#BUT MY HEART IS HEAVY AND MY HOPE IS GONE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kihyunsflavor · 4 hours

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Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, infidelity, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in her guest room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief, and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed; you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

#feyd rautha #feyd smut #dune part two #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #dune imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fic #austin butler x reader #dune fanfic #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha smut #feyd-rautha x reader #kihyunsflavor

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dearstvckyx · 10 hours

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To My Siblings (Quinn Hughes x Younger!Sister)

Based off:

I hope you don't forget the way I curled up next to you - Watched the airplanes fly across the canvas painted blue - I hope you don't forget the times I told you: I love you

As Quinn leaves Michigan for Vancouver, he can't help but think back on the precious moments he shared with his youngest sibling and his only sister, Rosella. From remembering the times when she used to curled up next to him when she was scared at night because of the “monsters under her bed”, to watching airplanes fly across the sky while laying on the trampoline, and reminding each other everyday, through words, texts or notes, that they love the other.

I hope you don't forget the days we'd climb the backyard tree - Or when we'd see who could go further out at the old beach - I hope you don't forget the song you'd sing to help me sleep

As Quinn still sits in his emptied room more memories of him and his sister are going past in his mind, and his heart aches at the thought of the said memories he and his sister shared. Like the days spent climbing the backyard tree and having their mother scold them, or competing to see who could go further out at the beach when Quinn had let you win, and somehow she always knew when Quinn couldn’t sleep so she would sing songs to him, quietly and terribly, to help him.

Every day you're gone, I hope the mеmories stay as strong - The years go passing by and suddеnly it's been too long

And as Quinn leaves Michigan for Vancouver, Rosella watches him go with a heavy heart and tears in her eyes. She clings desperately to the memories they have together, hoping they will remain just as strong without his presence. And as the years pass by, to when Quinn is The Captain, she realizes how quickly time is slipping away, and the ache of missing her, secretly favorite, big brother only grows stronger.

I hope you don't forget about the time we played piano, making songs up as we went - The special code we used to keep our secrets from our friends - The time we had the same dream and thought that it was meant to be

As Rosella sits, alone in her older brother’s lake house, she is holding on to the memories that she shares with Quinn. She remembers the time they spent playing the piano at their grand parents home, when shee would be doing good and Quinn would be proud just for Luke or Jack to walk by and press a random key ruining the moment. She would be creating the most beautiful songs on the spot, while Quinn would sometimes take over on playing the keys. And the code words and nicknames they used to guard their secrets from their family and friends. or even the crazy night when they had the same dream, and spent all night talking about it. And when they had gone to sleep, Ellen was quick to snap the picture of her Oldest and Youngest cuddled up to one another.

I hope I don't forget the games we played at 2am - Or lose the drawings from the book, I've kept them ever since - As I move out, and you're still here, I pray that nothing ends - I hope I don't forget about you

And going back, to when Quinn is preparing to leave home for Vancouver, he thinks, once again, about the memories with his sister. Like the late-night games they would be playing in the darkness of 2am when everyone else was asleep. Quinn opens a binder, that was under his bed, that reveals the drawings they had made together. Now, as Quinn looks up around his emptied room, he has finally realized, that they are no longer little kids. That he will be playing for the NHL whilst his little sister will be going to college.

And as he prepares to leave on the plane to Vancouver, he hugs his sister once more, and hopes that the memories of their time together will stay with her always, a reminder of the love and connection they've shared.

a/n: I really hope you guys like this, I also do wanna note that, I did get a writer block and had some ideas generated from “Deep AI.” But this is all mainly me and my writing.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x sister!reader #luke hughes #jack hughes #ellen hughes #hughes!sister #nhl fanfiction #Spotify

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totallyunidentified · 2 days

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Friendly Fire

This is the longest thing I've written yet.

I started this right after episode 14 came out early Wednesday morning.

Enjoy my little Echo ficlet/Prophecy

HEAVY SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 14 OF TBB SEASON 3

When they finally make it inside Tantiss, Crosshair's hand is shaking worse than ever. He had tried everything he could to not return only for his worst nightmare to happen. He’s back and Omega was there because of him. Because of his misfire. He had hoped that he wouldn't have had to even talk about Tantiss again but here he is. They run through corridor after corridor simply taking out whatever stormtroopers they come across, they can’t afford anything going wrong.

“We have to find Echo!” Crosshair calls to Hunter and Wrecker as they keep up their search. They had gone completely com silent so they have no idea where the reg could be.

Emeri had led Echo to the vault. Despite her warning him, he’s shocked at the conditions the children are being held in.

They walk in together and another female doctor walks up to Emeri looking at her with thinly veiled disdain

“Doctor Karr you are aware that stormtroopers aren't allowed in the vault with the specimens. I shall have to report this to Dr. Hem-,”

Before she can finish her sentence Echo is astounded when Emeri pulls her arm back and knocks out the other doctor in one hit.

“I guess you really are a clone!” He comments as she uses the incapacitated doctor’s datapad to turn off all the security measures.

Omega, seeing Emeri take action, immediately jumps on top of the medical droid and reprograms it telling it to shut down. She then jumps off and rejoins the other children moving to stand between them and the man in a stormtrooper uniform in front of her.

Echo sees Omega standing in front of four other children as if she's guarding them. She’s watching him suspiciously and he realizes he’s forgotten to take off his helmet.

“Echo!” Omega almost sobs before throwing herself in his arms. When he wraps his arms around her, Omega notices he has two hands holding her. When he lets go she grabs his robotic hand and twists and turns it trying to get a better look at it.

“This is new,” Omega comments and starts to ask but Echo just shrugs.

“It grew back on its own,” Echo says with a straight face making Omega arch her eyebrow at him.

“Suuuure” Omega says, rolling her eyes and grinning at him. She turns to Emeri,

“So you finally decided you wanted to help us?”

Emeri looks down at the floor frowning and then back up at Omega

“I- I am a clone like you. I realize my actions have been counter to what I should have been doing, but I swear I’m ready to do better” Omega smiles at her and gives her a quick hug, shocking Emeri

“I have…never gotten one of those before.”

“Better get used to it” Echo quips, turning to the rest of the kids in the vault.

“…Hello. Are you guys ready to get out of here?”

The kids look at each other and nod apprehensively. The Pantoran girl holding the baby moves closer behind the green boy, hiding.

“We’re just kids, how are we supposed to help get us out?” she asks in a quiet voice. She's scared, they all are. Echo can see clearly. He remembers a similar situation on Kamino; while these kids weren’t soldiers, they still had something about them. Echo just had to make them see that.

Echo kneels down to see eye to eye with the kids.

“You guys are here because there’s something special about you right? Even the Imps could see it. They needed you for a reason, just like right now I need you to be brave. I need you to have courage. Be strong. You have the hearts of clones and the strength of the Jedi. Whatever it is that makes you special was in their blood and is in your blood. It’s in Omega’s blood, which I'd say is close enough to make you honorary clones. You aren’t some helpless children, you are strong and have heart! Now we need to get out of here!”

Echo starts to herd all of the kids plus Emeri to the doorway to get them out of there.

“Wait!” Omega stops Echo. “I know a way we can get out of here. I have a distraction planned.”

”Do you?”

“Uh huh. The Zillo beast that they have in one of the containment areas, we can free it and let that distract the rest of the base.”

Echo just stands there for a moment and grins “You know, you remind me so much of someone that it almost scares me. He came up with these hair-brained schemes all the time too”

Omega stands up just a little straighter. “He sounds like fun”

“He was.”

Echo turns to Emeri “You take the kids to the hangar and wait for us there.”

“Ok I’ll try. Come along, we have to hurry!”

They run out of the vault together before Emeri points Echo and Omega in the right direction to go before urging the children to walk faster in the other direction.

As they run to the Zillo beast enclosure, Omega can't help but ask,”Where are the others?” She fears the worst but is relieved when Echo slows, “They are here…somewhere. We've gone com silent since we got here,” Omega nods at this, understanding the need to be untraceable. They fall into silence as they run through hallway after hallway with no interruptions.

“After this…I want to be done. I want to find somewhere even more remote than Pabu and just stay there. Maybe we can find wherever Cut and Suu went! You and Rex can even join us. I'm sure Hunter wouldn’t mind,” Omega says to break the silence.

“...Omega, We-”

“You have your mission, I know. I just want us to all be together again.”

“Rex and I won't be done until all our brothers are free. If I'm honest even after that I don't know if I'll stop fighting for what I feel is right. There are the makings of a larger rebellion against the Empire, maybe I'll join them. I’m a soldier, ’Mega, it’s what I’m made for.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Listen, after we get you out of here we can talk more about it but we need to find the beast and your brothers first.”

Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker knew that they needed to find Omega then Echo, and fast. They run through the hallways and corridors turning corners and shooting the stormtroopers with barely a second glance. “Nothing from Echo?” Crosshair asks yet again. “Nothing!” Hunter answers as the men keep running, finding fewer troopers as they get deeper into Tantiss. Echo guides Omega through the halls keeping his new hand on her shoulder, his real hand holding his blaster.

Crosshair is starting to panic. Omega is nowhere to be found and Echo hasn't checked in yet. He must have gotten off the ship and be somewhere in the facility.

Omega and Echo are running towards a corner.

Crosshair comes to a T in the hallway

They turn the corner.

Crosshair sees a stormtrooper with a blaster in one hand and Omega grasped by the shoulder in the other.

Crosshair acts on instinct and doeswhat he had been doing the whole time they were running through Tantiss.

His sister is in danger again. This time he wouldn’t fail her.

His aim is sure and his hand steady as he immediately raises his rifle.

The stormtrooper raises his hands as if to try and stop him but Crosshair has had enough, he briefly notices the strange stiffness of the trooper’s right hand but his mind is moving too fast to stop on that thought.

He just wants to get Omega, find Echo, and get back to Pabu

He wants to leave Tantiss and blow the place to the Maker.

All these thoughts run through his head in a split second.

Crosshair does what he does best: he shoots.

And this time. He doesn’t miss.

Hitting Echo in the chest. Directly over his heart.

Crosshair watches the stormtrooper collapse.

Omega screams and pushes Crosshair away when he runs to grab her.

He doesn't understand.

Until she takes off the stormtrooper’s helmet.

Crosshair can only watch in horror as Echo’s face is revealed. Somehow he is even paler than before. He lies on the ground and Omega puts her hand over his wound desperately trying to help.

All three clones rip their helmets off, dropping them to the ground.

When Crosshair tries to step forward to try to help, Omega yells at him to just stay back. She sits on the ground beside Echo, he’s practically in her lap

Just this once Crosshair wishes that his hands had shaken.

The one time he wished he could have…Crosshair didn’t miss.

Echo knows he isn't going to make it.

He can’t help but chuckle to himself over the way that this had occurred. It sounded all too familiar to what Rex had told him so long ago on Anaxes after he had been brought back.

Rex walks into the room where Echo is getting a final look over by Kix and the other medics. Echo looks up at his captain, his brother. “Finally decided to tell me huh?” Rex can only nod and raises his hand to the back of his neck, his nerves all over the place. “Echo listen, I-,” Echo puts his hand up stopping him. “I know. You can tell me how but it won’t make a difference. He’s gone. He would've been here if he wasn’t. Just, just tell me he went down fighting,” Rex grimaces and brings his hand down putting it on his shoulder. He makes eye contact with Kix who moves to clear everyone else out of the room before leaving himself. “You know Fives, was there any other way?” Rex and Echo chuckle remembering Fives’ personality. “Tell me Rex…” Echo says seriously after a moment. Rex sighs but moves to sit next to Echo on the bed. “In the end…Fives didn’t die on the battlefield. I’m sorry Echo, but he was killed by a brother. By Fox. At the time we had no idea about the chips, but somehow Fives found out. We- I didn't believe him, I was there when it happened and he- well he died in my arms,” Rex says this without looking at Echo. When he finally does he sees Echo’s face not filled with anger as he suspected, but with sorrow? Even a bit of pity. “It isn't your fault Rex. You had no way of knowing, not even the Jedi knew and they were supposed to know everything.” Rex had looked at him and nodded. Echo had wanted to say more but couldn't, internally reeling about how Fives had been killed by a brother, and how he had died assuming he was the last domino to fall.

Returning to the present, Echo’s eyes focus back on Omega and her hand on his chest. Once again reminding him of another blond clone who had left their handprint on his chest.

Echo’s eyes move across the room and land on Crosshair, who can’t even look at him. “Hey Cross… I’d say that intel earned your hug.” And suddenly all the men are surrounding Echo and Omega. Crosshair has his hand on Echo’s scomp. He leans over and puts his forehead to Echo’s and whispers “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I would've done the same thing,” Echo says firmly and hopes that Crosshair believes him.

Crosshair can’t look at Echo as he stands up and turns away from him, wiping his hand across his eyes. Erasing the tears that Crosshair would refuse to say came. Hunter and Wrecker can’t even say anything. It’s Eriadu all over again. This time they are in a medical facility without their medic, and they can’t do anything to save Echo. Both take their turn to say goodbye and to put their own foreheads to Echo’s as the tears stream down both their faces. They’d gotten so used to crying around each other they barely even noticed it anymore. Unlike Crosshair who was still hiding his face.

Omega looks up just above where Echo is lying. Tears streaming down her face she swears she feels a familiar presence, one she had felt years ago as a young child back on Kamino. She looks back down at Echo who is looking at the same spot, a slight smile on his face.

