#and she has no choice but to listen as you rip into her heart for choices that she already hates herself for | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

Text

Alone

ship: Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2,6k words warnings: mentions of racist parents, awful parent child relationship, talk of war and Death Eaters summary: Y/N and Theo are childhood friends, when she receives a howler from her mother that breaks her, he is there for her. (I'll blame @azrielscrown for her amazing Theo stories and hence making me want to write about him, and also @moonlightazriel for the tiktok videos she sent me hahaha)

It is quiet. So very quiet. All of a sudden everyone stops talking. There aren’t even any hushed whispers. Nothing.

It is so quite that one could hear a needle drop.

So quiet that even the mice in the smallest nooks and corners of the castle could hear your mother’s voice blaring out of the howler that has just unfolded itself in front of you. Its tongue poking out, the howler spats the exact same words your mother shouted into it in your family manor.

The words drip with venom. Disdain and disappointment lace every spoken syllable.

Your blood runs cold, your chin quivering, as you watch and listen in absolute shock. Your whole body has gone rigid, you don't even dare turn to glance around, not wanting to see the either mocking or pitiful looks of your school mates.

How would she know? How does she know? And why is she so mad?

It was just a school project, not your decision to spend time with him. You had to spend time with Harry Potter — it was for a Potions project, preparing a recipe, trying it out and then presenting it in class. It was project where you were assigned partners. A project where you were forced to spend time together. And even if you don't hate Harry, you would not have chosen to do the project. But you had no choice.

'The shame you brought upon this family by being sorted into Hufflepuff.'

There is a pause, and it is so long, so dreadful, so painful, and you just hope the letter won’t continue talking. Maybe it is over and the letter will just rip itself into shreds — the same shreds your heart has been ripped into when the letter started howling.

Or maybe a hole in the ground will open, and swallow you wholly? A ghost will appear and take you with him? A giant will crash both you and the letter?

But your prayers are ignored. Of course they are…

'And now, now you are doing partner work with him? Spending your free afternoons with him? What comes next? Dating a Muggle? Marrying one?'

'Y/N Y/L/N, in this house I allow none of that!'

Your best friend slides her hand into your cold one, squeezing it tightly. She is the purest and kindest soul Hufflepuff house has ever seen and in this very moment you are more grateful to have her than ever before. She somehow grounds you, stops your body from shaking or convulsing fully.

'I am deeply disappointed. So very much. What you do to this family, the shame you bring upon us.'

That’s how the letter ends. No well wishes, no goodbye, no I love you, no motherly love. Nothing.

You are shocked, sad, embarrassed — feeling too much. Too many emotions. Your heart can’t take them, can’t deal with them all at once and you know you have to leave, get away, escape. Cry. And be alone.

You need to get out of the Great Hall. And that right now.

You know your friends want to support you, comfort you, but sometimes you just need to be alone.

Your voice sounds choked, throat constricted, as you climb over the bench, the howler still in pieces on the table.

"I am sorry, I need to be alone now." You run, weaving your way through the pupils crowded in the Great Hall and the corridors outside. Tears start to burn behind your eyes, clouding your vision and your throat starts to burn.

You run, run until your feet ache, slumping down on the ground, sliding down the ball. And then the damn breaks. Hot, burning tears rolling down your cheeks, as one ragged sob after the other leaves you.

It hurts so much, growing up in a family like this. It is so painful. Your mother's words, laced with venom, still reverberate through your mind, loud and awful, filling every fibre of your being. A cool shiver makes its way down your spine, making you shiver.

You draw in a deep inhale, your breathing shaky, lower lip quivering. Closing your eyes, you let your head rest against the wall, replaying every single word she said to you.

The eerie silence of the corridor and your calm sobs are suddenly interrupted by the faint echo of footsteps nearing. You have no time to make guesses who it could be, finding you sitting behind a corner, back pressed against the wall to almost become invisible.

"Are you…alright?"

It is strange seeing him like this. He is always so confident, so cocky, arrogant, silver-tongued. And not so…reserved, and at a loss for words. Your desperate state has probably shocked him, you think, trying to hold his gaze, but the tears are coming back again.

"I am…fine," you croak, the lie in your voice louder than the Howler you received earlier.

Theo breathes out a cold chuckle. "That was the worst lie I've ever heard, Y/N."

His voice is flat, his expression stoic. He just looks at you, his normally confident demeanour nowhere in sight. "And I thought you Hufflepuffs are those goody-two-shoes who never lie."

You watch how the corner of his mouth tips upwards, but only shortly. He quickly presses his lips in a thin line, something he has always done when thinking deeply. A crease appears on his forehead, eyes solely focused on you.

You have known Theo basically since the day you were born. He is two months older than you, both of you coming from noble pureblood families, your father's had once been good friends, are still probably, but you don't really know. When you were placed in Hufflepuff…things changed.

Also the friendship with Theo changed. He got distanced, you did too. Being friends with him was somehow no longer possible, and still isn't. You are not rude towards each other, he also always stayed out when the Slytherins mocked you and your housemates, but he has also never sought you out to spend time with you…and neither did you.

You have been growing apart and this is alright — some friendships are not forever. Or at least that is what you always tell yourself.

"I…I just had to get out."

He nods, slowly, and in understanding. "I always come here when I want to be alone."

"Yes, that is why I am here, I want to be alone." You hope he gets the memo…that you want to be alone. Fully alone.

Not deigning him another look, you bury your face in your hands again, knees pulled up to your chest. It is not in your nature to be rude to anyone, but…

"I know I should probably leave…" But he moves closer.

"I heard what the howler said and I don’t really want to—"

"Everyone heard what the Howler said." A humourless chuckle escapes you and you lift your head. Theo is already looking at you, his eyes, meeting your red and puffy ones. Pain flashes in his eyes, bright and stark and you feel yourself shiver.

He nods slowly, almost like he wants to tell you it is not the truth, hoping it will ease the pain and discomfort a little, but he says nothing. And that for a long moment. Until—

He closes the distance between the two of you, claiming the spot on the ground beside you.

"I am sorry," he says, stretching out his long legs and leaning his head against the stone wall behind him. "I am so sorry for what she said and that everyone had to hear."

"It is not your fault, you don't have to apologise." You furrow your brows as you turn to look at him.

His eyes are filled with concern. You can still feel the embarrassment, the way the entire hall had turned to watch as the red envelope exploded in a blaze of your mother's fury and rage. Everyone became witness to your misery…

You swallow hard, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingers like an illness that just won't get better.

"Y/N," Theo says, his voice softer than what you are used to. "I can't believe she sent you this letter…"

"Howler," you correct him, wearing a forced smile.

The corner of his mouth curls up, and he casually runs a hand through his hair. "Indeed, a Howler, you smartass."

You chuckle, and playfully nudge him with your elbow. But then you shake your head, take a deep breath and shrug."You know how she is. Always expecting more, always disappointed in me."

Theo reaches out, his hand brushing gently against yours. He does not take your hand into his, just rests it next to yours on the ground, your pinkies touching. "You don't have to listen to her, Y/N. You're so much more than what she thinks of you."

You draw in a shaky breath, thankful about his presence.

Funny, you think. You would not have thought that exactly his presence would bring you so much comfort now. You had wanted to be alone just moments before, but talking to him feels somehow good. "Thank you," you say.

He smiles. "Of course." But he does not look away, keeps holding your gaze, his hand shifting the tiniest bit, his pinkie finger now placed on top of yours.

The dimly lit sconces cast eerie flickers of light upon the stone walls, and also on you two. His lashes look longer in this light, casting shadows across his cheeks, his eyes looking so much deeper. And soon you realise you are staring at him.

It feels like he leans closer, but you could also be mistaken.. And yet, his presence wraps around you, like a gentle embrace or a warm winter coat. And, with his voice barely above a whisper, Theo says. "You deserve so much better than this."

Tears glisten in your eyes once more. His gaze is intense, filled with an emotion you have not really seen on him before. "Thank you for being here for me."

"I am your friend, of course I am."

Your expression must have given you away.

He huffs, and lowers his chin to his chest. "Well, at least I hope we are still friends…"

For a long moment silence stretches out between you because first of all, you did not expect that statement and secondly, you don't know how to answer.

Are you really friends? Still?

You’ve doubted it in the past years, you’ve never talked to each other, unless you had to do so in class. You’ve never spent time together. This is not what you would call a friendship.

"I don't know, are we?" you answer honestly, and a small smile appears on his face. "I can't blame you for not considering me your friend anymore…"

It is still strange seeing him like this. He has never been like this…so vulnerable somehow.

"I know I should have been here for you so much more in these past years."

This is not at all what you expected, and it confuses you greatly. Is he blaming himself for not being here? You also did not reach out to him, you did not seek him out, and you are in different houses.

"There is no blame on you!" Your voice is stronger, firmer, wanting him to see that it is absolute bullshit that he is talking. "Why would you say something like this?"

He shrugs. "I am…" He does not continue, only draws in a deep inhale, and leans his head against the wall. His eyes close for a moment.

There has always been a connection between you, a connection that is still somehow there, even though you might no longer be friends. The kind of friends you once used to be.

You also lean back against the wall, your own eyes closing, his finger still touching yours. It is such a tiny gesture, but you feel it everywhere. Feel him so strongly.

Theo breaks the silence, his voice quieter when he says. "Y/N, I want you to know...I've always cared about you more than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you open your eyes, turn your head and look up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze. "Theo..."

"I know it's complicated," he continues, his hand now flipping yours over and taking it into his. "I can't pretend anymore. And seriously, if Draco or Blaise would see me like that right now…stumbling over my own words, they would call me the biggest fool on this planet, but I need you to know…"

He groans almost like in frustration, and squeezes your hand.

"In Salazar's name, why is this so fucking hard?" A chuckle escapes him, but you only look at him, not sure if you are ready for his confession.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N. And I have been for the longest time."

Your breath catches in your throat, and a mixture of emotions swirls within you, a whirlwind starting for a whole new reason now. "Theo, I..." You hesitate, not sure what to say.

He smiles and shakes his head. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know. And if you ever need someone to talk to, to be there for you, I'll always be here, I want you to know this."

This is a side of him, you think, only you know. And only you know since this very moment. He has never been like this before, he is not like that to others and it makes your chest warm from the inside.

Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time they're not tears of sadness — they’re tears of happiness and comfort. Without thinking you throw your arms around Theo and hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Thank you, Theo. I... I really care about you too. I want you to know this."

He holds you close, his hand gently rubbing your back. "What happened today, and what is maybe about to come…we'll get through this together. You are not alone in this. I know you have your Hufflepuff friends, but you also have me."

He holds you tightly, and for as long as it takes the pain of the former happenings to ease. The weight of the howler and your mother's hurtful words begins to fade, replaced by the knowledge that you have someone who cares deeply for you by your side. His words and his confession were like balm to your soul, and they make you smile, even when you thought you wouldn't be smiling much this day.

"I am really glad to have you back in my life."

He smiles, a genuine and adorable smile that makes your heart flutter. "I have always been in your life. Maybe we weren't that close, but our bond has always been there."

You nod, and draw in a deep inhale. "You are right."

When more pupils file into the corridors, you know lessons are probably soon about to start. You give his hand a final squeeze and slowly get up. "I'll see you later, Theo."

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take care, Y/N. I'll see you for lunch?"

You nod, a smile on your lips and his eyes momentarily dip to them.

With one last smile, you turn and head toward the Hufflepuff common room, your heart lighter. You know you can talk to him about the issues in your family, and he will listen, because he understands. Understands the pure blood nobility and problems. And maybe, just maybe, there is also a chance for something more between the two of you in the future. He, after all, already confessed his love for you.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin x hufflepuff #harry potter #theo nott #theo nott x reader

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darkbluekies · 6 months

Text

Like magic — part 2/end?

Part 1

Male!yandere x female!reader x female!yandere

Summary: after waking up from a coma like state, you find out that people are dying around you ... and they all seem to have a connection to you

Warnings: death, blood, typical stuff, abusive household

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: I feel that the ending got rushed, but I didn't know what I was going to write! Apologies. And for the moment, this will be the end of the series, but if I ever want to do another part, I will<3

Taglist: @yandere-city2 @svinxie @yumeneji @spitakgini

"Have you ever had a dueling class?" Hedwig asks.

"No, never", you reply nervously, thinking of everything Edmund told you about it.

"It's going to be fine. We're not even sure if they're going to pick you for demonstration!"

"I'm happy that Edmund isn't in this class or I'd be dead."

The mention of his name makes Hedwig quiet.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hedwig", you say. "I know you don't like to talk about him."

"You seem to like it …"

"What? No! He just annoys me so I can't forget him. He's taken over my brain like a virus."

Hedwig sighs and hugs your arm.

"I don't like him at all", she mumbles.

You enter your very first dueling class and watch how the professor start to talk about different spells (most you've never even heard of).

"I need two participants", he says and looks around for faces. "Arthur and Y/N, please."

You can feel Hedwig stiffen against your arm. You feel your blood go cold.

"B-But professor-!" Hedwig starts.

"No buts, come up here now, Y/N", the professor demands.

You have no other choice than to step up on the stage-looking plateau. Hedwig watches in horror with her hands clasped over her mouth. You pick up your wand.

"Professor!" Hedwig tries again, but once again she's dismissed.

You're supposed to protect yourself from a spell you have never heard about before, but since you neither know the spell nor the counter spell, it hits your body like a thousand needles. Suddenly, everything seems to go in slow motion. You're flung against the stone wall. The air gets knocked out of your lungs and your head starts to pound thickly. Everything turns dark.

Hedwig screams and runs over to you.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" she gasps. "Y/N answer, please!" She turns to the professor. "I tried to warn you! She doesn't know any dueling spells! Now look at what you did!"

The professor stands there sheepishly, and Hedwig wants nothing more than to swing her wand and do as much damage as she possibly can.

A few students help Hedwig carry your unconscious body to the hospital wing where your bloody head is wrapped in bandage. You're tucked in under white sheets. Hedwig sits by with tears running down her cheeks. She holds your hand tightly.

Edmund sighs and turns the page. Idiocy, all of it. He doesn't want to read about spells, he wants to perform them.

"Did you hear?" a voice says to someone else. "The transfer student in third year got abominated during duel class."

The school only has one transfer student. Edmund shuts the book and flies up towards the Hufflepuff student talking bullshit.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks. "Don't talk so much shit. Spit it out."

They seem to flinch upon seeing him. Edmund's made sure that people know you belong to him.

"The transfer student, she's in the hospital wing", the hufflepuff boy says, ashamed by now.

Edmund feels how his heart stops beating. No way. Not you. He gives the Hufflepuff boy one last glare before running off. He bumps into multiple people on his way, but doesn't stop to excuse himself.

Hedwig looks up when she hears someone rip the door open and run in. Edmund's face is paler than usual and for once, there's something desperate in his icy blue eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" he pants and walks to the other side of the bed.

"The professor didn't listen to me when I tried to tell him that Y/N doesn't know any spells", Hedwig sniffles without taking her eyes off of you. "She got flung against the wall and must have hit her head really hard."

"I'm going to kill him."

Hedwig sobs and rests her forehead down on your hand.

“Stop doing that”, Edmund mutters and pulls her head back before wiping your hand. “Your face oil is getting all over her.”

"What if she never wakes up again?"

"Stop talking such nonsense, of course she will."

But he can't help feeling worried.

"Alright, students", the working nurse says, "you cannot stay here any longer, the patient needs to rest."

"I'm staying", Edmund says sharply.

"I'm staying too!" Hedwig insists.

"No, you have to listen to the rules. You can visit miss Y/N later."

They are about to resist once more, but are forced out and the doors close behind them.

"What a prick!" Edmund mutters and starts to walks off.

"Edmund, wait … please", Hedwig sniffles. "Please help me."

He frowns and turns around.

"I can't let that boy get away with it", she whimpers. "But I can't do it alone. Please … help me. Please."

“You want … me … to help … you?” he asks, confused. “Have you lost your little sugar, honey mind?”

Hedwig sobs and shakes her head. “No. Please, Edmund. I can’t do it myself, I don’t have the heart to do it. But I know you do.”

“How would you know that?”

“Don’t lie. I know that you have the tattoo on your arm. Everyone knows who your parents are and what they’ve done.” She snuffles and wipes her nose. “It doesn’t matter if they lie. Everyone knows.”

Edmund hushes and covers her mouth with his hand. Hedwig’s eyes widens.

“Be silent, will you?” he hisses. “Fine, I’ll do it … not because you tell me to, but because Y/N needs to be revenged — and because I’m fucking pissed.”

“Thank you, nonetheless.” She takes a deep breath. “If you … if you do it, I will make sure to cover it up.”

“Deal.”

When you wake up, you can feel a harsh pounding in the back of your head, harsh enough to split your skull open. You open your eyes slightly, letting just enough daylight in to be able to locate yourself. The hospital wing.

