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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

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Danny's Grill Part 2

Special thanks to @mkarchin713 for letting me use their idea.

Tim's night had been hectic.

Not only have things at WE taken a turn for the worst due to some random influencer that decided Wayne Enterprises was the cause of global warming and convinced all his fans of the same- despite the fact they were the nation's leading company in green energy- sales have been down.

The board was breathing down his neck to fix the stocks while being no help at all to get the youth back on their side. He's already pulled twelve hours of overtime this week and it was only Wednesday.

He's been dealing with the PR nightmare while trying to get to the bottom of data theft across multiple big-name technology companies. Reports of scams and total funds lost were reported all through Gotham and only his city.

Tim suspects someone had been planting screen recording devices in one of Gotham's shipping factories before they left the buildings, stealing all the information from new buyers.

Since his theory is so hard to trace, he's been having difficulty pinpointing the base of operations, never mind having enough proof for his thesis. After Bruce's lost-in-time fiasco, Tim learns to have evidence before going to the family with anything.

So that means he's been trying to fight his way on his own, which usually isn't too much to handle, but stress and lack of sleep have really been slowing him down.

Thankfully, a specific food truck appears in his line of sight, and his mood improves drastically. He finds a safe roof to quickly change into his civilians, already fantasizing about what delicious food he would eat.

Dressed in his typical Alvin Draper disguise- black, almost second-skin tights and an oversized sweater- he all but skips to Danny's Grill.

"Night, Danny," He says, smiling at the back of the chef. He leans on the little extended table outside the truck's small window. He takes a sniff of the air, mouth watering at the scent.

Looks like tonight is cheeseburgers, as Danny carefully flips some patties. Danny whirls around with a smile of his own, only to drop the spatula in horror.

"Alvin! What happened!?" Danny shouts, nearly flinging himself through the tiny opening. The vigilante blinks in confusion before catching his reflection in the napkin dispenser.

In his haste to have some of Danny's food, he forgot to cover up a black eye, swollen right cheekbone, and busted lip from his last faulty lead. A goon had gotten him by surprise and had nearly rearranged his face before he was able to get his wits about him.

"Nothing, really; it comes with the job, you know?" Tim tries to play off, laughing nervously when Danny's expression crumbles into pure rage. "Look, it's no big deal-"

"How can it not be a big deal!? Half your face is swollen!"

That happens when someone hits you with a metal pipe in the face. He thinks hysterically. "I've had worse."

"That's not comforting!" Danny screams, throwing off his apron. "Let me close down, and I'll take you to a doctor-"

"No hospitals. They'll ask where I got this, and I can't answer that." Tim cuts in, voice hard. There is a tense moment where he thinks Danny will force him to go anyway, but after a moment the other man growls slamming his hands on the counter.

"Fine. Fine. No hospitals. At least let me ice it." It takes everything in Tim not to shrink back from the hateful tone. He barely has the mind to nod as Danny quickly unlocks the little door that leads into his truck, ushering the Bat inside with barely controlled rage.

He knows it's not aimed at him, but being around someone so upset makes his skin crawl. Tim has problems with offending people; his parents had been masters in drilling into him from a young age.

That's why Tim always sought the approval of everyone around him, even if he couldn't stand the person.

He has been working on it, but old habits died hard.

"Sorry." He mumbles as Danny quickly gets a zippy bag full of ice.

"Don't. Apologize." Danny bites before taking a large breath, clearly trying to calm down. He gently places the ice against Tim's cheek, staring at him with such tender worry Tim can't help but feel butterflies. "You don't have to apologize for getting roughed up. Never. Okay?"

Tim nods, shyly looking away as his stomach is rapidly overrun by even more butterflies. "Okay."

"Come home with me." Danny suddenly blurts as if the words were forced out of him. He looked just as surprised by them as Tim was.

"What?"

"Just for tonight. Just so I know you're safe." Danny all but pleas, and Tim- well, Tim has never been known to be strong enough to resist his impulses. Sure, the family might worry, but he can send them a message claiming to be undercover, and frankly- it's been so long since Tim's had a break.

He's always wanted to know more about Danny outside his food truck. He hadn't been able to find much on him. Tim is a detective by heart. He wants to know everything there is to know about Danny Fenton.

"I can leave when I want." He says, as Danny carefully places a warm hand on his other cheek. "And I sleep in my own space. No bed sharing. I also want to take a shower but I don't have anything to sleep in."

"You can borrow something of mine/ Whatever you need." The words are practically a warm hug, and Tim feels relaxed. Already the shitty week feels less terrible, and he finds himself growing bold enough to take an obvious sniff of the air.

"Can I have a burger?"

There is a hint of an amused smile, but it does not cover up the worry. "Of course you can."

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

The shower is running in Danny's house.

It's a bit out of the way, about a forty-minute drive outside of Gotham limits, but it's spacious and private, just the way Danny liked it.

Ever since he inherited his title, he's found this house on the list of properties, and that was why he chose to take Gotham by storm in his little truck.

Danny isn't really sure what the story of the property was- the suspects the place was built around the same time Gotham got its curse; seeing as it was overseeing the city and had enough natural ectoplasm in the air, he would suspect the curse affecting the town lead to here. He never cared to check.

No, rather Danny had some ghosts remodel the old building to include wiring and functioning plumbing but asked that the general overall of the mansion stay the same.

He sort of like pretending to be a Lord of the Oldden days. If anyone asked if he walked around acting out old romances of the Victorian era, that was not else business but his own.

Alvin was undoubtedly impressed when they pulled up to his house. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so prideful to have the handsome man be impressed with his mansion given the circumstances.

He seemed to accept the excuse of having been willed the house by his late grandfather. He just hoped Alvin didn't think him the same as his wealthy clients.

Speaking of, he better make the call before Alvin finished.

Stepping to his balcony, he pulled out his burner phone and pressed the speed dial five. There are four rings before the call connects.

He gets no greeting, but he's not expecting one. Danny looks over his shoulder to ensure the bathroom door is connected to the master room- his bedroom, where Alvin will be staying, seeing as it has a bigger fireplace. He needs to have them install a heating system. Danny never bothered, what with his ice core and all- before he spoke.

"Hey, Red Hood, it's Danny. I'm calling in that favor."

There is a long pause before the other man grunts. "What is it?"

"My friend is a pro whose pimp or johns have been abusing lately. Can you help me....take care of the issue? I don't want to overstep in his life, but I'm pretty sure they broke his check bone tonight, and he claimed to have had worse before." Danny sighs, his stomach overturning at what that could mean. He hasn't gone out as Ghost King to show those assholes a thing or two because this isn't his haunt.

It's Red Hood's.

Danny had met the other man when a rouge attack had busted up all the main highways he usually worked in and had no choice but to try to sell in Crime Alley. He was right off the territory's edge, freaking out about entering without the main ghost's permission, until Red Hood confronted him.

Danny's frantic fretting had been suspicious enough that the main honcho had gone to find out why he was so nervous.

They worked a deal where Danny would sell his ware in peace, and as long as he let kids eat for free, Red Hood had no quarrels with him. He even got a favor from the crime lord after Danny provided free meals to some of his men's families struggling to get food a few months back.

He also allowed Hood to use his house as a safe house to hide a few people who needed to be out of the city. Is he part of Red Hood's gang? No.

Is he an alley? Yes.

Danny had been saving the favor for such an occasion.

There is silence on Hood's side, so Danny goes in for the kill. "My friend is seventeen; in a few months, he'll be eighteen, but he said he has been doing this since he was younger."

The silence is now laced with malice. If there was one thing they both agreed on it was that kids were never meant to be hurt by the scum of the city. "Give me his name and the area he usually works in."

"Alvin Draper. He changes per night, but I've often seen him on the east side of Crime Alley."

"I'll look into it. Is Alvin safe?"

"Yeah, he's going to be staying with me tonight. Don't come by until I convince him to extend his stay." Danny knows Hood will understand. This is one of many pros to see the Zone- his mansion's name- as a sanctuary.

"That's fine. Can you get me a picture of Alvin?"

"No, he's too skimmish."

Hood grunts again, his voice coming out tired despite the voice monitor. "Kids always are. I'll have my boys find Alvin's primp and johns. Ensure there aren't any other younglings before they make them swim with the fish."

Danny almost falls over in relief. "Thank you. Alvin...Alvin means a lot to me."

" Don't mention it. Stay well, Victorian."

Victorian is the code name Hood has given him to ensure Danny isn't tired of his gang. Yes, it's because his house is a Victorian mansion, but Danny also likes to think it's cause the other man appreciates the aesthetics of his house a little too much.

He once caught Hood admiring his Pride and Prejudice hardcover book displayed in his green sitting room.

"You too Hood. And thank you."

How would he convince Alvin that his house was a better place to call home than the orphanage and street corners without coming off as a wannabe savior or hopelessly in love creep?

Danny pauses at his own train of thought.

Hopelessly in love? He thinks in shock as the bathroom door swings open, and out comes Alvin, dressed in Danny's extra pajama set. He offers Danny a shy smile; even with the injuries, it is the loveliest sight he's ever seen, and- oh no, Danny is in love with him.

"You up for a late-night snack?" He asks, trying to not show the world-shattering realization on his face, and Alvin's smile grows wider.

"You're going to make me fat." The other laughs. Danny's heart skips a beat.

Danny Fenton loves Alvin Draper and will do everything he can to protect him. Even if Alvin will hate him for it.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny's grill #Prat 2 #Dead tired #misunderstanding #Danny thinks Tim is a protisute #secret identity #Jason is out for blood somewhere #Danny has a victorian mansion as ghost king #Tim is there for the lore and the vibes

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lovebugism · 6 months

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blurbcember request! : missing their loved ones when everyone else spends time with theirs w either Steve or Eddie x reader <3

thank u for requesting angel!! — you spend the holidays with the munsons after losing everything at the battle of starcourt (established relationship, hurt/comfort, tw for mentions of grief and panic attacks, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

It hits you out of nowhere. The weight of unimaginable grief.

You’re on Eddie’s couch one moment, laughing into the hot cocoa he made you — and the next, it’s 1985 and you’re at Starcourt all over again.

You can smell the ash as the mall burns to the ground and feel the evening mist soak your skin until your clothes stick to you. Your throat burns with the ghost of the scream you let out when the soldiers told you your dad died.

You didn’t react. Not at first. You figured it must’ve been a mistake. That’s what you told them — you’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong. You repeated those words until they turned to sobs.

Steve took you in his arms before you fell to the ground. Then you screamed. You don’t think you stopped screaming until your body shut down from the exhaustion.

You feel like that all over again. Five months later and you haven’t stopped reliving it.

Eddie knows. He can see all of it. You’re as bright as sunshine one second, then as grey as rain the next. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened to you — what really happened to your father or why you were at Starcourt in the first place — but he can tell it did a number on you.

He tries hopelessly to make it better. “You alright?” he mutters to you. His arm around your shoulder tightens to keep you from straying any further. His ringed fingers squeeze gently at your arm, and you remember where you are.

You blink until the haze fades and nod on instinct. It’s muscle memory now. What could he do if you were honest? you wonder to yourself. What would it change?

“Is it the hot cocoa?” he asks, even though he knows that’s not really the problem. He wants to bring the light back to your eyes, maybe, or just get you to talk at all. “I made it with water this time instead of milk. Do you want me to—”

“No. It’s okay,” you interject quickly, voice meek and taut.

“Okay…” Eddie wavers and tries to settle back onto the couch. It’s hard to because he’s so tense now. He’s rigid with the knowledge that something’s wrong — with the heartache of not knowing how to help you.

You curse yourself when the tears come on.

They burn the very backs of your eyes, stinging like falling ash from burning flames. You can smell the smoking brick and the blood and the cologne of the Russian soldier that nearly killed you. You’re on Eddie’s couch, but you’re back there at the same time.

You know you shouldn’t be crying, but you don’t know how to make yourself stop.

You blink hopelessly at the ceiling and pray that your blurry vision will clear before the tears spill over. Then you start to sniffle, and your emotion becomes rather obvious. You don’t want to cry. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Eddie.

“Can I— uh— can I use your bathroom?” you stammer, trying to sound halfway normal even though the words come out coated with wet emotion. You’re looking ahead of you instead of over at Eddie — ‘cause you know he’d see right through you otherwise.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he answers, a little confused because you stopped having to ask a long time ago.

He wants to ask you what’s wrong, but you’re gone before he can. His cold hands curl around his warming cocoa, fidgeting because they don’t know how to do anything but hold you.

You sit on the lid of the toilet seat and run the faucet while you cry. You bury your face in your palms, rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to comfort yourself because you’re still learning how to do that on your own.

You’re so used to calling your dad the second something goes wrong. You don’t know who you’re supposed to lean on now. Eddie, maybe — but who are you to put that weight on him? He’d carry it no problem, but the burden shouldn’t be his.

You just wish you knew where to put it, all this grief you have.

For now, you bury it with the tears you pour into your palms. When you manage to coax yourself to stop crying and get your panicked breathing back to normal — in for 4 counts, hold for 7, out for 8 — you flush and wash your hands like you were doing anything but breaking down in Eddie’s bathroom.

You can’t get anything by him, though. Literally. ‘Cause you nearly run into him when you leave.

He’s idling awkwardly outside the door, looking almost as surprised to see you as you are to see him. Chocolate eyes wide, pink mouth softly agape, bushy brows raised beneath his curly bangs. “Shit— Sorry—” he stammers.

You sniffle and hope you don’t look like you’ve been crying too hard. “What are you— What are you doing?” you ask, voice weighed down with leftover emotion.

“Nothing. You just— you looked a little upset, and I wanted to check on you,” he shrugs, trying to play it cool. Then he gets awkward and cowers. “And I was gonna knock, but… then I got… nervous.”

You’d fake a laugh if you thought it wouldn’t take all the strength you have left. Instead, you shrug and pretend like everything’s still normal. Pretending is all you have now, anyway.

“I’m fine.”

He knows you’re lying. You always look down at your feet before you lie. Your eyes are swollen and glassy, too. You’re obviously everything but fine, but he doesn’t want to press the issue too much. He doesn’t want to make the unknown any worse.

So, in lieu of a thousand things he could say, he asks you — “Wanna smoke?”

You don’t smoke. He just doesn’t know how else to get you alone like he wants.

You nod because you know he’s trying.

His racing heart settles a little.

You end up on the edge of his childhood bed while he finishes off a joint. The scent is a comforting one — slightly skunky, but mostly of Eddie’s sweet cologne. He lies on his back while you sit above him, knees curled behind you with an arm beside you to prop up your weight.