“Took you long enough you Di’kut,” Echo chuckles wincing. “You know, Fives, I never thought I'd be the last Domino to fall. Can’t say I’m glad for it.”

Omega is the only one to hear this. Her other brothers stay back knowing that there is nothing they can do. She looks at them, scared, “Who is Fives?” The men all freeze. They all feel their stomachs drop. She looks back down towards Echo who is already watching her. The rise and fall of his chest is slowing. “Vod’ika, I-I’m… I don't want to go but, My brothers, they’re here. Fives, Rose, Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait, 99... They say I can march with them.” Echo’s eyes are glistening, unfocused. He wants to go with them but he has so much to do here. Omega can see his struggle and pushes her feelings away.

“It’s ok Echo. You are done fighting, you can march with them. We will be ok.” Omega’s eyes are full of tears but she doesn’t let them fall. She lays her head on Echo’s chest holding his hand in one of hers and putting the other hand on his chestplate. Feeling as his breaths grow shallow, his heartbeat slows and eventually fades away. Echo’s hand slowly lets go of Omega’s but grabs onto his twin’s. Echo barely notices the lack of metal weighing him down as Fives helps him up, grinning as he pulls Echo into a hug before he turns and leads Echo away with an arm around his neck.

Omega looks up at Echo’s face. She doesn't think she ever saw him look this peaceful before.

The final domino. Fallen. But rising to join his brothers as they march on to forever.

#the bad batch #star wars #bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb spoilers #tbb #tbb season three #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb tech #tbb echo #arc trooper echo

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desswright29 · 3 days

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Intomba: Young Love

A/N: Hey Yaw! I know I been gone but I been busy. But I’m here now and I come baring gifts lol. For some reason this story is really close to my heart. Like I LOVE reader and Shuri! I combined my love for Angst with my love for a pretty love story and I hope you guys love it as much as I’m enjoying writing it.

Word Count: 9.6k

Pairing: Shuri/Reader

Contains: Friends to lovers, underage kissing, Love story, Angst, Struggle, Prison Shuri, manipulation, No smut for now this isn’t a smit heavy fic. There will be but I just wanted to write a story.

“Oh,God! Oh My God! I can’t believe it!” Bound to her wooden floors, her eyes locked onto mine. Stunned I should guess. Was it from my hardened appearance, or did my presence in general offend? I couldn’t have known. As our gazes lingered upon eachothers, I couldn’t help but notice after all these years, her eyes were still filled with a certain purity, guiltlessness, innocence. A simplicity, that I hadn’t been blessed to be in the presence of for a long time. Eight years to be exact. I couldn’t help but feel unworthy of it’s presence. Breaking our stare, I look down at my feet as they shuffle from side to side. Self-consciousness trickling through my veins as I continue to feel her gaze.

“I-I know I didn’t call. I didn’t have a number, only this address. I could find somewhere el-“

My body froze as I suddenly felt her body come in contact with mine. Rushing into me, she throws her arms around my neck. She trembled against me, and my eyes shut tight. The warmth of her embrace sending shock waves to my system. My arms remaining at my sides my mind not quite computing how to engage with the softness of this embrace. As my eyes remain shut I feel her pull away and soon after, fingertips gently caress each my cheeks. Slowly sliding from my cheeks, down my neck, and down my arms. She traced the art that now shadowed my caffeinated skin. “It’s really you.” The words pour softly from her lips, and I open my eyes slowly looking down at her lovingly.

“I’m not so sure about that.” I whisper, my eyes glazing over allowing her to continue surveying me as we stand in her doorway. Those eyes, they lift from my arms back up to my own, brows furrowing as she searches for meaning. I can spot the exact moment she finds it. Grabbing my hand, she lightly tugs at my arm guiding me inside of the small apartment. Once the door closes behind us, her arms wrap around me once again.

I grip onto her, hands shaking as they grip onto her waist. I can feel the dam about to break. But, She still knew me. She could feel it, smell it on me. Her hand gently rubbed my back. “It’s ok. You’re safe now Shuri.” And with no urge to fight,I close my eyes allowing the tears to flow as I breath her in, head buried into her neck. It hits like a wave, my body shaking with sobs as my knees went weak, and we sank to the floor. “I’m sorry Shuri. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She sits in the center of the floor, my head on her bossom as her hands delicately stroke the top of my head; allowing me to release emotions that hadn’t been safe for me to release for eight years of my life.

And that’s who she was to me. My Amanzi, My water. When life would suck me dry. I ran to her and she replenished me.

I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself. I’m Shuri. Now a days they call me Qamata. But, we’ll get into that later. I should explain what’s happening here. As i’m sure you’ve guessed, I’d just been released from prison, for what had supposed to have been a ten year bid. I got out in eight on good behavior. I was just a kid when I went in. 18. And there I was at 26 able to carry everything I owned in a paper trash bag. I remember feeling low. The equivalent of garbage. Cast away.

However, I wasn’t the delinquent youth that I’m sure you all are picturing. Far from it. I was top of my class. Dual enrollment. I’d graduated highschool at 17 as valedictorian, and having already secured a bachelors degree from the most prestigious university in Wakanda; where I would’ve finished out my education in Network engineering and computer science, had everything gone the way it was supposed to. But, Bast did it not. At a point in time I despised this life that I chose. It had taken the person I loved most in the world away from me. My brother.

At a point in time my father was the most feared man in the place we call The Bricks. His name was T’Chaka, they called him Uthixo. God Father. Pretty self-explanatory. He peddled his poisonous products to our community without remorse. Not a single regret. He was merciless, cold. So much so that he’d killed his own brother in cold blood after finding out that he was consorting with the enemy. Turned out my uncle N’Jobu, had been being held captive. Working for them under the pretense that his families lives would be taken. My father knew this. He still killed him, stating that N’Jobu was a liability. That was my father. His carelessness eventually cost him and my brother their lives. They were killed the same day. Their bodies riddled with bullets. My father and brother dangled from light poles on display like trophies.

T’Challa, my brother, he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t wanted that life. And neither did I. My mother, myself, and my sister were exiled in a way. Shunned into dilapidated buildings struggling to make ends meet. My mother fell sick, and my sister was useless. She sold her body, and the proceeds went to her poisonous habit. She’d had three children since then that ended up mostly under the care of my mother. So as soon as I was of age I began to work in the mines. It was hard back breaking work for anyone, especially a teenage girl. But, it was my only option. My name. My Fathers name preceded me wherever I went. I worked hard to turn it around. And I began to succeed.

I am a certified Genius. If anybody was going to get us out of The Bricks. It would be me. But, Love. Love makes us silly, Ngaba akunjalo (Does it not)? I took one look at that pretty chocolate skin. Those big Doe eyes, and that big gravity defying hair and fell into a deep bottomless pit of eternal love….In love with you Sthandwa Sami. The girl who saw me hoarding my food from the cafeteria to take to my niece and nephews; even though I myself was by every definition of the word starving. So you started packing me a lunch everyday. Making me eat it infront of you. Stubborn Haha. The only person in the world who could tell me what to do. If only I’d known that that was only the begining of the things you’d be to me.

In all of my life, there were only two constants. Tragedy. And You. I remember the day everything changed. The day I knew I was in love with you.

Your buttery brown skin saturated with the suns rays blessed Shuri’s vision. Sitting across from her, a beauty that had changed the trajectory of her exsistence. Physically, you were a goddess to young Shuri, yes. It was apparent in the way she incessantly stole glances. Bast’s light shining on you making your skin, the shade of nutmeg, gleam like pyrite stone. Eyes like buttered chocolate, swirled with caramel crescent moons. Your juicy lips appearing as though they’re dripping in manuka honey. Big curls sat atop your head like a crown. Unapologetically kinky, defying earths gravity.

However, it was more than tangible for Shuri. Deeper than the eyes would meet. Your beauty was the flower be-speckled in the thin light of dawn. But, it was also the volunteer in a soup kitchen on a holiday missing their own family meal. It was majesty and self-sacrifice, it was all of the wonders of the natural world and our spiritual wholeness. It was the embodiment of the love God had for her people. For who are we to be blessed to walk amongst such an ethereal beauty.

“Shuri? Shuri!?” Shuri was startled out of her thoughts, sitting up straight in her seat. The pretty girl that had her transfixed, now speaking to her. She cleared her throat trying to play it cool.

“Yea? What’s up?” Scratching the back of her head, she looked down at the books infront of her, trying to avoid eye contact. Her heart heart rate was excelerated, and her face heated, she’d been caught.

“You’re not paying attention.” Finally, her eyes raise. Looking into deep brown orbs she could so easily get lost in. So beautiful.

“Yo. I was listening.” She spoke up defensively slouching back against her chair. Mirroring her actions from across the table, you cross your arms across your chest, squinting your eyes at your friend, cocking your head to the side.

“What did I just say, Shuri?” Shuri’s lower lip disappears between her teeth as she tries to swallow a smile. Her eyebrows raise, and her eyes shift from side to side. Your eyes narrow as the smile broke across her face, her eyes turning apologetic.

“I’m sorry.” She chuckles. Rolling your eyes, you suck your teeth quickly picking up and throwing it across the table at her. She catches it effortlessly. “A pencil?” Her eyes widen in faux shock. “You’re really trying to hurt me.” She says hand coming up to clutch her chest dramatically before a smirk curled her pretty lips.

“Yea, because you’re supposed to be helping me, but you keep zoning out!” Your face scrunches up in frustration. Though you couldn’t help but to admire how cute and dramatic Shuri was. With her perfectly chisled face, pretty lips, and perfect smile. Your tummy tingled a bit as the two of you seemed to get lost in eachothers gaze.

“Shhh!” Shuri’s attention was immediately grabbed by the sound. Her gaze snapping to a young man staring at you two his annoyance apparent, and so was Shuri’s. He’d interrupted a moment of rarity between the two of you everyone knew that Shuri’s annoyance wan much more dangerous than the average persons. The smile was still plastered on her face, her bottom lip now resting between her teeth. You see her glance your way out of the corners of her eyes and you shake your head.

“Shuri..” She turns to you fully throwing her hands up in defense.

“I’m not going to bother him Y/n. He’s absolutely correct. We should act like we have home training? We’re in a library. We should conduct ourselves properly. Yea?” Knowing better, your brow raises a frown distorting your face.

Shuri leans back in her seat a genuine smile plastered on her face, before her gaze returns to the boy.

“He’s safe Amanzi. However, for future references. It’d behoove you to watch your tone when you speak to her.” Suddenly her tone turned serious, eyes steadfast on him, the smirk on her face leisurely becoming a grimace. The boy shifts in his seat clearly uncomfortably. Shuri turned in her chair hunching over placing her elbows to her knees only deepening the stare staring a hole into the side of his face. Quickly closing his books, shoving them into his back pack, he scurries off to find a safer table.

“Ah maaaann! Are you leaving? Don’t goo!” She called after him sarcastically.

“He didn’t even say anything. Why’d you do that?” You chastise her.

“Yea he did. Remember? He said Shh. And it’s not what he said it was the maliciousness

in his tone.” A malicious grin spread across her face.

“Malicious- Girl.” You roll your eyes as laughter erupts from her throat. “We’re sorry!” You call after the boy.”

“Speak for yourself, thando” She replies.

You look at her like she’s crazy as she shrugs her non chalance.

“Anyway Shuri. If you’ve had enough of being a bully, could you please help me with this fucking calculus I only made it into this class because of you.”

Shuri’s outdated Kimoyo beads buzz against her wrist and another apologetic look crossed her face. You release an exasperated sigh, slouching down into your chair.

“Put your lip up. It’ll only take a second.”

“Khawulezisa!! (Hurry up)” You say. Shuri’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she see’s the holorgraphic name that appears. With great hesitance she answers the call.

“Challan, I’m at the library.” She answers, irritation seeping from her pores.

“Your Umama, is in the hospital. My kids were unattended for 3 hours.” Shuri’s heart drops into her stomach, immediately sitting up straight in her seat. Concern instantly crosses your face your back also straightening.

“What are you talking about?” Shuri could feel her heart racing in all of her pulse points while she waited for her sister to give her more details.

“Some complication with the cancer. I don’t fucking know. She’s good, but the kids haven’t eaten all day!” Shuri could feel her body began to heat up with rage.

“ChaCha! Feed them! They’re your kids! I don’t have time for this shit! What hospital did they take mother too?” A long suck of the teeth comes from the other end of the call and Shuri’s jaw clenches.

“What’s going on?” You mouth from across the table, and Shuri holds up a finger.

“If I had something to feed them with you think I’d be talking to you about it!” Shuri’s shut tightly as she counts backwards from 10 to try and calm herself.

“I don’t have any money Cha. Tell me where they took my mother.” She reiterated, rubbing a hand down her face, slouching against her chair once again. Your eyes never leave her watching her every movement.

“You’re lying. You always have money.”

“I have a job Cha…You should try one. I’m only 16. Im not a fucking millionaire. I’m making enough for bills, and food for me and mother. We’re barely scraping by with that. For some inexplicable reason, I’m still waiting for you to let me know where they took my mother Cha, I’m loosing patience.”

“She’s at General…You don’t care about your nephews and niece eating?”

“Just stay at the hospital. I’ll get them something when I get there.” Shuri hangs up in her face. Standing to her feet, and you begin stuffing your belongings into your book bag hurriedly. Shuri’s eyebrows furrow as she watches you.

“What are you doing?” You look up at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Coming with you to the hospital. Duh.”

