#at least I the far away blind so I can work

[chamiryokuroi]

Checklist before leaving home to go to the office:

Laptop + charger? ✅

Phone + charger? ✅

Wallet? ✅

Office ID? ✅

All ready!

Me two hours after arriving at the office: I FORGOT MY GLASSES

#well fuck #at least I the far away blind so I can work #but this is still annoying

[yuri-is-online]

Why So Rude? (Or Yuu's BF Asks Crewel for their Hand in Marriage and What Happens Next Will Shock You)

For legal reasons, this is a joke. I have been dealing with a health issue of sorts (i am not dying so no worrying ok? just v annoyed) so writing longer stuff is escaping me at the moment, enjoy some crack while I take a breather. More can be found on my masterlist here.

NO (FLOYD, Rook, and Malleus)

Crewel has been in denial about this "relationship" since it started. Not that his disapproval is really going to stop Floyd, but Crewel 100% refers to him as "Yuu's ex boyfriend" much to the confusion of... everyone who hears that. They do find some common ground in their shared interest in fashion, but Crewel has never forgiven him for his behavior in his class OR his "stealing" Yuu's heart.

Rook on the other hand he didn't have too much of an issue with until he realized just how familiar he seemed to be with his home for someone who had supposedly only been there to visit you. The twenty page letter he wrote to confess his feelings to you didn't help either once he saw the few lines where Rook wrote about the beauty of your finger prints, but he knows his disapproval means very little to someone as obsessed with romance as Rook.

Malleus... is the King of a country genuinely hostile to humans and Crewel thinks he is a little too obsessed with Yuu for his own good. He is also not a fan of how condescending Malleus is towards his disapproval, but it's an issue that will be worked out eventually. They are fighting out of love for the same person, your safety and happiness is all they really care about at the end of the day.

No, but as a joke (Sebek and Jack)

I don't think he has anything against him really, he just wants to see how important tradition and the opinion of his elders actually is to him. When Sebek begins to plead his case because he does not wish to put a wedge between Yuu and their father figure, but cannot deny his feelings for Yuu Crewel's more than happy to "change his mind." He knows you will be happy and well looked after.

Jack is a solid partner, and he is a wolf beastman who speaks of Yuu as his soulmate, his one and only, his eternal life partner and- well. Crewel just can't resist a bit of teasing, he's always been so serious and easy to fluster about these sort of things. The sheepish look on his face when he realizes Crewel has been teasing him makes it very worth it.

I can't stop you can I... (Leona, Kalim, and Rollo)

While Crewel has faith that Leona has what it takes to save his home- he lives in the Sunset Savannah. That is really far away from the Queendom of Roses ( ; ω ; ) have some pity on your poor father he can't travel that far all the time it's bad for his skin. The pressures of being the partner of royalty is something he worries over, but a smug promise from Leona to protect you soothes his worries somewhat.

The flippant way Kalim talks about the assassination attempts is not the way Crewel wants to hear about attempts on your life or heaven forbid your death. Kalim is very sympathetic to this, he has no real argument against how ignorant he was in the past, but he isn't a child anymore. Just filled with a childlike love for the world and determination to make it better. It is hard to say no to that.

Rollo is too much like Trein. His request for your hand in marriage feels like something that the old man would cry tears of genuine joy over, so of course he hates it. Unfortunately he also knows how much this teen grandfather matters to you or whatever so the answer will be yes. At least he has an excuse to visit Fleur City more now.

Give me one good reason. (Azul, Jade, Idia, and Lilia)

Azul was such a good student that he should have zero complaints that you started dating. But he also isn't blind and dislikes being pandered to, which is very much what Azul is doing here. He does wonder briefly if this is a cultural thing and he is being insensitive, but he is still exasperated enough to not immediately say yes. The strange twinkle that comes to Azul's eyes at the prospect of negotiations makes him wish he had though.

Speaking of not being blind, what does the Leech family do and is it legal? Survey says probably yes, but Crewel remembers dealing with Jade's parents while he was in school and has no desire to feed his child to the shar- err eels. Jade immediately begins to sniffle, oh how could Crewel say such bad things about him? A poor innocent eel and blah blah blah. If Jade wasn't such a good partner he'd be cooked.

Crewel understands and appreciates the effort Idia has put in to his personal growth and he has no desire to shit on that... but S.T.Y.X. and the secrecy around it is no joke. He wants to continue having a relationship with Yuu and as soon as Idia reassures him of that he has no more objections.

Lilia is an old man, a war criminal, and a father. Of course Crewel has seen how he was able to live as a student while at NRC but his own credit as a father would be under fire if he didn't object mildly. Lilia has some fun with it and has a bit more respect for him for objecting. So long as the eventual answer is yes.

Yes (Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Jamil, and Epel)

While Crewel does have some red flag concerns concerning Riddle's mother, he has no real objections to Riddle himself. He is a perfect gentlemen and the correct amount of nervous to be asking the question. He gets full marks, as if there would ever be any other outcome.

Trey is that sort of solid option that parents really love, but he also has that tight personal relationship with Crewel from his Science Club days. He lives in the Queendom and is tight with his own family there are few better places for Yuu to be.

While Cater isn't Crewel's favorite student, he doesn't hate him or the Shaftlands. He is also not entirely unconvinced that him asking is for a magicam trend but! He has no real major objections. He is more than ready to have two kids, as soon as Cater is willing to admit he could use a stable father figure.

I don't think that Ruggie would even suggest marrige unless he's obtained that stable, high paying job he so baldy wants and has moved his Granny out of the slums. It's the perfect time to ask for permission to propose, and while the Savannah is still super far away (r.i.p. Crewel's skin) he is much more supportive of the two of you and how far you've come.

Similarly to Ruggie, I don't think Jamil would propose to Yuu unless his personal issues with Kalim and his position with the Asim's had been sorted. He wants to actually travel on his honeymoon, and Crewel is very willing to suggest the Queendom of Roses. Jamil's ego is absolutely stroked by how Crewel had zero objections but your adoptive dad doesn't get to see how smug it makes him, Jamil saves the smirks for when you say yes.

I think that Crewel seems to like all of the first years, and Epel is no exception. Sure, his request starts out well put together and polite but devolves into a dialect that leaves Crewel with no idea of what he's saying, but he has a general idea. Of course Epel has his blessing, Harveston sounds like a lovely place for Yuu to live their life in Twisted Wonderland and Epel a perfect person to keep them safe and happy.

He already planned the wedding (Ace, Deuce, Silver and Vil)

I know what you're saying. Crewel approving of Ace? Of course he does! He was in his homeroom class, and Crewel has a soft spot for trouble makers from the Queendom, he was one after all! Sure he might have had some problems with him when you first started dating, but now, when he is deathly serious saying he wants to spend the rest of his life with you? Crewel has been waiting for this since he fist saw carrot head yanking your chain.

Deuce is a much easier sell, Crewel was always a bit harsh on his intelligence, but only because he ran a tight ship and wanted him to reach for the stars. Well he has, and he has you to support him through it, Crewel is so proud of both. He and Dilla have absolutely been hypothetically planning this for years.

While Silver's curse did not endear him to Crewel for his first two years of schooling, he really grew on him when you started going out. He's glad that you've found someone who loves you as much as Silver does, really he is. Unfortunately this means he has to plan a wedding with Lilia, something they both have been doing since you started going out and never talked about. Don't worry! They only intend to fight a lot little bit.

The instant you started dating Vil Crewel entered his mother of the bride era. The permission asking was less Vil wanting to be polite and more him coming up with a way to distract him and convince him to focus on designing the clothes. Thankfully it works and no one other than his dogs have to know just how insane the prospect of his two favorite students marrying made him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #heartslaybul x reader #savanaclaw x reader #octavinelle x reader #scarabia x reader #pomefiore x reader #idia shroud x reader #diasmonia x reader #idk have whatever this is i am so eepy

[boundinparchment]

Storm’s End

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes. Every season, he fights this. And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore. Until he cannot wait any longer and you are perfect, just as you are.

Neuvillette/Female Reader, in which Neuvillette is a dragon, determined to breed. Explicit sexual content; breeding kink. MDNI.

Story also on AO3; link only accessible for registered users.

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes.  Bury himself in work, keep busy, limit his interaction with you until it passes and he is no longer blinded by pure, needy lust.  You are disappointed, nerves frayed, but nonetheless, understanding.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, or force you into a decision all because of his instincts.  Instincts that override all basic logic.

Neuvillette is fighting them as you wish him a good morning.  He can smell the difference in your hormones, your body undergoing your own cycle, priming itself.  Very rarely were you in sync with him.

He swallows.

You’re perfect right now.  He could take you, here in the kitchen, and have you filled to the brim before the pot of coffee has even finished—

“Neuvi?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.  Concern lines your brow for the briefest of seconds.

“Let me help,” you plea.  “Please, Neuvillette, I’m your partner…”

“You do not know what you ask of me, mon cœur.”

“Then tell me.  Prepare me.  How is it any different than what we’ve done before?”

That fire, that fight, in you isn’t helping anything.  Certainly not the strain of his members against his pants.  The knowledge that you are ripe, absolutely divine and essentially guaranteed to bloom only compounds matters more and he grips the top of his cane tighter, gloves squeaking slightly.

Every season, he fights this.  And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore.

“I cannot stop once I give in,” he says at last.    “Not until…”

You step up to him and whisper teasingly against his lips.

“Then breed me, Neuvillette.”

The last of his self-control snaps as your breath carries every reminder, changed by your hormones.

You are pinned to the kitchen wall in an instant, skirt hiked and panties pushed aside, his forked tongue tasting every inch of your mouth.  His teeth graze your lips and he tastes tiny drops of blood as your moan catches against his tongue.  His fingers delve, finding you not only wet but eager.  He pulls away just enough to take in your swollen lips, flushed face, half-lidded eyes.

Beautiful.  And he intends to make you even more so.

He holds your gaze, under no impression he is composed any longer; your eyes flicker to his lips and you wiggle against him, creating friction that sends a delicious shiver up his spine.  Neuvillette presses you against the wall further.

“There’s no going back,” he says with what little control he can muster.  “You won’t be leaving his house until your womb is full or the season ends.  The former is far more probable.”

It’s your turn for your breath to catch and you swallow audibly.

“Then at least take me in bed, first?” you ask.

The bedroom isn’t far.  In the haze of your musk, Neuvillette manages to swiftly throw you onto the bed, unfasten his belt, and return his mouth to yours with unprecedented speed.  His tips nudge you, one aligned at your clit and the other at your entrance.  Neuvillette cannot help the growl that escapes him as he pushes into you to the hilt.

His strokes are deep and your walls clench, already demanding seed from him; he hasn’t even begun properly and you would see both of you undone in mere seconds.

That won’t stop him.  Not in this state.

You buck against him, meeting stroke for stroke but far too eager to keep a solid pace.

“Both, please, Neuvi.  I can take it,” you whine.  “Want to take it.”

You never have before.  His heart quickens and his cocks throb at the prospect.  He feels pre-cum drip from his exposed tip.

He obliges you without hesitation, withdrawing entirely and slowly parting you with both members.  You are tight, perhaps too tight, and he fights the urge to bury himself immediately.

And then, all is lost.

He can feel nothing but the warm velvet of your walls.  The room fills with your delicious moans and cries and the wet sounds of your coupling, the slap of skin on skin as he lifts your legs and pounds into you.  He has perfect access at this angle.  As your orgasm rips a silent scream from you, Neuvillette shoots deep inside, pumping into you as you ride out the first and then a second peak.

Neuvillette doesn’t leave you and instead helps turn you both onto your sides, facing one another.  You roll your hips, still eager, but your movement is languid and fatigued, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction and exhaustion.

A good session, but not successful.

Not yet.

The mere thought makes him twitch inside you again.  But first, he must let you rest.  It was a delicate balance now between caring for you and seeing to it that his seed took.  And it will.  It is only a matter of when, for he is nothing if not dedicated.

“Sleep for now, mon cœur,” he whispers.  “We are far from finished.”

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette genshin #neuvilette x reader #tw: smut #tw: breeding #Limited to AO3 temporarily while I navigated mobile nonsense

[serene-destruction]

(Platonic) Reactions To Finding Out You're In Hell For Killing Your Abuser [Angel, Lucifer, Alastor, Vox]

TW: Mentions of childhood sexual abuse | Cannon typical violence | Mentions of suicide

A/n: this one is really dark so reader discretion is greatly advised. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

Angel Dust

You and Angel Dust likely met at the hotel. You were a newer resident of hell that just so happened to be spotted by Charlie and taken in after wondering the streets.

He didn't take to you right away, considering he had his own issues to deal with. Not to mention that you were such a goody two shoes that it kinda made him feel even worse about himself. Despite his name he knew he was far from any angel and your presence only exemplified that.

By all accounts you seemed to save your shit together. A drug free, pure and kind person, through and through. You never faltered. So it takes a while for him to even stand being in your presence, longer to actually try and talk with you. He hates that he doesn't find something to hate about you. Just so damn perfect.

He should have known better, truthfully. No one gets sent to hell off a whim, there were reasons. He was just so blinded by your purity at first that he doesn't see it. He isn't the only one, either. Charlie would be the first to use you as an example of purity.

But all the same the two of you do end up getting close to each other. You may be a bit straight-laced for his taste, but he can't help but grow attached. You're a good kid, you really don't deserve to be here.

It only takes one night for his perceptions of you to shatter

It started with one of Charlie's trust games. You were all meant to share what sins brought you down here. In a place like hell that wasn't usually a very taboo subject. Murder, drugs, sex, Angel's heard it all. But despite that assurance you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the exercise. You had locked yourself in your room, refusing to participate. So while the others went on ahead Angel decided he'd talk to you.

“Kid! C’mon, it can't be that bad!”

“I don't want to!” You were adamant. He should have known it right then

“Kid…look, can ya at least let me in? I'm tired of yelling through the door!” He pleaded and, to his surprise, you did. Your eyes avoided him completely as you allowed him to step in the room. Even when the two of you sat down on your bed you didn't budge. You looked almost as terrified as the first day you came here.

“Look, I get that admittin’ what you done can be a bit…embarrassin’ sometimes,” he's tries to calm you.

“But none of us are perfect and you ain't any different. Hell, it might even be good for you” his attempt at comfort didn't seem to be working. In fact he might have made it worse, given how you turned further away from him.

“It’s not just because it's embarrassing! I- I just don't want to tell everyone!” you answer through a tightening voice. There's a pause as Angel considers your words before he speaks again.

“Then you don't gotta tell everyone. You can just tell me” He was surprised when the offer had you turning back to him, though your discomfort was still evident. You didn't say anything at first but eventually you found the words.

“...Promise you won't tell anybody?” he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure you were being overdramatic. You probably told a little lie that got out of control or accidentally kicked a puppy or-

“Promise” he answered anyway.

And so you told him

“I…I was tired of him touching me” Angel’s stomach immediately drops at just those few words. All of his previous downplaying caused an explosion of guilt within him.

“He was always touching. Every day since I was little. Every time he was over, every time I was alone. I couldn't- I…I just wanted it to be over”

He knew where this was going.

“I-I snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. Eighteen fucking years” your voice is a mix of rage and pain, a sound he didn't think you capable of until now.

“I'd never been so angry. I didn't- I didn't know what I was doing until it was over. There was blood everywhere- I killed him and…and I couldn't live with myself. I'd never done something like that before! I'd never hurt anyone! I couldn't live with that- I couldn't-”

Before you can spiral any further you feel Angels hand land on yours. With slow, purposeful movements he pulled you into his arms. You freeze for a moment, caught entirely off guard by the sudden comfort. He was careful not to hold you too tight and keep his breaths steady. Keep himself predictable.

“S’okay kid…You didn't do a damn thing wrong” his whispered words break through your shock, melting you into a pile of sobs in his arms, gripping onto him like your very soul depended on it.

After that night the two of you quickly become known for your fierce protectiveness over each other. Angel swears that if he ever sees the bastard he'll rip him a new asshole before shoving a spike in it.

Lucifer Morningstar

You were one of many assistants to Lucifer, helping him with the many tasks he doesn't ever keep up with as the king of hell. You are most likely ignored and/or forgotten about for a while. He is far too, uh…busy for remembering much of anything, let alone names and job titles.

However you do manage to catch his eyes when he finally notices your apparent lack of any sort of social life in hell. Unlike the others he has working for him who seem all too happy to indulge in hells many depraved luxuries, you aren't one of them.

It triggers his curiosity, so he starts to remember your name and even manages to strike up conversations with you that don't sound like he's desperately trying to remember who he's even talking to.

You begin to be the first person he goes to when he needs something done and in turn you go to him when you need something as well. It's never anything too much, he notices. Always just small tasks that take him almost no effort at all. But you seem to beam at even the smallest kindness.

But then there is that ill-fated night…

It was late and you were still hard at work in your office.

Or at least you would have been, if you didn't feel like the weight of everything was weighing down on you as you stared down the two items Lucifer had left for you. A small note and a tiny rubber duck. You kept re-reading the note over and over again.

‘You're a good kid, Y/n. Keep it up’

The small gesture had formed a sickening guilt in you. You were the farthest thing from good. What you had done rightfully landed you in the shithole you belonged in. You didn't deserve his kindness, let alone his care. You felt so guilty for ever allowing him to think that you-

A knock at your door has you quickly wiping away your tears. Before you can say anything he opens it, his wide smile falling immediately.

“Oh no, what-” he pauses when he sees the death grip you have on the rubber duck he'd gifted, your eyes unable to even glance at him. He gives a nervous laugh at that. It sounds more worried than anything.

“You uh- don't like the gift, I take it?” At that your head whips to look at him, an attempt to calm your nerves written all over your face.

“No! No that's not-…no” your frantic words die down quickly as you quickly turn away again, unable to look the man in the eyes. There is a long silence that feels almost like an eternity passing. Then, to your complete surprise, he slowly pulls up a chair next to you, his eyes not turning from you for even a moment.

“Do you…maybe wanna talk about what it is then?” His voice is disarming, a mix of poorly feigned calm and genuine concern. It frightens you how quickly he makes you want to spill your guts.

“It's- I’m not-” You pause, trying to collect your words. You know then that you can't bear to tell him anything but the truth.

“I don't deserve this” you gesture to the toy and his letter. He doesn't seem to understand.

“You? Y/n, you're practically the only reason I get any work done around here! The least I can do is this, truly. Why wouldn't you deserve it?” His tone is full of disbelief, almost entirely sure that you must be avoiding telling him the entire truth.

“Because it isn't true” the bluntness of your words catches him off guard.

“I killed him and…and it felt good when I did it. It felt good to hurt him like he hurt me, it felt good being in control. It didn't feel bad when I put that knife through his throat, It didn't feel bad when I finally got him to stop touching me. It didn't…until it was over” the tears that had brimmed at your eyes fell like rivers, your attempts to wipe them away fruitless. You didn't dare look him in the eye, even as you continued.

“There was so much blood. I…I didn't know what to do. I- I didn't mean- no, no I did. But I just couldn't live with it. I couldn't live knowing that I killed him and that all I could think about was that he'd never touch me again! I couldn't-!” your words are cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around you. For a moment you freeze, confused and horrified by the action, that is until the comfort of it seeps into you, knowing that the hands that held you now meant no harm. After that you sobbed into him.

Only once you'd calmed your sobs to hiccups and your grip loosened did he finally pull away. But he didn't go far and his eyes looked at you with nothing but pure concern.

“You listen to me, okay? I would never hold that against you. I couldn't if I tried. You did what you had to and I trust that you did it for the right reasons” his words of forgiveness strike through you, hitting you directly in your wounded heart. Never before had you believed anyone could look so kindly upon you knowing what you'd done.

After that day Lucifer had become quite father-like to you, treating you just like he would his own kid. You practically become an honorary Morningstar.

Alastor

You and Alastor have an…interesting relationship. the two of you very likely met at the hotel, considering he wouldn't have given you a second glance otherwise. You were, after all, just one of the many other souls, and not an impressive one at that. Meek, young and weak.

It takes a long while for Alastor to warm up to you, most likely because you avoid him at all cost. You learn quickly that Alastor doesn't like being avoided like that when he begins to follow you around.

It's through conversation that he grows interested in you. When you aren't blinded by your fear he's actually a great conversationalist, especially when he's alone with you. It seems almost like he drops a bit of his guard as well, something you explain away as you being of zero threat to him. The two of you often talk of your plans for the day and whatever latest idea Charlie has conjured. Small talk, for the most part. Never anything personal

Which is why you are so caught off guard when he asks the truthfully inevitable question.

It was a usual calm morning in the hotel kitchen. A bit of smooth jazz played from an old radio, the coffee machine churned, the constant static from Alastor flowed through the room and the sound of idle chit-chat passed between the two of you. Besides the fact that no one else joined the two of you, it all seemed relatively normal.

“I must say, for someone in Hell you have quite the kind heart, my dear. One might even ask how you managed to get yourself down here” Alastors words cause your heart to sink almost immediately. Your body tenses, your breathing catching for just a moment. You make sure to keep your eyes on the coffee pot and manage to give him a halfhearted laugh. But you know the moment he goes quiet for just that second too long that he noticed.

“How did you end up down here, if you don't mind telling me?” You feel your tongue go dry, your jaw clench, your entire being beg to leave this conversation. But you knew there wasn't a chance in all of Hell that you'd get out of this. If he didn't get an answer now he'd be sure to get one later.

“I uh…” you start, nausea threatening to crawl in.

“I don't know” you try to answer, hoping beyond hope that it would satisfy him.

It did not.

“Now now, one mustn't feel the need to lie to friends. I assure you I've seen worse than whatever it is you managed to do!” You pause at his words, finally turning over your shoulder to look at him.

“We’re…friends?” You ask, surprised to see him look almost just as confused by your words.

“Why of course! The both of us have quite nice talks with one another, why wouldn't we be?” He seems so confident as he speaks. Despite how skeptical you've been ever since meeting him, you can't help but feel that he might genuinely be growing on you. Fuck, you might even trust the guy. Not with your soul, mind you, but you were sure at least your words would be safe with him.

“Out with it then, what got you sent down to this lovely pit of fire and brimstone?” his tone is jovial and light, not taking this nearly as seriously as you felt he should be. You were weirded out when it actually helped you calm down a little.

