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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

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the lakes (3) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

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midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, talk of mental illness and su!cidal ideations, allusions to trafficking, mentally unstable reader who's in denial, allusions to death and violence, hurt/comfort, arguments, something gets thrown in anger, terms of endearment, dreams of domestic bliss, savior complex Finnick and reader, no use of y/n, unedited

⠀ 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The familiarity of the train car made you shudder. The first time its elegance had amazed you, but now it was commonplace, a trade for everything else that had been given. The escort who you'd known for years, but always blocked out because of her unmatchable insensitivity was babbling on in her overwhelming syrupy voice as your brain buzzed with anxiety. When the smashing of a glass on the train's wall brought you back to the audio of the train cab.

“Can we wait to break things until the games? After all this time, Finnick, you still need your manners." She tutted, waving her hand in the air. “Plenty of time to get the aggression out later, right now just bask in the attention. Now I'm going to go check over the mentoring plans." Her neon purple eyebrows were so animated when she spoke and the color assaulted your eyes, the click of her heels echoing she exited.

Finnick had buried his head in his hands over a counter top as you quietly knelt down to pick up pieces of shattered glass. An Avox would end up cleaning the mess later, but you didn't feel comfortable just leaving it there.

“Why can't I help you?" His voice was much softer and more broken than you'd expected. Calloused hands holding his face as he stared out the train window.

“Help me?" Your confusion was evident. "You have helped me.”

“No I haven't, I'm an enabler." He shook his head, sniffling through the tears you hadn't noticed forming, your heart cracking.

You stood, dropping the glass pieces you'd been holding to approach him. "No you're not, Finnick, enabling what? Talk to me.”

He turned to you, "Talk to me. You're always trying to take care of me, angel, and I love that about you. But you use it as an excuse to hide the fact you're not doing better.”

"I am doing better, I don't understand what you're talking about, Finnick! I understand if you're angry, I just-”

"What? You looked at Annie and thought, ‘She’s too fragile to handle this, so why don't I take it all on for her? I can handle this.’"

You nodded, “I can! I couldn't let her- I couldn't let her die.”

“But you can let yourself?" He had raised his voice ever so slightly, but it was enough that your chest was tightening. “You're punishing yourself for what you had to do to survive when you were 17! This isn't about altruism, this is about guilt."

“I'm not selfish.” Your voice was steely, you were angry. Why was he trying to pry at things that were of no matter to the present issues? "I'm doing my part, it wouldn't be right of me not to!"

"Nobody thinks you're selfish except yourself. You could die because you want to prove something about what happened in the arena. That arena is gone, you need to focus on the now. On your now, not mine. You want to suffer in silence, you want to focus on everybody else to make up for living.”

"Stop it, Finnick! I don't want to talk about this. Be upset with me, but there are more important things to focus on.” You refused to make eye contact as you wrapped your arms around your body. There was a rebellion to plan for, no time for a psychoanalyzation of your brain, so you needed to deflect.

“You're my wife, angel, there's nothing more important to me than that. Especially since I've done such a shitty job letting you sit there, comfort, and listen to my problems while you only ever ask to be held. Why don't you trust me?” He stepped closer to you, voice delicate.

"I do trust you.” You kept your eyes planted on the ground. He was supposed to be angry or sad, but not whatever this was.

"Then why don't you say anything after you get a call from the Capitol? Why is it always only a few minutes after your nightmares to discuss how you feel, but every other waking moment is about me? I want to protect you, I want you to stop ruining yourself over the past and let me help you like you do for me.”

“I don't want to talk about it, Finnick." You were pushing down the onslaught of tears beginning to fall down your frozen face. “Can we please, not talk about it." You whispered as you shrunk into yourself.

“We have to start dealing with it, you are self-destructive, just because you hide things doesn't mean you're better set then Annie is. You are not going to step into this arena and sacrifice yourself for someone to make up for the fact you killed Conway six years ago."

“You're being mean."

“No I'm not, I'm being honest. You won't deny it because you know I'm right, this is a suicide mission to make up for all of them. Dying the second time around doesn't bring them back and neither will anything else. But if you put yourself in danger to make up for things we all had to do to be where we are now, you'll be killing me too.”

You began walking straight past him, to comfort and be comforted was the dance that held you which was being broken as each second passed. This was unfair, having trauma didn't make you as hurt as him or Annie. You just had natural human feelings about what had happened and reconciling for that wasn't dangerous.

“You can't just walk away when I stop coddling you for a second, this is all going to be okay, if you can recognize and let me help you heal. If we're gonna do this I need the rational version of you." He trailed behind you as you kept walking.

“I don't need to be coddled, I'm sorry if you're sick of me trying to help you and everyone else, but that doesn't mean-" You gasped for air, “I'm just, I'm trying to help, maybe I am making up for what I did. I'm just sorry and I'm trying to help because I can't bear seeing other people having that light snuffed out of them. I want you to feel safe, and Annie, and Mags, and Ondine, that helps me.”

"See we can start there, you don't have to make up for what you did. Everyone did things to survive, we were kids. I can help you if we talk about it.”

"How are you supposed to help me, Finnick? I did worse things than you did, of course I'm guiltier, I preyed on someone's mind, on their feelings for me and then I killed them. And I'm so, so sorry for it everyday of my life and I feel it gnawing at my insides. I'm sorry that he's dead. I'm sorry that I was manipulative. I'm sorry for the person's I created. I'm sorry that I lied to you. I'm sorry that you're right. I'm sorry that I need to make it go away, Finnick, and it won't go away until I give it something equal even if it means I-” You wiped the tears from your face, “Finnick, I don't talk about it because being with you is reason enough to keep my grounded most of the time. I don't need to say anything when I see you and it's an easy reminder why I'm living."

“You shouldn't want to live just because of me. I want to be there for you, but when you feel that way I need you to be honest. You don't need to atone for any things, you deserve life. If we're going to go into that arena, you need to start believing that because I will not let you die. I love you and I need you to survive, to make it through with me to the end.”

You'd stopped walking and were leaning your back against the train wall. Nodding slowly, you were exhausted.

"I know you don't believe that right now, but I will make you believe it, my love.” His hand caressed your face and the radiating warmth made your ice cold face shudder.

You stared at him in silence before you let the sobbing take over your body. " I'm sorry, I don't know how to deal with it. I want to be better, I do, but I just can't. It won't go away.” His arms enveloped you like sunshine, guarding you from everything else.

“I know, sweet girl, I know."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Meanwhile Haymitch had to take the initiative to begin introducing his new tributes to the pack of well known, well introduced victors. Unbeknownst to Katniss and Peeta, he would of course be pulling strings to make sure they were in close proximity or at least had the attention of certain victors for the plan being hatched.

Katniss had not seemed thrilled at the idea of Finnick, but she was rarely thrilled with anyone.

“This year we have some volunteering, which will definitely spice things up a little bit. Two couples in one game, especially when one has been adored by the Capitol for years will keep their attention." Haymitch gestured to the screen where you were sending Annie back to the line with the other female tributes.

"Didn't she also have a relationship with the male tribute last time, isn't that how she won her games?" Katniss asked.

“Yes, Capitol Princess, she is just as adored, but more tame. The less cocky side of the duo you could say."

“I bet you he's not going to protect her when it comes down to it since she did the same thing last time. He's got to know that's just how she plays the game." Katniss reasoned, doubt of everyone taking hold.

“I'd be extremely surprised if that happened, they've been with each other for years and oh-" The cameras zoomed in on the seaweed and made rings on your fingers as you held hands. “Looks like that bond has gotten ever stronger. They'll be a pair and if she does die it would be a sad day, Katniss. She's a really nice lady regardless of what she did to win at 17.”

"It's not that different from you, you just got lucky.” Peeta remarked.

“I'm just saying she wouldn't be an easy ally to trust, I mean didn't she kill all of them when it came to the end?" Katniss shrugged, leaning forward.

“This isn't about trust, it's about survival. You need allies, even if it means they end up dead at the end, you need them to survive. You're both fresh meat, these people have built a repertoire with each other for years. You're gonna need some of them on your side for as long as you can."

"And you want us to go with them?”

" It wouldn't be a bad idea.” Peeta shrugged, "If he's gonna protect her then we'll be protected too.”

"Yeah until we become perceived threats too.”

"Hey, I'm just laying out your options. There are 22 tributes to pick from, I know these people so I'm giving you my insight. Whether or not you decide to take it is up to the two of you.” Haymitch gestured at both of them before turning back to the screen." So District 5.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Finnick, what's the plan?" You asked as you two lay in the silky sheets of the bed.

"We have to get Katniss to trust us so we can get her out of the games. We'll be able to plan more once we get there.” His hand lazily lay on your shoulder, grazing strands of your hair.

"And you'll keep me updated? No secrets?”

"No secrets, my love.” You hummed contently as you snuggled yourself deeper into his shoulder. "When we're in the arena, you need to stick by me. They'll probably try to split us up somehow, we can't let that happen.”

"I can take care of myself if it does.” You assured.

"I know that, but I need to know that you're safe. That you're not trying to throw yourself in front of someone else to save them before you.”

"Even if it's Katniss?” You said lightheartedly.

"We need to get her out of there, but I won't let that be at your personal risk. I owe you a real wedding, remember?”

"Oh, I remember. One with a dress.”

"Any dress you want, angel. So you have to listen to what I say, just this once, and stay with me in the arena and do as I say to stay alive.”

"That's two times.” You joked. " I don't know if I'm capable of doing that.”

“Haha, very funny." He rolled his eyes. Silence took over for a second and you closed your eyes to let yourself rest with him. “I promise we'll get out of this and you'll get the life you deserve, we deserve."

“I trust you."

“Good because I mean it. We'll have our house back overlooking the ocean where little kids will run around outside, soaking up the sun and salt air. They'll have your beautiful laugh and your hair that'll whip around as they run.”

"And you're angel eyes, plus that disarming smile. We'll have to be on the lookout or we'll always give them their way.”

“You can read to me as I fish, you can sit on your favorite rock and I'll collect you all treasures. Annie and Mags will watch them so we can occasionally sneak away to swim in the sunset."

"Oh you've got it all planned out, haven't you?”

"Of course, my love, the perfect life we can have when we're free from all of this.”

"Then I guess I'll have to listen to you to make that happen.” You laughed tiredly, body relaxing.

"Exactly, Mrs. Odair, so I can make sure our dreams come true, that everyone gets a chance to do the same.” Oh, your sweet, sweet boy.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all so much for reading and for all the feedback! someone mentioned wanting to see haymitch presenting them and I thought that would be a great addition so thank @almostjollypizza for suggesting that! not gonna lie this was kind of a difficult chapter to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it, I'm excited to get to the Capitol and the stuff there. I have so many ideas! likes, comment, tags, reblogs, and asks are all super appreciated, love you guys, thank you! 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @skjdksjdhdjd @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #thg #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x you

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stargirl-writes · 7 months

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denial

pairing : force healer jedi! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.5k

masterlist

summary

anakin skywalker confessed his love for you. except, you turned him down, reminding yourself of your duty to the jedi. weeks would have passed and you're reaching a breaking point where you can no longer deny how you felt about him.

tags : angst, mutual pining, fluff towards the end,

warnings : pretty much just denial of how reader feels, and angst with a happy ending (!)

notes : hi lovely people! this is the first thing i'll post under this blog! thank u for taking interest in my little imagine, i hope you like it!

likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated !

It has been a few weeks since Anakin Skywalker told you he loved you. For a moment, the cruelest thing to do seemed like the sweetest thing he could say.

For you both know that the Jedi Council will forbid you to delight in this feeling.

No attachments, live to serve the good, clear lines. No devotions.

You didn't understand how loving someone can be so corrupting, after all, the Jedi Code taught you compassion for all things. That in itself is an act of love. Living so detached from things just makes it all feel... meaningless.

Why hurt for love? Why hurt for not loving?

But now, ever since Anakin told you he wanted you, you are held by a ravenous grip that left you feeling breathless. Suffocated.

Because the truth was simple: You wanted to hoard Anakin in your heart and keep him there. You wanted Anakin.

Of course, you didn't mean it. Anakin Skywalker is the only one who truly knew you. He shredded down your walls to find you where you're most vulnerable and loved you anyway. He wasn't scared of the things about you he didn't understand. Things you, too, find difficult to accept.

But caught by the abruptness, you could only tell him "We can't" before storming out of the room that one night.

You were perplexed, because for the longest time you have resigned yourself to the idea that you were the only one feeling it.

And now he says he loves you. All along.

He loved you.

He loved you despite, despite, despite...

And you turned him down.

Because you can't....

You were bound by duty first. And your duty is to serve the Republic. You can't have Anakin, not if he is supposed to be the chosen one.

You still cried in your sleep; angry and tremendously sorry you turned the closest thing to love away.

You can't take the Republic's only chance of surviving this war. He was meant for something larger than you are. Larger than both of you. You understood this, but it didn't really make it hurt any less.

It fell into this odd... silence between both of you.

You'd catch yourself looking for him in every room you find yourself in. A force of habit. His force signature used to be a warm beacon of light to anchor you, now every time you sense Anakin, your heart aches.

Haunted by the images in your mind of what could be if you allowed him to love you. Terrified that you've allowed yourself to want to share a lifetime with him.

You can't. You wouldn't.

You shuffle in your bed, unable to find a spot so you can comfortably rest. You were becoming more frustrated, for your mind just won't turn itself off.

You grabbed your robe and pulled your hair away from your face, tying it back.

With a sigh, you sit up. It would be futile to attempt any sleep, dawn was already breaking from the windows of the Jedi Temple.

Force healing is something that not every Jedi practices, for it requires a deeper state of discipline and precision. Besides, there are medical droids that can take care of the wounded.

The council had briefed you on your mission for today, you're stationed at the med-bay to overlook the casualties after the recent attack on Kamino.

You valued healing; no matter how forgotten it may have been for the Jedi Order. So, this mission is equally important to you as fighting in the front lines.

The halls of the temple were still quiet, deep in sleep. You wander around, not really knowing where to head.

You hear a shuffle from behind, and instinctively, you turn.

You halt at a balcony— entranced by the rising sun. You breathed deep, wondering when all became so complicated.

A pair of blue eyes meet your doe-eyed gaze. You surveyed him, he looked like he just came from battle, his robes were covered in dust, and his eyes were glossy as if he had been awake for some time, too.

"Anakin" you breathed out, realizing it had been the first time you addressed him after the night he confessed.

"[Name]" He answers, sounding tired.

Your heart thumps, unsure, and half-terrified that if he calls your name again, you might fall to pieces.

"How did the mission on Kamino go?" You say, trying to find any topic other than—

Anakin steps forward, leaning against the balcony. You hold your breath. Being so close to him felt like all air vanishes.

"It went alright" Anakin answers, his gaze falling into the horizon.

Your eyes trail on his arm, noticing the dried blood, a gash maybe, you step forward, wanting to get a closer look, your healing instincts telling you something was off.

"You're hurt" You say, your hand carefully moving his robe.

Anakin sharply turns at your touch. Then his eyes bore into yours. You lifted your fingers, realizing you may have startled him.

Anakin always had you. Part of the reason you were persistent in learning healing. Because the anxiety of him hurting never settled, and you wanted to be equipped to take care of him.

"Let me do this, it won't take long" You insisted, because you knew Anakin too well, and he'd not get it checked until someone else forces him to sit down at the med-bay.

The wound started closing and after a moment, it was like it wasn't there in the first place.

Anakin nods, his eyes never leave yours.

You felt it, a ripple through the force. A very specific frequency. A jedi might mistake his hurt as that of a physical one. But you have memorized him too much to read through his pretenses.

The wounds hurt, yes. But he is carrying a lot more pain than he lets on.

So, you continued. Your fingers graze over his skin, channelling the force, willing it to heal the gash.

You withdrew your touch. The silence lingered. It's a silence that makes you feel mad, because it feels like this is how it'll always be for you and Anakin now. Delicately dancing around the elephant in the room.

The silence amplified the voice screaming in your heart.

You may as well just say it out loud because your force signature is latched with it. It involuntarily pours your heart out.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

"Anakin" you began, your lips opening and closing unable to find words to express how you felt.

He turns his head, standing straight, he had an expression you recognized. Some sort of braceness, like he was already anticipating for you to break his heart again.

"I'm sorry" was all you could say.

Even if you would've ran away with him if he asked you to.

Clear lines. No attachments. You'd cross them all if he asked you to.

This was the right thing to do, you think...