“No. You need to stay here and finish studying. You’re exam is tomorrow.” Your head jerks back a look of offense taking over your face.

“Shuri get your shit together so we can go. Don’t play with me.” You finish putting away your things, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

“Stubborn.” Shuri huffed a small laugh, while doing as you said. You grab ahold of Shuri’s hand pulling her to the exit of the Library. The two of you running out, and hopping onto Shuri’s motorbike. You place on the extra helmet she always kept for you, and hold tightly to her waist before she takes off.

“Umama?” She speaks softly stepping quietly into the hospital room, hand in hand with you, not wanting to interrupt her if she was resting.

“Come on in baby. Im awake.” Ramonda announces her eyes lighting up at the sight of You and Shuri.

There was once a time in her life when her mother stood so tall, so strong. Graceful and elegant. Now she lie weak and frail. It rocked Shuri to her core everytime her eyes rested on her mother for too long.

“Umakazi! Umakazi!” The pitter patter of little feet followed the sound of little voices as they came crashing into their aunt, hugging onto her legs as she lowered herself wrapping them all into her embrace. You smile as you walk over to her mothers bed placing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Y/n, it’s good to see you.” She says lightly squeezing your hand.

“It’s good to see you too. I wish it was under better circumstances ofcourse. How are you?” A light smile lifting the corner of your lips.

“Blessed, intombi entle.” The smile on your lips widen. She never let her spirits fall no matter the circumstance and that was admirable to you for all that she had been through.

“Bast you all get bigger everytime I see you! Look at you.” A warm smile lingers on your lips as you watch Shuri tickle and interrogate her neice and nephews about their day.

“She loves those babies.” Ramonda chuckles as she watches along with you. You nod

“More than anyone, could truly understand.”

“Hey to you too sister.” Cha says sitting in the corner of the hospital room. Shuri looks up from the children only for a brief second. Still very off out from her and her sisters earlier conversation, but she chooses not to argue as of now. Instead she places a kiss to each child’s head and stands to her feet.

“Hey Cha.” She says before heading over to her mother. Removing your hand from Ramonda’s grasp you step back allowing Shuri access to her mother.

Leaning over her mother, she places a gentle kiss to her foerhead, smoothing her hand over hair, “How are you feeling, mama?” Ramonda looks up at her daughter a weak smile passing over her lips.

“I’m just fine little girl.” Shuri smirks. That was always her answer.

“Yea. Well I’ll let your doctor tell me how true that is.”

“Don’t you go getting all worked up over me now. How are you?” She asked lifting her hand to Shuri’s cheek.

“Worried mama.” Shuri whispers, eyes revealing the truth behind that statement.

“I am ok. My dear, and there’s no need at all to be worried. You have all the strength you need to survive, and not to mention an abundance of knowledge. You are an Udaku. As much you want to renounce that name It holds alot of power. Every once in awhile you’ll need to tap into it.” Shuri didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t like it one bit. Her eyes searched her mothers face a since of dread washing over her.

“Mama? What’s happening what’s going on?”

“I need to head out it’s getting late. Shuri you got cash so the kids can eat?” Cha stands from her seat appearing eager to leave. Shuri stands to her full height, over Cha’s attitude.

“You don’t see me talking to my mama?” Shuri’s face scrunches, and Cha folds her arms across her chest rolling her neck.

“Well like I informed you earlier. My children haven’t eaten all day. So I need to go and get them fed.”

“And since you’re depending on ME to feed them it would be smart of you to wait until I finish talking to mother.” Shuri rebuts

“I don’t have time to wait for you.” Shuri chuckles.

“Oh I’m sorry, is the crack calling?”

“Shuri!” Both you and Ramonda interject reminding her of the presence of Cha’s children.

The doctor enters the room, as Shuri and Cha grill each other from across the room.

“You must be Shuri.” A polite smile graced his face as he approached Shuri his hand outstretched.

“Yes.” She says softly before taking his hand to shake.

“Nice meeting you young lady. I am Doctor W’Kabi. There are a few things that I need to go over with you and your family. Is everyone in the room authorized to hear?” You stand to your feet.

“I’ll head out. Shuri how about you give me the money for the food and I take them downstairs to eat so you all can talk.” Shuri’s eyes soften at the sound of your voice. She nods reaching into her pocket to get her wallet.

“Uh! Excuse you? I don’t know her Shuri! She’s not taking my kids anywhere!” Her eyes land on you looking you over with a condescending stare.

“And I’m not giving YOU money. So it seems we’re at an empass here sister.” The tension growing thicker between the two siblings. Shuri’s eyes squinted, her legs slightly parting as she locked her fingers together at her hips. Cha’s nostrils flared as she looked back and forth between you two.

“Girl fuck you.” You immediately step forward..

“Uh uh, that’s enough. You may not know me but I know that Shuri is constantly sacrificing to help you feed your own children and your not about to keep disrespecting her in front of me.” Cha smirks stepping forward.

“Little girl, What do you think you’re gonna do?” Yoo step forward as well never being one to back down but Shuri immediately grabs your arm.

“Chill.” She says pulling you behind her. “Cha, this is not a problem you want. Now Y/n is going to take the kids to get food Sonwe can talk to the doctor.” Turning around to face you, Shuri sees that your eyes were still set on her sister. She touched your cheek bringing you back to her.

“Hey, calm down. Just handle this for me so I can find out what going on with my mother.” Your eyes finally land back on Shuri’s face as you calm down. You nod.

“I am. I got it. She’s just disrespectful as hell.” You say mumbling pulling yourself away from Shuri’s grasp and gathering the children. Shuri can’t help but smile a bit as she watches you leave the room. Knowing you would have much more to say. When all of the commotion was finally over Shuri brought her attention back to the doctor.

“I apologize for the disruption Doctor. You may continue.” Shuri looks over at her mother who had been abnormally quiet throughout the hostile exchange. She seemed dazed, just trying to keep herself awake. She turned back to the doctor needing to know what was going on.

“Yes.. Well.” Dr. W’Kabi says moving right along. “Earlier before your arrival we were discussing the current state of the cancer. Unfortunately, it has spread, and it’s becoming very aggressive, taking a major toll on her body. I’m sorry to say it’s only going to get worse from here.” It felt like a punch to the gut, and tears streamed from Shuri’s eyes.

“S-so what do we do? What do we have to do?” Shuri’s eyes glanced over the room. Challan remained steadfast in her spot almost looking as though this was all inconveniencing her.

“We’ve discussed it being best that your mother goes into a hospice facility.” Shuri froze. Her world begining to feel as though it was crashing around her.

“N-no, no, no. W-We can’t afford a facility.” Shuri says through her tears.

“There are low income options that are covered by the state th-“

“I know what you’re talking about, and I’m not letting my mother go there. They don’t give a fuck about those people!”

“Shuri..” Ramonda’s voice came out in a whisper behind her. Shuri turns to her mother.

“No mama. You’re not going there!”

“I-I’m sorry, young lady. Your mother has already allowed your sister to fill out the paper work.” Shuri’s head whipped around again. Confusion taking over her as she stared at the doctor in disbelief. She scanned the room once again her eyes like daggers landing on Cha.

“You did what mama?” She whispered, addressing her mother as she grimaced at her sister. “Cha doesn’t give a fuck about you! You let her sign you into a death trap?!” Her voice now raised, trembling with all of her bubbling emotions.

“You know what. I’m sick of your shit Shuri! I’m the oldest, and I can damn well help take care of mama!”

“Bitch! Your brain is fucking fried you can’t even take care of your damn kids!”

“STOP IT!” Ramonda’s voice carries throughout the room, strong this time making them both freeze as they had a stand off in the middle of the room.

“Doctor could you please give us a moment.” Dr. W’Kabi slightly bows his head as he steps out giving them space to talk.

“As long as the two of you are breathing. I don’t want to hear you disrespect eachother the way you have today. You’re treating one another like strangers and like it or not. The two of you are all you’ve got in this world. So you may not like eachother. But, you better figure out how to love. Do you understand me?” Both of the sisters held their poster. Looking the other over as though they were forever enemies.

“I said do you understand me!” Her vice raises again and the two of them finally answer their mumbled agreement.

“Challan step out.” Ramonda commands as Shuri’s nostrils flare, her breathing excelerated as she mugged her sister as she stormed from the room.

“Alright that’s enough Shuri.” Shuri snaps back around to her mother.

“Mama this is crazy!”

“What’s done is done. It’s my decision and I did what I had to do for you.”

“For me? This isn’t for me mama I need you. What am I supposed to do without y-“

“You’re gonna make it. Is what you’re going to do little girl.” Shuri shut her mouth. As the tears flow.

“I ca-can’t mama. I can’t.” Ramonda’s own tears began to flow.

“It’s time Shuri, and I need you to figure things out.”

“I don’t have anybody else. They’re gonna put me in the system.”

“No. Cha’s of age so I’ve allowed her to be placed as your legal guardian.” Shuri’s eye almost take over her face at this information.

“WHAT! Cha’s supposed to be my guardian and she’s hanging on to her kids by a thread!”

“Let me talk girl damnit….I wish that me and your father did better by all of you. I live in constant regret of the way the lifestyle we chose tore apart our family. What it did to my dear T’Challa.” Ramonda chokes up at the mention of Shuri’s brother who was killed along with her father fighting a senseless gang war. A tear fell from Shuri’s eyes. She missed her brother everyday. “ All of those late nights. The money. The power. And now I have nothing to give. Grief has made me sick in my body. I’ve held on this long for the two of you. Allowing Cha guardianship over you gives you time. And hopefully it will pull you closer again. You’ve been blessed with amazing gifts Shuri. Don’t let struggle over take you. Continue excelling in your studies and you’ll get all of you out of Brick District.”

“Ma- I”

“Shuri.. I’m not asking you. I need you to do this. I understand this is a lot to put on the shoulders of a teenaged girl and I hate that this is the only option. You need to focus. I need to know you hear what I’m saying.Take the curse from our families name.” Shuri looked at her mother her eyes clenching shut. This was it. She was her only way out.

“Yes Umama.” She whispers. Ramonda lifts her hand again raising it to Shuri’s cheek. “I love you child. And I’m so sorry for the life your father and I chose. But, you’ll be better. You’ll be great. Promise me that.” Shuri’s eyes fluttered as she held back tears.

“Yes Mother. I promise.” Shuri says softly.

Shuri leaned down. Placing a gentle kiss on her mothers cheek.

“Come see me as much as you can. I love you. But you’re not going to sit and sulk in this hospital with me any longer. They’ll be taking me shortly.” Shuri broke, she lay next to her mother a moment allowing her tears to fall as Ramonda comforted her. Rubbing her head as she snuggled into the crook of her neck.

“You’re going to be great girl. You’re going to change lives.“ Shuri lay there for a few more minutes before standing to her feet wiping away her tears.

“I love you mama.” Ramonda smiles.

“Go child. I’ll see you soon.” Shuri nods, slowly turning to walk out of her mothers room.

“Oh Shuri?” She calls and Shuri turns once more. “Tell Y/n how you feel.” Shuri’s heart drops into her stomach. Her sexuality had never been a topic of conversation between her mother and her. But, she knew. Of course she knew. This causes a light smile to lift the corners of Shuri’s lips, before she exited her mothers room.

Your head quickly lifts, as the door opens. You stand from the bench that you’d been sitting in, approaching Shuri, concern etched into your face. Shuri takes in her surrounding.

“Where’s Cha and the kids?” The tone of her voice almost broke you. Though her head was held high as she walked out of the room. Her voice gave way to her pain.

“Cha came and snatched them up. So I just came back to wait for you.” You say softly. Shuri nods, as you step forward.

“You ok?” Shuri just shakes her head, stepping forward into your arms. Her’s snaking around your waist, laying her forehead onto your shoulder, allowing her tears to flow. Silently, you wrap your arms around her shoulders lending your wordless comfort.

“Cha signed mother into the counties hospice facility.” She whispered against your neck. Her tears soaking through your shirt.

“What?” It comes out like breath, You were taken aback. Hospice? “Oh Bast. Shuri.” Your eyes welled as you rubbed gentle circles into her back. Her news struck a bit of fear within you. What now? What would happen to her? So many questions went through your mind but now wasn’t the time. You chose to continue lightly stroking her back as she wept into your shoulder.

“I can feel you worrying through your fingertips Amanzi.” Shuri says, pulling herself up. Almost as though it was reflex you reached up placing your hand to her cheek flicking away her tears with your thumb.

“I’m sorry. I-I’m just. What’s going to happen to you?” Shuri sighs her hand coming up to grip the wrist of your hand that cupped her cheek.

“Cha is now my legal guardian.” Your mouth drops.

“Cha? Cha? As in your sister that can’t take care of her own kids? How does that work? Are you going to move with her? What if- “

“Y/n.” She cuts you off with a finger beneath your chin. Her thumb gently pressing against your lips, before it slides down your soft lips. Your body immediately froze. The touch felt so much more intimate than she’d ever touched you before. Your eyes locked on to hers as she spoke to you.

“I work. I’ll figure this out.” You let out a slightly shaky breath trying to cover up how much her touch had effected you.

“Shuri you’re only sixteen. There’s only so much you can handle.” Shuri’s thumb now traced your lower lip and it seemed as though her eyes were focused there before her gaze finally met yours.

“I don’t have a choice.” She whispered.

Your eyes welled. No matter how unfair. She was right. This was her reality. No amount of feeling sorry, or worrying about her was going to change that fact. So you swallow your tears. Looking up at her still wrapped in her embrace.