“Well…” should you tell him? Would he even care? Would he blink an eye at your suffering? Would he laugh at you? All the possibilities ran through your head at once.

When you finally turned to face him he gave you an expectant look, fully anticipating an answer from you. So you took a deep breath and turned your head to gaze at a nearby wall before beginning.

“My uncle, he um…well he didn't really know how to keep his hands to himself. Ever since I first met the man he wouldn't keep his damn hands off me. Then mom died and I had to live with him and…” you pause a moment, trying to keep yourself together. With a deep breath you continued.

“He never stopped touching me. No one believed me, no one did anything. Not when I was eight, or ten, or fifteen. Not after either. I was just alone with him. Every day of every month of every year…until I couldn't take it anymore” your voice was quiet now, just above a whisper to keep it from shaking.

“I was cooking dinner when he came behind me and-…I snapped and…well I'm not really sure. I just remember being covered in blood and knowing that no one would believe me. So I did what I thought was the only thing I could do. Next thing I knew I found out I had been damned for all eternity” you hugged yourself in an attempt at comfort that wasn't working. You managed, by the smallest effort, to keep your tears in and your breath steady, but you knew you'd break at any moment. When you turned to him, his smile still plastered and staring blankly at you, you thought you just might have done so then. So you quickly turned back around to save yourself the embarrassment.

“But yeah. Pretty sure that's why I'm here-”

“That was quite brave of you” his words shock you still enough that you might have even felt your heart stop. Your head snaps back to him in an instant, unsure if you'd heard him right. He's standing now, smile just a little less wide and leaning on his cane. If you didn't know any better you might have mistaken it for a look of uncanny care.

“What?” You whisper the word. He stands a little taller at that.

“When the world stops caring then one must simply make it. Very few do so, and so I applaud your effort in taking fate into your own hands” he is serious, almost deathly so. His words aren’t what you expected, but they are actually some of the most comforting you'd ever heard. Not only because he believed you, but because he truly believed you'd done the right thing.

“...Thank you” his smile widens again and you catch how ever so slightly bigger his antlers have gotten and the small flicks of green that seem to only show in your peripheral. You choose not to say anything about it.

“Of course! Now I simply must be on my way! There is much to do and so little time. Have a pleasant rest of your morning!” he was out the door before you even realized he was leaving. You would have said goodbye yourself if you didn't know he was already gone. And without his coffee too!

After this little incident Alastor seems almost tied at your hip. You are warned time and time again not to get too close to him but after the way he took the news of your sin you honestly don't think you could push him away. He was the first person you'd ever told in Hell, the first person to ever believe you. And given how keen he is on keeping you safe both in and out of the hotel you are quite happy to call him a friend.

Vox

The only way you'd be able to get even a second glance from Vox is if you worked for him and, let's be real, he couldn't have given less of a shit about you when he first met you. You were one out of thousands that worked on his many, many projects. You were lucky if he ever even read your name, let alone remembered it.

It takes quite the circumstance for him to notice you and it's likely only because of very selfish reasons. Maybe he picks you out of the crowd as a gag at first. The big CEO talking to this meek little low life, giving them a glance at something they'll never achieve.

But Vox has a way of getting attached to the strangest things sometimes and you end up being among them. Maybe it's the way you go along with whatever he's saying, playing to his ego. Maybe it's the way he knows you don't mean a single word and he feels he has to prove himself. Or maybe he just liked having a bit of a babyface around to impress. Either way, he ends up kind of taking you in.

You become a sort of protege to Vox as he teaches you all about his company and how to run it; mostly so he can hand you the tasks of the day that he doesn't feel like handling. You're a secretary of sorts. He does, however, try to keep a distance between you and the other V’s. Mostly because he knows they can be a bit much and he doesn't want to scare you off just yet.

But it's inevitable that you would meet them someday. And, as he expected, the first meeting didn't go very well.

You and Vox were on your way down the hall in the middle of idle conversation that was mostly work related. You liked having these conversations with him, mostly because he always seemed so pleased when you'd give him an idea he liked or a change he'd consider. You felt useful in a way you hadn't really ever felt before-

“My my, if it isn't Vox and his new little pet” the voice speaks behind you and both you and Vox turn to see who it is. You are set on edge when Vox gets suddenly nervous.

“Val! I thought you had work down in the studio today?” Vox’s voice booms in the way you know he only does when he's trying to keep his cool. You make sure to stand a little closer to him when Val walks up to the two of you.

“You've been hiding from me, love. So I figured I'd pay a visit. Good thing too” the moth man leans down to you so close you feel your entire being beg to disappear.

“I wouldn’t have met the darling that's been keeping Voxy so occupied. Cosita bonita” he looks down at you, his smile alone sending a cold shiver up your spine. He grabs your hand and instead of doing anything normal like shaking or kissing it, he instead begins to lick up your arm.

“Rumor has it your little fall from grace betrays how sweet as you look” Horrified and feeling very familiar fear consume your being, you freeze up. Luckily, and rather surprisingly, Vox very quickly pulls him away from you.

“Alright, alright that's enough of that!” his tone is that of a light reprimand, though the swirls in his eyes betray him. He effortlessly spins the moth man around in something similar to a dance, ending with the two of them facing away from you. Whispered words are exchanged, Val glancing back at you for only a moment afterwards before walking off with no complaint.

Vox straightens his suit, his performative smile falling for a moment before turning back to you.

“Let's get back on our way” he beckons you as he continues to walk. You follow along, compliant as ever. He leads you to an elevator where the two of you get in and he clicks whatever floor he'd decided he had work on. You think everything is relatively normal until, with a wave of his hand, the elevator stops.

“What did he mean?” The question confuses you.

“...about what?” You ask, unsure what he was getting at. He turns to you.

“About your ‘fall from grace', what was he getting at?” the realization dawns on you the same way acid would drip into an old wound. There was really only one thing that could mean and the fact that a man you'd never met knew enough to mention it made you sick to your stomach.

“Kid?” He calls to you and it's only then you notice tears build in your eyes. You quickly blink them away before making sure to avoid looking in his general direction.

“I…don't know” you tried, very unconvincingly, to feign ignorance. Unfortunately that didn't go over well with him.

“I don't think I've met a worse liar in the entirety of Hell than you” he states plainly and you can't help but agree. You hadn't really ever had practice in the field. Yet even with his call on your bullshit you chose to stay silent.

“Look, If Val knows then chances are I'm finding out anyway. He's not exactly great at keeping his mouth shut” he tries to convince an answer out of you but his words only make it worse. You didn't want that creep to know in the first place! But, being ever so horrible at keeping such a cold front up, you break under his gaze.

“It’s why I'm in Hell” you start off vague and you notice how he leans in just a bit closer.

“Seriously? That's what's got you upset? What, was it embarrassing? Because believe me, I'm sure I've heard worse” he was really trying to sell you that notion, what with the wide smile and undivided attention, but you couldn't help the nagging voice that told you he wouldn't believe you.

But still, you assumed it better he heard it from you than Val. After all, you and Vox were pretty close at this point. If there was anyone that you'd tell, it would be him.

“No it's- well it is embarrassing, but-” you stammer a moment, trying to find the right way to say it. Soon enough you fix your eyes on the metal doors and just spill.

“I had an uncle. I lived with him for a while, most of my human life really. And he uh…I was just a kid at the time and he- he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Just kept…touching me. For years” the way the information pours out of you is forced. Like you have to pry it from your own mind and shove it out your throat. But there was no point stopping now.

“And then I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't even really know what happened. One second I was cooking dinner and the next he came behind me and…and then everything was bloody and…” you trail for a moment, your mind brought back to that horrific memory. Without a thought you finally turn to Vox.

He looks completely deflated, stripped of that egocentric smile of his and leaving nothing but a shocked still expression in its place. His mouth hangs slightly open as if to say something, but no words come. You feel your tears sting your eyes at the sight.

“No one believed me when I told them what he was doing, no one believed me when I told them for how long. So I knew when I killed him it would just be the same. That they'd make him a martyr and I'd be the villain and- and I couldn't deal with that! I- I didn't want to live through that again!” your voice raises at the end, voice pleading to be listened to, to be believed. Fuck, even just heard.

You get what you ask for with his stunned silence and tense posture. After a moment though you can't help but feel like you want to take your words back, his silence disturbing you greatly.

Just as you're about to ask him to forget what he'd heard, to pretend like you hadn't ever said anything and move on like normal, his hands reach slowly for you. The movement confuses you so greatly that you don't even think to stop him when he silently pulls you into him. You stand rigid for a long moment before, bit by bit, melting into sobs. He holds you tighter in the silence of the elevator and you can't help but grip onto him like your afterlife depended on it.

It's after this that Vox becomes fiercely protective of you. It's incredibly strange for everyone, including yourself. He is adamant that it's just because you know so much about his company, that it's all purely business. But when you think back to that day in the elevator you can't help but believe that he might just actually care about you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel & reader #alastor & reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar & reader #vox & reader #angel dust & reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox & reader #hazbin hotel angel dust & reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #platonic hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel & you #gn reader

[hauntdoesthings]

The Vees with Niffty-Sized Reader

A/N: trying to get back in the groove of writing with some headcanons featuring my current fixation my favorite overlords!

CW: Valentino, manhandling, minor objectification(reader is used/referred to as a doll and pet), implied manipulation and possessive behavior bc it's the Vees, that's their schtick

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Velvette

✧You are literally doll-sized for her, good luck. ✧Dress-up is not an option and she will be throwing you in very cutesy or cozy clothes regardless of your preferences. ✧”They’re just too perfect on you, doll.” OK but where did she even get a bear onesie in Hell? ✧The entire thing is her personal stress-reliever, she gets to do you up however she likes while bitching about whatever faux pas her assistants came up with that week. ✧If you are as high-energy as Nifty, she has a very low tolerance for that. ✧You may be able to get away with running around her department while she’s occupied with prep work, but you better sit still while she’s playing with you unless you want to receive a very harsh reminder that, while she may be the youngest, she is no less than an Overlord, or have you forgotten that, doll?

Valentino

✧*cough*Size kink*cough* ✧Moving on, I actually don’t think shorties are his usual thing. We tend to see him more with taller, lanky people, legs for days kinda energy, but he can’t say your size doesn’t have it’s charms. ✧He absolutely loves to just hold you. Can’t keep up with his tall-ass strides? Wandering too far for his liking? Literally just existing nearby? You’re getting scooped up like nothing at all. Mans has four arms for a reason, so he’s just carrying you around like a handbag or purse pet. ✧Also uses it as a chance to show you off like the pet you are because who else can say they have such a little cutie at their beck and call? ✧Do not mention that you’re shared amongst the Vees or he might just forget he’s holding you as he focuses on holding back a tantrum.

Vox

✧”Jokingly” puts a tracker on you. He doesn’t like that you’re small enough to easily hide in his cameras’ blind spots. ✧Man is so anxious over and protective of you. You could literally be chewed up and spit out by anyone down here, wouldn’t you rather just stay where he can keep you safe and keep a watchful eye on you? ✧Doesn’t really pick you up to hold you like Val but will just grab you by the scruff of your neck to basically manhandle you around. Dragging you away from cables you could trip over, moving you to where he wants you to just sit and wait for him, that kind of thing. ✧Someone help you if you ever run into Alastor. Vox practically turns into a football player or something the way he just yoinks you up and books it. You’re stuck under house arrest for two-weeks at least, it doesn’t matter if you were talking with him or just existing with eyeshot. ✧And no, he doesn’t mean whatever shithole you’re staying in. You’ll be staying in the Vees’ Tower, where they can keep you out of the trouble you always seem to find yourself in. It’s really all for your sake, so he’s really doing you a favor, ḏ̴̉o̵̗͊n̷̜͛'̴̹̓t̷̞͐ ̷̯́y̶̹̒ỏ̷̥ų̸͠ ̴͇͆a̵̢̎g̴̪̈ŕ̴̲e̷͈̅ę̷͠?̵̀ͅ

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #the vees #vox #vox x reader #valentino #valentino x reader #velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees

[tacticaldiary]

hi hello, if you have the chance, could u write a ghost x reader of an overworked/ burnt out reader who faints or something. just stressed out overprotective ghost to warm our hearts <3

thank you so much xxx

Bone Tired

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Fluff

Ghost knows she's been pushing herself but he didn't think it was this bad. She nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack by collapsing right in front of him.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed."

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out.

Masterlist

Just because they weren't deployed on a mission didn't mean things were any less busy for them back at base. Drills, morning runs, training, paperwork, and more; there was always something to keep them busy.

"Focus." The low timber of his voice snaps her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. "I would've incapacitated you three times by now." Ghost says with a frown. Or at least she thinks he's frowning under that mask. He sure sounds like it.

"Yeah, sorry L.T." She blinks, widening her stance and dragging her tired mind to attention. Everything just felt...off. Her clothes were too itchy, the bright fluorescent lights hanging from the room were too prickly, and the training mat under her feet felt difficult to get her footing into. Maybe she was catching a bug? She'd been feeling mildly feverish the past few days, after all, sporting a headache she opted to power through with painkillers.

Grunts and groans and jeers echo around them as others take their turn to spar with each other. She'd already lost against Gaz once, a rare outcome in itself, and now she was pretty sure Ghost was going easy on her. She's surprised she isn't face-first on the mat right now, actually.

Blinking away the knowledge that her arms feel like lead and her mind foggy, she lunges at him with her fist, an attack easily parried and side stepped by the man.

In all honestly, she's known for a while that she needed a proper break. A few days to herself full of nothing. The last op she'd been on had been long and gruelling, a solo one at that, weeks' worth of trekking through a mountain range far south in the cold to get to an isolated camp where their target had been laying low. It was a success, but she swears she can still feel the snow bite into her flesh if she thinks too hard about it.

The moment she'd got back there had been debriefings with Price to attend, files to be reported to Laswell, all the while keeping up with her usual routine and drills...

Her eyes widen as she's spun around, an arm circling her throat and pinning her in a hold.

"You're sloppy." Ghost clicks his tongue from behind her, and if she were any less exhausted, maybe she would have felt a shiver go down her spine.

Here, they were just soldiers, but in private? That's a whole other story. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for a multitude of reasons, but Simon was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Having someone who understood her work, who shared the experience and knew exactly what she was talking about, who knew the best ways to comfort and listen and advise her...it was rare.

A rare and beautiful thing, that's what they had. They helped each other grow, made up for the others weaknesses and blind spots.

But they weren't in private right now, so after she taps his arm to concede, he pushes her away, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Are you ill?" He asks tightly, eyes going up and down her body as if he could detect whatever was making her pause. She'd seemed fine the last time he saw her, but clearly something was wrong if she was this...dazed?

She shakes her head. "Just didn't sleep well last night." She lies through her teeth. She couldn't afford to be sick right now, couldn't afford the luxury of wasting time resting. She still had to report to Laswell, attend a meeting on what the next steps were to reach their targets close contacts. Then she promised Soap she'd hit the shooting range with him, and then Gaz asked her to help him with that paperwork he had to fill out...

Taking a step back, she stumbles a little.

It all bubbles up inside her, overwhelming and insurmountable, a mountain of work that keeps piling up to reach new heights and-

Was Ghost talking? She blinks, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. It was loud and annoying, and it made the headache she'd been sporting since yesterday stronger.

Ghost's eyes widen. He's definitely saying something. She hopes Simon knows she wasn't ignoring her on purpose. She was always good at reading him, so maybe if her vision would stop spotting and focus, she could actually see his eyes properly and figure out what was wrong.

In the end, the roaring in her ears becomes deafening, to the point where she squeezes her eyes shut. How easy would it be to just...stay like this. Just for one moment. To revel in the nothingness of the dark, where she got just one second of silence away from the list of things she had to keep doing.

Just one more moment.

Another step back, an unsteady sway.

She hits the ground hard, the last thing she hears being the yell of her name from that familiar, rough voice.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bleary eyes blink themselves awake, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp by her bedside table. Groaning, she attempts to sit up, only to widen her eyes in alarm when a hand firmly pushes her back.

Instincts kicking in, her hand flies up to latch onto the wrist in a weak grip.

"It's just me." The low voice has her relaxes instantly, hand falling away onto the bed.

"Simon." She says, surprised when her voice doesn't come out as more than a whisper. "Where...what happened?" She winces at the throbbing in her head as she takes in the scene. Simon settled down in a chair next to her, a book laying open faced on her side table.

"You passed out." He says, plainly worried. "The medics said you fainted from exhaustion. Ain't that something to explain, love?" Now that he's ditched the mask, she can see the creases of worry in his forehead, the downwards quirk of his lips. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Passed out?" She echoes, trying to remember. "I...guess I did."

She sure feels like it. Her body feels like lead, as if it's doing everything it can to ensure she stays in bed. Shivering slightly, she looks around for another blanket. When she reaches for the fluffy duvet folded at the foot of her bed, it's immediately snatched out of reach by Simon.

"Give it." She demands, reaching a hand out.

"You have a fever." Simon shakes his head, holding the item out of reach. "It'll break quicker this way."

"I'm fine." She protests, managing to sit up this time under his unimpressed stare. "I'm alright, Simon. Can't afford to be sick right now."

"That's not how it works." He sighs, standing up. "I thought I'd hurt you for a moment." She watches him walk towards the small table near the opposite wall, fiddling with something there while he talked. "Damn near took a year of my life away with how you crumpled onto the mat."

"It wasn't you." She assures him quickly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulder in what she can only assume is relief. Needless as it is, she feels a little guilty. How long had he been thinking her passing out had been his fault? No, this was on her, on her busy schedule and-

Wait, what time was it?

Dread curls up in her gut as she slowly turns towards the small window. The lamp was on when she woke up, of course it was night.

"I was just tired is all." She says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm as fresh as a daisy now, and I've got so much shit to do." She lets out an anxious, long breath as her brain kicks in, charting how much time she'd lost, how quickly she'd need to work to get it all done-

"I have that meeting with Laswell...I wonder if Price thinks I just didn't show up to his office..." She doesn't realise she's been muttering her thoughts aloud until Ghost cuts her off.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He declares over his shoulder. "Get your ass back in bed."

"I can't, there's too much I have to do today." She protests. "And I've already lost half the day-"

"I wasn't asking."

"Simon-" He turns around and she finally sees what he's been doing.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed." His threat is much less effective when he's holding one of her mugs that says 'Bad Bitch' in obnoxious neon pink calligraphy, the phrase surrounded by a flowery border. She'd got it for him as a gag gift for his last birthday and had cackled at the dead, unimpressed stare he fixed her with. It had remained in his room for a while before she'd snatched it, claiming she'd actually appreciate it.

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out. Her laughs morph into a deep chest-rattling cough that wipes the smile off her face and leaves her wincing.

Sitting next to her after tossing the pillow onto the mattress, he brings the warm mug of tea up to her. "Easy does it." He mutters quietly when she grabs it from him and takes a drink.

"Thank you." She sighs, handing it back.

"Talk to me." He orders, not unkindly. Simon wasn't someone who was all lovey-dovey, but he loved just as hard and much as the next person. Just because he didn't choose to flourish it with pretty words and smiles doesn't mean she felt any less cared for.

He was a man of action, through and through.

Little touches throughout the day, silent glances checking in with her. Staying by her side during missions, working in tandem and recognising when she needed space versus when she needed him near.

He was her other half, and it had been eating away at him that he didn't fucking realise she was this unwell until the consequences caught up with her.

Ghost won't admit the primal flash of fear that struck through him when she'd crumpled to the ground like that. He thought he'd hurt her while sparring, that he'd done something to make her pass out like that. Even after the medics cleared her and he carried her here, tucked her in and everything, there was still a nagging worry of 'what-if' in his mind.

The relief of hearing her confirm it wasn't him was tainted by the knowledge that he hadn't noticed her pushing herself.

After a moment of deliberation, she gives in, tucking herself back into bed and thinking for a moment. She tells him everything, tells him how she hasn't had a second to herself in these past few days, telling him about the load she has on her shoulders and the crushing time limit ticking down in her ears for every task she had.

He listens quietly, to his credit, doesn't interrupt her even when she trails off, having to muster up the energy to keep going.

The fact that talking tired her out to this degree made his heart twist uncomfortably.

"I didn't think I had a choice but to take it all head on." She finishes, stifling a yawn. She looks up at him for his response when he doesn't talk, finds him staring at her with a half-lidded gaze, a furrow in his brow.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She asks, confused.

"For help."

That was...a good question. It takes her a second to come up with a sheepish answer. "I...I didn't think of that." She admits, drawing out another quiet sigh from him.

"You're going to be the death of me." He grumbles, but she can't complain when he's gently tugging her to the side and climbing in with her under the covers. "I've sorted things out with Price and Laswell. Do whatever else you need to when you're capable of not face planting into the mats again."

A warm feeling of gratitude washes over her, her heart warming with the kind gesture. It was so...it was so Simon.

When he tangles their legs together and tucks her into his side, she wrinkles her nose. "I'm all sweaty." She tries to argue, tapping at his shoulder half-heartedly when he lays down with her, a strong arm around her waist pulling her in.

"I've had your blood on my hands before, I don't think sweat is going to be a problem." She can hear his voice rumble low in his chest, right under where he head rests, and she hides a smile in the fabric of his shirt.

When he runs a hand through her hair, she practically melts against him.

Eventually, her shivering stops, replaced with a bone-deep warmth that nothing could chase away. Simon. The warmth of him, of his care, of his love. She'd take it over a heatpack any day.

His arms around her make her relax. Nothing would nag at her, drag her away to chain her to a desk under Simon's watch, that much she knows. Safe. Protected. The feeling was rare living the life she did with her job, but Simon made it so easy to believe that she was untouchable as long as she was with him.

Before she knows it, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out, because goddamn did the bastard know exactly where and how to touch her to get her all sleepy and relaxed.

"Thank you." She mumbles against him, words half incoherent.

