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updownlately · 7 months

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i'm so furious (at you for making me feel this way)

| leah williamson x reader | a little sprinkle of angst, a little hint of fluff | 2.4k | a/n: another req! this one's based off the song 'gorgeous' by taylor swift and as usual, it's not at all proofread. honestly took a completely different direction as i was writing it but eh. to whoever requested it, my bad it took a while- hope you like it! happy reading folks!

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“What? You’re not gonna say ‘hi’?”

Eyes rolling at the cocky voice directed your way, you shook your head slightly, walking faster as you ignored the woman standing in front of you.

You really didn’t have the energy to deal with this now, not after how exhausting your past few days, months, really had been.

Intending on joining the rest of your team at the table without a fuss, you brushed by her without as much as a second glance, letting out a breath as you got away.

Or so you thought.

You didn’t make it more than a couple steps past her before you felt an all too familiar hand wrap around your wrist, your moments stilling at the force.

Huffing, you didn’t bother turning around, instead choosing to speak loudly so you wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Leah, let me go…”

“Stay a minute? Let me buy you a drink.”

You could feel the smirk in her voice as she spoke, it already infuriating you as it had many times before, this time without you even having to see it.

Clenching your jaw, you dropped your voice, still looking straight ahead, nearly empty glass held precariously in your other hand.

“I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Hearing a scoff in response, you made a move to tug your wrist out of her grip, failing to do so as it instead tightened slightly.

“Not in the mood to talk, yet you’re talking to everyone here but me?”

The accusation was followed by a laugh but you knew Leah well enough to know she was anything but joking.

Turning around to meet ocean blue eyes, you pursed your lips as you narrowed your eyebrows, not in the mood for any of the midfielder’s shenanigans.

“Take it as a compliment…”

With that, you twisted your arm sharply, effectively breaking out of her hold as she held your gaze.

“And what would be the compliment exactly? You hate me enough to ignore me?”

You froze slightly as she took a step closer, letting out a shaky breath as her piercing eyes peered into yours.

Swallowing hard, mind racing with memories of when you used to look into these exact pair of eyes fondly, having been teased by your shared teammates thousands of times, you felt your heart tighten slightly, a dull ache making itself known.

Trying to seem nonchalant, you shrugged in response, your slightly intoxicated state causing the following words to slip out of your mouth before you could even think about the consequences.

“That you look so gorgeous it makes me mad you aren’t mine…” You mumbled bitterly.

The ‘anymore’ goes unsaid, but you know she heard it too, her head tilting as a small smile crossed her face.

Despite having broken up nearly a year ago, the blonde hadn’t gotten over you. No matter how many people she had met, dates she had been set up on, times she had been asked out, each and every time the English captain tried to get over you, she had failed miserably, always finding herself comparing her companion for the date to you.

It was getting ridiculous at this point really. Even if she wanted to get over you (spoiler: she didn’t), she couldn’t.

Memories of the way you’d always shoot the blonde a grin, even in the worst of times, and how you’d always beg her for piggyback rides after games unforgettable to Leah.

The countless times you had spent late nights and early mornings together, talking about nothing and everything, bodies curled up against one another as an easy air filled the room.

The innumerable times you had tried (and failed miserably) to teach the blonde how to cook, it always ending up with her banished to sit on the counter as you would try to save the catastrophe she would somehow manage to cause (and later apologise for with infinite cuddles and kisses).

It was all that was on her mind, a piece of her knowing you had been the one, the one she had and then lost.

Months of anxiously waiting for you to even be in the same room had led to tonight, dinner and drinks with your and her national teammates, the two teams having just played a friendly in London. And the blonde would be lying if she denied the fact that she had today’s date saved in her calendar since the game had been scheduled.

“Can’t bear talking to you…” you muttered the words under your breath, mind a frenzy with her perfume infiltrating your senses- the same perfume you always loved smelling on the hoodies you’d steal from her years before.

You watched as Leah’s smile disappeared at your words hushed words, a disappointed look taking over her face at your words, the hurt clearly visible.

Your heart sank as you watched the change. Realising how those words sounded, you quickly began to backpedal. Just because she wasn’t yours anymore didn’t mean you cared any less for her.

Stammering out, you blushed in embarrassment as the words fell from your lips.

And as you did, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you should’ve stopped after the fourth drink like your friends had suggested.

“Can’t say anything to your face because every time I look at you it makes me furious that I’m not over you yet- that I still feel this way even though you’ve moved on…”

Eyes downcast as you trailed off, you curled slightly in on yourself, self-conscious of the feelings you had make known, the knowledge that they were very much one sided unsettling.

It’s why Leah’s retort caught you off guard, the softly whispered words, quiet enough that you almost missed them, tilting your world on its side.

“Who said I have…”

Whipping your head up, you watched the blonde took a sharp breath in, clearly caught off-guard by her own admission.

Almost believing her for a minute, you shook your head in disagreement.

“Pictures don’t lie Leah…the girl you were with the other day? All cozied up first at a club, then Ibiza?”

“You keep up with me.” The statement was accompanied with a cheeky grin, the other girl avoiding your question completely.

Feeling a smile creep up on you at her cheekiness, you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t believe you were falling for her charm again.

“You know what, you have a point…I’ll stop.” The cold words came out cleanly, nearly emotionless as you did your best to give her nothing to work with.

You didn’t know if you could survive falling for her again, and you didn’t want to find out.

Leah didn’t mind expressing her distaste at your statement however, the protest immediate. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh no but I do- you ruined my life you know?”

You words were emotion laced this time, mind hazy with the alcohol thrumming through your veins, a stark contrast to your sentence before- the anger you had pent up over the past year finally coming to light.

“Me?! How?”

“By loving me and then leaving me…by not being mine!”

“You were the one who left! And she’s just a friend, honest!” The Gunner put her hands up in the air, a genuine expression on her face.

Taking a quick glance behind you and then Leah, you made sure none of your teammates were eavesdropping, well aware of their tendency to blow things out of proportion.

It’s not like your relationship had been a secret, but you had just never bothered to confirm anything with anyone, too content in your own little bubble to let anyone else take a peak.

Still, you didn’t need the relentless jesting of your teammates tonight- not after the emotional rollercoaster you were currently on.

Facing the blonde again, you lowered your voice. “We were just friends too…”

The resounding ‘no’ you received was immediate, Leah’s definitive tone leaving nothing up for debate. “No we weren’t. We never were just friends. You know it.”

“Leah…”

Grabbing your wrist once more, a stern look on her face, Leah hastily pulled you to a dark corner of the bar, you both hidden in the shadows as she turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, a striking change in her demeanour.

“Don’t ‘Leah…’ me. You left. You decided that you were going to move to a whole new country without asking me. You chose a long distance relationship for us without asking me what I thought. You left me. And where did that leave us? Leave me? I can’t even go on a date with someone without thinking of you!”

By now the blonde was breathing heavily as you stared, jaw clenched as you took in her words.

“You were the one who chose to break up!”

She stepped closer to you, invading your personal space, head slightly down as she met your gaze.

“You signed the contract before we could even talk!”

“You didn’t even bother fighting for us!”

“‘Cause you didn’t even give me a chance to!“

“I-“

“You what?”

The sharp response had your eyes widening, heartbeat racing as your mind remember the chaos of last summer’s transfer window. The way you hadn’t felt at home in London wearing blue. How countless nights were spent apart from your girlfriend, the physical distance between you short, but still feeling like you were kilometres apart.

You had figured that maybe some space would’ve done you some good. It’s why you had decided to quietly sign for Wolfsburg, only telling the blonde after since she had barely been home, had barely talked to you.

Looking back now however, maybe it wasn’t your wisest decision.

Whispering quietly as the realisation hit you like a truck, your eyes widened.

“I didn’t know…”

All you got in response was the blonde stepping impossibly closer to you, your faces inches away.

“You wanna know the worst part? I hate that I still miss you everyday. I hate that I still wake up some mornings reaching out to your side of the bed. I hate that the only time I see you is when I see pictures of you online. I hate that the first time I’m seeing you in nearly a year is in a dingy bar with the rest of our drunk teammates milling around when this past year could’ve been so different for us. I hate that I can’t have you. I hate that you aren’t mine”

The frustrated words slowly morphed into those of defeat, leaving you breathless- the declaration, the sentiment of Leah’s words not lost on you. You definitely didn’t expect the night to go like this.

You didn’t know what to say, mind reeling at the fact that you weren’t the only one who hadn’t gotten over your relationship. To be fair, you didn’t know how many people got over a two, nearly three year relationship quickly, but with all the social media posts and the stories you would hear about the blonde from mutual friends, you had figured she moved on pretty quickly.

You’d clearly been wrong though.

“I-”

Pleading ocean blue eyes looking in yours, you let yourself sink and drown in the emotions swimming in the orbs.

“I-…I’m sorry.”

Swallowing hard, you contemplated on telling the blonde the news you’d been holding back for the better part of a month, the summer international season wrapping up today and giving you way to make an official announcement soon.

You saw as Leah observed you closely, her head tilting to the side as she sensed you were holding something back, her knowledge of you from when you dated not lost in the slightest.

You stared blankly as her eyes went wide, her stepping away from you as the gears in her brain turned.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you have a girlfriend or someth-“

Shaking your head quickly, eyes widening at the worldly incorrect guess, you placed your hands on her waist, immediately pulling her back, her warmth alluring, her presence a comfort you had missed dearly and didn’t want to lose for even a second.

“No. God, I couldn’t even if I tried. Trust me, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t move on…”

Comforting the blonde with your shared emotions of the past handful of months, you relaxed yourself, the admission lifting the weight off your shoulders, no need for you to pretend you were okay without her.

Taking a deep breath in as Leah neared your proximity once more, your hands travelling up to her shoulders as hers found purchase on your hips, you chose to ignore the somersaults your stomach was doing at finally being in Leah’s arms after so long.

Closing your eyes, terrified of the response you were going to get, you quickly blurted out what you had been holding back.

“There’s a high chance, and by high I mean nearly 99% done, of me transferring to Arsenal for the upcoming season…”

Having spent the last year with Wolfsburg, your one year contract had expired after the end of the league, you choosing not to renew when your childhood club put in an offer.

Peeking an eye open to gauge Leah’s reaction, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread on your face as you saw her eyes shine with joy, a beaming grin on her face at your words.

“Don’t lie…please…”

Shaking your head, you internally melted at how hopeful the skipper looked.

“I promise I’m not.”

At your words, you saw as her smile grew again, Leah scooping you up into her arms to hug you tightly at the news- resentment be damned- the joy of having you near drowning out any and all negative sentiments in the blink of an eye.

Feeling her grin against the crook of your neck, you rested your face against her shoulder, sinking into the familiar feeling of being her arms, a feeling you missed terribly.

And as Leah pulled back, the twinkle in her eyes paralleling the brightest stars in the sky, you smiled shyly as she rested her forehead against yours, you both silently understanding what this meant for you and for her, for you both.

It wasn’t much, nothing resolved between the two of you, at least not yet- but it was something- a starting point.

Soft smiles on both of your faces, you let yourself be led out, following behind Leah, hands gently intertwined and a glimmer of hope in your hearts.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #my writing #fic #fic req #angst #fluff #isf

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literallyjusttoa · 4 months

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What’s better Christmas present than a bit of angst huh?

When Apollo was young, not yet a year old, he was banished from Olympus due to his crime of murder. Gaea called for his head, but Zeus shielded him.

“I will not rule as my father did,” he said “The boy can learn, he can be better.”

Apollo was sentenced to exile. Nine years, though he was not told this. No, Apollo was certain that he had lost his chance to join his family in the heavens. His father had spared his life, and as penance he now had to stay on the mortal realm for all eternity, alone.

The young god made due with what he had. He wandered through the fields of Greece, tending to the animals he found along the way. He would sing, as light and clear as the birds, and mortals would flock to the sound. Apollo was never allowed to linger long, but he fell in love with that feeling of warm comfort mortals seemed to carry with them, that joy that he could never quite reach. When he could, he worked, often for little reward. He wanted another taste, another glimpse of a less lonely existence. So he became a shepherd, a soothsayer, a musician, always a few steps away, watching but never being.

One day, in the middle of the coldest months, Apollo was hired by a farmer in the Vale of Tempe. He had a large herd of cattle and was in desperate need of a someone to care for them. Apollo traveled through the backroads and forests, making his way to the valley. When he arrived, however, he found no farmer, and no cattle. Instead, a lone man sat at the base of the river that flowed through the vale. The water was near frozen over, but the man did not shake. Instead, he turned, and smiled wide.

“Apollon,” Zeus said, “Olympus has missed you.”

Apollo was shocked. Had his father truly come for him? He dropped into a low bow, too nervous for words.

Zeus chuckled, low and warm, “Rise, son. There is no more need for humility. It has been decided you have done enough.”

“Truly?” Apollo asked, “May I truly join you on Olympus?”

“You may join me at home, Apollo.” Zeus responded, “Your home. Come, we shall perform a rite of purification in these waters, and then you will ascend to your throne.”

And so the rite was performed, and Apollo was cleansed. As far as the rest of the world knows, the two immediately ascended to Olympus, to the glorious applause of the other members of the divine court. Apollo took his throne, next to his dear sister, and began his immortal duties.

But there was a moment, one moment, which was kept away in that sheltered vale. Once Apollo had been cleansed, he stood at the bank, waiting for the next step. Any demand his father asked of him, he would have agreed too. But Zeus held nothing over his head. Instead, he summoned a cloak of sheep’s wool, and placed it over Apollo’s shoulders.

