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chaethewriter · 8 months

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YOU'RE DEAD TO ME

[12: EPILOGUE]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

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The air felt so much lighter and the sun much brighter. Cold water droplets landing on your warm skin as you sat under a damp tree, cooling your sweating body down. Your fingertips touched the mossy ground from under you as they disappeared into the green grass that stood tall.

The touch tickled your skin as you enjoyed the peaceful scenery around you.

Peace.

Quiet.

At ease.

No sounds of war surrounding you or the horrifying screams of the natives filling your eardrums. Just the noise of chirping animals in the background as you inhaled the pandoran air. Your eyes closed as you dozed off, back rested against the same tree you're settling down under.

Your ears twitched. There was a change of background noise. You heard it.

Chirp chirp rustle chirp.

It wasn't loud, but you caught onto it. Your eyes were still closed, waiting for any other unusual sound. A rustle. A thud. The hand that roamed around the high grass moved slowly, but delicately towards your dagger. Your nails dug into the dirt as your hand wrapped around the weapon. You heard another couple of rustles and tried to pinpoint out in your head where THEY would be now. It was more than one.

You could hear soft thuds of footsteps in between a pair of footsteps and the same bush was hit twice. You tried to imagine the scenery in front of you. A small hill in the corner of your right eye, from behind there a small little river flowing down with around the edge a huge bush. Surrounding you just a bunch of naturally placed trees from all sizes. You knew there was a branch just a few meters in front of you. You placed it there for occasions like these. The wood was small, therefore hard to spot thanks to the high grass.

You waited and waited.

Until, snap.

The branch was crushed in half and you jumped from the ground, dagger in hand as you pointed it towards the danger that you would soon face with a soft hiss leaving your lips. Well, a danger isn't what you could really call it, as Lo'ak and Tuk stood in front of you with their hands thrown up in defense.

"Calm down! It's us! Damn, you really got feisty in that form." Lo'ak yelped it out as he took a step back. He then turned to Tuk who was stood on the broken branch. "Tuk! You should watch where you're going! Now our entire stealth plan in scaring sis is ruined!" The words almost escaped his lips with a whine, almost. Tuk's ears ppinted downwards as she gazed at her feet, "I'm sorry..."

A sigh left your lips, shaking your head in the process. You walked up to your siblings. Where you would usually reach Lo'ak around his stomach and Tuk around her neck, you were now facing his neck instead as Tuk reached your stomach.

You put your navy blue hand on her head as you rubbed her head, "It's okay, little Tuk. Lo'ak is just being a meanie! Right?" You then faced your little brother and grabbed him by his cheek. You pulled hard, causing him to yelp out, "right?" You frown as you look up at him, eyes squinted. He immediately nodded in response, his ears flopping slightly as he did so. A small "yes" left his lips and you let go of his cheek in satisfaction.

"Dad wants you back, actually. It's almost dinner time."

"And he sent you?" You raised your eyebrow in suspicion, soon squinting your eyes awaiting an answer from him.

"Okay okay! I actually overheard dad talking to mom so I uhh.... went to get you and took Tuk with me?" He already took a step back as he spoke, scratching behind his neck, "Don't kill me! I just uh, missed you???"

You pinch the bridge of your nose, "Of course you did. You know that if you go somewhere you need to tell someone, especially with taking little Tuk here. I'm not mad, but just, don't wander off without saying a word alright? It's still dangerous out here." You bring your hand to his cheek, this time rubbing it instead of pulling at it like a pillow, "I care about you, you know that right?"

Lo'ak's tail swayed and hit the ground as it did so, nodding his head in understanding, "I'm sorry.."

You shook your head, "no, don't apologize, just, try your best alright? You can also notify me whenever you go somewhere. Now come on you two, we got dinner to catch, don't we?" You pat both of their shoulders, before pulling away and sprinting away.

"Last to get to High Camp gets the tiniest piece of dessert!"

All those years of tormenting yourself, closed off, blinded by anger and sadness. Letting the negative emotions consume you whole. You didn't know what you lived for or why you lived. Negative thoughts taking over your rational way of thinking.

Why did he leave me?

He won't return for me.

Is there something wrong with me?

Did he hate me?

You didn't know what to live for, but now.

"We're back!!" Tuk barged into their shared hut, followed by you and Lo'ak. Neytiri was in a crouched position as she readied the table, but got up once she heard the familiar voice of her daughter, "where were you?! Your father and Neteyam are looking for you as we speak!" She made her way towards Lo'ak, "and you skxawng! What were you thinking bringing your little sister with you!"

Lo'ak's ears point downwards as he got scolded, but you and Tuk soon intervene, "Don't be too hard on him, mother. He can be, unintentionally, reckless. I already talked with him." You explained as you stepped in front of your little brother, putting your hand on his back as you smacked his skin. Tuk stumbled to the front too as she nodded her head, "sis talked to him! And I wanted to explore as well, it's not only on him. It's not so fun to be here the entire day while there is an entire world to explore!"

Neytiri had her hand to her head, shaking her head as the words sunk in, "Lo'ak, Tuk, get to the main grounds to get our dinner."

They obliged to her wishes as they took off, leaving you alone with your mother. You bit the bottom of your lip as you awaited for whatever was to come.

"Are you okay, child?" She put her hand on your shoulder as she spoke. You nodded immediately at her question, "Don't worry, mother. I just needed a quiet place to think, you know?" You smiled softly at the affection. It took Neytiri a while to fully open up to you, flinching every now and then and subconsciously hissing whenever you approached her. The avatar body seemed to help her open up to you, though.

She nodded her head at your words and pulled away from you, "are you going to eat, with us?" You glanced to the table at her question, counting the place she had placed down. Eight plates. You had to stop a smile from appearing on your face, before nodding your head, "Yes, yes I am."

"There you are, was lookin' for ya." Your feet dangled in the air as you sat on a tree branch, mask sitting back on your face. You turned around once you heard that familiar voice, smiling at your father as you pat the branch empty space next to you.

"You disappeared right after dinner. Went looking for you. Didn't know I had to look for a tiny ant instead." Jake sat down next to you with a teasing grin, his palm raising to stroke your hair.

You scoffed at that remark, trying to push his arm away from you, "shut up, old man. I'm not a kid anymore."

"You'll always be my little girl."

Once you looked up at his face, you had noticed he was already staring at you with so much love and care in his eyes.

"This is so embarrassing.." you mumbled from under your mask as you hid your face into his arm. He could only chuckle in response. A peaceful silence took over, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves around you ringing through your ears.

After a few moments, Jake had opened his mouth, "thank you."

You could only look up at him confused, not speaking as you waited for him to explain himself. ", for giving me another chance." He breathed out from under his breath and even though it came out as a mumble, you heard the words loud and clear.

"You're my dad, after all."

The two of you exchanged a smile, before you turned back to look at the scenery, the sun saying goodnight as the moon decided to rise and shine.

"Dad!" Neteyam climbed through the trees with Lo'ak on his heels. The two brothers had sparkles in their eyes as they made their way to the two of you.

"Awee, why did you shrink back?" Lo'ak almost pouted as he pointed your human form out. You could only roll your eyes to visibly show him how you felt about that question.

"Did something happen, boys?" Jake had turned around, voice laced in worry and tenderness as he scanned his boys for any injuries.

"No, we are fine! Uhm we just had the ides to.. Neteyam!" Lo'ak smacked his older brother with his tail, earning a hiss in return.

"You sxwang!" Neteyam threw his arm around his brother's shoulders, before turning to their father, "we wanted to do a... night flight, actually." His ears turned downwards as he suddenly got all shy. His canines dug into his bottom lip as he awaited for his answer.

You smiled at the scene in front of you. This was your cue.

You yawned loudly as you got up from your sitting position, arms stretching as you spoke, "I'm going back to the lab. I'm so exhausted. Have fun! Make sure to bring me a gift." You hugged your father goodnight, soon turning to your not-so-little brothers and also giving each an individual hug, which turned out in them bearhugging you instead.

You watched as the three of them flew off, shuddering at the cold air that came your way from their wings.

Once arriving at the lab, you soon walked to your shared room with Seb and Raja, who were fast asleep as you entered the room. You shook your head with a chuckle as you were met with their snores. You took your bresthing mask off and hung it above your bed, taking a seat on the soft mattress to take a breather and daydream about your day. You trained, played around in your avatar body, ate dinner with your family and connected a lot with nature. A successful day in your eyes.

Thanks to all the activities, you were worn out and soon fast asleep in your bed.

It was late at night as your bedroom door opened, heavy yet quiet footsteps entering the room in just one singular step. He kneeled down, putting a small object on your nightstand and leaning down to kiss you goodnight.

On the object hung a piece of paper with human writing.

'Nete and Lo'ak found this feather. I tried to make it into a hairpiece. Goodnight my little girl.

- love, dad.'

A/N: this is it. The end of the series. My posting schedule went from daily to irregular and I had a lot of blocks in between posting having internal fights with my love for writing and/or under how much pressure I was. I wanted to add more to the ending, but with some help from someone close to me I realized I had told everything I wanted with this story and that I shouldn't force myself to add more than needed. Thank you all so much for being patient and reading this story as it went. I'm planning to pickup writing oneshots again and hope to feel more love when I write rather than pressure. So, until then! <3

#chaethewriter #dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad! jake sully #dad!jake sully #dad jake sully #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #youre dead to me

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ginnsbaker · 2 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit.

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it.

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her.

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too.

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night.

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous.

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day.

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt.

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real.

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force.

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up.

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground.

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope.

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.”

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought.

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply.

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change.

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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twst-drabbles · 3 months

Text

Lilia 12

Summary: You're taking a bath and Lilia decided to come in.

(Just cute Sanctuary Lilia things. Being a little shit. You know the drill with him.)

Today was simply a day filled to the brim with chores. You cleaned out the various baths, removed the fallen tree branches from your backyard after a storm hit, entertained Crowley when he popped over for a unprompted visit, and dragged Crowley back to his house when he passed out in your chair watching the latest soap opera that he somehow remembers all the details of.

And now you're here, taking a bath rather than a shower, because you wanted nothing more than some almost too-hot water to seep right into your joints and muscles. You're not as young as you used to be, but you curse your body nonetheless. Time was a cruel thing that your body was too weak to stand against.

But, this was your only body, so you had no choice but to take care of it, regardless of your feelings towards it. So, all you have to do is just sit back and relax.

However, you're having a hard time doing that, on the account Lilia was standing on the edge of the tub.

"What are you doing here?" You didn't turn around. You liked looking at the sparkly stickers placed on your ceiling.

Lilia tilted his head, not a peep out of him. Even made his eyes glittery and wide, as though his cuteness will be enough for you to give him attention.

It almost worked, unfortunately you're too bothered by the dull pain of strained muscles. You're not annoyed or irritated but a few wrong moves from Lilia could easily get you there.

"Don't do that Lilia, I'm not in the mood." Only then did you close your eyes.

Next thing you knew, you felt a gust of cooler air, the sharp smell of magic, then hot water flowing over your hands.

You opened your eyes to mischievous red ones staring right at you.

No wings, no ears, and neck fluff missing. His arms, entirely human, wrapped around your neck but he didn't get any closer than that.

You frowned. "Lilia, your clothes are getting wet."

You can feel his tights pressing against your thighs, the ruffles of his shorts flowing around in the water, and his large black coat grew heavy and damp with the steam in the air.

"My, my," Lilia leaned dramatically back, hand over his heart, "I come in in all my cutely decorated self, and all you can focus on is the state of my clothes. Are you truly so tired that even your eyes won't let you enjoy my smaller self? I even carefully combed my fluff and everything."

…huh.

You blinked. "Your fluff is nice but I like to take baths alone. You know this. I know this. Why are you actually here?"

You know Lilia to cause a bit of chaos for the sake of entertaining himself, but rarely is he oblivious to your state of being. He should know, or at least figured out that you just want to have a little peace to yourself.

When you made your intentions known, Lilia dropped the dramatics and simply sighed. He removed his arm from your neck and laid his head on the tub. He popped a random bubble as it passed by.

"You've overworked yourself today," he flicked some water onto your shoulder, "I know the feeling of aging bones and muscles. And the need to deny yourself rest because you have to make up for what you've lost or wasted. I just wanted to make sure you didn't collapse while getting out of the tub. It's happened to me, once or twice."

Just to play along, you flicked water back. It landed on his nose, causing him to snort.

"I'm not about to turn to dust, Lilia," you're certainly not as old as he is, "Though, your concern is lovely. But you should still get out of my tub. You're making all the water splash over."

Lilia smiled in the way cats do, eyes thinning. "Only if you let me help you wash up. If not, then I'll just stay right here."

Haa… You know what, alright. You're tired and you just want to get this over with and go to bed.

"Fine, fine. Nothing below the waist though."

"Of course! Let me get my new soaps I found."

Found, huh?

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #diasomnia #lilia #lilia vanrouge #sanctuary au #reader insert

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Knock 'em dead kid- 141

This is based on a request:

F!Reader, assassin! reader, mentions of blood,

Backstory:

Before working with the team, you were working as a mercenary for a private military company. You dealt with hard missions, always succeeding though. You were one of the best highly trained soldiers your branch could ever seek for. Always completing the mission with no regrets, and no other questions asked. No one in your old team ever mess with you, they knew what you could be capable of if left with you alone for 30 seconds.

You are now a 28 year old soldier, a badass with snipes, automatic rifles, and your favorite an M-16. After Price visited his old friend he found you. You had just arrived from a mission with your team, you were well groomed for what you had just done. He sure thought you were just another young one. No experience under your belt. Now it was hard to judge you, all of your missions had been redacted, the only thing he could see was your name, alias, age and who you were currently working for, besides that everything else was cleared out.

"you are coming with me kid." he said, handing you your assignment. You grabbed your bags and off you went.

---------------

It has been a year working with the Task Force. They all tried to take you seriously, but you looked so adorable, like a little kid. You were so small compared to them all. And the way you would look up at them with those kind innocent eyes of yours, how could they ever tell who you were when alone with the enemy.