"Always, love." He rumbles back, brushing his lips over her head.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/07/2023)

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #x reader #cod mw22 #modern warfare fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost #cod ghost #ghost modern warfare #cod mw ghost #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #ghost posts #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley #angst #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #modern warfare x reader

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Bus Buddy

Pairing: Roy x reader

Word count: 2511

Warnings: pure fluff, Jamie flirting with reader, protective Roy, swearing

Masterlist here

at the same time that Ted got hired Rebecca had also decided she needed an assistant to enact her perfect revenge, so the boys often saw you walking around Richmond or at press interviews. Any time you entered the locker room wolf whistles from Jamie rang across the room followed by a loud ‘shut it’ from Roy. Usually, you’d object to Jamies actions, but the routine had become so common you found it funny especially when Roy dogged him into Keeley one time, and you saw him drag Jamie by the ear.

You weren’t sure why the tough and silent Roy Kent was so protective of you, but you were grateful to know walking into a locker room filled with men that he had your back. the longer you were around the team though you realised none of the boys would even hurt a fly.

still locker rooms or crowded hotel lobbies could get rowdy, and Roy almost acted as security, weaving you through the crowd and telling everyone to fuck off. any thanks you gave him were met with grunts, nods, or two-word answers.

sometimes you had to talk to Roy though, but you never complained. whenever you had forms for him to sign or events you wanted him to attend, sadly only on a work basis, he gladly complied without fuss. feeling his hand brush, yours as he took the pen from your hand or getting to secretly glance at his face as he filled out the forms was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

you’d convinced yourself your crush was harmless. after all he was Roy Kent, an absolutely loaded footballer with an exterior tougher than diamond. its not like you flirted with him or stared at him. well not on purpose at least.

this weekend saw Richmond visiting another stadium a six-hour drive away for their next match. usually, you travelled with Rebecca but due to some other things she had to get done this weekend, aka a spa trip with Keeley you were secretly so jealous about, she had decided to send you as a representative. however, this also meant you got to arrive at Richmond Friday afternoon with a packed bag and a bunch of rowdy footballers.

“Well look who our newest bus buddy is,” Ted said, putting his hands on his hips as you approached the gaggle of men. “Hope you don’t mind being down graded to ride with us bunch of savages,” he joked as he ticked your name off his clipboard. you really did appreciate Teds soccer mom vibes.

You laughed as you dragged your suitcase up to stand by Ted at the bus, “Please how bad can it be? it’s just a bus,”

“Yeah, but with these twats,” Roy’s voice made Ted jump, but you just turned and smiled, ready to say hi, but Roy just walked past you. He picked up his suitcase, tossing it under the bus before turning back and picking yours up and placing yours in with far more care than he had with his own. When you said thanks, Roy just nodded before heading onto the bus, assumably to secure the most isolated spot he could.

Ted let out a low whistle as Roy walked off, “He’s a charmer alright,” he said, his eyes scurrying around before leaning down to whisper to you, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think he’s sweet on you,” You laughed but before you could even try to deny it Ted was pointing at your face, “and if I’m not blind you my friend are blushing,”

“Shut up Ted,” was all you managed to say before Nate walked over and thankfully Ted knew better than to keep going in front of him.

while you were talking to Nate and Ted the bus all the players had arrived and assembled on the bus. you were the last to climb on the bus since even though you knew it couldn’t be that bad six hours on a bus was still a dire experience. “Oi need a seat love?” Jamie hollered from the back of the bus, already tossing his bag to his feet.

“There’s a seat by me,” Dani pipped up from a few rows in front of Jamie.

you laughed, trying to think who would be the least awkward seat mate. however, as you went to move forward, figuring Dani would be less out right flirty than Jamie you were stopped by Roy standing up from his seat and stepping into the aisle.

when you looked up at him, expecting him to say something, he just looked down at the window seat he had just given up. you smiled as you moved to sit down, “Thanks,” you said squeezing past him, “Thanks boys but I prefer the front of the bus,” you said before settling down for the ride.

Roy dropped into the aisle seat and while you knew he was trying to keep in his seat the bus seats were only so big, so your thighs were bumping into each other, “Thanks for saving me,” you whispered to him.

Roy chuckled under his breath, “Really think I’d let you get tortured back there like that?” he whispered back making his voice sound even sexier if possible. the bus set off only a few minutes later and now you were trapped in a bus with 25 rowdy men who instantly started talking amongst themselves and playing bus games. “Bet you wish you’d never got on this bus,” Roy said in a low voice but with all the noise at least you didn’t have to whisper.

“Nah I don’t mind, honest,” you said, settling into your seat, “Sitting in a silent plane with Rebecca can get awkward,”

“Sorry I’ve not got any champagne for ya,” Roy joked and for the rest of the ride you actually talked the whole way which is the longest you’ve ever spoke to him for. you were almost sad when the bus pulled up outside the hotel.

without a word Roy had grabbed your suitcase and his, walking into the hotel still wrapped up in a debate about which ice cream flavour was superior. “Checking in together?” The receptionist asked making you blush, and Roy clear his throat.

“Eh no, separate,” he said, glancing down at you but you wish he hadn’t since you knew your cheeks were flaming hot as you gave the woman your information. however, after getting checked in Roy still carried your cases, taking them up to your room with you in silence. He sat the bag down in front of your room for you as you unlocked the door, “I’m just down the hall. 203. so eh if anyone gives you bother or these twats are too loud tonight give me a knock,”

“Will do captain,” you said, trying your best to stay composed as you got into your room, shutting the door behind you so you could freak out.

the next day was too hectic to even think about flirting with Roy or even catching a glimpse of him off the field. however, Richmond had managed to secure a tie which for them right now was a big win. however, what was not a big win was the fact that you had to get back in the coach that day since the team had a bunch of press to do tomorrow at Richmond.

between the game, the press interviews, everyone showering and getting into clean clothes, and checking out you weren’t even set to leave till 10pm despite the game kicking off at 1:30pm. you were already yawning as you came down the lift to the reception.

most of the boys were also absolutely shattered. running for 90 minutes straight at full speed was tiring enough without also having to pack and do press. you had got to sit during the game, but you also had the job of Rebecca all day so now you really understood why she needed that spa weekend. “Bus said it’ll be pulling up in five minutes,” you yawned as you sat your bag down, “Head count time,” you said.

you felt like a primary teacher, but you didn’t care as you walked around, counting each player as you put your hand on their head. they were all too tired to complain and even Issac let you touch his hair. “twenty three,” you said, counting Dani before stopping, “Wow your hair is soft,” you gasped before continuing as Dani beamed from his seat, “Twenty four,” you said, reaching up to pat Roy’s head but you were too tired to see the way he smiled at you when you did, “Twenty five,” you finished, putting your hand on your own head making Roy chuckle quietly. “We didn’t lose anyone, great job team. now shift it, I wanna sleep,”

“You heard her twats, get moving,” Roy said, his loud voice shocking everyone including the hotel staff. at least it got the boys moving though. Roy cleared his throat as he glanced down at you, “Need a seat buddy again?” he asked as you filed out behind all the boys.

you smiled up at him, “Yeah that’d be nice. Its your turn for the window seat,”

“I don’t mind, you keep it,” he said as you finally got to the bus. the boys were all tossing their cases in and filing into the bus with very few mumblings between them. you were silently thankful everyone was exhausted, “Just don’t fall asleep standing,” Roy’s joke snapped you back to reality as he loaded in your cases.

“Fine but I make no promises about the bus,” you said as you walked to get on, Roy offering for you to go first. a sweet gesture to you and silently Roy was grateful for the chance to check out your ass. “This seat, okay?” you said, plopping down into the first available seat. Roy didn’t even reply as he sat down next to you.

Ted was the last to get on and while you usually loved his speeches today you just did not care. “Now all yall try get some shut eye. Six hours of sleep would do you all the world of good right now,”

“Yes coach,” rang out in a sleepy chorus as everyone settled in to nap on the bus for the night.

as you looked around you saw Jamie in the seat across from you with a blanket already pulled over him and Dani a seat behind you with an eye mask on, “I am clearly not prepared,” you joked quietly to Roy.

Roy looked over, seeing his fellow teammates who were used to these late-night busses, “You can borrow my jacket if you get cold,” Roy said quietly making you inwardly melt, “Not much of a blanket but it’s warm,”

“I’ll think about it,” you yawned, making Roy smile as he saw how you stretched away your sleep. or well tried to. the ride set off and you could already hear soft snores across the bus. any of the boys who couldn’t sleep had headphones in and you had never been more grateful.

you sat in silence, looking out the window as the head lights of other cars went past and let yourself sink further into your seat. you barely noticed when Roy shrugged his jacket off or realise how close to him you were getting but you could feel your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

Roy however had noticed the soft snores coming from you when your eyes had finally closed, unable to fight sleep off anymore. he was thankful everyone was asleep or not paying attention as he got to look down at you sleeping on his shoulder with a soft smile. after a few minutes, sure you were asleep, he gently pulled his jacket over you like a blanket.

he wasn’t sure when he had fell for you or why, but he’d known for weeks now that he liked you. hell, more than liked. there was just something about you and right now you looked downright adorable as you nuzzled further into him. Roy slipped his arm behind your back, allowing you to properly sleep on him and his hand to rest on your waist.

usually, Roy was far too tense or pent up in rides home to sleep on the bus, especially with a team he just knew were desperate to draw something on his face, but Roy was surprised when he opened his eyes and sunlight blinded him.

the bus was pulling up to Richmond at an ungodly 4 am when Roy realised, he had fallen asleep, his head resting on top of yours. without thinking, still in a sleepy state, Roy pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he moved to sit up. however, when he saw you stir awake, he kicked himself internally, “Are we here?” you yawned, pulling away from him and Roy already missed the feeling of you curled up to him.

“Looks like it,” Roy said as you looked down to realise it had been Roy’s jacket covering you, “You uh looked cold,” Roy said, clearing his throat and thankful he had a beard to cover the way his cheeks grew hot.

“Thanks,” you said, a sleepy smile playing your lips as the rest of the team started to wake. “Did you manage to sleep?”

“A bit yeah,” Roy said, and it was as you shuffle forward Roy realised his mistake when you looked down at his arm, “Sorry bout that,” he mumbled, quickly pulling his arm out from where it had been wrapped around your waist.

“It’s alright I don’t mind,” you said, a smile toying your lips as you stretched to try wake up.

without anything else said, really by anyone, you all filtered off the bus and Roy went to get both your suitcases. Roy cleared his throat as he went to pass yours to you, a nervous habit you’d only just really noticed, “Do you need a lift up the road? my cars just over there,”

“If you don’t mind that’d be great,” you said, so relieved you weren’t going to have to sleep in Rebeccas office, “Don’t hate me if I fall asleep in the car though,”

“Couldn’t hate you if I tried,” Roy said as he took the suitcase back and began to walk to his car. you blushed as you followed behind him, climbing into the passenger side as Roy loaded the bags in, “You all set?” Roy asked as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

when Roy glanced over, he couldn’t help but laugh when he noticed you were already asleep in the car. Roy reached over, buckling you in before getting ready to hit the road. he’d dropped you off a few times from work so he knew the way already, but Roy couldn’t stop himself stealing so many glances at the sight of you. there was no avoiding his feelings now.  Roy Kent was in love.

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso x reader #ted lasson smut #ted lasso season one #roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟒

The inevitable occurs and Natasha ends things with you. Now, separated by galaxies and worlds, there’s no chance of ever being connected again, not by a long shot. Until now.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!human!reader

note: reader has a penis. this is the fourth chapter of the goddess!nat universe!! i am sorry this took so long, but i was taking my time to not stress myself out too much. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

word count: 2.7k

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Previously…

The inevitable occurs and Natasha ends things with you. Now, separated by galaxies and worlds, there’s no chance of ever being connected again, not by a long shot. Until now.

Now, one month later…

Music thrums in your bloodstream, your head spinning. The flashing fluorescent lights blind your vision at sporadic intervals and you feel like you’re floating above the ground.

“Another,” you rasp to the dark-haired bartender, slamming down an empty shot glass. “Keep ‘em comin’.” Your eyes dart around the close-bodied pack in the middle of the bar, drunken whoops and cheers sounding as girls press against each other.

The whiskey burns in your throat as the DJ picks up the beat. Inside the hazy mess of purple-shrouded figures in the crowd, only one catches your eye. She’s into the music, trailing her hands over her body and swinging her hips in time to the music. The people around her can’t touch her bubble.

Before your clouded brain registers a fraction of your stupid actions, you down the next shot and walk up to her. 

You’re not completely stupid, though. You’ve made an effort to dress nice, a cream-coloured collared shirt. Natasha said you looked amazing in those. You’ve put on your new rings. The ones that you bought with Natasha’s money. You’ve been hitting the gym, lifting weights and working your muscles. To take your mind off Natasha fucking Romanoff.

It doesn’t work, though. It never works.

“Hey,” you say to the dancing woman. Her eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering, like Natasha when she slept in your embrace. “What’s up?” 

She doesn’t seem to hear you, despite your relatively close proximity, perhaps because the music is too obnoxiously loud. Or at least, that’s what you think before the woman is beckoning you closer with a finger. Bossy. Just like Natasha.

You take another step towards her, then another step. She guides your hands to her waist, then with the drop of a beat, she spins around and presses herself flush against you, ass grinding up and down against your crotch area.

The arousal hits you, and a low growl catches in your throat. Seductive, just like Natasha, because she was the Goddess of–

You haul yourself out of that spiral before it can take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane. You needed to forget. And the gorgeous woman putting herself up for grabs in front of you seemed like a very good distraction.

You splay your right hand over her thinly-clothed stomach, hearing her little gasp at your warmth and requited boldness, while your left-hand works its way through her hair and tugs on it. Her reaction is exactly as desired, a low hum of desire like music to your ears, and the way she’s eagerly grinding on your growing bulge is certainly not something you’d complain about.

“Wanna step outside for a little bit?” You ask lowly, dipping your head down to drag your teeth lightly along her ear.

—

“Oh, fuck! Please!” 

Her moans bounce off the walls of the dingy alleyway, as you thrust into her. You let her arms wrap around the back of your neck, her grasp tightening with each of your ministrations. Sandwiched between your body and the brick wall was her writhing figure, squirming as your hands supported her up.

The two of you hadn’t even made it two blocks away from the bar, to her apartment which was not too far away – the result of unbridled, alcohol-induced lust was a dimly-shrouded alleyway with two bodies desperately seeking warmth for one night.

Even as you had your cock inside her, feeling how wet she was for you, it didn’t feel right.

The noises she made were too high-pitched, too grating on the ears. Natasha’s ones had sounded heaps better; with the smoky husk that grew more breathless as she called out your name.

Even as she had her hands wrapped around your back, it felt wrong.

Her nails were too short and she was gripping at the fabric on the back of your shirt, tugging at all the angles that made it uncomfortable. Natasha had been so much more different, digging crescent-shaped imprints into the back of your neck that hurt so good.

Nevertheless, you tried your best to make the experience enjoyable. You swear you fucking tried.

“Let me,” you whispered into her ear, taking her hands off your back and placing them above her head. “Y-yeah, please,” she whined in response, but you barely heard her. 

You stepped closer to the wall, pushing yourself farther inside her. Distracting yourself by using your free hand to grope at her breasts through the fabric, then running your palms over her hardened nipples.

Fuck, even her breasts couldn’t compare to Natasha’s. 

Tears prickled at the back of your eyes, burned like gasoline, because what the fuck had you done to deserve this? Lose the ‘love of your life’ one night, get shit-faced the next day, and end up with your cock inside some woman whose name you didn’t even know.

Even as you sloppily thrust into her, try to forget, try to forget, it can’t work. It won’t fuckin’ work. It would never work, because no one could ever be Natasha.

God, she had taken you on the biggest thrill of your goddamned life, then stopped the rollercoaster while you were suspended midair.

And there you were, hanging above the world with no safety net, and you were oh so lonely.

“Oh please, more,” the woman cries, moving her hips to chase her high, her hands on your clothes again. What the fuck? “Daddy!” she shrieks, once, at a certain deeper thrust, and you pull out faster than you ever have before.

The vision of you and Natasha on that beach in Malibu flashes before your eyes like a movie screen, and the light reflects of your empty eyes. 

“Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone daddy?” you had asked, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame at using that title on you.

“It’s complicated,” Natasha had replied, squirming under your inspective gaze. She had trailed her hand down to your cock again, but you had denied her of that pleasure. “We’re not done here, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Natasha had grumbled, adorably pouty. “That’s the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

“Oh,” you replied then, softly, trailing her rib with a gentle finger. “I think I quite like it.”

Fuck, you didn’t ‘quite like it’ anymore. You hated it, fucking hated it, hated you ever got attached to anything like that. Malibu seems like a distant fantasy, the grains of sand on the beach falling through your fingers like those in an hourglass.

What could’ve happened if you and Natasha had more time? If she hadn’t broken it off? Would you have married her? Could you two have been truly happy?

“No, please, I was so close,” the woman from the bar whines, clinging onto you, suffocating you. You took a step back, eyes wide, feeling like you were in a state of psychedelia. 

The woman’s hair wasn’t the right shade of brown. Her green eyes looked like fool’s gold compared to Natasha’s kaleidoscopic ones. She was wrong, so wrong.

“I can’t,” you breathe, feeling your heart thudding against the cages of your chest, screaming to be let out. Your chest heaves with desperation, eyes wide and flitting. You pull up your pants, button your shirt shakily. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Everything was wrong. You weren’t okay. You just needed Natasha, you just needed her.

“What?” the woman responds, stepping away from you, looking at you like you were some lost animal. Maybe you were, trembling in the cold night air, pathetic and pitiable. At the knowledge that you weren’t joking, she lets out a half-assed scoff.

“Fuckin’ loser,” she calls out in contempt, her sharp voice echoing in the alleyway as she stalks away, and you slide down the wall with a wracking sob.

Natasha wasn't just different from any other woman you could be with — she was other-wordly, metaphorically and physically, and no one would ever be able to come close.

You sit there, crying into your hands, wondering how much of a fool you probably looked like.

Natasha had chewed you up and then spat you out, leaving you on the graffitied path of a dingy alleyway: A disfigured shape of the person you once were, just waiting to be crushed once more.

—

The Goddess of Lust sits upon her throne, a falsified smile on her breathtaking face. Her eyelids flutter in practiced motion, so innocently charming. She twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, just like she was taught.

“So, you’ll agree to this deal?” she asks, especially softly, making her voice a little more husky than it naturally was. 

The men before her all nodded desperately, prey to her thrall like lambs to the slaughter. Fuck, men across the universe had one thing in common and that was their unbridled horniness. “Of course, Goddess, as long as you, uh, give us a little bonus.” A bold one added, not even trying to hide the sexual innuendo.

Natasha wanted to rip someone apart, but all she did was sweetly plaster a smile across her delicate features and nod in faux bashfulness.

She tunes out the mindless drivel of business in the works and plans to be carried out for the betterment of her kingdom. It was worse than watching paint dry. 

Suddenly, a jolt of nausea hit her and she jerked in her throne.

“Is something the matter, Goddess Natasha?”

The Goddess of Lust swallows harshly, her stomach lurching with each passing second. “I- uh, I think I need some rest, that’s all,” she says, forcing a smile through gritted teeth.

“But we’re not done discussing the-”

Natasha scoffs, ignoring the searing pain to spit out her next words with venom. “I suggest you make your way out of my palace before I ensure you never step foot into my kingdom again.”

At that, the man who had been speaking to her turned flushed with irritation but bit back his words. He shook his head at the rest, leaving resolutely with his ego bruised.

The moment the men were out of her sight, Natasha teleported to the bathroom in her master bedroom and positively threw up in the toilet bowl, tears in her eyes. Was this the consequence of her actions? To suck up to shitty men and feel like a pile of shit?

Come to think of it, Natasha hadn’t felt this sick only until the two of you had been split apart a month ago. On some days, she would not stop throwing up, or her toes would grow numb, or she would get that sour, metallic taste in her mouth that made her want to throw up all over again.

It was downright ridiculous. The only types of people with these urges were women from Earth who were preg-

Oh no.

Natasha sinks down onto the cold marble of her bathroom floor, hand gripping at the side of the gold bathtub. She feels sick, all over.

Oh, hell fuckin’ no.

There was no way. There was just simply no way that this was happening right now. Because she had lost you. The mere thought of being tied to you in that sort of way was out of the question.

With another snap of her fingers, Natasha materializes in front of Stephen Strange’s castle. She probably looked ridiculous, tears staining her face while in a fancy dress, showing up on the doorstep of a friend she hadn’t seen in ages.

Strange was the God of Time, but it was more than well-known he had been a miracle surgeon, a lifetime ago. When the door opened, Natasha’s tears were welling up, and immediately the dark-haired man stepped aside to let her in.

“What’s the matter, Nat?” he asked softly. The Goddess sniffs, ragged breaths shaking her whole body. “I have a little medical issue.” she replies despondently.

“Why didn’t you go to Helen? You know she’s the Goddess of Health,” Strange says, stepping back slowly, then turning around and gesturing for Natasha to follow. As he begins walking up the steps, he continues. “Or Shuri, for that matter. Goddess of Geniuses. There’s no better bet than her, am I right?”

As they enter a room with medical equipment, Natasha sighs. “This is a special case. Something that I don’t want to make public, even if it is confirmed to be true.”

“Oh,” the God says thoughtfully. “I’ll do my best, in that case.” He moves to grab a device from the table, but 

“I’m sorry, Stephen. It’s just…… I don’t want all that. Can you just…… you know,” she asks, trying to force a lopsided smile onto her face, to ease the growing tension.

The God looks taken aback for a moment, before putting down the device and nodding in agreement. He closes his eyes, and gradually a golden light encases the room, warm and inviting.

Sparks fly, swirling from the walls before they encircle Natasha. Glowing brightly, swimming with power.

There are two heartbeats, one is hers and one is Strange’s, both strong and steady. But there is also a third one, with weaker and slower thuds.

Strange waves his hand and opens his eyes. The lights fade into nothingness. There is a moment after that, when Natasha locks eyes with him, that the galaxy hangs on its axis and everything becomes nothing.

“Natasha… you’re pregnant.”

—

Stumbling into your apartment with your head spinning, you unbutton your shirt and shrug it off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness of your home.

You had far too many drinks than what was considered acceptable, and it was 3.47 am. At least, that’s what the numbers on your phone told you. Maybe it was 7.43 am. Ah, you wouldn’t fuckin’ know. You couldn’t read the numbers with your dizzied vision.