“A gift,” he murmured, “The golden treasures you were born with will bring you glory, but this my son… I hope this will keep you warm.”

And Apollo believed, with all his heart, that he would never be lonely again.

Time is a cruel master. As years bled into centuries that bled into millennia upon millennia, Apollo realized that loneliness would be his most constant companion. He realized that the source of this loneliness, this suffering, would often be the very man that promised to keep him warm. The fire of his father’s hearth burned everything it touched, leaving Apollo with blistered hands and a scorched heart.

But he still wore the sheepskin. When the loneliness crept into his bones. When the lightning crackled across his limbs with a burning pain, as warm as his father promised with an agony he’d never mentioned. When all seemed lost to the ground and the dust. Apollo found that wool cloak and cast it over his shoulders. Even broken promises can bring some sort of comfort. Even old sheep’s wool can bring an illusion of warmth.

I was his child once. He used to love me.

If only the bite of a king’s cruelty could be chased away as easily as the chill of a winter’s day. The wool does nothing, and the loneliness remains. Apollo shivers, and goes to rest.

#trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sunny speaks #fanfic #kind of?#tw: mentions of abuse #pjo Zeus #long post #I cannot overstate how the degradation of their relationship both fascinates and horrifies me #also for reference: the cloak mentioned is the one Apollo wears in my Fall of Greece design for him :D

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thefallennightmare · 4 months

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Mercy-one

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: Here we go! Now this is an AU but I will keep things true to life with Bad Omens and Noah as possible! Also, this is NOT a reader insert fic. I decided to create a character for this.

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch

LETHIA

The wind whipped widely through my hair, smacking me in the face, as my limbs thrashed around with such force I cringed in pain. I could see the clouds out of the corner of my eyes as I fell through them, with no sense of comfort protecting me. I choked on a sob when I noticed parts of my long, golden, hair was being singed from the rate of the fall. I held my hands in front of my face to watch in horror as the once short nails grew in length and darkness.

“Wh-what?”

How did it get like this? All because I chose to follow someone else instead of the almighty King? How was that fair? I’d been loyal since creation, one of his most loyal servants, but the second I thought of something different than the divine plan, He cast me away.

“Leth, follow me to the ends of the darkness. For we can create our own Kingdom and rule.”

My eyes screwed shut at the familiar voice as my throat burned with the thought of him. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was close by, surely he had to be. I was thrown from the Kingdom first, Lucifer not far behind.

The air around me began to thicken, grasping around my throat with such force, that I clawed there with my newly fresh nails. Blood dripped from the wounds but none of that mattered to me; I simply stared up towards the sky where my former home disappeared through the clouds. I could try and climb my way back, as far as my wings would allow. But I knew, like Icarus, if I climbed too high to the sun, I’d fall into the unknown jungle below.

Icarus was a fool.

My ears rang loudly from the sudden change in altitude and I looked towards the left, almost crying out when I took in the most recent alter to my appearance. Bright wings that mirrored the colors of the clouds surrounding me were no longer pure. No, they were dark with the tellings of my betrayal.

“My King, forgive me!” I cried out seconds before my body fell to the hard soil below; darkness overtaking my vision.

NOAH

Slamming the car door shut with a long sigh, I walked from the street, up to my house. I took in the variety of cars, realizing that one of the guys must have invited a few people over tonight. Usually, I never minded when we had small get-togethers, but tonight I did mind. It wasn’t anything anyone in particular did, my mind was just filled with the same dream I’d had the last seven nights in a row.

Black feathers. Even darker hair. Cream-colored skin. And vibrant red eyes.

At first, I chalked it up to being a random dream but as the nights progressed, the dream continued with the same figure.

One night they were sitting on the edge of my bed. The following night, they were perched on top of the roof of my house, watching the street below. Last night, the figure was in bed with me as my lips trailed over the curvaceous lumps of her breasts.

I ran a hand over my face as I neared the front door, taking a deep and steady breath. I thought about asking my therapist about these dreams but now that they were getting more intimate, I decided against it.

“It's just a dream, Noah,” I told myself while my hand reached for the door.

A groan halted my movements and I turned swiftly on my heels back towards the driveway. But all I heard was silence; besides the loud music coming from inside the house.

Shrugging, I took one final step towards the threshold until a groan sounded again, only this time louder. It sounded as if a large bird fell from the tree hanging overhead, feathers fluttering in the air. I dropped my bag on the front porch before taking the steps back down two at a time towards where I heard the groans of pain; in between Jesse’s and Orie’s cars parked in the driveway.

“Fuck,” I cursed seeing the crumbled body.

Head snapped to the side, dark tendrils of hair covering her face, and an arm draped over her midsection. I winced as I saw the contortment of it, knowing that it had to be broken.

Where the hell did she come from?

There was a sudden surge that spread from my heart to every vein inside of me; flowing through in shocking waves. I couldn’t place it but seeing this figure in front of me, there was something so familiar about it; her. A painful groan fell from her lips and I breathed in relief, almost forgetting to check if she was alive. I’d been so entranced in her familiarity.

Gently scooping the body up into my arms, the dark hairs fell away from her face and I sucked in a breath when I noticed there were fresh cut marks along her cheek, and blood dripping from her ears. I rushed her inside, gaining stares from my roommates, who immediately stopped the music.

“What the fuck?” Orie’s voice was raised.

I shook my head while setting her on the couch in our living room. “I don’t know, man.”

Our house was packed with random faces; some I recognized, others I didn’t. I knew there was a party tonight but suddenly, I wanted everyone that didn’t live here out.

Folio, who noticed my expression, waved a finger in the air. “Alright, I think it’s time to end this party. Thanks for coming, everyone!”

Pretty quickly, everyone who didn’t live there or weren’t part of Bad Omens left the house.

“Where did you find her?” Nick asked.

I hesitated. “That’s the thing. I found her lying broken in the driveway.”

“The driveway?” Jolly gasped. “How long had she been out there?”

I shrugged while brushing away the stray hairs from her face, hearing a soft but painful breath falling from her dry, cracked lips. My eyes grazed down the line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that were barely covered by the tattered black shirt; it looked as if it was burned off. I tossed a blanket over her to help cover her modesty.

Something glinted in my vision and I looked back at her neck to see a golden chain hanging loosely between the valley of her breasts. My heart dropped to my stomach as the reality slammed into me.

I’ve seen this chain before; in my dreams. My lips tasted that chain in my dreams.

My hands shook at my side as a shaky breath escaped from my throat and Jolly called my name.

“Hm, what?” I turned to look at him.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Should we call the police? She looks like she’s been attacked.”

“No,” I said a little too suddenly. “She just needs a place to rest. We don’t know what happened. I’ll ask when she wakes up.”

I slowly sunk into the chair across from the couch, resting my elbows on my knees, watching the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing.

Jesse stared down at her from behind the couch and let out a low whistle. “It’s a miracle that she’s even breathing right now. We should probably wrap her arm. It could be broken.”

Just then, Michael returned with our first aid kit and handed it to me. I took it with a small smile and started rummaging through it to look for the hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. The least I could do while she slept was clean the wounds on her face.

The softness of her face twisted as the sting of peroxide sunk deep within her wounds and when a whimper fell from her lips, my cock twitched in my jeans. Images of her lying spread wide in my bed for me flashed in my mind and I did my best to push them to the back of my brain.

“How did she end up in the driveway? Looking like this?” Orie asked as he finished wrapping up her arm.

“I don’t know,” I sighed while sitting back in my chair, eyes still trained on her. “With how I found her, it looks like she fell from somewhere.”

Jolly shook his head as he sat on the armrest of the couch, also watching the stranger. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

All seven of us stood around the body laying on the couch, wondering and watching to see if she would wake.

“Maybe she’s an angel,” Jesse snorted, trying to ease the sudden tension.

“Angels don’t exist,” my eyes snapped up towards him.

Jesse held his hands up. “It’s a joke, Noah. But you have to admit it’s a little weird.”

I ran a hand over my jaw and nodded. “I know. I couldn’t leave her out there, though. Once she wakes up, I’ll take her wherever she wants.”

“Luce,” the woman croaked out, head turning towards the side.

Her voice rang out in song, echoing throughout the house, and my heart rose in my throat hearing how eternal it sounded. I barely knew anything about her but I couldn’t ignore the way my soul felt connected to her. Maybe it was because of seeing this form in my dreams or fate that I found her in my driveway, almost as if I was destined to help her.

“What did she say?” Nick questioned.

Folio shrugged while leaning over her. “Luce? Maybe that’s her name?”

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and with one swift movement, the woman had her legs wrapped around Folio’s midsection and him pinned to the ground. Her good forearm was pressed deep into his neck while he lay frozen underneath her. All of us were on our feet but none made a move to stop her, not knowing if it would ultimately help or make things worse.

“Who are you?”

The venom in her voice was cold as ice.

“Ni-Nick,” Folio choked out.

The woman tilted her head towards him. “Where am I?”

Taking a tentative step towards her, I placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “I found you outside.”

It was as if my touch meant nothing to her, eyes still burning deep into Folio. It wasn’t until I spoke again that she finally noticed I was touching her.

“You’re hurt. I brought you inside to help you.”

Before I could register what happened, I felt myself being pinned up against the front door, fiery red eyes staring deep into my soul. With all the doubt that plagued my mind the last hour as I watched her sleep on the couch, I tried to tell myself that I didn’t know who she was. It was all a coincidence that parts of her reminded me of the figure I dreamed of.

But the moment I saw those bright red eyes, I knew that all the doubt was wrong. This was the same woman I dreamed of the last seven nights.

LETHIA

With my nails digging into the fresh skin of the man in front of me, I assessed every inch of his face. The brown eyes widened in slight horror when my nails dug deeper and I took in the way his lips parted, breaths coming out broken. His long hair was held back by a clip but strands still fell into his face and I cocked my head to the side when I realized something drastic.

Well, a few things.

First, I couldn’t feel my hand around this man's throat. I squeezed harder, my face twitching in anger, when I still couldn’t feel his skin underneath my grasp. I expected to feel the erratic thrum of his pulse or his Adam's apple dip low as he swallowed.

Instead, I felt nothing.

No. It couldn’t be.

I’ve heard tales of this happening to the Fallens but I never believed it to be true. An old folks tale the other Archangels discussed over a cup of wine.

My eyes blinked as I slowly removed my hand from the man’s throat, fingers shaking with the realization. The dark nails mocked me for my failure, scolding me for taking the darkness over the light.

The second thing I realized? I’ve seen this face before. Moments before I fell, it flashed in my mind like a photograph, every fucking detail. The long brown hair, bright brown eyes to match, the freckles that littered over his nose and cheeks, the tattoo that wrapped around his throat where my fingers were moments before; a snake, apples, and hands.

How metaphorical.

“What’s going on with me?” I muttered bringing my hand to my chest, noticing it was wrapped in some kind of material.

“You hurt your arm, we wrapped it for you,” a different voice spoke.

My head snapped to the left, seeing another man slowly approach me. His voice sounded different than the others and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re not from around here,” I noted.

A snort sounded from behind me causing me to whirl my body towards it, seeing yet another strange man staring at me.

“Not from around here? Who talks like that?”

Someone smacked him in the chest. “Michael, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m just saying, Nick. She wakes up in our home and attacks two of our friends. Are we supposed to allow that? We don’t even know her fucking name.”

My tongue clicked against my teeth. “Lethia.”

Various sets of eyes stared at me until the man who had an attitude spoke.; Michael.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My name-,” I spoke slowly. “-Is Lethia.”

Michael snorted. “Well, Lethia, where the hell did you come from?”

Giving him a wave of my hand, I decided it wasn’t worth answering that question only because none of these men deserve to know.

“Who’s Luce?”

I snapped my eyes towards the man I had pinned against the door, heart stuttering in my chest. “Excuse me?”

He rubbed at the fresh red marks on his neck. “You said it in your sleep.”

Lucifer.

I licked my lips, widely shaking my head. “I need to leave.”

A soft voice called to me. “We can take you back home.”

This man had a buzzed head and a beard. “Although, you should get those injuries checked out.”

“I’ll heal,” I answered honestly.

Lethia, come to me.

I gazed around the room to see if that voice belonged to any of the seven of them although I knew it didn’t. I knew exactly who uttered those words.

“I have to go.”

The man from my vision stood tall against the door, not allowing me to leave. My jaw ticked with anger and I motioned behind him.

“Move.”

His brow raised. “That’s a funny way of saying thank you for saving your life.”

“Thank you?” I chuckled darkly. “You simply did nothing for me except keep me prisoner in this home.”

“Prisoner?” It was his turn to chuckle. “I fucking found you in my driveway, broken and bruised. The least you can do is tell us what the hell happened!”

They’ll never understand. Mere mortals never did.

I might not understand where I was but I knew mortals when I saw one. Their smell was different than angels; some were stronger than others. Except for the man blocking my way out. It was different, his aura, and I didn’t want to admit it but it drew me into him. There had to be a reason why I saw him mere seconds before I fell from the Kingdom.

The two of us were unmoving, not wanting to break first, and one of the men must have felt the tension because one gently stepped between us; the one that sounded different from the rest.

“Noah, let her go.”

Something fluttered in my stomach and I nearly shook with the unknown feeling. Never in my life had I felt something like this, even during my time with Lucifer. But with this mortal, Noah, it was entirely something new and it scared me to the depths of hell.

Noah scrunched his face with anger but eventually stepped to the side, allowing me to leave.