And apparently tonight would be the night they met "grim" the alias you had earned over the years. As the team geared up, soap approached you. Cocky bastard behavior tonight, you thought. "if you feel like you are in danger you call out for me, I'll protect ya lass." he gave you a smug smile. "sure, I'll do that" you rolled your eyes when you turned from him.

By 0300, the team had touched ground, you all in night vision. "Ghost, soap, grim, take left, gaz, delta, you stay with me." Price commanded, the team splits up, you trail behind the men. "Stay close grim." soap said, you nod. At some point you reach your spot. But things turn left quickly. As you all ducked down, two rounds start flying towards you all. Ghost orders you both follow him. He finds a small trench. It was a gun fight for a while.

And after much fight, you guys can finally move forward. Soap always making sure you are behind him. ''Soap watch our backs, Grim, you stay with me." Ghost cold voice whispers. You two enter a building, ghost gets hit in the face by the butt of a gun. You duck down, "soap, come in!" you order at him. But you couldn't wait for him. So you grab your gun, push a few away from your commander and with a knife you stab on in the eye, you cold bloodlessly take the knife out. The man holds onto his face, kneeling down.

You look back at Ghost who happens to still be on the ground. You finish the man with a bullet through the back of his skull. The other men start bolting towards you. You kick one away as the other holds you by the throat. You wish you could make a joke, but you have to protect your team. It was the first time you worked with a full team. It was odd to be selfless.

Your elbow comes in contact with the mans stomach and as the other gets up, you quickly grab the mans arm, biting into it and then you flip him over. He falls to the ground. You hold your knife close, you start fighting with the other man, your knife cutting his skin. Blood splatters on your face, leaking down your shirt. The man slaps you to which you quickly punch him.

Meanwhile, Soap arrives. He was in shock watching you fight. He tried to approach you, "stay back, help Ghost up." you stabbed the man in his abdomen, you pull your gun out and shoot at his chest twice. You turn back to the man you had flipped around. He has a gun pointed at you, his hands trembling. "not so good are you." you grab his gun, throwing it away. You kick his balls, to which you earn a groan. Price walks in, thinking you and the other men had cleared the room. He was in shock, seeing how a woman of your size took down the big guys.

Gaz walks in, and immediately looks at soap. "yep." he nods, knowing the question gaz was about to ask.

You finish the man, shooting him in the head. More blood splashed onto you. You turn to find the team. They had once seen you as the new kid, a harmless little thing, and now you were here standing in front of them. You smile. "done!"

Your eyes meet there's, you start to laugh at their reactions. Even Ghost, although masked, can really be expressive with his eyes. "you should wash that look now. we have a mission to complete."

Price takes a closer look at the men you've killed. "those men were the mission."

"oh..sorry?"

He chuckled like a proud father and walked over to you, handing you an old handkerchief. "wipe your face and let's go home yeah?"

you nod, that sweet little girl look in your eyes. He was really terrified at that. How can you just switch up on them so easily, dont know, but they were impressed, scared and proud, all at once.

A/N: I honestly believe that was the day Ghost was afraid of something...

I really hope you did like it, also I know this is shorter than my usuals, sorry about that

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

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kittyball23 · 8 months

Text

Memory (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: JD, Spruce, and Clay come to terms with their Grandmother Rosiepuff’s fate

A/N: Requested by JoltJackalope on Wattpad :)

__________________________________________

“I can’t believe she’s… gone.”

Spruce said the words slowly, like he was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that his Grandma had died. John Dory and Clay peered at him with similar looks of disbelief.

“I mean, I guess I can believe it,” Clay spoke up in response, “but just… not the way Branch said it happened…” He thought about how their youngest brother had described it, picturing a Bergen swiping her away to a terrible fate. His stomach churned in an unpleasant manner.

John Dory’s imagination wasn’t too different, and it made him feel guilty. Being the oldest, he had the most memories of their Grandmother. How she’d supported the five of them, encouraged them to follow their dreams and cheered them on as they did so. One particular moment stuck out to John Dory. And, unbeknownst to him, the moment he was thinking of was a significant one in Spruce and Clay’s memories too…

“Let me take you to a better plaaaace,

I’m gonna make you kiss the sky tonight

Yeah if you let me show the waaay,

I’m so excited, to see you excited!”

John Dory just couldn’t seem to quit singing. He was proud of their song - it was catchy, and a hit among everybody in the crowd who’d come to see their band. Singing it twice didn’t seem to be cutting it, but the show had to come to an end. Thankfully, he could rest at ease knowing that he and his brothers would perform again.

While JD was more focused on the performance part of it, Spruce couldn’t help but recall how many girls he’d made faint after they’d caught a glimpse of his exquisitely toned body. Clay on the other hand was a bit sore, having given it his all when it came to the dancing, but he knew it was completely worth the grand applause the audience had given afterwards.

“They loved us!” their younger brother Floyd exclaimed, looking absolutely touched by the prospect of so many Trolls supporting their music as he made his way backstage with the others.

“Of course they loved you, sweetie,” a gentle voice responded. The boys grinned a tad wider when their Grandma approached them, with Baby Branch inside of a little carrier at her front. The youngest BroZone brother was only a couple months old, still not able to join his older bros up on the stage to dance and sing just yet, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t cheer them on. He clapped his hands enthusiastically and blurbled happily.

“You were ALL wonderful,” Grandma Rosiepuff continued, gently leaning over to caress Floyd’s cheek. He blushed a little and she chuckled fondly. “Do you know why?”

The magenta Trolling looked up at her. “Why?” he asked in a small, curious voice.

“Because each of you is special,” she responded. She looked over at JD first and smiled.

“John Dory, you had a dream and you made it come true. You created an amazing band that you love being a part of. Just remember that with the right determination, and with your brothers by your side, you CAN achieve anything that your heart desires.”

JD beamed. He liked the sound of that! Grandma was right. His brothers believed in him. And he believed in his brothers. They could accomplish TONS of things if they just continued to work together as a team!

Their Grandma addressed Spruce next. “Spruce, you have a passion burning inside of you unlike anybody else I’ve seen. You'll succeed on what you set your mind to, so long as you never let it burn out."

Spruce smiled at her. “I won’t, Grandma,” he promised.

“Ooo, ooo, me next!” Clay called out, jumping up and down, and raising his hand up in a playful manner.

Rosiepuff giggled. “Clay, being able to make anybody laugh is a fantastic gift. You’re a fun little guy, and I don’t think you’ll have a problem knowing how to keep things real when they matter.”

“Nope, I don’t think so either!” Clay chimed back in reply, living up to his jokey personality and doing a goofy little dance.

Rosiepuff had to laugh again, and then spoke to Floyd. “Floyd. Your talent to write songs is beyond incredible. You don’t have to be afraid to sing or dance in front of a lot of people - you have great friends by your side.” She gestured behind him at John Dory, Spruce, and Clay. “If you ever feel like you’re in trouble, just know that they’ll be there for you. Always.”

Floyd responded by giving his Grandma a hug.

In the baby carrier, Branch giggled.

“And I can’t forget about you, Branch!” Rosiepuff said, nuzzling the top of his rich blue hair. “You, my little boy, are so lucky. You have the best big brothers in the world!”

Branch babbled something babyish that they knew meant he was so grateful for it.

Rosepuff smiled down at him, and then opened up her arms to the others. “Come here, boys!”

John Dory, Spruce, and Clay crowded around to join their Grandma, Floyd, and Branch, all warm and happy in her embrace...

... And feeling nothing like that now.

John Dory sure wished his Grandma could hug him right there and then and provide the comfort he needed. Her hugs always felt like they could cure anything, including the guilt he felt for not upholding to her words.

Just remember that with the right determination, and with your brothers by your side, you CAN achieve anything that your heart desires.

Well, he hadn’t had his brothers by his side, and he hadn’t achieved his goal of having BroZone be together forever.

Spruce hadn’t let his passion die down… in some respects. Of those did not include performing though, which he felt bad for. His Grandmother would’ve perhaps been happy that he was able to start and raise his very own family, but a little sad to see that he didn’t have that desire to get up on a stage and sing anymore like he’d used to. He had tried to bury his boyband days behind him, going as far as to even change his name.

For Clay, it was very rare for a joke to slip past his lips nowadays. Grandma had told him to keep things real when they mattered, though he’d taken it to a much farther level. In fact, his humorous side had almost gone away completely. He no longer chuckled or snickered as often as he used to, and he'd believed that being serious was the way he should continue about his life. But, if he was being truthful, he really did miss that side of him that Grandma said could make anybody laugh. Snubbing it felt like snubbing his Grandmother.

Regardless of their individual reasonings, all three brothers felt as though they'd let her down.

John Dory hadn't realized that the one person he might've wanted to speak to again - aside from the brothers he'd silently hoped he'd make up with one day - was his Grandma. There was so much he wanted to tell her about his adventures out with his caterbus Rhonda, seeing the world.

Spruce would've liked to have told her much about his newfound understanding about relationships, and the true love he'd found with his wife that was so much better than any meaningless fling he'd previously had in his youth.

Clay ached to hear her sweet little laugh again, seeing the smile spread on her face that was because of a joke he'd cracked, and wanting to show her the cool tuck-and-roll trick he'd learned in Putt Putt Village.

A simultaneous sigh heaved from the three brothers.

"I mean, we could see her again one day... right?" Spruce asked.

John Dory didn't understand. "Bro, Branch said she died, though!"

"No, dude, he meant, like, somewhere else," Clay clarified, gesturing an arm up and out, the direction towards the sky.

JD cocked his head, not sure what exactly he was supposed to be looking at, until it came to him. His brothers were talking about a better place, one that was not their world full of troubles and regrets. One where Grandma Rosiepuff was free of her suffering, and where they may go one day when they grew old themselves and passed on.

"Ohhh," he said, nodding once and answering honestly.

"Yes. I think so."

__________________________________________ A/N: I guess this could take place when the brothers are waiting for Branch to return after my oneshot "By Your Side"? (and for that matter, before the oneshot "Reconciled")

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #brozone #grandma rosiepuff #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes

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alexa-fika · 3 months

Note

HELLOOO I SAW UR FANFIC OF RAYLEIGH AND SHAKKY AND I WAS WONDERING IF U COULD DO ANOTHER ONE THANK YOUUU HAVE A GOOOD ONE AND OFC DONT IT IF A YA BUSY

THANK YOU HAVE A GOOD ONE

Tree Escapades (Rayleigh x gn!child!reader x Shakky )

A/N Here we go! I was heavily inspired by @novelbear and used quite a bit of their parent prompts to be able to do this one, of course instead of parents it’s our favorite grandparents : ), also check out my thinking sketch for this, I strive to have everything organized and proffesional

Reader is replaced by Dokusha here, which stands for reader in Japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Hahaha! Catch me if you can, Grandpa!” the small child screams joyously, running away from Rayleigh

Rayleigh couldn’t help but chuckle as the child ran away from him, his legs quickly moving as he ran behind the little kid.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have any problem doing that little rascal. You’ll get nowhere!”

They only receive a loud laugh in response as they dart away from view

“Dokucha!” he calls, falling after them

“You can’t run off like that, my love, you could get hurt,” he calls out, looking around for the child

"Dokusha, where are you? I know you’re around here; where are you?” he continues to scan the area, his eyes narrowed as he spoke, the expression on his face shifting from amusement to worry as he spots the child slowly climbing up one of the nearby trees

“Woah! Okay! Maybe let’s not do that!” he says, quickening his pace to stand below the tree

They stick their tongue out at him

“Grandpa can’t catch me now!”

Rayleigh couldn’t help but crack up at Dokusha’s attitude; the little child had clearly gotten the spunky personality of his captain.

He rolls his eyes as he activates and envelops his arm with busoshoku Haki and gives the tree a swift hit, causing the child to stumble on their climb

In a last-ditch effort to keep themselves on the tree, they take hold of one of the fruitful branches, only gaining to get a hold of a fruit before the branch caves in under their weight, and they fall straight into the awaiting hands of their grandfather

“Haha…oops?”

Rayleigh chortled as he cradled the child close to his chest, running his hands along their head and checking the child for any injuries

“Haha, you're in enough trouble, Dokusha. What were you thinking?” Rayleigh was trying to seem stern, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he looked at them

They giggle in their grand-fathers arm, glancing at their own arm and the fruit they had pulled down with them and inching it towards their mouth

Rayleigh quickly snatched the hand and fruit from Dokusha's grasp

“Ah-Ah, don’t eat that; you don’t know if these fruits are safe to eat.”

“Boohoo

Rayleigh playfully pinches the child’s nose

“Don’t you boohoo me, little rascal!” they said, throwing the child over his shoulders

They squeal as he does, banging their tiny fists on his back, a string of laughs escaping them as they did

Rayleigh laughed as he felt them pounding on his back as he carried them around

“I’ll have you know, Dokusha.. you're a little troublemaker. But a cute one, though I don’t think Shakky will be very happy with you once she hears of this.”

“No! Don’t tell Grandma!” they whine

“Hmm… maybe, maybe not. If you’re good and promise not to do it, then I won’t tell her, but if you misbehave, I’ll be forced to tell her that my darling Dokusha is a little devil.” a he stops to ‘think’ putting the hand that was not holding the child over his shoulder on his chin pretending to think hard

“ On the other hand, I don’t see any reason not to. You did something stupid and potentially dangerous. Maybe some time-out will change that.”

“Nooo”

“Yep, I have made up my mind. Should have thought twice thinking you could outrun your dear grandpa,” he says, entering the bar, Shakky standing behind the counter, the usual cigarette in her hand

“Looks like you two were having fun.”

“We sure were! Aren’t they just the cutest thing, and they have something to tell you as well, don’t they?”

Rayleigh said, pulling them from his shoulders and placing them on his hip, ignoring how they shook their head

“Don’t tell grandma!”

Rayleigh gave the child a slight squeeze on the side before he sighed and rolled his eyes*

“We have had this conversation. You are not going to get off the hook so easily,” Rayleigh said, crossing his arms and looking at Shakky, who was smiling

“Looks like our little rascal has been having a little too much fun,” Shakky said, taking a drag of her cigarette

“And I would very much like to know what it is that my little grandbabe has been up to.”