Rubbing at your nose and then sniffing loudly, you almost trip over the leg of a strewn chair as you reach for the light switch. Right, the chair you had thrown across the living room when you had a breakdown that morning. Well, yesterday morning.

You cough out, hands gripping the wall for support, and your throat is too fucking raw and your eyes well up for the umpteenth time. “I’m pathetic,” you whisper to no one in particular. Your shaking hands finally find the light switch and you flick it on.

“At least you’re self-aware. Because you look like shit.”

You leap backwards at the sound before you, cursing as you knock into the chair again and fall over. 

The lights flickering on reveal a man dressed in a dark green robe, a horn-shaped gold ornament on his head. He looks at you with a sadistic smirk playing on his lips, eating a slice of — was that your fucking leftover pizza?

“Who- who are you,” you breathe out, absolutely convinced you were just hallucinating. This felt oddly reminiscent of the time Carol had scared you in your office, except this man made your stomach churn in the worst ways possible.

He dusted off his clothes of the pizza crumbs, stepping up to you slowly, and you hate how your heart pounds in absolute fear. The man leans down to meet you at eye level, his black curls falling as his lips curve upwards. 

“I am Loki, and I am burdened with glorious purpose. Some call me the fallen angel, or the devil’s incarnate, but I have and always will be a god,” he says, and the way he carried himself with such calculated ease and unnerving confidence had you frozen in place. 

“Y/N L/N, today I grace you with my presence to strike a deal.” He continues, straightening up again to start pacing the room.

“And what makes you think you can do anything for me?” you ask, in disbelief, almost laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. Your grin fades away at the seriousness behind Loki’s deceiving eyes. 

He stops and turns around, locking eyes with you. Your heart rises. No.

“I can make you a God.”

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02

@jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69 @eatkobi @lovelyy-moonlight @morganismspam23 @unexpected-character @rdfgfv @natsxwife @romanoffkink @wandascandy @cd-4848 @mmmmokdok @bisexualbritish @marvelonmymind @jareguiromanoff @benizaa @reereeineedtopee @p1ut0smoon @marvelwomen-simp @traveler-at-heart @slashermeslashers @yourlovergorl

did anyone notice loki was first mentioned in chapter 2?? i was foreshadowing or at least i tried to LMAO

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#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #goddess natasha #natasha x y/n #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #x reader #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #gxg smut #wlw smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader angst

[ooffmlsorry]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

A/N: I swear I'm gonna work on my prompt posts after this but it was unexpectedly cold today and I was not ready 😭

Your feet crunched loudly underneath you. The snow comes up to your shines, forcing you to take high trudging steps. The wind is throwing snowflakes into your face, and your tears live short liquid lives before turning to ice on your cheeks.

So far, your first experience with snow is...hell on earth.

If hell froze over, that is.

The rest of the crew were completely comfortable in the weather, but what could you expect? The navigator was a polar bear after all. Someone had said something about part of the crew being from the frigid North Blue, which was suddenly beginning to make sense.

"There's gotta be something wrong with him," you muttered into the scarf wrap around the lower half of your face. It was swampy and damp against your skin, collecting snot and condensation from your breath. Disgusting. But at least it kept your lips and nose from going numb.

The plan was to rendezvous with the rest of the crew on the other side of the island. Bepo was leading the others across, and as the next best thing to a navigator, you were to guide and stay with Law to wait for them at this shabby excuse for a cabin.

You surveyed the white wasteland outside the window. A sheet of startling blue sky loomed overhead. Speaking of Law, you turned to look at your captain just slightly behind you. You couldn't read anything on his expression, but the fact that he didn't look nearly as miserable as you told you enough.

The shack you waited in had nothing except four walls and a fireplace--trees for firewood not included.

"How do you stand this?!" You say. "I'm so cooold!" The end of your whining turns into fake sob.

"Keep your eyes ahead, y/n-ya," Law says. The slight upward pull of his lips turns the neutral resting bitch face he normally has into an amused smirk.

You exaggerate your pout, "that's all I get?! This is my first time in the snow and it's awful! I'm freezing!"

Law chuckles. "It's not my fault you were raised on a tropical island."

Law only wears his hat, a coat--the same one you remember him wearing on Punk Hazard--and a pair of gloves. He's practically naked compared to your hat, gloves, scarf, dense coat, and wool snow pants.

You sigh loudly, your shoulders slump miserably in front of you. Law watches you with a twinkle in his eyes that causes warmth to bloom across your face.

The look in his eyes belays a fondness he normally hides.

He's enjoying this.

"How long do you think it will take the others to get here?" He asks you.

Business as usual, then. You walk back over to the shack's window to observe the sky.

"There's still no sign of clouds. In fact, snow blindness might be an issue for the rest of the crew. They're walking on a plateau, far away from any slopes so they won't have to work against any winds. I'd say three hours? Maybe a little less since some of you are cold weather natives." A draft blows cold winds through the cabin, making you shudder all the way down to your toes. "I can't wait until we literally blow this popsicle stand."

Law wraps his arms around you from behind. His front flush to your back and his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Oh?"

You lean in to him and stuff his hands into your front pockets so you can hold them. Gloved fingers intertwine. You have just enough room to lovingly stroke your thumb across the back of Law's hand. A wordless thank you.

"I won't listen to you complain about how cold it is for that long." Law's voice rumbles from. "I'll warm you up."

You watch the snow drift and dance in the wind through icy windows. You never knew the ice crystals people spoke of were truly crystals, until you saw them on the window. The last time you saw the sky this blue was back on your home island. Cloudless and comfortingly blue.

"It's actually kind of pretty," you say quietly.

"It can be," Law responds. He surprises you further by pressing a kiss to your temple. "You were too busy freezing your ass off to notice."

#one piece x you #one piece #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader

[ghouljams]

I come bearing an angsty thought at this late hour! (Because it's like 2am here but I feel the need to share my sad with someone and you're my unwilling sacrifice of the day)

Anyway, I was thinking about how since Simon has experience as a butcher before he joined the service, in his cowboy era he would probably be more than happy to volunteer for butchering duty when someone brings something back from a hunt or one of the animals is slaughtered for dinner. So, it's the first time he's doing it since joining Price on the farm, probably has Goose chatting with him as he works since she's not squeamish when it comes to skinning an animal, and everything is going well.

But then, Simon goes to hang some of the meat up on a meat hook and it's like everything comes to a screeching halt. His whole body locks up, and although he logically knows that he's not in any danger and he's done this hundreds of times before, he hasn't touched a meat hook since Roba... The hook is swaying slightly in the wind, and it looks so, so sharp, and just thinking about how easily it can tear through skin and muscle-

Goose probably needs to go get Price, because Simon is not okay.

Oooh, I love hurting the boy. Early-ish days, the first time Ghost needed to butcher anything at the farm.

"Usually we send bucks to the butcher," you tell him, "but we've got set-up for dressings at least."

"Field dressed it, just need a clean space and some decent knives," Ghost supplies, hauling the buck out of the truck bed and over his shoulder. He doesn't need to, could always pull the truck around properly, but he likes the way your eyes follow the flex of his muscles. It's not a far walk, and he can shoulder 200 pounds easy.

You're all sweet smiles and laughter, asking for the worst deer blind jokes of the day; Ghost doesn't know how you can be so... yourself. You pull the cellar doors open, easing each one to the ground and giving Ghost the heads up to watch his height on the way down. Ghost keeps his eyes on the steps, careful to keep the buck from scraping the low clearance as you click on the lights. He glances around the old storm cellar when he gets his feet on the dirt. It's cool, good for storage, there are already cans lining the shelves along the walls. There's a table in the middle, butcher block. Ghost smiles to himself.

"Whose kit?" He asks, dropping the deer on the table.

"My uncle's," You toss it over your shoulder, moving towards the back, "he was the butcher of the family, Daddy's a good hunter but he sure as shit ain't cutting into that with anything stronger than a steak knife."

Ghost chuckles, tugging his own hunting knife from his belt. "Not for everyone," He calls back, "but better than 'aving someone else take the best pieces."

"Says the man giving away backstraps," You grumble. Ghost shakes his head, he hopes you never let that go. Sweet thing. Some day he'd work up the nerve to propose, find some reason to give you that was better than just himself.

"I'm not 'earing you complain about that, am I?" He jokes, glancing back over his shoulder, watches you give a sharp tug at a ceiling beam and rip down a hook. It hangs in the air, curving its horrible point back towards the heavy chain that holds it in place, the metal black with dried blood. Ghost's breath catches in his chest, his vision narrowing onto a singular point.

"Get away from that," Ghost tells you, his voice short, his eyes darting over the metal. You say something a thousand miles away, and wrap your hand around the hook. Ghost's breath bursts out of him like a gag, heaving out of his chest, his ribs throbbing with the memory of hanging. It's like he can't get enough air it, it all comes out too quickly, and the whole room smells like iron. Iron and dirt. You hold your hand over the point, speaking again, gibberish, garbled nonsense, your accent is too close to a memory he wants to scrub himself clean of. It's when you press your fingers against the mean edge of the hook that he really finds it in himself to move.

He's too sure that you're going to spear yourself, that your stigmata might mirror his own, holes punched in your body from the same terrible instrument.

Ghost's hand grabs your arm and rips you away from the meat hook, his breath coming fast and wild. He can see it, he can see the way it would happen, he can feel the blood under his nails. The process of being lifted like meat onto the hook, the blinding pain of the sharp tip piercing through layers of fat and muscle, the curve of it forcing its way through his body and around his ribs. He can still feel the metal under his hands, the links of chain that he tried to pull himself off of. He can feel each slippery, blood soaked, attempt to free himself.

He can see the way he'd lift you onto the hook, can feel the weight of you under his hand, the way you struggle against his bruising grip, the thump of your hand against his chest. He could add another scar to your body, inflict it on you himself, you could match, you could hate him, you could know, and he could save you the way he couldn't save himself. He could hurt you. Does he want to hurt you? Why does he want to hurt you? He doesn't. He does. He doesn't. He's-

You grab either side of his face and drag him to look at you. Ghost feels like his eyes might vibrate out of his skull, his vision blurring, aching with the lack of focus as it darts to and fro. "What has five toes and isn't your foot?" You ask him.

Ghost's brain grinds to a halt. What? What are you asking him? What does that have to do with-

"My foot," You finish, giving him a little shake. Something bursts out of Ghost that isn't pain or shock. He barks out a laugh, the tension in his muscles squeezing it out of him. It bubbles up from his chest and boils over, his body shaking with the release of it. His breath is quick still, something tightening in his core that doubles him over and forces his hands onto his knees as his laughter gives way to shaking sobs. There are no tears, he can't feel any tears, can't feel much of anything.

He can hear his heart racing, his blood rushing in his ears, as he stares at the dirt floor. No blood, no wounds, no bodies. He grabs his chest, feels the joined skin over his heart, the cold beat of it, dry. Your feet move like you're going to leave. He grabs you again, swallows down the beg for forgiveness, and instead squeezes your hand tight.

"I'm gonna go get Daddy," You tell him quick.

"Don't." Ghost tells you, trying to stifle his breathing, trying to reign in the heaving of his chest.

You sound apologetic when you touch his cheek and tell him, "I have to."

He knows you do. Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, feels your hand slip from his grip. He's never going to be as strong as he needs to be, is he?

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #x oc #ghost mw2 #x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #mw2 ghost #cowboy au #oc: goose #tw panic attack #tw violence #ghost the intrusive thoughts are not genuine wants baby #goosey would understand

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | sixteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, seonghwa, physical fighting, mingi calling his friend out on his stupidity, crying, sorry if i missed anything.. quickly edited this lol, yunho is just mad and overwhelmed with his feelings rn 😭

yunho: baby

yunho: wait at the science building later, please? i'll come get you so we can walk to my car together

you: okee ☺️

yunho: ☺️ see you later? enjoy the rest of your classes

you: you too, my bighead!

Yunho smiles at his phone before tucking it away, slowly following Yeosang to their group study session.

"Should I even ask why you're smiling like that?" Yunho looks up at Yeosang and chuckles.

"Just Y/N."

"Of course. Is she in class?"

"Yup. She's in the back row being all distracted."

"Perfect way to pass time in my honest opinion." Yeo clears his throat. "I've been meaning to ask you out of curiosity."

"What's up?"

"Have you guys told each other 'I love you' and everything?" 

"Mm, no. Not yet at least."

"Not yet?" Yeosang smiles. "You feel that way for her, don't you?"

"I do. I just.. I don't know? I don't know if it's too soon. What if I scare her off?"

"Nah, doubt that. You can't put a timer on these things."

"True. Plus, it sounds cliché and like it's out of a movie, but I truly wanna wait 'till it feels right to say it to her."

"That makes sense."

"Trust me, I really do feel that way for her." He lets out a breath as they look towards the library building, the sun from behind slightly blinding them as they approach the doors. "She has literally become my bestfriend. It's crazy how life works."

"I know. I remember when you first told me you were helping her out for literature." Yeosang chuckles. "Or when you'd save her in the back lot."

"Still can't believe that was even real." Yunho does a tiny head tilt. "He's really something."

"What was up with Y/N's birthday thing? How did he even know?"

"I don't know. Word gets around fast. Why wouldn't Seonghwa know? Especially since it has to do with Y/N."

"Can't wait till the day he leaves you two alone. Must be fucking annoying to deal with."

"I try not to mind it. Though, I think he's been getting bolder lately and I can't put my finger on it."

"Has Y/N said anything?" He shakes his head.

"No. Maybe I'm just overthinking. She just seemed a little weird about him at her birthday party."

"Well, yeah. It's Seonghwa." Yeosang waves at their study group sitting at the far end of the library in the loud section.

"Yeah, but, I don't know. It was different. She seemed bothered about something but she hasn't told me anything. I assume it's not a big deal."

"Hm. Well, I'm sure it's not either. Just Seonghwa being himself, maybe."

"Mm, whatever though." Yunho greets the study group as they approach the table. "She's my girlfriend now, and that won't change." Yeosang gives him a small smile before they settle with the group and begin their long study session together.

"Remember, we have a test next class. Make sure you study everything I included in the study guide. Don't skip on anything just because you think it's a minor detail! Nothing is minor!" Your professor says before dismissing the class. You let out a sigh, already stressing over the next test. You didn't do bad on the first test, but you also didn't do the greatest. Thankfully, you're still at a good point in the semester, which gives you enough time to pull your grade up.

Once the initial rush of people leaving the classroom dies down, you pack up your things and head out the door. You hurry out of the classroom and down the steps, excited to see your boyfriend after yet another long day. For a split second, the building is crowded with other students leaving their classes and heading to their next destination— whether it be the next class, the library or to their cars. It's a sudden swarm of people that you don't even realize Seonghwa had stepped out of his own class, following you down the corridor.

"Y/N." You hear Seonghwa's voice behind you. You try to mind your own business, subtly rolling your eyes as you walk out of the science building to reunite with Yunho. 

Except, he isn't exactly there yet and Seonghwa grabs you by the wrist.

"Y/N." He repeats, turning you to face him.

"What are you doing?" You question him.

"Just a second." You let out a loud, heavy sigh. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you ignoring me. You haven't answered any of my texts or calls—"

"Why do I need to?" You raise a brow. "You're not actually serious, right? I have no reason to respond to you, Seonghwa. Don't you have places to be, people to see?" You pause. "Don't you realize you're a little too late? This was something I needed from you way before. I don't need it from you now."

"I know it's late, but I don't wanna give up on this."

"This? This has been done for a long time, you and I both know that. You're only worried about losing the only safety blanket you've ever had. Why can't you just move on and let me be happy?"

"Happy?" Seonghwa almost scoffs. "With him? Okay, baby." He shakes his head. "Listen. Enough of this for real. Can you please just hear me out, I'll explain and apologize properly—"

"Seonghwa, stop calling me that. What don't you understand about no?" You say almost at a whine, his hand still having a grip on the edge of your wrist. You truly don't want to entertain this, but Seonghwa almost gives you no way out, no way around his bullshit, and unfortunately, that'll be the root of everything that unfolds tonight. Yunho is happily [and eagerly] making his way down to you after the long, heavy study group session, while Yeosang decides he's gonna stay behind in order to hit the gym and get his workout in. Yunho is a few minutes late, but he knows you'll still flash him that beautiful, million-watt smile he adores so much before wrapping your arms around him.

He can't wait.

But, Yunho slows in his steps just as he's close to the front doors; familiar voices filling the surprisingly empty, quiet space.  It's you, and he already feels himself boiling with anger when he hears who else is occupying your time right now.

"Why haven't you even said anything about the flowers and the card I gave you? Did you even get them?" Yunho overhears Seonghwa ask you, and he furrows his brows. What flowers and card? You don't answer right away, and Seonghwa is quick to follow up. Yunho doesn't even get to hear your response about it and the most upsetting part of all this— is that this is how he finds out about everything.

Not from you, but from Seonghwa.

"You couldn't even send me a text? I was worried you didn't get it. I wanted to talk to you afterwards."

"What is there to talk about?"

"Yeah, what is there to talk about?" You and Seonghwa turn towards Yunho, who stands there with his hands dug deep into his pockets. His jaw is slightly clenched, head titled to the side while he waits for a response. Seonghwa lets out a pathetic chuckle, hand slipping down your wrist as he fully faces him.

"Loverboy sounds upset over a little talk."

"A little talk? Is that an add-on for the flowers and card you sent her?" Yunho sounds more stern, more angry. You can't even blame him, but at the same time, it's unusual for you to hear him this way. You're not sure what could come out of this and you don't necessarily want to find out.

"I'm sorry, should I have sent you some, too?" Seonghwa steps closer to him and the panic starts to settle in for you. You wish someone, anyone, was around to help. Because although you don't think Yunho will let this blow out of proportion, you aren't 100% about your answer. You're not sure how Yunho manages his anger in these situations and you're not sure what triggers him; what tips him over the edge and is the 'cherry on top.' Seonghwa has always rubbed him the wrong way and you don't think this could end remotely pretty. "I'll take note of that for next time so you don't have to sit there and stare at Y/N's."

How you wish Seonghwa had just gotten the point. Why couldn't he just let you be? Why was he out to ruin your happiness so badly?

"Seonghwa. This is done. Let it go." You warn him, but it doesn't clear anything. You aren't getting through to any of them.

"Back up. I'm not asking." Yunho clenches his jaw as he comes face to face with Seonghwa, making him give off a small scoff.

"Aw. Loverboy's mad—" And that's exactly the tipping point for Yunho. He's not sure why, he usually has a lot of patience. He usually brushes things off easily, doesn't hold a grudge or stay angry for long. But, Seonghwa? He was a different story, especially because of the history you have with him. Every little thing about Seonghwa pisses him off— down to the way he moves, breathes, acts like he can always get his way so easily, so quickly. Before he can even think about the consequences, or how you'd feel, Yunho swings at him, making Seonghwa stumble backwards. 

"Yunho!—" You gasp, Yunho's initial punch is pretty rough that it had Seonghwa in shock before being able to register what just happened.

"Fuck you—" Is all Seonghwa spits out before going at Yunho. The two continue to go at it, pushing and gripping at each other's shirts, rough attempts at landing punches;

They're almost successful with tearing each other's heads off until you step in between and get involved.

"Stop!" You step in between to try and prevent the fight from escalating even more. "Stop it!" You push Seonghwa back when he tries coming for Yunho, a campus security guard dashing towards all of you to completely break up the scuffle.

"Knock it off! The hell are you two doing acting like this on campus? I suggest you two part ways now before we call the cops over!"

"Yo, what the fuck?!" Mingi comes from around the corner, grabbing at Seonghwa's arm to pull him back. "The fuck are you doing, dude?" He looks at his bestfriend in disbelief.

"Why don't you ask your friend who fucking started it—"

"Me?" Yunho spits, while Seonghwa wipes the blood at the corner of his lip. "I wouldn't have had to if you just knew how to back the fuck off!" Yunho is angry, continuing to raise his voice. "Let me catch you sending shit to my girlfriend one more time and see what the fuck I'll do—" 

"Yunho." You say softly, tugging back at his arm.

"Are you serious?" Mingi looks at Seonghwa. "You don't go messing around with people's relationships, Hwa. You need to let this go, you look crazy!" 

"Oh, so all of a sudden you're sticking up for your friend?"

"Yeah, because he is my friend and it's just shit you don't do! What the fuck don't you understand about that?! You fucking deserved that shit!" Mingi shakes his head before pushing Hwa forward, pulling him off to the side to continue talking to him. 

"Babe." You turn to Yunho after Mingi and Seonghwa create good distance, hand coming up to cup Yunho's cheek. But, he turns, slightly shaking his head at you. You pull your hand back and feel your heart drop, the look in Yunho's eyes being one that you've never experienced before.

Sadness, hurt, anger. 

Mostly sadness, hurt.

"What flowers was he talking about, Y/N?" His chest is still rising at a somewhat uneven pace, doing his best to calm down after the adrenaline rush.

"H-he left them at my doorstep after we came back from the snow. I'm really sorry, Yunho, I didn't tell you because I tossed it out and—"

"But still, it's the fact that you didn't tell me after all this time." Yunho's brows are tightly knitted together, and the look causes your heart to sink even deeper. "Why did you have to let me find out this way? Were you going to tell me about this too if I hadn't come right away?"

"I just didn't get around to telling you because I didn't think it would matter— Seonghwa doesn't matter."

"If he didn't, then wouldn't you be able to tell me without questioning it so much?"

"Yunho, no. I'm sorry, no." You repeat, tears pricking your eye lids. "I didn't mean for it to seem like that. I really didn't mean to hide this from you."

"Did you think about keeping them?"

"I—I, no. I thought—" Yunho hears you stuttering and his throat suddenly feels dry. Why can't you just tell him? Even if Seonghwa didn't matter to you, why couldn't you trust him enough to tell him? 

Why couldn't you feel comfortable enough to tell him?

"Be honest with me, Y/N. That's all I've ever asked. Did you or did you not think about it keeping it?" Silence. And god, it is the most gut-wrenching silence Yunho has ever endured.

Yup. Got it. 

The answer is clear.

You did think about Seonghwa. You thought about accepting the flowers as his apology, you thought about the possibility— even if it was for a brief, splitting second. Seonghwa did matter for one fucking second, and that's what bothers him.

"Yunho, please. I just thought—" You can barely get through your sentences.

