yes,” He continues and he looks momentarily embarrassed that he had his previous statement aloud. “I was on patrol till only a few days ago and my own stationary supply was very limited and couldn’t send my replies back,” He releases you a moment and digs into a pocket within the recesses of his robes.

Letting go of his arms you fiddle with the sleeve of your gown as he extracts a bundle. Haldir passes it over to you solemnly like a great treasure and to you it is. Wrapped neatly with a green ribbon is a small stack of envelopes. You take them reverently and hold them in both hands. Your name is written neatly in a precise, strong hand that fits Haldir well.

“You replied.” You say out loud as the doubts and heartbreak of unrequited affection are doused.

“Did you think I would not?” He says and this time there is a tone of reproach to him.

“I- I know how busy you are, important,” You start and he takes a step forward to you as you stare at the bundle of letters not trusting yourself to be able to stop crying in relief if you look at him.

“With responsibilities other than replying to my silly letters.” You choke out and you curse yourself for getting so emotional. His hands are suddenly on your own cupping the letters between you both. The calluses on his fingertips trace up to your wrists causing another flush of heat to pool below.

“Nothing about you is silly.” He tells you and you close your eyes as his thumbs stroke across the pulse in your wrist. Eru, the things the ellon did to you with such a simple touch.

“I feel it at times when it comes to you,” You say softly. “A silly human yearning for your attention.” His hands still and you bite your lip. You’ve gone too far. The hands on your wrist slide with deliberate slow ease, an illicit seductiveness.

“Look at me,” He commands and you lift your head immediately, your breath catches in your throat at his look. Silver hair and intense eyes as he moves a step closer making you tilt your head back to look up at him and keep eye contact.

“There you are,” He speaks and his voice is low like a purr. “I will only say this once, I never want you to put yourself down because you are human.”

You nod softly and bite your lip.

“The things you do to me,” He mutters. “The way you move me,”

One of his hands trails up to your jaw tracing along it. All you can do is let out a soft whimper at the contact. “No one else has been able to do so in all my years, regardless of who or where they were born.” His thumb moves to swipe over your bottom lip.

“But I have only a short number of years Haldir compared to you. If we,” And you pause now not sure how to word your thoughts.

“If we?” He asks provocatively.

“If we are together,” You continue and heat rushes to your face and down below at what that implies and he hums deep in his chest at the word. “How could I sleep with you beside me knowing the inevitability of what will happen to us? Of leaving you begrudgingly alone and I am nothing but bone and dust?” You raise one of your hands to cup his jaw and he leans into it his warm lips as they press against the delicate skin of your inner wrist. Goosebumps ripple along your arm and across your collarbone.

“Has this been troubling you?” He asks and rubs his nose to nuzzle your pulse.

You nod again as his gaze watches you carefully.

“I wish you had spoken to me sooner so I could ease your mind,” He states. “It is the nature of things that we will die.” He states calmly.

“But,” You start.

“Maybe it will be I who dies first.” He interrupts you.

“Haldir, that’s not funny.” You scold but he only looks at you with a flicker of surprise.

“I was trying to flatter you.”

“Flattery is telling me how pretty I look in this dress, not that there’s a chance you will leave me a grieving heartbroken woman.” You retort hotly and he presses his lips to the pounding pulse under your skin and smiles.

“You're breathtaking in that dress.” He corrects you.

“Haldir,” You start and his lips twitch into that smile.

“And when you’re angry,” He adds and you look at him with what can only be exasperation.

“You are not alone with those thoughts, I spent a long time thinking of the exact same thing.’ He continues and the irritation subsides in you.

“And?” You say almost frightened at what his conclusion is.

He still has your hand and leans into its touch, closing his eyes a second seeming to savour it.

“That a life without you would grieve me more,” Haldir speaks softly. “In all my years I have given myself freely to the responsibilities of my position as an older brother then Marchwarden, it is something I will not ever regret,” His eyes open and flick to you and his a chaste brush of his lips to your fingertips he pulls your hand back to the letters you are both still holding. “Till I met you, grew to know you. I have never wanted anything for myself,” You watch his expression shift from contemplative to resolute.

“Neither of us knows the future and how long we have,” Haldir pauses. “But I do know that the future is meaningless without knowing your love. I shall continue to exist but it shall only be that.” He brings both your hands up to rest on his chest above his heart.

“A song does not last forever but to experience it let it live in you is what makes us alive, though we may mourn it’s end,” Haldir leans down so his nose rubs against your own softly and now it’s your turn to close your eyes to savour the action.

“So will you take a chance and let us sing this song of ours together?” He whispers to you and you let your eyes flutter open. It should be intimidating to see his trademark intense gaze but it only makes your lip wobble and eyes fill with hot tears of happiness.

You move one of your hands from his grip and reach up to his jaw, fingers caressing it and watch as it tenses under your touch. You let it linger before following the line of Haldir's throat, his adam's apple bobbing as your fingers touch his jugular. You can feel his own heartbeat race under your skin.

“Yes Haldir.” You answer and his impassive mask breaks as he smiles as though he wasn’t sure you would agree.

“Yes?” He asks and exhales, letting his shoulders drop with a short soft laugh.

“Yes Marchwarden.” You repeat and close your eyes to let out a small giggle as he pulls you against him again. His arm tightens around your waist as he buries his nose in your hair. Your free hand wraps around his neck as you move your face to press a soft kiss to his jaw. Haldir lets out a low sound that vibrates through you and makes your toes curl. Moving slightly he presses his lips to your ear making you tremble.

“You shiver, are you cold?" He asks, his voice low and lilting.

"No it's not the cold that makes me shiver." You say and turn to meet his gaze. Those ice blue eyes are burning and you revel in the fire.

Haldir's arm runs up your back as he mutters words in Sindarin too quickly for you to catch. His hand stops at the nape of your neck before cupping the base of your skull. His breath fans your cheeks and you close your eyes in anticipation of the handsome ellons kiss. Your ellon now, you licked your bottom lip at the realisation.

There was a brief heartbeat before you felt his chapped lips brush against your own. The chaste action made you mewl softly and you felt the low groan from him before he pressed closer. His plush lips unforgiving against your own as you kissed back desperately. Your arm moves to loop around his neck to tug on his long hair and you're rewarded with a grunt and sigh from Haldir as he nips at your bottom lip. Sighing with content you grant him access to your own mouth which he ravishes with the keen precision he does in everything.

You tug on his hair again and let out your own soft moan as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. Both of you are teeth and tongue as you scrabble for one another. There’s a far away cheering and laughing over the start of a song that startles you both apart.

You try to catch your breath but it’s difficult when you're tangled with Haldir in his vice-like grip. He’s gazing at you again with a softness that makes your chest feel like it will burst.

“If this is a dream don’t wake me.” You state to the universe and Haldir's lip curls slightly softening his usual steely expression.

"It should be I who asks if you are the dream." He finishes.

"Why is that?" You say, your fingers moving from his hair to graze his jaw.

"Standing in the moonlight is how I often dream of you." He murmurs and nuzzles against your cheek.

“And tell me, what do we do in these dreams, Marchwarden?” You tease and let out a breathy laugh as he lets out a shaky exhale.

“I would rather show you dearest.” He mutters his voice dark and delicious as his arm moves so his fingers hold your hip tight.

The sound of laughing and music fades back in again interrupting

“Maybe we should wait till we’re sure we won’t be interrupted?” You ask your throat going dry at the thought of being alone and playing out your own dreams with him. You hear him agree and press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

Pulling back from each other you run a hand over your hair to try and see if it can be saved and do a half hearted attempt at fixing it. You had all you needed now, you could stand to play a little loose with propriety. Smoothing your gown down, you glance up to see him standing watching you with what only could be described as wolfishness that sent your pulse racing again. You reached up and smoothed his own hair and gasped as he grabbed your wrist.

“Haldir?” You ask as he presses his lips against your wrist again.

“Your pulse flutters like a bird.” He states calmly.

“And who’s fault is that?” You accuse him which only makes him smile longingly at you.

“I shall bear the responsibility, I apologise I needed something to sustain me a while till we could be alone again.” He reports so matter of factly it makes you grin.

“And when shall I have time to read your replies my dearest?” You laugh and Haldir pauses a moment.