"Don't" Anakin shakes his head "Don't... I know you don't mean it" His eyes fall to his feet.

"No, I do" You answer swiftly— no longer able to deny how much it had hurted you too.

You felt tears threatening to cascade down your face. You've heard it said that love turns people soft, but you have never felt more broken now that you have loved something you can't have.

"Anakin, when I said we can't, it's because I can't take you for myself. You're meant for larger things. Only with the Jedi can you fulfill your destiny" You rambled, verbalizing the thoughts you convinced yourself to believe in at night.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, but you continued "It doesn't mean I didn't, that I don't—" You halted, your heart and mind tearing you apart.

"[Name]" he calls, "You are no small thing in my life" He tucks a loose strand of hair to your ear.

"I meant it when I told you I love you." His palm presses on your cheeks.

You thought you could crumble beneath his touch.

These weeks, the small amount of time you spent trying to convince yourself that his feelings will eventually pass, never faltered the way how you felt. His absence felt like half of you was missing. And now, he was here, insisting softly.

You can't hold it in anymore.

So, in the absence of words, you pressed your lips against his— slowly, gently, slipping into the intimacy you only ever shared with him.

I love you.

You say between the kisses, hoping it'd suffice for you can't quite bring yourself to say it just yet.

Nothing in the world belonged to you, just this love you were overpouring with. And this kiss— it felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Whatever that may be.

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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hey, hun! i was wondering if you could write something with neteyam where the reader take the bullet for him! like how he would react, especially with them being together and he feels like he’s responsible for her security (if she survives or not that’s up to you). thanks a lot :)

God when I see little petnames in ask... so much happiness in my brain.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Reader

Tags: angst, injury, hurt/comfort, blood, patching up an injury, soothing kisses, hand kisses, cuddles, tail shenanigans, guilt, protectiveness, Neteyam being too hard on himself

A/N: I guess it's just angst time for the Sully's huh?

He checks to see if the injury is fatal first and foremost

Is very relieved when it's just your shoulder and not anything vital

He gets you behind some cover, kisses your forehead, whispers that you're gonna be alright before he goes off to take care of the poor idiot who shot you

Brings you back to the hideout in his arms

Hisses and growls at anyone who tries to take you away, he's tired but he can carry you to a medic himself

Breaks his heart to see you grunting in pain as the bullet is dug out of your shoulder

Holds your hand the whole time, not taking his eyes off you for a second until its done and you're patched up and asleep

Spends the whole night by your side, not sleeping at all

When you wake up the first thing he does is give you a kiss

He still beating himself up over failing to protect you, he feels like a failure, if only he payed more attention this wouldn't have happened

You shut him up before he can delve even deeper into his self-hatered

It wouldn't matter what he did, you would have jumped in and saved him regardless, you're his future mate, the two of you are supposed to be watching each other's back

He should have learned that by now, just look at his parents

His tail wraps around your wrist, a little ticklish, and brings your hand to his lips, feeling your pulse point

Can't help but let himself cry when he feels how strong your heartbeat is

You could have died if that bullet hit lower, and it's the possibility of that that scares him more then your current injury, you're tough as nails, you'll recover, he knows how strong you are but his fears and doubt won't let go of him

Now you're in pain, not because of the bullet injury but because Neteyam is kicking himself so much over this

He has nothing to be sorry for, you're glad that he worries but you're fine, you'll heal, the most he can do now is stay by your side until you do, that's all that you ask

And you don't need to ask twice, he's already scooting over to your good side, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing your hand one more time as you lean your head on his shoulder

#avatar x reader #avatar #avatar imagines #avatar way of water #neteyam #avatar neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam headcanons #neteyam angst #avatar the way of water #the way of water #x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully imagine

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mon-blanchetts · 1 year

Text

I Swear I Need You

Pairing: Dark!Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Summary: You've been avoiding your husband. Aemond will do whatever it takes to correct that.

Warnings: possessive/unhinged!Aemond, time-travel, infidelity, period-typical views of gender and marriage, angst, murder (non-explicit), reader’s plans go awry real fast

When you mull over it further in the safety of your own bed, you realize just how unsurprised you are by your husband's actions. Tales of Targaryen madness have always been prevalent throughout the kingdom, and the prince’s own uncle was said to have murdered his first wife long before wedding his niece.

That's probably where he'd drawn inspiration from, you decide with mounting fury. Aemond must've taken a page out of his uncle's book and discarded you in a moment of aggravation. You were of little use to his present cause—whatever it was. Being the outsider that you are, you're not privy to his family's agenda.

Having come to with a violent start, heart racing painfully in your chest, you come to terms with what's happened—with what will happen, should you remain down the same path: your husband is going to murder you. He'll push you off the terrace overlooking Blackwater Bay after you confront him about his dalliances; the ocean below you'll plunge into while you scream your lungs out, knowing full well you know not how to swim—that even if you did, you were no match for the strong currents of Blackwater Bay.

But you're alive now, you remind yourself. Not because, by some miracle of the Seven, you survived the waters, but...but because your demise has yet to happen.

You've somehow traveled back in time. The thought is as ludicrous as it is a relief, but you know not how else to explain it.

If you're alive now, it must mean you can still avoid the fate you've just met. But how?

You remember the confrontation you had with him, all the words that had tumbled from your mouth while he watched, his face impassive, one violet eye as wide as it was blank. The problem was that you never could gauge his mood, but what you're actually realizing now is that you just weren't worth the effort for him to emote to any extent. After all, you were never the prize; your enormous dowry was.

I have been nothing but an attentive and devoted wife to you—but you, you choose to spit it all back in my face—they say your father, may his bones rest in peace, would never—if you're this blind, then perhaps your nephew should've maimed your other eye for good measure—

Well, that’s it, isn’t it? You'd gone off on your husband when once you wouldn't have dared to. In your defense, you were drunk from imbibing too much Dornish red, your bitterness and neglect at a fever pitch that night.Here you were, a hare forced to dwell amongst dragons; some at court called you an upstart, others called you a tart with middling blood. You were craving.

You know your husband craves, too. You're just not what he wants.

Well.

In the end, this is what you surmise: if you want to keep your head above the water, you just need to stay clear of your husband. Keeping on his good side means keeping out of his way. Where once you longed for his attention, you are now more than happy to do without it, so long as it means you can live.

After all, Prince Aemond can't murder his wife if he hardly remembers he has one.

In your head, at least, it makes sense.

**************

The basket of white linen shirts placed in your bedchamber startles you.

You've just returned from a game of shuttlecock with your handmaidens,basking in the cool morning weather before the near-stifling noonday heat takes over completely. You're feeling light and invigorated, but the sight of that basket chases away your happy mood. It's Aemond's, those linen shirts. You completely forgot about them, but here they are.

Playing ghost with your husband comes surprisingly easy to you, but you suppose the foundations for your success were always there from the start; there was the fact that the two of you have always kept to separate sleeping arrangements, and Aemond has only ever sought your company at a frequency deemed dutiful by royal standards: there’s the few meals taken together each week with or without your in-laws, peppered with an occasional rendezvous in the evening that’s held before the hearth in your bedchamber. Where you once took these opportunities to please and engage him, now you keep mostly to yourself, mincing empty words when silence was unavoidable. Your quiet complaisance seems to please him enough, you think, but you'll never know for sure.

Under no circumstances do you accept any appointments with him on the terrace overlooking Blackwater Bay; you even turn down a surprising request to walk with him through the royal gardens, because you know one of the paths lead to that same fateful spot you were once pushed off from.

In short, you have no interest in gaining your would-be murderer's favour—though, of course, you're certainly not interested in gaining his disfavor, either. It's a thin line you walk on, and you're trying not to fall off before making it to the other side.

"You can take this back to the prince's chambers, Edyth," you order, gesturing toward the basket.

Your favourite handmaiden frowns at you. "But princess, you haven’t mended them yet,” she reminds.

"You’re right, and I don’t intend to."

Edyth looks worried. "Prince Aemond will question this, won't he? You've always insisted on darning his shirts yourself. What am I to tell his page when asked?"

You doubt your husband remembers such trivial devotions coming from you. A truth that heavy may have once left you despondent, but now, with a spark of vindication, you realize just how well that works in your favour.

"You will tell his page that I've not the time to darn his shirts anymore," you respond. "Besides, Prince Aemond has important matters on his mind to heed who is darning his shirts, don't you think?"

The look on your handmaiden's face tells you she's not wholly convinced, but she obeys nonetheless.

**************

"Won't you dance with me, sweet sister?" the Princess Helaena asks, and you smile brightly at her. You've never excelled at anything in particular, but you do consider dancing one of your stronger points. The King need not bother the two of you tonight, thankfully; as you rise from your seat you spot your brother-in-law watching fair Lady Bridgetts with a less-than-lecherous gaze, surrounded by his like-minded coterie. The King these days doesn't care much for small family gatherings, as was once the norm, you were informed; he prefers the more boisterous and wine-soaked kind, attended by courtiers he knows will keep him entertained.

Despite her marriage to King Aegon, your sister-in-law has yet to be crowned queen, but she doesn't seem to mind in the least. Her steps are light and airy, cheeks red with excitement. You match her enthusiasm with your own, realizing that your feelings of joy are, in fact, genuine; Aemond is absent tonight, as he has been for the past few days, and so you've been able to breathe a little easier because of it. Your husband has been charged with mending frayed ties with the lords of The Reach, taking him away from the capital. A blessing, that—you wouldn't have attended tonight's amusements had he been in attendance.

And so you dance and dance with the Princess Helaena, the two of you spinning in delight as the music picks up its tempo; your surroundings blur while you move, eager to be rid of your present worries for a night or two. While you've taken it easy with the wine—you learned your lesson when you drunkenly confronted Aemond on the terrace that fateful day—you've indulged on the candied fruits that accompanied tonight's supper, the sugar elating your good spirits even further.

But perhaps you've been too eager to forget, it seems, that the gods have sought to correct this.

As you ready yourself for another spin, someone catches your eye—pale blonde hair and garments as black as night instantly betray his identity.

Aemond is watching you as you stumble lightly at his appearance, just as the music halts.

Your husband's gaze remains firmly upon you as a Kingsguard standing watch by the entrance announces Prince Aemond's arrival. You look away with haste, cursing beneath your breath. This wasn't what you anticipated; your husband isn't expected back for a few days still.

His mother voices as much after greeting her son warmly. "Nonetheless, the sweet air of the Reach has done you well," she comments, and you refrain from rolling your eyes. In your opinion, Aemond looks exactly the same, his pallor just as it was when he left King's Landing. You wonder, more with curiosity rather than bitterness, what fleshly delights he had sampled on there.

"For all of its riches, The Reach lacks what I truly desire," he says, casting a look at you over his mother's head. You're forced to hold back a scoff. You have no time for flattery.

"Then you will happily greet your wife with open arms, will you not?" the Queen Mother asks, turning to lead her son towards you.

With a smile painted on your face, you offer a quick curtsy in greeting. "Welcome back to the capital, husband." The last word tastes foreign in your mouth.

The Prince must’ve changed into a fresh set of clothes before appearing before them all, by the pristine look of his leather doublet and hose. He doesn't respond right away, his expression impassive.

"You look well, my love," he finally says.

You actually want to agree with him because it's true, but you’re sure that would be in bad taste when you've been apart from each other for such a while.

"Won't you dance with her, Aemond?" It's the Princess Helaena, speaking from across the room. "Those who dance and tumble, dance and tumble, will always discern," she portends, a faraway look blossoming on her still flushed-face.

You glance at your husband. "Perhaps some wine would be a better idea after such a long flight," you suggest instead.

"Only if you join me as well."

You can't just skip out this instant, you realize; that could raise Aemond's suspicions, and you don't want to deal with that. No, you'll make your exit when the moment's right, but now isn't it.

"If it pleases you, then I will."

His violet-eyed stare is unsettling, as it normally is. "It would please me very much."

You look back at Helaena with apology and affection. Here, at least, there is no bad blood to smooth over; your sister-in-law continues smiling at you in that otherworldly, enchanted way of hers. You also have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.

Things fall back into place again as the two of you both seat yourselves at the dining table; the music winds itself back up again, but it’s a new tune this time. You smile knowingly at a trio of courtiers you’ve caught trying to scrutinize you discreetly by one of the stone columns. Tongues never stop wagging at court, and you suspect the grapevine will be plenty fruitful on the morrow, now that Prince Aemond has returned.

At the head of the table, your husband holds out a cup provided by his servant. "To your health," he says, watching you.

You raise your own cup before bringing it to your lips. You sip cautiously, as you’re wont to do now.

Tonight’s retinue of courtiers gravitate around you both, but none dare approach close enough for discourse. From your vantage point, adjacent to the Prince’s own seat, you can see the Queen Mother’s tapestries on display along the gallery’s wall. She was forced to relinquish some of her favourites to King Aegon, he who has a penchant for life’s finest things. It’s mainly what you think about while nursing your wine, saying little to your husband.

"What have you been doing here in my absence?"

You shrug. "Things, here and there."

"Such as?"

For a moment, you consider telling him about your day traversing through River Row. Despite having never lived there for a day in your life, being surrounded by fishmongers and sea captains grips you with nostalgia you didn’t realize you yearned so badly for. More than once you’ve even had a selection of fish brought back to the Red Keep for your cook to try his hand at preparing. But why in the gods would you tell him all that? You want as little to do with your husband as possible; it’s as if the more you give, either with words or actions, the easier it will be for him to use against you, to lure you to the terrace you avoid like death itself.

"Trifling things, husband," you finally say, fingers dancing around the rim of your cup. "I doubt you’d be interested in the courtly pursuits that maidens and ladies participate in to wile away the time."

"Hm. And yet my shirts have come back to me unmended each time they are brought to your chambers. My page insists you’ve been occupied."

Your fingers stop moving. "Oh. I didn't think you'd mind, to be honest. And besides, I realized I was too poor a seamstress in the end," you add for good measure.

"I ought to be the arbiter of that."

You know his gaze has barely left your face since he’s arrived, and it’s beginning to make you nervous. Instinctively, you open your mouth to apologize, but he cuts you off, his voice low and commanding in that calmly dangerous way of his.

"I will ask you again, wife: what have you been doing in my absence?"

As the minstrels segue into a new song, you shift your focus entirely on him. The Prince sits with his back erect, one hand on the table; his face is, as far as you can tell, an attestation to his boredom and the company present.

His gaze on you is another story, altogether. Beneath his stare, you’re reminded of the madness all Targaryens are supposedly capable of—that conquering dragons is madness itself. How else to explain wedding and bedding your own kin, or murdering them for sport?

Your husband has killed. He has killed his nephew, and once he has killed you. If you let him, he could do it again. You don’t know what he wants to hear, or what he even wants from you, but you know you’re right to try and stay clear of him.

One of his long fingers taps sporadically against the base of his cup. Tap. Tap, tap. Tap—

"I've taken to the arts," you confess warily.

He blinks once, and only once. "What kind?"

"Well, ink paintings have taken the court by storm as of late," you explain, shrugging. "There isn’t one person I know who hasn’t dabbled in it."

"And you’re taken by it as well?"

You nod. "Yes, quite. Our teacher is a good one, and I’ve done well under his tutelage. He hails from Qarth, actually, but from what I understand the art of ink painting comes fr—"

"Your teacher is a man," he states, cutting you off.

You huff quietly, slightly incensed from his interruption. "Of course he is. Women aren’t allowed to apprentice."

Another tap of his finger against the base of his cup. "And how often do you congregate with this teacher of yours?"

You’re really hoping that your husband doesn’t plan on taking an interest in ink painting. That’s just what you need, isn’t it, the Prince hovering about your space while you indulge in a past-time you’ve genuinely enjoyed pursuing, and not just for social purposes. "Our circle meets once a week," you lie. So what if it’s actually more frequent than that? With a civil war on the horizon, you’re not even sure if any of this will last, and you want to enjoy it as husbandless as you’re able.

Boisterous laughter rings across the room. You realize it’s coming from the King and his coterie, but the source of their humour is unknown to you.

"You must show me your work, then," Aemond voices. "I very much wish to see your endeavours."

You smile nervously. "Yes, of course. Perhaps soon."

He smiles back at you, but there is dark mischief beneath it. "Perhaps now, my love. Let us rid ourselves of this company and find sweeter things to do in your chambers."

Your mind halts, fearful and mortified. This is absolutely not the direction you ever intended this conversation to go in—far from it. You have yet to find a plausible excuse to keep the prince out of your bed when your duty remains unfulfilled, but the experience is few and far between. Your husband does not crave you; the suddenness of his request throws you completely off guard.