“And you’ll never go through it alone.” That was a solemn promise that you would forever keep. Shuri’s heart heard it. She nodded slowly. Eyes never leaving yours. It was a silent agreement that you would remain beside her through the thick of it. Little did either of you know there was a pull inside of both of you. To seal your agreement with a kiss. However neither of you wanted to loose the other. And not knowing the others intent caused you both to step out of the intimate embrace. Clearing your throats awkwardly.

“Uh, I should get you home.” You nod in agreement.

“Yea.”

The sun was begining to set as the two of you rode through the city. The two of you taking a short detour to Shuri’s so that she could give you notes for your exam tomorrow. The ride was quiet and peaceful. You held Shuri tight allowing her to process her thoughts. Once at her apartment building the two of you head up stairs. The trip was meant to be in and out, but Shuri would never allow you to be outside alone in her neighborhood. Though yours wasn’t the safest either, she’d never allow you to be hurt on her watch.

Unlocking the door to the apartment, You both step inside, and Shuri hits the the light switch….and nothing happens. Shuri flicks the switch back and forth a few times silently before her shoulders slumps. Her head drops and her eyes shut tightly. Before….

“Fuuuuck!” She hauls off punching the wall above the light switch several times. Her final straw for the day being reached.

“I’m tired! I’m of this struggle shit!” You could see the emotional exhaustion take over her. Her body finally collapsing to the floor and down you went with her. Cradling her head against your bossom.

“I know”, was all you could give. Because after the today there wasn’t much comfort in words. Shuri had been through enough to break most adults.

“You’re not alone Shuri. You’re not by yourself.” You whisper as you hold her rocking her in your arms. The two of you held that position. You hummed to her. Rubbing her head until you felt her breathing slow, her grip loosening around you.

“I should get you home.” You hear her muffled words.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You immediately rebut. Shuri pulls herself away from you, shaking her head.

“No. You need to get home. This is not your problem. I don’t have power or any food. I gave Cha my last few dollars for the kids. I’m tapped out. I’m going to take you home. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get an advance at work or something. It’s only one night. I’ll figure it out.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” You ask.

“I’m not leaving you here alone, and hungry in the dark.”

“And just how do you plan to pull that off. Your mother hates me and my family. You think she’s about to let you have a sleep over at my place.” Shuri chuckles sarcastically. “Anyway, I can’t keep letting you do this. These are my struggles y/n. Maintaining a friendship doesn’t require you taking on my burdens. I would never ask that of you.”

“You haven’t. I’m offering my back to help carry some of the weight Shuri. You can’t do this alone. You were hit with a lot today, and I couldn’t sleep at night knowing your here pretending you don’t have anyone else. I love you, and right now you don’t need to be alone. More than ever you need someone in your corner, and it’s important to me that I’m that person, So let me be.” Shuri’s heart skips a beat as she looks into your eyes, her lip trembling. After the city had shunned her and her family, you’d stepped up. Refusing to lump her into her fathers sins. You and your friendship meant the world to her.

You stood to your feet reaching for her hand pulling her to her feet.

“I’m going to call Nevaeh and tell her I’m going to tell mom I’m staying with her. I’ll get a few dollars from her and some food. We’re going to get some candles and batteried for flashlights and we’re gonna thug this out together. And you don’t have a choice.”

Another tear rolled down Shuri’s cheek as she silently nodded letting out a small exhale. You reach up wiping away the tear quickly before taking your hand in hers.

“Let’s go.”

As of now there were so many words that Shuri wanted to say. So much gratitude she had that she wanted to spill over into you. She battled inside with it, and finally decided to settle on a simple. “Thank you.”

Shuri gets you home. Parking a block away so that noone notified your mother about who you’d been with. Their weren’t many parents who would be fond of their children befriending Uthixo’s daughter. So she steered clear of your mother. Not wanting to cause a riff in your home. So, you ran up to your apartment quickly to grab the things you’d need for the night, as Shuri sat waiting on her bike, under the disguise of the nights darkness.

Thunderous bass reached her ears before the brand new black escalade approaching her came into view. A long sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her eyes, taking off her helmet, swinging a leg over the front of her bike. She sat to the side elbows to knees…waiting.The truck slowly rolled to a stop in front of her. The window rolling down to a smile filled with gold.

“What up lil cuz! I ain’t seen you around these parts in a minute. I thought y’all let them run y’all outta town.” He chuckles. Shuri’s face scrunches up in annoyance.

“N’jadaka.” Her voice was nonchalant. Demeanor calm, as she waited for her older cousin to state his business.

“I can’t check up on family? We are still family. I know Unc didn’t give a fuck about that. But, I do. Y’all been straight? I’ve seen Cha around and she not lookin’ too good.” His eyes appeared concerned but the small smirk on his lips showed his true face. Shuri chuckled unamused.

“Funny…You think we don’t know you’re feeding her the shit that’s got her fucked up?” He finally allowed his smile to break free.

“Ah man baby cuz…See that’s business. She was getting ahold to that shit before I came along. We both know that.” He took a break to take a long drag of a blunt sitting between two fingers. “You a genius and shit right. You know whether I was giving it to her or not she was gon’ find it. Might as well be family.”

In a way he was right. Cha had always been the type to end up in things she wasn’t supposed to. But, that was still no reason to allow her to indulge. Shuri decided to ignore his comments. Choosing silence, hoping that it would speed up this exchange. She wasn’t in the mood.

“Look lil cuz. I know you don’t trust me because of what your pops did to mine and all. Y’all think I’m out to get you and shit. It’s a valid fear.” Shuri chuckled once again now sliding off of her bike choosing to lean against. Shuri held no fear in her heart for N’Jadaka. “But, I want you to know there’s no hostility between you and me. You ain’t have shit to do with that. As a matter of fact with my status out here and your smarts. We could team up. Run the biggest most undetictable operation Brick District ever seen.” Shuri shakes her head a smirk on her face, leaning against her bike.

“You do realize I’m 16 right?”

“Yea. But you mature and shit, and you got heart lil nigga. You ain’t scared of shit. That’s the brilliance of it man. Nobody would suspect you. The genius girl trying to stay under the radar. Trying to denounce her fathers name. No one would ever believe you would get back into this shit.”

“Because wouldn’t.” Shuri says matter of factly, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing her legs at the ankle. Killmonger scanned her. Taking note of her calm demeanor. Not an ounce of fear detected. He smirked. He admired that about Shuri. Young and fearless.

“Wouldn’t you though? I know y’all over there struggling. Your sister has a lot to say when she’s off a bean. You 16 working the fucking mines to keep food on the table. That ain’t no life for a child man.”

“But dealing is?” Shuri’s eyebrow raised as her voice went up an octave. “If you give so much of a fuck why not help us? You’ve got it right?”

“Nah, I don’t give shit for free. Family or not. You earn your keep. Your traitor ass daddy taught me that.”

“Well, I am not my father.” N’jadaka took the moment to lean out of the window. Taking a slow drag, blowing smoke into Shuri’s face.

“Wrong lil cuz. You’re the most like your father. You can’t outrun that shit.” Staring into N’jadaka’s eyes, Shuri bit into her cheeks jaws clenching. Tension building in the loud silence.”

From the corner of her eye Shuri sees you rushing over your bag thrown over your shoulder. N’Jadaka’s eyes follow Shuri’s, a smile spreads across his face.

“That’s you?” Shuri’s eyes cut over to him. Her face warming up slightly.

“What?” Taking notice he teases a bit more.

“That pretty little lady walking over this way. That your girl?” Suddenly the calm demeanor that Shuri wore earlier was becoming a bit less cool.

“What are you talking about?”

N’jadaka throws his head back laughing. He found it. A weakness. “Don’t play coy with me. I know you don’t think you give off you like boys vibes.” Shuri’s face flushed.

“Kiss my ass.”

“She’s a lil cutie.” He chuckles as you approach.

“Hey.” You say to Shuri and Shuri only, as you walk up looking between the two.

“Hey.” Shuri says grabbing her helmet.

“Heeeeey.” Killmonger says a smile taking over his face. You stare at him face upturned in disapproval. He lets out a hardy laugh at this.

“Yea she’s the one for you lil cuz. Looks like you and your lil lady friend got somewhere to be. So I’ll let you go.” He smiles looking you over and then turns his attention back to Shuri. “Remember what we talked about. You know where to find me.” You and Shuri watch as he slowly drives away.

“You ok?” You ask turning towards Shuri.

“Yea. I’m cool. Just N’jadaka being himself.”

“Well whatever that was stay away from it. I know Killmonger doesn’t want anything good from you.” Turning to look at you. Shuri bites her lip nodding her head.

“Yea.” She whispers to herself. “Let’s go.”

The two of you now sat on the bed in Shuri’s room lit by candle light. Studying using a small lantern for light. You’d brung a small wireless speaker that kept a great charge. Soft music played as you two studied and ate the food and snacks you’d snuck from home. Shuri had to admit she was grateful that you’d stayed. With you with her, her struggle didn’t feel so much like struggle. You’d made the night pleasant. The two of you talking and laughing as though this was just a normal sleep over.

“Ok. I think I got it now. I feel confident that I can ace this test now.” Shuri’s eyes lit up as she smiled at you.

“You were always gonna ace the test. You know this stuff.” You smile back at her looking into her eyes.

“Yea.” You say softly. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as music played softly in the background. Shuri layed back in her bed. Closing her eyes her hands resting behind her head. She seemed content in the moment as you looked her over. You recognized that when you looked at Shuri. When you were around Shuri, something felt different. Shuri in the few years you’d know her had grown to be your best friend. However, something about the friendship the two of you had seemed like more. It was weighing heavily on your mind as you continue stealing slight glances at Shuri, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Shuri?” You say breaking the silence.

“Hm?” She reply’s her eyes still closed.

“Do um wh-why…We never talk about crushes and stuff.” You say mentally face palming. Real smooth Y/n. Your heart was pounding and your palms started to sweat a bit. Shuri’s eyes slowly opened as she turned to face you hearing your nerves through the question. She sat up clearing her throat a bit her nerves picking up a bit as well.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I’m just saying that we’ve been friends for awhile, and we’ve never talk about people we like or anything. Is that weird?” Shuri is silent for a moment. Her mind reeling a bit. Where did this come from?

“Uh..I mean yea. I-I guess. Is that something you want to talk about with me?” Shuri’s heart was dropping into her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to the girl she loved about some boy she was crushing on. But, she had to have seen this coming right. This was the cherry on top of a shitty day.

“I don’t know.” You whisper. “But we’re bestfriends, we should want to right?”

“I guess…So do you? Do you like someone?” Shuri didn’t want to know this in the slightest.

“I-I think I do. I’m not sure.” Shuri felt her heart shatter. She nods and for some reason she as much as this conversation was breaking her she’d decided to continue.

“W-who is he?” You shake your head.

“It’s a she.” Shuri’s back straightened her interest fully peaked now. A girl. You liked another girl? Shuri’s heart was now pounding.

“You like girls?”

“I never really thought about it before. But, I do know I like her and it feels like it’s in more than a friendly way.”

“Oh.” Shuri felt like she could cry. You liked girls and you still didn’t see her that way.

“What about you? Is their anyone who’s caught your eye?” Shuri sighs

“It wouldn’t really matter. It’s not like anyone would be interested in dating me around these parts. Maybe I’ll be more experienced when I go to college.” She says softly. You move a bit closer to her grabbing her hand.

“That’s what you really think? That noone is interested?” Shuri nods, she could feel herself falling into a pit. Feeling a bit more alone again. Knowing you were interested in women and yet she still had no chance.

“There’s no one that you’ve been interested in though.” You press a bit. Shuri brings her gaze up studying your face.

“Yea.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “She’s perfect too. More beautiful than I could ever describe. But, like I said she isn’t interested.” A lump forms in your throat.

“A girl? Y-you like girls too?” Shuri smirks slightly. “I’m not sure. But, I know I like her.” She says and the butterflies take over your belly as your gazes lock onto eachother. You don’t know what comes over you but, you can no longer hold your tongue.

“I see the way you look at me Shuri.” She freezes. Heat over taking her body.

“H-huh?”

“The long glances when you think I’m not looking. I see them.” Shuri’s hand begins to shake nervously. She’s left speechless. She has no idea what to say. So you continue. “I-If I’m the girl you’re talking about…I’d say I’m definietly interested. Because you’re who I’m talking about.” You swallow your nerves. Figuring it was now or never. Shuri’s jaw dropped, She felt as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through her veins leaving her momentarily stunned.

She couldn’t lie and say she that wasn’t something she did. She could hardly consentrate around you. Ofcourse at one point or another you would’ve seen her. Now here you were under the glow of candlelight. Your pretty skin lit to perfection. Using those beautiful lips to tell her you felt the same and she couldn’t utter a word.

“I only saw because when you weren’t looking I was stealing glances too. I guess you were too busy thinking no one wanted you to notice.” Shuri finally finds her voice though it comes out soft and breathy. The way her heart was pounding making it difficult for her to breath.

“I-I wanted to s-say something. I just didn’t want to lose you. Y-you’re just so much more than a crush to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You entered my life at the lowest point. My family lost its protector and we were being shunned. Life as I’d known it was over. I thought I’d never know what it was like to love and be loved again. And then this pretty girl with big eyes, and big hair, that always smelled like a bakery came out of nowhere. Dried my tears, fed me, cared for me. The love you have for me gets me through. You rescued me Sthandwa sami. I couldn’t risk loosing you. I don’t even like thinking about a life without you.”