“Dokusha was up to no good as usual; I caught them when they decided to climb a tree, and when I stopped her from eating a fruit, they started bawling like a baby, saying, ‘Nooo, don’t tell grandma!’ They’re quite the little rascal, aren’t they?”

“I didn't bawl like a baby!” they protest

“Hmm, really? Could of fooled me,” Rayleigh replied as he looked at the child.

“Dokusha…” begins Shakky

They wince as they hear the stern tone in their grandmother's voice

“Dokusha, we talked about you climbing trees. You can not keep climbing trees; you will hurt yourself,” Shakky says, her tone very stern as she frowns at the little child

“We have also talked about you running off on your own, especially playing your little games without telling us you are playing said games,” she scolds

“Sorry”

“And that is the last time I hear of you misbehaving; we have had this discussion far too many times for you to be still acting out,” she says firmly but with a slight twinge of a smile,

“Are we understood?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Oh, and no treats for you.”

“No!”

“Now go wash your hands; dinner is almost ready,” she said as she watched the child glower

Rayleigh chuckled as he put them down, and they stood their ground, pouting with their arms crossed

“Hm? Do I hear a week without treats?”Rayleigh said, cupping his ear

Shakky, catching on, nods her head

“I think I hear it too.”

Rayleigh laughs as the child quickly rushes over to the sink and wash their hands; Shakky can’t help but chuckle along

“I'm washing!”

“Well, aren't they well-behaved?”

Rayleigh nods, still laughing slightly

If only I could write my school essays as easy as I write these…

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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ash5monster01 · 5 months

Text

Sunday Morning

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of trauma

Summary: Based on the song Sunday Morning by Maroon Five. In other words, Steve has considered running away from Hawkins every day considering all the trauma and heartbreak he’s endured here. Yet he can’t bring himself to do it because he doesn’t want to risk losing you. Especially since he can’t guarantee he’d ever see you again. So he’d rather continue to suffer here, as long as he has you.

word count: 700+

Masterlist

Steve woke up to the sound of light rain drops on the window sill outside his bedroom. The clouds painted the sky a bright white, a normal spring rain coating the side of the house. He hums in contentment as his eyes flitted to see his alarm read 10:05am. He felt a chill reach his arms and he looked to see you had curled up in most of his sheets. Smiling he lightly tugged them from your grasp, covering himself and nudging his skin flush against yours. He looks up at the grey sky and you move to fit perfectly against him.

“Morning handsome” you hummed against his chest and he smiled, realizing he didn’t need good weather to have a bright day. At least he had you by his side.

“You sleep good?” he asked this because you experienced nightmares, like the most of them. The horrors of Hawkins had tainted you all, now it was much harder trying to have a good night sleep never feeling 100% safe.

“Yes, I actually did” you smile at him, still buzzing with sleep. It was Sunday morning, you had nothing urging you to leave the comfort of his arms. This is proven to be true when you snuggle deeper into him, eyes closing with more sleep. Steve feels his heart yearn for you in ways he can't explain. All he knows is that he would glady hit the road and go as long as it led him back to you. After these last three years in Hawkins living life had just gotten so crazy and hard to do. Knowing that as long as he had you it would be all he ever needed.

"What do you want to do today?" he whispers to you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. He doesn't even remember that it's storming outside. You're the only thing he can focus on. The only person he can see, even in the darkness of the upside down. So he will take lazy sundays, resting your bones together, driving slowly throughout the day. He never want's to leave.

"Stay in bed" you mutter into his chest and he chuckles as he begins to rub his hand down your side. His fingers trace every outline of your figure, paiting a picture with his hand. He loves the way you both had faced the worst of things, things that should tear people apart. Swaying together like branches in a storm and when the weather changes you're still together. So he accepts this may be all he needs. You, him, and lazy Sunday mornings. He never wants to leave.

"You don't have to ask me twice" he says as he rolls you to your back. Suddenly Steve Harrington's hovering over you, sheets spilling around each others bare skin and you giggle loudly as he leans down and kisses you. His pelvis pushing into your own and even though you'd much rather escape the nightmare of Hawkin's you know it would be useless because you would always come right back to him. Right back home and he may not know but it's all you need.

Sunday morning rain and calling out to him. So you deepen the kiss, hands curling into his hair because you'd rather fight a hundred demogorgan’s than ever leave his side. You relish in the taste of cherries on his lips and how sweet his skin sticks to your own. He's everything you love wrapped up in a perfect package and you'd never trade it for the world. When he pulls away for a breath you don't let him escape so easy, lips finding his neck, and fingers grazing through chest hair. He groans out for you, so well practiced in working him over. Yet with determination he still reaches over to the night stand where a vase of fresh flowers sit, your own personal touch. When you pull away from his neck he places the flower he stole in your hair.

"What's that for?" you ask and he just smiles at you. He wishes to be that flower in your hair, always with you. He supposes he is.

"Just for being you, and loving me" he says and your heart melts all over again for the boy above you.

"I love Sunday mornings with you"

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mymiraclealigner · 1 year

Text

Teatime | Remus Lupin x reader

summary: Y/n struggles to take her tea.

tw: suggestive content, angst, difficult relationship with food.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi, i've been thinking a lot about sad Remus this fall so I wrote this small sad thing, hope you like it! Italics are flashbacks btw hehe.

The cold yellow liquid stares back at the sad looking witch threateningly, she has to take a sip to be able to chug it all in. But it’s hard. The smell reminds her of warm afternoons and big hands under the covers. Now it’s the middle of November, the wind throws the rain against the window violently, and the big empty table Sirius’ bought for Christmas makes her shiver. You could see the tiredness in her face, her long eyelashes have been dropping uncontrollably since it started getting dark at 16.00, and the only thing that would cure her fatigue is theine. She is sure of that. It had worked before, that same spring in fact. ‘The taste must be shit’, she thought; she had never had to prepare her own tea.

“One or two spoons of sugar for the lady?” Remus yells from the kitchen.

“Whatever, I don’t mind” she can hear him chuckle from the distance.

She rubs her feet back and forth against the coach under the blanket Remus covered her naked body with, trying to keep his heat. The smell of lemon and ginger lingers in the air creating a path from the kitchen to the living room. He appears with two mismatched mugs on each hand giving off a thin line of fume. He offers one to her and reaches the lamp to bring some light into the opaque room. She takes a sip of the tea while making space for Remus to seat.

“How is it then?”

“Perfect,” they look at each other with knowing smiles.

A bang on the window brings her back, a branch hit the damaged wooden end of the louvre. Her shaky hand takes a hold of the discolored mug and brings it to her lips. The contact of the cold glass against her pale lips makes her stomach drop, he would have never let her drink cold tea.

“Oh, you are here!” Molly’s voice startles the witch. “I’m so happy you decided to come out, love. We have missed you in dinner time.”

Y/n turns around to gift her a painful smile of gratitude; Molly is always calm and patient with her. They all secretly know she isn’t ok; they know something happened, but they don’t know exactly what.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve been reading a lot, it’s hard to stop once you start,” she chuckles.

“I see,” Molly approaches to the chair next to hers and sits, “you know that if you want to talk, I’m all ears. I’m here for you if you need me.”

“I’m fine,” she replies with her best smile, ignoring Molly’s implication.

“Well, that’s good,” she pats her shoulder twice and squeezes the skin once. “I’m happy to see you drink your tea.”

Molly takes out a chocolate frog from her pocket and puts it in front of her in the dark mahogany table. She pinches her arm lovingly before leaving the dining room, signaling Y/n to eat. She stares at the chocolate frog and with a big sigh takes it out of the envelope. She stares at the funny looking sweet, the frog decides not to move or try to escape from her hold, like it knows she needs it more than it needs freedom from being eaten. Even though her hands are not warm, the chocolate starts to melt in her fingertips.

“Come here,” Y/n starts moving her hand rapidly avoiding Remus’ grasp.

“Why?” she laughs at his serious expression.

“You have chocolate in your hand,” he finally takes a hold of her wrist.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, look, here,” he points to a brown stain on the side of her hand. Her laugh rumbles against the walls of the coffee room while he tries to lick the chocolate off.

“It’s a beauty spot, Remus!” she says between laughs. Surprised, Remus checks the mole again only to encounter it there, still as it was before.

“It’s delicious anyway,” he brings her hand to his mouth once again, sucking on the soft flesh.

She puts the whole frog in her mouth and chews it just the necessary number of times not to choke. She licks her stained fingers rapidly and cleans the saliva off on her jeans. Tears threaten to escape her eyes and she starts to feel angry. Angry towards her weakness and vulnerability; just the thought of him still makes her want to crawl out of her skin and find solace in his. But she can’t, not anymore. He made sure of leaving that pretty clear.

The door opens again, but she doesn’t turn around to see who it is. She can hear the steps directing towards the kitchen, and as soon as a soft scent of books and whisky envelops her, she knows it’s him. ‘He didn’t even say hello’. The big red ball of rage shoots up to her throat and she wishes to be dead.

Looking up to the fancy chandelier, she makes the tears disappear and grabs the mug with determination; she chugs the liquid as fast as she can, knowing through her peripheral vision that he is looking from the side. The aftertaste hits her a million times on the cheek with memories of the man in the kitchen, before he became a painful and scary thought. She can’t avoid a grunt escaping her throat when she puts the mug down; it was a disgusting flavor that filled her mouth. The tea was not sweet, just bitter, a bit watery and way too concentrated for her likeness. She wanted to puke.

“Come on. All out, love” Remus rubs her back soothingly trying to encourage the witch to empty her stomach.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“Yeah, we all say that” he takes a hold of her hair just in case it falls over the rim of the seat.

“I mean it.” She takes her head out of the toilet and looks at him with a runny nose and puppy eyes, “From now on, it’s only your tea and nothing else.”

“Really? Nothing else at all?” he looks at her cheeky while cleaning the side of her mouth with some toilet paper.

“Well, maybe if you cum on my mouth I'll drink that too, but that’s it.” She sniffs before laughing at his fake scandalized expression while he helps her get up to finally take her home.

Two big hands rest on her shoulders and she knows is her turn to say something. She hid in her room for more than a month and a half and didn’t open the door to anyone, only Sirius. They hadn’t discussed the fight, but she knows there is nothing left to say, he doesn’t want her anymore and he has a right to make that woeful decision. It was a matter of time: he is older, wiser, and emotionally unavailable, and she is just a young woman discovering love. It was never going to work.

“Don’t touch me, please” he removes his hands from her shoulders slowly.

She stands from her seat and grabs the empty mug. Without turning around to see him, she goes straight to the sink in the kitchen and turns on the hot water. She washes the glass manually, shushing her frustration under the sweltering water. He supports his weight in the counter next to the sink, watching her suffer without showing any expression. He knows she is hurting, he wants to force her hands out of the steaming water, but she asked him not to touch her.

“You are never going to talk to me? Is that how it’s going to be now?” he looks for her eyes, she doesn’t indulge.

“No, I need to know how much sugar you used to put in my tea” she closes the faucet and turns to look at him.

“Two spoons.”

“Thanks.”

She turns her body to the left, a sign to leave this excruciating encounter. He raises his hand in the air, to make her stop, almost touching her hip. She sighs and pushes his arm with delicacy. There is no other exchange of looks or words; she leaves, and he stays. They both feel like their stomachs are being kicked by the most horrible, naughty goblin. She will never drink tea and he will never receive her love and affection again. Teatime and love have been ruined, forever.

#remus lupin imagine #professor remus #remus lupin fic #remus lupin smut #professor remus lupin #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #remus lupin angst #angst #remus john lupin #older remus lupin #sad remus lupin

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

For horror night!

Graves is exploring the forest near base during the full moon. It's bright enough he didn't really thing anything of it when he gets attacked by werewolf Price :)

Delicious. Also, consent do be dubious but I can assure you, all parties are consenting.

Graves had just been exploring the nearby area. Ever since he had been put on… probation he’d call it, he had been stuck on base. It made sense he couldn’t go on missions or leave unsupervised but he wasn’t even allowed outside without someone there. If he really wanted to escape, he would’ve done so!

Tonight, the moon looked lovely. It painted everything in a silver lighting that he liked. He slowly walked out into the grass. After a moment, he slipped off his shoes to feel the earth against his skin. Growing up Southern, he was rather used to being barefoot and while he didn’t exactly indulge the thought often, it felt nostalgic, holding his boots and walking through the cold grass.

Graves got to the tree line and noticed how dense the woods felt. Not just because of the thickness of the trees but the underbrush that surrounded each tree. He could barely take a step without something dragging at his pants. Brambles and parts of thicket and even some grass that had gotten longer where humans didn’t seek to control it.

Felt like home.

Graves heard something. Branches snapping. Immediately he started to look around, hoping to maybe catch a deer or fox. Too loud to be a rabbit.

Something peered at him. Eyes glowing in the dark. It was low to the ground so Graves tried to remember local wildlife. Too short to be a badger. Too talk to be a bunny. The eyes were huge and reflected the light easily.

It stood up.

Graves watched it raise up, thinking maybe it had been crouching.

But it kept standing up.

It went from only a foot off the ground to taller than him.

Graves knew when to run. He had only made it a few steps in to the woods. The treeline was still in sight. It should’ve been Fucking easy.

One of the brambles that tugged him earlier wrapped around his ankle and he hit the ground harder. The thing shoved his face in the ground with its giant hand.

Hand?

What?

Graves tried to get a good look but there was too much weight on him. The hand pressed him down hard, bordering on painful now.

He tried to elbow it and it growled so loud his ears began to ring.

Another hand balances in front of him and that’s when he sees it. Price has scarring on his hand. Its a funny shape. Rather unique. Someone had stabbed him in it. Twice. At separate times. It made an x that crossed his palm.

The monster’s hand has the x. It felt like Graves’s world started to slow down a rolling stop.

His harsh breathing echoed the monster on top of him. After a moment, he realized it was copying his pattern of breathing. Ever inhale matched.