“That was the important matter I came here to discuss.” He tells you calmly and you frown.

“What is it?” You ask concerned. He steps closer again and brushes the back on his fingers against your hand which you immediately turn your own hand to clutch on to.

“On a desperate matter of if you should feel ready to return with me.” He whispers softly, leaning down so he is eye level with you.

“Return to Lórien?” You ask with a quiet excitement as he nods.

“To return home meleth nin.” He says and watches your reaction. You blink a moment as the words sink in.

Home.

Hot tears fall immediately but Haldir is already holding your face gently and wiping them away with his thumbs.

“Meleth nin?” He asks all serious and alarm. You can’t help but give a gasping laugh which makes him relax again.

“Of course I shall you silly ellon,” You mutter and close your eyes as he kisses you again though softly as if to remind himself you are truly saying those words. “I love you after all.” You confess and you feel his smile against your lips.

“I love you too.” He whispers then says something soft in Sindarian which you need no translation for.

A loud applause erupts from inside as the music finishes.

“We should go back inside, I need to speak to Eowyn,” You say and pull back holding his hand to trail after you to the inside door. Pausing, you look at him, grinning wide and ecstatic.

“I shall tell her I am needed and will be going home soon.” You explain with a mock primness. He glances down and in the moonlight you swear it almost seems he is blushing.

“Yes, you are very much needed.” He agrees with such solemnity. But even in this light you can see his telltale twitch of lips.

“After all, I have important correspondence to catch up on.” You murmur with a happy smile as you press the letters close to your heart.

Haldir smiles warmly and presses a kiss to your hand before letting go and stepping close.

“I shall clear another bookcase at home for them all meleth nin.” He whispers with a smile.

#haldir #haldir x reader #lord of the rings #haldir fanfiction #lotr fanfic

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viridianevergarden · 1 month

Text

So it seems that one of the main gripes that antis have about elriel is the way Azriel worded his big question to Rhys. That the way he said it screams entitlement to Elain? I’m going to break this down a little.

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another."

I really don’t think anything is wrong here.

Consider how Azriel is for a moment. He is of a more sophisticated character and he talks that way normally. The sentence is structured poetically, yes? Azriel is of a poetic sort, as we have seen on many occasions.

Azriel is referring entirely to the numerical imbalance that is present between the 3 to 3 ratio because that’s what it is. A numerical imbalance. Thats why Elain is referred to as “the third”. Weren’t Nesta and Feyre referred to as the “two”?

But it’s only wrong that he referred to Elain as the Third? Okay.

He wasn’t specifically referring to the sisters individually. He was referring to them alongside his brothers as a group. Of course she is the Third, because that is what she is. You’d think an English class would teach that.

This doesn’t mean that he sees her as an object.

Its quite the opposite that he sees her as such, given the fact that this man -across 4 books- has risked life and limb for her, spent time with her, gave her his dagger for her own safety that no one else has ever touched, actively sought her out on many occasions, and defended her against Nesta and *Lucien? Come on now. Let’s be real.

*Voicing that she doesn’t even want him in the BC is a defense in her stead.

No one does all that to slip under someone’s dress or get into their pants. Across 2 years mind.

The “given to another” line really isn’t serious just like the aforementioned.

She practically was given to another. She was thrown at Lucien, as per Lucien’s pov, since he’s oh so important. The cauldron shackled her to him as he is to her. It’s merely an observation. No entitlement.

The way Azriel spoke about Lucien regarding the blood duel, fighting him and beating him, etc. People think that Azriel is screaming entitlement by merely stating that he’d beat him? Oh lord. After Rhys and the narration confirmed that it was true? Spending precious page space to make that known?

Not entitlement. Merely stating the obvious, an observation just like the rest. A truth that SJM was trying to convey.

And don’t start with the “He’S a HiGhLoRd’S sOn, He’D bEaT AzRiEl.” Respectfully, silence. Highlord power is passed on by the death of the current highlord. Highlord esc dominance ≠ highlord power. SJM spent page space to make the fact that Az would win known, get over it.

Then they have the matter of “well why didn’t he fight Rhys back and confess his love for Elain then?”

There’s three answers I can give:

This is a BC, he won’t do that until it’s in a book that he actually stars in as a main character, which obviously is the next installment.

Azriel, as a person, feels he should not love her. That he does not deserve her. That he taints her very being. And that she is too good for him and Lucien. So that statement would be completely out of character for him to do so here. This man hates himself so much that he feels he doesn’t have the right or reason to fight for his love for Elain. So he won’t.

Rhysand himself.

The explanation on Rhysand:

Rhys shut him down as soon as he walked in

Taunted and antagonized him

Threw wild assumptions at him

Instigated

Threatened him

And then immediately proceeded to shut him out

He effectively gave no room for Azriel to open up. He didn’t even ask Azriel what was happening or what he felt. It was an immediate attack as soon as he walked into the office.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Being shut down instantly

“What of Mor?”

Antagonized and taunted

“you think you deserve to be her mate?”

Wild assumption

“So you’ll what? Seduce her away from him?”

Instigated + assumption

“Snarl all you want. But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

A threat

“Get out.”

And shutting him out

After throwing knives of assumptions at Azriel, trying to bait him with Mor, he threatened him and then kicked him out.

Rhysand is at fault for not creating a safe space for his brother to explain. Azriel merely gave him curt answers in response because that’s all he allowed him to do.

It’s only salt in the wound that we know that Rhys knows of Azriel’s self worth/esteem issues and still treated him this way. But given the time this BC took place, I’m cutting Rhys some slack.

Again, keep in mind that Azriel won’t fight for his love because he feels he has no right or reason to. Not right now.

Could his question about the sisters and the cauldron have been worded better? Sure. I think it was worded well enough though because it explicitly states the disparity that he sees in a logical fashion.

Azriel isn’t entitled, he doesn’t feel entitled.

The irony of it is that some people think he is all the while the man feels as though he doesn’t even deserve to be in any close proximity to Elain. To be around her and to see her light.

People fail to consider the emotional and mental state of Elriel, completely ignoring their words that made it so obvious of what they’re thinking and feeling and wanting all so they can determine what they want them to do instead.

Very ironic indeed.

#The irony that surrounds Elriel and their haters is insane #Literally everything they think and feel in the books is interpreted the exact opposite of what they are saying #every damn time #elriel #acotar #pro elriel #pro azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Two

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, grogu is always the cutest lil guy, bonding, hunting for food (very brief, not detailed)

Chapter Length: 6k

Previous Chapter | Series masterlist & info

Notes: hello i hope u enjoy ♥ as always the title is from taylor swift's 'daylight'

there are so many lines that i've crossed unforgiven

At sundown, Mando suggests making camp for some food and rest. You agree, knowing that the dawn will come earlier tomorrow as summer approaches, and you need to make the most of the daylight.

This planet is safe, but travelling in the dark is no fun. Especially through the forest. It might provide cover from any prowling animals or stalking birds, but there’s also a lot of things to trip on, a lot of stinging lizards to accidentally piss off if you don’t see them underfoot.

It’s safer to be still.

Besides, you’ve come out here hiking and camping before. It’s nothing you’re not used to.

“I’ll hunt us some meat for dinner,” you announce as Mando sits the kid down on an old tree stump, starts gathering materials to make a fire. The trees above are still covering the darkening sky, but the cover isn’t as thick as it was before, perfect to allow the smoke to rise without interruption.

Mando nods, and leaves you to it.

You find a few of the rabbit-like creatures that live in the forests and come out at dusk, making their deaths quick with a silenced shot from your rifle. It doesn’t take long, and soon you’re back at the makeshift camp, finding Mando sitting beside the kid and stoking the newly-made fire.

He offers to help you cook, but you politely decline. Help is more of a hindrance nowadays.

Of course, he doesn’t eat in front of you. At least you understand why now. “I can look away,” you say to him with a mouthful of meat. “So you can eat.”

“I’ll take first watch. Eat while you sleep.”

You don’t exactly need to take watch, though you can understand that it’s probably a bounty hunter’s instinct if the possibility is there.

But regardless, there’s only one tent.

So, in agreement, you nod.

