#Writing out my bleak mood. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starzgaze · 22 days

Text

LOVESICK POTENTIAL: sung jinwoo

pairing: yandere!sjw/reader

UNFINISHED incoherent drabble brainrot on yandere!sjw hahaha... this is so unfinished but it fried my brain so badly all i can do is draw this out later because i cant write for long periods of time 😒 also english isn't my first language so this is really ERRR not good also no proofreading we die raw

tw: froth and nothing much

BEFORE THE DUNGEON EVENT:

This era of jinwoo was so cute he looked so squishy I'm biting my bedsheets. This time is the perfect moment where jinwoo gets his reasons on why he's a little cuckoo over [y.name].

Jinwoo always came home covered in bruises and maybe with a dent in his mental health. I mean not only you face life threatening monsters but you also face the words of your fellow hunters that consists of demeaning and degrading your whole existence does horriblewonders to Jinwoo's mental health! After when his mother came out of the picture by falling ill to the Eternal Slumber, Jinwoo had to face the expectations on becoming the breadwinner and help to keep his family a float.

Jinwoo doesn't have ambitions or anything during this time, not when he's too focused on trying to feed Jinah and pay the bills. He's a blank pitiful slate who's being driven by desperation and the promise he made to his mother to take care of his sister. He doesn't have anyone to turn to and he can't tell what he's experiencing to his sister because that'll make her worry for him! Jinwoo doesn't want his sister to flunk her studies because he made her worry for him... so he's basically alone.

Until you come in to the picture. [y.name] one of the few people who saw him as a person instead of some weak pitiful excuse of a hunter. It doesn't really matter how you meet Jinwoo, whether it be through connections, after a dungeon raid, or you randomly meeting him on the street, what matters is how you perceive him as a person and how you turn his miserable world upside down.

When [y.name] entered his life, it felt like a ball of light entered his dim world but not as if [y.name] was extremely energetic or what not. It was more like that [y.name] ignited something within Jinwoo. [y.name] would stop by and talk to Jinwoo, solidifying his self as a person. They would talk about ideals and goals and even encourage Jinwoo to maybe create his own when they found out that he didn't had any of his own. Jinwoo felt so warm inside whenever he'd spent time with [y.name]. He felt so inexplicably happy.

Jinwoo decided that [y.name] is his goal and the driving force of his ambitions.

Jinwoo limped a bit as he walked towards his small apartment he shared with his sister. It was what remained when his mother was sent to the hospital for falling ill. He groaned silently as he clenched his arm that was throbbing in pain. Even after being recently healed by Joohee, he could still feel the pain of his arm being battered to smithereens.

He wondered how many dungeon raids left till he'll perish by the hands of some low ranking monster.

The young man approached his door before suddenly being called out by a familiar voice. Jinwoo turned around and his bleak mood was changed into a more joyful one.

"Jinwoo! I caught 'ya this time!" [y.name] giggled as they skipped over to Jinwoo, a small mischievous smile plastered on their features. Jinwoo chuckled at [y.name]'s words as he admired [y.name]. He wondered what did he do in his life to meet [y.name]

Jinwoo hoped that the next dungeon raid isn't the one where he'll perish by the hands of a monster.

AFTER THE DUNGEON EVENT:

Jinwoo would probably avoid contacting [y.name]. After realizing he has a new opportunity to get stronger. His mental health before wasn't the best, he often thought he was pulling [y.name] back and has this mindset that he didn't deserve any of the kindness he was receiving from anyone especially from [y.name]

But now? he has now the chance to pay them all back by becoming stronger and become someone they can all rely on. So randomly... he'll just disappear from [y.name]'s life randomly. Jinwoo feels horrible but he isn't ready to face [y.name] again but he promises to himself that he'll meet his darling[y.name] soon.

Jinwoo would admire [y.name] from afar and sometimes do this just for the sake of answering to his personal question of: "I wonder how are they doing now?". Jinwoo is aware how much it hurts to [y.name] that he randomly disappeared from their life without a word especially how worried they were for him.

When Jinwoo finally deems he's prepared and worthy enough to face [y.name] he almost forgotten how different he looked when he last met [y.name]. Jinwoo almost scared [y.name] away when a devilishly handsome tall young man approached them with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Thankfully, [y.name] recognized the man from the slightly meek demeanor he showed.

Maybe after a few more meetups and catch ups, [y.name] would notice the many changes on Jinwoo's overall.. being? like aside from the fact he's now built like a sculpture made by the gods, he's more confident and charming?.. Jinwoo of course didn't miss the way how [y.name] would quiet down and stare at Jinwoo, taking note every little different detail on Jinwoo. This fed the hunter's ego and was proud how his hardwork paid off.

While [y.name] was admiring Jinwoo, they didn't notice how Jinwoo added a few of his shadows into [y.name]'s shadow. His love for [y.name] during their absence has doubled a thousand fold and the lengths he'd go for [y.name] is now boundless. Jinwoo's goal of achieving [y.name] might not be impossible anymore if he pushed himself a bit more just like what [y.name] says.

After meeting up with Jinwoo, [y.name] bid the hunter goodbye as they exited the cafe. [y.name] was pleasantly joyful that Jinwoo didn't forgotten about them and met up with them again after a few years but this still didn't made [y.name] pissed off over the fact he basically ghosted them for a few years too!

[y.name] walked down the cold street that was dimly lit up by the lamp posts around the area. They shivered a bit as they tried to warm up their hands by shoving one of them in their trenchcoat's pocket. [y.name] was on their phone when they suddenly bumped into a man by accident.

"ow.. oh? I'm sorry I didn't notice you there I'm really sorr—" [y.name] stammered out as they bowed their head in apology but then they felt a hand pushing them hard enough to be stumble back into a lamp pole, hitting their back pretty hard. The man reached out to [y.name]'s trenchcoat's pocket and pulling out their purse then he ran away with their purse in hand.

"agh! what the- my purse?!" [y.name] yelled as they rubbed their back to ease the throbbing pain as they tried to run after the robber.

Unfortunately for [y.name] he was fast on his feet and after for a while they lost him. [y.name] panted as they decided to not give up yet and looked around the now lightless and eerie street, it seems like the robber ran into a more abandoned side of the city.

[y.name] roamed around the street and would peak occasionally inside of alleyways hoping to catch the man but much to their dismay, they haven't seen any glimpses or hints. They mindlessly walked around, slowly losing hope until they heard a quick shriek then a hard thump from a nearby alleyway. A cold sweat went down their neck as they froze in place... Did something happen?

[y.name]'s eyes narrowed down on the alleyway where they assumed the sound originated from. They contemplated for a bit whether they should check it out before they decided to see what it was, clinging on the possibility it might be their purse. [y.name] slowly peeked their head in the alleyway and immediately gasped at the sight.

The man who stole their purse on floor, wriggling in pain before a dark figure. Froth was coming out of his mouth as dark inky shadows circled around his throat. His ankles looked twisted but in a very unnatural degree that it looked grotesque.[y.name]'s eyes shakily looked at the soon to be a corpse then up to the figure who was holding their purse. They blinked blankly at the figure.. [y.name] recognized him?!

"Jin..woo?..." [y.name] murmured underneath their breath as the figure looked up to see [y.name] who was pretty shaken up. The light finally hits the figure's and it revealed it was indeed Jinwoo... but he had this soulless glint in his eyes that suddenly brighten up at the sight of [y.name]

"ah. [y.name]" He called out as he walked past the struggling man and approached [y.name] who took a step back away from Jinwoo. This made his heart wrench.

"don't. don't move away. it's dangerous at this time, you shouldn't be alone" Jinwoo continued as he was finally in front of a terrified [y.name]

"you shouldve accepted my offer walking you home"

#starz.babblez #solo leveling sung jin woo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo #sjw #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sjw x reader #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere sung jin woo #yandere solo leveling #drabble #I'd do a more messed up concept its just.... i cant write.... i can draw it tho 😈#also feed me too with yandere sjw pls pls pls #this is my contribution to the yandere tag #yandere

194 notes · View notes

joels-darlin · 9 months

Text

Bad Day

Pairings: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: hurt, angst, shouty Pedro (if that is even a thing), comfort, fluff, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, sad Pedro.

Summary: Pedro has a bad day and you bear the brunt of his frustrations.

Word count: 1.5k

Author Note: Appreciate that RPF isn't everyone's cup of tea so feel free to keep scrolling, I always make sure when writing for Pedro that I keep it to his true character and also respectful. Just a piece I've had in-progress for awhile and I've spent far too much time on it for it to go to waste. Enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated ♥ Special thanks to @ladybess-a03 for providing your beta reading services and wisdom, also for being a continued support ♥

AO3

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint where everything had gone astray. It was early, and he had woken up in a shocking mood; the bleak, grey, rainy weather outside and lack of sleep contributing to his miserable state.

It frustrated him to know that, of all days he had to leave the house, it was for something that could have been done over the phone. Next he couldn’t find any clean socks, and eventually had to forgo his mission to find some or else he’d be running late, and instead slipped on the worn pair from yesterday. Finally, upon entering the kitchen, he noticed they were out of coffee, so it looked like he was leaving even earlier than intended to stop at Starbucks for his fix.

So safe to say when you waltzed downstairs singing ‘Morning’ in a cheery tone it rubbed him the wrong way; irritated him, in fact. Pedro grunted in response, not in the mood for talking. Observing this straight away, you opted to retreating to the bedroom to change, giving him some space for five minutes.

┈

“Hey P, any idea where my laptop charger is?” you questioned as you reached the bottom step of the stairs. You were sure it was around here after working from home yesterday. Pedro was still in the kitchen, head down on his phone, thumbs stabbing away at the screen. No response.

“P? Do yo-”

“Oh my fucking god, WHATTT?…You know what, no wonder you can’t find it, this place is a fucking mess,” he said, lifting his arms to gesture to the various items haphazardly scattered across the room, his tone laced with frustration and anger.

“Have you even cleaned up in here this week? And, to answer your question, NO, I don’t know where the damn charger is,” he snapped back, continuing his tirade of anger. Bastard.

His venomous words hung in the air, coating the room with an awkward silence, and for the first time since you’d known him you were unsure what to say next. Yeah, okay, it had been a busy week for you both. Between your day job, Pedro between filming, costume fittings, and the constant interviews and photoshoots, trying to keep on top of the house in general was impossible. It wasn’t a huge mess by any means, just well-lived in. But every evening you found that you were both were too exhausted to even attempt chores.

You weren’t sure what audacity he had to assume the job of cleaning up was solely on you, to be honest. That wasn’t at all like the Pedro you knew.

“I’m going to work,” he grunted before grabbing his car keys, the door slamming behind him on the way out.

You stood frozen to the spot, partially in shock. Pedro had never raised his voice to you; he could be stern at times but never once had he acted like this. Glad it was a work from home day, you grabbed a glass of water before heading up to the home office.

┈

Today was one of the rare occasions where Pedro opted to sit in for his coffee, holed up in the dark corner of a Starbucks in the hopes that he wouldn’t get recognised. But in his haste to leave the house, he hadn’t bothered to check the time, and realised only once he’d started driving away from your home that he was at least two hours early for his first meeting of the day. Curling his hand around the now lukewarm cup of black coffee below him, sighing outwardly, his other hand came up to card through his already messy locks.

The events of the morning back at home were playing in his head on loop. Pedro didn’t mean to act the way he did, a complete and utter asshole. The feeling of regret pooled in his stomach as soon as the words left his mouth. Unfortunately he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and taken it out on you which was completely unfair. In your case he knew how stressful work was at the moment spending your work from home days locked in the home office, constantly nattering away in meetings between trying to get your own tasks done to please managers.

What broke his heart the most was the look of sadness, and he supposed shock, that adorned your features when he spat those words out; eyes starting to well slightly with tears, your feet rooted to the ground almost in abhorrent horror at what he’d spat out. Only now, sat in this coffee shop, was he just beginning to realise the weight of his words and how they were directed towards only you. The onus of keeping things in check was on you both. Draining the last of his coffee he sighed again, leaving his seat and disposing of the cup on the way out. He had Hell a lot of grovelling to do.

┈

So far your day was not going smoothly after the events of this morning. Everything else then seemed to fall like fucking dominoes.

First your work laptop wouldn’t turn on, and only after two hours on the phone did IT decide it was broken and that you needed to come in for a replacement (brilliant, thanks for that. Real waste of time). Secondly, once getting a replacement, you had spilt once warm coffee all over the front seat in a rush to get home. The final nail in the coffin was on your commute back from the office. Focused on just getting home so you could attempt some work today, you nearly ended up in a crash.

Through no fault of your own (your head might have been all over the place on account of Pedro’s foul mood this morning, but you always paid attention on the roads), someone ran a red light. It just missed you, and nobody was hurt, but it was a close enough call that you needed to stop before heading the rest of the way home. Pulling over into the nearest petrol station for a breather, body shaking with fright, you had debated calling Pedro at this point. But knowing he was busy in meetings, and still being mad at him, you decided against it, eventually starving off the panic attack on your own. A massive sigh of relief left your lips upon parking the car on the drive. Knowing you were in for a long evening you hunkered down in the home office playing catch up with the pile of work that got pushed aside earlier in the day.