“Thank you,” I mocked with a slight curl to my lip; more like a snarl.

After two steps toward the door, I froze when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eyes. Titling my head towards the glass, my reflection stared back at me and I gasped at what I saw.

Short black hair, black ink covering almost every inch of skin across my shoulders and arms, my shirt barely hanging one by a thread, and what shocked me the most were my eyes; crimson red, not the vibrant violet.

“No, it can’t be,” I brought my shaking hand to my mouth.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing ringing dug deep in my ears and I brought my hands to them, screwing my eyes shut. My head throbbed in pain as if someone was scratching their claws there. With one eye open, I noticed Michael held some kind of device in his hand.

“Wh-what is that dreaded noise?” I stuttered.

“A phone? Fuck, how hard did you hit your head?”

A what?

When the ringing stopped, I stood taller and for the first time, took in my surroundings. Everything in this home looked different than how we lived in the Kingdom. While we had advantaged technology, we simply didn’t have things of this nature.

“None of this makes sense,” I whispered to myself before my eyes landed on a small device on a table.

October 12, 2021.

I nearly stumbled on my feet when everything began to click into place. Someone during my fall, I landed in a time that hadn’t existed yet.

Noah could tell something was off because he turned towards me, a frown pulling at his lips. “Are you alright?”

Without saying another word, I left in such haste, I hadn’t realized what I left behind in my wake.

NOAH

My eyes stared at the space in front of me, the door wide open as it let in the cool night air. Those red eyes haunted me in Lethai’s wake and my skin crawled when an old dream crept back into my consciousness.

I lay in my bed, bare for her to see, Lethia’s tongue traced down my chest and then stomach to brush across my navel. I gripped her dark hair, wrapping it around my fingers to guide her head farther down. My cock throbbed with such an ache, I was sure it wouldn’t last. Beads of precum slipped from the slit and Lethia’s tongue danced around it, tasting me.

“Fuck,” I cursed as my eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy.

“Look at me, Noah.”

My eyes snapped open at Lethia’s firm tone and felt my heart stop dead in my chest; her eyes were glowing red.

“Noah!”

Breaking free from my trance, I gazed over to Orie. “Did you say something?”

“We did all we could, man. There’s no use dwelling on it.”

He patted my shoulder before they all dispersed into their sections of the house. But not me, I remained frozen in my spot, still staring at the vast darkness past the threshold. There was something just outside the realm of that darkness that caught my eye, it fluttered in the wind until it fell to the concrete just outside the door.

With furrowed brows, I bent low to pick it up, analyzing it with curious eyes. It was a black feather, at least twelve inches in length, and the softness of it was something I’d never felt before.

“Who are you, Lethia?” I murmured to myself, holding the feather close to my chest.

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x fallenangel!oc #mercy noah sebastian

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attackurheart88 · 2 months

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Ooo if it’s okay, can I please request a Soft Yandere Morpheus x fem!innocent!human!reader where she somehow accidentally ends up in The Dreaming and Morpheus is fully ready to let out his wrath at her intrusion, but after talking to her spending time with her, he decides he doesn’t want her to leave, ever, and intends to make her his Queen

You weren't supposed to be here.

Morpheus watched in the shadows as the woman hummed peacefully to herself weaving flowers unaware of the danger lurking behind her. As soon as Mathew alerted him to your presence, Morpheus teleported over in anger. It was only a few months since his capture and his dislike of humans had increased greatly. The dreaming was the only place where he could live peacefully without any worries or fears he would not let a human ruin it.

The birds flew away and the deer and squirrels were quick to scurry. Once Morpheus made himself known the happiness in the air dissipated. He watched as you tensed finally feeling his presence and turned.

“Who are you?” his voice wasn't raised yet it carried such force you were quick to back up. “You're not supposed to be here.” he snarled.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn't know I just sorta appeared.” Your voice was so soft and sweet. It suited you. “I didn't mean to trespass, my name is Y/n.” Morpheus stared blankly at your outstretched hand. You were being kind? Why? You were clearly afraid so why go through the trouble? Was it a trick? A way to get into his head?

A small peep drew his attention behind you. There was a bird wounded by your feet. Morpheus anger sparked up again. “You dare come into this forest and harm its inhabitants.” A sudden force flings you back into a tree.

“Ow.” you slid down painfully watching in horror as he made his way closer. “Wait, please! I didn't hurt it. It fell from a tree I was trying to rebuild its nest.” your small hands were held up as you explained. Morpheus took notice of the small scratches and cuts on your fingers.

As quickly as that anger came it lessened.

One look at your doe eyes and tender expression had Morpheus’s head running. It contained glimpses of fear but no hint of lies. You were telling the truth.

Releasing you, Morpheus took a step back and waved his hand.

The bird flew in circles now fully healed and the scars that once littered your hand vanished.

“Incredible,” you whispered. “Thank….you.” But he was gone.

Morpheus made his way back to his palace. Scouring through the books of his library for information on you. He should have banished you, threatened you, captured you. But he didn't. He couldn't. Despite the way he acted he couldn't find any fault with you. Nor did you harbor any sort of anger, hatred, or evil in you. You were too kind. The animals of Fiddler’s Green were not welcoming to strangers and would have attacked if you held bad intentions. Instead, they danced and sang to entertain you, to please you.

Why? Why were you here? Why was the dreaming so welcoming to you? Why was it he found it difficult to hurt you? Why did he feel the urge to touch you, kiss you, devour you.

Morpheus wasn’t new to the feeling of love. But the emotions inside his chest were different. They weren’t pure or sweet or gentle. They were fierce dangerous addicting. It was only a few hours since he saw you. But his mind was flooding with images of you and impure thoughts. Thought to take you to own you to take your innocence and corrupt it. Your sweet voice will be for him to hear, your soft eyes his to gaze at, and your body? His to ravage.

You were a virgin he was sure of it. He could smell it on you, innocence and purity radiating in waves just begging to be taken away.

“Lucienne.” The woman walked over. “My lord. Have you taken care of the intruder?” “Just about to.” Morpheus smiled to himself. Lucienne furrowed her brows confused.

“Prepare a room. I want it fit for a queen.”

For the next few days, Morpheus waits anxiously for your return. He's made all the proper preparations for you transitioning as his queen. A large bed, mountains of presents, and in case there are any resisting, some lovely chains to keep you still. But he's sure he won't need them for long. Soon enough you’ll learn your place and accept your new role happily. Unlike his former lovers, there will be no mistakes as you’ll never be allowed to leave his side.

Your sniffles and sobs could be heard echoing throughout the room. Morpheus is there with his arms around you. Gentle rubs on your hair as he whispers in your ear to console you.

“I-I want to go home,” you repeated for the hundredth time. Morpheus only smiled and shook his head. “This is your home, now love.” he cooed. “There is nowhere else for you to be.”

You will soon love him and depend on him for everything. Morpheus would become you're only priority as you his. Anyone who gets in the way of that, friend or foe will suffer the consequences.

As his darling, be sure to be obedient and never escape or look in another person’s direction. The consequences will be severe. You could be starved for a couple of days or perhaps be delivered the bloody head of the man who dared to talk to you.

Morpheus is passionate about his love but is equally cruel. Slowly he’ll break you down with love and punishments until you're his perfect wife where he’ll be able to love you and cherish you to his heart's content.

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #my posst #yandere morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #obsessive love #yandere x darling #dream of the endless #yandere dream of the endless #innocent reader #fem reader #dream of the endless x reader #@attackurheart

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alovesongtheywrote · 3 months

Text

Nightmare Academia P.22 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, you and Reid reunite. And you get a little tipsy. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: alcohol mention, general softness

♥ A/N: im genuinely super happy with this chapter, have fun with it

♥ Word Count: 2741

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

“Where the fuck did you come from?”

Your voice still echoed in the otherwise silent air of the office. You looked back out the door, down the hallway and around, searching for where Reid might have been hiding. Spencer didn’t move. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, stock still in the office, staring right at you.

“Seriously, where the fuck were you?” You looked down at the bottle in your hands, “I haven’t started drinking yet.”

Again, Spencer didn’t answer, but this time he didn’t stay still. In a split second, moving faster than he’d ever moved in his goddamned life, he crossed the room. Before you could process how fast he’d moved, or pause to think, or take a breath, his arms were wrapped around you.

His grip on you was strong but gentle. His usual hesitation at human touch was banished by his fear and the intensity of the situation. He held you close for a second- close to him like you were something important. Something more than a thorn in his side. Your eyes widened at the sudden contact. It was kind of amazing that you hadn’t dropped the wine bottle in your shock. As it was, you felt a tiny bit stunned and a tiny bit saddened. You really needed that hug.

“I thought you were hurt.”

His voice was so soft, so quiet, that even with his lips against your ear, you had to strain to hear him. It was odd, honestly. Spencer usually had so much to say, but for once, he was silent. You could feel his hands shaking against your back.

“It wasn’t me. I’m not hurt, it’s not me.”

He pulled away before you could elaborate, “What happened? Who’s-”

“It’s Frank. Someone shot him, they think it was Adam, but it wasn’t. Now Adam needs character witnesses, and I-” Your words came faster and faster until there was no more air in your lungs. Your hands quivered slightly, and Spencer reached out again, taking the wine bottle from you and placing it on the desk behind him before he gathered both of your hands in his.

It didn’t really help much. Spencer’s hands were still trembling, so your hands just kind of trembled together. It wasn’t bad, per-say. The contact did help calm you down, it’s just that nobody stopped shaking.

“It’s okay,” Spencer reassured you, “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

“Okay,” you choked on air, very clearly not okay, “I’m okay. I just- look, I know it’s a lot to ask because you’ve met the guy like, one time, but would you be a character witness for Adam? It’s just, you’re a Fed. You’re a Fed, and you know him, and that will go over really well with almost any jury, so-”

“Hey, hey,” he brought your hands closer to his chest, brushing his thumb over your knuckles over and over again, “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you need me to do, okay?”

“Okay. Okay,” you took a deep breath, finally allowing yourself some peace, “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

He gave your hands a final squeeze, almost memorizing the way they felt in his grasp before he had to let go. You both missed the warmth instantly. Spencer cleared his throat and took a step back. He wouldn’t meet your eye. He looked anywhere and everywhere but you. It was like he was very suddenly allergic to your face. You kind of wanted to scream. Instead, you sighed.

“Get back here.”

“Sorry?”

“I said get back here, you motherfu-” You cut yourself off, burying your face in his chest. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, trapping him, giving him no chance to escape. Not that it mattered much. Spencer didn’t want to escape.

He returned your embrace without hesitation. His long, slender fingers brushed long strokes against your spine. He melted into you, resting his head on your shoulder, and in turn, you melted into him. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, trying to drag him impossibly closer to you, and to his credit, he let you pull him in. The two of you stood there for a moment, letting the universe fall back into place. Spencer felt so warm wrapped around you. And he smelled nice. And you realized you’d never been this close to him without him bleeding out. And you realized that you really didn’t want him to let go.

“Sorry to jump you with affection, but I, uh-”

“Technically, I jumped you first,” he paused for a second. His hand paused with him, stilling at the small of your back, “Please never leave me another message like that- at least not one without extensive context.”

“I scared you pretty bad, huh?” you pulled back to stare up at him, a shit-eating grin crossing your face despite the circumstances.

“Badly. And I wouldn’t say you scared me,” Spencer’s voice pitched up as he lied, “It’s just-”

“You thought I was dead.”

He sighed but smiled, resigning himself to your victory, “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” you mocked, letting your head fall back against his chest with a dull thud. Right then might’ve been a good time to move, but neither of you did. You were tired. You’d been tired for the past twenty-four hours or so. You were moving through a living nightmare, and now that you’d found a source of comfort, you weren’t about to let go.

Comparatively, Spencer was trying to fight his nightmares- even there, standing up and awake with his arms around you, he was still fighting off his worst fears. It was kind of hard to blame him for that. In the past few years, he’d lost a girlfriend and a mentor to brutal and horrific murders. Even more recently, his co-worker’s niece had been kidnapped, sold on a black market for serial killers, and nearly tortured. The BAU was fending off a shadowy network of hitmen. The world felt more and more dangerous every day, and Spencer was terrified that it would take more of the things he cared about.

And he cared about you.

“Fucking fuck you were gone for a while,” you mumbled into his chest. You weren’t super sure that he heard it, but the soft huff of a laugh he let out gave you some confidence.

“Too long, apparently,” Spencer pulled his head away from you for a moment as he gazed back at the smut-filled bookshelves, “Though it looks like you’ve kept yourself busy.”

“Oh, that?” you asked, finally (and reluctantly) unburying yourself from his hold, “That’s been going on since before you left.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “You didn’t notice?”

Spencer was too busy staring at the smut to answer.

“Huh. I guess you’re losing your edge, Doctor Detective.”

“I’m not losing my edge, I just didn’t think to look for smut in my office.”

“Well, maybe you should have.”

“Where did you even put everything?”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy. All your books are safe and sound. I promise.”

He stared at you for a moment. A light pink blush painted his features- he wasn’t sure if it was because of the book about minotaur sex on his bookshelf, or if it was because of you. It could’ve been either. It could’ve been both. It was probably you.

You picked up the wine bottle.

“So, uh. Do you want a drink?”

“I’m good, thanks. Besides, the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse found that the rate of all alcohol-related emergency department visits increased 47.0% between 2006 and 2014. The Alcohol-Related Disease Impact application estimates that there are more than 140,000 deaths caused by excessive alcohol use in a year. I-in other words, that stuff kills.”

