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lunajay33 · 1 month

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Save a Horse🍂

Summary: Wandering around in the apocalypse was hell until you came across a a ranch, finding a injured horse you helped it finding the owner and things getting a little heated with an older cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy Negan Smith x f!reader

Warning: Age gap, reader is in 20s Negan is mid 40s, p in v, praise, virginity lose

Inspired by @lanadelnegan stories🤎

•Masterlist•

The apocalypse hit and everything happened so fast, I was with my family at our farm for some time watching the news, listening to the horror stories on the radio, we thought that we could go unscathed since we hadn’t been affected and that all the food and water we needed was on our land but all that changed one night when a hoard of walkers ran down our farm, my parents were first trying to fight of the walkers, quickly being ripped apart their screams still lingered in my head whenever I thought about them, then it was my two sisters trying to flee but got surrounded taking them down as well, I was lucky enough to get to my truck finding an opening in the walkers and driving away from my home, leaving me all alone on the road

Now it’s been 2 years going from place to place just trying to survive, to find a reason to keep living in this cruel world, I’ve been able to dodge as many walkers as I can, that wasn’t the main problem anymore, the food shortage was what dwindled my hope

My truck had broke down a while back so now I’ve just been wandering on foot, walking through the trees trying to get some shade from Georgia summer heat when I hear a groan and thud, I follow the direction of the whines on a left of what have might caused it, walkers, people, god knows what now a days

Rounding a tree I see a horse laying down on the ground, I approached slowly not wanting to spook it having experience with horses back on the farm, kneeling in front of it petting its soft black mane

“Hey girl, what are you doing out here all alone?” She didn’t look injured she was laying down fine, maybe she just got hot it was one of the hottest days I’ve ever lived in even in Georgia

I took out one of the bottles of water I found poring some of it over her face to help cool her down then poring the rest in a bowl I had in my bag and she was quick to drink it

After some time I stood up taking her lead rope trying to get her to stand up, I couldn’t leave her here all alone for some walkers to eat her alive maybe she came from somewhere near by

Walking through the trees she would occasionally change our course more like she was leading me than I was her until we got to a break in the trees, a ranch in perfect condition, a few horses grazing the field, little sheep’s hoping around, a chicken coop and a cozy little cabin like house right in the middle of the land, a brown bronco truck parked out front

Opening the gate, closing it behind me and the horse so the other animals wouldn’t get out like she did somehow, when a deep voice stopped me in my tracks

“See ya brought Missy back, been wondering where she went off to” coming down the porch steps was a older man, cowboy hat, white shirt, blue jeans and boots, maybe it was the lack of human contact or even interactions but damn was he fine, I didn’t realize he was right infront of me till he cleared his throat breaking me out of my oogling

“Oh yeah, I found her out in the woods she must had heat exhaustion so I gave her some water” my stomach feels like it’s in knots, I haven’t felt like this in so long, he’s said a few words and I’m entranced by him

“A nice and pretty girl might just have to keep ya around darling” he smirked making my knees weak, but I still have my values I’m not just going to jump his bones even though the urge is so strong

“Oh I mean if you’re able to take me in I’ll earn my keep, help around the farm, anything I just…..I can’t stay out there alone any longer” I said praying he’d give me a chance, some hope

“Ya sure you know what you’re doing around a farm?” He asked as he looked me up and down, lingering on my chest

“I grew up on a farm, I know what I’m doing”

“Hmmm well come on in, see where you can stay” I let Missy go so she could run off with the others, following him inside, it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, cute kitchen, wooden accents around the house, he kept walking down a hallways till he stopped at a room waiting for me to go in first, it was cozy, I don’t care if this place was trashy as long as I can be stress free and have someone to keep me company

“You like it?” He asked from the doorway

“I love it, thank you” I said as I sit on the bed letting out a long awaited sigh

“How long were you out there?”

“I don’t know time is hard to keep track of out there, maybe 2 years”

“Damn girl, 2 years did you atleast have someone out there?”

“My farm fell early taking my family with it when the walkers came, so it’s just been me until now”

He gave me a pitiful look it made the blood rush to my cheeks

“Come on darlin, supper should be done, should get some food in you” he said waving me out of the room and Im quick to follow him to the kitchen where I sit at the table as he dishes up some food, fresh food something I haven’t had in well forever it feels like

He sits across from me at the table taking his hat of showing his dark brown hair streaked with some grey, biting my lip to stop myself from fantasizing about running my hands through his hair, pulling on it as I feel his beard scratch against my legs

“So what’s your name darlin, like to call you something other than sweet names” he smirks obviously realizing my constant leering but he didn’t make it easy

“I’m fine with your little names but it’s y/n”

“You got a spark still considering how long you’ve been out there, how old are you even?”

“20 you?”

“Let’s just say I’m old enough to be your father”

“Not a problem for me” I said under my breath

A few weeks went by and I did what I said, working hard around the farm, waking up early to collect eggs from the chicken coop, feeding the horses and sheep, picking any ripe berries from the garden all before he was even up, no different from today, I laid berries on our plates and scrambled some eggs finishing right when he comes out of his room, scruffy hair, boxers and a black tank top showing off his tattoos, yes I earned my keep but the tension between us was growing stronger and stronger everyday, every touch, every long night of staying up talking I have to do something about it

“Morning Negan sleep well?” I asked as he sat across from me, our usual spots since that first day

“Great darlin, would’ve been better if you were next to me all night” he smirked, he’d do this tease me and act like it was nothing but it was something to me especially when I’d stay up late at night touching myself thinking of the things he’d say

“Negan you’re driving me crazy you know that” I said chomping on a strawberry

“You think I don’t hear you?”

“What?” My face flushed, please god don’t let it be what I think it is

“At night, when you think I’m fast asleep, I hear you moaning my name, whimpering when you can’t make yourself finish” he said his voice getting deeper as he leaned further across the table

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I gotta go……..go clean up the hay” I said flustered and completely embarrassed standing up and leaving the house to the barn

OH MY GOD this is so embarrassing, he’s heard me touch my self to him what is wrong with me, it’s only been a week and I can’t control myself, maybe because he’s everything I want, strong sexy makes my knees weak and panties wet, plus I have so much pent up sexual frustration, growing up on a farm and not being allowed to date led to me now, a horny 20 year old fantasizing about a man who generously gave me shelter and food, I’m a mess, a horny mess that wants to ride this man all day long

I get to the barn pitchforking any loose straw back into the pile trying to figure out what I’m suppose to do now, how do I face him again after he’s heard me moan his name

“I can hear your crazy thoughts from here darling” I look to the barn door seeing him dressed in blue jeans, cowboy boots, his cowboy hat and a brown plaid

“I can’t take it anymore Negan, obviously you know that now, please just……..”

“Just what baby?” He asks his voice deeper again as he gets closer gripping my waist, his hands alone engulfing me

“Just touch me”

He leans down grabbing the back of my thighs lifting me to straddle his hips, my arms wrapped around his shoulders now face to face

“You sure you can handle this sweetheart?”

“I need it, I need you to fuck me please I’ve been so good” I say as he litters my neck with sloppy kisses

“You have, such a good girl for me, guess you deserve a big reward for that” he smirks as he squeezes my ass, laying my down in the hay pile

“Fuck you got me so hard, you know how hard it was to not bust into your room hearing your sweet moans just begging for me to plow this pussy?” He grips the bottom of my sundress hauling it off over my head leaving me in just my panties, my tits completely exposed

Hearing him groan as his hands roam my body, from my hips up my stomach to caress my tits rubbing his thumbs over them making my panties even more soaked

“That feels so good, doesn’t feel like this *fuck* when I try” I whimper my body feeling like it’s on fire

“No one ever make you feel good darling?” He says as he leaves kitten licks against my nipples feeling like lighting shooting from them to my clit, trying to grind against his thigh between my legs

“No, no one’s ever…..”

“No ones ever touched you, you’re a virgin?” He continues to suck hickeys down my stomach stopping at the hem of my panties

“Only you” I moan needing more

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel good baby” he removed everything he’d wearing going to throw his hat in the pile of clothes but is top him

“Stop!……keep it on”

“You like cowboys? Wanna take a ride?” He smirks as he pulls down my panties leaving us both naked

“I mean I did save your horse, it’s only right to ride the cowboy” I say as I flip him over to straddle his hips, his dick standing big thick and prominent, he’s really gonna stretch me out good

“Oh ya it’s only right” he laughs squeezing my hips hard as he helps me move them back and forth grinding on his dick getting it wet

“I need it please”

“Take your time darling” he says as he lifts me up so I’m hovering right above him feeling his tip gently pushing against me

I slowly push down feeling the pressure and stretch, it hurt god it was way bigger than my two fingers

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he grunts

“Is it…….is it all in, you’re so big I don’t know if I can take much more” I moan uncontrollably, all this sexual frustration finally breaking free

“Just a little more, come on be a good girl and take it” he helps push me down the rest of the way till I feel his skin flush against my clit

I sigh I relief that I got it all in but the sting isn’t pleasant

“Take your time cowgirl, wanna get you nice and stretched before you try and ride your cowboy” he laughs as he sits up kissing my neck again and rubbing my clit to help distract the pain

“God I can’t wait” I say gripping his shoulders as I start moving up and down, slowly at first feeling him deeper and deeper each time

“Fuck baby this pussy is gonna be the death of me” I take his hat putting it on holding it with one hand just like I would when riding a mechanical bull, bouncing and gyrating fast and harder and deeper feeling him hit that spot where it makes me see stars and screaming his name over and over as I feel that tension build up in my lower stomach

“Come on cowgirl, cum on my dick, make yourself cum, let it out” he says meeting my thrusts over and over driving even deeper

My hearing goes fuzzy feeling like my whole body is lit up with pleasure, it’s never felt this good before doing it by myself, soon feeling a warm liquid shoot up inside me, dripping down in between us making a sticky hot mess

Coming back down to earth from that mind blowing orgasm I feel his hands roaming up and down my back, his chest pressed against mine

“Did I do it right” I moan biting my lip slowly grinding on him

“Damn darling, that was the best fuck of my life, yeah you did it right, look great doing it to, could get us to this” he says laying back in the hay hands behind his head

I sat up feeling him slide out whining when he popped out his cum dripping onto the hay as I lean down against his chest

“I want more”

“Damn baby girl, they were right good girls really are the most frustrated”

We spent the rest of the day in the barn, him taking me in every position imaginable, everyone better than the last until we were exhausted and my pussy ached so good

“Glad you found my horse that day”

“Me too Negan”

I want this man desperately damn, I’m newish to writing this kind of story so if you got any tips lmk

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 6 months

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Best friends - p3

pairings - Rafe Cameron x best friend!reader

summary - if Cooper can’t have you, no one can.

Warnings - violence, assault, language (18+)

Part 2

Your phone began to buzz erratically on your bedside table, with crusty eyes you searched for it half asleep. Unknown number flashed on your screen, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

Your mind was flooded with memories of Cooper, could it be him? Or was it just a random number prank calling you?

You choose to ignore it, feeling physically ill at the idea of it being Cooper. It had been nearly 3 weeks of no contact, the island was small but you never seemed to run into him. Probably because Rafe was with you, he never left your side.

He did everything with you, it all felt familiar. Just how it had been before he went off to college, you couldn’t deny that you loved it. The only times you were brought out of your little Rafe bubble was when Lola called.

You could hear him arguing with her most late nights when he excuses himself from dinner or during a movie.

He never brought her up, never disclosed why they were fighting. But you weren’t stupid, you knew it was because of you. He was meant to be back at school with her but he chose to stay back here with you.

You squeezed your eyes closed to rid the thoughts of Rafe, just as you begin to fall back to sleep your phone went off for a second time, before you could talk yourself out of it you pressed the answer button ready to tell the idiot in the other line to fuck off.

“Finally”

The words caught in your throat, how could you be so stupid to answer the phone. Cooper’s voice was low and soft. “I miss you”.

You pulled yourself out of the bed, you begin pacing the bedroom floor. Walking to one end of the room spinning and doing the same thing again, feet burning marks into the carpet.

Why had you been so stupid to answer the call? Of course it would be Cooper, you never left him unanswered this long.

“You look nice”. Halting your movements your head whips around, looking for any sign of him in your bedroom. The door is still wide open for Rafe to check on you when he wants to.

“I really don’t like that you're only wearing a shirt to bed y/n, Rafe is right across the hall” he growled, goosebumps littered your skin. It felt like he was right behind you, hot breath fanning over the skin on your neck.

“Where are you?” You squeak, pressing your back against the wall. Eyes still searching the darkness of your room. Why didn’t you sleep with a nightlight?

“Look outside”

You step towards the window, all you see is darkness stretched as far as the gates surrounding your house. The porch light had not turned on so he couldn’t be outside, it would have picked up the movement.

“Now turn around”

You let out a blood curdling scream, Cooper stood in the doorway. Within seconds he slams the door behind him and locks it, striding over towards your frozen body pressed against the window.

“God I missed you baby” he growls, drinking in the smell of you. You could smell the tequila on his breath, it was intoxicating. His lips press against your neck, fingers gripping the hem of your T-shirt, bunching up against your waist to give him a dick teasing glimpse of your black panties, He pulls you flush against him, your body shakes in fear. “It’s like you knew I was coming to visit you” he whispers, his large palm cups your mound. You bite down on your tongue, clenching your legs as close as possible to stop him from moving your underwear aside.

“Coop” you squeak out, he ignores you and continues his attack on your neck. Screwing your eyes shut you let out another cry for help, this had to wake Rafe up.