His chestnut curls are sprawled out along the plain grey sheets. His eyelids are heavy, gaze as dark as melted chocolate. His lips are rosy, and so are his cheeks after a couple hits. He looks a little like a Renaissance painting.

Eddie, meanwhile, is still stewing in his worry of you. He’s happy to sit in silence, though. Mostly because he knows you don’t mind it, either.

“How do you always know?” you blurt before you mean to.

He grows suddenly alert at your question. “Know what?”

You shrink inside yourself because you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. You were so deep in your thoughts you were practically drowning in them — swimming in oceans of grief and love and everything in between.

You’re lucky you found Eddie when you did. Luckier ‘cause he always knows how to handle the mystically delicate being you are. You don’t know how he does it.

You stammer for an answer. “When I’m… I didn’t know… When I’m—”

“Sad?” Eddie finishes for you.

Both of you know it’s deeper than that, but you nod anyway. “Yeah…”

He shrugs lazily. “I don’t know… I just have a sense for it, I guess.”

“Like Spiderman?” you tease softly, a quiet smile hinting at the corners of your lips. Your nails scratch gently at his scalp. He leans into your touch like a cat.

Eddie grins wider, happy to see you happy. “Exactly like Spiderman.”

“Wow… I can’t believe my boyfriend has superpowers.”

“Well, you better believe it, baby. ‘Cause I know every-thing that’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Your hand stills and your eyes go wide. You don’t want Eddie in your head. It’s too messy in there. How will he still love you if he knows all the darkest parts of you?

“That’s a scary thought,” you say, trying your best to laugh it off.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he assures in a voice so soft you could cry. His palm is warm as it rises to smooth across your jaw, ringed fingers calloused and gentle on your cheek. “It’s not easy for you to tell me what’s going on a lot of the time, right? So I gotta use my super cool mind-reading powers to take care of my girl, you know?”

You love him so much you could cry. You don’t want to cry, though. You’re far too happy for that.

You don’t realize how big you’re smiling until Eddie smiles back at you.

“See?” he singsongs to you with a pink grin on his lips. “Not so scary, huh?”

“You make everything not so scary,” you insist quietly, your smile even quieter. “Like a teddy bear.”

Eddie beams at your words. If he can make all the bad things he can’t see not so bad for you, he’ll wear the title of Teddy Bear with pride.

His arms curl around you in a flash, dragging you down to the mattress so he can wrap you in a smothering hug. You squeal a laugh into his shoulder. You forget to be sad.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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baldursgat3 · 7 months

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so like a week ago I saw a post I can't find again about the idea of like an elf Tav who had grown up with Astarion before Cazador

so here's 4.5k words of that

lightly nsfw but the pants stay on (except in my half finished drafts that I gave up on)

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?" He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

You stumbled along the beach away from the illithid ship. Your head was pounding and you just wanted to lay down but this was not nearly the time or place. You had to get away from the crash site and, preferably, find a few other survivors to watch your back. The cleric you picked up was fine and all, but you didn't entirely trust her. You were certain you'd need more help than that anyway.

Corpses littered the surrounding area, of humans and mind flayers alike. Not much survived the falling, flaming debris. It wasn't hard to make out a voice over the crackling fires.

You jogged towards the voice, quickly spotting it's owner. A slender elf with white curls that were surprisingly neat for surviving the nautiloid wreck. "Quick! I've got one of those brain things cornered."

That voice was… familiar? Still, you couldn't quite place it and it didn't really matter. If you helped him kill the thing, perhaps you could convince him to join you.

You followed where he was pointing, sword in hand. Really, you should've known better. Or perhaps Shadowheart could've been quicker to alert you?

This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?"

He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

"You- you died…?" It didn't make sense. You saw them bury his body and everything.

His eyes flicked back and forth, studying your face. You wouldn't be upset if he didn't recognize you, but you weren't exactly sure how you would talk your way out of this in that case.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to find out. You saw the moment it hit him as he jerked his dagger away from your neck, scrambling to get off of you. "It… can't be. Of all the people… you." He laughed bitterly, stowing the dagger.

Honestly, you weren't exactly sure how to respond to this situation. You couldn't even tell if he was happy to see you or not. So you decided to press on the most concerning issue still. "You died. I went to your funeral, Astarion. What… happened to you?"

You were nearly the same age, you'd grown up together in his family's estate. Your parents were hired hands and you served as a live-in friend for their reclusive son. He was only a few months older than you, so why did he look so much older? So much paler, more exhausted than someone your age ought to be.

On top of it he still looked fucking fantastic. Gods you hated how effortlessly beautiful he was.

His gaze darted between you and Shadowheart, anxiously weighing his options. "Ah, yes, well. You know how it goes, surrounded by adoration and opulence. It all gets to be too much, you fake your death, you flee the country. Standard business really."

That definitely wasn't the truth but clearly he wasn't about to share it in front of Shadowheart. It hurt, finding him like this, though. You were so close as children. It had gotten a little harder as you grew up but you always kept in contact. But he let you think he was dead for 200 years anyway? "Right. Of course. Well. Care to join us?"

~*~*~

It's not like you were still in mourning or anything. He had been a good friend for so long, at times even your best friend, but two hundred years was enough time for you to move on.

You had thought about him from time to time. Fondly remembering stories from your past that would turn into a quiet sadness for the life that was taken from him.

They never had an answer for what had happened to him. He had been murdered, you knew that much. No one ever said how or why, though. Magistrate's weren't exactly beloved and his family held a high enough title there was always the vague threat of assassinations but Astarion seemed like such a strange target.

It was compounded by the fact that nothing ever came of it. No one was ever caught, no political move was made on his grieving family. You would think maybe he'd been jumped, but nothing had been taken from him. Honestly, you never expected to get an answer. Certainly not from the dead man himself.

The two of you were sat in his tent, it had been a few days but what a wild few days they were. Tomorrow you would set out to level the goblin camp but tonight you were going to talk.

"I'm sorry." He started. It kind of surprised you, really. You had been learning over the past few days that the man you had once known was all but gone. The Astarion in front of you now was always bitter and irritated with half the things you did.

"Astarion I swear to Kelemvor, it is not naïve to rescue a twelve year old from a crazy lady with a snake for 'no reason.' The reason is rescuing the twelve year old from a snake."

"Where did you go? What happened to you?" The apology was nice but really, you just wanted answers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the ground between the two of you and he looked so… sad. "I thought about it, about finding you. At first and, only for a moment."

Well that didn't really clear anything up, all right. You kept quiet though, you were smart enough to know when not to push.

"You want the truth? I was captured. Kidnapped by an evil man who turned me into a monster and forced me to do his bidding. I couldn't have told you. I- I didn't want to get anywhere near you. Not like this."

A picture was beginning to come into focus. Honestly, there had been enough pieces that you had already begun to wonder. "You're a vampire."

"A spawn, yes." He practically spat the word out, scowling at the ground. "He turned me into his little pet. I was to go out and catch him the most beautiful souls I could find for him to feast on. All the while I was starved and tortured just for his amusement."

"Astarion…"

"I don't want your pity. I mean - I do, sort of but- ugh…" He rolled his eyes, leaning back. "You've made this all extremely complicated."

"Why didn't you ever try to find me? I would've helped, I could've tried to get you out of there."

"I… well I couldn't." He glanced up at you, a sad smile crossing his lips. "You would've tried, certainly. And I would've watched him kill you as punishment I'm sure. No, it's quite all right." He waved a hand dismissively, as a perfect, easy grin spread across his face.

You couldn't exactly argue. It's not like you had any idea what you would've been up against. Still, your blood boiled at the very idea of what he must've gone through in your centuries apart. "Well, you're safe right now, anyway."

His face softened at your words, seeming to relax into the very idea of your protection. "I am, aren't I? How strange." His head cocked to the side, an almost calculating look crossing his face. "Would you… care to stay the night?"

~*~*~

You had always had a sort of off and on crush on Astarion, growing up. When you were very small he had told your parents that the two of you were already married, obviously.

As you got older, you had been sidelined pretty hard as the best friend and you took it with grace. You had plenty of other people who caught your eye and it was nice to always have someone you trusted to be there.

There was that one time that he had drunkenly wept into your arms about being the only person he would ever truly love. It would've meant more had he not just gotten his heart broken hours prior, but it did rekindle an old spark in your heart for a solid year.

The two of you had drifted apart as your social circles moved in opposite directions. You never connected with the upper class, he wouldn't be seen with the rabble. You always kept in touch but, by the time he was murdered captured, you were struggling to keep up with your monthly nights out at the Elfsong.

Right now, though, in this moment? You felt as though you couldn't possibly be closer to another person if you'd wished for it.

Astarion had practically crawled on top of you in his effort to kiss you. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other rested firmly against the small of your back. He was colder than you were used to but that wasn't unwelcome. Instead it just sent shivers through your entire body with every touch.

You slowly lowered yourself down to your elbows as he leaned further into you, chasing this kiss like he needed it to survive. The hand in your hair held you firmly against him, not that you had any intention of going anywhere.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, pulling a pitiful little noise out of your throat. He let out a small breath of a laugh as his fingers began to slowly tug your shirt out of your pants. Every move was so delicate and effortless on his part. Gods he was flawless.

He freed your shirt from the prison that was your waistband, pulling back just far enough to whisper a soft "May I?" against your lips.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you blinked up at him. "Only if you return the favor."

"Gladly." A devilish smile crossed his lips as he pulled back, taking your top with him. A moment later, he had his own pulled over his head and both were recklessly discarded.

One of his hands found it's way to your back again. You couldn't help the way you jumped as his icy fingers made contact with your bare skin. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, ever so gently applying just a bit of pressure. Just enough to encourage you to lay back underneath him as he pressed your lips together again.

You went so easily, he was so gentle and sweet and he tasted like vanilla and ever so slightly like copper. He was intoxicating.

Once he had you on your back, his hands began to wander. They trailed ever so delicately over your chest, lighting a fire inside of you as they went. Your own hands were so much more inexperienced. One helplessly pressed flat against his back, the other unwilling to pull away from his curls for even a moment.

He didn't seem to be bothered by how little you were really helping. His hands continued tenderly mapping your body as his kisses began to trail away from your mouth, along your jawline.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss trailed down to your neck and you felt him pull back, just a bit, just enough to look at you. "Now… it is just a thought… it's just that, well, some people are into biting."

"Are you asking if you can drink my blood?"

"Well, only if the answer is yes."

You gently brushed your hand through his mess of curls as you pondered this. "What would it… do?"

"To you? Not much. A bit of dizziness perhaps, nothing out of the ordinary for some good old fashioned blood loss. But for me? I've been living off rats and wild boar for decades. Just a sip from someone as decadent as yourself could probably give me the power of the sun."

You couldn't help but laugh at the blatant flirting, but damn if it wasn't working. "Maybe a bit exaggerated," he continued "But it would make me feel stronger. I could fight better, think clearer. You don't have to-"

"Go for it."

"Oh. Shit really? I still had a whole monologue about not feeling pressured."

"Getting less sexy by the second, Ancunín."

"Gods, shut up." He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips back to yours as you giggled.

You could feel his anticipation now, though. He kissed you just long enough to push you back into the right headspace before his attention turned back to your neck.

He lingered there longer than you expected, tenderly covering you with his kisses. Then, without warning, he pulled back and his gentle lips were replaced by an acute sting as his fangs sunk into one of your veins.

It was a unique feeling, you could say that. You'd been stabbed before but this was different. It was cold. Like the first snow of winter, dark and freezing but glittering like crystals in the moonlight. You heard yourself gasp and felt your body arch up into him as your head tipped back for him.

You could've easily lost yourself in the feeling, just basking in this closeness you had with someone who was so dear to you. You had just enough awareness to feel the dizzy, light headed bliss start to tip towards darkness.

Your grip on his hair tightened, gently trying to tug him back before he got carried away. "Astarion…"

He only let out a gentle moan before seeming to catch himself, quickly pulling away with a small gasp. "Gods…" he wiped away the small trickle of your blood that had escaped his lips, licking it from his fingers as you stared up at him, slack jawed.

"I couldn't have wished for a finer vintage." He crooned as he ducked his head back down to clean the blood from your neck.

Gods, he had your heart about bursting out of your chest. His hands started to wander again as his mouth continued it's assault on your neck. Every touch was so careful and perfect, each one sending sparks flying through you.

He cupped one hand around your neck, gently applying a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding as his mouth moved back to yours. "You're gorgeous, you know? I've always thought so."

You were obsessed already. He was intoxicating, the way his touch felt against your skin, the way his honey sweet words pierced your heart. There was an old version of you that had dreamed of just having him like this.

Here you were, pampered and loved by a man you had adored for so long. Gods, you really never thought you would ever see him again, let alone have his hand down your pants like this. In this moment, the world was nearly perfect. The only thing that mattered to you now was making this boy yours.

~*~*~

You woke up in the morning, a bit sore, a bit disoriented, and very alone. It took a moment to remember why you were in a strange tent. Another moment for you to realize Astarion was gone. You couldn't help the disappointment that bloomed in your chest at that thought. You couldn't blame him, exactly. It's not like the two of you were a thing. Still, it would've been nice to wake up beside him.

You sighed softly, quietly getting dressed in the still morning chill. It felt like early morning, the golden light filtering into the tent and lack of noise from your companions clued you in. Maybe Astarion had run off to feed before the rest of the camp woke up. Maybe he'd hoped to be back before you had gotten up?

No such luck. You pushed open the tent flap to find your vampire quietly staring at the dim embers of your campfire. You had to bite back another sigh as you stepped forward, apparently making enough noise to draw his attention.

His neck whipped around, though he relaxed instantly once he located the source of the sound he'd heard. "You're up early." He said, quietly, turning back to the fire.

"I could say the same."

"I'm always the first one awake." You could hear the eye roll in his voice.

You stepped forward, moving to sit beside him with a small, awkward smile. "And you just had to get away from me?" Don't freak him out, play it cool. You weren't disappointed at all.

He didn't seem to find it funny, though. He just drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I told you. You made things… complicated."

That was weird. Honestly, you had no idea what he meant. "I'm sorry?"

"Not your fault." His voice was flat and unreadable. He'd really changed so much since you last saw him. It made sense but that didn't stop it from hurting.

You missed the man you used to know. Snarky and a bit full of himself. But also shy and awkward and comforting. You recognized many of his old mannerisms but they'd changed. He was bitter, focused on how to protect himself above all else. It made him violent and trigger happy in a way you weren't used to. Quite frankly, it was a little scary sometimes, the amount of joy he took in violence.

"Can I help?" It was all you had really. You couldn't change what had happened to him. All you could do now was try to help.