Why am I here?

You suddenly remember, and it sends a new painful wave through your brain. Carefully, you sit up and look around, wishing to see Hedwig, but there’s noone.

Suddenly, a few teachers rush in with a body in their arms. The boy who you had dueled with — Arthur, you believed his name to be — gets thrown onto a bed and covered with a sheet. A shiver runs down your spine. Whatever that was about, you don’t want to be included.

“Excuse me?” you say hesitantly, gathering the attention of the nurse. “Could you help me?”

“Yes of course”, she answers and hurries over. “You’re finally awake, I’m happy to see that. How are you feeling?”

Dismissing her question, you ask her to bring you Hedwig. And Hedwig you receive, along with the black haired devil.

“Oh, Y/N!” she shouts in relief and wraps her arms around you. “Oh, how happy I am to see you awake! You worried me sick.”

You hug her back, weirdly scared. You have no idea how long you’ve been unconscious for, or what has happened to you while you were out. Hedwig’s ripped off of you and suddenly, you feel Edmund’s firm, muscular arms around you. He holds your head into his chest, breathing out slowly.

“I told you that you didn’t want to end up in the hospital wing”, he mumbles and sighs out, cupping your cheeks. “From now on, I won’t let you anywhere out of my sight. Since miss princess over here can’t keep an eye on you, I have to do it.”

“Excuse me?” Hedwig scoffs. “Do you think I wanted Y/N to get hurt? I tried to tell the professor-!”

“I don’t care, halfblood. If I were there, I wouldn’t have let that happened! I would have dueled the damn professor myself.” He turns to you and kisses your forehead. “My dear, Y/N. I will never let anyone touch a hair on your head again, do you understand me?”

You nod, confused.

“Good”, Edmund smiles and stands up. “What should we do with you now?"

"Are you allowed to leave?" Hedwig asks softly and you nod. She takes your hands. "Let's go eat something. You can sit at my table."

You come with her to the great hall and sit down by the hufflepuff table. Edmund refuses to be seen beside the students wearing yellow and black uniforms and retreats to the Slytherin table.

“Here you go, sweetheart”, Hedwig says and starts to fill a plate for you, giving it over. “Eat a lot, okay? You have been skipping multiple days now that you’ve been in a coma — or whatever that was. You have multiple days to make up for, eat up.”

“Thank you, Hedwig, that’s very nice of you”, you reply and watch the mountain of food on your plate.

Hedwig insists on feeding you, as if you were a baby. You don’t mind. After waking up all alone in a foreign room, without any knowledge of what has happened or how long you’ve been gone, being babied doesn’t sound too bad.

The entire hall is glancing at you and you realize that if there ever was the slightest chance of staying single in the public’s eyes, you were sealed to Hedwig by now.

Your stomach starts to hurt not long after. It has shrunk in size.

“It hurts”, you say and clutch your stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up if I eat more.”

“But … but …”, Hedwig stutters, completely baffled.

“Hedwig, I love the food, I really do … but if I eat more for now I’m going to puke.”

“I’ll … I’ll save it then!” she says happily.

She puts the bread in a napkin and puts it in the pocket of her cloak. You’re pulled up from the bench by her arm and taken out into the corridor.

“Let’s go out into the fresh air to get you feeling better��, she smiles.

You nod, following Hedwig wherever she takes you. A fresh wind clears your lungs.

"I hope you know that I'm so happy that you're okay", she says and holds your hand while you're walking, side by side. "I got so scared. You know that I would do anything for you, right?"

You nod again.

"When I say that, I really mean it. Nothing is too much for you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Hedwig smiles and hugs your arm tightly.

“You should come over to my house someday”, she says. “I would show you so much stuff that you have never seen before. You’re missing out on a lot by being born into a muggle family.”

“I would like very much to go to your house”, you say quietly. “I don’t want to go home.”

She stops. “What? Why?”

“Well … you know … I don’t want to go home.”

She frowns when you shrug awkwardly. You’ve hinted about your home life numerous times, but you’ve never told her the entire reason. Should you?

“Why?" she asks. "Why don't you want to go home?"

"I'm scared that they won't let me go back."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I'm sure that they'll understand."

"No, Hedwig, they won't. They locked me in my bedroom every year to make sure I wouldn't get here. I picked the lock this time. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"Are they bad people, Y/N?"

"Well … I don't know. They're not mean but … if I say anything that goes against their rules or their wishes, they punish me greatly.”

"How?"

“You’d be surprised at how creative they are.”

“I see.” She smiles softly and caresses your cheek. “You have nothing to be worried about, I will take you in. You can move into my house.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to be a bother to your parents.”

“They’re rarely home anyway, they wouldn’t even notice.” She gasps and looks at her watch. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I have to go! I have class in five minutes. Please find me after class, we can meet in the library. I love you, Y/N, bye!”

She kisses your cheek and runs. You watch her until she disappears into the castle. The headache returns and you press your palms to your forehead, giving out a small sigh. Did your brain disconnect from the skull in that fall?

There’s too many people around you, too many sounds. You start to move back towards the castle when you’re stopped by a couple of students. They’re younger than you, but smirk like adults.

“Aren’t you the third year that can’t duel to save your life?” one of them taunts.

You’re taken aback, not knowing what to respond. They laugh among themselves, enjoying your embarrassment. You glance down at their robes. All from different houses.

Suddenly, their smiles disappear and they fixate on something behind you. You turn around, seeing Edmund with his two minions.

“Bet you’re feeling tough, huh?” Edmund asks coldly. “Picking on someone that just came out of the hospital wing? Fuck off.”

The younger students glare at him, but listen and leave. You can feel Edmund’s hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, transfer student”, he says, “you shouldn’t wander around right after waking up from a coma. Did you lose braincells when hitting your head?”

“No”, you sigh and hold your hand on your head. “But it does hurt. A lot. All sounds make my brain pound.”

Edmund covers your ears with his hand, gives you a small nudge in the back with his knee to make you walk. He brings you to an empty corridor and sits you down on the floor.

“Did you know those kids?” he asks.

“No”, you shake your head.

“I knew one of them”, one of his friends says. “Won’t be too hard to figure out who the others are.”

“Good”, Edmund says and sits down beside you, bringing you close to him.

You frown in confusion as he wraps his cloak around you and puts your face on his shoulder.

“Let’s rest here for a bit”, he says. “Don’t move. Sleep if you want.”

The food swelling in your shrunken stomach and the loud noises have brought you back to exhaustion. You find yourself drifting off in his hold. Edmund sits with you, holding you closely. Every time someone walks by, he holds his hand over your ears to make sure they won’t wake you up. His friends chase them off.

“Of course you had something to do with it”, he hears a voice say after a while.

“No need to be snarky, Hedwig”, Edmund says without lifting his eyes from you. “I helped you kill that Arthur boy, the least you can do is thank me.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

Hedwig sits down beside the two of you and caresses your hair.

“We have more to take care of”, Edmund says lowly. “Some embarrassing kids tried to embarrass Y/N. If you can find out who they are, I will take care of them.”

“Sure, it wouldn’t be too hard.” Especially with her contacts.

Things start to happen the following weeks. People you have talked to or that have been close to you have disappeared from the school or ended up dead in the hospital wing. You have done everything in your power to not blame yourself for the weird disappearances. It has to be a coincidence, you tell yourself. It can’t be your fault.

“Why that look?” Edmund asks and pokes your shoulder.

You haven’t even realized that you’ve been staring in front ot you, completely missing what the teacher has said the last half an hour.

“I feel weird”, you whisper.

“Why?” Edmund asks, confused.

“Haven’t you realized that people have died or disappeared?”

“I haven’t thought about it too much. It doesn’t interest me.”

“Oh …”

You look down in your lap where your nails scratch at each other.

“Why are you putting so much thought about it?” Edmund questions.

“I’ve talked to them all … they’ve disappeared or died after they’ve been in my presence. Do you think it has something to do with me?”

“You think everything has to do with you.”

“I do not!”

The teacher scolds you for raising your voice and disturbing the class. Edmund smirks for himself. It stays on until you’re let out of the classroom.

“Wait, Y/N, can you stay for a moment?” the teacher asks.

You nod and walk over with Edmund behind you.

“The headmaster wants to talk to you”, the teacher says.

“What?” you ask.

“Why?” Edmund demands to know.

"It's urgent. Please hurry to his office.”

You give Edmund a nervous glance and hurry out. He follows closely with a cold look on his face.

“What do you think could have happened?” you ask him while rounding the corner.

“No idea”, he responds shortly. “But if they're trying to put you in trouble I'm snapping their necks.”

You can feel him take your hand tightly. You'll end up with bruises, you're sure.

The headmaster's office is dimly lit. He sits behind the desk with a worried look in his eyes. It only makes you even more terrified.

“Y/N, good”, he says and sits up straight. “I have some very serious matters to discuss with you. I see that you brought your friend.”

Edmund looks greatly offended at his title.

“What is it?” you ask carefully.

“I'm sure that you haven't missed the unfortunate death of some of our students during these last few weeks … and they've all linked with you somehow-”

“Do you think she has killed them?” Edmund bursts out angrily.

“I did not say that. Please calm down. What I am saying is that the murders are linked with you somehow and to prevent more innocent students from death, we'll have to suspend you for a while.”

His words hit you like a missile in your chest.

“What?” you ask quietly. “Suspend me? I haven't done anything wrong!”

“I know, Y/N, but we need to catch this murderer before he does more harm and with you here, we risk even more lives.”

“How do you even know that Y/N is linked, hm?” Edmund questions snarky.

“Well, we're not one hundred percent sure, so sending Y/N home will determine if the murderers had anything to do with her or not. You'll take the train tomorrow evening. I'm sorry, Y/N.”

You can't seem to move, wondering if someone has put a spell on you. Your head pounds, and you start to wonder if you're hallucinating, almost hoping for it. Edmund leads you out to the corridor and grabs your shoulders to force you to look at him.

“You haven't done anything wrong, do you understand that?” he asks you harshly.

You nod carefully.

“I don't want to go home”, you shake your head quickly as tears form in your eyes.

“You’ll be back soon enough. When they realize that you have nothing to do with it, they have to bring you back.”

But you have to go back, and you know better than to argue with grown ups. Whether you want to or not, you’re on the train the next day, with all your belongings. Hedwig and Edmund are standing on the station, waving you off.

“This fucking sucks”, Edmund mutters, watching the train leave.

“I’m so worried for her”, Hedwig says shakily. “I hope that they’re not mean to her.”

“Who?”

“Her parents.”

Edmund stares at her in shock, almost fear. “What about her, parents, Hedwig?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Y/N told me that they’re creative with … punishments. They didn’t want her to come here … and now that she’s been gone for half a semester, I’m scared what they’re going to do to her once she comes back. She might not be allowed to come back … or they might hurt her.”

“Not on my fucking watch.”

He starts to walk back towards the school.

“What are you going to do?” Hedwig shouts behind him.

Edmund stops and walks back to her with burning, icy eyes.

“I am going to get Y/N out of that house and you are going to keep killing here”, he says sharply. “Do you understand that, halfblood?”

“Me?!” Hedwig almost screams.

Edmund covers her mouth with his hand.

“Shut up”, he orders her, “or else the entire country will hear you.”

She removes his hand forcefully and glares at him.

“Edmund, I can’t kill anyone”, she hisses.

“Oh, you fucking can”, Edmund scoffs. “I know you’re not all nice. Don’t even try. You had no problem threatening me on on the quidditch court. You have no remorse when you give me information on the people that I kill. You can do it too, stop pretending to be some weak lamb.”

Hedwig doesn’t answer.

“Why do I have to keep killing?” she mutters. “Y/N’s gone.”

“Because she won’t get to return otherwise”, Edmund replies. “If the headmaster realizes that the murders really do link with Y/N, she’ll never get to come back — they might even think it was her that killed them … and then she’ll be sent to Azkaban. Is that what you want?”

Hedwig shakes her head quickly.

“That’s what I thought”, he says. “My friends will help you kill whoever you need to. I am going to go get Y/N.”

“I know the muggle world better than you. Why can’t I go get her and you stay?”

“Because I don’t fucking trust you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t care.”

With that said, he walks away, leaving Hedwig alone on the platform.

You cry the entire way back. You haven’t done anything, why are you getting punished? It’s not fair. Now you’re getting sent back to your parents while the murderer is still allowed to roam the halls of Hogwarts. You’ll never be allowed to go back.

When the train stops, you’re met by your parents outside the window. You remain in your seat. They go on board to get you when they realize that you refuse to come out.

“Y/N, get up”, your mother says coldly. “Stop being childish.”

You don’t look at them, don’t answer. Your father grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you up from the seat.

“Don’t touch me!” you shout. “I can walk by myself.”

You press yourself past them and walk out on the platform. The entire ride home is silent, but you know that the second the front door closes, you’ll know what hell feels like. And you’re of course right, because the second your father locks the front door behind you, you feel a slap over your cheek. With wide eyes, you back away and put your hand on your cheek. They have never put their hands on you. They have done countless embarrassing and hurtful punishments, but they have never hurt you physically. Not like this. if you weren’t stunned, you’d scream at them.

“I don’t even want to look at you”, your mother says in disgust and walks into the living room.

“Just go to your room and stay there”, your father says in the same manner. “I will confiscate all of your ‘magic’ supplies.”

You don’t question them and walk upstairs. The second you close your bedroom door behind you, you break out into sobs. You knew that this would happen at the end of the year, but you had wished that you could have stayed a semester, at least. It’s not fair.

You sink down on your bed and hide your face in your hands and you sit like that for who knows how long. The sky turs dark and the moon greets you, but you ignore him. You don’t move out of your spot, not even when your stomach starts to growl.

Suddenly, you can hear a crash from downstairs. Quickly, you stand up and are about to run over to the door, when you remember your parents. You don’t want to go downstairs and show them that the loud sound worried you. They don’t deserve that after what they’ve done. Instead, you cross your arms and lay down in bed, curling up in to a ball with your back towards the door. You shut out the sounds from downstairs, humming for yourself to drown them out.

When you hear your door open, you’re too scared to turn around.

“Y/N.”

Edmund? You turn around and see him standing in the doorway, blood dripping from his hair and covering his cloak. He smiles when seeing you, the first genuine smile you’ve ever seen him wear. He hurries over to you and hugs you tightly. You’re smushed against his chest and can feel his hands everywhere. His bloody hands.

“W-What have you done?” you stutter into his neck while trying your best to push him off.

“I’m here to save you!” he says. “Hedwig told me about your parents. They won’t keep you captive anymore.”

“What have you done?!”

You manage to push him off. He looks confused.

“They were being mean to you, Y/N”, he says in a questionable manner. “They’ve hurt you. Your cheek …”

You can’t understand how he can sense a redness in the skin.

“What have you done?” you ask, quieter this time.

“I’ve killed them”, he says firmly. “I killed them without magic. Just how mudbloods deserve to be killed.”

Your eyes widen. Your body goes cold at the thought of Edmund taking someone's life. It doesn't matter if he thinks that he's doing you a favor, the action itself is enough to make you mortified. You try to crawl back on the bed, but your head hits the wall, trapping you. Edmund grabs your leg and pulls you back, closer to him.

“Don’t run away from me”, he tells you. “Not now. I came all the way here to help you.”

“How did you even get here?” you sob.

“My father helped me. Now come here-”

You start to claw at him when he tries to pick him up, accidentally revealing the tattoo on his wrist. You stop dead in your tracks and he’s quick to pull his sleeve down.

“Hedwig was right”, you pant. “You fucking monster!”

“Monster or not, I saved you”, Edmund reminds you and takes your moment of surprise to his advantage, pulling you over his shoulder. “Now we’re going.”

You start to scream and kick, so he wrestles you down on the floor in the corridor, picks something up from his pocket and pours something in your mouth. A liquid reminding you of Hedwig’s love potion. You cough to try to get it up, but Edmund covers your mouth with his hand and dictates it upwards, so you’ll have no other choice but to swallow the unfamiliar liquid. You feel your body grow numb in a minute. Your eyes are still open, you can still hear, but you can’t move.

“Sorry for that, Y/N”, Edmund pants and picks you up again. “But you can’t behave. And I need you to be quiet.”

When he carries you downstairs, you can see the bloody bodies lying on the floor with limbs in positions and directions they definitely shouldn’t be in. You want to scream, but you can’t move.

Edmund carries you out to something looking like a car, but you can telly hat it isn’t. It looks more like a carriage. He has a chauffeur in the front who starts to drive when Edmund has sitten down with you in his lap. The carriage flies, you notice when you spot your roof outside.

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, Edmund says and brushes the hair out of your face. “I didn’t want to numb you, I hope you know that.”

How fucking could you?

“Don’t give me that look.”