Oh, to be loved. That was the day you felt it. The day you found out what it was to truly feel and be loved. Tears fell from your eyes. Now you were the one left speechless. Shuri reached up cupping your cheek in her hand wiping away your tears with her thumb.

“Y/n?..” Her voice gentle.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“Can I kiss you?” Your heart fluttered as you nod lightly. It was like a gravitational pull, the way your lips slowly found eachothers. A sweet innocent peck placed on one another’s lips. And then another, and then another, until your lips would not unglue. Shuri leaned back into the headboard and you slowly climb onto her lap as her arms snacked around your waist.

And there the two of you found home.

Needing to breathe the two of you part looking into eachothers eyes cheeks warming as you break out into a giggle.

“Wow.” You say. Shuri smiles, her thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your sides as she looked up at you.

“So…Um Would you like to be my girlfriend?” Shuri asked softly still a bit unsure. Still hardly believing this was happening. The smile on your face could’ve lit the night.

“Of course I do.” Shuri bit her lip to contain her excitement. Leaning up to place another gentle kiss to your lips.

“You have to promise me something.”

“Anything.” She says without an ounce of hesitation in her voice.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, I know life is doing a number on you even now. It’s made you have to mature much faster than the rest of us I know. There may not be much that I can do to make things easier for you. But, I can be here. I know one day we’re going to get out of the bricks. We’ll be happy living out our dreams. You’re so gifted I know you’ll have to leave at some point to bring evolution to the world. Even then, if we loose eachother along the way and the world you find brings you hard times, I’ll always be here.” You place your finger onto her chest where her heart thumped loudly. “Wherever I am in the world. No matter how shunned, or ostracized you feel. Know that I love you, not out of any obligation. Simply because I want to. Remember I’ll never be to far for you to come home to. My arms will always keep you safe and warm. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

You poured out your heart as tears streamed from both of your eyes. Her hands gripped tighter against your hips as she shook with emotion. There were no words she could be said to make you understand the security you’d given Shuri with your statement. All she could do was lean forward placing her lips to yours. Inside that kiss you felt her promise.

The two of you fell sound asleep in eachothers arms that night. Your hands pressed delicately pressed against eachother hearts. The next morning Shuri drops you off at school, sending you off with a light kiss and encouragement for your exam. She wouldn’t be going to school today she had to hustle up money to get her lights turned on at home. She went to her job working an early shift seeing if she could get a loan. They were willing but she could get it until the next week. She went home searching for anything of value to pawn. But their valuables had been taken by the police after her father had passed. She was hitting a dead end on all fronts.

Shuri found herself riding aimlessly through The Bricks. Wind blowing through her shirt. Stress weighing heavily on her shoulders. As she rode she found herself traveling a familiar path. One she hadn’t been to since her father was alive. One she vowed to never step foot in again. Her bike came to a stop in front of a massive warehouse. She swore she’d never resort to this life. Now here she was tail tucked between her legs going back to the only life she’d known. She closed her eyes and let out a small breath before taking off her helmet and hopping off of her bike, making her way around the back of the building. She banged on the door hard 3 times, and soon after a latch opened and a pair of eyes appeared through the Judas hole.

“What you need?”

“I’m here for N’jadaka.”

“Who dat?” Shuri rolled her eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about. I’m not calling him fucking Killmonger.” She hears laughter come from the other side of the door.

“Let her in Hemp.” The door opens and Shuri steps in. Topless women cooked dope and men counted racks of money. Flashes of her brother walking down the stairs with his infectious smile went through Shuri’s mind. Her mother strutting through the rows of women making sure the coke was perfectly distributed. Shuri’s eyes scanned over the building until they land on Killmonger. Visions of her father sitting dressed to the nines a cigar placed in between his lips. “You’re my prized possession intomba. I do this all for you.” He would say. She shook off the memories. Her gaze locking onto N’Jadaka’s who sat leaned back in the sitting area, a telling smile on his face. Shuri made her way over to him.

“Little cousin. Here so soon. How can I help you?” Shuri’s jaw clenched a bit. Angry with herself for being here. She stands there quietly. Her eyes looking ove all of Killmongers henchmen. He immediately got the hint. She wasn’t going to speak until they cleared area. He signaled for the men to leave and they all filed out. Shuri threw a glance over her shoulder, before turning her attention back towards him.

“I need your help.” She says m, undertones of defeat in her voice.

“Help? What kind of a help?”

“I need a job…and a loan. I won’t beat around the bush. The mines isn’t cutting it. Mama’s in hospice and Cha’s useless. The lights are out in the apartment and I have to figure out how to keep up with the rent and utilities so they dont suspect I’m there alone, or I’m going into the system.” Her head drops as she bites into her cheeks. “And my girl..I don’t want her to be with a bum. She deserves the best and I want to be able to give it to her.” He leans forward his elbows settled on his knees, as he looks Shuri over.

“Ah..young love. It’s a beautiful thing.” He says pulling out a blunt placing it to his lips before sparking it up. “Sounds like you’re in a bad way….You thought about this? This is really what you want to do?” She nods and speaks.

“I have conditions.” He smirks.

“Ofcourse you do.” Shuri rolls her eyes in response.

“You gotta let me go after I graduate. I want out of all this the day of graduation. I just need this to stay on my feet for a couple of years. And I need whatever you have me do to be low profile.”

N’jadaka nods understandingly. He stands and walks over to a safe entering the code. Once it’s opened he pulls out a stack of money, walking over to Shuri placing the money in her hand.

“That’s twenty thousand. Take that as a welcome to the family business gift.” He says with a smirk. Shuri stared at the money in her hands. She hadn’t seen this much money at once in years. “What do I have to do for this?” N’Jadaka shakes his head aware of Shuri’s distrust.

“I was serious about what I said yesterday. I don’t want you out on the corners. I would prefer that we were partners. That big brain of yours could make us some real money. So for the next two years I’d like for you to be here with me. Help me revamp my operation and graduation day you’re free to live your life.”

“So you want me to be your right hand?”

“Exactly.”

“I get 50/50.”

“Done”

“Minimum visibility.”

“Almost none exisistence.”

Shuri’s jaw clenches in thought as she took in her surroundings. “I’m not getting my hands dirty N’Jadaka. Business operations is my job. I tell you what to do, you pass it along. I come in weekdays when the sun sets and for emergency’s only. Deal?” Killmonger places out a hand to shake, and Shuri takes it.

“Deal lil Udaku. You’re quite the bargainer. I look forward to doing business with you. See you Monday.” Shuri nods. Placing the money into her jacket pockets.

“See you Monday.”

I think back on that day often. Wondering just where would I be if I’d just toughed out the struggle for awhile. But, I didn’t. And that decision haunts me to this day.

That’s where it all began. The day I fell in love and simultaneously ruined my life.

#Spotify #shuri fanfiction #shuri angst #shuri black panther #shuri imagine #shuri fic #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuriri #shuri x you #Letitia Wright

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everysongineverykey · 9 months

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genuinely how can you listen to mother love by queen and not come back a changed person.

#I'M A MAN OF THE WORLD AND THEY SAY I'M STRONG #BUT MY HEART IS HEAVY AND MY HOPE IS GONE #I DON'T WANT PITYYYY JUST A SAFE PLACE TO HIDE!!!#MAMA PLEASE #LET ME BACK INSIDE!!!!!!!!!#not okay.#the way it was the last song freddie mercury ever recorded. it's so #the last words the public ever heard him sing were #'i can't take it if you see me cry / i long for peace before i die / all i want is to know that you're there / you're gonna give me all your #sweet mother love'#and it wasn't even released until 1995. how is anyone normal about this #there's just such an atmosphere throughout the whole song!! it's haunting and heavy and emotional #and it knocks you off your feet!! and brian may filling in on the last verse.#the moment you know freddie's truly gone!!#it's perfect this way. it adds so much

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ziipzeepzop-eez · 6 months

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S'much as I hate funerals, virtual or in person, I'm grateful for the opportunity to see you off.

The losses may be plentiful, but if there's one thing it taught me: it's strength.

Avoidance? Repression? Numbness? A foreign body giving themselves to protect their own.

How much longer will it hurt? It hurts and hurts until it can't anymore. Then, when you feel coherent again, it slams into your side. Your blind side.

Maybe all these things. But I feel strong and coherent right now, if only a little dead, a little broken, a little stop hurting me please inside.

Bless you. Thank you.

I love you.

(I'm sorry we couldn't be there, uncle. Rest gently. We'll honor you the same way you honored our clan.)

#i feel so bad for my dad #and the entire side of the family.#y'know. now that i think about it?#a lot of my people has left the planet within the last couple years than the entirety of my entire life #that had such a heavy impact on me.#rest easy uncle. you were a wonderful man.#cw death #cw death mention #honorable mention #for the ones that have gone ahead of us #wait for us yeah?#give me that hope you promised #lest i split my fingertips digging for a truth from below me #lest i die trying.#zeepie beep and her heavy hard feelings #zeep's heart pours ❤️‍🩹🫗#timeee to update the navi #i always knew i was low maintenance #it was fun while it lasted! 🫡

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the-jam-to-the-unicorn · 3 months

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Because the week wasn't sad enough, there had to be a new Lenny interview that broke my heart a lot more. 🥺😭🥲

youtube

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brawlqueen · 11 months

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triggers: implied abuse, implied neglect.

PERSONALS DNI.

Mizuki route we’re in it now it gives so much subtext / context to Mizuki’s feelings you only truly get here, all of it. Mizuki fully knowing what a family can be, Mizuki grappling with loyalty to her abusive/ toxic family while realizing her family in Date, her truest sense is him, and finally breaking down? Not shying from how much pain no person should bear but she has? And she’s 12 but not diminishing her for it. All of it is laid on the table. It doesn’t shirk away. Personally, it shouldn’t. Mizuki is a fighter and capable of such vulnerability and so, so human.

How she doesn’t stop loving her biological family but recognizes they couldn’t be a healthy family when so much of her route she was in denial and a mixture of acceptance. And then finally that little step in Date’s Somnium Mizuki takes, not him, for herself, to choose him and run towards that ridiculous detective and not him convince her to grasp a healthier environment.. but Mizuki came to the conclusion of her own choice.

And she’ll never forget being an Okiura. A part of her always will be! It’s part of her, erasing that would be wrong. Good and bad things happen, even unspeakable things. It’s still possible in someone’s life. And in the beginning there are implications that things didn’t get to that horrifying point! Still not ideal, but a few precious memories .

Good, bad, traumatic feelings and indescribable feelings… she won’t stop loving them. But she is going to continue her life. She chose to, and that little step changed her life for the better by her own volition. She needs for her sake, to learn herself.

Just one little step but it created the Date family: “ It has to be you.” And Mizuki Date is born, without letting go of Mizuki Okiura. BOTH exist. One is her past to carry, the other her future to grow.

Mizuki chose how she wanted her family to be like, an ordinary family, and how to be treated, not Date, even if his love for her did so much, and I feel I’m going to be writing so many essay like analysis on them and their relationship because it's so crucial to both of them. So much I want to delve into beforehand also and handle it with care, as the topics deserve.

Just.. Mizuki .

#and it wouldn’t have such a beautiful conclusion / hopeful ending if Date had to tell her.#Mizuki did it herself and it’s just handled so beautifully and painfully she is my forever girl favorite #𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 *ೃ༄ seasons change but your heart never fails.#𝐎𝐎𝐂 *ೃ༄ what looks gone but comes back even stronger.#I just feel these insanely heavy topics were handled with such care. Mizuki wasn’t seen as anything but herself #the only healthy way would have been sadly for Mizuki to see how toxic it had all been by herself and still love her parents and still #not forget them still be unsure of her many many feelings #she can’t grow if SHE doesn’t choose much less remotely heal I hope I worded this right #I see Mizuki internally as fragile as she is incredibly brave and strong.#Ugh favorite female character hours every day and I’m not even finished #I don’t want to be finished with her route.#I could play it fifty times and still not fully grasp it or find something new #she’ll always grapple with her feelings that are equally negative and positive about renju and shoko #the topic of abuse is so heavy and I hope I worded Mizuki’s experiences and trauma respectfully #everyone’s is different #abuse tw #this doesn’t mean it’s erased. It doesn’t mean she won’t have habits. but she took a step towards something #and it’s so important that she chose to but it doesn’t /erase the abuse or neglect/ either.#honestly I get a bit worried because this is a big part of her storyline/ life and I want to do it Justice #Not just oh poor Mizuki I don’t want to.. cheapen it?#And I trust my mutuals if I’m not giving my 100 on these topics because ignoring them just.. no.#I want to write the good bad ugly all of it for Mizuki !!!#So please tell me if I leave anything out. Seriously if it’s done kindly I appreciate it! I don’t feel corrected etc

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iicarused · 3 months

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##come back to me

ex!vox x reader / alastor x reader (in reality he stole vox’s bitch)

part i

synopsis: you’re getting tired of the radio demon

beware: heavy yandere aspects, heavy obsession, implications of manipulation, reader just not having a break

whenever he looked at you, gazed upon your form, they were always so gentle. the embodiment of love and infatuation were behind them, as he wouldn’t be able to hide it even if he tried.

alastor won’t lie, he first started talking with you out of spite from his rival. you were in a vulnerable state at the time, and my, did you spill most of vox’s secrets behind closed doors! alastor came to you just to talk heavy shit about vox in hindsight.

although, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t catching a genuine interest in your own stories and interests. it took time but he did fall for the aspect that you are one of a kind: little did he know, you came from the era of his circle. it was like it was meant to be.