┈

All day you had played on his mind, especially during the fourth meeting of the day. Bored out of his skull, not really contributing and more listening and making script notes, this unexpected meeting was thrown into his schedule last minute which meant he was now home later than usual.

He’d missed you to the point where it made his chest ache, wanting nothing more than to rush inside and beg on his knees for forgiveness. Putting the car in park he sighed, glancing up at the window. The office light was still on which meant you were still working; he wasn’t surprised.

Locking the door behind him and placing the keys in the bowl by the entrance, he moved slowly in search of only you. His eyes doing a quick scan of the adjoining kitchen and front room. “Still upstairs” he thought, sighing loudly, hoping you would have heard his car pulling up. What he didn’t fail to miss - the place was now immaculate. That feeling of guilt again pooled in his stomach again like it did several hours ago. Pedro sat on the couch waiting; defeated and guilty, taking his phone out as a distraction. Eventually you made your presence known, coming downstairs. He stood to attention before your feet had the chance to touch the ground floor.

“Sweetheart…I-I-” he began.

“It’s okay, P don’t worry, I’m s-” you started, but couldn’t get anything out, his words interrupting yours.

“No, no! Querida, no, I’m the one who should be apologising, I was out of line. I snapped at you because I woke up a grump…it was uncalled for and I’m sorry…please come here” he said, begging in his tone, arms outstretched.

Padding along from the other side of the room you closed the gap, practically crushing against his warm chest. His arms came around your waist in a tight hug, placing a tender kiss atop your head. A few moments just to enjoy each other's embrace.

“I can’t apologise enough, mi amor” he said softly.

“Hmmm I might just forgive you…if I can get a kiss” Moving back from his chest so you could look at his face, Pedro leant down to meet you; foreheads now touching. His hand moved from your waist to cradle your head, thumb rubbing ever so gently over your cheek.

“Never have to ask sweetheart” he whispered softly.

Smiling down at you his hand moved down to your chin taking it in between his thumb and finger, gently guiding your lips together in a tender kiss.

There was one thing for certain the bad days were worth it if they all ended like this.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader

418 notes · View notes

stxrvel · 1 year

Text

welcome home (1)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: when an accident makes you forget the last seven years of your life, you're lucky to have someone like Bucky to support you in your recovery. except he's not the Bucky you remember.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: angst. that's all.

note: this wasn't planned. at all. i had the day off and wanted to write something but nothing was coming to me enough to write another part of the outbreak or how to break a routine in one year, so i was just browsing tumblr until i saw something related to memory loss and this popped into my head. i thought i wasn't going to finish writing it but it came out more than i expected. and clearly this gives for a part two and even more, but at the moment i don't know when that will happen. also, i suck with titles, i think i'll change it later. meanwhile, i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated, thank u for the support! 💜

masterlist | next | series masterlist

Bucky was right to be scared. He was right to feel his soul leaving his body and his heart bursting with pain. He was completely right to be frightened, unsure of the future and the opportunities it had taken with it. Bucky was right to feel that his world was crumbling, that he was left with half a heart to survive for the rest of his life.

But he was also right in deciding not to show how scared he was. He could have his nerves frozen inside his body and feel his blood boiling inside his veins, his whole insides churning and messing up without any compassion, but he couldn't let that rule his life. He knew that the only solution was to cope rationally and objectively, even if he wanted to burst into tears every ten minutes.

“Okay, everything looks good for now,” Bucky heard the doctor, along with the others who were in the room.

He had been standing in the corner of the room the whole time, not moving a millimeter barely to breathe. The mood was so bleak and melancholy that he feared the sadness would rub off on him if he blinked any faster.

“So, can you discharge her now?” Tony Stark asked, his body closer to the door than any other.

“Yes, she can leave after you sign some paperwork. I'm going to need her to come back for some monthly checkups and let me know if she comes to remember anything.”

“Of course,” Steve Rogers stated.

Bucky wandered his gaze over the other two men in the room and the two women behind them, Natasha Romanoff and Carol Danvers. They all looked wary, not taking their gazes off your figure lying on the gurney after the doctor finished checking something in your eyes. He didn't like the way their bodies moved, anxious to talk, anxious to ask questions. He didn't like how Steve constantly opened and closed his hands; how Tony crossed and uncrossed his arms over his chest; how Natasha suspiciously watched the doctor every time he approached you and asked what he was doing; how Carol glared at the man every time he told them there was no news or progress. They had overwhelmed you before with so many gestures and words that the orderlies had to take them all out almost by force.

In a way, Bucky understood them. He too had been terrified at the beginning, still was to some degree, but it had been a while before they began to regulate their behavior. Bucky understood that the situation was difficult for them, as it was for him, but they also had to think about what it was like for you.

You were on the brink of death and awoke to find that about seven years of memories had been erased from your head.

Bucky had not taken it well at first. He was in a constant panic and searched the internet for all possible solutions that could make up for the mistake that was made. He was anxiously talking to Wanda trying to convince her to find something to do. He had gone to Strange almost begging him for some spell that could fix everything. He had asked the doctor a hundred times on the verge of insanity if it was possible to fix it with another surgery. It had simply been the worst news he had ever been given in his life.

Until, by some divine miracle, the rational part of his brain took control of his thoughts and emotions. That's when his “there's nothing we can do” thought came. The rest of the team was surprised when they saw him calmly walking around the Complex and going on missions, when Bucky had finally understood that he couldn't stop his life for something he couldn't fix. He had to learn to live with that and he hoped the others would too.

But no, it seemed that moment of enlightenment hadn't come to anyone but him.

They returned to the Complex after signing papers and picking up medications with the orders the doctor had given them, some pills for the eventual migraines and muscle relaxants if needed.

The trip was tense. Everyone sent you wary glances and purposely averted their gazes when they saw you watching them. Bucky could tell you were starting to get nervous. Even more, anxious.

Lacking knowledge of your family's whereabouts and that your current address was the Complex, that was where you would spend the rest of the days of your recovery -although Bucky had other options in mind-. The doctor had put his buts in, believing that being in such a tense, busy and overwhelming environment as the main Avengers facility was could hinder your process of getting better, but Tony was very specific and quick to tell him that there was a part of the Complex, a wing, that they had almost completely isolated to keep you in a safe place and away from the stress of the job. The mechanic spoke confidently about how you would be totally at ease as if the decision was entirely up to the doctor, while giving Bucky a helpless look. Finally, to please Tony, the doctor agreed to let you go spend your recovery at the Complex.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Bucky was your husband.

The doctor who treated you for almost a year, from the time you arrived injured and near death, to your subsequent surgeries and recovery, always knew that the final decision was out of his hands. It was funny to watch Tony argue his points to influence his decisions, but in the end that was not something he had any power in. His gazes always turned to Bucky, waiting for a nod or a shake.

Tony knew that too. You had invited him to the wedding because you were closer to him than Bucky, plus they had to see each other constantly for work. They weren't best buddies, but they maintained a relationship that was professional and affectionate and friendly enough to keep you satisfied. That is, until the accident. Since that day, Tony had taken a completely different stance towards Bucky and he really didn't find it strange. He hadn't even been able to speak to him since the day he had almost apologized with his knees to the floor when they had to tell Bucky that you almost died because of a mistake.

Over time, Bucky had let go of the anger along with his realization that he couldn't do anything to change the past, but it seemed to him that Tony still felt guilty about what had happened.

Bucky looked away from the road when he saw you stir in your seat as they were about to arrive at the Complex. The team tried to make small talk after several minutes of traveling in awkward silence, but it resulted in a much more tense atmosphere with everyone turning their heads to look at anything but you like fish out of water.

Bucky watched you from his position in the back of the van as you moved forward to view the Complex facilities in delight. He couldn't help but smile after spending months in constant stress, realizing that you had done the same thing the first time you had gone over ten years ago.

Carol and Natasha took it upon themselves to guide you through the isolated wing of the Complex to the room you would be staying in. Bucky stayed a few floors down along with Steve and Tony in the living room.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky heard Steve ask next to him, as Tony quietly approached the bay window.

“Fine.”

“Buck, you don't have to-”

“Really, I'm fine,” Bucky nodded, noticing Steve's incredulous look. He had to fight not to roll his eyes in disgust.

One thing the team had taken to doing constantly was treating him like a child, like someone who didn't know what he was feeling and didn't know how to control his emotions. That had been happening since the moment he accepted that he couldn't fix something that was out of his control. That you'd had an accident, you'd lost your memory, you'd forgotten him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried everything, and there was nothing.

But the team thought his attitude was that he was trying to hide his feelings and, well, in part he was. He didn't deny that it still made him scared and angry to think of all the opportunities and moments that were gone along with your memory, but he was aware that showing himself that way in front of you wouldn't bring you any good. Unlike him and completely unaware of the truth, the team believed he was in denial. They believed that Bucky had been trying for months to avoid dealing with his feelings and that at any moment he would break down and suffer fighting the horrible reality.

Bucky had only responded to their unconscious attacks and questions with the truth, but it seemed the team was in more denial than he was.

“The doctor said the chances of her regaining her memory were high. Don't worry.” Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder to accompany his words, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Steve, I'm not wor-”

“And she'll adjust well to the routine in this place. You know we'll be constantly keeping an eye on her and making sure she's okay, right?”

“I'd rather you stay away,” Bucky mumbled, his teeth grazing at the discomfort.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky kept his distance at first. He wanted to first meet and see how you were adjusting to your new home and how you related to others. Besides, he was also a little nervous about talking to you. You had done it before, yes, at the hospital. You had introduced yourselves and asked him a few questions when he was around. But when Bucky finally confessed to you that he was your husband, it was as if something had disturbed the gravity around the both of you. Clearly Bucky was quick to notice that change in your behavior and began to pull away trying to give you your space and not overwhelm you, unlike others.

You had some memories with him, Bucky was sure. You had lost the memory of about seven years, and you had come to the team ten years ago. That would have been good for him and your relationship, except that in the beginning neither of you could stand the other.

That's right. You two hated each other's guts. And Bucky eternally regretted waiting until the fifth year of meeting you to make his feelings known to you. Because, at that point, all you remembered about him were his stinging comments and his cold, calculating stares. When he remembered the things he had said to you to hurt you on purpose, he would cringe and his body would tremble in rejection.

Before confessing, he had thought about the possibility of keeping everything hidden, maybe try to win your trust again and suddenly have what you had before. And maybe the Bucky of six years ago would have done that, wouldn't have hesitated to keep the truth hidden just to guide you down the path he wanted to walk. But the Bucky who was there, in year ten, couldn't look you in the eye and try to keep something in the dark. He knew it wasn't right and that lies usually backfired on the person telling them. Besides, ever since you had decided to try to have a relationship, you had made him promise never to keep anything from you, no matter how stupid or horrible it was. You had been in such a toxic relationship with him before that you only wanted to look out for each other's welfare. A relationship based on trust and communication was a good relationship.

And Bucky wanted to keep his promise, even if you couldn't remember it.

So he was keeping his space, but he was always aware of what you were doing. And that's why he noticed every time you would give him a questioning look and then pull back and focus your attention on something else when you noticed he was looking at you.

Bucky wasn't sure if it was a good or bad idea what he was doing. He could just walk up and talk to you, maybe you were willing to do that. Or you might think he was crazy for watching you from afar like he was an eagle and didn't want you near him under any circumstances. Bucky didn't know what to do, and asking the team wasn't in his options, so he just decided to do what he thought best.

One day, a couple of weeks after you returned to the Complex, Bucky met you casually. Really, casually.

He had spent a whole week in constant stress so he hadn't even been able to get near the side of the Complex where you were staying. He had been assigned an undercover mission and it had turned out to be a little more complicated than it seemed at first. There were too many fights involved in the end, but he had achieved his goal.

The day he arrived at the Complex he took a long shower and a long nap. It was the least he deserved. After waking up, he went to the kitchen to make himself a coffee because it was just getting light, when he saw you leaning on the kitchen counter.

You froze at the same time he did. Bucky wasn't expecting the first person he would meet to be you, he didn't even know you were already freely leaving your safe place, but life is full of surprises, apparently. Bucky noticed your wary gaze on him, how the cup you held in your hands had been halfway to its destination and how your body moved only to breathe.

He moved, continuing with what he had gone to do, despite feeling that captivating electricity coursing through his body and asking him to move closer to you. Moving his eyes away from yours felt like a sin and his body was almost reluctant to follow the directions in his head.

Bucky finally approached the coffee pot to notice the steaming liquid coming out of it. So, it was coffee that was in your cup.

He was a little hesitant to drink from the coffee you had made because he didn't know how you would react to his intrusion, so he decided to move to the other side of the kitchen where the drawers were and grab the first cereal to be found.

“You can have some of that coffee,” you spoke to him suddenly, resuming your movements and he could barely turn to look at you over his shoulder. “Clint did it.”