“Shut the fuck up” he shouts, wrapping his hand around your throat. He tightens his grip and smacks your head against the window. A dull pain shoots from the back of your head to your eyes, crying out in pain he stops you from making noise by pressing his lips to yours. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, you could taste the saltiness of them as his tongue violated your mouth. You once craved Cooper’s touch but now it made you sick.

“Y/n?!” Rafe shouts, his fists bang on the door in worry. The door handle shakes obnoxiously as he tries to get in.

“Look what you’ve done, now I’m going to have to kill him” he grunts, he drops your body onto the window ledge, a sharp sting radiates from your ass cheeks to your back. You're watching as he strides towards the bedroom door. “RAFE! Call the police!” You scream, before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab the knife you’ve been keeping under your pillow and start running at him.

Your insides churn as your chest meets his back, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his stomach. “Bitch!” He shouts, the knife you held pressed against his neck. If he stumbled just a little the blade would pierce the skin, he’d bleed to death on your bedroom floor.

“Make one more move and I push this blade into your throat Cooper” you warn, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. All of your blood has rushed to your head as you try to calm your erratic breathing.

“Your a stupid fucking bitch, you really think Rafe wants you? He fucking left you!” He screams, he doesn’t move though. He doesn’t even try to pull you away, he stands dead still. “He didn’t speak to you for how long y/n? You texted and texted and he never responded” his voice is eerily calm, his breathing is slow a huge contrast to yours.

A coldness washes over your body, his words hitting harder than you expected. He was right, Rafe did leave, he did forget about you.

You don’t even realize you pulled the knife away from his neck until he’s twisting your wrist and body slamming you to the floor.

You let out a choked scream, the breath being knocked out of you. Pain radiates throughout your body, paralyzed to the floor. Cooper stands over you, staring down at you with anger in his eyes.

“You need to get it through your thick skull, Rafe doesn’t love you and he never will”. He growls, he taps his fingers to your temples. The knife you had once possessed was now pressed against your throat, threatening you to move or speak. Your eyes widen in fear, watching Cooper go inside his head for a moment, contemplating his next move. Your mind wanders to Rafe, where was he? He hadn’t come back since you shouted for him to call the police.

“If I can’t have you, no one can”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything around you goes black.

You awoke to darkness around you for the second time tonight or was it morning? everything hit you all at once and you jolted from your position. Pain radiated from your lower back to your frontal lobes, Hands searching only to be met with a plush blanket. Your heart beat slows as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were still in your room, had everything been a dream? Your fingers brushed against your throat, wincing at the pain. It definitely wasn’t a dream.

“Rafe?” You choke out, he steps into the bedroom within seconds. Switching the small lamp on by the door, his lip is cut and there is swelling under his left eye. “What happened?”.

“Cooper is in custody” you expect him to look happy, but anger is etched on his gorgeous face. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and walks over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His fingers find yours giving you a squeeze, your shoulders relax forward. “He’s not going to stay in there” you don’t say anything but stare at him. “He’s only in there because I pressed charges, if you want him in prison you need to press charges”.

Your world feels like it’s crumbling around you, you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to tell your mum of the pain you’ve been enduring, you didn’t want people on the island to find out.

“I don’t think so”

“Y/n don’t be stupid, he’s not going to stop. He could kill you, your lucky we got inside the room when we did”

Tears are spilling from your eyes, you're crawling under a blanket with a gasp of pain. Your ribs were on fire along with your head.

“Do you want to know what he was doing to you when the police knocked the door down?”

A loud hiccup left your throat, pressing your swollen face further into the mattress. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, you felt the pain from what he had done, you weren’t sure if you needed the memories.

“He had his hands wrapped around your throat, he was squeezing so tight I thought you were dead. You didn’t move the whole way to the hospital”

You flinch at the idea of going to the hospital but stay silent. “You didn’t move or say anything for the first 48 hours” your eyes widened and you threw the blanket from your body. “48 hours?”

“You’ve been in and out of it for 7 days y/n, I have drs in your bedroom everyday. You’ve been hooked up to machines for days, they’ve literally only just let with the equipment”.

The words you want to speak are stuck in your throat, Cooper had put you in hospital… Cooper had you barely conscious for 7 days straight.

The strangled cry that leaves you hyperventilating, reaching out for Rafe to hold you. His arms wrap around you tightly, stroking your long hair. “I- I um I want to talk to the police”.

Not even 2 hours later you sat in your kitchen with the police, going over everything with them. Staring from the first time he hit you, which was barely a hit if you look at yourself now. They wrote everything down and kept straight faces, your insides churned when you spoke about the sexual assault. You wanted to ask for Rafe but they states no one could be in the room with you only your lawyer, who kept her mouth zipped the whole time.

When they finally left and said they’d call, Rafe pulled you into a hug and whispered how proud he was of you. He stroked your arm how he did when you used to cry to him about stupid boys in school.

“Can we just pretend like none of this happened for a bit? I just want to forget”

“Of course, come on we can go make pizza”

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @f4ll-for-you @gabys-gabs @aaronhotchswife @immyowndefender @ijustwanttoreadlols @maybankslover @allsmilesreally7 @dilvcv @xo-hayleyy-xo @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you @lovelornanonymity

(please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged or if you only want to be tagged in certain fics)

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dazed-and-confused23 · 19 days

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Ladyfingers

Summary: Lucy promises Cooper that she can handle being by herself for a while and proves it to him while he's away.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings: violence and death. Blood and canon typical actions. Fluffy things and Cooper being worried but proud of his little killer.

I've seen a lot of Worried!Cooper Howard things on Tumblr lately and I wanted to try my hand at it. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

"You are sure you'll be alright without me?" Cooper questions his little vaultie for the third time. They are down on caps, and he had volunteered to go find a bounty to cash out on. Lucy had grimaced and asked him if she could stay here, in the sturdy little house they'd been using for shelter the past couple of days. He had ground his teeth in protest, but Lucy had given him such a pitiful look that he'd broken before he could argue with her.

"Yup. I've been up here long enough to handle myself. I handled you, right?" Lucy pointed out, and Cooper sighs. Not to toot his own horn, but he was one of the more dangerous players in the wasteland, and his smoothskin wasn't wrong. He just didn't like the thought of her leaving his sight.

"Alright, alright," Cooper tosses his hands up in surrender, though a frown still lingers on his lips. Lucy hops forward and threads her fingers with his own, tip toeing to kiss her ghoulish companion. Cooper immediately kisses her back, tugging her close by the hands so that she stumbles into his chest.

"You run for town if anyone tries anythin', you hear me?" Cooper demands when Lucy drops back to her booted feet. He untangles a hand to grasp her by the chin, locking eyes with her own.

Lucy's expression turns soft, and she can't help the teasing tilt to her voice, "Awe, is the big bad, bounty hunter worried about me?"

Cooper rolls his eyes and scoffs, lips pursed to the side, "You make it hard not to, little killer. Trouble finds you worse than a magnet does a fridge."

She can't help but grin, Cooper wasn't technically wrong there. Lucy turns her face and presses a kiss to his wrist, "I promise I'll come running if there's trouble."

The ghoul nods, appeased at the promise. Coop tugs her in for another hug, and then let's go, loping to the front door. Dogmeat waits patiently, ready to go with him. He looks back at Lucy one last time before he and Dogmeat slip out the door, and he locks it behind him.

Lucy slumps when Cooper disappears. It feels weird being completely alone, but she uses the time to clean her weapons and stitch the holes in her vault suit. Her pip-boy radio is turned on, and she listens to Helen Forrest sing about being mad about the boy she loves.

She quirks her lips and turns the song up, thinking it funny how relatable she finds the song. The vault dweller loses herself in the back and forth of sewing up her suit, and as the hours pass, Lucy doesn't realize how late it has grown, nor how loudly her music echos out of the quaint little house.

Three men, one ghoul and two humans, creep up to the side of the house. They had heard the music and followed it to the humble adonde, grinning to one another when they spot Lucy inside. The vault dweller isn't paying attention, too absorbed in the old world magazine she is reading to hear the back windows slide open.

Lucy chokes back a scream when a hand slams across her mouth. She doesn't hesitate to throw her head back, her skull meeting the nose of the man who holds her. He shouts when her head connects and breaks his nose, sending blood splattering down his face and into her hair.

"Fuckin' bitch! Get her!" He shouts, and the ghoul and other man appear out of nowhere. Lucy kicks and fights back, landing a lucky hit to one of the men's balls and sending him to the floor. It gives her enough time to scramble to the far end of the room and search for her side arm.

She grunts when the ghoul tackles her, sending them both to the floor. Her head bounces once, and she sees stars for half a second before her vision rights itself. The ghoul tries to wrap his hands around her neck, but Lucy is stronger than her small frame seems.

The vault dweller swings an elbow up and into his face, knocking his head to the side and sending a tooth flying from his mouth. She bucks her hips and dislodged the ghoul enough that she can wiggle free. Lucy stands up and grabs the first thing her hand finds.

Lucy holds the iron fire poker tightly, brandishing the sharp end at the three men that surround her. The original one lunges, tries to feint to the left, and gets stuck in the ribs for his troubles. Bones crack, and the man wheezes as he spins and clutches his side. The second human, now recovered from the kick to the balls, is faster and gets into Lucy's space quick enough to snatch the poker mid swing.

"Gonna pay for what you did little cunt," He spits nasty, but Lucy wasn't about to let him close again. She rears back and kicks him, and he's too focused on the weapon to see her booted foot come flying in to strike him in the stomach.

He grunts and stumbles backward, taking the fire poker with him as he goes. Lucy turns and runs, putting distance between the men and eyes frantically searching for her bag. She finds it kicked halfway under the couch and makes a dive for it, hands snagging the strap and taking the bag with her as she runs for the front door.

The ghoul grabs her again, shoving her against the door and making her bite her bottom lip. Pain laces up her face and blood pools in her mouth. She rears back, thrashing in his hold and forcing the ghoul to let her go. Lucy unlocks the door and runs outside, digging her hand into her bag to finally grab her sidearm as she runs through the dead forest.

The men follow her, the one with the broken ribs lagging behind but still in hot pursuit. The man with the iron poker rushes forward, tacking Lucy to the ground and sending her 10mm skidding away from her. She shouts, the air in her lungs expelling in a rush from the hit. Rocks and twigs dig into her front, but that doesn't stop her from throwing her weight against the man, fingers scrambling in the dirt to find her gun.

Lucy gets socked in the rib for her troubles, making her grunt and glare at the gravel below her. She does it again, wiggling back and forth and scooting herself forward until the tips of her fingers brush against the metal of her weapon. The vault dweller lunges forward and finally wraps her fingers around the grip.

The young woman rolls, wacking the man in the face with her 10mm and shooting blindly. A cry of pain goes up in the air, and the ghoul falls, shot in the stomach by the lucky shot. She squeezes the trigger again, missing this time, but the gun going off right beside the man who still holds her is enough for him to release her legs.

Lucy scrambles up, and so does the man. He throws himself forward, and the gun goes off, a bullet punching through his gut, and his weight knocks the smoothskin to the ground. Blood soaks her front, and the man weakly pushes himself up, coughing in Lucy's face and sending blood splattering her cheeks.

The vault dweller shoves his body off her, rolling to her feet and snarling in rage at the only man left standing. Before she can fire her weapon, the familiar sound of a dog barking hits her ears and Dogmeat comes flying out of no where, her teeth locking around the man's wrist and bringing him down to the ground before she let's go to snap and bite for his throat, canines sinking into his flesh and ripping his jugular out.

Lucy sucks in sharp intakes of air, eyes casting around until she spots the silhouette of her ghoul come jogging into the clearing. Anger paints his face, underlined by a current of worry that makes her heart beat a little harder in her chest. She spits to the side, grimacing at the taste of iron, and smiles at Cooper.

"Hi."

The ghoul looks her over with his eyes and then closes the distance to yank Lucy in for a kiss. His vaultie is soaked in the blood of the men who attacked her, but she's never looked so beautiful standing there in the setting sun.

He pulls away after a moment and tugs Lucy in for a hug, "Hi to you too, shithead. Thought you said you'd run?"

Lucy shrugged at him, hands clutching at his sides as she rested her brow along his collar bone, "I tried, but it didn't really work out."

Cooper huffed and shook his head. This is what he gets for leaving her by herself, but he is proud that she'd been able to hold her own without him there. He kissed the top of her head again.

"Good job, lil killer. We'll make a wastelander outta you yet."

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #ghoulcy #cooper howard x lucy maclean

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juiles · 1 year

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Overwhelmed

Summary: y/n, Scarlett’s autistic adult daughter has an overwhelming weekend which leads into a meltdown.

Triggers: autistic meltdown

Type: hurt/comfort

A/N: in no way do I know how all autistic people struggle but i wrote this based on my experience and how i feel while overstimulated.

Masterlist here!

Requests here!

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This had been the worst 3 days ever in existence. Well maybe not ever but for me it’s been really rough. I had meeting after meeting on saturday with different people for work. Sunday I had a family thing, being in a church for 2 hours then interacting with said family for a 3 hour dinner. Today I had to run errands for my mum which meant more people.

I don’t do well with people, being in groups is really hard for me and keeping my mask up for the long hours is exhausting. My mom is pretty good at keeping up with me and knowing when i need to stop but she was really busy this week and being an adult it meant i had to do all this on my own. She also had to deal with the kids this weekend on her own since Colin had to film.

After doing some chores around the house I finally closed myself off in my bedroom, locking the door, turning my lights off, unplugging everything and wrapping myself up in my weighted blanket in my sensory swing with my airpods on playing very soft white noise. I sat there for what i thought was only an hour or so however when I finally felt a little calmer and I emerged from my room, mom and both kids were back and instantly could feel my senses overloading again.