Say something, anything.

"The time is late and you’ve journeyed far, husband. Wouldn’t you prefer the comfort of your own familiar bed? You’re back in the capital now, besides; we’ve plenty of time for, um, things."

He says nothing to you, but you catch it on his face. That gleam of madness again.

For a moment you think he’s ready to let it go. And then, without breaking eye contact, he extends his arm and tilts his cup sideways, Dornish red spilling out over your lap like a bloody waterfall. You gasp loudly for all to hear, but you're too slow to avoid it; the wine has soaked through your skirts.

"How careless of me," he says without even a sliver of remorse, his face turned upwards to your own, one violent eye aglow with calm mischief.

You'd shot up from your seat as soon as the wine splashed onto your gown, your chair screeching against the stone floor. The music had halted again and the discourse terminated, all eyes turned towards you and the prince.

In the hushed silence that has descended, you glare at the prince, fingers bunching into the folds of your gown not soiled by the carnage he has wrought. You're flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment, face warm as you catch attendants approaching you from the corner of your eyes. How could he?

"I was very fond of this dress," you say, waving off the attendants. There was nothing they could do to salvage the garment.

"Then you must forgive this husband of yours," he says, standing. "We will need to have another dress made for my lady wife. A much finer one, so that it wholly befits her status and beauty."

"Yes, indeed," his mother cuts in as she nears, turning you towards her so she can examine the damage done by her son. "What a shame. It isn't like you to be so clumsy, Aemond."

Despite his misdemeanor—or, perhaps, because of it—the corners of his mouth remain tilted upwards in a mischievous smile. "It would seem that reuniting with my lady wife has made me soft and befuddled," he confesses, standing. You take a step back, alarmed.

"Come, wife," he says. "Unfortunately in this state, you're no longer fit for company like this. We will bid everyone a good night."

You consider disobeying. I'm not fit for your company either, you think to say, but there is a shadow lingering in his good eye that you're wary of. Aemond will broker no argument or negotiation tonight. Besides, the stain on your dress is too unbecoming for this set, yes; you look down at it, noticing how it resembled a bloody island in the sea of the blue fabric.

In the end, it is the Queen Mother who decides for you. "You'll not want to linger in that dress for much longer, my love," she comments with an apologetic smile. "I'll see to it that Aemond makes good on his promise of a new dress. You are certainly deserving of it."

So you bow your head in deference towards her before bidding your King and his company a goodnight. Helaena kisses your cheek affectionately before whispering something in your ear. You don't think much about it just now, not until you're lying in your bed, coming to terms with everything that had transpired tonight.

What will transpire tonight, that is.

**************

You make it a point not to look at your husband as you make your way through the Red Keep, back to your own suite of rooms. The few restless courtiers still milling about eye the two of you cautiously.

In the now-empty corridor leading to your chambers do you finally voice your anger. "You did that on purpose," you accuse, turning on your heel to glare at him. Even his close proximity cannot thaw your feelings.

His smile remains placid. "Yes, I did." Not even a half-hearted attempt to deny it, you realize.

"Why do such a thing? What have I done to draw such ire from you tonight?"

The warm light that emanates from the torches around you sets your husband aglow while he studies you for a moment, silent. You freeze in fear beneath his gaze; it’s a look not so different from that which he'd given you before shoving you off the terrace—but no, that hasn't happened yet, not in whatever realm you've found yourself in right now. That won’t happen, so long as you play your cards right, so long—

You fail to act in time; he already has you pushed against the wall, his warm body crowding into yours. His hands curl possessively around your waist, face a hair's breadth away from your own. And while you desperately try to claw yourself from his presence, unable to discern between this Aemond and the one who killed you, between the sturdy ground beneath your feet and the ocean you were once plunged in, he only seems intent to trespass, to enforce his presence on you the only way a dragon is capable of.

"Something has come over you," he says at last with a gentle tilt of his head, his hands tightening over your waist. "Where once you seemed intent to occupy every moment of my time, you're now avoiding me as of late. Why is that, wife?"

Heart drumming loudly in your ears, you try your hardest to maintain a passive look on your face. "No, that's absurd," you insist with the lightest of scoffs. "What reason would I have to avoid you?"

"That, my love, is exactly what I plan to find out."

You shake your head vehemently, trying another tactic. "So what if I have been making myself scarce before you? You’ve been preoccupied with matters of state, don’t you see? I only wish not to add to your burdens!"

He seems to be mulling over your answer while you try to keep yourself together, but his grip on your waist doesn’t loosen at all.

"Perhaps you’re right," he affirms. "I’ve been a poor husband to you, haven’t I?"

"No! That’s not what I m—"

He doesn’t let you finish. "This needs to be rectified immediately."

You blink at him, throat parched. "I don’t understand."

A knowing smile blooms slowly along his mouth. "You will once the night is through."

**************

AN: Guys this was supposed to be like, 2k words, but here we are past the 4k mark and I have no excuses other than this plot escaped me. If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! It’s been a while since I’ve written GOT fic, so I might be a little rusty. Let me know if you’re interested in reading more; I guess I could try my hand at smut or smth and I always planned to make our boy nuttier as the ideas flowed outta my head.

Also, despite the sappy-sounding title, it’s ripped from Seulgi’s 28 Reasons which I had on full repeat because of its creepy, dark-pop vibe. Bye.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #dark!aemond x reader

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 3 months

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im not sure if youre necessarily comfortable with this, so feel free to ignore this if you're not, but GOOODDD i just thought it was the cutest idea ever. possibly a series idea?

imagining reader finding out she's pregnant with ethan's baby after the costume frat party, due to quinn's suspicions bc of how sick reader was for almost two weeks then. though being unable to tell ethan, due to the whole ghostface thing pretty much ruining whatever chance she had to tell him, especially bc the group were SUPER suspicious of him and wouldn't leave him alone with her (prob bc reader told the group during the whole dinner before ethan, as gf attacked the apartment but left reader alone) but time skip a little, ethans put in a psych ward for a couple months to deal with the trauma from his dad & just being pressured into being ghostface, and he decides to go back and visit his girlfriend because he didn't really have anywhere else to go, but when he arrived at her front door, the last thing he was expecting was to see her with a small baby girl in her arms. (in this essay, i will expand more on my girldad! ethan landry age-) BUT reader doesn't necessarily trust ethan around her at first, and for good reason to, considering he literally tried to kill her and the core five (reader was apart of the woodsboro group, was possibly dating amber??) and ethan has to pretty much work his ass off to regain her trust again. just fluff, to angst to fluff again

I hope you like this!!!!!💕

Flames - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This is going to be a series! It'll definitely have a lot of angst and fluff for those kind sweet souls that have been asking me for it:)

Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of death, suggestion to sex(but not graphic:)

Summary: After surviving Woodsboro, attacks are happening again to your friend group in NYC.

It’d been a little over a month since the infamous Halloween frat party. That night was crazy, especially after Sam tazed some loser’s balls. When the night was cut short, you decided to go back to Ethan and Chad’s dorm while Chad was going with Tara. You hadn’t had much alone time with Ethan, so you had to take advantage of every opportunity you got.

When the condom broke that night, you went out to get a Plan B the next morning, knowing you and Ethan weren’t ready to be parents yet. What you didn’t know was that you were ovulating at the time, and that the future-saving morning after pill wouldn’t work.

When you started to get sick every day, Quinn started to pick up on it. She had her suspicions and asked you to take a test. Your heart sank when you saw the plus sign, but you had no idea how to tell Ethan. Especially when Mindy was so convinced that he was one of the prime suspects in the most recent killings happening around campus. You didn’t know what to believe, especially after your ex-girlfriend was one of the people killing off your friends in Woodsboro the year before. She even tried to kill you, but you were saved after getting stabbed four times.

As you sat at the table with your friends, you couldn’t keep your secret any longer. Quinn already knew, but you had to tell the rest of them.

As Chad started his “Core Five” speech, and Sam confessed to her fling with Danny, you decided it was the right time to let it out.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, the room instantly getting silent.

Everyone exchanged glances as your cheeks turned red.

“Wait…what?” Chad asked, his shocked expression very similar to everyone else’s.

“Is that why you keep getting sick?” Sam asked, before Mindy spoke up.

“Okay, this is one of the main rules. You aren’t supposed to have sex!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s a little too late for that advice. Shouldn’t that rule be updated, though? Everyone is sleeping with someone.”

“But you’re the one sleeping with a killer,” she smirked, “Sweet, dorky Ethan is Ghostface. Just like Amber.”

“You don’t know that,” you said, as she scoffed.

“Where is he right now?” she questioned, everyone’s eyes landing on you again.

“He’s at Econ.”

Everyone’s phones started to chime. It made you all feel uneasy, your heart pounding as you saw the picture of Ghostface with Quinn.

You all jumped up, standing outside of her bedroom door. You were hoping it was some sick prank, but after the events that happened in Woodsboro, you knew it wasn’t.

You didn’t have much time to think of a plan before the masked figure threw Quinn’s body out of the room, resting against you before she fell to the floor. When Ghostface charged out of the room, you were in the direct path, but they went around you. You noticed Chad and Tara running out the front door, following them to what would hopefully be safety. The second you made it out, the door slammed behind you, and you heard the numerous locks on the door click.

“Fuck, guys!” you yelled to Tara and Chad who were a few sets of stairs down from you. “They’re still in there! The door just got locked!”

They ran back up, the sounds of Chad’s fists banging on the door and the screaming coming from inside the apartment echoing off the walls.

“I don’t have my keys or my phone,” you panicked, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“I don’t either,” Tara said, pounding on the door and screaming for Sam.

After a few minutes, the screams became fainter. You started to lose hope, thinking that all your friends inside were dead. The three of you were crying outside of the door, before Chad spoke up.

“I need to get you two somewhere safe,” he said, nudging you and Tara towards the stairs.

When you made it outside, you bumped into Sam, Mindy and Danny. Mindy was sobbing, and Sam’s face was somber.

“Where’s Anika?” you asked, as Mindy cried harder. Your eyes went wide, “No…”

“Anika and Quinn,” was all Sam could get out before getting choked up.

You all cried as you hugged each other on the sidewalk when the cop cars pulled up. Everyone was questioned before Detective Bailey arrived. He was closest to you because you were the closest to Quinn. He treated you like a daughter, regularly taking you and Quinn out for dinner. You tried to comfort him as he cried, but you didn’t know how to. He’d already lost one of his children in a car accident, and the other was murdered in the room next to yours.

When the ambulance arrived, they kept trying to find the source of your bleeding. You started to feel faint as you tried to explain that it was Quinn’s blood on you, your vision getting spotty. You dropped to your knees, unable to keep your balance. When Sam told the paramedics that you were pregnant, they put you on the stretcher and monitored you as the sun started to rise.

“I’m okay, really,” you said, after an hour of laying there. They were in the process of giving you an IV, hoping the fluids would help with your extreme dizziness.

“The bag’s close to empty. You’re almost done,” the paramedic said, hooking you up to the machine to check your vitals for what felt like the hundredth time.

You watched Mindy get her stitches, completely unfazed. She was so heartbroken, and you just wanted to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay. You could only imagine what it would’ve felt like if you were in her position, and Ethan was the one laying under the tarp.

As your IV was finally getting taken out, Ethan pushed through the crowd of people and lifted the caution tape to walk over towards everyone. Chad jumped up, having a heated exchange with Ethan as he shoved him against a car.

“I had Econ!” you heard him yell, his eyes scanning the friend group. “Where is she?”

“Ambulance,” Chad said, as Ethan’s eyes connected with yours. He ran towards you, before Mindy stopped him.

“Stay the fuck away from her, Ghostface,” she snapped, as Ethan looked back towards you.

“Jesus Christ, I had Econ!”

“It’s okay, Mindy,” you mumbled, as she moved so Ethan could join you in the back of the ambulance.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked, grabbing your hand. His eyes were filled with panic.

“I’m okay, I just got really dizzy earlier.”

“Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” Mindy scoffed at his words, thinking about Anika.

After checking out the abandoned theater, and Gale getting attacked, you decided that you needed to head back to Woodsboro. You needed to be with your family, and as much as you wanted to be there for your friends, they were all supportive of you going home. You didn’t have just your own life to think about anymore, so you needed to be somewhere safe.

Ethan was really sad when you left, crying as he said goodbye to you at the airport while the rest of your friends watched. They didn’t trust you alone with him, they all had their suspicions that he was the cause for everything that was happening.

“Please be safe,” you said, hugging Tara.

“You too. Let me know how everything goes after you get back home,” she said, alluding to the current situation, not wanting Ethan to overhear and wonder what she was talking about.

“I will.” you said, “I love you guys,” you waved, walking towards security.

You couldn’t tell Ethan about the baby, even though you were terrified that something could happen to him, and he’d never know he had a child. There was this awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. It could’ve been the trauma from your relationship with Amber, but you had no idea she was behind the Woodsboro murder spree, when you thought you knew everything about her. You thought you knew Ethan, but now you weren’t so sure.

When your plane landed, it felt surreal. Woodsboro was never a safe place to be, and now it was. When you made it to the entrance of the airport, your mom was crying, so happy that you were okay. You hadn’t told her about the baby yet, not wanting to send her into shock. She wanted to take you out for dinner, which you agreed to. The lack of food over the last couple days made you feel weak.

“Do you have anything special you want to do when you get home? Do you want to watch a movie or something?” she asked as she sat across the table from you.

“No, I really just want to sleep. Maybe tomorrow,” you smiled, taking a bite of your food.

You pulled out your phone to see a few texts from your friends, all of them checking to make sure you made it back okay. Then you noticed one from Ethan.

Ethan: I love you so much, and I miss you already. I can’t wait to see you again.

You: I love you too, baby

“You okay?” your mom asked, noticing the sad expression on your face.

“I can’t stop thinking about last year…about Amber. How could I have been so wrong about her?” you sighed, your mom’s sympathetic eyes meeting yours.

“She was sick, baby. I’m not trying to downplay it, because she killed two of my friends…and I know you were devastated when Wes and Liv were killed. She just had issues and needed serious help.”

Your mom got sad every time she talked about Dewey and Judy, you did too. You hated when she mentioned Wes because that was the death you took the hardest. Liv was the one Mindy suspected last time, and she was wrong then. You wanted so badly for her to be wrong this time, too.

When you made it home, you went upstairs and crawled into your bed. You felt safe with the alarm set downstairs, and your parents close by. You were finally able to get some much-needed rest.

Your mom woke you up the next morning, wanting to make sure she told you the news before you woke up and saw it yourself. Your heart broke as you listened to her speak about the few details that had been released. You checked your phone to see a text from Tara.

Tara: We’re okay, Chad’s in the hospital…but Ethan was in on it.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream

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deprivedreality · 10 months

Text

𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬 ; 𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗬𝗔𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗬. oneshot

word count: 1.5k request by: @aichiomei

summary: neteyam with his childhood sweetheart and mate who died before him. alternative ver for childhood sweetheart.

content/s & pairings: neteyam x omaticaya! reader. angst. mention of death and blood. heavy visualization of trauma/losing a loved one. reader is called Yaw'ne which is yn, basically beloved in navi.

ᓚᘏᗢ | masterlist | feel free to make a request too!

"𝗠𝗔 𝗬𝗔𝗪'𝗡𝗘. . . ?" His voice, pained and hoarse. Neteyam looked at his mate dying in his arms. The disappearance of the light in her eyes turned off all sense of consciousness in his body.

"Yaw'ne! Do not— no! You can't do this to me! Yaw'ne! Not now, not ever! My love— Look at me, please!" He cried, trembling as his chest heaved from the panic and anxiety he was feeling.

"Yaw'ne, look at me!" In an attempt to make a corpse look into him, he grasped her hand and placed it on his cheek, all while his other hand pushed through her chest, where blood spilled all over. Neteyam couldn't recognize himself anymore, all he could do was feel the warmth he couldn't embrace would be the last he'd ever feel from her as she went cold and pale.

In that moment, all he could think of was the future he envisioned with her, lost in a matter of moments. The love he swore to protect, the woman he promised to cherish, and soul he offered his life to. Gone. He couldn't grasp reality completely and amidst the war cry that echoes across the depressing field, he wouldn't take his eyes off her as tears swelled from his eyes, emotions daring to spill out.

He thought that if she stayed back, such thing would never happen. How did it come to this? How could one bullet determine the faith of someone? The faith of his mate, his love? Just Why?