Bucky followed your eyes moving all over the instance, anywhere but on his, and even though he felt he'd had a year to prepare for this, it seemed completely insufficient: nothing would have prepared him to ever again hear your nonchalant voice directed at him the way you spoke to him before you decided to become a couple. Bucky thought that those years had been buried in the back of his head, that the situation you were going through wouldn't bring back memories he preferred to keep hidden, but thinking about doing it was easier than actually doing it.

He moved his body almost groaningly until he was back in front of the coffee pot next to you. Hearing you talking to him like that had knocked his mood to the floor. He wasn't too high either, that mission was both physically and mentally exhausting, but he was more relieved to be back at the Complex.

“I didn't see you this week,” you spoke again as Bucky thought you were about to leave the kitchen. He moved his head to look at you, his expression indescribable, you could barely describe him as dumbfounded and bewildered.

Bucky mumbled a few words before responding. “I was on a mission. Far away.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, and Bucky nearly melted at the sound. Even though he recognized your demeanor, because that was how you acted before when you wanted to get information out of him or when talking to someone you suspected was hiding something from you, he couldn't help but rejoice at finding little gestures that made him reminisce about the good times he had with you.

With more encouragement, Bucky poured his black coffee under the umbrella of your expectant indifference.

“How have the others been?”

He moved to stand in front of you with the cup in his hands, and could notice how subtly your shoulders slumped a little. He couldn't define whether in calm or ennui.

“It's been… complicated.”

“Are they very insistent?”

You turned your head to look at him, and Bucky nearly choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken. He thought you'd keep visually ignoring him and not turn to look at him like he was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean.

“They're horrible,” you barely whispered, your head bobbing closer in complicity. Far gone was your mask of coldness the moment you found someone to complain to about how terrifying those weeks at the Complex had been. “I feel like I can't move my hair without having someone behind me asking me if I want my hair combed for me or if I was moving it because I had a headache. Anything I do is over-analyzed and that's so…ugh, so frustrating.”

Bucky definitely didn't expect you to spew all those words in front of him, but he did understand how overwhelmed you must be and mentally berated himself for agreeing to you having visitors from the moment you arrived. His idea was that you would have time to clear your thoughts and to adjust to that new place on your own, but somehow the team managed to convince him to let them in from time to time to greet you because being alone too much all of a sudden wasn't good for your sanity.

He should have known better knowing how clingy and pushy his teammates were.

When he was around you, they behaved, but they seemed to pretty much take advantage of the times when he wasn't around to behave as they pleased.

“I hate being treated like I'm a piece of glass. I understand well what happened and its aftermath and that it affected them too much, but I can still live peacefully without needing them to do things for me. I'm not incapacitated or anything like that.”

“I understand.”

Wow, Bucky, couldn't you have said something much more interesting?

“I'm fine,” you continued speaking as Bucky noticed how your eyes were lost in the distance in the kitchen. “I really feel fine. But they're always on me like trying to convince me otherwise and talking about my memories every other time.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and suddenly felt the sting in his chest from anger. There was only so much Bucky had in life to control his temper and that was you. With anything else, Bucky was nothing but walking indifference. He didn't care about the fights the others on the team had, he didn't care about the decisions that had to be made, he didn't care about what the majority chose, he didn't care about the discussions about the rooms when they had to stay in hotels. But when it came to you, there was no stormo chaser that could withstand his tempestuous attitude.

The limit was that the others could get angry, fight and argue about whatever they felt like, but the moment that started to affect you, Bucky didn't hesitate to step up and shut them all up. That was one of the reasons he was the leader of the mission most of the time. It was easy to recognize his leadership ability, even if he tried to hide it through that window of indifference. He was very objective when it came to making tough decisions and was very capable of organizing whatever chaos had been created around him.

And, at that moment, Bucky felt he had reached his limit. He had let himself be convinced by the team to bring you here to carry out your recovery contrary to what he had thought of leaving you in the city with one of your closest friends that you remembered very well; and then he had let himself be convinced to let them invade your space when it was clear that they were not going to know how to behave around you and would overwhelm you just like they did in the hospital.

Bucky couldn't understand how he could have made such bad decisions about you. He felt he had completely failed you as your husband by not giving you a truly safe place in which to heal.

“I'll tell them not to come back,” Bucky told you after a few seconds in silence and your blank stare focused on his suddenly elated face.

“What?”

Bucky met your gaze. “This wasn't the way I wanted you to spend your recovery, and it's certainly not the way you should spend it. You should be calm, but I don't see that happening. I'm sorry.”

You watched his face, transfixed. Bucky looked quizzical for a few seconds at your dumbfounded stare and no response. His eyes moved around your face trying to figure out if he had said something wrong… until it all clicked in his head.

You didn't remember.

Yes, it seemed stupid because he'd been living with that thought all last year, but apparently he had to remind himself. For a moment, he had gotten so lost, not only in the familiarity of your ramblings and gestures, but also in the annoyance and self-reproach, that he had forgotten for a few measly minutes that you didn't remember. You didn't remember that protective side of him. You didn't remember how much he loved to sit and listen to you talk about others, good things or bad things. You didn't remember how much it made him angry when other people made you the least bit uncomfortable or angry. You didn't remember the way he showed that appreciation, that love for you.

That attitude Bucky was giving you was completely new to you. Surely it was like seeing a different person. Bucky mentally cringed at the thought that you must be thinking of him as a jerk who acted like a teenager and said hurtful things just for the fun of it.

At that moment, he would have liked to take more time when you were in the hospital to talk to you, so he could get to know you and you could see that he was different and not the same person he was six years ago. But at that time he felt so scared. Just the memory of your face contorting when he had told you he was your husband still sent shivers down his spine.

One thing he couldn't deny was that he had lived constantly, even up to that moment, in fear of rejection. When you had reacted that way that time at the hospital, Bucky had at first turned away in fear. But then he had tried to be nice to you, as if nothing had happened. However, he could tell that it was much more strange for you to see the flowers on the table in the room or to have him bring you lunch because the hospital food was so simple. It seemed that no matter what he did, that reluctant expression on your face would not go away.

Then, he stopped trying. He would only show up in your room when you were sleeping, in the daytime or at night, and when everyone gathered for the doctor's checkup. Bucky didn't know how to get back into your life and the very idea was driving him to the brink of panic again. So he tried to have that moment of enlightenment again, but all he got in response was that maybe he should continue to keep his distance.

At that point, Bucky didn't know what to do. It wasn't your fault to react that way because it wasn't what you remembered about him, that wasn't wrong. He felt again that incessant need to pull away and go back to watching over you from a distance, because the look you had given him was so similar to the others that it was scary. Too scary. The possibility that he could never get back even half of what you two had before danced around him like a taunt. The ring on his ring finger too heavy to bear.

“Thank you…? I think,” you replied at last, but without changing the quizzical look on your face.

“I'll talk to Steve,” Bucky announced, a little more impassively than he had planned, and took the cup tightly in his hands with the thought in his head to get out of the kitchen so he wouldn't keep invading your space.

He felt your gaze follow him until he was near the living room.

“Hey, wait.”

He heard your footsteps following him and planted his feet on the floor. He gave you a questioning look over his shoulder, waiting for you to say something. Bucky watched you move from side to side, shifting your weight on your legs, a clear sign of your nervousness. When you looked directly at the contents of your cup instead of his eyes as you spoke, he couldn't help a small smile.

“I'm sorry about that. It's just… This is too weird for me. I wish I could get close and talk to you because that's what my body wants, but my head keeps me alert and defensive when you're around. What I remember about you is not…”

You cocked your head and twisted your lips. Bucky thought that had been the kindest way to describe it.

“You don't have to apologize.”

“But I do have to!” you exclaimed, scowling at him. “It's been a year and you've been nothing but kind to me. You've given me space and time, unlike others-”

Bucky nodded strongly at your words.

“-but I've given you nothing in return.”

He relaxed his features, letting the tension dissipate away from his body. He momentarily pushed away his worries and negative possibilities because you stood there in front of him with such a contrite expression on your face that it caused him physical pain.

“You don't owe me anything, Y/N, okay? What I do I do because I want to, not because I'm expecting anything in return from you. If you feel like you need another week before you talk to me, that's fine, take it. If you feel it's a month, six months, a year, it doesn't matter. Take as much time as you need. Either way, anytime, you know where to find me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Bucky hadn't missed the journey of emotions that roared across your face and he was genuinely happy about it. It had been a while since he had seen you feel not only comfortable but joyful around him, that he had begun to think that those moments would only live on in his memory from now on. But, perhaps, that might not have been the case…

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured after sighing, and if Bucky hadn't been so attentive to you he surely would have missed it. Along with the small smile you gave him that would be enough to keep his sanity afloat for the rest of the month.

You saw him give you a small nod and then begin to walk away, leaving as the sun's rays began to appear through the living room window. A strange feeling settled in your chest, and it seemed like a turf battle was taking place between your reluctance to accept that Bucky had changed and that you two had taken your relationship four levels higher than expected, and this new feeling that was akin to hope. You could barely recognize it.

You didn't know how you were going to begin to deal with the reality that you were married to Bucky, but you suddenly felt a little less afraid to know the history of the decisions that had brought you to this point.

You remembered the wedding ring that was tucked away in your nightstand drawer and how it shone just as brightly as the one you saw on Bucky's finger. Maybe you felt a little closer to being ready to start dealing with it.

#bucky imagine #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x fluff #avengers #bucky fluff #bucky x you #marvel #calmly remember

996 notes · View notes

zoros-bandana · 1 year

Text

A Drunken Proclaim

(SFW)

Slight fluff/slight angst

Warning: mentions of drinking, being drunk, drunk confession

Summary: once again drunk at another straw hat party you found yourself looking for the missing surgeon, unexpectedly leading to an unofficial and abrupt confession of his feelings.

Word Count: 1,300

(A/n: I don’t have my notes with me for my other requests I’m working on as I’m on holidays but I really am just craving writing some Law stuff right now and will get back to them next week)

Pulling yourself out of the uproar, you found a clearing through the legs of Franky; a band of dance moves sweeping you into the middle of the floor. Taking a quick sip from your bottle of alcohol, you moved further out, your mind spinning from the overbearing and shrill music. It hadn't taken much convincing for Luffy to throw another party, his excuses becoming more bleak for reasons to celebrate.

The crew, however, was happy to take some time out and forget their troubles, even the likes of the usual quiet Zoro and Robin taking their turn on the dance floor. It was admittedly a wonderful night, as these things always were. However, there was a part of you that felt off, missing a familiar face as Luffy twirled you around the floor; watching him closely not to hurt you.

Sweeping over the crowd you found Bepo, losing any remaining worry as he swayed and fanned himself down; lost in the rhythm of the song. As usual, his captain was nowhere to be found, creating the perfect mission to escape for a few moments; wishing to retrieve the surgeon in a hope he might dance with you.

You stumbled into the infirmary, tightly grasping the same bottle you had carried around for the last few hours; more comfort than beverage. The room was dimly lit, a few stray candles surrounding the surgeon as he leaned forward, lost in the stacks of papers under his nose. He was focused, as usual, spending most of him time researching than he did bonding with the crew. You guess that was how he got the title of surgeon.

"You're still in here?"

Law looked up towards you, his face neutral as usual, giving no rise into how he was feeling in that moment; his grey eyes swiftly taking you in. He sighed, that usual annoyed sigh, as if he wasn't in the mood to be disturbed tonight. Not by somebody who was drunk, anyway.

"How much have you had, Y/n?"

"I don't know" you admitted, tripping into the room. You hummed as you steadied yourself, laughing at your words before you even said them. "I'm not a mathematician"

"You're not a comedian either" Law admitted bluntly, sitting further upright. His chair swivelled around to face you as you stumbled to his desk, leaning on it for support as you reached him. Avoiding his gaze you looked blindly at the papers in his desk, blurred together to form some kind of foreign language. Although all medical words felt like that to you.

"You didn't answer my question"

His voice was softer this time, more understanding.

"I'm not sure" you shrugged, trying to give him a sober answer. Anything to get him to stop looking at you like that. Like he was disappointed. "I remember drinking when the sun was still up, and then Zoro handed me another bottle; which turned into a few more... I think there may have been some wine from Nami mixed in there too somewhere..."

"The swordsman..." he trailed off, "of course".

You met his face then, realising there was a hint of hurt as he spoke, not noticing the break before. It was only subtle, and maybe if the room wasn't so quiet you wouldn't have noticed. But it was there.

Noting you were looking at him, he focused his gaze, studying you for a moment. It was if there was something mutual, something warm and passionate, forcing you to truely look at one another; more than usual. His eyes were tired, as they usually were, but held an edge of desperation as if he was speaking to you. He wanted to have you closer.

Setting down the bottle on the desk slowly, you stepped towards him, letting his arm come out to guide you. His hand easily fell to your waist, cupping gently over the fabric of your shirt, holding you like glass. As you straddled up onto him, his other hand moved to cup under you, helping to secure you into his lap. Your arms looped loosely around his neck, holding you close as you took in his face; lit by the flickers of soft gold and orange from the fickle flames.