I flinched when Rose collided with my legs screaming. I covered my ears quickly and shut my eyes but my hands were quickly pulled off and my mom was talking to me.

“Y/n. Go deal with Cosmo and dinner for me? You’ve been cooped up in your room all day for no reason.”

I went to open my mouth to talk to her but she cut me off immediately. “No i said go.”

I instantly shut down, nodding my head and running downstairs to do as asked. I pulled Cosmo into my arms and he slowly settled down as I stirred up the dinner before placing it in the oven. Colin shoved the door open creating a loud bang making me flinch again. Cosmo started crying again and buried into me. Mom came back down with a babbling Rose who she instantly handed over to me. I went into the living room and placed them both down and they instantly started playing with their toys. My hand twitched, my tics starting up.

“Mom…” I murmured towards my moth who sat down beside me. I covered my ears with my hands again and started to rock myself slightly. “Mama…”

I felt a hand touch my arm and before I could even think about it, my body flinched back and a scream ripped from my throat as I pulled myself away. “No!!” Tears welled up and my hands started curling around my hair pulling slightly. My chest felt restricted and suddenly the clothes i was wearing felt like fire on my skin, the couch was too rough, my socks weren’t on right and my hair was rubbing in my face to much.

The lights in the living room were still to bright behind my shut eyes, the noises of my moms voice and the kids crying were way to much. My moms hand on my shoulder felt like a weight pulling me down and my body felt like it wanted to fight nothing.

It was like my whole world went dark all of a sudden and I couldn’t breath.

Scarlett’s pov

Placing my hand on my daughters shoulder then hearing her scream scared the shit out of me but seeing her curl up into a ball screaming no scared me even more. I haven’t seen her have a full meltdown like this in years. I took a second to think about what could have caused it then I realized her weekend. It was full of people and meetings. She had even tried to warn me before but I was too sidetracked to hear her.

“Colin, take the littles upstairs and put a movie on in our room. Grab her weighted blanket, airpods and phone from her room and bring them down before going back to the kids.” I quickly barked out making Colin snap into action and he snatched the two little ones before running upstairs.

I turned to my eldest and despite her screams to not touch her I pulled her hair up into a messy bun and pulled the sweater she had around her shoulders off throwing it off to the side. I felt her stuff be put on my lap and I quickly pulled her blanket around her tightly before placing her airpods in her ears playing the white noise. I quickly unplugged everything in the room and turned off the lights. I pulled the blackout curtains down and closed the door to the living room.

I sat back against the coffee table, within arms reach of her but not touching her. She slowly stopped screaming and quickly it was only small sobs leaving her mouth.

Y/N pov

I could feel my hair being pulled back and despite my best efforts the hands wouldn’t go away. The sweater that made me want to rip my skin off is taken off of me. A weight was placed on my shoulders and my ears had a pressure on them before i could hear the white noise. I could hear someone shuffling around before silence as i felt my body start to settle. The only thing I was missing was more pressure. I needed more pressure on my body.

My hands reached out forward hoping someone was near and to my luck my favourite pair of hands grabbed on to mine softly and squeezed them gently. I shuffled around with my ears pulling my airpods out but kept my eyes squeezed shut.

“My love. I’m going to ask you a few yes or no questions. One squeeze is yes two is no. Do you hear me?” I could hear the tears in my moms voice and i squeezed her hands once. “Ok baby. Are you breathing normally?” I squeezed once. “Okay. Is it to loud in here?” I paused for a moment and listened around before squeezing twice. “Is it too bright?” I opened my eyes slowly and blinked looking around the dark room before meeting with matching green eyes. I squeeze twice and she nods softly. “Do you need more pressure?” Quickly I squeezed once and before i could do anything my mom wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down to her lap where she squeezed me tight. “I’ve got you princess.”

After a while my heart finally settled and I could breath normally again so I pulled back and looked at my mom. She sent me a soft smile and reached her hand out pausing before i nodded and she cupped my cheek with her hand softly. “I’m sorry. I know how overwhelming this weekend was for you and I put you into a very stimulating place. I have a few more questions okay?”

I nodded shyly and started snapping the elastic on my wrist before mom replaced it with a fidget toys. “Are you verbal?” I shook my head quickly and hit my lip. “That’s okay sweetheart. Are you hungry?” The idea of eating made me super nauseous so I shook my head quickly. “Okay. Thirsty?” I nodded before even thinking about it and let a small smile out. “You are so cute baby. Okay two last questions for now. Do you want some music on or (insert comfort show here) on in the background?” I pulled my hands away for a moment before signing TV for my mom. “Colin wants to check in you. He already took the kids to grandmas. Do you want him in here or not?” I signed dad and she smiled softly. “Okay princess.”

I saw her grab her phone and my head buried into her neck as I took a deep breath.

Scarlett’s pov

I pulled her closer as I sent a text off to Colin to come home and bring her favourite snacks for later and drinks. I slipped my phone on to the coffee table and grabbed the remote before turning the tv on and putting her comfort show on.

“I love you y/n.” I muttered into her hair as her head turned slightly to look at the tv. 10 minutes later we heard Colin’s car pull up and as quietly as possible he made his way into the living room.

“Hi princess.” He murmured as he settled down beside y/n but not close enough to be touching her as sometimes she can’t handle the contact with other people. “I brought some strawberry lemonade.” He handed it to her gently and before he could pull his arm away she attached to it and pulled him closer indicating she wants him to hold her as well.

The grin on his face made me smile brightly and cover her head in kisses drawing out her quiet giggle which made my heart flutter. I placed my head on hers and smiled softly as the three of us watched the tv.

#marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #scarlett johansson x kid!reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x platonic!reader #scarlett johansson x teen!reader #scarlett johansson x child!reader #scarlett johansson fluff #scarlett johansson x autistic!reader #scarlett johansson x daughter!reader

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ruinmegently · 7 months

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These Barren Wilds [snippet o1]

Irah closes his eyes. Plops flat in the dirt and listens to the flies that come buzzing around, attracted to the sweat.

“What are you even looking for out there?” he asks, unsure he wants to know the answer.

Tessa shuffles beside him. He hears the soft thud of a tin plate set on the ground. Her swallow. The way she clicks her teeth together like she always does when she’s thinking faster than her own brain can keep up.

“Something better,” she says, as soft as a tumbleweed dancing in the wind.

Irah cracks his eyes open and peers up at the bright blue sky.

“Better’s out West,” he reminds her.

“Says who?”

“Says the literal uninhabitable desert that tries to eat people who travel too far into it.”

“It gives,” Tess says, and Irah glances over to watch her shake her head. There’s a hunch to her posture that makes a light go off in his head.

“You haven’t seen it yet,” he says.

She scrunches her nose up, turns to look away from him. He sits up at this new burst of information, pointing at her.

“You haven’t. Fucking hell, Tess.”

“What? It’s not like it’s on a timetable!”

“That’s what makes it a fucking death trap! You don’t know exactly where, and you don’t know exactly when, until the ground’s shaking beneath ya, and yeah, the dunes give, but what do you think that fucking looks like?”

His heart’s racing. It’s hot enough to sweat out his soul and burn his skin in less than a minute, and Irah feels he could race laps around the shack and its little chicken coop. River, as if sensing his agitation, starts to whine low in her throat. Even the chickens have stopped in their strides, milling about the brunt of the feed that was tossed on the ground.

He sits upright again and stares hard at the woman beside him. She’s looking out beyond, out East where the desert gets even harsher, where there’s no well water to tap, where the land’s lonely and aching and vindictive. He watches her and he feels alone. Like he’s a star in the cold dark, but she won’t look up and no matter how much he screams, he’s too far away for her to hear him.

“They tell you the only life you deserve is the one you got,” she says, so distant. “And the only life worth living’s out West, but no one’s ever good enough to go there, Irah. Don’t you get it?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It just takes money. The right connections.” You have to be patient, he wants to say. You have to work the system. You have to mill your soul down on a grindstone. You have to kill. You have to kill and kill and kill, because that’s where the money’s at. And if you’re good at it—really fucking good at it—then you can get out. You can leave this dusty grave behind and buy a big fucking house in Wave with a big fucking pool and take your dog and leave—

Leave.

Everyone

—else

Behind.

Tessa growls out a rough sound so deep from within her, Irah’s surprised her innards don’t spill on the ground. She flaps her hands up high into the air.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. You never try to fucking understand.”

“Well excuse me for not speaking goddamn crazy.” His own hands fly up, too. They have too much in common. He hates her and he doesn’t want her to die. “I don’t know what your plan is, but you’re gonna be a smear in the dirt and nothing but a shitty memory if you keep going out there like this.”

She shoves him and he falls to the side, catching himself hard on his elbow. She stands. Kicks the plate, scraps of food and all, so hard it pings off the chicken wire fence and clatters into the side of the coop, disturbing the hens who squawk with the sound.

“Why do you fucking care?”

“I don’t,” Irah says, glaring.

“That’s right. So stay the fuck out of my business.”

She leaves him there, stomping all the way back to her shack. The door slams shut with a rattle. She’s gonna die. Irah lies there in the dirt and lets the dust pile on top of him until the heavy sun starts to set and the extreme heat lessens in anticipation of an even more extreme cold. He thinks about all the ways she could die. The sand opening up and sucking her in at the same moment it spits some useless thing out. Getting lost and wild with heat madness until she falls limp in an unforgiving desert and the vultures pick her meat off before she fully slips away. A roving Scrapper gang offing her because she’s encroaching on the territorial lines handed down by word and not by fucking map. Would they tie her up like he does with his victims? Would they even care that it’s her dry blood they’d pick out from beneath their nails?

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

They all die in the end.

He buries her in his heart before making the long walk back home.

taglist; @digital-chance @dyrewrites @makemeravenous

#ruinwriting #these barren wilds #tbw snippet #nano 2023 #writeblr #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023

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bondsmagii · 2 years

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So! This one’s gonna be a little long and creepy if that’s alright. I’m almost completely positive something fucked happened at the house I’m staying at. Part of me is scared it’s Sk*n W*lkers

A bit of context: I’m staying with a friend in her family home about an hour or two outside of London. It’s not rural, necessarily, and it’s a super safe neighborhood. It’s me, her, her boyfriend, her parents, and her sister. A dog and two cats.

Been staying here two and a half weeks & nothing yet. I’m used to the foxes even though they’re a little disconcerting when it sounds like children screaming in the middle of the night (I’m american)

At 3:30 in the morning (I checked) I wake up to the sound of whimpering right outside my window. We all sleep on the second story with the windows open for a breeze & the windows face a fenced in backyard.

At first it sounded like their dog, but she doesn’t sleep outside, then I settled on it being a fox maybe talking to another fox. It went on for a while before I got a genuine sense of dread in my chest and realized the whimpering sounded like it was on a perfect loop. Over and over, the same length, the same pattern, the same whines.

Fuck if I was gonna get out of my bed and check it out, so I stayed put. The whimpering stopped pretty suddenly (mid whine) and I was listening and waiting for it to start back up when—and i’m getting scared again thinking about it—I hear a sound that sounds Exactly like if my friend’s boyfriend was outside clearing his throat. Or trying to.

Except it wasn’t him because he’s just had a minor surgery, so he’s cooped up on bed rest, and besides—He’s not a night owl and not the kinda guy to be doing that. I mean dude, it sounded exactly like something that was trying to sound like him.

It was half throat clearing, half like—checking the durability of your vocal chords to see if you can speak kind of thing? Like trying to talk after being strangled

Just weird moaning and trying to speak coming from outside my (open) window.

It scared the fucking shit out of me. As someone who believes in all of that stuff, i just stayed in bed and cited the lord’s prayer to myself over and over. What was freaking me out also is that usually when I do that (pray) i get a light feeling in my chest, a softness, something calm. No matter how much I focused on praying last night, the dread didn’t budge.

The groaning stops. The whimpering comes back on a loop. I’m shitting myself texting my parents who’re still awake in the states that there’s some creepy sounds happening outside just so i don’t feel alone.

The groaning comes back & this time I hear it from behind my bedroom door. Like it’s gotten inside and is standing somewhere in the hallway. The groaning goes on for a few seconds before something or something paces the length of the hallway. But like, awkwardly? like with a limp a bit. And the breathing is weird. The breathing is like someone really exhausted, but bad exhausted. Like outran a murderer in the rain exhausted. And I just know in my gut it isn’t the boyfriend who’s recovering.

He usually wakes up like clockwork around 5 because that’s when his pain meds wear off, and he’d use the bathroom closest to his bedroom, not go all the way down the hall to my room and stand outside it if he needed anything.

Footsteps recede. I hear no doors close. Whimpering goes on until about 4:30. I haven’t slept. Needed to tell somebody about this.