He couldn't take off his eyes off of Yawne, the pain evident in his eyes as he looked at hers, lifeless and dim. All colors sucked off, replaced with the impeccable reminder that she no longer was with him. And will no longer be apart of a life she was supposed to be filling with colors.

"..." Neteyam spoke no more, but the silence has never been more loud. It was a mystery, really. How a broken heart can drive a man insane.

It was hard and brutal in each passing second. As smoke filled the air, so did the grief of the people all around him amidst the time of war. The cries of agony of a man who lost his mate was what filled the silence after the immediate aftermath of a battle between the RDA and the Omaticaya people.

Those who survived knew that if the Skypeople were foolish enough to have not surrendered earlier, then Toruk Makto's son— no, a man having been bereaved of his mate would've annihilated them with no hesitation and with bloodlust.

Neteyam's screams and shouts to bring her back were painful to hear to all those who were fortunate enough to be alive. As they echoed across the silenced field stocked with the corpse of Na'vis and Humans, taunting the ears of the many Omaticayan warriors that beared and witnessed the rage of the Omaticayan Prince's grief and agony upon losing his lover.

Neteyam never felt so conflicted in all his life. His father was Toruk Makto, yes. However, he never thought once in his life that it would be the sole reason for his forced departure from the home he's ever known. And setting all of it aside, the biggest part of not wanting to go was because his love rested with his people. And the thought of having no exact time of going back home scared him to the depth of his soul.

"I have to leave you, my love." A tear traced down his cheek and to his chin. Neteyam smiled even if he was in pain, the sides of his lips trembling as he stood in front of a boulder decorated with striking bioluminescent flowers and herbs. This was where his mate was buried, a place he almost spent his time on after he lost her.

"I'm sorry..." Neteyam whispered, butb then his knees started weakening that he had fallen down and broke into tears. He held his shoulders, as if hugging himself as he sobbed. "Please know that I don't want to do this. I want to stay with you... But I can't."

Even if he couldn't bear the pain of learning that he might as well never be able to see the memories of the life he once had, in the end, he found himself embarking on a harsh journey with his family. And although Neytiri and Jake knew about their son's dying desire to just be in the hands of the great mother just to be with Yawne, they would do everything to protect their son.

A sad soul waiting to just disappear was the person Neteyam had become. He never laughed whole heartedly nor expressed the same happiness he once had before tragedy of a broken heart befall on him. He never acted the same, focusing only on keeping his siblings align because it was the only thing Neteyam was left to do.

If he disappeared, Yawne would be disappointed of him. That is what he thinks, that deep inside, his mate would be upset if he would just off himself and leave his responsibilities as a son and a brother just to be with her.

From the very arrival of the Sully's in the Awa'atlu clan, he's always been perceived as the saddest amongst the forest children, unresponsive in daylight and sullen in the night. The village people pinpointed it. The tsahik of the Metkayina clan expressed her pity for him, to the point that he could not bear it anymore.

His brother and sister were in pain watching him cry every night, whispering the name of his deceased mate. All while he wished to be with just himself and his aching heart, in nights where he cradled himself to sleep. And kissed the necklace that only he had taken to leave with him as a part of his mate. The necklace that he weaved for his childhood sweetheart, dating back from when he had just learnt how to bead traditional jewelry at the ripe age of five just to impress his mate.

The memories that brought him back were the only thing that kept him together. He spent his life with his mate even before bonding with her as lovers. Neteyam had so much memories that the idea of it running out just made his day damp.

"Yaw'ne... It won't be long, I promise." One evening before tragedy happened, the boy had whisper as he looked at the beautiful sunset that reminded him only of one person, Yaw'ne.

The dazling gold color of the reef that blinded his eyes. The dewy-colored sky and it's undoubtedly gorgeous sight. And the atmosphere that flowed with warmth, that even if it wasn't as close to be similar to the warmth and comfort he felt by embracing her, it reminded him greatly of his mate.

Thinking about it made him smile genuinely, laughing to himself. "If things aren't the way it is, you would be sitting next to me, Yawne. You would've love the ocean."

The smile Neteyam showed, unknowingly, would be the last.

"Dad, I wanna go home─" Even as he lay dying in the same way his late lover had died, it was the only words that came out of his mouth when he looked at his father. He thought that for once in his life, he could be a bit selfish. Neteyam struggled to breathe as he looked at his parents and at Lo'ak. Blood seeped down his mouth but he spoke once more, this time with great desperation.

"I just want to see her again... I miss her─" Neteyam cried, eyes swelling with tears. Even through Lo'ak's pleads for him to stop, Neytiri's panic and to Jake's realization, all of them could see the desperation in his eyes.

"I miss her so much..." Neteyam longed for a moment of silence and he got it. His parents grieved for him as he lay dead on the cold ocean, eyes wide open as though they stared at the sky like any other day he spent at sea.

His eyes were dim when she died. But now, his amber eyes were at its dimmest. Neteyam died that day, with a bullet ending the pain he never thought would be the one to kill him in its stead.

It was the pain that killed him, and the acceptance that made him rest alas. It would be a mistake to underestimate the influence of love, thus, accepting it would lead into eternity.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2023 | do not copy my works!

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xoxo-sarah · 3 months

Text

It Isn't Easy

↝a/n: feelings are hard.

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝warning: unrequited love, hinted FWB, angst, Robin doesn't know what she wants and that's okay, set in season 4, when everyone is making stuff to defeat Vecna

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Buckley, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.24.24

"what are we?"

Robin looked around. Her friends were putting together whatever makeshift weapon they could think of. You two were supposed to be doing the same. But you had pulled her away, a distant look in your eyes. This wasn't the time-

"I need to know what we are, Robin. What I am to you." You watched her stumble over her words, not finding the right ones no matter what. Her mouth kept opening and closing, without so much as a sound out of her..

"it's simple; do you love me or not?"

"simple? It's not simple." She blinked in disbelief at the situation. What you two had done was something she could never grow to regret. But was it enough to remember and want for the rest of her life? Would she grow to regret thinking she didn't want it at the time?

"it should be. It is for me." Robin had known that. Ever since you two started whatever it is you two started, you had worn your heart on your sleeve. You weren't shy about any of the things she made you feel.

You didn't know which is worse. Living with unrequited love and knowing it, or dying with her loving you just as much as you loved her and not knowing it. You just wanted an answer, even if it wasn't the one you were hoping for. You couldn't die without knowing for sure.

What are we?

For some people, it was a difficult question to answer, but why? You either love someone or you don't. You want to spend the rest of your life with them or you don't. It's that easy to look at like that for some people. There's no 'i could learn to love you' or 'im not sure'. Love is strong, it eats you from the inside out, displaying your heart on the outside for the very person it beats for to see, to adore, to criticize. It takes over every nerve receptor, every brain cell, every vein.

It's easy for some people. Why couldn't it be easy for everyone?

"I don't know."

It was true. Robin adored you, she really did. She would protect you during what is to come. But would she be willing to come out of this and be able to put herself into a relationship? One that she would have to work on to get to the same point as you?

She saw it in your eyes, every time you looked at her. It's as if she painted the world, added every little detail to the sphere as you watched her hand flick with every stroke of the paintbrush.

"I'm sorry."

You nodding, a sad smile lifting your lips slightly.

You two were quick to grasp each other, holding on for dear life. You two weren't in this as a couple, just two kids wanting to survive and help the town.

Love isn't something you can mold to fit someone else's wants and needs. You have to know when to put your feelings first, to unwind your heartstrings and look at them each very closely to determine what to do next.

Her lips found yours in one final 'im sorry'. It was pitiful, really.

But one last kiss wouldn't hurt.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

#stranger things fanfic #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley angst #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fluff #stranger things angst #📼#xoxo-sarah 🩷

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chiharuhashibira · 8 months

Note

Hi new friend *giggle excitedly* do you make request? Can I request Sanemi x Reader Cloud by 1D 😊😊☺️

Of course~ We can do it ^^

It's for Nemi and for yah soooooo why not?! 😚

Here's my KNY rendition of 1D's Clouds 🤭

Prepare your tissues and your eyes XD

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒔

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Content Warnings: None ^^

Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance

(Image isn't mine, credits to the rightful owner)

You were engrossed in thought as you saw the sky above you from the engawa. The cloud's predominant white colour triggers a memory of a white-haired guy from your past whom you haven't seen in over a year.

It's been a whole year since you last communicated. A year after ending the on-and-off relationship with the Wind Hashira. Since Sanemi was the centre of your life, you can't help but feel anxious and wonder whether there will ever be another chance to see him again.

It appears that arguments were a normal occurrence throughout your previous relationship. But this breakup is different from your past cool-offs with him. It's you who said that things don't work, and you should both work things out for yourselves if you ever want to go back with each other.

Back then, you always told him that you should keep things simple, as love isn't supposed to be complicated. But perhaps he's right? Love is never simple, and if it were, you wouldn't be sitting here alone, caressing the empty space beside you as tears streamed down your face.

"I swear you'll wish you never left me."

And yes, Sanemi is absolutely correct; at this point, you are wishing that you had never actually parted ways with him since you have no idea what to do. It is as if, all of a sudden, you are a young child who is looking for something. Slaying demons at night has become your go-to method for putting an end to these intrusive thoughts; you feel that if you don't, you'll die from solitude.

You always thought that you both had everything figured out. But no, it was all a fantasy, as both of you view love in a different way.

And now that a year has passed, you are surviving without Sanemi but definitely feeling like a wreck.

You remembered how his hands felt whenever he touched you. Beneath that harsh attitude, Sanemi always had that sweet side, which is only focused on loving you. You can still picture how he used to sit next to you at this same engawa and tell you everything. And you love it. You miss it so bad.

You missed how you used to breathe the same air as him and how his lilac eyes looked at you with too much passion. You wished to see the things that he had seen in you. You wanted Sanemi to be back, but how?

It was you who ended things, and now he is gone.

And by the last time that you had uttered goodbye, you had seen how his heart was broken into pieces. You can't forget both of your deafening sobs as you hugged him for the last time. The tears in his eyes—if you could only stop those, you would.

"Damn it. I miss you, Sanemi."

"I miss you too."

Your heartbeats went faster this time as you heard a familiar voice. You immediately looked up, and instead of the clouds, it was Sanemi that you had seen. You gulped and immediately stood up, embracing him, which astounded him.

You felt his hands snake on your body, and there, you found the courage to look at his face through your tears. Sanemi caressed your cheek, wiping your tears away with his calloused thumb. You can remember how he used to do this even before your breakup.

The look in Sanemi's eyes when he was looking at you right now was one of intense concentration. He is not smiling. As a consequence of this, the seconds seemed like an hour, and the minutes seemed like days. You were patient and waited for him to speak.

Then, without any words, Sanemi leaned in to give you a passionate but quick kiss on the lip. You felt as if it was the first time. Suddenly, the world felt calmer. Your breaths synced with one another as you slowly kissed back, letting your tears escape your eyes again.

This isn't a dream; it's true. Sanemi's here with you now. His warmth continued to embrace you as he pulled out and patted your head.

"Y/N, I missed you so much. I still love you. I tried to forget you, but I couldn't, so I decided to make peace with myself and be better for you. I know you were tired of me before, but could you give me a second chance to prove myself to you again?"

So he came back! You can't believe the words that you are hearing right now. A part of you is scared to try again because of your past. But a bigger part of you wants to try it all. You want to be with Sanemi so bad. You want to continue your promises.

Without further ado, you nodded and embraced him tightly, resting your head on the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent.

Sanemi was so stunned that he couldn't believe what he was hearing at the moment that he reached for your hands, then smacked himself in the face with both of them. "Are you joking around? I cannot express how much this made me happy." He then gave you another kiss, claiming you as his own, and whispered that to you.

You caressed his face and looked into his eyes; there, you could see your reflection once again. You can breathe the air that he breathes. You love this man so much. He caressed your face too and rested his forehead against yours.

"I'll do my best to make you the happiest girl in the world. Here we go again, and this time, we're never coming back down."

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉!

I know it is short but, I hope you'll love this @unofficialmuilover~

Love yah and see you on my other fics!

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer imagines #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi x fem!reader #sanemi x y/n #sanemi x you #sanami shinazugawa x reader #shinazugawa x reader #kny sanemi #kny fanfic #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi angst

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softpascalito · 6 months

Text

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Nineteen

Brushing Teeth - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Grief is cruel and just because you and Joel live in the safe haven that is the Jackson community it does not mean you're immune to it.

Possibly the saddest (but also kinda best) thing I have written so far.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 2400

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, jackson era, No use of y/n, Crying, past trauma, Survivor Guilt, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Tooth Brushing, This is like seriously sad pls beware, Author has already scheduled a therapist appointment

AO3 LINK

notes: a huge thank you to my beta babes maria and aura for reading this a month in advance. i love you both so much.

this is a really, really sad fic. it's likely not gonna go the way you think. please continue with caution <3

_________________________________________

Circles

He died just after sunrise.

It had been supposed to be a simple shift, guarding the perimeter from one of the high posts along the fence that stretched around Jackson. The wood had been icy, slippery. There had been a railing. But when his heart had failed and he had collapsed to the ground, slipping over it like an ice rink, it hadn't been able to stop his body from falling.

There was nothing that could have been done. He had been old, older than most. Even with modern medicine, his condition would have caught up to him sooner or later.

Fate had decided on sooner.

Word hadn't reached Joel before he had left for patrol and so he had spent the day clearing Infected and checking the lookouts, unaware of the tragedy that had, for once, struck within the very borders of home. It wasn't until he came back in the early evening, that he noticed something was off.

There were no children bustling around on the playground, no adults studying the notice boards to see which movie was on tonight or who offered guitar lessons. Curtains were drawn shut. It was quiet.

The somber look on Tommy's face, who was waiting for Joel at the stables, was enough to send him into a panic.

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

Tommy must have seen it coming because he had already raised his hands, as if surrendering to his brother, ”They're both fine.” Joel nodded solemnly as Tommy explained, repeating the events of the day in a few words.

He could live with that. As long as it wasn 't Ellie. Or you. Never you.

Ellie had spent the day with you, trying to look after you, doing the best she could. She was waiting in the large armchair in the living room, as close to the front door as she physically could.

Joel practically barges in, his gaze quickly checking the adjacent rooms. When he sees Ellie, he immediately relaxes a bit, knowing that at least someone has been here. Someone who kept watch.

“How is she?” He asks, disregarding any need for a greeting towards the teenager. She doesn't seem to mind, instead hopping up from the seat and walking with him, the pair quickly moving through the hallway.

“I gave her some food. I don't think she ate any of it. She wouldn't talk to me either. I'm sorry, Joel, I-'' He quickly shakes his head. He'll take care of Ellie, reassure her that she did a good job, which he undoubtedly knows she did. But Ellie is not the person in this house who needs him the most right now. Ellie is not the person who lost someone today.

“Later, okay?” Joel demands softly. His voice carries an underlying, stern tone that he rarely uses anymore. In other circumstances, Ellie would get mad at him, but she understands. He is in survival mode. He is making sure the people he loves are still there. He is scared.

Joel remembers your form that he had left behind this morning. Still in bed, sleepy, only reluctantly pressing a small kiss to his lips, the sweet promise of a few more minutes of sleep too tempting to ignore. He remembers the night before, the bubbly, talkative personality you usually have, that is a just little too much for him sometimes.

Your world had changed in just a few hours, a few minutes. And he hadn't been here.

Why had he not been here?

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks hesitantly and only then Joel realizes that he's stopped in the middle of the hallway. He continues his steps.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Ellie gives a shrug next to him but Joel barely notices, still too caught up in his thoughts.

He needs to see you. See that you are fine, just like Tommy had promised. Not truly fine, maybe, but alive. Breathing.

As they reach the old, wooden staircase, Ellie stops, taking in Joels gaze, that to her, still seems miles away, ”She wouldn't leave the bed. I barely recognized her.”

Joel just nods, his worry growing with every word. His grip on the banister tightens slightly, knuckles turning white.

“Go see her,” Ellie whispers and gently nudges him.

“Right.” That finally gets Joel to move again, his voice a little higher than usual and trembling slightly. Ellie knows he is close to crying. She presses her fist into his back a little harder and he nods again before he hurries up the stairs two steps at a time.

It's not until he reaches the end of the landing, until he is two steps away from the bedroom door that he slows down. Once again, uncertainty takes over his body. What does he say? Do? He's not equipped to handle this, he's not good with emotions, much less sad ones.