“my dear, if you do not want to deal with a rodent like him, give me the word and he will be gone.” “don’t you lift your pretty finger, i will take care of him.” “you’re so cute when you try and take control — we both know he will not listen to your word — it’ll just make him more starved.” this is where you began to hear vox behind his words

they’re were laced and very similar. the contrast was that alastor seemed more confident in his words, almost like he expected you to listen to his statements when there wasn’t a choice. at first, you didn’t want to believe it. the radio demon was far different from the man you called an ex

just like last time, you felt suffocated in your own space. you felt small, but this time you caught the signs before it could go any further. alastor didn’t appreciate that, especially since you took the lead more often.

you had to take a break, just a simple break, even for an hour. you wanted to get as far as you possibly could from that demon for even a fragment of time. husk caught a glimpse of you leaving on a dark night, but he only nodded at you before continuing on with his task.

getting away from one demon was one thing, hiding from two was another. you were fully aware that alastor would know of your absence soon enough, as that cannibal never seemed to sleep. although, you could only stay out of the streets for so long in hopes that vox hadn’t noticed.

you found yourself straying into a bar, for the bouncer happened to be an old friend to let you in even when the place was at max. in the far corner of the building where a busted light hung over your head, never to be replaced or fixed since months ago. your gaze fixated on the shitty drink some guy handed you in the crowd, and it was evidently spiked from how it fizzed.

“and i thought that wretched hotel was your haven.” your gaze picked up to find vox standing over you. he picked at his sleeve. “seat taken?”

too exhausted to care, you beckoned for him to take the seat. “not like today could get any worse.” you pushed your drink to the side, raising a hand before he could speak. “don’t begin on your excuses, not tonight.”

“sweet hells, what happened to you?” oh, how you missed the gentleness of his voice. you missed the way how he gazed at you at this very moment — it was specific and genuine — you never fell out of love with him. just… distanced yourself from it. “i swear to fuck if it’s that demon, i will—“

“vox, it’s fine.” your hand came over his. “it’s whatever, not like you could just get in that hotel without getting tossed across the pentagram.”

those heart pupils that adorned his eyes finally shown, and that’s when you remembered why you had to get away from him. “sweetheart, i don’t understand why you won’t come back to me — come back home where i know you’re safe and well.”

it’s almost like a sixth sense to know that the answer you’re about to give him will result in a temper tantrum. so you decided against it. “i have to go.”

“y/n, please, this is the only time we get to talk, don’t go! i promise to make it better, i—“

he lost you in the crowd.

returning back to the hotel at the dawn of a new day was almost a mistake. a hand came to pinch the bridge of your nose the moment alastor came to your side.

to your surprise, he didn’t ask a thousand questions. instead, he went on with hoping your night out went well and to alert him next time. though, there was a hint of something else behind his tone you couldn’t figure out.

just like any other day, you both gardened the plants that are scattered along the building. making breakfast that involves fresh meat and a fine cup of tea.

is it too late to add that you’re getting used to this? it’s suffocating, yes, but alastor seems to make it more bearable.

#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #vox imagine #vox x yn #vox x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #alastor x reader #alastor x yn #alastor x you #alastor imagine #hazbin alastor

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omgeto · 7 months

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✩ — 4:21am

summary: gojo satoru is a man of his word, and no matter what, he always promised to come home to you.

cw: minor angst, fluffy ending (I PROMISE) this is for all you sad hojoes out there that just want your man home all in one piece.

gojo satoru is a man of his word, and no matter what, he always promised to come home to you. you didn't actually think much of it, until one night, you awake in panic feeling that something's off. you are used to falling asleep as you wait for gojo to come home, but when you check the time and realise that it was later than usual, anxiety gnawed at your heart.

the clock on the bedside table mocks you with its relentless ticking. each passing second only intensifies your unease. you reach for your phone and check for messages or missed calls, but there's nothing. gojo hasn't contacted you since the last heated argument you had before he left for his mission. it's been hours since then.

you can’t even remember what you fought about, it was something trivial, him forgetting to put the milk back in the fridge, or not putting down the toilet seat—it was dumb. it hurts you even more now that the things you were just berating him for a few hours ago, you were begging for him to come back and do one more time.

fighting back the growing panic, you try calling him. his phone rings, but there's no answer. of course there wouldn’t be you knew that he doesn’t use his phone when he was out, but you just had to try, hoping that he’d sent a quick text to say he was just around the corner—but there was nothing.

you couldn’t help but conjure up terrifying scenarios about him. what if he’s injured? what if he’s been chopped up into little pieces and he’s in pain? wanting to call you and he can’t.

you can't stay still any longer, pacing back and forth in your dimly lit apartment. your thoughts are a jumbled mess, and you can't shake the feeling that something terrible has happened. the world outside is quiet, and the darkness feels suffocating.

your mind wanders to the first time you met him, he was persistent immediately when he first laid eyes on you, claiming that he would stop at nothing to get to be with you. and that was true. you wouldn’t give him the time of day, at first, but whenever you were around him doing your ‘hard to get routine,’ he put in extra effort just to get with you.

there wasn’t anyone you could even ask to see if he was okay, since if he wasn’t, who else would be? and there’s a part of you that wouldn’t even want to know, you had to see him, alive and well for all your worries to be gone.

as the minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity, you cling to thoughts of him, each memory acting as a lifeline. there wasn’t even any indication that something bad happened to him, but there is something unsettling that you just couldn’t shake.

you could feel him before you could even hear the faint tapping at the door. there isn’t any hesitation as you bolt to the door, dragging a weak standing gojo into a tight hug only pulling away as you hear him softly wince at your heavy touch.

“sorry,” he murmurs, standing with his arm clutching at his lower stomach, slightly hunched over, “i lost my keys.”

“you lost your keys?” you practically yell, “that’s what you wanna focus on right now?” you ask as you look at his injured body. this is the worst you’ve ever seen him, and you could tell that he was in pain from the way his usual breezy smile, isn’t reaching his eyes like it normally does.

you quickly usher gojo inside, supporting him as he limps toward the couch. the dim living room lights reveals a deep gash on his face, and his clothes are torn and stained with dirt and blood.

“take off your shirt,” you order, your face filled with concern as you try and properly assess all his injuries.

“aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” he jokes, cringing as you remove his shirt from over his head, trying not to hurt him further.

“this isn’t the time for jokes ‘toru,” you chastise, shaking your head to prevent yourself from getting emotional, “y’know i really thought that—” you sigh, not even wanting to utter the words, since it doesn’t matter as he’s here now, alive.

“i can’t even lie,” he starts, his eyes staring down, avoiding yours. “for a moment out there, i didn’t know if i could live up to my promise to you.” you couldn’t even respond, the fact that gojo could even admit that there was a chance that he wasn’t gonna get back to you, had you panicked.

“c’mere,” he says pulling your into his lap, noticing the stressed expression that has yet to leave your face.

you were quick to jump off of him, but he kept you firm in his hold, his arms wrapped protectively around you. despite the pain he must have been in, his eyes held a mixture of relief and vulnerability as he looked into yours. “satoru you’re hurt.”

but he gave you a reassuring smile, one that couldn't quite hide the pain etched on his face. "i'm okay, really," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “i just need you close right now."

as you settled back into his embrace, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, reassuring you that he was indeed alive and home with you, where he had always promised to be.

AN: SO GUYS HOW DID I DO? im not really a drabble or fluffy girlie, as you guys know. but um tada... this is for you all. love ya. If there’s mistakes in there it’s 6am so ignore em please IF THIS IS SHIT THEN IM SORRY I TRIED. But as long as one gojo lover says “emp you’ve mended my little heart” I can die happy

#stampedwithane★#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #jjk fic #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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arieslost · 1 month

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little spoon | ln4

summary: lando is the little spoon for the first time.

word count: 835

masterlist — join my tag list here!

you’re half asleep when lando finally gets into bed.

you don’t mean to fall asleep, fully intending to stay awake, but the jet lag is really getting to you. you were hellbent on staying up in order to spend some extra time alone with your boyfriend after such a tumultuous day, especially because your flight to jeddah had been delayed.

you had only caught a glimpse of him before he had to get in the car, so you couldn’t do your pre-race ritual. instead, lando had sprinted to where you stood at the side of the track, hoping to at least give him an encouraging thumbs up, and kissed you so quickly that you barely even felt it before he was running back to his car.

so yeah, a little private time to decompress together sounded really nice. you’ve been trying everything you could, but you’re fighting a losing battle with your heavy eyelids.

the dip of the mattress has you blinking your eyes open, rubbing a hand over your face as lando slips under the covers. you give him a soft smile, and he returns it.

“hey, sleepy,” he whispers.

“hey,” you whisper back. “y’okay?”

“yeah. tired. still kinda pissed off.” he admits.

the race had gone so well, for a little while, at least. the rush of adrenaline you felt when your boyfriend led the race was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, and then he crossed the finish line in p8. you’re still learning the ins and outs of race strategy and whatnot, but you know that something had gotten lost when it came to lando’s strategy.

“sorry, baby,” you reach out and brush your fingers through his curls, still damp from the shower. “things will be better next race.”

“at least one of us is optimistic.” he grumbles, pressing himself further into your hand when you move it from his hair to caress his cheek.

“it will be,” you insist. “and i will be there, ready to say ‘i told you so.’”

he rolls his eyes playfully, and you push his face away in return. “you are so rude.”

“but you looove me,” he coos, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him.

“lucky you,” you make a face at him.

he laughs, sliding a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in for a long kiss.

you hum happily, appreciating how warm his body is and how good he smells. you want nothing more than to cuddle him close to you, pet his head, kiss his shoulder and his neck…

the lightbulb goes off in your head, and you break the kiss, causing lando to whine in dissatisfaction.

“baby…”

“you’re never the little spoon.” you say, like that explains why you’d want to stop kissing him.

“yeah,” he shrugs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “so?”

“so,” you begin, giggling when he goes in for yet another kiss, “maybe tonight you can be.”

“really?” he furrows his eyebrows. “you want to do that?”

“mhmm,” you affirm against his lips when he kisses you again before you can answer. “wanna hold you. you had a long day.”

“i did have a long day.” he agrees, sighing dramatically. “fine. one more kiss?”

“if you insist,” its your turn to playfully roll your eyes as he kisses you, smiling all the while and making an obnoxious mwah sound before he shifts onto his side away from you.

you scooch closer to him and a little further up the bed in order to get one of your arms between his neck and the pillow. the other goes under his own arm and rests against his bare chest.

“this okay?” you ask.

he nods, kissing your forearm.

“good,” you smile against his shoulder. “i love you, lan.”

“love you so much, my baby.” he murmurs, tangling your fingers together.

your heart beats a little faster at his use of my. for as long as you’ve been with him, you’ve never quite gotten used to that lovestruck feeling you get whenever he refers to you as his. you leave little kisses across his shoulder and his neck until his breathing evens out and your eyes fall shut.

when you wake in the morning, you’re sprawled out on your back with one lando norris still fast asleep and attached to your side like a koala. your left arm is still around his shoulders, but his face is snuggled into your neck, his arm is looped around your waist, and one of his legs is in between both of yours. you’re a little chilly courtesy of the blankets being stuck between your bodies, so you slowly move onto your side to face him so you can wrap your other arm around him and pull him closer.

he never says anything about it, to preserve his “macho-ness,” as he likes to put it, but every time he gets into bed and rolls onto his side after that night, you always know exactly what he’s asking for.

note: i warned y’all this would happen and here i am. also i’m still exhausted from going to a concert and then staying up for quali so if there’s any mistakes that i missed pls tell me otherwise i will die of embarrassment 💪🏼💪🏼

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris

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tojipure · 2 months

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Haunted

masterlist - part one

I tried my best to tag as many people!

The long awaited part two! I'm so sorry if this doesn't live up to your guys expectations! I really felt like so much people were waiting for a part two and I've been so busy, but hopefully you all enjoy!

You were like a shot of espresso, a ray of sunlight and one would be so lucky just to even be in your presence.

That's how he saw it at least. The gummy smile that was glued on your face as you listened to Megumi's silly stories he'd make up just to entertain you.

Wherever you stepped foot, the mood would lighten drastically.

He knew that because if you were here with him right now, Megumi wouldn't be crying his heart out begging his dad to call you. Toji wouldn't be struggling to fall asleep as he looked at your side of the bed imagining you there. He wouldn't be crossing his fingers hoping that every notification on his phone would be you.

"The princess and prince got married and lived happily ever after." You smiled as Megumi watched you close the book in awe. His cheeks were painted with a light pink, "You and Daddy?" You couldn't help but giggle at cute sleepy Megumi.

"No..." You whispered, noticing his eyes getting heavy.

Toji's eyes shifted towards you and his baby boy on the shared bed, Megumi of course having one of his fits and you never being able to say no to him. His heart felt heavy, hearing the cold truth slip from your mouth.

"You've been out of it Fushiguro..."

There he was back to reality in his cold—big office. Standing in front of him was Shiu, his best and his closest employee. "Zenin." Toji corrected which caught Shiu by surprise. Toji was proud to have his wife's last name, yet here he is using his last name.