Thank you for reading

this is honestly so fucking creepy, but I have never heard of skinwalkers being active in the UK. they're pretty well-tied to geography and culture, and have unfortunately suffered from becoming the go-to thing in creepypastas for a while, so now everything that seems to mimic is classed as a skinwalker. it's a real shame, because skinwalker mythology is fascinating, and also there's a lot out there outside of skinwalkers that this kind of thing could be.

with this, there's probably a pretty simple explanation. the UK is very old and very full of ghosts. a lot of the buildings are old, and have been lived in by many people. even if the building is new, the land itself is old, and has been inhabited for thousands of years. I don't know what it is about the UK and Ireland, but paranormal activity is super fucking high here, more so than most other places, and pretty much every place I've ever lived has had something going on. I think what you might have experienced is a residual haunting.

while no less terrifying to experience, sometimes even if you get used to it, residual hauntings are harmless as they're not sentient. they're remnants of energy. if a person does something often enough, for example walks up the stairs and stops to catch their breath before continuing, such as an elderly person might, this repetivie action could imprint on the building. the older person passes away, somebody new moves in, and at 9pm every evening they hear creaking on the stairs, before a pause and heavy breathing, and then creaking again. it's very common, and probably makes up the majority of hauntings. usually they're very lowkey, but sometimes they can be pretty major, and even involve full apparitions.

generally speaking, something malicious like some kind of mimicing cryptid would not enter a house like that, and if it did, it would probably not leave without doing something further. it sounds like what you heard was the imprint of an old resident. perhaps this person was a smoker, and stood outside in the spot you heard the weird throat sounds from -- a smoker would likely be out late, and would probably not be in the best of health chest and throat-wise. the whimpering could have been this person crying, as negative emotions are often more likely to be "stored" than positive ones, and it makes sense -- somebody gets bad news, or they're grieving, or they're stuck in some other nasty situation, so they go outside in the middle of the night and have a cigarette. then when they're done, they come back inside and go to their room (the groaning that you heard inside the house). then it just stops, because the recording has ended.

also remember that sometimes these recordings aren't perfect. sounds get distorted, apparitions can appear looking monstrous because the energy is just not translating right, or something will be only partially recorded. sometimes it's confusing, or much more threatening than it is. but none of them are harmful, and this might explain why prayer had no effect. usually prayer has some effect against malicious entities, not necessarily because of good vs evil but more the person's faith in something stronger than itself robs it of some of the power to terrify, and these things like easy prey. if you prayed and it had no effect either on it or your own comfort, this is probably because there was nothing to fear. it's simply a harmless recording, and it continued on as normal, and this then compounded your own fear as, from your perspective, it looked like you were up against something immune to prayer. but really it just was not aware of you at all; it's not even sentient.

hopefully this made some sense! it must have been a terrifying experience, but it's a very cool one. if this is indeed what it is, it's very unique. residual recordings are usually very quick, and one as drawn-out and detailed as this is very impressive.

#creepy asks #anon #asks

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ph-obeus · 2 years

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@wearewatcher my entry for Too Many Spirits

When I was a child, perhaps about seven or six, I had a nightmare that has stuck with me to this day.

I was standing in my backyard, surrounded by a garden that was similar enough to my one in real life but just different enough to make me uneasy. I turn to see that the sky is blood red. The sun on the horizon was triple in size and a blinding orange.

So, I shield my eyes from the light and look around, and I see my parent’s blue car parked on the grass, which was odd because we have a garage. As I walk towards it, I notice a figure standing a few metres away from the car.

He’s facing me, but he has his back to the sun so the entire front of his body is in shadow and I can’t see any identifying features. I’m still somewhat blinded by the bright light so I continue towards the car, keeping the figure in my sight.

I get into the car and sit in the front seat, trying to calm myself down, rationalising the appearance of the figure to myself. I look in the rear-view mirror and the figure has moved right behind the car and is staring at me through the back window.

I start to freak out and fumble for the keys, trying to start the car up and drive away. But, given that I was a child, I had no idea how cars worked. The figure started moving around the side of the car as I’m struggling to fit the keys in the ignition, until he comes to a stop right in front of me.

I look up and I can see he looks like the fox from Fantastic Mr. Fox. Except he’s much, much taller. He looks like someone put him in the stretching machine in Willy Wonka’s factory. He’s haggard and malnourished, his fur matted and coming off in clumps.

His face was the worst of it. It was a mangled approximation of both fox and human, a horrifying chimera. He stands there and leers at me. I’m freaking out even more now. The fox-man crawls onto the hood of the car and begins digging at the class with his huge claws. Instead of them just scratching against the glass, the glass bends and warps like it’s rubber and he begins pushing through it, grasping for me.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream and run from the car. I sprint to my house and try the door, but it’s locked. Somehow, I know that the back door is locked as well. I run to the windows that look into the living room and I bang on them, screaming for someone to help me.

Inside, I can see my mother sitting and having tea with a friend of hers. I beg her for help, desperately trying to get her attention. But they don’t even look at me. I try and scream louder but in the reflection of the window I can see the fox-man leisurely walking towards me.

I start running again, but every time I look back, he’s right behind me, even though he never breaks into a run. I make it to the chicken coop and squeeze myself inside, because that was the best hiding place I could come up with for some reason.

I’m huddled amongst the chickens, hugging one of the chickens to my chest. I sit there as I hear the fox-man pacing around outside, clawing at the wooden walls and snarling at me. Bit by bit, he starts to break through, and huge gouges appear on the walls.

Just as he breaks through, his jaw unhinged and gaping open, I stare into the rows upon rows of serrated teeth he has. Just as he bites down on my head, I wake up in a cold sweat.

Needless to say, I didn’t watch Fantastic Mr. Fox for many years afterwards.

#watcher #wearewatcher #too many spirits #nightmare #shane and ryan

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hello Eve!!! I have been absolutely enjoying your fics for the last few days, especially the fighting one! If you have time, I would love to request a coops fight, with Remus just being so sarcastic and Sirius going to Hope/Lyall for help :) I'm on the angst train right now haha

Angst (not fic o'ween) ahead! Ouch. Gotta say, this one hurt a bit to write but it's some sweet catharsis to start the new month. Coops credit goes, of course, to the wonderful @lumosinlove <3

TW for argument, angst (with happy ending), bottling up feelings, guilt, struggling with being 'enough'

Looking back, Sirius didn’t remember how it started. Could’ve been a passive-aggressive comment. Could’ve been the wrong mix of emotions combining between them like magnesium and oxygen, burning hot and vicious and angry the way they never were and swore not to be. Could’ve been the little bits of his brain that were still damaged from 24 years of walking on eggshells.

But the beginning wasn’t important, when they had shouted and flushed furious red and gone for each others’ jugulars in some horrible parody of anyone’s relationship but their own. Even the middle wasn’t the cause of his pain, that godawful limbo where Remus had stormed out to go for a walk and Sirius stormed off in the other direction as if neither of them were hurting.

It was the end that mattered.

Remus hadn’t spoken a word to him that wasn’t brutally serene sarcasm in five hours and 26 minutes. His expressive face was neutral; his stained-glass eyes flared with emotions only to carefully go blank once more.

The dial tone rang once, twice, three times.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Sirius all but sighed.

“Hey, sweetheart, how’s it going?” He could hear Hope clattering around on the other end of the line—she was always busy, but made it look so easy. Even her voice was as calm as the waves lapping the beach.

“It’s…” He faltered, closing his eyes. Remus was still somewhere in the neighborhood, and he was alone in the house for the first time in a long, long time. “It’s not great, actually.”

The clattering stopping. “Are you hurt?”

He liked how she used ‘you’ to refer to both of them. Somehow, it still comforted him. “No, we’re both fine. I just had a question for you.”

“Sirius.” Her voice gentled around his name like a hug from hundreds of miles away. “What happened?”

“What does Remus do when he’s angry?”

Her slow exhale crackled over the line. “It depends on what caused it, love.”

Tears burned the backs of Sirius’ eyes. “Like what?”

“When he’s angry with others, he gets loud. He came home with more than one black eye because kids liked to pick on his friends at school.” She paused and he heard the familiar creak of their living room couch. “He gets quiet when he’s angry with himself. He gets quiet, and he tries to push everyone else as far away as he can, even though he doesn’t like it.”

“I tried to talk to him.”

“I know you did. Lyall’s good at easing in around the edges, but I think you and me are a little too alike sometimes.”

Sirius watched the cold, crisp wind scream through the trees in their backyard. He hoped Remus remembered to bring a scarf or some gloves. His cheeks and nose would be bright red when he returned regardless. “What about when he gets sarcastic?”

Hope was quiet for a moment. “You know, I’ve never quite figured that one out. He wasn’t like that as a child. But if I had to guess…if I had to guess, I think it comes down to hating it when other people help him.”

“But I don’t know how to fix it,” Sirius said, well aware of how pathetic he sounded. Remus’ eyes had been bone-dry and burning while they yelled at each other before his voice went brittle, as if someone sucked all the life out of him and left a husk behind. It was disorienting—Remus was always a steady anchor with a steady pulse.

He heard Hope hum from her cozy living room and could practically feel her slender hand touch his shoulder in comfort. “I don’t know how, either. But you will. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. On the other end of the house, the front door opened and closed without the previous slam. “I’ll call, okay?”

“I’ll be here. Love you both.”

“Love you, too.”

His heartbeat was loud in his ears and jaw; Remus was in the kitchen, riffling through the cabinets with none of his usual smooth movements. Sirius took one more deep breath before he slipped his phone into his pocket and went to rip the bandaid off in one fell swoop.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Remus didn’t look up from the mechanical motions of his ham-and-cheese sandwich. You hate that cheese, Sirius thought as he leaned on the doorway. You told me it tasted like Finn’s socks, then laughed when I asked how you knew that flavor in the first place. It had been a real laugh, too—one that crinkled his eyes and nose and dimples and made his shoulders hitch up toward his ears.

“Can we talk?”

“We’re talking.”

“Remus—”

“Don’t Remus me.” His tone was still hollow, but there was a spark of something shaky behind it. “I’d rather just make my sandwich and wallow for a bit, if that’s alright with you.”

“You’ll hate it.”

“Wallowing? Well, that’s the whole point.”

“The sandwich.” Sirius put his hands in his pockets and did not look away. He was tired of fighting and of Remus trying his damndest to push him away. It might have worked on everyone else, but Sirius Black was a stubborn son of a bitch and he planned to use it to his advantage. “You don’t like that combination.”

“Stop it.” The words were clipped.

“It tastes like socks.”

“Sirius. Don’t.”

He shrugged one shoulder as Remus’ fingers closed unsteadily around the top piece of bread. “And you know what? I kind of agree, now that I think about it.”

His golden eyes weren’t flat when he glanced up, which was at least one step in the right direction. “We’re not going to pretend everything can just go back to normal right now.”

“I don’t know why you’re angry, Remus.” The kitchen was silent. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I wish I did. Whatever it is, you’re not this angry because I forgot to bring down the dishes from our bedroom.”

“Maybe I am,” Remus bit out.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said honestly. He was sorry for it—Remus had asked him twice whether there was anything upstairs before he started the dishwasher and Sirius hadn’t bothered to check. It was a dick move, one that certainly warranted an irritated sigh and small tiff. Not something that called for a blowout fight that left them both emotionally bloody.

“Yes, I know, you told me already.”

“I meant it. I still do.” He didn’t move from his place in the doorway as Remus took a bite of his sandwich and grimaced while he chewed. “Please tell me why you’re angry.”

He made it through a whole second mouthful without spitting the sandwich out before he braced his hands on the countertop and finally, finally looked at Sirius. His expression was a perfect mask, just like the kind Sirius had made for himself for so long. “I posted a picture before we went to bed last night. My best guess is that some asshole found it and got their friends together, but I woke up to almost sixty people calling me a whore and the article below that was about the game where I missed four passes and then you didn’t fucking listen when I asked you to grab the cups from our bedroom, so pardon me for not being able to just Loops my way out of this one.”

He took an unsteady inhale and stared at the countertop with his back and shoulders in a rigid line as Sirius fought the growing lump in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, fuck, Sirius, maybe I didn’t want to!” he blurted, louder than before. Remus bit down hard on his lip and looked to the ceiling. “Believe me, I know I’m not being fair to you and I know this is incredibly selfish so please don’t point that particular fact out right now.”

It took every ounce of Sirius’ self-control to stay put. “I wasn’t going to.”

Remus shook his head and a tear rolled down to his chin; Sirius didn’t think he even noticed it. “God, I got so good at just letting things roll off, Sirius. You have no idea how good it felt to be able to breathe through all the bullshit and be a supportive friend and get good with having everything I used to care about get ripped away. It took six years but I did it.”

Sirius watched as three more tears tracked over his windburned cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not ashamed of it.” His throat bobbed for a moment. “You told me that I always say the right thing but I don’t think you know how hard I tried to do that. It takes so much effort to give, and give, and give, and right now it feels like I have nothing left.” He met Sirius’ gaze, tearstained with a bitter smile, and half-shrugged. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in the whole world and I love my friends with everything I have and I can’t be enough for any of you.”

Sirius’ heart gave a hard tug on his stomach; his throat was raw. “Yes, you are.”

“I can’t give everything I used to. I just can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.” The last word almost cracked and he swallowed hard. “Remus, I don’t care whether you let everyone’s problems roll off you. I don’t want you to pull yourself apart like this to try and make us all happy. I love you, not what you can give me. Just you.”

“I have been so horrible to you today,” Remus said hoarsely.

“And I was horrible right back at you.”

“I tried to work it out by myself and I couldn’t do it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“And—and this sandwich fucking s—” Whatever he was going to say broke off into a harsh breath and he was sobbing, bent against the counter with his face in his forearms. Sirius was struck with the sudden realization that while he had seen Remus cry before, he had never seen him cry. Not like that. Not like the world was ending or like he had been holding something back behind a dozen walls of meticulous care so that nobody got caught in the flood when it finally came crashing down.

Sirius’ hand slipped around his waist right as his knees buckled under him; in one easy, slow pull, he held Remus close and let him fall to pieces in his arms. He was gasping more than breathing, mumbling more than talking, and yet he rested every ounce of his weight on Sirius with absolute trust that they wouldn’t fall.

“It hurts,” he blubbered after a few minutes. His fingers held the front of Sirius’ shirt in a death grip. “The names, and how it feels like—like I’m never gonna be good enough again.”