More and more weight was put on him until he felt like he was being crushed. Graves started to claw at the ground to get away when finally, finally, the hand shoving him cheek first in the dirt Let go. He raised up a little and tried to escape and wiggle away.

A tongue ran up the bare skin on his neck as if to taste him. A growl resonated from it and then Graves found himself lifted up slightly and flipped on his back.

Price.

It really was Price.

Graves could tell by his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. His eyes had to adjust to the dark and what he was seeing. Soft dark hair that curled around giant ears. He still had the body of Price. Maybe a bit bigger. Unnatural. His body seemed to bend and twist in a way that didn't quite make sense as if the tendons were wrong.

"John?" Graves said gently, reaching for him. His clothes hung off in tatters, letting him see all of the tattoos that dotted Price's body. His chest and stomach didn't have much fur, letting Graves gently touch his skin.

Price sank his teeth into his shoulder, hard enough for blood to start flowing. Graves immediately started to fight back, but even with all of his training, he hadn't really learned how to fight off... whatever this was. He kicked his feet, trying to find purchase on the ground.

Why did he leave base? He grew up in the South. He knew all about the things that could lurk in the woods. Should've waited.

"John please." He hit at his shoulders while feeling the teeth sink in deeper. Adrenaline kept the pain from really hitting him, but it was still there. Bubbling under the surface. "You don't really wanna kill me do you?" Could he even understand him?

Price pulled away, blood dripping from his face onto Graves's. His tongue flicked out to get the blood off his face before leaned down and licked it off Graves as well. For some reason, the word tender came to mind.

Then they were kissing. Price's blood covered tongue lapping into his mouth. Graves slowly stopped struggling, hands instead running down the smooth planes of his back before tugging the fur slightly. It came out in clumps in his hand and he quickly decided not to do that.

Price's teeth fit perfectly around his throat as he ripped Graves's pants off. Graves considered for a moment if he should. Would Price be upset in the morning? He couldn't possibly blame Graves for not fighting him off but what if he felt guilty? Price couldn't be in his right mind right now.

A harsh bite to his side dragged him back to the present. Only one way to find out.

Price pawed at him. His hands were normally big, but now they made Graves feel small. Wrapping around his waist with ease. Price nuzzled against his stomach for moving to his thighs, moving down.

Graves considered running for just a moment before Price's sharp claws dug into him. Maybe not. His hot breath fanned against his thighs and Graves blushed more.

Price's fingers were thick and tipped with claws. However, he was so careful as he fingered him. Graves was just happy he was of sound enough mind to think about that. His tongue poked at him and Graves squirmed before quickly being pinned back down. He was helpless to do anything other than take.

He whimpered as Price found his sweet spot, abusing it while he happily lapped at him. Spit started to drip down his thighs and it made him shudder.

Price picked him up and pinned him to a tree, letting Graves wrap his legs around him. He pressed their foreheads together as he pushed into him.

Graves immediately shoved at him, surprised by how big it was. It felt like he was going to break in half and he barely had the tip in. He kicked out but Price didn't pause until he had bottomed out. Graves panted softly, brain turning to mush. Price held him gently, face pressed to his neck. His hips rolled slowly over and over again. Any coherent thought ruined as soon as he did.

Graves panted against him, eyes fluttering shut. Price started to thrust in properly and he couldn't take it. It felt so good. So big and it stretched him out so much. He started to sob against him, holding on tight as he could as Price ruined him.

Pleasure and pain mixed, dripping up and down his spine. His legs shook and he wasn't sure he could stop them if he wanted to. Price licked along his jaw and he moaned softly.

He started to speed up and Graves bit him back. He couldn't really rip into him the way Price did him, but he left a nice row of teeth marks.

Graves came so hard his vision went white. Price started to press closer until he felt something odd. Something thicker pressed against him and Graves vaguely remembered when he learned in biology about knots.

"John."

Price paused.

"Don't you dare." Please do.

Price pushed in suddenly and Graves screamed before devolving to more sobs. He came in him, making his insides feel warm. The knot kept them from separating and Graves panted, accepting the fact he'd be there a while. Price's hand got dangerously close to his cock and he groaned, leaning back to give him more room. He stroked him slowly, gently rocking into him.

"Price..." Graves panted out, feeling his hair stick to his skin from sweat. The moon was still high over head and he wondered if they would be doing this all night.

A small kiss on his cheek and a rough twist of his hand gave Graves the impression that yes, it would be.

#cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #Captains Horror Night

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whereireid · 2 years

Note

Omg but how about Eddie with a soft cute shy plus size gf, he worships the ground she walks on , and she’s so innocent. One night he wants to show her how much he worships her and she’s just so shy and clueless as to what he means , please n thank you!!:))))

Pretty in pink [Eddie Munson]

as a plus sized girl I loved writing this req so thank you anon 💓

warnings: nsfw, mentions of insecurities, religious references, mentions of Eddie wanting to impregnate reader, sex

Rhiannon quietly echoes around your bedroom. You rest on your bed, the pink silk duvet dancing around your skin. It’s so sleek, so gentle against your body, and you sigh happily as you gently apply moisturiser to your skin. Legs recently shaven, the scent of mango fills your nose as you rub the cream in slowly, making gentle swirls on your skin.

Rain patters against your window. Your TV blasts the Bugs Bunny Show - it’s the only thing you find mildly entertaining, and you hum to yourself gently. You haven’t seen your boyfriend, Eddie Munson at all today — which is surprising as usually the both of you are joint at the hip. You frown to yourself, wondering where he had been. Yesterday he said he wouldn’t be around much today, and you had just giggled slightly, twirling your hair and gazing up at him through your lashes. You assumed he was joking; you mean, where else would he be if not by your side?

Pat, pat, pat. At first you think it’s the rain hitting your window twice as hard, but when you hear a shout override the sound of the rain, you jump from your bed, walking over to investigate your window. It’s quite late now - about 11pm, and you’re actually kind of scared there’s some random man in your back garden. You frown when you arrive at your window - there’s nobody there, just grass, and you assume maybe it was the branches from the tree hitting your bedroom window.

When Eddie sticks his face into your view, you swear you almost have a heart attack. It’s not besides him to try to break and enter your house, but still - the sight of him sends you backwards slightly, skin prickling with fear, but when you drink him in you sigh in relief, moving forwards to unlock your window. His hair is slightly dishevelled, a few leaves sticking out of it, and his tongue is poking out from his lips in concentration as he starts to clamber through your window.

“Really, Eds? That tree is so frail I’m surprised you can even climb it.” You watch as Eddie slides his body in, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You pick the leaves out of his damp hair quickly and throw them out of the window, before pulling it shut. You didn’t want rain on your carpet - your parents would kill you.

Eddie stands himself up, brushing his wet jeans and shirt. “I’m a good climber, sweetheart. You just have to work your way around the tree and be careful not to hit any of the delicate parts.” He shoots you a cheeky grin, holding onto your hands and eyeing you up. You feel slightly exposed; you’re wearing a pink, lacy nightgown, and it leaves very little to the imagination. “You look gorgeous, baby.” Eddie practically purrs, his eyes slightly fiery. “Gimmie a kiss.”

A flush spreads across your cheeks and you tiptoe up to kiss him. He kisses you back, softly, treating you like a porcelain doll that could break if handled too roughly. You’re so innocent, so precious and he’s worried that any rough touch would hurt you. The kiss descends into gentle, soft pecks, and during it Eddie carefully guides you towards your bed. When the two of you finally pull away, Eddie looks around your bedroom.

He’s rarely in your bedroom during the day. With your parents being devoted Christians who hated Eddie Munson because of his ‘satanic’ beliefs, he rarely had a chance to visit you, and definitely was never invited in with welcome arms. Plump pink pillows sit on your bed, the silk cover shining and reflecting your bedroom light. The bed is perfectly made, perfectly organised, and Eddie loves it; how much it screams you.

The teddy he had won for you at the local fair sits proudly in between the pillows on your double bed. It’s small and white, with a tiny pink ribbon around its neck, it’s black, glistening eyes somehow full of emotion. “I think ‘m gonna name him Mr Ribbons,” you had told him when he had won it, a gentle smile on your lips, “I love it, Eds.”

“How was your day, my pretty girl? Get up to much fun?” Eddie asks you, planting loving kisses on your neck, his fingers dancing towards your hips. You bask in his touch, a small smile on your lips, trying to ignore how fast your heart is hammering at his closeness. He smells so good, so familiar, like pine wood and cheap cologne, and you drown in his musk. You love his scent, love him, and you’re so grateful he’s here. Today has, frankly, been boring without him.

“‘S been okay. I missed you.” Your admission is shy, and it makes Eddie’s grip on your hips tighten. “Just wanted to see you all day.”

“All day, huh?” Eddie hums into your neck, gently sucking at your skin, kissing the marks he left behind. “Been pretty busy today, baby, but couldn’t stop thinking about you and those pretty little tits of yours.”

Eagerly, Eddie’s hands squeeze your tits, nipping your nipples softly through your nightgown. You squeal against him, shuffling backwards slightly, basking in the warmth of Eddie’s touch. His hands are so cold compared to you, and you’re almost sure you can hear his heart racing against you. You giggle slightly as he gently presses kisses to your cheek, nearing your lips, and when he pecks you quickly, your face flushes.

“Bugs bunny, huh, baby?” Eddie says, flickering his eyes over to your television. You shrug sheepishly, your eyes glazing over with embarrassment. “You’re so cute, sweetheart. So precious and innocent. Daddy’s gotta protect you at all costs, huh?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod your head, watching as Eddie slides his shirt over his head. “Uh-huh.” Your voice is quiet, oozing with adoration, and you don’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes glaze over, darkening slightly. You shuffle atop your bed, trying to fully ensure your comfort, and bite your lip as you watch your boyfriend undress in front of you.

“You look so good,” Eddie practically groans as he slides into bed with you, pulling you close. You can hear his heartbeat race slightly as you snuggle into him, gently trailing your hands up and down his biceps. “So pretty. Pink really suits you.”

“I was a little nervous to get this nightgown,” you admit quietly, nerves prickling at your skin. “I mean, it didn’t seem like something someone like me should wear.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, massaging your waist slightly. “What do you mean, someone like you?”

“Well, I mean..” you trail off slightly, watching as Eddie gazed at you in confusion. He’s genuinely unsure as to what you mean, and it makes your heart pang slightly. “Because… I’m slightly bigger than other girls. It just - it just seems like I shouldn’t wear things like this. Like I should leave it to the pretty, slim girls. I don’t look as good as they would in this.” You shrug your shoulders as if what you’re saying is normal; but your heart clenches when Eddie’s face falls, and his lips form into a frown. Hurt flashes across his face as though what you’ve said has genuinely offended him.

“But you are pretty. And there’s nothing wrong with how you look. Have you seen how fuckin’ perfect you look in this nightgown? It was made for ‘someone like you’.”

“I mean it’s nice,” you say, “but other girls would suit this better.” You laugh to make the atmosphere light, but Eddie’s face seems to hold what seems to be annoyance.

“Baby, are you delusional? No, they wouldn’t look better,” Eddie says, grabbing your hips and forcing you atop of him. You squeal slightly, clutching onto his chest for support, and stare down at him nervously. Eddie’s bulge presses against your crotch through your nightgown. “Baby you don’t understand how fucking perfect you are.” Eddie’s voice raises pitch slightly, and he begins to whine pathetically, his hands grabbing at your waist, “do you even know how much I worship you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head slightly, trying to ignore the way his words make butterflies explode in your stomach, and you try to look away from him, but he tuts, grabs your face and forces you to meet his gaze. “It’s like you’re my fuckin’ God or something, sweetheart.” His words are desperate, his hands trailing over your stomach, squeezing gently, and you squeak slightly when his cock twitches beneath you. “Let me show you how much I worship you. Please. Because it feels like you don’t know how fuckin’ badly I do.”

“I know you worship me, Eds,” you whisper quietly, adjusting yourself so Eddie can take your nightgown off. His fingers are gentle against you, his touch loving, and his eyes hold a determination you’ve never seen. He throws your nightgown on the floor, leaving you bare and exposed. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, and his eyes are hungry, his fingers coming up to pinch your nipples. He toys with them until they harden, his fingers sending electric shocks through your body. “You - you don’t need to show me.”

“Except I do,” Eddie moves his hands down to your legs, “help daddy open ‘em, baby,” he tells you, gently beginning to force your thighs open. You comply with his touch, your heart racing in your chest as his fingers tickle your thighs. Eddie sits there, staring at your cunt - how wet and gorgeous and ready it is for him, and he groans slightly. “You’ve got such a perfect little pussy. Come on, shuffle up.”

The slick of your pussy leaves shiny wet marks on Eddie’s thighs. You position yourself on his chest, and furrow your brows in confusion when he beckons for you to come closer. “I can’t get any closer, Eds,” you laugh slightly, hands cupping his cheeks, running your thumbs over his stubble. “If I get any closer I’d be sitting on your face.”

At your words, Eddie’s heart almost stops in his chest. “Sitting on my face, huh? You wanna do that, baby?” His cock twinges slightly, and he wets his lips, looking up at you, watching as your cheeks flush red. Your tits are perfect, nipples hard, ready for his mouth, but then so is your pussy. It’s so wet, dripping on his chest, and what - all he’s done is kiss you? God, you’re so easy to make horny. Eddie’s eyes flicker down to your stomach, and it’s fucking gorgeous, and he just wants to fill you up with his cum again and again until you’re with his child. But he can’t do that; not yet, not right now – he needs to show you he worships you, need to ensure you know how fucking beautiful you are. “You like that idea, huh, baby? Sitting on my face? Move up, then.”