“Oh. That’s-”

“I’m so sorry, that was weird, I-” Spencer’s already massive eyes got even bigger. He shook his head as if trying to rid his mind of all the statistics it contained. For a second, Spencer looked a little bit like a kicked puppy- a little dog who had made a mistake and knew it was about to be reprimanded for bad behaviour.

That look physically pained you.

“That was fine, Spencer. You’re fine,” you tried to sound reassuring, “And hey, now I know about the dangers of drinking in excess. My original plan was to down the whole bottle, but now I’m informed.”

Spencer briefly wondered if he was cursed, because you just kept saying things that made his heart have a little freak out in his chest. Not like, a butterflies in the stomach, he’s in love and isn’t realizing it type of freak out, but a, “Holy shit something is wrong and we lost sight of that, oops,” kind of freak out. Or perhaps a, “Holy fuck, what is it with this person and saying things that make me panic,” freak out.

“I’m glad I informed you.”

“Me too,” you opened the bottle, “Though I do want to be clear- I decide when I die, pretty boy. No alcohol is doing that for me.”

“I- that’s nonsensical. You don’t really get a choice about when you die.”

“Maybe you don’t.”

You hopped up on the desk, sitting with the open wine held between your thighs. You leaned back, peering at the drawers, but you didn’t find what you were looking for.

“I don’t think we have cups.”

Spencer crossed his arms and stepped towards the desk, leaning against it, beside you, “Do we really not have cups in here?”

You shook your head and pursed your lips, “Apparently not. Are you sure you don’t want any? Because I know you have a thing with germs, and once I get mine on the bottle-”

“I’m sure,” he smiled, “I shouldn’t drink, anyway.”

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re a sloppy drunk, Spence.”

Spencer choked on air at the sound of you using the nickname. It didn’t matter that you were teasing him, the intimacy of the nickname was still killing him.

Trying and failing to recover, Spencer stuttered without thought, “I- it’s- someone needs to remember to get more cups.”

“Right. Cups,” you let out a tiny little laugh, “Well, in that case.”

You brought the bottle to your lips. The wine was pretty good. It had been a gift, making it free to you, and free wine can never be all that bad. While you were having a fine time with your wine, Spencer was watching you drink, studying the column of your throat, and running his eyes over the spot where your lips met the bottle. You were gorgeous. How could someone doing something as simple as drinking be gorgeous? Spencer didn’t know, but he knew it was possible because you were sitting in front of him and drinking and being gorgeous.

Spencer kind of hoped someone would shoot him.

“So,” you set the wine back down, “How are things with you? I uh, I saw you took down the guy who killed your mentor- Gideon, right? Jason Gideon? It was in the news.”

Spencer tilted his head in confusion, “It was in the local news- and it got brief coverage from some national news broadcasters, but I don’t remember them covering it here.”

Your fingers tapped against the glass in your hands, “Well, I mean… that’s because they didn’t. I may have done a little bit of research on the case. And then on the BAU.”

“Really? You researched the investigation of a case that took place several states away from you?”

“It wasn’t just any case,” you took another sip of wine. You needed it, “It was your case.”

Spencer hoped again that some divine force would just strike him down, because you looked so pretty drinking wine- drinking wine and caring about him, holy shit.

“And then you researched a government agency that you despise? For fun?”

“For fun. For you. And I’ll admit, the BAU might be a special squad of government agents generally perpetuating a fucked up system and abusing their access to a gas-guzzling jet, but… sometimes you use your powers for good. Sometimes you use your powers for so much good that it doesn’t feel real, but…” you paused to drink, “I’m glad you caught the guy.”

Spencer’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard that it almost hurt.

“If you want me to, I think I can get the BAU to look into Frank’s assault,” he spoke so fast that you almost didn’t hear him.

“What? Is that a thing you guys can do? Just… investigate whatever crimes you want? I thought you needed to be invited by local police?”

“Usually we do, but if a case crosses state lines, we can take over- and I think this case might.”

“Fuck- really?” you turned to face him, eyes wide and fist tight around the neck of the bottle.

“I-” Spencer paused. He wasn’t sure what to say. He could’ve told you about the hitman network, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do that- and more than that, he didn’t want you to fear for your own safety.

He made up his mind, “Frank’s case sounds like a few others we’ve had recently. I think they could be connected.”

“Oh,” you sat up straight, “Fuck.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“So… you could look into this case? And you could find whoever hurt Frank and exonerate Adam?”

Honestly, Spencer couldn’t guarantee that. He also couldn’t say no to you.

“Yes.”

You took a deep breath, “Then do it. Please. A-and when you find whoever shot Frank, can you do something for me?”

Spencer resisted the urge to say “Anything” by staying quiet and nodding.

“Try not to kill them. Try to bring them to justice and send them to prison. Some people who kill can’t be helped, but some of them can. We… We won't know what has to be done until we know who did it, but please. Try for me.”

“I will.”

You reached down slowly, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “Thank you.”

The two of you sat in silence for another minute, you drinking, him leaning, and his hand still in yours. It was almost peaceful. Almost calm. And then you had to fuck up the silence with some batshit tomfuckery.

“Hey, if I ever went missing, what would you do?”

“I-” For like, the eightieth time in the last fifteen minutes, you stunned Spencer out of his words, “You’re not gonna go missing. I won’t let it happen.”

The certainty in his voice made you want to press your thighs together. So you did. Spencer didn’t notice. His eyes were on your face- the smile you shot him was fucking blinding, “That’s sweet, Spencer, but humour me. What would you do?”

Spencer took a deep breath, “I’d get my team to help me find you. I’d bring you home, and once I did, I’d make sure you’re okay, physically, mentally, emotionally,” he had you clinging to his every word, “And then I’d yell at you for going missing.”

“What?” You laughed out your shock at the sudden tonal change, “Do you think I’d just disappear for fun or something?”

He shrugged, “It wouldn't surprise me.”

“Good. It shouldn’t, and I might,” you took another sip- a deeper one, exposing your neck to Spencer again. He crossed his legs.

“But if I did vanish for fun, I would come back.”

“Would you?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “Nothing could keep me away.”

There was a soft pause in the conversation. You looked at Spencer. He looked at you. You looked at the wine. Spencer kept looking at you because he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“So, if I got murdered-”

“(Y/N),” he said your name like a warning. You just laughed and leaned into his side.

“Humour me! Humour me. If I got murdered, what would you do? And there is a right answer to this one, so be careful.”

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, your phone buzzed. You picked it up and unlocked it, all with his eyes on you.

A bright smile overtook your face.

“Frank’s awake!” You squeezed Spencer’s hand just as he squeezed yours. That adorable moment went unnoticed by both of you in all the excitement, “Missy’s with him at the hospital now. It sounds like he’s going to be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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love4norris · 5 months

Text

ೃ༄ extracted from my newest chapter of my lando norris fanfic on wattpad, go check it out! I have the exact same user <3

ೃ༄ summary: where two ex-friends get mistaken as fiancés by her aunt and just decide to go along with it

The interior felt naked, bare of any sense of the upcoming holiday, also know as Christmas. Yet a soft blend of colours originating from the show that Nicholas was watching illuminated the room. Filling the walls surrounding with a comfortable warmth, one that nearly banished the wintry crisp that had taken over the village. Engulfing the miniature part of the Elores's family in the violent arms of Peaky Blinders.

Few candles continued to sway in the minimal air, the very candles that were described as Christmas melted softly and slowly into a wax.

A vanilla made its way to the younger woman, the same way it did when she had first entered her childhood home and that is when she realised that the scent did not belong to a candle but rather her mother, the woman that was so lost in a trance from the bareness of her home that she was yet to ask her daughter what she had intended when she had first entered the room.

"Belle, honey. I'm going to need you to run to the shops for me." Josephine's voice slotted into the room perfectly as though it were a figure skater although the request was an unusual one. She was such a control freak that it was unlikely that she asked her daughter to do something for her, instead doing it herself no matter the circumstances. Jo must of seen the confused look on her daughters face because not even second after placing the request, she was answering the follow-up questions.

"Your father and I have already had something to drink so we can not drive and i've got my first party tomorrow and I don't have anything in for it. And no I can't go tomorrow because I will not have the time no matter when I wake up." The words tumbled out of the woman's mouth, leaving no room for a breath just like she had left no room for any of Belle's responses.

"I'll go get ready and then I'll go." Isabelle responded, her arms slotting next to her sides to give herself the boost she needed to be able to get up and off the sofa.

"You'll take at least two hours to get ready and the shop will be shut by then. You need to leave right now if you are going to make it." Jo's voice was merely an echo due to the distance she had created, going to grab a piece of paper which could only be the shopping list she had prepared.

Deeming it pointless to hold up any more of a fight, Belle pulled on her wrecked uggs before exiting the warmth of her home.

Her eyelashes fluttered against the blow of the wind, the feeling of damp, stray snowflakes landing upon the mascara-less black hairs. They immediately soaked through acting as though lost tears dampening her dry eyes. Her lips felt moments away from being numb despite the little time she had been out of her car, the sight of softly exhaled extra air freezing the minuscule second it conjoined with the surrounding air.

The shop doors slid open upon sensing her closeness, the heated air escaping as though it was being held hostage. A faint sound of Mariah Carey's 'All I want For Christmas In You' playing as background noise for all the fellow shoppers which were few as the night continued on its rampage.

Isabelle took this peaceful time to read over her mothers list, "Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc and red of any kind as long as it's on the top shelf and get multiple bottles of that, I will pay you back. Any kind of beer for your father and some whiskey as a just incase. Baileys would also be useful" She read under her now warmed breath, metaphorically parting herself on the back for successfully understanding her mothers illegible handwriting. Although Josephine was naturally a very neat and organised woman, those desired traits were not wasted upon a pen nor pencil. Instead, she used whatever energy that had not been snatched from her throughout the day and drained it on the innocent peace of paper.

"How much alcohol could ten people need?" Belle questioned no one in particular before setting off on the important mission, her steps taking her re long way around the shop, passing by everything that she desired before ending on the wine aisle. The slabs of white were covered in the dooming liquid, one wrong move or swing of the basket and the area that surrounded would turn into a bloody crime scene.

Filling her lungs with a hit of air, she began the walk of dread, her hands slowly twisting around the bottles before she lead them down one by one on the pieces of metal that provided support. Clinging and clacking began to follow her around, the sounds gripping onto her grinch pyjama bottoms as though they were the presents he was stealing.

A few extra items were added along the way, Isabelle's attempt at calming down her basket however her attempts miserably failed, instead only succeeding in annoying the metal even more. The lingering pain of the handles constantly digging into her upper wrist caused Belle extreme discomfort though she soldiered on, soon making it into her final personal and unnecessary aisle, sweets. The only though that kept her going was that every red mark and bruise would be worth it just to be able to eat some British chocolate, something she had been so heavily deprived of for too long.

"Isabelle?"

#lando norris x you #lando norris angst #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #extract

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koogl001 · 1 year

Note

Can you write a platonic Alstor x Reader. Like the reader is Alstor's child or something. They don't actually have to be related and could be friends instead. I just really love how you write Alstor so feel free to whichever direction you wish for this.

One-Shots and Headcanons Masterlist

Alastor knew you ever since he was but a child

Your mother and his were close friends and they took you both on play dates every Saturday

He never had any siblings of his own, but to him you were his little sister

Little fragile innocent sister that needed to be sheltered from this cruel world

He was always extremely overprotective of you

That was the reason all of your ex-boyfriends that ever hurt you all ended dead or missing

In Hell, when he finally found you and brought you to the Happy Hotel with him, his obsessive need to shield you from anything negative or threatening became tenfold what it used to be

This place was filled with danger, and he would not allow a single hair on his little sister’s head be touched

When you started dating Derek, a fish type demon whom stumbled upon the hotel and decided to become the first customer (aside from Angel), Alastor was furious

Not with you of course, in his eyes you could never do anything wrong

He was furious with Derek as he believed he manipulated you to be in this relationship

After all, you were too good for him

He was a weakling and the opposite of a gentleman

He didn’t see nor treat you as a priority, and that got the deer demons gears grinding

Soon, the dislike Alastor held for Derek was validated as you came to him crying in the middle of the night, claiming you two broke up because he cheated on you

Now Alastor knew Charlie would be furious if he killed her first actual customer, but it was something that HAD to be dome

The next day, a gift box was placed in front of your door

When you opened it, the dead eyes of your now ex-boyfriend were staring right at you

You instantly knew who was behind this, so you confronted Alastor immediately

He stood his ground, claiming the fish demon had it coming and that he was simply riding the world of filth

You were upset, but you did have to admit it felt good knowing the jerk got punished for treating you the way he did

When Charlie asked about his whereabouts, you covered for Alastor telling her that you two broke up and he ran away with his new girl

Seeing as she took you for an honest person, she had no reason to doubt you

Ever since then, every boyfriend or even friend had to be evaluated by Alastor before you could actually bring them into your life

It was bothersome and it did make you feel like he didn’t trust your judgement, but you also understood his motives, that he was doing this solely to spare you from heartbreak and emotional pain betrayal would bring

Anytime the deer demon deemed anyone unfit and not trustworthy out of those people, you knew you would never see them again

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, persuading him to stop would be like talking to a wall, so you had to reassure yourself it was ok and that it was for you

At least, you actually managed to talk him out of banishing all of your friends and having only him in your life, which was what he wanted the most, but he also understood you needed other people to socialise with other than himself

That did not however stop him from sending his shadow with you or following you himself whenever you exited the hotel to have some fun with your friends

Of course, he had to conceal himself, you didn’t know that he was secretly watching from the side-lines

If you did, you would probably give him an earful about personal space and such

All this was for you and your safety after all

He would kill for you in an instant

He couldn’t and wouldn’t let you get hurt ever again, that just wasn’t an option

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

Text

Inspired by @valadarts on Twitter

Four Little Words

Soap never felt like he belonged anywhere. Sooner or later people would always tire of him and his antics. Whether they were family or friends, eventually everyone got tired of the energy ball that was John MacTavish.