He's not sure what happens. An instinct takes over, steering his body steadily towards the door and pulling his fingers towards the brass handle. Maybe it's some old, parental instinct from before the outbreak, that he still carries buried in the back of his mind. Either way, he sends a silent, thankful prayer that it's there, that it allows him to continue putting one foot in front of the other despite having no idea how to.

The wooden door creaks slightly as he pushes it open. It's a familiar sound, more comforting than unnerving.

Joel is greeted by cold and darkness. He shivers as he steps into the room:'' Jesus Christ.” He mutters under his breath. He doesn't have to wait until his eyes adjust to the light. He can find his way in the darkness.

He quickly turns the radiator higher, another familiar noise flaring up. Familiar is good. Familiar is safe.

He doesn't want to turn on the big light but he finds the switch for the small lamp in the corner and finally, he can take in the scene before him. His gaze is immediately caught by the bed in the middle of the room.

Whenever he goes out on patrol and you get the bed to yourself, you make use of his absence by occupying the entire bed, sprawling yourself out in the middle of the worn-out mattress. More than once, he had to physically fight you if he wanted his side of the bed back.

Now, however, you aren't in your usual position. You are curled up, tucked into the far corner of the bed, blankets and pillows wrapped around what Joel can only assume to be your body, some of them resting against the headboard.

It almost looks like you are trying to protect yourself, shield yourself from the grief that is knocking on the door downstairs, that is coming the same way he just has, slipping into the dark, cold room. A nest, to fend off the grief. Joel knows it wont work. He has tried.

A few of your limbs poke out from holes in the fortress of pillows and blankets and Joel softens slightly as his gaze wanders over them. He suddenly wants to run again, but he is afraid it'll startle you so instead, he approaches slowly, softly, like one may approach a wounded animal.

The bed dips slightly beside you as he sits down, his strong arms immediately wandering under the covers, searching for you. He finds the fabric of a shirt first, and then there's skin. Soft, gentle skin and he wants to cry with the familiarity of it. Looking down, he isn't surprised to see the shirt he had discarded last night, his favorite green flannel, now wrapped around your trembling body.

The thoughts come back. A small body, wrapped in a flannel shirt. He has seen it often enough to fill several lifetimes. He doesn't mind it anymore.

He knows it's a lie. He does mind it.

They had wrapped Sarah in flannel.

He can still see her. Still see the shirt, stained with blood. There had been so much blood.

Joel thinks about his daughter, his everything, his whole world, taken from him, wrapped in a shirt and buried in a backyard under a tree somewhere in Texas.

Joel knows he can't have these thoughts right now. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're bursting. He pushes the thoughts away. Later.

His right arm finds your hair and you finally make a noise, whimpering softly at finally, finally having him here with you.

The blanket is gently pulled to the side, allowing Joel to see your face. Your hair is messy, your cheeks tear-streaked, eyes red and puffy from crying. You look like you have just been through hell.

Joel reminds himself you probably have.

His insides clench as he pushes down his own tears. And then you open your mouth.

“It was supposed to be my shift.”

That's all it takes. He hates himself because he's supposed to be there for you, he's supposed to be strong. But the fear is stronger, the knowledge that he could've lost you today gripping him again and not letting him breathe.

He leans forward in an attempt to hide his tears, his face, his own sorrow and you break too, shamelessly sobbing into his chest. You stay entangled like this, bodies pressed tightly together, you crying loudly and him crying silently. It feels like a long time. Your voice becomes hoarse but the sobs wont stop. You're not sure they ever will.

Joel moves, eventually, kneeling down on the floor so that his face is level with yours and he can study your face. His hands remain on your skin, not once breaking contact. He rubs small circles into your skin, caressing every part of you he can reach.

Nothing can touch you as long as he does.

“Gonna help you a bit. That alright, darlin'?” He mumbles softly. Your answer comes automatically, the same one you've given Ellie throughout the day, ''I'm not hungry.”

“I know you ain't,” Joel mumbles. He lets it slide:” But we should clean you up. Just a bit.” He promises as he leans forward and kisses your cheek. You don't struggle as he picks you up more carefully than ever, hoisting you onto his hips and wrapping his arms around your legs to keep you upright against his chest. It's almost like being carried by a father.

Joel takes you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the counter. There is a bald patch on the wall where a mirror used to be until he gave it to Ellie. He always gives.

Patiently, he waits until the water is lukewarm and then begins wiping your face with a washcloth. You probably smell but you can't bring yourself to care and neither does Joel.

He moves on to your hair, untying the knot that once resembled some sort of hairstyle and brushing through it with his fingers for a moment before tying it back again. His movements are so gentle, so smooth. You watch as he grabs your toothbrush, gently wetting it and putting some toothpaste on, his left hand all the while remaining on your thigh.

Joel gently nudges the toothbrush against your mouth and you dutifully open up, allowing him to start brushing your teeth, still as gentle as he can.

He can feel the sadness again, threatening to overwhelm him. He brushes in small circles.

The last time he had done this was with Sarah. She was eight. She had been sick then, caught a stomach bug at soccer camp and thrown up for days. Joel had dragged his mattress to her room, sleeping beside her.

He moves on to the other side of your mouth. More circles.

Sarah had vomited on him, in the middle of the night, staining both the carpet and his pants. He hadn't batted an eye, just stripped the beds and taken her to the bathroom to clean her up. All he had needed was for her to feel better. And if him enduring it would lessen her suffering, he would have chosen it time and time again.

He doesn't say this. He thinks he may, some day. But not anytime soon.

Circles. Joel brushes in circles.

When he's done, he holds a cup to your lips and you lean sideward, spitting into the sink. He is still caressing your thigh, a constant, reassuring touch. He brings his other hand up to your face, using his thumb to wipe the last bit of toothpaste off the corner of your mouth.

“Let's get back to bed, hm?” You don't trust your voice again yet so you just nod and sniffle a bit. As he picks you up again, you feel another wave, a nauseous wave of grief coming down on you. You think he feels it too because he grips you a little tighter. You start crying again.

You return to the mess of pillows and blankets that still cover half the bed. But now he is there with you. His too large frame under the covers next to you, watching with sad, brown eyes as you curl up against him. He pats your hair, leans down and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It has been ages.

The small streak of light that falls through a hole in the blankets reflects in his broken watch for a split moment. He looks down at it, the motion so familiar still. And he knows. He knows how you feel.

“Get some rest, babygirl,” he whispers. He'll do right by you. He won't let you go through the things he did. You close your eyes, taking in his smell, his warmth. It feels different now.

It could've been her. It could've been her. Thank god it wasn't her.

You're still in his arms, you're still here, still breathing, chest falling and rising in a semi-steady rhythm. He makes the choice in that moment. Or, he realizes it. He feels like he has made it a long time ago.

He will endure it. He will endure everything if it just takes away a little of your grief, of your pain.

He doesn't need to say it. It's an unspoken truth.

Joel Miller will be there.

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bananadrinkxxx · 7 months

Text

THE BLOOD CROWN (21)

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

Content for adults. 18+

[warnings: smut, sex content, dark romance, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[description: Aemond Targaryen meets his niece under a different name and falls in love with her without knowing that she is supposed to be his enemy.]

Masterlist - click here for all available parts

Aegon was secretly transported to the Red Keep.

While Aemond flew back on Vhagar, Aegon had been brought back in a litter. Sunfrye had been left at the battlefield, too badly injured to fly.

Although there had never been much sympathy between the two brothers, it had broken Aemond's heart to see his brother in this state. Severely injured, burned almost every part of his body, more dead than alive. Rhaenys and her dragon had hit them hard. Aemond expected it to be an easy fight. That Rhaenys didn't stand a chance against Sunfrye and Vhagar, but she did. Even though Aemond was ashamed, he believed that if he had only been alone in this fight, he might have lost it.

But they had won. Rhaenys and her dragon Meleys were dead.

Nevertheless, the price for it had been too high. Although it was a win, it was also a loss. Aegon and his dragon were badly wounded, and no maester could tell if he would survive the night.

His mother had burst into tears when she saw Aegon's condition and Aemond had embraced her in his arms. She had clung to him and wept bitterly.

"It's my fault, this is my fault," she said to herself and Aemond shook his head.

"No, this is Rhaenyra's doing."

Alicent didn't answer him. She looked for his wounds but was happy that he wasn't injured at all. Then she left for Aegon. Nobody except her and Otto were allowed to visit him.

Aemond realized that he had almost lost his brother today.

Suddenly he felt a fear he never thought possible, the fear of loss, and he realized that he loved his brother. He didn't like him, but he loved him. Aegon had always been someone he was ashamed of, but today he had fought like a true Targaryen.

"My prince..."

Aemond turned around. Ser Arryk Cargyll stood behind him and bowed.

"Do you have any news for me?"

Ser Arryk shook his head. Disappointment spread through Aemond.

"The girl has not been seen anywhere. Nobody knows about her and every girl that was shown to us based on the description was ultimately just an attempt to get the promised gold."

Aemond nodded, his hand clenching into a fist.

He had almost expected it, but the hope within him had not been conquered.

Aemond took an empty cup and poured himself some wine. He had to grin briefly when he thought about how he was becoming more and more like Aegon every day. He stood at the window and looked out at the sea. His room was one of the few rooms that had a direct view of the sea. It was far away and seemed small.

His search for Rose was unsuccessful. He had assigned Ser Arryk, one of his best men, and although it was unusual to use a man of his abilities to search for a girl, he had not wanted to choose anyone else to do it. If Ser Arryk couldn't bring Rose back to him, no one would.

The only question he had was whether Rose didn't want to be found. Ser Arryk knew the most secret places, but Rose had not been seen anywhere. He wondered if she had left on some ship, already far away with no chance of ever finding her. But when he won this war, he would fly with Vhagar over the lands and search every spot for her. She wouldn't escape him.

He would find her and he would lock her in his room and never let her leave. And if she lived there her whole life.

"Your brother is said to be on Dragonstone," he began, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Ser Arryk stiffen.

"That's true, my prince." He sounded ashamed.

"Why didn't you choose Rhaenyra?"

It was a legitimate question. Aemond wondered what he would have done. Would he have chosen honor or his family?

"I am a member of the Kingsguard. My place is here, with my King."

Aemond snorted at his answer and took another sip.

There was a knock on the door and he allowed entry. Ser Criston Cole looked at Ser Arryk in surprise, but asked no questions.

"Are you here to tell me about my brother's death?"

Aemond wondered what it would feel like to lose his brother. A brother he never cared for, a brother who got everything he wanted and didn't appreciate any of it. Would his loss affect him? Would he get over it quickly or would it take a part of himself away from him?

"The King is badly injured, his pain unbearable, but he is sleeping at the moment. The maesters have given him 'Milk of Poppy'."

Milk of Poppy. Aemond was against this little miracle cure. At first it sounded like a gift from the gods, a powerful liquid medicine, consumed orally, that was used as both a painkiller and an anesthesia, but just as it promised to ease your own torment, it clouded your mind and made you weak. But Aemond suspected that was the least of Aegon's problems at the moment.

"I would like to make a suggestion, my prince."

Aemond raised his eyebrow and nodded at Ser Criston.

"This battle definitely brought us a victory, but it also brought a defeat. This war is a crime, and there is a way to end it quickly."

Ser Criston looked at Arryk. Both men looked at him intently. "I therefore suggest that Ser Arryk travel to Dragonstone and pose as his brother Ser Erryk to kill Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Aemond watched as Ser Arryk's eyes widened. He watched the Kingsguard knight, who was clearly stunned by the suggestion, but Aemond was surprised by the ingenuity. He wondered why they hadn't thought of this plan sooner. Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk were identical twin brothers. No one would suspect him and mistake him for Ser Erryk. He would be able to get to Rhaenyra without any problem and end a war with one stroke of his sword.

Aemond ignored Ser Arryk's glance and nodded. The man had sworn his loyalty to Aegon. Then he should also prove that his words were not empty.

"Prepare the journey," Aemond said to Ser Criston, who bowed his head in satisfaction. Then he looked at Ser Arryk.

"Bring me the head of Rhaenyra Targaryen, Ser Arryk."

. . . . .

When the door opened, Rose didn't turn around. She had been staring at the sea since early in the morning, which looked like a small pond from her room, her prison. She didn't long for the sea, in fact she hated it, and yet she would rather be there than here. She would rather be anywhere than here. Her shoulders still hurt and especially the fight with her attackers had aggravated the wound but fortunately for her it had not opened up again. As Alys had said, it was only a flesh wound that had become infected.

"Good morning, Rose," she heard a familiar voice. This time she turned around.

Lucerys stood with a plate with two pieces of cake in his hand and smiled timidly at her.

"Hungry?" he asked, pointing to the plate. Although she wasn't hungry, she nodded with a smile and Lucerys went to the small table by her window.

"Don't worry, that piece isn't for you," he said, pointing to the lemon cake. Rose raised her eyebrow in surprise. He remembered that she was allergic to lemons? He sat down next to her and pushed the plate towards her.

"I heard where Daemon found you," he began without wasting any time. "But why were you there, so far from the castle?"

That was a question she would like to have answered herself. The memory of that night sent a cold shiver down her spine. She remembered their touches, the feeling of vulnerability and the fear of not being able to live to see tomorrow. She remembered Aemond's words and how much they had broken her heart. She wished she could forget him, that she could just erase the pain his words had left her with, but no matter how hurt she was, her heart yearned for him.

She loved him.

It was a terrible realization, but it was the truth. Aemond had her heart.

She knew they weren't perfect, but she had never felt what she felt for Aemond with anyone before.

"I don't know," Rose replied, taking the other piece of the cake. The fork gently cut through the creamy consistency.

"Was it Aemond?"

She looked into Lucery's serious eyes. While it was a fair question, it infuriated her that he would immediately assume that it was the prince who had done this to her, knowing that Lucerys had every reason to suspect Aemond.

"For you, he's always the bad one, isn't he?" she asked bitterly. Her anger at Aemond transferred to Lucerys, as if he were finally a source on which she could vent her anger.

Lucerys looked at her in surprise. Anger came into his eyes.

"Because he's always the bad one. It is his fault. He is the one who choose violence."

"Is it also his fault that you took away his eye?"

"He wanted to kill my brother," Lucery's voice rose and he jumped up. Rose looked at him in surprise and jumped slightly, but contrary to her expectations, Lucerys did not come closer to her, but backed away. "He stood over Jacaerys with a stone, ready to strike him down with it. 'You will die screaming in flames like your father did, bastard' those were his words."

Rose looked at Lucerys in shock. "He said that?"

Lucerys snorted derisively. "I guess your beloved Aemond didn't tell you that, did he?"

No, he actually didn't. She had thought that Lucerys had hurt his uncle by taking control of Vhagar. A fight that had turned into the loss of his eye. She suddenly felt ashamed that she had only believed one side. She wasn't there at the argument and yet she took sides. She felt like a idiot.

Only then did Rose notice Lucerys' red eyes. He had cried. She stood up and went towards Lucerys, but he backed away.

"What happened?"

"He killed my grandmother Rhaenys."

It was like someone was hitting her on the head with a hammer to wake her up. Rose's eyes widened and watched as the first tear rolled down Lucery's cheek. She saw the pain in his eyes, the desperation and before she knew what she was doing, she moved towards him again and wrapped her arms around his torso before he could back away, and hugged him. Lucerys stiffened, but she didn't let it deter her. She hugged him as tightly as she could and pressed her head into his shoulder. She felt awful. She felt like the worst human being.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She had no words of comfort for him, she didn't know what to say except that she was sorry. She didn't even know if Lucerys wanted this hug or if she was overstepping his boundaries. For a moment she felt like she was doing it and wanted to let go, before she felt him return her hug and press himself against her. He buried his face in her shoulder and then felt his body tremble.

Suddenly all restraint seemed to leave him, and so it was that they stood there in that desolate room, with Lucerys Velaryon weeping in her arms.

. . . . .

As Lucerys left Rose's room he felt ashamed that he had cried like a little boy in her arms, but on the other hand, for the first time he felt as if someone had lifted a heavy burden from him and brought him back home.

The connection he felt with Rose was inexplicable to him. Since their first meeting, the girl who reminded him so much of his little sister had a strange influence on him that he neither understood nor could explain. Maybe it was her similarity to Aemma, but he also felt like Rose was the only one who understood him.

"Why were you in her room?," he heard Jacaerys ask and saw his brother leaning against the wall, looking at him suspiciously. "Why didn't the guards stop you?"