Law gently moved your hair from your neck, sweeping it back with the back of his hand. He continued to hold your gaze, locking you in a trance to let him control the room; his sober stance holding much more composure than your own.

Moving slowly, he tilted his head down to your neck, gently breathing against your skin. His breath was warm, inviting, your body subconsciously moving away to expose more of your skin for him. Needing this as much as he did.

Law's lips met against your skin, warm and slow, taking him time in leaving soft puckers over your neck. He moved over the same spots, leaving an invisible mark of lust, building up the courage to confess. There was a lump in his throat the burned when he saw you, wanting nothing more than to take you from everyone; knowing he needed you as much as your crew.

But it was different for him, built solely on his own selfish love for you. He didn't need you for your skill or your wit like your friends did. He didn't need you to help him become king of the pirates or to achieve his own dreams.

He needed you because he wanted you.

He wanted you by his side, to bask in your company, your safe and loving aura. He needed to have you, the greatest love he had ever known, to be with him and love him just as deeply as he did you.

"You're so beautiful, Y/n" Law mumbled, dragging his lips over your voice box. He shut his eyes, gulping nervously, carefully grasping at your clothes to ground himself. "You are easily the best part of this experience and I could wait my whole life for you to want to be with me; but I hope I don't have to"

"Say you'll be mine, forever"

A heavy silence filled the room, lost in what to say next. The mix of sake was taking its toll on you, weighing you down with the way Law spoke, making it seem almost impossible to speak back. But you had to say something. These words weren’t just a lost dream you slept upon, curling deeper into your bed to keep yourself here. These words were real.

"Drunk or sober?"

"Both" he smirked, pulling away to look at you again. "Definitely both"

"I guess I could get used to being called Mrs Trafalgar Law"

"Glad to hear it"

You wished to close the gap - you both did - filling the room with lewd and desperate sounds as you kissed one another. How you wished to finally taste each other, so lovingly, so private, losing your senses in a whirlwind of unforgivable madness. But you couldn’t; not like this. As tempting as his pout looked rested on that crocked smirk you couldn’t advance like this. Not while you were impaired.

"Ya know forever is a really long time, right?" You tilted your head to the side, curling your brow, hoping to change the subject.

"Yeah" he admitted, carefully pulling you closer. His arms held you against him, resting his head on your shoulder. A deep inhale crushed him to a saddened smile, taking in your scent, feeling different, more free with his emotions now.

The lump was no longer there, and even if you woke up tomorrow, sober and forgetful of this night, he would remember. He would remember your voice, how you smiled, how you laughed at your own stupid joke. He would know that even for tonight, you were his, and he would hang onto that for as long as he could.

"That was the point; to be with you for as long as I can be"

434 notes · View notes

hwaightme · 1 year

Text

One new message

(masterlist) (join taglist)

📱 pairing: mingi x gn!reader 📱 genre: angst, hurt, comfort if you squint and look under a microscope 📱 summary: notifications from mingi lose meaning when you crack the code behind them, and goodbyes become easier once the rain begins to fall. 📱 wordcount: 2.5k 📱 warnings/tags: language, situationship, unrequited love, a little bit of spite, no one is the villain but the heart works in mysterious ways, bai attempting to write in present tense *screaming* 📱 a/n: i really should be working right now, really should be, but this idea would not leave me alone :) so behold a sorry attempt at angst ahah~ crawling out here to say i love you all, miss you all, and all reblogs messages comments notes are much appreciated! Much love! *crawls back into the work abyss*

📱 perma-taglist: @doom-fics @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt

The day is average. Average temperature, average weather, average traffic, average mood. Nothing special, unalarming… bleak. Not a thing to highlight, not a thing to disregard. So horrifically average that it is easy to assume that you are floating in outer space, where there is no sound, no feeling, nothing; a whole lot of nothing to accompany you and your noisy thoughts. There are many, oh so many. A cacophony. And yet, you smile because that is what you are always able to do regardless of the storm that is inside. Adaptable. Average.

A paper cut on your finger which is refusing to heal because of its location - a bitter reminder that you cannot care less; but there is no one there who would care in your place. You do not mind. At least the stagnancy in your present day is continuous. After what feels like an eternity of suffocating turbulence, the ups and downs, pushes and pulls, it is almost a relief that there is nothing at the end of it. No fireworks. No grand celebration to symbolise the conclusion that you had finally come to. Only the buzzing of the refrigerator is reminding you that you are surviving as you amble into the kitchen to take a bottle of water from the bag of groceries that you had left unpacked from this morning. It can wait. Just like you had done until your limit had been reached.

It is clear now. Always, you were at your most lonely when you were with Mingi. Among the myriads of notifications, there were none that caught your eye until his name graced your screen, which is now a rare occurrence, be it by his or your own volition. You like to say that it is a joint effort. An event even rarer than the sunny days outside as the rainy season caught up to your blues. But what did ‘with’ mean? A lingering hope for a future together? A series of unspoken promises, spun like fine thread around you until you turned into an obedient marionette, awaiting his every command. Technically, he is no one to you. Most certainly, as you had come to accept, you are nothing to him. Perhaps a passing interest. A way to fill a timely void, occupy the mind with an intriguing crush until a new one, a better one comes about. A way to fuel the ego until a better hit arises in whatever it could be. Whatever, except a true adoration that you had been hoping for.

Let’s travel to the sea

How? When?

Tomorrow. You will meet my aunt!

Bombs. Verbal bombs littering your rationality until there was nothing left but a barren field in which you tended to budding flowers of affection. You had chosen to believe Mingi, chosen to believe that his plans had been made with a clear sense of determination. You recall with a bitter chuckle the conversations that you had, the video calls that you had made late into the night; you had chatted away about everything and nothing simultaneously, and at the time you were certain that the feeling of excitement for a shared tomorrow was mutual. You listen to the crack of the bottle cap, so loud against the ambiance of the room that you can almost sense each little prickle, the desperate clinging of piece to piece as you twist with a sharp snap.

Hey I’m free now

Hold on Y/N I’ll be online in five… Running~

Running??

Okay I managed to escape dinner now where are you <;33

The eagerness with which he had expressed his interest in you had been like a tantalisingly warm summer. It had enveloped you wholly, wave after wave, until you began to crave it and before you knew it, you had fallen into a pattern. You had been so stoic, so unapproachable, and now here you were, learning about his every passion, every hobby just so that you could keep up conversation, ask him impressive questions, and make him care more than he ever could.

Pay attention now, this is what happened at the end of episode fourteen, I’ll quiz you on this you know!

Presentations. Silly little presentations made for one another when you could not meet up in person. Lectures delivered over calls to one another. Words upon words that truly meant something entirely different - all that both of you wanted to say but always danced around with such grace and professionalism. Anime, hip hop, rap… hell, even mental mathematics. You could listen to it all for hours on end. To that raspy, deep voice of his that had made you fall deeper and deeper until that was all that resonated in your ears. As weeks had gone by, you had come to believe that there was no music sweeter than his every tone, every inflection and every sigh. You were ready to worship Mingi’s every hum had he asked so. But all too soon did that hum turn into a low thunderous rumble, alerting you, so ominous, of changing tides between you. The recollection makes you clench the bottle tighter in your fist until you hear the plastic begin to crackle. Discontented with the cacophonic struggle of the material, you watch the water droplets trickle back to the still body, and seal it shut to return it to the bag, liquid left untouched.

Stay quiet, my friend is in the room.

A ghost on his computer screen, hidden behind tabs and windows. Erased at a moment’s notice as you silently stared at the passing figure behind Mingi. A friend. A friend who knew nothing about you. Why? Because Mingi deemed you to be not up to the ranks of being introduced, perhaps? Your hands clenched into fists as the thought travelled and picked up speed in your mind, buzzing incessantly and slamming into the skull until it left a throbbing ache. With a smile, you had continued conversing with him as he drifted off into his own life, his own friends, other friends, far from you, and how he was making plans with them. Plans with them, not with you. Your mouse had hovered over the end call button as you contemplated if the action would cut the strings that he had wrapped around your neck, and return your heart to you. And yet, you had waited. And waited. And waited. Gleaming, chuckling at every odd and untimely joke simply because Mingi was the one to say it. Right up until your time was up and Mingi had other things to attend to, a different schedule. Not that you minded, at least in front of him you did not.

The playlists you had made for him in the very beginning, songs that set the rhythm to your enamoured stride turned into toxic tauntings, and your thumbs drifted to the buried sombre, melancholy tunes of the broken hearted. In the darkness you lay on your bed, wondering if the phone would ever light up your day and your heart, to no avail. As the streams that etched their paths on your cheeks dried and fatigue overtook your muscles and memories, you drifted to sleep, waking up to a

Got caught up with things, what’s up

What was up? Would you ever respond truthfully? You tried. Patiently explaining one thing, another until you were met with an ‘I’m sorry you feel that way’ and ‘let’s talk about something more fun now, yeah?’. Yeah. That, you could. Whatever could bring that smile of his back to your field of vision. You bit your lower lip until it bled, chewing at your remarks until they were nothing but mush, and you swallowed them into a nauseating bile, only for it to remain in your stomach and grow with every passing day that the conversation drifted into the realm of a fever dream. Who had you talked to that day, if not Mingi? Perhaps this had been wishful thinking on your part all along, and you had never been more than a loon. Eventually words trickled down to being a burden, and to your attempts to salvage what you had believed in and had witnessed blossom for a fleeting season you only received the merciless

…

[Read]

Eventually, you could predict how he would respond, to the point where conversations could be held before they happened. That way, when you did get that pointless notification on your phone, it hurt a little less. With every passing day, Mingi transformed in your vision to resemble the biting winter winds, piercing the bleeding soul at the most unexpected opportunities, getting his unfair share of the remnants of adoration that your heart still possessed, only to fade back into the abominable breeze. His promises were beautiful, his words resounded in your head and heart, committed to memory until they turned into a slow detonation, a reminder that you were at his mercy. You despise yourself for wanting to run to him if he were to say the word. You subject yourself to self-loathing for leaving your love out in the open for a villain of your own creation to take. You hate yourself for being ready to forgive him at any moment, should he say the word. You had always been ready to give him the stars, the galaxies, the infinite expanse of space itself - he already had your world, what would the universe mean?

You peer outside, at the grey sky, barely noticing the difference between rain and rooftop. The landscape is nothing but a blur, with only a subtle variation of averages to glint in frustration in your field of view. The earth is still. The sky is tearful. You wish you had the energy and grit to cry out, yell, smash a plate, break a door as it slammed, employ all forms of expression to feel anything, to experience temperament above room temperature once more and to rise up into a note more personal than the occasional random selfie from the man who you had fallen in love with, only to be met by refusal, and paired with his desire to be revered and praised, to have someone right there in his contacts who would drop everything for him and run. Faster than lightning, in the middle of the night, at a moment’s notice. Except, instead of this being a form of reassurance, this was a form of power. It was not tyrannical by any means, simply not the same love. It was a love for the self that he had seen in your eyes, you were sure of it. And you were tired of being a mirror. It was agonising, being a mirror. It was exhausting being a supporter, someone’s biggest and closest fan, ready to do everything for them, with this to never be reciprocated.

As you unlock your phone and look over the camera roll, dismissing the photographs that you have of Mingi one by one, pretending as though you do not remember exactly when each one was taken, when each one popped up on your phone first as a ‘ding’, then as a priceless image, you cannot not help but wonder why. Why does he have to be the one who is ‘too good to be true’? Why does he have to become the source of your doubts, the cause of your tears? You do not want to blame him; indeed, what is there to blame except your foolish heart wanting someone who does not want you back. That sunny smile, that laugh, that precious, marvellous face… you would be lying if you were to say you do not think about his embraces. Those strong arms wrapping around your body - your illusion of safety, a mirage.

You became more numb by the week, and eventually, were dismissive of his attempts to gain your attention - the attention that he could feel you were losing. Your gaze no longer settled on him, no longer did you seek him out in a crowd, nor did you hope to hear his voice over a phone call, coaxing him to have a chat with you. He likes the pestering, despite it getting on his nerves, he likes to be loved because of how in control it makes him feel. He had grown accustomed to your presence, but the commitment, the search for something more is something he did not wish to deal with, and so initially, the distance that you were building was somewhat of a relief. But as the gap became wider until it was a ravine, a drop into an abyss, Mingi felt concern rise in his chest, for the first time since he had set his sights on you, and identified an opportunity. He needs the return of the feeling. Unsure of how to define it, he simply inches forward in the darkness in search of familiar shapes until he falls back into the patterns, hoping that they will return what he perceives to be his, right back to him. It is easy enough, right?

Somewhere across the city, in the middle of a crowded room, Mingi stands tall and with an unreadable expression refreshes his notifications. Except there are none that are new. None that would make him instantly smirk with victory, only to lock the phone once again and return it to his back pocket. If there is one new message now, there will be one new message later. And while he does not read it, it shall energise him, so that he can enjoy his day to the fullest with the thought that in that tiny apartment across town you are by the phone, waiting for him and only him. Why did you not send him much of anything anymore? Surely you must be busy, or going through a mood. He opens your contact, clicking his tongue as he checks the time between the passive thumbs up you had responded with and the hour striking on the clock. Before Mingi knows it, he is typing away, trying to throw the hook into the digital ocean.