After being thoroughly beaten, and banished from his home in Glasgow after his father caught him kissing a boy: Soap attempted to join the military. His first few attempts were unsuccessful, but eventually he managed to get in. Unfortunately, even trained as a demolitions expert Soap still had too much energy. After irritating his third bunk mate in a row Soap learned to tone it down, being only slightly annoying, carefully reserved. Until he got comfortable.

That's how it always started if he was being honest. Unfortunately, Soap had always been an honest person. He knew why he had been removed from his last team—he was too annoying. He had gotten too comfortable with them. Too close. All of his previous teammates told him so:

John talks too much. John's too clingy. John is so annoying. John should just shut up. Don't invite John, he's too excitable. John isn't worth it.

Soap had taken the first beating in the military with ill grace, going straight to his superior to report it only to be chewed out for annoying his teammates into doing it to him. The second time, when they held him down with his sheets, and bludgeoned him with soap bars in their pillow cases Soap bit his lip so hard it bled. He didn’t bother telling his CO the next morning. He didn’t bother tending to the many black and blue bruises that littered his body. Soap had doubted then that the nurses in medical would give him or his injuries a second glance. So when his CO told him he was no longer a good fit for their team Soap accepted it quietly.

When Price snatched him up immediately after Soap took it as his second chance. Accepting the position eagerly, Soap met the first of his new teammates: Ghost. Ghost was a mysterious man. Stoic to say the best, cold at worst, but Soap was pleased as punch to meet him. Greeting the Lieutenant with a soft punch to the shoulder Soap eagerly offered to save him a seat. Ghost didn’t seem particularly keen on his new Sergeant, but Soap didn’t take it personally.

Instead he worked slowly to open the older man up. Ghost reciprocated slowly with his awful dad jokes—then there was Las Almas. Soap thought his CO had finally started warming up to him after Ghost helped remove the bullet from his arm.

The fact followed him like a living shadow made Soap feel like the man actually cared. Ghost had even taken to calling him ‘Johnny’---something Soap never allowed anyone else to do. Soap had to admit his crush on the lieutenant was a little pathetic, but he kept himself in check. Most of the time.

Every so often Ghost would cross an invisible line and brush his bare hand against Soap’s. Or would leave a hand resting on Soap just a tad longer than necessary. Soap adored these touches, these small embraces. He felt comfortable in them.

That’s where Soap messed up. He got comfortable. He felt safe. He felt wanted.

—-----------------------------------------

They were out at the local pub after a successful mission. Soap sat next to Ghost at the bar enjoying the older man's company, and chatting away amicably. Ghost's eyes gleamed in the low bar light. He looked bemused. Happy for once.

Then Soap screwed it all up: he opened his mouth.

"Hey, I've been thinking about us." Soap said with one hand around his drink and the other laying, he hoped, casually on the bar.

"Us?" Ghost hummed, swirling his bourbon in one hand. He turned to look at Soap over his shoulder. "What about us? You've been a great teammate if that's what you mean."

"Common Si, you know what I'm talking abo–"

"NO." Ghost growled. "I don't think I do."

"W-what do you mean?" Soap asked quietly, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

"Exactly what I said." Ghost snapped. He kept his eyes down, examining the now half empty glass.

"Si…you can't be serious." Soap gave a nervous chuckle. "Think about us–"

"THERE IS NO US MACTAVISH." Ghost snarled, getting to his feet. Soap could feel the pain in his chest as his heart broke. "I'm heading home now; it's late." Soap could feel the silent tears slipping down his face. "Get home safe, Sergeant." Ghost's voice softened, only slightly, and then he was gone.

Soap didn't acknowledge Ghost's statement. How could he? 'Get home safe.' Sounded like a cruel joke to Soap as he sat there the last of his scotch watering down considerably the longer he sat. He couldn't bring himself to lift the glass to his lips. To drink the burning liquid, and chase away his pain.

Instead Soap sat there until the bar closed. The bartender gently showed him out. She apologized, and said she hoped he made it home okay. Soap didn't acknowledge her statement either. He was too numb. The night air was cool against his skin. Ignoring the well meant suggestions of getting a ride, Soap started back to the base on foot. It would take at least an hour.

Not that anyone would notice. No one would care that annoying John 'Soap' MacTavish was late. Or missing…not even Ghost. Especially not Ghost. Soap felt the tears begin anew. He sniffled as he angrily wiped the tears away. No one would care, he cried. They didn't want to know. He wouldn't let them know.

An eternity later Soap collapsed into his bunk freezing. Curling beneath the thin blanket he fell into a fitful sleep.

—-----------------------------------------------------

He snuck around the offices with his hand gun at the ready. Hissan would not escape him this time. He had stopped the missile, now he would stop the man. A sudden crack, a blinding pain in his temple, and the world went black.

He could feel himself being dragged. Jagged pieces of glass cut into his hands and bare arms as he fought the grip on his vest. In the distance he could hear gunshots. Fighting against the hand that held him, Soap jerked as the large window loomed nearby—the glass long since shattered.

"No, no, not again." Soap whined. Where was his rifle? His body hurt so bad. There was a hand wrapped around his vest dragging him forward. Black gloves with white accents covered the fingers….no that wasn’t right. Hissan wasn’t wearing gloves when he— Soap's eyes snapped up. A dark skull-plate mask stared down at him. Ghost lifted him to the window. Soap could feel the void behind him yawning wide to accept him. Accept his death. Soap struggled clawing at Ghost's forearm.

"Ghost?!" Soap panicked. "Ghost please, don't!"

Ghost glared at him through the sockets of his mask.

“Ghost please!” Soap wept. “I’m sorry, please, please, don’t—”

Ghost threw Soap out onto the pavement below.

Soap screamed.

—-------------------------------------------------

Soap shot up out of bed, a scream lodged in his throat. Acid churned in his stomach clawing its way up his throat. Soap rolled quickly to the side he grabbed the small bed by his end table and threw up noisily into it. Soap's throat was raw - he must have been screaming - his heart hammered painfully in his chest. Gasping, Soap pulled back onto the bed just far enough to bury his face in the crook of his arm.

What the hell? He hadn't dreamed of Chicago in months. He attempted to swallow, but found his throat was too sore, and his skin felt too sensitive. As though there was a thin layer of electricity keeping his nerves on a razor's edge. Soap felt a shiver wrack his body.

He was damp, covered in a cold sweat. Despite the heat of the base, Soap shivered. Rubbing a calloused hand through his mohawk, Soap tried to ground himself. The clock on his bedside table told him it was only a few minutes after two in the morning. Feeling the tackiness of his own sweat, Soap knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep easily.

So instead he grabbed his shower bag, rolled up his sheets, and made his way to the basement laundry. Chucking his sheets into the wash with some detergent Soap left his sheets to wash, and made his way to the communal showers. No one in their right mind would be up this early. Soap was fairly certain he would have the showers, and the hot water to himself for at least another two hours. Not that he intended to shower that long, but he needed to get out of his head.

—---------------------------------------------------

Scrubbed raw head to toe, and neatly dressed in his fatigues, Soap was the first to arrive in the mess. A first for him. Usually Ghost was the first to arrive. The giant of a lieutenant would sit in the comfortable silence at their table, carefully selected in the back of the room where he could see both entrances, a hot tea in hand. It used to be a comforting thought.

Making a fresh pot of coffee, Soap prepared himself a mug, and sat down at their usual table. However, instead of taking his normal seat- which would have been to the right of Ghost - he took Gaz's usual seat across from the lieutenant and right next to where Price would sit.

When his fellow sergeant entered, Soap eagerly waved him over.

“Gaz! Have breakfast with me?”

“Of course mate.” Gaz gave him a concerned look. “But Jesus did you even sleep?”

“Yea…” Soap gave a weak laugh. “I kinda over did it with the drinks.”

Sitting down together with their trays in hand Soap only half listened as Gaz went on about the most recent rugby game. Pushing his food around on his plate, Soap had only taken a bit or two. He could feel his stomach roll. Soap knew he was hungry, but his body wasn’t willing to eat just yet.

“Hey…” Soap’s head snapped up. Gaz’s tone had changed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been getting distracted.”

“Yea…” Soap caught movement over Gaz’s shoulder. Ghost had entered the mess. Soap watched him through bleary eyes as the lieutenant got his food, and made his way to their table, pausing just behind Gaz.

“Good morning, Sergeants.” Ghost’s baritone greeted them. Gaz gave Soap a knowing look, which Soap quickly dismissed.

“Morning, L.T.” Soap said, proud of himself. His voice barely wavered.

“Yeah…” Gaz crossed his arms. “Good morning Lieutenant.”

Soap knew that look. Gaz had been his best friend since day one of their time together. He could tell something was bothering Soap, even if he didn’t say it out right. He probably wouldn’t say it outright, and instead interrogate Ghost. Soap couldn’t allow that. Not this time. Standing quickly, he scooped up his tray.

“Here L.T. you can take my seat.”

“Ah, that’s not—” Ghost’s voice was quiet, meant only for Soap. Soap ignored him. Instead turning to lay a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. “Gaz, you up for some sparring later?”

“Sure, but…” Gaz glanced at Ghost, who had remained standing. “I thought Ghost was your sparring buddy?”

“Yea, but it’s no fun if you don’t shake it up. Aye?” Soap gave what he hoped was a convincing smile and made his way out of the mess. Ghost didn’t stop him. Gaz didn’t ask. None of the recruits noticed.

No, no one knew that John 'Soap' MacTavish was breaking.

—--------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was a blur. Soap went through his normal workout routine, and even sparred with Gaz while studiously ignoring the shadow of Ghost as he stood just outside the sparring ring. Soap was for all intentions and purposes treating the lieutenant like his callsign: a ghost. Unseen, and unheard floating about the base.

Soap no longer sought Ghost out during his down time. He didn't eat lunch with any of the 141 anymore, choosing instead to return to his room. He even changed his workout schedule to avoid Ghost’s - as they had been workout buddies before. The only time Soap saw Ghost now was in his dreams, as the same nightmare played over and over again every night. This pattern continued for a little over a week before Price became fed up and dragged Soap into his office.

Much to Soap's chargen Ghost was already inside. The lieutenant stood against the far wall, arms crossed, head down. Soap ignored Price's gesture to take the seat in front of his desk. Instead opting to remain standing as far away from Ghost as possible. Price groused under his mustache taking his own seat behind the desk so he could glare at the two like a disappointed father.

"I don't know what the issue is between you two, but it stops now." Price growled. "You two were my best team, and now you can't stand being in the same room! What the hell is going on? Soap?"

Soap felt his stomach plummet. Price was blaming him. Of course he was blaming him. It was Soap’s fault after all. He was stupid enough to get comfortable. Stupid enough to believe that he was cared for. That he was wanted. Soap felt himself begin to tremble.

"I'll transfer in the morning." Soap rasped, gripping his own wrist behind his back to keep the others from noticing.

"The hell you will." Price snapped. Soap flinched, shoulders shaking. He was too keyed up, too anxious. "I don't care what you two do in your personal lives, but you were friends. I expect you to be teammates even if you can't be friends. I expect you to be cordial and work together. Do you understand?"

Teammates…isn't that what Ghost had said? He was his teammate, nothing more. Soap felt the acid churn in his stomach again.

"Yes sir." Soap turned, without waiting to be dismissed he flung the door open and bolted. He made outside, only just, and threw up noisily into the bushes. Wiping his mouth with the back of his head, Soap leaned back against the cold brick wall behind him. Or he would've if he didn't find himself flush against a pillowed surface.

Strong hands wrapped around his shoulders from behind.

"Easy Johnny." Ghost's voice rumbled in his ear.

"Dinnae call me that." Soap winced at how rough his voice sounded. He tried to shake off Ghost's hands, but the lieutenant's grip was unforgiving. "Lemme go." Soap complained as Ghost spun him around and led him forcefully back inside. Soap tried to shove the taller man off, but Ghost simply rearranged his hold and forced Soap to keep pace with him as he turned down the familiar hallways.

Ghost paused outside of a door, releasing Soap with one hand to fish for his keys while the other held tight to the back of Soap's neck. Soap twisted free of Ghost's hold and stomped back down the hallway they had come from. He got about two feet away before he was rudely slammed into the wall next to him. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh. Ghost glared down at him, a thick forearm pressed against his clavicle.

"You listen, and you listen well." Ghost snarled. "We are going in that office, and we are going to talk."

"Got nothing you want to hear." Soap half-gasped trying to snarl back. Ghost applied more pressure. "You made that clear, sir." Soap spat the honorific out through gritted teeth twisting to look pointedly at the floor. He didn't want to see Ghost's eyes. Didn't want to remember the warmth of Simon behind that mask. Ghost didn't care what he had to say, not really.

"Just because you couldn't get your dick wet–" Ghost grunted as Soap's fist made contact with his face. He took one step back, but no more, whipping his head back around to glare at the Sergeant. Soap met Ghost's withering look without flinching his blue eyes blazing.