No wedding ring? Shiu thought to himself, looking at Toji’s empty fingers. But in fact his fingers were not empty, because there sat the dark purple promise ring you had gotten him for your third year anniversary. Shiu smiled to himself, he was moving on—for the better.

“You and Y/n are doing better, I guess?” He sighs, taking a couple steps towards his boss’s desk and plopping himself on the chair in front of him. His smile fading hearing the vague no, coming from his boss.

“She left actually, but it’s better this way.”

“Is it?”

“No, it’s not.” You smiled as the soft yellow light from the candle illuminated onto your face. How Toji’s heart melted when he saw that little sparkle in your eyes. “I actually love kids.” Your eyes shifted to the little stroller after Toji mentioned how stupid it was to try to go on dates as he had a whole baby.

“It’s been rough ever since my wife passed.”

He remembers that look on your face when he told you how recently his wife had passed. It was the first date, he brought his son and mentioned his dead wife. There was no way he would ever see you again after that. But he was wrong because you always found your way back.

“Daddy—gumi hungry!” The little boy pouted as Toji noticed the burning smell of the food. It had been way too much now, spacing out every chance he had just to think about you.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

He wonders if you’re doing better now that you left him.

Probably, right?

Wrong.

“You need to clean this place up, it’s a mess y/n.” Your mom says entering your small apartment. The tiny cans of energy drinks scattered around the place, tissues and a pile of blankets on the couch.

She sighed watching your frail body sit up from the couch, her arm wrapped around your body and she placed small kisses on your forehead.

“It’s gonna take a while to get back on his feet. When your father passed away, it took years for me to officially realize that he was gone y/n.”

That’s what hurt the most, how long was Toji willing to take to realize? What if he forgets about you?

“Go back to your daily life, my baby he will call you when he’s ready. I see the love in his eyes.” She smiled once more before bringing you closer in her embrace.

This is what you needed.

The embrace of someone else’s while your life was slowly changing.

His thumb hovered over your contact. His hands shaking as the tears swell in his eyes. It’s been well over six months since the break up.

Toji was more than ready.

He was just afraid now, afraid of the fact that the women he had a past with moved on and would reject his return.

His thumb firmly pressing the dial button as he brings his phone up towards his ear. He could feel his throat closing and his stomach churning.

“Hello?”

<- previous next part ->

taglist: @ssc7514@utarts@my1guilty1pleasures@bangchansthings@nxxun-blog@sidelnes@khaleesihavilliard@wr4inn@r0ckst4rjk@iwishigotswallowed@ryumurin@traacy-lin@aikori6@slowlyswimmingmoon@mikyapixie@dreamlessnight@maliakealoha

#rosipuree #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #angst #jjk angst #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #fushiguro #toji x you

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

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Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

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chococolte · 9 months

Text

☼ — pietas maris

♱ : my take on sagau childe

including ☆! — him as a worshiper, and his reaction to being your lover ⛧

word count. 5.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl. ୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. now time for me to disappear back into the aether for another 6 months

The abyss is cold.

It is unfeeling, lacking warmth and passion. It is relentless, cruel, and unkind. It corrupts, ruins, and does so freely, without remorse or thought. It leaves you clinging to the hot blood in your veins, curled up and hidden in the dark reaches of its void.

Childe had always been versatile; quick to adapt, even at such a young age. He grew used to the emptiness, the swelling numbness, and the eventual gnawing loneliness left in his abdomen. They became a part of him as his lungs, as integral as air; to be without felt odd, foreign.

The glimmer of your existence kept Childe company. He did not know who you were, or how lucky he was— only that you brought him comfort, like an old lullaby, or a blanket worn from overuse. He reached for you when the darkness grew too much, too heavy a burden on his small shoulders.

He came to you with little offerings; small trinkets, tomes of unreadable text. Useless to him, but perhaps you would take pity on him in exchange, and let him take comfort in your presence for another day. Childe came to you with rubble shaped in hearts, the gentle breath of his voice as he spoke of his anxieties. He did not think of them as offerings then, merely gifts— pleadings for you to stay a little longer.

His hands, then unruined and soft, made you a makeshift altar crafted out of whatever he could find. He made sure to build it where he felt your whispers were strongest, where your light entirely overwhelmed the darkness overhead. Childe didn't think of it as an altar then, just a place to settle his findings, where he could pretend his sad, little effigy made of you was actually you.

The idol didn't look much like a person at all, and at the time, he didn't think of his behavior as odd. He desperately clung to you for survival, and with no other warm body besides his own, you were the only one he could talk too.

At times, he thought he was going insane. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears whenever he neared your doll, as if it were calling him. Despite the fact that he had made it, proven by the tiny scars on his palms, he still felt as if it was yours.

In the darkness, Childe whispered to you. He said everything his mind could think, childishly exaggerated tales in hopes of impressing you. A foolish endeavor, considering you were a God— but he still hoped that maybe you'd think of him kindly, and let him bask in your protective glow for just one more moment.

He couldn't hear your words, but he could feel them. The twinkle of your laughter was like a soft whistle in his ears. When you were pleased, the air would lightly ruffle his hair. Despite how agonizing his loneliness was, at least he had you by his side.

Childe's innocence, as all things do, eventually withered away in that malevolent black.

He thought of you as his teacher; a guiding hand that trained him, molded him to fit against your palm. When he struggled against the abyssal beasts, he could feel you— a soft brush against his hand, a firm hold on his back, keeping him focused. You taught him when to still his blade and when to strike.

In the arches of his sword and polearm, in the taut and tense pull of his bow, in the whirlwind of his catalyst— you were there, shining from beyond the thin veil separating you.

When Childe was ripped out of the abyss, so was his connection to you. Like a thread snapping, he could no longer feel you; not in the darkness overhead, not in the grip of his blade, of the depths of his soul. You were gone, and he was once again nothing but a boy, lost and alone. Friends and family surround him, thankful for his return, but his mind is still reeling, still stuck in the abyss and the sudden emptiness left in your wake.

Despite himself, Childe had hoped you would have stayed, even once he was out. He thought he was done with being naïve, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He can’t feel you anymore. Where did you go? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Questions swirl in his head like whirlpools of thought. Childe feels like he's drowning, suffocating in the mess of his mind. His breaths come out short, quick and sharp. His throat squeezes, constricting his airways, as he realizes what's unfolded.

You left him.

He should've known better. On that first day, all you had done was take pity on him by letting him linger in your light. It was his fault for ever believing that he would never have to be alone again. That even if he had no one else, at least he had you.

This was the result of his own failure. If only he had proven himself worthy.

When his family found him, they found him gripping a small, rudimentary doll. Even when they reached their home, Childe was still clutching the thing as if possessed. When they tried tugging it out of his hands, saying it would help him eat better, he ripped it from their grasp, holding it to his chest.

Childe couldn't accept that you had left him so easily. At night, back in his warm bed, Childe tries to whisper to you again. The familiar warmth sinks into his pores, but it's nothing like yours. He nuzzles closer to the doll, ignoring how it tears into his skin.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Maybe you got confused. He knows you're a God, but even the Seven are not omniscient. When he was torn from the abyss, it was possible you hadn't meant to so cruelly cut the connection between you. Maybe you couldn't find him, and so he just has to tell you where he is.

So he whispers to you in the dark, just as he has so many times before.

Only this time, he's met with silence.

In the years that pass, you linger at the forefront of his mind, haunting him like a wraith. Childe can't bring himself to be rid of you, despite how it hurts every time he thinks about you for a little too long. He's still stuck, perpetually waiting for your return, despite how he knows you've long given him up.

Childe becomes Tartaglia, the 11th Harbinger under the Tsaritsa. He takes a new name, a new mask— he executes her orders dutifully, and he does his role perfectly. He acts as if she's you, despite how desperately he wants to believe otherwise. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can pretend that the cold that seeps into his bones in her presence is yours.

But no matter how many names and identities he takes, he'll always just be your Ajax; the boy who still misses you, despite how short your time together was. And that fact is what burns him the most.

Maybe he should be angry. He knows he has every right to be. Angry that you left him, that you discarded him as if he was nothing. Maybe he should hate you— hate you for leaving him alone, as if you weren't the only thing keeping him sane. Hate you for leaving as if his love didn't matter to you.

He comforts himself by thinking of the time dilation he experienced in the abyss. You cared for him so much that you spun three days into three months. He likes to believe he meant something to you; he must've, because why else would you lengthen your time spent together?

Childe knows it isn't true. He didn't matter enough for you to stay, after all.

At night, Childe finds himself listlessly thinking of you. It's a silent mourning. Quiet tears fall down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He chokes down every heaving sob that threatens to break from his throat; clenches his jaw when they claw too close to his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he's too loud, biting his fingers until they're bloody and marred by his teeth. What would you think if you saw him this weak? Saw the boy you built up crumble, all because he can't feel even the softest traces of your presence anymore?

You would find him pathetic. All he's done is prove that you were right in abandoning him.

When the memory of you is too much to bear, he clutches the effigy in his arms, squeezing it against his chest until it's sharp edges dig into his skin. Even after all these years, he's still kept it close. He tries to feel the visage of you that was once attached to its bearings, whispering for you under the night sky, hoping it'll remind you of your time in the abyss— hoping that tonight he will feel you again, ruffling his hair with tendrils of wind.

He never does.

Childe barely sleeps, but when he does, he dreams of you. You have no body, no face— he can't even begin to imagine what you look like, and he doesn't dare too, even when he knows he has nothing to lose.

He's back in the dark, but you're still there with him, providing him light and comfort. If he knew that leaving would entail being without you, he never would have left at all. Better to be with you than to die without.

Sometimes, he dreams of you staying with him even after he escapes. Your warmth is ever-present. He gifts you riches, now. You have a voice in his dreams, and he can hear you speaking to him. You're kind, and gentle, and he wants for nothing. He has you, and there is nothing more to want.

He dreams he never lost you at all. It makes reality all the more painful.

In a way he knows is pathetic, Childe hopes you at least found him fun. He hopes you found him entertaining, despite how the thought twists his heart and guts into little knots, until he feels vaguely nauseous at the notion. At least then you would have reason to remember him. At least he could say he meant something to you.

In a hidden corner of his room, there sits an altar for you. His wealth as a Harbinger means he has no lack of resources, and so he bejewels the altar until it glimmers even without light. It's obnoxious and opulent to the point of vanity, but he figures that if you like it, he'll earn another whisper of warmth from you— in the vain hope that you hear him at all anymore.

With his hands, now calloused and worn, he carves sigils into whalebone. He doesn't know what they mean, but they were numerous in the abyss; and so he etches them into bone, hoping that whatever they mean, it reaches you.

Childe pushes himself more than he should. His back aches from all the weight he carries on his shoulders, but he trudges forward despite how it hurts. He is more fervent in conflicts, and spectacular scenes of blood and viscera follow him every time he walks onto a battlefield.

His tongue forms words of devotion for the Tsaritsa as he slays another enemy, blood staining his fingers, but in his heart, he only ever speaks of you.

When he fights, Childe can lose himself. He can focus entirely on the movement of his feet, the precision of his blade. He can ignore how badly he misses you, and how in the back of his mind, he desperately hopes that the more blood he sheds with your teachings, you'll find him satisfactory.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and once again he lets himself be drowned by the rush, letting himself forget all of his pain.

Childe is proud of the way that no one can recognize his style of fighting. It is exact and sharp— every strike hitting its target with ease, filled with vigor and intensity. He enjoys the gazes of jealousy, but remains silent when asked. My teacher taught me, he says. He sheds no further light on the matter, and any instance someone shows interest in learning from him, he instantly refuses. Childe wishes to keep you close to his chest, a guarded secret known only to him.

Childish, perhaps. He knows it is. But if he can't have you, then he will have the knowledge of you. He will keep it to himself, and there it will stay, safe in his tight grip.

It drives him insane, the way sees you in everything. When night falls, covering the sky in a blanket of stars, he wonders if you're staring at him from above. When the tides of the sea brush against the shore, he finds himself thinking of you as the moon— you are what anchors him, despite the fact that he hasn't felt you in so long. In his eyes, there is nothing you could not be, and with every breath, he only ever misses you more.

It's during his mission in Liyue that he feels you again. Childe is unable to breathe when he meets the Traveler, sensing you watching from their eyes. His heart thunders in his chest, tempestuous as a storm over the sea.

For a moment, he's happy. You're finally back. He wants nothing more than to run to you, to ask you why you left for so long, to ask how he can make you stay, but then he feels you— a familiar pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to say anything but what he wants to.

Childe watches the Traveler's back fade as it finally clicks for him.

You abandoned him for someone else. You left him... for this. The thought sends him reeling. You left him, just to go spend time with someone else— to give them the same company you gave him, to give them the same guidance you gave him— was he merely replaceable to you?

Was he just a test for you?

He should be angry. And he is, but the heartbreak overwhelms him. He's left choking, battling for air. The agony of having been tossed to the side, of having it be affirmed in front of his eyes. He wants to scream and cry, beg for you to return; but his throat squeezes every time he meets the Traveler, and the words die on his tongue.

You don't want him to speak. He's meant to play along.

Childe had waited for you for so long. Even after all this time, he couldn't get rid of the painful hope that you'd return. He had done his best to bottle his emotions, to keep them shut and locked inside, so that you wouldn't be disappointed in him upon your arrival. Proud that he never doubted you for a moment.

But he had. He had doubted you, cried at the lack of your comfort. Afraid of what it meant to be without you. Fearful of living, never getting to gleam your existence for a second time— and now you want him to pretend as if he never knew you.