You killed my parents, you swine.

Edmund sighs and covers your eyes with his hand. He soon removes it when he feels water against his palm.

“Y/N, don't cry”, he sighs. “Why are you even upset? They wouldn’t let you come back to the place you belonged … they hurt you. Stop looking at me like I’m the bad guy here. Yes, I killed them but I did you a favor.”

He doesn't say more until the carriage stops outside of a dark house. Edmund carries you inside (where it's just as dark), up a pair of marmot stairs and into a bedroom. You can tell that it's his right away by the moving pictures of dark wizards on the wall. He lies you down on his bed and sit by your side, caressing your cheek until the potion is diluted enough in your blood for you to move. It won’t be fully gone until it has exited your body. You sit up and look around, feeling his eyes on you.

“Why did you do that?” you ask quietly. “Did you kill all the others too? In school?”

Edmund nods.

“You fucking creep”, you breathe out.

Edmund scoffs, but doesn’t answer. “Aren’t you happy I killed them for you? Your parents are awful. They hurt you, they didn’t see your potential.”

“They were my fucking parents …”

“And they hurt you.”

Silence.

“Your tattoo …”, you say hesitantly. “Why?”

Edmund covers his wrist with his hand, even though his shirt already hides the tattoo.

“What should I have done, do you think?” he asks. “When all around me want me to have it? Say no? And be discarded by everyone? I don’t think so.”

“You’ve sold your soul. You’re a monster.”

Edmund doesn’t answer.

“Your family hates people like me, don’t they?” you ask. “What if I tell your father that you’re having me here? That his pureblood son is killing for a mudblood?”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare. In that case, he kills both of us, smartass.”

“I want Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s in on it too.” Edmund smiles. “Face it, darling, your parents would die sooner or later.”

It hits you that you’re an orphan now. You’re all alone. No house, no family … and apparently no friends.

You’re allowed to return to Hogwarts a month later. Edmund brings you with him, holding you tightly by his side.

“Y/N!” Hedwig shouts and runs over to you, hugging you tightly. “Sweetheart!”

You don't move. Hedwig pulls back and looks at you worriedly.

“What's wrong?” she asks.

“She knows”, Edmund says shortly.

“Oh … b-but you know that we did it for you, right? Y/N?”

“You disgust me”, you whisper. “Both of you.”

“Well, too fucking bad”, Edmund says. “You're stuck with us now. Tell anyone and I'm going to bring you back home. You want to stay here, don't you?”

You nod shortly.

“Then behave”, Edmund tells you.

“You'll not have a hard time doing that”, Hedwig smiles sadly and caresses your cheek. “You're such a lovely girl.”

You want nothing more than to wake up from this bizarre nightmare. Why did they have to ruin your magical place?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #female yandere #female reader #yandere hogwarts #yandere wizard #hogwarts au

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utterlyazriel · 2 months

Text

whom the shadows sing for— (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: it's time for some more ✨trauma✨ time to learn ur own backstory tehe <3 feel free to let me know what you think or any future... predictions... you think might be coming...

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

—CHAPTER THREE :: COMPANIONS

There's a girl screaming in the middle of camp.

Anguish, a pure guttural agony, litters her voice. She's shrieking, screaming herself hoarse, tortured cries piercing the air as a piece of her identity is ripped from her forcibly. The scream that you know only follows a wing clipping.

Fear rolls through your body, seizing every nerve til your limbs lock up. Your stomach lurches, nausea swimming and threatening to choke up your throat. The screams dive beneath your very skin and make a home there, unbidden.

The screaming isn't stopping and you acutely notice that you're crying because of it, big fat tears rolling down your face as though you're the one in pain, unable to quieten her suffering, because... because...

Because the girl is you.

The girl is you and they had found out somehow and they had come, they had held you down and taken the knife between your wings and starting slicing through muscle and sinew and it fucking hurts, it hurts so much—

A ragged gasp rips from your throat at the slice down your back.

You wake you with a violent twitch.

Your dagger is in your hand in an instant, stored beneath your pillow, always within reach. The cool leather beneath it is a comfort as your senses search blindly for any threat. The rabbiting sound of your heart looms in your ears and you keenly strain your ears to try listen over it.

A threat? An intruder? You're looking for anything hidden in the darkness, while your senses are still swamped by your nightmare. The effects of it are melting away too slowly. Your breath comes too fast.

Shadows loom. You're not sure what is fear is still lingering from the dream and what is real instinct, kicking in to protect yourself.

Worse is, your suspicions are not at all unwarranted.

Around you, the space is still. Dead air trapped within your shelter.

Outside, the howl of the Mother's Kiss sounds again, the rattling wind against the windows somehow grounding you into your home. You're in your home. You're not out in the middle of camp, not held onto that horrid stained piece of earth where all the clippings take place.

You're tucked away in your space, hidden beneath your secret still.

Your chest heaves rapidly, dregs of panic still running through your system. You force yourself to inhale slowly, blinking slowly and letting your eyes adjust to the night. It's still dark.

It's nighttime and you've had a night terror and you're still safe, still just like any other male in the camp.

Behind you, you give your wings a little shiver, just to check.

Still there, still working in every capacity. The relief that pours through you soothes like a balm, heady and overwhelming. You release a shaky breath and curl your knees up to your chest, wings cocooning around yourself.

The nightmares, this nightmare, has been unrelenting for as many years as you can remember. Well, since...

Since twenty six years ago, when you had made a very difficult choice.

Perhaps the only time you'll ever be thankful for being a bastard in this camps is when it had granted you the privacy to make such a choice. Nobody cares if a bastard child dies, male or otherwise.

It had made you dispensable and therefore, unnoticeable.

Nobody noticed when one more begging child, one more hungry face, went missing. And certainly nobody paid any mind when one more turned up again — hair cut down to the scalp, bleeding in places from the shoddy cut, and a gritty determination in their eyes.

No, in fact, the only time people started noticing you was when you started tasting the mixture of blood and dirt, knocked down in a fight you knew you had no chance of winning.

You had started it. Pushed your way into the group of boys and shoved one, hard. Fought back as best you could with half formed fists that quickly got pushed into the mud and held there as the boy you shoved wailed on you, hit after hit after hit.

By the time he had been pulled off you, your mouth was a river of blood and your face ached in a way you had never felt before.

The very bone of your skull felt bruised. Your nose was definitely broken. You wanted to cry but even scrunching your face up hurt too much. It was impossible to think anything beyond pure pain.

The group of boys were sneering as they left you in a crumpled heap on the ground, kicking mud in your direction and hissing the word bastard.

But not one mention of you being anything other than that.

Just a bastard. No slighted comment at being a female, at not being worthy of a fight for that reason.

In the Illyrian Mountains, being a bastard gave you very little in the manner of food, things, and choices. If you managed to survive past childhood, that is.

If you could scrape around for food to fill a belly that never seemed to stop growling and manage not succumb to icy embrace of the winter in the mountains, there was very little waiting for you. Even less so, if you weren't a male.

Males, at the very least, could fight for a sliver of something better.

And wasn't that just the Illyrian way? If you can fight, if you can beat and claw your way to the top, it's worth something. It's the only way to gain respect. To earn it, even when you came from nothing.

For you? Living past childhood would mean getting your greatest love torn from you.

You had seen half a dozen clippings before the age of ten. It was said that other camps littered throughout Illyria tended to be more gracious. Did it in private. Healers on hand. No excessive force.

But you'd believe that when you saw it — clippings were brutal.

Females having experienced their first blood were dragged out into the middle of camp, some kicking and screaming, others a ghostly quiet. Everybody watched and nobody stepped in, no matter the pleas.

You, no older than eight years old, had stared at the bloody patch left on the ground til your vision had blurred. It was crimson, mixing with the dirt of the earth. Beneath it was this horrid scorched brown colour.

Old blood.

The final straw for you had been Adesi— Lord Mylind's own daughter. You're not sure when or why some part of your had become convinced that she might be spared. That because her father held rank and could bend certain rules, that she might escape the fate you so feared for yourself.

She hadn't. Lord Mylind had done the clipping himself.

And she hadn't cried or fussed. There hadn't been a struggle, just this soft weeping as she kept her eyes on the ground, every pained sound that passed her lips lined with a bitter resignation of knowing this was always coming.

It had stoked a simmering ember within you — a furiously upset flame that burned hotter and hotter, til you were trembling with the force of it. Forced to watch yet another girl stripped of her freedom. Polished up for breeding stock.

If Adesi wouldn't be spared, neither would you. The future, you could see, was growing impossibly bleaker and would continue down that path if nothing radical appeared to change its course.

You had cut your hair that same very night.

It was a shit job. Trying to get it as short as you could manage without a mirror or proper tools to do so proved incredibly difficult. The lack of proper shelter didn't help either.

Bandages you were stock-piling for Mother knows what were used to bind your chest. Then you spent the rest of the night time scouring the mountain-side for those bitter herbs on the mere hope that the rumour that they would keep you from bleeding held an inkling of truth.

The next day had been the day you got into your very first fight.

The first of many. Lord Mylind didn't take kindly to bastards, especially when you paled in comparison to the size of the other novices. You had been refused to be allowed to join training the first time you had tried, his cold eyes narrowed with a cruel curl of his upper lip.

But you had, perhaps, what no one else did.

No other way forward. No other choice.

Every part of you that yearned to keep your beautiful wings, to keep your freedom, your autonomy, was channeled into your intense drive. You would not be so easily dissuaded.

You trained day and night, working up weak muscles til they hardened beneath your skin. Without proper training, it was nowhere near as efficient as it could've been. There was no-one there to soothe the aches of your growing pains, nor the sores that came with hitting the ground time and time again as you honed the balance and fluidity of your body.

A season passed. Your drive did not falter— not when half a dozen more females got clipped in that same period. A wedge drove itself between your ribs, attempting to crack open your chest; a heavy guilt at what they experienced... what you could not yet prevent.

It pushed you to train harder than before.

It took seven whole months of solitary training before Lord Mylind reluctantly allowed you to join the ranks— forced to when you disarmed and wiped the floor with Brudam in the ring to prove yourself.

By that time, the list of clipped females had climbed to nearly fifty. You kept track of every single one, forty-eight notches carved into your soul for every person you failed to protect from a terrible fate.

It killed you having to bide your time.

To train alongside the males of the camp who detested you as they did any such bastard. To hear their uncaring jeers of the clippings as they flaunted their own wings proudly. There was no shortage of things to stoke the fire within you, fury burning through every cell in your body. There was no distraction from the ultimate goal.

But between Lord Mylind's abysmal training, geared specifically at you, the purposeful way other warriors wouldn't hesitate to kick you while you were down, and having nobody else in your corner, you had no other choice.

Routines formed. Train. Eat. Train. Scrounge for ingredients, for knowledge, anything on healing tonics. Fail miserably at making anything. Chew the bitter herbs. Train. Sleep. Wake. Train.

Loneliness became a familiar companion.

Every creak in the dark was a potential threat that came looking to see if they could knock the unwelcome bastard out of the ranks. You learned to not just how to duel, but how to brawl and win. To fight dirty. To come out as unscathed as possible.

Your first bleed did eventually come, bitter leaves be damned.

They had done a decent job. They had given you a few crucial years to establish yourself as a worthy fighter, not to be messed with, and enough time to build the shelter you now called home.

It had been a saving grace. If you had been out and exposed, if any of the males in town came sniffing for a fight and felt entitled enough to challenge you, the lie that kept you safe would've come tumbling down like a house of cards.

All those years turned to ash. Wasted. For nothing.

And the only thing that terrified you more than that was... what you were certain they would inflict upon you if they ever found out.

In some of your worst nightmares, they do much worse than just clip you. They take them from you— saw them from your back, splintering bone and tearing muscle, not caring if you cry or scream — not caring if you die.

Around you, your wings give a shiver as if they could feel the ghost of pain that still lurked from your nightmare. You curl them up tighter around you. A blanket of softness, of warmth, finally breaks the chill on your skin.

Routine was easy. Your terror was manageable based on the familiarity of your life. The fact that you had nobody to lean on meant everything, every pillar of comfort, of tough love, of the extra push when you needed it, came from within.

Slipping away from training to deal with the excruciating agony of your cycle was a necessity, even if it pained you to do so. Avoidance of the Blood Rite was born from that too. It was too great a risk— too much time spent that you couldn't ever be sure wouldn't overlap with your cycle.

Besides, you already had the biggest target on your back — the label of bastard giving you more than your fair share of enemies.

They would hunt you down on the first night. That you had no doubt about. The killing would be slow and merciless. To you, the Blood Rite was just another brand of nightmares.

All this dread had become second-nature, stitched into the fabric of your angry and miserable life which seemed to exist against all odds. You were cursed with an ambition that would not let you rest. A compassion that drove you to keep training, to help others more than just yourself.

You were singular. A lone ranger who relied on nothing but your own instincts to keep getting you through the day.

You were solitary. You were lonely.

And yet, within the last month, something else had barrelling into your life and altered its course.

A Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger with hazel eyes that dance with mirth and a rueful smile that comes out far too easily for the battle-hardened soldier you know him to be. He's a conundrum. A mentor and a damn hard-ass when it came to training but also someone you could trust.

Calling him a friend felt too close.

A tenative ally, perhaps. A companion, even.

And the fact you can trust him — the fact that you do trust him — is perhaps the biggest change of them all.

All of your routines have been suddenly altered.

Because now, unlike ever before, there's someone there in the morning. Someone to notice your absences. To come looking when it takes longer to drag yourself out of fitful sleep. To comment on the circles under your eyes and roll back the punches accordingly.

He brings the things you need, a sudden plentiful stash of ingredients you wouldn't have dreamed of affording. The good stuff that makes a difference in the potency of a healing tonic. In turn, your feeble attempts at concocting have begun to produce far more useful results.

He brings food too.

No point in all this training if you look like your bones will snap. He had said, almost dismissively as he summoned the abundance of food from within that pocket in the shadow realm. You had been too startled by that alone to question how much he had brought with him.

A fucking feast. Enough food to last you at least half the year, if you stretched it.

Some withered, bitter part of you had shriveled up when you saw it. Your mouth watered and your stomach ached and yet still, you couldn't help how you snapped at him.

I don't want your pity.

Azriel had leveled you with a stare, his shadows roaming about his shoulders like wisps of smoke. He tilted his head to the side an inch, as if trying to pick apart the reasoning for you being so standoffish.

It's not a handout. It's part of our deal. Like I said, there's no point training you if you're starving all the while.

You bristled as his tone, even if there wasn't a hint of condescension to it. It was strong and sure.

When you still hadn't moved, Azriel had spoken once more. It's okay. To eat. I understand that generosity is not something you are familiar with but not eating will not help any of them. Getting stronger will.

He had spoken as if he knew that exact reservation on your mind — the sheer unfairness of having a platter served up to gorge yourself sick on, when so many others... So many others had nothing.

Eat. Azriel had murmured, turning for the door. He had paused just like he had on that first ever night, one scarred hand on the door. Please.

A particularly loud whirl of the Mother's Kiss outside shakes you from the memory.

You blink hard. Your wings twitch and curl in even closer as you realise you've been looking at the door. Looking at where he had stood all those nights ago.

That conversation had been in the first week of knowing Azriel. Back when you were still so wary it was impossible to not raise your hackles when he came knocking at your door, no matter how friendly he had seemed. Friendly, but not harmless you knew.

It took time to stop being constantly on guard around him. But if your lack of trust and general frostiness bothered Azriel, he never let you know.

And now... now you've known him for nearly a month.

A month of routine with him in it. With sparring in the morning, tiring yet rewarding drills beneath the winter sun, and quiet conversations in the evenings, his hazel eyes competing with the crackling fire with how they set your heart ablaze. A month of companionship.

A month, the first month in years, not spent entirely alone.

In the cool night air, knees pulled to your chest, something tugs at your throat at the knowledge he won't be back in the morning.

Last night, after an evening spent in comfortable company where you finally heard him laugh for the first time ever and nearly melted at the sound, he had told you he would be returning to Velaris.

Temporarily, he added on hastily at the flash of surprise in your eyes.

Business with the High Lord. Reports and assessments to deliver. I's to dot and t's to cross.

He assured you he would be back in a day or two, certainly no more than three. He had left ample food and generous tonic ingredients, with all the assurances to continue practicing during the evening.

With no Azriel, you had no reason to avoid training with the rest of camp.

Maybe that was why this particular nightmare had plagued you tonight. Something curdled up in your gut at the thought of returning to your old routine— another part relishes in how you will get to stand your ground as a better, hardier warrior now. To prove yourself worthy of the specialty training you were receiving.

You huff out a small sigh in the dark.

There's no telling what time it is. You force yourself to sit back, easing back into your bed gently til you're lying back under the makeshift duvet you have. It's moth-eaten and seen better days. You snuggle beneath it anyway.