"Can you help? Sure. If you could just… go back in time, stop yourself from finding me after the nautiloid and let me carry on my merry way, presumably to be murdered by the first person I annoy too much."

"Okay, well, I'm not sure I can do that." You couldn't read him, no matter how hard you tried. "Did I… do something wrong?"

"No, gods, no." He curled up tighter. He looked so… vulnerable. He never did vulnerable. Especially not now. "You're perfect. That's the problem. You made it complicated."

"Astarion, I don't understand."

He sighed, finally turning his head to throw you a small, tired look. "I know. Hells…" You could see the confliction writing itself across his face. "I want to tell you something but you have to swear that you won't hate me for it, I mean it. It's not good, but you cannot hate me."

"I've never hated you, Star." Maybe the nickname was a bad idea. You practically saw it stab him directly through the chest, forcing him to turn away for a moment to collect himself.

He couldn't look you in the eye again, he just stared off to the distance in any other direction. "I know. I mean it though, promise me, please."

"All right." What could he possibly tell you that was worse than 'I spent two hundred years forced to kidnap people to be killed by my master.' "I promise. I won't hate you, no matter what."

You saw him relax a bit, his shoulders loosening. He turned back, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. "I… Last night, that- it…" It was so rare that he struggled to find his words.

He took another breath, trying to collect himself before turning back to the fire. "I was just… using you. I wish I could say I didn't mean to but- gods, I did. I pushed it that way on purpose. Its all… part of the plan, you know? Seduce you, sleep with you, secure my safety and position in the group with you. It was… easy."

Oh. Well that wasn't exactly great to hear. He was still trying to collect himself, find the right words. You didn't want to interrupt and, honestly, you didn't really know what to say.

"I didn't think about it, I just… did it. Like I had to. I needed to. And by the time my head caught up it was too late. You were already into it, I couldn't just stop."

"What?"

"I mean," He continued quickly, seemingly trying to get ahead of your presumed anger. "It's not like it wasn't good, it's not like I don't… care about you. It's just, it was an instinct. I think."

"Astarion-"

"Please, you have to understand-"

"No, no, stop. Hold on." You saw the panic in his eyes as you interrupted. "Astarion did you not… want to do that?"

The look he gave you was, honestly, almost a little pitiful. "Like I said, you've made this complicated. I don't know. I don't know what I want."

You turned your attention away from him, towards the dying fire in front of you, pausing for a moment to collect your thoughts. "I wish you hadn't done that to yourself." He was right. This was complicated.

He wasn't the same person you had grown up with. Whatever had been done to him had clearly changed him fundamentally as a person.

But, still, you couldn't look at him without seeing your old friend. It was still the same laugh you had known. Still the same smile. You saw it, when you agreed to help the tieflings, the way he cocked his hip out and rolled his eyes. His little mannerisms that still lingered after all this time. He might not be the same man you had known, but you loved him anyway.

"I don't know what happened to you," you continued before he could get defensive. "I don't know what made you feel like you had to go to such extremes just to win affections you've had since we were children."

You saw some kind of spark in his eyes. It was so difficult to read him now, you wanted to get better at that. "I'm… sorry." He sounded so unsure. Honestly, you didn't care for it, he was always so confident. Now, though, he just looked… sad, maybe?

"You don't have to apologize. Astarion," You carefully reached a hand out to cover one of his. "The first thing you did when you saw me was put a dagger to my throat, and I still would've tossed Shadowheart into the ocean if you'd asked me to."

That pulled a startled laugh out of him that you briefly worried might've woken up your companions. Gods you really would do just about anything to see him smile. "You would not have. You're too much of a goody two shoes."

"Maybe." You grinned, giving his hand the smallest squeeze. "Still. I'm just sorry you felt like you had to go that far for my affection."

"I'm not the man you used to know, I'm not blind. I don't know who he was anymore. Up till now, I think I'd forgotten my own parents' faces. But you look at me like you expect me to be him and I don't know how. I can't be what you expect, at least if I could keep your bed warm you'd have reason to keep me around."

"Astarion…" Your hand tightened around his as you scooted just a bit closer. "I was sitting in the Elfsong, a long time ago. At 'our' table, you know? I was waiting for you to meet me and I grabbed a day old copy of the Gazette to read while I waited.

"I didn't even notice at first. There was a headline for one of the articles, 'Magistrate Murdered', but I didn't notice until I got closer to it. I saw your name and it was like the roof caved in over me. I was sitting there, waiting for you to show up, and a shitty, ale stained piece of parchment told me you never would."

You looked up at him with a sad smile before continuing quickly, trying to stay ahead of the guilt you were sure was creeping up in him. "I cried for months over you. And for years after when something reminded me too much of you. Star, neither of us are the same person we left behind, it's been two hundred years. I've been through plenty, and you've been through hell. That's not what matters though."

He looked so small right now. He was nervous and upset and vulnerable. You hated it, you didn't want him to be so anxious with you, gods you wanted him to trust you. "What matters is right now. We're here together. That's so much more than I ever could've dreamed just a month ago. You don't have to earn my trust and love again. And you certain don't have to force yourself to have sex with me to do it. I never stopped loving you, Astarion."

He was still for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, scanning you for ill intent. You watched him cycle through a dozen emotions as he processed what you were saying. Then, almost like a switch flipped, he just melted.

With a choked out sob, he collapsed into you. You wrapped your arms around him as he curled into a ball, practically in your lap. His whole body shook as he quietly cried into your chest. You really did hate seeing him cry but you could feel the tension lifting from his shoulders as you held him tight.

You let a silent prayer fly to whichever god was keeping your friends asleep through this, asking them to keep up the good work. The last thing he needed right now was everyone else seeing him like this, you knew how much he wanted to keep up appearances.

Ever so gently, you lifted a hand to card your fingers through his curls. He curled up just a bit tighter, leaned into you just a bit more. It had been so, so long since the two of you had been this close. You really, truly never wanted it to end.

Eventually, though, he pulled back with an awkward laugh and a hasty scrub of his face. He didn't go far, just enough to sit back and look at you. "Gods… well. That was sexy."

You rolled your eyes, throwing him a soft grin. "You're ridiculous, Star. Come on, everyone'll be up soon. Big day, you know? Let's go kill some fucking goblins."

#bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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soapymansuds · 28 days

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Eternity and Counting

(Pt2. Also pretty short but I'm kinda just handling introductory stuff, so bear with me. Uploads will be made every Tuesday for as long as I have stuff to upload. Thank you for your support, hope you enjoy!!)

Pt1

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.

When did it get so bright? I'd swear I was staring into the face of the sun if it weren't for the gentle breeze that sways my hair. I open my eyes just barely, blinking away the glare of my surroundings. I'm acutely aware of several voices around me, one of which is more familiar than I'd like. How could it not have worked? It's impossible. I was certain that those herbs would take me out. And so was everybody else, because even if I hadn't done my research, Barbatos kept them locked in a special cabinet for ingredients never to be used while I was in the castle. I had to have died.

As the world around me slowly blinks into view, I'm greeted by a terrifying sight. Simeon sits crouched before me, worry and fear marring his perfect skin. His voice is muffled and foggy as he speaks, but slowly I recognize his question.

"What have you done?"

It's soft. Gentle. Like when my mother used to ask after I had made a small, albeit amusing, mess. I consider for a moment how to answer him. I want to ask him what he thinks I've done, but the sarcasm feels like it'd be more painful now than it usually would. So instead I take my moment of consideration to look around. I've been to the celestial realm before, but this feels different. Suddenly, I find my answer. A pair of answers really, fluttering against my back.

"I failed... Again..." I whisper, staring at my hands, and soon the tears falling onto them. "Fuck me, you'd think killing yourself would be harder to mess up." Something maniacal in me laughs. It's hard to say if I'm laughing at my joke or myself. Maybe it's both.

When I look up, Simeon's face has shot from worry to deep, deep concern. He's quick to pull out his phone, but I'm quicker to bat it out of his hand.

"You can't. You can't tell them." I mumble, not breaking eye contact. "It's bad enough you have to know, Luke will find out I'm sure. But they can't..."

"MC, they deserve to know! Do you know how worried they are right now? You've been dead a whole month!" He's nearly yelling, but his expression doesn't change much. It's hard to tell if he's angry or confused. Maybe he's both.

"They deserve to move on Simeon. You all do, I'm just sorry I've managed to fuck up your opportunity to do it. They got their letters, they know why I did it. So do you. It would be unfair of me to put them through all of that, give them an opportunity to live without me dragging them down, just to turn around a month later and force myself back into their lives because I didn't have to forethought to consider I could have been reborn an Angel!" It's not that I hadn't considered it. I had just assumed suicide knocked you off the divine rebirth roster. Guess I should have checked.

Simeon looks prepared to say something back but is quickly cut off by another voice.

"So this is the great MC I've heard so much about." He chuckles, stepping out from behind Simeon. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, though I do wish it was under better circumstances." his head tilts as if he's considering the whole ordeal. "I'm certain Lucifer would be ecstatic to hear the news, but if you insist on secrecy, that can be arranged."

"Michael I-" Simeon begins but stops quickly, fixing his tone and face to seem more proffesional. "Are you certain? Their absence has caused such a stir in the Devildom." He looks back at me like he's expecting that to change my mind more than Michael's.

"The Devildom can handle its own turmoil. We owe our loyalties to the angels of the Celestial realm. And if our new angel here wishes to hide their presence from Lord Diavolo himself, then I'll do what I can. For now, at the very least. And if you ever change your mind, I can help you then as well." He nods, holding a hand out to help me to my feet. I take it cautiously, finding a new balance in my stance with the additional weight on my back. I never expected these to be so heavy. And getting a better look at them now, they're huge. Rivaling Lucifer's, in span at least.

"If you'd like, I have a private garden. You may spend your days there for as long as you want." He grins, something strangely knowing in his eyes.

(Thank you for visiting my silly little stories. Like I said, uploads should be pretty consistent, but if you'd like a friendly reminder, comment to be added to the tag list!)

-Your friend, The Author

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #mammon x reader #obey me angst #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon

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polutrope · 5 months

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Amrod threatens Elrond and Elros by @runawaymun

Illustration for my fic And Love Grew commissioned by my dear friend @melestasflight. I am so grateful to them both for this chillingly beautiful, emotional piece that truly captures the horror of the scene.

Snippet below the cut.

A former follower of Amrod speaks to Maedhros and Maglor of what he witnessed on the cliffs near Sirion:

“My lord, he flung his sword about with such abandon, such hate, that I thought he might slay one of us, or himself. But it was thus stumbling into the night outside the city that he caught sight of a small group mounting the hills in the distance. Suddenly returned to himself, Lord Amrod commanded, ‘After them!’ We gave chase, but Lord Amrod ran so swiftly, as if driven by a fire within, and the men with us were weary and injured, so that all but myself fell behind. I was with him when he caught up to those we pursued, where the hills begin to rise and drop steeply into the sea, where you saw...”

Orfion paused, working his jaw around his next words.

“It was the Lady Elwing with her children and a woman-servant and their guard. I knew him for a warrior of Gondolin by his livery. He turned to engage us, but Lord Amrod paid him no mind. Swift as a hawk, he had snatched the children before the Lady or her servant were aware of him. And dropping to his knees and holding both terrified boys to his chest he held his sword to their throats.

“‘Hand over the Silmaril and they will live,’ he said. One of the children squirmed and a line of blood bloomed wet on his throat. There was no feint in Amrod’s voice. None dared to move or speak for a long moment. Then the servant spoke first, denying that her lady had the jewel with her. Lord Amrod laughed. ‘Of course you have it,’ he replied. ‘In that box you are clutching. Was it that very same in which you smuggled our birthright out of Doriath, where my brothers died in vain? Hand it over or I will slit your children’s throats.’ But Elwing had already silenced the other woman, and she drew the necklace out of the box. I thought she might hand it over, but she clasped it about her neck.

“Its light, my lord — I could scarcely breathe for the beauty of it, and the terror of the Lady wearing it. There were tears on her face that had been hidden by the darkness, and they now shone like little streams in the moonlight. I have never feared darkness before, my lord, but I did then. I fear I will evermore shun the night, having seen that light.”

Tears had gathered in Orfion’s eyes, and he sputtered to a halt. “Please forgive me, lords, I am not one prone to weeping, but the memory— it is impossible not to weep. I do not know why.”

“I do,” said Maglor. Compassion for the simple soldier who had become entangled in their doom warred with envy: it ought to have been him there, and Maedhros, looking upon the Silmaril’s light. Maglor would not have let it slip through his hands.

Orfion collected himself. “Even Lord Amrod was struck dumb,” he said, as if in answer to Maglor’s guilty thought, “and in his moment of faltering the children nearly escaped his grasp. Elwing lurched forward then, but he clutched them closer. He bared his teeth. ‘Hand it over!’ he commanded. She did not speak. She gazed long at her children, as if speaking to them mind-to-mind. She touched the Silmaril on her breast, and for a moment I thought she would remove it. Then a fell cold light washed over the Lady’s face, and she spoke, quiet but hard, in the tongue of Men.

“And then she turned and raced to the cliff’s edge. She leapt, and as she fell she loosed a horrible cry. The light of the jewel glowed along the precipice — and then it was gone.

“All was a confusion of shouts and fighting. The woman-servant screamed her Lady’s name and ran to the cliff’s edge. The guard commanded her to stop, and there was a struggle between them — I saw little of it, for Lord Amrod had risen to his feet and held again the edge of his sword to the throat of one of the children, who stood altogether still. The other wailed, and Lord Amrod drew his dagger and swung it at him. Rising and holding both blades aloft, he cursed them, saying that he would take them both with him. And then suddenly he dropped his weapons and crouched down before them and embraced them, and he murmured that he would save them, that he would spare them the burden— the burden of living.”

Orfion choked back the last words. “Then the guard leapt at Amrod, and dragged him to his feet — but as he did, Amrod drove his dagger deep into his thigh, and the man stumbled, and Amrod dropped the dagger and seized him by the neck. ‘I do not want to kill you, old friend,’ he spat. ‘Stand down, Galdor. This is not your fight.’ Then he threw the man to the ground. Amrod turned on the children again and then — my lord, I was certain he would slay them, and I could not bear it.

Read the fic on AO3

#amrod #elrond #elros #third kinslaying #*and love grew

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housethemd · 7 months

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One Life For Another

(What if Amber had been the one to survive the bus crash instead of House? Snapshots of Wilson’s life after House. Wilson/Amber, eventual House/Wilson. Just read and you’ll understand.)

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

“Where’s House?”

Amber asks, shortly after her eyes open. Wilson smooths back her hair, thinking she’s just confused, concussed.