"Did you, or did you not?"

"I thought about keeping it, but it was so stupid. I was just blinded for a second, and I realized it didn't matter to me. He doesn't matter to me. At all. I promise. Everything just caught me off guard." You try to grab for his hand but he steps back. "Yunho, it was all stupid. I tossed it out so quickly. I wasn't going to do anything, I wasn't going to text, nothing."

"But, why does it feel like after everything he's put you through, you still believe he'd genuinely change? Why does it feel like a part of you is still actually holding onto that?" Well, when Yunho says it to your face like that, you feel dumb. Not once did you ever think about running back to Seonghwa and leaving this behind. But, you were blinded in that quick second from your history with Hwa, being close and sharing moments for months. Asking Seonghwa for little gestures like this, for more attention; even though it was a ride, you still had history.

And yes, maybe at one point you wanted to be the girl that changed him.

But today, you can't even imagine going back to that point. Not after being with Yunho, not after the happiness he's brought you.

Not after you realize how much you genuinely and truly love Yunho. 

You don't wanna lose him.

This is all so stupid, and a huge misunderstanding. But, you're the only person to blame here— if you hadn't given Seonghwa the time of day, if you had just told Yunho right away without second-guessing it, if you hadn't hesitated; you wouldn't be here right now.

"I'm not!" Your tone raises and it sounds like a whine at this point. "I'm not, Yunho. Please."

"Look, tonight was a lot." He sighs, running his hand through his hair before wincing and looking down at his knuckles. "I was excited to see you after a long day, Y/N. I was really looking forward to being with you. I wasn't expecting all of this and honestly, I don't know what's worse? Stumbling upon all of this the way I did, or not knowing at all."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was stupid and fucked up of me, and I'm sorry." You repeat, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Maybe you just need to think about what you really want." Yunho shrugs. "I thought you were over the whole thing with Seonghwa, but clearly not if you're still considering on giving him the time of day."

"No, no, Yunho. Please don't. It's not that." You try to lace your hand with his, but he gently brushes it off with a shaky sigh. He doesn't wanna leave you. He never wants to be without you. But, tonight was a lot for him to handle, and it is overwhelming. He hasn't really felt this protective over someone. Of course, it's only natural since you're his girlfriend. He'll always protect you. It's just that Seonghwa brings something out of him that he doesn't necessarily like, and he wants it to be gone for good. It feels unhealthy and icky;

The anger, the frustration, the anxiety.

He hates it. And he doesn't want this to be a thing in your relationship. Plus, he still feels himself fuming with anger and he just can't possibly talk to you while he feels that way.

So yes, he's overwhelmed and he needs to get over this.

"No, seriously. You really should think about it. I know where I stand but I'm not so sure you do." He lets out another disappointed sigh. "I'll take you home, but we should probably just be in our own places tonight."

"Okay." You say close to a whisper, sniffling as you wipe away at your face. You don't even try to fight it anymore simply because you know Yunho needs his space right now. He begins to walk off with you slowly trailing behind, head hung low after everything that happened tonight. Everything happened so fast you're also having to process it all on this walk over to the lot. Suddenly, you're pulled out of your thoughts when you hear footsteps picking up behind you, followed by a familiar, deep voice.

"Yo, wait up!" Mingi says. "You good? I'm sorry about him, he's actually losing it."

"You're sorry? Mingi, when the fuck is your friend gonna grow up so that you're not apologizing on his behalf?" Mingi lets out a breath as his eyes dart from you, back to Yunho's. "Seriously. I don't mean to throw that your way, but it's not even just about tonight. Your friend knows no boundaries and that's crazy to me."

"I know, he's got things to sort through but that's his own problem now. I already told him multiple times. Me and San did." Mingi shakes his head.

"Doesn't take much to grow the fuck up and take ownership of your own fuck-ups once in awhile."

"Let him keep learning the hard way. He will, eventually. He deserved that tonight."

"He can try all he wants, nothing's gonna change between me and her. Hope he understands I'm not going anywhere after tonight."

"Of course." Is all Mingi could respond with because of course Yunho wouldn't go anywhere— why the fuck would he let Seonghwa get in the way? He shouldn't. And Seonghwa needs to know that. "Anyway, just wanted to see if you two were okay. For real." Yunho sighs.

"Mmyeah. Thanks." He responds as Mingi daps it up. "We're just gonna head home."

"Drive safely. Text me if you need me." Mingi gives you a small smile before running off to tend to his friends, San now also getting dragged into all his mess. 

The walk over is quiet, but Yunho still opens the passenger door for you when you finally get to his car. You hate the silence that falls between you two, but you understand Yunho is upset and needs his own time away from everything, from you, even. You can't help but cry even more into your hands when he pulls into the apartment lot, Yunho letting out a breath as he puts the car in park. He looks over at you and his heart breaks because he truly hates to see you cry, and he never wants to be the reason behind you being sad or hurt.

"Hey. Don't." He says softly, hands coming up to pry your own hands away from your face. He gently wipes the tears away, making sure no drop is missed. 

"I'm sorry, Yuyu." You repeat.

"I know, it's okay."  He says, even though right now, it's not.

"Is it?"

"Let's get you home, okay?" He just looks at you with a soft expression before unbuckling his seatbelt. He comes over to open your door, locking his car when you step out and slowly make your way to your apartment. When you get to the steps, you turn towards him with a small pout. Yunho pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, wiping any remaining stragglers from staining your cheeks. He's not happy, but he's trying to send you off on a calm note— hoping this could at least ease you for the night. "Get some rest."

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He doesn't say anything before he pulls away and takes a few steps backwards. "Yunho." You call for him in that tone of yours that always makes him so weak.

"Y/N, please. I just need to shake this off. That's all. Goodnight." All you can do is simply walk away before running up the steps and into your apartment. Chaery is the only one home, cleaning her dishes after cooking a good meal for all of you to share.

"My love is home! I cooked!" She says happily, but her smile dies when she sees you set your bags down and cry into your hands. She drops everything and rushes over, throwing her arms around you while guiding you to the couch. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" She brushes the hair away from your face while you continue to cry. You don't respond for a bit, signaling for Chaery to just hold you and let you be.

You cry, and you cry.

Because you already miss Yunho, and you feel so dumb for overthinking the entire thing, for not being honest with him. It was a stupid mistake, but you hope Yunho knows you truly weren't out to hurt him. 

You hope he can forgive you and move past this— with you, together.

Because today and so on, he's all you want. You love Yunho, and there's no one else that completes you the way that he does.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @mcsalterego @cheynalexilaiho @svintsandghosts @mismatchfluffysocks

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #yunho smut #yunho fluff #yunho angst #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho fluff #jeong yunho angst #hwaslayer: project make you love me

[carooosa]

Craving Temptation Part 2: Psychic Ecstacy

Part 1: First Bite

Word count: 2.7k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion x AFAB!Tav/Reader Warnings: 18+, tadpole, masturbation AO3 link: Psychic Ecstacy

Summary: You can't sleep and instead spend the night thinking of the vampire who was wormed his way into your mind, in more ways than one. How will you react to Astarion's smooth voice and honeyed words as he talks you through your pleasure?

A/N: If you've read the previous fic, this one is in Tav/Reader POV. If it seems like Astarion is OOC, good, because he's manipulating Tav.

You toss and turn in your bedroll, sleep refusing to bless you this night. Your mind is racing with questions and worry as you think back to all the failed leads so far. Nettie tried to poison you, the goblin “priestess” locked you in a cell, Ethel turned out to be a hag and made you blind in one eye, although you didn’t have to deal with that long since Volo accidentally removed it, and Halsin, while unable to heal you, has agreed to journey with you to Moonrise Towers for a cure.

Thinking about all of your adventures so far gives you a headache, but that pain is soon replaced by the wriggle of the tadpole behind your eye.

A sultry voice fills your head, pushing all of your previous thoughts away. “Unable to sleep, darling?”

Although you were unsure about using the tadpoles… powers, Astarion had quickly accepted the changes they brought. You shoot back a short reply, a simple “No.”

It feels as if he’s chuckling right next to your ear as he responds, “My, my Tav, I thought you didn’t want to use the tadpole’s power. What ever could have changed?”

You scoff out loud at that. “Nothing has changed, I still don’t want to use whatever this tadpole is giving me.”

“Well, I’m simply flattered, dear, that you’d make an exception just for me,” Astarion quips back, and you can vividly imagine the smug smirk that’s across his face.

You huff and roll over in your bedsheet again. Astarion always seemed to pick on you. After you turned down his proposition at the Tiefling party, you were sure that he would leave you alone, but that rejection only seemed to fuel his desire for you further.

It’s not that he wasn’t attractive, gods no, he certainly was. But with the threat of being turned into a mindflayer, as well as the never-ending side quests you seemed to be going on, you didn’t have the time or energy to even humor his advances. Although, you did have the time to at least imagine how a night with him would be.

You picture his face, the sharpness of his nose, and the way his hair is always a perfect mess. His eyes, a piercing crimson, always lingering on your body for a moment too long. His soft lips, an unassuming pretty pink that hid his sharp fangs.

You imagine how those fangs would feel in a kiss. Would they get in the way? Or would they add excitement to the moment? How would Astarion react if you bit him?

You think about how elegant he looks when lounging around camp, leisurely reading a book in the sunlight— just a hint of his chest peaking out beneath his shirt. His arms are muscular, usually hidden beneath his armor but put out on display when he rolls his lounge shirt up.

And his hands. Gods, his hands. You’ve seen him make quick work of a lock, his fingers nimbly maneuvering his lock-picking tools with ease. You imagine those hands on your body, feeling you up and down, the coolness of his touch would somehow heat you up. You picture his hands going lower.

“Having fun, darling?” Astarion’s voice rips through your thoughts.

Embarrassment washes over you as you realize that he was spying in on you obsessing over him. “It’s not what it looks like, I-” you start, only to be interrupted by the silky voice of the man you admire.

“There’s no need to be flustered, now, is there? To be honest, I thought there was something utterly messed up in that head of yours when you turned down my offer. But I’ve noticed the way you look at me. I see the longing in your eyes. Why not let me relieve some of your stress?”

“Astarion, we don’t have the luxury to fool around with each other. We have to get to Moonrise Towers as soon as possible,” you reply back to him, and you can feel a twinge of annoyance in your tadpole.

“Yes, yes, getting rid of the tadpole and all that. You’ve made it perfectly clear that no time is to be wasted.” He responds. You expect him to leave you alone at that, but instead, he offers a new proposition. “You’re certainly not going to sleep anytime soon, and I can feel your arousal from our connection. I won’t give you the best night of your life, against my better judgment, but who’s to say we can’t keep this connection while we both take care of ourselves, hm?”

You think for a moment. It might be beneficial to, as Astarion says, alleviate your stress. You have been wrangling a handful of companions who all have different ideas of the best path to take. It’s been over a tenday now and you’re exhausted, not just with them but from the constant creeping of anxiety in the back of your mind. Perhaps letting go would give you the refresher you need to keep pushing forward. And besides, you’ll just quickly and quietly masturbate, clean up, and then go right to bed. You wouldn’t lose any more sleep than you’ve been losing lately.

“Fine,” you say back to Astarion and you feel a hint of surprise before the overwhelming feeling of lust, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“So you can make smart decisions,” he quips. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, pet.”

You feel like a disobedient child who’s stayed up past their bedtime to sneak some sweets as you prop up your pillow and undress your lower half. You reassure yourself that this is the most logical thing to do and that you’re doing it to clear your mind to be a better leader, nothing else.

“Tell yourself whatever you want, but we both know that you’ve been craving my touch and have finally succumbed to your yearnings. It’s understandable, really, that you would be distracted by my dastardly good looks and body. But what you don’t know is that I am well experienced when it comes to pleasing others. While I’ll settle with talking you through your pleasure, I’ll ensure that after tonight you’ll be begging for the full experience.”

You know that you'll reprimand yourself for this later. You've already agreed to do whatever this is that you're about to do, and you're never one to back down from a challenge.

"Don't make me regret this," you warn the vampire as you close your eyes.

His voice overwhelms your mind. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He pauses for a moment leaving you wondering if he's changed his mind, when suddenly you hear his silky voice yet again. "I've got to say, Tav, that I never expected you to have so many scandalous thoughts in that pretty little head of yours. It took me by surprise to see you imagining my face, my body, my hands. Perhaps I could give you a lesson on lockpicking sometime."

An image of Astarion expertly unlocking a chest flashes in your mind. With years of experience, he's able to use only one hand to undo the contraption. His fingers languidly run over each hook of his tool, pausing over the one he needs and rubbing it between two fingers. While he shows you this image, one of your hands travels down your body and to your entrance. You mimic the movement on your clit, finding the perfect spot to rub and pinch.

“Good Tav, keep touching yourself for me. Pretend your hand is mine, teasing your clit and working you up into a mess,” Astarion instructs.

You feel guilty for a moment, taking your own pleasure and not thinking of anyone else. Astarion must have somehow picked up on your dread as your attention is snapped away from your guilt. You feel the whisper of a cool hand against your face before it disappears, and Astarion reassures you.

“We’ll have none of that now, darling. You’ve every right to turn down my advances, but it’s simply cruel to deny yourself pleasure.”

You stop touching yourself and respond, “I’ve done nothing to warrant a ‘reward’ for myself. There’s still so much that’s yet to be done; this was a mista-”

Astarion abruptly cuts you off “Blasphemy. You’ve done nothing but help others this entire time I’ve known you. You’re the epitome of what a savior is, yet you refuse yourself the title. Even the gods above take their praises in pride.” He pauses for a second, letting the words sink in before continuing, “I suppose that just proves that the gods themselves are nothing compared to you.”

Your heart catches in your throat at the words he throws your way. You freeze, scared that if you even breathe you’ll ruin the moment.

“Besides, if nothing else it’ll make the playing field even again,” he quickly adds.

“What do you mean even again?” you ask, only to be met with silence. Although you don’t want to embrace the tadpole, you decide to push into Astarion’s head. You’re met with a flash of a scene: Astarion, mouth full of your blood with some dripping down his chin, frantically fucking his hand in the woods behind the camp. As quickly as the image appears in your mind it’s gone.

“You drive me mad, Tav. Bless me with the privilege of being your undoing. Allow me to be your ecstasy.”

You’re unsure how to respond to such a plea. Exploring your own wants and desires had always been pushed to the background, the responsibility to help others always taking precedence.

You decide to give Astarion one last chance to back out. “I’m not as experienced as you are with this sort of thing. I’ll be awkward.”

“Let me guide you, then,” he offers, and you finally decide to give into this want of yours.

“Tell me what I should do.”

You feel a rush of excitement through the mind-link you share. “Oh darling, there’s nothing I’d rather do. Now, let’s give you the most mind-shattering pleasure imaginable. Follow my instructions and let me know if there’s anything you don’t like. Open your mind up to me so I can see what you’re doing.”

You take some deep breaths and relax, strengthening the connection to his tadpole until your minds are completely connected, Astarion’s voice as loud as your own thoughts.

“Why don’t we spend some time worshipping those breasts of yours? I want you to massage them, try different speeds and different amounts of pressure, until you find a momentum that you like.”

You oblige, tentatively touching yourself and wondering what the point is of doing this.

“Tsk, tsk, you refuse yourself pleasure so much so that you think masturbation is just a means to an end. My darling, your body is simply divine. If I was ever given the chance I would make sure that no inch goes untouched, no part of you unloved. Gods, Tav, you captivate my mind every second of the day.”

Your face flushes red and a warmth spreads through your body. You’ve found a slow and gentle pace, but Astarion urges you to press further.

“Don’t be afraid, darling. Your body can withstand some roughening up. Hells, what I wouldn’t do to mark you up, leave bruises on your unblemished skin.”

“Your body is a temple yet explored, and I intend to be your guide. Rub and pinch your nipples for me, darling. Bite your lip and rub your thighs together. You like being bitten, don’t you, Tav? Don’t think your little whimpers and shakes went unnoticed by me. Fuck, Tav-” Astarion’s voice falters, instead replaced with some grunts.

You listen to Astarion’s instructions and squeeze your nipples tightly, yelping at the pain but then doing it again, quickly becoming addicted to the sensation. You think back to the night you awoke to find the vampire looming over you, his eyes filled with hunger, a hunger for you. You jolt at the thought and bite your lip, hard, relishing in the slight pain. 

All the while you experiment with your pleasure, Astarion has gone quiet. You search for him in your mind. You’re overwhelmed with the erratic thoughts going through his head, thoughts of you, your body, your voice, your scent; every single position Astarion would like to take you in.

“Astarion?” you gingerly ask.

As soon as you say his name, a feeling of bliss radiates from him.

“Hells below Tav, you’ll be my ruin.”

“What happened?” you ask.

“What happened? What happened?” Astarion repeats to you. “What happened, my dear succubus, is what I hope to bring unto you. I see you’ve been listening to my instructions as I can smell your arousal from my tent.”

You quickly notice the wetness that has begun to pool beneath you, your nipples fully hardened from your touch.

“You’re such an obedient little pet, aren’t you? Oh, how I would train you to become drenched at the sound of my voice if you’d let me. Let me guide your hands, Tav. Keep one hand on a breast and move the other to your clit.”

You oblige, his voice filling your mind and working you up. You gently place a finger on your clit and begin to rub, gasping out loud from the sensitivity.

“Don’t falter on me just yet. I have yet to explain how I would ravish you with my tongue, slicking you up before using my fingers to stretch you out. I’d leave you a writhing mess beneath me, begging for me to fill you with my cock.”

As you stimulate your clit, an image of Astarion looming over you with hair unkempt and eyes blown out from lust pushes into your mind. You rub faster, and right as you reach your peak, Astarion speaks.

“Cum for me.”

With the sound of his voice and the image in your mind, your body shakes as you cum. Your breathing steadies and you feel an overwhelming emptiness in your core.

“Already wanting more?”

You shake your head and try to come to your senses. “This was more than I’ve done and more than I expected to do tonight.”

Astarion starts to tease you, amused with this revelation. “More than you’ve done? Don’t tell me you’re a virgin, now.”

“No! I’ve had sex before, I just-” you start to correct him before he cuts you off.

“You’ve never orgasmed before, have you?” You don’t respond. “Oh, Tav. You sweet forbidden fruit. You have no idea just how much pleasure I could give you. The night’s young; let me show you what pure bliss really feels like.”

You’re almost tempted to agree before you remember that you’re on a mission to get rid of the tadpoles you’ve been using to talk to Astarion.

“Tsk, it’s a shame you won’t indulge in yourself. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed this. I would ask if you had fun, but I already know the answer.”

You decide to quickly shut this down before it continues further “Goodnight, Astarion.”

You feel a twinge of disappointment from him before it disappears. “Goodnight, Tav. Try not to dream of me too much.”

Before you’re able to sever the connection, Astarion shows you the mess he’s made of himself during your conversation. He sends the moment he came undone into your mind: you saying his name. You see him thrusting into his hand as streams of cum shoot out of his cock.

The connection ends, and you’re left alone with the silence of the night and your thoughts. You’re unable to get the image out of your head. Your hands start to wander over your body as you recall the instructions he gave you, this time imagining it’s Astarion touching your body. It looks like you won’t be getting much sleep tonight after all.

Part 3: Sanguine Relief

#astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #fics #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #my writing

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: neteyam x metkayina male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: As Neteyam settles in with the Metkayina, he too falls for their golden boy and finds that they have a lot in common.

part 2 ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6677

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: little angsty and existential

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: there's a part 2 coming up, pretty different from part 1, in fact i came up with part 2 before part 1. also been working on this since the tsireya fic, 3 days ago.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

His name was (y/n). Or at least, that's what Neteyam had heard, and he had heard about him a lot in his short time in Awa'atlu. He, however, hadn't gotten the chance to speak with him.

The Metkayina liked him. Even Ronal, the bitter Tsahìk that so very hated Neteyam's family, and Tonowari treated him like one of their own. Though he supposes that in Ronal's eyes, all except for the Sully's were "her own" (Neteyam was a respectful kid, raised to be, but even Ronal drew some bitter thoughts he'd never disclose).

It wasn't exactly hard to tell that he was a special person to the clan, like any part of him could be weaved into anybody's songcord.

Neteyam watched from afar as he dismounted from his ilu. As he dug his toes into the sand of the shore, several people greeted him at once. He met each one with their name and a heartfelt grin.

Neteyam once knew what it was like to be loved by everyone in his clan, once knew each of their names, once knew how long it took to greet every single one as each just had to greet him. Once, he had greeted each one just as graciously. As time flew by, it felt like another one of his duties. Now, he no longer did at all. He missed it, strangely.

Then, as you finally turn to him, your smile falls. It wasn't like most others when they saw his dark blue skin and leaner physique; your lips didn't form a scowl. Instead, you flashed him a small smile before turning away.

Somehow, it looked kinder. Neteyam didn't know how.

He didn't really need to, anyway. All he needed was to keep up the formality, greet you with a smile just like the rest, because this would be the farthest your interactions would go.

After all, as far as the Metkayina were concerned, he was a demon and you were their golden child.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Whilst Ronal and Tonowari treated you like one of their children, your relationship with their actual children was unknown to Neteyam.

And certainly to Lo'ak.

The Sully brothers watched on as the golden child and the Tsahìk-to-be bantered.

Tsireya was to be giving them lessons on Metkayina life, but it seems she was too distracted for that. She laughed at your joke, her grin wide and mouth uncovered, and you laughed along with her. Truly, it was a sight to be hold, the gold of the Metkayina shining brightly. It was almost blinding.

As you continued down the beach, still so far from the Sully's but close enough for prying eyes, Lo'ak scoffed. Neteyam turned to his brother with confusion and began to speak, but Lo'ak beats him to it. "Do you think they're like siblings or something else?"

"Why would you care?" In truth, Neteyam knew exactly why Lo'ak cared. As the older brother he was, he just wanted to him admit it. On his end, there was a curiosity digging at his chest, but he was too polite to go digging for the truth.

Sensing his brother's underlying intentions, Lo'ak comes up with another reason. "If we're going to be living here for the rest of our lives, I think I have a reason to care."

For the rest our lives. Right. Neteyam wasn't going back. He clears his throat, a new mischief in his tone, "If you want to know so badly, ask them yourself."