It’s a curious thing, this Creed he speaks of. You wonder why it’s prohibited to take off his helmet. You wonder if there are loopholes, if he could take it off in the dark in front of someone, so they couldn’t see his face. If it has to be this helmet in particular, or if any face covering will do. If he can take it off if he’s injured, or if someone else is injured and he needs to give them mouth-to-mouth, or something.

(Maker, you can’t let yourself imagine it.)

But, surely a Creed worth devoting your life to would allow you to remove the helmet to save someone’s life.

Not that you don’t know a thing or two about hypocritical religions.

When it comes time to sleep, the two of you set up the tent together, propping up the canvas on twigs, letting it hang down to form a little door. You spread out your sleeping mat, covering it with a blanket. “What about the kid?” You ask. He’s still sitting on the tree stump beside Mando, but after such a big dinner and a long day of hiking, he’s very clearly already drifting off to sleep.

Mando looks down at him, then back at you, then at the tent. “He can stay with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. Grogu is all but falling to the side, careening towards Mando’s armoured thigh like it’s a pillow he’s aiming for, but he’s going to fall asleep before he gets there.

“It’s going to get chilly,” you say, looking up. What you can see of the sky through the trees shows that it’s clear. You hesitate, glancing between Mando’s unmoving, visored gaze and the half-asleep kid. “He can sleep in the tent,” you offer, tentative, unsure if it’s overstepping to suggest such a thing. “I mean—if you want.”

He’s silent again. Just staring. Not a twitch of a muscle. Maybe he’s looking you all over under that helmet, observing you, taking in every inch. The thought makes you blush, sends heat to your neck and your cheeks.

“Are you sure?” He asks, finally.

You blink, surprised. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to agree to it; you’d have understood if he didn’t. “Yes, I’m sure,” you offer a smile, hoping it’s reassuring.

This is his kid.

This kid he keeps strapped to him at all times. You’ve never seen Mando without a hand on his back or an eye on him.

Mando seems to consider you for another moment, and you think he might change his mind as you wonder desperately what that unreadable face is thinking beneath all that armour—but then he stands up, cradling the kid in the crook of his elbow.

With a soft smile, you follow him over to the tent. You climb inside first, spreading out a second sleeping mat for the kid, right next to yours. You bolster it with the extra blanket, fold half of it to make more cushioning and the other half to be used to cover his little body.

And then, Mando tucks him in.

He pushes the blankets around him with two fingers, making sure there’s no room for a draft. The kid is fast asleep, snoring softly.

You watch, fascinated, as Mando makes sure he’s comfortable and secure. Then his visor is on you again, and you feel caught, that he saw you looking at him. Gazing.

“You let me know if he’s any trouble,” Mando says.

Wide-eyed beneath his hidden gaze, you nod. “I will.”

He lingers again, quiet. Then nods, gives the kid one last affectionate tap on his forehead, and leaves you both in the quiet.

As you lie down, you decide to lie on your side and face Grogu. You’re not sure why. It feels weird to let him out of your sight.

Then, as his ears twitch with a dream, he reaches out one of his clawed hands. At first you’re not sure what he wants, or even if he’s aware that he’s doing it. He’s still asleep, definitely dreaming.

Nonetheless, you can’t turn him down. Carefully you reach out your pointer finger and place it between Grogu’s. He coos happily, lets out the cutest little sigh you’ve ever heard, and squeezes your fingers.

It feels like he’s squeezing your heart, too.

It’s a lot.

And you can’t very well let him go, can you? That would just be cruel.

You fall asleep like that. And when you wake to swap watch with Mando, the kid’s hand is still in the same place, and it takes everything in you to pull away.

Sitting around the fire with your blanket around your shoulders, you gaze up at the stars that you can see glinting through the treetops. You remember what it was like to be up there, the day you escaped, when you found your way here. Your dream was always to travel the Galaxy, to see all the planets you possibly could, to fly past moons and see suns and find yourself in a life on each planet, even for a short time.

It could never be an option, of course. That small glimpse of such a life that you had on the day you left for this place will have to do.

You think about Mando, wonder what sorts of places he’s been to. A bounty hunter must have been all over the place, surely?

It might be too personal, but you make a mental note to ask him about his travels in the morning.

It’s not long until the sun rises. The forest comes to life as the sky lightens above you, fading from the inky blackness at the zenith to a lighter pale blue and amber towards the horizon. Birds start to tweet in the trees, animals and insects skittering along the floor. Dew coats the tufts of grass at the bases of trees, and moss shines on rocks, just like it does every morning. You can smell it, earthy and familiar. It’s beautiful. It’s been a while since you came for a hike; you had forgotten just how serene it is.

Even when Mando steps out of the tent with the kid in his arms, somehow he doesn’t break the serenity. You’d think that any person would mess with that, let alone someone head-to-toe in Mandalorian armour. But he moves so quietly, so casually. He doesn’t talk too much.

He’s still got his helmet on. You wonder if he sleeps with it on; if the kid has ever seen him without it. Would that be breaking the rules, for his child to see his face? Are there exceptions to who can and who can’t?

“Morning,” you say to him from your place on the tree stump. The fire is still burning steadily, crackling with new kindling.

He nods in response. The kid, cradled in his arm, lights up at the sight of you and makes a happy babbling noise, reaching towards you. Mando notices, glancing between the two of you. “Do you mind…?”

Shaking your head, you mirror Grogu, reaching out ready to hold him. Mando hands him over and you bounce him on your lap, cooing a good morning greeting to him, asking how he slept. You wonder if his species can speak Basic; if he will learn as he gets older, or if he will always speak in babbles and coos. Either way, he seems pretty good at communicating, and Mando definitely understands him well.

Ironically, even though Mando is the one who speaks, he’s the harder one to decipher.

“You hungry?” You ask the kid, who garbles in response, blinking up at you with those big eyes. You look to Mando, and ask him, “Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

“You should eat. We all should; we’re going to be walking all day.”

Mando nods. “Alright. Are you going to hunt?”

“I can. But we have ration packs.”

“I’m fine with anything.”

“What about the kid?” You ask, ducking your head to meet Grogu’s eyes again. He grins at you, tilting his head like he’s listening. “Do you like boring old ration packs?” He makes an indiscernible noise in response.

You look to Mando for the translation.

Something in his modulated voice is lilted, perhaps with a smile or a smirk, “He’ll eat it. He’s pretty good at finding his own food, though.”

“He hunts?”

“Not exactly,” he says, still sounding amused with the tilt of his helmet. He stands with his weight on one leg and the other relaxed, leaving his hip cocked out just a little. He’s so casual, so commanding but not demanding or intrusive. It’s really fucking attractive, actually, and you have to stop yourself from staring at him, opting to use the kid as a distraction. “He’ll eat all sorts of stuff. Frogs, frogspawn, insects…”

“Oh, you’re a resourceful little guy, huh?” You ask Grogu, bouncing him on your knees. He coos in response and reaches out to put his little hand on your bicep. You look back to Mando, pointedly looking right at the dark T of his visor instead of the shape of his body. “In that case, I say we just eat some ration packs and get started for the day.”

He makes a gesture of agreement with his gloved hand.

Then you realise, “Oh. Unless you want to eat before we pack up, so you can…you know,” you gesture vaguely to your own face, only realising after doing it that it might be a little disrespectful.

He doesn’t seem bothered. “Thank you. I’ll eat now. I won’t be long.” He hesitates before turning towards the tent. “I…I can take the kid?”

Grogu makes a sound of disapproval. One of his clawed fingers is curled around a lock of your hair and he pushes his face into your chest, as if pointedly hiding from Mando.

Well, one thing’s for sure, the kid doesn’t need to speak Basic to be able to say I don’t wanna.

Mando chuckles, a definite laugh this time rather than that ambiguous huff of air through the modulator. The helmet tilts slightly towards you, and he says, ruefully, “I don’t think he wants me to take him.”

“That’s alright,” you say, finding that you mean it. Probably the first time ever you’ve been happy to be left with someone else’s baby. You look back to Grogu, who is staring at the lock of hair he’s got in his hand. “We’ll make do, won’t we, kid?”