“Shh, you were in a bus crash. You’ve been unconscious for nearly 24 hours. You’re going to be okay though.” He reassures her, kissing her forehead.

“Where’s House?” She repeats.

That’s how they find out House was in that crash too. He’d forgotten his wallet at the bar, so he’d been taken to Princeton General as a John Doe. That’s why Wilson only got the call about Amber.

When Wilson gets there, House only has a few hours left. The damage is too extensive. He’d need multiple organ transplants to save him, and he qualifies for none of them because of his addiction. Conceptually, Wilson knows that House would be unlikely to survive regardless.

Amber checks herself out of PPTH AMA, refusing not to be at her boyfriend's side. House is in and out of consciousness, the high doses of Morphine he’s being given make him drowsy.

It’s 3am when House wakes up for the last time. He’s surprisingly lucid, and Wilson knows what that means. He’s seen it time and time again in his patients. It’s like the universe grants them one last chance to say their goodbyes, to make their peace.

“Always knew I’d go first.” House’s voice is rough and quiet. Wilson has to lean in close to hear him.

“Me too, I didn’t think it would be quite so soon though.” Wilson laughs through his tears.

“On the contrary, I think I’ve lived longer than I was supposed to.” House says.

Wilson knows he’s talking about the infarction. He always knew House felt he should have died then, but Wilson always tried to reassure him that it obviously wasn’t his time, and besides, misanthropic bastards are supposed to live forever, aren’t they?

“Oh Greg.” Wilson is starting to shake as he fights the urge to break down.

“S’okay Jimmy.” He soothes.

“Cut throat bitch.” He addresses Amber now.

“Yeah House?” She’s wiping her own tears away, watching someone die is always hard, especially when it’s someone your loved one loves so much.

“Take care of Jimmy for me, okay?”

She finds she can only nod.

They all know it’s time. No one wants to say it, but they all know.

“I love you, Greg.” Wilson says, squeezing House’s hand and leaning close.

“Love you too, Jimmy. You’ve been the bestest friend a fucked up guy like could have asked for.”

Wilson can’t respond through the sobs. House’s eyes are glassy and unfocused. Wilson leans his face on House’s shoulder. His friend is dying.

“See ya, boy wonder.” The words are drawn out and slow, as House says them with his last breaths.

The monitors alarm as House flatlines. Amber rubs circles on Wilson’s back as he sobs loudly into his dead best friend's shoulder.

———————

Wilson gives the eulogy at House’s funeral. It's an open casket. House’s parents had his body dressed in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and a black tie. Wilson hates that they put House in a tie. House always hated ties. They should have put him in a blue shirt, not a white one. He always looked best in blue, it brought out his eyes. Not that you can see his eyes now.

He talks about how House was a healer, how many lives he’d saved that no one else could. How he cared about people, but only when no one was looking. How much he’ll miss, how much he misses him.

He sobs quietly as they lower the casket into the ground. He doesn’t want to make a scene, but if he’s leaning heavily on Foreman, no one says anything about it. Amber never lets go of his hand.

Blythe comes up to him and thanks him, “For being such a good friend to Greg.” He thanks her, tells her that her son was a very special man. He doesn’t know how to tell her that for everything he did for House, House did just as much for him.

——————

A year goes by.

Amber encourages James to talk about House. She knows how important that relationship was to him, and she never wants him to feel as though she’s forgotten. She doesn’t want him to think she expects him to forget.

They buy a house in the suburbs. It has three bedrooms, a large backyard, and a massive living room. It’s perfect for housing a baby grand piano. Despite the fact neither of them can play it, James keeps it.

He kept all of House’s instruments, they were all incredibly important to House and James couldn’t bear to see them go; there was so little that was truly important to House. But while the guitars get put away in cases and stored, James wants the piano displayed. After the movers had left, James just stared at it for a while. Eventually he said,

“He used to play for me when I’d ask. He was quite talented. It was… nice.” Before he went back to unpacking boxes.

Three months after they move into their home, they go out for a night on the town and James gets down on one knee. She says yes, but also says she won’t change her name. No way will she be the fourth Mrs. Wilson.

That night she wakes at 3:30am to an empty bed and the occasional sound of piano keys. She pulls on the shirt James discarded when they tumbled into bed before she creeps just far enough down the stairs to be able to hear him without being seen.

“I missed you a lot today. I asked Amber to marry me. She said yes, but she’s keeping her name. Thinks ‘Mrs. Wilson’ is cursed or something. I know you’d agree with her.”

There is the sound of piano keys being played randomly.

“It won’t be the same. Getting married without you there. I know it’s silly, I’ve done this three times before, but it’s a big day and I wish I could have my best friend by my side.”

Amber creeps back up the stairs. She’s happy James talks to House. She knows his therapist suggested it, and she’s glad to see he’s listening.

——————

Their wedding is small. They end up not doing wedding parties because James can’t bring himself to have anyone but House as his best man. Amber doesn’t mind. At the reception they light a candle “for those who couldn’t be with us” but it’s really just for House.

———————

Eighteen months after their wedding Wilson is standing in one of the PPTH delivery rooms.

“It’s a boy!” The doctor doing the delivery announces.

As Amber dozes that night, Wilson cradles the small bundle that is his son. He looks down at him with awe. The birth certificate sits next to him on the side table, signed by both him and Amber. It reads:

Michael Gregory Wilson-Volkais

He’d been worried about asking Amber to name their son after House. But she’d only smiled at him, and said she thought Gregory made a lovely middle name.

———————-

“Dad, who’s that with you in all the pictures?”

Michael is ten, and they are flipping through a photo album Amber just completed. She insisted they include pictures from before they met, because she was in her mid thirties and he was in his early 40’s when they met, meaning they both had a hell of a lot of life before each other.

“That’s your Uncle Greg.” Wilson answers, as they all stare down at a collage of images of himself and Greg.

“But I thought you only had two brothers, Uncle David and Uncle Danny.” Michael says, confused.

“Greg wasn’t my brother. We met at a medical conference when I was 28, and after that he was my best friend.”

“If he’s your best friend, why haven’t I ever met him?” Michael questions.

Wilson lets out a deep sigh, putting his arm around his son.

“Because he died, Buddy. Before you were born.”

“Oh.” Michael hangs his head, clearly feeling bad. The boy was cursed with his father’s empathy.

“It’s okay. It’s nice to talk about him. Did you know you’re named after him? Your middle name ‘Gregory’ is after your Uncle Greg. Gregory was his full first name.” Wilson tells him.

Michael thinks that’s pretty cool, and they move on to other pictures in the album. That night however, Wilson sits down with a glass of scotch and the album. He sips his drink and reminisces about the moment each picture captures, and all ones that weren’t captured on film.

———————-

At sixty-five Wilson lies in a hospital bed. His wife of twenty-three years is on one side of him, and his twenty-one year old son is on the other. Dying of cancer isn’t how he pictured his life ending, but having family around him makes it somewhat bearable, or maybe that’s the morphine.

He hates to leave his son so early, but that’s the danger of having kids later in life he supposes. Michael is only in his last year of his undergraduate degree - premed. He wants to be an oncologist like his old man. Wilson wonders if watching him die of cancer will change his mind.

He’s said his goodbyes, and slowly light and sound fades away. Strangely, or maybe not, his last thought is not of his wife or son, but of Greg House.

See you soon, old friend.

———————

“Wasn’t expecting to see you for another twenty years at least.”

He recognizes that voice. As he slowly opens his eyes he realizes he recognizes his surroundings too. It’s a forest in upstate New York. He and House used to go backpacking here. They’d spend weekends camped out, cooking everything over their campfire and sleeping side by side in sleeping bags in a two person tent.

He finds the source of the voice seated on a tree stump, and there he is.

“House.” Is the only word he manages.

“In the flesh. Well not really, but you know what I mean.” House smiles and laughs.

He looks like he did the night they met, dark hair and unshaven face. Jeans and a band t-shirt under a leather jacket. Wilson looks down at himself and realizes he’s similarly dressed, his own jeans and McGil sweatshirt. He touches his face and realizes he’s also back to the age he was that night.

“I missed you.” He tells House. It’s true. He didn’t realize how much until right now.

“Come on Jimmy, walk with me.”

House takes him down a narrow path that leads them to a small lake. Wilson remembers it from their camping trips. The only difference is now there is a small cottage next to it.

“So, what have you been up to?” House asks. Like they aren’t dead, like this isn’t some strange afterlife they find themselves occupying.

“Not much. Married Amber. Had a son. Named him Michael Gregory, after you.”

They stare at each other for a moment before bursting out into stomach aching laughter. After they finally stop they wrap their arms around each other in a tight hug. They never hugged much when they were alive, but now it feels right.

“What got you?” House asks softly in his ear.

“Cancer.” Wilson tells him.

“Wow. That’s… ironic.” House says as they pull away.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

They make their way into the cottage. House will give him a tour of it, and when the sun begins to set in their version of heaven they’ll lay down together in one bed without question.

In life they never seemed to get things right, and then their time together was cut short.

In death they’ll get it right.

#apparently we are doing sad angst today guys #i promise I’ll give you something happy tomorrow #house md #james wilson #hate crimes md #greg house #hilson #dr house #dr wilson #wilson x house #house/wilson #amber volakis #wilson/amber #house md fanfiction #hilson fanfic #amber/wilson fanfic

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ackrmvvn-levi · 1 year

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Take me home || E.S.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: I don’t think there are any??

Look, let’s just all pretend he’s still alive, because god damn it I miss him 😭😭

It’d been 4 years since Erwin had seen you last. He’d barely managed to survive the battle of Shinganshina, but it felt like a part of him had died when you never returned. They never even found your body among the wreckage, they’d searched for days, coming up empty handed each time.

There was nothing left for him to do but assume the worst had happened.

He’d dealt with loss before, being in the scouts, that much was a given. But grief had never taken such a hold on him, leaving him feeling hollow and broken down, unable to think about anything other than you. Every day was hard, every minute felt like an endless abyss waiting to swallow him whole. His dreams were nightmares more often than not, waking from them in fits of shivering cold sweat. It was only by sheer luck he didn’t lose his mind entirely.

He couldn’t have known that across the large body of water, you were alive.

They’d held you captive, only allowing you a semblance of freedom when you agreed to listen to their side of the violence.

But you’d done what you could to make your situation less dire, the Marleyans were surprised when you didn’t try to flee after that.

You learned the secrets of the titans, you’d learned why the Marleyans thought of your people as devils. You’d done everything you could to convince them you believed in their cause, just to stay alive.

You hoped to be able to return home, begging to whatever higher power there was that Erwin was still alive, waiting for you to return to him.

——————

Your eyes grazed over the various fruits the merchant was selling, picking out different ones before moving to start your way to your so-called home.

The familiar voice almost slipped your attention at first, but as the yelling became more prominent, you froze.

You slowly looked towards where the voice had come from, eyes wide in disbelief at the scene in front of you.

Sasha, Connie, and Jean were each holding an ice cream cone, yelling praises for the sweet treat at each other.

You would’ve laughed at how ridiculous the whole situation seemed had your heart not began pounding within your chest. Your breath had caught somewhere in your throat, and you stared dumbfounded at your three old friends who hadn’t noticed you.

You began urgently looking throughout the crowd, desperately looking for anymore familiar faces. Anybody you could call a friend. Anyone who knew you.

You noticed Levi and Hange next, their gazes locked on the three overgrown children, still yelling at each other. Hange had a smile on her lips, chatting to a bored-looking Levi quietly.

You wanted nothing more than to run over to them, to you comrades, but they weren’t supposed to be here. Drawing unnecessary attention to the outsiders would only cause all of you trouble.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the pair, only when a third figure stepped up next to Hange did your focus change.

Your heart felt like it nearly stopped, a pair of blue eyes already locked on your figure when you looked at the man.

Erwin stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets as his eyes bored into your own. The two of you didn’t move for what fell like forever, staring at one another in silence.

You wondered if he realized it was you he was looking at.

You snapped out of your daze when he took a step in your direction, quickly freezing when you shook your head frantically. He paused, eyebrows furrowing slightly as confusion swirled around in his eyes.

You quickly looked around, noticing no guards, no warriors, no one who would be able to recognize the group of scouts, but you couldn’t be too careful.

Your eyes met the familiar pair again, slightly jerking your head to the alley you knew was a few feet behind you, praying he got the message to follow you into the corridor.

The second you saw Erwin nod to you, you turned and began quickly making your way there, brushing through groups of people unapologetically. You could practically feel your hair standing on end, goosebumps rising across your flesh as you hurried along the dark corridor, only turning around at the sound of footsteps behind you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words died in your throat. He was still as handsome as you remembered, the same blue eyes still shone with intelligence and kindness. He was out of his scout uniform, a suit hugging his body, a welcome change from his usual wardrobe.

His steps were slow, as though wary of startling you. When he stopped in front of you, his hand reached up, landing on your cheek gently. You nearly sobbed on the spot, not realizing how much you still craved his touch until that moment.

“Tell me you being here doesn’t mean what I think it does.” His voice was quiet, pleading. You could tell he wasn’t sure what to think or feel, and you understood that this would be difficult for him to accept.

“No, no, of course not. They took me, Erwin. I did what I had to do to survive,” You assured, taking a step closer towards him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

He leaned into your embrace, squeezing his eyes closed as he breathed deeply and steadily against your shoulder. “God, I thought I lost you for good,” he spoke, holding you against him like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip any.

“Never,” you replied fiercely, pulling back to look him straight in the eye. You smiled sadly when you saw tears gathering on his face. You cupped his cheeks delicately, wiping them away. He pressed his lips against yours softly, letting out a deep sigh as you kissed him back.

He was the first to pull away, your hands still gripping his face as his landed on your hips. His eyes bored into yours, blue irises filled with adoration.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispered, warm breath fanning over your red-tinted cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much, darling. Everyday of the last 4 years.”

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, but they were happy tears this time, relief washing through you to see him finally in front of you. The weight of four years was beginning to fade away. You could breathe normally now, knowing he’d made it out alive.

“You can come back with us, right? We’ll sneak you onto the ship,” he suggested, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know if I can go back to living without you knowing that you’re alive.”

Your smile grew at his words, pulling his lips back down into a kiss, pouring all your love for the tall blonde into it. He wrapped his free arm around your waist, cradling you close as you melted into the warmth radiating off his body.

“Yes, please. Get me out of here,” you spoke after pulling away, leaning your foreheads back together lightly. “Take me home.”

“You have to do something for me though,” he replied, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the confusion that flashed across your features.

“Of course, what is it?”

“Marry me. The second we get home.”

A small gasp left your lips, your heart swelling with joy and happiness at those words.