Just as you set your phone back onto the kitchen table, you see the screen light up, and a familiar name burns itself into your retinas. And yet, the day is still average. The clock ticks at the same speed, the rain does not let up, the groceries are still unpacked and you are still fatigued. Your lips threaten to curl into a grin as you let the screen go dark, and you step away, ignoring your imagination, ignoring how you wish Mingi would feel. Like a mantra you repeat to yourself that there are those damn groceries demanding your efforts still left in the bags, a life left to live with colours you are yet to discover, your tomorrow to look forward to. Your tomorrow, no one else’s.

Perhaps the most terrifying, and the most reassuring notion is that indifference, and only indifference, is the true opposite of love. Blooming in what could have been, a comforting insignificance, a pleasant average dismissible by a swipe of a finger, no longer a number worth counting, or counting on.

#ateezlovenet #kflixnet #k-labels #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #song mingi angst #mingi angst #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez #song mingi #mingi #ateez mingi #ateez song mingi #mingi hurt #mingi comfort

167 notes · View notes

triplecatattack · 10 months

Text

This was based off of @cloudninetonine 's fanfiction called a players aid and honestly I loved it so much I started to write again so made a little fic about it in my down time if y'all got any comments or criticisms let me know.

≠============================≠

Across time

LU/oot link x child!reader

the guide is 11/12 during the events of the story

Tw: general angst,light body dysmorphia?, Poor editing, oot spoilers.

The hero of time had a child not physically but mentally in a way he dubbed them the guide normally the child be concerned a strange small voice talking talking to them like they had known him his entire life like he was there best friend and them in return and it was quite annoying.

Until he had to leave his home behind the first time he heard them go quiet was after he left the kokiri Forest for the first time saying farewell to saria and the place you've known as a home for all his life was not an easy task maybe even worse by the silence his guide presented after saying goodbye to one of his only friends he felt them he felt there warm tender embrace he could feel there kindness and empathy radiating within him.

"I'm sorry link I know this must be hard for you, to just leave everything and go on a journey like this but hey at least you're not alone you've got me and I'll make sure we get through this together, ok." The child-like voice spouted, sounding not much similar than his own.

"Thank you" he whispered

"What's your name?"

" I'm Y/N " they replied with childlike enthusiasm.

"Do you think we will really stay together through this" he spoke silently walking into Hyrule Field.

"Yeah well we got to, I know you have navi, but who else is going to watch your back." The guide exclaimed to the child hero.

And they did, even when link had went to the master sword sealed within it's pedistle anxiety radiating within him he pulled sealing his fate.

Saria was gone

Princess Ruto was gone

Dariunia was gone

Zelda was missing

All he had was navi and his guide

Y/N had proven to be a beacon of light in his dreary adventure' not to say Navi wasn't helpful but Navi never had any helpful puzzle solving skills and the guide had an odd but unique scence of humor.

Whenever the mood got dark and whenever link let his mind wander too much he could always count on his guide to make a off-color/strange, funny joke, awful pun or even just some reassuring affirmation to keep his Spirit's up.

But then it all changed as soon as the master sword was pulled out of its pedistle it all changed the young boy had the body of a young man, but not the mind to match. And everything, was changed not just the young hero but his land castle town was decrepit, a shell of its former self,Zora's domain a frozen pit, and gororn city all but abandoned.

Hyrule had gone to "heck in a handbag" as they said the one thing stayed the same, his only constant thus far his guide.

Y/n

But things never really got better after finding all the stages but y/n remaind through every hardship trial and quest no matter how bleak it got at least he had people to rely on navi and his self proclaimed "guide".

Until the inevitable end.

Zelda was taken by gannondorf, trapped in a crystal and taken to the remains of Hyrule castle.

This was the endgame he knew it and so did y/n.

"Don't worry link we'll rescue Zelda and save the day together ' we just gotta!" They exclaimed with the typical childlike nativity.

Link on the other hand was not so sure he couldn't escape the sinking feeling that something bad was going to happen regardless of how this was going to end.

"Ok then let's finish this and bring peace to Hyrule!" Link exclaimed.

The battle and escape was grueling, every attack from Gannon hurt tenfold however this was nothing with his guide and navi by his side the two people he could depend on most.

He could take on anything, right?

"Right, Y/n......"

"Y/n"

" I'm sorry link The adventures over it's time for me to go" they sniffled.

Were they crying?

"Please I already lost navi I don't want to lose you too' don't go please." He sobbed did everything they went through together.

"I,m so sorry I don't want to go but the adventures over I wish I could stay longer but I cant"

"I'm sorry link, goodbye."

And then as if he felt his soul leave his body they left.

Just like that.

There warmth and tenderness he felt all throughout his very being was gone.

"Y/n"

"Please come back."

≠===========================≠

This was already submitted to cloudninetonine's blog but I was kind of proud of it so, it's going on mine now(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

#loz #lu #time x reader #x reader #fanfic #a players aid #oot #linked universe x reader #link x reader #time deserves so much better

94 notes · View notes

bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

Letters to My Love // Part III

Blue Moon

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: I’m making a serious effort to be as historically accurate as possible in each of these letters, but I also realize that I may reference things that some people are unfamiliar with or confused about. I’d be happy to answer any questions about the time period if you have them!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

Song(s) referenced in this chapter: Chattanooga Choo Choo // Blue Moon

Dedication: As always, dedicated to my sweet friend, @luminousnotmatter, as well as everyone who has offered such lovely support for this series!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, allusions to rationing, plenty of fluff.

July 6, 1942

Dear Peach,

Is it alright if I call you Peach? I suppose being in and around the Navy for as long as I have, I’ve become sort of used to the notion of nicknames. We’ve got one for everyone around here, and Peach just seems to suit you. I admit, it’s how I’ve come to think of you. But if you don’t like it—or if it seems too familiar for me to be calling you a silly nickname—you let me know right away and I’ll be sure not to do it again.

Gosh, I can’t tell you how happy it made me to receive your letter. Mail Call is always a good day—you should see the smiles around here when the fellas get letters from their sweethearts and families. But it felt a hundred times better the day I got your letter. Benny was about ready to tear it out of my hands and open it himself, and Tommy Boy wasn’t too far behind. Paul practically had to knock their heads together so that I could have a little peace. I kept it in my pocket and saved it to read until after dinner that night. Let me tell you, it was certainly sweeter than any dessert they could cook up in the mess (although, admittedly, their dessert could use some work, even on a good day).

I’m sorry that it took me so long to write back. You wouldn’t believe this, Peach, but they’ve really got us working hard over here. It’s almost like there’s a war on or something.

I’m sorry, was that a terrible thing to say? I don’t mean to make light of it. None of us do. But I think we’ve found that if we look for a little bit of levity every now and then, it makes this whole thing a bit easier to bear. We haven’t been here long, but we’ve already seen and heard things we’d rather not remember. So we look for the good where we can find it—like Mail Call, when we get special letters from lovely girls back home, just like you.

To answer your question, I’m doing just fine. I suppose I won’t try to get one past the Office of Censorship this time around, but we’re still in the same region of Europe and expect to be so for the foreseeable future. I wish that I could paint you a beautiful picture of what life is like here, but it’s rather bleak at the moment. You can still see the pockets of beauty though—I’m sure it was a wonderful place before this war. I hope that one day, it will be again.

But I’m sure you don’t want to hear me ramble on about the sad state of the world right now. Should we talk about something happier? How was your Fourth of July? I hope it was swell. I admit, my mouth was watering a bit the other day when I thought about all the things my mother always makes to celebrate. I’ll never know how she manages to get it all done, but she prepares a feast for us every year. My favorite part has to be her apple cobbler—drop a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, and I swear, it’s heaven. All of us were missing home a little extra this Independence Day, so we ended up swapping stories of home and all the ways our families celebrate. I have to say, it did help to dull some of the homesickness. Tommy Boy had us all dreaming about parades marching through town, and Benny couldn’t stop talking about his mother’s berry icebox cake. We made him promise that when this is all over, he’ll have us as dinner guests so that we can sample it for ourselves. Do you have any special Fourth of July traditions?

Speaking of families and traditions, I’m so glad to hear that Paddy, Dottie, and little Frankie are doing well. Although I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your sister, from everything you’ve told me, it does sound like Paddy has found his perfect match. She sounds like a woman who can certainly keep him on his toes. By the way, please let Paddy know that we all played a rousing game of Rummy in his honor. We look forward to getting to play with him again when we get home.

Gosh, there’s just so much I want to say. But it’s kind of hard, isn’t it? Knowing the right things to say, I mean. I’ve always been kind of amazed at how eloquent people’s letters can be. Mine sort of just end up coming out like a jumbled mess. It’s like I want to tell you everything that crosses my mind—as if we were sitting on that bench together on King Street—but I can’t think of a proper way to do it. So I apologize now if this letter is horribly scatter-brained and messy. I’ll try my very best to be more organized in the future.

What I do have to tell you—and I should have said it earlier—is how much I appreciated your lovely description of your day back in Charleston. Unfortunately, it was rainy and gray here the day I received your letter, but reading your words made it feel as though the warm southern sunshine had been delivered right to us. I hope you don’t mind, but I read that part of your letter to some of the other fellas. They really appreciated it. They’re also very grateful to know that you’re thinking of us and wishing us all the best. So am I. It gives us the boost we need when the days get hard.

Nothing would make me happier than the thought of you saving a dance for me. Maybe next time, I’ll even get to hear that pretty singing voice of yours. I know you said I couldn’t be certain that you were a good singer because you were just humming, but trust me—I know. We listen to music over here sometimes when we’re able, but I do admit it’d be much more fun to be listening to it at another USO dance. Sometimes I’ll hear a song that played that night, and it makes me smile.

Anyway, they’re calling us now, and I should probably stop running my mouth so much. It’s funny—I’ve never been much of a talker (just ask Paul), but with you, I feel like I could write pages and pages, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I hope this letter hasn’t bored you to tears, and I do hope to hear from you again soon. Thanks for sending along the sunshine.

Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

July 22, 1942

Dear Bobby,

Peach is just fine! It’s lovely, in fact. I’ve never had a nickname just for me before, so that one makes me feel quite special. On top of that, it’s also officially Dottie-approved. She insists she only happened to glance over and “accidentally” catch sight of the beginning of your letter, but I think she may have just been snooping. See? I told you she’d get on wonderfully with Benny and Tommy Boy.

Mail Call sounds like a wonderful day for all of you. The USO has been reminding us how important letter writing can be. They’ve been saying how much it boosts morale for our boys overseas, and clearly they were right. I’m touched that my letter seemed to mean so much. If it really does brighten your day, then I’d be happy to write hundreds of letters. I’m not so sure my words are really sweeter than ice cream or pie, but I will try my hardest.

You don’t have to apologize! I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there. As happy as I am to receive your letters and to know that you’re doing alright, I understand that it may take a while for you to be able to write me. And you most certainly don’t need to apologize for trying to do what you can to preserve your peace of mind. My heart breaks to think what you and your friends, and all the other men over there fighting, have already seen and experienced. They say war is hell, and I absolutely believe it. I could never dream of being even half as brave as you are, Bobby. I mean that. If your heart ever feels heavy with all the burdens you have to carry, please know that you can lay it down with me. I’m more than happy to listen. I know that I won’t have all the answers—who does?—but I’ll always try my hardest to help you carry the load as best I can.

I’ve never been to Europe before, but my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon back in 1916, and my mother still talks about how beautiful and magical it was. It makes me so sad to think that countries that were once so full of life and art and beauty and culture have been reduced to war-torn husks. Like you, I have hope that one day very soon, this horrible war will be behind us and all those wonderful places will be filled with magic once more. And maybe one day in the future, I’ll get to travel there. I’d like that very much.

My Fourth of July was very nice! I have to admit, reading about your mother’s apple cobbler and Benny’s mother’s icebox cake had MY mouth watering. There must just be something about mothers because my mama also LOVES baking up a storm to celebrate Independence Day. One of her favorite desserts to make is—can you believe it?—peach tarts! Maybe we can convince our mothers to swap recipes.

This is the first Fourth of July that I haven’t celebrated with my parents back home in Georgia, but Paddy, Dottie, Frankie, and I had a wonderful day. It was Frankie’s first, so we took him to the parade in town, though I think he would have been more than happy to stay home. Poor baby is teething, and he’s been downright miserable some days. I’m sure Paul knows what that’s like, and I’m sure Natasha is dealing with the same with Paul, Jr. right now. It’s hard to watch him suffer—I know it just about kills Dottie.

Speaking of Dottie, she was rather upset that her baking plans got a bit derailed by our ration cards. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but sugar is being rationed now. We pooled together as many ration cards as we could save, but there’s been such a demand for it that there was hardly any to be found. We settled on a simple pound cake with strawberries, which Dottie wasn’t happy about, but Paddy made sure to cheer her up by making a big show about how it was the best pound cake he’d ever tasted. Personally, I do think it could have used more sugar, but please don’t tell Dottie that I said that.