Mando is silent for a minute, observing. You can feel his gaze, intense even through his visor. You wonder if he’s smiling, or if he’s frowning with concern at the prospect of leaving his kid with you while he ducks away to eat. But when he speaks, he sounds calm. “I won’t be long,” he promises again. “Be good, kid.” And with that, he disappears into the tent.

While he eats, you stand up and start disassembling the makeshift camp you’ve made, propping the kid on your hip as you potter around. You kick dirt over the fire and snuff it out, pack up your cooking pot and mess tins from last night and put them in your pack. Grogu reaches out for almost everything that you pick up. You can’t exactly give him all he asks for, but you do give his hand a little squeeze and a shake each time you have to turn him down.

Once the three of you are fully packed up, fed, and ready to head off, you sling your pack over your shoulder, and hand the kid back to Mando.

“Was he good?” Mando asks.

“Very,” you say, giving Grogu an approving smile as Mando puts him into the satchel, his head poking out over the top. “He’s a curious little guy, isn’t he?”

“Too curious. Gets him into trouble.”

You laugh. The morning breeze is mild, blowing wisps of hair away from your face and up into the air. “I can imagine.”

You walk in silence for a while, through the forest that is slowly getting less and less dense. It starts to thin out soon, opening instead into open planes of rolling, green hills. When you first got here, it was surprising that no one had claimed this land for farming; the fields are so large, so open, just asking for someone to come along and build a crop farm. But it didn’t take long to realise that the only things that can grow in this soil are native plants; and even then, it’s just during spring. Halfway through summer, the grass on the fields fades away and leaves just dirt in its wake. The land isn’t fertile enough to make it profitable for crops.

So, like the rest of this place, it’s left untouched.

As the fields approach, you point to the horizon ahead of you. “We have to head over the hills for a while,” you say, “lots of ups and downs.”

“Any more wild animals I should be on the lookout for?” He asks, dry humour slipping through his modulated voice.

“Oh, always. But, don’t worry, I’ll warn you about them. I told you about the lizards?”

“Briefly.”

“They tend to live near water, or come out in the rain. They have stingers.”

“Great. Poisonous?”

“Yes. Not lethal, but painful.”

He tilts his head to look at you as you walk. “You been stung before?”

“Yes. When I first got here, I…thought they were cute.”

“…Did you try and make friends with the stinging lizards?”

You laugh. “Yes,” you admit, sheepish, “yes, I did. I learned my lesson. They’re not generally actively hostile, unless you stumble upon one of their nests; but if you approach one with your hand held out like it’s a cute Lothcat, you’ll live to regret it.”

“I tend to stay away from creatures I know nothing about,” he says, and you could swear that he’s teasing you.

It’s kind of addictive. The soft lilt of amusement in his voice as you wonder what his expression might be, if he’s smirking, raising an eyebrow. “I’d never met a lizard with a stinger before,” you say in defence.

“Even Lothcats can be pretty ferocious if they want to be.”

“Tell me about it. Once got near-mauled by one for almost stepping on its tail by accident,” you say, shuddering over-dramatically as the memory comes back. You think about Lothal, about the planet you’d heard so much about, growing up around its native felines. Eyeing Mando curiously, you venture, “So, you’ve probably been all kinds of places, haven’t you?”

He hums noncommittally. A vague gesture of a gloved hand. “The job takes me everywhere. Can’t say I go for sightseeing.”

“And what about the kid? Has he always been with you for your travels?”

Shockingly, Mando’s confidently casual steps falter for just a second, a hesitation so fleeting that you could have imagined it. The helmet glances at you, looks away just as fast. “Long story,” he eventually settles on.

Halfway up the first hill, the rising sun shines up from behind the crest right ahead, long beams of light flying up into the air above you, blue skies beyond. Mando doesn’t break his stride as the landscape changes, but you slow a little, taking a moment to appreciate the view. It really has been too long since you’ve come for a hike, seen the sunrise.

Now that you’re a few paces behind Mando, though, you are shamefully distracted from the beauty of this planet’s nature, because the beauty of this Mandalorian’s nature is very much something that seems to steal your attention at the first chance it gets. His wide shoulders that, if you look closely enough at, you can see shifting beneath the flight suit that lives under his armour. There’s actually quite a lot of the thick, brown fabric showing in between armour plates. He’s got a cape, too, flowing behind him in the breeze like something from a cheesy HoloNet movie. His cowl covers up the back of his neck. You find yourself wondering what colour his hair is, if he has any; whether he has facial hair; what the curve of his jaw looks like…

Before you realise it, you’ve reached the crest of the hill.

You’re out of breath. It’s either because of the hike or because of the incredibly inappropriate thoughts currently rushing through your mind.

Now that you’re up high, you can see much of the surrounding landscape. In fact, right on the edge of the horizon, through the thin morning haze that’s forming in the distance, you can see the valley that leads to the scrap heap.

You stop walking and point to it. “See the valley up ahead? We’re not far, now. Should be there by the afternoon.”

Mando nods. Suddenly thirsty, you reach into your pack for your flask and take a big, long swig. The water is still cold from the river where you collected it this morning.

“You thirsty?” You ask the kid. As expected, he reaches out his little hands towards you, and takes the flask in them as soon as he can. It looks comedically large compared to him, and as he tips it up to take a sip, some of it dribbles down his face.

He giggles at the sensation, coaxing a laugh from you, too.

“Kid,” Mando scolds, not a hint of actual disdain in his voice. He reaches down his gloved hand and rubs off the droplets of water that sit upon the canvas fabric of Grogu’s little robe. As he does so, the cowl of it pulls back, revealing something bright and shiny beneath it. It’s the same silver colour as Mando’s armour, but not a solid panel like his breastplate. It’s chain mail, tiny little hoops hooked around one another to form a cute little armour shirt.

Once Mando has cleaned him up, he tucks the neck of the robe back up again. Either he’s unaware that you saw the armour, or he doesn’t care that you did.

He’s staring out at the horizon, waiting for you to move again. As you take the flask back from the kid, you observe Mando out of the corner of your eye, something warm flaring in your chest. The kid has armour made from the same material as Mando’s. You wonder if he took some of his own to make that, if he gave it to protect him.

“The armour,” you say, tentative. “Did you make it?”

He puts his hand over Grogu’s chest, almost protectively. His shoulders tense, twitch a little. “No.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“Is it made of the same metal as your armour?”

“Beskar,” he provides, then, “yes.”

That’s cute as fuck. You smile up at him for a second, squinting in the sunlight that shines bright in your eyes. “It suits him,” you say, and then start down the hill, towards your destination.

He follows.

It takes another couple of hours to get to the scrap heap; there isn’t really a path, per se, so it’s a lot of winding around obstacles and avoiding various patches of impenetrable land.

A stinging lizard passes across the ground in front of you at some point, and Mando’s blaster is aimed at it before you even realise what’s going on, his other hand moving to block the kid.

The lizard, of course, could not be less interested. It’s gone before you can even blink, and Mando is just left standing there with his blaster pointed at nothing.

It’s funny. You can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up in your chest.

He glances at you, and if you didn’t think he seems like the most self-assured person you’ve ever met, you might think that he looks a bit embarrassed.

“Can’t be too careful,” you say with a smirk, hoping that the tease isn’t overstepping.

He holsters his blaster again, gets the kid comfy in the satchel. He nods, and keeps going.

The scrap heap is just how you left it last time you passed it, if a little more overgrown than before.

“How long has this been here?” Mando asks, gazing down at the shiny, greenery-covered mess of some kind of crashed starship.

“It’s been here as long as I have.”

He looks at you. “Which is…?”

You bristle. “A while.”

“Why has no one raided it? I can already see parts here that would get a decent price for a trade.”

“I told you,” you say, shrugging with your arms folded over your chest, “I’m the only person on this side of the planet.”

Gaze on you, he tilts his helmet. Either in amusement or consideration, you’re not sure. Maybe both. “And you’ve explored the entirety of this side?”

“Alright, alright,” you roll your eyes at his wry tone, “not literally. But isn’t the fact that this is still here proof enough of that? That, and the empty maps you had.”

He looks back to the scrap pile. “Yes,” he decides on.

“Right. What do you need?”