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Soap hissed. "I can get shagged whenever I want. It didn't have a damn thing to do with sex and you know it. You're just too selfish to understand that other people have feelings for you." Wrenching Ghost's arm away from him, Soap shoved his superior hard. Soap paused as he turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder. Ghost stood there, unmoving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

—---------------------------------------------------

The next few days were better in many ways and worse in others. Ghost and Soap communicated only when necessary and with short clipped tones. Soap quit avoiding Ghost, but still did not actively seek his lieutenant out unless directed to by Price. Ghost remained as stoic as ever.

Since he hadn't been dragged into Price's office to explain why he struck his CO, Soap assumed Ghost was either too ashamed or too proud to admit he - the great Ghost - had been struck by his Sergeant. Soap suspected the latter since the man never bothered to talk to him about the night at the bar.

Soap's nightmares continued despite every effort he made to abate them. His sketchbook was becoming a homage of Ghost flinging Soap from a skyscraper against an inky blackness. Soap woke up violently ill every time to the point he stopped eating dinner so he could just dry heave in the morning before breakfast.

It wasn't a perfect fix, but it was working. The rest of the 141 was none the wiser. If they noticed Soap losing a little weight they never said anything. Perhaps they believed his pride in his body was the reason. No one noticed. No one cared. Until…

Soap was running the recruits through the obstacle course—which started with the basic crawling under the wire and ended in an underground pool the recruits had to swim through at the end. The deepest part of the pool was ten feet. The goal for today was for the recruits to complete the course with full gear on. Soap would be observing, along with another sergeant, to make sure no one got hurt. The recruits were to enter the pool at the deep end, tread water, and make it to the shallow end, and out within the time given.

The first group of five completed the course no problem. The second group, however, had an issue. One of the youngest recruits, Parker, was having trouble treading water. Soap gave him a second, seeing if any of the others would aid him, when they did not Soap ran to the side of the pool.

“Come on Parker!” Soap shouted. “You got this.”

Parker was pale, spluttering. The kid was panicking.

“Shit.” Soap jumped into the pool grabbing Parker by the vest and attempted to steer him towards the side of the pool. Panicked Parker swung his elbow back clocking Soap in the face, and splitting his lip.

"Oi, ye shit." Soap growled cursing under his breath Soap struggled, fighting with Parker to get him to safety. Where the hell was the other sergeant? As they neared the edge of the pool Parker flung himself towards the edge inadvertently slamming Soap’s head into the concrete side.

Dazed, Soap let go of Parker’s vest, inhaling sharply in pain. Unfortunately for Soap that meant inhaling a mouth full of water. In his panic to get out Parker used Soap as a ladder and stepped on his head forcing him beneath the water. Soap felt what little air he had escaped as he began to sink. Soap swam for the surface, only to be kicked in the sternum by a flailing boot. All of the remaining air escaped him in a whoosh of bubbles as Soap slowly began to sink.

He was drowning. He was fucking drowning like a damn greenie on their first day. Strangely, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The damn pool was only ten feet deep, and yet…Soap felt like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He was so tired. Two weeks of barely eating, hardly sleeping, and working out as though nothing was wrong left him irrevocably weakened. Soap would have laughed at that if he had any air. He felt his lips turn up in a rueful smile as the edges of his vision darkened. Through half lidded eyes he watched the water shift in the sunlight above him. It was strangely peaceful considering his current predicament. He wondered if they would notice if he was gone…

“Don’t you die on me you Irish bastard!" Gaz shouted in his ear. Soap was forcibly rolled to his side while a large hand thumped on his back. Soap felt the water burn its way back up--rolling he threw up. The chlorine burned his nose and lungs as he gulped in fresh air. "Oh thank God!" Gaz leaned over Soap easing the Scot onto his back.

"'M fookin Scottish ye smarmy cunt." Soap wheezed. Black spots danced across his vision making it hard for him to focus. Groaning Soap closed his eyes, turning his head to the side he focused on taking scorching breaths through his nose. There was rustling all around him, Gaz was busy fussing over him as a low murmur he couldn't quite place, surrounded them both. Soap let himself slip back into the ether.

"Go get a medic now." Gaz snapped at someone unseen. Soap barely stirred, he still felt like he was floating. How strange. A recruit yelped an affirmative and scurried off. The murmurs grew - the recruits were whispering Soap realized. Somewhere off to the side, a door slammed open, and heavy boots slammed into the ground towards them.

"Easy Ghost!" Gaz shouted. "It was an accident!"

Ghost? Soap thought sluggishly. No…Ghost shouldn't be here...

Then he felt large hands wrap around his face, turning him up as something soft skimmed his nose.

That tickles. Soap sighed.

"Why haven't you moved him to medical?" Ghost demanded, the soft thing moving away from Soap's nose.

"'M fine." Soap coughed. Why was it so hard to talk? "Just let me sleep…"

"No Johnny." A gloved hand tapped Soap's face. "Don't go to sleep. Not yet."

"Pffff. What d'ye care…" Soap sighed, his chest felt so heavy. Ignoring his screaming body, Soap rolled to his side. Bracing his arms beneath him he carefully pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet. Black spots filled his vision again. "Fucking hell." Soap groaned.

"Johnny?" Ghost didn't sound right. He sounded worried. "Johnny, hang on."

Soap felt Ghost's hand on his shoulder.

"I dinnae need–" The world tilted on its axis. The ground rushed up to meet him - then he felt his body being lifted - weightless he really did float. He could still hear Ghost calling his name distantly. He really wished Ghost wouldn't worry so much. He just needed to sleep…

#ghost x soap #cod mw2 #price cod #ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #gaz cod #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty

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anemoarchonhoe · 1 year

Note

Hi! I wanna ask How would the other characters react with eos! reader? Like how venti have a hot Big girlfriend?(cofcofkaeyacofcof)

I accidentally rambled-

Anyway please donate to my kofi account sjsjsj it'd help me a lot with my tuition-

You actually meet Mika first on your way to the city from Dornman Port, pretending to be a lost traveller who has never set foot in the capital city. Mika, though intimidated by your 12-foot tall ass and your sons (they're too beautiful to be real humans...), was a great help in guiding you. He quickly warmed up to you, feeling sorry for misjudging you to be someone malicious when you're so kind to him. He loves your motherly attitude, but he can't take Nemo's pranks and teases so he doesn't get tl interact with you often. Then he gets whisked away by Grandmaster Varka-.

Acting Grandmaster Jean was a little suspicious of you at first, but her suspicions immediately goes out the window when you single-handedly solved Mondstadt's millenia old problem; Ursa the Drake. She immediately tries to recruit you to join the knights, even offering to place you in a high position. You figured it's to strengthen the Knights' political power and to be able to easily fight back against the oppressing of the Fatui, but you dismissed her proposal and joined the Favonius church instead, much to her disappointment.

Diluc obviously was wary of you, so he took it upon himself to secretly tail you around just to see what you were up to. You were aware of it and just slightly peeved, so you moved your residency from the city to Springvale. Sure, it's a hassle going to and fro everyday just to get to the church and to get necessary groceries, but it sure did the trick of tiring Diluc out and leaving you the hell alone. Besides, you were also quite friendly. And so strong. Diluc can remember how effortless you twisted Ursa's head. And you did it so slow too... as if you enjoyed the drake's futile struggles and writhing in pure agony. His approval of you was cemented when you saved his father's life as well as understanding why you didn't join the knights when even Varka was practically on his knees asking you. Whenever you visit the tavern and he's there, he cant help it but be more aware of your presence. Your laugh has a sultry undertone and he could feel his heartbeat more keenly. Just as he's finally resolved to court you, he watches Venti kneeling down to ask for your hand in marriage...

Kaeya couldn't help but whistle at your sheer height. He, too, was wary of you so he watched you interact with people. But even though he's suspicious of you, it's not to the extent of Diluc. Like Diluc? My dear brother, that person is blind. What can a blind person do?

Well, slay a drake alone with a two star second-rate spear, apparently.

His guard immediately goes up at that. But even if you're hostile, how could he ever hope to defeat someone who could kill a dragon with ease? Well, he can always assess your strength by sparring with you. Sadly, you handed his ass back to him. You beat him so hard that he became enamored with you. How did a blind person become such a good fighter?Who taught you? Kaeya befriended you in hopes of finding out your weakness so thaf he can stop you should you become a threat. You treated him with nothing but kindness, and when he was banished by Diluc, you were there to nurse him back to help. You held him close as he cried for the sworn brother and his father's trust that he lost.

And he fell in love with you. Oh, he fell so hard for you.

He kept you at arm's length emotionally. You didn't say anything, but he could feel like you understand. He flirted with you occasionally. You respond playfully sometimes, and Kaeya couldn't help his heart from skipping a few beats when you flash him a rare smile, relishing the jealous glare he gets from Diluc.

...And just when both he and Diluc agreed to finally settle their romantic fight to win your heart by courting you officially, Venti arrives and steals you effortlessly.

Just like that.

"I'm waiting for a bard in green," Kaeya remembered what you said to him once when he was tipsy and you were in his company.

So it was Venti?

Diluc and Kaeya lost both the battle and the war before it even began.

#ventus.answers #eos!reader #eye of storm au #unrequited feelings #one sided crush #diluc x gender neutral reader #one sided diluc x reader #venti x reader #eye of the storm au #genshin venti x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #one sided kaeya × reader #mild angst #venti be like #i'm mr. steal yo girl except that girl has been mine since time immemorial

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 9 months

Note

Congrats on 300 followers, Ray!!! For a request, how about something extra fluffy…

Callum meeting Rayla’s parents (and Runaan, of course) and accidentally lets slip that he wants to marry her

Mando this is perfect thank you so much, I've been itching to write some rayllum since season 5 dropped but haven't had any idea which direction to take. I hope you like it!!

When Rayla poked her head out of the makeshift tent, she looked almost as terrified as Callum was. Maybe it should have made him feel better to know that he wasn’t alone, but instead, his nerves skyrocketed, his heart doubling its already-too-fast pace in his chest.

He should have gone somewhere else, anywhere else in the makeshift camp they’d set up after the battle at the Starscraper. But he hadn’t been able to shake the idea that Rayla might need him. The last time she’d seen Runaan, after all, he’d threatened to kill her. But this was pointless, wasn’t it? None of the people in Rayla’s tent had so much as raised their voices, and Callum’s pacing had probably interrupted their reunion, and he’d made a bad impression without them even needing to see him—

“Do you want to meet them?” Rayla asked.

Callum blinked. It took a second for the words to sink in through his panic, and even then, he opened his mouth and closed it several times before he could find his voice. “Sure?”

Rayla gave him a small, nervous smile and extended her hand. Callum reached out to take it, then hesitated.

“Are you… are you sure?”

Rayla smacked his arm. “They know everything already, dummy.”

“Oh!” Just when he thought he couldn’t get any more terrified. “Okay.”

He slipped his hand into Rayla’s, gripping it tightly, and she pulled him through the opening.

All three of her parents were armed. That did not seem like a good sign.

Runaan’s arms were folded, a steely glare on his face. Lain and Tiadrin were a little more relaxed, standing with their arms around each other’s waists, but their faces were devoid of any discernible emotion. Callum swallowed hard.

To his shock, it was Runaan who broke the silence. The older man’s glare deepened into something sadder, and he bowed his head.

“I know you must have mixed feelings about seeing me again, after… what transpired since we last met. I thought I knew the weight of your stepfather’s life, that I had factored the place he held in the hearts of those who loved him against the harm he dealt my people and found the scales tipped against him. But I have committed actions just as cruel against you, and you still chose to spare me. I’m grateful for that— and more importantly, I’m grateful that you kept Rayla safe when I could— when I would not.”

Callum swallowed again, this time holding back grief instead of fear. He had made his peace with Rayla loving Runaan— but peace with what happened to his dad was a long way off.

More than anything, he wished it didn’t have to be this way. That meeting the three people who meant so much to the girl he loved wouldn’t have to be tainted by so much loss.

“We’re all grateful,” Tiadrin said, her cool expression breaking into an understanding smile. Lain gave him a similar look.

Their warmth thawed Callum enough to find the right words. “You raised an incredible daughter. Being with her has been the most incredible privilege of my life.”

“A mage and a poet. You picked a good one, moonberry,” Lain said, winking at Rayla. She ducked her head, but not enough to hide her smile.

“You’re under no obligation, of course, but I can assure you you’ll always be welcome in the Silvergrove,” Tiadrin added to Callum.

A grimace chased Rayla’s grin away. “Actually… he won’t. Neither of us will. I’m a ghost.” She turned to Runaan. “They banished me for botching our mission.”

“But you saved the dragon prince!” Runaan bellowed, outrage pouring from every word. It raised Callum’s opinion of him, just slightly.

“And that won’t bring Ram, Skor, Callisto, and Andromeda back to life,” Rayla replied quietly.

The names cast a silence over the tent. Callum looked down, giving the others a moment to mourn, letting them break it on their own terms.

“But where will you go?” Tiadrin asked.

Callum raised his head. “She can come back to Katolis with me.”

Lain raised an eyebrow. “A lone elf in a human castle?”

“She won’t be alone. I would stay with her for the rest of my life— and so she’ll have a home there for the rest of her life, too.”

A split second later, he realized what he said, and fought the urge to clamp his hands over his mouth.

He meant it. Of course he did. He’d faced enough with Rayla to understand how deeply he loved her— and he’d faced enough without her to understand how much it ached to be away from her. But there was a difference between knowing she was the only person he wanted to spend his life with and admitting that to her parents within five minutes of introducing himself.