Thankfully, Frankie took a good nap that day, so he was in much better spirits by the time the fireworks went off. We went down by the water to watch them, and he was mesmerized. I enjoyed them, too, but it felt sort of strange to be having such a nice day when I thought of you and all the other men who have gone off to fight for us. It felt wrong somehow to be celebrating as though there wasn’t a terrible war waging halfway across the world, a war that’s been taking more and more of our men every day. But Paddy helped to put it into perspective for me slightly. He said that the men who are over there fighting—men like you, Bobby—are doing so precisely so that the rest of us can enjoy these freedoms. He said that, if it were him, he’d be happy to know that we were safe and still getting the chance to celebrate our independence. Was he right, Bobby? I hope it doesn’t feel like rubbing salt in a wound, me telling you about our Fourth of July.

Can I tell you something? I think Paddy’s been having a hard time wrestling with the fact that his job allows him to remain stateside during the war. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard him and Dottie sitting up in the kitchen one night, talking. I think he feels a bit guilty, being a part of the Navy, but not having to go fight the same way you all are. Dottie has been trying so hard to reassure him, but I noticed that he’s been working even longer hours now—he wants to do whatever he can for the war effort, and to help bring you boys home as quickly as he can. That’s what we’re all hoping for.

I have to admit, I giggled a little bit when I read the part of your letter about feeling like what you write is a jumbled mess. I feel the same. It’s a little tricky to have a conversation on paper, isn’t it? It’s much easier when you’re sitting face to face. Tell you what? I’ll forgive your messiness, if you forgive mine. Does that sound like a deal?

Oh, I’m so glad to hear that the talk of sunshine made you happy, even on a gray and rainy day. And I’m happy that your friends enjoyed it, too. Would you say hello to Paul for me? I’m not sure if he even remembers me, but I’m still so grateful for his kindness at the dance. Maybe say hi to Tommy Boy and Benny for me, too? Even though I haven’t met them officially, I feel like I know them so well through your stories about them.

I’m not sure about where you are, but it’s brutally hot here in Charleston now. Still sunny though, so I’m picturing scooping some of it up and sending it your way. Unless we have errands to run, Dottie and I have been staying mainly inside with the baby. I know we’re supposed to be conserving as much power as possible, but Dottie doesn’t care a fig if there’s a war on when it’s this hot—she’s got all the fans running on full blast. I hope wherever you are, you’re able to keep cool.

I have to say, Ensign Floyd, you really are going to give me a big head one of these days. I assure you that I am not as talented a singer as you seem to think I am, but perhaps I’d be willing to sing along to one song at the next dance we attend. But you have to promise not to laugh when you discover I’m terrible at it. Humming, I promise you, is very different from singing.

Now that I’m on the topic of music, however, I wanted to mention that every time Dottie puts on one of her Glenn Miller records, I think of you and your mother. I know you said she was a big Glenn Miller fan, and I like to think that maybe somewhere in Iowa, she’s listening to “Chattanooga Choo Choo,” same as us.

Just last night, while we were cleaning the kitchen, Dottie and I were listening to the radio and “Blue Moon” came on. Do you know that one? The Al Bowlly song? I think he has such a lovely voice. Anyway, I was listening to the song while I was washing the dishes and it got me thinking about the moon. Gosh, that sounds so silly now that I actually write it out. But it’s true. I was thinking about the moon, and it struck me that the moon that was shining down on me was the same moon that was shining down on you. Even though I don’t even know exactly where in the world you are, when I look up at the moon at night, I can be sure that it’s the very same moon that you’re looking at. I don’t know, maybe it’s silly, but it kind of brought me some comfort. Does that sound horribly hokey? I’m sorry if it does. Maybe if it doesn’t strike you as too terribly sentimental, you can share it with Paul the next time he’s feeling down about missing Natasha and the kids. This war might be keeping us all apart, but at night, when we look up at the moon, we can remember that we’re not so far apart as it seems.

Your letter certainly didn’t bore me to tears, Bobby. On the contrary, it made my day. Now I just hope that MY letter doesn’t bore YOU to tears. Maybe when all this is over, you and I will feel more confident in our letter-writing abilities. I certainly do hope that’s the case.

Stay safe, Bobby. Sending you all my very best.

Sincerely,

Peach

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

255 notes · View notes

hikariale · 4 months

Text

college has taken up the bulk of my time, so i don't know when or if i will ever write this fic idea in full, but the idea has been spinning in my head for a long time... it's written in a longform, train-of-thought, imagines way, but it got longer than expected!

mostly platonic liu kang and reader with some liutana and kitana x reader under the cut

Being friendly rivals with Liu Kang. You both want to see the other succeed, but you also compete to each other's betterment. Liu Kang may be the "Chosen One," but you won't allow yourself to be overlooked! It's not like you want to take his title, no, no, no! You want to prove to everybody, including him, that the idea of a "chosen one" is stupid. An idea that stemmed from observing him and realising how isolated he was because he was "chosen" by gods, you've taken it upon yourself to prove that burdens need not fall onto the shoulders of an exceptional, talented few. He always has his plate full, so why not steal something off of it. If you can't flip the table, you can at least make the meal more digestible. You hate to see a person forced to bite off more than they can chew, and Kung Lao is a good companion, but you get the feeling that the chip on his shoulder has put you on different trajectories when it comes to competing with Liu Kang.

Perhaps it is because of an upbringing that severely alienated him from his peers, but you realised early on that Liu Kang struggled to pursue relationships. Sincere as he is with others, he is more than content for others to approach him than the other way around. A little withdrawn and always somewhat preoccupied, the Chosen One is like a firefly. You have to catch it in your hands to halt it, but it rarely chooses to land on its own.

That's why, when Kitana entered the picture, you knew he was likely to doom himself.

You couldn't speak for him, but the Edenian princess blew you away at first sight. Though he didn't admit it, you knew she had the same affect on him. As easy as it would be to leave him to his in the dust before he realises that there's a race, you declare yourself his love rival and wait for him to make the first move as a courtesy. Regardless of how things turn out, you both promise to bow out and support the one who earns her affections.

It does hurt when Liu Kang, against what you always thought of him, catches Kitana's affections by a landslide. As unexpected as it is, you can at least commend him- and hey, he deserves that little bit of personal happiness with all the other things he deals with. And it's clear that Liu Kang can tell you're upset, but you're proud of him for not backing down or expressing remorse for your bruised heart.

At least it isn't as humiliating as you thought it might be. Liu Kang is a good person. He's considerate after the fact and gives the topic of romance a wide breadth when spending time with you. Things are mostly normal. Sure, the odd intrusive thought about the couple enters your head and sours your mood, but you just need time to move on. Maybe in a while, you'll find a new love. Maybe you'll commit to celibacy, or maybe something completely left field will happen. Though things would have normally gone like that, the strange, universe bending entity by the name of Kronika erases the future and all of its possibilities. In its place, she presents a bleak future where your loved ones are warmongers, and your only choice is to accept that you don't get a future at all.

As Charon's ships prepare to dock, Liu Kang tells you that you should tie up loose ends. You know what he means, and though it almost feels like an insult to have a newly born god tell you to fruitlessly profess your feelings for his partner, you know that he means well. You understand that this is probably the end even if the idea of dying hasn't crossed your mind. That intuition clears your mind and allows you to shed your inhibitions.

"I can see why Liu Kang holds you in such high regard. You have admirable character."

That was the only thing that stood out from Kitana's response. It didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. Being let down so gracefully by a woman of her standing is pretty much an honour. And the end is near. And you got to say your piece without committing any transgressions. So that's that, as far as you are concerned. You make sure to tell Liu Kang that much while standing at the entrance of Kronika's keep. The last exchange you have with Kitana is a quick glance while Liu Kang destroys the door. She catches it out of the corner of her eye, and though she doesn't turn towards you, she acknowledges you with an affirming nod.

When deciding how to craft the New Era, Liu Kang briefly considered making Kitana your destiny, and you hers. Earnestly wishing for your happiness in the next life, he thought of giving you everything that he was not afforded for his own love. Just as he began to spin that thread of fate, your defiant words rang in his ears.

"You shouldn't let the gods have that much say over you. If you say no, I'll be right there with you to back you up! Gods aren't the ones who have to suffer the consequences anyways."

Your judgement of the gods was a little off the mark, but the wholehearted belief in mortal agency struck Liu Kang's core. If you knew what he originally planned, he was sure you would complain about it, so he erased the sketch and started over.

In the New Era, you kept that attitude. Raiden didn't have the right personality to engage with your challenges. It made Liu Kang a little happy to know that, though he filled his old role with Raiden, you two didn't have the same bond. Of course, you weren't Liu Kang's rival this time. The ambivalent, borderline suspicious attitude you gave the God of Fire would have stung more if he wasn't expecting it.

During the banquet, your seat was up next to his. You poke at your food and watch Johnny flirt with the younger Edenian princess. The icy expression on your face makes Liu Kang thankful that he never tried courting Kitana in your presence during the previous era.

"It is not like you to be daunted by something like that," he breaks you out of your ruminations with subtle encouragement. Your shock transforms into mild agitation. As you consider telling him not to meddle in things he has no business in, he smiles, somewhat slyly, and says, "You are not the kind of person who leaves things unchallenged."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #kitana x reader #liutana #liu kang #mk1 #mk11 #ahhh alternatively.... kitana has two hands. but this idea and storyline is fun to explore #this is messy messy messy but i wanted to get it out of my head and put the idea out there #i dont know when i'll write a proper longform real fic though. i took two writing-heavy classes and two science lecture-lab courses...#this semester i'm even more busy busy busy HAHA

40 notes · View notes

ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Anonymous: First of all: Love your work! It's incredibly awesome!!! As for my request: Alcina scars Y/N's Face during an argument, making them blind in one eye & break up with her before leaving Castle Dimitrescu. A year later, Alcina see Y/N happy with Elena who has a baby by Y/N. Jealous and Obsessive, Alcina tries to force Y/N and the baby into Castle Dimitrescu but Y/N isn't having it.

This was really fun to write. Excellent prompt! Let’s get into it!

You had always loved Alcina. Her porcelain skin, her captivating wit, her elegant beauty. The moment you laid eyes on her, you fell under her spell. Your relationship with her was everything you had ever dreamed of… At least for a while. But, unfortunately, as is typical with tales of intense passion, things took a dark turn.

On an appropriately stormy night, a heated argument erupted between the two of you. All you were trying to do was get Alcina to open up to you a little. To let you share some of her burdens. But, she clearly was not in the mood to do so.

“I don’t want to talk about my day, I’m tired! I can’t be ‘On’ all the time! Why do you have to make everything so damn difficult, Y/N?!” Alcina howls with tears in her eyes.

“Me?! How do I make things difficult?! I’m trying to fucking help!” You spit. “Maybe if you didn’t care so fucking much about Miranda you might actually be happy for once!” You yell and point at her accusingly. “Oh, wait, that’s right. You’ll never be happy! You love to whine and complain too much!”

“You’d better get the hell out of my sight right now, Y/N. You’re just being annoying and nosy as usual! I swear-!”

“That’s what this is really about!” You interrupt. “You just want me to be at your beck and call when you feel like having me around, but otherwise I’d better get lost, huh?!”

The words exchanged between you two were sharp as swords, and in a fit of rage, Alcina lashed out, her nails tearing deeply into your face, leaving a permanent scar across your left eye.

Pain coursed through your body as you recoiled, blood trickling down your cheek. The damage was done, and your once bright world turned bleak. “Ahh, fuck! My eye!” You cry out, holding your injured face.

Alcina was immediately convicted. She… Hurt you. Badly. She never wanted to cause you any pain. She just… Lost her cool, that’s all. Yes. Everything will be fine. She just has to-

“Fuck you…” You groan out. Silent tears flowed as you made a difficult decision. You couldn’t be with Alcina any longer, not after this act of violence. People don’t hurt the ones that they love. Not like this, anyway. Alcina had crossed a line and she couldn’t take it back. You finally realized that maybe your charmed relationship wasn’t as strong as you thought. Yes, neither of you were helping matters tonight by escalating things, but you had already made a lot of excuses for Alcina’s often short temper. She was running a business, she had three daughters to care for, she had that stupid, irrational desire to please Mother Miranda. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You hobbled out of the bedroom and Alcina tried to follow after you. “Draga! Draga, I’m so sorry!”

“Get… The fuck away from me… Monster,” You growled.

Alcina stopped dead in her tracks at your words. She sobbed at the coldness in your voice. She’d never heard you so… Empty. Is that all she is to you now? A monster? Something to fear? What has she done? Alcina began weeping as she saw you leave. All she wanted to do was beg you to stay, but… That just felt selfish in the moment. She knew you needed time alone to think if your relationship stood even a small chance of working. She had to let you go… For now, at least.