You get to work, following Mando’s instructions for what to look for, and finding a few pieces he didn’t ask for but presenting them anyway, just in case. Most of them he takes, using a large piece of sheet metal from what was the ship’s body as a big carrier for them. Grogu explores the wreck of the small ship, too, sifting through piles of metal and wires to find things to play with.

You scavenge for hours, until the sun is lowering in the sky and glowing insects are starting to gather in little floating orbs. Mando has his metal pallet covered in a net that he found amongst the wreckage, and he ties a rope to it, slinging it over his shoulder for the journey back.

“I can help with that,” you offer.

He shakes his head, which is probably dumb of him, because now he’s carrying his usual arsenal of weapons and heavy armour, the pack carrying the tent, along with the kid in his satchel, and a huge trailer filled with metal that he’s going to have to drag along the forest floor. But he doesn’t seem too worried by it. “Let’s go.”

You watch him go for a second, raising an eyebrow. The pallet lifts up and down with each swing of his arms, each step, the metal rattling away underneath the net.

If he wants to wreck his back carrying it alone, so be it.

Night falls quicker than you’d expected, and you’ve only just made it back into the forest before it’s getting dark and stars are starting to twinkle in the sky. Mando is still carrying everything himself, you with only your regular pack and a small bag of tools you gathered from the heap. They’re a little dirty, some even housing some green leaves and vines, but it’s nothing a cloth and some scissors can’t fix.

Setting up camp is quick, the two of you finding the same rhythm you’d discovered last night. Grogu sits on a fallen tree trunk by the fire, playing with a large bolt he must have found back there.

“Do you think you got everything?” You ask, stoking the fire as Mando sits down beside Grogu.

“Yes. Thank you for your help. You’re right, this place is a maze, I’d have got lost on my own.”

You nod your agreement. There’s meat cooking in a pan over the flames, sizzling away along with some herbs you found in the forest. Your stomach rumbles hungrily as you scrape the finished meal into two mess tins and one small bowl for the kid.

“Careful, Grogu, it’s hot,” you tell him, placing it down on the floor in front of him. He looks at you curiously, then down at the bowl. He reaches down too quickly and goes to shove the meat into his mouth, but Mando’s gloved hand gets there first and stops him.

“She said it’s hot,” he tells him. “Be careful.”

Grogu seems to consider Mando in the same way he had you, then he looks down to the food, back up to Mando. Like he’s waiting for approval.

“Go on,” Mando assures him. “Slow.”

Tentative, like he actually understands what Mando is saying to him, he lifts the meat up to his lips and puts it in his mouth. Instantly he spits it out with a strangled whine, and glares down at the offending piece where it sits, steaming, on the forest floor.

Mando sighs tiredly. “Here,” he reaches into Grogu’s bowl, pulls out a few chunks of meat in one go and places them on his hand. “My hand’ll cool them off in the air. Take this one, see, it’s not steaming.”

Grogu hesitates, looking up at Mando again, making sure it’s safe. Mando gives him a short nod and extends his meat-laden hand closer to Grogu, who tentatively takes a new chunk, keeping his eyes on Mando as he moves it to his mouth.

He chews this one without burning himself, and a pleased noise comes from his throat instead of a pained one.

You watch the whole interaction, too distracted by it to remember that you’re supposed to be eating. Grogu clearly relies on Mando, trusting his word and his guidance, knowing that he wants the best for him. They might not be related by blood, but their relationship is the closest one can get to father and son.

Mando catches you staring.

You look away, clearing your throat before putting some food down it. “I’ll take the first watch tonight,” you offer. “You’re probably tired after lugging all that metal around.”

“I don’t mind if you want to rest,” he says. “I need to eat, anyway.” His shoulders are slumped, the first time you’ve seen them like that, and something about the slow way he moves just screams that he’s tired.

You look around the forest. There is literally no need for one of you to keep watch. No one is here, only the wildlife, who will always steer clear if they have no reason to come for you.

The tent is right there, easily big enough for three of you.

Mando rolls his shoulder as he waits for a response, and you could swear you hear a soft grunt come through his helmet, like he’s in pain. You’re not surprised; that’s the shoulder that both Grogu’s satchel strap and the rope for his pallet have been hanging from all day.

“We don’t really need to take watch,” you say, swallowing a mouthful. “We can sleep together, if you want. I mean—” you catch the awkward fumble far too late, the words having already slipped from your mouth, embarrassing and filled with double meaning. “Sorry, that’s not—I meant—”

He watches you scramble for words. His free hand is on his knee, fingers tapping against it. The helmet tilts a little.

You’re still trying to make up for what you said, “I didn’t mean…like that,” you say, though now that you’re thinking about it… “Obviously. There’s a kid here. I mean—! Not that I’d mean it like that if the kid wasn’t here, I just—”

He’s still staring.

Still tapping his finger.

“Maker,” you mutter to yourself and look down, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Pardon?”

“Not you!” You snap your gaze back to him, panic setting in again as you realise he thought you were talking to him, “I—not you, I was talking to myself…”

Silence. You wish more than anything you could read his face.

Then, though, through the quiet comes a gentle huff of air, like a laugh just came from his nose and through the modulator. He relaxes, leaning back. “I know.” Is all he says, and yes, there is definitely a curve to his voice. A smile.

You gape at him. “You were just fucking with me,” you say. “You knew what I meant.”

“I did.”

A smile twitches at your lips unannounced. “I see how it is,” you let yourself relax, stabbing another chunk of meat with your fork. “You know, that’s not fair. I can’t see your face to tell if you’re joking or not.”

“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”

Without lifting your head, you glance at him. The visor stares, always staring, always thinking. His gaze might be unseen, intangible, but it’s still blatant and hot on your skin, and even though it sometimes makes you feel like squirming beneath it, you can’t get enough. “As I was saying,” you say, “if you want, we can sleep…at the same time.”

He twitches, glancing around, unsure. You watch him, finishing off the last of your meal. Grogu is still eating food, picking up pieces of it from Mando’s glove. There’s grease on the leather, little flaky pieces of wilted herb.

“It’s alright if you don’t feel comfortable,” you assure him. “I know it can be hard to let down your guard when you’re used to it being up.”

The helmet turns back to look at you, and your cheeks go hot under his gaze. “You do,” he says, half-question, half-statement.

“Yes. But we could both use the rest, if you want to get a full night.”

He’s quiet once again, and his fingers are tapping on the armour over his knee just like before.

You’re just starting to think he might be considering the offer when Grogu finishes his food and coos, lifting each of his fingers to lick between them. Mando is still staring at you, though, and it’s a lot. It’s like, even though he sees you through a dark visor, he really does see you. When he looks at you, it feels like he sees you. For real.

And that’s kind of terrifying.

You look back to his glove, welcoming the distraction. “Here,” you grab a scrap piece of cloth from your pack and wet it with water from your flask. “Your glove’s all messy. Can’t shoot a blaster like that.”

It’s only when you’re over there, crouched down in front of him and taking his hand in yours, that you realise this was a terrible distraction and has only made things worse.

Your palm holds the back of his hand, your other using the wet part of the cloth to wipe all the dirt away. Through the leather, you can feel the heat of his body. Feel the curves of his fingers, the bumps of his knuckles. You’ve never been this close to him, haven’t let yourself imagine how warm he’d be under all that armour, how human he really is—

And he’s staring, again, helmet tilted down to look at you. What is he thinking? Is he paying attention to your warmth, like you are to his? Is every touch to his glove like torture, like sparks going up his fingers from yours?

“Thank you,” he says once his hand is clean.

Startled by the sound of his voice, your eyes shoot up to look at him. You wonder if, if you looked closely enough, you’d be able to see his eyes. “You’re welcome,” you say. Then, realising you’re still holding the underside of his hand, you jump back like something has surprised you, needing to get away because you’ve been staring for too long; returning the same sentiment he so often gives to you, though undoubtedly easier to read than his.

You move away, and almost tumble back into the fire.

Like an idiot. Again.

But before the heat of the flames can touch you, gloved hands are taking a firm hold of your arms, holding you away from gravity’s pull. He’s even closer, suddenly, the firelight reflecting in the bright silver of his helmet. You see yourself in it, too, as the light flickers and fades in the breeze. He’s so close that you could just tilt your head and it would touch his helmet.