"Why should they?" asked Lucerys irritated. "Am I suddenly the enemy?"

"I don't mean it like that, you know that."

"I have no idea," said Lucerys. "I wanted to speak to her and they let me in."

"Why did you want to talk to her?"

He understood that Jacaerys was suspicious. He also understood that his distrust wasn't directed at him, but at Rose, but for some reason, it made him angry that he was judging Rose without knowing her.

"Do I owe you an answer now?"

Jacaerys looked at him in surprise. He knew what his brother was thinking.

"She changed you," he stated, but Lucerys shook her head.

"It wasn't her who changed me, it was the Greens."

"She's one of them."

"Maybe not."

"She's sleeping with Aemond," Jacaerys objected, stepping closer. "She's his lover and didn't help you when you were trapped in the Red Keep, did she?"

"She tried to save me."

"But she didn't free you, right?"

No, she didn't. But Lucerys hadn't asked her to sacrifice her own life for him. He probably wouldn't have done it either. Just because they had sympathy for each other didn't mean she had to put his life before her own. Rose had had no reason for it. The Greens didn't hurt her, right? Dyana, on the other hand, had told him about what terrible things Aegon had done to her and that she prayed that Rhaenyra would take the Iron Throne and Aegon would lose his head.

"That's not important," Lucerys said and Jacareys snorted dismissively.

"I guess it really isn't anymore."

Lucerys looked at his brother irritated. "What do you mean?"

"That's not important," Jacaerys repeated his words with complete arrogance and before Lucerys knew what he was doing, he stepped forward and grabbed his brother by his shoulders and shook him.

"Tell me now, Jace," Lucerys shouted in anger and his brother looked at him in shock. His mouth hung open, stunned by his brother's sudden outburst of anger, who was usually so calm.

But Lucerys had changed. He was no longer the scared child.

"Daemon suggested her execution."

Lucerys felt the ground being ripped out from under him. He opened his eyes and suddenly felt unbearable fear. His breathing quickened and he clawed at Jacaery's shoulders.

"Luke?" he asked hesitantly, but Lucerys just shook his head and let go of his brother. He stumbled backwards and turned around without another word. He would have to talk to his mother. She wasn't allowed to execute Rose. That couldn't happen. They weren't murderers. They didn't kill innocent people.

Rose was innocent.

Rose was good.

She was the only one who understood him.

She wasn't allowed to die.

He couldn't allow that. She didn't deserve that.

Maybe she was Aemma.

Maybe she was not.

But that wasn't important.

She didn't deserve to die.

She was innocent.

. . . . .

It was the middle of the night when her door was thrown open and she was woken from her sleep. At first Rose thought for a moment that she was back in the Red Keep, in Aemond's bed, in his strong arms closing around her body like a wall, pressing her against his hard body, but reality quickly caught up with her again.

Then she thought they were coming to get her.

She saw a figure approaching her, momentarily afraid of what the intruder was planning to do, before she recognized the curly hair and brown eyes.

"Prince Lucerys?" she breathed, irritated.

"We must go," said Lucerys, throwing her a cloak. Rose looked at the garment. "You have to go."

"What?"

"Come on Rose, we don't have time," he urged.

"Why don't we have time?" She didn't understand. Lucerys grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the bed. She was unsteady on her feet. She looked at the door, but no one was there. They were alone.

"Where are the guards?"

"I told them that my mother wants to see them."

She heard that he had lied. Something felt wrong. He pulled on her wrist and tried to get her to follow him, but she couldn't. She wanted to know what was going on. What happened here?

"Lucerys," she said and he looked at her. She saw fear in his eyes. Why was he afraid?

"Tell me the truth."

He seemed to be considering whether he should tell her the truth.

"They want to execute you."

Rose hadn't expected that. She had known that she was not a welcome guest here, that she was being held prisoner, but she had not expected an execution.

For what?

"What?" her voice trembled. "But I didn't do anything wrong."

Lucerys nodded. "I know, that's why I'm taking you away."

"Did your mother order it?"

Lucerys shook his head. "She's considering it. She hasn't passed judgment yet, but I won't wait for her to do it."

"But why?"

Lucerys looked at her and she immediately knew what he wanted to say. Aemond. Aemond was the reason. Her connection had brought her here and her connection might cost her her life. She had always known that her relationship with Aemond was dangerous, most clearly with the incident with Daemon, but she had not expected to be here today.

She expected to die on the cliff.

Caraxe's fire had burned on her skin, but it hadn't hit her. Instead, the men who had hunted her had been burned mercilessly. She hadn't felt any pity. They wanted to torture and kill her, but when Daemon had grabbed her and taken her to Caraxes, she had wondered if it would have been better to die on that cliff.

"Come, Rose, please," Lucerys pleaded and this time Rose let him pull her along. She had no idea where they were running, but she followed him without asking questions. They ran through the castle and when Lucerys stopped in shock and she slammed into his back, she looked at him irritated.

"Shit," Lucerys cursed, pushing her back. "The boats are guarded."

Rose looked desperately at the boats and Lucerys was right. Several guards stood there, watching intently over the sea, expecting the enemy at any second.

"And now?" Rose realized with concern that Lucery's plan had been to take her to safety in one of the boats? Didn't he know they had been guarded?

"Lucerys!"

"I have to think," Lucerys defended feverishly and for a moment Rose thought he was going to take her back to her room, mission failed, before he looked at her. She saw a thousand thoughts in his eyes as he frantically searched for an answer before he grabbed her again and pulled her closer.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

Rose was puzzled by the question.

"Do you trust me?" Lucerys asked more emphatically and he looked her seriously in the eyes. He stared at her intently. Rose thought for a moment before nodding. Yes, she trusted him. She didn't know why she did and why she felt like she could, there was no explanation. She just did.

Lucerys breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her along again. They ran to a cave. He pulled her a little away, still under the open sky, and when she saw a dragon looking at her curiously, she stopped in shock. She knew immediately what Lucerys wanted from her. She shook her head anxiously and looked at him.

"No," she said, continuing to shake her head. "I can't do that."

"It's the only way, Rose."

"I can't ride a dragon," Rose argued. "I doubt I'll even get that far."

She looked at the dragon. He still looked young, but his size was impressive. It had light blue scales that almost glittered in the moonlight and when she looked into its eyes she felt like she could sink into them, but no matter how beautiful she thought it was, it was still a dragon. He would kill her.

"Who owns the dragon?" she asked. "He will never accept me."

Simply climbing a dragon was suicidal. She had heard the stories of the poor souls who had tried and given their lives for it.

"He belongs to my sister Aemma."

Aemma Velaryon...

Lucerys had told her about his sister. The princess who had disappeared without a trace and who he had missed every day since. He wanted her to fly Aemma's Dragon? She knew that the Targaryens had a strong and special connection to their Dragons. A connection that only death could break. Offering her the Dragon of Aemma didn't have to be easy.

But she couldn't. That was impossible.

"I don't know, I can't, please don't make me do it."

"Please try, Rose," Lucerys pleaded. "I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't would think it could work. You're so similar to my little sister, it's almost torture, so similar. Her dragon will feel it too. Please, try. I can't let you die."

His words touched her and Rose's lip trembled. She saw the desperation in his eyes, the same desperation she felt in her heart. She looked at the dragon, who was looking at her curiously. It was the most beautiful dragon she had ever seen. Although she felt fear, she felt a ... connection ? Probably just wishful thinking, but Lucerys was right. If she didn't dare, she would probably die here.

So she gathered her courage, let go of his hand and approached the dragon. She approached him with careful steps.

"His name is Marax," she heard Lucerys whisper behind her, and she nodded gratefully.

"Hello Marax," she greeted the dragon softly, who tilted his head slightly. He watched every movement and when he suddenly made a frantic movement, Rose stopped in shock. Frightened, she watched as the dragon poked its head towards her, and its large head was so imposing that she felt as if it could devour her in just one bite.

"Princess Rhaenys said Marax is unusually large and fierce for his age," Lucerys explained behind her and Rose looked at him out of the corner of her eye, not particularly grateful for the information. Couldn't he shut up? "Put your hand on his nose."

Nose? Where the hell is his nose? His entire head basically consisted of a nose.

"Rose!"

"Shut up, Lucerys," she hissed. She didn't care about her position at the moment. She was busy trying not to die. But she did as Lucerys told her and she held out her hand. Marax watched her move and for a moment she thought the dragon was about to bite her hand off before it reached its head towards her and she touched its blue scales with her hand. A tingling sensation ran through her body and she didn't know what it was, but something special happened at that moment. She suddenly felt love for this monstrous creature in front of her, who she had been afraid of just a few moments ago. It felt like he belonged to her and she belonged to him. The Dragon's eyes were on her and she had a feeling he felt the same.

"He accepts you," Lucerys said behind her, but his voice sounded so distant. At that moment it was just her and Marax.

"Hello, Marax. I'm Rose," she whispered and she heard a satisfied hum. At least she hoped it symbolized contentment. But for some reason she felt that the dragon trusted her.

"You have to go now, Rose," Lucerys urged and Rose nodded. "Please don't let me fall off," she begged the Dragon and with one last look into Marax's eyes, Rose went to the saddle on the Dragon's back and looked at Lucerys, who was standing a few steps away.

"You can do it," he reassured her, or at least he tried to, but Rose suddenly wasn't afraid anymore. She trusted Marax. It was a different feeling than with Vhagar. Vhagar was Aemond's Dragon, probably twice the size, and she had felt no connection to her. But Marax was different. With him she felt like she had always known him.

She climbed onto the dragon as she sat in the saddle, she looked questioningly at Lucerys.

"Say 'Sōvegon'. That means he shall fly. He will take you to a safe place."

Rose nodded and looked at Marax, who seemed to be waiting for her command.

"Sōvegon, Marax," she ordered, and for a moment she feared he wouldn't listen to her, would refuse, would disabuse her of their imaginary connection, but then Marax began to move and her eyes widened. She looked at Lucerys, who took a step back to avoid getting close to Marax's wings, which spread wide.

"I won't forget you, Lucerys," Rose promised, and the prince nodded. She saw his eyes shimmer. He smiled, but it seemed like a sad, pained smile. But before she could say anything, Marax took off and she found herself in the air with the Dragon. Rose clung to the seat and her eyes grew larger and larger as Marax flew further up. She watched as everything beneath her became small and she had to force herself not to squint. The air was getting colder and she could feel her fear of heights paralyzing her, but Marax didn't need her. He flew towards the sea and Rose trusted that he would take her away from here to safety.

Despite her fear, it felt strangely beautiful to fly on Marax, all alone without Aemond to protect her, and for the first time Rose felt like she was free.

She smiled and took a deep breath, happy for the moment. She wondered where Marax would take her ? She had no idea how to give orders to a dragon. She did not even know where she was going. She had no idea if she wanted to return to Aemond. He did not want her. Why should she return? Marax had arrived with her over the sea, and just when she felt she was safe, she saw out of the corner of her eye an abnormally large arrow coming towards her and she watched in disbelief as the arrow hit a wing of Marax, who was screaming and lost his balance.The impact was huge and she would have almost been thrown out of the saddle if she hadn't held on at the last second.

"No," she screamed, but it was too late. She saw blood spraying through the air and stared at the hole in the dragon's wing. Marax had been hit and at a rapid pace, Marax was losing altitude. Before she could do anything, she and Marax fell into the cold sea below them and Rose felt the impact knock her unconscious in seconds. The sea was making big waves when they landed and she felt the cold take all her breath away.

So this was how she was going to die?

Her last thought was of Aemond grabbing her, pulling her tenderly and pressing his lips to hers.

At least she tried.

Then everything became dark.

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @helaenaluvr

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aonungyoufuck · 1 year

Note

omg i love runaway so far and im excited for the next part to come out!! can you do something angsty + fluffy ending in which lo’ak says something mean about his twin sister reader but lo’ak being himself he just brushes it off when the reader confronts him

Twins of a tail

Fem Sully Reader + Twin brother Lo'ak

Synopsis: Angst + Fluff. Lo'ak says some pretty heavy things in the heat of the moment. But You take it to heart. Time for a twin talk.

HI anon! thank you so much for liking Runaway. Im working like crazy trying to hit every plot point so im glad! I hope you like how i worked out your request :3

"Oh come on Lo'ak. Its just We dont know anything about the Tulkun. Who's to say he's not this great killer and you just survived out of luck?"

"no You aren't listening either!" He spoke. Hand now at his head as he just couldn't voice his frustration. Least of all yet. "you are suppose to be my twin. Have my back in this!"

"i am having your back on this! But Its just hard to believe"

"how is it hard to believe? Am i hard to believe for you?"

"Lo'ak that isn-"

"I Know that nobody else believes me. Neteyam only believes me once in a while. And i know Those three Even Tsireya wouldn't believe me. But you are my Twin. My sister. The maker to my trouble." He was more than frustrated. Livid? he couldn't tell. He just knew that something about this wasn't sitting right with him

you had changed. Things have Changed drastically since living here.

"And You aren't believing me when i tell you he is no killer"

"Lo'ak"

"I mean really! We move here and suddenly you're this prim and proper lady. You left me. I dont know why and i dont know how but you have changed more than i. And even here i cant seem to make things right. Cant seem to fit in and yet you take their side on this more than you believe myself"

"Lo'ak!"

"Just go back to the others. Ever since we moved here you haven't been more than a stranger"

That hurt more than anything. And you just stood there and watched as he headed off. You wanted to believe him. You Had to believe him. But what was there to really believe? You weren't there and you had to take the word of the People that knew of Payakan.

Lo'ak was hurt and you knew that. There were enough people that he felt like he disappointed. But right now you were hurt too. A stringing pain in your heart.

You knew that you had to talk to him. But you figured you needed to give him time. To think? to cool off? or maybe you were just scared. But you decided not to push it.

You haven't changed... you didn't change.

You just had to put on a role now that you didnt have one. Lo'ak should know. You did no Tsahik training. You had to learn things a new just like him.

You were on new ground. You were on different territory. And yet? did he expect no change at all? You were doing this all for your family. Sure you wanted to have fun. You wanted to get in trouble too. Wanted to be free and wanted to have it all back.

But things had to change. And it hurt more than any to have your brother. Your best friend since before your first breath, have to tell you that You were the problem.

"skxawng" is all you muttered. You were pissed. Probably beyond that. But you decided on heading home and maybe going to bed early.

just to cool your head.

Just to forget the stinging words of your Twin.

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

Lo'ak Had come home a little after Eclipse. Didn't really have the thought of what he had said.

Being him he figured it would work itself out. Getting home seeing you and eating along side with your family. But he didnt expect you to already be asleep. Everyone still awake. Eating and talking. But you were off in the corner. Away from everyone.

"Why is Y/n Asleep? They not feeling well?"

"Y/n said she is quiet angry. Upset and frustrated. Ate earlier and headed to bed" Neytiri spoke. She didn't need an explanation. She knew her kids well. And knew when you were upset. It mostly had to do with something Lo'ak said or done. Tho she would admit. This is the first time she saw you two not stuck together at the tail like you would be.

Lo'ak sighed. Hoping. Praying that what he had said earlier was not the cause of it.

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

By morning you had the time to think. You always found yourself awake before everyone else. And for today that was okay.

As you had tried to reason and understand why it hurt so much.

Yes Lo'ak was your Twin. Always clinging to each other's tails when ever the change. You swore since your first memory that The two of you would tangle your tails together. A bond so strong that would always be true to each other.

Perhaps thats why you were angry. Or upset? to be honest with yourself you never understood the difference. You just knew you had to talk with Lo'ak.

"Y/n!"

Speak of him.

You turned to look. Not at all happy with how he seemed so happy. "Lo'ak"

"oh come on you're still not upset about yesterday right?"

"Oh i dont know. How would you feel if i told you My twin that you were a complete stranger?"

"i....upset i know but"

"Listen to me Lo'ak and listen well because i dont want to have to repeat myself to you"

And he shup up right away.

" You are My Twin. But above all else you are my best friend. And i dont want to have to argue with you about this. But this isn't home. I haven't changed. You dont think i dont want to have fun too? But things are different and i have to listen to those around me instead of just you. Its not that i dont believe you. Its just If it were true. If what they say about Payakan is true you could have died too. And where would that leave us? Sky people are after us. And things are different here than home. And i cannot and will not let you push me aside and think i am different because you refuse to change too. If all else We are all we have. And i dont want you to push me to Stranger. When all we've ever been was each other's driving force. He may be your Spirit brother. But i am Your Twin sister. So dont you Dare say that i am any less than that. Got it?"