Sirius wrapped his forearm up around Remus’ shoulders, practically cocooning him as his wheezing breaths filled the kitchen. “You’re so much more than enough, mon amour,” he said into his sweaty curls. “I’ll love you forever.”

“Don’t say that,” Remus begged, going lax for a moment before pressing himself even closer. “Don’t say that, you can’t promise me—”

“Yes, I can.”

“No—”

“Yes, I can,” Sirius repeated. All his limbs felt like popsicle sticks in the wind but there was no way in hell he was even going to consider dropping Remus. “I can and I will and you can’t stop me. I will love you forever, and I’m sorry you doubted that for even a second.”

Remus’ chest caved against his own. “I didn’t. I hated those people and I hated myself but not you. Not for that.”

A lot of people—most people, if Sirius was being honest—thought Remus was the more stable half of their little universe. To an extent, they were right: Remus could find his even keel much quicker than Sirius could. He could compartmentalize and prioritize like nobody Sirius had ever seen, and his ability to soothe someone with a few simple words and a soft smile was nothing short of a superpower.

Sirius’ problem had always been that he felt too much, too deep, and tried to kick it away before it introduced itself. He was coming to learn that Remus’ problem laid in trying to speedrun through the deep emotions to return to that same laid-back calm. In a way, they were two sides of the same coin.

His breathing smoothed out after almost ten minutes; the gut-wrenching sobs and tremors became the occasional sniffle and an exhausted nuzzle into Sirius’ sternum. “I love you,” Sirius said once more for good measure.

“I love you, too.” His voice was wrecked—a hot shower and some tea would remedy that easily enough.

Sirius kissed the ridge of his cheekbone and let his lips linger. “I’m sorry about the cups, Re. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

A heavy breath left him as he stepped back just enough to raise his head. “Thank you,” he said with an earnest look and a pat to Sirius’ lower back. “I was pretty upset about that, actually.”

“I know. I was an asshole about it and you had every right to be upset.” He bent down as Remus popped up on his toes to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to delete the post entirely, or do you want me to take down those comments?”

A furrow appeared between his brows and he laid his head on Sirius’ chest again, shuffling closer until their bodies were pressed together all along their fronts. “It’s not the picture’s fault. I like it and I want to keep it up. We can delete the comments and block the accounts later, but right now I want to take a bath with you, if that’s okay.”

“That sounds really nice.” Sirius let his fingers splay over the swooping planes and angles he loved so well and rubbed a few gentle circles just because he could. “Re?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’d love you in any universe. If you were still the PT, if you were a player, if you used all that cleverness to become a professor instead, anywhere. In case you didn’t know.”

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?”

A puff of breath cooled on his upper arm. “Will you spoon me after the bath?”

Sirius hid his smile in the closest tumble of curls. “Course I will.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #argument #fight #guilt #angst with happy ending #hurt/ comfort

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zarcake-writes · 3 years

Text

Berries and Cinnamon

I like Karl Heisenberg. And I was in the mood for something sweet, loving, and slightly sad. Enjoy!

The village is quiet as a bitter wind whistle past the rickety homes and down the muddy little side streets. Most of the houses are dark; only smoke rising from chimneys to show proof of inhabitance. The outline of Castle Dimitrescu is barely visible against the gloomy night sky.

Karl Heisenberg is alone on the muddy streets. The farm animals that usually roam the village during the day have retreated to the safety of their homes. While the cold weather keeps the villagers inside.

He curls his lip when he passes one of the houses. The smell of animals and wet hay is a scent he cannot grow accustomed to. Most of the village reeks; the stench of decaying wet wood and shit is so oppressive it clings to his coat. Personally, Karl finds the entire place to be an affront to his senses.

But worst is the people. Pious fools who consistently grovel and pray at the feet of Mother Miranda; yet cower in fear at the sight of the Lords.

Alcina revels in the fear. It feeds her massive fucking ego. Donna refuses to interact with any except for the few who work in her house. And Moreau is a disgusting freak whose only concern is the occasional validation that Mother Miranda may give. Karl, though, is not sure if he wants to be feared or validated.

A harsh wind blows past him, shaking the trees and nearly taking the hat off his head.

Snow is in the air. And with it, the promise of a harsh winter.

The human villagers have been in a panic about having enough food and supplies for the coming season. Karl has heard plenty of prayers, seen the offerings to Mother Miranda and the Lords in the tiny church. A few brave villagers even approached his factory at one point, asking for metal scrap.

Reluctantly, he gave them a few sheets of metal.

The humans of the village may fear the coming winter. In an attempt to survive, they give offerings to a Mother Miranda, a fake god. Their stoves are stacked with logs, and they cower under moth-bitten blankets hoping to see next spring. Karl does not share their fear.

He revels in the sensation of the cold slicing through his coat. Cold so sharp it reminds Karl of rust-coated metal. The frost-cold ground seeps through his mud-drenched boots. And as chilled wind bites his cheeks, Karl feels almost human.

Almost.

As Karl comes to the edge of the village that borders up to the forest, he stops. The woods are dark, and the path is barely visible through the overgrown brush and ever reaching trees. There are no lamps or torches to light the way. There is not even a sign. Yet, a trail of smoke rising above the trees comes from deeper within the forest.

He enters the dark forest. Immediately, his eyes adjust to the gloom. Similar to the village, the woods are quiet and cold. The trees creak in the wind as an owl screeches, causing every small creature to scuttle into the brush for safety.

Karl dislikes the forest almost as much as the village. There is not enough metal that sings for his touch. Not enough metal that is eager to bend beneath his command. The trees do not listen to him, roots do not break, and every fucking stone gets caught under the toe of his boot. The only good thing is the smell. But even then, the forest smells too pure. He feels like a trespasser.

The path ends in a small clearing with a small cabin in the center. It is surrounded by the remains of a wooden fence that fell to ruin long ago. A chicken coop is behind the house. Karl cannot stop himself from sneering at the smell of chicken shit. A small raised garden in the front of the house.

The cabin looks abandoned, but the black smoke climbing out of the chimney says otherwise.

Karl’s heart speeds up as he approaches the cabin. The stone pathway beneath his feet is new.

The metal lock on the door sings out to Karl. It would be easy for him to unlock the door using his powers, but he promised to stop doing that. The key in his pocket will do just fine.

Inside, the cabin is warm. The slow-burning fire in the fireplace casts the room in a golden light as shadows dance on the wall. The scent of mashed berries and cinnamon lingers in the air.

All the irritation and anger that was bubbling beneath Karl’s skin melts away. A single word comes to his mind: home.

The cabin is small but decorated by someone who loves their home. Pictures of people Karl does not know to hang on the walls. The faces are familiar, and he has heard their stories, but he cannot remember their names. Knick knacks and precious items linger in every part of the room.

On the opposite side of the room is a small makeshift kitchen area that is too small for one person. The stove is old and partially broken, but the sink and cabinets are new. A vase of flowers sits on the dining table. Next to the table are two chairs; one is partially pulled out, while the other is tucked away. A pang shoots through Karl when he notices the jacket and items piled on the unused chair.

A small couch sits in front of the fireplace. A blanket is lazily thrown over the back.

To his right is a partially opened bedroom door.

Karl shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack near the door. A familiar jacket is the only other coat hanging. His hat goes up next. And his boots are placed next to a pair of feminine boots.

The floorboards creak beneath Karl’s weight.

“Fuck, shut up,” he whispers.

The floorboards do not listen.

As Karl pushes open the bedroom door, the hinges squeak. He freezes, expecting the room’s occupant to wake up. But the room is quiet. And the form in the bed does not move. Behind him, the fire crackles.

The bedroom is small. The bed, which can barely fit two people, takes up most of the space. A pile of clothes lay on the floor near the foot of the bed. Paintings of the ocean and a field of flowers dot the walls. Karl has spent countless hours memorizing every swirl and color of the paintings.

Tucked into the bed is a woman. She’s buried beneath several layers of blankets. Karl can smell the lingering dust on them.

The mere glimpse of her makes his heart speed up, and his hands grow clammy.

For the longest time, Karl hated that she made him feel like a young man who has never been near a pretty girl. He hated the sweaty palms and word vomit he spluttered. He felt so weak that he decided to avoid her. But he couldn’t stay away for long, and he could not imagine chasing her off.

She shifts in bed but does not wake up.

Karl pulls off his shirt, tossing it into the pile near her bed. He winces at the noise his necklaces around his neck make. Even when set onto the bedside table, they still make a jingling noise. Even his belt clinks as he undoes it.

But still, the noises he seems to constantly make do not wake her. Karl is grateful.

Karl pulls the blanket back. She’s curled up on her side wearing a thread-worn nightgown. Carefully, Karl climbs into bed with her. He gets as close as he dares. The sweetness that clings to her skin is dizzying. He can't stop himself from reaching out and placing his arm on her waist.

She jolts at his touch and begins to move away. Karl hears her heartbeat speed up. He can smell the panic and fear already rising.

“Just me,” he rumbles in her ear.

She relaxes and leans into him. He feels the relief in her body.

“Karl,” she whispers.

He hums at the way she says his name. For the longest time, he detested his name. Karl. What the fuck is a Karl? Everyone else must agree that the name is terrible because no one calls him that, not even the family that Mother Miranda formed. Miranda herself hasn’t called him Karl since he was a child. For so long, he has been Lord Heisenberg.

But she calls him Karl. Karl. Karl. Karl. Karl. Whether she’s yelling at him, laughing with him, whispering to him in the darkness, or moaning his name with a reverence that should be saved for a church service, he loves how she says his name. He’s even begged her to never call him Lord Heisenberg, call him Karl. Only Karl. Karl. Karl.

“Karl?”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear me?”

“No.”

She rolls over in his arm to face him.

The orange glow of the fireplace slips through the cracked bedroom door, casting the faintest hint of light in the room. The curves and dips of her face are darkened, accentuating her features. The tip of her nose is highlighted, as is the plumpness of her cheeks. Her lips stand out the most. Karl has the urge to taste them, to taste her. But she can see the soft exhaustion in her eyes.

“I asked how your day was.”

It was shit, he thinks.

“Oh. It was fine,” he says.

Her eyes narrow. “Karl.”

He can’t keep her gaze. She knows him too well. Knows that when his jaw clenches, and he blinks twice that he is lying or avoiding the question.

But Karl can’t stop himself from lying to her about his day. He spent most of it with Mother Miranda and the other three Lords, so of course, it was a shit day. But he can’t tell her the truth because she will no doubt want to know why his day was shit. How can he tell her the religious leader of their village is a fucking cruel bitch? How would she react if he screamed about the other Lords? Moreau is fucking disgusting. And Angie is an annoying fucking freak. Not to mention the dick-cutting mega-bitch that is Alcina.

And worst is he can't explain to her that his shit interactions with the Lords and Mother Miranda were because of her.

All the Lords and most of the village know that Karl Heisenberg has a sweetheart he's trying to keep a secret. Angie asks irritating questions. Alcina gets this unhinged look in her eyes. While Mother Miranda is silent on the topic, but Heisenberg knows she is plotting something. He could see it with the slightest tilt of her head. The only one who doesn’t bother Karl is Moreau.

The sinister glint in Alcina’s eyes combined with Mother Miranda’s silence made Karl’s skin crawl. He knows they can hurt her, kill her, or experiment on her. Karl knows he needs to make some kind of claim on the woman in his arms before those two bitches can act.

Her hand cups his face, bringing Karl’s racing thoughts to a stop. He refuses to look at her. His face will reveal too much. She whispers his name, so soft and sweet, and he cannot refuse her anymore.

He meets her gaze, and she sees it all. The anger, hate, pain, and fear burned in him. But she does not push him away, only smiles and runs her thumb along his cheekbone. Her hands are gentle but worn from working in her garden behind the house.

“I will not pry for details, Karl. But you can be honest with me. I won’t judge you for having a bad day. We all have them.”

“I haven’t just had a bad day, sweetheart.” He clasps her hand that is still holding his cheek. “I’ve had a bad life.”

His voice cracks at the end. Body growing hot with embarrassment and fear of her judging him for the emotion that screams for release in his chest, Karl looks away. He cannot bear to see the rejection in her eyes.

But her silence is loud. Karl's ears begin to ring as his body grows hotter and hotter. He wants to scream for her to say something, anything. He wants her to push him away now for being a weak, broken man.

She does none of that. She sits up in bed, making sure to keep a hand on Karl, and readjusts her pillows. When she lays back down, she is sitting up. She smiles and opens her arms, welcoming him home.

Karl curls around her body, nuzzling his face into her chest. The tears in his eyes bleed onto her nightgown. If she feels the dampness grow on her chest or feel his trembling against her, she says nothing. She is silent as fingers moving gently against his skin. And slowly, the overwhelming emotion that nearly consumed Karl fizzles out until it is all gone.

“Your tits are soft,” he mumbles eventually.

She snorts. “Kind of like your gut.”

“Your tits aren’t hairy like my gut though.”

“And my tits are probably quieter. No grumbling from digestion.”

He hums in agreement. The only sound from her chest is the gentle beating of her heart.

“Go to sleep,” she whispers.

He opens his mouth to reply, but her fingers begin to move up and down his bareback. Nails that she keeps short and blunt leave soft trails along his back, taking care to ghost over the numerous scars. He can’t form a response, only hum at the sensation.

“Go to sleep, Karl,” she whispers again.

Her hands move up towards his head. She gently pulls at his hair, starting from the ends before pulling at the base of the strands. And with gentle fingers, she brushes through the knots in his hair, careful to not yank or hurt him.

Being in her arms is the closest thing Karl has ever been to having a home. Mother Miranda was no mother. And the other Lords are not his siblings. They are no family, just pawns that Mother Miranda will use as she pleases.