"What?" Lo'ak exclaims rather loudly, catching the attention of those around him. It seems he doesn't care, though. "No way, bro!"

It catches Tsireya's attention as well and Lo'ak doesn't notice. She looks towards the two of them, her–no, Lo'ak specifically, Neteyam can tell. Her big eyes seem somewhat worried. She turns towards you, suddenly nervous, and the two of you exchange a few more words before you make your way towards them with quicker strides whilst Tsireya tags along more calmly.

Neteyam sort of knows then that Lo'ak and Tsireya will be alright.

When the two of you are close enough, Tsireya's first focus is on his brother. When he moves his gaze more towards the two of you, he finds your eyes to be on him.

You meet him with that small smile again and he feels the need to return it with his own.

"This is (y/n)." Tsireya introduces you. You give a small wave. "He has graciously offered himself today to be my assistant."

"Hold on, assistant?" You pause, putting a hand on her shoulder and veering her towards you.

"Remember, you're not supposed to be here." She replies with a kind of sass Neteyam hadn't really expected, considering the previous breathing lessons he'd gotten from her.

"But I can be," You bite back, "and I am."

She shakes her head at you and pushes your hand away from her shoulder. "Co-teacher."

"yay!"

Tsireya rolls her eyes but otherwise ignores you. "Trust me, he's a very good rider and teacher. I think you'll do well under his guidance. Follow me."

When the family makes it into the water, even the generally displeasing Ao'nung and Rotxo greet you kindly, an action that makes Lo'ak's hairy eyebrows raise with shock. Neteyam simply brushes it off as one of the things you sort of do to people.

The class starts off first with a demonstration on the positioning, done by you of course. Tsireya said that since you'd so kindly offered yourself once, you could do it again.

Afterwards, you broke off into separate one on ones.

Neteyam watched Lo'ak obviously be paired up with Tsireya, then he made sure Tuk was safely away from Ao'nung and his friends. Lastly, he wondered which one of them would teach him; although, it didn't seem like he'd have to wonder for long.

"Hello." You greet him. It's the first time you greet him verbally, let alone the first ever word you direct towards him.

He gulps, his words suddenly stuck in his throat. "Hey."

Your following interaction isn't so awkward because he doesn't have to say anything.

Neteyam follows as per your teachings. At first, it doesn't seem very different from riding his ikran, aside from the lack of death risk. Even after seeing his brother fail rather miserably, he retains some confidence.

However, all of it comes crashing down after his first try… and then his second and third. Frustration begins to build within him and you can sense it.

"Ma Neteyam," You snap your fingers and finally gain his attention, "it's alright. Nobody gets it on their first try."

He nods to himself and rolls his shoulders, preparing for another try; but you place a hand atop his where it holds the ilu. Instead of saying anything, you simply offer him a look. Your eyes are a deep blue, he notices, expressive in the way that he can tell silently that you believe in him. He looks away before he gets too lost.

He grips onto the Ilu and lowers himself over its body. He feels its breath and imitates its strength to hold onto its body tighter.

This time, he won't fail. This time, he'll impress you.

Neteyam takes a deep breath and leads the ilu into a dive.

The rush of speed feels exhilarating, it reminds him of flying on his ikran for the first time. The water surrounding him rushes past his body refreshingly like the air when he flies; but water is denser, and just like air, it tries to push him off. He grips onto the ilu tighter with both his hands and calves. Knowing that he is resisting something so strong, and well at that, feeds into his excitement. 

He feels the ilu's strength like it is his own and grips tighter, but slowly, he feels his resistance to the current slipping.

Suddenly, he thinks: he can't make a fool of himself.

So, he holds onto the grip and pulls. Despite him and Neteyam not being familiar with each other, the ilu understands and comes to a sharp stop that nearly has Neteyam falling over backwards, but he holds on.

Far away from you, Neteyam emerges with the widest grin he's worn in a long time. He raises his fist and can't help but to let out one of his cries from home. "Ìley!"

"Ìley!" His joy grows as you mimic the foreign cry in celebration with him, "Neteyam!"

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam initially thought you would leave your interactions curt and only speak with him when necessary. He did try to keep up a positive outlook, that the Metkayina would eventually come to see him and his family as part of the clan, but it seemed far off.

Whilst Tsireya stayed with them to explore the ocean, you had other duties to attend to. Eventually, you had to bid him farewell. It wasn't with an excuse, nor with a "goodbye", it was with a "see you later".

Maybe he was digging too far into simple farewells, but those words felt like a promise.

The promise, however, wouldn't be fulfilled soon; and it isn't until the day after that you finally get to talk again. Even then, the next day gave way to the eclipse, and after that, he couldn't find you.

Just as he gave up and began the walk back to his family, he encountered you accidentally.

Though he sought you out for the better half of the day, he didn't know what to do now that he had you alone. So, too awkward to say anything, he sat down on the knitted pathway above you and watched.

As expected, you notice his presence but do not turn to him yet, too preoccupied with feeding your companion.

"I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in a while, Neteyam."

"It's alright," He empathizes with the shake of his head, "you're a popular guy."

"Am I now?" You snicker.

"I haven't been here for long, but I can tell."

"I'd rather call myself busy. But truly, I'm sorry. First it was Ao'nung today wanting to explore the ocean with me, then it was Tsanten wanting to test my hunting skills again." You sigh, clearly exhausted after everything that's happened today. "You know, sometimes I think it's just an excuse to hunt with me."

Neteyam was simply content in hearing you talk, you did something that just made simple sentences so entertaining, but you turn to him and hand the conversation over. "I didn't get to talk much about it with you yesterday, so how was riding your ilu?"

"It's strangely like flying an ikran," He zones out while he collects his thoughts, "which is something I miss. I think I like it so much because it feels like I'm defying something that wants so badly the opposite. It feels like I'm fighting gravity and succeeding. You know, I found and trained my ikran. No offense, but it doesn't really feel the same when you didn't find your companion, like my ilu."

With that said, he looks to you again. You watch him with attentive eyes that made him feel so seen... It kind of makes him nervous. He looks away, embarrassed, "Sorry, I'm ranting."

"No, it's alright."

"Okay, well, um, I like the rush too. Going so fast is really fun—sorry, I'm," He shakes his head at himself, for he was being impolite. "talking too much."

"Neteyam, it's alright, really." You reassure him, wading over and placing a hand next to his. "I like listening to you."

"Oh."

It was meant to be encouragement so that he'd continue speaking without shame, but now he quiets down. Heat begins to pool in his cheeks and Neteyam wants to drench them in water, but not only would he have to get in the water with you, it would also be akin to splashing water over magma.

"Sorry, that was–Su, I'll get to you later."

"Su?" Neteyam's curiosity overpowers his awkwardness and he turns to look.

"Short for Syulang." Seeing as he was more interested in you now, you allow your ilu to get the attention she wants. She digs her mouth into your palms, vigorously searching. "Su, you already got your dinner. I don't have anything else for you."

You raise your hands in the air, showing her that they're empty. When she sees them, she almost seems to roll her eyes at you. Instead, she huffs and leaves like a toddler having a tantrum.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam catches a tsurak. It looks ominous and angry, only showing its eyes above the surface. He has half the mind to point it out until you say something that catches the tsurak's attention. "Zìk, I know you're around here somewhere."

The tsurak swims over sort of begrudgingly and passively accepts your pets.

"Zìk? Like tìngäzìk?" Neteyam asks.

"Yeah, actually." You snicker, "Tìngäzìk is quite the problem. He was pretty hard to tame. Most of them are, anyway, so maybe I'm a little too on the nose. Nowadays, though," After you feed Zìk, he actually seems to be enjoying your touch; or maybe the fish is still in his mouth and he's enjoying that. "he does seem to like me. Not that I really know."

Something else interests him. "I thought only those that completed their iknimaya could tame one."

"You'd be right."

"So you have completed it? But you're so–" He cuts himself off with a cough, as he hadn't realized just how rude it'd be to say that.

"Young? Yeah, I know. Everybody loves to tell me." You brush it off with the shake of your head; it's a relief. "How about you? Have you completed it?"

"No, I've yet to complete my Uniltaron." Something in the back of his mind vaguely reminds him that the Metkayina don't have a Uniltaron. "My mom is afraid of me doing it because of how badly my father was hurt while he did it."

"Ough," You wince, "what is it?"

"Singing." Neteyam chuckles, "I don't know how my dad got hurt during that."

"The great Jake Sully, huh?" You ignore Zìk's idle gnawing at your hand and hop up to sit next to Neteyam. "Anyway, the Metkayina have a different iknimaya. When I completed the trials, I got this."

When you pull your necklace up to show him the tattoo on your chest, Neteyam gasps softly. His eyes seem glued to the sight. It's rather cute.

"It's so cool..." He subconsciously traces a finger over the ink, not realizing just how intrusive he was being. He doesn't, however, miss how soft your skin feels. The tattoo looks like a heart to him, the kind his father had taught him to be the symbol of love for the sky people. "What does it mean?"

"It means "loved by the people", it more than displays a characteristic of mine, it's also a wish for it to stay that way forever."

He purses his lips, "And "the people" are?"

"The Metkayina, of course." As if Neteyam needed another reminder that the Metkayina didn't like him. He frowns, only with enough conscience to make it small so that you may not see.

"...but I'm open to anyone's love."

If that was targeted, Neteyam chooses not to believe it.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam never thought he'd miss home. He thought he'd always be with the Omatikaya.

Maybe this is how Kiri feels, like an outcast. He had listened to her multiple times over their life together, listened to how different she felt, and had never understood. After all, the two of them were surrounded by their people, the Omatikaya. Where their shelter in the mountains was, they were, and they were truly what home was.

But now that he lived within the Metkayina, he feels so out of place. It feels just like what Kiri described: being surrounded by her people but still feeling so different from them. The Metkayina and him were of the same species, they were all Na'vi, but at the same time, they were different. It wasn't just that either. All those people knew each other, thought themselves family, while he watched from the sidelines.

He missed home.

He's suddenly interrupted by you sitting next to him, although you don't seem intent on sitting idle for long. "Kxì, Neteyam."

"Kaltxì." He greets simply.

"Do you want to explore the ocean today?"

"Fpvìl..." He trails off, just to seem as though he was considering it. He really didn't want to do much in the ocean today, or on the shores. He felt rather dispirited. "Not really."

"Oh, well." You don't let the rejection last long. "How about the jungle, then?"

The jungle? Neteyam suddenly perks up, eyes wide and hopeful. "Can we?"

Ever since he caught a glimpse of a possible pathway within the dense tree line, he's wanted to go inside. Still, he wasn't so sure if he was really allowed to. His father would probably call it a distraction in the path of discipline, as Jake wanted to make sure his children fit in so their differences could be overlooked.

He thought you were just an excuse to go against his father's word and explore the jungle; except, you were more than that.

"Of course."

The island's jungle was nothing like that of the mainland. The trees, for one, were much more sparse; the shrubbery crowding the ground was short and the humidity was much harsher. It reminded him of home, though, and it was the closest thing he would have here.

However, the jungle was still beautiful. It was home to a variety of plants Neteyam had never seen before, and each had their own charm. There was a particular plant that resembled a giant fern, he couldn't really name it. Their stems were intertwined at the base and spread outward at the top, fading from blue to orange. Their leaves were ginormous, growing like feathers, and blue at the end. The plant's blue reminded him of the moonlight at home. Other plants, like fan-like flowers, deserved their own admiration too.

It didn't take long to reach the heart of the jungle. Even though the ocean was far, just like the people inhabiting it, the island embraced water. Wide waterfalls from the mountains and cascades all flowed into a center lake, their humidity forming rainbows anywhere he looked.

Finally, Neteyam took a seat and simply admired. You sat next to him. "I'll never get tired of this."

"You've been here before?" He asked.

"Mhm." You nodded, "Many times, actually. It's a good escape, this place, away from the people."

"I thought they loved you."

"They do, just.." You sigh, slouching slightly. "they're a bit overwhelming at times, you know?"

"Oh, yeah." He chuckles at the thought. He hadn't experienced it in what felt like a long time now; it was only a couple weeks in reality. He missed it, as annoying as it was at times.

"You do?" You ask, somewhat shocked.

"My father is Jake Sully." He said, as if it explained it all. It didn't, though, so he continued. "Everybody wanted to know what he was doing; and then, he was Olo'eyktan and I was, in turn, "prince". Everybody wanted to know what I was doing. Everybody wanted to talk to me and everybody had something to say."

"It's the same for me." You stretch your toes in the water and lean further back along the lake's shore. Neteyam hears a couple joints crack. "Ah, it's nice being on your own sometimes."

"But it doesn't feel the same once you've been alone for too long."

"How do you mean?" You ask, confusion spread throughout your face.

"You're not content." He fiddles with his fingers absentmindedly, picking at the lines on his hands. "People have filled every minute of your life, so when they're gone, you feel as though something is missing."

He wasn't really making sense to you. "But you're not alone."

"I'm not." He affirms, "But I'm not with friends or family, either. The Metkayina don't like me."

"Hey, I like you." Butterflies spread throughout his chest, prod at his nerves like they want to escape. He tries his best to ignore them.

"I know." He doesn't–well, hadn't–but he says it anyway. "So then, what about the others?" They think I have demon blood.

"You're right." You purse your lips.

Great, he was making you sad.

"You know what?" You suddenly stand with a renewed vigor. "Let's just forget about it all. Let's forget about other people and just explore, huh, 'Teyam?"

You wear the widest grin–that he thinks looks real pretty on your face–and offer him a hand which he takes immediately. With his hand in yours, you pull him to his feet with such strength he almost tips forward. Instead of making fun of him for it, you laugh and he can't help but join in.

"Come on, let me show you my favorite place."

Before you could show him many more of your other "favorite" places, the eclipse came down and you had to come home. That night, at the pods, you leave him with another promise, that you'll show him the rest.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You step off your ilu, greeting several people. Neteyam learned the other day it was sort of a routine for you.

As you walk from waist-deep in the ocean back to the shore, you swing your wet hair from behind your shoulder. You gather it in your hands and ring it out. Like a small waterfall, salt water spills from your hair and returns to the ocean. You swing your hair back over your shoulder and run a hand through your hair to push back the stray hairs from your face.

Neteyam finds himself a little mesmerized, but he snaps out of it when his brother speaks up.

"Look at him." Lo'ak grumbles, his chin resting boredly on his palm. "The Metkayina's perfect "little" boy."

Neteyam laughs inwardly. Right, his brother still wasn't sure whether you and Tsireya were promised to one another or not. He would've told him, but it was a bit funny seeing him be so jealous. "So you are admitting he's perfect?"

"If everyone's saying it, does it matter if I say it too?" Lo'ak argues.

"Eh," Neteyam shrugs, shaking his head side to side in a "more or less" motion. "I do think so. That means that you think he's prefect too."

"Well, he isn't." He huffs.

"Mhm." After beating his brother in the argument, Neteyam turns back to you. You're much closer now, but still a few ways off, and you're still saying hello to people. Just seeing you do it feels tiring. At least it gives him more time to admire you.

Your necklace hangs low below your neck, its bead arrangement falling tragically over your tattoo and covering the main attraction. Still, the image of it is ingrained in his mind. The symbol of a heart really suited you.

When, finally, you're close enough, you give him a wave. Lo'ak thinks it's more directed towards the two of you, so he begrudgingly waves too. In that moment, his brother reminds him of your tsurak Zìk, but his thoughts are interrupted when you call to him.

"Ma Neteyam, you ready yet?!"

He only shoots you a thumbs up, for many people were already staring at the two of you and he didn't want to attract more attention, even though they'd begun to be more indifferent towards him.

"What does he mean ready?" Lo'ak's eyebrows furrow. He turns to his brother like he's a traitor.

"Sorry, bro, can't say." Neteyam simply replies, though he really can, he just loved to confuse his brother and see his hairy brows knitted together. He stands from his spot next to Lo'ak, readying to leave with you.

"I'm your brother, what could there possibly be that you can't say to me?"

"A lot of things." Neteyam finally turns away from Lo'ak entirely, leaving him to gape and catch bugs in his mouth.

"Let's go." You grin at Neteyam. In contrast, even though you see Lo'ak's weird expression, you only regard him with a small wave. "See ya, Lo'ak."

Far from his brother, Neteyam finally turns his head to give him a little shit-eating grin. Lo'ak only mouths to him words so rushed he can barely read them, You're falling for the golden boy??

And to that, and his brother, he proudly says yes. To himself, however, he doesn't quite know.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Have you ever been up there?" Neteyam points, ambitiously, to the top of the highest mountain. It was merely the size of his thumb from here, but he knew that meant it would be so much bigger once he got close to it.

Honestly, what did he expect you to say? "No. That is at least a 3 day journey."

"I can make it an hour." He replies confidently. Oh, he was absolutely counting on you saying no.

"How?" You ask, falling into his plan.

Neteyam simply smirks and calls for his ikran. The call is nothing like you've ever heard before. Within a matter of minutes, she stands before you, posed majestically atop her claws. She was larger than most ilu and her skin was a beautiful green.

You'd only seen banshees during the Sully family's arrival to Awa'atlu. Needless to say, you were amazed.

"Hey girl." He takes her head in both his hands, petting her cheeks with his thumbs. She screeches positively. "I missed you too."

"Woah." You approach slowly.

In comparison to ilu, banshees seemed very intimidating; and ilu, harmless. Perhaps, in that way, banshees were more similar to skimwings. Though, skimwings tended to keep their antagonistic behavior against those that they weren't bonded with. If the same held up with banshees, you were about to find out.

Neteyam senses your hesitance and extends a hand towards you. "Don't worry. She won't bite."

You gulp, "Y'sure?"

"Loved by the people but not by animals?" He tries to rile you up. He understood why you were apprehensive, but he didn't think someone like you–talented in just about anything–would have doubts about approaching an ikran.

"Animals and Na'vi are different, Neteyam." Still, you push on and offer the ikran a hand. She sniffs it first before turning back to Neteyam. Seems she's more interested in catching up with him than you, which is a relief because now you don't have to worry about dying.

Neteyam hops onto her neck, forming the bond. He beckons for you to follow. "Just sit down behind me and make sure to hold on, tight."

You follow his command and wrap your hands around his waist. Suddenly, he freezes, even though this is what he'd instructed you to do. To pass his misspeak off, he hooks one of your wrists above the other to tighten the hold, although it takes a toll on his nerves.

He clears his throat and declares, "Alright, we're off."

His ikran was new at carrying two people at once, not counting Tuk's little weight, but he knew she had the power to hold strong; and that, she did. She handled the two of you just like normal, and for that he'd make sure to thank her with treats.

"This is so cool."

Neteyam thinks it's a crime that you're not screaming yet, so he pats his ikran at the base of her wing and tells her to go faster.

He, of course, remains passive. This kind of speed, this environment, it's something he loves; but mostly, it was something he was used to.

You, on the other hand, "Wooo! This exactly like you described! I've never been so high before!"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, "How does the wind feel?"

"Like it bites!" You laugh excitedly, daring to even stick a hand up and feel the air push it back. "Feels so refreshing, though!"

Having your affirmation, Neteyam decides to dive. "Alright, get ready."

"For?"

He doesn't reply, as your surprise would be spoiled and that was the fun of it. Instead, he leans forward, leaving you to do the same in anticipation. It's only a matter of seconds before the ikran dives.

"PELA'ANG NETEYAM!"

Your arms around his waist squeeze around him tighter, and he only thinks about it for a second. Your reaction, he finds more entertaining, even if you do scream in his ear.

The dive feels like you're riding on the back of a throwing spear, cutting through the air towards its destination. The air screams into your ears like a warning, its fight against your body like a constant geyser.

"Teyam–" You call. He doesn't respond. "Neteyam! Pull up!"

At the rate you were going at, you were going to crash into the lake, and today was not the day you wanted to return to Eywa.

"Scared?"

"'Course I am!"

Perhaps it was your sudden fear of heights or his experience, but he still felt as though there was plenty of time left. Neteyam laughs at your nerves, but to your benefit, he pulls up before he usually would.

"Phew." Your head falls onto his back. You're exhausted of his antics.

"How was it?" Neteyam asks innocently, like he wasn't just about to possibly cause your death.

"I thought we were going up to the mountain." You grumble.

"Oh, we are, just..." He doesn't actually have an excuse, not that he feels like needs one. "I mean, that was funny, wasn't it?"

"To you."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam made good on his promise and you arrived at the mountain within the hour. But, because of your many duties–communal breakfast, hunting, meaningless conversations–it was going to be night soon.

You only had so much time, but you sat not doing much of anything anyway. The peak of the mountain was hardly anything worth exploring. It wasn't so big and only inhabited plants that dared to grow high. What the peak really offered was a view.

"Can hardly see the pods from here." You remark, sitting on a fallen log behind him.

"Yep." Neteyam sits on the cliff, boldly swinging his legs over the edge. He was less looking at Awa'atlu and more at the jungle. "This place is very blue."

The tips of the giant ferns were blue, and they faced up towards the sky. The heart of the jungle was a large lake, and Neteyam learned up here that the tree line surrounding it wasn't so long. Apart from the vague blob of a shape the large clearing drew, there wasn't much else worth admiring. So he turns his gaze up, towards the other islands.

"Does every island have a village?" Neteyam asks, gesturing towards the many islands he could see. There were enough to fill from Awa'atlu to the horizon.

"There's only so many major villages on the larger islands, but yes. There's at least one Na'vi on every single one of those islands... mmph, well," You chuckle, "maybe not that one." You point towards one barely the size of one of your necklace's beads.

Neteyam doesn't reply, so the conversation naturally stops there. He turns his gaze towards something else, the empty space without islands. The ocean was blue, and so was the sky, and it felt like a monotony; but also, the ocean was a deep blue, like him, and the sky lighter, like you. Maybe that meant something.

"How do you handle being so perfect?"

"What?"

"I mean," Neteyam turns to you and holds your gaze, "you're the youngest hunter yet still very competent."

You shake your head with a sigh, "I'm not perfect, Neteyam."

"But the people think otherwise." He stands only to sit next to you. "They love you."

"They don't love me because I do all these great things. They don't love me for being a good warrior or a good hunter, not for taming a tsurak or for being able to throw spears well." You scoot closer to him. He hates seeing that frown on your face. "They love me because of who I am."