As if he can't see the slight smugness in the Traveler's eyes.

His fight with the Traveler is personal. He bares his teeth, snarling like a rabid dog. His every strike is fast, precise with the intent to kill and maim. Childe hopes his emotions reach you, that you know of his bitterness and acrimony. That you know of how long he wished for you, how long he yearned for you to come back— how his frustration has twisted into pure rage, turned into a fine point.

He just has to simply show you how he's better. He has to show you that he's superior in every way to your choice. That you should've chosen him over them.

They are undeserving; watch how he rips through them like they are nothing, slicing through them like they are mist over sea. They are unworthy; see how easily he beats them into submission, how easily they crumble at his feet. The matter of the Gnosis is nothing to him, now— only whether you see how he should be the one you prefer.

It's then that he feels it. Your rage. Your anger at having been battered and bruised. The Traveler stands back up, but something is different now. Their strikes are fluid, prowess and skill increased by an outside force.

You.

Do you hate him that badly? Detest him so much, to go so far as to bless another with your strength so they can prove themselves to be his better? Even in his Foul Legacy form, Childe is forced to retreat; forced to bow his head in defeat, weakened by the burden of his transformation.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done the exact opposite of what he set out to do. All he's proven is that your right.

Childe feels your crushing weight bearing down on him. He spits the words out, calls them 'friend' through clenched teeth. He dances to your whims, just as he had previously. Unnatural, stiff movements and words that speak the opposite of what he means.

And then you're gone, left along with them. He stares at their fading back. He can almost imagine you beside them, walking by their side just as you once did his.

It hurts.

The next time he feels you, there is no sign of the Traveler. Only a tight pulling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it means, or what it entails. But he follows, sensing you at the end, waiting for him. Childe doesn't allow himself to hope; that maybe, you have come around. That maybe you do care. That maybe, you never hated him— not truly. That you missed him just as he missed you.

Maybe he meant something, after all.

When he reaches you, he feels it. You're happy. You're happy with him. He feels you reaching out, tickling him with strands of your will. You brush against his skin, burrow deep inside. Childe lets you, still unable to breathe.

He wonders if this is really happening. Have you come back to him, truly? Have you finally realized how much better he is? He feels you graze his soul, reaching deep within. Childe feels you envelop him, swathing him in warmth and comfort.

You're home, you whisper.

He only hears the ghost of your voice, a chime in the wind; but he hears the intent, the meaning behind your unintelligible words, even though he can't understand them.

Childe breaks.

SANGUINE NATUS ; first meeting/as a worshiper

If even just your breath could leave him weak, then seeing you for the first time makes his knees give out underneath him.

It's a foolishly embarrassing display, but Childe can't find it in himself to care. He falls to his knees quicker than his mind can catch up, unconsciously posturing himself to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible— anything to make you stay, even if it means sabotaging his image.

He tucks his shoulders inward, struggling between looking at you until his eyes burn and your image is seared into the back of his eyelids, or averting his gaze because just touching you with them feels like he's sullying you somehow.

His breath comes out short and sharp, his entire chest heaving with each shuddering, raspy exhale. Before he can even manage a sound, he's sobbing, crumpling to the floor— there's no care taken to your perception of him now, only the wailful cries of one lost in the weight of your eyes. Childe knows he's being pathetic, a mess of airy desperation and red eyes; everything he was when he felt the ghost of you leave him, and everything he wished you'd never see. But it's you, and for the first time, he can truly feel your eyes on him.

It's all too much to bear.

"I-It's you, it's you—!" Childe manages to choke, wet tears caking the apples of his face. His eyes strain, burning to see the visage of you through the blur of his vision. Nausea bites at him, his abdomen a sudden storm from the tears that lick at his cheeks.

Childe has always been austere in his worship; strict, solemn in how he acts out every religious rite. There is an icy silence unlike him as he moves, particularly whenever your sanctity is involved. His fingers still tremble despite his stiffness, the desperation loud in every twitch of his limbs. The desire to see you, after all is said and done.

Seeing you for the first time feels as though a wave has overtaken him, drowning him in brine and the cerulean of muddy waters. There is no hiding what he could barely contain before— jerky movements filled with need and the dolor of one disappointed before.

Childe no longer finds himself able to veil it by lies and rushing fights of adrenaline; now, it lies bare, and there's no burning ache to keep it hidden.

His fervor is relentless; a feverish desire to please you coalescing until it's unbearable for his skin. Your reaction to his cries could have been cruel or kind, and it wouldn't have bothered him; all that matters is whether he has finally proven himself worthy of standing by your side.

His worship is eager words spilling from his lips at night, the echo of your name a murmur from his mouth like the sigh of the ocean's waves-- his blades stained red, limp at his sides-- the burning in the back of his throat that comes from years of pleading.

You're here now, even if he can't be with you at all times; and that knowledge leaves him whispering to you, uttering every thought without a moment of reconsideration. It is a ceaseless endeavor, as every word is listless praise and endless adoration. There isn't a moment where he isn't thinking of you in some way, and the mere thought of the opposite leaves him feeling vaguely sick.

He wants to think of you all the time. Though it's such a small thing, in his mind, he has you all to himself— in the sense that there is no one else to take your eyes off of him— there, he can make you happy; there, he can make you proud of him. In that world, you have no reason to be rid of him.

Childe's always kept his habit of crafting you makeshift gifts. They're rugged, imperfect things, but laden with his fingerprints and the palms of his hands. Before, he could only set them still on his altar for you, and hope that it pleased you somehow. He was only ever met with silence, but he could pretend you were happy with him, and the idea alone was enough.

When he catches sight of a sea conch, its pale marks swirled across its smooth surface, he can only think of handing it to you. It's a beautiful thing, and so simple and crude a gift; but maybe you will find worth in such a thing, the simplicity of its nature, and praise him for it.

He gives them to you physically now, unable to shake the urge to do so. His hands always tremble when he hands them over, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him whenever your fingers brush against his. He will never fail to drown in the sensation, allowing everything that he is to become thoughts of you.

Childe has always worshiped you in bloodshed. In the past, he hoped it would leave you satisfied enough to come back; now, it's to prove how much better he is than everyone else. His fear runs deep, like cracks in the earth far below the water's surface, and the sickening feeling of dread whenever you praise someone else suffocates him.

It's unreasonable, he knows, and he has no reason to fear, not anymore— but his heart still quickens at the thought, and his stomach still twists.

It's an all too familiar feeling. When he was first torn from you, he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out of him; and the panic he feels only reminds him of it.

When he's inevitably forced away from you on another mission, he deals with it as quickly as possible, no matter how bloodied or bruised he leaves it. He is brutally unkind in his workings, his words always terse and clipped; a slight edge that never really seems to go away until he knows you're somewhere nearby.

It's when he's forced to stay away from you for a longer period of time that he breaks completely. Upon his return, he is instantly back at your side, heaving sobs and ugly tears running down his face. He can barely think, and a flurry of slurred words leaves his lips— begging to never leave your side again.

Childe knows better than to think he is deserving of your kindness, but he’s desperate to at least stay in your shadow. There, he could stay near you, even if he was swathed in black— even if his only glimpse of you was your back, he would be in bliss. To be near you in some form is all he could ever ask of you.

For all of the power you have granted him, it's only right that he use it for you. A mere word from anyone that isn't pure praise has his grip on his weapon tightening, the tendons on his hand taut and his knuckles pale. He remains entirely oblivious to any moral ambiguity in your actions— whatever you do is right and just; as you are the only one worthy of judging yourself, he does not dare too.

Instead, Childe draws his blade in judgement of others— he will act as your hand and executioner, the arbiter of your faith; it's with only vigor that he hands out punishment, a ferocity bold and true.

AMANS IN SPINIS IACET ; as your lover

Childe's dreams have begun to take a sudden turn.

It's not anything he can control, despite how hard he tries too. They pleased him at first, even though he still couldn't help the way his heart tightened at the idea of you somehow knowing. At that time, they weren't occurring enough for him to be worried, and the content themselves were innocent enough for him to think nothing of it.

You held him close to you, pressing benign kisses across his freckled cheeks, playing with his hair with soft fingers; little things that he could believe meant nothing at all, just a desire to feel your affection in the only way his mortal heart knew how.

The dreams turn nightly, and Childe finally realizes it's much more than that.

It begins at signs of your favoritism. Glances that last more than they should, summoning him to your chambers more frequently; Childe does not deny you, and he can't help the faint giddiness that clouds his mind every time he feels your gaze linger on him. It's a euphoric sensation to know that he is the one you are looking at; no one else. Only barely does he manage to rein in his emotions every time.

You speak much softer to him, and your touch is more affectionate. He turns drunk on your approval, willingly dancing to your whims if it meant having your fingers coiled in his hair for another moment. Before he can stop himself for even daring to think it, Childe lets himself believe he's special to you— and that is where the problem arises.

The thoughts don't stop. Even if he screams to drown out the noise, they still manage to be so loud. The dreams are relentless, more loving, more vivid. He can feel the warmth of your palms as you caress his cheeks, the weight of your breath when you draw your head near; they feel so real, that for a moment, he thinks you're the one sending them to him.

He feels as though he's dirtying you in some form, as if he is the one committing an unforgivable sin against you; somehow managing to desecrate you with just his thoughts alone. The idea sends him into a panic-induced frenzy, kneeling before his altar with rushed, unintelligible apologies on his lips.

Despite his self-hatred, whenever he wakes from one, Childe is left blissfully dazed, nuzzling into his pillow with hazy clarity— pretending that it's you, instead. He wonders what it would be like if his dreams were real, if he could really be so special to you in such a way; entirely irreplaceable, entirely yours.

It doesn't take long for his will to be eroded by his desperation. His desire to resist was already hanging by a thread, and as the dreams persist, any resistance on his end is lost. He falls ever deeper into an abyss of his own making, allowing himself to be undone by his own creation.

Childe has always been needy, but as his feelings rear their ugly head, it only grows worse. He has always loved you— and he had been struggling to choke his own feelings down for as long as he could, fooling himself into believing that they didn't exist in the first place. In his eyes, it's only right that you be the one to shake the foundation he lay; making him crumble until every dark part of himself is laid bare in front of you, only for your eyes.

There's a drastic increase in his desperation to be near you, and any lack of refusal on your part only exacerbates it. He neglects his duties entirely in favor of staying by you in some way or another, be it either by your side, or following you from a distance like a lost puppy.

Your admittance of feelings only makes Childe more fervent. He can barely hear himself speak, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a caged canary. He can barely believe anything you're saying, and for a moment, he wonders if he's lost in another dream of his.

At your assurance, Childe doesn't dare to doubt you any longer. He falls entirely into you, allowing you to consume his every thought. He doesn't think to fight back, letting you envelop him until his every breath is coated in your name. He is yours, and he has no desire for anything more.

His desire for your approval now emboldens him. Childe's always acted out of an interest in garnering your attention, and though he now knows of your feelings, it does nothing to satiate him; instead, it leaves him hungrier, greedy with an eagerness to please.

He doesn't take from you without asking, but he asks enough for it to be a nuisance. Your affection is everything to him, and he can't bear to go a moment without it. He asks to lay his head in your lap, for you to play with his hair— the loss of your touch is the loss of himself, and sends him reeling back to memories of when he was without you.

The first time you kiss him, his legs instantly give out underneath him, a small groan leaving his lips. Childe doesn't bother to dull his reactions; you deserve to know how easily weakened he is by your touch, with even a brush of your fingers enough to leave him breathless and wanting.

As your favorite, Childe is quick to be rid of any competition. Whether or not you see them as possible suitors doesn't even cross his mind— the fear that snakes around his heart is ever-present, and if they're better than him in some form, it only grows in persistence. He doesn't hurt them, because surely that would upset you, and any devotee of you is worthy of respect— but he is quick to showcase his superiority, and to do so broadly without shame.

Childe grows used to his new status, and uses it to stay by your side constantly. Any attention you give to others is met with instant jealousy, seething glares sent to whoever stole your gaze, even if they only preoccupied a second of your mind.

He could never be mad at you, as clearly the fault lies within himself.

Any signs of your likes and dislikes are instantly noted. If you compliment someone for their behavior, he begins to emulate it, or at least he tries too. If you like Zhongli for how well he executes your orders, then Childe will be the same; only he will do it better, quicker, and prove himself still deserving of your love.

If he were perfect, then you would have no need for anyone else. If he were perfect, he would never have to worry about whether you'll grow bored of him the moment he stops being entertaining enough.

The thought of you with another leaves Childe sick without fail. He knows he has no control over you, and that if you wished to be rid of him, he would willingly walk into whatever punishment awaited him— but now that he has tasted what it feels like to be so utterly yours, he can't bear to imagine another sharing the same treatment.

You kissing another, holding another, letting someone else lay against you; all of it only serves to further blur his vision. Even if it is sinful of him to feel, he can't stop the emotions from swirling in his chest.

You are everything; the earth laid beneath his feet, the foundation of which he relies on. To be without you is to fall, to be without you means death; and if he must carve his skin and bone to fit the picture you want him to be, then he shall.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #sagau #yandere male #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #yandere childe #sagau childe #self aware childe #genshin cult au #cult au childe

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

Text

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors. I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real.

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him.

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too.

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world.

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company.

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself.

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved.

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life.

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it?

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air.

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I’m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.”

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely.

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine.

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon.

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now?

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs.

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?”

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest.

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement.

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands.

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?”

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

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