And used him she did. She took everything from him, turned him into a monster by making him perform terrible experiments. He’s numb to the monstrous things he has done and continues to do, that Karl does not feel human. Fuck, he hasn’t been human in so long.

But in this tiny cabin, in the arms of the woman he loves, Karl has a home and a family. And he feels human.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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fivelakesinwriting · 3 years

Text

Us Versus. Them (Rafe Cameron)

Author's Notes: This was an idea that was floating around in my head for a while, so I decided to write it. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment, I'm pending writing a second chapter - and please proceed with some caution, not an ideal relationship depicted. Thank you xoxo

Warnings: CANON RAFE. OBX 2 SPOILERS. Swearing, Violence,

Requested? Nope. Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

The air on the Coastal Venture was crisp, the mist in his face was refreshing after all that time feeling cooped up on that island. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the flat of his ring and twisted it as he took one more deep breath then turned on his heel. He walked quickly down the narrow halls and to the small room where they were staying, tossing a quick glare at the room his sister was currently sleeping in.

"Hey. You up?" He grumbled as he opened their door and walked into their small cabin. He looked at the woman just sitting in up in bed, her hands pushing through her hair.

"Yeah. Just woke up." She whispered as she pressed up on her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. She pushed some hair out of his eyes then ran her fingertips over his cheekbones.

"I'm going to go check on the Cross. I feel anxious. Get dressed. She'll be awake soon." Rafe muttered as he pressed his right hand to the small of her back, bringing her close as he kissed the side of her face.

"I'll come with you." She replied quickly getting out of bed and grabbing her discarded jeans from the floor, pulling them up her legs. She grabbed her dark jacket from the back of a nearby chair and followed him out of the room to see the treasure.

Down, down they went. Below all the hustle of the busy workers above. Rafe reached for her hand as he reached the level the Cross rested on. He helped her down the metal steps, then led her towards the box. He crouched down beside the box and lifted the top gently, sliding it away to reveal the golden Cross.

"There She is." Rafe mumbled as he pulled the blankets wrapping the Cross up for safety to show his girl their treasure.

"It's beautiful. Might be the most beautiful thing on this ship." She smiled as she crouched down beside him, her fingertips running over the delicate jewels encrusting the Cross.

"Second." Rafe replied as his eyes quickly looked over at her, then down at the Cross before he covered it back up. He looked over at her again, thankful for every sacrifice she had made to help him get to that point.

"Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. When this is over, I'm going to make you a Cameron. A real one." Rafe smiled as he reached out to place his palm gently on her cheek.

She smiled over at him, her blush warming his hand as she leaned over to kiss his lips. Rafe sighed contently through his nostrils and thumbed at her cheekbone. It felt like he had not been able to simply be with his girlfriend in so long.

"C'mon. We should get back upstairs." Rafe mumbled, his forehead pressed to hers. He stood up once more, taking her hand and pulling her upright to lead her back up the stairs where his family was waiting for them.

The door to the State Room was closed and locked, the way his father had intended. Rafe pulled out his key, smoothed his fingers over the teeth and gently placed it into the knob. As he unlocked the door and opened it slowly his sister came running from her spot from the cracked leather seat by the window, laying a firm punch to his broad chest.

"You knew! You helped him, and you knew! Fuck you, Rafe!" Sarah screamed as she punched his chest, one right after the other. Rafe stood in place, his eyes out the window at the passing ocean as he took each meager punch from his little sister.

"He asked me for my help." Rafe glared as he grabbed her wrists and pushed them towards her own chest.

"You're insane. The both of you. You and dad, you've lost your minds." Sarah cried as she ran her shaky fingers through her hair.

"We're aligned on a common goal, Sarah. And maybe...just fucking maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your Pogue shit you would understand that. This? All of this is for our family." Rafe growled his eyes narrowed at his sister as his hands gestured to his heart. His family. His heart.

"And her?" Sarah asked with a deep inhale as she looked from her brother's feverish eyes to the girl standing behind him, arms over her chest.

"Her? She's my family." Rafe grinned with a raised eyebrow. He looked behind him to his girl who looked his sister up then down, her lips pursed.

"Elise. Heard a lot about you, Sarah Cameron." The girl behind Rafe stated, taking a step forward to stand beside him.

"Wish I could say the same." Sarah glared as she sat back down, her legs feeling like they may give out beneath her any second.

"You're right, baby. She's not very nice." Elise mumbled as she looked up at Rafe.

Rafe breathed out a laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. He gave her backside a soft pat as he looked down into her eyes.

"Go check with the Captain, see how far away we are. I'll be right up. Take your knife with you, too." Rafe muttered as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, pulling her switchblade out of her back pocket to press it to the palm of her hand.

She nodded with a soft smile, happy he was always looking out for her even though she could handle herself. She turned on her heel, tossing Sarah Cameron a wink before she shut the door behind her and walked quickly down the halls towards the Captains deck. She clicked the latch of her switchblade, opening it, and dragged it along the old walls of the boat leaving an indent.

"What's the timeline?" She asked as she walked up to the top of the boat with the Captain, who flinched upon sight of the small woman. Something she never tired of seeing.

"Few hours, I think. As long as the weather holds." The Captain nodded, his eyes fixed forward and away from the girl that wielded the small switchblade at her side, the tip of the blade pressed into her thigh.

"Good. Make it happen." She replied as she turned to exit the small room, only to run into the strong chest of a man she didn't know. He smelled of dirt, sweat and ocean water.

"Arms length. You know the rules." She spat as she pressed the tip of her blade into the chest of the person who dared come close to her.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his head low and face covered by a mess of curls as he tried to hurry passed her below deck.

"Wait. You aren't part of the crew, are you?" Elise asked, knife extended towards the boy. He looked up at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes and her heart began to race as she recognized him.

Routledge.

"Summer program." John B stuttered as he backed down the steps from the top level of the boat, eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon to evade the girl.

"Get the fuck back here, Routledge! How did you get on this boat!" Elise cried as she took off with a sprint after him, scrambling down the steps.

"Oh, my God. She's fucking fast." John B mumbled as he hopped over tipped over barrels and scattered coils of rope to get to his destination.

A door on the opposite side of the ship that led to a hallway, where he was certain Sarah was being kept in one of the many rooms. He just had to find that room. He tripped over a coil of rope, but caught himself on the frame of a door, jiggling the handle to let himself in. He let out a heavy breath as he slammed the door behind him and ran through the narrow halls, screaming her name.

"Sarah!" He slammed his fist on each door his passed in the hopes her beautiful face, and that long golden hair would pop out.

She never did.

So John B kept running. He kept running and he kept yelling in the hopes that she would hear him. But the small girl with the knife wasn't far behind him.

"Rafe!" Elise yelled as she ran through the hallways, John B evading her quickly as he made a quick left turn.

Rafe perked up at the sound of his name, but his heart began to race as the tone of her voice. It didn't sound good. He had simply sent her off to get an arrival window so they could get off this boat and safely house the Cross. He clenched his fist as he stood up from his spot in an old chair in the State Room and walked quickly to the door, tossing a glare back at his sister.

"Stay here." Rafe growled at Sarah as he unlocked the door and stalked out to the hallway, locking the door behind him once more.

Rafe spotted his love in the hallway looking frantic, and that wasn't a headspace she was usually in. She was calm, collected. She was his rock most of the time and he didn't like the look on her face as he checked the lock behind him.

"Pogues are here."

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting

@beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864

@maybankslut

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo (next chapter would have...a lot of violence, it's just a matter of writing that out, finding that angle)

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#outer banks imagines #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine #obx rafe #obx fic #obx imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks

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sweetkingdomstarlight-blog · 3 years

Note

“Maybe if I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.” with Bucky hunting down reader after she tries to run away after she breaks up with him

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count - 1706

Warnings - kidnap, forced drug use, oral (f receiving)

A/N - thanks to the wonderful @buckyownsmylife for beta reading this and just being an all round sweetheart. Thanks also to @dreamslikeaheartbeat for the prompt, if you don’t already go follow her she’s so talented. If you are under 18 then please shoo

You feel the crunch of the leaves under your feet as you run, the twigs ripping through your soft skin as you push forward. It's quiet, too quiet.

Working at the tower was everything you’d ever wanted, you’d worked so hard to get where you were and developing tech with Shuri and Peter was your actual dream. You started out small, working on comms, it didn’t take long for you to advance and under Shuri��s watchful eyes you amended the arm of a certain super soldier. He came to the lab once a week so you could test new ideas and he was always so helpful, even bringing you coffee and occasionally books you two had discussed.

It had been three months since you first worked with him and for two of those he wanted to work with only you. Shuri agreed it would be good for you to have a little freedom and handed over his files. Bucky was funny, sweet and charming, not the impression you were given of him from Peter, who was still a little scared of him after the airport incident.

One afternoon he arrived and looked a little nervous, producing a bunch of flowers from behind his back you looked at him curiously. “Hey, come out with me tonight, Sam told me about this place a few blocks from here. You’re always cooped up in here, let me thank you for making my arm even better.” Your cheeks warmed up at the thought of spending time with him outside of the tower but he caught it. “Is that little smile you’re trying to hide a yes?” He pressed, trying to make eye contact with you.

You nodded and looked at him. “That would be nice, thanks Bucky.” He relaxed and handed you the bouquet. “I’ll pick you up at 7.” He turned and walked out, you watched as he went round the corner before running to beg for the rest of the day off.

You hear the knock at your door at exactly 7oclock and chuckle to yourself at how punctual he was. Opening the door and stepping aside, you let him in and watch as he immediately surveys your apartment for exits. “I'll be a few minutes just make yourself at home,” you say before quickly moving to your bedroom to finish getting ready. You hear him in your front room, shuffling around and when you come back he’s looking through your bookcase.

“Wow doll, you look stunning, give me a little twirl.” Biting your lip at the compliment, you turn on the spot and try to calm your heart as he whistles at you. “Don’t know how I got so lucky to meet you.” You quickly take a drink of the wine you left on the side finishing the glass when you start to feel a little dizzy, stumbling into his arms. “I’ve got you, looks like you had a little too much. Let me help you.” The room suddenly goes black.

Waking up, you don’t know how long it’s been but you’re in an unfamiliar room, your head is pounding and you’re laying down on a bed. You try to sit up and realise your arms are secured to the posts. “Hey, you’re finally awake, don’t mind the rope, I had to tie you up to keep you safe.” You look around to see where the voice is coming from but you don’t see him anywhere.

“Bucky?” you manage to croak out, your dry throat making it near impossible to speak. He rushes over to you and strokes your cheek to soothe you, unaware that it has the opposite effect. “Bucky can you undo me please, I need to use the bathroom.” He nods and pulls the rope off, walking you to the bathroom but stopping you from closing the door. Looking up at him confused he glares at you, daring you to challenge him.

Washing your face, you keep watch from the corner of your eye. “I know you're watching me, doll.” Stalking over, he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You looked so good tonight doll, I didn't want to share you with the rest of the world.” Looking at you in the mirror. “You want that too, don’t you? I see the way you look at me, at this arm.” He wraps his hand around your throat gently but leaves you no room to move.

You watch his face as it warps from the Bucky you know to something else entirely. “Bucky, what are you doing?” He grips tighter and leans in, growling in your ear. “No questions, do as you’re told and we can be very happy.” Holding your breath, a tear rolls down your cheek, he smirks and swipes it away, licking it off his thumb. “Mmm so sweet doll, we are going to have so much fun.” With that, he leaves and closes the door behind him.

You take a deep breath, almost hyperventilating from the fear coursing through your body. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, you notice he's cleared the room, the window is bolted shut. You are trapped.

You leave the small room and hear him calling you from somewhere in the house. Following his voice you find him making pancakes in the kitchen. You can’t see any knives or much of anything really to help you, surveying the room around you, it quickly becomes clear that you’re in some sort of cabin.

Outside the windows all you can see is trees, the sun is up too, just how long were you unconscious? “I’m making breakfast, you must be starving. There’s some pain relief on the counter, I'm sure you’ve got a sore head.” You nod and pick up the pack, inspecting it for any tampering. “Come on, doll! We’ve already established that if I want to drug you, I can do that very easily.”

Your heart pounds and he chuckles to himself. “Calm down, I can hear you from over here.” You take the pills with a glass of orange and sit down at the table while he serves you up a plate. “Eat up, you’re going to need your energy”.

The next week goes by in a blur of ‘domestic bliss’. You’re playing along, observing his daily pattern and making a plan. He doesn’t sleep at night, preferring to watch you rest, he does have a nap everyday but it usually only lasts around 30 mins. Each day you work on a different window, slowly pulling out the nails without leaving any marks before pushing them back in so he doesn’t suspect anything.

Getting a call from Steve later that week, he goes to the end of the garden so you don’t hear him, taking your chance you run. Rushing through the trees, you can’t see anything that looks like freedom so you push forward.

You haven’t had anything that even closely resembles shoes the whole time you’ve been held captive and each step you take shoots more and more pain through your soles. Seeing a lake up ahead, you charge towards it, leaping over a tree trunk when you’re caught mid jump. “Oh hey, doll, leaving so soon? We haven’t even begun to have any fun yet. Did you think I wouldn’t notice all the windows and doors had been tampered with?” Throwing you over his shoulder and he began marching back to the cabin.

You struggle as he throws you on the bed, ripping your clothes off and tying you up. “Where did you think you were going? I’ve told you already, you belong to me now.” He cups one of your breasts before painfully pinching and stretching your nipple. “I could make this feel very good for you, all you have to do is ask”. You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut, gasping out when he slaps your face. “Look at me you, little bitch.” Looking up at him, your eyes get blurry from the unshed tears that form.