It's been a long time since you've missed anyone, you think forlornly.

The thought surprises you. Staring at the ceiling, your brows furrow and you close your eyes but the truth of it rings clear throughout your very being. Undeniable.

The Shadowsinger has somehow wiggled into your life, burrowed into your routine and has begun to mean something to you. And when he's gone, you... miss him.

Your eyes flash back open, glaring up at the ceiling, and you huff as if that will change that fact.

Rolling over, you pull the duvet in closer, your arms tucking into your chest snugly. Your bed is a bit too small for someone with wings and they ache because of it. Sleep trickles back into your system, dragging your lids down.

As you fall into sleep, some part of you realises, faintly, that you haven't had anyone to miss in a long, long, time.

This time when you dream, it’s of hazel eyes.

—

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee @viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13 @bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

#i hope that even tho there's no interactions this chapter u still enjoy it!!! well there is but they're all in the past #just think.... at some point all this horrible backstory... is gonna have to come out #im vibrating in my seat thinking about writing the scene where he figures it out #GAWSH im so excited for it!!#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel fanfic

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holylulusworld · 4 months

Text

Flowers (4) - Daisy

Summary: The meaning of a daisy flower can be purity, innocence, new beginnings, joy, and cheerfulness.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of FWB arrangement, groveling, communication is important

Flowers (3) - Soapwort

Flowers masterlist

Bucky was pacing back and forth. He looked at the flowers at the flower shop, and stopped in his tracks, only to shake his head. “These are all wrong,” he sighed deeply and turned back around to leave the shop. “I need something special.”

“Do you know her favorite flower?” Steve looked around the flower shop, wondering if red roses were the right choice. “Buck, are you sure buying more flowers is a good idea? Maybe she’ll believe you only try to give her flowers because you gave one to Dot.”

“It was one flower, Steve,” the brunette super-soldier was just done. “I got that it looked like more than a friendly gesture to Y/N. But please, stop getting on my nerves.” Bucky harrumphed and walked toward the orchids. “She’s got a lot of these…”

“Hmm…pretty plant but it should be something more…personal,” the blonde pointed out. “Be romantic. Show Y/N she’s more to you than a fling you like to bang in the broom closet.”

“I never,” Bucky growled and raised his metal index finger at Steve, “once had sex in a broom closet with Y/N. She’s a lady.”

“May I help you, Sirs?” the clerk asked, clearly irritated by the fact that two super-soldiers walked around the small flower shop to find the perfect gift for someone. “What is the occasion?”

“He,” Steve pointed at his friend, “messed up epically. Now we are looking for the perfect flower to say: I was an idiot, please forgive me and take my pathetic ass back.”

Bucky threw his friend an angry look. “Do you have something making her forgive me?” he asked instead of punching Steve’s face. “I need the biggest bouquet you can make me.”

“If you want my advice, Sir,” she stepped closer to pat Bucky’s shoulder, “choose a single flower and tell her how you feel. Apologize and promise to never do whatever you did again.”

“See, that’s good advice,” Bucky muttered. He wrinkled his nose and tried to remember which flower you liked. Steve and the clerk watched him close his eyes. He sighed deeply and snapped his eyes back open. “I know which one! She has some of them pressed in a book…”

“Doll, please open the door,” Bucky knocked at your door again. For over an hour, he tried to make you talk to him. “I know you are angry at me, and that you hate me right now.”

“What do you want Barnes,” you ripped the door open and glared at Bucky. While looking him up and down, your eyes landed on the single daisy he held in his gloved hand.

“I came to apologize and to tell you that you got it wrong,” he shook his head. “No, that’s wrong. I meant that it looked like I wanted more than cheering a new colleague up. I swear on my sister’s grave that I’d never touch that woman. I only want you, doll. You know that in your heart.”

You hummed and looked at him again. He looked tired and desperate. “A daisy,” you glanced at the single flower. “You remembered.”

“Yeah,” he nodded eagerly. “You told me about that art class you and your friend took together. She made a bookmark for you, using a pressed flower you picked when you were a kid.”

“You really listened to what I said,” you wrapped your hand around his wrist, tugging at it. “Fine, come in.”

“You made her one too,” he said while following you inside your apartment.

“Buck, please stop talking about other people,” you closed the door and walked toward the living room. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“Doll,” Bucky carefully handed you the daisy, “I’m so sorry. I bought the sunflowers for you because they looked like you. Bright, beautiful, and kinda sweet.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “And how did one of them end up in Dolores's hands?”

“She said that everyone forgot her birthday. I know how it feels to be new on the team and an outcast. Doll, I swear all I wanted was to make her feel welcome. Baby, I’m so sorry that I hurt you with my good intentions.”

“Prove it,” you pursed your lips. “If you bought more than one sunflower, how did you pay?”

“I used the credit card Stark gave me,” he sniffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You can ask him to check on all the stuff I bought.”

“Dolores's birthday is in four months,” you puckered your lips. “She tricked you."

“I didn’t know that Y/N,” he watched you step closer to grab his hand and guide him toward the couch. “Please believe me.”

“You smiled at her.”

He sighed. Again. “Baby,” he flashed you a sexy smirk, “all my smiles are only for you. I smiled at her, but it was a fake smile.”

“Really?” You pushed him onto the couch to crawl into his lap. “I will find out the truth if you lie to me, Bucky.”

“I’d never lie to you, Y/N,” he whispered when you cupped his face with both hands. “I wanted to show you my feelings that day. I bought flowers and prepared a perfect day but then you avoided me.”

“We should talk more about feelings. This happened because we never defined our relationship.”

“Y/N, I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Flowers (5) - Honeysuckle

Tags in reblog.

#Flowers (4) - Daisy #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst

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pkshenanigans · 2 years

Text

The S.I.M.P Gene

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Warning(s): Actually inheriting a dominant trait from his father righsldnsocsesssghhh~

A/N: Rewatching Saiki Kusuo with my sister and I don’t care about the risks, Kusuke is my husband. But this ain’t bout him.

Summary: Saiki is leagues away from resembling his father in any way, shape or form...Except...

——-

What a pain.

Of all the things to inherit from his father, why this? And why now?

He was having a hard enough time dealing with his classmates, you mean to tell me he had to worry about you, too?

No that he has any issue with you.

On the contrary, you were wonderful. Amazing, in fact.

He likes you.

And therein lies the problem.

Kusuo is very level-headed and he trusts his common sense.

Even though the world around him is… well… Not as level-headed and well-versed in the ways of common sense. 😅

So the realization that he is capable of having this… this unrestrained affection for you blindsided him.

Why is he doing your homework for you today when he is a firm believer in people taking responsibility for their own mistakes?! Oh well, it’s just this once.

He has no choice but to listen to other people’s problems, but why is he actively trying to help you with yours even though it’s going to be more trouble then he’s willing to deal with?! Oh well, it’s just this once. (It’s not)

Sigh. He can’t deny it. He likes you a little too much.

He likes how you aren’t afraid to say what’s on your mind, but at the same time you speak sense.

He likes that you have a good head on your shoulders. Every now and again you can’t help yourself with the Saiki gang, but the fact he can sometimes avoid being dragged into his classmates’ messes just by leaving with you whenever you don’t have time for it is quite refreshing.

He could actually trust you with knowing about his powers because you had a little secret of your own!

No, you weren’t a psychic too.

You had your own powers to keep under wraps.

He likes your laugh, unrestrained and full of feeling. It gets really embarrassing when you do it in public but when it’s just you and him, it’s fine if you let it rip!

——-

Can we talk about how he enjoys being seen with you by Teruhashi way more than he should?

Trying to ask him out in front of you as to intimidate and overshadow you, but at the same time she can’t let it look like a date because of appearances~

Kusuo is just done, and he’s not cool with Teruhashi snuffing you like that.

But you don’t even flinch. You were scared of no-one, and you better believe Saiki filled you in on what she was really like so you knew just how to deal with her.

“Hi Teruhashi, L/n here!” You wave your arm in a wide arc in front of Saiki, making your presence known.

“Given how nice you usually are, I’m sure you didn’t mean to pretend like I wasn’t here-“

‘She definitely did.’

‘Oh, I know.’

You slide over to Saiki, arms touching at the elbows. “-but Saiki’s taking me out this weekend…”

“Oh, r-really? If you don’t mind me asking, where are you going?”

At this, you waved her off. This girl really had it bad for Kusuo. Well, too bad, your plans come first. “It’s a secret~”

It drove PK’s perfect pretty girl nuts!

‘Seriously?! That girl’s been here a whole three months, there’s no way she hasn’t done some exploring on her own! She must be using her ‘new girl’ status to get close to Saiki! Saikiiiiii!!! You CAN’T think she’s prettier and more perfect than me, you just CAN’T!’

Kusuo didn’t know if he could say you were perfect, but he could say without hesitation he preferred looking at you over her. Also, considering that he liked you… a lot…

And he didn’t like Teruhashi… at all…

The comparison just couldn’t be made. Not without making a permanent enemy out of every man in the universe.

He was relieved that he didn’t have to go on another date with Teruhashi. He knew you were only baiting her because she had been rude, but he couldn’t ignore the pleasant humming his heart was doing when you revealed that you were also defending your plans together because you really wanted to spend time with him.

“Sorry, I may have made it seem like more than it was…”

‘No complaints here. I’d rather not go anywhere with her.’

——-

While he was alone one day, investigating these… *gulp* feelings… he ended up getting an unexpected unwanted phone call from his older brother.

At first, he was just gonna let the phone ring. He had more important things to worry about and his super villain brother was not one of them.

But Kusuo knew Kusuke wasn’t going to be snuffed that easily. He’d call the house phone next and his mother would make him talk to him or worse, he would show up in person.

He was better off taking this call and getting on with life.

And baybee! Somehow. Someway.

Kusuke called asking about you. 💀

Like, how sway? Kusuo didn’t say a thing about you, made certain not to alert his parents of your existence but he still found out!

“Silly, did you forget that I see everything? You’re slipping~”

Oh right. His brother spies on him whenever the mood strikes him.

Ugh. Pain.

Having his brother in his business was thee last thing he needed right now. But he may as well get a second opinion. So he spills a teensy bit of tea.

He admits his strong attraction to you, despite the two of you being just friends, and it’s not even in the way most high school boys are attracted to girls.

He suspects that, despite his better judgment, he might be letting you have your way a little too often, even when it doesn’t benefit him in the least to indulge you. To be fair, the amount wouldn’t look like much from a normal person’s perspective.

It’s just a huh-yuuuuge leap for Kusuo personally.

He doesn’t even pursue relationships, but you don’t push him to be one way or the other and it makes him want to reconsider.

And Kusuke, classic evil Kusuke, had to pipe up and say the worst thing ever.

“The answer is very simple, little bro. You’ve inherited dad’s simp gene, and the trait is surfacing for this L/n girl.”

……..The AUDACITY!

Kusuo hung up right in Kusuke’s face. He should have known better than to expect anything helpful from him. Not about this…

A simp, huh?

Laughable.

The idea was as impossible as it was ridiculous. Saiki Kusuo was many things. A simp he was not. He knew better than that.

And yet… The more he thought about it, the more similarities he found between the way his father talked about his mother and the way he felt about you.

He was not a simp, but every day spent with you, he felt as if he were slowly creeping towards something scarily close….

Ugh. NO!!!!

While most boys wanted to be just like their fathers, the thought that Kusuo actually might have inherited something, anything from his father, wasn’t a pleasant one.

And this was the worst possible trait he could have gotten. Well. Aside from the freaky skill of polishing $300 leather with one’s tongue but we’re not getting into that.

For a week straight Kusuo gave his father the cold shoulder. Every attempt at any father-son bonding was rebuffed and he refused to help him with his powers.

“I don’t get it Kusuo, why are you being like this! You’re even more surly and cold-hearted than usual!”

‘You cursed me with your incurable disease. I’ll never forgive you.’

“What are you talking about?!”

It took his mother, his grandmother, his friend group AND you to patch the bridge between the two of them.

Oh well, he’ll figure out how to deal with his feelings.

He’s Saiki Kusuo. Making the most messes was his unfortunate specialty.

#saiki no psi nan #saiki headcanons #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #pkshenanigans #anime #saiki k #saiki kusuo x reader

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kiyolovesart23 · 7 months

Text

Sweet tooth

Where some genshin men have suddenly gotten a sweet tooth… or is it because a certain someone is working at the bakery near them… hm…

Al haitham

Al haitham usually don’t care for sweets or sugary goodness (stupid), either ways now that he was grand sage, he didn’t have time to think about these useless things, he’d much rather focus on his work and his books, however once he went to run some errands and collei (yes her) happened to ask him to get sweets for nilous big celebration party later, he couldn’t say no to her now come on ( tighnari will kill him if he did)

So when he entered the bakery and saw you, looking so beautiful while.. working the counter..? He figured you worked there so he decided that now he had a sweet tooth

All just to see your beautiful smile everyday

Diluc

Occasionally Diluc didn’t mind indulging in sweets once in a while, especially if it’s some special occasion but bro is literally batman ( no I am)

He sometimes gets too caught up in his work to go and eat sweets regularly, so he doesn’t really eat much, ( bro is ripped and hot ugh) however, HOWEVER, there are exceptions after all

When a sweet blonde hair ish looking cute girl with pyro vision who calls him weird asked him to get sweets for her since master jean wouldn’t let her ( master jean is a bitch, jk ily jean, don’t ruin my 50/50) diluc obviously takes his chance to redeem himself and not be called weird, so he goes to a good bakery and get the requested sweets

When he sees you working behind the counter he falls head over heels, love at first sight, there was just.. something about you that made his heart beat out of his chest, obviously now it was his life purpose to come visit you and the bakery regularly

He can’t say no to you and you’re baked sweets whenever you give him some,

He just can’t say no to you, you’ve stolen his heart after all;)

Ayato

If you thought this dude had a sweet tooth, no he had a traumatising taste preference, thoma would know, plus being the commissioner he really can’t catch a break ( poor baby) it’s like he’s practically glued in his office

Ayaka and thoma are super worried about him and his health, after all no matter how strong he is, everyone needs to go out and touch some grass in a while;) ( yes us too genshin players) so while it takes the two of them a lot of time to convince ayato to go out, ayaka has an idea, she asks him to go get some sakura mochi for her with her puppy dog eyes, he can’t say no to her and it’s a good excuse to touch grass take a walk and so he does

And boy when he enters the bakery and sees you his heart melts, for some reason you have that effect on him, the way you smile and greet him and show him around the bakery at his request, your voice is only background as he finds himself listening to in your beauty, he thinks to himself what a wonderful idea ayaka has given him and that let him to you

Now he won’t let go, if you asked he’s willing to give you his life

Zhongli

Zhongli is a mixed person to be honest (bro already has a bakery wym) he won’t mind eating the most finest of sweets even tho he’s broke asf ( Childe’s wallet is crying) and yet he happens to find himself in a simple bakery run by you smitten by your beauty

It all started when Childe gave him some more and left for a mission, that made zhongli realise that he has to plan efficiently and not waste a lot, and he saw your bakery on the way home and spent some time thinking to himself if he should actually go in.. once he did, he immediately realised it was an amazing choice, the way your hair fluttered as you moved and the way your eyes sparkled as you heard the bell when the door opens and the way you were so friendly with him, it made him feel a different way.. something he hasn’t felt in a while, it made him feel warm and fuzzy

Your laugh gave him joy and a new found purpose to now have a sweet tooth

#genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #al haitham x you #al haitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #ayato x y/n #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x y/n

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littlefangbanger · 1 year

Text

True Blood Vampires w/ a Human Mate

Pairing(s): Eric; Pam; Godric; x GN!Reader

CW: Vague mentions of sex, violence, etc... Come on, it's True Blood. Mentions of Luke (suicide bomber). Some fluff. Lots of rambling.

Notes: Only on season 4 right now, so I'm sure I'm missing some good characters. Didn't do Bill but if anybody wants a second version of this just ask. I'm open to requests so feel free to send me asks!

Eric Northman

This man only uses humans for three things: feeding, fucking and as a means to an end. If they didn't offer anything useful, they didn't interest him. That was, until you.

Ngl it took this man a long time to recognize his own feelings. It took Pam calling him out to realize he was starting to feel something almost human. Love?

You heard him say it, don't use words he doesn't understand.

Anyways, at first he thought he was just attracted to you due to your blood. He hadn't actually tasted it yet but it was tempting nonetheless.

You were with them at Godric's nest when the suicide bomber attacked. You were further away from Luke than Sookie and Eric, but you were still human.

Eric was the one who pulled the debris out of you and fed you his blood. That was the moment he started to come to terms with his own feelings. He wasn't going to lose you.

This man will protect you from EVERYTHING, vampire or not. If it's a vampire of all things threatening your safety, in his area, well... bless their cold non-beating hearts.