A part of you wants him to let you go, to drop you—though not literally onto the fire, thanks—to stop touching you because it’s making you feel things and he’s so close and you’ve never had someone that close that you actually wanted that close—

He moves you to the side, away from the fire, and gently lets you go.

As your backside settles into the dirt, you stare, dumbfounded, while he backs away from you and sits down beside Grogu again like nothing ever happened. Like that was nothing to him, just saving you from your own clumsiness.

And yet, the place where he’d held your arms feels like his hands were the flames.

“I’ll take first watch,” he decides on.

It’s ridiculous that disappointment sinks in your stomach.

“O—okay,” you stammer. You’re still just sitting there on the floor, a cloth in one hand, your other hand poised in front of you like you’re still waiting for his to sit in it. Embarrassed, you snap your fist shut, and force yourself to look away. “Alright. Wake me when it’s time.”

And you head off to bed, head spinning, skin still hot where he’d touched you and you’d touched him.

His hands were gentler than you could ever have expected from such a strong man. Firm enough to hold you in place, to keep you safe. Not hard enough to hurt you. Just gentle enough to drive you a little bit crazy, to keep you up for far too long after your head hits the pillow, as you imagine all the other places that his hands could find.

Kriffing hell.

I need to stop.

I’m just lonely. That’s all. Not crazy, just lonely.

It’ll pass.

It always does.

notes: thanks for being here! ♥ all interactions are appreciated but comments and reblogs especially make my heart happy ♥

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deathbecomesthem · 5 months

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Author's Note: This is a second person POV story based on a very real experience in my own life. At 19, in 2001, I got pregnant and had an abortion. I have zero regrets about that decision. This is the first time I've sat down and written about this experience from start to finish. Originally, I thought I would turn this into a fanfic, but it didn't feel right.

TW: Unwanted pregnancy, vomiting, abortion, fear, pain, uncertainty, and loneliness. Am I forgetting something? I hope not. This is not an easy read, but please read it. We need more real stories about abortion in the world.

*Do not send me hugs. Do not tell me you're sorry. | ~5K words

---

“You ok, Chicken?” Your mom’s voice echoes in the narrow bathroom, barely muffled by the hollow laminate door. “I can get you some water or Pepto.”

“I’m ok. I’ll be out in a minute.” Bile slicks up your tongue while you squeeze the words out of your mouth. You swallow it back. And then again. You’re suddenly very grateful to be in your mother’s bathroom where it still smells of bleach from frequent cleaning rather than the mouse infested apartment you’ve been staying in for the last year. Just a short stopover in your childhood home that happens to coincide with this personal hell you’re living in.

The vomiting is not what clued you in. It’s not the reason you made that trip to the pharmacy, despite never keeping track of your cycle like a “normal” woman. You just knew. Your body began to feel alien at some point, you felt held captive by something. Everything smelled. The water pouring from the tap in your kitchen, acorns scattered on the back patio, his skin sweat slicked and heated. You could smell everything so much more, as if that small cluster holding court in your gut was reaching through your senses already.

Yesterday morning while you hurled up the coffee flavored stomach acid into your mother’s toilet, a daily habit you’d happily break if you could, you heard her in her bedroom talking on the phone. Your aunt Deanna called, and your mother’s whispered gossip could easily be heard by your overly sensitive ears. “Poor little thing, she’s been so sick lately. I think she might need to see a doctor…. What? No. No, absolutely not that.”

Sorry, mom, but it can be that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the thing that your aunt had suggested over the phone line. The woman living 500 miles away could see the thing so plainly, and yet you and your mother refused to acknowledge it. But that was the thing that pushed you to the pharmacy. The idea that it would be found out, and very soon, if you didn’t get a handle on it.

Two pink lines. Dark pink. Unmistakably two of them. You shoved the plastic test back into its wrapper. You opened the drawer of your dresser and shoved the test behind the dust rose colored Bible. You threw a bra on top of it. You looked down into the drawer and examined it closely. Nothing intriguing that might make someone, your mother, look twice and fiddle around. You’ll take the evil thing to work with you tomorrow and throw it into the giant metal dumpster where only the neighborhood racoons might stumble upon it.

As if it matters. That thing only tells you the truth of the situation, and throwing it away won’t change it. You rest your hand on your stomach and close your eyes. You try to make yourself feel something. You try to conjure images of bottles and stretchmarks. You think about him and wonder. None of it reaches you in any meaningful way, and your mind is suddenly resolute. You’re going to get an abortion as soon as possible, even if it means you max out the only credit card you have to your name.

Brrrrnnngg

You jump at the sound of the phone on your bedside table ringing. The digital clock reads 1:24, and you already know who will be on the end of the line before you pick it up. You’ve been putting him off for over a week. You plan to continue to put him off until the thing is done. You want him away from it, you don’t want him to see any of it. It’s not for him.

“Hello.”

“Hello. How are we feeling today?” His voice has an immediate effect on you. It does every time. It’s too perfect to be contained in a memory, so when you hear it, it’s always a shock to your system. It zings through you.

“Oh, feeling like a dried husk. Not great. I’m sorry. Maybe next weekend I’ll be up for something.”

“Mmm. You said that last weekend. I already told you, I don’t mind just hanging out at your place. We can watch movies, and I can pretend to not notice when you go puke your guts out or whatever.” His words come out in a whine. It’s a technique that often works with you, and he knows it.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment next week, I expect to feel better by the weekend.” These things are both true and a lie. Not quite all of either. And you know that an appointment on Thursday morning will mean that by Friday evening you’ll likely feel like shit - but it will be over. And that’s the only thing that matters.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, but it’s not meant as anything more than a silly thing. He misses you, and that’s sweet. He’s sweet. You want to keep him that way.

—

“You know, women my age fought for your right to do that. I support you completely,” your boss looks up at you from the chair in her tiny office carved into the center of the coffee house between the dining room and the kitchen. “Just this one time, though. Don't let this happen again.” Her hand finds yours and she squeezes it.

“I won’t, Nancy. Thank you. I should be able to work by Monday.” You back away, letting her hand drop. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

She waves her hand and assures you, “I know. I will never say anything about it again. Like it never happened.”

Like it never happened. You think about that while you make your way to the front of the coffee house, slipping on the wet tile as you pass the espresso machine. You see them sitting at a table in the center of the dining room and make your way towards them. You’re wishing for more privacy, and hope that, for once, the people in this place will focus on the conversations happening at their own tables. Keep their minds on the books held up to their noses. You sit in the uncomfortable vinyl covered chair and smile weakly at the two women in front of you. Barely friends, but the only ones you know will help you.

“Tomorrow morning. It’s supposed to be at 11, but they want me there at 9. We should leave by 8.” You’re just rattling off information while Bri, the person that’s taking you to your appointment the following morning nods along while her pen glides across the small notebook in front of her. “It should really only be a couple of days before I’m pretty much back to normal.”

“I need you to understand that this is a serious medical procedure,” these are the first words that Tesa has spoken since you sat down. She’s older than most of the people in this circle of friends, and a med student. “You’re going to need some care.”

You look down at the wooden table and nod slowly, considering. You’re going to need some care. That’s true, you’re sure, but also not something you can worry about.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got the weekend off. I’ll do everything they tell me I need to do, don’t worry.” You keep doing this. You keep finding yourself reassuring people around you while barely holding yourself upright. You want to shrivel up. You want someone to cradle you and brush your hair. Instead, you reassure - yes, I know what I’m doing. Yes, I’ll be careful. Yes, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

“I really think you should tell him what’s happening. He should be the one to take you tomorrow, and take care of you. You don’t want this to be a secret you have to keep from him.” Tesa continues in a worried tone. You open your mouth to respond, to explain again that you’re not going to do that, when Bri breaks in.

With a hand on your knee and a small scowl on her face aimed at her girlfriend sitting beside you, she says, “I support your decision completely. You don’t have to tell him anything if you don’t want to. It’s your choice, and I’ll take care of you.”

—

Bri picks you up in her small, black Ford Escort promptly at 8 in the morning. You nod at each other and say nothing. It’s quiet, and the highways are empty. Bri doesn’t turn the radio on, she just allows the quiet to stretch and expand. You let it swallow you up. You let your ears focus on the sound of the car bumping along the ridges in the road. You let your ears focus on the hum of the engine. It’s already getting hot on this early September morning, but neither you nor your driver reach for the window cranks.