“Just be a good girl for me and we won’t have any trouble.” You nod at him, terrified, and try to move away when he moves lower down your body, his nose nudging around your curls before spreading you open and licking your juices. “Mmm... you taste so good doll, I know you want this, you just have to relax.” Your back arches off the bed as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking at it with his tongue. Your orgasm builds higher and higher, your body feels as though it's on fire but he stops and you moan out in frustration. He smirks up at you, pushing one of his vibranium fingers into you and curling it just right. “Say the words and I'll make you feel good,” echoing his words from earlier.

You shake your head again and screw your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing and calm yourself down when you feel his mouth on you again. “No please, I can’t,” you practically scream out at him as he expertly takes you apart again, taking you to the brink but not letting you fall over.

“Say it, say you’re mine and I'll let you cum doll, it's simple.” You sob fat heavy tears, your whole body feeling sensitive. Shaking his head at you, he dives back in, you clench your fists together, trying to command your body to let you finish before he stops but he already knows you too well and he stops once again.

“Please Bucky, I’m yours I swear I’m all yours.” He smirks and slowly rubs a finger on your clit, your body responding to the touch, your back arches and your toes curl. You're close, so fucking close it almost hurts but he pulls back and slaps your pussy hard.

“Maybe if I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.” He spits in your face before turning his head and welcoming Steve. “This is the girl I told you about, she’s ready,” he says with a sense of pride in his voice. You turn your head and sob when you see Steve beginning to undress and walk towards you grinning.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #dark fic

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vroomvroomkachowboi · 3 years

Text

I Hear a Symphony

smut, fluff, angst: angst/fluff

pairing: draco malfoy x reader(fem)

word count: 1.5k (1580)

summary: draco’s has been depressed ever since astoria died and he’s been learning to parent as a windowed single father, that is until he meets y/n

warning: death, depression, cursing

a/n: inspired by a song i found on tik tok called “i hear a symphony” by cody fry, i totally recommend it, it’s soo good. ik i said i was gonna write a fred imagine, but dang i’ve been getting so much inspo to write draco imagines. ik astoria died when scorpius was 13, but let’s pretend she died much earlier, also don’t know much abt astoria, so if anything is wrong, i’m sorry. I'm super proud of this so without further ado, enjoy

Draco still remembers the day of Astoria’s funeral. He held his son, Scorpius, crying as he clearly lacked his mother’s warm touch. Narcissa and Lucius gladly took in Scorpius while Draco mourned and grieved. He had entered his large, empty mansion, and laid in his California King sized bed, feeling the dent of his late wife’s body on the mattress.

He had to pick up his son a week later because he could not look at him, a reminder of Astoria, and the fact that she risked her health for him, for him to not be lonely after her blood curse took her, and yet he was still lonely. He felt a void in his body, and waking up every morning, it felt like it was just getting bigger.

He noticed he was getting very pale, so he decided to take Scorpius and himself to an ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. The lady at the register had y/l y/h hair, and y/c eyes. As Draco got closer to the register, he noticed how young she was, possibly around his age. She gave him a sweet smile. “That’ll be 2 galleons sir,” She says. He pulls out 2 galleons out of his left pocket and puts it on the counter. “Thank you. Have a nice day-ooh, your son is going to need napkins.” She lets out a giggle and hands him more napkins. And she was right, Scorpius had strawberry ice cream all over his mouth, dripping from his chin. “Thank you.” He says quickly, and grabs Scorpius’ hand to sit down.

Draco often took Scorpius out so he wouldn’t be cooped up in the house all day. Draco also didn’t want to be reminded of the emptiness that his wife left behind.

They both decided to go to a park in London. Draco sat on a bench, observing his child interact with the muggle children, he knew Astoria would be happy about it. “Hello.” A familiar female voice startled him. He turned around to see the lady from the ice cream shop in Diagon Alley. “Hello.” He replied.

“I thought Malfoys hated muggles.” She says and takes a seat next to him. He shifts over, uncomfortably, but she didn’t seem to notice. “No, I stopped thinking that way. What about you? What are you doing here?” He says. “I came to visit my muggle family. My niece is over there.” She points to a young girl on the swings. He nodded, unsure of what to say.

They both just sat in a somewhat comfortable silence, while watching all those happy young kids running around.

Suddenly, Scorpius’ screams were heard from across the playground. Draco got up quickly and rushed over to his son. Scorpius had scraped his knee really badly. Draco carried him over to the bench, with Y/n still sitting, in shock of the crying child. “I fell off the swings!” Scorpius whined when Draco asked what had happened. “Oh god, I can’t use my magic here! I’m sorry Scorp, I can’t heal you.” Scorpius seemed to cry louder.

Draco's heartbeat quickened. It felt like everything was closing in. ‘Astoria would’ve known what to do.’ He thought. He felt so unfit to be a single father.

“Don't worry Draco. I’ve got just what you need until you get home.” Y/n said. Grabbing a brown bottle and a cotton ball from her bag. “My brother gave me all this stuff in case my niece got hurt. What luck.” The bottle read “Hydrogen Peroxide”. Draco watched as she poured some on the ball. “This won’t hurt.” She said with a soft tone in her voice, and Scorpius nodded hesitantly. She dabbed the cotton ball on the wound, he watched as it bubbled.

“What is it doing?” Draco asked. “It’s cleaning the scrape. I’ll put a bandage on it, and you can fix it with magic when you get home.” Draco nodded. “Thank you. What do we say, Scorp?” He asked. “Thank you.” Little Scorpius said quietly and got up to play again.

“I believe I never got your name.” Draco asked. “Y/n.”

This was the start to a lovely friendship. Draco and Scorpius often went to visit Y/n at the ice cream parlor. When Draco needed Y/n, she’d always be there. Because she knew how vulnerable he was since the death of his wife, he also trusted her enough to babysit Scorpius, and thankfully Scorpius loved her.

Every night after her shift, she’d come over with pints of ice cream for all of them to eat. With her help, he was able to finally mourn healthily. No longer was he alone at nights, she would sleep in the guest room close to the master’s bedroom.

Although, something was wrong with Draco. He cared for his new friend, but his admiration for her grew the more he got to know her. He grew feelings for her quickly. ‘I can't do this to Astoria.’ Was always a reoccurring thought, but the more he tried to suppress it, the more his love grew.

It also seems that Scorpius viewed her as a second mother, he couldn’t hurt them.

He decided to give her the silent treatment. The less he hangs out with her, the faster his feelings fade, right?

It went on for a month. Slowly but surely, ignoring Y/n more and more. She spent most of her time with Scorpius, not that she minded, but Draco was acting strange.

So, enough was enough. She was going to confront him about it. So on a Friday night, she put the blonde 6-year-old to bed. Hearing the light snores from the young child, she slipped out quietly from his bedroom, looking for his father. She looked all around the large home, but found him outside, sitting on a bench by the tall grass hedges.

“Draco!” She called out. He flinches and hesitantly looks up at her. She sat by him. “What's up with you? You’ve been acting strange lately.” He stayed quiet. “You can trust me, Dray. We’ve been friends for over a year now.” He sighed loudly. “I...I like you.” He whispers.

“Oh.”

Draco shuts his eyes tightly, feeling as if it was a mistake. “I think you need to leave.” He hears Y/n’s feet shuffle on the grass. He let out a heavy breath and puts his face in his hands. Tears pour out of his grey eyes. ‘I can’t do this to Astoria.’ He felt so guilty. As if he was cheating on his wife. Why did he need to feel this way? What would Scorpius think? Would he think he's replacing his beloved mother?

“I’m sorry, Astoria.” He cried. He headed to the master’s bedroom and dozed off.

The next morning, Draco had realized it was a mistake to send Y/n home, because Scorpius had been nagging him all day about her whereabouts. It went on for an entire week as well. He also felt very lonely, she brought light into the dark home. He needed her, whether it was as a friend or a partner.

He decided to make amends, so he took Scorpius to the ice cream parlor.

Y/n heard the bell at the door, she was ready to serve her next customer, until she realized who it was. Draco and Scorpius. “What can I get you two?” She said professionally. “Strawberry.” Young Scorpius replies. So she scooped some strawberry ice cream for the 6 year old, and handed the cup to him.

Scorpius thanks her. “Go find us a seat. I’ll be there in a second, Scorp.” Draco says to him. Draco pats him on the head before sending him away. “And you sir?”

“Come on, Y/n. Don't be like that. I’m here to apologize.” He looks into her e/c eyes. She sighs loudly before going to face him. She walks towards him. “Talk.”

“I’m sorry. I apologize for ignoring you and for sending you off after confessing something big like that.” He grabs Y/n’s hands. “I have feelings for you. And I thought that if I ignored you, they might go away, but they didn't. Having a crush on you felt like I was cheating on Astoria. I felt guilty, and I didn't want Scorp to think I’m replacing his mother.” She furrowed her eyebrows but let him continue. “Ever since you entered my life, you’ve helped me become a better father and helped me mourn. You're my best friend, N/n, sending you away made me realize how much you’ve impacted me and Scorpius’ life. My life was boring, and miserable, but you came in, and you pieced me back together and fixed my broken heart. Astoria would’ve want me to be happy, and I’m happy with you.”

“Wow.” Draco chuckles at her one word. “That was one of the most beautiful declarations of love I've ever heard.” She threw her arms around him, and he quickly returns the gesture. They both knew what the other wanted.

Draco and Y/n pulled away from each other a little, but only to lock lips. Y/n’s hands were placed on his waist, while Draco’s pale hands were on her face.

Kissing each other was like hearing an entire symphony, adrenaline rising, and making them want more affection from each other. Draco once felt like he would never be happy again, but now he's the happiest he's been in over a year.

She pulls away and smirks, “I’ll get your ice cream now. I’ll see you once my shift is over.”

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Note

okay im gonna try and remember all the ones i chose but i genuinely want to read all of them 😔😢

- 24,43,68,243 for literally any ship (coops, o’knutzy, kuny and jackson (i forgot their ship name), o’darwin, talkie and noelle, you get the gist)

cant wait to read what you write ❤️

Thank you!! I hope you enjoy these!

Okayyyy, so we're just going to forget about the 100 word thing 😂

CW for food mention in 68

24.

"I told you we were going to be late," Jackson huffed, slamming the car door behind him.

Evgeni stumbled after him, clutching a neatly wrapped present. "I no give your mother messy present!"

"It was fine before."

When Evgeni stumbled again, Jackson sighed, stopping abruptly. "We're already late. You might as well tie them," he gestured to the bulky boots on his boyfriend's feet.

"Don't like when you angry," Evgeni pouted, passing the present to Jackson, before pressing a hand to his cheek.

"I'm not angry. I'm stressed."

"Not be stressed," Evgeni smiled, a dimple appearing as the corners of his mouth curled. "I'm very charming"

Jackson sighed again, but he was unable to help the smile creeping onto his own face. "Just tie your damn shoelaces."

43.

"Al? Kase?" Natalie rubbed at her eyes as she traipsed through the apartment, looking for her boyfriends. The sky was only just taking on an orangey haze, but neither of them were in the bed when she's stirred awake.

She blinked away the sleep, hearing a whispered squabble from the kitchen. She followed the noise finding the two of them tugging an apron between them.

"Nat!" Alex turned to her, a low growl rumbling through his chest when Kasey took the opportunity to grab the apron from his hands. "We need your help."

"Do you think you can jump rope with an apron?" Kasey asked, folding his arms.

Natalie frowned. How was this her life? "Why are we attempting to jump role with an apron? In our kitchen. This early in the morning."

"Alex says he and Finn used to do it all the time which is clearly not possible."

"We did!"

"I'm going back to bed. You two can carry on here or you can join me?"

68.

Meow

"Re, what takeout do you want?"

"Err, whatever? I think the Thai menu is on the fridge. Or we we could try that Greek place? The new one," Remus answered, pouring kibble into the bowl they had brought for the kitten that had claimed their house as its own. They had seen it around for a few weeks now, but after finding it curled up in their lounge a few morning ago and a trip to the vets to find it was unchipped, it seemed the little creature was theirs now.

Meow.

Remus bit his lip thoughtfully, glancing around to try and figure out what the kitten wanted. He had moved the water away from the food like the blog posts had suggested. The cat had seemed to enjoy the exact same food this morning.

Meow.

"Re! Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, I was listening to the other motherfucker screaming at me!"

"What?" Sirius asked, wandering into the lounge. The unkempt kitten hopped off the couch and wound itself around Sirius' leg purring softly.

"Well. That's rude."

243.

Logan was raging. "Turn this bullshit off," he fumed at no one in particular, throwing his towel into his stall. The TV that was airing the interview with their opponent's coach faded to black with a click.

"I do think Knut was a little reckless," he repeated the words mockingly. "How the hell is he going to blame you when you were nowhere close to him when that happened?"

"Lo. Please, just leave it." Leo whispered, slumped in his own stall. Finn knelt in front of him, resting against his pads - he hadn't bothered to take them off yet - and grasped his hand.

"Hey, Pea," he smiled gently. "We know it was just a freak accident. It wasn't your fault. They just want somebody to blame."

"It wasn't your fault," Logan repeated, halting his pacing in front of Leo's stall. He turned to the rest of the locker room, "Anybody here think it was Leo's fault?"

Leo gave a small laugh. Nobody was going to answer with anything but a no, unless they weren't fond of their heads being attached to their bodies.

"Knut," Coach Weasley called, stepping out of his office. "Get changed. I want to see you in my office."

The room seemed to fall even quieter than it already was.