Remember that episode where Lafayette is in the basement, and Eric lets out that inhuman growl while tearing that other man apart? Yeah, he does that.

He's not affectionate at first, especially not in public. If he does hold you it is because you managed to piss him off by talking to other vampires at Fangtasia. So he keeps you where he knows nobody will come after you: in his lap.

Man is probably touch starved. Please offer him a hug when you're alone. It'll be strange for him at first but he secretly loves it.

I think his primary love languages are mostly acts of service and quality time. He wants you to worship the ground he walks on, much like he does you.

Passionate kisses. Rough sex. It's rare for anything to be slow or gentle with him.

He is down for anything really. Just say the word.

Listen, he's not a gentleman. Not unless you explicitly ask for it. He's gonna be rough with almost everything. But he tries for you.

You can try to take control if you want... but just know you're not actually in control. He's just offering you an opportunity to feel like you are.

The moment you get a little too cocky, he'll remind you that he is the thousand year old vampire. He overpowers you easily.

He wants you to become a vampire, but doesn't say anything at first. He actually starts to value your humanity. It keeps him grounded.

That doesn't change the fact that you can't stay human forever. In your current state you are simply too fragile. It was too easy for you to be ripped away from him.

He won't turn you yet, though. He'll wait until you're ready, or until he has no choice.

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort

Eric is the only being that has managed to capture and keep Pam's attention. So your relationship was a slow burn made in hell.

At first she only saw you as another pathetic human that stuck their nose in vampire business too much. You were one of Sookie's dearest friends, and one that seemed to always be involved in her foolish antics.

Much like Sookie, you sympathize with vampires. You actually started to visit Fangtasia as a casual guest.

That's how you managed to capture Pam's attention. Your regular visits always seemed to spark something that resembled joy in her.

Your personality meshed well with hers. Pam is a smart-ass and even more cunning. Your dark humor and equally witty personality amused her.

Eventually you two developed a sort of... arrangement. You offered her your blood, and sex of course, and she offered you protection from the degenerates at Fangtasia.

She did find your blood quite tasty, so she agreed to this.

She claimed you. So nobody else could touch you. Eric didn't care as long as you didn't distract her from her duties.

After some months of seeing each other, Pam started to realize that she was becoming way too attached to you.

It was almost as if she was... in love? No, absolutely not.

She was harsh with you for some time, but eventually started to warm up.

Her primary love languages are acts of service and gift giving. Shower her with quality makeup, jewelry and other gifts. She loves being spoiled.

She'll do the same for you, so expect some rather pricey gifts.

When it comes to sex she prefers being dominant, but if you ask nicely she may let you take that role instead.

Will praise and degrade you at the same time. Just be a good pet for her, yeah?

I feel like she would want to turn you into a vampire asap. She doesn't like knowing that you could die from almost anything.

You don't mind, though. You quite like the idea of being a vampire.

Godric

Godric is one of the few vampires who holds some level of compassion towards humans. So, I feel like it wouldn't take as much for him to fall in love with one.

This compassion is, however, a result of being two thousand years old. He's had a lot of time to get around, but somehow I'm convinced he's never been in love like that.

Sure, he knows something like love for his progenies. But romantic? I just don't think that's something he thought about until recently. It would probably take him some time to recognize what he's feeling.

You met the night Sookie was held hostage by the Fellowship of the Sun. You had arrived with Eric to save him and Sookie.

Godric was intrigued by your compassion for vampires. You? A human, there to help save him? It was almost too good to be true, but then again some could say the same about his compassion towards humans.

You were with them at his house that night, celebrating his return. He had been watching you; how you mingled with the vampires as if they were human. You didn't give anybody permission to drink from you, much to Godric's pleasure.

When the suicide bomber attacked, he shielded you. The impact still hurt but you were free of any life-threatening injuries.

In return, you talked him out of meeting the true death. You stood with him on the top of that roof and convinced him that although things are hard, and he has a lot to atone for, there is still much to live for (even if he technically isn't alive).

He claimed you to protect you from other vampires after that. He knew how brutal and beast-like many vampire are. Most understood what it means to claim a human though, so if they knew you were Godric's they wouldn't touch you.

Deep talks. I feel like over time he'd open up about some of the things from his past that bothers him, and how his mental health is. You always listened and reassured him that he has changed for the better.

The only other vampire he would trust to be alone with you is Eric. Eric wouldn't dare touch what is Godric's and often finds himself looking after you when Godric is too busy with vampire stuff.

Quality time and words of affirmation would be his love languages. Please please please shower him with compliments and reassurance. He won't admit it in front of others but he loves it.

Honestly he's sweet all around. In all scenarios. He worships the ground you walk on and will treat you like royalty. That means in bed too.

He's constantly afraid of losing you. As much as he loves your humanity, he's painfully aware of how fragile you are in your current state.

In his two thousand years Godric has developed a great deal of patience and self-control, but the moment you are threatened by another vampire or otherwise non-human... he's not afraid to showcase what he's capable of.

He would never turn you unless you want him to. Even then, I feel like you would really need to convince him that you want that. Honestly you may have to wait until he is ready, because he is conflicted with the idea.

#true blood #true blood x reader #true blood fanfic #eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfic #vampire #vampire x reader #vampire x human

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dracaesusurro · 1 year

Text

May eywa be our witness

Pairing: neteyam sully x female reader

Warning: angst, fluff, mentions of mating

Summary: part two of the last neteyam fic, Just cause his so babygurl!!!

Part three

Neytiri was furious, her eyes could split you in half, when you returned to the clan it was early mornings time, the whole family was worried sick about you two, they were relived to see you unharmed but there was still no sign of neteyam, you assumed he was calming himself at first but hours passed and your worry only grew as did the sully family’s.

Close to dawn soldiers from the front forrest sent news that neteyam has returned with his Ikran, unharmed they specified. You felt like your lungs were renewed and oxygen found its way to you once more. Thank eywa.. you were still in thought when you heard Neytiri screech loudly sprinting towards neteyam who had just jumped off his Ikran, jakes face was stone cold, yet wore years worth of disappointment and worry and anger beneath the surface. He hasn’t seen you yet, “ahhh neteyam I’m going to pluck your eyes out you foolish boy” Neytiris voice was threatening, “where have you been all this time, you might as well have ripped my heart out Ma tìrol (my son) what am I to do with you reckless-” she stopped once Jake laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her towards him.

Neteyam’s gaze was elsewhere refusing to acknowledge the scenario before him, this is unlike him. “Boy, you listen to me I don’t want stuff like this…” jakes voice Faded out when he finally spotted you staring at the commotion. His anger towards you took the better of him, without a second thought he stormed past his father who was still lecturing him. Jake was stunned, this has never happened before yet he wasn’t going to stand being belittled by his own son.

Neytiri could tell something was hurting his sons soul, she felt his hidden pain. When Jake went to go after the boy she stopped him, “ma Jake, he is hurt, the look on his face did you see? He was hurt in here” she placed her finger on jakes heart. He was taken aback, “I will see to him, you are not exactly one to have such conversations with ma Jake” she smiled weakly and walked past him, he knew she was right but what he couldn’t figure out was what could have happened to him. He had more troubling thoughts in mind.

You sat there observing the entire scenario unable to speak out a word. What you’ve done had scarred neteyam deeply, and there was nothing you could do for the wound.

————————————————————

“Neteyam my boy?” Neytiri had followed him to the hut, his sat in the corner of the area balled up, anger, sadness and stress radiating off him. The vision before her took her back to years ago, when he was just a baby, always bearing too much on his small mind, straining his thoughts. “Talk to me boy, what’s haunting your thoughts?” She tried again, he kept up his wall.

She sat next to him with an arm placed on his back, she ran her hand up and down his spine, calming his nerves, “mama, I’m tired” His voice was so faint, it hurt her soul, “why my boy?” He lifted his head facing her with sad eyes, “I never have a choice do I? I’m told how to live my own life, I’m dads soldier, the clans puppet, no one ever listens to what I want!” She tried to understand him, there is more to his words than what his telling. “Your father is hard on you, but he loves you neteyam, very much and-” “no no, that’s not it, I’m so tired mother so tired of having my life paved out for me, am I living, or following along whatever you choose for me! When is it my turn to make a choice” he had tears escaping, the managed to get out of his grip. “Neteyam speak clearly Ma tìrol what is this really about hm?” Of course she saw right through him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to open up about this, yet she left him no choice.

“I’ve chosen my mate mama, I see her, she’s who I want. But every odd tells us it can’t be. They’ve convinced her that we can’t be together, I feel the world on my shoulders and my heart emptier than ever” His words deemed heavy on a mother heart, and she knew who his thoughts belonged to. “Ma y/n? Is she your mate?” He wasn’t surprised that she knew, “she was going to be, she gave up on me” she grabbed his face forcefully “no, no one has given up on you neteyam, you hear me, we’ll fix this, a mother knows my boy, she loves you deeply. I know it” that was enough for him to trust his mother, or hold her as an excuse for a chance at hope. Whichever it was, he had a second chance.

——————————————-

Jake had his own problems troubling his thoughts, in order to get the Metkayina clan to form an alliance with his clan he had to offer up a sacrifice, a form of bond that they can offer Eywa, he was yet to figure out how to let his family and most importantly his daughter know. She is a great warrior he thought, she would do this for her land.

You were curious as to why Jake had called an emergency meeting during the late night, it was random. But what caught your interest the most was that you were going to see him, going to be close to him, close enough to breathe the same air. Yet you felt as though you were worlds apart. “Ma Jake, what is this about?” Neytiri was the first to question as we call sat in a circle, Kiri and tuk next to me and Lo’ak and…Nete at the other end. We all looked at Jake, all attention on him.

“Y/n….my girl-” he seemed like he was still gathering his words, the meeting being about you was the last thing you expected. But the topic seemed to catch Neteyam’s interest, he looked at his father curiously. “My girl I have set for you to…you are to be the Metkayina’s leader to be’s mate, the leaders son, Aonung. You are my eldest girl and his the clans next leader in order to-” you gasped audibly, louder than you wanted to let on, Neytiri’s eyes rained with fire and all you could do was look for Neteyam’s reaction in this matter. He stared at his father eyes wide, hands in fists, knuckles turning a light blue, both Lo’ak and Neytiri noticed his fume.

“Jake what is this?! How could you not tell me this decision about our daughter!? Mother stood challenging Jake in way. He continued to stare at you only waiting for a reply, “what purpose does this serve?” You asked calmly though you hands shook wildly. “A alliance is key to the survival of all the clans across Pandora, to protect our own we need to be twice as strong as the sky demons, we need their help, and my girl I need yours” he kept his poise strong even with the eyes glaring at him at all sides of the room including his mate. Neteyam looked at you, hoping to read your reaction, silently praying you to decline his request, yell at him, say no, deny it all, say you belong to another…to him. But your face remains calm.

“My girl I won’t allow him to do this to you-”

“Neytiri this is also for the good of people you have to understand the humans won’t stop—”

“Father, I understand, this is my home, my land and my people too. I will do all that I can to help and if this is….if this….I accept.” You struggled to find your words, you wanted to seem strong and genuine but you failed as you stumbled over your words, your voice shook. Jakes face softened at your response, he seemed guilty yet grateful. Neytiri approached you kneeling in-front of you. “You shouldn’t have to do this my girl, this responsibility is too far for you to carry, it’s not fair do not accept this!” You held her hands and kissed them gently, “mama, don’t you worry, nothing makes me more proud then to help our people fight against these monsters”

You snuck a glance towards Neteyam, he looked furious, either about to explode, or beat the life out of his father. He silently spoke to you with his eyes, begged you to stop this request, but you couldn’t accept. This was a way to forget about the pain Neteyam’s absence would leave behind, duty before emotions. “How could you ask her something like this huh?” Neteyam no… “you think she could deny you, even if it’s what she wanted most. You treat us like soldiers rather than you children, we take orders from you not love, yet we live with it everyday, but to ask this…..this is….a mate is a bond for life, a ritual of love not a duty to her father or her goddamn land!” Your fathers face bore a furious look, Neytiri only pulled you into her chest cradling you. “NETEYAM, enough of this nonsense you hear me? Get yourself together..what is the matter with you boy?!” Neteyam let out a loud snarl at his father holding a threatening poise before storming out of the hut without an explanation. You were lost at bay, didn’t know what to think, so you listened to your heart and prayed that Eywa would lead you well. You got up and ran after him.

Part three up!!!! Thank you for reading ❤️

In the comments

#neteyamseries #neteyam avatar #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #neteyam x oc #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar fic #avatar the way of water #avatar #avakinlife #fanfiction

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actual-changeling · 11 months

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There is something so fragile and painful about Joel hiding his nightmares from Ellie and not asking for help. He sees himself as the caretaker and for the most part he is, but he takes it to an extreme it doesn't have to reach and denies himself any kind of comfort she might offer that isn't focused on her. In the fic I wrote about it, Ellie has already figured out how to help him, but I wanna write about the very first time Joel wakes her up while having a nightmare, both before Jackson and then once they settle.

I wanna say the first time is after episode five, he has them every night but they get worse sometimes and that are the ones that make him wake up in the middle of the night. Henry and Sam dying the way they did is a gigantic mirror of Joel and Sarah, and combine that with almost seeing Ellie get ripped apart by infected and you get a nightmare that makes you snap out of it with a full-blown panic attack.

Joel doesn't scream, doesn't shout, he simply shoots upright and his pupils are blown out with frantic terror. The ragged breaths he sucks in while hyperventilating are the only sound in the clearing they have chosen for the night, the fire having long died down and leaving them in almost complete darkness. Maybe if she hadn't already been awake she wouldn't have noticed it at all, but Ellie has barely slept for the last three days because she sees blood and bullet wounds whenever she closes her eye.

Her sleeping bag is right next to his, a silent choice they both initiated the first night after Kansas City, and she is on her knees before Joel even spots her in his confusion.

There are things neither of them can say in the daylight, but there's only the moon and the distant stars as their witnesses now, and the desperate Ellie he chokes on lays all of them out in front of her.

She doesn't quite know what to do, doesn't know what she is allowed to do, but Joel's hands are shaking and her heart is pounding and he held her surrounded by Henry and Sam's blood on the motel room floor, so she shuffles closer. As soon as his gaze lands on her the tension holding his shoulders up drops and her head hurts with the hours and hours of sleep she has been missing out on, so she feels not an ounce of embarrassment when they meet in the middle and Joel pulls her closer.

Ellie doesn't know why there are tears dripping from her jaw or why the soft touch of Joel's cheek on top of her head breaks something deep inside of her open, but she curls up in his lap amidst the heat he is radiating and listens to his heartbeat until it slows. The forest is a cold void stretching around them, and she squeezes her eyes shut when his breaths calm enough to allow his words to reach her ears, the same phrase mumbled into her hair over and over again.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel miller #ellie williams #fanfic #tlou episode 5

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 6 months

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👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version (Prt 3) (prt 1 here) (Prt 2 here)

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :3464

🔷Warnings: Non apply

TAGLIST: @connorsui @lportes-22 @thisaccountisrandomsstuff @nikkitc0703 @lijeno

Months have passed since the ball. Yet you still can feel your heart be ripped in two. Aemond has not bothered to come back for you, believing he is somehow doing you a favor by staying away. You wonder if he is doing alright. You should be furious, angry, perhaps take revenge and sleep with other men but….

Part of you knows Aemond too well to even do that. He genuinely believed he did the right thing. The good thing, by leaving and setting you free, so you could become the Queen. But what is a crown over true love? How can you rule over countless people if it is not the man of your dreams by your side, making the horrible choices so worth it, just because you’ll make that choice together? What is the future if you can’t spend it by his side? What is a golden cage if you can live with him in freedom? And why would you care about being Queen, when you could just be the woman he loves?

Tonight, you all will be interviewed by the press, a common occurrence so the people of Westeros will know you a bit better, perhaps you’ll become someone’s favorite.

Your make-up team works on your eyeliner, black with silver small tiny glitters. They put gloss on your lips and put your hair up, so the silver necklace around your neck speaks volumes. Baela is already done with her dress, and has taken time to chat with you about Aemond. She has become a close friend of yours in the past months, together with Dyana. You form an alliance with both, against Floris and even Queen Alicent. ‘’He loved me, he said so in his letter.’’ You tell Baela when she asks if Aemond wasn’t playing a fucked up little game. ‘’I’ve seen the man behind the mask when I am near him, Baela. It can’t have been a act.’’

Floris approaches in her black swan feather dress, glancing down at you with great enjoyment of your misery. ‘’Well, Queen Alicent has already said Aemond won’t be coming back from Dorne anytime soon. So, have fun being depressed and disappointed.’’ Alicent likely told Floris that in confidence but Floris takes any chance to make you feel miserable.