You’re halfway to your destination when you first wonder how Bri knows the way. It’s not a common destination, a clinic in one of the larger outskirt cities that circle the big one on the lake. She must have studied a map, you assume. It should feel strange to be in this situation with her, someone you’ve only known from behind a counter or at your sister’s monthly board game night, but it doesn’t. She is a force of steady calm, and your heart aches with it.

After exiting the highway, it’s only 3 short turns until the car is facing the very ordinary looking office building. No signs out front to announce the purpose of the place, just a building next to dozens of other buildings that look nearly identical. Except for the man standing alone with a cardboard sign hanging out of his hand. He has a lazy stance, and you close your eyes. You hope against hope that he doesn’t clock the fact that a car is pulling into the parking lot beside him. You’re going to have to walk back across his spot on the sidewalk to get to the front door of the building.

Bri pulls her car into a spot as far from the sidewalk as possible and turns to say, “I want you to walk on the inside, ok? It’s going to be fine.” Her voice never wavers, and you believe her. It will be fine. You barely even hear his voice when he finally realizes he’s missing his opportunity. Baby killer and whore are weakly lobbed in your direction, ineffectual to a mind already numb from the thing set out in front of it.

You walk, side by side, up two flights of stairs and find the door you’re meant to go through. It’s shocking to see the waiting room already half full. This is the only clinic in the greater metro area in a state that’s less than friendly to the needs of women. You sign in while Bri takes a seat opposite a very pregnant woman with, you’re assuming, her husband. You don’t let yourself think about what that means. And then you wait, both you and your chaperone with paperbacks to pretend to read.

“I told him,” you can’t help but listen to the woman sitting in the corner seats. She’s older than you by at least 5 years, and sitting cross-legged in the plastic chair, “I ain’t payin’ this time. I can’t afford it. He can either pay for me to come down here, or he can pay for another baby.” Her friend is nodding in agreement.

The thought of having to make multiple trips to this place makes your stomach lurch. You look up to see the very pregnant woman looking at the one speaking in the corner. There’s no expression on her face, she’s just looking for something to focus on outside of the hand she has rested on her swollen belly.

The very pregnant woman is the first to get called back. You hold your book up to hide your face, despite the fact that no one’s looking at it. The minutes pass like hours, and the hours like days. Time becomes meaningless, and the woman in the corner never deviates from the conversation that she keeps with her friend. Time becomes meaningless, so when your name is finally called 5 hours later, you’ve nearly forgotten why you’re sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair in this too cold waiting room. Bri offers you a smile and a nod, and returns to her paperback while you’re led back through a door.

The first stop is the counter just inside the waiting room door. A young woman with a pixie cut has you read papers and sign them. Injury, sterilization, death… just things that may or may not happen at the end of your day. You sign without a second thought. You get out your credit card, and don’t think about the $500 you don’t have to pay for this today. You just swipe it, and sign again.

The lady that escorted you from the waiting room leads you down to the end of the hallway. “First things first, we get a picture, ok?” You say ok without understanding what you’re agreeing to. You’ll agree to anything to get to the end of this thing.

You sit in a chair that closely resembles the one you sit in at your dentist’s office. A small woman comes through an open door next to the chair, she has a radiant smile on her face. “Hello, how are you?” Her heavy accented voice is sweet and calm. Everyone here is calm. “Sit tight for a minute, ok? This won’t take long.”

She moves your shirt up in a quick move, tucking it under your bra, and pushes down your sweatpants a little. “A little cold,” she says as she squirts a bit of gel on your low abdomen. It’s something you should have noticed, the fact that there’s a machine against the wall next to the big chair. You’re too focused on existing moment to moment, you can’t be worried about things that other people will worry about for you.

The woman runs a wand attached to a cord that leads back to the machine at your back. “Oh, look at that. Almost nothing there at all,” the woman pulls the machine up so you can see the monitor. A black and white image is in front of you, “we have to do an ultrasound, that’s the law. But you’re maybe not even 6 weeks. Nothing there, not really.” She’s right, you can’t even see the thing that she’s talking about, and she doesn’t bother to point it out. She just puts the wand away and wipes your belly.

The other woman, the one that led you back to this place, is suddenly at your side again and ready to take you through another door. This one is an office. No one tells you where you’re going, and that’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Each place is another step closer to the end of this thing.

“Take a seat, this will only be a few minutes.” A new woman sits behind a desk and points to a chair in front of her. You sit obediently. “So, why are you getting an abortion today?”

Your face must have given something away, some sort of concern or frustration because she’s quick to add, “a counseling session is legally required before you can get an abortion in this state. I promise, I’m not here to judge you in any way.”

You nod your head in understanding and decide that this is someone you can tell the whole truth to. She doesn’t care, and this is the work she does. So you tell her, “I don’t want a baby. I can’t afford it, and I don’t want it.”

“You know the risks involved in the procedure? You read the waivers?” The woman asks while looking down at a piece of paper in front of her. It’s some kind of checklist that needs to be completed before you can move to the next room.

“Yes. I know the risks, and I understand them.”

“Does the father know you’re here?” The woman asks, and it’s the first time someone’s managed to break through the wall you built up around yourself since you entered this building.

“No. I’m not telling him.”

“Well, we really recommend you tell the father. It’s not something you should go through alone unless there’s a really good reason.” She looks up at you, sees your face, and looks back down to her paper. She makes a couple of notes and says, “as you know, abortion access is at risk, now more than ever. We ask that you consider volunteering your time in some way to help the cause if you can.” She stands and hands you a brochure before heading to the door to let the first woman, your guide, back into the room. “Good luck, you’ll be fine.”

Your guide leads you back down the hallway, past the door to the waiting room, past the chair with the ultrasound, and into a room with lockers. “You can put on a gown. Everything comes off, but you can keep on your socks” she points to a stack of hospital gowns on a shelf on the far wall, “and leave your things in locker 12. Once you've changed, head through that door, “she points to a door opposite the one you’re standing in, “and the nurse and doctor will be in for your procedure shortly.”

She leaves and you head over to the stack of gowns. Small, medium, and large. You grab the size you think is right, and realize you’re still holding onto the pamphlet that the last lady, the hippy, handed you. You look at it for a second and wonder what to do with it before remembering locker 12. It’s fast after that. You walk over to your locker and set the paper down before stripping off your clothing and donning an all-too-familiar paper gown. Your feet are immediately cold when they hit the tile floor with only a thin piece of fabric protecting the bottom of your feet. You move quickly through the door to the dark room and instinctively move to take your spot on the exam table.

You don’t notice the instruments. You don’t notice the machine. You just sit and wait. Those are things that you don’t need to worry about, and you’re thankful for that. A woman comes in, a new woman, with a surgical mask over her face and pale pink scrubs. She says something and you nod. You don’t know what she says, and it doesn’t really matter. She encourages you to lay back on the table and begins to move things around on the table at your side.

And then he comes through the door. A tall man in green scrubs, a surgical mask over his face. He introduces himself, but you won’t remember the name he gives you. He’s just the doctor, and that’s fine. You’re surprised to find how quickly things go when he enters the room, but his time is probably at a premium in a place like this.

The doctor is positioned at your feet when he says, “this will pinch a bit. Only a little, and it will be quick, ok?”

What does he know about it? Nothing, you realize, as he works inside of you. It’s loud, the machine at your side, and it doesn’t pinch. It hurts. It’s painful, and you’re no stranger to pain. Pain has taken up residence in your body many times over the years, but this is a new one. This is a cousin to the pain that you’ve come to know, something stranger than you’re used to. A deep ache inside of you in a place that you don’t know well at all.

“It hurts,” you say. You don’t mean to say it, but you do anyway. It’s as if you need him to know that he’s wrong, and that it does hurt. It’s not a pinch, it’s a pull. The nurse finds your hand, and holds it tightly.

“Oh, nah. It doesn’t hurt. You’re fine.” The man in the scrubs says back to you, oblivious to the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. He’s too busy probing and scraping and sucking with that thing in his hand. “It’s almost over.”