Swallowing thickly, you feel the tips of your ears heat up, and you carefully hoist yourself on his face. You linger above him, scared to put all your weight on him. “I don’t wanna crush you, Eds,” you whimper quietly, Eddie’s hot breath fanning your pussy. “What if I’m too heav-“

The grip on your hips is harsh, and shocking; Eddie practically slams your cunt on his face, desperate and hungry. He hums into your cunt, and you gasp as his tongue makes it way through your folds. Your fingers find his curls, gripping harshly, basking in the ecstasy of his tongue. His tongue swirls up and down your cunt, teasing your clit gently, before sliding back down to your slit, edging his tongue in slightly. You whine at his touch, jutting your hips, urging him to slide his tongue back up to your clit - and he does. Eddie grabs your hips, rolling them against his face needly, his tongue swirling and sucking at your clit. His face is soaked with you, and your stomach tightens as he continues to suck, lap at you like a dehydrated, starved animal; you taste so good, so perfect, and he wants to drink you. The heat of your cunt on his face is good - too good, and when you begin to moan unbearably, your thighs shaking desperately, Eddie coaxes you - “does my good girl wanna cum, hmm?” he murmurs, moving away from your cunt momentarily. At the loss of touch you cry out, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him to continue licking your pussy.

When he doesn’t continue, you stumble out; “Yes, I wanna cum, Eddie. Wanna cum so so bad.” You yelp out slightly as his teeth grazes your clit, the pain mixing with the pleasure of his tongue steadily swirling at your bud. Your core is clenching at his touch - his face is so slippery and wet that the roll of your hips is easy, and all thoughts of suffocating him is long gone. You’re desperate for release, and you grip onto Eddie’s hair, hopelessly blubbering out strings of encouragement, “fuck’m gonna cum, make me cum Eds, gonna cum all over your face like a good girl,” and Eddie grabs your hips harshly, his tongue darting circles on your clit so quickly your legs begin to shudder and your vision goes black.

Stars surround your vision, your ears ringing as you fuck his face, tits bouncing. A whine escapes your mouth as you come, your stomach twisting in ecstasy, and you paint his face in your squirt, shaking atop of him. Eddie doesn’t stop sucking - his hands hold you steady atop of him, and he laps at your sweetness, wanting to drink you all in. “You taste so fucking good, baby,” Eddie moans from underneath you. The feeling of his hot breath fanning your pussy makes your body shake slightly. “You’re so good.”

Eddie groans at the sight of you. So dishevelled, so pretty. The marks he left on your neck are bleeding slightly, and he grins up at you. “Look at how pretty you are, baby. Spin round for daddy, get on your hands and knees. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.”

The mirror opposite your bed truly shows your dishevelled state. You gasp slightly at the sight of you; there’s tear stains on your cheeks, running mascara, blood falling down your neck from where Eddie had bit you, and your hair looks like a birds nest. You flush slightly, wondering how the hell could Eddie find you sexy when you look like this? Your train of thought is interrupted by Eddie forcing your head down slightly, so your ass was positioned high in the hair. You whimpered slightly as his tip rested at the slit of your cunt.

“I don’t have any condoms,” you whimper, trying to move away from Eddie’s cock, but he kept you still, sliding his shaft up and down your folds, tickling your clit. “Do you have one, Eds?”

“We don’t need one, baby.” His tone is sickly sweet, and you gasp slightly when he pushes the tip of his cock in. Your cunt grips him and he hisses, gently caressing your ass. “I wanna make you feel good. I wanna fill you up with my cum, sweetheart. Give you a little Munson.”

“A-a little Munson?” you breathe out, burrowing your head in your bed as he thrusts forward, forcing his shaft inside of you. Despite being with him for so long, you hadn’t really gotten used to his size - how he stretched you out so well, left you burning and sore afterwards because of how often his cock hit your cervix. “I-I like the sound of that, Eddie.”

He leans forward, kissing your back gently. You’re perfect, and he needs you to know that. Needs you to know you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. If that means getting you knocked up, then that means you’re getting knocked up.

Your cunt tightens against him when he slides his hand underneath you to touch your stomach. His thrusts start off slow at first, gentle, wanting you to feel loved. And you do. His hands roam around you, touching all of your insecurities - loving them, whispering sweet nothings about them. His hips snap into you, his cock sliding against your g-spot, and you cry out. “I love you, sweetheart,” he groans through thrusts, placing loving kisses on your back. He’s leant over you, his body so close, so warm, and your stomach twists as his hot breath fans your face. He feels so good, and he stretches you out so well - you want all of him, everything, the good and bad. When you go to say it back, go to tell Eddie how good he is and how much you love him, he shushes you, “no, baby, this is all about you today, my pretty little girl. Daddy wants to make you feel good, okay?”

Squelching sounds fill your bedroom. Your grip on Eddie’s cock is tight, and he never stops hitting the little spongy spot inside of you. Your body feels like jelly with every snap of his hips, your core tight and ready to snap. His thrusts quicken, his cock slamming into you, making your body shudder; your toes curl in ecstasy, crying out some of the most foul words that Eddie’s ever heard, and you beg for more. You want him to fill you up, want him to stuff you full of his cum, and your stomach twists as he brings a hand down to toy with your clit. Eddie knows your body, knows you so well, and his kisses and touch and cock are so much.

You’re cockdrunk. You come undone around him, groaning and whining out as his thrusts keep the same pace, watching in the mirror how easily he slides in and out of you. You’re so wet; he’s so big, and you love it, love all of him and how good he makes you feel. Again and again and again his cock brushes against your spongy spot, and it’s too much; too good. Your body shakes beneath him, and he rides you through your orgasm, slapping a hand over your mouth as you scream out his name. Your body feels like it could break from how good it feels, the churn of your stomach and butterflies which consume you overwhelming all of your senses. He doesn’t stop thrusting, not when you’ve squirted all over him and ruined your silk bedsheets - they’ll have to be washed; but you don’t care. Your body struggles to hold itself up, so Eddie does it for you, carefully rolling his hips into you.

“Wanna cum again, my pretty girl?” Eddie coos as he feels you tighten against him again, your fists gripping the bedsheets. “Wanna cum at the same time? All over daddy’s cock?”

“Yes, please, god yes please,” you cry out - tears stream down your face, sobs rack your chest as he slams into you, again and again, whispering sweet nothings to you. His pretty girl, he tells you as his cock fills you up, nabbing at your cervix, stretching you to the point you’re certain you’ll break, his princess, his darling, his girl. All of his. Everything. Beautiful, breathtaking, gorgeous. Eddie doesn’t stop showering you in compliments, not when his thighs tense and his cock threatens to spill his seed inside of you. “I want it, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum-cum with me?” you’re begging now, your cunt so tight against him, you’re core twisting, body collapsing into the bed.

He pounds into you relentlessly. You come undone again, animalistic mewls leaving your mouth, ecstatic sobs shaking your body. You can’t take it anymore - this feeling, no matter how good it is, and you try to scramble away but his grip is so tight you can’t and it’s so good, he’s so good, and you squirt all over his cock. The tightness makes Eddie’s hips judder, and he comes, too - shooting thick, white strings of his cum inside of you, and he groans, “you’re so beautiful, baby, I love you so much,” whilst trying to keep himself steady.

Your heart races in your chest, tears staining the bedsheets and your face. Eddie hasn’t even pulled out yet - you milk him for all he’s worth, your cunt tightening and loosening against him, wanting all of his cum inside of you. The fact he wants to be with you forever makes you feral - the thought of you being who he comes home to in twenty years time drives you completely and utterly insane, and you almost want to tell him to stay inside of you and make sure you end up pregnant.

But you know that’s impossible. And you whimper slightly when Eddie pulls out, wishing he had stayed inside of you a little bit longer. His cum drips out of you, onto your silk bedsheets, and you squirm slightly. You’re still coming down from your high when Eddie pulls you into him - his body is soaked from the waist down, with your cum and the sight makes you face flush.

“Sorry, Eds,” you squeak out in embarrassment as you look down at his wet body.

“Why’re you apologising, sweetheart? I wanted this. I want this every day, baby. You’re like a fuckin’ fountain in the middle of the desert.”

Heart slamming against your rib cage, you smile up at him. He truly is beautiful - his long curls stick to his slightly sweaty skin, his brown eyes shining in ecstasy, a small, gorgeous smile on his lips. He’s perfect, and he’s yours. Forever.

“Did you mean it?” you mumble quietly. Your head rests on his chest, your fingers toying with the rings on his fingers. “You-you want a little Munson? With me?” your voice drops an octave, and it’s barely audible - but Eddie certainly hears it, and his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Who the hell else would I have a little Munson with?” He says, before engulfing you in another kiss.

The rain patters against your window, though it’s much gentler than an hour ago. You assume it’s gonna clear up soon, and snuggle into Eddie’s chest. He’s staying the night - seeing as tomorrow is a Saturday the two of you will probably go to his trailer to hang out. He dozes off before you do, gentle snores filling your once quiet bedroom, and you turn your attention to the TV.

The Bugs Bunny Show plays quietly. You hold your belly softly. You hope one day Eddie will fulfil his promise and knock you up.

Deep down, you even hope it’s sometime soon.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things vol 4 #plus sized reader #womnsfw

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delimeful · 1 year

Text

a still-glowing ember (2)

warnings: g/t, remus pov-typical violence/gore/innuendo, ignoring one's needs/magical burnout, self destructive behavior, hypothermia, death mention

If Remus didn’t find his brother soon, he was going to burn this stupid forest to the ground.

He decidedly ignored the way the night’s cold was seeping into him, frost biting deep enough that he probably couldn’t even conjure a spark, let alone a flame.

That wouldn’t stop him. He’d figure out how to start a fire the human way if that was what it took.

(And afterward, if Roman’s spark had already extinguished by the time he found him– he would find him– Remus would figure out how to burn to death the human way, too.)

They’d never be able to come back to this valley, anyhow. Remus had snatched three whole territory markers from a shifter as he headed north, using the decision-making process that had gotten him labeled ‘a danger to himself and others’ at his first colony.

What could he say? Roman was the closest thing he had to impulse control.

He’d considered going back for another one– the temperature drop as the sun set was killer, literally– but stealing foxfire was the sort of thing one couldn’t repeat without getting gleefully disemboweled by a pissed-off fox shifter, and who would track down Roman then?

Already planning exactly how he’d make fun of his brother for losing to a measly storm, Remus flapped his wings sharply, sending another wave of warmth through them and ignoring the way the cold pit in his chest deepened a bit more.

It didn’t matter. He’d always wondered what it would feel like to gutter down to ashes, anyhow.

The world’s most torchable forest continued to look the same no matter how far he flew, all thick-trunked trees and mossy undergrowth that he’d normally be eager to taste test. There was barely anything resembling a breeze, so the murmur of rustling leaves had been completely overtaken by the hum of insects and distant calls of night birds.

The lack of wind was just another stroke of bad luck. Normally, without any drafts to coast on, sprites would find a perch to occupy. He couldn’t glide for long, meaning that his half-frozen wings were working twice as hard to keep him in the air.

He had to keep moving. Roman was out there somewhere, perched in one of these identical trees or flitting from branch to branch in his own search. If he actually cared that Remus was missing, that was. Remus’s brain was beginning to suggest otherwise.

Maybe he’s glad to have the chance to get away from you, his mind offered. You should hunt him down and break his wings into little frozen splinters.

There was a heavy thud and rustle nearby, and Remus veered towards it, because investigating things that could potentially murder him sounded way better than listening to the squishy gray matter in his skull.

The source of the commotion turned out to be a sizable bear, shuffling its way down the trunk of a large tree. Remus circled around the scene on quiet wings, taking in the practiced movements of the beast.

Oh yeah, that could definitely murder me, he thought, successfully sidetracked. In a single hit, even. One of those paws probably weighed as much as three of him.

It was a moon bear, he was pretty sure, just barely able to see the telltale sliver of cream fur on its chest in the dark of the night. Not one of the more carnivorous species, boo.

No idea what it had been doing up there, but he didn’t have time to pursue the distraction any further.

With all the turning, his glide had shifted to more of a controlled fall, and he flapped his wings a few times, ignoring the way the bear’s attention shifted towards his direction. The flaps were frustratingly weak, slowed by encroaching icy numbness, and he forced another surge of warmth through them.

His spark pulsed painfully, and in the next moment, his vision blacked out entirely.

His wings flailed out to try and brake automatically, but vertigo had struck like a viper, and he could hardly tell up from down. There was wind in his ears now, which probably meant that he was currently hurtling towards a very splattery end.

He’d always said he wanted to go out screaming and covered in someone else’s blood, but he couldn’t even draw breath to yell, his whole body struggling to right itself amidst the pain of nearly burning himself out.

There was a sudden impact against one wing, hard but thin– a branch? Any semblance of direction vanished as he tumbled head over heels through what felt like an endless stretch of bush. Each stinging lash hurt, but by the time he hit the ground, his momentum had slowed enough to make the impact totally agonizing instead of extremely fatal.

He lay there for a few long moments, stunned or possibly paralyzed. He couldn’t really tell if the snapping sounds had been the branches around him or all of his bones. Slowly, his vision began to fade back in, each blink bringing a new arrangement of black spots.

Distantly, he finally registered an odd sound, one that was gradually growing closer.

Snuffling.

Oh, right. The bear.

Moon bears weren’t particularly active carnivores, but their primary meat intake was carrion. He remembered because he’d thought it was extremely funny, and also an excellent fact to gross Roman out with.

Remus attempted to twitch a wing, and failed miserably. His whole body felt like it had been tenderized into a paste.

… He was pretty sure he counted as carrion, at this point.

Getting eaten by a bear was a cooler death than hitting the ground because he forgot how to fly, at least.

The rustling of leaves intensified as something began pushing past the bush’s branches, presumably searching for him.

There was the sour taste of misery on the back of his tongue, knowing that if Roman was still alive out there somewhere, Remus had abandoned him with not even a corpse left behind. It was his own fault, he thought with a pang of aimless violent fury. If he’d been smarter or quicker or more reserved about his search, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He was distracted from the impulse to bite down on his own arm– half to vent his anger and half because if something was going to eat him, he wanted the first bite– by the sensation of something soft and warm grazing him.

It was like his body remembered it was freezing all at once. He leaned against the warmth despite himself, his breath catching as a new wave of involuntary shivering agitated every bruise and bump he had, and struggled to think past the sensation.

The thing grabbing him wasn’t a bear mouth, he realized, mildly disgruntled. There were no teeth. Only a bunch of flexible, appendage-like protrusions poking through the brush and curling around him.