Dyana wears a gorgeous red gown and approaches Floris rapidly. She puts her hands on her hips and you and Baela know Dyana has had it with Floris. ‘’Just like your father was when you came in-'’ You see Baela gasp when Dyana opens her mouth, and the last 15 remaining girls listen with their breaths hold in. But you speak up, forcing her to remain calm, grabbing her hand and dragging her back before she can claw out Dyana’s eye.

‘’Don’t stoop to her level, Dy. She is not worth our anger or energy. She craves attention, so she seeks it.’’ Dy nods, before moving back to her chair. Floris scoffs at you three before she and her minions let the tv crew know they are ready.

After watching the other girls excel with their questions, the same questions time after time, you think you are prepared for whatever they may throw at you. You sit down in the comfortable chair, your legs crossed.

The first question is about your first meeting with the prince. The interviewer smiles, but her eyes tell books. ‘’Everyone knows you are a common-born girl. Do you think the reason you are still here is because of favoritism?’’ You first gawk at her, attacked and offended. Until you see the chance to clap back. And you will.

You speak from your heart but you can’t ignore the sting as if you betray Aemond. ‘’Frankly, I believe Prince Jacaerys is quite taken with me, and his opinion matters more than what a small crowd chooses to say about me.’’

Her eyebrows rise and this time she is the one who lost her tongue, clearly fumbling over cards to find a good other hostile question. ‘’Do you think you would make a good queen? How would someone as commonborn as you even lead the country?’’

A fair jab, but you are done playing fair. You will come at her with everything you got. ‘’I think us commoners know more about the country than the nobility ever will. We are the ants, carrying the crown. I hope to make life better for all civilians of the Seven Kingdoms, not just the commoners or the nobility. I hope to be a ruler. Not a decoration on a shelf.’’

The woman is seething with rage at your composed sweet answers. ‘’That was my final question.’’ You blink innocently and surprised.

‘’Was it? You seem to have forgotten to ask me the questions you asked all the other girls. Perhaps you need a break.’’ You suggest, sweetly. A few chuckles erupt among the selected.

The interviewer is removed by Lady Aemma before getting a firm talking to off screen. You stand up from the chair and sigh deeply. That went as horrible as could be. The only thing that would have made it worse would be questions about Aemond. You saw her cards, they were on there. Yet she kept from asking. Odd. And someone is working on getting you removed, someone very high up.

The next major event is the Halloween masquerade. Only 10 girls remain, including you. Jacaerys has been nothing but kind to you, treating you as a true lady whenever you are around him. Floris and four other girls are now under Alicent’s wing. You used to be jealous that she had selected clear favorites. Yet none of that matters. Jacaerys has only eyes for you.

Prince Jacaerys dances with you, under the great chandelier. All those months practicing with the waltzes and dances have finally paid off as you smoothly follow his movements as if you are two body pieces belonging to one soul.

But alas, despite him having you made his favorite, you remain a pawn in a game. And a game has rules, no matter how unfair. Jacaerys ends the dance with a respectful bow before moving to Lady Baela, a sweet kind girl you’ve come to know very well.

You take a glass of champagne, before sitting down on a chair, lost in thought. You’ve been here for months. You miss Aemond, of course you do.

At some point you lost track of Baela and Jace. They must be getting more champagne. A servant loyal to Jacaerys whispers in your ear that you must come to the library. The prince has a surprise for you.

You enter the library not much later. A masked figure stands with his back to you, a black hood covering his hair. ‘’Jace?’’ You ask, before approaching him. Jace does not answer you, instead he grabs you by your hips and drags your body closer until you both collide. Your chin is grabbed and he kisses you fiercely before exhaling deeply, sniffing the perfume on your skin.

This is improper. You must stop this. Jacaerys and you are not married, this is the selection. This is not fair to the others.

You gasp, as you remove the mask and look into blue eyes, not brown ones. Aemond silently brings his fingers to your lips before slowly bringing his face back to yours. The worst part is, you let him. You welcome him. Your lips find his soft pink lips, gently moving against his lips until the movements become rough as if he is trying to hurt you. ‘’Y/n,’’ he murmurs against your lips, leaving kisses on your skin. ‘’I’m sorry. I honor the traditions, normally. But I can’t stay away from you.’’ He mutters. You kiss his lips again.

But you look into his eyes. ‘’We’ll make our own traditions.’’ You promise him, hot tears running down your cheeks of pure joy. He kisses you again, much slower and softer as if he wants to savor every moment of this. Aemond murmurs against your lips and you become lost in the passion and the love you feel for one another. You tug at his tie but he shakes his head, before leaning in and whispering in your ear. ‘’I don’t want you to become a secret, or a scandal. I will ask my nephew, and my father for permission.’’ He searches in his pocket for a small rock shaped box and opens the lid, before sinking to one knee and grabbing your hand. Lady Aemma enters the room, holding a smartphone so she can film this wonderful moment as tears sting your eyes.

He is proposing. He is asking you to become his wife. ‘’Lady Y/n, queen of my heart, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, my equal, and may I bring you under my protection?’’ A small ring with gold and a clear sapphire smiles at you, and you see dreams and hopes in Aemond’s eyes.

You smile. You wait for him to stand, and nearly slam the ring out of his hands before you kiss him again. ‘’Yes, yes, a dozens times yes.’’

Aemond grins, picking you up from the ground, spinning you around when kissing you. Lady Aemma makes herself known again, gently clearing her throat, but her eyes are misty with tears. ‘’I’m afraid there is a matter of permission. A royal marriage can only exist with the blessing of the king.’

The king has been feeling ill lately. He has taken to bed and refuses to leave for anyone. Queen Alicent rules in his stead, as a faithful wife would. You and Aemond rush past ladies, princes, nobles and paparazzi, hand in hand, clearly smitten as your feet go as fast as you can go. Paparazzi quickly turn their camera’s to you both, but all they get is a messy blurry picture, that is how fast you both are walking. Finally, you reach the rooms of the king.

Queen Alicent sits by his bedside, faithfully reading him the newspaper. She turns around when she sees you both, and you drop into a curtsy. ‘’What are you both doing here?’’ She asks.

Aemond clears his throat, before sitting down on his father’s bed. ‘’Father, I’m sorry. I know you told me I should always follow duty, and that the crown requires sacrifice.’’ He did? King Viserys avoids your eyes and you understand he was behind Aemond’s sudden departure. You cross your arms over your chest.

‘’I did.’’ The king confesses, a bit grumpy.

Aemond gestures for you to come closer, so you do. He takes hold of your hands. ‘’But my path to duty led me to Y/N. She makes me feel things I never felt before. She is the love of my life, Father. I know you both sent me away to Dorne to forget her, but I know by now: No one will ever compare or come close to her. She is all I ever wanted, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. If I have to give up my titles, so be it.’’ He declares, firmly.

Viserys coughs, before smiling at you both. ‘’Aemond, come here my boy. I know I've been a horrible father to you and my other children.’’ You look away, not sure you were meant to hear this.

‘’Yes.’’ Aemond says, agreeing without missing a beat.

Viserys looks at you. ‘’But I'm going to ask you this once, my boy. Do you love that girl?’’ Your heart beats faster and faster and you are afraid it might stop.

Aemond looks at you when speaking, nodding. ‘’I feel alive when she is with me. Like everything is possible and she makes me whole in ways I used to be broken.’’ Viserys nods.

‘’Then who am I to deny you both? Go, be happy, my boy. You always have been meant for it.’’ Aemond nods, pretending to not tear up, but even you have teary eyes watching this reunion.

This is nice, but there is one other obstacle. Jacaerys. You belonged to his selection. To go with another man is treason. ‘’Jace, of course, I will ask-’’ Aemond is interrupted as the doors open and Jace himself enters with Lady Aemma close behind.

Jacaerys holds up his hands, silencing Aemond. ‘’You don’t have to, Aemond.’’ He turns to the king before speaking. ’I've seen it for myself, Grandsire. Y/n and Aemond are two parts of one soul. We must not keep them separated. They belong to one another.’’

Alicent looks concerned. ‘’But what will the media say?’’ She is right. They have not been kind to you.

Viserys grins. ‘’They can say whatever they like. Y/n will become Aemond's wife, a princess of house Targaryen. They will learn to mind their tongues over time.’’ You hope so, at least.

Aemond turns to his mother. ‘’Do I have both your blessings? May we marry?’’ He asks, hopeful.

Alicent looks you over, and you wonder how much she secretly hates you. She smiles, before touching her son’s forehead, kissing it. ‘’Your happiness is all that I ever wanted for you, Aemond. Go find it with your wife.’’ And just like that, a nightmare ends and a dream is born. Aemond kisses your lips, not giving a damn about the audience that is present.

The first moment with the press is there, the engagement photoshoot. Of course you are afraid, but Aemond makes it all worth it. He is still a bit stiff when it comes to press and attention but you bring out his true wonderful self. You and Prince Aemond hold hands in front of the castle, as multiple press magazines, news channels and photographers from all over the world take in this wonderful moment.

‘’Prince Aemond! "Please look here!"

‘’Duchess Y/n! Is it true you and Prince Aemond bonded over your love for Dornish architecture?"

‘’Yes. We are big nerds."

‘’O, that was improper of me wasn't it?’’ You mutter as the press eagerly writes things down.

Aemond shrugs before whispering in your ear. ‘’You're doing just fine. We kinda are big nerds.’’

You return the smile, taking hold of his face before kissing him. ‘’The biggest.’’ You declare before kissing him. The flashes go crazy the moment your lips lock, and all photographers shut up, taking millions of pictures.

Aemond breaks the kiss, grinning at the press when you blush lost in the moment. ‘’Prince Aemond, what was your first thought when you saw her lady?"

Aemond thinks back and you see many emotions cross his face. ‘’Why don't good things ever happen to me? And it's ironic because…she would become the best thing In my life.’’

One photographer clearly adores that and makes a little strangled ‘’awh’’ sound, causing their colleague to smack them lightly on the arm. ‘’What? They are adorable!’’ He declares, simply before returning to making photos.

You glance at Aemond. ‘’I am simply speaking my truth.’’ He says as if he’s defending himself.

You grin. ‘’Hmhm.’’

An interviewer of the Targaryen times finally asks a question, having worked up the courage. ‘’Princess-I mean, Duchess…’’ She stumbles and blushes, embarrassed as she looks through her notes nervously.

Aemond smiles, reassuringly. ‘’Princess is fine, Ma’am. She must adjust to her new title somehow.’’ Finally she lets go of her cards, and becomes much more confident because of it.

‘’Princess Y/N. What are the plans for the wedding?’’ Aemond grins, turning his head to you as if he wants to hear it as well.

You smile, painting a picture. ‘’A grand one, in the sept, honoring ancient Targaryen traditions. But also a couple of new ones.’’ You for example would love for Vhagar, Aemond’s cat to wear the rings down the aisle or for your wedding dress to be silver. And so, that happened. 25 october, you and Aemond said your vows for dozens of people to see. And after that, came the honeymoon.

You finally stand before the statue of Nymeria, the statue you dreamed of seeing since you were old enough to want anything. Aemond is with you, together with your security, hidden and dressed as ordinary tourists. You look at Nymeria’s statue, at a loss for words, that's how beautiful you find it all.

‘’I can't believe you took me here.’’ You tell Aemond, searching for his hand to hold as tears of happiness roll down your cheeks.

He gently wipes them away. ‘’I can. You always wanted to see it. And now we can.’’ He tells you, with a smile and a kiss on your lips. ‘’This does mean that you need a new dream, I’m afraid.’’ He jests but you turn his face back to your own.

‘’I don’t need a new dream. You are my new dream.’’

Next year, you all come together for christmas. You and Aemond have brought gifts. The family sits still in gowns and suits, as royals are expected, but their smiles are the same of any other happy family.

Finally it is your turn to give something to Viserys, the king.

‘’Grandsire, we have a surprise.’’ Aemond looks around the room, and everyone watches as Viserys unwraps his present with the help of Alicent, and reveals two red with silver baby socks.

Rhaenyra gasps, delighted before hiding her giggle. Jacaerys and Baela grab each other’s hand and Helaena grins. Even Aegon seems to understand what this means. His hair has slightly grown back, but he keeps it shorter than usual, he quite liked it.

Yet the king seems at loss for words. ‘’These are a little too small for my feet.’’ Viserys says, taking in the baby socks.

Aemond grins, putting his arms around you. You beam, waiting patiently for Viserys to get the hint.

Alicent jumps up from her chair, gasping. ‘’Oh my gods, she is pregnant!’’ You break into a bright grin as Aemond softly rubs your belly.

Instantly the king smiles, standing up to hug you both. ‘’Oh! My stupid arse thought you bought the wrong size!’’ He is still very fragile, but manages to walk a few inches.

‘’Father.’’ Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

Daemon, her newest husband, smirks, before coming over as well. Usually he is too cool for things like this, but this time, it's different. ‘’Ah to hell it with, get here you two.’’ He hugs you both. You look at the beautifully decorated christmas tree, and realize that next christmas might look even more beautiful.

The next Christmas is just like that, beautiful. Baela is now pregnant with her own child, the future heir to the seven Kingdoms. Dyana has been married too, to a friendly sweet woman she met in a coffee shop. She remains one of your closest friends, after the selection and Dyana and Crystina are invited to court, to become your ladies.

Your son is now born, Prince Daen Targaryen. Aemond and you picked the name together.

‘’He takes after his father, always with his nose stuck in a book.’’ Prince Viserys comments as you and the young prince look through a picture book he got from his aunt, Aunt Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra seems pleased that your son likes her gift and you smile at her. ‘’He likes colorful pictures.’’

Rhaenyra nods. ‘’Viserys and Aegon are the same.’’

Aemond talks with his dad, you see them bond more and more, becoming closer. ‘’Do you remember?’’ He asks.

Viserys almost looks offended. ‘’Of course I do. Your favorite things was to read, to eat cookies and to see the horses.’’

Aemond grins, looking at you and your son. ‘’I thought you had forgotten.’’ He confess.

Viserys nearly chokes on his champagne. ‘’Never.’’

You lift Daen from the ground, picking him up and bringing him to Aemond who happily accepts and holds his son. ‘’Look, it’s daddy.’’ You tell your son with a smile. ‘’Say hello to daddy.’’

He grins, hugging your son tightly when rocking him to sleep. ‘’Our little prince.’’ He tells you with a wink.

You nod. ‘’Our little prince.’’ You have learned a lot in the time of the selection. But the one thing is that your life can change, if you just look past people’s appearances, and past their walls. The most gorgeous crown can be hidden behind a ugly box and the most wonderful story has the dustiest cover. You can’t judge people for the walls they keep around, as everyone has their own stories. But most of all, you learned to fight for things you believe in, and to fight for things you love.

A/N.

Thank you so much for reading with me. When i started it idk how many people would even like it and the support was insane. Thank you all so much. I hope you all liked the story as much as I did telling it, in hotd/selection fashion.

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader

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3d-wifey · 5 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 8

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.8k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag List: @melancholicmelanin , @yvy1s, @honethatty12 A/N: Are yall mad at me 🙁🙁 Your outfit & Finnick's outfit.

Past (ix) - You

[19 & 20] - THE CAPITOL

You like Johanna, you decide after only a few minutes of talking to her. She’s clever and somehow always simmering with rage. With her stature and how meek she seemed in her interviews, even you were surprised by the 180 she did in the arena. It's easy to see how she won.

It's admirable. Admittedly, your games were more animalistic than strategic. The careers had turned on each other pretty early on, leaving behind those who were desperate to stay alive. There was even a boy who resorted to cannibalism, eating the heart of any tribute he killed. His name was Titus. He was only thirteen. When they airlifted you out, it felt like you were taken out of the wilderness and brought into captivity.

You also note, despite her permanent scowl, or maybe because of it, she’s pretty. And that thought plants dread in your chest. You know the future for pretty, young victors all too well.

Is this how Finnick felt when he first met you?

There are ways around it, you note. Though the consequences are pretty grim. Enobaria comes to mind. She won her games by ripping another tribute’s throat out with her teeth. An act of desperation turned into her main selling point. She was smart. Went to an extreme and sharpened her teeth to garner more Capitol appeal while simultaneously dissuading Snow from selling her body. She’s pretty, but no one’s jumping to get into bed with teeth like that.

And Haymitch…well, Haymitch wasn’t given much of a choice considering Snow killed any leverage he might have had over him.

You make your rounds, jumping from group to group, barely being able to pull away from those who want your attention. Obviously, you aren’t mingling because you want to. There isn’t a single client you’d willingly interact with, ever . However, what you want doesn’t really matter at the end of the day. A fact made all the more apparent when you get cornered by a particularly tenacious Capitol.