In other words, "They see you."

"Yes."

That's how the Omatikaya saw him. Not for being the son of his father or his mother, and not for the duties he fought hard to uphold; they saw him, and ironically, he only realizes after leaving them. Would the Metkayina ever see him the same way?

As the sun and the moon lined up for the eclipse signifying night time, the conversation comes to a stop. It was something that happened daily, and to you, something you'd grown used to. Neteyam, too, had grown used to it, but he was sure that if it stopped, he'd miss it.

"We should head down."

"Yeah."

Neither of you move.

When the last of the daylight leaves, and the moons take over, Neteyam looks down again becomes something catches his attention. "Woah."

Many things glowed purple under the moonlight: the tips of the ferns, specks in the lake, and specks in the village. They were a wonderful sight, flickering vividly under the moonlight like another set of stars. His gaze found the moving lights of the village, likely large groups of Na'vi coming together for dinner. They come from the bright seawall terraces, blend in with the long lines of luminescent fish within the water, then emerge again at the beach; because as important as whatever they were doing was, being with their people for something as simple as eating was more important.

The Metkayina would never be Omatikaya, they would never be the people he grew up with, but he could find solace in them still; for they were all Na'vi.

He would just have to prove it to them first.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam dips his hand in the water. The salt stings a little against his bruised knuckles, but he ignores it. He cups a good amount of water and brings it to his lips. The wound on those sting too, but it's nothing compared to the pain he felt when he actually received the injury. 'Sides, he's felt worse pains from covering up for Lo'ak plenty of times before. This was nothing.

He pulls his hand away from his lips and observes it. Blood runs down his fingers. It's crimson and thick, much the same as his bond with Lo'ak. He'd done it several times before, and he'd do it again, to stand with his brother; because if not him, who else did he have?

"Neteyam!" Back from a hunt, like always.

Wiya, he didn't want you to seem like this, but if he hid himself from you, you'd be even more suspicious.

He cups a larger amount of water and wipes his face again, hoping to get rid of all the blood staining his skin. He rubs with his hands, but when they part from his face, you're squat next to him curiously.

Neteyam suddenly stands, forcing you to stand too.

Though he had made it up in his mind that he couldn't hide his injuries from you, he's nervous of the outcome. You'd be curious, you'd ask, he'd tell you, and you'd come in defense of your brothers.

So, he looks away from you, though unfortunately you're on his right, the side of his lips that got split.

"What happened to you?"

He purses his lips, his hands balling up into fists at his sides. So much for this friendship, he thinks.

When Neteyam doesn't respond, you take the other side of his jaw between your thumb and forefinger, gently pulling him to look at you.

Before he turned his head to you, his gaze had been downcast, and that translated to when you moved it. He catches a glimpse of your tattoo, loved by the people. It only solidifies the outcome in his head.

"Neteyam." You say, your voice stern with him for the first time. "Who did this to you?"

It's not something he likes, that tone, especially coming from you, but he obeys your silent pleads to explain. "Ao'nung.. and his friends called Kiri a freak. They mocked Lo'ak. Called us all "not real Na'vi". Lo'ak picked a fight with them and I had to back him up."

You're silent for a long time, instead of spewing your anger at him. Anticipation builds up in his chest as he awaits your response, but it doesn't come. Curiously, he allows himself to look up at you and catch your eyes.

Angry. You were angry. But you don't look, not at him, you look towards the ocean.

"(y/n)?"

"Ao'nung just left for a hunt." Your hand leaves his jaw as you part from him, "I can catch up, teach him a lesson."

You only take a few steps, each laced with a heavy intent, before he stops you. He's quick to step in front of you, taking one of your hands in his as another precaution. "You really don't have to. I already taught him a lesson when I punched him, and Lo'ak went to go apologize already."

"Apologize?" You ask. He can hear the absolute shock in your voice. "For standing up against his insults?"

Neteyam nods slowly, knowing that it's not fair either. "Yes."

"Who told him to apologize? Because if there's anything I know about Lo'ak, it's that–"

"My father." He says before you can waste your breath. He knows that, after hearing that it's Jake that commanded his son to "make peace" with his own bullies, you won't stand against him. Because the mighty Jake Sully knew better.

But some things, he doesn't know for sure. "Even your father doesn't defend you?" A nasty scowl grows on your lips. That knowledge provokes you even more. You begin your furious march again, unbothered by his hand.

"(y/n)." He gives a harsh tug.

"Neteyam." Your sudden stop causes you to stomp on the sand. Its grains kick up explosively in the air like a reflection of your anger. "I have to defend you."

"If you do that, your tattoo's wish won't be fulfilled!" He protests, throwing his free hand up into the air. "(y/n), if they see you coming in defense of a demon, they're going to be pissed."

"A demon?" You step closer to him, shaking your head solemnly. "You're not a demon."

"They think otherwise..." He mutters, looking away.

"I have to show them what I see." You put a warm hand on his cheek and Neteyam feels as though it dwarfs his face; it doesn't help the spreading warmth on his cheeks either. "Neteyam, I see you."

His heart hammers within his chest like it'll burst. He doesn't know what to say. "I–"

"Physically, you may be different, but you and me, we are the same. We are Na'vi. You don't deserve the way they're treating you." Everything you said, it's all he wanted to hear. "Oel ngati kameie, ma Neteyam."

He dared, because he couldn't help it, to place a kiss on your lips. It's only a peck, but it brings joy to your eyes.

"You see me, so you know that I am capable of showing the Metkayina that my family and I are not different. I can come in defense of myself, as I did against Ao'nung. Oel ngati kameie, ma (y/n), " He saw you. A boy so kind, a boy that loved him so much, that he was willing to sacrifice what everybody thought of him just to love him. But it wasn't something that he wanted. "but I don't need your help. You don't need to give away everything just for me."

"But nothing's stopping me from doing so."

"That is precisely why I need you to trust me." He pushes your necklace away and places his hand above your tattoo. "Because you may know what I deserve, but I know too that you don't deserve to lose everything. Okay?"

And though it pains you so, you will do what he asks. You bring his hand up and press a kiss to his aching knuckles. "Okay."

#neteyam x male reader #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #avatar x male reader #🎟 // avatar #💞 // darlings #🌸 // success! #🎫 // neteyam #🌂 // failure

[ceilidho]

prompt: possessive best friend soap (part 1)

-

You’ve known Johnny for roughly—

“Whassit been—like twenty plus years, hen? I ken our mams have been close since we were in nappies, so we sort of grew up together, wouldn’t ya say?”

—too many years. You’ve been putting up with him for too many years now. Not more than you can count, but more than you can be bothered to relay to your bewildered-looking date sitting across the table from you. Besides, Johnny hardly needs you to fill in the blanks; since pulling up a chair beside the two of you, he’s been quite happy to share the intimate details of your friendship.

“‘Fact, almost moved in together a coupla years ago. ‘Am no’ sure why we didn’t. Might still, at some point. But I bet you knew that, huh—what was it, Rodney? Yeah, Rodney. Kinda a strange name, isn’t that? We had a dog named Rodney growing up, do’ya remember, kitty cat?”

“Yes, John. I remember.” Your head is fully in your hands now, elbows leaning against the table because there’s no reason for table manners anymore. Not with the way Johnny’s shovelling your food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten all day. It’s annoying that it’s still rather endearing; you push the plate closer to him so he doesn’t have to reach as far across the table and risk spilling your pasta all over the white tablecloth. 

You’ve been trying to catch the waiter’s eye for the past five minutes, but it’s like the guy’s been paid off or blind or something because he does everything but look over at your table. What a waste of a night. 

In fairness, the date hadn’t been going exceedingly well; Rodney had already made a couple of rather passive aggressive comments about your field of study and furrowed his brows a bit too tight when you mentioned wanting to order dessert. 

“Sorry, I just need to—I’ll be right back,” you mutter, scooching away from the table and wincing when your chair scrapes across the floor. You scurry off to the bathroom while Johnny keeps prattling on about whatever inane topic he’s chosen this time to your date, who is looking increasingly agitated. His expression is pinched like he has a stomachache.

In the bathroom, you wet a paper towel and press it lightly to your cheeks so your makeup doesn’t smudge. They’ve been hot since Johnny sauntered into the restaurant and made a bee-line for your table, ignoring your repeated kicks under the table and you mouthing at him to leave. It’s not fair. You go out once a month if you’re lucky because work usually takes priority in your life and now Johnny’s on leave for the next month. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’re going to have to delete all dating apps off your phone for at least the next foreseeable month. 

When you come back, you’re not altogether shocked to find only Johnny still at the table, your date long gone. He scoops up the leftover red sauce with the table bread, looking like he’s having the time of his life even on his own.

“Made a break for it, did he?” you ask, sighing when you collapse despondently into your chair.

“Sorry, kitty cat,” Johnny apologies with big, beseeching eyes. “Tried to tell ‘im he didn’t hav’ta leave, but he wouldn’t have it. Paid his bill at least, good lad. The guy's a pure fandan, wasn’t he?”

You don’t necessarily want to encourage his behaviour by agreeing with him, but you can’t help the soft sound that escapes you. 

Only on the drive home—you’d walked to the restaurant, but Johnny drives the two of you back to his place because he insists on making it up to you with ice cream and a movie—do you begrudgingly admit to yourself that you’re glad Johnny interrupted your date. If he was going to intrude on any date, at least it was that one. An otherwise lousy date might still have a good ending.

“Yer too good for him anyway, kitty cat,” Johnny sniffs on the drive home. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You hadn’t even brought it up. “Did’ya see the way he chewed with his gob wide open? Pure repulsive behaviour. Who does that in front of a lady?”

“I don’t remember asking you about my choice of dates, Johnny.”

He laughs, reaching across to give your thigh a little squeeze. You ignore the way it makes your stomach jump. “‘Said my peace. Just don’t wanna see you settling for some numpty who hasn’t got any common decency.”

You grunt because the alternative is opening your mouth and screeching at the top of your lungs. You know this. It’s not your fault that the dating pool in your town is small to begin with and you’re picky on top of that. There’s some criteria for Man etched into your frontal lobe that you can’t read but you know is there, and it rejects every single guy you’ve ever dated. 

At his place, he gets you comfortable on the couch before going to the kitchen and coming back with a bowl of ice cream filled to the brim and a single spoon. You snap at him when Johnny sits way too close to you—so close in fact that you’re pressed up against the side of the two while there are two full cushions on the opposite side of him—but he just coos and feeds you anyway, making train noises when he brings the spoon to your mouth. 

He’s a rapscallion. He’s incorrigible and a devil and you miss him so much sometimes when he’s away doing whatever it is he does in the military that it hurts your heart. It literally hurts when he’s away. So you let him spoil you when he’s back in town on his annual leave or when he’s granted an exemption for a wedding or a funeral. You soak up every minute with your blue-eyed puppy dog of a best friend, content to leave the dates and your other friends for when he’s gone. 

That’s been the pattern now for going on several years. 

Winter is the ascetic’s season anyway. You have no reason to keep trying once the weather gets colder. So instead, you go to work during the day and then hunker down at night, only seldomly going out for drinks with friends or visiting your family for weekend brunch. 

Johnny must miss you too while he’s away because the man borders on feral when he comes back. Tactile as all hell. Nary a moment goes by when he doesn’t have his hands on you somehow—big hands smoothing over your shoulders when you complain about your back aching, a hand squeezing your thigh teasingly in the car, callused fingers pinching your cheeks and squishing them together like a fish.

“Okay, now say, ‘Johnny, thank you for chasing off my bawbag of a date and buying the choco-mint,’” he coos, squishing your cheeks with one hand, the other draped along the back of the couch behind you. He’s so close that you can smell the sweat on his skin, his scent a heady musk. 

You glare up at him, mollified by the ice cream but annoyed that he won’t stop rubbing it in. “Jawny, yew are an idjiot.”

He shakes his head, eyes sparkling. “No, that's no’ right. You got wax in your ears, kitty cat? Do I need ta’ check?”

You screech when he turns your head to the side and bites your ear, trying to crawl off the side of the couch, but he pulls you back down. Nearly pulls you on top of him, blowing raspberries into your temple and laughing. It’s almost impossible to escape from his arms, beefy since he enlisted years ago. They tighten around you, holding you in place while he nips at your earlobe and nuzzles into the side of your head. 

He’s near doubled in size since back then. Sometimes even the sight of him makes your head spin. He towers over you, not always the tallest in the room, but always standing the straightest, the proudest. Aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his physicality, loose and limber for the most part until someone gets on his bad side and you see the change wash over him. Cocky grin turned down and hard. Arms stiff by his sides. 

Not now though. Not in the little warm bubble of his living room, breath punched out of you with shrieking laughter. It’s hard to remember why you were upset with him in the first place.

“Gonna need you to give me a break, kitty,” Johnny breathes into your neck when he finally turns the movie on, pulling your legs until they’re draped across his lap. “How’m I supposed to keep an eye on you from across the world?”

“You don’t have to interrogate all my dates,” you mutter, eyes sliding shut. It’s warm in your bubble and the warmth makes you sleepy. Too bad Johnny doesn’t have a guest room at his place. You’ll probably end up drooling on his bicep when he carries you to bed. 

“Yeah, I do.” His voice is low, muffled against the top of your head. “No one’s good enough for my girl. Gotta make sure they know that.”

#ignore my GODAWFUL attempt at phonetically translating scottish #cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap x reader

[reve-writes]

— a rush, a glance ; dan heng.

╰‧₊˚✩ॱ˖ honkai: star rail — dan heng — 3k words. ╰‧₊˚✩ॱ˖ summary — you might have fallen at the first kiss — well, technically, CPR — and you couldn't grapple with the fact. but perhaps the struggle went both ways. ╰‧₊˚✩ॱ˖ content — awkward pining for each other, like a lot of being awkward, trailblazer reader, lots of blushing, allusions to dan heng's past, reader is such a simp, kissing.

When you came to, you felt a foreign weight on your lips — soft, warm, and candy-like in that it was sweet. Your eyes fluttered open and you were gazing into a pair of blue-green irises, harbouring a ceaseless depth you could see yourself getting lost in. In a rush, your senses fully came back to you and you inhaled sharply, felt his nose graze yours, felt the heaviness of his palm on the side of your face, tilting it towards him.

When you tried to speak, your lips brushed against his. His body tensed, and like you, his limbs were those of a statue, stubbornly still, cast in place.

So, this was what a kiss felt like.

A higher-pitched voice shocked you back into sobriety. Drunk on the feel of him against yours, everywhere he had not touched felt colder, and the points of contact were molten. "You're awake! Dan Heng, your CPR actually worked!"

The second figure pulled him off of you, air rushed into your lungs immediately and you let out a sigh. Dan Heng cleared his throat, throwing his gaze to the side. The apples of his cheeks burned red.

He was beautiful, almost otherworldly so.

He sighed often.

You picked up on it early on. Dan Heng sighed a lot when March uttered something outlandish, before tasting Himeko's coffee, or as you barged into the Archives to browse through his notes. He didn't have to be in a certain mood to sigh and you began to be able to differentiate between exasperation and contentment and neutrality. Sometimes, he sighed affectionately, out of amusement.

And sometimes, you were the root of it, and it had you feeling like a feather, like you could be a pair of wings soaring through the star-littered cosmos.

"You would think—" A sneeze. "—that with a Stellaron in me, I should at least be immune from a cold."

He sighed, shaking his head. Was it empathy? No. His lips were pulled into a tight line, an attempt to conceal — Amusement. You pouted even as your insides felt warmer, lips tingling with the memory of pressing against his.

"Let's go back to the Express for now," he said, supplied with a worried glance. "We'll find something for your ailments."

Jarilo-VI was a snow-blanketed planet, showered by constant snowfall. The perpetual cold was biting and cruel on the Trailblazers, particularly you. From the moment you landed, you hadn't been able to breathe through your nose.

"We shouldn't," you protested. "I'll be okay once we get to the city. With the stellaron crisis, I should be the least of our concerns."

Unconvinced, Dan Heng lingered even as you had already trudged onwards, snow crunching underneath your boots. You abruptly came to a halt, tilting your head back and he assumed you were anticipating another sneeze, but you continued to follow through, falling backwards. He dashed to catch you before you fell to the ground, calling your name in a low, worried tone.

"I'm alright," you said, even though you were fully leaning against him for support. His hand was warm and solid as it held your shoulder, pressing you to him to keep you from lurching as you were unsteady on your feet.

"Can you hear me?" His voice sounded far away, as if you had a film over your ears. You could barely open your eyes, the white brightness of everything was a blinding stab to your vision.

You hummed in confirmation, but the next sentence he spoke fell as incoherent mumbling in your ears. Dan Heng's face scrunched as he took your temperatures, his cold hand stung by the heat of your forehead. "You're burning up."

"You're just really cold."

Then there was nothing. You didn't remember much — if anything, you had no recollection of what happened after. When you came to, there was a familiar weight on your hand and a familiar scratch of your sheets against your skin. Your eyes, though bleary, could gather that you were back in your room on the Express. You moved to pull your hand to rub your eyes; all it did was stir Dan Heng's sleeping form, sitting at the side of your bed. His grip tightened, long-fingered hands locking around yours.

"Dan Heng?" Your voice scratched against your throat, coming out in a hoarse croak. "What happened?"

Dan Heng buried his face into the crook of his elbow, letting out a soft hum. Not fully awake yet, he stayed clutching your hand, which was getting sweatier by the second. It was too casual; you didn't touch each other this way. Every time you did, it felt as if your stomach was flipped inside out, bleeding acid into your veins.

Your free hand reached to touch his head, nudge him awake, but the moment you made contact, you couldn't resist brushing your fingers through the black strands. So soft, too soft. To your delight and horror, he leaned into the touch, like a nuzzling cat. With a content sigh, he slipped into a shallow slumber once more.

You sat up, leaning closer to let your gaze rampant on his features: the long lashes fanning his cheeks, the hook of his nose and his lips. His lips.

"We're back!" March's voice echoed from the other side of the door. You jolted backwards, falling over the other side of your bed to the ground with a loud thud. Dan Heng sat up, startled. Your door slid open as you were scrambling to get off your butt. "___. Dan Heng. How has it been without me?"

"___?" Dan Heng's voice had deepened into a sleepy rasp. "What — Have you recovered? You are on the floor because...?"

March chuckled, muttering something about your silliness as she circled around your bed to help you up. Your cheeks flushed, going lightheaded from standing up too fast and being throttled by acute embarrassment.

"I was startled and fell down," you protested. "Thanks to you, March."

"How is that my fault?" March pouted.

"I need to check your temperatures," said Dan Heng. He paused, clearing his throat, hand hovering hesitantly. "May I?"

You leaned your body forward, over your single bed, and he reached over to press the back of his hand on your forehead, on your neck, before dropping back to his side. His phantom touch remained, causing you to crease your brow. "Hm, I think the fever has gone down."

"That's good news," said March. "We were all worried sick. Dan Heng hasn't been sleeping much. He won't even leave until Mr. Yang dragged him out."

You turned to look at Dan Heng. He stared back, like he was caught doing something he shouldn't, and briskly looked away.

Clearing his throat, he said, "March, is everyone back? I need to talk to Mr. Yang about the... mission."

March waved her hand. "I'll go! I'm glad you're all better now, ___. The Express was too quiet without you."

"That's not—" Dan Heng started, but March was already retreating, the door slid shut behind her. "—necessary."

You wrung your fingers together. "I'm sorry for causing a lot of trouble. Thank you for taking care of me."

Dan Heng hummed as he stretched his neck, tilting his head towards his left shoulder, and then right. "I would not have let you freeze down there. March is correct in that it has been a bit quiet since you fell ill."

"She's livelier than the both of us combined. She doesn't need me to cook up a ruckus," you joked.

"You're not wrong." A fond smile appeared on his lips.

Out of curiosity, you asked, "Did you carry me all the way back?"

"To the best of my abilities, yes," he replied. "I'm just glad you are well. It was quite a scare. You've been in-and-out of consciousness for two days. Himeko, Mr. Yang and March had gone ahead to investigate the stellaron disturbance."

"I'm sorry," you apologised again. "Why do I always fall unconscious when you're around?"

"There's no need to apologise," he reassured. "And as for your question, I have been wondering as well."

His sighed, lips quirking into an amused smile. You were a feather, you were soaring.

"Do you have an entry about me?" You wondered, face hovering over his shoulder as he navigated the Data Bank, tapping and swiping at the screen with his long fingers.

"It is a work-in-progress," he replied. He was skimming through the data he had gathered about the Xianzhou Alliance, but you were hardly paying attention. You tilted your face to the side slightly, taking in his profile, noticing the smudged red under his eye, the intricate swirls of his earring. Oblivious, he asked, "What else would you like to see?"

"What's your favourite entry?"

"Well—" A mistake. He turned his head to the side, ending up face-to-face with you. Breath ghosting over your face, he stiffened, hand gripping the edge of the desk. You were stunned frozen in place, not unlike the ice statues littering the snow plains of the Jarilo-VI.

His eyes were blue and green and clear, the unbroken surface of a lake.

"You're really pretty," you blurted out. Your eyes widened as you straightened up, placing your palm over your mouth. Dan Heng pursed his lips, pink dusting his cheeks. "Shit—sorry. I don't know why I said that. Sorry."

"No, it's — it's alright," he said, quelling your sputtering. "That was flattering."

"Oh."

"I do find you... to be 'pretty' as well."

"Oh." What does that mean? You laughed, the sound off-kilter, borderline disorienting. The stuffy atmosphere in the Archives must be getting to your heads. "I think I need some air, don't you?"

He frowned. "We can leave the door open, if you wish."

"It's okay!" You were already stepping backwards, stumbling over the steps. You pointed at the door with your thumb without turning around. "I'll just—I'll check on everyone at the parlor."

Desperate to leave, the small square of his room was closing in on you. Your chest constricted, squeezed by a slither of not-so-unpleasant emotions. You felt full. You felt empty. You felt like lurching out of the window to gaze directly at the stars, or running to your room and scurry under your bed.

You found yourself face-to-face with the door and tried sliding it open, failing to do so.

"Is it locked?" He asked, chair scratching the flooring as he stood. Before you could reply, his long legs carried him towards you in an instant. You felt him behind you — around you. The brush of his arm was electric through your clothes as he pressed the dial of the door to unlock it.