The mystery of it all was the only thing keeping his mind off his shrieking nervous system as his battered frame was steadily pried free from the bush’s tangled grasp. He stared down at the fleshy lump settled across his chest like a band and abruptly realized he was looking at a fingernail.

A hand. Had a human somehow grabbed him? Remus blinked, dizzily sinking into the warmth of it. Maybe they could help him with the forest fire. He’d been planning to set something on fire human-style, hadn’t he?

“Try to stay awake. Your body temperature is dangerously low,” a low, measured voice informed him.

Remus hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes until he opened them to the sight of a considerably larger face looking down at him. Not human after all, going by those fangs and the round, fuzzy black ears atop the stranger’s head. Where had he seen those ears before…?

The stranger had continued talking, not that Remus had caught any of it, and was now levering his arm up between two fingers and pressing on it. It felt gentle, but sensations could be deceiving in the cold, so it was totally possible he was about to watch his humerus get snapped in two. The stranger was staring at him expectantly now, as though a question had been asked.

Remus didn’t have an answer, but having finally figured out just what kind of shifter was holding him, he did have something to say. Inhaling past his bruised ribs, he tilted his head back against the palm he was resting on to make eye contact.

“You’re beary hot,” he managed, and with his piece said, proceeded to immediately pass out.

–

Remus woke up to fur in his mouth.

“Pfah,” he said, coherently.

The fur underneath him twitched, everything swaying slightly as though wherever he was laying wasn’t exactly solid ground. He was also sweltering, which was a great state for him to be in if he didn’t want his spark to go out from overstress. Really though, how much fur did one have to inhale to start coughing up hairballs?

There was a careful oversized breath, and then the surface below him abruptly shifted to something much flatter and smoother. Fabric, Remus realized, his cheek pressed against distinct woven threads.

“Hello,” a voice rumbled through him, large and close. “You’re on top of me. Please don’t be alarmed.”

Remus waggled his eyebrows blearily, still too disoriented to even contemplate being alarmed. Besides, he didn’t startle easily. He was normally the one alarming.

“Did you at least buy me dinner first?” he asked, his delivery weakened by the instant pain that blossomed in his chest. “Ow.”

“My apologies,” the voice replied. “I was unable to reduce the bruising of your ribs, since applying ice would have only worsened your condition. I did not prepare any dinner, because you were unconscious.”

Either this guy had the best deadpan in the business, or the innuendo had completely flown over his head. Remus was delighted regardless.

He struggled to push himself upright, his entire body protesting severely, and a giant hand lifted into his line of sight, hurriedly curving around him as a supportive measure. The feeling was familiar, and Remus went rigid as he recalled exactly how he’d gotten here.

“Where are we?” he asked, all traces of his lackadaisical attitude gone.

If the stranger was surprised by his sudden intensity, he didn’t show it. “My home. It’s a cave near the northwestern edge of the valley, and I brought you here after seeing–”

“You motherfucker,” Remus swore, and twisted to bite down on the stranger’s hand.

The fingers contracted briefly, but surprisingly enough, didn’t collapse down to instinctively crush him.

“Ow.” The stranger’s voice was insultingly monotone about the attack, which admittedly hadn’t even broken skin. “Stop that. There’s no need, I don’t intend you any harm.”

Seeing that his best efforts weren’t cutting it, Remus unlatched his jaw and craned his neck to scowl up at them. “Forget harm! You kidnapped me while I was in the middle of something!”

“Yes,” they replied dryly, “dying. I noticed.”

“How long has it been?” Remus asked, shoving to his hands and knees. “Is it still night?”

There were two hands hovering anxiously over him, now. “Not long has passed. There are still several hours until dawn breaks. Why?”

“Because I’ve got a featherbrain brother to find,” he said, “so sorry to smash-and-dash, stranger, but you’ll have to abduct me to your cave against my will another time.”

The stranger went quiet for a long moment, during which Remus painstakingly managed to push himself up to a standing position, though his wings were limply dragging behind him.

He couldn’t really see very far before his vision went blurry, so he wasn’t sure entirely where the exit was, but he could figure it out. It was a cave, after all: either he’d find the opening or he’d walk endlessly deeper and deeper into the earth like a dumbass.

Before he could successfully balance well enough to take a step towards one of those destinations, though, a shadow fell over him.

“My name is Logan,” the shifter spoke up, “and I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

As easily as a breeze would pick up a leaf, Logan scooped Remus off his feet back into his cupped palm.

“Nobody ‘lets’ me do anything!” Remus snapped back, thrashing as best he could against the grip. Seeing as he currently had the strength of a newborn kitten, it didn’t do much. “Come on, you can eat my corpse later, I’ve got time-sensitive shit to do!”

The comment earned him a minor twitch. “I have no desire to eat your corpse. That would defeat the entire purpose of this venture, which is to prevent you from becoming a corpse in the first place.”

“My corpse, my business!” It was frustrating to know that if they had met in normal circumstances, Logan was exactly the sort of stiff-backed repressed nerd that Remus would have delighted in teasing. Almost as frustrating as the fact that the dork wouldn’t let him go!

With a huff, Remus gave up on avoiding agitating his wounds and threw himself into struggling with no care for bodily harm.

“Listen to me,” Logan tried, sounding slightly more harried. “Your internal temperature is only barely beginning to recover. If you expose yourself to the frigid weather outside for any longer–!”

“Oh, I’ll expose myself alright,” Remus snarled, because what was the point of nonsensical threats if they couldn’t also be saucy? “Roman is out there in that weather!”

“And you’ll be no help to him if you choose to freeze to death out of simple, ignorant stubbornness!” Logan literally growled, the noise vibrating through Remus and lingering in the back of the shifter’s chest. “I will help you search once you’ve stabilized, but until then, you are at my mercy.”

Remus stared up at him, in utter disbelief that someone could make playing nursemaid to a sprite sound so threatening.

Logan’s expression softened, but his grip remained firm. “I refuse to sit by and watch such foolishness. I won’t be made to explain it to your brother.”

Maybe it was the way his words assumed Roman’s survival after Remus had spent the whole night imagining the worst, or maybe Remus was just exhausted enough for a rational argument to have an effect on him for once.

Either way, he clearly wasn’t winning this fight. He let his body flop limply against Logan’s hand with no little amount of petulance.

“If you don’t help me search, I’ll learn how to perform surgery on giants just so I can fill your organs with flesh-eating wasps.”

Logan took the concession for what it was, and only raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to lock me in a room with the wasps? My flesh would be eaten either way, right?”

It was the perfect question to distract himself with. Remus launched into a heated defense of the differences between external versus internal flesh consumption as torture methods, barely noticing as Logan carefully moved his limp wings back into a more comfortable resting position.

The shifter kept asking questions as he cupped his hand against his chest, creating a cushion of warmth on all sides. Remus kept talking even as drowsiness began to set in, a sprite cradled up against the heartbeat of a bear shifter. Heh. He had always wanted to cuddle something that could maul him.

Remus knew the warmth rekindling in his chest was his spark. Still, it felt a little like hope, too.

… Blech, Roman had been rubbing off on him.

He’d have to return the favor once they were reunited.

#sanders sides g/t #fantasy au #ts remus #ts logan #a still glowing ember #asge #my writing #writing #i almost forgot it was saturday. shout out to bk forever

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coffee-breath1 · 4 months

Text

Forbidden fruit

Cw: Talk of drugs, implied addiction, talk of death

It was late at night, the city was asleep when you felt the familiar itch in your body. A craving to be satiated. Your life recently had not been treating you kindly; your boyfriend of three years leaving you on your anniversary just a week ago. Before, you had tried to fill the itch with anything, alcohol, sex, anything you could get your hands on but nothing ever seemed so sweet as the substance you had forbidden yourself from. You understood how Eve had given into the impulse of the forbidden fruit, sitting so perfectly on the branch, its glossy skin reflecting back at her.

With a deep sigh, you pull out your phone, dialling the number forever engrained into your mind. The line rang once, twice, three times before a familiar voice with a thick accent answered.

"Simon?"

"Hi, angel".

A few minutes later you found yourself sitting on a leather couch inside his apartment, pulling your coat tight around you as you sat, patiently. It hadn't changed, the lights still dingy and yellow, the carpet still stained, the room still littered with bottles. Simon returned to the room, tired footsteps making their way to you before he sat down next to you, placing a small paper bag on your lap. "your usual", he said.

"My boyfriend broke up with me on Thursday", you said, eyes unfocussed as you stared ahead at whatever nonsense Simon had playing on the tv in that moment.

" 's about time", he said, gently pressing your cheeks together with one of his hands, the other slipping a cigarette between your lips and lighting it, then his own. "He could never love you like I do", he added, letting a steady stream of smoke roll out of his mouth.

"You don't love me, Simon", you replied, letting out your own smoke, watching as it rolled through the air, feeling the effects of the nicotine hitting you, relaxing you.

"Love you like no other, doll" he would reply, gently turning your head to him with his finger and thumb. He ran a hand through your hair, than one down the side of your face, wiping up tears that you hadn't realised were slipping down your face.

"You're no good for me", you sobbed, finally feeling all the heartbreak and betrayal wracking through your body. You were confused, frustrated, angry, tired. A whole plethora of emotions reared their ugly head to you finally, it only took seeing Simon for it to happen, as it always seems to.

"You keep coming back", he countered, cooing soft comforts to you as he pulled you into his lap, holding you head securely on his chest with his hand as you sobbed, staining his grey hoodie with your tears.

eventually, your breathing evened out and your body ceased its shaking from your sobs. Your throat was raw and dry, eyes stinging and red as Simon rubbed small circles on your shoulders. He leaned away for a second before you heard the click of a lighter and a familiar smell entered your nose. Simon held the blunt to your lips, waiting for you to take the first drag, as he always did.

You shook your head, leaning away slightly. "Gave you all my money".

"This one's on me, sweetheart" he hummed, gently raking his fingers across your scalp as you opened your mouth, allowing him to place it between your lips. You took a hit and sighed, leaning back against him.

"I don't wanna live", you whispered into the air.

His hold on you tightened slightly as he looked down into your glossy eyes, tear stained cheeks all red and hot and your plump lips. You looked exhausted, run down by the cruelty of the world, always running back to what you know will destroy you because you have nowhere else to turn.

"I know, angel. I know" he whispered, leaning down to place his head on top of yours.

This game of cat and mouse between the two of you had been going on for years, longer than the both of you could care to remember. You would always come running back when life got hard and he would be there, waiting to catch you every time. He was slowly killing you, yet you could never get enough, never get well enough to not need him anymore. It's not quite love and never will be, no matter how much the two of you pretend that it is. He doesn't answer his phone, not for anyone except you, He's got your number memorised. It goes unspoken, both of you know that this little story of yours is destined only to end in tragedy. Whether it be heartbreak or death, you would never get what you wanted so desperately, what has been eternally forbidden from you by the universe; a happy life.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #lana del rey #dealer #ghost #ghost cod

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acknowledge-reigns · 6 months

Text

Apologies (Roman Reigns x OC)

Angst/Fluff.

Description: Roman wants to apologize to Jey for the way he treated him in the bloodline but struggles with expressing his feelings of remorse.

Kayfabe compliant, this is story about Roman not Joe.

You can find my other stories here.

And you can read more of Roman and Lilith specifically here.

Exhausted. He was emotionally exhausted. Lilith gave Roman an encouraging smile as she offered him the glass of Bourbon she'd just poured up for him. Roman's gaze barely leaves the the notebook in his lap. He could do many things. He could spear men twice his size, he could lock in a guillotine in a manner that's practically inescapable, he could break record after record - But to apologize? No. That's different.

"Let me hear it again." Lilith prompted supportively.

Roman sighs and begins to read from his notes, "Jey, I really could've handled things differently and I see how I treated you was unfair..." Roman trailed off, "I can't say this, Lil. I did everything I did for HIM. To elevate him. For our family. Our bloodline. Life isn't fair." Roman said.

"Ro, do you want to fix your relationship with your little cousin or not?' Lilith questioned.

"Of course I do, but I need him to see my side of things too." Roman said.

"Do you think you're struggling to verbalize your emotions because you're afraid of being perceived as weak?" Lilith asked.

Roman thought for a moment, unsure what to say. "I guess that's possible." he shifted uncomfortably. Putting his pride aside wasn't easy. Admitting he could have been a better Tribal Chief at times wasn't easy.

He went through years and years of harassment, of borderline abuse from the WWE Universe before he finally snapped and took what he and his family deserved. Last time he was this vulnerable, the people who were supposed to cheer him on kicked him while he was down.

Seth betrayed him. Hit him in the back with a chair and busted up the shield. He lost his brother that day. Not his friend. His brother. Dean left not long after. Another brother gone. Years pass, he grows fond of Sami Zayn and what does he do? the same thing Seth did. Not just that but in Roman's mind, he successfully turned his cousins against him.

Everybody leaves. No matter how hard he tries. No matter if he's the good guy or the bad guy. That's why he's chosen to simply be THE guy.

The only person he trusts with his heart is Lilith, and even so he's been known to lose sleep wondering if it's a matter of time before he decides she isn't good enough. If he loses the title will she leave? if he's knocked off of the top of the mountain will she still be there?

That's part of why he's so dedicated to extending an olive branch to Jey, even if he feels he's making an absolute fool of himself. He has to be a better man. For Lilith.

"What if you write him an apology letter instead?" Lilith asked.

With that, Roman spent the afternoon penning a letter to his cousin with Lilith by his side soothingly rubbing his broad shoulders for moral support, He sits down at their dining table, a pen in hand and a blank sheet of paper before him. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow of a candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. Roman begins to pour his emotions onto the paper. He takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame of the candle, and begins to write his apology.

"Dear Jey,

I hope this letter finds you well. I've been wrestling with my feelings and regrets, and I find myself needing to express them to you. First and foremost, I want to apologize for my actions and the pain they may have caused you. I may not fully understand your decision to team up with Cody Rhodes, but I realize now why you've decided to leave the bloodline.