"Relax. I just want to show you some tape. They can blame you all they want, but it's right there. You were nowhere near him."

"See." Logan gave a smug grin, pressing his lips to Leo's forehead. "Nowhere near him. I always know where you are."

#nuny #o'darwin #coops #o'knutzy #prompts

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autumnslance · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2021 #15: Thunderous

((A longer one. Violence, blood, and fire. Not safe for heretics or dragoons as we step back to last week and the aftermath of “Heady”...))

“There they are!” X’rhun exclaimed. “Thank the gods!”

Alberic only puffed a breath in agreement as they ran across and down the ravine to where Aeryn was tending to an ashen-faced Heustienne.

“The cavalry has arrived,” the injured dragoon said dryly, her damaged chainmail removed to allow Aeryn access to the wound. Not the worst Heustienne had ever taken, but more than bad enough.

“Thank Halone you’re safe,” Alberic said as X’rhun dropped to his knees next to the women to lend his own aid if needed. “We heard from Kal Myhk you’d tangled with a group of heretics—”

“They took us to Avengret,” Aeryn’s voice cut him off; quiet, too steady, too calm.

For a moment the world paused, until X’rhun’s tail lashed as he turned to look up at Alberic.

Aeryn wasn’t looking at him, her hands resting on her knees now, feet tucked under her. Heustienne’s gaze flicked between Aeryn and Alberic, her own questions barely held back.

“Let’s get Heustienne upright,” X’rhun said gently. “And then get back to—”

“Anyx Trine?” Aeryn interrupted. “Will they tell me the truth if I ask? They must know. If what she said is true.” She turned her head slightly toward Alberic without raising her face, looking at his boots. “She said I should ask you.”

“Aeryn…” His mouth was dry.

She looked up finally, lips parting to say more, but instead she drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide and shining silver, not seeing Alberic or anything else around her now.

He groaned, whether in fear or agony or relief, he wasn’t certain.

——

Alberic followed Corran Striker into the house. It was a pleasant little place, clean and airy. The edges of the walls were lined with brightly painted flower and vine designs, and small pieces of colored glass bordered the custom-framed windows to allow some of the light to also reflect rainbows into the rooms--that couldn’t have been cheap, Alberic thought.

“Please, leave your helm and lance by the door. I think my wife will forgive the boots this time.”

“I keep the lance close to hand, you understand,” Alberic replied as he at least set down his helm on the table by the door.

There was evidence of children; their house slippers by the door, a doll on a chair, a set of tin knights cluttering the low table in the sitting room. His heart ached. “What a lovely home,” he said. “Will the missus and children be joining us?”

Corran shook his head. “Emelia’s running some of her crafts all the way to Fallgourd in the Shroud, and took Zaine and Aeryn with her for the fun. They’ve been cooped up too long, she thought.” He smiled fondly. “It’s a way she deals with her homesickness, and shares that part of herself with our children; she grew up traveling part of the year selling wares as a girl in Thavnair.”

Relief, but also renewed wariness prickled along Alberic’s spine as he followed Corran to the kitchen, leaning his lance on the wall right behind his chair as he took the offered seat at the dining table. “Thavnair? That’s a ways away. Explains the colors though.”

“I got rather lucky,” Corran replied, his tone warm and genuine. “She misses it, but is somehow willing to stay with me.”

“Ever think of visiting?” Alberic asked casually as Corran went about the motions of preparing the lunch he had offered the tired dragoon when they had accidentally met in the treacherous priest’s chapel. Corran had seemed surprised to learn of Comfraire’s heresy, but had offered hospitality despite his own shaken state.

“If there wasn’t always so much work to do, perhaps someday we could,” Corran said quietly.

“I think I’d take the chance, perhaps even move permanently, were I a common man with a family. Get the children far from the war, among the wife’s people.”

“I won’t lie; the thought has occurred to me,” Corran said. “Though I’m surprised, Ser Azure; I’d think one like you would want to keep promising future soldiers for the war in Ishgard.”

Alberic shrugged. “As I said; were I a common man, with a foreign wife who misses her home and children with futures to think of.”

The chronometer in the hall ticked steadily as Corran worked. “Perhaps. Though much as she misses Thavnair, I’d miss Coerthas. I love my home, Ser Azure. There’s little I wouldn't do to see our homeland prosper.”

Alberic did not reply, not trusting his tongue to respond to the man’s gall.

As Corran came to the table with sandwiches and a decent-looking ale, Alberic smiled. “Then perhaps you can aid me in protecting our homeland,” he said. He hoped he was wrong about Corran. “I am tracking a dangerous creature I believe the false priest Comfraire was working with, coordinating an imminent attack from the Horde.”

Corran raised an eyebrow. “I’m but a simple farmer, Ser. I don’t know what help I could be.” He glanced down at his plate.

The chronometer in the hall continued to tick.

“Know you of anyone Comfraire spent time with, when not pretending to holy duties? Places the priest liked to go when not tending the church? I hear you were among those who escorted the fellow on his daily walks.”

“A duty many of us in the community shared,” Corran replied, tone growing strident. “Do you accuse me of heresy merely for minding an old man on his daily constitutional?”

“No of course not,” Alberic answered. He pulled the correspondence he had found in Comfraire’s hidden desk drawer from his pack. “These letters however do indicate guilt.”

“Well that is another story, isn’t it?” Corran asked, leaning back in his chair. The humble farmer demeanor fell away as he crossed his arms. “Why play along?”

“I wanted to be wrong. You seemed like a decent man with a family you love.”

“I do love them,” Corran replied, voice low and cold. “You’re very unlucky you came this day.”

“She doesn’t know what you really do, does she?”

“And once we’re rid of you, she never will,” Corran said bluntly. “Our war doesn’t concern her.”

“And the children?”

Corran’s grey eyes clouded like thunderstorms, his lips drawn into a snarl. “You’ll never touch them.”

They both leapt, chairs clattering to the ground. Alberic reached for his lance while Corran moved with preternatural speed to the sideboard, pulling a hidden blade he managed to raise in time to block Alberic’s swing.

The house was torn and broken as they fought, Alberic barely able to acknowledge the damage as they threw each other against walls and through furnishings. Corran had an advantage with his shorter blade in the cramped space, but Alberic was a far more practiced fighter. If he could get hold of a sword--or better disarm Corran of his--then the heretic would soon be at his mercy.

He finally saw his moment, spinning his lance to baffle Corran’s blade before using his more heavily armored frame to knock the taller man through a door and into what had to be the master bedroom.

The sword went sliding the opposite way down the hall, and Corran laughed bitterly.

“Give it up, Striker,” Alberic said, pointing his lance. He could see Corran’s waist and legs, but the broken door obscured his head. “Tell me about the coming attack!”

Corran's laugh only continued, growing deeper and more growling. Alberic’s eyes widened as he saw Corran’s body jerk, bones cracking and skin tearing, swelling as scales overtook skin.

He swung to drive his lance down through the man as a roar shook the windows, and through the back wall an aevis tore its way inside, the colorfully bordered window panes shattering across the bedding. The dragon leapt at Alberic, and he swung up, barely blocking the creature’s jaws from clamping onto his still helm-less head as they skid down the hall from the momentum of its impact.

Alberic managed to roll out of the way as the aevis let loose a gout of flame, the fire catching on broken furniture. It came for him again but he had made it to his feet, dashing back toward the kitchen for room to move. The aevis lunged at him as Alberic braced himself, a heel against the base of the sink.

His lance caught the beast’s chest and with a roar of his own from his Inner Dragon surging forth, he used the dragon’s momentum to pierce it deeper, throwing it over his shoulder and halfway through the large window, more bright glass breaking as the thing flailed, screaming flames across the yard as it bled out around the lance through it.

Alberic had no time to retrieve his weapon as Corran came for him, tearing apart the walls to fit his new bulk through them to get to the dragoon. He was larger than most transformations Alberic had seen, a heavy red wyvern, powerful and burning, his eyes filled with the same intelligence they had held as a man.

Alberic swore and dove out of the way of claws longer than his own hands. He managed to duck and roll under and past Corran and back into the hallway, needing the smaller space to disadvantage the dragon. Assuming said dragon didn’t just shoulder the walls out of his way, his fiery head rearing back to blast Alberic.

He barely managed to dodge, the heat unbearable as the walls with their pretty flower paint warped, melted, and crisped in the heat, flames now filling the house. He couldn’t last in here much longer, but also couldn’t let this fight further endanger the rest of the village, the commotion surely drawing attention, though any other knights would be too far away while Corran likely had more allies nearby.

His feet hit more metal that clattered, and he remembered Corran’s sword. As the beast came for him again, Alberic ducked to retrieve it, rolling in low as Corran leaped at him. With another shout, Alberic swung up, sliding along the floor on his knees as Corran passed overhead, the sword slicing down the wyvern’s side.

Corran screeched, landing heavily against the door in a tangle, blood flowing freely, wings and talons unable to get purchase in the too small space.

Alberic breathed heavily as he stood and hurried into the kitchen. The aevis was still jerking through its death throes, making a pathetic, pained cry as he yanked his lance from it, more blood pumping onto the sink and floor.

Alberic returned to the hall. Corran watched him, panting himself, lifesblood pooling around him as smoke filled the air.

“Finish me,” the dragon rumbled, in something resembling Corran’s voice. “But I want a promise first.”

“A promise?” Alberic asked. “Why should I pledge aught to a heretic?”

A weary claw gestured, holding a limp, blood-covered ragdoll. Alberic went cold. “For...them. They’re innocent. But we both know...Inquisitors….”

Alberic coughed as he shivered. They wouldn’t care that the children were only children. They wouldn’t care if Mistress Striker was Thavnairian--if anything, that would make it worse for her, no matter if she truly was unaware of her husband’s sins.

“Maybe...she’ll take them home,” Corran said. “She misses it. They could have…Not this.” His eyes met Alberic’s.

They were the grey eyes of a man.

Alberic nodded. “I promise,” he answered, as he pushed his lance through the wyvern’s heart. “Your family won’t pay for your sins.”

When he opened his smoke-stung eyes again, the dragon was gone, Corran Striker’s lifeless form before him, eyes colorless glass, smiling in relief.

Alberic considered for a moment, then drug Corran’s body toward the heaviest flames devouring the house, throwing him into the fire. With luck it would be so burned as to obscure how he had truly died, if Alberic was to keep his reckless promise.

The aevis in the kitchen was dead finally. Alberic retrieved the correspondence knocked to the floor during the scuffle, and gritting his teeth, threw all but one sheet into the flame as well; there was mention of a tower. If nothing else he could salvage something from this mess.

The heat and smoke were too much now, and people outside were shouting and trying to put out the flames, a woman screaming as she glimpsed the dragon half-hanging from the kitchen.

Alberic stumbled outside, battered and bloodied, and fell unconscious at the feet of the Strikers’ neighbors.

—————

It took only a few eye blinks before Aeryn’s groan echoed Alberic’s from a moment before. X’rhun tried to call to her, but she was on her feet in the next eye blink. She whirled in Alberic’s direction, braid whipping so quickly the end came back around to strike her cheek, unnoticed. Her eyes were a storm, lightning crackling in them.

Alberic did not move. He distantly realized that there was nothing any of the three of them could do to stop her of all people.

She flung herself forward and he took the weight of her body slamming into his, her hands gripping at his coat.

That was all.

Alberic didn’t dare move as she trembled against him, head down. X’rhun and Heustienne watched, breath held. Perhaps they had realized the same thing he had.

"I'd forgotten the windows,” Aeryn said hoarsely. “They were almost new; a Starlight gift from him, for Mama."

Alberic said nothing. What could he say?

“You didn’t tell me.”

He sighed. It took a moment to make sound. “By the time I’d realized who you were, why you were so familiar...Well, we had that mess with Estinien and neither of us were in any shape for more terrible revelations. Not the easiest thing to tell a girl you’re the man that killed her father, regardless of the why. And...If the Inquisition, the Ward, if any of them had found out…”

“I’d have handled them,” she said. Neutral, a matter of fact. She wasn’t one to boast.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I thought...Your mother took you to Thavnair. You would have a life there, away from the war. I never expected you to return. To be...this.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know. And you know I’m a sentimental, craven fool.”

She laughed, a wild, bitter noise, finally looking up. Her eyes locked with his, and he thought for as much as she looked like her mother, her eyes were too much like her father’s.

“X’rhun, can you make sure Heustienne gets back to Anyx Trine?” She said, not breaking her gaze with Alberic. The storm still rumbled in her eyes, but all he could see was old smoke.

“Of course,” the Seeker answered. “Aeryn—”

“I’m going home,” she said, shoving Alberic away. He staggered, barely managing to keep his footing. She was stronger than she looked. “I need time to think and rest.”

“You mean Revenant’s Toll, yes?” X’rhun demanded, tail still lashing.

Aeryn only nodded once as she retrieved her pack from next to Heustienne.

“Call me via ‘pearl when you arrive,” X’rhun insisted.

She paused for a moment, then nodded again, shouldering her pack and walking away.

“What the seven hells am I missing?” Heustienne asked after they watched Aeryn’s red coat vanish among the hills. “What did she see? What did you do?”

“Later,” X’rhun said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get back to something resembling civilization first; Avengret’s heretics may still be on the trail.”

Alberic said nothing, simply following along as they made their way across the wilderness.

#FFXIVWrite2021 #Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Backstory #Dragonsong War #Alberic Bale #X'hrun Tia #Heustienne de Vimaroix #Corran Striker #Aeryn Striker

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amjustagirl · 4 years

Text

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training – because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’ - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair - fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!#yaku morisuke #yaku morisuke x reader #nekoma #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu romance

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