“You want to marry me?” You asked incredulously, unable to help the broad grin spreading across your features as you threw yourself into his arms once again, giggling into his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, peppering gentle kisses across your forehead.

“I’ve been waiting 4 years to ask you that. Of course I want to,” he answered happily, tightening his grip on you, burying his face into your hair and breathing deeply.

You nodded your head quickly, feeling completely overwhelmed by the emotions running rampant in your chest.

“Yes, Erwin. Please, take me home and make me your wife,” you spoke, feeling tears threatening to fall from your eyes. He chuckled lowly, bringing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up towards him as he connected our lips for yet another kiss.

He was kissing you with everything that he held inside, everything that you had missed over the past years. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, how much he was always going to love you.

You felt safe, secure, loved, and cherished. And in that moment, the world could crumble around you and you wouldn’t care, not while Erwin had you wrapped in his arms and was the reason for every emotion coursing through your veins.

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ghostkeegan · 2 years

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Mistletoe (König x Fem!Reader)

High school sweethearts AU!

Prompt: Ruthlessly bullied and alone, König had no plans of going to the annual Christmas Dance. But when you knock on his door exclaiming, you’re his date he can’t refuse.

Warnings: Violence, Tooth Rotting fluff.

An: I CANNOT STAND BEING SHADOWBANNED SO I MADE A SIDE BLOG. I will post here until my account is fixed. Also we need to come up with a name for the big boy that is not his call sign.

It was normally bad, but today it was ruthless. It seemed his peers knew it was the last day of school before holiday break, because they bullied him ruthlessly. He was never one to back down, almost enjoying the stinging feeling of his split knuckles. He wasn’t caught throwing the punch at the bully. He was grateful for that, but it wasn’t enough to halt his souring mood.

All day he looked forward to going home, just so he could lay down in his bed and read.

So that’s what he did. After school his parents read the signs. They did as they always had, suggesting that they speak to the Headteacher. Yet he was always one to shut it down, he didn’t need anyone fighting his battles, let alone babying him.

That’s why he found it so hard to believe when he heard a quiet knock on his bedroom door. His pet cat meowed at the noise, stretching at his side before purring at the locked door.

“I don’t want to talk right now, Ma.” He mumbled quietly, flipping the page of his book with disinterest. He nearly tossed it in shock when he heard your voice.

“Um, it’s not your mom.” Your voice was small, but it was one that he had heard a dozen times. The two of you were friends, which was always a shock to König. You were popular, excelling in any activity at school while also being exceedingly beautiful. He was lucky to have you as a friend.

He scrambled off his bed, shivering slightly at the loss of warmth. Carefully looking in the mirror, he made sure he didn’t look too much like a slob. He straightened his pajama pants and combed through his hair. He hurried to the door, pulling it open with a confused expression.

“What are you d-” he began to speak, but his words died out on him in a quick instant. He could almost feel his pupils dilate as he took you in.

You had your hair pinned back, a decorative piece just above your hairline that looked like fresh snowdrops. A long dress made of silk hugged your frame, the soft blue color glimmered in the light. You looked absolutely stunning, and König could say the color of his cheeks justified it. “Your parents said I could come in, they seemed a little eager to get me to your room.” You wiggled your eyebrows playfully. He could hear himself gulp loudly as his face reddened more.

“I got something for you,” You extended your arms, he then noticed the bundle of clothes neatly folded in your grasp. A suit. “I had it tailored, I’m sorry it took so long to have done.” He gingerly took the clothes from your grasp, a confused expression crossing his face. “Why do I need a suit?”

“For the Christmas dance tonight, I hope you don’t mind being my date.” You spoke so sweetly it would be a sin if he ever refused. But the constant nagging in his mind would not leave. “Why would you want me as a date?” He asked astonished, you could have anyone in the whole school, why him?

“Who wouldn't want to go with you?” You asked him, König nearly laughed at the question. “A lot of people, actually.” He muttered before gesturing for you to turn around as he got dressed. He hastily put the trousers on before buttoning up the white dress shirt you had for him. He let out a hum when he finished, you approached him, bringing your hands up to his shirt to smooth it over. He blushed as your warm palms brushed over his chest.

“Well, they don’t know what their missing.” Your determined eyes met him, a cheeky smile upon your face as you held out a tie that matched the color of your dress. He nearly melted as you flipped the tie over his shoulders, tying it around him before looping it and tightening it around his neck. “There...” he caught your gaze softening as you took him in.

“You look very handsome.”

It took everything in him not to spontaneously combust right there. This was before you took hold of his tie and pulled him down to you, placing a quick kiss on his flaming cheek.

“Come on! We have some dancing to do.” You chirped excitedly, skipping out his door as his cat meowed mockingly. “Shut up,” König mumbled at the feline, before shaking his head and following after you into the lounge.

You were already speaking excitingly to his mom, a big grin on your face. He halted for a moment, just to admire how simply beautiful you were. “You owe her a dance.” His father spoke from beside him, a small smile on his lips as he pridefully patted his shoulder. “I can do that.” he agreed before making his way across the lounge and helping you into your coat.

“What time do I need to be home?” He asked his parents, but they both gave him a look. “No curfew tonight. Have some fun!” His mother spoke before waving them off.

It was hectic when you arrived at the small park where the dance was being held. Large lanterns illuminated the square among with little propane heaters to keep him and you warm. The area was decorated beautifully, with large wreaths and decorative snowflakes. Christmas music played softly around the area, but König found it hard to admire anything but you.

His heart plummeted as he heard the harsh whispers, some students even pointed at him as he walked pass. He felt a small bit better when you looped your arm around his.

“What are you doing here with this freak?” One of the boys in your grade spoke up from behind him. König felt his heartbeat pick up as you chose to ignore the comment, instead you made your way in the opposite direction, over to the refreshments. Your hand latched onto his, dragging him with you.

“Taking pity on him, huh?” The same boy came up behind you, snatching a glass of glühwein with a smirk. Your face burned red in anger, you looked as if you were ready to lunge. König noticed the signs, his hand wrapped around your waist to hold you back. “It’s not worth it...” he mumbled.

The boy’s gaze shifted to you with a sneer. “You’re right. It’s not worth it. It makes since that she is with you. A perfect match, a freak and a slut.”

Whatever anxiety he was feeling diminished in a short moment. He released his arm from around your waist, rounding on the boy who had been stupid enough to insult you in front of him. Quicker than a blink he grabbed the boy’s collar, his feet leaving the ground as König lifted him up. “If you ever... ever talk about her like that in front of me it will be the last thing you ever do.” He growled, wanting nothing more than to pummel him into the ground.

The boy tried to wiggle out of his grasp, splashing his glass of glühwein down the front of König’s shirt. König lifted him higher, ignoring the soaking feeling. He heard the boy whimper in fear, oddly enough filling him with satisfaction. He released him hard, the boy nearly fell on his ass as he ran away.

König glanced down at his red stained shirt before sheepishly turning back to you.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, knowing his anger had gotten the best of him and had ruined the shirt you had bought him. A simple giggle left your lips, expanding into a full laugh. “What’s so funny?” He questioned, a small smile tracing his lips at the sound of your laugh.

“That was amazing!” You praised, reaching for his hand and dragging him away from the table. The two of you caught several stares due to König’s stained shirt and your small frame tugging him to the square. You turned to face him, a strange look in your eyes.

“Well, are you going to dance with me, or not?” You teased, watching his face flush as he sheepishly twined your fingers together. He held his other hand awkwardly around your middle, just above your waist. With an amused huff you took hold of his wrist, moving it lower to the dip in your hip. He gently squeezed the flesh with the pads of his fingertips.

Your hand clutched onto his shoulder. One could say the two of you looked ridiculous, with König being so much taller and crouched. But to the two of you, it was perfection. König even began to hum a Christmas tune softly as he twirled you around.

The night went smoothly after that. You had danced for a couple of songs and laughed until your cheeks hurt. Even König was content with himself after such a shitty day.

But what cemented the night as one of his favorites was when he dropped you off at home. It was dark, and only the street lights illuminated the area. You had your hand firmly wrapped around his. His thumb was softly tracing circles around the soft spot of your wrist.

You both made your way to the door, reluctant of letting the night end. “Thank you for being my date.” You turned to him, a happy look on your face. König’s eyes softened as he studied your features. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you in that moment, with your cheeks flushed from the cold and your soft lips stained from wine.

You craned your neck, glancing at the sneakily placed mistletoe above the archway of your door. Your parents must have put it there as a joke. König followed your eye line, cheeks flaming as he glanced at the mocking plant.

Mustering up some courage, likely from the wine, König wrapped an arm around your waist. “Well, it’s tradition, isn’t it?” He asked, leaning down closer to you until he could feel your halt of breath.

“Certainly…” you winked, before allowing your eyes to flutter shut pleasantly. König’s lips met yours shyly, but to this day, it remained your favorite kiss the two of you shared.

#cod #konig #call of duty #modern warfare #König #König x reader

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shinestarhwaa · 1 year

Text

HAPPY TO HELP || CHOI JONGHO

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Roommate!Jongho x Fem reader

Word Count: 790

Warnings/tags: mentions of porn, masturbation, protected sex, strength kink

@anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @star1117-archives @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

Tell me if u wanna be added to my taglist❣️

ENJOY!

The fact you were so turned on ALL damn day was so frustrating. At work, on the way home and even the sight of your roommate Jongho cooking pasta was reason enoufh for you to start dripping between your legs.

You watched as he prepared the red pasta sauce, making circular motions with his hands while stirring the sauce. You rolled your eyes and laid yourself on the couch, turning on the TV.

"Did you want some pasta, Y/N?" Jongho asked. "Yeah, and a fat cock in my hole," you mumbled. "What was that?"

"Yeah, sure," you sighed.

After dinner you made your way upstairs to your room, trying to find a moment to relieve yourself. If you were correct Jongho had a soccer match tonight so he would leave soon. You decided to watch an episode of your favourite hour to stall before helping yourself out.

The sound of skin slapping against each other and the sinful moans coming out of your laptop filled the room. The woman in the video was getting railed so hard you thought she might be split open by the huge cock the man possessed.

You had two of your fingers deep in your cunt and no matter how wet and horny you were, you couldn't cum. You let out a frustrated groan. "Why the fuck can't I just cum," you whined out, rubbing your clit.

You were fed up, pent up and so needy and yet your hand was getting so tired you were gonna give up. Until there was a knock on your door. Wasn't Jongho supposed to he out?

You quickly pulled up the duvet to cover your body, but forgot to pause the video. When Jongho stepped into your room the sounds of the woman screaming out startling him. Your cheeks flushed and you closed your laptop with a loud clap.

"Wow, are you okay?" He asked, not even being that confused by you watching porn. "You sounded surely frustrated. Can't cum, huh?" he asked.

You were surprised with how chill Jongho was, so much more chill than you were. You were nearly shaking with anxiety and excitement.

"Jongho, you should probably go," you said, "I am naked under here." "So?" "Well if you don't want me to rip off that ugly sweater and those way too tight jeans and jump on your cock you need to leave."

He smirked, surprised, but into it. "Well I am not stopping you. I don't mind helping you out with your little problem."

You licked your lips as you were quick to strip him from his clothes, revealing your two naked bodies. It wasn't the first time you saw each other naked, but this was a whole new setting, and you were more than impressed with the size of Jongho's cock.

"Pegged me for a... kinda-small-dick-kinda-dude, Y/N?" Jongho smirked. "Hm, this is not the biggest I've had, mister," you teaser him. "Well, I'll fucking show you what it can do."

You grabbed a condom from your drawer and handed it over to him. "Damn, hasty," Jongho scoffed, putting the condom on.

"I've been fingering myself for 40 minutes, I just want your cock, idiot," you mumbled. Jongho laughed,"I know, I could hear everything. Sucks that your vibrator died, my condoleances," he grinned.

"Yeah, thanks," you rolled your eyes, "now put that dick of yours to work." Jongho scoffed. "You're annoying, now shut up."

Jongho pinned you down, holding your arms above your head with only one of his hands, as he guided his cock into your wet, pleading hole.

You gasped as he stretched your pussy walls, clenching down on him immediately. "So eager," he breathed into your ear, "so needy for some cock, aren't you?"

"Y-yes, oh god," you moaned out as he pistoned his thick cock in and out of your pulsating hole.

"You're so tiny underneath me baby, I could fucking break you in half," he smirked, picking up the pace. You moaned loud as he rocked his hips into you, breasts bouncing along with his sharp thrusts.

"Yes, Jongho, fuck!" You whined, feeling the familiar warmth in your lower tummy. "Is my little one getting close? Gonna cum on my cock? Such a little slut, only needed some cock in her pussy right? Tell me how good I'm making you feel. Only me, hm?"

You shivered, body trembling as you moaned out, releasing and clenching on his length. "Yes, only you, Jongho!"

It didn't like long before Jongho spilled in the condom. He rode out your highs before pulling out and throwing away the condom.

You panted softly, fixing your hair. "Yeah, uhm, that surely helped," you admitted giggly. Jongho smirked. "I am happy to help."

#ateez #kpop #smut #jongho #choi jongho #jongho x reader #ateez x reader

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indigos-stardust · 28 days

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New Four swords fic- Chapter 1

*I'd appreciate if u read it on a03 because that's where my tag/summary is but if you cant for whatever reason, I have it below this cut* thanks for any boost and comment <3

Roaming packs of monsters, ugh. Usually, monsters tend to be attracted or even magically appear from places with plenty of darker energy. It could be some cursed and abandoned temple or some pit where someone died horribly. Maybe, there’d just be one huge monster claiming an area and its magical stink would attract a bunch of underlings.

Monsters aren’t exactly pack animals like wolves. They just follow whichever one’s the biggest and act purely based on greed and violence. They’re happy to follow orders as long as they get their cut. Which is usually the promise of fresh flesh.

The scouts said the monsters were following paths. On a schedule. Almost like they’re planning and guarding. That…isn’t right. Something is definitely up.

The worst part of it is that a lot of the paths they’re taking seem to be cutting off a random average sized fishing village to the south. Lutelin Village. Yeah, Green can see why they had been specifically called to handle this one.

Whatever they’re going to eventually face, it’ll probably seem like even an experienced knight’s worst nightmare. But they can handle it. After all, they’d handled far more with far less. This time they even have armor! The odds are far more in favor since their… “adventure.” Green can’t help but fidget with his fingers anyways.

He’s probably just out of practice, sure they had helped fight against the general excess of monsters but that was just dealing with monsters sprawled out everywhere. Not a real proper fight with layers to get to the final baddie. His gut flares with a hidden anxiety.