He risked a glance at them to find that Tiadrin’s smile had only widened, and he allowed himself a single, relieved exhale.

“Then let’s talk about that,” she said, waving him over to her corner of the tent. Taking her hint, Lain and Runaan motioned Rayla over to the other end.

Callum glanced at Rayla, tense, only to find her beaming, her eyes shining with tears. She raised their entwined hands and kissed the back of his before letting him go, lightly pushing him over to where her mother stood waiting.

“I’m sorry,” Callum blurted, before she could even get a word out, directing the words more to the wall of the tent than to her. “I never meant to imply that I wanted to— to take Rayla away from you, or make any decisions for her. I know I shouldn’t have said that, but—"

“I’m glad you did.”

Callum finally met her eyes.

“A prince who ran away with an assassin. A human who can do primal magic. A dragonguard who never once abandoned his post.”

Tiadrin’s beaming face blurred as Callum found his own eyes brimming with tears. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel them, and only succeeded in pushing them onto his cheeks. Tiadrin gently reached out, wiping them away, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“I can think of no one better to entrust with my daughter’s future than you.”

She let go of his shoulders and reached up, removing one of the silver bands that encircled her horns. “Ethari made this for Lain when he told him he wanted to ask me to marry him. I got this—" she tapped the matching silver band on her other horn— “on my wedding day. I suppose I could have taken the old one off then, but I’ve been too attached to it. But I’m ready to let it go.” Carefully, she placed the band in Callum’s hands.

“You’re so young, Callum. Take some time to be with Rayla now, to understand who you are in peace. If you decide, at the end of that, to give this back to me, I won’t judge you.”

She stepped back and gave him a wink. “But if you decide you want to pass it on to a new owner… well, I have a hunch that she’ll be ready.”

#the dragon prince #tdp #tdp callum #tdp rayla #rayllum #tdp runaan #tdp lain #tdp tiadrin #tdp harrow #tdp ram #tdp skor #tdp callisto #tdp andromeda #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince spoilers #mandaloriandragontrainer #ray writes #ray rambles

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kisskawa · 2 years

Text

— when you go away, i still see you for @antihajime’s summer romances collab! ; cw food, the future is scary ; title creds

it was the first day of summer and you’d already damned yourself to a period of boredom and dullness. you had banished away any intentions to join in with graduation celebrations or meet with old friends, simply ready to turn into a puddle as you lay on your bed and succumbed to the sticky heat.

and then came the thunk against your window.

it was a tiny little noise, but it was familiar all the same and it had you scrambling to your feet, parting from your beloved fan.

a thick blanket of warmth entered as you yanked the window open, humidity hitting your body entirely. but you had little time to react to the heat’s invasion, instead hissing out, “nishinoya yuu! you have a flight first thing in the morning!” as if the boy under your window was unaware.

noya only grinned up at you - or maybe he did reply, words disappearing into the air, swamped by the warmth. it always was hard to pay attention around him.

still, you found yourself swinging a leg out of the window to scale the rickety old pipe that trailed down your house. the front door would’ve been easier, the both of you were well aware, but you’d long since gotten used to sneaking out with nishinoya and there was something about the boy’s presence that made you a little bolder, a little riskier. spending time with noya had your heart thrumming in your chest and electricity pulsing through your veins without fail and each time, you revelled in the addictive feeling.

feet back on the ground and face to face with said boy, you raised a brow - a silent question of what on earth was going on. noya’s smile widened and he held out a hand to you, “c’mon, let’s go.”

your queries of where are we going and what about your flight died in your throat as your palm met nishinoya’s. despite the stifling heat and the clamminess of your hands, you wondered how best to remember noya’s touch, how best to grasp onto him and never let go.

nishinoya never did seem suited for everyday life, the thought of him working a nine-to-five enough to make your nose crinkle. and the news he’d be travelling abroad, remaining a free spirit, had left you glad more than anything. it was only in the last few days that the bittersweet punch of saying goodbye had begun to truly sink in.

the walk took you to an old noodle bar. it was small and cozy with a handful of white deck chairs and a gentle yellow light hanging outside, moths happy to flit around though noya cringed at the sight of them. it was also easy for you to recognise and the older couple who owned the shop were quick to welcome you in with open arms and a matching pair of beaming smiles.

“we heard graduation was today!” the woman who you’d taken to calling grandma crooned, “i remember when you first came in!”

you did too. it had been a celebration - nishinoya’s first win as part of karasuno’s volleyball. a whole different league from those he played against in junior high, he claimed, though there remained a fair amount of friendly faces. and despite only meeting each other a few months prior, you’d agreed to the bombardment of texts from nishinoya that demanded you to bask in the victory with him. the excitement and glee had been obvious, even through typed words and a tiny old screen, and you found yourself drawn out by the lightness of his texts. it always was easy to be around noya.

he’d dragged you across the town, talking a mile a minute, only stopping to inhale the congratulatory garigari-kun ice lolly you’d felt compelled to treat him to. until eventually, you’d found the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and the warmth that surrounded you felt strangely similiar to noya’s, as if it were a hot summer’s day and all your worries lived months away.

it had been the first time you’d placed your hand in noya’s, heartbeat thundering as skin pressed against skin, and you knew you’d follow him for as long as you possibly could.

“you’ve grown up well,” grandpa nodded with a gentle smirk and certain tut, placing your regular orders down on the old table you’d long since claimed as your own.

you and noya chorused a “thank you,” both for the food and the compliment. and with another smile to the couple, you tuck in.

the taste of the soup fills your mouth and your shoulders sag, released even momentarily from their burdens. in an instant, you find yourself at age fifteen, stuffing thick noodles into your mouth in an attempt to ignore the stinging of your eyes. the test paper, filled with red and marked with a heart sinkingly low grade, sits heavy in your bag. nishinoya has a comforting hand on the small of your back, brows furrowed as he cracks silly little jokes, hoping to bring back your smile. one finally lands and suddenly you choke, whether it’s on a laugh or on the food, you’re not entirely sure, but you can only thank noya as you find your spirits entirely lifted.

at age sixteen, you’re wincing at the bruises that litter noya’s arms as he rolls up his sleeves in preparation to dig in. his actions are somewhat stiff, muscles more than just sore, but nothing seems to be able to take away from the victory - his victory - against the powerhouse that was shiratorizawa, not even when the boiling broth burns at his tongue. you brush gentle fingertips over the discoloured marks, leaving tiny goosebumps in your wake as you tell nishinoya that not only did he do well, but to “be careful now.” and the constant smile that sits on noya’s lips as you look after him has both your hearts flipping in your chests.

at age seventeen - and just a mere two months ago - you’re fearful. too young to think about what the future holds, you sigh, but forced to anyways. well fed and eyes drooping, you find your lips have loosened and you lean onto noya, seeking his familiar comfort as you spill your worries into the open air. “you’ll be okay,” he murmurs softly, arm coming up to wrap around your shoulder, “i have faith in anything you do.” you close your eyes to prevent the tears from spilling over, choosing instead to focus on the lull of noya’s chest, the steadiness of his touch and the certainty of his words. you wonder if he knows just how much you’ll miss him.

a hand on your upper arm brings you back to the present and you smile up at grandpa, letting him know that, as always, his food is wholly delicious, wholly comforting.

“of course it has to be extra good, it’s for you two!” he declares happily, eyes curved and twinkling.

the sun finally begins to set despite the late hour, another perk of summer, and you and noya reluctantly begin to stand, readying yourselves to leave. grandpa pushes your hands away, closing his eyes to your money with a huff that the meal had been a graduation gift.

you and noya echo another “thank you,” tallying up to what must be a hundred that night, and let yourself be pulled into a tight group hug. grandma’s voice has begun to thicken with emotion as she utters into your ear, “come visit us soon, ok?”

it is a moment that feels entirely like home, the warmth from the night settling into your chest. all at once, your waterline starts to fill and you try your best to keep the tears at bay. you miss the glance noya shoots you, content to let him take control of the conversation and the pair of you leave with full stomachs and a promise of your return.

you’re not even a block away when noya turns to you, “we will, y’know?”

you quirk a brow, “will what?”

“go back,” he pauses and then, “together,” nodding in confirmation.

you fall silent, suddenly shying away from his gaze. you can’t pinpoint when you became quite so transparent to noya. trying to recall, you let your eyes drift, attention shifting from the corner of your vision to the sky above. oranges and pinks dance above you, light still peaking through the clouds. before the sun rises again, nishinoya will be up in the air, travelling further and further away from you.

“i will come back,” noya continues, knowing your quietness serves instead as a question of explanation. he shuffles until he falls under your stare again, sending you a slow wave and a smile, “i’d miss you too much to be gone forever.”

the confession sends your body alight, lightning burning under your skin, and you surge forwards without second thought, lips crashing into noya’s. and nishinoya yuu, who you always believed was larger than life, larger than you, returns the action.

when you pull back, you find your hands locked and fingers intertwined. nishinoya lets his forehead knock against your own, cheeks rosy and a dopey smile on his lips. it’s the widest one of the evening so far.

“a welcome back kiss when i come home would also be much appreciated, just so you know,” noya hums, little laughs spilling between his words.

and though you roll your eyes at him, you find yourself nodding along to his request, echoing a whisper of “when you come home.”

noya presses another kiss to your lips, this one short though equally as addictive, and swears, “always will, i promise.” he points a thumb back at the noodle bar, “besides, that’s two i have to keep now.”

for once, the summer goes by slower than it came, days bleeding together. the heat is constant and you learn to accept the stickiness that comes with it, settling for the cool relief of standing in front of the fan whenever you return inside. the feeling is rivalled only by the crash of the ocean waves against your body. for despite your original desire to simply mope and wilt in your room, you and your friends are all to excited to be free from the confines of high school.

it takes until the leaves brown and swirl from the trees for you to truly notice the change in time, preoccupied by arranging future plans that no longer seem so daunting. the nights begin to creep in earlier, shadows drawing out, and a threatening chill hangs in the air, forcing you to swap your clothes for ones that are longer, thicker.

you settle into bed with a shiver as the cold sheets touch your skin and you dread the bitter cold that has yet to come. you’ll miss the warmth of the summer, like a freshly served bowl of noodles or a hand tightly encased in your own.

amid reminiscing, you hear it. the sound is tiny and familiar and you draw your thoughts to a halt.

there is a thunk at your window.

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icarusignite · 1 year

Text

An Eye for an Eye (part 11)

A/N: From here on out I was thinking of tryna have a set schedule of one chapter a week for this series. I will be working on other requests and one shots though. Comments and reblogs are appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts <3

Word Count: 2362

All chapters: MASTERLIST

Rhaenyra stood in the great hall of Dragonstone, at the head of the Painted Table, surrounded by the people she hoped would be her allies in the war to come. Daemon stood at her side as usual, and although what he was discussing was of significance, Rhaenyra could not bring herself to give him her full attention. Her thoughts were scattered, repeatedly returning to the daughter she had sent to the place where her son had perished. She wondered if she would lose her too, but she banished the blasphemous thought immediately. Rhaenyra was brought out of her thoughts by the gentle touch on her shoulder. She looked up to meet her husband's concerned eyes. She raised an eyebrow in response and he tipped his head toward the entrance where a knight stood waiting for her attention.

"Yes?" Rhaenyra inquired.

"The princess Daenys has returned from Storm's End."

Daemon nodded to dismiss all who had gathered around the table to hear him speak. His eyes snagged on the shadowed figure who stood in the entryway of the hall. He blinked in surprise and he heard his wife make a strangled sound. Covered in blood, with a misshapen dripping mass clutched in her hand; in that moment Daenys reminded him of himself. Daemon could hazard a guess as to what she held and he felt a swell of pride.

"Daenys?" Rhaenyra asked almost hesitantly, approaching her.

When her mother finally came to stand in front of her, Daenys bowed her head, "Your majesty, Queen Rhaenyra of the Seven Kingdoms. I bring news from Storm's End."

The entire room waited with bated breath as they scrutinized Rhaenyra for a reaction. Rhaenyra felt almost suffocated. She wanted to send them all away but instead, she had to stand here and endure their eyes. Her life had made her accustomed to people staring at her, watching her every move, but sometimes their gaze still pricked. She resisted the urge to pull her daughter into her arms, instead settling for reaching out to cup her cheek, trying her best to ignore the overwhelming scent of blood or the sticky feeling of it on her hands. She would not ask her where it came from; there was so much of it and she was scared to know.

"What news do you bring?"

Daenys pulled away and knelt. Finally, she raised the severed head of Lord Borros Baratheon, her fist gripping his limp hair. Her stomach tightened when her mother's eyes widened. It had to be done. She knew that, and yet she didn't want her mother to think her a monster. The tension in the room was broken by the sound of Daemon's laughter. Daenys almost allowed herself to smile. Her stepfather was known to laugh at the most inappropriate of times, but it made her mother's silence more bearable.

"Well, well, well, my little dragon has gone and done it," Daemon ruffled her hair affectionately as he took the severed head from her and held it aloft, turning in a slow circle to allow their audience a good view. "We will have this mounted on a stake. Let it be known that this is what happens to traitors who break their oaths to the rightful queen."

Daenys kept her eyes trained on Rhaenyra as she handed her a bloodstained roll of parchment, "The lady of House Baratheon sends her regards along with her sworn allegiance, my Queen."

Rhaenyra raised a brow, "The lady of House Baratheon? Lord Borros's wife?"

"No my Queen, Lady Cassandra Baratheon, the new head of House Baratheon."