You could have done that yourself.

The door slid open smoothly, but you stayed rooted in place for a beat or so. Until he called your name and your entire form seized up, like a startled squirrel ready to bolt. Everything was warm, your face, your neck, the tips of your ears.

As you dashed out of the Archives, you thought you might be coming down with another fever.

The night before your planned arrival at Xianzhou Luofu, you were unable to sleep. Trailblazing expeditions had a way of lighting your nerves, turning you into a bundle of nervous energy and anticipation. Sleep evaded you, or perhaps you were driving it away with all the tossing and turning.

To your surprise, your phone lit up — an unmissable flash in the dark interior of your room. You stretched your hand, reaching out to your nightstand. Your heartbeat thumped wildly at the name which appeared, hand sweaty as you tapped your screen.

Dan Heng

Are you awake?

Should you ignore it? You had been avoiding being alone with the Xianzhou native as of late. Not to his fault. You were the weirdo, this much you were aware. Gnawing at your lips, you typed out:

yes

Would it be an inconvenient time to talk?

not at all

should i find you at the archives?

No. Give me a moment.

A moment passed, there was a knock at your door. You called out for him to come in. Your door slid open with a loud rumble — perhaps not so loud during the day, but the early dawn hours had a tendency to distort one's senses.

"Hello," you greeted. He was briefly illuminated by the light flooding in from the hallway before your door slid back to a close. His hair — usually a perfect fall of jet black strands, had pieces sticking up. His bangs were swept up as well, revealing his forehead. He had shed his robes and tunic for a sleep shirt and trousers. It was the first time you'd seen him so unkempt, as if he was peeling back a layer of himself, showing you a part not meant for just anyone.

"Hello," he said, not knowing what to do with himself as he stood by your bed.

Obviously you were not going to invite him to bed. You didn't have that kind of friendship where you could lie side-by-side on a bed too small for two and be fine. At best, your palms would sweat and shake just from your shoulder being pressed against his. At worst, your heart might palpitate and burst.

"We can sit down," you suggested, pointing at the window seat, a few steps from your bed. It wasn't like March's, crowded with stuffed toys and yards of blankets. You hadn't had the time to find things to fill it, only a cushion with a couple of pillows in one corner.

He hummed and followed you as you sat down, crossing your legs, facing out towards the glass. He joined you, leaning against the backrest, legs stretching across the floor as he looked into the darkness of your room.

You could hear him swallow.

"You wanted to talk?" It was so quiet that you spoke in hushed tones — as if the whole universe was asleep, and you were the only ones awake. A thrill sizzled in your blood. The air was crackling with something like potential.

"Since you're departing in the morning," he said, sighing — Distress. "The Xianzhou... I'm afraid you will discover things about me that would alter the way you, and everyone, view me."

You could feel his gaze on you even when you were so intent to avoid it, opting to trace patterns connecting the stars outside.

"Alter how?" You asked.

"Who knows? At worst, you might find me abhorrent."

"Whoa, that is a strong word." Naturally, you were curious. What had he done? Theft? Mutiny? Murder?

"Appalling? Horrid? The adjective hardly matters." He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. His voice was unapologetically bare, a vulnerable thing. "I find myself dreading that prospect."

Finally, you turned to look at him, studying the far away look he had. It tugged at your heartstrings. You reached for his hand, which was pressing against the cushion, propping himself up. "I could never hate you."

His head swiveled, there was bewilderment in his eyes, either from your admission or the sudden contact. You couldn't tell.

"There is little truth in that."

Despite his skepticism, he sat up straighter, turned his palm over to hold your hand in his and squeezed.

"You underestimate just how much I like you, Dan Heng." His eyebrows hiked upwards. Abruptly, cautiously, you added, "Just how much everyone likes you and appreciates you for what you do here."

He sighed — Unreadable, this time. "I guess we will know when the time comes. I suppose I should leave you be now."

He withdrew his hand and with it, his vulnerability, as he stood up, brushing himself off. You scrambled, turning around to face him fully, hands desperately clutching around his arm before he could leave. During the day, you weren't sure you could be so daring. But it was past midnight, the world caught between dreams and truths. Your breathing picked up as you spoke, trying to seize the chance before the moment passed. Word after word tumbled out of your lips in quick succession.

"I mean what I said. I think whatever it is you did, I will somehow justify it in my head. I like you too much, in a way that's foolish enough for me to do everything I can to keep liking you. If that makes sense. Even if the entire world makes an enemy out of you, I'll always have an excuse for you."

He looked at you — really looked. His scrutiny was so intense that you averted your gaze to the floor. It didn't last long before he placed his fingers under your chin, coaxing you to look up gently.

"And that is the truth?"

You nod. "Nothing but the truth."

"You like me," he repeated, breath fanning your face. The closeness with which you were staring at each other was thrilling, like the disorienting lurch of the Express during a warp. "In what way?"

"Whichever way you would accept."

His hand was shaking as much as yours. "Then what would you accept from me?"

It felt like a cresting wave, like the ringing silence between an explosion and the sound, the empty seconds between lightning and thunder. You held the key to let it crash and strike, indulge yourself in it.

And so you did.

"A kiss, for starters."

The floodgates opened, waves crashing, a pleasant relief in your heart as he leaned down and gave you what you asked for. His lips — warm, soft and candy-like in that it was sweet — moved over yours. You were full and heady, the simultaneous familiarity and unfamiliarity gave you a rush. He did not let up, pressing forward, hiking a knee on the cushion, between your thighs. His hand slid up your waist, brushed the side of your ribcage, settling at your jaw. The other braced himself on the windowsill as he hovered over you. Your hands tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck. You felt him sigh into your mouth — Content.

You wanted him, all of him, and you knew that you needed to only ask, and he would give it.

dan heng maybe makes me a little breathless. maybe a little bit. just maybe a tiny teensy bit. i tried to keep him in character as much as i can but i kinda suck at that so im sorry. thank you for reading ♡ im trying to build my ruan mei nowadays bc i impulsively pulled for her

#—ki writes #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 11

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader

Summary: It’s time for you to face Ghostface head on.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Pretty gnarly violence, Tara being protective and kinda batshit crazy, betrayals left and right

A/N: lol

Shit.

When you open your eyes and see nothing but a hot blinding light, you think you might've died and gone to heaven.

"God?" You whisper, blinking slowly.

It was in fact, not god, you find out once your eyes properly adjust.

You're stuck in a tiny compartment; so small you think you might suffocate. The walls are painted a shade of obsidian black that makes you feel like you're stuck in a black hole. Only one single flickering lightbulb grants you sight.

Your arms are sore; so sore, and it only intensifies when you try and pull them up from the weird position they're in.

Huh, I can't move my arms.

You tug at the rope-like fabric of material that's holding your hands together. It doesn't budge in the slightest. Panic rises like wildfire in you.

You breathe deep. Try to gather your wits and make sense of anything that is possibly going on.

"Get it together." You remind yourself.

You blink once.

Feeling a little more clear, you realize that you're strapped tight to a chair, back pressed uncomfortably close to the ridges.

Where am I?

There's no time to find the answer to that question since the wall is moving- oh it's a door-, and Ghostface appears right in front of you, smiling.

Well, you don't really know if he's smiling. But the way he's moving, all confident and cocky, makes you think you're not too far off.

It hits you all at once. Now that you're fully conscious, you can feel everything.

One inhale and your lungs feel like they're on fire. Breathing is hard.

You groan, the pain all too overwhelming for your brain to work properly. It would be embarrassing how loud you were if you cared in the least.

You can only seem to think of one thing.

"Where is she?" You ask, with all the confidence of someone in the position of interrogating Ghostface.

Tara. God, what did they do to Tara?

“Of course, your first words are about her." Ghostface spits, still using that goddamned voice modulator.

“Where is she?” You spit, trying your very best to look intimidating.

It's not very convincing when you're heaving and gasping like a fish out of water.

"Would you believe me if I said she was already dead?" Ghostface drawls, tracing their knife along your jawline, pressing just enough for you to feel it.

You scoff.

"Right...you'd kill one of your beloved 'main characters' before the finale." You say, sure you've read him to filth.

"But, this is the ending. Don't you see?" He continues to tease, unbothered by your last comment.

You huff, but you feel your heart picking up speed slightly.

What if...he was telling the truth?

A shrill scream sounds throughout the theater, and you feel your blood run cold as you recognize exactly who it is.

"Tara." You breathe, half terrified and half relieved she's still alive.

"Tara!" You yell, as loud as your lungs are willing to let you.

Tara doesn't reply. What you do get is a smack to the head and an elbow to the jaw.

"Be quiet." Ghostface hisses, and you can almost swear he sounds sort of scared.

"Be quiet or I'm going to get my ass whooped." He mumbles, and you pull back as far as you can, eyebrows raised.

You bite back the need to tell him you definitely don't care if he gets in trouble or not, not wanting to get slapped in the face a billion more times.

"Come on." He grumbles, gripping the back of the chair and lifting it up swiftly.

The feeling of your feet dangling off the chair reminds you of one of your favorite memories.

"Mint ice cream sucks," Tara tells you definitively.

You squint your eyebrows at her and bring up a hand to your heart like she's just stabbed you.

She's sitting with her ice cream in hand, a good distance away from you. You guys peer down at all the university students walking around, now the size of ants; trying to point out people you guys recognize.

It was your own little secret spot. Tara could never really go study outside uni, since her sister was always up her ass about traveling unknown spaces. You never asked her why, pure sister protectiveness, you guessed.

A couple of weeks into knowing Tara, she'd brought you up to this mini garden haven of hers, all shy and smiley.

She's sitting now and she's looking so pretty with her big brown eyes and freckles out for display. They shine bright today, sunshine illuminating her face and making everything just pop the slightest bit more.

You get a wicked idea, and before you can stop yourself, scoot yourself closer and place your arm around her.

Tara cocks an eyebrow at you, but before she can speak a word, you start tickling her sides.

"Stop!" Tara squeals. Her face turning a bright pink comically fast.

You're careful not to tickle her too hard, or else you think she might just slide off the ledge and fall right here.

You're close now, closer than you should be. Tension swims in the air. You lean down to whisper into her ear.

"That's what you get for saying mint sucks." You huff, smirking a little as she shudders from the feeling of your breath fanning her ear.

When you pull back and look into her eyes, you're surprised to see them wide and dilated. She has a weird expression her face, like she's fighting something in herself.

You lean in slowly, stuck in a trace with the way she's looking at you.

She grips your shirt and pulls you in further, your noses brushing. And then suddenly, like she's just snapped out of her daze, she sits up abruptly.

She laughs nervously, letting go of your shirt.

"I think Sam's calling me. I'll see you tomorrow. Same time?" She's saying, but she's not even giving you a second to answer before she's sprinting away.

Despite the sort of failed kiss, you chuckle a little. You feel the blush creep up to the tips of your ears.

The day your crush on Tara Carpenter officially started.

It's a bad time to start daydreaming, but you figure if you're going to die right now, it wouldn't be so bad to think of the love of your life while you go.

The sound of Tara's voice brings you back to life.

"YN!" She gasps, from somewhere behind you. You're still getting dragged, hair stuck to your forehead, eyes blurred.

You try your best to blink everything back to focus.

She's standing on the platform slightly below you, beside Sam, looking relieved. There's a brick in her hand.

You try and say her name but all that comes out is a painful groan. Everything feels heavy. Your shirt is painted red where your stomach wound is, and you figure you must've ripped the stitches.

There's another Ghostface beside you, the two of them bracketing you on either side.

Not that you would have the energy to up and escape anyway.

"Tara..." Sam warns, eyeing her sister like she knows what she's about to do.

Tara rushes forward, ignoring Sam's protest, trying to get to you. To hold you in her arms, to press her hands against your wound, to kiss it better; to do anything.

The Ghostface to your right swings their knife as soon as she comes into the vicinity, and slices the skin above Tara's collarbone easily. She gasps from the jab. Red liquid seeps out immediately.

You feel the Ghostface to your left tense, a mixture of a gasp and a yell stuck together.

"Anika wait-!" The Ghostface is saying, the name slipping out as easy as second nature.

Everybody stills.

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The other Ghostface whirls around, shoulders tight.

Sam tugs Tara back quietly, looking between the two Ghostfaces. Your head is swimming.

"What did you say?" Ghostface- supposedly Anika, says.

"What the fuck." You manage to spit out, but it goes unheard, everyone being laser-focused on the scene unfolding right in front of them.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry I didn't mean to say that. It's just, I thought you were going to kill Tara. I couldn't let you do that." The other Ghostface reasons, albeit unconvincingly. He stumbles over his words, in a tone that's all too familiar to you.

"Ethan?" You hesitate, tears brimming in your eyes.

The Ghostface that's hovering above you drops down to your ear level, whispering softly.

"Well, aren't you just a smart little thing?" And promptly slides off that wretched Ghostface mask, and even though you knew, you have to gasp at who you see.

Anika.

Sweet sweet Anika.

"Just take it off. It's not like they don't already know." Anika tells Ethan, an order more than anything.

You tilt your head just enough to see Ethan take off his mask, grinning nervously.

"What the fuck?" You hear Tara say, but it sounds so far away.

"But, but how-" Sam starts, pointing at Ethan, her face as pale as a ghost.

He looks good, healthy. More alive than you've ever seen him. There's a glint in his eye you've never seen before.

"I'm alive. Surprise!" He grins, flashing the four of you a pearly white smile.

I must be dreaming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. He's still standing there when you open them again. Shit.

"But I watched you die, I felt the blood. You-you died in my arms. I saw the ambulance pick you up." You splutter, voice cracking unevenly.

"You know...some fake blood and a couple of acting classes can do wonders. You guys really are not good at picking up on hints." Anika sing songs, waving her dagger in the air.

"Seriously...we even had to send you a note." She continues, scrunching her nose in disgust.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you so hell-bent on destroying us?" Sam asks, fire in her eyes. She looks scary. Messing with Sam was one thing, but messing with her sister? You have a feeling they'll be dead in minutes.

Anika sighs dramatically, putting a hand up to her chin and feigning thought.

"Gosh. Where do I even start? Let's set the scene: it's 1996. There's been two mysterious murders in the small town of Woodsboro, leaving everyone in fright." She recounts, words slipping out of her mouth with ease like she's rehearsed them a million times.

Sam rolls her eyes, fed up with this godforsaken story that seems to follow her anywhere.

"Akio Kayoko however, lives happily, because finally his two bullies Billy and Stu aren't on his ass anymore. They have more important things to worry about."

Sam cuts in before Anika goes any further.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is all because what, your dad couldn't handle a couple wedgies? Are you a little daddy's girl?" She says, fed up.

Anika shoots her an icy glare, but continues.

"You don't even know what you're talking about." Anika tells her, voice lowering to soft and almost sorrowful.

"Poor dad, he just had to go to that party. Do you know what happens to a person when they go through something traumatic? It changes them. He came out the only bystander that survived, but not without a scarred face and a scarred soul to show for it." She murmurs. She turns suddenly, a new pep in her mannerisms.

"Your father," she points at Sam accusingly, "and your father," she points her knife at you, "fucked my dad up royally. He got diagnosed with severe depression and bipolar disorder from it. And for what?" She seethes.

"Your guys' fathers are just racist assholes. You deserve everything that's coming to you, don't you even doubt it for a second!" She sneers, with so much venom and power that you can't help but agree.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, try to explain that you aren't your dad, but Anika beats you to it.

"Did you know he left me? I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was 6." She tells you, voice getting softer. Your heart tugs for her.

She straightens up, as if just realizing where she was, and her icy facade once again builds up.

"Anywho, motive enough for you Sam?" She tilts her head up, eyes bright.

Sam stands scarily still, but you can see the concern swimming in her eyes.

Ethan's standing wide-eyed like this is all new information to him.

"It really wasn't that hard getting you two to meet. All I had to do was invite Tara to that party and just give YN a little bump so you two would talk." Anika continues, and you furrow your eyebrows. Party? You met Tara at a party?

Your eyes dart to Tara and she's looking at you a little solemnly, and suddenly it hits you like a truck. Memories that have never been unlocked before replay in your mind now. The angel from that party.

That was Tara.

"After that, everything just fell into place. You guys are one pathetic predictable group of people." Ethan pipes up.

"The friendship, the night you got stabbed, it was all planned. I mean, why do you think I took you back to the apartment? For Anika to "stitch you up?" He asks excitedly, looking at Anika for approval to speak further. She gives him an annoyed nod.

"And guess what the best part is," He giggled midway, but gains his composure again. "Every time she came to fix you up, she actually poisoned the wound. Never too much that you would notice- but enough to guarantee your death today. It's infected." He cheers, like he hasn't just told you you're going to die.

"Jesus, you never told me how bad it was," Tara says, making your eyes dart back to hers, trying to catch her gaze to inadvertently say your sorry, but she doesn't meet your eyes.

"I didn't want you to worry." You sigh.

Ethan makes a noise of disgust. He looks at you with scrunched eyebrows, a little crinkle of his nose betraying his chill facade. His gaze shifts to Tara, and you can't help but notice his voice move just a pitch higher.

"Poor Tara. Caught in this sick twisted web between your sister and your girlfriend. You didn't even do anything wrong right, baby? Don't worry...nothing's going to happen to you. I've made sure of that." He tells her, and it hits you all at once.

"Baby? What are you talking about? " Tara asks, cocking her head to the side.

"I love you, Tara. I did all of this just for you. When the both of them are dead, you and I can get together. Finally." He says, between deep breaths.

You don't know how you never saw it before. Memories of the prior weeks flash in front of your eyes.

His heart eyes for your girlfriend every time the group would have a movie night and you two would cuddle, the weird lingering around the both of you whenever you'd go out.

You just figured he really liked your company.

"You're out of your mind you sick fuck. Tara would never date you, even if you were the last person on earth." Is what Sam says, and despite the consequences of what's sure to come, your heart sings.

Last person on earth.

Ethan stutters, like he never thought of the possibility that she would reject him. You see tears forming immediately, frown apparent. He's trying to keep it together- you can tell.

He leans back slightly, dejected. His eyes cloud with something you can only describe as hatred, and for a scary moment, you think he seriously might jump at Tara.

However, he doesn't get the time to act on his thoughts, because in less than a blink of an eye Anika's moving over and stabbing him in the neck.

"Agh!" He grunts. A trickle of blood runs down the side of his mouth, then it bursts. So, so much thick crimson liquid gurgles out.

Anika stands behind him, sliding her knife out his back, wiping the blood clean.

"Gosh, what a bore he was, right? True love this true love that. I couldn't listen to that shit any longer." She gags, leaning over to stick her tongue out at Ethan's lifeless face. She stabs him again in the jaw for good measure.

She looks back at the three of you, who are clearly aghast.

"Gotta make sure he's dead right?" She smiles, and it finally gets through to you that she's lost it. Whoever you thought you knew, that person never existed.

No one answers her as she stands up.

You turn stoney-faced as you look up at her. "So what's the plan Anika? How are you gonna get away with this?"

She turns around, rolling her eyes. Before you know it, she's advancing towards you, knife raised. She jabs lightly at your wound. Teases her knife against your skin. You really wish people would stop picking that specific part to hurt you.

"Do we really need to go over this again? Kill you guys blah blah blah, find Mindy and kill her, say that you and Sam went crazy like their fathers. Really, it's not hard to understand." Anika continues, shuffling her feet as she speaks like she's bored.

Time is ticking before she snaps and just decides to kill you, you know it. Not to mention the fact that you were actively dying.

"What do you really want from us? Just name your price now, and we'll- we'll get it. Just let her go." Tara splutters, almost begging.

Anika stomps her feet with the energy of a three year olds tantrum, "I want revenge! Have I not made that clear enough?" she basically yells.

Sam moves forward slowly, like a wildlife expert moving towards a wild beast.

"Look I'm sure we can come to an agreement about something-" She's saying, but Anika rolls her eyes once again and advances lazily towards you.

Nothing happens in slo-mo like the movies, you can barely register her face before she's plunging the dagger deep into the other side of your lower stomach. You can feel it pierce it's way through your whole body.

You hear a scream but it sounds a million miles away. You gag, moving your head to the side to try and puke, but nothing comes out. You try to groan in frustration but it makes your skin sting everywhere that you stop. You just stop for a moment.

Tara's fully sobbing now, you think. You can't really tell.

All hell breaks loose. Sam breaks out into a sprint at Anika, effectively knocking her down till both of them are tumbling on the floor.

You see flashes of black and gray and blood spurting from someone.

"Stay with me." You hear someone say, and try with everything in you to blink back everything into focus. It's Tara.

Her mascara is everywhere. Black stripes of tears and makeup streak down her pretty face, and you feel the urge even now to bring your hand up and wipe the tears away.

You try and tell her to stop crying but the words die in your mouth. What feels like fire engulfs your lungs.

"Stay with me. I'll be right back." She whispers, pressing a kiss to your chapped lips.

You search your mind desperately for a way out of this mess, a solution, but everything goes blank. Your ears ring, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pain.

With everything you have in you, you squeeze Tara's hand one last time, and tell her to take the knife currently lodged in you out.

Tara's eyes darken, the most cloudy you've ever seen them.

"No, no. I couldn't do that." She says, another round of tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes her head adamantly, but you shush her.

"Please. For me." You manage to get out, then with the utmost acceptance, you let yourself go.

Tara doesn't remember much of what happened after that. She remembers sobbing, she remembers someone screaming, but she can't be too sure if it's her or someone else. She remembers the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip on her hand, and she remembers seeing red.

With no where else to channel her emotions, and with your words engraved in her mind, she turns on Anika.

She hurries over to where she's still wrestling with Sam, expression tight, and grabs the first thing she can find in this shithole of a theater.

Your father's wooden box.

She remembers faintly telling Sam to fuck off, and smashing the box over Anika's head. Then picking it up and doing the same thing again. And again, and again. She remembers taking the heel of her shoes and smashing it to Anika's nose, breaking it in one clean hit.

She remembers going back to you, your white as paper skin, and yanking the knife out of you.

And the final thing she remembers is screaming at Anika while she buries the knife in and out of the girl’s body, everywhere, again and again.

#tardy #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #melrodrigo #jenna ortega #mine