It’ll be alright though, the others are literally following his back, and as much as it sucks that those villagers are probably having a hard time with travelling due to the monsters- This will be good for them! Well, Green and his uh, other selves, anyways. Besides, why would you possibly want “rest and relaxation” when you can just crush the ugly mug of some monster?

Okay, maybe he is spending too much time with Blue.

Either way they definitely have better odds! They’ll just find each band (two or three?) and take them down, easy peasy.

Every step is going to take him closer after all, might as well keep his shoulders straight and his eyes on the horizon.

Soft grass and weeds dance in the foothills, with a chilly autumn air as their partner. As much as the others are way too gripey in the early morning, Green knows getting them up early is definitely the right call! The soft crispness of the morning air energizes him with every breath! Practically music, in his humble opinion.

Behind him, he can hear another kind of music. A playful punch to the shoulder, a content sigh, and a little laugh. Conversation that starts and pauses, only to start again. In and out, natural and welcoming. They have his back.

They finally stop at the top of a particularly large hill; this is the spot the scouters said they’d seen the monsters the most. If Green looks to the West, he can see the beginning treeline of a dark and confusing magic-filled Lost Woods. He shudders. From what Vio described about the woods, it definitely doesn’t seem like the ideal spot for a stroll. Compared to their “adventure” and all they’ve experienced, the next few days will be easyyyy.

They’ve barely settled into their spot when Vio, ever the watchful one, already spots a band of monsters practically marching together. A very large band of very angry looking monsters. Nearly time to fight. A cliffside looms in the distance, with the monsters in between them and it.

“I’d say, I think we’re dealing with about eight or so stalfoes, two spear moblins, oh you’ve got to be kidding me at least two dozen,” Green squints, “uh, tiny plant things?”

Strange little hobbling plant monsters, with sharp teeth and leaves coming from a single bud supported by two stumpy legs, covered the ground near the other monsters.

“Tiny plant things?’”

=====

For a place full of nothing but rolling hills, Vio sure is having quite a bit of difficulty finding enough room to fight. It’s ridiculous honestly, he and Green were supposed to take care of the stalfoes by directly fighting against them. Meanwhile, Blue and Red were meant dealing with those pesky small monsters that keep trying to bite their ankles! Or jump into their faces. It’s a bit hard to fight several monsters just taller than you while dealing with a bunch of faces full of teeth trying to lunge at you, afterall.

Not to mention, once they finally get in semi-decent positions the moblins thrust their giant axes right in the middle and scatter everyone all over again! He can hear the annoying squish and splatter of Blue’s hammer smashing into another one.

Red’s fire rod is great at helping to keep the moblins away, but while you would think it’d be great for its intended purpose of burning those DAMN little plants monsters- All it really does is make all the grass around them catch on fire, not harming the stalfoes, and force them to bolt to a patch of rocks while they’re being chased. Of course, the little abominations climb up the stalfoes to stay safe from the fire. Fighting on the bumpy ground only makes things worse in their favor. He really wishes the darn things would be the ones stumbling and struggling for balance instead of themselves.

Wait… This is a far rockier area- He can feel the rattling bones hit his shield once more as he grunts to shove it off. They all need to be knocked down. With the bit of distance he looks around, and there . A pile of rocks, leading up to a cliff. The cliff is extremely uneven at the top, but there is just enough clear space for a person at the top!

Perhaps, possibly, it had been a bit of a.. Risky endeavor. The second there’s the smallest opening, he yells out, “Watch out for a minute!” and bolts to the cliff side. Ignoring Blue’s very p*ssed off , “h-HEY! Where the Hell are you going?!!” and Green’s surprise as he keeps on running. Every thump of his feet pushing off the earth ringing in his ears. Or maybe that’s just his heartbeat.

Just as he’s starting to climb up he can hear the rattling of a stalfoe and feel the bruising pain of those small monsters trying to reach his flesh under the armor. I just need to keep going , he thinks as he finishes pushing himself up and begins scrambling for a new foothold as he simultaneously tries to shake off the miniature snapping beasts. Good thing his ears are protected by the chainmail underneath his cap.

The crash and shattering of bones with a string of swears behind him urge him to go even further up. When the battle’s over, Blue is probably going to get him next. He hadn’t sounded particularly pleased about Vio, “DITCHING THEM WITHOUT WARNING LIKE A B****H*SS,” or whatever. Despite his current height bringing him farther from the battle ground, he can practically hear Green shout, “ LANGUAGE!!” in the middle of battle.

Finally, just as he nears the top he manages to shake the last of those damn pests off his leg and let his heaving lungs rest, if only for a second. Right, this needs to be quick. Forcing himself up, still struggling to breathe from the chaotic climb, Vio readies his bow.

While the experience of fighting various types of monsters, for hours on their own, certainly gave them a lot of skill in adapting to the situation he has to admit—the items they gained, namely his fairy blessed bag of endless arrows, are also a huge plus. Sure, they aren’t as strong as a well crafted bow, but they are endless . In fact, he’d figured out that if he shoots two at once, even if that took a while to master, it’d do the same amount of damage!

He smirks to himself, aiming straight at a stalfoes that is creeping behind Green. With a snap, the stalfoe falls to the ground. The chaos of the battle field, swarming the others with monsters, moving from place to place… it’s familiar; it is a refreshing challenge. Others might’ve balked at the daunting task, but Vio is looking forward to it. It’s time to show off.

With the constant barrage of arrows knocking out stalfoes, allowing Red and Blue more room to work with and giving Green a much needed relief , the numbers begin to thin. He’s even able to start getting hits on the charging moblins, stunning them just long enough for a quick burn or slash on them. There are only a few straggling plant monsters as well.

It’s wrapping up. Vio observes as the Moblin he shot finally falls to the ground. It is time to regroup. Or it would’ve been.

He doesn’t know what he feels first. He can’t even think to process it. The tension of every single muscle spasming. Millions of needles endlessly searing into his flesh. From the inside and outside. Little pieces of him, like miniature marbles bursting outward. The shock of the constant repeated force fracturing and fracturing. The burning in his chest, he can’t breathe.

It’s so, so much, it’s too much. Without a single thought, other than the sensation of indescribable pain, he falls silently down the cliff. Even as his body crashes down onto the unforgiving rocks it still spasms. Red screams before Blue and Green even see what happened.

—--------------------------------

I can’t! No, no, no, no, no, no!!!! Red can’t panic right now, but by Hylia does he want to scream and selfishly look away-

It was horrible, and he saw every second of it. He had stepped back for just a moment, to chug a magic energizing potion. They still had more monsters to fight, after all, and his magic stores were nearly drained from using the rod so much. But then he saw a spark to his right, all the way up where Vio had gone. A sparkling, bright white yellow light, blasting into Vio’s back. Now, he watches.

Vio looks like he’s choking, like every single bit of him was choking and dying . His piercing scream is silently cut off, and then he falls . He falls and falls until his back hits the rocks and he goes stumbling down, blood splattering against the rocks. Red doesn’t want to know where it’s all coming from. And then Vio is there, sprawled on the ground, a horrible finale. He’s still screaming.

No, no Vio isn’t the one who’s screaming. He can see his bloody face against the dirt. Red is.

Blue grabs his arm, nearly shaking him as he tells him to LOOK before he runs off to Vio. Red’s shaking, then he follows Green’s startled eyes they lead back to the top of the cliff. He can only stare as a hulking Darknut trudges behind a row of stubby moblin archers, and even more stalfoes that have already begun jumping off to attack them. Oh, and a bunch of tektites. Because, well, why not at this point?

Red usually tries to stay optimistic, because you can’t get anything done if you always have a bad attitude all the time for no reason but- Honestly? He’s pretty sure he hates EVERYTHING right now. It’s, it’s alright though- They, they’ve got him- Well, well they all would if Vio was down. But, it isn’t the time to focus on that, they have to keep them away from Vio and defeat them!

Just because he’s terrified that Vio could be dying this very second, doesn’t mean he can just start crying when they need him! He will go on, and he will be hopeful! Because Green and Blue need him, and they trust him to at least support them! Red refuses to let them down. Even if he really wants to go cry in a hole right now.

Green screams at Blue, “ DON’T MOVE HIM! We need to get them away from him, Red get here and create a blast! Cut them off!”

Red’s already sprinting. Blue’s hammer smashes into another stunned skull from Green’s boomerang. They’re working to get the monsters away from Vio. The second he arrives the entire earth THUDS as the colossal Darknut finally joins the battle. It’s beady eyes, under its helmet land on Red.

“HEYYYY!!!, come here you, uh, you ugly face!!!” The monster trudges forward, away from Vio and towards him. The Colossal Axe glistens, ready to slice into him in seconds.

“Yeahh!” Red waves his fire rod, sparkling in the burning sunlight, like a shiny fish in front of a starved beast. “Come here!!!”

The axe whizzes through the air with the speed of a bolt of lightning, ready to spear him into two. Red barely dodges. Before the monstrosity can take an even more petrifying swing, Green’s magical boomerang connects. The powerful thing freezes the beast for a valuable 5 seconds.

Within those 5 seconds a few things happen. A small series of whistles rings throughout the battle field within seconds, a code that only they know. During their quest, they had learned that just yelling out to each other with their own plans always ended up poorly. Maybe, they were all just too stubborn in their own plans, but it definitely wasn’t helped by the fact they could barely hear each other at times. Sensitive Hylian ears or not, in the midst of battles words become drowned out easily.

Green’s message, a mix of quick patterns, order: B-G- Core Threats & Close Combat- R- Long Distance Quick. Blue and Green would take care of the strongest enemies and the ones that required close combat. Red would take care of the archers,as fast as possible so he could provide them aid. He could run and prepare ahead just on instinct before he even processed it. It was a mercy, afterall… Every second in a battle is precious, especially with someone left in total vulnerability.

Red breathes in, the blins are readying their bows. Then exhales, a small yet vicious blast of fire spirals forward causing at least two of them to shriek as they desperately try to put themselves out. His shield is already out by the time the other three’s arrows have hit his shield. As much as Red would prefer to shoot more and scorch them while going in and out, that just wasn’t an option. The best way to stop them from shooting far out into the others, was to get in the way before they could do that.

Red forces his way through with his shield to break their line and immediately his sword lunges straight into the throat of one of those wretched things. He has to take care of the other monsters, but Red let’s himself smile a moment at the sign of the bubbling blood. Good . He hoped that was the one that shot Vio.

He has to dodge back quickly in the next moment though, despite the moblins having nothing but bows and arrows, that didn’t make them useless in the slightest. While the armor would definitely protect him from slashes it certainly wouldn’t protect him from their nasty claws aiming at his throat and eyes.

He hacks away at another one that leapt out in front of him before he even got the chance to orient himself. Keep it steady, keep the pace and breathe. Red tries to slash at one of the monster’s belly, but he’s off balance by one of the burnt ones slashing at his leg! I really need to do better!! Red mentally slapped himself, how’d that one even get there? He seriously needed to keep track of everything or else he’d be hit in his blind spot again. Next time may not be so lucky. His free foot crushes the bastard's neck as he blocks more scrabbling claws away with his shield.

Red is skewering the one that he had shoved off when he sees the two remaining unburnt monsters dashing toward him with arrows in their hands. What the hell? Oh, the arrows were sparkling yellow with the same crackling sound as a bomb about to burst. It was familiar. Vio .

All three are charging and from the looks of it they’re trying to trap him with two heading up to his sides and the first one straight in front of him. Red charges right back at the right one bashing into it’s skull with his sword and spinning around, sword first, to face the others. It’s BURNING-

His sword clumsily sliced into an arm, but the arrows- Those arrows, the moment of contact of it against his own sword make his arm convulse in pain as he yells out. Red’s sword is on the ground. The monster, reeling from its own pain, slashes back at him. Thankfully his armor prevents it from truly getting him. It’ll definitely bruise though. The pain threatens to bring him down, but gasping for air with teary eyes he forces his wobbly legs up anyways. Like the lightning wizzrobe- This doesn’t make sense- Oh great fairies please-

Red knows the dangers of magical exhaustion, he’d lived through it several times on their quest. Vio’s words echoed in his mind, “ Take care to not overdo it! Potions may provide a great boost and aid in recovery, but your body still needs time. You’re exhausted… Green was right about how dangerous it is, besides-” and then Vio softly grinned, “ If you’re too tired who’s going to keep us going? We need your laughter, alright?”

He can already feel the aching soreness creeping on the edge of his fingers. He grabs the rod anyways, and this time there’s a blast. Red doesn’t know quite how it’s happening, but the strange arrows seem to make the flames stronger. They topple onto the Earth and the last half-dead burnt straggler has finished crawling its way to him. Red’s sword in his uninjured hand stabs into the beast’s guts with a wet sound. It dies slowly, scraping at his feet desperate to fight until it's inevitable death. Then, just like the others it rapidly deteriorates into a puddle of steaming filth on the ground.

#my art #four swords #four swords manga #four swords fanfic #fs #fs fanfic #my writing #color spectrum #fs color spectrum #fs red #fs vio #fs blue #fs green #green link #red link #blue link #vio link

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years

Note

Please do Daemon x niece reader:

she’s viserys and aemma youngest daughter. He left when she was only 7. Then he saw her at his wife’s funeral and he immediately fall for her since she’s the innocent sweet type (maybe he saw comforting his daughters). he manipulates viserys to let him marry her. Perhaps the usual wedding smut and him being obsessed with breeding her then some fluff that ends with her having sons etc..

(let’s pretend he had nothing with rhaenyra)

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

SLIGHT NSFW

Even as his eyes found Rhaenyra; Daemon couldn’t help but pass over the Princess for his true favourite. The service continued in his ear but he was hardly listening. How could he when you were just there. You stood as graciously as ever with your hands clasped behind your back. The black dress hugged your curves perfectly.

Those locks of yours tied in a bun with intricate braids. He wondered how long it was now. His fingers itched to touch it. You only looked ahead as the service continued. You could feel the tension rising as the words of the dead’s uncle carried on. You ducked your head as a familiar laugh reached your ears.

A soft frown of confusion came over you as you looked to the side. Your uncle in plain view and soon his eyes locked with your own. It had been so long since you had last seen him and for a moment; you couldn’t keep your eyes off Daemon. It was only when the grave fell into the water with a loud splash did you look away. Daemon’s smirk didn’t leave his face as he hummed to himself. It seems you were just as fixated on him. He’d keep that piece of information to himself as he slowly moved from the mourning party. Thankfully, his brother was far too ill now to follow him. The Prince only smirked at the ideas moving through his mind.