Ursa Lowvale—a notable actress old enough to be your mother, with a surprising amount of political influence—has one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding your waist. Her makeup, in Capitol fashion, is cakey and clashing. You force down the impulse to move away because no matter how long you’ve done this, it never ceases to amaze you how uncomfortable their touch makes you.

“Did you get the care package I sent you, dearest?" She asks, rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone. You take her hand from your face and move it to rest over your heart, just above your breast. Her touch makes you nauseous, but you play it off as if you’re showing your sincerity and not your disgust.

“I did. And I must say, your kindness knows no bounds.” You threw the package away immediately. You didn’t even bother looking inside. “You’re so giving.”

“Oh, I’m giving in all aspects . As I’m sure you know.” She moves her hand down to rest on the crest of your cleavage and you play none the wiser to what she’s insinuating. That’s the personality you’ve cultivated over the past four years; shy, docile, naive—if not a bit ditzy. It’s that very image that ropes them in. Corrupting the ‘innocence’ of a victor is awfully appealing.

“I’ll be sure to set up another meeting sometime soon. It’s been far too long.” She leans down and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be waiting.”

You wait until she’s out of sight to drop your smile. You take a sip of champagne out of the flute and then you take another. You’ll never drink enough at one of these events to lose your wits, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little tipsy. If more encounters like that happen, you’ll need it.

You stick to the outskirts of the party, savoring the limited solitude while it lasts. You watch on as Johanna turns another person down. You don’t know how they even work up the nerve to ask her to dance; she certainly isn’t welcoming. She seems to tolerate victors well enough, but anyone else—well, they should know better than to approach her.

You jump when toned arms slide around your waist, champagne sloshing out of your glass.

“ Stunning as always, Star. ” He whispers, voice husky in your ear. You relax in his hold.

“Finnick Ewan Odair, I swear if you made me drop this glass—”

“I know, I know,” he smirks against your cheek and you can’t tamp down your smile, “Missed you.” He kisses your temple and moves back. It wouldn’t be perceived as strange for Finnick, of all people, to hang off of you, but you keep it to a minimum as a self-imposed rule. No one would blink twice at innocent affection in public, but you both know how easy it would be for the two of you to get carried away. There’s flirting and then there’s flirting.

“Mhm, I’m sure you did.” You chuckle into your drink, playing at being impassive and he sighs dramatically.

“You see, now, normally, when somebody says they miss you, you’re supposed to say…?” He prompts with his hands and trails off. “C’mon, Star. I know you know this one.” You blink up at him, silent. He scoffs in faux offense, turning to walk away and you drop the act.

“Okay, I’m sorry ,” you laugh, pulling him back by one of his billowy sleeves to hook a finger in one of his belt loops, “I’m sorry. I missed you too.” In the past six months since Johanna’s games, you’ve only seen each other seven times. Odd, since you’ve both come to the Capitol at least twenty times combined, and usually, the two of you are brought in to work at the same time.

“Now, was that so hard?” He teases and you poke him in his stomach where he’s ticklish. The muscles in his abdomen twitch as he snorts unattractively. Or, it would have been if anyone other than Finnick did it. “You’ll catch a cold in that.” He notes with a quirk of his eyebrow and looks you up and down for longer than what’s strictly necessary. He’s referring to the newest dress your stylist stuffed you into. It seems like she gets more and more daring with each outfit. This time you’re in a thin strapped evening gown with an almost see-through corset bodice. There’s a slit up your left thigh reaching your hip. You try not to toddle in red heels that are truly too high.

One of his hands goes to your waist and moves you to sway with him to the music the live orchestra is playing. Your free hand trails up his strong shoulder to play with the hairs at his nape.

“I can say the same for you.” You tug on the shark tooth necklace that definitely isn’t his. He’s in a loose, khaki-colored wrap shirt with a deep v-neck. Deeper than deep, honestly. It’s sheer like yours and tucked into the front of his white slacks. The sleeves cinch at his wrists and the whole thing offers very little coverage to his bare chest and stomach, which is probably the point.

“I guess we’ll have to find a way to keep each other warm then.” He bites his bottom lip with a grin that spells nothing good for your patience.

You pinch his side.

“Ow! I’m kidding .” He raises his hands placatingly, grinning broadly.

“ Behave .” You scold through your teeth and your cheeks hurt with the stretch of your smile.

“You gonna punish me if I don—”

That earns him a smack to the bare skin of his chest.

“You are so irritating,” you scold and he laughs loud and unrestrained with his head thrown back. A sight that never ceases to leave you breathless. Finnick usually never lets himself be this carefree in public, but maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s your presence. He catches his breath, ruddy cheeks dimpling. He looks awfully pretty under the soft yellow lights, hair shining like gold. A possessive thought sinks its claws into you. You don’t want anyone to see him like this. No one else deserves it. You aren’t even sure if you do.

“You love it.” He’s still letting out breathy little giggles as he beams down at you, big doe eyes twinkling.

You shake your head with an insurmountable fondness. “I love you .”

He wrinkles his nose and your eyes are drawn to the faint freckles dotting the bridge of it. “See, that’s not fair.”

“Oh?” You cross your arms, balancing your glass precariously while playfully sizing him up as one would before a sparring match. But that train of thought makes you think. Could you take Finnick in a fight? You snort. Can anyone? “Please, Mr. Odair. Please tell me all about how unfair it is that I love you.”

“ Ouch . Mr. Odair?” He huffs at your expectant stare. “You use it for evil .” He mirrors your stance by crossing his arms, and drawing your attention to his biceps. His loose-fitting sleeves are doing a horrible job of hiding their shape and size as they flex with his movement. Hmm . You bring back that thought of fighting Finnick, but now it’s not that funny. You picture you and Finnick spent and sweaty as you wrestle on a mat, he would be red in the face and grinning from exertion as he pinned you down and—

You take a sip of champagne.

“Well, I guess I’ll just stop saying it all together then if it’s such a hardship.” You shrug.

He raises his hands like he’s fending off an attack. “Woah! Alright, alright. I’m willing to come to a truce.”

The pair of you are still joking and giggling together when you get approached by a couple. Edgar, one of Finnick’s regulars, and Karlo, his husband whom you’ve had many meetings with yourself. Anyone else in your position would have jumped apart, and put as much space and plausible deniability between you as possible—and maybe you would have done that when you were younger, but you both know now that the best way to squash any suspicion is to act like there’s nothing to be suspicious of.

You and Finnick share a glance. Breathe and endure , you mouth to him while your back is still turned to the encroaching couple. You welcome the wry twist of his lips.

“What are you two drinking that’s making you so smiley?” They ask and you both sober up. Well, not literally. You don’t know about him, but you’re still a little fuzzy. You shiver as the silk of Finnick’s shirt brushes your bare back as he wraps his hand around yours and takes a sip from your glass.

“Champagne.” He supplies, with that charming smile that you don’t even have to turn around to know is there. “It hits quicker than you’d think.” This is partially true, but, really, the only thing you’re drunk on is Finnick.

You lean back into the heat of Finnick’s chest and his hand goes to your hip to steady you, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip.

“Looks like someone’s drunk more than her fair share.” Karlo laughs as they crowd in on you both and if you really had been as drunk as you’re pretending to be, you would have thrown up from the smell of their strong perfumes clashing. Both sickeningly sweet and fighting to clog your lungs. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk already.”

“Honestly, I barely drank any. I must be a lightweight.” You laugh, fake to your own ears and you’re sure to Finnick’s too.

“Really? That’s quite surprising. You know. With your rough background and all.” Edgar says with genuine confusion. It’s odd to be insulted so sincerely. Finnick scoffs behind you in what could be mistaken for amusement, but the grip on your hip says otherwise.

You stay quiet for the rest of the conversation. You chime in here and there, but Finnick carries the bulk of it. It isn’t normally like this. Many people usually fall over themselves trying to be the first person you talk to. But there are a select few who prefer you to stand there and look pretty. You can essentially dumb your way out of a conversation, Finnick isn’t so lucky.

“You’ll have to show us some of your poetry sometime, Nick,” Edgar says while walking his fingers up Finnick’s arm and you almost wince for him. He hates that nickname. Writing, specifically poetry, is the hobby Finnick was forced to take up after his games. Something that’s supposed to give a layer of complexity to his playboy image. Though, unlike most victors, it’s actually something he enjoys and is quite good at.

You, on the other hand, wished you were given any other skill to hone. If your fingers hadn’t already been callused, the violin strings would’ve left them mangled.

“He always forgets to ask that, but I’m sure it’s because you have him suitably distracted.” Karlo laughs and Edgar cackles along with him. You don’t know what’s tighter, your grip on the glass or your smile. You wonder which one will shatter first.

“Ah, anyway. We must be off.” Edgar, thankfully, pulls away.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you.” Karlo takes your unattended hand and kisses the back of it and you instantly regret talking your stylist out of giving you elbow-length gloves.

“Likewise.”

You hold your breath and release it when they’re out of sight. You feel Finnick’s chest expand with his own sigh of relief.

“Alright,” he plucks the champagne from your hand, handing it to a passing server. You’re tempted to complain, “Let’s go. We’ve shown our faces long enough that Snow shouldn’t care.” You’re hesitant for a moment, but you can’t act like the idea of being alone with Finnick isn’t more than enough to convince you.

Other than the constant security and monitoring, the Training Center isn’t a terrible place to stay. As you and Finnick walk hand in hand down the hall, you can take comfort in the fact that you won’t run into anyone you’ll have to hide this from. The soles of your feet ache with each step. You yelp when you almost trip for the third time, your ankle turning inwards. Maybe you really are a lightweight.

Wordlessly, Finnick squats down and pats his thigh. You're confused before he taps your ankle. And he waits patiently like it’s the most natural thing in the world to take your shoes off for you. Your chest warms from something other than alcohol. You place your foot on his thigh and he takes off your heel and does the same with the other. He keeps the strap of your shoes looped over his finger as he stands.

“C’mon,” he puts one arm under your knees, another behind your back, and lifts you up like you weigh nothing. You really do try your best not to gawk at his strength, but from Finnick’s flustered giggles, you’re failing miserably. You wrap your arm around his neck.

“My hero,” you put the back of your hand to your forehead and his chest vibrates with his laughter.

“My star, light of my life,” you laugh as he spins you, “The least I can do is save you from a broken ankle.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your lips. Your eyes flutter shut and you can’t help but smile against his lips.

You and Finnick have unintentionally established a pattern. More often than not, you both would be in the Capitol at the same time for the same reason and one of you always ends up in the other’s room. But the elevator doesn’t stop on either of your floors.

The elevator opens on the rooftop and he’s yet to put you down. You’re amazed at how long he’s been able to carry you without any strain.

The gardens are sprawling and well-maintained, a surprising amount of care for something unprofitable. There was a kid, a tribute from one of the early games, who jumped off the roof. They claimed he fell by accident and the force field was put in place as a safety measure. But you all know what really happened—the districts know what happened. And you suspect he’s the reason the garden was implemented. A poorly planned distraction on the Capitol’s behalf.

Finnick sits on one of the garden benches behind a tall hedge of roses with you on his lap. You rest your head on top of his, tracing random letters on the back of his neck.

Finnick clears his throat. “There were kids at the reception. Running around– chasing each other. They asked me to play tag with them.” He laughs. You conjure up an image of Finnick chasing a gaggle of children that don’t even come up to his waist, because of course he did, and suddenly, you can think of nothing else. “Have you ever thought about having any?”

“I did when I was younger.” You hum. You thought of a lot of things when you were a kid. When you were young enough to be shielded by your parents from the brutality of your district, young enough to dream. That period didn’t last and you haven’t been a kid for a long time.

“But?”

“But, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to have any.” You didn’t even think you were capable of that kind of love. You didn't think it was in your capacity. It was bred and beaten out of you, especially after your games. But Finnick’s in the business of proving you wrong. “And to bring them into this world, into Eleven, seems cruel.”

The chirp of crickets fills the silence. Fireflies dot the sky and blend with the stars.

His fingers tap on your thigh. “I always thought I’d have two. They’d be close in age so—”

“—They’d be friends.” You finish and he gives a slow nod that picks up speed.

“Yeah, a boy and a girl.” You want to picture it. You want to imagine a world where it’s possible to have that life together. But you fear the fate of a child that would look like you and Finnick.

Your eyes drift from constellation to constellation. Perseus, Pegasus, Pisces. The stars are clearer here than at the Marquis, but not by much. It’s times like this that you miss your dad the most.

“If you’re comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear some more of your poetry.” You mutter into his hair. What Edgar said got you thinking. You don’t want Finnick to associate his talent with those people. Everything he writes is a piece of him. It amounts to more than that, more than them.

“I would think you’d be tired of it by now, considering how much I write in my letters.”

“Mmm, I’ll never be tired of anything you do. You really do have a gift, Finn, and you shouldn’t waste it on them.” The words were out of your mouth before you even had time to comprehend them. You lift your head when he moves to look at you, “It’s true.” You say, somewhat embarrassed. You aren’t really the emotionally forthcoming one in this relationship, but you weren’t expecting what you said to be met with surprise.

He places a kiss on the shell of your bracelet. You shiver as he trails his lips down to the tip of your fingers. Your heart speeds up in anticipation. He presses his cheek to the back of your hand and he sits there with his eyes closed, before speaking.

“My heart, who am I to deprive you of what's yours by right? The air in my lungs, I breathe for you. The blood in my veins pumps for you.” He laces your fingers together, eyes still closed. “A leaf can’t stop itself from falling and neither could I.” When he opens his eyes back up, you’re swept away by the sheer adoration. That’s something you should get used to, right? You don’t think you’ve seen Finnick look at you any differently. And you don’t think you ever will.

He shakes his head with a smile as bright as the sun. “Everything I do, I do for you.” He whispers and just when you catch your breath, it’s gone again.

You’re not sure who leans in first, not that it matters. No, all that matters is this moment—just the two of you.

He pulls back, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

“So,” he speaks, lips twitching into a smirk, and you brace yourself for the sheer strength of the eye roll that’s certain to follow whatever he says next, “your room or mine?” Your eyes truly come close to rolling out of your head, but you snort despite yourself and that smirk becomes a full-blown smile.

Present (VIII) - You

[23 & 24 ] - TRAINING CENTER

You inhale through your nose and release the breath through your teeth. Your arms burn from your fingers to your biceps and you try to adjust your grip on the bar, but the strain in your shoulders convinces you to tap out. You drop to the ground and the screen next to you reads four minutes and eight seconds, but you know you can make it to five.

You bounce on your toes and shake out your hands. Just as you’re about to jump back up, you notice a crowd forming around the archery station. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you’re able to slip to the front and see what the commotion is about. Inside, Katniss shoots down the hologram opponents with deadly proficiency, seemingly sensing the enemies before they’re even there. The arm strength involved with shooting a bow and arrow is nothing to scoff at. Especially with the fluidity and speed she’s going.

After she hits the last hologram and the exercise shuts off, everyone else stands impressed—yourself included. You're starting to understand why Haymitch is putting so much stock into her.

In terms of basic survival, there’s nothing for you to improve on. Shelter making, fire starting, weapons, hand-to-hand—there isn’t much for you to learn within the day you have left. You think about stopping at the camouflage station but think better of it. As long as there’s something to climb, you’ll have camouflage. Mags hovers by the fish hooks station, but you worry if you go near her, Finnick won’t be far behind. You don’t know what he wants from you, why he even wants to speak to you. It’s not like he responded to any of your letters, so why now ? Why now when you’ve finally come to terms with the way he wanted things to be?

On the topic of avoiding Finnick, you also steer clear of the knot-tying station. He’s there now teaching Katniss how to tie what looks like a noose. You’d run out of fingers if you tried to count the number of knots he’s taught you. You never thought you’d ever have to use any of them, but there’s no telling what will happen in the arena.

Edible insects are much easier to distinguish than plants, but you’re more than adept at both. The same can’t be said for Peeta. You must have been watching him for nearly thirty minutes and he’s gotten close to nothing right.

He still has the paint that the female Morphling—Megan, you’re pretty sure—painted on his arm. Swirls of the orange, yellow, and purple trail from his wrist to his shoulder.

The screen flashes red as he organizes the plants incorrectly.

“You are terrible at this.” You walk forward to lean against the control panel, “Like, extraordinarily.”

Peeta looks up from the buttons. It’s technically the first time the two of you have talked, not counting that meeting after the chariots where Chaff kissed Katniss.

“I just,” he scratches at the back of his head and frowns, discouraged, “I can’t remember the names. I know nightlock, obviously. But not much else.”

“Well, you’re able to recognize where you fall short. That’s good. You’re trying to match the names to the fruit, but you don’t have enough time to remember all of that. It’s pointless anyway.” What good is remembering the name of a berry if he doesn’t know if he can eat it or not?

“Then, what am I supposed to do?”