You don’t bother telling him again that it hurts. You close your eyes and sob. You let tears roll down your face, and wail. You release the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, along with that cluster of cells that would have - if left alone - changed your life completely. You will leave these things in this room, and find that you don’t miss them.

10 minutes. That’s how long you sit on the exam table with a doctor between your legs. 10 minutes and you’re led to yet one more room. Three other women sit in big recliners, packs of ice sitting in their laps. You’re handed your own when you gingerly rest yourself on your own chair.

A young woman hands you a paper cup full of water and 2 pills. “For your pain,” she says, “You can take 2 more Advil in 6 hours. You should do that for the next couple of days to stay ahead of it.”

The time in the recovery room moves faster than the time in the waiting room. You don’t think about Bri sitting alone with her paperback in her hand. You’ll never really know how long you sat there before they finally let you get up and move back to the changing room. You’d forgotten about the pamphlet hiding under your bra, but you take it. You don’t even consider putting it in the wastebasket on your way out, or simply leaving it in the locker for the next woman to find.

Leaving the clinic is quick compared to entering. No hurdles. No credit card machines, ultrasounds, or counselors. Just stairs and a door. The pain is worse than you thought it would be, and you think about the way that Tesa had looked at you in the coffee shop yesterday. She tried to prepare you for a thing that can’t be prepared for. You don’t notice the small group of people that have joined the lone man with the cardboard sign, too tired and sore to hear their poisonous words.

Back in the car, you speak the first words to Bri that you’ve spoken today. “Can we stop at a gas station? I’m out of smokes.”

“Sure, Honey. You wait in the car and rest.”

—

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He’s asking the question before he’s even fully entered your room and closed the door.

You’re laying in your bed, waves of pain traveling through your gut and pelvis. He was so easy to convince, you didn’t even have to lie well. Seeing a smile sit sweetly on his face fills your eyes with tears.

“I’m ok. Just hurts.” You tell him. He climbs into the bed with you, and wraps you up in his arms. It’s a mistake, letting him come over so soon afterwards. Hormones compound the pain and trauma. He reminds you that your loneliness is a self imposed thing. He reminds you that you didn’t even let him try to do the right thing.

So, while he has you wrapped tight in his arms you tell him. You feel his arms go slack while he takes in your words. He says nothing. He listens with loose arms that hold you lightly. He doesn’t say a thing for the rest of his time with you. You stay in his arms, and the silence ricochets off the walls of your childhood bedroom.

#writerblr #second person pov #short story #nonfiction #abortion #bodily autonomy #thanatos writes

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athena-writes-i-guess · 1 year

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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: “As you wish”

A/N: Hello! Am I sick right now? Yes. Very. Is this a self indulgent fic where Eddie comes to take care of you while you’re sick? Also yes. I hope you enjoy :)

You groaned as you woke up groggily, dazed as you pulled yourself from the deep slumber you had been in. It took you a moment to figure out what roused you as you looked around the dark room and you glared once you found the offending item. The phone on your night stand was ringing loudly and caused the pounding in your head to get more painful than you thought possible. You picked it up quickly, just wanting the noise to stop.

“Hello?” You practically snapped into the phone, sniffling as you noticed how clogged your sinuses still were.

“Woah babe! Someone’s a little grumpy.” Your boyfriend, Eddie, laughed through the line.

“Sorry Eddie.” You sighed out, your anger at being woken melting out of you at the comforting sound of your favorite person’s voice. “I was sleeping and the phone woke me up.”

“Sleeping? It’s 6 pm, are you okay sweetheart?” He asked quickly, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m sick.” You whined pitifully, smiling to yourself as you heard the light chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Awww baby.” Eddie cooed, a bright smile evident in his voice. “Want me to come take care of you? Nurse you back to health?” He teased lightly, though he meant every word.

“You don’t have to Eds. I don’t want you to get sick too.” You said, sighing again. You didn’t want to be alone anymore and you wanted to see Eddie, even if you just saw him yesterday, but you really didn’t want to get him sick.

“It’s decided. I’m coming.” He said, you could hear his keys jingling in the background as he started to get ready to come to your apartment. “I’m gonna stop by the store and get you some medicine and soup and then I’ll be right there sweetheart!”

“Eddie your really don’t hav-” You started.

“I’m coming baby. I want to help you. I wont get sick, I promise.” He said with a laugh, “I’ll be there soon. I love you! Bye!” He finished quickly, not letting you get a word in before he hung up on you.

You laid back in your pillows, smiling as you shook your head at his antics. God you loved that dork so much. You had never been so in love with someone before getting together with Eddie. He was everything you had ever wanted and more and you had never felt so loved and cared for before meeting him. He made you feel special, like you were the most important person in his life. Little did you know, you were.

“Baby? Sweetheart? Little plague monster?” You heard as you woke up again, not realizing that you had fallen back to sleep. You felt light kisses on your cheek as you blinked open your eyes, a sleepy smile pulling at your lips as you gazed into Eddie’s warm chocolate colored eyes. “There you are, beautiful.” He smiled, his dimples on full display before he placed one final, very wet, kiss to your cheek.

“Eddie!” You giggled, pushing him away lightly, “You’re gonna get sick!” You exclaimed before you were sent into a coughing fit.

“Let it out baby.” He cooed as he sat on the bed next to you and rubbed your arms as your body shook. “I got you. I got you, sweet thing.”

You grinned up at him as you rested back into your pillows, “Hi, handsome.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” He beamed, “I brought you everything to beat this. Soup, medicine, and I got your favorite movie. Steve and Robin say hi by the way. They told me to make sure to get you all better.” He chuckled, pulling the items out of the little shopping bag he had.

“You got the Princess Bride?” You asked, moved that he would go out of his way to get you something so comforting.

“Yeah, of course. The kid in that movie is sick anyways, so it fits perfectly.” He said, “But I wont put it on until you take a dose of this medicine I got.” He grinned as you let out a groan.

“That stuff tastes gross!” You pouted, shooting Eddie your best puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t care.” He laughed, pouring some of the thick red liquid into the little cup it came with. “You take this and I’ll put on the movie.” He said with a stern little head nod towards the cup as he handed it to you.

“Will you quote the movie with me again?” You wagered as you gave the medicine a cautionary sniff, wincing as the artificial cherry scent hit you sharply.

“As you wish.” He said with a shit-eating grin, loving the way you giggled again. You shot back the drink quickly, grimacing as you looked for something to wash the taste out of your mouth. “Here, I thought you would hate that.” He chuckled as he handed you a glass of water from your side table.

“Thank you for coming to take care of me, Eds.” You said softly as you placed the water back on the table after you took your sip.

“Anything for you sweetheart.” Eddie said, his eyes full of utter adoration as he smiled softly at you. “Now let’s get the healing started!” He exclaimed, jumping up from the bed to set the movie up on your TV. He quickly pressed play before quite literally launching himself onto your bed next to you, sending you into any other fit of giggles that he basked in.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight to his body as he rubbed your back comfortingly. You almost missed the dreamy sigh that he let out as he melted into you and the pillows. Almost. “I love you Eddie Munson.” You cooed out.

“Oh I love you too, sweetness. So fucking much.” He said happily.

~ 4 days later ~

The little bell over the door rang out as you walked into the video store, waving happily at Steve and Robin as they greeted you.

“Feeling better?” Robin asked as you walked up to the counter that she and Steve were standing behind.

“So much better, thank you.” You smiled, placing the small grocery bag onto the counter.

“Good, Eddie told us you had the plague or something.” Steve smiled as he leaned on his elbows.

“Just a cold.” You laughed. “But now Eddie has it so I’m going over to nurse him back to health.” Your smile widening as they both rolled their eyes and shared a look between them. “Do you have the Empire Strikes Back? Eddie was asking for it.”

“Yeah, it was just returned.” Steve said, pulling the tape from a pile he hadn’t put back yet and handing it to you. “You know you’re just going to keep passing that plague shit back and forth between you two, right?”

“Yeah.” You beamed with a little shrug, “We don’t care.” You laughed as you handed Robin the money before walking out of the store with a little wave, ignoring the two as they scoffed and shook their heads.

“Five bucks says they’re both sick next time.” Steve said, causing Robin to laugh with a nod.

“Oh definitely.”

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