Leaving the grand halls of the castle behind, you needed immediate medical attention. You made it to the village doctor where you got the heartbreaking news that you were now blind in one eye. You lost your cool and started throwing things in your rage. “Fuck! That stupid bitch!” You shrieked. “She did this to me!” You wailed in anguish. You had to be restrained by several people you were so pissed. You ended up breaking free of their grasp and stormed out. You went down to the tavern. You damn near drank yourself to death.

It was… A dark time for the first few weeks. You were so angry at Alcina but you were also… Hurt. How could she do this to you?

Eventually, after a few months of rebuilding your life, getting a new job, and trying not to steal glances over at the castle, you sought solace in the arms of a local villager named Elena Lupu, a warm-hearted woman who offered you comfort and love when you needed it most. She helped you adapt to the loss of vision in your left eye. Your heart now belonged to Elena. She was healing and you couldn’t get enough of her.

Time passed, wounds began to heal, and joy slowly crept back into your life. You found happiness in the simplicity of your days with Elena, and together, you nurtured a love that produced something precious— A beautiful baby girl. You both decided to name her Hope. It was perfect for her. That’s what she was to you. A newfound hope for a wonderful future. She brought even more light into your life.

When Elena had gotten pregnant and told you the news, you were so excited. “Y-You… You’re gonna have a baby?!” You ask her as you two sit at the kitchen table.

Elena giggles and lovingly cups your face with her hands. “I am, sweetie,” She says, thoroughly enjoying the pleased and enthusiastic look on your face.

You lean in to kiss her before pulling back. “We’re gonna be a family, babe. You’ll be the best mom ever, I just know it,”

Elena wept happy tears at your joyful reaction.

You hugged her close and tenderly put your hand to her stomach. You had a child now. You couldn’t wait to meet them.

You two eagerly awaited the arrival of the baby and you found that you really didn’t think about Alcina anymore. You didn’t even feel angry at her, she just… Was not even on your radar. You had bigger things to devote your time to now. Your heart overflowed with gratitude for the life you found outside the castle walls.

The first few months of Hope’s life are your most cherished memories. You and Elena sang to her and talked to her constantly. She was such a cuddle bug. You all loved to take naps together. This was your home. Your little family. You were overjoyed.

However, it didn’t take long for rumors to get to the lonely corridors of castle Dimitrescu. Whispers of your happiness reached Alcina’s ears and pierced her jealous heart. Obsession consumed her as she yearned to possess what she had lost. You were now the forbidden fruit that she could not taste, and her desire to reunite with you grew stronger by the day.

With a twisted determination burning in her eyes, Alcina devised a plan to reclaim her lost love. She believed, in the depths of her delusion, that if she kidnapped you and your child, you would be forced to come back and live with her in the castle. She knew how devoted you were. You would not leave your child for anything, so you would be forced to stay. You might even fall back in love with her. She daydreamed often of you both raising your child together and pushing Elena out of the picture (By any means necessary).

Alcina considered Hope a part of you and she longed to meet the little one. The Lady of the castle loved your child already and she would become her new mother. She was honestly just as obsessed with Hope as she was with you. Yes… Now all she had to do was make this happen.

Her castle would become your prison and your shackles would be built with her greed and desire.

Note: I have to break this into another part. I hope you enjoyed this!

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil imagines #lady dimitrescu x y/n #angst #angst drabble #elena lupu #elena lupu x reader

34 notes · View notes

liusaidh-writing · 9 months

Text

I am SO EXCITED! Tomorrow, both kiddos are at school, which means I will have several hours to do fuck all!!!

Which also means I CAN WRITE AGAIN!!!!

So, in celebration, here's a wee peek at an upcoming chapter of DO NO HARM. ENJOY! (I hope!)

××××××××

Another quiet moment filled the space between them, then she watched as Jamie grew restless again, two fingers drumming his thigh, his lips pressed against one another as Claire looked on. She felt the sudden urge to giggle but held it back; Jamie didn't seem to be in a silly sort of mood.

"Ye make me nervous, Claire," he blurted out, shaking his head as he let the words fall from his mouth.

"Me? How so?" The suppressed giggle escaped, but only briefly. Claire bit her lip to keep quiet. She hoped he didn't think she was laughing at him.

"If I take ye back to my flat, I mean… I don't trust myself with you."

This time she did laugh, loud and long, the air leaving her lungs in relief.

She knew exactly what he meant.

"You want to kiss me again, you mean." Claire was surprised by her own bravado. Something about the tiny thing she'd swallowed was just what she needed at the moment, though, so she chose not to question it. Let it happen, she told herself. It'll feel good, at the very least.

And damn it would. To have his hands in her hair, tugging her curls, his lips dancing against hers. God, it was all she'd thought about since that one time in his flat. It had kept her afloat; a little bit of light in her otherwise bleak world.

××××××××

It's not much, but hope you like it. More to come! 😁♥️

#outlander #outlander fanfic #writing #jamie x claire #writing updates #do no harm #sneak peek

47 notes · View notes

andithiel · 4 months

Text

End of year wrap up

I am so super late to this, but I’ve done this in the last few years and I think it’s a nice tradition to look back at the accomplishments I’ve achieved. 2022 was a very bleak year writing wise, and I’m happy to say that I’ve slowly started to get my mojo back a bit. My AO3 wordcount for 2023 was 36,936 words, but I’ve also posted some shorter things on tumblr, and I actually made a spreadsheet to track my progress and tally all my written words, including those that get deleted and also those not yet posted, and according to the spreadsheet I wrote 10k more. I still have a lot of WIPs hanging around in my drive, but I’ve managed to finish some of them, and I feel like I have more energy and excitement to finish some more, so, here’s hoping that 2024 will be the year that I actually end up with fewer WIPs at the end than at the beginning (something I tried back in 2020, before the world went up in flames).

Under the cut is what I published in 2023:

January

Fading in Love (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 5k) I wrote this as a belated birthday present for @sassy-sassy3, it’s an 8th year secret relationship with a lil’ sprinkle of magical theory regarding the Dark Mark.

February

I decided to try a few prompts for HD Candyhearts and ended up having a lot of fun with them:

Second Date AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 1,3k) with an insecure Draco after having spent the night with Harry.

The microfic Taste the love (for the prompt Sweet treats)

How deep is our love? AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 762 words) featuring established Drarry bickering and absolutely ridiculous Valentine’s cards.

The secret language of flowers AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 2k) featuring the classic tumblr post the fuck you bouquet.

Pillow microfic with Draco being a little shit

Charm me 8th year drabble FWB/secret relationship sort of vibes.

March

Take that ride (Drarry, Teen, 1,6k) I finally managed to write a fic idea that’s been scrambling around in my brain for ages. I wanted to create a mood and a feeling with this and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

I also wrote a short fuck or die drabble that I’m super proud of: Let me show you

June

Hold back the tide (Drarry, Teen, 2k) Another idea that’s been with me for years that I finally got out (despite not having written the fic that preludes this).

October

Thunderstruck (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) My god, my beast, this fic resisted me and to top it all off I got covid right when I was about to finish it. I struggled with this so damn much, also wanting to create a vividness that doesn’t really come natural to me, but I’m so happy with how it came out in the end. Plus I got to collab with the amazing @fictional who, as usual, knocked it out of the park with her glorious art.

November

The Potter Malfoy bathroom war of 2007 (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) Another fic that’s been with me for some time, although “only” a year. I saw the prompt for last year’s Suds when claims had closed, so I tried to forget about it but it wouldn’t leave me. I had so much fun writing this, I love writing Harry and Draco bickering and fighting with each other when we as readers know it’s basically their form of foreplay.

December

When it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night (Drarry, Teen, 6k) This was also a fic one year in the making. I started writing it to post on last New Year’s Eve, but I couldn’t finish it in five days (to my own astonishment), but I’m happy it got to marinate for a while because I added a scene with Scorpius that I’m very fond of.

I wasn't tagged by anyone and I'm sure people have already done this, but if this means you get another tag, consider pointing me to your own year wrap up so I can see it! @sassy-sassy3 @fictional @mystickitten42 @uncannycerulean @goblinmatriarch @phdmama @crazybutgood @dragonbornphoenix @wo2ash @rei382 @nv-md

#fic year in review #ao3 wrapped #andithielwrites #drarry

22 notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 1 year

Note

I really love your writing, I may have read the Otto ones too many times...

Could you do an Otto x Rosebud, where Daemon makes a mistake of saying something about taking her away from Otto and she gets mad?

Then she becomes really clingy to Otto and he notices because he has to tone down her PDA a bit. Once she tells what happened Otto takes her to the chamber where no one can see them and proves her that she is only his

A/N: ahhh it's been so long since I've written these two, but I managed to pop this one out for you guys <3

It truly is a sad affair. You didn't personally know Lady Laena, yet a death, no matter whose it is, is still tragic. You heard she'd died in childbirth, a thing which shook you to your core. Every time you pictured your own birthing, you shuddered imagining how awful it could have ended. You'd been lucky that no such complications emerged during your pregnancy, but not all women are blessed in such a way. You stood beside Alicent at the wake, gazing at the other guests around the room. A distinct sadness clung to the sea air blowing through High Tide, the gloominess of the skies deepening the mood. No music or laughter was to be found in the open space.

"When I pass," you said, nursing your own wine cup, "I hope my funeral is not as bleak."

"Y/N, don't say such nonsense," Alicent scolded gently.

"Well, I don't," you insisted. "I don't want sad faces at my wake. I want music, dancing, and laughter. I want people to celebrate me, not mourn me.”

“I’m afraid what you want will not matter once you’re gone,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine. “I’m sure Lady Laena wanted the same, and here we are.” She’d been surveying the room before she spotted someone, pulled you aside, and stood in front of you. Seeing your surprise, she then said, “Prince Daemon.”

The late Lady Laena’s husband, Prince Daemon, spent most of the wake sulking alone in a corner. You’d done your best to avoid giving your condolences until now. You hoped Otto’s small exchange might extend to you, and therefore you could stay beside Alicent. But, it appeared Prince Daemon expected you to come over to him. Even as you stood there, you felt his eyes burning into your back. No, not burning. Undressing. Every time you and Daemon crossed paths, you almost felt those violet eyes peeling back your clothes. It reminded you of the times he’d come into your chambers. You shuddered remembering his warm hands on your body; those same eyes putting every detail to memory before he kissed you. You wished you’d screamed or pushed him away, but you didn’t. Then, the last time you saw him, he’d been hilt-deep inside your handmaiden. It had excited and disgusted you.

“Has he spoken to you since Rhaenyra’s nameday?” she asked you, concerned.

“No.”

“It makes my father furious, you know,” she said, giving a soft laugh to lighten the mood. “He once asked for my favor at a tourney because he knew it’d infuriate my father.”

“I do not understand where this rivalry started,” you replied. “I thought Otto and The Prince might work together since they both care for The King and wish to see the realm succeed.”

She snorted, “As if that can be believed.” She leaned in closer, “Daemon Targaryen only looks out for the interests of Daemon Targaryen. My father…He has his ambitions, but his ambitions align with bettering the realm and seeing it continue to prosper. From what I’ve always understood, my father carries this deep seated distrust of the prince; he often tried having him removed from the small council, but the man always managed to return. He’s been exiled twice, you know. The King sends him away and doesn’t make a whisper when he reappears.”

“Certainly now that his wife has passed, Prince Daemon will be invited back to court,” the thought of Daemon swaggering around the same halls as you made you uneasy. “Your father says The King is feeling remorseful and sentimental these past few months. He may ask him to return.”

“And Prince Daemon will decline.”

“Why?”

“Because he always does the opposite of what The King wishes.”

“What if he should…wish to return?”

“Then my husband shall welcome him with open arms.” She noticed your anxiousness, and said, “You could go to Oldtown.”

“Your Grace?”

“If court life should ever become bothersome to you,” she said pointedly, “You and Cedric can always go to Oldtown. My uncle will never turn you away. Daeron will be there, and you can spend time with the rest of our family.”

Hearing her say ‘our family’ warmed your heart. Your relationship with Alicent began on rocky waters when you’d been introduced. You’d expected that, since you are much younger than her and are her step-mother by law, but it uplifted you when she finally opened herself to you. You smiled at her and said, “As lovely as that sounds, Your Grace, my place is at your father’s side. I would never leave him unless he specifically requested it of me. Though,” you paused, “It’d sadden me deeply, if he did.”

You spotted Otto across the patio with a few other lords. He wore all black, making his appearance more distinguished, and stood with his hands behind his back. Every time you looked at him, every worry briefly disappeared. You could not stand thinking of leaving him willingly. The man who made you feel so safe, who assured and reassured you when you began doubting things, who kissed away every tear, and needed to be with you always. You sadly realized one day you would be without Otto. ‘The Stranger comes for us all, my sweet,’ your mother told you the day your grandsire died. You imagined yourself in the mournful black all widows wear. It is customary that widows wear black for at least two years following a death, but for Otto, you’d wear them until your dying day. When he caught you staring, you gave a soft smile, which he returned.

How could anyone expect you to leave his side?

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston Cole appeared beside Alicent, glancing around the room before leaning close to her, “A sensitive situation has come up regarding Prince Aegon.”