It seemed luck was on his side as he made his way towards Caraxes. Those eyes of his finding you stood in front of his dragon. His usual fierce dragon was near enough purring as you rested your head on him. “It seems he’s taken a liking to you.” Daemon called out as the wind moved over you both. A soft gasp escaped you as you heard the voice coming from behind. “Daemon..” You gently whispered out. “It’s been years, Princess.” He nearly purred as he slowly moved closer towards you. “It has.” You softly replied; a blush as ever moving over your cheeks as you watched him move closer.

“You have grown beautifully.” Daemon whispered with a soft smile tugging on his lips. Those eyes of his watching you blush. “Years passing by does that.” You whispered when he finally came to a stop in front of you. “Hm, they have been kind to you.” Daemon gently moved to stoke your cheek.

You fought against leaning into his touch but it didn’t last long as you nuzzled into him. “I have missed you.” He whispered to you. “Why haven’t you come back sooner?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Daemon couldn’t possibly tell you the truth. That he would have taken you with him and never returned. Now was the perfect opportunity as he thought of his brother’s weak state and had to conceal his growing smirk. “I was busy. I wanted everything to be perfect.” Daemon whispered without adding anymore to it.

It wasn’t hard for Daemon to whisper in his brother’s ear. “This way I will leave Rhaenyra alone. Forever.” He darkly promised. He knew his brother was quickly worsening and this was his only chance. Viserys was tired. The fractions between his family were only growing but if he could have Daemon on his side; he would do anything.

And so he did. “Yes, you can marry her.” The words fell from Viserys’ mouth without thought and Daemon’s smirk only widened but he gently moved to embrace his brother. “You should rest now, brother.”

The wedding happened as soon as the family arrived back at the capitol. Daemon knew not to push it any closer. His wife had only just died and you were just too easy to pick up. The rogue Prince couldn’t help himself anymore. He had to have you. And so he did. Over and over again you were completely his.

“Daemon..” You moaned so prettily into his ear as he kept you close. Your soft breasts brushing against his muscled chest. His fingers moved through your locks as your lips so lovingly met each other. Soft moans continued to fall from your lips as he rocked; his cock moving deeper inside.

His lips lovingly found yours as he began to nibble on your bottom lip. It was enough to have you gasping out. His tongue moved to dance with your own as your eyes locked onto his. Your fingers tracing down his back. “Good girl.” Daemon whispered down to you before deepening the kiss.

His hips continued to slowly rock as he took his time. Your own stomach was already tightening in pleasure. Your wetness moving down his cock as he hit your soft spot again and again; taking your breath away. His smirk still in place as he nibbled on your plump, bottom lip. “Are you mine?” He purred.

“Always,” You whimpered. Your fingers moving into his hair once more and tugging him closer. Your legs are tightening around his waist. The sound of your wetness echoed around the room as you whined in pleasure. His hot mouth began to kiss down your chest as goosebumps littered your soft skin.

His tongue moved around your pebbled nipple as your soaked walls tightened around his cock. Your pleasure building. Your soft breasts bouncing as you rocked against him; chasing your climax. “Close, lovely girl?” Daemon purred into your ear as your eyes rolled back once more. His cock quickly moved against your spot.

“Yes, please…please..” You babbled out as the new sensation caught you. It wrapped tightly around your body. He hummed and roughly palmed your breasts as your orgasm finally ripped through you. Daemon smirked and bit into your neck as he finally released inside you as you quivered around him.

He’d have you bred in no time, the rogue Prince thought to himself as he slowly pushed inside you once more. Your nails moved down his back as you slowly came to your senses. Your heart is calming now. His lips found yours once more and pressed all his love into the act as you so sweetly giggled.

Only two years later and you had been gifted 2 sons already. Your husband beamed with pride as his hand moved onto your swollen stomach. It was your twin’s first name day and you couldn’t be happier. Your husband’s head rested on your shoulder as he watched the twins move around the garden. “Do you regret anything?” Daemon softly whispered into your ear as his fingers slowly moved through your locks. His hand moved to rest on your lower back now as you turned to look at him. “Of course not.” Your smile only widened as you lost yourself in his eyes. You moved to brush your noses together.

“How could I ever regret anything with you?” You whispered into his ear as you leaned to lovingly capture his lips. It seemed to be all Daemon had ever wanted to hear as his smile brightened and he hummed against your lips. The moment was broken as the boys collided with you both; giggles sounding out once more.

TAGLIST

@heartysworld

@janelongxox

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lettherebrelight

@writerslove2403

@opheliax98

@bshelley322

@casualheartadorable

@kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@multifndom @7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa

@kid-from-new-zealand @mypatrochilles @ladystardvsts

@thekayarlene

@sandronebabyy

@ivanna6026

@bubblebuttwade

@rosesinmars

@believeinthefireflies95

@vivalarevolution @my-dark-prince

#daemon targaryen x reader #request

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fatuismooches · 9 months

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hello, victim of my sudden blues because i started listening to sad music. i just wanna talk about some intricacies of reader's and dottore's relationship bc i haven't been feeling well 🫠🫠 dont mind this too much i think it sounds kinda dumb n it's kinda like just word vomit.. anyways, hurt/comfort, reader suffering from uhhh issues?? insecure?? idk how to word it

when he was young, zandik had to learn.

he already learns a lot. he has knowledge far beyond the average human mind at such a young age. but he still had to learn. learn things what he initially thought utterly useless and not of his concern.

he had to learn how to be human.

how could this be? zandik is human (he plans to not be one, though, in the far future).

even as a child, he wasn't treated much like a human. depending on your iteration, zandik may or may not have parents who love him. still, it doesn't save him from the outside world. how his neighbors looked at him in scorn, how they talk about him behind his back, whispering and murmuring until his ears nearly bleeds. how the other kids pick on him, give him bruises for no good reason. ignoring his cries for them to stop, ignoring his frustration and confusion. why do they call him a monster when he simply thirsts for knowledge? isn't sumeru known as the nation of wisdom? why must he be the village's object of hatred when he was merely a child. other children beat him up and call him a 'monster' when he hasn't done anything wrong.

even though he was young.

he was vulnerable, impressionable. undeniably human.

he was treated to be otherwise but the people that surrounds him. and he has accepted it as he grows older.

after all, a child mimics what they see. a child, born human, learned to be a monster.

but there you were, teaching him, reminding him, that he was, in fact, human.

you've barged into his life (uninvited) and made an irremovable impression. you've claimed a spot into the void of his existence that fills him whole, and once you're gone, it was like he was incomplete. like a barnacle that stuck onto his skin and refuses to let go until he dies.

he learned, through you, that he is allowed to feel; to cry in the arms of someone who cares, to laugh at something he finds funny, to smile despite his sharp teeth, to look at something in pure awe though his eyes were crimson red—to study, to be passionate, to disregard those who wishes nothing but suffering to him, to sleep without a worry, to care, to love.

to feel like he's a monster, yet still be embraced, to be kissed, to be loved.

to feel human, to be human.

but he hasn't learned enough.

it hasn't been more clear when you suddenly broke into tears right in front of him whilst you were doing a group project at the akademiya.

he watches as tears spill from your eyes, head hung low as you frantically wipe them off. you sob harder when you see the papers you've worked so hard on be soaked. you expected zandik to yell at you for ruining your project, for stalling progress, for crying.

but it unsettles you more when he says nothing.

he was thinking, that's for sure. but you don't know what. he doesn't appear to be angry, nor happy either. but he's thinking, and you want to cry harder because of it.

you start to apologize. laugh at yourself because—gosh, you're crying in the middle of a project. so ridiculous, you're wasting his time and—

zandik was lost.

you didn't cry as much as far as he could remember. sure, when you were kids, you cried. it's normal, you were a child. as you grew older, you cried less. complained less as well. you stopped talking about complications you have between your parents, or your siblings, or your other relatives. you stopped mentioning how your own friends began to deviate from you ever since you started hanging out with him. you grew silent when you hear them murmur about you whenever you stood next to him.

he thought you were fine. you never talked to him about it. you always did cater to his needs a lot more than yours; he hasn't heard you talk something that you feel negatively for years. it was like a flip has been switched inside his head. why do you not talk to him? not complain? not cry like you used to?

zandik knows that humans can never achieve perfection. each and every individual has flaws. he himself has flaws (that he has yet to remove), and even so, you loved him. with his imperfections and madness.

you were too perfect. to his eyes at least. ever smiling, reminding him of his needs, helping him with his research, indulging him with whatever he wants.

and so he asks, as tears stains your cheeks.

and you spill, because you were bursting with emotion. with sadness, guilt, frustration, and fear. bursting with imperfection. you confess you stopped seeking for his help to not inconvenience him. to not hold him back. he was busy, and you didn't want to be a burden.

zandik mind blanks.

well, all throughout his life, he has never once thought you were a burden. even if you tried to pose yourself as this perfect, flawless, assistant. he, as a scholar, make mistakes. it is how he learns, to improve, to grow. so why can't you? why can't you screw up? appear weak and vulnerable before his eyes? he knows you trusts him, but why do you hold yourself back?

maybe because he has never noticed—or tried to. he mostly focuses on himself and his research, and while you were a part of his life, he has regrettably paid little mind to your needs. you did everything for him, and he has yet to learn to do the same.

you've comforted him, but zandik doesn't know how to comfort you. it was maddening for him, really. to grow restless as you cry, wanting to do something yet not knowing. how does he comfort you? this is the first time you've cried in front of him after all those years. does he wipe your tears away? does he give you words of encouragement? does he do this? does he do that?

he doesn't know. he hates that he doesn't know. he hates that he never tried to know.

guilt—such a bitter taste in his tongue.

he has never felt any guilt to the people he has tortured with his tainted hands. he has never felt guilt when he burned his village—a distant memory—down to the ground.

it was a sickening feeling.

he never wants to feel it again.

he abhors it.

he feels disgusting.

wretched.

human.

of course, it was only you who can make him feel human. only you who can make him feel these horrible sensations in his heart, sinking down to his bones. love, happiness, joy, fear, anger, sadness, guilt—he loathes it. it makes him feel weak.

but he accepts. only for you, only to you.

he is willing to learn, he wants to learn.

he wants to know how to lighten the weight that burdens your shoulders. he wants to know how to make you smile brightly like you always had. he wants to know what makes you feel sad, to let you cry into his arms, to tell him every thing that bothers you.

he wants to understand.

teach him to understand.

so zandik may not know what will cheer you up this moment.

but he tries. and if he fails, he will try again.

he stands up from the floor, your hands in his, and he leads you outside your shared flat. to a clearing, with water streaming from a river, with flora blooming everywhere. the grass damp, the winds howling.

it was a chilly night.

the stars twinkled up in the skies, forming constellations that you could recognize with ease.

zandik sits you on the grass next to him, and he wraps his arms around you.

you could hear crickets chirping into the night, the lights around the city dimming as the people go to sleep. silent chatter from the people who pass by, and the sounds of leaves dancing into the breeze.

his hands rubbing your back, his chin on top of your head. it was how you hug him usually, when you cuddle. your face buried into his chest, breathing in sync.

it was calm.

soothing.

warm, especially in his arms.

and you sob harder than you ever had in your entire life.

it was like a dam had broken, and now the tears now fall endlessly. you cling onto zandik as you cry. he listens to you babble about everything that ails you, how you feel, and your insecurities. you cry and cry, and he listens, wiping your tears with his thumbs, his face soft. pained.

understandably so, he wasn't used to... whatever this was.

he was so unsure, but he tries.

you aren't much comforted, too many things burden you.

your negative thoughts won't disappear just because he finally decided to pay more attention to you. buried beneath your fears and insecurities lies anger. you hate that you are more understanding toward him. you really can't blame yourself for favoring him over the years.

but you could always read him so easily. you can tell.

he wants to learn. learn more about you, learn how to be better. to be true to himself, to be a lover, to be your forever partner—to be human.

to you, and only for you.

zandik will try, and learn, if only for you.

zandik learns from his mistakes, he will be sure to never let you succumb to your own sufferings like this ever again.

it will probably take years for zandik to say the words he wants to say.

but he clings to you so tightly, his hands gripping hard onto your clothes, his adam's apple trembling and his eyes twinkled with the stars above—im sorry.

and he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing a kiss on your temple, and listening to every word you say. his heart thumping in his chest, his hands caressing your skin—i love you.

and you know it. of course you do. because it's only to you that zandik will ever be like this. vulnerable, weak,

utterly

unbearably

and painfully

human.

you teach with your love,

and his heart will learn.

the stars that witness every passing moment bears testament of your love.

and when you look up high in the sky, with dottore holding your hand, peering from the balcony of the white expanse of snezhnaya, while he rambles on and on about his recent experiment to you, it reminds you of that night. hundreds of years ago.

"dottore," you call his name, breaking him from his trance, looking at you with utmost attention. you smile at him, scooting closer as you bury yourself deep into his harbinger coat (that he handed to you due to the cold). "my zandik," you coo,

and he grins, his hands now lay on your waist as he tilts his head curiously. "yes, my dear?" your heart soars at the pet name, your giddiness evident to him.

"oh, nothing," you sigh, hands reaching up to his face and slowly taking off the mask that covers his beautiful, scarred face. "just remembered that night."

you bring it up often whenever you get nostalgic. and every time, you laugh at the face he makes—a big frown, his brows furrowed.

"i'm just glad i broke down that day," you admit, playing with his soft, cyan hair and kissing the long stand that was curled around your finger. "gods know what would happen if i didn't. i wouldn't have complete power over you like i do now."

his scowls at that, straightening his back to tower over you, an attempt to appear threatening. "complete power? over me?" he scoffs, "preposterous."

"if so, then you can sleep in your office tonight." you hum, standing on your tippy-toes to level with him. "you wouldn't mind that, right? you're the oh so powerful il dottore, after all!"

"... don't make me..." he suddenly sulks, his face finding your shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. you laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

"i was kidding." you huff, carding your fingers through his hair. "i wouldn't want to miss a night without you."

"good to know." he sighs, pleased, "i love you, my dear."

you smile once more, admiring the starts that have watched over you from the day you were born, and a hundred years later.

forever bearing witness of your love for a monster named il dottore, and your lover, a human, named zandik.