Lo'ak pondered. Paused and thinking long and hard. He hadn't meant to upset you the way he did. And he knew you were right. Knew that Things have changed. And he really didnt think.

How long had you been pushing down the urge to cause trouble? How long have you longed to feel the sky as he once did.

How long had you been pushing it all aside while he had cause trouble in this new found land.

He really didn't think.

"i am sorry Sister"

"i am your sister. And you are my brother. And i hate having to argue with you. But please. Dont ever say i am a stranger to you. Alright?"

He could see the faintest of red on your eyes. Had you been crying? He swore it now that he would do better to understand.

"i understand"

"now come on. Show me Payakan oh mighty warrior"

"shut up you skxawng!"

and it would all be okay. Attached at the tail as you always would be.

#sully family #sully reader #avatar the way of water #atwow #loak x reader #but siblings yknow?#lo'ak sully #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak x y/n #Lo'ak twin sister #atwow angst #atwow fluff #atwow imagines

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meganlpie · 8 months

Text

If You Must

Based on this request: May I request another Aragorn and reader fic? Could it be a little angsty (cause you know I’m trash for it) where Aragorn and reader have been friends for years and when he joins the fellowship he says his goodbyes, not knowing if he’ll return. Later, she is in Gondor and sees him at the final battle but it isn’t until his coronation that he finds her in the crowd. Sappy reunion and all is happy again :) from @iwillbeinmynest

Here you are, Lady Kate! I am so sorry for taking so long!

Warnings: Angst, platonic!fluff, mentions of battle.

Pairings: Platonic!Aragorn x platonic!fem reader

You couldn't look at him. You knew Aragorn didn't stay put for long, but this was too much. You knew he wasn't going to come back soon, if he came back at all. And you hated it. Aragorn was your best friend, your confidante. You told each other everything, but he waited until the very last minute before he left to say anything to you.

You threw your arms around him and squeezed tightly. "I suppose you must go. You take care of yourself, my friend. You better come back," you warned. Aragorn hugged you close as he chuckled lowly. "I shall do my best." As you watched him mount his horse, you hoped his words wouldn't end up being a lie.

Months passed as you waited for word about your dearest friend. Week after week, nothing came. No news about anything except the movement from Mordor. The longer you went without seeing or hearing from Aragorn, the more anxious you became. You felt like a wife waiting for her husband to return from a long journey. It was ridiculous for you to be so worried about the man! And the more you worried, the more determined you became to save Aragorn if necessary.

*time skip*

Your muscles ached from the battle, but you pressed on in search of your friend. You knew he was there. He had been in Gondor. You'd seen him and heard him. You'd heard the speech he had given to the people fighting against the armies of Mordor. You had seen him, but soon lost sight of him in the fray. Now you were fighting for your life and the lives of all of Middle Earth.

You tried your best to stay focused on your enemy, though you were slowly beginning to lose heart the longer it took to spot Aragorn again. Where was he? He had already survived so much. Surely he wasn't dead now. When you heard the sound of an arrow whistling right by your ear, you knew it was time to focus on your own life.

The battle raged on for what felt like forever. Your body felt ready to give up, sore right down to your bones. Blood, grime, dirt, and who knew what else covered your armor, helm, and face. You were exhausted and nearly devoid of hope yet Sauron's forces kept coming, uncaring of your plight. So you continued on and on as you ignored your breaking body's cries to stop. And then, just before your legs gave out, the world went still.

You sank to your knees on the ground, breathing heavily. It was over. The world was going to be safe. At least for the time being. As you heart calmed down, you let your gaze wander across the battlefield. You caught a brief glimpse of your friend. You tried to call out to him. But your voice would not carry over the din of cheers. You supposed you would have to wait to see Aragorn for a bit longer.

In fact, it wasn't until a while later, after Frodo had healed completely that you actually saw Aragorn again. It seemed as though a lifetime had passed when Aragorn was finally crowned King. You watched from the crowd as the crown was placed upon his head. Even from so far away, you could see his confidence, but also his fear. His eyes scanned the crowd before stopping on you.

You fought back a smile as your dearest friend pushed through the crowd to make his way to you. You sank into a curtsy only to earn a scoff from the now king. "I have missed you, Mellon." You replied that you missed him as well before he pulled you into a hug.

"Will you remain in Gondor?" he asked you when he pulled away. You arched a brow in question. "I shall need an advisor and I trust no one more than you." You glanced over his shoulder and smiled upon seeing who was behind him. "I see. Not even your future queen?" Aragorn turned in confusion. You could practically feel him light up when he saw her. "I will be your advisor, if I must. Now, go to her." You beamed as Aragorn ran to Arwen and pulled her into a kiss. You had never been more happy for him than that moment. He had come into his own as a friend, a lover, and a king. You were simply happy to be a part of it.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @motleymoose @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @dark-angel-is-back @supernatural4life2022

Tolkien Tags: @jotink78 @thealbersclan @evyiione @legolaslovely @justcallmecinammon @wingedlandwasteland

#tolkien #lord of the rings #aragorn #aragorn x reader #platonic fic

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sleepy-gee · 1 month

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☕️ stomachache - snowjanus week day 3

☕️day 3: angst ☕️ Sejanus couldn't control much in his life, so he controlled what he could– What he ate, for example.

☕️ trigger warnings: eating disorders (anorexia/bullimia), arguments, lowkey stalking lol...

☕️ a/n: the cost of being my blorbo is becoming my punching bag. sorry sej. but anyway, as ms. gray stated, hunger is a weapon in panem.. so why not explore that?

It was an awful, awful habit. Sejanus knew that. So why couldn’t he stop? That’s what he didn’t know.

Eating was a natural human right. Something that everyone should be able to do, free of charge and guilt. Hunger wasn’t meant to be used as a weapon, yet it was so effortlessly. It made him sick. Sick enough to not want to eat ever again. If others couldn’t eat, then why should he be able to? He was profiting off of that very fact alone. And he couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.

How was everyone so calm about this? Why was everyone so calm about this, too? Just because they couldn’t see it didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Their own ignorance and egos were causing thousands to starve. The Capitol was everyone’s government. It was supposed to keep everyone safe, keep everything in order. Yet they were letting their citizens starve. And they were okay with that? And the cherry on top of it all was that he was supposed to agree with this, fit in with these people and their ideals.

He couldn’t help. He couldn’t control anything about this. He was powerless

.But he could control what he ate.

It was twisted therapy. Destroy yourself for the sake of what? A little control? Making a pool of power for yourself because you’re tired of dipping your toes in others? It’s a lot easier said than done, though. Going against his own survival instincts and rewiring his own brain to deny one of the three essential things necessary to survive.

It felt good, though. Or so he kept telling himself. It was hard at first, changes like that always are. But after a few months? Food itself felt foreign.

The weight loss was just the cherry on top. Sejanus was a foodie. Everyone knew that, and it showed. If anything, it was supposed to be a good thing. It showed he was taken care of, he was able to eat. That was supposed to be a good thing, but after moving to the Capitol, he found out it wasn't. Pretty privilege existed, and it was potent. He'd found that out the hard way.

The rituals would kick in when life got stressful, and for a while, things wouldn't seem so bad.

It was wrong.. Very, very wrong.

But he had it under control.

So well under control, that no one noticed. He'd still accept meals and snacks.. Just throw them away later or save them for "later".

Or so he thought.

One head turned at his chaos, and that head belonged to Coriolanus Snow. The boy he considered his best friend. He knew his best friend was putting on a giant front most of the time, having his own issues with food– Another way of disposing his own– He didn't have enough, and that broke his heart. Even in the elite Capitol, people still went hungry.

...

Coriolanus was able to read the signs very, very easily and very well. From the way Sejanus would take deep breaths after climbing stairs to dipping his head for a moment to fight off the abyss after standing for too long.

Why was a Plinth boy of all people going hungry?

Coriolanus decided to conduct a mini investigation of his own– If the Plinth's were going hungry, then things must really be bad.

The investigation lasted around a month. The tricky part was he had to integrate the Plinth boy into his daily routine enough to observe him, and leave enough room to write him out when he got his results.

He started small, sitting with him at lunch when he didn't have plans with others. The first thing he noticed was that he did have food on his tray. It just wasn't a lot (for Sejanus' standards, at least). There was a sandwich of some kind that made his mouth water and a glass of water on the side. Sejanus would usually get up to refill the glass once or twice, focusing more on that than the sandwich.

The second thing he noticed was that he never ate the sandwich in its entirety. He'd take a bite or pick at it, but that was all. Did he not like it? Did he still have enough money to afford food, just not as much? Was it that disposable?

He'd fest that. On the day the Academy didn't provide lunch, he asked, "Mind if I have some of that sandwich? I'm afraid breakfast wasn't enough."

Sejanus simply shrugged and set the whole thing on his plate. "Knock yourself out.. Just mind the cheese. I know you can't stomach that stuff."

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of it anyway. He nearly sighed at the taste– It was a simple beef and cheese sandwich, but it was heavenly. "You know I'm lactose intolerant? I don't think I've mentioned that."

"You did." Sejanus watched him carefully as he ate. "Once.. Guess I remembered."

Huh. Odd.

That doesn't matter, though. What does is the answer to his question– He has access to food, and just refuses it. Now the next question.

Over the next few days, if he was able to get his hands on a snack of some kind, he'd offer it to Sejanus.. Who would always decline. Every single time.

"Are you sure? It's really no trouble."

Sejanus would shake his head no with a kind, tired smile. "It's alright.. I'm still stuffed from this morning."

Funny. I heard your stomach rumbling for nearly all of 2nd period.

Denying food and lying about it, plus the fatigue..

Oh.. What an interesting turn of fates.

And the cherry on top? Running off to the bathroom after encounters where he did have to eat.

Now all that was left was the confrontation– Insider information. Wrap everything in a nice bow. The question was.. How?

A gentle conversation was for the best.. Especially considering Sejanus. He looked like he wanted to cry when he was reprimanded in the slightest.

Coriolanus decided to try one day after class. "Sejanus.. Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?" He asked once everyone had filtered out of the room.

"Sure."

Coriolanus wet his lips. No point in beating around the bush. "Why do you never eat?"

Sejanus froze. ".. I do. Just not as much as I used to do."

"Really? I haven't seen you touch a crumb of food in the past month or so.. You deny it. And you look mortified when you do have to eat."

"It's.. It's nothing. Can we please just drop this?" Sejanus pleaded, already sounding agitated. He must've hit a nerve. Why not hit it again?

"No one likes a liar.. Come on, we're friends. Talk to me.. Why do this to yourself?"

“I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for.” Sejanus responded, tone uncharacteristically cold. Maybe that's what happens when someone reaches their breaking point.

Coriolanus laughed humorlessly. “Yes, you can. You just don’t want to. I’m getting bored of this tortured hero act, Sej. Stop acting like you have it so bad.”

“You really love to listen to yourself talk, don’t you?” Sejanus said with an exasperated scoff. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so stop assuming that you do.” The tension in the air felt so thick, you could cut it with a knife. “You don’t know anything about me. And you don’t want to, so why bother?”

Coriolanus’ eyes darkened. “I know more than you think- I know a naive boy when I see one. I see a boy who so desperately wants something wrong in his life to explain why he’s feeling a certain way, when the truth is, his life is beyond perfect and he should just shut his damn mouth.”

“How is my life beyond perfect? You h-” He started.“

Oh, give me a break.” The boy cut him off, taking a few threatening steps closer as he spoke. “You can fool your Ma and your Pa with that sob story, but you can’t fool me. Look at you- Rescued from a lifetime of poverty, with everything you could want and more handed to you on a silver platter, and yet you still refuse to chew. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Sejanus.”

Sejanus swallowed thickly. “I just think that-”

“Oh no, I’m not done.” Coriolanus interjected yet again. “No, I think it’s time you hear something along the lines of grow the hell up. You want change so bad? Go out. Change something. You have money. You have a powerful family name. Stop bitching and moaning like a wounded puppy and go do something with your life, for th-”

“I don’t have money. My father does. You think I haven’t tried?” Sejanus spat, voice wavering with emotion. “I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve tried to set up a fund for the districts, or tried to maybe set up some sort of fundraiser. I have tried everything. And it’s still not enough. So excuse me for feeling a little hopeless.”

Coriolanus laughed like he had heard the funniest joke in the world. “That’s your defense, boy? Saying you did and now you’re giving up? God, you’re not good at this.. I’m trying to help you.”

“By doing what?"

“By knocking some sense into you. The world isn’t out to get you like you think it is. It’s actually working in your favor, just not the way you want it to.”

Sejanus fell quiet for a good while. Normally, this would've meant defeat or submission, but there was no grief in his eyes. Only anger- Anger for what was, and what could've been.

“You think I'm playing the broken hero? You're the one running around and trying to fix things that don't even involve you! A month ago, you wanted me dead, I'm sure of it. But now, suddenly you're in my face? So what if I don't eat? That's my choice!” He cried, tears stinging his eyes. "What does it matter to you what I do? Wouldn't it be for the best if I weren't in your way?"

Sejanus had a point.. But he refused to admit it. They were making too much of a scene. He needed to get it under control before this became the school's latest gossip. ".. Because you are my friend. I may not always show it the best, but.. I do care. And I don't like watching my friends suffer."

".. How am I supposed to trust that? Why the sudden change of heart?"

Coriolanus placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Because I know what it's like to be hungry. And I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.."

Sejanus looked up at him, brown eyes full of tears. ".. I just don't know what else to do "

"I'll help you.. I promise." Sejanus nodded. Good. He had him back in the palm of his hand. He sealed the interaction with a hug before pulling away. "Now, let's get you back to class, hm?"

taglist: @officialelioperlman @on-plvto @theirgayyourhonour

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #coryo snow #sej plinth #sleepysnowjanusweek #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #coryo x sej

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luckyshotwrites · 5 months

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Ch. 94 // Weren't You Happy? // Day 68

Contents (Warnings): Happy? (Angst, slight blood mention, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on A03

Wordcount: 3,000+

Song I correlate to this Chapter: None Yet

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

(Current Day)

Drake

His thoughts that went on all night were interrupted by Lynette stirring awake. Her sound quickened realizing that everything that had happened wasn't a dream and she was trapped with him in a cell. There was little to no light within—Drake could only see because of his species.

He wouldn't suppose she could.

"D-drake." Her shaken voice called for reassurance, looking in his direction but too afraid to physically reach out for it.

He hadn't moved his back from the corner. "Yeah..." The ease of her relief did nothing to calm his nerves.

His anger festered and bubbled like flesh in frying oil. I should have fought like hell. I should have died trying to do something. Drake gave in for her sake more than his.

Lynette was innocent.

"Are you still hurt?"

"Physically, no." He felt the words expelling from his mouth. "I let this maniac catch us. He somehow was able to perfectly imitate Ace, and now I'm stuck as his damn merchandise, and he's keeping you here as a hostage and for me to drink from. This whole situation is-" Drake wanted to yell. "If I ever get the fucking chance, I'm going to rip his smug head from his body."

When Lynette's heart rate spiked, he noticed the guttural growl in his vocal cords. He wasn't going to apologize for what he said. He meant it.

It created silence between them. Usually, it was something Drake enjoyed. At the moment, it felt heavier, like his torn clothes, hair, limbs, and even the air pulled him to the ground.

"I'm just glad you're not alone," Lynette said. His ears felt the honesty past her fear.

Drake winced—he thought the same. "You shouldn't have gotten involved."

"Neither should you have."

Yet I did.

An encroaching heartbeat made his fangs tense together. It's that girl. He heard Victoria through the others whom he listened to all night.

It made Andras's words flood his mind.

"However, starting tomorrow, you and your battery will be getting your work cut out for you. I expect you to have at least five to ten clients daily." [...] "Until you make up for all that precious time I lost not having you."

I can't do that. I'll go insane. It's only midnight. Drake masked his panic with anger. His eyes darted across the room to Lynette. He barely pulled back yesterday. He couldn't imagine it being a repetitive cycle.

"If either of you," Victoria said with a slight irritation, "move in a way I don't like, I'm covering your 'home' in fire." She gestured to the cells she stepped in front of it. "And I only think one of you guys will survive being a crisp."

He could feel Lynette's frustration. They both remained still as Victoria opened the gates and walked in. Drake contained his reflexes. He knew Andras had little purpose for Lynette, so Victoria's threat wasn't a bluff.