Daemon laughed even louder as the room erupted with conversation, the various lords gathered muttering furiously.

Rhaenyra scanned the contents of the brief letter and frowned, "Daenys we need to discuss this in further detail, but for now you need to get cleaned up. You are covered in blood and you reek of it."

Daenys nodded, heart stinging a little at the response. She had thought that her mother would have been happier. Even Daemon had shown more enthusiasm but then she supposed that was just Daemon being Daemon. He had always had a penchant for bloodshed and now he was going to get it. Making her way back to her chambers, she crossed paths with Rhaenys who stopped short at the sight of her. Judging by her surprise, Daenys assumed that she had not witnessed her presentation in the great hall earlier.

"Daenys? You...you're here," Rhaenys's sharp eyes scrutinized her and Daenys felt conscious of her bedraggled appearance.

"Lady grandmother," she bowed her head slightly.

Rhaenys's eyes softened, "We thought we had lost you..."

Daenys did not know what to say. After her father's death, Rhaenys's relationship with Rhaenyra, and by extension with all her children, had become strained. Of course, her immediate marriage to Daemon only added insult to injury and it had left Rhaenys estranged from them for a while. Daenys smiled at her grandmother all the same because during such trying times, the family needed to stand united and she hoped that her grandmother could forgive her mother for the past. She let out a breath of relief when Rhaenys returned her smile with a small one of her own.

"I'm glad you have returned Daenys," Rhaenys's expression was warm, and if she noticed the blood on Daeny's clothes or her mutilated face, she didn't say.

"I...it is good to be back. Although I wish it could have been under better circumstances."

"Ah yes, we all wish for better circumstances..."

Daenys tipped her head again, but she was stopped before she could leave.

"Daenys."

"Yes, lady grandmother?"

"I am sorry about your brother... He was a gentle boy and he did not deserve his fate," Rhaenys looked regretful and Daenys's smile dropped.

Pressing her lips in a tight line she only nodded before practically fleeing to her chambers.

____________________

After dismissing the handmaidens and running her bath, Daenys was finally able to give in to the exhaustion. The tremors had returned and it made every task difficult. It was a miracle that she had been able to fight earlier, a spark of luck combined with the excess of adrenaline and the drugs she had consumed. As she scrubbed the blood from beneath her fingernails, her mind worked furiously to plan for the future. They would need to send reinforcements to the Baratheons, for it wouldn't do well for their new allies to be cut down before their reign had even begun. Daenys admired Cassandra Baratheon, and she wanted to see her lead House Baratheon for a long time to come. Perhaps that was just the selfishness talking though, because it meant a guaranteed alliance for her mother. But something inside Daenys recognized a fighting spirit inside of Cassandra, a flame that reminded her of her mother. Women who had to fight for their birthright in a world where men would sooner set the kingdom on fire than allow a woman to lead them.

Daenys stood in front of the mirror in her shift, her eye tracing the scars that ran across her arms and down the column of her throat. Some of them had scabbed over in dark crimson, while others had begun to heal in bright pink lines. It had been a little over a week since she had left King's Landing, and while she did not like to think of her grand exit, she supposed she'd always have the reminders. She tried not to look at the real reminder etched across her face but her eye was drawn to its own reflection. As she gazed at the puckered skin of the left half of her face, she felt the weight of the reminder once again. The weight of what she had lost and what she would have to eventually do. Lost in her own mind, Daenys didn't hear the knock on her door or notice her mother walk in to stand behind her. Only when Rhaenyra cleared her throat did Daenys turn around abruptly.

"Your Grace?"

"Oh, none of that in here my darling girl," Rhaenyra smiled but it was troubled.

"Yes, mother... is there something you needed?"

Rhaenyra did not respond, instead stepping closer to inspect her.

"I'm glad you washed all that blood off. Are you hurt?"

"Ah, well most of it wasn't mine," Daenys replied sheepishly.

"I do not know whether to be glad of that or not. But I am a mother, and I am allowed to be selfish, so I am glad you have returned to me unharmed."

"Mother, what is this really about? What's wrong?"

Evading her questions once again, Rhaenya took Daenys's hand and traced her fingers up her arm, "I never did ask you how you got these. What did they do to you? What happened there? "

Daenys did not know what to say. How did one talk about such things, and to their own mother. How did one share the guilt or the anguish. Above all, she did not want to be the cause of more worry or pain, for the one woman who had suffered the most. She gently shrugged off her mother's hands and went to put on her dress to cover her arms and all the painful reminders they bore.

"It is nothing mother. It is the least of my problems, to be truthful. They are already beginning to heal."

It seemed as though both mother and daughter had a penchant for avoiding questions.

"Then perhaps we should talk about Storm's End. What happened there?" Rhaenyra tried again, reaching out to brush Daenys's wet hair away from her neck, still inspecting her.

"There is nothing to talk about Mother. We have the alliance we needed. And House Baratheon is no longer headed by a disrespectful man. I see no problem," Daenys's voice came out slow and measured.

"You blame Lord Borros for Luke's death? Is that why you are so angry? Why you felt like you had to do this?"

Daenys tried not to acknowledge the bitter feeling at the mention of Luke. Every time someone mentioned him, she felt a hot stab of self-loathing. It opened up a well of resentment inside her so deep that she thought it would consume her.

"I blame many people for it Mother. And all of them will suffer for it!"

"Do you blame me then? Speak the truth. Do you blame me for sending him, for if anyone is at fault, it should be me for making that sweet boy go when I could see so clearly that he desperately didn't want to!" Rhaenyra's voice rose with frustration.

"I don't blame you. How could I ever blame you, Mother? I just..." Daenys was at a loss for words once more.

"It does not matter. I blame myself all the same. But at least tell me why you have set off on this path of rage and vengeance. When you walked in today I hardly recognized you. My lovely sweet girl looking like a god of war holding aloft a man's severed head. You reminded me of Daemon... but that is not who you are."

"It was necessary. You know that it was necessary. We cannot allow these foolish men to keep spurning you simply because they do not think you are worthy enough. They think Aegon will make a better king just because of that thing between his legs that somehow makes him worthy of the iron throne. And well yes, I will admit I had a personal grudge to settle against Lord Borros. My brother died on his lands. He could have saved him, protected him, but instead, he let that monster go after a little boy!" Daenys fingers drew bloody crescents in the palms of her hands as she struggled to keep her self-control.

She knew it was not fair of her to be raging at her mother like this. Especially when she already felt at fault. But she couldn't help it. The whole ordeal brought out something ugly and vicious within her, something that did not care who got hurt as long as someone did. She waited for her mother to bring up Luke's true killer. For her to voice the thoughts that plagued Daenys every single day. For her to finally say that all this anger was simply displaced and that her brother's true murderer was someone who used to live in her heart. But perhaps Rhaenyra had seen the fragile thread of composure near its breaking point and she only sighed. Thank the gods for small mercies. Daenys didn't think she could talk about him.

Rhaenyra smiled sadly, "Ah there she is. The girl I have always known. You were most like your father. So fiercely loyal and stubborn to a fault. And so protective of those you love. As Queen, I should be most thankful for your loyalty but as your mother, it gladdens me more that he passed on his love for family to you. If anything were to happen to me, I know you would protect this family with everything."

Daenys knew who she spoke of, which father she referred to, for there was only one person she spoke about with that kind of grief in her eyes. The kind of grief that spoke of not enough time and a love that went unexpressed. She took her mother's hands and pressed a reverent kiss to them.

"Nothing will happen to you Mother. I swear it. I swear by all the gods that I will not let anything happen to you. I will not fail to protect another person that I love," she swore.

Rhaenyra laughed gently, "Enough with your oaths. You have given too many in too few days. I wish you would give me truths instead. I cannot stand not knowing."

"One day you will have all my truths. I promise."

"I suppose that day will not be today, will it? Very well, I will leave you to your thoughts then."

As Daenys watched her mother leave she wondered if she would be able to keep her oaths. If she would indeed be able to protect her family against all those who wished them harm. Her trembling hands lifted a flask to her lips and tipped her head back to swallow the tonic inside, she decided that she would have to take extra measures to ensure that she did.

____________________

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flowercrown-bard · 1 year

Note

For the writing prompts, Eskel and Jaskier making lucky charms for each other?

Thank you for the prompt!

Eskel had never spent much time thinking about his hands. His hulking figure, the scars cutting across his face, his sickly yellow eyes - they all took up enough of his mind to leave any space for his hands.

That was until Jaskier entered his life. Jaskier, who would grab his hand, whenever he got excited, when he was scared or sometimes simply because he wanted to.

Jaskier had beautiful hands. Soft, with long fingers that were perfect for plucking the strings of his lute. And yet, there were calluses on his finger tips. Calluses, that weren't that unlike the ones on Eskel's hands, despite how different they were otherwise.

Eskel couldn't tear his eyes away from Jaskier's hands, as they nimbly plaited some old lute strings into a braided band, in the same way that Jaskier would sometimes weave Eskel's hair into small braids, when he was bored.

The memory of Jaskier's clever fingers in his hair was so strong that Eskel could almost feel it. He swallowed thickly and forced his eyes away from Jaskier's hands and towards his own. The other three lute strings that Jaskier had replaced, looked so small and fragile in Eskel's big hands. So breakable. Logically, he knew that these strings held no more value. They were old and nearly broken anyway and Jaskier would have discarded them if Eskel hadn't asked if he could hold onto them instead. It had been a silly idea, to make lucky charms out of them. Yet that had been the first excuse Eskel had been able to come up with, when Jaskier had asked what he wanted the strings for. What else had he been supposed to say? That he wanted to have something of Jaskier's to remember him by, when the bard inevitably left him? That he wanted to have something to hold on to when there was no one beside him to hold his hand anymore?

So he had blurted out that he wanted to weave a good luck charm for Jaskier. He didn't believe in those anymore, of course. Hadn't done so in a long time, but he still recalled being a little boy, watching in fascination as his mother wove long blades of grass together, claiming it would bring Eskel luck to wear them as a bracelet.

He had believed so desperately. But the band of grass had fallen off, when a man, he had yet to recognise as a witcher, had taken him away.

He shook his head harshly, banishing these memories. He shouldn't linger on them. Jaskier liked the idea of lucky charms - matching ones at that - so that was reason enough to make them, regardless of whether Eskel still believed in their use or not. Jaskier was humming softly as he worked, smiling and wiggling his shoulders, when his excitement couldn't be contained. The bracelet he was braiding was almost done. Eskel had to be quick if he wanted to catch up.

So he began to plait the lute strings together. At first, his fingers were clumsy, unpractised. The strings slipped from his fingers and the braid started out wonky and misshapen. But soon enough, his hands found their old rhythm, a habit long forgotten and slumbering, only to be now reawakened. He was so focused on making the braid, that he almost didn't notice that after a while, Jaskier's movements beside him stopped. It was only when he finished the braid, tying it up with a knot, that he looked to him again. He startled, when he met Jaskier's gaze, that was locked on him with an intense sort of wonder. It was the same look Jaskier wore when he watched a sunset beautiful enough to inspire a new song.

"Here," Jaskier said and held out his hand. Eskel thought that Jaskier was offering the charm he had made to him, so he reached out to take it. But before he could do so, Jaskier gently took hold of his hand, tugging at it lightly so he could secure the braided strings around his wrist himself. Eskel's breath caught in his throat, as Jaskier's fingers brushed over his pulse point. Soft and gentle.

"There," Jaskier said, when he had secured the braid. "It's fits perfectly."

Eskel couldn't help but agree. The band sat snug enough not to slip off, but it wasn't so tight as to restrict his movement.

He held his wrist up to better inspect the braid. It looked strange; the fragile band around his thick wrist. Yet it felt so right. For the first time, he thought that perhaps his hand looked almost pretty, adorned with this bracelet. His heart picked up, as he ran a finger over the charm. Jaskier had made this. For him, to keep him safe.

His eyes met Jaskier's, that still held that u bearable tenderness.

"I love it," Eskel said hoarsely. "Thank you."

He coughed awkwardly and tentatively held out his own hand. There was no hesitation on Jaskier's part, before he placed his wrist in Eskel's hand. Eskel was as gentle as a cat, as he placed his own charm around Jaskier's wrist. It was big enough that he had to wind it around twice.

Jaskier's smile grew, when Eskel tied the ends together.

"I love it," he echoed Eskel's sentiment, looking straight at Eskel as he said it.

Eskel returned his smile, momentarily forgetting the way his split lip must look even more twisted as he smiled.

Jaskier didn't seem to notice either.

"You better make sure not to throw yourself into danger," Jaskier said, his tone only half-teasing, "I don't know how sturdy the bracelet is. I don't think your charm would survive being snatched by a - a ghoul's claw or something."

"That would be alright." Eskel leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "That's the best part about lucky charms. They bring you luck while you wear them and when they fall off, you may make a wish."

"Oh?"Jaskier's brows shot up and he tilted his head to the side in contemplation." Do you already know what you're going to wish for?"

Eskel was silent for a heartbeat, simply taking in the curve of Jaskier's smile. His eyes dropped down to their hands. Hands that he wished more than anything, he could hold onto forever.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I think I do."

As if reading his thoughts, Jaskier took Eskel's hand and gave it a little squeeze, before threading their fingers together.

"So do I. And something tells me my wish will come true, whether the charm falls off or not."

#Written on my phone and not edited #So sorry for any mistakes #Thank you for the prompt!#Eskel #Jaskier #Jaskel #Ficlet #Witcher #My writing

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