"yeah," you close your eyes, "love you too."

oh yeah do you mind me sending a few more when i get a thought in my mind? i don't wanna swarm your inbox, so it's okay! i just wanna distract myself with dottore 💥💥anyways thanks for listening to my thing, i like talking about stuff like these :3 i think i got carried away tho heehoo

oh mY GOSH.... I THINK THIS IS THE LONGEST ASK I'VE EVER GOTTEN BUT I AM NOT COMPLAINING WHATSOEVER. I LOVE THIS SM, IT IS NOT DUMB AT ALL ;(( <333 I'm sorry you haven't been feeling well, I hope you take it easy if possible okay? And of course I don't mind you sending more asks, whether it's just regular chatting or writing I'm happy to receive them :) I'm happy to listen to your things hehe 🫶 But. Forgive me this is already SO good already my additions may be short and not very good,, 😭

OH STOP... the idea of child Zandik having to "teach" himself how to become human is heartwrenching. It's not something one would ever think to do, much less a child... the saddest part is that he was born a human, a curious, innocent one initially, though viewed as completely different - a monster - and that is what he shall become if everyone wished it on him so dearly. But oh, of course you had to come in and mess him up. Mess up his heart. His mind. His body. His thoughts. Feelings. Emotions. Even a bit of cognition. You were not part of the plan. The acceptance of being treated by others like less than dirt, the acceptance of being unloved and hated, the acceptance of refusing any kind of remote kindness or affection. You changed everything. You changed him. You taught him. But... he doesn't think you've ever prepared him for a situation like this.

Crying in front of Zandik out of nowhere, will probably be a horrible decision on your part. You have no idea how he'll react, what will happen, if anything will go down, how you'll possibly recover from the embarrassment or explain yourself. But the harder you try to push the thought out of your mind, the more your hand gets wobbly, your body heats up and trembles, your throat closes, and soon enough your vision is blurry, and fresh hot tears are pattering onto the desk. You know Zandik has noticed from the way his pen no longer scraped against the paper, but you do not dare look at him, for you are not sure if you could face him. But not a peep comes from your lover, making your heart pound almost painfully at the silence beside your sobs that you were desperately trying to control. How mortifying, you thought. Embarrassing. You don't know what you were even doing, how stupid you were being. You play it off with laughter because of course you do, what else were you to do? Actually explain? No, of course not.

Zandik, on the other hand, had no clue what was even going on. He does remember a few instances of your tears. Because you fell and scraped your knee, because someone yelled at you, kid things. But this was completely different. These were real, serious tears. And so the scholar thinks. You were always indulging him and his rants, his disdain for other people and how they irritated him so. But it is now he realizes he hasn't heard you say anything remotely similar in a very long time. What makes you upset? Angry? The answer was, that he doesn't know, for you have never confided in him in a long time. You are the only person he should know everything about, and yet he doesn't. It leaves an uncomfortable feeling in him. He wonders if you've been feeling a similar yet different kind of uncomfortableness for a while now without his knowledge.

Zandik must know. And that mere inquiry is all you need for words to start tumbling out your mouth, some probably incoherent but you just needed to get them out. Were they nice? No, not at all, and he doesn't understand. How could you feel all these things when you are you? The one person he acknowledges and loves for all of their worth? How could he not notice all these things bottling up in you too? And it's now that Zandik has come to understand, he is not the... best lover. When you agreed to be in a romantic relationship, you knew he would not be a typical or traditional man. He would not court you, not be romantic or sappy, would not waste time with things of that nature. Though... listening to you has nothing to do with that. Zandik wants you to be able to air all your grievances to him. Will he lend a listening ear? Yes. Will he be able to comfort you, however, that is a different story.

Zandik does not wish for anything anymore - he believes if he wants something, he will work to seize it with his very hands - but at this moment he wishes he knew the concept of comforting. This concept, by itself, would be useless to him normally, but you... you deserve it. And yet he can't give it to you, like you've given it to him many times. He despises it. The foreign feeling of guilt is one he has grown to hate the most. Though despite how much it annoys him, he will endure it. For you. Solely for you. Because you are worth that. You are worth him doing many things he wouldn't normally do. Things that make him grumble and complain but he'll end up doing anyway. Things that result in you smiling and laughing and trying to throw your arms around him. And so from that instance, he resolves himself to this journey. He will understand, whether it takes a few years or a decade or even perhaps centuries. He will be sure to understand.

When Zandik takes you by the hand you're unsure but go along with it anyway, the other still pathetically trying to wipe the tears from your face. He takes you outside for some reason and though your vision was blurred the scenery still looked as lovely as ever, the view you loved so dearly after waking up and your first view being of Zandik's face, and then the scene outside the window. Though you don't worry about that, you're still confused by Zandik's actions. But then he pulls you to the grass with him and just embraces you, and you can't help but stiffen for a moment because... you really weren't expecting this. But your lover continues his movements anyway. You feel so comforted, and that kind of environment is all you need to let your deepest and darkest troubles, concerns, worries, insecurities, whatever you need to say, out. The idea of Zandik doing this for you was still lodged at the very back of your mind, and you knew that Zandik himself was probably not sure of what the hell he was doing, but neither of you cared at this moment. Both of you were trying, trying hard, for each other. Nothing will ever get better immediately. Everything takes time, lots of time, even. But effort matters as well. It's still not enough, but if he tries, if he learns, maybe everything will be okay. For now, you'll be satisfied with his unspoken words and actions, for this is all he can muster now too. No one will ever understand, they don't need to understand the two of you anyway - not when the stars are shining down so brightly, illuminating the love you two have for each other.

When you look at Dottore, sometimes you can't help but reminisce to the older times. When you two were just simple scholars with big dreams. And now, many of those dreams have been fulfilled, and Dottore has become a changed man, but you can't help but think. Especially that night. It holds a special place in your heart.

You can't help but want to be as close as possible to him. You'll take every single piece of his attention if you could, and won't say no. You might end up stealing this coat of his forever though, surely he has enough that he won't notice if one is missing.

Whenever you bring up that night, Dottore already knows what you're going to say and do. You'll always pepper his scarred face with kisses, play with his hair, and then tease him about oh how immensely powerful you were over him, never missing a beat. You never seem to let it go, no matter how many times he corrects you in your thinking. And then you'll always playfully banter back, and then he uncharacteristically gives in at this rare moment of tenderness, and then you always forgive him, as both of you already know how this goes. Yet, it never seems to grow old.

You think... the sky of Teyvat may be fake, but, the significance and beautifulness of it to you will always remain important and real in your heart and memories.

#smooches talks #moots: kai <3 #dottore love notes <3 #why did this have me in tears by the end #literally amazing writing as per usual kai...... POOKIE U R SO TALENTED #dottore comfort so real my fav

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -3- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

Summary: Your caught wearing an embarrassing outfit.

Part 3

~BUNNY SUIT~

Distinct knocking cuts through the droning hum of electronics, snapping you out of your trance and sending you bolting from your office.

Another round of deafening banging as you make your way to the front door. Louder this time a clear urgency on the other side. Rattling on its hinges from the force of each blow, tension builds in the back of your throat as you approach.

Tentatively looking through the peephole to assess the situation. Eyes narrowing at the sight of your brother's distorted face through the fisheye lens, two of his ‘little’ friends from the other day stand not far behind. Opening the door without another thought, a decision you regret almost immediately.

“The fuck are you wearing?!” Bewildered words fire from your brother. For a split second you're confused by the wide-eyed stars you were receiving before it hit you.

“Oh,” letting out a soft gasp, realization taking hold as you look down, also taking in your appearance. You could have died on the spot if not for your sliver of pride.

Clad in a rather unflattering hooded white jumpsuit with built-in feet… Face nearly completely covered by a white mask which you promptly tuck under your chin. You're a sight to behold!

“Bunny suit,” you state plainly like it’s an everyday occurrence and step back into the space, avoiding eye contact.

To be fair in your current line of work it’s not uncommon to wear protective gear. Not for your own safety but to keep sensitive equipment free of particles from you and your clothes. Oh so fondly referred to as a ‘bunny suit’ by others in your field... But this wasn't normal for your current company.

An awkward pause hangs between the men left standing outside, the front door left wide open in an obvious invitation but they are all now feeling a bit uneasy.

“Started getting worried when you didn’t answer the door, I noticed you moved the spare key,” your brother calls, eventually trailing after you, the others following suit.

“Was gonna break it down,” Ghost interjects. Your brother shoots him a dirty look as if silently cursing him for telling you their plan. Luling Your head to the side to shoot the man a quick glance over your shoulder. In all honesty with how forceful they had been knocking on your door, you're surprised they didn't.

“I didn't hear the knocking at first, sorry.” You turn from the three men standing in your flat, at least they didn't just barge in this time. Even so, their ability to show up at the most inconvenient times is beyond you.

“You seem busy, whatcha up to?” Soap inquiries, shooting you a crooked smile as he settles onto a sofa in the neighboring sitting area.

Making your way into the small kitchen you remove your gloves and mask, discarding them into a nearby waste bin. Happy to be rid of the constricting gear as you take a deep breath, thinking over how to answer.

“Freelance work,” you state plainly, deliberately being as vague as possible.

“Better be nothing illegal,” grumbles your brother, plopping down next to Soap on the sofa.

“Psh, don't worry about it,” you mutter, trying to lightly laugh the comment off.

“Debug!” He snaps

Turning to face him you reach up to pull back the thin material of your hood, letting out a deep breath. Suppressing the strong urge to roll your eyes at his mistrust, instead shooting him a narrowed stare.

“Calm down, it’s not... Just recovering some paranoid guy's corrupted hard drives, I set up a clean room in my office.” you motion down at your attire. This was already more than you wanted to share on the subject.

“I was just finishing up,” pausing a moment you shift your gaze between them “Why are you here anyway?” You suddenly ask, delighted to find a way to drop the topic of your work.

“Checking on you…” The sheepish statement sounds more like a question.

“Real reason?” arm cross brow quirked, you knew better than to trust that answer.

There's a long pause before he looks over at you sheepishly, a sly smirk spreading across his face.

“Baked goods…” he mutters and you can't help but let out a soft laugh.

“Ya, I thought so, check the kitchen,” you remark, making your way across the room and down the short hall, reaching for the door across from your office. Pausing, you glance around the corner at the mountain still standing near the doorway.

“Ghost,” you projected at him, the man's attention now completely on you. Catching his intense stare for a moment, you beam.

“Make sure he shares,” cheeky words uttered as the door is pulled open and you disappear behind it.

Ghost is left standing there looking off towards where she vanished, stuck pondering that wide grin she'd just flashed him. Maybe she wasn't scared of him… Why was this a relief?

The door to her office is left hanging open, the man's prying eyes catching a glimpse inside. One wall is dedicated to server racks, an organized chaos of cords strewn around the environment, loud humming emitting from the space. No wonder she didn't hear them knocking.

That's some serious hardware, what's going on here?

Thanks so very much for reading <3

@tallrock35

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty mw2 #x reader #female reader #cod x reader #no beta read #swear warning #swearing #slow burn #slow build

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pjoxreader · 1 year

Note

Hiiii! Can I request Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, and Jason Grace with a possessed reader headcannons 👀

Possessed Reader

((I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you enjoy!))

Frank Zhang

-He knows it’s not you in there. He knows it deep in his gut, but his heart was aching seeing you tied to a chair.

-He volunteered to watch over you while the others were getting Piper. They needed to use her charmspeak to get the Eidolon out of you for good. But it seems the Eidolon saw the weakness in his eyes, the anger and hate falls from your face morphing to confusion. -”F-Frank? What’s going on…?” You call to him, voice shaking. Frank has to sit down in the chair across from you, smoothing his hair back. It wasn’t you, it was a trick. He tries to control himself by taking a shaky breath.

-”You were possessed. We’re waiting on Piper to charmspeak you out of it.” Frank says trying his best to keep his voice neutral but seeing the pain in your eyes made it hard.

-”My wrists hurt… C-Can you loosen the rope a little at least?” you plead with him a few tears in your eyes. Frank takes a shaky breath making his way over to adjust the rope. There’s no way he could let you be hurt even if you were possessed…

-”Stop!” You snap your head angrily to the voice and see none other than Piper there catching her breath. Frank stops too, making you curse in frustration something you would have never done as you try to get free, struggling against the restraints. You were so close! So close!

-After the charmspeaking session your mind was foggy, at least you were back in control… You see Frank holding your hand, his eyes filled with utter worry and concern but seeing it was you he sighs in relief and hugs you close, nearly crushing you in a bear hug. You laugh as much as you could while being crushed patting his shoulder as that’s as far as your arm could reach “I’m alright big guy… I’m ok…”

Hazel Levesque

-She was familiar with ghosts. She knew them well, she was one at one point in her life after all. But she never, ever wanted to see those glossed over dead eyes on you. It didn’t help that you were staring into her soul.

-She takes a shaky breath, gently taking your hand. “It’ll be alright… Piper will be here any minute.” She tries to soothe you, well also herself but she didn’t need that to be known. You don’t even blink as you stare.

-”You don’t deserve this. Hazel Levesque you have already died. Why do you deserve a second chance at life when I don’t.” you say coldly to her. You feel your heart squeeze. What were you saying? You didn’t feel that way…

-It only hurts worse when you watch her flinch, looking away from your eyes. “I know.” she says softly but she still doesn’t let go of your hand. Your heart aches at that and you want nothing more than to take those words back.

-”I know I don’t deserve this second chance, but I have it… So… So I’m going to use every second I have of it… No regrets.” she says with a small smile and looks at you with kindness in her eyes. “Here…”

-She takes out a Reese's peanut butter cup from her pocket “Piper will be here any second… So you don’t have much time now, enjoy what you can until you’re forced to leave.” your heart warms at her words. Even though this ghost, this shade was possessing you and said such cruel things she was still kind. And sure enough you feel yourself eat the offered candy. “It’s good…” you say softly, feeling the tears fall down your face.

Jason Grace

-He was a leader. He had to be strong, smart and critical. There was no room for mistakes. But that led him here, with you tied up in a chair across from him.

-He had called for the others to get piper but someone had to stay and watch over you. So he volunteered. It was deathly silent as the two of you stared at each other. The silence was cold, unnatural even. Normally you’re there cracking jokes and making him smile.

-”you’re going to fail.” you say simply and grin at him. “You’ll never be the hero people expect you to be.” you taunt him, feeling guilt creep in your heart as you can only watch. You’d never say these cruel things to him.

-”I may not be the hero people expect me to be… But… I’ll be the hero I want to be.” he says and looks right into your eyes determination clear on his face as he smiles softly.

-”Someone very important taught me that.” you feel your heart melt and it’s as if he was looking right at you.

-Piper comes in with that, Jason taking your hand while she goes through with the charmspeak. He gently rubs small but soothing circles on your hand. You look over at him with a sleepy daze and a soft smile. His face melts in relief as he smooths some hair behind your ear. “Welcome home.”

~Masterlist & Rules~

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#pjo x reader #pjo #hoo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader angst #pjo angst #hoo x reader #jason grace x reader #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #slight angst #hazel levesque x reader #frank zhang x reader

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