Alicent sighed irritably, then turned to you, “I will speak with you soon.”

“Your Grace.”

You gave her a slight bow, and she walked away with Ser Cole. Standing alone in the group made you feel vulnerable. It heightened knowing Daemon stood nearby, occasionally taking time to glance in your direction. Prince Daemon had not been seen at court for several years now; Otto believed he’d done it to hurt The King more, but personally, you were glad to be rid of him. Down in the deepest part of your desires, Prince Daemon Targaryen nestled himself a space for those lonely, particularly desperate moments Otto could not fulfill for you. You exhaled deeply at the thoughts you’d curated in your mind of him. Emely admitted she found him to be a tremendous lover, though you suspected he paid her to say such things to you. Not really paying attention to where you were going, you found the crowded space suffocating. You reached the edges of the balcony where the fresh sea winds blew past your face and through your hair. Taking in deep breaths, you took in the scenery before you. The Red Keep sits by the Blackwater Bay where one can see the ocean if they move to the right spot. Yet, it was nothing in comparison to Driftmark, which had a beauty all of its own.

“Lady Y/N, I’m pleased to see you here.”

The easiness inside you immediately became disturbed by the emergence of Daemon. He leaned against the ledge a foot away from you. It’d been three years since you last saw him, and nothing about him changed in that time. Your eyes met his, and you found it hard to look away.

“My Prince,” you gave a small curtsy, “I’m very sorry for your loss. I did not know Lady Laena well, but I heard many great things about her.”

“She was an extraordinary woman, yes,” he agreed. “I thank you for your kind words, my lady,” he said, “They bring me much comfort in these sad times.” He moved closer to you, and said, “I trust you have been well while I’ve been gone? I know it must be tiring being the wife of the Hand of the King…I imagine you spend many nights alone like I have these past few days.”

“I have been well, thank you, my prince.”

You felt him staring. You felt his eyes scanning your profile as you turned away from him. Quietly, he said, “I will admit there is a certain light in the middle of this darkness.”

“And what would that be?”

“That I am now free from the bonds of matrimony,” he answered. “Now that I am once again unwed, I am allowed to pursue things I once felt out of my reach. I can indulge in pleasures and desires I’ve denied myself for so long, and make them mine.” He was an inch from you when he said, “Come to Pentos with me. Come with me now. I promise I will make it worth the trip.”

“My Prince-” you began, scandalized and shocked.

“-My daughters need not know about you. There’s a marvelous manse near me where you can stay.” You felt him gently touch your bicep with the backs of his knuckles. The touch made you shudder. “You’d have servants to tend to your every whim; jewels and silks to adorn your gorgeous body and any and all desires you wish. All I ask is that you let me have you as often as I-”

“-That is enough,” you glared at him, but all he did was smirk back at you. “That is wildly and wholly inappropriate. The vile acts you’ve forced upon me are fine without you adding your disgusting remarks to them.” You then said, “I was tolerant of your behavior towards me upon your last visit. It was all within my rights to go to His Grace about the despicable things you’d done to me, but I kept my silence because I knew how it might reflect upon myself and my husband’s position. But, I will not let you stand there and say these things to me.”

“No,” he chuckled, “You kept your silence because then I’d reveal all the depraved, sexual, delicious things I’ve seen you and your handmaiden do behind closed doors.” He was amused by your fiery gaze, “I’ve said before that I’d never tell anyone. I know were I to speak of your body or put your virtue to question, your husband will have me killed for certain. But, you cannot blame me for wanting another bite after I’ve had a taste.” He leaned in and whispered, “I can still taste your cunt on my tongue at night. Your moans and orgasms haunt me in my dreams; the image of your naked body contorted by pleasure drives me to madness. The mere thought of having you for a moment leaves me in agony.”

“Then I’ll leave you to wallow in your agony,” you said scornfully, then stormed from his presence.

You moved through the crowd until you found Otto. He’d been speaking with another lord when you turned up at his side. You did not let him see the embers burning inside you, but instead gave him a small smile and linked your arm with his. Your husband noticed nothing wrong as you joined in the conversation, giving your opinions and listening intently. When the lord excused himself, you turned your attention to him. Daemon might still be lurking by, watching and observing you from afar. You wanted him to see that you had no desire for him, despite what your guilty pleasures may say.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you today,” you said, holding his hands as he rubbed your knuckles.

“Yes, funerals have that effect on people. I’ll admit I have thought about it myself.”

“And it’s made me think,” you grasped them gently, “Of what life might be like without you, Otto.”

“Oh, dearest, we mustn’t dwell on such matters.”

“I couldn’t stop imagining how lonely and cold our bed would be,” you stood closer to him, dropping your voice and giving it that suggestive tone, “And how I’d never feel your touch again. I think about the sheer despair I’d feel at never kissing your lips or having you inside me again-”

“-Rosebud,” Otto chortled, lifting your chin with his finger, “We are in nosey company.”

“I don't care. I wish to show my lord husband exactly what I’d do if it were his last night in this world.” You clasped your hand in his, “Would you care to walk with me, love? Walk with me somewhere that nosey company cannot follow?”

He smiled, “What sort of husband would I be if I declined such an innocent request?”

You led Otto right past Daemon, who watched you both walk down the staircase and onto the beach. It was rare for you to be so close to sandy shores. You did not leave the Keep much, since everything you needed was inside the castle’s red walls. The sea air blew through your gown, making you shudder, and you deeply inhaled it. Your arm around Otto’s elbow, you both talked while walking further and further from the party. Once you were hidden behind sand dunes and grass, Otto placed down his cloak and rested on it with you.

You said nothing as you straddled and kissed him slowly. His mustache and beard tickled your upper lip and chin, but it flared up your arousal still. You imagined the places that beard could scratch and tickle while he kissed you. His hands went around your back, smoothing up the back of your dress and grabbing your backside. Layers of skirts and small clothes kept his hands from caressing your bare ass, and you could tell it made him even hungrier for you. You rolled your tongue over his lips until they opened, his tongue entering your mouth to explore and brush yours. The touch of his tongue made you moan, and grind your sex against his crotch.

“Let me see them,” he moaned between kisses. “I’d want to see them before I went.”

Your lips kissed his neck while he hastily untied the back of your dress. The loosening fabric brushed on your nipples, exciting you further, and you immediately pulled it from your shoulders and arms. You purposefully wore an underbust corset, so your husband merely tugged down the collar of your chemise to expose your breast. The mixture of the cold wind and your arousal made them harden more, and only Otto’s mouth warmed them again. You moaned softly as he sucked and flicked his tongue over each of them. You continued rocking your hips to his, occasionally stopping when you felt an orgasm approaching. It occurred to you then exactly how long it’d been since you last pleasured your husband. With your son to worry about, your various duties as a wife, and Otto’s demanding position as Hand of the King left you both little time alone. You fondly recalled your first night with him, and all the sensual and passionate ways he made love to you.

“Do you wish to fuck them, my lord husband?” you whimpered when he gave one nipple a hard suck, “The way that you used to like?”

“Oh, how happy that would make me.”

Giving him one last kiss, you went down his body to his belt, where you unbuckled and removed it easily. Moving his tunic flaps aside, you found the strings of his breeches and untied them slowly. You occasionally brushed your hand over the large bulge his cock made in the fabric, trailing your fingers over the wet spot his precum made and giving it a small lick. You never forgot how good his cock tasted, and what pleasure you got from simply holding it in your mouth. Soon, you pulled them down and took out his throbbing member. You loved the length and girth of him. Nothing else compared to your husband’s lovely cock: not Emely’s deft fingers or tongue, not your own fingers or the pillows you grinded into during those lonely nights. You flicked your tongue over the hardening, red bulb of his tip, sliding over the underside and up to the beads of precum dripping from the hole there. Otto gave a low groan as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. You gave his tip gentle kisses while your pussy pulsed between your legs. Pinching one of your nipples instead, you took his head in your mouth and hummed softly. Inch by inch, you brought his smooth shaft into your mouth and rubbed it over your tongue. His precum spilled further into your mouth, and you used it to wet his cock. Otto glanced down right as you spat on his dick and stroked him languidly. Getting your nipples as hard as possible, you knelt up slightly and placed his dick between your breasts. Pregnancy had made them swell, so they’re larger than the first time he fucked your tits, and he loved this even more. You licked and sucked the tip whenever it came up through your cleavage, spitting and wetting it so it went faster. Otto soon took hold of both breasts and pumped himself between them. You giggled at his eagerness, knowing fully well he’d explode over them if he went on too long. Though, this stopped when his thumbs grazed your sensitive nipples and had you whimpering.

“Your cunt,” he breathed, stopping his thrusting and moaning when you greedily licked up the cum he fed into your mouth, “I want it now. I want to fill it, and keep filling it until my seed quickens there. I want you round and swollen with another child.”

“So my breasts get even larger, husband?” you smiled knowingly, lifting your dress as you sat back into his lap.

“So Prince Daemon understands that you are mine,” he growled, aligning himself with your body and gradually pushing to your entrance, “And only mine.”

“Otto…” you whined, trembling at the touch of his cock sliding up and down your soaked sex, “I’ve always been yours. Always. Even if you left this world tomorrow, I’d be yours.”

“And I’ll always be yours, my sweet rosebud.”

With that loving pet name, he plunged into you. Finally, you felt complete and full. You loved the sensation of his width stretching you; your body and his finally connected, so your hearts did as well. Placing your hands on his chest, you rocked yourself back and forth with him buried inside you. You could feel your clit brush his pubic bone, and his hands grasping your ass underneath your skirt. He raised it up to your waist, and laid a sharp smack on your buttock. The sting sent a shiver of pleasure that added to the cock pushing into your sensitive core. He grabbed both cheeks for a light squeeze, and you whimpered as he encouraged you to start riding him. He kept his hold on them while you bounced your hips on him at a steady pace. Otto’s lips latched to one of the breasts above him, and his swirling tongue rolled back your eyes. When you sat upright, Otto cupped both your tits and let them bounce in his hands while you rode him.

“Look at you,” he breathed, pinching both your nipples while thrusting up into you, “So beautiful with these breasts exposed in my hands and your cunt gripping me tightly. I truly never tire of you, my love.”

“I would…would hope not,” you replied breathily, going nearly mad from the pleasure he gave you, “I love your cock too much to-Ah, Otto! Otto, yes, just like that!”

He leaned you back, lifted your dress to see your pussy being filled by his cock and went faster. The new angle had his tip pressing into that spot that had you seeing stars. It heightened when his thumb started grazing your swollen clit, spreading your combined juices together and rubbing over the folds and nub. You came suddenly, your body shuddering and quaking from the cock and fingers working you relentlessly without mercy. You heard the obscene sounds of a wet cunt sliding its juices over a throbbing, wet cock. Head falling back, your moans were only drowned out by the crashing waves nearby. Otto did not stop, however. He rolled you onto your back, lifted your legs to his shoulders, and pounded his hips into yours. You continued stimulating your sensitive clit while he used your sex to finish.

“Cum inside me,” you squealed when he took control of your clit once again and went rapidly over it, “Please, love. I want it inside me.”

Your whimpering pleas brought him to climax right away. Eyes closed and mouth falling open in a long groan, he kept himself hilt-deep as you felt a warmth slowly surging there. He gave a few short strokes to get every drop into you, then finally stopped. Otto remained over you a few moments, catching his breath and pecking your neck before sliding out. The both of you laid there for a while, still half dressed and gathering your breath. You did hope you had another child. You’d love to have a large family like your own, but you knew that’d be asking much of your husband.

Soon, you both straightened yourselves back up and soon returned to the castle with a stickiness dripping from your thighs. Otto kissed your cheek, as he always did when near company, and spoke quietly.

“I must go find my grandson before he makes a fool of himself,” he said, “Perhaps you could go on ahead to bed? I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek in return, “Hardly, so I will eagerly await your return…” you leaned closer and whispered, “Naked, if you so wish.”

“You’re truly an insatiable nymph, aren’t you?” he teased, kissing your knuckles when he took your hand.

“If you wish to see me swollen with a babe inside me, you’ll need to be thorough and certain I’ll have another, won’t you?”

“When you put it that way, I suppose you must be bare for me.”

You kissed his cheek once more, then slipped from his grip. Walking back to your bed chambers, you enjoyed the slippery feeling of your thighs sliding together. It didn’t matter if his fluids came out now, he’d have all night to replace them. You caught sight of Prince Daemon leaving the party in the direction of the beach, walking beside his niece, Princess Rhaenyra. For a brief moment, he looked over his shoulder to see you passing him. In a single glance, he knew where you’d been and what you’d done, and smirked. You ignored him and kept on walking to your private chambers.

Then stripped out of your clothes, put on a bit of perfume and waited eagerly for your husband to return.

****

Tagged: @leniabranch @compra-se-livros my fave otto lovers <3 hope this makes up for the Otto Drought lmao

#otto hightower #otto hightower smut #otto x reader #otto x you #otto x yn #otto smut #house of the dragon #hotd otto #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction

128 notes · View notes