I want you to know that my love for our family, our bloodline, has always been at the forefront of my decisions. Every step I took, every move I made, was with the intention of protecting and upholding our legacy. But in doing so, I failed to see the impact it had on you, my cousin, my brother.

I am hurt, Jey. Hurt that you chose to align yourself with Cody Rhodes, someone who I perceive as a threat to our bloodline. It felt like a betrayal. I am hurt that you attempted to take my position as tribal chief. I'm hurt that at every turn whether is be with Sami or with Jimmy or even with Cody you failed to choose my side. But looking back, I realize that family is more important than any rivalry or personal agenda.

I want to mend our relationship, to rebuild the bond we once had. We've faced countless challenges together, and I believe we can overcome this as well. Let's set aside our differences and find a way to heal the wounds that have come between us.

I am committed to making amends, to listening to your side of the story, and to understanding your perspective. I value you, Jey, and I want nothing more than to have you back by my side, fighting alongside me in the ring and in life as my right hand man.

Please know that I am here, ready to talk and listen whenever you are. Let's find a way to move forward together, for the sake of our bloodline.

With love and remorse

- Your Tribal Chief, the head of the table, your cousin.

Roman Reigns"

Roman finishes writing and reads the letter aloud, feeling the weight of his words as he fights back tears. He refused to cry. Lilith reaches out and places a comforting hand on his, offering support and reassurance. She believes that this heartfelt letter will serve as a catalyst for their reconciliation, hoping that Jey will see the sincerity in Roman's words. She knew this was far from easy for him.

Roman takes a deep breath, feeling a mix of vulnerability and determination. He knows that this letter is his best chance to convey his true emotions to Jey, to show him how much he values their bond as family. With Lilith's guidance, he revises a few sentences, ensuring that his apology is genuine and heartfelt.

Once satisfied with the final version of the letter, Roman folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope. He seals it and places it on the kitchen counter, ready to be delivered to Jey.

"You did good, Ro. You should be proud of yourself." Lilith said.

Roman gives a small, appreciative smile. Her words bring a sense of comfort and validation to his anxious mind. He takes a moment to let her words sink in, feeling a glimmer of pride and gratitude for her unwavering support.

"Thank you, Lil," Roman replies, his voice warm with sincerity. "I couldn't have done it without you by my side."

Lilith reaches over and gently squeezes Roman's hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and affection. "You've shown true growth, Roman. It takes strength to acknowledge our mistakes and make amends. I believe in you, and I know that your heartfelt gesture will make a difference."

"The bloodline means everything to me, family means everything to me. I want nothing more than to have Jey back by my side, fighting together."

Lilith's gaze softens as she listens to Roman's heartfelt words. She understands the depth of his desire to mend his relationship with Jey, to restore the unity and strength of their family. She reaches out to gently brush her fingers against his cheek, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Your sincerity will shine through, and I believe that Jey will see it too. Trust in the bond you share, and give him the time he needs. Remember, apologies are just the beginning. It's through actions and consistent effort that true healing and forgiveness can be achieved."

Roman takes a deep breath and nods allowing Lilith's words to wash over him. Her presence and guidance have been instrumental in his journey towards growth and reconciliation. With newfound determination, he sets his sights on the future, ready to do whatever it takes to rebuild the bond with his cousin and bring their family back together. Roman gives a small smile and leans in for a kiss.

Lilith kisses him back with love and passion, "You've got this, Ro." She said.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #the tribal chief #wwe roman reigns #head of the table #the head of the table #the only one #wwe the bloodline #the bloodline #Roman Reigns angst #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fluff

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jinxedruby · 4 months

Text

Ambush at the Bridge: Chapter Two

In which Wild has a bad time. (Heads up for violence and blood in this chapter.)

AO3

First part | Next part ->

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Wild breathed silently through his mouth, first two fingertips rested lightly against the bowstring. Four monsters lumbered past beneath him, unaware of his presence. He leaned forward slightly, the bark of the thick branch he sat on digging into his legs. He took a breath and drew the bow back, arrowhead following the lizalfos in the back of the group. He held his breath as he aimed, keeping his arms steady. He pulled his fingers back and the arrow flew, burying into the lizalfos’s skull. Before its body hit the ground, Wild nocked and let loose a second arrow, killing the next lizalfos. The remaining two whipped around, searching for their assailant. Wild put an arrow through the third lizalfos before the fourth finally spotted him. It screeched and dashed toward the tree, zig-zagging and making it harder for Wild to hit it. It stopped in place for a moment, readying to spit water at the hero. A moment was all he needed to steady his aim and hit the monster right between the eyes.

Wild exhaled as the monster fell, slumping back against the tree trunk. He shook the cramp out of his hand from holding the bow and looked around. Still no sign of the others. He had gotten separated almost as soon as the monsters ambushed them at the bridge. In hindsight, bouncing off the top of a bokoblin’s head with his shield to try and flank the monsters may not have been the best idea. In his defense, he didn’t know that bokoblins’ heads were like trampolines and would send him hurtling into the nearby woods. At least his display had led several of the monsters after him and away from the others. He’d managed to pick off quite a few from his position in the trees.

The sound of clashing metal grabbed his attention. He stood up, nimbly moving from branch to branch, trying to see where the sound came from. A flash of color moved in the distance. Wild headed toward it, hopping quietly to a different tree. He skirted around the trunk, holding a branch over his head for support. Swords clanged again and Four stumbled into view. The little hero leapt to the side, breathing hard as a massive spear whistled through the air where he’d been moments earlier. Wild scurried forward along the branch, trying to get a view of the monster Four was fighting. Four whipped his sword up just in time to block another blow, redirecting the spearhead to the ground beside him. Wild’s eyes widened at the size of the weapon as it was yanked back out of the dirt, clumps of grass uprooting from the motion. The spearhead alone was at least double Four’s height, if not more.

Four darted out of Wild’s view and Wild jumped to a nearby tree. Four had shifted so the monster was between him and Wild. Wild caught a flash of pink flesh and heard a low growl. He could just see the monster’s brown boots and most of the beast’s legs. But no matter where he moved in the tree, he couldn’t see the monster’s head. He glanced frantically at the ground. Probably too far to jump without hurting himself. He could use his paraglider but he needed his hands free to use his bow. He heard a loud thwack followed by a strangled shout from Four. Wild gritted his teeth. He fell into a crouch, hooked his legs around the branch and fell backwards. Hanging upside down from his knees around the branch, he got a full view of the fattest, ugliest moblin he’d ever seen. It was at least twice Time’s height and it absolutely dwarfed Four. Four, who lay flat on his back, blood streaming from his nose and looking dazedly up at the moblin as it raised its spear over its head. Wild yanked an arrow out of his quiver, nocked, and fired it in less than a second. The arrow slammed into the back of the moblin’s neck, sinking deep into its skin. But the monster didn’t fall. It slowly turned around, blue eyes fixing on Wild with a hunger he really didn’t like.

He fired another arrow but the creature brought up its shield, the arrow pinging harmlessly off of the metal. With a roar, the moblin charged, spear lowered and poised to skewer Wild. He grunted as he curled upwards, pulling himself out of the way just in time. He drew his bow as the monster rushed by, shooting its neck again. The moblin stumbled but didn’t fall. It turned, reaching up, fingers stretching for Wild. He darted out of the way, preparing to fire again. Then the moblin grabbed the branch he stood on and pulled, snapping it off the tree like a twig. Wild gasped as he plummeted, the ground quickly rising to meet him. But he still had his arrow ready. He drew back the string and it was as if time slowed. He fired an arrow into the moblin’s face, then another, and another, and another until the monster’s head resembled a pincushion. The ground abruptly met Wild’s back, pain flaring in his ribs. He bit his lip against the pain and drew another arrow, aiming up at the monster. It swayed in place for a moment, black blood dripping from the numerous arrow wounds. Then, with a groan like a falling tree, it tipped over backwards, crashing to the ground. Wild let out a breath, flopping onto his back. His whole body ached from the fall and his arm burned from firing so many arrows in quick succession.

“Cook!”

Wild rolled onto his side, looking up to see Four hurrying toward him, lips and chin coated with blood from his nose. Despite that, the little smith grinned widely as he approached, hand outstretched.

“That was something else!” he said as he helped Wild to his feet, voice sounding congested. “How many arrows was that? Ten? In two seconds?”

Wild half-grinned as he carefully got to his feet, prodding at his chest to make sure nothing was broken. “I guess adrenaline will do that to you.”

Four shook his head, laughing. “No way that was all adrenaline. Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime,” Wild responded. He glanced at Four’s bleeding nose. “Looks like you took quite the hit.”

Four gingerly touched his nose, wincing slightly. “Nothing a fairy can’t fix,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any?”

Wild shook his head and Four sighed, wiping some of the blood away with his hand. “Well, we should find the others, anyway. Have you seen anyone?”

“No, not since the monsters attacked.”

“Great, neither have I.” Four sighed again, frowning as he tried to clean the blood from his hand. He turned and peered through some trees. “I think the bridge is back that way. Maybe some of us are still there.”

Wild nodded and he and Four set off in the direction Four indicated. They walked for a while, chatting idly as they passed by old trees and ferns that cluttered the forest floor. In the absence of monster noises and sounds of battle, everything seemed still and quiet. It was almost peaceful. Wild slowed, frowning as a strange feeling settled in his gut. Four paused, looking back at him.

“Cook?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Wild thought for a moment, looking around them. “It’s quiet,” he eventually said.

“Okay?”

“No, it’s just…” Wild pursed his lips, trying to place a finger on the unsettling feeling stirring in his chest. “There should be more sound. Animals, birds, leaves, but it’s…”

“Quiet,” Four finished, seeming to catch onto the strange air.

Leaves crunched.

Wild and Four whipped around, weapons drawn. They moved closer to each other on instinct, glancing into the trees where the sound had come from. Another crunch of leaves, a soft thud of a footstep. Wild narrowed his eyes, trying to make out any movement in the shade of the woods. More footsteps. A figure emerged from the shadows. Wild’s shoulders stiffened, grip tightening on his sword. Then he saw the dark green tunic and the gray fur wrapped around the figure’s shoulders. Wild sighed, letting the tip of his sword drop to the ground.

“It’s just you,” he breathed as Twilight stepped fully into the open. Twilight met his gaze, lips quirking upward. He walked towards them, brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder.

“Do you have a fairy? Our smith is…” Wild trailed off as he glanced at Four. Four stared at Twilight with wide eyes, sword still raised, knuckles white around the hilt.

“What’s wrong?” Wild asked. “It’s… it’s just the rancher.”

Four glanced at Wild out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t… I don’t kn-“

Silver flashed in Wild’s peripheral. He lunged to one side and Four dove to the other as a sword sliced the air between them. Twilight tsked, straightening up and turning to Wild with a cold gaze. Wild stiffened, eyes wide. Twilight lunged for him, sword gripped in both hands. Wild ducked under a swing and jumped back, fumbling to unhook the shield on his back. He barely managed to get the shield out in front of him before Twilight was on him again, attacking with all his might. His sword connected with Wild’s shield with a resounding crack, sending shockwaves through Wild’s arm. He stumbled back, gasping. Twilight gave him no time to recover, thrusting the sword toward Wild’s chest. Wild swung his shield out, parrying Twilight’s strike and throwing the rancher off balance.

“What are you doing?!” Wild cried in the brief moment it took Twilight to recover. Twilight didn’t answer. He planted a foot and darted around Wild, slashing at his side. Wild danced out of the way, the tip of the blade scraping his tunic. A shout from the side distracted Twilight from his next attack. He whipped around just in time to block Four’s strike, their swords crashing into each other. Twilight shoved against Four with his sword, pushing the smaller hero back. Four recovered quickly, staying low as he dodged Twilight’s attacks, searching for an opening. Wild watched in horror as his mentor and friend fought. Twilight spun and Four couldn’t dodge quite fast enough, blade grazing his arm. He clenched his teeth, ducking and diving forward. He swung his blade around, catching Twilight in the leg. Twilight hissed as blood soaked into his trousers, stumbling back. That snapped Wild out of his stupor enough to find his voice.

“W-wait!” he called to Four, running towards the two. “Don’t hurt him! I think he’s corrupted!”

“No, he’s not!” Four yelled, jumping out of the way of a heavy blow. “It’s not him!” He yanked out his boomerang, hurling it at Twilight. Twilight dodged it easily, forcing Four to duck as he swung again. The boomerang returned and clocked him in the back of the head. He stumbled forward with a grunt. Four darted around him, retrieving his boomerang and slicing Twilight at the same time. Twilight twisted his sword over the back of his head, blocking Four’s attack from behind. He spun out of the block, swinging in a vicious arc that Four barely managed to dodge. Four backpedaled so he was beside Wild, breathing hard.

“How do you know he’s not-“

“Look at his blood,” Four interrupted Wild, gesturing with his sword to Twilight’s wounded leg. The fluid soaking into his pant leg was a deep color, almost black. No, Wild realized, eyes widening. It is black.

“Infected?” Wild suggested. “Like the monsters?”

Four didn’t have time to respond as Twilight dashed toward them again. He aimed for Four, bringing his sword down at his head. Four jumped back, returning the attack with one of his own before Twilight forced him away again with another swing. Wild forced himself to shake off his shock, unsheathing his own sword and rushing at Twilight. Should he just hit him with the flat of his blade? Knock him back to his senses? He aimed to do just that, turning the sword in his hand and swinging the flat at Twilight’s head while he was distracted with Four. Then Twilight’s head turned, eyeing Wild over his shoulder. He leaned over, simultaneously dodging Wild’s attack and sending a kick into the champion’s stomach. The kick knocked the air out of Wild’s lungs and he stumbled back, gasping for breath. He heard Four grunt and looked up to see him locking blades with Twilight, the taller hero pressing down on Four with all his strength. Four’s arms shook badly, face scrunched up in effort as his back arched from the force above him. Wild dashed forward, swinging at Twilight’s head again. Twilight saw him coming, shoved Four away and dodged to the side. The tip of Wild’s sword nicked Twilight’s face, slicing into his cheek. Wild gasped, recoiling. He wasn’t trying to hurt him. He hadn’t meant to cut him.