“Instead of figuring out the names, try to focus on what they look like and whether or not they’re edible. That’s all that matters, honestly.” You restart the exercise, changing the parameters so he’ll have to organize the plants into categories by picture.

“You’re helping me?”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you die because you decided to tussle with the wrong berry.” Hundreds of kids have died in Eleven from eating something they shouldn’t have. Not because they didn’t know it was poisonous, but because they were so hungry that they took their chances. “Trust me, that’s not a fight you wanna pick.”

It’s touch and go for a second, but it’s not long before Peeta starts catching on. He’s a quick learner, and it’s much easier—more beneficial—to memorize what an edible plant looks like rather than what it’s called.

While Peeta is distracted with a timed matching game, your eyes trail to where Finnick goes through different motions with a trident while Katniss watches with laser-like focus. He stops to say something to her and glances your way. You’re quick to look back down to the task at hand.

How are you supposed to work with him in the arena if you can’t even handle being in the same room as him?

“I’m just not good at this.” Peeta laughs with a hint of self-deprecation. The screen shows he was only able to get half of the plants organized before the timer went off. For somebody starting from scratch, he’s selling himself pretty short. He just needs a little more time and you’re confident he’ll be able to recognize what can and can’t be eaten within an hour.

“I watched your games. You could definitely be better.” Poisonous berries are the leading cause of death in the arena. Followed closely by being killed, either by another tribute or the arena itself. This will help protect him from the former. He doesn't need to master this. He just needs to know enough to get by.

”Yeah, Katniss is definitely better at this kind of stuff.” He looks over his shoulder to where Katniss and Finnick are still training. This time Katniss holds the trident and her movements are nowhere near as polished as his were. Despite that, Peeta’s eyes shine.

You look at Peeta— really look at him—and realize something.

"You actually love her, don't you?" You marvel. It hadn't even crossed your mind that their feelings could be genuine. He looks at you surprised, before whatever persona he's embodying slides into place.

"What, do you think it's an act or something?" He laughs.

"I did. But your eyes gave you away. They hold this kind of—softness whenever you look at her, whenever you talk about her," you turn back to the screen but don't restart the exercise, "I'd recognize that anywhere." Of course, you would. It's how Finnick used to look at you.

You're both quiet. He looks from you to his hands on the controls.

"I do." He breathes, hard to hear over the cacophony of sounds in the room. "I really do."

You take a breath and let it out in a sigh.

"I'm sorry then."

"For what?" His brows furrow with confusion.

"You shouldn't have to go into the arena with someone you love. It's cruel." Your heart aches for him. You don't know how much Katniss reciprocates his feelings—you're starting to think she doesn't at all. For that, you can't help but feel sorry for him—can't help but see yourself in him.

Haymitch was right, after all. Peeta's a good kid. He doesn't deserve this.

"Then, I'm sorry too." You glance at him from the corner of your eye. "You're right. We shouldn't have to." You don't say anything for a second and he doesn't press you to. You doubt anyone told him about you and Finnick, so maybe he's just that observant. And smarter than anyone notices. An oversight you're sure he takes advantage of.

You don't bother denying it. Instead, you nod. He nods back. A sense of comradery is shared between the two of you, but it doesn't last long. You still have training to do. You press on a random square and a creepy-looking plant appears. A red stalk with shiny, white berries spins in a slow circle on the screen.

"White baneberry, poisonous or not poisonous?" He contemplates it.

"Poisonous?" He asks more than tells you.

"Just to eat?" You prompt and he shakes his head.

"You can't touch it either." He answers far more confidently and you smile. There might be hope for him yet.

"Good. Next."

A/N: SMUT NEXT CHAPTER!!!!! PEW PEW PEW!!!!

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #hunger games catching fire #masterlist #finnick x reader #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #and they'd find us in a week #finnick

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anonsickficker · 2 months

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{wriothesley x clorinde} off duty [follow-up fic]

CONTENT BENEATH THE CUT CONTAINS MENTIONS OF {ERUCTATION}, {STUFFING} PLEASE BE WARNED!!!

A continuation of this fic

“That’s— uurp— that’s enough, Clorinde… No more, seriously…”, Wriothesley protests, laying a hand on his pitiful middle and feeling the now proper bulge there. He thought he’d been stuffed during their meeting earlier in the day, but this was a completely different level at this point.

Clorinde approaches, thumbing open the last two buttons on Wriothesley’s dress shirt, which she assumes he’d just been a little too shy to undo by himself. Meanwhile, she shoves another tea biscuit into his mouth, watching him struggle to chew and swallow. She lifts a teacup to his lips, expecting him to take a pull, but he makes no move to comply, instead siding with his stomach’s concerningly sickly gurgles.

“You know, this isn’t what I had originally thought of when I said that you should keep me in check…”, when the food he’d been chewing on almost gets stuck in his throat, and when Clorinde nudges the rim of the teacup into his lower lip, is when the tea looks especially enticing. So he takes a sip.

She takes this opportunity to pour the whole cup of high-quality tea down his conveniently already open mouth, and Wriothesley has no choice but to swallow, lest he spills any of it onto her pricey silk bed sheets. It fills all of the gaps in his achingly tensioned stomach, which immediately growls in retort, a low, muffled groan, smothered by the immeasurable volume of foods and liquids that had entered his system in the last hour or so.

“Well, neglecting your meals is a form of misbehaviour, is it not?”, she smiles, digging her fingers into a spot near his belly button, and watching intently as he belches distortedly as a result of her rough touch. She firmly pats the side of his now protruding belly, eliciting another, long, drawn-out burp from the man, as he tries and fails to stifle it with his fist. While unbuckling his belt, she accidentally nudges the underside of his bloated abdomen, ripping another lengthy, choked-out belch from his throat. Wriothesley, again, attempts to silence it, but the warm comfort of an over-capacitated stomach and the sloshing of tea inside of him and the lack of sleep finally catching up to him cause a belated and half-hearted reaction to each and every noise that leaves his mouth. It’s a pain to have to catch every little sound he makes, taking into consideration how every slight touch of Clorinde’s hands on his overstuffed belly seems to dislodge a new and somehow undiscovered pocket of air inside of his stomach.

“You’re so cute,” she remarks, rubbing his now prominent underbelly with the palm of her hand, attentively listening to each and every burp that escapes through Wriothesley’s oesophagus, the fruits of her labour, “So full and laid bare for me.”

Wriothesley can’t respond, and even less so when she starts to use her other hand to press more firm pats to the side of his belly, as rumbling belches roll out of his mouth to no end. His stomach and intestines groan again, after having a large dinner and now, dessert. He realises that Clorinde seems to be taking note of his facial expressions in relation to her strokes, to see which garners the least painful-looking reaction, to which Wriothesley feels the need to tell her:

“Everything you— uuurp— everything you do feels— burp— amazing, Clorinde… seriously, don’t— urp— don’t be so unsure of yourself…”, and Wriothesley decides not to continue on, instead letting one of his calloused palms settle on his distended upper abdomen, feeling his stomach churn, working diligently to digest everything he’d been fed throughout the night.

“Oh, urp— oh fuck…”, he groans, when Clorinde ceases her considerate glances at his face, instead opting to massage out every single inch of his belly, starting by squeezing it upwards, bringing rushes of air to his chest, which accumulate to form another unbreakable chain of belches, one after another, preventing Wriothesley from being able to utter a single syllable without being interrupted by a deep burp.

She moves on to the middle of his belly, paying extra attention to his belly button, and ignoring his internal organs’ cries for mercy. Wriothesley doesn’t protest either, instead closing his eyes and allowing strings of strained burps to leave his slightly parted lips, expectant to the next area of his belly she chooses to target.

“Fuck, I’m— uuurp— I’m so full…”, Wriothesley groans, moving his own hand against the curve of his bloated stomach, colliding with Clorinde’s slender fingers, which are working away at a stiff knot in the side of his belly, “You fed me so well, Clorinde…”

He can’t help but notice the faint blush on her face at the praise, but he’s also suffering his fair share of embarrassment, too, being helplessly pressed against the headboard of the Champion Duelist’s bed, unable to move for more reasons than one.

This time, he’s the one tousling her hair, whispering words of appreciation, one after another, as she works her magic on his severely overfull belly.

She traces out the slightly blurred lines of his abs, which are miraculously still visible, thanks to Wriothesley’s strict training regimen. Which he’ll go back to when he returns to the Fortress of Meropide. But for now, he ignores the impact of the sheer volume of his previous meals, instead focusing on the relief that Clorinde is providing him, letting belches slip out of his mouth as he pleases. And when Clorinde doesn’t speak, Wriothesley has the instinct to fill the empty space.

“So— urp— how was— uuurp— how was your day?”, Wriothesley starts, regaining his senses and raising a fist to subdue every stray belch that he lets out.

“It’s going well, considering I have the hottest man alive on my bed, melting in my hands.”, she flushes, face glowing a bright red that Wriothesley had never witnessed before.

“Really? And— uuurp— and who— uurp— might that be?”, Wriothesley inquires teasingly, before lowering his head and seeing his lips shut as he feels a particularly thick belch slide it’s way up his throat. He decides to spare Clorinde’s ears from that one.

“It’s the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, of course.”

She kisses his forehead and coaxes his eyes closed, and his uneven breathing levels out, if only just a tiny bit.

He falls asleep like that, breathing erratically even through unconsciousness, because his body doesn’t care whether or not he’s awake, and rather fixating on expelling all of the excess air that’s being pushed out by Clorinde’s gentle caresses and soft squeezes.

After she’s sure he’s not going to wake up anytime soon, she lays next to him, unable to keep her hands off of his still disturbed belly, fingers twitching at every slight gurgle produced by his overworked intestines. It’s somewhat calming, and Clorinde decides that it’s time for her to rest as well.

a thousand words of more insane shit

i will regret this so much 😭😭honestly, this is the full extent of my infatuation with this kinda stuff, i will look back at this and think its so disgusting and cringe

i kept typing 'clorinde' as 'chlorinde', fixed it all last second

hope you enjoyed 🙇 thanks for reading this far

#stuffing #burp kink #burping #gutshin impact #eructo #sickfic #did i use those right?#tummy kink #???#probably

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windwheeler-aster · 1 year

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good morning

summary: what it’s like to wake up to your lover

masterlist

pairings (separate): beidou, ningguang, cyno, and arataki itto x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), is in an established relationship with the characters mentioned, and reader is not traveler

word count: 340 words per character (1.25 mins~ each)

genre: romance, fluff, domestic fluff

format: headcanons

warnings: mention of making out (ningguang), slight spoilers for cyno's backstory

a/n: this is not as proof read as my other stuff, so beware of spelling, grammar, and/or syntax errors!!!!! hope you enjoy it though :)

captain beidou of the crux, a powerful woman in liyue harbour

she’s also known as the “uncrowned lord of the ocean”

a title so flattering it makes her ego swell to twice the size it was

and sometimes she’s known— no, mistaken for a tyrant who taken control of teyvat’s seas by force

but what she’s not known for is being a selfless lover

beidou leaves that part of herself behind closed doors, reserved only for you to see

the same woman who pierces fear into the hearts of sailors also grumbles whenever you get out of bed too early

she’ll literally drag you back in, don’t underestimate her strength

and once she has you in her grasp? then what, you ask?

well, beidou will have no choice but to pepper kisses along your face, chuckling as you squirm

and whenever she speaks, right after waking up, she has the most gravely of morning voices

it’s incredibly... flustering to hear first thing in the morning, but at the same time it’s so, so, so comforting

eventually, when you two must wake up, beidou brings you to your shared cabin’s kitchen

there, she’ll have you sit down while she makes breakfast for you two

she loves hearing about your day, your sleep, your weird dreams— everything and anything will entertain her as she makes your favorite breakfast

beidou really enjoys hearing your voice, so please never feel like you’re annoying her

and once breakfast is done, she’ll serve it with a smile and a kiss

on most days, your visit with beidou stops there as someone needs her or something must be done

which means that she’ll have to leave you to eat alone, unfortunately

but not after she gives a thousand or so kisses all across your face and give you a declaration of love

because she swears, each and every day, that you’re the greatest treasure she’s ever found

“hmm... oh, good morning baby. didn’t see ya there— thought you were my pillow for a second. did’ya have a good sleep, hun? oh? you had a dream? well, tell me about it— i wanna hear it now."

lady ningguang of the liyue qixing, an intimidating figure

many line up just to reserve some time with this woman, ready to pitch their business ideas and ventures

but many don’t know that a part of the reason of why her time is so limited is because she reserves her mornings just for you

ningguang’s actually quite touch starved, contrary to mosts' belief

she’s used to being cold and blunt towards everyone that meets her

but when she’s with you?

she cannot bear to part with you at all

throughout the night, ningguang will cling onto you throughout the night

despite having a king sized bed with plenty of room, she would much rather be close to you

in the mornings, she enjoys it when you play with her hair

as long as you don’t rip out the strands or pull too hard, ningguang’s luscious locks are free for you to style

and she seems so content whenever you play with her hair

ningguang has her eyes closed, a beautiful smile on her pretty lips, and she’s half-listening and humming along to whatever you’re saying

sometimes, you’ll try and test her by saying something so outlandish that she would never say yes too

it’s made her open an eye and give you a confused look, which only disappears when you begin snickering

when ningguang’s assitants begin to pester her to begin the day, she’ll grumpily get up

but before she leaves the bed, she might or might not engage in a slow makeout session with you... depends on if she wants to annoy her assistants or not

she gets ready quickly though, so there’s no need to rush any early morning romance between you two

eventually, she will need to depart her chambers

but not before placing a kiss on your head and wishing you a good day, of course

“hmph, good morning, my love. you’re so warm this morning...hm? you’re my ‘personal heater’ now? oh, well i don’t see a problem with that... as long as you can still play with my hair? yes, just like that, dearest. now, how was your sleep?”

as the former general mahamatra, cyno can be a scary guy

however, when cyno is simply just your boyfriend?

he's almost the complete opposite of what his former title makes him out to be

in bed, especially in the mornings, cyno is quite cuddly

he prefers having you lay on his chest while he sleeps

but... cyno does sleep better when he can feel your weight on him

and cyno isn’t opposed to switching places, especially after a hard day at the akademiya

he's quite comfortable sleeping on your chest, sighing in delight as he drifts off to sleep

plus, whenever he wakes, the first thing he gets to see is your lovely face

and it takes everything in him to not coo so softly at you

because half of your face is smushed as you lay peacefully on his chest, your breathing so deep it nearly tickles cyno when you exhale

once he’s woken up more, he begin to stroke your back slowly

but sometimes it’s hard to think when cyno has you right in front of him

he lets his mind unwind as he cotemplates, planning out your day together

and maybe even a cute date to take you on, if the day calls for it

so when he feels like you’ve had enough sleep, he’ll begin his signature “cyno wakeup call”

and once he sees your pretty eyes, cyno will gently lean over and give you a sweet good morning kiss

he’ll start out by gently calling out your name

then he’ll chuckle as you groan and begin to wake up

it’s slow, but it gives cyno a chance to pull you even closer to him

after a while, cyno will gently pull away and give you a love-filled gaze that would be suffocating if it weren’t him

and to finish off this lovely little routine?

cyno will say the worst pick-up line you’ve ever heard, causing you to groan as he cackles and throws his head back

“hey baby. wanna know what’s on the menu for today? well, i was thinking a little bit of me ‘n’ you... get it? hey, hey! don’t give me that look— that one took me a while to come up with! surely it’s enough to earn me a sweet kis— hmm, thank you.”

itto can be terrifying

a lot of people still have many misconceptions about onis, so it isn’t strange for itto to accidently scare people away

oh, if only they knew the itto you knew!

it’s like he’ll stop living if he can’t at least touch you, y’know?

because the itto you know is so clingy in bed

however, sometimes when you two woke up, itto had managed to push you away in the middle of the night

he’s accidentally pushed you off the bed a few times too ...

but for the majority of nights together, while you sleep beside him it’s like a giant bear hug

and itto remembers to ease up on his grip!! most of the time!!

he wouldn’t want his favorite person pillow to be squished, right?

because then he wouldn’t have the best view to wake up too (you!)

seriously though, itto really loves waking up and seeing you

he just thinks you’re so precious when you first wake up, and an overwhelming desire to cuddle you takes over him

and if itto wakes up to see that you two separated in your sleep?

he’s quick to remedy that, wrapping you in his big strong arms as he places his head into the crook of your neck

when you do finally wake up, except to have your whole face kissed over and over again

itto really enjoys relaxing with you before the day starts

most mornings he even plans a nice date for you two too!

just make sure not to shoot down all of his... interesting date ideas, as itto really is trying!!

“good morning, lovebug! while you were just sleeping i just came up with ten date ideas for— oh, right, you just woke up. c’mere, hun. ‘why?’ lovebug, so i can kiss you! obviously... now, pucker up, cutie.”

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