Her boots thumped with each step.

"Turn around." She ordered.

He did so.

She roughly snapped them shut and made sure he was held with his arms behind himself. He pulled at the dampeners, much like their cell. They drained the user of energy when they used magic.

Given my defect, I'll probably be close to dying, if not dead.

"Open your mouth." She instructed next.

Drake hesitated. He didn't want to feel the metal tendrils dig and squirm inside his mouth and throat again. Damn it. She moved the slightly luminescent metal piece closer.

"That hurts him," Lynette whispered.

Don't be stupid. Drake knew she'd move. It was something he knew Lynette shared with a particular friend of his. The need to meddle.

"LYNETTE." Drake snarled viciously.

Victoria didn't seem to care since Lynette's movement was stopped.

She put the item to Drake, and it activated. It broke into the tendrils and wrapped around the inside, clinging and tearing anything it could: teeth, flesh, even in the back of his throat. It barely left him enough room to breathe.

Victoria then flipped him around and made him march out of the cage, leaving the cell and Lynette behind.

...

His mind tugged back and forth between his yearning for blood and logical thought—his instincts were winning.

The promise of clarity after drinking blood tempted him as his energy dipped dangerously toward less functional levels. He balanced on the cusp of going rabid and making anyone his meal if he could.

Until he was brought into the office.

Andras sat on the front of his desk, facing the door where Drake entered. He seemed to be reading over some odd book missing its cover.

As he glanced up, Andras put down his book and approached Drake. "You look in a lot better shape than before. Glad to see you're playing your role better."

Drake's muscles started to flex with anticipation to end him.

Andras put his hand up and out to Drake's face. He got the part of the bar that had forced his jaw open and tore it out, tendrils and all.

His bloody mouth soon healed, and he stared at Andras as it did. The tendrils shook themselves off and returned to the shape of a bar. "Since Drake has another client in two hours, why don't you go downstairs and get-" He scanned over Terrance, who still held Drake's arms. "On second thought, can you retrieve Zetsu to do it instead? He should be assisting a client a few doors down."

Terrance let Drake go, leaving him alone in the room with Andras.

"I hope one of these days I don't forget that Terrance eats humans," Andras muttered.

Without sparing another moment, Drake twisted his head and pushed himself to Andras so he could bite into him.

...

Lynette

It wasn't a time for self-pity.

Not that I could focus on that. My mind was too busy running what happened hours ago, like reruns of a Christmas special. He couldn't have...he didn't even think twice.

I perked up at every noise and little shuffle. I assumed it might be someone bringing Drake back.

I can't even remember what happened when he attacked me. The whole thing seemed to blur when I tried to think about it.

I hope they bring him back.

I didn't want to imagine Andras eating Drake the same way. He went through all that effort. He wouldn't kill Drake just like that. I chose to believe that.

The faint ding from the elevator caught my attention. I used the wall to bring myself up. What's the point of getting up? I still did so.

I can't do anything. This is different than with Claudia. I'm not going to get lucky for being reckless.

I softly took another breath and heard a voice beyond the bars.

"I'm sorry."

That's not Drake, Andras, or Victoria. Their sound was far too timid, almost like they held tears welling up in their eyes.

"Zetsu?"

I didn't receive a response right away, just the creak of the cell door. "Andras sent me to get you," he muttered.

"You don't sound like you want to do this," I replied. I followed his blob in the darkness. I couldn't fully discern it.

He struggled to speak. "You seem nice."

I can't imagine how he feels. "And you don't seem bad either." Should I really think like this? He's working for them or was somehow.

He approached. I kept myself in place. He stood over me, and his fingers gently touched my shoulder. He was guiding me out of the cell. We walked down the corridor amidst murmurs from the others trapped in theirs.

"I don't know what I want. I wanted to be free of him for so long. I thought it'd make me free..." His fingers dug slightly into my shoulder. I flinched. "I didn't even want Osiris to die. I just wanted him to stop."

All I knew was that Osiris worked with Andras to do this. There were undoubtedly countless others that Osiris might have tricked or forced into doing what he wanted.

'I just wanted him to stop.' What he said reintroduced a painful memory. "You didn't do it to him. Andras did." I said, through hurt breathes. It had been so many years, and my guilt, though settled, never truly left.

"I should have died, not him."

"No." I said sharply. I grabbed his hand. I don't know what he's done. Whether he's good or bad. He might be manipulating me. We're in trouble, so why do I care.

We neared the elevator. He wouldn't gain anything by saying this. Andras has us both.

"You should find a way to leave," I said when we reached the elevator doors. It's what I wanted. I wanted to leave safe and sound with Drake. Yet...I can't leave these people down here. If we did escape, he'd relocate, right? Would they be able to find them? I can't even call Wicks. Can Wicks even find me? I didn't want him to. I don't want him to die trying to help me.

Zetsu stirred me from my thoughts. "I can't." He put his hand on my back again.

The elevator door opened and blinded me. It was as if I were engaged in a staring match with the sun. It took thirty more seconds for my eyes to fully readjust, and I saw my reflection staring back at me. My clothes were slightly bloodied near my neck, my hair a frizzled mess of curls, and my face was dirtied from being on the ground.

It'll only get worse.

I attempted to fix what I could and glanced at the looming, scared figure. "You have more of a chance than me." The honesty tasted bitter. "Take it."

His stared at the floor, his words left without emotion. "I don't have enough power to leave alone."

...

Drake

He couldn't buck Andras off. The dealer sat on his back like he was a bench. He couldn't do anything but argue, until his senses made him tune in on the heartbeat, hers. It came closer, rising from the elevator shaft toward them.

And then his eyes locked onto her, he could feel his body pull toward her. He also saw Lynette react as well, unlike his initial eyes that never left her, she went out toward them.

Andras leaned forward, "don't worry, he's fine." Andras's hand patted Drake's head. "Don't be so hostile, you did this to yourself."

Drake snapped his head back and Andras smiled, "Get the hell off me."

"You don't want her to know do you?"

"That you made me believe in your lies?!" Drake painfully twisted his wrists, he wanted to break out form his shackles.

Andras worked up a chuckle, "those 'lies' made you happy though, didn't they?" He said. "You wanted to be be looked at like everyone else." He moved his hand by Drake's mouth, he snapped at it, Andras moved it away in time.

"But they only looked at you with pity. Poor Poor little flawless."

He struggled profusely and it made Andras leap up.

"I gave you a way out of that, one that you loved, remember?"

"SHUT UP!" Drake stumbled up to his feet, his cuffs kept his arms locked.

His focus wanted to drift, he sickeningly didn't let it. He refused to be part of this game. His own heart beat like it had been bruised. "I wasn't happy at all!" He shouted, less confidently, at the time he knew he was.

"You were," Andras took his chance to tease. He approached Drake, slowly. "So happy in fact you wanted my help to cut the only tie holding you back."

His vocal cords twinged and tightened. They wouldn't let him hum out a single word. He exhaled in response, his lips trembled before they pushed into one another.

Everything was quiet. The eyes fell on him. Their piercing gaze choked him and it sent him into a frantic haze.

He had forgotten why he held himself back.

He launched himself at Andras. He was powerless. His best idea was to smash his head into the dealer. At least to shut him up.

Andras moved his head to the side, and threw his hand up. It caught Drake's forehead and eyes. Andras made sure Drake's ear was at his lips.

"Wipe that guilt from your face," Andras snickered, "I can tell you still hate him, don't you?"

Andras curled his fingers tighter around Drake's face before he could answer. It felt like a clamp. Is he using enhancements? His eyes weren't glowing again.

"I missed your tenacity," he said, "so how about this. If you answer me honestly, we can work as a team again."

Fuck you. Drake wanted to say as his energy was being syphoned.

Andras's tone pulled Drake's ear, "all you have to do is tell me, Drake. Do you still want to kill, Alexander?"

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad I put out a story that people can enjoy! I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable, as always~).

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Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below ↓ ↓ ↓

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celamoon · 2 years

Note

requests open i am here i am ready

maybe komaeda angst where they’re in the killing game and one of the ultimates takes up komaedas offer of him helping them get away with murder, but the target they have in mind is reader? and now komaeda has to choose between his lifelong values of upholding hope and his inner desire to be loved, because reader is the only person to show them true kindness and consideration? you can decide what the end is and how angsty it ends up being the idea came into my head and now won’t leave and i know you can write it amazingly 🙏🙏🙏

literally frothing at the mouth rn??? That's such a good prompt?? I love having Komaeda suffer (he is the loml) (I'M SORRY THIS IS LIKE WHAT?? 1-2 MONTHS LATE?? I'M SORRY OMFG n I also took a bit of creative liberty sorryyy 😭)

Warnings: ANGST, happy ending, death, Komaeda is a little mental

In the mess of a gloomy island, Nagito Komaeda doesn't have much interest in his own survival. Someone with a talent as minor as his shouldn't exist. His luck was just a curse to those around him. So, he hoped that he could be the stepping stone to a brighter hope for his classmates.

He's supposed to be an insignificant person in the background.

When Mikan offers to help him out, Komaeda's unsure what to feel.

"The despair patients." She smiles, eyes hazy. "Why not them?"

Komaeda doesn't know. He wants to die, and he wants to be the reason their classmates take a step closer to hope. Yet, the idea of using the despair patients was awful. He was almost infected with such a terrifying idea. Perhaps he would be a victim or take the blame. He didn't like the idea of something as awful as that.

Komaeda scoops another spoonful of porridge to your lips, and you gush and moan.

"Komaeda's… spoon feeding me… oh… oh…" You drool, eyes messy. "You're so romantic…"

Mikan's words tap him in the back of his mind. He wouldn't do that to you. He couldn't. You were so kind and sweet to him. Even before the despair disease had destroyed you, you had pressed warm hands to his cold skin and fruit to his lips. You had shown such unfiltered kindness to him.

Komaeda had watched you fall in love with him before his eyes.

How could he kill someone like you? How could the universe destroy him like that? How could they put the only person to have ever shown him compassion to death?

But Komaeda knows that you wouldn't complain. After all, you were the ultimate tool. You had put yourself out on the table immediately after Monokuma had announced the killing game. You could never be convicted of murder simply because you were a tool for others to use and abuse. So why did Komaeda hate that you were embodying your talent? The fact that you were finally put in Komaeda's hands for him to create hope with?

"Y/n," Komaeda scoops the last of the porridge into the spoon, and you tilt your head.

"Hm?" You giggle.

"What does your talent entail?" Komaeda knows the answer, yet he asks anyways. The spoon is pressed to your lips, and you pause to think.

"Everything," You giggle. "Do you know why I'm the ultimate tool instead of the ultimate hope?"

"Why?" Komaeda reaches for the napkin to wipe your mouth with.

"Because I can feel emotion only when not used," You smile at him brazenly, Komaeda's heart racing. "I am ruthless. The destruction of mankind. So, how will you use me? It'd be an honor to be used as someone as handsome as you."

Komaeda tucks you back in, and you stare at him.

"You know? I'm not actually sick," You smile.

Komaeda wants to ask who told you to pretend, but you're asleep by the time he opens his mouth.

You're not actually sick. Mikan seems aware of it as well.

"They don't have a fever," She smiles, putting away the bandages. "So they told me to use them."

Komaeda scoops the soup into your mouth again, and you smile at him happily. You don't say anything, but Komaeda can feel how heavy it is in the air. He wonders harshly about whether or not he should help Mikan get away with killing you. There would be more victims, he's sure of it. Yet, as you thank him brightly while he scoops the soup to your lips, he doesn't want you dead.

"Komaeda," You glance at the security camera, giggling maniacally. "You can use me, you know? Go ahead. Tell me to kill myself. You can help me get away with murder, yes? Wouldn't that be so hopeful? You'd be induced with such despair… only to overcome it with a hope brighter than anything else in the world. Oh… it'd be so… dazzling…"

Komaeda swallows, uncertain about your words. "How so?"

"By putting me in despair," You giggle, sweat trickling down your skin. "I'll be able to create hope for you, right? You'll overcome such dark despair with the hope you want to create for others! You'll… you'll be the beacon of light to lead everyone to the future. You'll take the blame, and you'll blaze through everything. Oh, please? Please, Komaeda."

Komaeda trembles from your touch, recoiling at your touch.

"Even if you don't," You smile. "I'll make it impossible for you to escape my murder."

Ah. You're being used by Mikan already.

Komaeda avoids your room for the next four weeks, his heart racing as he passes your room. As the bells of murder ring over his ears, he grimaces at the sight of four dead bodies. It was his turn now. He was the next chess piece off the board. You would make sure of it. Yet, if he wanted his fellow classmates to overcome it, he needed to prove that the entire murder was fabricated and plotted by you. The ultimate tool had no space for lack of perfection. He had to chip at the word until all that was left was a piece of what it was supposed to be.

Komaeda giggles maniacally, running his hands up and down his arms. Oh… yes… this is what he wanted. He wanted them to find hope in such a situation as this. This was a challenge left by you for him as well. Ah. How thrilling.

Komaeda spends the majority of his time finding ways to prove your false evidence to be fake, and even while he's in the trial, he's connecting the dots. You left an extensive web of evidence only he would be able to connect. You wanted him to find a way to prove himself as someone full of hope. You were playing Komaeda to the tune of your instrument. You were playing him like a fiddle, and he loved it.

"That's wrong," Komaeda grins, cutting Hinata's argument short. "There was a single loophole in all of your logic. Y/n left us a single hole to wiggle through and find out the truth. Mikan Tsumiki was murdered per my request, yes, though I wasn't the one to directly order it. However," The class watches Komaeda pull out a single sheet of paper. "Y/n had planned to pin the entire murder on my body, going as far as slipping a single piece of plastic under their skin with the truth. Y/n L/n killed Mikan Tsumiki and then comitted suicide."

Hinata tries to refute the argument, but Komaeda smiles instead. "If you don't believe me, I can run the murder down for all of you symbols of hope."

Komaeda's heart races as he explains the whole story from start to end, and he watches the look on his classmates' faces turn dark. Yes. This was the despair you wanted to lace into your classmates. You were dying for all of them to despise you and find the hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. He watches their faces contort, and finally, Hinata speaks up.

"You're wrong!" He yells across the room, and Komaeda smiles maniacally.

"You never ordered Y/n to kill Mikan. They killed her out of their own volition after being used by Mikan." Hinata points, and the class comes back to life.

Yes. This was what you had wanted. Komaeda's smile broadens, his mind cracking even further. You were insane. You were so kind to him, and now you were doing something just for him? Komaeda drools just from that thought. He'd have to meet you soon. He'd have to create the ultimate trial and push the ultimate hope into his proper position. After all, it seemed as though he would be one of the contestants for that title.

When Komaeda returns that night, he giggles. "Y/n-san, you won't believe what trash like me was able to do today-"

The empty room reminds Komaeda of his position.

Ah.

"Y/n-san… isn't here anymore…" He exhales. You're gone.

Pulling himself to the side, he slides down the wall, a grimace on his face. You were gone.

He closes his eyes as he rests on the wall, lungs giving out.

You're gone, and he killed you.

His eyes flutter closed, and his heart clenches.

Ah. You're… gone… forever.

-Ⓗ-

Komaeda screams, lunging into your arms as he ignores the stings of the nerve conductors attached to him. You laugh, and Komaeda sobs. He sobs apologies into your arms, shaking and sobbing about how he failed you. Apologies about how worthless he was spewing out of his mouth on a string, and you press your fingers into his skull assuringly. You did not hate the boy. His sobs grow softer as he continues crying, and you hum, the vibrations from your chest calming him. You did not blame him. You had been the one to use Mikan back, killing her in the process, eliminating the despair disease by force.

"I'm sorry," He gasps, lungs on fire. "I'm sorry. I was trash to think that I could be the one to provide hope to the class. I was insane to think that your death would drive the class to a brighter hope- hic-"

"It's alright, Nagito," You whisper, words settling in his hair. The rest of the class stares at the two of you slowly lower to the ground, the boy still in your arms. "I never blamed you."

"I'm sorry…" He sniffs. "You were never- hic- just a tool to me… please… I'm sorry…"

"I never blamed you," You mumble again, pressing your lips to his forehead. "Situations call for different cards to be played. In your case, I was the best card to play… I love you… Nagito."

"I…" Komaeda coughs. "Love you too. I…"

You rest your chin on his head, him curled in your arms, and you stare out the window. A strange blanket of peace covers you, and you hum. "I love you too."

Komaeda stills in your arms, and your heart is at peace.

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