“Champion!” Four shouted, as if sensing Wild’s inner turmoil. “It’s not him! It’s a shadow!”

Wild glanced at him. “W-what?”

“A shadow. A shapeshifter,” Four said quickly. “Looks like him but it’s not. Not even his body. We can hurt it.”

“How do you-“

“You’re just going to have to trust me!”

Twilight paused before them, glancing between them as if contemplating something. Wild studied him, watching as black blood oozed from the cut in his cheek, dripping down the side of his face. He held his sword in both hands, neglecting the shield on his back. Wild had never seen Twilight fight two-handed. Now that he really looked, even the way Twilight stood seemed wrong. He leaned his weight onto one foot, almost casual in his stance. He kept his shoulders rolled back, not hunched in the battle stance Wild was used to.

“Okay,” Wild finally said. “It’s not him.”

It was as if that was some kind of trigger. Twilight laughed, a cold, broken sound with more than one layer in the voice. Blackness crept from the edges of his eyes, blotting out the white and filling around the irises. Then his irises turned from blue to red. He launched forward. Wild had almost no time to react before the shadow was upon them, Wild and Four scrambling to move. Shadow Twilight’s sword whistled through the air, grazing Four’s shoulder and nicking Wild’s collar in the same swing. They both jumped away as the shadow bore down on them with blinding speed. Wild blocked one blow with his sword, Four going in for an attack while Shadow Twilight was occupied. But he swept a leg out, knocking Wild off his feet and freeing his sword to spin around at Four. He forced Four to dodge, the smith unable to get close enough to attack. His sword streaked through the air, meeting Four’s blade and knocking the little hero off balance. Shadow Twilight attacked again, and again, and again, hitting Four’s sword so hard that it caused his arms to buckle.

An arrow buried itself in Shadow Twilight’s shoulder. He grunted, stumbling and throwing a glance behind him at Wild as the champion prepared to fire another arrow. The shadow was forced away from Four who nearly fell to his knees, panting. Wild let loose arrow after arrow and the shadow dodged all of them, moving with impossible speed. Wild growled in frustration as he struggled to land a single hit. He reached back to his quiver for another arrow. His fingers hit empty air. The shadow smirked and darted toward him. Wild backpedaled, quickly swapping his bow for his shield, unable to grab his sword fast enough. He brought up his shield as Shadow Twilight reached him, bracing for the hit. But the shadow rolled to the side. Wild whipped around. He wasn’t fast enough. Pain lit in his back as the blade carved through his flesh, the shadow springing out of the roll and spinning. Wild cried out and stumbled forward, the deep cut burning. The shadow gave him no time to breathe, rushing him and attacking again. Wild held up his shield as Shadow Twilight whipped his sword around. The blade cracked against the shield, splitting it in half. The blow knocked Wild flat on his back, yelping as his wound hit the ground. Shadow Twilight appeared above him, sword raised as Wild scrabbled for his own weapon. At the same time, he heard hurried footsteps as Four sprinted over to them. Shadow Twilight drove his sword through Wild’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

Wild’s mind blanked. The shadow moved to yank the sword out but Four got there first. With a cry, the smith attacked, slashing wildly with his sword and forcing Shadow Twilight away from Wild. The shadow dodged everything Four threw at him. Wild turned his head to watch them, feeling strangely disconnected from the situation. His shoulder felt hot, really hot, so much so that it almost felt cold. He watched through a sort of fog as Four struggled to land a single blow on the shadow. He paused for a moment. Wild thought it was to catch his breath but then the smith raised his sword high. There was a flash of light and suddenly there were three additional smiths. They all charged forward, attacking Shadow Twilight from different angles, much more successfully than before. Their swords sliced into the shadow as he was penned in from all sides with nowhere to dodge to. At that point, Wild figured he must be hallucinating. He tried to sit up and that’s when the pain finally registered in his mind. A fire lit in the space between his shoulder and chest where the sword was embedded. Waves of boiling pain burst through his arm and torso. A scream tore itself from his throat, tears springing to his eyes. He raised his free hand to the sword but even just touching it caused the pain to increase tenfold. He barely registered a yell to his right. He rolled his head to the side to see the Four in a purple tunic had stabbed his sword through Shadow Twilight’s chest. The shadow looked down at the sword, swaying in place. He lifted his head and locked eyes with Wild. A grin twisted onto his face.

Then he melted.

His entire body turned black and dissolved into a pool on the ground, dripping off of the purple Four’s sword. The purple Four grimaced, flicking the fluid from his sword and backing away. The black puddle soaked into the ground and disappeared like it was never there in the first place. After a moment, all four smiths raised their swords. There was another flash of light and there stood only one smith again. He turned toward Wild. All the color drained from his face. He sprinted over, falling to his knees beside him. Wild didn’t even realize the sword in him had melted as well until Four pressed his hands against the wound. Lucidity slammed back into Wild as a fresh wave of pain seared through the wound. He yelped, grabbing Four’s wrist and trying to push him away.

“-ry, I’m sorry!” Four was saying, though Wild wasn’t sure why he didn’t hear all of it. Four’s voice was muffled, Wild’s heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. “I have to stop the bleeding, I’m-“

All at once, Wild felt like he was going to throw up. He groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his head back against the ground. His torso moved weirdly from side to side and- oh, Four was shaking him, wasn’t he? The smith said something but Wild couldn’t hear past the cotton in his ears. His neck felt wet, tickling as something trailed along his collarbone and pooled in the base of his throat.

“-elp! Capta-“ Wild caught a little bit of Four’s voice. Another pair of hands pressed against his wound and all he could do was whimper at the burning pain. Someone pushed his bangs out of his face. He opened his eyes to see who it was – at least, he thought he did – but the majority of his vision was overtaken by blackness, leaving only a fuzzy pinprick of light in the center. He registered silver and gold gleaming overhead, a shock of blue and green somewhere in his left peripheral. The hand remained resting against his forehead.

“Stay- me, Ch- c’mo-“ A deeper voice reached through the cotton. Wild felt tired and panicky at the same time, heart fluttering as his vision flickered. His head spun, stomach twisting and begging for him to vomit. The darkness grabbed hold and dragged him down.

#linked universe #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #lu wild #lu four #whump #ruby writes #wild shooting the lizalfos between the eyes: just like shootin womp rats eh kid?#literally no one is going to get that very specific reference #time to put it in anyway!

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coffeetailor · 8 months

Text

GTober Day 2: Acorn

"Nuts in a Tree"

To die and be reborn in the world of his own novel, Proud Immortal Demon Way, was bad enough luck as it was. To be sent into the frozen northern wastes by his ever uncaring system was even worse. Add that all to the steaming dung heap that was the fact that he'd been reborn tiny, and Shang Hua was having a very bad time!

[Mission: Retrieve northern frozen acorn. Time limit: twenty-nine minutes.]

"I know!" he whispered angrily under his breath, waving a hand at the floating blue square that'd been counting down since he'd been given the stupid quest. The screen flickered before growing brighter out of spite. "Don't you give me attitude."

[Host is running out of time.]

"Only because you took off two days for 'punishment,'" Shang Hua hissed. "I'll get the acorn. Just give me a moment. If I go out now, I'll get seen!"

[...]

[Twenty-eight minutes.]

If he ever got his hands on a keyboard and computer, he was going to find a way to uninstall that stupid system. Or give it a virus! He'd invented this world, so why couldn't he have been born into a good position?! Like some lofty immortal cultivator, or a wealthy lord who could have tearfully sent his beautiful sister off to join Binghe's harem and gained his benevolence in return. But no! He'd been born as some kind of demon borrower, with a tail even!

He'd thought about writing about tiny people once or twice in the story, but it'd never won the polls. Readers couldn't imagine a proper papapa scene with a woman smaller than the heavenly pillar, so they weren't interested. (Unimaginative rocks, all of them.) But other than one or two silly scribbles, he'd never even drafted them, so why were they in his story?!

Trouble with needing to get specially a northern frozen acorn was that they only grew in a few places. The trees were very slow to grow, because they only grew in the northern desert. Shang Hua only knew of three places they could be found. One, the top of a mountain even further north, which was probably full of monsters who'd love a snack, and was even colder. Second, in Huan Huan Palace, growing in sealed container of never-ending winter in the Old Palace Master's lab. Third, within the walls of the Northern Palace of the Mobei clan.

Somehow, because he'd pissed off the fates at some point, the third was the most accessible. Especially after he'd asked for a scenario pusher to help and nearly been eaten by a demon hawk before it'd dropped him inside the walls. And into the tree he was now clinging to, holding as still as he could.

Because he wasn't the only one in the small courtyard he'd fallen into.

Pale skin, dark eyes, long, blue-black hair twisted into braids, and a face to stop anyone with fear or desire, the demon didn't need an introduction. Shang Hua knew his own favorite creation. None of the fan artists had been able to do him justice. He was beautiful.

And he was excruciatingly deadly, especially when you were six inches tall and intruding into his personal garden.

Still, Shang Hua couldn't resist the urge to learn forward, trying to get a better look at him as the leaves of the tree he hid in blocked part of the view. Arguably the best part, as his king walked beneath the tree, his chest out and exposed.

He heard the twig he'd put his weight onto snap a moment too late. His eyes flew wide and as if in an old cartoon, he felt weightless for just long enough to realize what'd happened before he plummeted down towards the ground. Nooo, he was too young to die, spattered on the stones below!

The tiny demon's scream was abruptly cut off when he hit something. It felt about as hard as the ground, but was a whole lot closer, leaving Shang Hua to bounce off and land in a softly, spongy surface and lay back, dazed. The tree wavered far above, looking so harmless considering it'd just dropped him to his probable death. When a face leaned in to block his view of the traitorous branches, he smiled. "Pretty..."

The curious expression abruptly vanished, the tips of pointed ears darkening blue. If he'd died, maybe this was actually heaven, if he got to look at such a pretty face all day.

[Twenty-five minutes.]

Shang Hua jerked at the sudden count down reminder blaring in his ear, brought back to sharp reality in an instant. Which brought his attention to some very, very dangerous facts. He'd landed on Mobei-Jun's chest. He'd bounced off that chest. And he'd been caught in the demon prince's hands. The very hands that were olding him now as Mobei stared down at him.

The author scrambled to his feet, ready to try and jump the rest of the way. If he died, oh well. Better than being killed by a pissed off ice demon who'd been violated in his own garden!

Or, at least, he tried to get to his feet. The moment he tried to sit up, a claw tipped thumb stretched across his chest and pushed him back down to lay across that palm.

"Who are you?" Mobei-Jun demanded, studying him with narrowing eyes that Shang Hua felt with every sweep over his tiny body.

"I'm no one!" Shang Hua sputtered, his heart pounding under the trapping finger. "No one important at least, worth spending any of your attention on. If you let me go, I'll go and you'll never have to lay eyes on me again!"

[Host must still attain the acorn.]

You think I don't know that?! I can't retrieve anything if he decides to pop my head off as easy as picking a grape!

Somehow, that face was still handsome as Mobei's frown deepened into a scowl, his fingers curling around Shang Hua's whole torso, holding him tightly. Tight enough to make him gasp before those fingers relaxed just enough to keep his ribs from creaking.

"Please be more gentle, my king! I'm small and fragile, and my bones break easily," he begged, arms trapped at his sides. "I'm sorry for breaking into your garden. I didn't take any of the magical herbs, I promise!"

System, if I can have another pusher to let me survive this, I promise to talk nice to you. For... a week!

[...]

[Scenario pusher activated. Punishment for not upholding payment will be a loss of 10,000 B-points.]

One handsome eyebrow arched as Mobei continued to look down at him, and Shang Hua could feel a cold sweat running down the back of his neck. Of course it was cold. Everything was cold here.

"What were you doing here?" the ice demon asked at last, apparently willing to listen to his excuses before deciding whether or not to kill him.

His brain spun as he tried to figure out a plausible reason that wouldn't sound like the bullshit it was. Because not having written these tiny demons, he'd already figured out that no one, practically no one knew anything about them!

"It's for a courtship ritual!" he blurted out at last, before Mobei ran out of patience. "My people, we gift little items for the home when we want to court someone! Dishes, tools, that kind of thing. And we make bowls out of acorns! The rarer and harder to find ones the better! I don't have anyone, but that doesn't mean I can't be ready! And your garden is one of the only places where the northern frozen acorns grow! The other places, I'd get eaten or used in some cultivator's magic potions! Please forgive his lowly one for intruding without asking!"

Squeezing his eyes closed, Shang Hua waited for the inevitable decision that'd determine just how much longer he lived.

And waited.

And waited some more.

When there was a rustle of branches, he peeked his eyes open cautiously. Mobei-jun brought his free hand down from the low hanging branches with something held in his hand. The demon relaxed his grip a little more, which allowed Shang Hua to free his arms carefully. When that other hand came near, however, he felt a flash of worry that he was going to get slapped between them, right up until the point where Mobei-Jun opened his other hand.

He was holding an acorn. Specifically, a large northern frozen acorn, and one of the clearest one's he'd ever seen.

"Will this do?" Mobei-Jun asked when his tiny handful didn't respond.

"Will- what- Oh! Yes, it's a very nice one!" Shang Hua sputtered as his brain caught up. He reached for it, missing the satisfied smile and nod from the demon looming above as he took it. "Thank you, my king!"

"Then you accept this lord's courtship."

"Well of course I- wait, what?!" If he hadn't still been being held in place, he would have dropped the acorn and fallen on his ass. As it was, he turned a bright red as Mobei's words sunk in. "You don't mean- you can't-"

"This lord has presented you with your people's gift of courtship. My father's court has been bothering me to line up a mate. You will do nicely. Unless you find this lord ugly?"

"Of course not! Anyone with eyes can see you stand far above the rest in looks, and I'm not just talking literally! But we only just met and I'm not nearly important enough for someone like you!"

System!!!

[Mission: retrieve northern frozen acorn is complete. Reward: chance an easy life.

Good luck, host!]

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#fanfiction #shang qinghua #mobei jun #svsss #gtober2023 #moshang #Coffeetailor is typing...

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